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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Show Pony

Chapter 6

Winds Change

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Five days.

They had five days left together.

Billy tried not to think about it, but it was kinda hard to ignore.

Stalls were already being taken down, fair games being packed up into large shipping trucks to take across the country.

One of Max’s beloved funnel cake stalls had already met the way of the shipping container. She was pissed.

And yet, Billy and Steve did their best to pretend like the rodeo wasn’t coming down around them.

A perfect symbolism for their fling, or whatever, crashing down everywhere they look.

Billy spent days in Steve’s sweaty little airstream, brushing his fingers over that muscular body, calling him a hick and a horse girl and every other fake insult he could think of.

And Steve spent all that time lacing his fingers with Billy’s, winking at him from his place on top of one of his three gorgeous mares as he did victory lap after victory lap, roping calves in under ten seconds, slamming Billy against the walls of the airstream, adrenaline from the stunt still pumping through him.

The field saw them exercising Steve’s horses, taking a ratty blanket out there in the middle of the night to watch the stars.

And it was stupid, Billy pretending that this was more than just. A convenience.

Steve was on his knees, and Billy threaded his hands into that thick hair, tugging it this way and that, the way he’s learned Steve likes after some weeks of mewling whines.

Billy was backed up against the gate of the makeshift paddock, shielded by the prying eyes of the other rodeo workers by the long-set sun and the sounds of the day’s crowds filtering out of the grounds.

Steve pushed down, taking Billy’s cock all the way in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose, the nose currently pressed flat against Billy’s pelvis.

Steve was a champion at a few things: calf roping, horse riding, and dick sucking.

He pulled off Billy’s dick with a slurp, rolling his tongue along the head, humming slightly as he did. His eyes were dark, staring up at Billy, something like a smirk sparking in them as Billy fell apart.

He took a breath, ready to move back in and finish Billy off when there were footsteps.

“Steve! I gotta check Loretta’s hock.”

They both froze, Steve’s eyes going wide with shock, his lips still stretched around the cock in his mouth.

Billy had yet to meet Jim Hopper, the horse specialist that watched out for Steve’s three mares.

He guesses he was about to meet the man right about now.

Steve yanked his face off Billy’s cock with an unmistakable slurping sound that made Billy’s face go bright fuckin’ red. Billy fumbled with the fly on his shorts, and Steve took charge, roughly pulling the button closed and the zip up. It was a miracle he didn’t catch any skin with the quick action.

Steve was on his feet as Jim rounded the edge of the fencing, eyeing the two of them standing far too close, Billy’s face red and full of guilt. Jim raised a hand, his eyes closing as he breathed heavily out his nose.

“I don’t wanna know. Just let me take a look at your girl.”

Steve shrugged, acting like this whole ordeal was just another day at the rodeo.

Maybe it is, Billy’s brain supplied.

They were so fucking. Obvious. Billy could just drop dead right there on the grass.

Jim was a big dude. Beefy and broad, his face was clearly weather-beaten. Well, what of his face wasn’t covered with a graying beard and mustache. His left cheek pudged out slightly with what Billy realized was chewing tobacco when he spit casually at his feet.

“This is Billy. I told you about him,” Steve said with a smirk.

And Billy just about had a heart attack when Steve made a big show of wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smirkin’ like the devil.

“Yeah, kid, I’m just here for Letty.”

The horses had been allocated to the horsebox for the night, as it was much warmer in there for them. Not that it was cold in San Diego at night, but still. Steve worried. Billy thought it was cute.

Steve led Jim off towards the box, clapping him once on the shoulder as he passed, making Jim groan and spit a dollop of yellow-brown saliva after Steve.

Billy felt like he was about to turn into some thick hot liquid shame when Jim gave him a bit of a once-over, raising one thick eyebrow at him. Jim’s mustache twitched, and he spit to the side before turning on his heel, following Steve to the horses.

Billy has never been more mortified in his life.

Steve’s mentioned Jim a lot. He always calls him Hop. Said Steve himself gave him that nickname. Billy has kinda sussed out that Jim is something like a pseudo-dad to Steve. The one to teach him how to really care for the horses. The one to teach him to properly tie a calf.

All the shit that Steve was made of, Jim taught him.

Billy had put together that Jim’s daughter was the one Max was scampering about the grounds with. Steve said he had adopted Elle when she was about seven.

His face gave something away when he said that. Making a look that said there was a story there, but Billy didn’t wanna ask.

It’s not his story to know.

Billy followed after them, keeping a wide enough berth from the pair that it was weird. He knew it was weird. But it was either this type of weird, or the weird of inserting himself into their conversation when Jim obviously knew what they had been doing seconds before he found them. Steve was about as subtle as a gun with those grass stains on his knees, wiping at his face like he needed to prove a point.

Billy lingered outside the horsebox.

Loretta had been lagging lately, and she startled whenever Steve laid a hand on her left leg.

Steve had just about sobbed when he told Billy he thinks she’s hurt herself.

Billy wished he had a cigarette right about now.

“Yeah, I think the poor girl’s just havin’ some inflammation. Probably tweaked her leg just right on the arena dirt.”

“Is she gonna be okay? What does she need?” Steve sounded more serious than Billy’s ever heard him. There was a weight to his voice that only reared up when Steve mentioned his father, a slight quiver in his words that made his anxiety palpable.

“She’s a tough one, Letty. Let her rest for about two weeks, only mild walking, and some ice at the end of the day wouldn’t hurt, either. We’ll talk after that and see if she needs anything more.”

There was something of a pause in the horsebox, and Billy held his breath, ignoring the fact that he was clearly eavesdropping now.

“You being careful with that boy?”

“‘Course I am.”

“Because I meant what I said last time. I’m not posing as your dad to get you an appointment at the clinic again-”

“ Jesus, Hop. I thought we agreed never to talk about that again, huh? And besides, I’m grown. I can make appointments for my own STD tests now. Plus, it was all fine.”

Billy nearly choked.

It’s not that he’s never had a scare before, and he and Steve were safe, but still.

“Good to hear, then. But you being careful ?” There was another silence from the box. One of the horses whinnied.

When Jim continued, it was with a much softer voice than before.

“I ain’t never seen you so attached before.”

The horse whinnied again, and Billy pictured Steve wrapping his arms around June’s neck and hugging her close.

“He’s under my skin now.” A scuff that sounded like Steve’s boot brushing against the hay-covered floor of the box. “First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.”

Those words crashed into Billy’s gut, knocking all the wind out of him.

He suffocated on them, drowned in Steve’s melancholy voice as he said them.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

It stung at the same time it made Billy’s heart soar.

It hurt and it healed and it made Billy wanna throw up and lock Steve in his basement so he could never leave him.

Or maybe something less totally wacked-out and creepy.

“You know I love you like my own, but you gotta manage yourself. I ain’t judgin’, I just don’t wanna see you all hurt again.”

“Jeez, that was some real sappy shit there.” The mood shifted with Steve’s deflection, and Billy could hear footsteps leaving the horsebox.

He scrambled over to Steve’s little airstream, pretending he hadn’t been listening and freaking out over what he was hearing.

There was just. There was a whole lot to take in there.

Jim said he didn’t want to see Steve all hurt again, but also said he’s never seen Steve so attached before.

When had he been all hurt before if this was, in Steve’s words, the first time he wasn’t ready for a fling to be over?

And Billy didn’t want to hurt Steve, but it kinda, in a real shitty way, made him feel a little bit better that he wasn’t the only one ignoring the oncoming end out of sadness and a need to prolong whatever they had left.

That, and the added little bonus that Jim had once pretended to be Steve’s father to get him an STD test from a clinic.

Billy feels like he’s been punched in the face over and over again by that short conversation he heard. And he would know. He’s been decked in the kisser too many times to think about.

He leaned against the cold metal wall of the airstream as Steve came into view, Jim heading in the opposite direction towards the fairgrounds and the rodeo being shut down for the night.

Steve smiled at Billy, this soft, calm little thing that made the warm summer air even sweeter in Billy’s lungs and the words keep ringing through his head.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

He could see something in Steve, now that he knew what to look for.

How carefree and easy he seemed anytime he was around Billy, but those devastating moments when he seemed to bite his tongue against saying something more meaningful, or shied away from a briefly intimate touch.

Billy could finally see his own anxiety in Steve at their dwindling time together, and it broke his fucking heart.

Robin had warned Billy not to get attached. She told him Steve slept around and played the field and left before anyone could get in too deep.

