#If you ask me about the nearest woman I will already have her number and you will NOT be getting it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amathslutsguidetofandom · 1 month

Note

you already know what i’m gonna ask for lol. i need my airport man my love. what do you think would’ve happened if he asked me for my number instead of WALKING AWAY or if i magically found him in duty free. BETTER YET what if he just happened to be on the same flight as me?

let’s pretend airport man is steve rogers please. the blonde and that accent gives steve vibes.

Need A Hand? - 1

PAIRINGS: Steve Rogers x Reader

SUMMARY: Flying back to Washington for a family event, you were already ready for it to be over in a week. You didn't want to face the comments from your family about your life as a single working woman. But what happens when you walk into the event accompanied by the stranger you sat next to on the plane? What if that stranger isn't really a stranger?

WARNINGS: Swearing, comments about loneliness from family members, a creepy guy

WORD COUNT: 1,877

ENJOY!

You knew the coffee was cold before the liquid hit your tongue, but you still needed the caffeine. Tipping your head back, you downed the whole thing quickly.

Wincing at the bitter taste, you threw the cardboard cup in the nearest trash can. You knew a 2am flight wouldn’t be the best experience, but you were not going to drive all the way.

You were on the last available flight. You knew your dumbass should’ve booked an earlier ticket, but can you really blame yourself? It’s the middle of December, and people are being stuffed onto planes, wanting to get back to their families for Christmas.

You?

You didn’t want to visit Washington; you had already built your life in the city.

Your family was shocked when you finally revealed you got the position as a Data Analyst at Stark Industries; however, they were even more shocked at your urgency to move ASAP.

They didn’t know that the reason you moved to NYC was because you wanted to leave the nagging and constant subtle unwanted comments behind. It would’ve been one month since you last visited home for Thanksgiving, which didn’t turn out great either; your grandmother made comments on how you didn’t have a man yet.

Rolling your carry-on behind you with one hand, you adjusted the backpack hanging off your shoulders with the other. Your eyes scanned the large gate numbers in hopes of finding the right one.

GATE 23.

You sighed and started heading in the direction of your gate. When you did find a seat in the plethora of people, you called dibs with your eyes and sat down, scrolling mindlessly on social media for the next half an hour.

-------

The aisle seat was somewhat ideal; economy wasn’t the best, but it was something you had to deal with for the next three hours. The man next to you had already started becoming a problem. He started small talk, and you gave in for a while.

“Going to see family?” he asked, looking at you with a wide grin.

You returned a pursed smile, not really wanting to interact with strangers this early in the morning.

“Yeah, family stuff,” you replied, securing your seatbelt and tightening it to fit your waist.

The questions were normal until the man started getting personal. “Got a boyfriend?” he smiled sleazily, and you cringed on the inside.

You fake smiled and replied, “no.” He nodded and gave you a weird smirk. “Why? You’re a gorgeous thing.”

You shuddered slightly and went back to looking at your phone, but he didn’t get the signal. The suggestions he kept throwing your way made you want to gag.

Thankfully, a flight attendant did see you become uncomfortable for a while, and she, in a few minutes, made her way to you.

“Ma’am, we do have a seat up front in business class. In case you are up for the offer?” She smiled sweetly at you but harshly at the man next to you.

You nodded and got up immediately. “I’d like that,” you said, smiling at your savior. “See ya,” you said bitterly to the man next to you and followed the flight attendant after getting your carry-on down from the cabin.

-------

The seats were plusher and nicer; you groaned in comfort when you sank yourself into it. You were sipping on some wine the flight attendant, the one that helped you, poured into a glass and handed over to you.

You gazed outside through the window, enjoying your peace and quiet, until someone cleared their throat in the aisle.

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I, um, I’m your neighbour for the next few hours,” the infamous blonde man chuckled shyly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry,” you got up quickly and allowed him to sidle past your seat and sit down, then he shoved his backpack under the seat in front of him. You sat back down and continued to sip on your wine, feeling a tad bit awkward sitting next to Captain America.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” he extended his hand.

You shifted the glass to your left hand, then told him your name while shaking his hand with your right. “I mean, yeah, I know who you are already. So…” you laughed nervously. He chuckled at your answer, “yeah?” To which you nodded again and went back to staring at the seat in front of you.

The lights in the plane dimmed, and you flagged down a flight attendant to hand your glass back to her. Members of the crew made their way up and down the aisle until three of them settled in three different sections of the plane to start the safety demonstration You listened mindlessly, while your heart jogged for a mile as the thought of sitting next to Steve Rogers finally sank in. He did listen to the safety demonstration and actually read the safety brochures, which were tucked into the seat in front of him. Soon, the flight attendants were preparing for take-off.

“What’s taking you to Washington?” Steve asked you, facing your direction. You made eye contact and saw the soft smile he threw your way; you instantly melted in your seat and smiled back.

“Oh, my sister is getting married,” you nodded and adjusted the neck pillow around your neck. He nodded and crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “I see.”

“What about you? I’m guessing something related to ‘Captain America’?” You chuckled nervously as you felt the plane rumble slightly. He laughed at your assumption, “you would think so, but no. Just wanted to visit the place again.”

You nodded in understanding but quickly reached for the armrest when the plane started speeding. You gripped the plastic hard and closed your eyes hard, trying to act normal when really you felt like you were in a washing machine.

“Here,” you heard him whisper. You slowly opened your eyes and saw the big open palm he was offering. You smiled in thanks, grateful for understanding, and intertwined your fingers with his before squeezing it for dear life as the plane lifted from the ground.

-------

You munched on the dry Biscoff’s they handed out during the second hour of the flight. From your peripheral, you saw Steve reading a book and at times glancing out the window.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for the… you know… the hand, during take-off,” you smiled nervously, hoping that you weren’t interrupting him and his reading. He looked up from his book and bookmarked his page before closing it. “Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he smiled at you, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

You always saw him on TV and in the trash magazines your roommate reads, never up close. And now that you were seated literally right next to him, you felt as though he’s just a regular person. It’s not like you can ask him ‘how were the 1940s’, you don’t know him on a personal level.

But you kind of do; you had to study about him in high school during history class. You know where and when he was born, the place where he grew up. Your thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the pilot’s voice that played through the plane. You couldn’t understand the gibberish he said. “What?”

“We’re about to hit some turbulence,” Steve translated for you, and your jaw dropped.

“Great, more reasons as to why I should’ve driven,” you rubbed your eyes.

He laughed at your annoyance towards the plane you were currently flying in.

You glanced at the book he was reading and saw the title. You instantly had to hold your laugh back as you recognized the ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’ book cover.

“Harry Potter, huh?” You pointed at the book in his lap. He looked down at it and nodded. “A friend of mine recommended it. Have you read it?”

You nodded quickly, “oh yeah, it was one of my favourites as a kid.” He smiled at your response.

“I’m a George Weasley girl, all the way. He’s such an underrated character,” you told him as your eyes moved from the book to him.

“Yeah, I think you could say that. But I would say that Hagrid is underrated as well,” he said, adding to your statement. You nodded along, “that is actually quite true, yeah.”

A moment of silence passed before he broke it. “If you don’t mind me asking, you mentioned about going to a wedding?” he asked, craning his neck to face you. You nodded, affirming his assumption.

“Are you going alone?” That made you raise your brows in pure shock.

“Uh, I—yeah,” you shook the confusion from your head. “Why?” You smiled, wondering why he asked you the semi-personal question.

He tucked his chin to his chest a little bit before facing you with the slightest smirk on his face. “Oh, I just thought that a gorgeous woman like you would have been going with someone already.”

You snorted, “WOW.” You really couldn’t believe he just said that.

“Why is that funny?” he smiled at you, a tad bit confused. You chuckled, “I just-‘gorgeous women’? Really?”

He laughed along with you, “I can’t say I’m wrong.” You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent your grin from expanding any further.

------

The next hour or so was filled with you and Steve talking about home and what you two did back in the city.

“Stark Industries? Really?” Steve was genuinely shocked at the revelation of your workplace. He wondered how he never saw you before. He asked how it was, working as a Data Analyst for Tony, and you replied saying that Tony can be immature sometimes, but he does treat you as an equal, unlike your previous jobs.

The flight went smoothly, and you and Steve were in constant conversation. You thought that you never had a conversation this good before. You were actually a bit disappointed when the pilot announced that the plane was about to land soon.

-------

“Need a hand?” Steve asked when he saw you struggling to get your carry-on from the cabin.

“Yeah,” you nodded sheepishly. He flashed you with one of his million-dollar smiles and effortlessly brought your carry-on down from the overhead shelf. You said your thanks and replied with a ‘No problem’.

-------

Steve finally got all of his bags, but you were still standing next to the belt awaiting your final one.

“I guess this is where we part,” you laughed nervously, toying with the strings of your hoodie.

You saw it in his face; he didn’t want to leave you just yet. And you were thankful for that because you didn’t too.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he smiled, but this time it was sad.

This was bad, really bad. You both didn’t want to leave the other.

“Have a good Christmas,” he finished the sentence off with your name, and your heart fluttered with how it rolled off his tongue. Why did you heart flutter?

You both smiled sadly at each other for the final time before he reluctantly parted ways. Why did he hesitate?

💌💌💌

Genuinely upset you couldn't get your man @yiiiikesmish, hope this helps you soothe your woes babes.

Again, if any of you lovelies want be added to the taglist. Please comment here!!🤗🤗🤗

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers series #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steven grant rogers #captain america

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misguidedasgardian · 7 months

Text

I want to steal the bride (1)

1. As Lemon and Chocolate

MASTERLIST

Summary: It had been ten years since you met Aemond, your best friend

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x BestFriend!Reader, Cregan Star x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Aemond is a sl*t jiji, active sexual life, implied smut, might miss some warnigns, Aemond does threaten to throw himself of a bridge, but he is playing, I will put thaton here just in case

Wordcount: 5k

Disclaimer: this is a direct adaptation of the movie "Made of honor, and its script! the pictures of the header are not mine, I found them on pinterest

Notes: Well, this is of course the adaptation of the movie! so it won’t be long… five parts maybe? including this one! is my favorite movie, so enjoy! Aemond calls reader “love” a lot, because I’m tired of the use of (Y/N) jejeje

10 years later

“Good morning”, she purred, hugging his shoulders, trying to prevent him from getting dressed and leaving. Aemond only chuckled, turning slightly and kissing her cheek

“I'm late”, he said matter of factly, with a smirk on his lips. He left his female companion on the bed and went to grab his dressing shirt and jacket, putting them on quickly

“What are you doing tonight?”, she asked sweetly, oh she was cute, enough to have seen her twice already

“I don't do back-to-backs”, he remembered her

“Isn't that what we were doing last night??”, she said, raising one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows

“No, that was something different”, he reminded her, “back-to-backs are seeing each other two nights in a row and you know I don't do that”, he reminded her gently. She sighed, covering herself with the sheets

“Couldn't you just break one of your stupid rules?”, she whined

“No”, he said shortly, grabbing his jacket from a chair in the corner of the room

“For me?”, she asked then

“I'm sorry. I don't break the rules”, he said with a soft smile, he did want to see her again, just not like that. “I have a rule about that”, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, “see you next week”. She left her in her bed and exited her apartment

“Gods I’m late”, he muttered, climbing into his classic convertible

He speed down the street and into the Starbucks that was the nearest to your job, jumped out finding a miracle parking spot and jogged inside

He didn’t have tog et back to work, but you did, so the lunchtime was always a bit speedy, but to no matter, he loved more than anything his lunchtimes with you

“Excuse me”, he called the attention of the barista and shot him a quick hello, “Sorry. Can I get a grande drip, and a decaf, triple grande non-fat, extra-hot, stirred, no-foam Caramel Macchiato?”, he felt proud of how easy he had learned your coffee order, “with whipped cream, extra caramel?”, he continued, “And fill that 70 percent of the way. Thank you!”

He received his order fairly quickly, and moved to the side to sweeten his coffee. He looked to the side and couldn’t help but gaze upon the beautiful woman that stood there, with his coffee in her hand, and hers on the other

“Oh, here. Let me put a coffee collar on that for you”, he whispered sweetly, he grabbed his own invention and placed it around the cup for her

“Oh, thank you”, she flirted

“I hear the guy that invented that gets a dime for each one used”, he said raising one of his eyebrows

“You're kidding”, she teased

“I am not”, he assured her, giving her a wink, “That could add up”, she smirked, looking at the second coffee she was holding

“Oh, I think I picked up yours by accident”, she whispered seductively. Aemond smirked, receiving the coffee from her, “Sorry about that”, she made sure to touch his fingers and much and as long as she could.

“Oh, that's all right. Thank you”, he said, noticing the number and her name on the collar

“Anytime”, she flirted

“Bye-bye”, he said, remembering he needed to rush, he got out of the coffee shop quickly, looking over at the paper cup, "Gloria.", he tasted

He got lucky again when the traffic was smooth on his way to your job

He found just in front of the crotch of the painting of a man, and the movement you were making made you look like you were… he chuckled, looking up at you, he took his time, and when he spend a couple of minutes staring at your funny pose, he decided to make himself known

“Good morning Love, coffee the way you like it”, you turned around to see your friend standing by the scaffold, smiling up at you, you laughed

“Perfect timing. I just finished working on his balls!”, you giggled, pointing behind you

“That's some balls... Yeah. Good”, he mumbled, embarrassed, “Um, so, I made a reservation”, he finalized with a shy smile

So not even fifteen minutes later, you were having lunch in your favorite chinese place in King’s Landing

“So, uh, which rule is this again?” you asked, sipping on the rests of your coffee

“No back-to-backs”, he said quickly, signaling for the waiter with the cart to pass by your table

“Oh, isn't it the same as the "no more than once a week" rule?”, you asked, entertained

“No, the "once a week" rule works Monday to Friday…”

“Oh, so, theoretically, you could have a date on Sunday night and then Monday without breaking it”, you said, really impressed

“Exactly, you got it”, you loved it when Aemond smiled like that, pursing even more his curvy lips

“Of course!”, you teased, “Ah, here we go!”, you chanted when the cart was coming towards you, you were starving, “Good morning”

“Hey, good morning”, Aemond greeted

“Can I get the... steamed buns, uh, the scalloped steamed dumplings and the vegetarian and shrimp steamed dumplings?”, you asked, pointing at all the more healthy options. You caught Aemond staring as the lady served you your food

“Thank you”, he whispered, once the nice lady had left

“For what?”, you laughed

“You know how much I love the fried stuff. You're looking after me”, he said with a soft smile

“Of course!”, you said back with a wide smile, “that is why I’m here for! right?”, you teased, “So, what did she say?” you kept the conversation going about his last conquest

“Oh, she was hurt, but, you know, at least I was…”

“But you were honest, weren't you?”, you mocked

“What? I was. I am. Always”, he defended, almost offended

“I know you are, but it's just… shocking how you use it as a shield”, you analyzed

“Maybe I should lie. Be more like Jaime Lannister. Say whatever it takes to get a woman in bed”, he said quickly

“Do not be like Jaime Lannister. He's so gross.”, you said, taking out your tongue in a gesture of disgust

“He only hit on you once”, he said with a smile

“At my father's funeral!”, you replied, “he was his friend!”

“Okay, he's not known for his sensitivity”, he hissed

“Oh, God. Anyways…”, you dismissed, he looked at you

“What?”, he asked

“Nothing.”, you answered

“Oh, I know that "nothing".” he said, squinting his eye at you, “It's not nothing, it's something. Anyway...?”

“Anyway, we both know you don't need to lie to get a woman into bed”, you deviated from the subject at hand. Grabbing the cup with the woman’s number on it

“Gloria”, he called, “I don't wanna lose that.Can I keep it? Thank you”, he said, taking the cup from your hand, he admired the number written there like it was some sort of artwork

You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of… something in your chest, you sometimes asked about his conquests so you get more used to the idea of Aemond being a playboy, and to convince yourself he was never going to change….

“Here's another rule too: 24-hour rule.”, he said, finally leaving the cup on the table, and looking at you, “I can't call her for another 24 hours. Then it appears I'm too desperate”

“Yeah, right. It’s better for her to think that you are some hoarder that would keep a disposable cup of coffee for more than an hour!”, you mocked, he seemed shocked and then he nodded

“Good point”, he chuckled.

When you were done with a healthy lunch, you were ready to splurge, in a good and needed dessert. Of course, like always, the best bakery in town was filled to the brim, almost a block of waiting line, but you didn’t care, as you walked to the end, of course, always talking

“You know, Renly sent me another letter”, you teased him

“Asking you to move to Storm’s End and marry him again?”, he asked, a bit annoyed

“A slice of apple-crumb pie”, you guessed, ignoring him as you walked by a table that ordered just that

“No. Got that last time”, he dismissed, “You guys broke up like a year ago”

“Nineteen months”, you said unimpressed

“You are counting?”, he mocked

“No, he is. It was in the letter”, you looked at him and he laughed, “Lemon, butter-cream cup”, you guessed again

“Hmm, not feeling the cream cup today”, he said, looking back at you, you coiled your arm with his and lean over his shoulder

“Cranberry-orange muffin?”

“Oh, Love, come on. You're losing”, he twhined, squeezing your arm

“I know, I know, I know. Okay, okay, okay, okay…”, you said, looking at the showcase with all the desserts in it

“Come on. You're disappointing me”, he teased

“I got it. I got it!”, you celebrated squealing in his ear,

“Whoa”, he said, leaning away from you but you held onto him tightly

“Okay, I so have it, I so have it!”, you kept teasing, “Cream-cheese-swirl brownie!”, you guessed, and only when you saw his smile, you knew you got it right

“Ooh. Mmmm yeah, you're so good”, he said back

“YES!”, you celebrated until everyone in line was watching, “Mmmm I want one too”, you muttered

After you had your delicious desserts on the go, you made your last stop of your lunch break, to a department antique shop, he had brought you along to pick a gift for his grandfather Otto, who was getting married for the sixth? time?

“What do you think of this?”, he asked, showing you a crystal spice rack, “I think we should bring them this”, he muttered, you looked at him seriously

“Aemond, I'm not going to another one of your grandfather's weddings”, you said, annoyed

“Love? Please”, he purred with that soft voice you enjoyed hearing

“Take one of the girls you've been rubbing against”, you teased, looking away from him

“No weddings or family events”, he remembered you

“Oh, that's right, I forgot that rule!”, you giggled, looking at the strange things this antique shop had to offer, “Leaves the wrong impression”, you mimicked. Aemond continued as you both walked amongst the small shops. You looked at him with a warning in your eyes

“It does”. He agreed as you sighed, you were going to have to attend his grandfather’s wedding… again didn’t you? well the excuse to dress up and eat good free food did sound entertaining

You stopped by a shop who sold leather purses, one with a small alligator attached to it caught your eyes

“Is this made with real alligator?”, you asked the old salesman

“Yes, baby alligator”, he said proudly, you opened your mouth, enraged

“You should be ashamed of yourself!”, you cursed him. Aemond came quickly and grabbed you gently by your upper arms and drag you away before you jumped the man

You kept looking at a small shop of watches and belts, whe Aemond separated from you to crouch at the side of a beautiful Golden Retriever

“Look at you!”, he cooed with a childish voice, grabbing his face and started petting him. The dog loved it, moving his tail left and right, “Hello, there. Hello, there. Aren't you beautiful? Oh, I love you. Yes, I do, I love you!”, he kept saying, and you raised one of your eyebrows as you looked down at the interaction.

A man as handsome as Aemond, with that shiny platinum blonde hair, and those features, petting one of the sweetest animals on earth… it was an image worth millions, and you understood why he had so much game

“You're beautiful. You're so beautiful. Look at that face! Love you, love you, love you!”, he kept saying, as he finally gave the poor dog a rest and stood up to continue his shopping

“You should try saying that to a human sometime”, you teased

“What? A human? You don't say that to a human”, he mocked back, he seemed serious, but then he cracked up a smile, “You're sweet. Love you. See? I said it!”, he said softly, you only smiled and kept looking around. “Love, please. Come to the wedding!”, he begged grabbing your arm softly

“No.”, you said softly, “He gets married and I go!”, you whined

“I go because he's my grandfather and I care deeply for the man and everybody knows he doesn't love them..”, he said quietly, “they don't love him. It's pathetic. Breaks my heart. I don't know what to say”, he kept saying, you looked at him squinting your eyes, wondering if he was serious, his face and that movement of his lips on which he pouted shortly and then draw them back told you he was

“You know, if someone's making a mistake and it's not your place to interfere, you simply say: "I'm happy you're happy.", yous aid with a smile, he look back at you and smiled back

"I'm happy you're happy.", he repeated

“Yeah”, you muttered, coiling your arm with his like you tended to do

“Okay. I'll do that”, he said as he kept looking for something to but, mumbling and repeating those four words

He look back at you with those puppy eyes

“I promise you, this is the last time I'll ask you to come!”, he said quickly, “And then I'll find somebody else to come for the next few”, the prospect of him getting so close to another that he would ask to his grandfather wedding did not amused you as you thought it would, “Love, please”

“That's cute”, you mocked, and then you sighed, “last time”, you sounded defeated

“Thank you! Thank you!”, he leaned in and kissed your cheek

. . .