But he wonders if Robin had warned Steve against the same thing. If she had told him that Billy was going to fuck and run. That leaving someone behind can sometimes hurt just as much as being left behind.

He hopes that if she hasn’t, she’ll be there for Steve. That she’ll pick him up and won’t let him break his own precious heart anymore.

“So, how’s Loretta?”

“She’ll be okay. Poor lady just needs some rest and some ice, and she’ll be feeling her best in a few weeks.”

Steve matched Billy’s stance, leaning against the trailer and tilting his face to the starry sky.

It was quiet out in the sea of trailers. Now that the spectators had all gone home for the night, the cheering crowds and amplified commentators weren’t reverberating through the open grass.

Instead, they could hear the rodeo animals that had been put in their nighttime areas. The many whineys and brays from different horses spread through the place.

The rodeo seemed so fucking magic to Billy.

Something like Heaven.

“I’m going soon.”

Billy doesn’t know why Steve said it.

They both knew that fact.

He thought they were both aggressively ignoring that fact.

“Yeah. You are.”

Billy didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.

Because talking about it makes it real.

And God fucking forbid Steve breaks it off now and not in the allotted five days they still have to laugh and fuck and be free .

He pulled out his slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one deftly.

Steve didn’t smoke. Said his grandpa died really horribly of lung cancer.

Billy knew this was going to be a serious talk when Steve didn’t make one of his usual snide remarks about Billy smoking.

“I just wanted. To be sure,” Steve trailed off, still looking at the spangled night sky. “We need to be on the same page.”

That we’re probably, most definitely, in love with one another but too stupid and too poorly timed and too tragic to say anything about it.

“I think we are.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. Because, I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, and, like, our arrangement’s been the same since the beginning.”

Arrangement.

That word.

Arrangement.

It was a fucking ugly word for whatever beautiful thing they had between them.

Arrangement.

It made Billy feel cheap, and used, and so fucking stupid.

And feeling like that only meant one thing for Billy.

He got fucking mad.

“So, that’s it then. You’re done with me. Onto the next poor sucker in the next shitty town that’ll fuck you through the mattress and hold your hand until you decide you’re sick of ‘em. Great. It was so nice being your fucking whore. Thanks for the. Opportunity.”

He wished he chewed tobacco like Jim. He would spit a glob at Steve’s foot. Probably make it land right on those stupid fucking red cowboy boots.

Steve finally looked at Billy, his face scrunched up and those beautiful eyes of his looking somewhere between lost and hurt and angry and confused.

“Billy, that’s not what I-”

“No. No, Harrington, I fucking get it. You go town to town, and feed these fuckers a sob story about how hard it is for you to connect with people, and that you’re lonely and your dad sucks, and all this other bullshit. When really, you’re just an insecure asshole with intimacy problems who’s too fucking stupid to get a fucking GED.”

Fuck.

The second the words were out of his mouth, Billy knew he had gone way too fucking far.

Steve’s eyes flashed, and his face seemed to morph right in front of Billy’s eyes. He was closing himself off right where they stood. Getting ready to chuck Billy away and never see him again.

And Billy fucking deserved it.

“You’re calling me an insecure asshole with intimacy problems? The only friends you’ve got are coworkers that only pity you because they can see how fucking pathetic you are. You beg for scraps like a fucking dog and the second things get tough you ignore it, or get angry at it, like a stupid goddamn child . You think you’re so tough. That you’re the only one with problems . You’ve got your head so far up your own ass that you don’t realize that shit sucks all over, and that everyone is just as miserable as you are, we’re just able to fucking make something out of ourselves instead of wallowing in self-pity.”

Steve’s little speech left Billy feeling dumbfounded.

He was seething with a rage he had never felt in his life before. Anger at himself, and anger at Steve for being so fucking right. For letting all of Billy’s flaws and insecurities tumble out of his mouth like they were nothing.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning forward to put it out against the door of the airstream, leaving a tiny circular ash print on the painted cow. It looked like a bullet wound on the poor thing.

It’s how Billy felt.

“I hope your horse fucking dies.”

It was childish.

It was so dumb, and childish, and Billy really doesn’t hope any horse anywhere dies, especially Steve’s three wonderful mares, but he’s feeling something he thinks he could call jilted, and he’s hurt and upset and genuinely at a loss.

He didn’t let Steve get another word in. Just turned on his heel, and left the little cowboy behind.

#woop woop i like this chapter a lot please enjoy!#show pony #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

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The doctor (part 1)

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary - When a 25 year old single father Cedric Diggory was woken up by his daughter to get shots he knew something was going to happen but not in the slightest bit did he know he was going to find a new love. (Muggle AU)

Warning - Swearing

Part 1 Part 2

"Daddy!" A voice and little hands of his daughter disturbed Cedric's deep slumber, "Papa, wake up,"

Cedric groaned, his hands blindly searched for his toddler and pulled her underneath his arm, forcing her to lay still. She giggled, "Papa, wake up, its 10,"

He turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against the soft pillows and his eyes were on his baby girl, "Today is Sunday,"

She smiled, snuggling closer into her father's chest. Cedric adjusted so he was laying on his back with his daughter pressed against his chest, "We need to get your shots today, shouldn't we?" He asked sensing his daughter's sudden give up.

She pouted, "Yes". Being a single father was not something Cedric hoped or wanted at the ripe age of 25.

Cedric sighed, rolling to the side making him tower over his daughter who looked up at her father with wide grey eyes. His eyes. She was a carbon copy of his father except for her hair, raven, just like her mother's and just as stubborn as her.

Cedric had never felt a pull like he had to the woman, she was his first love and was supposed to be forever until she felt the need to leave him and want a divorce. Why? He would never know, all he knew on that horrible day was a terrible fight one minute and another minute he was begging his wife not to leave, holding his seven month old daughter delicately in his arms, tears streaking his cheeks. That was a long time ago but they still haven't gotten a divorce.

"Love, we have to get your shots so you stay healthy, right?" He asked, wiping the strand hairs from her forehead.

She hummed sadly, "I don't want to,"

"We can go to the beach after it,"

She pouted, "B-but we need to get many shots,"

Cedric closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking off the image of his daughter's quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, "We can do whatever you want after we get it done."

A small smile formed on her face after he proposed his offer, "Late bedtime?" He agreed to all of what she had listed when she finally agreed to get to the hospital.

Both of them get ready quickly so there is no sudden change of decisions and within half an hour they hit the road to the nearest clinic Cedric had booked an appointment at.

"Ms. (L/N)?" Cedric called, knocking on the door of the doctor's office and peeking in.

A young woman turned around and Cedric felt air knocked out of his lungs, she looked beautiful, almost setting an example to the word in his eyes.

"Hello!" she greeted cheerfully, beaming at them. Carrying his little girl in his arms he walked to sit before the doctor's desk.

"Hey," she cooed at his daughter who had her arms tightly wrapped around his neck, her head leaning against his jaw.

"Charlotte Diggory, is it?" She asked looking at the report, "Can I call you Angel?" She asked, grabbing the attention of the toddler in Cedric's arms who nodded with a small blush.

"Well then, Angel, you are here for your," she read the report carefully and grimaced, "shots. Ah, man. I guess you don't want it?"

Charlotte looked at the doctor with wide hopeful eyes and nodded enthusiastically, "Aw, Angel, I hate those too, you know?"

"The needle, it hurts," Cedric’s daughter said, pouting.

The doctor hummed, "I mean if you think it does, then it sure will. Alright now, what do you like the most?"

Charlotte's eyes widened as she spoke about her favourite cartoon character to the doctor who listened carefully and replied at the right moment. Cedric felt a surge of respect for the girl in front of him, the way she interacted with his daughter was something he liked, something he perhaps will grow fond of.

"You love milky bars!?" (Y/N) asked, she looked as though she finally got something that she needed, "How about I give you a deal?" She asked the little girl, reaching into her drawer and pulled out two bars of the chocolate Charlotte loved making him buy loads and loads.

"You get your shots and I give you these, alright?" she asked, looking at the toddler expectantly who was contemplating on the offer and finally deciding chocolates held more worth than needles and agreeing to the offer.

(Y/N) grinned standing up from her seat and taking Cedric's daughter into her arms.

With the minimal amount of screaming from his daughter and maximum giggles and talks, they bid goodbye to the doctor announcing their return tomorrow.

The next day, Charlotte was excited to get her shots that even Cedric was afraid she was getting addicted to, but alas, they had to walk-in in the evening around 7.

"You're leaving?" He asked (Y/N) once they reached the hospital and saw her locking her office door with her bag slung over her shoulder, her coat and stethoscope draped over her arm.

"Ah, well, yep, I did an overtime, so," she said, looking apologetically, "You're here for your shots, aren't you?"

Charlotte nodded disappointedly, "Well, my friend here is a cool paediatrician she will take care of those," (Y/N) said, pointing at the room opposite to hers.

"I can stay here with you if you want," she added, seeing Charlotte let her head lull against her father dejectedly.

"Yes," "No," the father and the daughter answered simultaneously.

"No, princess, she gotta go, she did an overtime," Cedric explained to his daughter.

"Oh, it's alright," (Y/N) said dismissively, and took Charlotte from Cedric's grasp who happily went into her arms.

Cedric felt a sudden pang of jealousy of the girl who took his daughter from his arms but it dissipated as soon as it appeared. Charlotte hadn't been held by a woman other than Cedric's mother for months now and she didn't want it either, she was content being in her father's embrace yet today she had voluntarily moved into a girl's arms.

"Hey, Em," she greeted the doctor in the opposite room she had pointed at, "Shots,"

"Ah," The doctor - Emily - said, preparing the injection. Charlotte had buried her face into (Y/N)'s shoulder.

"Hey, Angel," (Y/N) said, grabbing the attention of the little girl, distracting her as Emily neared to get the injection done, "What was the character you said you liked the most?" She started the conversation with ease as the doctor injected the medicine, soon realising what happened Charlotte burst into tears.

(Y/N) bounced Cedric's daughter in her arms, rubbing her back soothingly and paced the room, whispering sweet nothings. And at that moment Cedric's heart melted into puddles, the way she held his daughter was something compared to a way a mother would hold her child, the sweet nothings would just add on.

"You alright, yeah?" (Y/N) asked, wiping the little girl's eyes, pressing a kiss to her forehead and chuckled, "That's it! Done. One last time tomorrow and no more shots!" She exclaimed happily, handing Charlotte back to Cedric who cradled his daughter against his chest.

"I can drop you if you want," Cedric offered (Y/N) as they walked to the exit of the hospital.

"Oh, it's alright, it's nearby. Besides, I gotta get a few things," She said, politely.

"Well, I can walk you,"

"What? No no, it's alright,"

"Oh come on, I insist,"

After loads of convincing (Y/N) finally gave in, agreeing Cedric to walk with her. Charlotte wiggled from his arms and walked between the two of them, her hand clasped in her father's.

They chatted casually, speaking about anything and everything until they reached near a pub when a woman stumbled forward and into Cedric's arms. As she caught him to steady herself, Cedric's heart clenched, it was his wife.

Looking at his taken aback and frozen form, (Y/N) pulled the little girl closer to her.

"Cedric," she slurred, pouting, "How are you? I missed you a lot,"

Cedric's breath hitched when she said those words and leaned more into him. Somewhere deep in his heart he wanted to give her a chance, but he knew he had given a lot of those, perhaps begged for it yet she didn't use it rather abandoned him and his daughter. He could still not let go the sight of his constant crying daughter as he desperately attempted to calm her down, or when she had longingly looked at mothers holding their children when Cedric held her unable to change it, or at the times he let his daughter alone at his friend's to go for the hearing, it was all because of the woman in front of him and he would never forgive her for it.

He gently pushed her back and guided his daughter and (Y/N) away before his wife shrieked, "Charlotte! My baby girl," she rushed to the little scared girl who held her father's hand tightly.

"Oh, how much you have grown up," she said, dragging a hand down her face.

"Get away from her," Cedric said, as his daughter shuffled to hide behind his leg.

"You can tell me to get away, I am her mother!" She said, glaring at him.

"You have lost the position long ago," Cedric replied through gritted teeth.

"No! Ho-how?" Her eyes fell on (Y/N) who had looked at the interaction confused, "You!" She yelled, stumbled towards her.

Cedric moved to shield (Y/N) from his drunk wife, "Don't drag her into this,"

She gasped, "she stole you from me! That monstrous thing stole you from me!"

More than simply offended by her statement, (Y/N) scrunched her face, "I didn't steal anything from you, you might've lost it. Besides, I don't even know who the hell you are!" She said, angrily marching away with Charlotte tagging along as Cedric turned to deal with the woman in front of him who still stared at the retreating doctor.

"What do you want!?" He asked, irritated.

"You! Come back, we can live together, raise Charlotte like you've always wanted,"

"Live together?" Cedric asked scoffing, "come back, huh? I never left you but you did when Charlotte was just a baby, you didn't want us, you left us at the wrong time,"

"I am sorry, Cedric-" she said, looking at the verge of tears just as he knew he looked somewhat similar.

"Don't." He said sternly, raising his index finger to stop her, "Save it."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and left in search of his daughter and the girl who sat on a bench huddled together.

"Papa!" Charlotte yelled, rushing into his arms as he crouched, holding her close, "Papa, who was that?"

Cedric gulped not knowing what to say to his daughter, "Don't worry about it, princess," he said, leaning to press a kiss to her forehead.

"That's your...?" (Y/N) asked as Cedric carried a fast asleep Charlotte in his arms.

He chuckled sadly, "My wife, or ex-wife, we didn't get divorced yet,"

"Oh," she said and opened her mouth as if curious to ask another question but resorted to letting them walk in silence while Cedric still wanted to vent.

"Charlotte was seven months when she left," he said, looking down at his daughter's calm asleep face fondly as if etching it in his mind so that it's all he would be able to see and not the contrast of it.

"What?" (Y/N) asked, flabbergasted, "Seven months? She was-oh my goodness," she ran her fingers through her hair.

"You took care of her alone?" She asked, surprise still written all over her face.

"Yeah," Cedric frowned, tears glistening his eyes as a trail of those horrid nights flashed in his mind, "I don't know how I did it,"

She stared at him as if wanting to console him any possible way and as he turned around and she saw his eyes, she wrapped her arms around his torso in an extremely short and quick hug, "I am so sorry," she muttered.

Cedric closed his eyes, the warmth from her seeping into his body was something that he wanted to treasure yet he couldn't, "It's alright,"

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" She asked.

"No, I have to go, you know," he said, jerking his head towards his daughter.

"Ah, ok, take care,"

"Ugh! I dunno! If she had just told me yesterday morning I would have done something," Cedric heard (Y/N) exclaim to her friend inside her office when they had come the next day to get Charlotte's final shot. Cedric knew he shouldn't eavesdrop but the tone of her voice was so intricate that he had to listen.

"She had left a letter on your door yesterday evening," Emily said.

"I came home late yesterday-"

"That's your mistake,"

"Besides, left a letter!? She could've texted me, is she that back in technology!?"

"That doesn't matter,"

"Yes it does, if she had texted me I would have done something about it earlier and not be homeless now!"

Cedric knocked on the door, feeling too uncomfortable to eavesdrop anymore and as an idea popped in his mind. A terrible idea.

"Come in!" She yelled from inside.

"Hey, Angel," she greeted with a wide grin that was almost impossible to tell whether fake or not.

"Um, I couldn't help but hear over your conversation," Cedric said, and quickly added after he saw her raise an eyebrow, "And I am sorry about that. But if you don't mind, there is an extra room in our flat and you stay there until you get home,"

Cedric felt so stupid uttering those words and had no idea where this confidence in him raised from. She gasped at him and stood up.

#cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric x reader #cedric x y/n #domestic!cedric diggory x reader #father!Cedric Diggory x Reader #harry Potter x Reader #harry potter

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virgatowhipped · 2 years

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23 & Joel

You were coming out of your favorite coffee shop one morning, when you noticed a very familiar head of dark curls and beautiful brown skin. It had been just over two years since you had last seen him, but you've always been able to recognize him, even in a crowd of people. It was Joel De Leon, your ex-boyfriend.

"Joel!" you called out. At the sound of his name, he whipped his head around and you were met with his deep brown eyes, which held signs of recognition as well as something else you couldn't quite place.

"Y/N! Wow, it's been so long," he says, approaching you and pulling you into a quick hug when he's within arm's reach of you.

"It really has! How have you been?" you ask as you readjust your purse on your shoulder.