Aemond fixed his tie as he walked up the steps to the front of the chapel, he there could see his grandfather Otto, and his lawyer Erryk talking frantically on the phone

“Right. Okay, okay. You get the house in the Hamptons”, he said to his grandfather, Aemond frowned, looking at his grandad, “She's asking for the apartment in the city and 30 grand a month”

“Thirty?”, he whined, “but…”

“Are you still negotiating the prenup?” Aemond asked alarmed, as soon as he saw him Otto walked towards him to cradle his son’s cheeks

“Now the party starts, my son is here”, he celebrated, hugging him tightly

“Grandad, please. I can't breathe”, he chuckled, “Grandfather. Please”

“Did you bring the lovely (y/n)?” he asked, finally releasing him

“Yes, I did”, he said with a shy smile

“You know, you don't act on that pretty soon, you know what I'm gonna do?”, he teased

“No”, he whispered, scared

“I'm gonna make her my number six”

“It's seven”, interrupted his lawyer, “This is number six”, they both look at the lawyer and then turned to each other

“Yeah, that sounds about right”, laughed Otto, he then looked at his grandson.

Aemond was the only one speaking to his grandfather, his mother had cut him out, around his third marriage, so did his brothers, but he couldn’t

“My God, you are pretty…”, he whispered

“Oh, grandad…”

“I used to be that pretty once”, he said with a chuckle, “Eryk, look how pretty my boy is!”, he celebrated, turning to him

“He's beautiful. They won't accept a minimum of five times a week”, he said pointing at the phone on his ear

“She promised five, I want five”, said Otto

“What did she promise you five times a week?”, asked Aemond, white as paper

“Four times?”, asked Otto, Eryk shook his head

“Two”, he fought

“Oh, this is disturbing”, whined Aemond, taking a few steps back, he looked at the marble stair he just climbed and wondered what kind of damage he would get if he just jumped, nothing major, only a few bumps… only to stop hearing this conversation

“Four, and make it a weekly BJ!”, Aemond sighed, rubbing his forehead

Otto looked at his grandson

“Come on, tell me. Say what you gotta say”, Aemond raised his head to look at him

“Well, I'm happy if you're happy”, he said, smiling when he remembered you and what you told him, but Otto chuckled

"You're too old for her, grandad. She doesn't love you.This is embarrassing. You're gonna rack up your fifth divorce.", he mocked

“Sixth”, remembered Erryk

“Sixth”, agreed Otto

“Come on, I'm happy if you're happy”, Aemond said, shooting him a calming smile

“Bullshit”, he laughed

“They'll go for four if you exercise more!”, celebrated Erryk, “She says you can't gain any more weight”

“Take it. Deal!”, Otto cheered, “I told her I weighed 10 pounds more than I do. Ain't love grand?”, he said cheerfully. Erryk finished the call and passed him two blocks of papers

“Sign them both, please”, he said quickly

“What's he signing now?”, asked Aemond, worried

“The current prenup and his last divorce papers”, said Erryk with a content smile. Aemond’s smile wiped out pretty quickly

“Ah, that's just great”, he mumbled

He was part of the marriage courtship, so he didn’t get to see you until the party, that was held a few blocks away from the church

You were waiting for him with a flute of champagne in hand, and a mashup of “i got a woman” with “gold digger” was blasting the speakers and got everybody dancing on the dancefloor

“Cheers”, you giggled, he took his and clinged his with yours

“Cheers”

“Did you tell your grandfather you loved him?”, you asked him

“I told him I cared for him”, you sighed

“You can't even tell your grandfather. I don't get that”, you said, defeated, “you call me love all the time!”

“It's a guy thing”

“No, it's a Aemond thing”, you corrected

“I’m going to need something stronger than this”, he whispered, “Oh, well, you're an "I love you" slut”, you gasped

“Are you kidding me??”, you asked, the audacity

“You say it all the time, to everybody”

“Only the people that are important to me”, you defended

You were interrupted when the waiter brought you pieces of cake that you ordered

“Oh, this looks so good”, you moaned when he placed in front of you the lemon cake that you ordered, in turn, Aemond ordered the chocolate one

“That does looks good. What is that?”, he asked whispering in your ear leaning over you, he used his fork to steal a piece of cake from your plate and you giggled as he tasted it and moaned with satisfaction, “Lemon. I should've ordered this”

“This looks good”, you said back, stealing a piece of his cake instead

“You always order better than I do”, he said with a smile, ‘It's lemon, right? It's good. I'm ordering that from now on”

“No, you won't”, you fought with a smile

“Why?”, he asked

“I need you to order the chocolate cake so I can have some”, you answered simply, the chocolate was just delicious. He chuckled

“That makes sense”, he said happily

“There's my son!” You almost spilled your drink when you saw Aemond’s new stepmother approaching you, with a very inappropriate low cut dress, she was gorgeous,

“Here we go”, Aemond muttered to turn to her with a smile, “Grandson actually”, he said with a mockingly smile

“Oh very funny!”, she giggled, “isn’t he funny?”, she asked you, you only laughed

“Very much so!”, you quipped

“Margaery. How are you?”, he asked politely

“If you're a bad boy, I'm gonna spank you”, she giggled, Aemond looked back at you with scared eyes but a weird smile on his lips

“Yeah. Do you know what I would like to say to you? Is that... Ow!”, you stopped him by pinching his arm

“I want you to listen to me, Aemond”, she said with her big cat-like eyes, gods she was beautiful, she took his hand, and placed it in her chest, you gasps as Aemond was visibly uncomfortable

“Yes”, he encouraged quickly and nervously

“If you need any money… or you need any advice…”, she said slowly

“Right”, he said uncomfortably, trying to pull away his hand but she would let him

“...or you got girl problems”

“I don't think… it’s a good idea”

“I need you to think of me how you would a real mother”

“Grandmother!”, you pitched in and Aemond snorted

“Yeah, that's exactly what I…”, Otto showed up, hugging his wife tightly who released Aemond

“Look at this beauty, will you?”, he boasted, his chest filled with pride, “Hello, sweetie”, he greeted you

“Hello Otto, it was a wonderful wedding”

“Thank you my dear” he then turned to his new wife, “Drunk as the night I first met her”, he said with admiration making her giggle

“So romantic”, mumbled Aemond. Then the bartender gave you the shot that Aemond had asked for, but before he could drank it, Margaery snatched it from his hand and drank it quickly

“Oh, please. By all means”, muttered Aemond rolling his eyes

“You are a bad influence on her!”, teased Otto, you just eyed Aemond carefully

“Me?”, he asked back

“Last shot, okay?”, Otto warned his wife, who roared to life and giggled, grabbing her new husband’s hand

“I'm stealing you away, let’s dance!”, she laughed, and they walked awy from the both of you

“He does know that he can just date, right?”, you asked Aemond, entertained

“No, I don't think he does”, he whispered, now the bartender finally grace you with two shots, you took one each

“To grandmothers”, he said, defeated

“To mothers. Cheers”, you giggled back

You drank down the shot and you hissed when it burned your throats, this was going to be a long night

Aemond frowned suddenly, and you followed his uneven eyes (he had a glass eye installed). but couldn’t find anything unusual

“Oh, God”, he said suddenly trying to hide behind the bar, “Hide me”, he said, grabbing you and placing you in front of him

“What?”, you asked, confused

“It's my dad's patient coordinator”, he whispered, you looked back to see her, Aemond had told you about her before, but before you could, he grabbed you back, hiding even more

“Yeah, don't look, don't look. Don't look”

“What’s going on?”, you asked him

“No, no. She's obsessed with me!”, he whispered frantically, “Yeah, she's created a website called AllThingsAemond.org”, you chuckled

“The psycho blogger?”, you asked him

“Yes” then he grabbed your hand and turned quickly, “Okay, come on. Dance with me. Watch yourself”, he dragged you to the dance floor and took you in his arms. You were finally able to see her, searching for someone, or something frantically

“I think she's cute”, you mocked. She was tall and lean, redhead, and sharp blue eyes

“Oh, stop it”, grunted Aemond

“I'm serious”, you defended

“Just keep dancing woman”, grunted Aemond, and then, he saw her turn to him so he spun you around making you gasp to turn your back to her

“Hide me. Up. Neck, neck, neck. Up. Back. Side, side. Go. Over”, he signaling, moving frantically to avoid the woman, “Her last blog was a two-page description of my face”, you laughed, truly entertained, you had never seen him like this

“Where, there is much to describe”, you felt his hand get clammy, he was truly nervous

“You see, she doesn't think my nose is too bent or my lips are too thin”, he mocked, you frowned in confusion

“Who said that?”, you asked

“You did. When we met”, he said

“Well, I lied”, you said, looking at him in his eyes

“What?”, he asked back

“I thought you were hot”, you confessed, he looked back at you surprised

“Why didn't you say something?”, he asked incredibly surprised, so much he surprised you too

“Well, you told me I looked like a dog”, you giggled

“That's because I was just trying to sleep with you”, he offered, analyzing your face

“Why haven't you since?”, you asked quietly, he held you tighter against him

“Well, I like having you in my life”, he gave you that smile that makes you think he wasn’t being serious, so you just sighed

“Funny” you mocked

“Hi, Aemond”, you both screamed when you were surprised by the blogger/stalker

“Oh, hi”, greeted your friend grabbing you even more tightly, this time, making you stick to his front

“Did you see the new blog?”, she asked excitedly, she was pretty, you wondered if Aemond ever… slept with her

“Uh, no, we haven't”, he said, you looked back at him at the word he used

“Who's this?”, she turned hostile towards you

“This?”, he asked, looking at you with a smirk on his lips, well, this is my… My girlfriend”, you raised an eyebrow looking back at him, but well, he was you friend so you were going to play along

“Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?”, she asked angrily

“Because I don't know you”, he said back, annoyed, but oh you wanted to play both along

“Look, we have a really really open relationship”, you said, relaxed, winking at her, her face lit up again

“Really?”, she asked excitedly. Aemond squeezed your hand

“You know, I wanted to talk to you about that, princess”, he said looking at you with urgency

“Princess...?”, you teased

“I-I-I don't wanna be with anybody but you”, he said quickly, turning to you

“I don't know if I'm really quite ready to make that commitment”, you said dismissively, moving your shoulders upwards, “you know my rules…”, you chuckled, his face in that moment was very comical

“We're a bit of an emotional retard”, he explained, she now looked terribly angry

“I think I need to start a new blog now”, she threatened, and abandoned you

“That is so scary”, you said

“She's psychotic on top of being… Oh, this is not good”, you looked at her go, pushing with a rare strength everyone of her path, it was kind of comical

“Get out of my way!”, you heard her say

“Okay, good, she's gone”, Aemond released you from his grasp, his body what abandoning you

“Perfect. Let's go”

“You want to go already?”, you asked him, he nodded, grabbing your hand and taking you of the ballroom, and out of the building

It had been a quick affair, the sun was setting. and as such, you decided to take a walk through the King’s Landing park

At first you walked in silence, enjoying the beautiful scenery and warmth of the season, but then you remembered you had something to say to Aemond

“Do you remember that ancestral home in Winterfell with those paintings I told you about?”, you asked, he looked back at you and smiled

“It's all I think about”, he mocked

“Stop it, Aemond”, you giggled, pushing him playfully, “I finally got the board to sign off on making them additions to our permanent collection”

“Really?”, he asked, now truly invested

“But they want me to go to Winterfell for an acquisition trip”, you said shortly

“When do you go?”, he asked, alarmed

“Couple of days”, you whispered

“Couple of days? For how long?”, now he was alarmed

“Six weeks”, he opened his eye widely

“That's a long time! more than a month!”, but then when he looked at your face, he softened his, “That's great”, he confessed

“You think?”, you asked, surprised and happy

“Yes, it's a great opportunity for you”, he admired, “You're like the museum maven of the The Keep”

“It's got a good ring to it”, you teased, and then smiled brightly at him, “thank you”, you whispered, looking into his handsome face

“Congratulations”, he said after a long, pleased sigh, “Six Fridays”, he said then

“That is six fridays”, you agreed

“What am I gonna do without you?”, he asked

“Oh, well. I can just imagine”, thinking about all the free time he was going to have to bang women left and right. He looked at you, and then he climbed onto the railway of the bridge just as you were walking above it

“What are you doing!?”, you asked, trying to grab him

“I'm gonna jump!”, he threatened with a chuckled

“No. Gods. Aemond get down!

“Six Fridays, how can I live without you!?”, he asked theatrically, grabbing your hands

“Can you not take anything seriously?”, you laughed

“Yeah, I can”, he defended, just when you thought he was going to take it seriously this time

“Get down”, you demanded, and he grabbed you for stability and jumped back to the bridge, “Let's get you another drink!”, you suggested

“I think I've had too many already”, he whined, “Oh, thanks for coming to the wedding”, he whispered, coiling your arm with his

“It was a ball. I can't wait for number seven”, you giggled

“It's coming up soon, I have a feeling”, he lamented

“And what do you have to say?”, you whispered

“I’m happy you are happy”, he said back

“That’s my boy”

“I’m going to miss you”, he admitted

“Mee too”

. . .

You were staring at the wallpaper of your phone, it was a picture of you and Aemond, your face next to him, both smiling to the camera

You were going to miss him

He was your very best friend in the entire world, and six weeks was a long time, wasn’t it?

“We also ask at this time that you turn off all your electronic devices. Please leave your cell phones turned off for the full duration of the flight”, you heard through the speakers of the plane. With a last look your turned off your phone

You were so excited for this trip!

It was going to be huge for your work, and you couldn’t wait to get to Winterfell, you had never been but they say it's beautiful

Was it weird that you wanted Aemond to be there with you?

Maybe

But he would never go for something like that, you didn’t think

taglist! @snh96 @sagelovesreading @toodlesxcuddles @ammo23 @bananzaa @ttkttt

#misguidedmade #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #cregan stark #cregan x reader #made of honor #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon

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lavellenchanted · 3 months

Note

💛 & OTP: I want the whole damn thing

💛 Reunion Kiss/Relief

Jackson's an interminably long board meeting when it happens, trying to make sense of the world's most boring financial presentation, so he doesn't immediately notice the news bulletin popping up on his phone. It's only when they start hearing voices in the corridor and someone runs past the board room window that they all start to realise something's going on, and Jackson suddenly catches sight of the blinking red notification on his phone screen.

"Multi-car pile up," he explains shortly to the board, already on his feet and heading for the door, scrolling down for more information. "I'm guessing we're the nearest hospital - it's gonna be all hands on deck, so if you're qualified to hold a scalpel, get down to the pit."

(Frank, still holding the clicker for his presentation, looks thoroughly relieved that his only qualification is in accountancy.)

Halfway down the corridor, Jackson stops dead. A cold shiver run down his spine and it feels like his stomach has dropped out of him entirely as he sees the location of the accident. That's April's route to work.

Immediately he brings up her number and dials - but it goes straight to voicemail, and he wants to be sick. He shoots her off a quick text and then tries ringing again and again as he heads down to the E.R.

Each time it goes to voicemail.

He tries to tell himself not to panic. The phone lines are probably horrendously busy with people trying to contact emergency services or friends and family to make sure they're alright, and April not answering might just mean she's not looking at her phone. She's probably trying to help, if she is near there.

He tells himself that, but all he can think of is Ben calling him, telling him he was going to have to perform a C-section on April in her kitchen, of April quarantined behind glass, of watching April on the operating table of Grey-Sloan.

(How much luck can one person have?)

"Pick up, damn it!" he shouts as her voicemail message plays again, and a nurse passing jumps in fright.

"Dr Avery? Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just - I'm worried about my wife."

The word slips out automatically, and it's only after he says it that he remembers that, technically, April isn't his wife any more. Because he was stupid enough to divorce her. They're not even dating, despite the fact that they've been living together since they came to Boston, are raising Harriet together.

And yet he never really stopped thinking of her in that way, did he? Even when they were separated, when he was dating other women, when she was marrying someone else, he still thought of her as his.

"Has a woman called April Kepner been brought in? Late thirties, red hair?"

The nurse shakes her head. "I don't think so - not that I've seen. I'll check for you."

She scurries away, but before Jackson can follow or try to ring April again he's stopped and asked for a consult, and then another, and another, and then he gets pulled into a surgery and loses all track of time.

The whole way through he's repeating silently, Please, God. Please let her be okay. Please let me get another chance. I promise I won't waste this one.

His faith still isn't as strong as April's, he doubts it ever will be. Half the time he's not even really sure what it is he believes in. But it's comforting to pray, whether anyone's listening or not.

When he's finally finished and comes back out into the corridor, he immediately pulls his phone out. It's been nearly five hours, and there's still nothing from April. He wants to scream.

And then -

"There's no signs of internal bleeding, but get a CT scan just to be sure."

He spins round, his heart in his throat. April's just coming out of a patient room with an intern; she's in jeans an a tshirt instead of scrubs, dirt and what looks like splashes of blood staining them, her hair scraped back and a band-aid on her forehead, but she's alive and whole and the most beautiful thing Jackson's ever seen.

"April?"

"Jackson, there you are!" Her face lights up as she turns and sees him. Relief crashing over him, he starts running towards her. "I tried to find you but they said you were in surgery. I came with one of the -"

He cuts her off by pulling her into his arms and soundly kissing her. How she got here doesn't really seem to matter any more, just that she is here and uninjured.

She lets out a little sound of shock, and then melts into him the way she always has, her hands coming up to clutch at his scrubs. The feel of her lips is achingly familiar against his, and he rains kisses down on them, one after another, trying to make up for every time he should have kissed her but didn't. And his heart sings as she lifts herself up on tip-toes and kisses him back, meeting each stroke of his mouth with one of her own.

Finally he pulls back, but only enough to rest his forehead against hers.

"You weren't answering your phone," he says quietly.

"I was doing triage at the scene, and then the battery died. I'm sorry."

"You're alright?"

"Totally fine. I promise."

For the first time since he saw the notification on his phone, he starts to relax.

"Dr Avery?" Glancing up, he sees the nurse he was talking to earlier at the end of the corridor. "You found your wife, then?"

Jackson looks down at April, who's smiling knowingly up at him, a warmth in her eyes that gives him the confidence to reply, "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

kiss prompts

#I swear these are getting longer with each prompt lol #japril #jackson avery #april kepner #otp: I want the whole damn thing #my fic

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

Text

Room 214

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yes - anon

Prompt: You and Elvis stop at a motel for the night. Only problem is, they have one room left, and there’s only one bed.

TW: None!

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 1828

A/N: this is not my fav so i am sorry about that, but whenever i can make elvis say soft things, i do.

Read part two here + part three here!

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You curl your fingers into fists on top of your pants. If you have to listen to one more minute of that stupid southern drawl, you're going to commit a murder. Somehow you've wound up in the passenger seat of a car with Elvis Presley as the whole performing show moves up from one state to another. You would normally have driven in the car with the rest of the set managers, artists, and costume designers. But the bus had run into an engine problem outside of the nearest town and probably won't be set to run again until tomorrow morning. Elvis has to be on stage by lunchtime the next morning, so the Colonel has sent him ahead. As the assistant stage manager, you've been assigned the great duty of tagging along to help Elvis get ready for his show.

“You still there?” he asks, and you pointedly ignore him.

It’s not that you don't like him. In reality, you like him very much. It’s just that you hate how sucessful he's become so quickly. You once had dreams of being an artist or a singer or even an actress someday. But no one has ever gone out of their way to help you get big like the Colonel has with Elvis. And you know the only reason girls like him so much is because of his sex appeal, raw and given freely.

Not that you don't understand where they were coming from. Come on, you have eyes, don't you? It just isn't fair.

He pulls into the driveway of the motel you’d circled on the map. You hardly wait for the car to stop rolling before you swing the door open and march inside. You approach the front desk and smile at the woman behind it. She has curly hair, twisting this way and that, and terribly outdated makeup. Her eyebrows are so thin that it takes you a moment to even realize they're there.

“Hi, we need a room, please. Just for tonight,” you say, and the attendant starts flipping through a notepad.

“Alright, 214 will be your room number. It’s got one bed and a-”

“Oh,” you stop her, holding a hand up. “No we need two beds, please.”

She peers over your shoulder at Elvis, standing with his hands in his pockets next to the few bits of luggage you’ve brought.

“You and your husband really sleep in separate beds, do ya?” she asks, and you feel your face grow hot.