"Good, good," he says, "I've been constantly in the studio, recording new music. I honestly think I've written the best I ever have in the last year or so. Just keeping myself busy with work. How about you? You look great!"

"I'm doing really well! I've finally managed to open my own event planning company and business is booming, but I love it," you say, large smile spreading across your face.

"That's amazing! I'm so proud of you," he says, smiling just as wide.

"Thank you. I'm proud of you, too, by the way. I've been following your career and you're still my favorite singer despite our history," you admit.

"I..." he pauses, a conflicted look in his eyes, like he's fighting with himself on what to say back to your admission. "Thank you," he finally says, sullen look in his eyes.

"Well, it was really good to see you, Joel. I've got an appointment with a client to get to, so I have to go. But I hope to see you around again."

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand, saying, "Y/N, wait!"

"Joel, I've really gotta go..."

"I should have asked you to stay another night with me," he suddenly lets slip.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"That night in New York a few years ago," he clarifies. "I should have begged you to stay another night with me, for you to fly back home with me the next day instead. Then you never would have met him."

"Joel..."

"I was so stupid, believing that you were completely mine, that I was doing everything right. I had no idea that I was sending you off to fall in love with another man," he states, voice breaking.

Your heart sinks as the memories come back. You had never intended on hurting Joel, you had also never anticipated falling for someone else while you were still with him. Deep down, you had known you were falling out of love with Joel, but you didn't want to admit it to yourself, let alone Joel. You had made him your world, but as his career as a musician grew, you struggled with having to share him with the rest of the world.

You definitely didn't expect to be seated next to a sweet, funny, charismatic man who kept you laughing for the entire 8-hour flight home; a man who also happened to live in the same city as you who had recently opened his own dentistry clinic. By the end of the flight, you both had exchanged contact information, and despite the guilt you felt, you couldn't deny the spark that you felt in the presence of the other man; one that Joel had never been able to produce in you. After a few weeks of talking to the man, you knew you had to tell Joel the truth.

When Joel had come home from tour, all of your things were packed and ready to be moved to the new apartment you had rented in another part of the city. After hearing that you had fallen in love with someone else, he stormed out of the apartment, leaving shattered because you knew your life with him was over. In tears, you gathered up the rest of your things and made sure there was no trace of you left for him to come home to. Maybe that would make this easier on him.

"Did you ever even love me?" Joel asks, tear falling down his cheek.

"Joel, don't."

"Please. I need to know. Even if you have to lie to me, just say you loved me the way I loved you," he cries.

"Oh, Joel," you feel your heart clench and wipe the tears from his eyes. "It's not a lie that I loved you. I still do love you. But not in the way you deserve. We weren't right for each other, and I know that it hurts, but it's the truth. I wasn't capable in loving you in the way you needed to be loved. We were great at loving each other on the surface, but when you dig deeper, we weren't meeting each other's needs, and in the long run, those are the most important things that your romantic partner should be able to accomplish. You deserve someone who can do that for you. This is me giving you permission to move on."

"How am I supposed to move on when you're everything I want?" he asks, voice shaky.

"I've always believed in you. Now it's time for you to believe in you. Your person will show up when you least expect them, and you'll be wondering why the hell you were so hung up on me for so long," you say.

At that, he puts on a shaky smile, steps forward, and kisses you on the forehead. You close your eyes and hold him close for a moment, savoring what you know will have to be the last contact you have with him for his own sake.

"I guess this is goodbye forever?" he asks.

"I guess it is," you smile sadly, pulling away and taking a few steps back from him. "Goodbye, Joel."

"Goodbye, Y/N."

And as you walk away from your old love, you feel confident that this was the right thing for both of you. Some relationships were not meant to last, and unfortunately, the one between you and Joel fell into that category.

#joel pimentel de leon #joel pimentel #joel de leon #sorry this took so long #and idk if i like it #i wish i could have written it when i had first thought of it cause i had some good lines and all that #but i was at work soooo

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whindsor · 3 years

Text

the trials of online dating, pt 1

so @witchofinterest asked about mika and bucky meeting online, as is alluded to in the first episode of falcon and winter soldier, and, well...here’s part one oops!

After hours of research and thought and more research and more thought, Bucky decided HiLove was the best option. The general consensus on the forums was that people were looking for something more than a hookup, and it was an app that only allowed those identifying as female or non-binary to send the first message after a reciprocating match. The very, very small part of him that remained in 1943 balked at this, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. His entire past was a quick Google search away; his potential matches deserved to know, and he didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection if they found out the hard way. A win-win.

At least, as much of a win as an ex-hydra-super-soldier was going to get.

It was all Dr. Raynor’s idea, and it wasn’t his favorite, but he was willing to jump through the hoops and say all the right things so that he could be done with this probationary period and move on with his life.

He did his best filling out the profile. Age? 106. Interests? Well he couldn’t very well put knives and psychotherapy, so instead he put hiking, technology, and reading. Job? That was easy. Former military. He didn’t need to put that he originally got drafted in the 40s, and spent the last however many years as the fist of a rogue military organization; that would be part of the Google search. He put his real name, because Dr. Raynor made him, and clicked okay. He’d been avoiding this for weeks now, and if he didn’t at least have it up whenever he saw her later that day, she would write in that stupid notebook like those scientists used to.

This was a terrible idea.

This was the worst idea.

Somehow the goddamn push notifications got turned on, and within the hour the app started going off. He eyed his phone for the first few minutes before giving in a swiping it open.

Mistake number two.

A woman in her 50s messaged him, and apparently he had to swipe a certain way to see this message. Once he saw the message - and the photos attached to it - he nearly threw his phone against the wall. Back when he last dated, in 1943, he thought he appreciated a bold woman. Bold by today’s standards was a little more than he was ready for.

He was afraid to open the app after that, and so he just let his phone sit and buzz while he watched the EuroCup matches and counted down the minutes until his appointment. There were other things he could do to occupy his time, like visit the sushi shop or the library. But that seemed overwhelming, so instead he sat on the floor and watched his games until it was finally time to go into the clinic.

“So, James,” Dr. Raynor started, crossing her legs and pretending to be casual. Bucky sat with his hands clasped, his knee bouncing as he readied himself for the interrogation. Or therapy, as they called it. “Anything new to report today?”

“Well, I tried that dating app thing you told me to do,” he said. If he started with this, then maybe he could take up enough of the time with the bullshit and avoid having to talk about stupid stuff, like what he thought about during his panic attacks or whether his arm still hurt. The look on Dr. Raynor’s face said she didn’t believe him.

“Oh yea? Which one?” she asked, her voice just as convincing as her face.

“HiLove. Seemed the best option,” Bucky said, hoping that was the right answer. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, it wasn’t a bad move,” she said. “Any matches so far?”

He allowed one bark of a laugh before schooling his features again. “One woman, uh, wanted my appraisal of her physical appearance.”

“She sent you a nude.”

“She - what?”

“She sent you a nude. A nudie, a dirty picture, a-“

“Yea, yea, I get it,” he interrupted, not wanting to beat the dead horse. “Yea, she sent me ‘a nude’.”

“Any others?”

“Any others what?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Did any other women send messages? Or nudes?”

“I don’t know, I stopped looking after the first one,” he said. Oftentimes he lied to Dr. Raynor, but this time he could be truthful. She sighed, holding her hand out and beckoning with her fingers. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it over, watching as she easily keyed in his passcode. Casual security breach. That was fine. That totally wasn’t something that kept him up at night.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she muttered, expertly swiping through the notifications. She moved a little too easily, as if she were familiar with the app. He decided not to comment on that. “Alright, James, we gotta filter some of the shit outta here.”

“I’d prefer to filter all the shit, but that’s just me,” he said. This was a stupid exercise, but at least it was manageable, and it would keep her occupied for a while.

“Too young, too young, way too young…” Was Dr. Raynor talking to herself or to him? It didn’t matter. She kept swiping. “Chaser, chaser, catfish…ah, here’s a good one.” She opened the profile and handed it over to him.

“She’s also way too young,” he said, looking at the picture of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, bright smile…someone that definitely would catch his eye, if he didn’t feel the weight of his past keeping his head down.

“She’s thirty-three.”

“That’s, like, a third of my age.”

“Well, if we discount all the times you were in ice, really you’re somewhere in the thirty-five to thirty-seven range. That’s not a bad gap.”

He glared up at her for a moment before going back to the profile. He furrowed his brows as he read further. “She’s Romanian.”