“No, no he’s not my husband. We’re not together in any way, shape, or form, actually. That’s why we need the two bedrooms, you see.”

The woman sighs and drops her head lazily down to the book. She flips through a few pages and then lazily swivels her head back to face you.

“Well, we’re out of two bedrooms.”

“What about two separate rooms?”

She flips through again and shakes her head.

“Nope. We’re booked up. One room is all that’s left.”

You lean over the counter and whisper to the woman.

“There’s really nothing at all that you can do?” you ask, placing emphasis on the ‘nothing’.

“There’s really nothing I can do. We’re all booked,” she replies dryly. “So you’ll be in room 214 just down the hall. The bed should already be made, but if not we have sheets up here at the desk. The pool is closed, so-”

You snatch the keys off the desk, cutting her off.

“Thanks for your help,” you say.

You roll your eyes and turn back to Elvis, who's glancing out of the window into the parking lot.

“Come on,” you say as you pass, dragging your suitcase begrudgingly.

He grabs his own luggage and follows you down the hall. You unlock the door to the room and sigh as you walk in. There is, in fact, only one bed.

“Only one bed? Darlin if you wanted to get in bed with me, you coulda just asked,” Elvis says, shutting the door with his foot.

“They were out of two bedrooms, Elvis,” you replies. “Beleive me I tried my best.”

You start to sort through one of the suitcases to find his outfit for the show.

“So…how you wanna do this?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor and you certainly won’t be ready to perform tomorrow if you sleep on the ground, so I guess we have to share,” you respond, brushing out the pants of his pink suit.

“Fine by me,” he responds, stretching his legs out and leaning back on the bed with his hands behind his head. You turn around and hold your hand up.

“Listen, Presley. We’re gonna lay some ground rules right now. Number one, you will not touch me at any point during the night. Number two, you will sleep with clothes on. Pants and a shirt. Number three, we will sleep with our backs toward each other. I don’t want to wake up next to your face. Got it?”

“Jesus, baby, you got a lotta rules,” he replies. “But fine. Hey, you need the bathroom? Imma take a shower.”

You shake your head, trying NOT to imagine his naked body covered in steaming, running water.

“Feel free to join me, if ya like.”

You whirl around, about to scold him, but he's already shut the door to the bathroom. You place your hands on your face and rake your fingers down your cheeks. Why does he have to flaunt himself so much? He's sexy, and he knows it. You hate him.

You hear the shower water running and relax a little. At least you can be alone for a minute to gather yourself. You take some deep breaths and then quickly change into your pajamas while he's preocupied. After that, you grab the novel you've been reading out of your bag. You curl up in the chair in the corner of the room and start reading. You get caught up in the plot of the book until the shower turns off and the door clicks open.

“Water’s freezin if you’re plannin to take a shower,” he says, walking out of the bathroom. You glance up to see him wrapped in a towel. You nearly drop the book you're reading. He's still wet from the water, and the colors from the blinking motel light outside the window are illuminating his every muscle. The towel is hung so low on his waist that it's almost falling off. You retrain your eyes on the book, knowing you aren't taking in a single word of what you're reading.

“On second thought, I’ll just sleep right here,” you say. “I’m already settled and really tired, so just turn the light off when you’re ready to go to bed.”

You flip the book closed and fold your arms over your chest, closing your eyes. Your ears are perked to attention, listening to everything he's doing. You hear him rummaging through his suitcase and then climbing into the bed.

“You sure you don’t want in here? It’s nice and warm under these sheets,” he says. You say nothing, hoping he'll think you’ve fallen asleep already.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters and flicks the light off.

There's silence for a few minutes as you try to get comfortable. The chair is old and smells kind of funky. It's hard and not at all comfortable. Not to mention that the window doesn't shut all the way and a cold breeze is flowing through right onto your knees. You're shivering a little, but refuse to move in case Elvis hears you. You hear him heave a big sigh.

“Y/N,” he mumbles in the darkness, “I know you ain’t asleep. Please come get in the bed.”

You stay silent. You're too proud to admit he's right.

“Do not make me come getcha,” he says, and you shut your eyes tighter. After a few seconds, he sighs deeply again and you hear the bed creak as he gets up. You keep your eyes closed and ignore him as much as you can. But you can't feign sleep when his strong arms wrap around your figure.

“Hey!” you shout, swatting his hands from you.

“Get in the bed,” he commands, and you push him back.

“Fine. But if you touch me or even look at me in any way, I’m going back to the chair.”

You begrudgingly walk to the bed and crawl in, curling up into the smallest ball you possibly can, with your back facing his side of the bed. The mattress shifts with his weight as he slides in next to you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep as fast as possible.

“Do ya really hate me that much?” his voice is quiet. “I always could tell ya didn’t like me, but I didn’t realize…”

There's a strange quality to his voice, almost a sad tone. You roll your eyes but answer, feeling intense guilt.

“I don’t hate you, Elvis. I just…”

“What?” he edges you on.

“I just don’t want to be another girl in the mass of fans,” you whisper, half-hoping he won't hear you and half-hoping he will. There's a moment of silence and in that time, you've started to shiver. With the combination of the freezing cold room and the fact that you've finally put yourself out there, you are unstable and scared.

“You’re shiverin, baby,” he says, rolling over. He pulls the blankets up to your chin and rubbs your arms over the covers.

“It’s freezing in here,” you whisper, clutching the blankets.

“I don’t wanna break ya rules or none, but it might help if you’d let me hold ya,” he says, waiting for you to give him confirmation.

“Okay,” you barely say. You shift so he can thread his arm underneath your head. His other arm winds around your waist and holds you close to him. You can't help but chuckle. “I guess I’ll throw the rule book out, since you’ve already broken them all.”

“I’m not complainin,” he whispers into your hair. “And you stopped shiverin already.”

You haven't even noticed, but he's right. He's very warm, and you feel safe and secure with his arms around you. He’s also crawled into bed without a shirt on, even though you’d told him to cover himself up. You're secretly glad he’d disobeyed. His breath is warm on your neck, and you absentmindedly nestle further into him.

“You’re not just another girl in the crowd, ya know,” he say. “You’re special, and I actually really like ya.”

You can't help but smile.

“I kinda like you back,” you whisper, and you know he hears you thanks to his breathy chuckle that blows hot air on your ear.

He gently leans over to kiss your temple and stroke your cheek.

“Go to sleep, baby. I’ll keep ya warm,” he mumbles, and you smile, falling asleep faster than ever.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know! :)

#elvis #elvis 2022 #austin butler #milasfics #milaselvisfics #milasthings #milaselviscontent #elvis imagine #elvis fic

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rudnitskaia · 14 days

Note

Sorry i got so excited to ask questions i forgot to specify but maybe a drabble for 3, 6 and 19. And a drawing for 18. But if you feel specifically inspirred to do something different im not complaining. Love these goobers so any kind of romaunce content is a win for me😁

Hey-hey, Edd! 💖 Tysm for the ask, I'll cover all the numbers, I promise! ✨😭✨ These are very interesting topics for me, so count it as part 1/?. :3 I'll tag your main and your new @acesandocs acc so you won't miss it. <3

I hope you meant numbers from that list, but if you meant the other - DM me, please.

I'll start with the number 19, "Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?"

And I came up with two ideas, so I post the two-parts answer in a row. Because I headcanon that it's Freckle who was the first one to suspect his cousin develops feelings for a certain Italian waitress, but technically the one who got the confirmed information about Rocky's and Mau's relationship would've been Augusto. So I did both.

First story will be from the Freckle's side. I once started to do a comic from it, but gave it up. So now behold this ancient scenario in a ficlet. :D

The Right Moment

“And what a pizza they have!”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, sugary pizza!”

“Is this... thing really worth it?” Calvin sighed, deciding not to clarify what that ridiculous phrase meant.

“Oh, true ambrosia. You'll be flabbergasted!” Rocky exclaimed, keeping up his pace. Calvin felt that he had been trying to catch up with his cousin through the streets of St. Louis for about an hour, and he feared that he was going to spend just as long on the heat as he already had, but fortunately Rocky finally turned around the corner and confidently swung open the blue door of the little eatery. Calvin followed him inside and found Rocky waiting at the counter, but finding no one at it, he sat down at the table that was nearest to the entrance, placed his fedora against the wall, and drummed his fingers impatiently on the countertop. Calvin sat down across the table and studied the details of the unassuming establishment. Since when had Rocky developed such a fondness for Italian cuisine…?

“Why, if it isn't Mister Rickaby himself!” A lively woman's voice with a quavering “r” sounded over Calvin's ear.

“Miss Maura,” Rocky grinned. “How else could it be? Your cozy place is an oasis that shelters travelers from the scorching sun. I've even rescued one suffering man along the way. Working for the good of your enterprise, so to speak. Meet my cousin, Freckle.”

“Freckle?”

“Calvin. McMurray,” he habitually corrected Rocky, and finally turned around, meeting his gaze with the tall, young Italian woman. Calvin stared at her face and lean figure, but by the time he realized he was doing it for too long, thankfully, she was already looking at Rocky.

“We'll have two glasses of lemonade, please, your incomparable sugary pizza…”

“And a sandwich, please. Any kind. Not sweet,” Calvin added hastily.

“Not sweet? Are you sure he's your cousin, Rocky?”

“Oh, yeah, he is. He just doesn't realize what he's missing,” he waved it away. “You know for yourself that pizza's an undoughbtfully subtle thing.”

Mau laughed out loud.

“Oh, come on. I'm the one who knows batter that it’s just your oven self that works on a different fuel.”

“Hey!” Rocky chuckled with feigned indignation, but Maura was already heading past the tables toward the kitchen. Calvin stayed silent as he watched Rocky's eyes on the girl. He didn't say a word when Rocky again engaged the waitress in banter when she returned with the order. He preferred not to evaluate the flavor of the monstrous slice that was aptly called ‘sugary pizza’, but the sandwich and lemonade were very good indeed. Calvin kept his mouth shut even when Rocky, leaning against the counter, took a few good minutes to say goodbye to Mau. Only on their way back to the Little Daisy Café he surrendered to his curiosity.

“So… about that ‘sugary pizza’.”

“What, do you regret not trying it after all? I knew it! I knew you'd bite your head off. Well, I'll ask Miss Maura make more next time.”

“Next time, yeah. How long have you been visiting this place?”

Rocky pondered.

“A month? Or about two… something like that.”

“Only for sugary pizza?”

“No, why, they have good coffee, lemonade, and…” Rocky began to list without a backward thought, but then suddenly frowned. “Wait, what are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Calvin looked away and smiled involuntarily. Rocky squinted.

“Don’t tap dance with me, sneaky gingerbread. I can see right through you.”

“Well… uh. Neither of us are blind. Miss Maura probably… it seems she likes you.”

Shaking his head, Rocky ran a hand through his hair in relief.

“Oh, Freckle. You don't understand anything. Miss Maura… she's always like that. With everyone. Gives away words like hot cakes. Mine may be puncakes, but they aren’t served with any ‘additional syrup’.”

Calvin stared at the passing cars for a while, thinking if he should try to change his cousin's mind. But suddenly Rocky cautiously asked:

“…you really think?”

Calvin shrugged. Was he sure of what he was talking about? It was hard to tell. But what he'd seen in the eatery certainly… brought up some thoughts.

“Why don't you ask her out, since you two have been in touch for so long?”

“It's not that simple, Freckle,” Rocky sighed and gestured vigorously. “You have to be thorough, have to pick the right moment. Besides, have you seen her grumpy old man? A glancekiller. It's like rescuing a princess from a dragon's lair. And you're suggesting I just walk up and say…” he stopped in the middle of the street in a deep bow with his hands widely outstretched to the sides, “…do me a favor, my fair maid, go with me on a promenade!”

Suddenly Rocky felt how something was lowered on his left hand. He turned his head in puzzlement and found his own fedora hanging there. But it wasn't that that surprised him, it was… Maura. She was looking at him and Freckle with amusement, and Rocky had no idea where to get away from that look. And he wanted to get away. Wanted it desperately. Preferably somewhere under the ground. But before he could say anything, Mau nonchalantly stated:

“Well, if you promise to be a faithful knight, toss a pebble into my window at night.”

Calvin, who was watching all this, began to quietly laugh. Maura waved to him with a mockingly innocent smile.

“Goodbye, Mister McMurray, it was nice to meet you,” and, without waiting for Rocky's reply, she headed back toward the eatery.

Calvin's laughter grew louder the longer he stared at Rocky's confused face. It was simply impossible to hold back. Calvin felt like he was choking, but he didn't stop chuckling even when Rocky elbowed him in the side and exclaimed:

“Stop cackling, you!”

Rocky took a deep breath, covered his face with the fedora and let out a muffled yell. As Calvin continued to laugh, he patted his cousin on the back a few times, either sympathetically or encouragingly; it was also hard to tell.

Though one thing was definitely undoubtful: now Calvin had not a single regret about that visit to Italian eatery. At all.

#tysm for the ask dude <333 #it gave me so much fuel *w*#acesandocs #coffeintheface #missedditart #heldig writings #lackadaisy #romaunce #maura venza oc #rocky rickaby #lackadaisy oc #lackadaisy ocs #lackadaisyoc #lackadaisyocs #maura venza #lackadaisy rocky #rocky lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction

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barleyo · 8 months

Note

do you take requests if so for the love of god do more boomhauer please it was so damn hot <3 love your work btw

Straight Tequila Night.

Jeff Boomhauer X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, and yes, requests are always open! Sorry for the excruciatingly long wait, sweetheart. I'm pretty worthless when it comes to getting requests done in a timely manner, sorry!! This is heavily based off of John Anderson's Straight Tequila Night, so I suggest listening to it while you read. Whoever can find the most references to the song in the fic wins, haha!

Wordcount: 3.4K

Tags: P*rn with plot, p in v, oral (f receiving), sex with a semi-stranger, smut in the later half of the story

He jetted down the highway, looking for any sign or signal that pointed toward a bar. He never liked traveling outside of Arlen for anything, but when his friends were done drinking for the night and his regular pub was closed, he didn’t mind driving a few miles out of town to get a drink and mingle.

Though Boomhauer was going farther than he originally thought he would need to, he refused to turn around and give up. Instead, he kept on driving down the sparingly lit road. The road there was bumpy, he noticed. Old and cracked pavement, unlike Arlen’s smooth, blacktop roads. He was only twenty or so minutes out of town and he could tell the differences between the two places by how often his car would jump on a jagged crack or pothole too deep to be safe.

Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of a tiny place that did not register as a bar in his mind until a neon sign that read “happy hour, every hour” came into view. The lot was empty besides a car or two in the employee’s spots and a few beat up sedans that were scattered. Boomhauer parked in a spot nearest the door and got out, grabbed his jacket he left in the passenger seat, and shrugged it on. Hands in his coat pockets, he walked in.

For however few cars were in the lot, it looked like even fewer people were even in the place. He surveyed the empty tables and thought to turn right back around to keep looking when a voice called out to him.

“Welcome in,” a woman said.

His head snapped over to the source, finding her behind the bar. He had not noticed her while he was making his earlier assessment of the place. He offered a quick smile in an attempt to combat his previous indirect rudeness and sat at her bar top. Boomhauer took note of the woman’s age: a bit too old to just be working at a place like this, she was likely the owner.

“Never seen you before, you new here?” She leaned over the countertop inquisitively, leaving enough room between the two of them for comfort. “Or just passing through town?”

“Just passing through, ma’am,” he said.

“Ma’am? Gosh, polite, aren’t you? You can call me Mary, none of all that ‘ma’am’ stuff. Your name, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“Jeff Boomhauer. Friends call me Boomhauer.”

“Alright then, Boomhauer, what’re you havin’ here on this fantastic night?” What Mary lacked in numbers, she made up for in energy and entertainment for the guests she did have. The emptiness of the bar did not seem to bother her.

“Alamo, if you’ve got it.”

“Alamo? Oh, honey, you’re from Arlen aren’t you?” she asked, biting back a laugh when he nodded. “Y’all really love your Alamo, huh? Nobody here drinks it. Thought about replacing it on tap to save my money, glad you’re here to drink it.” Mary bent down, disappearing under the bar to grab the beer mug. “Sixteen ounces okay?” She pulled the tap and filled the cup.

“Mhm, that’s fine by me,” he grabbed the mug and took a swig from it, and looked to his side. He saw a wine glass sitting next to him on a napkin. Before he could ask about it, someone walked over.

“Someone else here, Mary?”

“Yup, (Y/N),” Mary was already turned to the girl’s direction, hearing the click of her heels before hearing her voice, “Out-of-towner from Arlen.”

(Y/N) took her seat next to Boomhauer and faced him. “It’s ‘bout time we see someone who isn’t a regular,” she laughed, holding her hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

Shaking her hand, he replied, “You too, Miss (Y/N).”

“Oh, so polite,” she said. “Didn’t know I was a ‘Miss’ kind of girl!”

“That’s what I was saying too! Jeff Boomhauer, are all Arlen men like this? Because if so, I might need to get me one,” Mary joked while she wiped down the other end of the bar, scrubbing at a stubborn stain.

Boomhauer said nothing in return and instead sipped at his mug quietly, listening in on Mary and (Y/N)’s chat. He allowed himself to peer at her from the corner of his eyes every so often. She was an exceptionally pretty thing: big smile, cute voice, and even cuter laugh. He was normally a talkative man, but feeling so enthralled and out of place made him want to listen especially closely to the two women.

“So, uh,” he cleared his throat, “you come here often?” He internally cringed at his own cliche, but (Y/N) seemed not to mind.

“I’m Mary’s favorite regular, if that gives you any clue.” She looked at him, a sweet smile covering her face.

“Don’t let her fool you, she’s still a pain in my rear,” Mary interrupted absentmindedly.

“See, that’s real love right there,” (Y/N) grabbed Boomhauer’s arm as she chuckled to herself, and let go once she was done. “Hey, do me a favor, would you?”

“Yeah?”

“Take these,” she dug in her purse and pulled out a small handful of quarters. “Put on, uh, K-13 on that ol’ jukebox in that corner.”

“You got it,” he said. He stood up and stepped over to the jukebox, inserting the coins. He hovered his fingers over the number keys of the jukebox’s keyboard and punched in the numbers that she told him to. “I didn’t even know these things were still used,” he said. “Ain’t seen one since I was a kid.”

“I know, right? Used to be my favorite thing: headin’ to a diner with my daddy, popping on whatever song I could with the nickels and dimes he found for me in his car’s cup holders.”

Boomhauer sat back down and watched (Y/N)’s face contort into a fond smile as she went over her memories.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He did not try to stop his own smile from forming at her words.

“Well,” she started, “you in town for long?”

“Nah, just tonight. Came here when my dang ol’ favorite place was right n’ closed up. Just trying somethin’ new.”

“Ah, well, cheers to that then!” She held her glass up and clinked it against his. She drank from it again, finishing out the rest of her white wine. “You know, we almost never get people just blowing by here,” she traced the rim of the glass, “the place is just too boring for people, I guess. Empty town and all that.”

“I like it.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t mind it here, man. Nice n’ quiet, wouldn’t say it’s better’n Arlen, but I don’t mind it here,” Boomhauer said, watching (Y/N)’s face warm up from the alcohol, assuming the same was happening to his own face.

“Oh, Boomhauer, don’t say that or else I’ll have to convince you to move here! We could use some more cuties like you here, it’d make it worth hanging around this town.”

“Maybe someday, Miss (Y/N), maybe someday,” he chuckled at her dramatics, but on the inside he felt a sharp spark. She was joking, of course, but the hint of truth behind it was all Boomhauer could hear. He couldn’t possibly move to a new town for a woman he’d known for only the lesser half of an hour, but God, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel tempting every time he heard her laugh.

She smirked at him and ushered him to stand up and follow her. She tossed a few bills onto the countertop on both her side and Boomhauer’s, pushing his hand down as he reached into his pocket to pay. “Lightin’ up and headin’ out, Mary,” she called from behind her shoulder.

“Long as you don’t do it in here, hon,” Mary called back. “See you.” She had taken to looking through a magazine while the ‘couple’ were chatting with each other and was still engrossed with what she was reading.

(Y/N) grabbed Boomhauer’s hand and pulled him out the door, letting go of his hand and sitting on the curb just outside the bar. She patted the spot beside her. He sat down with her and watched her take a box of cigarettes out of her purse.

“You smoke?” she asked.

“Mhm, yeah.” He did not smoke. He may have lit a cig once or twice in high school, but never as an adult, and why he told her he did, he did not know.

“Shit,” (Y/N) groaned, pulling her final cigarette out of its lonely box. “One left.” She lit it and took a drag, exhaling a dark cloud and tapping the ash off of the end. “Hm,” she grunted as she held the stick out to Boomhauer.