“Ah, you finally noticed that, did you?” she said, and he could hear the gloating in her voice. “What, is she not your type?”

“I don’t think I have a type anymore.”

“Then swipe and see what happens.”

“I don’t know, Doc,” he said, shaking his head. This was not how it was supposed to go.

“Don’t know what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. He shrugged, looking off to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her slide the notebook off the table.

“Oh, c’mon, Doc, that’s not notebook worthy,” he said. She paused her pen, but still tapped it threateningly against the paper.

“Then tell me what you ‘don’t know’ about matching with that woman,” she said.

“I haven’t been on a date in eighty years, I think a little trepidation is normal even without the shit I’ve dealt with between now and then,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel right going into something without…without the other person knowing the full story.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you a virgin, James?”

“No.” What did that have anything to do with it? “Why?”

“Just making sure I have the full story,” she said. “So you don’t want to chance anything cause they don’t know everything about you.”

“Well…”

“Counterpoint: do you know everything about her?”

He gave her an annoyed look, the matching sensation bubbling behind his sternum. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

She sighed again, scribbling something down. Inside, he wanted to rip the notebook from her hands. On the outside, he just glanced down at his phone. The screen had darkened from lack of activity, and he tapped it to wake up again. The same pretty woman smiled up at him, the little pink bar waiting for him to confirm or deny their connection.

“Want me to do it for you?” Dr. Raynor asked, her pen now still. “Cause I will.”

“I can do it, thank you,” he said. “I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Bullshit, James,” she said. “She’s a pretty girl, and it’s online. You can ghost her if you get too scared. It’s an asshole move, but technically it’s an option.”

He’s a ghost story.

“I’m not gonna do that to anyone,” he said.

“What, ghost them? Or burden them?” she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbow on her knee.

“Either. Both.” Again, with the honesty. Idiot move.

“James, listen,” she said, making him look up at her. Her tone was gentle - at least, Dr. Raynor version of gentle. “Everyone has baggage. You’ve gotta start unloading some, or you’re gonna end up getting crushed by it. The worst has already happened to you. Sometimes, if you want the good stuff, you have to go out and get it.”

Bucky stared down at the phone, wishing that it was just the jitters that he felt instead of a cold stone of dread. The worst had already happened to him, a thousand times over. Would rejection feel like nothing, or would it break him?

Well, Dr. Raynor was right. He wouldn’t know unless he tried.

“Alright, Mika Corsof,” he said, swiping the pink arrow. “Let’s see what happens.”

#online dating au #thank you leaf!!!!#i'm gonna have too much fun with this #mucky

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hoochieforcalum · 4 years

Text

Above the City | c.t.h.

this sounds random but can you do a ceo!Cal and you’re his assistant (plus sized) & he finds out maybe you’re a Virgin bc of a convo they guys you spark up (even though you’re shy) and steamy shirt starts happening in his office 🥵

so, this was originally supposed to be apart of my plus size blurb weekend, but I loved this concept so much that I decided to make an entire OC fic based off of it -aliencal

ceo!calum x oc elle (she is plus sized!)

warnings: smut,,maybe some angst,,typos for sure

word count: 6k+

----------

“It’s going to be another long day Liz.” Elle sighed into her phone as she turned the corner. Her heels clicked against the concrete sidewalk as she strutted her way to the coffee shop. She could feel the cotton material of her plaid pencil skirt flapping against her knee, causing her to grow slightly irritated at the feeling. She knew that the skirt hardly fit her thick size, but considering she hadn’t the time to do her laundry this week, the skirt was the only thing she could find that made her look remotely business-like.

She heard Liz sigh over the phone, “Again? This guy has got you working all hours. Doesn’t he let you sleep?” Elle could feel a smile taking over her lips as she yanked open the door to the coffee shop. The sound of fresh coffee beans grinding together in the machine was echoing throughout the small, hole-in-the-wall shop, blocking out the indie music that was playing softly over the stereo for a small moment before silencing. Elle’s eyes quickly did a scan over of the shop, surveying the lack of customers and quickly coming to the conclusion that the shop was in it’s post-afternoon rush phase. Her analysis was only proven right when she saw the way the barista, who looked to be in high school or a freshman in college, lazily threw the dirty rag into the sink with a heavy sigh.

“Besides the weekend and my breaks, no. But you have to cut him some slack Liz. Christian groups are not letting up.” Elle said as she approached the counter where a young man stood waiting with a pen in his hand. She pulled the phone away from her ear, easily telling the boy the two usual's before lifting the phone back up. She could hear Liz groan.

“And? Why does he need you to help him sort out their hate letters?”

“It’s not just hate letters,” Elle said, throwing a five dollar bill into the jar as a tip before grabbing the cup of large black coffee and walking over to where they had the condiments laid out. She grabbed a french vanilla cream cup and began to add in the mixture. “There is also something going on at one of the branch facilities out East. And I’m his personal assistant Liz. I kind of have to help him with whatever he needs help with, so matter what I think or feel.”

“I know that miss attitude, but sleepless nights for paperwork? Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t join the corporate world.”

A cross between a scoff and a laugh left Elle’s throat, “Well not everyone decides to enter marine biology,” Elle noticed the same male placing the lid on her drink. “Hey, I gotta go okay? Save me something.” Elle quickly pressed the bright red button before grabbing the paper cup from the barista with a soft smile used as a silent thank you. She watched the guy - who looked to be roughly as old as an undergrad - give her a quick wink before wishing her a good day, but not without adding in a very uncomfortable gaze of her body. Elle felt her insides swarm with unease as she walked out the door, knowing fully well that the guy was staring at her backside as she walked. She gave herself a moment before shrugging off the feeling and walking back to her company.

Well, it wasn’t her company per say, but after being behind the scenes for roughly five months now, she felt like it was. But then again, that was the perk of being an intern to Calum Hood.

And Elle technically went above an intern. She was his personal assistant, which meant that she was with him everyday from 8AM to 11PM or until he would dismiss her. Calum was the CEO of Koa Healthcare Clinics, a moderately sized healthcare company that primarily focused on women’s health and reproductive rights, as well as regular treatments and screening for common colds or any other type of infection, virus, or health imperfection. Elle had been keen on getting into the medical world since she was a young girl, and once she heard that there was an opening with a man who had connections to every major hospital all across the United States, she jumped at the opportunity to become his personal assistant. She nearly cried when she found out she was selected, and from that night until the day Elle started as the personal assistant to Calum Hood, she dreamed of the job being filled with meeting top healthcare progressives and interesting new technologies that would advance the system or even see some new laws that he was trying to lobby for.

Instead, Elle got coffee runs, sore feet from walking back and forth between his office, the supply room, and the coffee shop; late nights with take-out and pure silence as she sorted through paperwork for new patients and whatnot while he did his thing; angry men in meetings who talked nothing of healthcare, but rather extension of new clinics; ink on her hands when the printer went askew; cold morning coffee which meant she’d have to brew a new pot; calls from Calum’s partners and meeting setups; setting up appointments for Calum that included dental and dinner plans; misogynistic and sexist coworkers that brag about their achievements in bed during every break and what “slut” they took out the night before; and hate from conservatives and Christian organizations claiming that she’d go to hell for even being associated with a company like Koa Healthcare Clinics.

She got the opposite of what she had dreamed of. Yet, the position paid well, and Elle was in her second year of medical school and needed the money to pay for her education. Alongside, Calum Hood was not the worst person to look at - or be near for that fact.

Elle would describe him as easy on the eyes. The man had a jaw structure that was unmatched, puffy cheeks that only accented and compliment his jaw structure, deep brown eyes that held more color to them when they were lit up in the sun, dark brown hair that softly curled upwards, tattoos on his hands and his left arm that were only shown when his sleeves were rolled up, big, plump lips that looked so soft, and a fit body type that nearly made all the female employees swoon - even Elle, but she wasn’t going to make it known to him. And yet, even though Elle had been, at first, thrown by how good-looking he was, she was even more thrown at the fact that Calum had never taken any of his anger out on her.

He never made Elle do anything in spite of his anger from his daily duties as a CEO, and he never screamed at her when he was upset or frustrated. Instead, his voice was always soft when he spoke to her. He always thanked her for everything she did, paid for every coffee and every take-out meal, made sure that his driver got her home safe before he went home, and always addressed her with respect and never looked down on her. And it shocked her.

She could hear Calum’s angry voice as she stepped into his large office. As per usual with any modernized, big corporate office, he had an entire glass wall that looked out over the city of Los Angeles - she could even see the Santa Monica Pier when it was lit up. His desk was a dark mahogany shade, making his space grey accents stand out. His laptop was open and she saw the way he was angrily staring at his screen as the person on the other end was talking. She quietly set the cup of black coffee down on his desk, but even he caught the movement of her arm and she watched as his eyes quickly snapped up and met hers. He mouthed her a quick appreciative ‘thank you’ before looking back to his screen and paying full attention to the heated conversation that he was having with whoever. Elle turned on her heels and walked over to the plush couch that was the same mahogany color as his desk. The stack of papers regarding new patients was still there from earlier before she had to run to the coffee shop. She let out a soft sigh under her breath and started to sort through them again. Koa Healthcare Clinics was always receiving new patients every day due to how in-expensive the treatment and plans are, but judging by this stack of paperwork, and the way Calum let out an aggravated sigh as he hung up the phone and the sound of the printer started, Elle knew she was going to be here until midnight - at least.

But that’s what typically happened anyways. So at this point, Elle was used to going home late and waking up early the next day to repeat the same cycle.

By the time Elle heard her phone buzz, she noticed that it was nearing 11 p.m., and she promptly set down the paperwork and picked up her phone. She noticed that Liz had texted her, informing Elle that Noah was staying the night and telling her that her leftovers were on a plate in the kitchen, and as Elle picked up her phone to respond, she heard Calum clear his throat.

She felt her insides freeze at how dominant the sound was, and she quickly typed a response.

“Sorry,” Elle mumbled, “It’s just uh, my roommate.” She instantly set her phone back down, and it was then that she registered the feeling of Calum’s stare seeping into her skin. She shifted in her seat and began to flip through the pages of clinic income-reports, quickly removing the cap of the yellow highlighter to figure out which clinic had poor income, but even she knew how shaky her hand was.

And Calum noticed it too.

He had spent the past five months trying to figure Elle out. She was unlike his past personal assistants. The majority of them were always talkative, and were trying to pry into Calum’s lifestyle too much because they were not okay with just sitting in silence during late night hours at the office, and Calum always knew that a majority of the personal assistants that he’s had always tried to get into his pants or at least felt some attraction toward him.

But Elle? Elle straight up confused him.

She rarely said more than a full sentence to him. And that sentence only pertained to the work that they were both doing. Sometimes she’d ask him a question if she noticed how stressed out or upset he was, and sometimes she’d comment on how hateful some people can be in their letters, but Calum would immediately notice how shy she’d be afterwards. He’d notice the way she’d curl back into herself as if to try and pretend that it didn’t happen or that she wasn’t even there in the room. It dawned on Calum that he truly knew nothing about Elle besides her work ethic, and for some reason, deep down inside of him: it bothered him.

Calum would usually know the basics about his personal assistants beyond what their resumes would say. He’d know their favorite color, music, food, coffee - but that one was always a must as he was always drinking it and insisted that his assistants get something for themselves - and other basics like city or dream place. But when it came to Elle, Calum only knew what kind of coffee she liked.

It also bothered Calum because of how much he had taken a liking to Elle due to her nature; almost too much of a liking which only scared yet intrigued him. He had to secretly admit that she was much more beautiful than any other woman that he had laid eyes on. Her hips were the fullest figure that nearly made Calum’s mouth water when he saw her for the first time. Her stomach was round and full but it never bothered her in the way that it would most people. She wasn’t shy about wearing pencil skirts that hugged her figure or shy of her fat rolls whenever she sat - at least not from Calum’s perspective. Her eyes were a dazzling green color that reminded Calum of rolling green hills or of healthy spring green foliage. Her eyelashes were long, so long that she hardly needed to wear mascara so Calum was always so confused as to why she did. Her cheeks were dusted with freckles that were lighter than her dark brown hair, and everytime she smiled, Calum felt his heart speed up at the sight of her dimples. Her lips were almost as puffy as Calum’s own, and he became scared of himself when he spent an entire hour daydreaming of wanting to kiss her.

And he’s been harboring his feelings for three months out of the five that Elle has been here.

It baffled Calum - to say the least. Elle was someone he wanted to know, and he wanted to figure out if she liked him as much as he liked her, because even Calum could see the way her cheeks would become red with blush whenever Calum stood too close to her or the way she would blush whenever she said more than that sentence to him.

“You can take it if you need too.” Calum said softly, watching Elle’s eyebrows furrow at his words as she continued to highlight various clinics - ones that Calum would eventually have to phone and scream at the supervisor for.

“No,” Elle dismissed quickly and flipped the page. “It wasn’t anything important.”

Calum observed her for a moment. Her hair was pulled back into a twisted bun due to the large, black claw hair clip that held it up, and her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she continued to do her work. But even Calum could see the blush on her cheeks. He wondered why she never complained about the late night shifts or how much paperwork he threw at her. His past assistants always did to some extent, but not Elle.

“You know,” Calum started, pushing himself out of his chair. “If you ever need to take a break or step out to take care of things with your roommate, you can.” He watched as Elle let out a soft sigh and shook her head.

“Really, it’s fine.” Elle excused, giving Calum a soft smile before looking back down at the paperwork in her lap.

“I’m serious though,” He sat beside Elle on the couch, causing her to immediately freeze up due to his closeness. “I work you way too much. It’s okay to take a break you know.”

Elle was thrown by his sudden, small-talk nature. She easily slid the cap back onto the highlighter before setting it down on her lap.

“Taking breaks doesn’t get the job done.” Elle said softly, swallowing the hard lump in her throat as she turned to look at Calum. She watched as his lips parted softly, a quick intake of breath following shortly after.

“But, constantly working may mean that the work,” Calum said, his voice faltering as he reached his hand forward to take the stapled packet off of Elle’s lap. He watched as her cheeks flared up in a soft blush while he felt his hand brush against her thigh, the material of the pencil skirt separating his skin from hers. “Is not the best work.”

The packet of clinic incomes was gently placed on the coffee table by Calum’s hand. Elle watched him, her own confusion setting into her bones as she tried to figure out what he was doing. He wasn’t usually like this.

“But, doesn’t sitting here talking also take away time to get work done? With all do respect Mr. Hood, why are you over here?”

Calum tried to stifle his laughter at the adorable, yet confused look on her face, “First of all, it’s Calum. And second, I just think you need a break. Come on,” he said and repositioned himself so that his body was facing Elle. “What is your roommate like?”

Elle shrugged at her boss and pursed her lips together as she tried to think of an answer, “She’s like any other roommate.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“She’s loud.”

“And?”

“Bold.”

“And?”

“Pays half the rent.”

“And?”

Elle could feel her frustrations starting to light her skin ablaze, “And she’s going into marine biology because she hates the corporate world. Mr. Hood, this is pointless. Why are you really over here?”

“Is it such a bad thing to want to get to know you?” Calum asked, but even after Elle had just snapped at him, Calum was still able to keep his voice calm and tender. She hadn’t upset him at all; she never does.

Elle scoffed, “No, but we both have work to do.”

“Meaning what?” Calum pushed. He could see how under her skin he was getting, and while that had not been his original intention, he was finding it extra adorable that her cheeks were getting redder due to the blush that kept appearing.

Elle sighed once more, “It’s late, and I am tired. Can you please just let me finish these assignments? Plus you never have wanted to get to know me so why start now?” The two of them stared at each other for what felt like minutes. Calum could feel himself growing enchanted by the way her green eyes never left his brown ones. Her cheeks, tinted with blush as always, looked so soft from the lighting that his office provided. He decided to take his chance, and he slowly reached out his hand to caress her mildly-warm cheek. His thumb dusted over the freckles that resided there before he spoke.

“Because I’m enchanted with you.” His words were a whisper that got lost in the air between them as Elle took them in. She felt her stomach drop, her heart speed up, and all she could do about it was focus on the way that Calum’s thumb ran gently over her bottom lip, his eyes following his own movements as she was trying to register what was happening. Enchanted with her? Impossible. Elle was always the last pick for every male she came across - maybe besides Noah - and no one had ever shown her much interest due to her body shape. She used to hate it, but after realizing that she didn’t need a man to make her happy, Elle eventually let it go. But hearing someone say that they were, at the very least, enchanted with her made her insides grow soft and her heart skip a beat. Although she was able to understand that there is more to her than looks, it was still nice to hear that someone had actually liked her. Maybe it’s a low moment for her for thinking like that, but Elle wasn’t going to dwell on it for too long.