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise but took it anyway. He saw the red ring of (Y/N)’s lipstick around the filter of the cigarette and smiled, taking a puff of his own. An unfamiliar heaviness grew in his lungs and he fought back a cough, handing it back to her.

“You know,” she took another drag before continuing, “I’m glad you came on in tonight. It’s always just me n’ a few random regulars. Every damn night, never a newbie or anyone interestin’.” She sighed and leaned her head onto Boomhauer’s shoulder.

He tensed up a first, but calmed down once he felt her start to hum gently.

“There’s something about this town I love,” she puffed from the cig and coughed. “The community, the familiar faces. Everyone knows each other, and there’s charm to that.”

Boomhauer nodded, the smoke swirling around him as (Y/N) exhaled. “Yeah, it’s true. Arlen’s like that too, bit bigger though. Everybody knows everybody. Can’t go any-dang-where without bumpin’ into someone you know.”

“Right,” she replied, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. “But sometimes, it’s nice to step outta your bubble, really get out there.”

He thought for a moment, contemplating her words. It had been a long time since he ventured outside of his comfort zone, outside of his town. Sitting there with (Y/N) on that quiet curb, he couldn’t help but feel a strange comfort. Maybe there was more to life than the familiar routine he had grown accustomed to.

“You might be onto somethin’ there,” he finally said. “Life’s too short to stay in one place, a man’s gotta be free, man. Maybe it’s time I start takin’ some risks, tryin’ new things.”

(Y/N) grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “I like the sound of that, Boomhauer. A man with a sense of adventure is very sexy.”

They kept speaking to each other, inching closer throughout the night.The initial awkwardness between them melted away, replaced by a growing connection and a shared sense of curiosity.

Eventually, the cigarette burned out.

“Can’t believe how fast time flew by,” Boomhauer said, a tinge of regret in his voice. “I gotta get goin’.”

“Don’t know if I’m being forward, but am I gonna see you around these parts again, Mr. Boomhauer?” she asked with a laugh, copying his formality from the beginning of the night.

He caught on. “Well, Miss (Y/N), depends on if you’re good and sure you wanna see me again.”

“Hm, I think I’d like to. Could get used to sitting by a handsome not-stranger like yourself every Friday night. Mary likes ya’ too.” She angled her head up to make eye contact with him. “I like you more, though.” She leaned in and pressed her red-stained lips against his chapped ones.

He placed his hand on her face and tilted her into the kiss, savoring the feeling. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, slowly pushing into her mouth. She moaned as he explored her mouth, intertwining his tongue with hers briefly before breaking away.

They both panted as they caught their breath, still holding eye contact.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) sighed, standing up.

“Right, uh, yeah, man, me too.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her turn to walk away. “You need me to walk you to your car?”

“No, hon, I’m okay. Just–” she looked back at him, “just make sure to come here again real soon, yeah? Don’t be a stranger, Boomhauer.” She walked to her car, heels clicking. She got into the car and drove off, rolling down her window to flash a final smile at him.

Boomhauer had gone back to that small, desolate bar every week on Fridays for a long time. He did not see (Y/N) there for a while. He was upset, thinking that she had forgotten about their little promise so quickly, but he still showed up. Every Friday, sometimes Saturdays. He had soon started to devote less and less of his time to visiting Mary’s pub in search of her.

Today, he decided, would be one of his final trips. He was still hopeful, of course, but he was not completely delusional and knew when enough was enough.

He walked in, head down. Not looking up, he sat down at his regular seat, right by the middle of the bar top.

“Hey, Mary,” he groaned, finally looking up.

“Hey, not-stranger.” (Y/N) smiled at him while picking up her glass.

Boomhauer looked up, seeing her face again. He felt relief, anger, and happiness all at the same time. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), where have you been? I– I’ve been comin’ here wantin’ to see you every week.”

“I know, I know, Mary’s grilled me about it plenty, and I’m sorry.” She plopped down next to him in the chair, facing him with a grimace on her face. “I don’t even know what happened. I was getting dressed to come see you on that Friday and I just couldn’t leave, same with all the others.” She grabbed her shot glass. It was filled to the brim with tequila, and it probably was not the first or only one she had that night.

“What do you mean?”

“Damn it, I don’t know, Jeff,” she sighed and shot the drink back, wincing at the burning feeling it left in her throat. “You’re just so nice, you were so sweet, and you listened to me when I was talking the whole time. You let me joke and be silly and made me feel like you felt like I did, even if it was a lil’ soon.”

“I do feel the same, (Y/N), I feel it too, but if you felt this way, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Wasn’t that simple, I felt so scared and I couldn’t take the chance of you not feeling the same. You say you do, but even telling you now makes me so nervous,” she covered her face with her hands, and her voice was a bit muffled as she ranted. Her hands felt clammy with her sweat and tears.

Boomhauer gently wedged his hand between her face and her palm, tilting her head to angle her eyes at his. “Darlin’, c’mon now, don’t cry. I get it, you don’t have to explain anymore.” He got up and tapped her arm. “You’re too drunk to drive, let me take you home, yeah?”

(Y/N) nodded, thick tears still dripping down her cheeks.

They both exited the bar, (Y/N) clinging onto Boomhauer’s arm, snuggling into it against the cool night air. They got in Boomhauer’s car and (Y/N) typed her address into his phone’s GPS system.

They drove in near silence, the only sound being a sniffle of huff from (Y/N)’s side of the car. He soon pulled into her driveway. Getting out, he walked to her side and opened her door, lifting her to her weak, tired legs and walked her to the door.

“I guess I’ll see you whenever I can see you–?”

He was interrupted by (Y/N) pulling him into a kiss. It was not like their first one, this one was rushed and full of need and desire. She pulled him back into the house, still locked in the kiss, and slammed her door shut. She led him to the bedroom and fell back on her bed.

“This okay?” He asked, laying on top of her.

“Mhm, yes. Please, g’head n’ touch me.”

That was all he needed to hear. He pushed her head to the side and placed his lips on her neck. He sucked the soft skin until a tender, dark bruise formed on it. Moving his head up, he littered the hickies closer to her jaw.

Pulling away with a pop, he examined the marks. They were shiny with his spit.

“They don’t hurt, do they?” He traced over the wet marks with his thumb, pressing onto them gently.

(Y/N) craned her neck into his touch, pushing into it further. “It does, but I like it. Don’t need’a worry ‘bout me.”

“Hm.”

Boomhauer ducked his head down and created a trail of kisses, each dipping lower than the last until his lips were situated at her chest, just at the divot of her shirt. He quickly slid his finger through the buttons of her shirt, unbuttoning them and helping her shrug the shirt off.

Goosebumps littered her skin when the cold air hit her body, soon being soothed by the warm kisses he placed over her abdomen. She gasped at the feeling. Boomhauer made his way lower, slipping her skirt and panties down.

“Here,” he gripped onto her thighs and held them apart, “hold still for me.”

He placed his head fully between her legs, licking thick stripes over her cunt. From her entrance to her clit, he traced a path, licking up her wetness and replacing it with his spit.

“God, ‘s too much,” she whined.

“Ain’t even started yet, just wait,” Boomhauer said, voice muffled while he slurped and sucked on her sensitive, swollen bud.

Licking at her slit, he pushed into her, dipping his tongue in-and-out. He rolled his tongue deeper, nose bumping against her clit. Little shocks of pleasure coursed through (Y/N), back arching with each pass over her clit.

Running her hands through his blond hair, she took purchase over the back of his head, grinding her pussy up into his mouth.

“Ah– almost, almost there, keep–”

He pulled off, a wide grin plastered over his slick, reddened face. He wiped his face with his forearm.

“Turn over, baby,” Boomhauer grabbed her waist and flipped her over, face pushed into the mattress. “You ready?” He lined himself up at her entrance, slowly edging the tip in.

“Mhmph.”

His thrusts were slow and agonizing, but not teasing. He wanted this just as bad as she did, no: worse. He felt the velvet ribbing of her cunt suck him in with each thrust, drawing him in and constricting around his cock.

“Tight lil’ thing,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Can’t keep squeezin’ like that, darlin’, makin’ me wanna cum early.”

“Oh, sorry,” she whined slightly, arching her hips further up as if he were trying to guide his cock to her deep spot. “There,” her mouth fell open with a cry, “ooh, right there, right there!”

“Yeah? Yeah, I-I got you..”

Boomhauer tried to keep his hips directly flushed to her back, holding the position she put herself in under him. He turned his full, fast strokes into a rough and meaningful rutting, like he was trying to bury his dick into her G-spot.

“Fuck, fuck.” She panted deeply, pathetically, knowing she was close. A final stroke threw her over the edge into her ecstasy, from a final, sweet knock onto her cervix’s tip.

He saw her shimmery nails grip the sheets tightly, watching as her knuckles practically turned white. “Aw, sweet– shit, sweetheart,” he cooed into her ear, fumbling over his words a bit.

He got lost in his own pleasure, hardly being able to pull out. He managed to in time, however, and fisted his cock. After giving the base a few quick strokes, he groaned seeing his cum spurt out on her bare lower back.

(Y/N) hummed and looked back at him, sleepiness hanging over her eyes.

“Boom,” she said after she heard his breathing steady, “will y’stay with me tonight? Please?”

“I’ll stay longer’n that, girl.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking over to him as he took a spot underneath the covers with her.

“Didn’t you notice the suitcases in the backseat of m’car?

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #fanfiction #smutty smut smut #smut #king of the hill #king of the hill x reader #x reader #x fem reader #jeff boomhauer #boomhauer x reader #boomhauer #adult swim #niche fandom

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robotstrategy · 3 months

Text

Recalled • Part 5 • 32 - Mr. Delgado

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 5 Masterlist • Next

It takes four hours from Indianapolis to Akron. If he plans accordingly he can manage an overnight pick-up from Akron and have the kids delivered to a warehouse by morning, making it back in time to wish his kids a good day at school.

He sits on his six-year-old’s bed, his son floats in and out of consciousness.

“You’ll be back in the morning right papá?”

“Of course.”

Danilo plants a kiss on his son’s forehead before weaving in and out toys on the ground to get to the door.

“Buenas noches, Rolando.”

“Buenas noches papá.”

Danilo closes his son’s bedroom door, he looks over to his girlfriend on the couch, she’s holding their daughter.

“How is she doing?”

“No new words yet,” she looks down at the toddler. “She’s been knocked out for half the day, I hope she doesn’t wake me up in the middle of the night.”

“Ha, ha, I’ll pray for you Cindy.”

Cindy looks up at Danilo, disappointed.

“Are they sure they need the boxes shipped in the middle of the night?”

“They’re on crunch time, they were supposed to get the boxes shipped today, I suppose I’m their last ditch effort.”

“You’re always their last ditch effort!” She snaps. “You should go work for another company at this point, ‘cause they can’t seem to get their shit together.”

Danilo nods, “I’ve lived here for ten years and yet people will still point out that I’m an immigrant.”

“Is that why other places won’t hire you?” Cindy asks.

“Unfortunately yes.” He fibs.

Cindy sighs, she sets down their daughter and goes to grab something from the pantry. She chucks a few protein bars at him. “At least take something for the road.”

Danilo kisses his girlfriend goodbye and heads out, the roaring of the engine can be heard as he drives away.

There’s something about the way that Cindy acts that tells him he can’t be honest with her about what he does these nights. He doesn’t think she’d stay quiet about him working for the A.D.R. or maybe she wouldn’t consider it a real job. Then again she knows how much he gets paid, the A.D.R. will pay a crap ton to anyone willing to risk their lives transporting unwinds from safehouse to safehouse, to warehouse. Danilo pulls into a public parking lot, he looks to his glove box, pulling out a Manila folder. Opening it, there’s the key to a failed delivery service’s delivery truck that’s parked across from him. Danilo exits his car and moves around to the old delivery truck, getting into the truck there’s a map for A.D.R. workers, showing off all the safe house locations and the nearest airplane warehouses. Danilo pulls out of the parking lot, driving into the sunset.

When he lived in Spain with his family, you’d hear about unwinds and clappers every other day. Some clappers even went door to door, playing flip a coin with their next victim. He thought that going to America, the land of the free, there would be less news about unwinding and such. He was wrong, it’s as if he had stepped on unwind’s doorstep, sure, they were more secretive about it, but the number of Juvey cruisers and tithe limos that go by each day was countless.

One day he had complained about it in a coffee shop to an old man, the old man discreetly passed him a business card, and he’s been working for the A.D.R. ever since.

More and more have the A.D.R. been branching out towards new rebellious communities, but as they win some, they lose some as well. From people being too scared to arrests made, to deaths at the hands of parts pirates, the A.D.R. loses people. And doesn’t account for if Proactive Citizenry hasn’t already put moles in their system.

It’s around midnight when he reaches Akron, he arrives at an antique shop with older women peeking outside. Danilo hops out of the truck with his I.D. in hand, and the woman takes his I.D., inspecting it.

“Danilo Delgado, I believe we’ve met before.”

“You are Sonia, yes?”

The woman nods. “We recognize each other, that’s bad.”

“I know,” Danilo looks at the truck. “They’ve been giving me this truck a lot lately, I hope this is the last time I’ll use it for a while.”

“I hope so too.”

Sonia walks back inside as Danilo opens the back of the truck, according to the message he’ll be picking up three teens tonight. Hearing the opening of the shop doors Danilo looks around to see three teenagers at the door. Danilo quickly ushers them into the back of the truck before closing it up, he sets up a GPS route to the Athens warehouse before quickly getting out of Akron.

When he gets onto the highway it’s mostly quiet, nothing but the occasional person getting home from overtime, a taxi carrying a party of drunk people, and a truck driver doing what Danilo’s supposed job is.

It gets lonely at night, although sometimes he’ll hear the children talking in the back, but then he has to start turning on the radio to muffle them out. In the end, he’s left with nothing but empty English pop songs about sex or cheating on a lover. He’s pretty sure he’s heard Roland singing this song once, and it just reminds him of all the innocence a child is supposed to have. Singing a song about sex without even knowing it, just enjoying the beat of the song. But these kids, the unwinds, have to grow up so fast after learning about what could happen to them.

Thinking about his children again, it’s not even easy at home, ever since that babysitter shook Lilian she’s been developmentally stunted. Danilo is worried that the surgery didn’t work and that she’ll die soon, the only thing that gives him hope is that recently she’s started saying words. Her first word was "shark" because Roland wouldn’t stop saying it to her, Danilo is certain Roland thinks Lilian is stupid, and that he doesn’t understand she has a brain injury.

Danilo can see the off-ramp heading to the warehouse in the distance, it’s 2:30 in the morning and somehow the roads have become busier. There’s a car in front of him, to the side of him, and behind him. Danilo immediately assumes the worst, that these are part pirates. Catching a closer glimpse of them he takes a breath of relief, it’s just young drivers. Danilo does his rounds of mirror checking, road checking, and speedometer checking, his eyes stop on the speedometer, realizing how slow he’s going. Looking back to the road, he’s keeping up with the other cars, they’re the ones going slow. Suddenly they start switching places around the truck, Danilo gets a glimpse of one of the passengers opening the back window and throwing up. It becomes very apparent what kind of situation Danilo is in, there’s a bunch of drunk people playing leapfrog with his truck. Danilo tries keeping up with the cars, but with their speed constantly changing Danilo can only hope to make his exit. The car behind him starts speeding up again, it drifts to the lane beside him, but as it restarts the cycle of going to the front, it starts drifting back into the original lane. Danilo hears the metal of the truck and the car banging off of each other, his vehicle is slowly being pushed off the road, and there’s a shirl scream coming from one of the unwinds in the back. The car keeps bumping into the truck and once the car meets driver to driver with the truck it does a hard drift and sends the truck over the island and into the ditch.

The truck slams into the ground and somehow flips right side up. Danilo races out of the truck looking all around the vehicle before opening the back door, it’s not a pretty sight.

“¡Ay dios mío!”

Somehow one of them stayed completely intact while another has half their face bleeding, and the third is crippled.

Danilo smells smoke in the air, he looks around to the broken island, the car that was smashing into him is on fire, no doubt the police will be here soon. He thinks fast on his feet, he grabs the first-aid kit and the map to the A.D.R. locations and comes back around to the teens.

“You there!” He points to the stable-bodied one. “You will carry him!” He orders, referring to the crippled kid. “And you,” He points to the girl “Here.” He hands her the first-aid kit and the map.

“Do you see that off-route?” He points to the road in front of them. “You will follow that and it will take you to the airplane warehouse, you will be safe there. I know prayer means nothing to you, so I hope you make it there safely, now go!”

The teenagers quickly get themselves together and run like the wind, as if almost trying to escape the realization of such a traumatic event. Danilo goes back to the truck and pulls out the GPS, crushing it under his shoe in the grass. If he gets caught by the police tonight, he’s not getting caught so easily. Danilo climbs out of the ditch back onto the road, and across from the burning car is one lone man sitting against the island.

“It’s, it’s okay I already called the police.” He slurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I don’t think they are.” He points to the car, Danilo looks at it and immediately looks away, seeing the face of a woman melted against the back window.

“Are you okay though? You were drifting pretty badly.”

Danilo rolls his eyes, he wouldn’t have been “drifting” if another vehicle wasn’t continuously slamming into his.

“I am fine.”

Sooner or later they both see the flashing blue and red lights of two police cruisers and an ambulance speeding down the highway, they slow down and park once coming to the crime scene. The ambulance operators immediately go to the car, but switch to being concerned about the sitting man once they realize that they can't do anything for the corpses in there.

“Who called?” One of the officers asks.

“It was him.” Danilo points to the man, now in the ambulance.

“Right, I guess we’ll be getting your side of the story first.”

Danilo takes a deep breath. In his mind, there is a 99% chance that he’ll be going to jail tonight, and that’s okay. If the police are here, they won’t find the kids that ran off, the kids will make it to the warehouse safely, and Danilo will have done his job.

“My name is Danilo Delgado, I was driving the delivery truck that is now in the ditch. The car over there was filled with drunk people, and it kept slamming into my truck until it sent it me over the island. There were also two other cars filled with people, but I think they didn’t notice the accident behind them.”

One of the officers goes down to take a look at the truck.

“Do you believe all cars had drunk drivers?”

“I believe so.”

“Was there any breakable merchandise in the truck?”

“No, I was coming back to get a new shipment of items.”

“Okay, may I see an ID?”

Danilo hands him over his driver's license, and as soon as he does the officer inspecting his truck comes back up, pointing a gun at Danilo. Danilo puts his hands in the air and his knees to the ground, there’s no point in resisting.

“What’s wrong?” The officer holding his ID asks.

“I’ve seen that truck before, it belongs to the A.D.R.”

The loud sound of the jail bars closing can be heard, Danilo was caught red-handed for something so stupid, something that could have been avoided if the A.D.R. just gave him a different vehicle. The same cop who remembered the vehicle gets close to the bars.

“We did a bit of research into you, Mr. Delgado, y’know if you had stopped taking away unwinds maybe one day you could’ve gotten your daughter’s brain fixed with the help of them.”

Danilo lifts his head to shoot him a death stare before putting it back down.

“So, you were part of the A.D.R.?”

Danilo looks at the inmate beside him, he nods.

“Me too.” The inmate holds out his hand. “Eric.”

“Danilo.” He shakes his hand.

“How’d you get caught?”

“They had the same vehicle out too frequently, you?”

“Some little shit opened the back door,” Eric looks down. “I shouldn’t call them that, all five of those kids probably got unwound.”

“I was lucky enough that we were close yet far enough away from a warehouse. I was able to get them away before the police arrived.”

Eric pats Danilo on the back. “Godspeed Danilo, Godspeed.”

Danilo looks around in the dark as it’s three in the morning and everyone else is asleep. “They never told me how long I will stay here.”

“Oh, harbouring unwinds, yeah that’s a lifetime offence.”

Danilo’s eyes go wide. “I’ll be here forever?”

“Well, if you're lucky, you could get moved to a prison closer to your home, but yeah, pretty much.”

It then hits him how bad this is, his girlfriend will have to hear about what crime they charged him for. She’ll know that he was lying to her, what will she think of him then? He’ll never get to marry her, he’ll never get to see Roland grow up. He won’t get to dance with Lilian on her Quinceañera, if she’ll even live that long. Considering they’re so young, Danilo worries that his little Rolando and Liliana won’t remember him at all. Danilo spends the night silently crying, hoping that somehow he’ll be out of here sooner or later.

Thirteen years, Thirteen years, that’s how long he’s been in the prison system, halfway through his stay he was able to move back into Indianapolis, but that’s not really changing anything. Somehow he’s been able to escape the process of shilling, how? he’s not sure.

During breakfast a few mechanics enter the doors to the shilling room, Danilo and a few others watch as they start pulling off parts from this giant robotic machine.

“What the hell is that?” One of the inmates asks.

“It’s the shilling machine, the whole process is automated.” Another one answers.

“But why are they taking it out?”