Especially when she felt Calum’s soft lips press against hers.

His pressure was gentle but firm as he moved his lips against hers, deepening the kiss and swiping his tongue against her bottom lip. Elle could feel her body shock back to life as her brain registered who was kissing her. She instantly pulled away from him, the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears as she stared at him. Her lips craved his again and even though she knew it was wrong, she wanted to kiss him again, and she could even feel the tiniest bit of ache pooling in her body as she quickly thought about his lips kissing her skin.

“I’m sorry,” Calum said quietly, his hand still on her cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Elle let out a sigh and took her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to sort out her thoughts. On one hand, this was her boss and this would be completely unprofessional. But on the other, she felt something during the brief kiss that woke her up and made her want more of him and to be with him. She casted her eyes downward toward his lap, wanting to desperately crawl onto it and just kiss him, but she stopped herself when her mind instantly reminded her of her weight.

“Elle?” Her eyes snapped up again to meet Calum’s brown ones that noticeably seemed darker, and when she saw how puffy the quick kiss made his lips, she sighed once more and smiled.

To hell with her weight, and to hell with him being her boss.

Her lips crashed onto Calum’s as she quickly crawled into his lap, letting out soft giggles as she kissed him. Calum felt his heart swoon at the sound of her laughter, but quickly could feel heat rush to his tip when he felt her thick thighs around his body; the way that her soft lips were kissing him with such passion sent him into a frenzy.

God, the amount of times he’s dreamed of having her on top of him.

He became more aggressive with his kisses as she started to get playful - nipping at his bottom lip and laughing when their teeth clashed together - and Calum decided to take measures into his own hands. He slid his hands down her curvaceous and plump body in a sensual way that made Elle moan. Without a second thought and without hesitation, Calum squeezed her backside and slid his tongue into her mouth when she gasped at the feeling. They both fought each other for dominance before Calum finally had enough, pulling away and scooping Elle up into his arms.

“What happened to “we have a lot of work” hm?” He teased as he carried Elle over to his desk, his hands on her backside as she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself up.

“You are my work.” Elle replied with a smile.

Calum groaned and removed one of his hands to push the stack of papers off his desk. He gently sat Elle down and cupped her warm cheeks in his hands.

“That was sexy.”

“Really?” Elle asked and used her legs to bring Calum closer to her. “Because I don’t think that made any sense.” The two of them laughed as they kissed again, their lips turned upward in smiles as their teeth clashed together. Each kiss turned more intense than the last, causing heat to pool into Elle’s underwear as Calum’s erection only grew due to the sounds of her soft moans. It got worse for him when she moaned loudly after he found the sweet spot on her neck, the sound nearly causing Calum to moan himself. He started to unbutton her blouse when she stopped him.

“There’s something I have to tell you before you continue,” she said, placing her hands on Calum’s chest to essentially push him away from her. Both of them were out of breath. “I’m a virgin Calum.” Elle expected him to pull away from her and dismiss her, opting to just ignore what happened and allow her to go back to her work - or home. Instead, she smiled softly when Calum pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“If you don’t want me to-”

“Woah okay, let’s not get crazy. I never said I didn’t want you to.”

“So you want me to?”

Elle bit her lip as she looked into Calum’s lust-ridden eyes, “I wouldn’t be on your desk with wet panties if I didn’t.”

Calum scoffed and allowed a smile to form on his lips at her words. He narrowed his eyes at her and hooked his hands around the back of her kneecaps. He pulled her to him with little force and felt the material of the skirt cause resistance.

“Let me do something about that then.”

It all was a blur to Elle. She was lost in her senses as Calum sensually loved on her. They were both so desperate for one another that she had lost herself in the pleasure that came with every tender touch and every feathery kiss that made her feel like she was being worshipped as if she were a Greek goddess. Her blouse was off in record time and her bra was soon to follow, and while Elle couldn’t get enough of his kisses, Calum couldn't get enough of her. Her body was a temple to him. Her rolls, curves, stretchmarks, and body dimples made him go weak at the knees and the sight of the hickies growing on her soft skin, along with the sounds of her moans and whimpers, made blush rush to his tip like never before. Calum could feel himself aching for her, and once his fingers made quick work of the pencil skirt, he wasted no time dropping to his knees. He groaned at the sight of the wet patch where her opening was, and he gently pulled back the cotton material to reveal her dripping core to his hungry eyes. He held himself back at just completely diving in, but the urge only grew when he caught sight of the tiny mound of black hair that rested above her clit. He moaned loudly and brought two of his fingers up to her core, collecting her arousal on his index finger before bringing it back up and putting it into his mouth. Elle sighed at the sight.

“I promise I’m going to make you feel good, my beautiful girl.” Her heart fluttered at his words, her core only growing more wet when she watched him reach up and begin to unbutton his shirt. She was in a daze as she stared at the way the city lights bounced off his caramel skin in all the right ways, the tattoos on his chest immediately sending her hot body into overdrive. She watched as Calum stepped forward in between her legs, reaching forward and grabbing her hands that were previously clutching the edges of his desk. He brought them up to his chest and placed them on his own pecs, proceeding to guide her soft hands down his chest. The amount of sexual tension and want increased in the both of them, Calum savoring the way her nails scratched against his skin and Elle savoring the way her chest and abdomen felt underneath her hands. She watched as Calum dropped back to his knees, causing her hands to slide back up to his body and tangle into his hair as she waited for him to do something. He started sucking at the skin on her thighs, leaving hickies as he made his way towards her center. He continued to tease her, kissing her plump, pussy lips before hungrily attaching his mouth to her core.

Elle was in complete bliss as Calum made slow and sensual work of his tongue. Her body was humming in pleasure as she focused on his tongue, moans leaving her lips as Calum lapped at her dripping core which such measured and rhythmic licks that it made her see stars. The vibrations from his own moans only sent her spiraling into a deep pool of pleasure, and she soon felt the knot of pressure form in her stomach. She tightly clutched his hair and started to grind herself onto his tongue, a moan ripping from both hers and Calum’s throats as she did so. She felt so close to her high and Calum could’ve sworn he had a mini orgasm from the taste and sound of her alone.

“Fuck.” She moaned out and licked her dry lips, her thighs beginning to shake as the pressure only built. She let out a loud whimper as the knot came undone and her thighs shook violently against Calum’s head as her juices flowed out onto his chin. Calum moaned against her clit as he helped her ride out her first orgasm, the feeling of her thighs shaking causing pride to course through his veins as her body jerked from the pleasure that was taking over her body. Calum could feel the pre-cum dripping from his tip as he watched her body finally come to a stop and her thighs slow down to eventually stop shaking. He reluctantly pulled away from her core and stood back up, smiling softly when he saw the smile on her lips and the way her cheeks were overcome with blush for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy, signaling to Calum that she was still coming down from her high.

He leaned over her and kissed her forehead, “Come back to me.” His voice was a whisper as she looked down at Elle, noticing the mini-freckles that dusted her eyelids. He pressed a kiss gently to her eyelid before doing the same to the other one; his heart melting when he saw her bright green eyes looking up at him after she opened them slowly.

“Wow,” she giggled and brought his lips to hers. “You really know how to eat.”

Calum let out a booming laugh as he kissed her again and pulled away, reaching into his bottom desktop drawer for the bottle of lube and a condom.

“Yeah well,” Calum sighed as he squirted the lube into his hand before rubbing the liquid onto her core, making sure to put extra around her hole to prepare her for him. “I have been kind of hungry and you naturally are a meal, so excuse me for feasting.” Elle rolled her eyes at him and his playful nature, the nerves of her first time completely gone as she felt so relaxed around Calum. A tiny laugh still managed to escape from her lips the more she thought about his words, but when she saw the size of Calum as he rolled the condom onto his member, she let out a breath of astonishment.

“Still want this?”

“Duh,” she said without a second thought, causing Calum to smile at her sass. Elle groaned and covered her face with her hands and she felt her body flush with embarrassment. “I mean ‘yes’.” Calum chuckled softly and leaned forward again, removing her hands from her face and biting his lip.