“Didn’t you hear? Unwinding became illegal in the United States.”

Danilo’s and a few others' heads turn towards the inmate.

“Some kid named Connor Lassiter made such a big fuss about it that the president decided to vote out the Bill when it came back into voting.” They continued.

Danilo can’t believe it, before he even has the time to process it all the shrill noise of the speakers turning on makes themselves apparent.

“All inmates arrested for harbouring unwinds, including members of the A.D.R. you are asked to present yourselves at the front gate.”

Danilo and a few others rise, a guard comes in and guides them to the front gate.

Awaiting outside is the man in charge of the building as well as a few bystanders, there’s one in which Danilo thinks he recognizes.

The man clears his throat, “Like some of you might know, unwinding has been made illegal, honestly in my wife’s personal opinion ‘It's about damn time!’ You people, standing in front of me, no matter how little effort you made are some real rebellious heroes, thank-”

“Just get to the goddamn point!” The woman beside Danilo yells.

“Right, there’s no point in keeping you here anymore, you’re all free to go.”

Danilo feels like smacked over the head, so much good news in one day doesn’t feel real. There are a few cheers from the others, and someone ends up pulling Danilo into a giant group chant.

Soon enough guards take care of pulling out anything belonging to the ex-inmates out of the cells and into suitcases for them to take home. Danilo thanks the guard and starts to head for the exit when he sees that same bystander again, and it makes him furious. Danilo paces over to Cindy, his ex-girlfriend, the same woman who slid an Unwind order for Roland to his side of the glass around two years ago. He goes to yell something at her but she shoves a piece of paper in his face first. He rips the paper out of her hand and starts reading it, he doesn’t understand, what’s a Recall order, and what does it got to do with Roland.

“What now, have you done to our son?” He yells.

“I had him put back together.”

“… What?”

“He just arrived home recently, ya don’t have to meet him now, but I’d like you to meet him soon. I’d also appreciate it if you met Lilian again.”

“Rolando and Liliana? They are both alive?”

“Yes.”

It might have been the happiest of his life, something he fought for finally came true, his little girl is still kicking, and his son is alive once again.

#unwind #unwind dystology #unwind fanfic #unwind series #sequel fic #roland taggart #unwind oc

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urimaginespimp · 2 years

Text

Winter’s Time - Part 1

Read the PROLOGUE here.

Blurb: After 60 blissful years of marriage with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife took her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.

------

“And if I die?” Bucky huffs, as he waits for Shuri to finish setting up the time device.

It’s been three days since Shuri asked him to do the tests with her time traveling serum, with the upside of seeing his deceased wife again.

“Quit being a drama queen, White Wolf. You don’t want to spook younger Y/N with your defined wrinkles,” she replied nonchalantly, double-checking that everything is set up and walking over to the safe to get the syringe.

Bucky rolls his eyes from her reply. Even when she looks a lot older than him now, she never lost her wit. A small smile formed on his face, remembering how you and Shuri got along pretty well and would gang up on him. He wonders if she misses you too. He was so busy wallowing in his own grief, that he failed to ask how other people close to you were holding up.

“Do you ever miss her too?” He clears his throat, asking.

“You mean if I ever miss the only woman, I had closest to a sister?” she raises a brow at his question, and finally injects him by his inner arm

“I know, stupid question. Just making small talk,” he grumbles, making Shuri laugh.

“I know you’re nervous about this little experiment. But you have nothing to worry about.” she guides him to the platform. “How do you feel?”

He gives his arm a little flex. “My arm’s a little tingly but it's nothing bad.” His eyes go a little wide at the appearance of green blanks, resembling a date format on his inner arm.

“That’s good.” Shuri’s own eyes were glued to his forearm. “Choose a date. Preferably one where you haven’t met yet and a day where something significant happens that will make it to the news.”

Bucky thinks hard of a good year. “We met the summer of 2026 and she was 23.” He starts adjusting the numbers on his forearm. “Let’s do two years before that.”

“Good call. You'll feel different in a bit, and for safety's sake, come back within an hour, please? So, I can make sure that your vitals are normal.”

“An hour. Got it.” He was bracing himself for any sort of impact, already coughing a little, when he heard Shuri mutter a curse. “What’s wrong?!” he slightly panicked.

Shuri beamed. “I'm not sure if clothes travel too.”

And then his vision went black.

----

Landing on concrete with a thud, Bucky groans from the dizziness. It’s been years since he’s felt this physically vulnerable thanks to the super-soldier serum. A gust of wind suddenly made him more alert.

“Oh fuck.” he mutters, standing up. No clothes, but luckily his metal arm is still attached to him. Looking at his real arm where the serum was injected, he was relieved that the date in green was still there. Thank god he was on some rooftop.

“Mr. Lee? There’s a naked man here in the rooftop. I’ve never seen him before.” A voice whispering in panic was coming from the shed where the door back to the inside of the building was. “No, he doesn’t seem drunk, but he’s butt naked and has a prosthetic arm. About late forties, I think.”

“I can hear you, you know.” He finally stands up and snatches the nearest blanket on the clothesline to cover himself.

“Oh my god. He heard me, Mr. Lee. All I have near here is a flat basketball and some takeout containers.” the voice was still whispering but now in a greater state of panic. But even then, it sounded feminine.

And all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

And she started screaming like a mad woman.

Before he could even try to explain himself, something hit the side of his forehead. What the hell? He thought, bringing his hand up to it. Looking at the ground, it was a black heeled shoe. She threw her shoe at him.

“How do you know my name?! I still have another shoe here with me and worse weapons!” she threatens, trying to sound tougher while still hiding.

“A deflated basketball and takeout containers?” He hadn't even seen you yet, but this mere interaction already had his mood up.

He listens to your stammer for a few seconds before finally speaking up again.

“I’m really sorry for frightening you. But I swear I’m not here to hurt you.”

“That’s exactly what a naked murderer would say.”

“What?” he shakes his head, thinking of a way to convince you. “I know you. And I swear I’m not a stalker. We- I. I’m from the future.” He was well aware of how crazy he sounds but what else could he say?

“Okay...” her response caught him off guard.

“W- what do you mean ‘ok’? Are you nuts?! What if I was a crazy man?” He asks, forgetting that she has no idea who he is yet. His protectiveness of her just kicking in.

“So, you admit that you’re crazy.” Ha! She felt smug.

God, I’ve missed you. He couldn’t help thinking.

“Look, let me start over. I’m Bucky. We know each other... well, WILL know each other in about two years.” He started speaking slower. Met with silence, he listened intently to hear any movement from you. When the sound of light footsteps could finally be heard, his breathing hitched as you finally came out of your hiding spot and faced him.

There you were, 21 years old, as beautiful as he remembers you, but you were looking wary. No matter, he thought. He’ll try to talk to you.

“Prove it before my landlord gets here.” you said, the absurdity of the situation is still sinking in.

“You mean old man Stan? Yeah, we’ll have till morning till he gets up here 'cause I’m guessing your elevator’s broken again.” He scoffed.

“Knowledge about my landlord’s weak knees doesn’t prove anything.”

“Right. Sorry.” He’s thinking of where to start. “It’s October 22nd, right?”

You nodded at him.

“Later at around 10 pm, your favorite sitcom will announce its cancellation.” Out of all the significant events he could think of for the year, this is the one he remembers the most. Why? Cause even years down the line, you’d still get all riled up when you remember it. Saying how you almost threw your phone the moment that “tragic night” happened.

“You’re not funny.” you replied with a stoic face. “How I Met Your Step Mom’s ratings are not that well but it has a large fanbase.”

He tried not to laugh at your defensives for that god-awful show.

“Well, it’s 5 minutes till 10, so you have till then to run away before my landlord gets here and the cops take you to a psych ward.”

“Okay, but if my prediction is correct, will you make old man Stan go away and hear me out?”

You thought about it for a few seconds, maybe even a minute, who knows. Here was this man, only wearing a plaid blanket, and claiming he’s from the future. He knows your name, your landlord, your favorite sitcom – which nobody else knows about- and he appeared out of thin air. You know, because you were really 100% sure you were the only one in the rooftop before hearing a thud.

“I’ve seen aliens from the sky, people turn to dust and go back years later. At this point, I’ll believe anything but I’m still being cautious.” you explained.

“I understand. If you still don’t believe me in 2 minutes, I’d gladly leave. I give you my word.”

“Ok. Two minutes till 10.”

You looked at him from head to toe. He isn’t bad looking, you’d even so much as say he was handsome if he were younger. His hair had a bit of grey, but it won’t be as obvious if it weren’t for the bright light post above him.

And suddenly your phone pinged. And then it pinged again, and again. Heck, you were being flooded with notifications.

“I’m guessing that’s you fanbase group chat blowing up.” He says, looking directly at you.

Without breaking eye contact, your shaky hand slowly brought your phone right in front of you. In those mere seconds, articles upon articles and reactions of anger and despair were, sure enough, flooding your fans-club group chat.

Trying to compose yourself, you finally spoke again. “How do I know you’re actually not from the press or just have some Hollywood connection?”

He raised his eyebrow at you. “Does it look like I am, doll?”

“No.” You answered quietly. Okay, this was fucking crazy. You thought. But you did say you’d hear him out.

“Where is he?! I’ll box him! The streets didn’t fear me back in the day for nothing!” Your old landlord’s voice rang as he got closer upstairs. Damn that unreliable elevator.

“I feel bad making him go all the way up here.” You said quietly, still looking at the stranger in front of you.

He gave you a small smile like he knew you won’t let the old man face the stairs on his own again.

“We’ll talk next time. I promise it won’t be as spooky.”

You gave him a courteous smile. “When?’

“Possibly 3 nights from now. If I don’t make it then, I’ll find you.” he says, and you nod in response, noticing how he seems to be doing something on his forearm.

“I’m James.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He flashes you a smile, and you swear his eyes looked like they had unshed tears in them but then he vanished right before your eyes.

And before you could fully comprehend what just happened, the door finally opened.

“Where is the man?! Did you hurt ya?! Your good ol’ landlord, Mr. Stan Lee finally appeared.

Shaking your head to get your mind straight, you started sputtering out excuses about how it was actually a friend playing a prank on you, before offering to help him down the stairs.

____

Thank you for reading! I’m quite excited on how this would turn out. Have a nice day!

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yellowmagicalgirl · 1 year

Note

22 clairci?

22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au from SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

IDK if this is entirely miserable on both of their parts, but neither of them is 100% happy right now.

AO3 (Archive-locked)

FFN

Mary had done well for herself, Darci supposed. Way better than all her high school boyfriends, and better than most of her college girlfriends. She was marrying a queen, and that wasn't an exaggeration of just how great Aja was. Aja was the queen of Akiridion-V who had turned down proposals from galactic royalty to marry the woman who did PR for the embassy. Mary was worth turning down all those proposals, and Darci was willing to fight anyone and everyone who disagreed.

She would have preferred fighting than the Tarron wedding, though. Everything here was so bright and loud. Even worse, while Mary herself had ordered only silk flowers as to not upset the allergies of her maid of honor, the guests who had brought flowers as gifts hadn't gotten the memo. That meant that Darci was overstimulated with allergies to boot. She wanted to scream, but she didn't want to ruin her best friend's wedding reception.

"I'm getting some air," Darci said vaguely in Mary's direction. Mary Tarron was too busy enjoying herself and her time with her new wife. It was fine.

Darci made her way onto the nearest balcony and was startled by the fact that it was already occupied by a beautiful woman. She appeared to be human and was wearing a dark purple dress with an array of glittering silver hairpins. While she appeared to be Darci's age, the combination of white streaks and the tired look in the woman's eyes made her seem a few years older at first glance.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were, here, I just -"

"Needed a minute away from the hubub?" The woman smiled goodnaturedly. "I get it; I've been to some previous balls and they were also exhausting, though they took more time to reach that status."

Darci found herself wishing that she had been Mary's plus one to more embassy events. Maybe she could have built up a tolerance. "I take it you work for the embassy?"

Gee, Darce, way to state the obvious, she thought to herself.

"No." Perhaps it wasn't obvious, then. "I'm an old friend of Aja's - I'm from Arcadia Oaks."

Arcadia Oaks, the small town about an hour west of Mary and Darci's hometown of San Bernadino. Aja had lived there for a few months when the two of them and her brother had escaped a coup.

"I'm Claire, by the way. I saw you standing next to Mary, but I don't think I caught your name?"

"Darci."

"Well, Darci, I might be overstepping, but you seem overstimulated. I know a way to fix that; would you like me to?"

"Yes, please." Claire stepped towards Darci, and her hand hovered over Darci's right temple. The air around Claire's hair grew dark, and as she made an arc across Darci's eyes to her other temple, the lights grew muted.

"Feeling better?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, uh, what did you just do?"

"I'm a wizard; it'll wear off in an hour and a half. Feel free to find me then to redo the spell, unless you'd rather hang out and continue talking?"

Darci certainly wanted to keep hanging out with Claire.

#clairci #clarci #tales of arcadia #claire nuñez #darci scott #3below #trollhunters #toawizards #maraja #they're not the focus but they're there #my writing #answered ask #depreshroom #i have not been to a wedding since i was a single digit age so idk if this accurate to modern earth weddings #blame the inaccuracies on the fact that one of the brides isn't human

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shipskicksandgiggles · 2 years

Text

Title: Lucky Number 13

Pairing: Harley Keener x Peter Parker

Summary:

Warnings: none

A/N: sorry, 13 is my lucky number, so here's this

AO3 Link

~~~

One

“It’s going to be a good day. I’m calling it right now.”

Rhodey placed a cup of coffee in his hands. “Is it now?”

Tony slid a plate of breakfast across the counter. “Harley, it’s Friday the 13th.”

Harley grinned. “Exactly. It’s my lucky day.”

Two

“Where’s the meeting?”

“It is on the-” Pepper checked her notes and shuddered. “It’s on the 13th floor.”

“Most buildings don’t have a 13th floor,” Harley mentioned.

“Well, it’s a bad omen, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” Harley said. “I think it means we’re going to nail this.”

She gave him a weird look, but straightened her posture. “You know what? Yeah we are.”

Three

Harley scribbled on his tablet as quickly as the woman spoke. If he was able to work out the potential investment outcome before Pepper could make a snap judgment, they might not have to turn her down.

Finally, the woman came to her conclusion. “We know starting at $13,000 is low, and you have no reason to take on something that won’t make a substantial addition in your profit, but please consider us on merit alone?”

“I agree, your merit is valuable, but if you really want this deal…” Pepper trailed off as Harley whispered in her ear and showed the calculations. She nodded, and he stepped back. “…you wouldn’t be so unsure of yourself. You have yourself a deal, Doctor Fray. Watch for an email with an SI tag within the next week.”

“Oh my god, thank you,” the woman gasped. “Thank you, so much.”

“It’s risky,” Pepper mumbled as they walked back into the elevator.

“Calculated risks are exactly that: calculated. Not to mention I ran a background check on the company, and they’re legit. Can you take me to school? I don’t want to be late.”

Four

“And here we are, 15 minutes early.”

“The clock on the car is slow, we’re actually 13 minutes early.”

Pepper patted his cheek affectionately. “You are a strange child. Go on, make some friends. Your dad is picking you up later.”

“Thanks Pep! See you later!”

He stepped out of the car and dragged his school bag with him. His friends should be there by now, and he was looking forward to his last day of school before the weekend.

Five

“Did you get the answer to number 13?”

“On the stats homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Harley shuffled through his bag and pulled out a blue binder. “Is it the problem on mutual exclusion?”

Ned nodded miserably. “I don’t know why it’s not clicking.”

“It happens, don’t worry about it. Just think about a venn diagram. What doesn’t go in the middle.”

He watched him try to work it out for a second before jotting down an answer and checking it against Harley’s. “Huh.”

“You got it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Is Harley saving your math grade again?” Peter dropped his lunch across the table from them.

“When is he not?”

“Like you don’t need my help in English, Parker.”

“Watch your mouth or I won’t tutor you in Spanish anymore. You still good to give me a lift to work later?”

“Dad’s driving me home, so sure. He probably won’t kick you out of the car if you give me shit again.” The bell rang, and Harley tossed his trash in the nearest bin. “I’ll come walk you from your last hour. You’ve got history right?”

“Just meet me at my locker. I can walk myself back.”

They parted ways, and before Harley had a chance to ask why Peter didn’t want him to come to his last hour, Ned answered. “He doesn’t want to give Flash any more ammunition than he already has.”

“Noted.”

The gears were already turning in Harley’s head.

Six

Room 313. Astronomy.

It was a small class. Not many people cared about stars at a school designed for more traditional STEM fields, but it was Harley’s favorite class of the day.

He sat in his usual seat next to MJ, and snuck a look at her notebook.

“Mind your business, Keener.”

“Never, Jones.”

“Any reason you’re wearing a suit today?”

“Had to work this morning.”

“And yet you’re still in an uncharacteristically good mood.”

“It’s my lucky day. I thought you’d agree.”

“I just like Friday the 13th because it freaks everyone else out.”

“There’s my MJ.”

“Yo Keener!”

Harley paused and let out a long sigh before turning away from Michelle. “What, Eugene?”

“Is there any reason you look like more of a bitch than usual today?”

“Is there any reason you’re more of an asshole?”

Flash made a face at him. “Let me guess, another day of ‘working’ for Stark Industries?”

“Well you know me, it’s not work if it doesn’t take any effort. Helps that I love it.”

“Christ, you’re awful.”

“I actually think I’m quite lovely,” Harley snarked.

“Fuck off,” Flash scoffed.

He turned back to MJ and rolled his eyes. “Anyways, speaking of good luck, Peter has history last period, right?”

Seven

Because Harley’s chemistry teacher didn’t really want to be there on Friday afternoons either, he let the class out a few minutes early. That’s how he ended up in front of Peter’s history class at 2:13pm.

He stood off to the side of the door, just out of sight, but he popped his head around the corner and caught Peter’s gaze, who rolled his eyes at his antics. Unfortunately, this meant Flash noticed him too.

When the class let out, he saw Peter rush to shove his notebook in his bag. He ducked into the classroom and leaned against the desk in front of his.

“I told you I’d meet you at our lockers.”

“And I told you I’d walk you back from class. You’re on my way anyways.”

Peter sighed. “I wish you hadn’t.”

“Aww, does Penis Parker need a bodyguard? That’s cute.” Flash Thompson needed to learn a lesson in minding his own business.

“Actually, I do,” Harley told him.

“You need a bodyguard?” Flash scoffed. “Sure, I can’t imagine what you would be like if someone hit your pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He acted touched. “I just need a body to act as a guard so I don’t hurt people who aren’t worth the effort.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “You’re a bitch, Keener.”

“You’re an ass, Thompson. Ready to go, darlin’?”

Peter gave him half a smile and took the arm Harley extended. “Jerk.”

“You love it,” Harley winked.

Eight

-list of lives I've broken reach from here to hell // Bad luck wind been blowing at my back // I pray you don't look at me, I pray I don't look back

“What the hell are you listening to?”

“That’s no way to greet your dear old dad.” Rhodey unlocked the car doors and popped the trunk.

“Exactly, you’re old, which means you shouldn’t subject us to your taste in music. Seriously, what is this?” Harley didn’t even wait for an answer before he grabbed his phone. “Thirteen by Johnny Cash? Really?”

“It’s just what came on,” he shrugged. “ And I wanted to be on theme. Anyways, you love my taste in music, don’t lie.”

“Whatever man. Change it please.”

“As you wish, your Highness. How are you, Peter?”

“Hi Colonel Rhodes! I’m good.”

“Good, back to the Tower then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll change the music back if you two are quiet for the rest of the ride.”

“Deal” they chorused. After all, it wasn’t too far of a drive.

Nine

“Are you working on chem?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m stuck. Come help?”

It was fairly common that before either of them did any lab work, they would work on any homework they had left.

Peter pushed his chair away from his own desk. “Where?”

“There,” Harley pointed at a formula. “Something isn’t fitting right.”

“I think you’re missing an element,” Peter said, squinting at it. “You totally are. Try again, add your favorite element.”

“How on earth does mercury fit in with this?” Harley asked, baffled. “The chemical properties would probably cause it to react in a way that-”

“Hey, super genius,” Peter interrupted. “Your favorite element. Atomic number 13.”

Harley paused. “Aluminum? Really?” He looked back down at his notebook. “Would you look at that? Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Ten

“What are you working on?”

Homework tucked away in his school bag, Harley was absorbed in one of his side projects until Peter started him out of his reverie.

“Birthday present for Abbie. She turns 13 next month.”

“She’s officially going to be a teenager. How’s that feel?”

He set down his screwdriver and looked up at Peter. “It feels like I’m getting old. She’s my baby sister, she’s not allowed to grow up.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Whatever you make her is going to be great, I know it.

Eleven

“How long do you think Manhattan is?”

Peter gave him a weird look. “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity mostly. I can have JARVIS check.”

“Manhattan is approximately 13 miles in length, sir,” JARVIS answered.

“What are you thinking?” Peter asked.

“Ironlad vs Spider-Man. Want to race?”

"Oh you're on."

Twelve

Tony greeted them in the living room. “We’re having a movie night if you want to join us.”

“He’s trying to make me watch 13 Going On 30 kids! Save me!” Rhodey called from the couch.”

“Really, pops?” Harley asked, unimpressed. “That’s your 13 themed movie?”

“Thank you, Harley,” his dad said. “I keep saying we should watch Ocean's 13.”

“How did it get worse?”

“Are you not watching Friday the 13th because it’s too obvious or…?” Peter trailed.

“None of us really like horror movies,” Harley shrugged. “Could I offer a compromise?”

“Sure,” Tony allowed. “I don’t know how you could possibly get better than 13 Going On 30, but whatever.”

“Apollo 13?”

“Oh, I love that movie,” Peter said.

“In all fairness, we haven’t seen it in forever. I think we’re due a rewatch.”

Tony gasped dramatically. “My own husband turned against me in my hour of need. How dare you?”

Rhodey gave him an unimpressed look. “Just get your popcorn and sit down, dumbass. Take your seats, boys, the movie is about to begin.”

Thirteen

It was late, but Harley was laying upside down on his bed while Peter sat in his desk chair. The movie had ended a while ago, but neither of them wanted to turn in for the night.

“Can you explain it again? I don’t get it.”

Peter sighed. “You need to give me a number between one and fifty, and I’ll read off whichever prompt that number aligns with.”

“Do I even need to tell you a number?”

“I bet I can guess. Alright, so number 13… Actually, this is a stupid game, let’s do something else.”

“This was your idea dude, come on, just read the thing.”

“Fine, fine. ‘Look at the person to your right and tell them what song they remind you of, and then listen to that song as well’.”

“You know what? You’re right, this is a stupid game.”

“Harley, you made me read the prompt. Just answer the question. I’ll answer it too if it makes you feel more comfortable. That way we can both listen to something and no one has to suffer in silence. Deal?”

“I’ll take it.”

“Alright, send me a link to your song when you have it.”

Harley hesitated between two songs. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath, and chose.

He sent it to Peter.

“I’ll go find my spare set of headphones while you find your song,” he said, getting up and walking to one of his shelves.

“Don’t bother, I have mine with me.” Peter pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. “Just sent yours through.”

“Great, thanks.” He connected his headphones and clicked on the song.

Don’t you hear me? I’m talking to you. Across the water, across the deep blue ocean, under the ocean sky, oh my-

Harley glanced up at Peter before looking back down at his phone just so he could gauge his reaction. He knew he picked a risky song, but it was about time he took a risk.

Peter needed to hear it.

Finding that song without Peter’s influence was a miracle. He was always the one who liked sci-fi books. Hitchhikers was his favorite.

Still, Harley loved that song, it always made him think of Peter.

You make it easier when life gets hard. I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend-

His eyes shot back up. What? This song reminded Peter of him?

There was almost a whole minute after Harley’s song ended before Peter’s did. Harley knew because he counted the seconds, holding his breath.

“Are you making fun of me?” Peter asked. “Because honestly, I’m flattered, and this song is… Harley? Are you okay?”

“Are you in love with me?” Harley asked quietly. Breathlessly. He could feel his face burning.

Peter’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“It’s a yes or no question Peter. Because if you’re not, and if you’re mocking me, you’d better knock it off.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I’m in love with you.”

Harley stared at him for a moment. “Holy fucking shit.”

“I’m sorry. If that freaks you out, I can-”

Harley launched himself off the bed and dragged Peter up out of his chair.

“Oh my god, please don’t hit me.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Harley repeated. “Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Okay.”

Kissing Peter felt like coming home.

When they came apart, Harley let out a hysterical giggle.

“What now?”

He looked at Peter with a smile. “It really is my lucky day.”

#parkner #ellis writes #harley keener #peter parker #fluff

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loremaster-lavellan · 10 months

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The Snow Prince - Part 4

(Looks like I haven't forgotten this thing after all)

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

The sensation of stepping through the wayshrine is like missing a step descending a staircase. Ydhedhor’s stomach drops, and he holds his father’s hand tighter before his feet find solid ground again. Blinking, he steps out into an entirely new place.

Trees the color of white ash grow in every direction, their silver-green leaves forming a canopy through which the sun speckles the ground. They grow close, yet there’s room to pass between their smooth trunks, and from the eight-year-old’s perspective, the forest goes on forever in every direction. A paved pathway leads from the wayshrine to an unknown destination.

In a state of fascination, Ydhedhor doesn’t notice the woman waiting for them until she speaks. “Welcome to the grove,” she says with a quick bow. “I am Gardener Elbora. We appreciate you coming so promptly.”

“Gardeners wouldn’t request an audience without cause,” answers Vyrre. “What is it you need from me?”

“There’s something you need to see. Come.” The woman bids them follow and starts down the path.

Though he follows, Ydhedhor dallies among the trees. He’s seen them before around the city, around the chantry, depicted in crests and paintings, but not in this number. Their bark is smooth, almost soft, to the touch; roots twist and bend beneath his feet; the leaves rustle in the breeze. “Where are we?” he asks.

“This is the Grove of the Snow Cedars, my Prince,” answers Gardener Elbora. “The first settlers brought a single sapling from Mereth. Every tree across Pin Darre is descended from that first sapling. From their branches we make staves, from their bark and leaves medicine, and from their sap potions, among other uses.”

“They’re a part of our heritage,” adds Vyrre.

“What does ‘heritage’ mean?” wonders Ydhedhor.

“I’ll show you later.”

One bend in the paved path ends in a part of the grove where the trees are smaller and narrower, and the sound of waves is barely audible – they must be near the ocean. A glass house takes up a small clearing, the walls and roof glittering in the sun. Elbora leads the Regent and the princeling into the glass house. A half dozen young trees rest in pots, and a second gardener cuts a length of bark from one and lays it on a tray as they enter.

Ydhedhor, observant as any curious child, is quicker to query than his father. “What’s wrong with them?”

It starts at the roots, a streaky, toxic black, and twines its way up the trunks like skinny fingers. Two trees have it in their branches, their shimmering leaves tainted, and one is supported by wooden stakes. The air in the glass house, warmed by the sun, smells like the kitchen scrap bin.

“This is why I requested your visit, Prince Regent.” Elbora rings her hands. “We don’t know. We thought it was rot and treated it as such, but it resists our best remedies for rot, blight, fungus . . . we’ve a few left to try.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“We noticed the first infected trees about a year ago. It’s slow to spread, which is why we didn’t think it serious, but since then we’ve found it across the grove. Thirteen infected so far, all saplings but no other obvious connections – even the locations are different.”

“What action do you ask of me?”

“Only your awareness, for now. I admit, this doesn’t look like an urgent problem, but . . . I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

Ydhedhor wanders over to the nearest tree and looks up at its branches. A leaf falls and lands at his feet. “Are they dying?”

“Yes.”

There’s a twinge in the princeling’s heart. He casts his eyes down and sees, tucked away between the pots of the larger trees, a tiny sapling. It’s no taller than his forearm is long, its branches brittle and bare, the black fingers already consuming the length of it. The sight of the thing deepens the ache in his chest and fires a resolute spitefulness. He picks up the sapling and turns to his father. “I’m keeping this one.”

* * * * *

The gardeners didn’t stop Ydhedhor from taking the sapling. They told him to leave it in its pot, to keep it away from other trees, but they covered it with a sack, tied up the top, and let him carry it out of the greenhouse. He holds it with both arms protectively and follows behind his father.

Vyrre didn’t say where they’re going, only bade his son follow. Away from the glass house and the wayshrine, up a path of worn stone steps half claimed by grass and tree roots, into another part of the grove where the trees are bigger and denser.

“When our ancestors brought that first tree with them,” Vyrre breaks the peace, “they didn’t bring a simple resource. More than a plant to use for tools and potions, they brought with them a part of the home they left behind. A part of Mereth. When it took root and flourished and multiplied, they knew there would be a future.”

All at once, the path through the trees leads through narrow stone, barely wide enough for Vyrre to pass. It ends in a clearing walled by natural dirt and stone, and across from the opening is the biggest, most magnificent tree Ydhedhor has ever seen. Its roots are thicker than the body of a grown man, arching high enough to walk under, and they climb up the side of the walls and twist into a thick trunk that soars into the sky, so high the top can’t be seen from the ground. Birds sing and fly high among the leaves, and when the wind blows, the branches sway and creak.

“Every snow cedar that takes root in Pin Darre is another promised future, as are you, as was your mother, as was every Snow Prince and Princess that came before you. Look around you. Look at the trees here.”

Ydhedhor turns his head from side to side, unsure what else there is to see besides the great old cedar, until he sees it. Every tree around him is two. Trunks and roots and branches intertwine so tightly they appear to be one, and in fact a few have grown fused in places, so long and so tightly have they grown together.

“This one is your mother’s.” Vyrre points to a pair of trees, following the motion of the curves with his hand. One of the pair is older and taller, and the other smaller, wrapping around its older counterpart. The Knight-Paladin points out the smaller tree as he continues, “And that one’s mine. Every Snow Prince and Princess plants a seed when they’re coronated, and so does whoever they marry on their wedding day. When you’re old enough to take the crown, you will take a seed from your mother’s tree and plant it yourself. This is what heritage means.”

After a thoughtful pause, Ydhedhor makes a face. “I don’t get it.”

Vyrre smiles. “You will.” Slowly, the smile fades into a more serious expression. “Ydhedhor, what do you think of Arch-Curate Sidazius? Be honest – I will not scold you for however you think.”

“I don’t know.” The princeling shrugs. “You said he’s important, and I should respect him, and everybody bows to him like they do to us . . .”

“What’s that thought?”

“I don’t like the way he talks to Girwith.”

“Hm. Remember, Ydhedhor, that it takes a great deal of time and dedication to become an Arch-Curate, and for that time and dedication alone he should be respected. But real respect must be earned by character, by how someone uses what they’ve attained, how they treat the people they’re meant to lead.”

The young prince looks up at his father. “Is the Arch-Curate a bad man?”

“That’s a conversation for when you’re older. For now, use what you know and make your own opinion.”

#the snow prince #the elder scrolls #snow elf #falmer #my writing #my oc

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kim-poce · 2 years

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No God in Town [name can change]

A dense non-human creature just trying to be alone.

“You must help!” the young woman shouted while hitting the table with her fist in the old undying human belief that one achieves anything if they are loud enough.

“I don't must do anything,” I said in a calm voice, not taking my eyes off the pot with water on the fire, it was almost the right temperature for the tea.

“Of course you do! People will die if you don't!” the woman shouted again, and I recalled once again why I stopped talking to humans. “They don’t need to die, you can help!”

“Not my business,” I said, brewing the mint leaves, wondering if the woman would give up already or if I would need to serve her some.

“Of course it's your business!” she hit the table again, humans are really such impolite and rude creatures, “You are a god!” she added as if this proved her point.

I, not being a hurried human, didn't hurry in correcting her, instead, I poured tea for the both of us —I had asked what flavor she wanted but she had just screamed her problems at me in response—, only when I handed her her cup did I correct her misunderstanding.

“I don't believe in gods, so I could never be a god myself,” I said, sitting down in front of her and sipping my tea.

“Don't lie to me!” the woman shouted again, and if the rain outside wasn't so strong I would've kicked her out already. “I came here, okay? I followed the clues and solved the enigmas, I even climbed this mountain where you live! Didn't I pass all of your tests? Don't I deserve my prayers to be heard?”

It doesn't change. I sipped my tea again. The centuries don't make humans any less loud, impolite, and rude.

“You are seeing what is not there, seeking for lies you were led to believe,” I told her.

“Is this another enigma? Will you help me if I solve this?” the woman asked, her eyes full of determination.

“It isn't an enigma, it's actually quite simple: Whatever you heard about “gods” is wrong. There were no clues for you to follow, only traces I left behind, as every person who travels from one place to another is meant to leave. There were no enigmas, I only talked to other people as one does, my words were never this deep, and I was never this thoughtful. There were no tests, I only happen to like hard-to-reach places, this mountain happens to have a nice climate, and there are none of you insistent humans around to scream at me as if I had any obligation to waste my energy on someone else's problem,” I said, not meaning to be rude but unable to avoid saying the last sentence without in clear bitter tone.

The woman looked at me, trying to read past tricks that didn’t exist, humans always with their habit to see too much between the lines. I do wish they could use it only to find cool mathematical coincidences instead of seeing a god when looking at me.

The woman's eyes were wide at first, then they went back to show that fire of determination, and I knew for sure she didn't believe me. “I deserve it! I deserve your help because–”

I snapped my fingers, and the girl was deep asleep, her memories of me still there somewhere, but reaching them would be nearly impossible now. I didn't want to hear whatever typical sentence was about to leave her mouth, and the same years that taught me patience also showed me that humans aren't worth such a thing.

I would wait for the rain to stop, and I would leave this girl as far away as the nearest town's coachwoman —who has traveled with unconscious people by my request before— was willing to go from 15 silver coins, and, hopefully, I wouldn't see this girl or any other annoying human so soon in the future.

“Another one?” The couchwoman asked as I put the sleeping woman inside the carriage. “You truly are famous,” she said in awe.

“I wish I wasn’t,” I sighed and handed her the silver coins, “As far as you can as long as it’s safe.”

“You could make numbers, you know?” she shook the silver bag, “They would pay fortunes if you do—” she glanced at me up and down, looking at each of my non-human-like characteristics, which was, well, most of them; concealing my appearance was too much work, and most of the time I couldn’t bother, “—whatever the hell you do.”

“I, as have said before, do nothing,” It wasn’t quite a lie, as even if I have ways to do ‘Great Things’ I do nothing, the couchwoman just shrugged at it, sending me an ‘as if’ glance.

“Is there anything new around here?” I asked, looking around at the unusual number of passing-by humans, while further hiding my face with my hood, “There are more of you than I ever saw in this park.”

“New mayor, a known lady, likes fame, pretty sure she will raid your house when she finds out you are g-”

“I’m not god,” I cut with an angry whisper, glancing from side to side, the humans who lives there for long didn’t as much as acknowledged my presence, but the new humans were staring our way, the new mayor barely arrived, and I already am angry at the consequences of her arrival. “Don’t call me god ever again!”

“Easy easy there, normal human who happens to be way too tall and has orange eyes glaring at me,” the couchwoman said, hands raised as if surrendering, “I was only going to say… guy who lives up the mountain, yeah, the new mayor won’t like to that there is a… human living on the mountain, it must be illegal… yeah.”

“If you dare to tell-”

“And both lose a faithful client and my life at once? How would I dare?” she gave off a smug smile, “Anyway, I have a crime to commit, I mean, you request to follow, although it's the same thing.”

I glared at her once more before she got inside the carriage and went off, then I looked around the busy little town, and walked a path I knew by heart; passing straight the couchwoman’s pick-up point, turning right to the old man tend, wait for the old man to get me fresh fruits —for a human who needs money to live, and earns money by selling fruits, he does like to give them away—, thank the old man, go further down and turn right once again, where I should see a bunch of human cubs making noise. Well, where they always used to be.

The place was empty of cubs, there were some adult human guards —they glanced up at me, so I knew they were new in the town. The town folks don’t look at me with that face full of confusion, and wariness, much less do they look so angry and afraid— I ignored the guards and passed by. (Well, they ordered me to take my hood off and tell my name and other useless annoying things, so I snapped my fingers, they forgot me, turned around, and then I ignored the guards and passed by, but, same thing, right?)

Only after I walked past that street did I see a cub, a young flower girl. Today's flowers were daisies and the humans buying them either didn’t notice all the daisies growing on the sidewalks, or they didn’t want to have the trouble of picking them up themselves. Humans like to push their problems on other people, and the ‘picking flowers up’ problem seemed to be pushed at the girl, she —like the old man— handed me a free daisy, which I put in my hair as the girl had once said I should.

“Where are the others of you?” I asked her, secretly giving her flowers more energy, so they would take longer to wither.

The flower girl smiled brightly, even if not quite her usual happy smile, she glanced at one new guard far away, “They are good.”

“That’s not my question, I’m sure you were a grown enough human to understand what I asked,” I was genuinely confused, this cub knew how to hold a conversation before. “I asked where they are, as in, place.”

The girl glanced at the guards again, and back at me, not saying a word at first, “You really know nothing…” she sighed, “There are too many guards here.”

“My question was-”

“I know, I know, they are not here!”

“This I noticed, but what I asked was-”

“Listen, big… guy? You are not a guy though… Listen, Biggie,” she said, calling me by the name the older cubs gave me when I refused to give them my own, she glanced up at my face, not caring about my inhumane traces, maybe cubs just don’t care about such things, “The town got a new mayor, which means new rules, this mayor doesn’t want this place–” she gestured to the market and the park, “–to be ‘dirt’, since it’s one of the first things someone sees when entering the town, so the others are looking for another spot to stay, I’ll join them soon, I believe,” she glanced down at the carefully picked up daisies, “The guards let me stay here today but I don’t know about tomorrow.”

I glanced at her for a bit, she said many things but at no moment did she tell me where the others were, I didn’t ask again, I didn’t care about human cubs, I just… that place just didn’t feel the same without them.

“So you are saying that the new mayor doesn’t want cubs playing here because cubs get the place dirt while playing, instead, she wants guards to walk around because they behave better?”

The girl sighed once again, “It’s not that she doesn’t want ‘cubs’” she said the last word doing quotes with her fingers, “she doesn’t want cubs working here.”

“Well, work is for grown-ups humans, maybe the mayor doesn’t want cubs to earn money so early,” I tried, last time I tried to understand human ways there was a huge war, and cubs had to fight as a fully grown human, to die as a fully grown human, this town was in peace, so everyone should be fine, “You should play with the others of you, and then go back to your house and sleep.”

The flower girl glanced at the street —the one where the cubs used to be, the one with two new guards— “Back home?” she smiled brightly again, as she did when I first asked where the others were, “Yeah, naive Biggie, if you don’t see me around here I’ll be playing with the other cubs just waiting to go back home and eat dinner, you know, which is certainly what we used to do here.”

I nodded, happy we came to an agreement. I wanted to ask the cubs to help me buy vegetable seeds again —I’m trying to grow some with no powers but they insist on dying every time— I don’t really know where they buy the seeds, and there were more and more new humans around looking at me weirdly, so I decided to go back to the mountain.

The new mayor barely arrived, and I already dislike another consequence of her arrival.

#snippet #wip #on writing #fiction #nonhuman #No God in Town #my writing

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breathinglifeintomyoc · 2 years

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Sasusaku Pt. 3

Continuation of my Sasusaku fic. I mean it when I say slow-burn. Thanks for the support, loves. Let me know what Sasusaku/ff tropes get you going! I just love writing so I might as well write what people have been wanting to read. WC: 1,142

The Hokage’s office was close to the new hospital, but Sasuke had to go into town first.

As he entered a café on the way back out of town, with a shopping bag already reluctantly over his shoulder, he made a point of letting his hair fall in front of his Rinnegan — the place was too civilian. The woman behind the counter must have recognized him, but didn’t react, “What can I get for you, sir?”

“The chicken bento with crispy rice and… a latte… with vanilla,” He said, feeling slightly unsure of the whole situation, “please,” he added as an afterthought. The woman smiled, as if they were sharing a secret, “Of course, sir.” He took a seat at one of the tables as he waited, taking the time to survey the café décor, its patrons, and the surprising number of exits. Where its civilianness was initially off-putting, there was actually something comforting about it, he realized. Maybe its simplicity. There was a semblance of the peace he felt traveling the world alone in this airy paneled café. ‘Maybe I’ll come back,’ he thought as the woman got his attention again, handing him the lunch box and drink. He sorted the bento alongside the smaller box already in his bag and made his way to the hospital, the coffee warming his hand through its cardboard sleeve.

“Are you here for Dr Haruno, Uchiha-san?” The receptionist asked him as he walked up. Sasuke paused. It wasn’t surprising that the young woman recognized him, but as far as he knew, he was arriving unannounced. Before he could respond the receptionist spoke again, “Apologies for assuming. It’s just that Uzumaki-san only ever sees her.” He just nodded and she gave him directions to Sakura’s office, instructing him to wait on the seat outside of it as she was out tending to patients.

He was sat under the ‘Chief Medical Officer’ placard for just a few minutes before he heard a familiar voice. ‘Oh she’s pissed,’ he noted, trying to suppress his amusement as Sakura and a meek looking doctor rounded the nearest corner, the latter growing meeker by the step. “I don’t care what Dr Hiashi told you. That is an incorrect diagnosis and we will not go forward with any more steroid treatments. Is that clear?” The other doctor looked positively ill as he nodded. “And you can tell Dr Hiashi I said that if he tries to make any more independent decisions.” The doctor nodded again and practically ran off. Sakura finally turned towards where he was sitting and the anger and authority rolling off her was nearly enough to wipe everything he was going to say from his mind, but her scowl was quickly replaced with surprise. “Sasuke-kun?”

“Kakashi said you could do my physical to update my paperwork.”

“I- of course. Ah… come in,” She replied, unlocking her office door and holding it open for him. He was astounded at the sheer number of books and files, though unsurprised that it was all impeccably organized. “Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk as she slipped off her white coat. A beat of silence passed as she sat down across from him. He felt that same unidentifiable emotion that he did when she was walking him home. Suddenly he remembered the real reason he had come, “This is for you,” he said, placing the latte in front of her, “and these,” he added as he struggled slightly to remove the two boxes from his bag. He felt a secret satisfaction at the incredulous expression on her face. “Sasuke-kun…” She brought the containers closer to her and opened them, her face glowing as she observed the contents. “I’ve been craving anko!” She said grinning, “And I desperately needed a coffee.” Sasuke was relieved that her food preferences hadn’t changed, but where she would have dug in immediately when they were kids, she now pushed the open bento towards the center of the desk. “Sasuke-kun,” She lifted her eyes to his and he subconsciously noted that her eyes matched the ankos, “thank you.” He nodded.

“Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you bring me my favorites? Only you, Naruto, or Kakashi know that I prefer crispy rice in my bentos. Are you leaving again?” She replied.

“Ah, no, not yet. I’m… I want to say I’m…” He would have been embarrassed at how difficult this was if he wasn’t so focused on finding the right words, “I’m sorry you’ve gone out of your way. The apartment is too nice for me.” Sakura grinned, “You know, you just have to say ‘thank you’, you don’t need to apologize,”

‘I wish that were true,’

“Have some tomato slices,” she said. ‘She remembers my favorite too.’ He shook his head, “It’s for you.” She scowled at him, “Have you eaten anything today? If you don’t share, I’ll make you have some of the anko.” He wasn’t used to being known so thoroughly and personally by someone and it was unsettling — though perhaps a nice unsettling. No one in the world but Sakura would use sweets as a threat against him — his dislike for them was something that Naruto and Kakashi themselves probably never bothered to notice. “Hn.”

As they shared the bento and chatted — Sakura doing more of the eating and talking — Sasuke entirely forgot his other reason for being at the hospital. Sakura took a sip of her coffee, “Vanilla? Sasuke-kun, you’ve out-done yourself.” Sasuke was a prideful man by nature, but apparently this was all he needed to satisfy it. ‘I should have started bringing her food ages ago.’

“Oh shoot, I completely forgot why you came!” She exclaimed looking up at the clock. A deep frown cut the smile that had been on her face the whole lunch, “I have appointments from 2:30 until my shift ends at 6. I’ve wasted too much time to do a physical before that, but you could come back at 6 and we could do it then or you could come by tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow then.” He replied, taking the last tomato slice. “Are you sure? I feel terrible that you brought me such a nice lunch and-”

“Sakura,” He interrupted, “I brought you lunch because I wanted to and to thank you,” he caught a smile flit her lips, “And if you’re not on shift I’m not going to have you work.” Sakura hesitated but eventually conceded and thumbed at a notebook open on her desk. “I have an opening at 10 tomorrow. I could pencil you in there if that works?” He nodded and rose to leave. “I’ll walk you out. I don’t need to meet with my patients for another ten minutes and I’d rather spend time with you anyway.” Yeah, spending time with Sakura was very good for his pride.

#haruno sakura #uchiha sasuke #naruto #fanfic #digital notebook #friends to lovers #they would have been so happy #slow burn #he doesn't know he's in love your honor #naruto fanfiction #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic

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shadowsshowdown · 1 year

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Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown 26

youtube

The Red Drop.

Detroit. Laura’s apartment.

Adam didn't have time to ponder the reason that had pushed her into this suicide attempt. He wished very much it wasn't him. His police work had enriched him with first aid skills, and if he had the right equipment he could even perform simple treatments. Jensen swiftly reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he used to temporarily stop the bleeding on one of her hands. He began consciously but hasty to look for a first aid kit. Luckily he found it in a cupboard under the sink. He opened the box, from which he took two tourniquets, placed them above the wounds, and tightened them to help stop the bleeding more effectively. With another swift motion, he took his phone from his coat pocket and dialed the emergency number.

"This is nine one one what's your emergency?" he heard a female voice.

"Suicide attempt, female in her 30s. She slit her wrists and swallowed pills. I don't know how many might have been in the package," he informed matter-of-factly, mentioning the name of the drug.

"Please be patient and stay where you are. The ambulance will arrive in about five minutes. In the meantime, please stop the hemorrhage and..."

The Chief of Security dictated all the required information. "Already done, the woman is breathing but has a weak pulse."

"There is nothing more you can do. An ambulance is on its way. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," he replied before the connection was cut.

Only now did he notice he had Laura's blood on his hands. Although it wasn't the first time and he should get used to it, in this particular case he couldn't. With all his might, he tried to blame it on Damien, but he knew the most guilty one was himself. He had abandoned her in a cruel way, for the sake of the cause. Rupert might have been right, and that didn't make him feel any better. Soon he heard sirens wailing, so he went out into the corridor to lead the ambulancemen. Adam heard the clang of metal and the sound of wheels pounding across the floor.

"Well done, Mr. Jensen," one of the ambulancemen praised him. "You saved her life."

Adam nodded slightly but didn't feel any better from it at all. Standing aside, he watched as they took Laura to a stretcher and strapped her. She was pale and barely alive.

"Which hospital are you taking her to?" he asked at the last minute.

"If you're not her relative or husband, I'm sorry but I can't help," replied a man with dark, short-cut hair.

"She has no family," Jensen insisted.

"To the nearest one."

It was a clever answer that normally would have been of little use, but there was only one hospital in the area; the one he and Laura had visited recently. The Chief of Security nodded as a gesture of thanks. Immediately after they had left, he allowed himself to search the woman's lockers. He felt what he was doing was inappropriate, but he wanted to pack a few things that could be of use to her. He didn't know how long they would keep her on the ward. As he tucked her pajamas into the bag, he froze in mid-motion. A thought struck him, and he immediately pushed it away with all his might. What if she doesn't survive? As he walked through the living room, he was stopped by the ringing phone. It was lying on the coffee table, the one at which he had been drinking his coffee only moments ago. Even his mug was still standing on it. Adam glanced at the screen hesitating whether he should answer. The fact that it was Faridah justified his act.

"Hey, Laura! How was the movie? Did you enjoy it? Too bad I didn't make it," the head pilot attacked with a series of questions. "Are you there?"

"It's me, Adam," he said after a moment of grim silence. "Laura's not here... They're taking her to the hospital," the words ran down his throat as if he was spitting sandpaper out of it.

"Don't joke around like that! Give her the phone," she commanded.

"I'm deadly serious!" he exclaimed, but after a few deep breaths he calmed down. "Laura tried to commit suicide," he explained trying to keep his tone steady however his voice was shaking and he couldn't help it. "I'm going to the hospital. Yes that one," he informed when Faridah stopped screaming into the receiver. "I'll meet you there."

The ex-SWAT finished packing Laura’s things, took her phone and charger as well, then left Stalker some food and locked the apartment. Walking down the street, he squeezed the handle of the bag in his hand so hard that it left a red mark on it, and his hand slowly began to go numb. He cursed under his breath again and again. This whole damn turn of events was not the way he wanted it to be. Jensen nimbly ducked in front of a moving car. The driver honked at him, but the ex-SWAT didn't give a damn. He had even forgotten he had adopted that bloody cat who probably had scratched all the furniture by now.

Hospital.

Several minutes later, he was climbing the hospital stairs two at once. This time he was entering through a different entrance that led to the wards. On the way, he was passed by ambulancemen who just arrived with an injured person. In the reception room, he looked around, but Faridah was not there yet. Only a few people were waiting for medical attention. Adam approached a nurse sitting behind a large, semicircular desk.

"Good evening. I'm looking for a patient who should be brought here by now. Werner, Laura Werner,” Jensen felt he was unlikely to learn anything and would have to act somewhat against his beliefs, but it was an exceptional situation.

"Family, relative?" she asked shortly and formally.

"She has no family. We work together at Sarif Industries. I know the rules, but she is close to me, I hope..."

"Yes, I understand, but you should understand me too," she replied firmly.

"Of course..." Adam resignedly sighed moving away from the desk.

"Mr..." the woman waited for him to finish the sentence for her.

"Jensen, Adam Jensen," he replied politely.

"I hope she gets out of this," the receptionist smiled slightly and moved a small, square piece of paper toward the man in a discreet motion. It was blue in color.

"Thank you, I hope so too," he replied with a simultaneous nod.

The ex-SWAT looked at the piece of paper and read from it that Laura was lying in room 109 on the third floor. He walked down a long corridor with doors to different rooms until he reached the elevator. Someone was getting off it, so he did not have to wait. During the ride, he wrote a message to Malik giving her the information from the card. There were hospital staff members in front of the room. Adam was sure they were talking about Laura.

"She's lost a lot of blood. Unless we can find her group at another hospital, the woman will not survive," the doctor said.

"Nurse Thomson is still looking, but there are problems everywhere," the nurse replied in a resigned tone.

"Does Mrs. Werner have any family? Does anyone at all know what happened?" the doctor inquired.

"Unfortunately. We found out that her parents are dead and she has no one close to her here."

Jensen decided he had to interject into this conversation. He can't just stand around and wait. This time, he will do everything within his power.

"Sorry to interrupt," the Chief of Security got their attention. "Adam Jensen, Sarif Industries. Miss Werner works with me, if there's anything I can do to help..."

"You're the one who found her, aren't you?" The doctor asked immediately after reading the notes.

"That's right. I was visiting her. It happened moments after I left. She would be dead if I didn’t leave my coat at her place," Adam tried to explain but he didn’t know the reason for doing this irrelevant thing.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more you can do," Dr. O'Brien sighed in resignation.

"Unless you have a zero negative blood group," the nurse interjected.

"Yes, I do have a zero negative. I can..."

"Please come with me. We don't have time," the woman urged.

Jensen followed her into the treatment room where the nurse ordered him to expose his arm. She put a tourniquet around that limb to better identify a vein that appears easy to access. After that, she cleaned the place with an alcohol pad and carefully inserted the needle. Moments later the nurse took a sample from the bag filling with blood. The woman explained the sample was taken to tests for compliance and whether there were any contraindications to giving it to Laura. Adam didn't wait long for the results, but to him, it felt like an eternity. The short, stocky nurse with long blond hair in a braid was very nice to him. While Adam was sitting in the chair clutching a rubber ball in his hand he stared at the ceiling praying with all his might that it would not be too late. He shifted his gaze to the rubber hose running from his hand to the rectangular container. It was placed on a blood collection monitor next to him and gently shaking. He wanted the blood to flow faster.

"Please be of good cheer and have faith. It's hard to live without it,” she tried to calm him down.

Right after the woman removed the needle from his vein Adam wanted to get up and go to Laura, but the nurse categorically forbade him.

"I have to go there," he insisted stubbornly.

"You will go, but first of all you won't see her for the time being anyway, and secondly it was a huge effort for your body. Please eat a candy bar, breathe deeply and rest for at least a quarter of an hour," she ordered in the tone of a caring mother and nurse at the same time.

Jensen nodded with understanding. The woman was right, he would not speed up anything at the moment, and he might even cause them more problems with his behavior. For more than a quarter of an hour, he sat idly as advised. He was a model patient but only for the sake of Laura's welfare. Too many bad things had already happened because of him. A while later he strolled along the corridor with a piece of gauze clutched in his bent hand, sat down for a few seconds, got up, and strolled again.

"Adam, take it easy," he heard Faridah's voice say. "Keep strolling like this and soon there will be a hole in the floor."

"Good to see you," he tried to smile at least a little but all that came out was some weird crooked grimace that didn't resemble it at all.

Malik looked at his hand. "What happened to you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing," he muttered straightening his arm and slipping the sleeve of his sweater down.

"Seriously, I don't have the energy for your evasions, escapes, cover-ups and goddamn knows what," she growled in exasperation.

"And I..." he wanted to say that it was none of her business. He didn't need to explain anything and he wasn't going to tolerate a nosy attitude, but just gasped. "They needed blood. I have a compatible type so..." he explained escaping with his gaze to the side.

"Do you know anything? Will she come out of it?" she inquired.

"I don't know anything. Except that it's my fault," Adam bit his lip. He'd said too much, way too much.

"If it wasn't for you, she'd be dead. Think, then speak."

They didn’t count the hours that had passed. Faridah noticed that Jensen was barely conscious of fatigue but didn’t say a word.

"Mr. Jensen, you can see her, but not for more than five minutes. She's weak," the nurse, the same one who had taken his blood, informed him.

The man nodded and disappeared into the room a moment later. He didn't know how to act or what to say. He squeezed the handle of the bag in his hand tighter and tighter.

"I brought you a few things if you..."

"Get the fuck out of here..." hissed Laura, lying with her back turned towards him.

"Laura... I..." he tried to say something but couldn't.

"Are you deaf or stupid?! I said, get the fuck off! I didn't want you to save me! This is why you commit suicide - to die, you know?!"

Jensen left the bag and walked out. What was he even hoping for? That Laura would call him a hero? Faridah tried to stop him but he pushed her away so forcefully that she almost fell. Once he was outside the hospital, he lit a cigarette, then a second and a third. If it wasn't for the cat, he would probably go to the first better pub to get drunk. This barely happened to him a few times in the past. One of them was when he broke up with Megan.

The cat greeted him as soon as he crossed the threshold. She sat down beside Adam looking at him curiously. He heard her long, happy meow and then the sound of her claws while she was walking across the parquet. Adam took out his phone and tossed his coat into the corner. He sat down on the sofa with the instant idea of reaching for the bottle and pouring himself some whisky, but the cat's wise blue eyes looked at him as if to say, "Don't do it, it's not an option." Jensen sighed as he set the bottle down. The cat jumped into his lap, climbed up Jensen's torso, and licked his cheek. He immediately saw her tail sticking up vertically and turned his head away. He was beginning to seriously consider whether to actually keep the pet, but could he afford it with the lifestyle he was living?

Hospital.

Faridah almost begged the nurse to see Laura for a few minutes. After receiving the permission, she decided not to waste a second of that time. The woman was lying on her side with her back turned to the entrance and didn't even speak when she heard her enter.

"Are you going to kick me out too?" she asked cautiously.

"I'll think about it," she muttered.

"Why did you do that?" she asked another question as she sat down on the chair by the bed.

"Because this asshole wants to be a hero by force, he doesn't care at all. He just did it for the peace of his conscience, because that's what he should do," she growled.

"I shouldn't interfere or say what you're about to hear, but I have to," Malik said in a rough tone. "Adam gave you his blood. Do what you want with that information."

"He and his fucking sense of duty," the woman muttered in exasperation.

"Didn't it come to that empty, selfish head that maybe he cares about you more than you think he does?""What difference does it make? I kicked him out the door. "

"You can always call him or text him," Malik shrugged.

"I don't have a phone. I don't have anything at all," she said quietly.

"Adam took care of everything. He brought you a phone, a charger, pajamas..." she listed one by one.

Laura rolled over onto her back, the light blinded her so she closed her eyes. Only now did she realize she had screwed up everything, most notably the trip to Washington.

"I should go now," the Chief Pilot said, seeing that Laura was not very talkative.

The woman was laying without a single motion, trying to digest what she had heard. Jensen had saved her life, which was a coincidence. He had to come back for something, forget something. Laura thought back to his visit, going over the events one by one.

"Yeah, he forgot his coat," she muttered under her breath.

Then he found her, because no one opened the door, and the rest was another link in the chain of reactions. Her thoughts were interrupted by a nurse who came to check if everything was okay.

"I know it's none of my business, but having someone like Mr. Jensen, you've been thinking of killing yourself," the woman said calmly. "You can see he cares a lot, and he wasn't acting out of a sense of duty like anyone who saves another person," she continued, adjusting Laura's pillow. "Now please rest. If something happens, just press the button."

Another person pointed out to her how blind she was to all the gestures and efforts. The problem was nothing was falling into a logical whole. Laura reached for her phone with the intention of browsing the internet aimlessly. Her sutured hands ached along with the throat after gastric lavage. She found that killing herself hurt far less. Then she noticed the nurse must have left a handkerchief on the nightstand. It was covered in blood, and on one of the corners had gold initials A.J.

Jensen's apartment.

Adam played with the cat, feeling they were beginning to share a bond. The animal was very calm, maybe still scared that it had landed in a new place. When she got bored of catching the laser dot, she sat down and started cleaning fur. Jensen smiled slightly, and thoughts of Laura immediately returned. He got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to brew himself some tea. The phone moved with a loud buzz on the top of the coffee table, and its screen began to rhythmically pulse with yellow light. Jensen poured himself a cup of tea first, and only then did he decide to check what it might be. He wanted to sit down in his seat, but the cat had time to take it. He had no conscience to shoo sleeping furry one away, so he carefully settled down next to her. He lazily took his smartphone and checked its inbox.

"Thank you." - Those were the only words the message contained, and next to it was an emoticon representing a red droplet, which he thought symbolized blood. Jensen sighed heavily already knowing that Faridah must have told Laura everything. On the other hand, it gave him hope that once this whole farce was over, rebuilding a relationship with her would not be as difficult as he had assumed.

The message soothed his thoughts enough that he managed to lie down and take a nap. It was not the kind of rest he had dreamed of, but it was always better than a sleepless night. In the morning he felt a weight on his stomach, unnatural as if it was a projection of his still sleeping mind. The weight moved, it tickled the skin, causing this unbearable but pleasant feeling at the same time. Adam reflexively clenched his stomach muscles, suppressed a laugh, but did not open his eyes. Then a gentle scratching made Jensen's mind start to become more and more conscious. It wasn't a dream or his imagination, a cat was lying on the man's naked belly. It was now looking at him with its wise eyes of deep blue color. After a moment it yawned, stood up, and stretched while piercing its claws into Adam’s skin. The ex-SWAT hissed in pain and leaned back on his elbows changing his position from lying down to half-sitting. The animal showed him mercy by descending onto the bedding. It sat up and after a while, with a loud and long meow, it probably demanded food. Jensen thought it was a pretty good idea, so he got up and went to the bathroom. The cat jumped on the cupboard while he was brushing his teeth and knocked the water cup down with her tail. The Chief of Security was angry with her but decided to be understanding. He picked up the cup, washed it, and poured the water again. When he finished his morning toilet, he wiped the water off the floor, got dressed, and went to the kitchen. Thinking about what he could eat he first filled the cat's bowl with the food Laura had given him. He was worried that the cat would not want to eat, but he was wrong. She ate both dry and wet food with the same appetite. Adam had eggs, some ham, and chives in the fridge, so he fried up an omelet for himself so he wouldn't keep eating cereal all the time. It was only when he sat down to eat breakfast that he remembered when he had eaten the same thing with Laura and he immediately stopped enjoying it. He forced himself to finish it and when he succeeded he looked at his watch. It was about 11 am, the perfect time to visit Laura. He hoped she had already forgotten about what happened yesterday and wasn't telling him to fuck off.

Jensen left the house around half past twelve dressed in the brown sweater he often wore, dark blue jeans, and his usual coat. As he walked down the street, he wrapped a gray scarf loosely around his neck. Today was an unusually cold day. He wondered if he would meet Faridah, but she was not in the hallway. Adam slowly looked into the room, preparing some kind words in his mind. At the sight of the empty bed, he froze bound with fear. His mind was momentarily invaded by the darkest thoughts. He had been standing in the doorway for a long time as if just looking would make Laura appear in the room.

"Mr. Jensen, hello, unfortunately, the patient was discharged this morning at her own request. We tried to convince her not to, but to no avail," he heard behind him the voice of the same kind nurse who took his blood yesterday. "It's good that you are here. The doctor was supposed to call you. He wanted to discuss some important matters. I will ask if he is free now if you have time. "

"Of course. Since it's important I'll take as much of my time as necessary," Adam replied.

Deep down he was furious with Laura for acting so irresponsibly. She barely survived yesterday, what was she even thinking?! He wanted to yell at her, tell her how stupid she was, but it was a very bad idea. Whatever decisions she makes, she's an adult, and he has no right to forbid anything.

"The doctor will see you," he heard the woman's voice again and noticed the invitation expressed with a hand gesture.

He took a deep breath before entering the consulting room. The place was not large and did not stand out from other consulting rooms. There was a glass cabinet with medicines in it, a desk in the middle, and an exam table along the right wall. Jensen sat down in the chair right away in front of a man who appeared to be over forty years of age. He wore a white lab coat and a stethoscope slung around his neck. He was just looking through a file, shaking his head at the same time.

"Mr. Jensen Laura's case is more serious than I thought. Psychological suicide attempt, depressive seizures, cerebral edema in the back right side of her brain. Not large but still something quite serious. In addition, she was discharged from the hospital," the doctor recited with his elbow resting on the desktop, the index and middle finger of his right hand were supporting his temple. "I should order a psychological examination. It's possible it would even be necessary to implement…" the man paused for a moment. "Treatment in a psychiatric ward," he finished, looking intently at Jensen, who tried his best not to show how much the news had shaken him.

"I am familiar with her condition. Unfortunately, before I had time to act Miss Werner tried to end her life," he lied but he had no choice. With his lie at stake and her sight in a straitjacket sitting in the corner of the room, like a vegetable made the decision clear. "I know a great psychologist. I wanted to convince her to therapy, unfortunately, I didn't make it."

The doctor twirled a pen in his fingers, rubbing his forehead in the process. Procedures dictated something other than conscience and common sense. He knew that being locked up in a ward could be more devastating than helpful, which was why it was so difficult for him to make the right decision. "If it's not a secret, could I get the name of that psychologist?" he asked squinting his green eyes.

"Of course, it's Rupert MacKenzie. I used his help myself. I was in serious condition at the time," Adam replied. He was sure the name would work as it should and he wasn't wrong.

The man grunted, raising his eyebrows in amazement. "If this is the same MacKenzie I've heard about then I can rest assured. However, I must make you aware of certain things. If Miss Laura refuses, she will not be allowed to continue working at Sarif Industries or anywhere else. She will be sent to a mental health hospital, and we both don't want that, do we?" He looked significantly at Adam as if to tell him that he was taking a risk by breaking the rules and there would not be another chance.

"I understand perfectly well what you mean. I'll make sure she acts wisely. "

"Please bring the certificate of the course of the therapy to me and do not delay it too long," he punctuated the last words, strengthen their importance.

Jensen said a brief "Goodbye" and left the room. He felt the weight of everything he heard, almost crushing him to the ground. Good thing he didn't accidentally mention what Damien had done to her or that she had been raped. He lit a cigarette as he barely left the hospital. He had to abreact somehow, and he couldn't find any other way. On the way to Laura’s place, he thought about what he should do and say. Meeting her is necessary but risky. How is he going to tell her that she needs to go to therapy? After all, the conversation will end in war. They should be in Washington tomorrow, and suddenly plans are in ruins. He'll call Sarif as soon as possible and tell him what happened. It's the only option.

He hesitated before pressing the bell. It was that last moment to think about the next course of action and to subdue the raging emotions. The moment which will decide about everything that would follow had just come. Adam had waited a moment before Laura opened the door for him. For a split second, he saw on her face the joy most evident in her sparkling green eyes. She was pale and weakened, but at the same time full of inner energy and fury.

"Great! She sent for you too?!" she growled, but allowed Jensen to enter.

The man frowned not really understanding what she meant. He dived into the heavy, stuffy atmosphere that he had never felt in her apartment before. He didn't take off his coat or shoes. Something completely different occupied his attention entirely. Faridah was sitting on the sofa in the living room, looking furious, extremely furious. The fingers of her hands crossed on her chest drummed nervously against her biceps. She was looking to her left toward the window. Her lips pressed into a thin line didn't bode anything good. To piss off Fly Girl was like unleashing hell on earth. There was a mug of unfinished coffee on the table in front of her and a nibbled cookie on a plate.

"I don't understand what this is all about," he uncertainly muttered looking at Laura then at Malik. "Any explanation?"

"Since you're here you probably know that this ungrateful idiot discharged from the hospital at her own request," the head pilot hissed without turning her head.

"I know, and I came to talk to her like with an adult, responsible person," the ex-SWAT said calmly.

"We have nothing to talk about. Now please get out of here and leave me alone," Laura growled standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

Jensen discreetly nodded at Faridah, suggesting to listen. The woman wasn't entirely sure if she should give in on the issue and if leaving Laura with Adam was wise, but she decided to trust him. She slowly got up from the sofa and left without a word. The Chief of Security closed the door behind her, took off his coat, and hung it on the coat rack knowing this was going to be a long, tiring conversation and maybe even a fight.

Miss Werner flitted across the living room like a caged bird when Jensen unhurriedly approached her. He carefully placed his hands on her shoulders while standing behind the woman's back. She didn't shake them off, didn't throw unspeakable curses at him, didn't do anything. She couldn't. He paralyzed her with that gesture and the breath she felt when he gently leaned over her ear. The woman felt like she was about to cry. Just like that, humanly from an excess of accumulated emotions. Adam felt it with his whole being, which is why he allowed himself to forget about Damien’s threat just for this moment. She needed him, so he couldn't ignore it. Not even any crazy ex could change anything. The woman suddenly turned, embracing him tightly around the waist and snuggling her cheek against his rough sweater smelling just as she remembered it. A delicate and mysterious aroma of citrus, slightly tart but broken by a subtle hint of vanilla with a slightly sharp finish mixed with sweat that was now more noticeable than usual. Jensen was nervous. He was afraid of his every reaction, afraid of taking one step too far. Laura was making him forget about the threat. Thoughts galloped through his mind. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to place his hands on her hips again, to slide over her smooth skin and feel goosebumps growing under his touch. It wasn't the first time he'd caught himself wanting her. That strong feeling was arousing excitement within him. He was like a hungry, lone wolf facing prey he must not touch. Prey tempting in every possible way, encouraging him to break the rules. A moment more and he would have forgotten why he came here.

"Why did you do that?" he asked as calmly as he could. "You were barely alive when..." Adam broke off his sentence. "When I found you." he finished. He prepared himself for hearing to fuck off again, but this time he wouldn't listen anyway.

The woman let go of him, took a few steps back, and turned toward the window as if realizing she had done something wrong. "Because I can't leave you alone with all this mess," she replied.

Jensen didn't know what he should answer. If he took the words personally, he might come off like an idiot, and if he stays professional and diverged from the correct interpretation he would offend her. Neither of those options was good. He should look for some neutral words.

"I can't jeopardize the good of the company and your position. Even if things are no longer as they were between us. You can rest assured. I will bring the Washington matter to an end and then you will never see me again," she continued as if she had learned this speech by heart beforehand.

All the muscles in the ex-SWAT's body tense up suddenly, ready to react to what he heard. He wanted to deny everything, to explain. He held back with all his strength. He had to. He was beginning to doubt if he could glue together the shattered pieces of glass that had hurt her too much.

"It's your decision and you'll do as you wish, but you can hand over all the guidelines to Connor," he informed while having a fear that Laura would misunderstand his intentions. "Of course I will personally make sure any credit is not taken away from you. This is your project and you deserve the credit."

The woman crossed her arms over her chest. Adam's face was reflected in the glass. She could see he was tense, that talking to her was like walking through a minefield. She could feel it in his words, too.

"I can handle it. You don't have to worry. I'll try not overexerting myself and such," she replied with a careless wave of her hand.

"There is one other very important matter. I thought you might not want Faridah to know about this, or you might prefer to tell her yourself, but..." Jensen took a deep breath. He knew the atmosphere was about to get worse. "I talked to the doctor. Before you start screaming listen to me fully," he asked, but she didn't start screaming at all so he continued. "He said you're in danger of..."

"Nuthouse?" she asked with a shrug. "So what? I can say no, and I'm not worried about the job."

"I know a very skilled psychologist. He's not like the others and helped me pull myself together after Mexicantown. Think about it, please," he urged. Laura's vision of being locked in the same room with the real madmen resounded with a firm protest and a desire to dissuade her from the idea at any cost.

"Is that the weirdo with the pipe who was with you at Crann Tara?" she asked directly at which Jensen frowned.

"Yes, it was Rupert," he nodded, seeing no point in lying.

"He already had time to judge me? To see me like a rag and a slut, yes?!" she raised her voice without turning away from the glass."No," Adam replied calmly. "MacKenzie has one fundamental rule that he sticks to. Outside of work, he's a normal person, puts his skills aside, doesn't give advice, doesn't judge, doesn't listen to problems," he explained briefly but as accurately as possible. "That's why he's special. If you are so inclined, we can meet him at Crann Tara. No declarations of any kind. You will decide for yourself whether you will give him a chance. That's my suggestion."

Laura strolled thoughtfully along the wall, but she did not look at the Chief of Security. At first, she thought it was some kind of trick, but she didn't see a sensible reason. She felt like agreeing, after all, she wouldn't lose anything on this. She needed help, though she couldn't admit it.

The ex-SWAT decided the woman ignored his efforts, so he waited no longer in pointless silence. "I'll go now," he announced, trying to mask his disappointment. "I have to take care of the cat, give it to the animal shelter," he said, hoping this topic would prolong their conversation.

"I know..." she began the sentence immediately backing off from the rest of it.

The ex-SWAT smiled at the corner of his lips; he wasn't going to let it go. "Don't you know of any good place?" he asked completely casually.

"Hit, sunk," she thought as she looked at the floor and then at her feet. The perfectly played action enriched her with the information that Adam was looking for contact with her otherwise he would have gone home. Surely he would have ignored that broken-off sentence. "I have the place checked out, I'm taking Stalker there right away. My neighbor would probably take him, but I've already abused her hospitality. I'll write down the address for you…"

"Could we... go together?" he asked hesitantly like a teenager who wants to date a girl and doesn't dare to do so.

"Of course, it's no problem," she replied in line with what he wanted to hear. "Maybe in a quarter of an hour in front of my house?"

"Mhm sounds good. See you then," he said goodbye and headed for the door.

"Adam," she stopped him with that one word.

The man froze in place, said nothing but looked in her direction. Laura turned, her gaze meeting his gray-blue eyes. "Thank you," she said. She intertwined her fingers together breaking them off nervously. "And I agree to meet Rupert," she added in an uncertain voice.

"What are you thanking me for?" he suspected what was going on, but wanted to be sure.

"You know very well what for," she muttered.

"You have already thanked me. You don't have to..."

"I have to. I wanted to do it in person," she interrupted him firmly. "You saved my life, and I acted like an idiot."

"Laura, listen to me. I am not angry, I have no grudge against you. I did what I should and could. If it's just for me, you want this meeting, don't do it at all." Jensen left before the woman said anything. He was aware of how important what had taken place was to her. He felt it, so he couldn't stay. He couldn't stay because it was no less important to him.

Laura looked at her bandaged wrists. She should be realistic, after all, it was only blood, a simple life-saving measure. She couldn't dismiss the thought that she now had a piece of him circulating through her with every heartbeat. It was something special and magical, and at the same time, it was a curse. Wherever she went he would always be with her. Adam in his firmness reminded her of Joe, who used similar words. She knew he was right and there was concern behind the harshness, but still, it always ended in a big argument. She remembered that she was supposed to meet the ex-SWAT in a quarter of an hour, so she quickly put on jeans and a sweater, locked Stalker in a cage, then grabbed her jacket and left.

All chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

#Deus Ex #DXHR #Deus Ex Human Revolution #Adam Jensen #Shadowfanfic #crunchy-shadow #Shadow's Showdown #Nifriel #I never asked for this #Fanfiction #Evie Dormer OC #Joe Mando OC #Cyberpunk #Writers on tumblr #Chapter 26: The Red Drop.

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milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

In Loving Memory (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request: @missroro the reader is steve twin and she married to bucky after the blip, she had enough of the 'new captain america' thing shes really mad, so when walker and his friend start talking about joining forces she snap like she pull out a gun and pointing right at them, also sam ofc dont forget about sam. Sam trying to stop her while bucky "nah let her do her fun"

Words: 2021

Warning: !!TFATWS SPOILER!! without context - violence

A/N: wrote this today, it basically follows the events of ep3 of fatws but without context. I have a couple of exams this week so I won't be able to post until next saturday. Until then, enjoy

"You shouldn’t have gave him the shield"

Sam frowned, turning back to look at Bucky.

"I didn’t gave him the shield" He defended himself, making a point.

"Well, Steve definitely didn’t" Y/N ironically answered back.

He gave her a pointed stare. They had had this conversation countless times and Y/N never missed a chance to remind him of what she thought was a huge mistake.

"You are the reason this is happening, Sam. You chose to take on my brother’s legacy and threw it out the window"

The man didn’t reply and pursed his lips. He knew she didn’t mean any of her harsh words, she was angry and still mourning. If taking it out on him could make her feel better, he would let her.

"Y/N, stop" Bucky took a step toward his wife, clasping her hand in his metal one. He had hoped the physical contact would be enough to calm her down.

"He abandoned me, Sam" She continued, her voice filled with emotions. "He was gone and all I had left was memories. I chose this life for him, I fought with him, I believed in everything he represented. I looked up to him, to Captain America. And today, even those memories are gone, taken by the same government you and I were up against, mocked by clowns pretending to be heroes, all because you gave up"

The Falcon closed his eyes and dropped his head. She couldn’t see his point of view, or share his opinions when her judgment was clouded by so much pain. He wished she could understand the dilemma, the duality that represented the shield for him.

"Y/N, please, that’s enough" Bucky whispered next to her ear.

She turned her head toward him and as usual, his heart broke when he saw the torment in her eyes. She didn’t need to speak, she was an open book to him. They both had lost so much and yet were all each other had left. They were collateral damage, their own team against a world that wasn’t theirs anymore. She silently nodded, assuring him she was fine. Sam watched Bucky kissing her forehead and he furrowed his brow. He would never admit it but he was glad they had each other, because no one could carry that much pain alone without crumbling apart.

Before any of them could add anything, soldiers in blue and red erupted in the room, bursting through the door of the apartment where they were hiding in Latvia. Bucky instinctively grabbed Y/N and forced her body to move behind his. The two man stood in front of them, tall and proud, a smug smile on their lips.

"Alright, that’s it, your time is up" The man calling himself Captain America announced, the shield in one hand, the other pointing at the three avengers. "Tell me where Zemo is"

"We know you’re hiding him" His sidekick added.

"I’m ordering you to turn him over"

Sam eyed them up and down.

"Let’s be clear, the only thing you’re running here is your mouth" The Falcon firmly replied, crossing his arms.

"I gave you a chance to work with us" He mentioned.

" ‘For us’ is the correct way to put it, tough guy. And we said no." Y/N reminded him, her face showing how much she was annoyed.

"You’re obviously in over your head so I suggest you turn back and go" Sam argued.

"You really want this conversation to go there ?" The hero threatened.

Bucky straightened up when he felt Y/N tensing. He knew she was already on the verge of snapping. One wrong word from the man she hated and this could go down to hell.

"Should I put down the shield ?" He continued to challenge Sam. "Make it fair?"

The woman groaned and when John Walker dropped his weapon, without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest knife and threw it right at his face. The man had barely enough time to move back and his eyes rose in surprise when the blade stuck itself into the wall with force.

"Sorry, it slipped" She ironically explained, shrugging.

"You don’t want to play this game with me" He tried to intimidate her, tilting his head to the side.

She smiled, pleased he was giving her the opportunity to smack his face. Bucky clenched his fists when he saw her walking in front of Walker. Without tearing her eyes away from his, she seized her knife and pulled it out of the wall with a sharp movement.

"I think someone should teach you a lesson, Walker" She told him in a low tone.

"Are you offering ?" He challenged her.

"Don’t tempt me"

"You’re lucky you’re his sister" He grinned. "But don’t push it. This Captain America is not as lenient as the previous was"

Bucky swore under his breath. It was too late now. And just as Sam looked at him with concern, Y/N threw her fist in a curved punch at the soldier. He used his forearm to counter the blow, but she was faster and had far more experience. Using the momentum, her foot rose up and kicked him in the face. The man was thrown back, shaking his head in confusion.

"We should do something" Sam advised the former assassin.

"No. Let her have her fun" He crossed his arms, harboring a small smirk.

The soldier tried to hit her back, but even when he took the shield she blocked his attack. His sidekick soon joined the fight and distracted her for a second, just enough time for Walker to punch her. Immediately, she felt the taste of blood in her mouth, but no pain. She was passed that, far too pissed to feel anything.

Another blow on her chest send her to the ground and Hoskins hold her down while his friend was about to hit her with her brother’s shield. He raised it in the air, with every intention of beating her, but a strong metal hand stopped him in his movement. A very infuriated Bucky stood before him, his blue eyes darkening with anger. He firmly took the weapon, knocked Hoskins out with it and threw it across the room.

"If you wanted to make it fair, you shouldn’t have chosen to hit my wife" His tone was terrifying.

Walker didn’t seem as confident anymore. Bucky looked imposing, brute force ready to strike. His metal arm clenched in a fist and, without warning, it collided with the soldier’s jaw, sending him a few feet away. He strode to the man on the ground and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform

"This is all easy for you, isn’t it ?" Walker spoke with venom, staring at Bucky. "All that serum running through your veins"

With a swift movement, Y/N took the shield and launched it with power right on the soldier’s chest. The blow was so violent his body crashed into a door before landing on the floor. She was furious by his statement and he could see it with every step she made toward him. She grabbed the gun attached to her thigh and pointed it at his face.

"Lesson number one: learn when to shut up. Especially when you don't know what you're talking about" She was fuming but had not intention on killing the man, despite the sheer desire to do so.

She didn’t realize Sam was next to her until she saw his hand lowering her gun.

"This isn’t what Steve would want." He calmly expressed. "Remember, there’s always another way"

Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, remembering how many times her brother had told her that. She let him take the weapon and looked up at him. The conviction and kindness in his stare were enough. He didn’t have to say anything. Every words she needed to hear, he spoke them in silence.

She turned back to Bucky and he cupped her face, inspecting the bruise on her skin. He seemed ready to go back and beat the man down. Y/N softly smiled and clasped her hands around his wrists. He stroke her cheek and pulled her toward him before carefully kissing her lips.

"Good ?" He asked in a soft voice he only used with her.

"Good"

It was something between them, a single word they spoke every time they fought. Wherever they were, whomever they were up against, if one of them asked, the other had to answer. It was their intimate way to always know they were alright.

Later that day, Sam and Bucky had decided to go talk to the leader of the Flag Smasher, Karli Morgenthau, while Y/N had been charged to follow Walker and Hoskins. As soon as she had seen they were going after the young super soldier, she had warned her friends about the danger. She knew enough about the new Captain to guess he had no intention on arresting Karli. He wanted to make justice himself. She pitied his sidekick. He seemed like a decent man with good ideas struggling to find virtue on the wrong side of the battle. He was Walker’s collateral damage.

She wondered what Steve would think of all that if he could see them fighting both super soldiers and Captain America. He never cared for the star and stripes, never used his shield to harm. His heart was with the people he defended. Even when it had been against Tony, he pursued what he believed was best. Was that what Walker was trying to do ? She couldn’t know. But she was sure of one thing, the man had nothing in common with Steve. Pride, ego and selfishness were never traits anyone would have used to describe her brother. She couldn’t bear for him to be replaced, especially to a man that didn’t share his morals or any of his opinions. The shield he was carrying wasn’t just a weapon, it was her brother’s symbol of hope, a symbol he had fought so hard to forge. The man made the uniform, not the other way around. That’s what Walker didn’t get. Up until that point, people had not been following Captain America, they had been following Steve Rogers.

Standing in that public square, she didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Bucky entwined his fingers with hers. She couldn’t avert her eyes from the horrific scenery. Powerlessly, she watched a man she didn’t know being executed. His opponent was merciless, striking with determination and rage, using the only piece of memory she had left of her brother to bring terror and death. Frozen on the spot in the middle of the crowd, she could see the fear in all those strangers eyes and it felt like grief coming in waves, a shard in her guts that would never leave. It felt like this particular moment was choking the breath out of her body, short circuiting her mind. What was whole once completely shattered and she couldn’t find the strength to be angry anymore. All her brother had built had fallen apart in the split of a second and all the world had left was a bloodied image of his symbol of hope. A symbol that was no more.

“Sam...” She called him, almost like a scared child.

“I know...”

Both men looked worried. Y/N felt Bucky’s hand trembling and she squeezed him harder. She could easily guess how he felt. Steve had saved both of them, he had gave them a purpose, had allowed the former assassin to be more than the weapon Hydra had made of him. Pieces by pieces, he had brought their family back together. And as they both stood there, witnessing the horrifying end of his legacy, Bucky realized everything his bestfriend had fought for was turning into dust.

"I’m sorry" Y/N whispered to Sam. "But there’s no other way now"

Her husband dropped his head, trying to regain a sense of control over his emotions. Wordlessly agreeing with her, he turned to their friend.

“He has to be stopped”

Tags: @taina-eny

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