“Duh.” He whispered jokingly, but Elle was still able to hear how soft his voice was even when she had made a fool of herself. He kissed her nose before pulling away and using one hand to position himself at her entrance. He ran his tip up and down her folds to collect her arousal before looking up at her once more for clarification. Elle gave him a swift nod, and he gently guided himself into her. She could feel every inch of him stretch her out, causing a stifled moan - practically a squeak - to leave her throat as the pain set in. The lube had made it slightly bearable, but she could still feel the way her core was on fire due to the sudden stretch of Calum’s cock. Calum watched with concerned eyes as Elle’s eyes were tightly shut and her face was contorted in pain as he kept pushing in before pulling out again. Another squeak left her lips as he pushed back in again, but he could tell that it was much more painful due to the way she death-gripped the sides of his desk. Calum tried to help alleviate her pain by grabbing her waist and pulling her off the desk slightly, and once he bottomed out, he waited until he could move.

And once he could, there was no stopping him.

Calum was sure to keep in mind that she wasn’t used to any of this, but the way that her pussy clenched around him sent him into complete excitement. She felt so perfect wrapped around him that he just couldn’t hold back, but judging by the sound of her moans and the way her nails were dragging down his back as he fucked her at a pace that was moderately fast, Calum knew that she was enjoying this as much as he was. He couldn’t get enough of her; the feeling of her skin against him drove him wild and her tight, wet pussy clenching around him made him delirious. Moans were falling from both of their lips as the desk started to scrape against the floor and Calum could start to feel the sweat form on his body. He buried himself deep into her pussy as he chased his high, reaching down to rub Elle’s clit to make sure that she’d reach her own.

“Cal-” Her words were cut off by a loud moan, and Calum let out a deep groan at the way her walls clenched around him as she came. He still fucked her as she juices flowed around his cock, the feeling of her walls and her warm cum around him mixed with her soft skin rubbing against her already-hot skin and her moans echoing around the room caused Calum to come completely undone above her. His load shot into the condom with such force that he saw stars and lost himself in her body as he rode out his high; nothing but heavy breathing replacing his moans once all was said and done. Calum pulled his head out of Elle’s neck to look at her, but when their gazes made contact with one another, Calum could tell that there was something wrong. Elle had a far off look in her eyes as she stared at Calum, and he knew that she was not present.

“Elle?” He asked, pushing himself up onto his palms to hold himself over her. She blinked twice, and then she suddenly started shaking her head.

“What happened?” Calum asked again, now standing back up and slowly pulling out her to prevent her from getting hurt. Elle only shook her head and sat up, pushing herself off his desk and starting to search for her clothes. It’s almost like reality had caught up with her, and her mind had suddenly reminded her of who she just slept with.

“I have to go.” She whispered and she slipped on her skirt and picked up her blouse. Calum watched in complete confusion, slowly putting on his boxers as he watched Elle scramble around for her clothing. He couldn’t even comprehend her sudden switch in moods, but he knew that she was in great pain due to the ways her face would scrunch up if she stepped a certain way.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet.” Calum said as he tried to stop her from buttoning her blouse. Elle shrugged off his touch and walked over to the couch to retrieve her shoes and her personal items.

“Elle, just wait a minute.” She could tell his voice was desperate, but her mind was screaming at her to leave. She knew that she had messed things up royally with what she had just done, and her flight or fight responses were kicking in. Calum was so baffled, but his own mind was screaming at him to get her to stay. But she wasn’t listening to him. She just kept shaking her head as if she was trying to shake off what just happened.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Elle said and threw on her coat. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re my boss. I shouldn’t have slept with you.” Her hand made quick work of the silver door knob. Calum watched as she slipped out into the lobby of the secretary, his mind racing at the sudden change in her mood. Of course he knew that they shouldn’t have done that, but he still felt an attraction towards her that he didn’t feel with anyone else - regardless if she was his assistant or not. He swiftly moved to the door and stepped out into the same lobby that she was just in. But before he could say anything, he watched as the elevator doors at the end of the hall closed shut, Elle on the other side of them.

--------

The lights in Elle’s apartment were dim when she lazily swung open the door after unlocking it. It was late, nearly around one in the morning, and Elle was confused to find the kitchen light on. The tears that she had cried on the way home were well dried up on her cheeks; the Uber driver being nice enough to not ask or say anything to her as she cried. The full weight of what she had done had hit her like a semi truck, and Elle could feel the shame deep into her bones as she spent every minute from the office to her apartment thinking about how she slept with her boss. She lost her virginity to someone who could easily control every move she did, meaning that Elle was now at the mercy of Calum come Monday. She dragged her body into the kitchen to find Noah, Liz’s boyfriend, grabbing a glass of water.

“Hey you! How was work?” He asked, his voice cheery and sweet like it always was. Elle immediately thought about the night’s events, and she could feel herself grow ashamed and regretful again.

“Long,” she croaked out, sucking in a deep breath to herself from crying again. “Really long.”

----------

hopefully y’all like this!!

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@bloodmoonashton @cals-wildflower @cashtonasff5sos @fatallovesonghood @foreverlovingbands @fckngbored @generationsparkles @hoodschick @katcontreras @keithseabrook27 @morguleth @myloverboyash @saphseoul @thesubtweeter @thomashoodetta @wantcalback @wastedheartcth @wildflower-cth @who-do-you-love-5sos @wtf-no-idk @wokeupinjapanisabop

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thorne93 · 3 years

Text

Long Lost Love (Part 5)

Prompt: Clint just lost everything. He turns to you – an old friend and an old flame – for comfort. Can you keep your old feelings at bay? Can he?

Word Count: 4043

Warnings: The Snap, grief, loss, mentions of abuse throughout series, angst will be the best friend in this fic

Note: This was written after IW, but before Endgame - so I have my own take on how certain things happened. Couldn’t have done this without @arrow-guy @carryonmyswansong @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (my amazing betttaa!) @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Aesthetic by @dontshootmespence

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For one year, you two did this. You got up at dawn together, ate a quick breakfast, tended to the animals, did the repairs around the farm, went out for supplies, ate dinner, then went to bed separately.

You kept your word on going into the city every Monday and Wednesday. You didn’t have half as many patients or clients as before, but the money still helped both you and your staff. You kept your apartment in the city too. You needed something familiar after all the craziness.

Life was… getting better though. Clint smiled more now, he laughed here and there. He was eating better. You really started to believe he was coming out of his grief, ever so slightly. As it turned out, his family wasn’t the only one he lost in what the Avengers called “The Snap”. Apparently, quite a few people he cared about were gone too. Wanda Maximoff and Sam Wilson being some of them.

He didn’t much keep in contact with the team. You tried to encourage him to, but he said every time he called them it just reminded him of what he lost. You didn’t quite understand, but you respected him enough not to push it.

One day, a pipe in the barn had rusted out, so Clint got the things to fix it but he ran out of plumbers tape and needed a monkey wrench. Two things he thought he had brought in his toolbox, but apparently not. He asked you to go grab them from the garage. You nodded and jogged for a bit back to the garage. It was a really hot, dry day and you felt like you needed two showers. The weeds were tall and dry and you couldn’t wait for the next rain to get some of this dust down.

You got into the garage looking for the plumbers tape. Clint had never organized this freaking mess. You started pulling out bins from a shelf when you looked inside one, you found an old wedding album. It was covered in dust, but it was lace covered. You frowned and opened it. The tools were long forgotten.

Inside of the book were pictures of Clint and Laura… It was like a punch to the gut.

Both of them stood with giant grins on their faces. They had the typical run of the mill wedding. She was in a satin gown, her hair up, a simple pendant on her necklace. She held his hand, smiling proudly. Her veil was perfect. He stood there in a tux, his smile rivaling that of the sun.

You flipped through, and you didn’t know if you were going to smile from how happy and silly they looked on their special day. How happy you were for both of them. Or if you were going to scream and cry and break down because it should’ve been your day. He’s all you’d ever wanted…

Why weren’t you good enough? What went wrong?

After several minutes, Clint came running into the garage. “Y/N? Where the hell-- Oh, there you are. Did you find the stuff? We gotta get this pipe fixed.”

He didn’t see what you had in your hands because you were turned away from the door he just came through.

“You never told me why you never asked me back out…”

He instantly stiffened. “Y/N,” he started, his tone full of warning. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

You turned around, snapping the wedding book shut as you looked at him. “No I wanna know. When we left the circus, I was under the impression that one day you’d come back for me....”

He took a few steps closer to you. “I tried, I wanted to, but with SHIELD--”

You were beyond angry. You were trying to hold this in because you knew he was grieving and you didn’t want to come into his life like a hurricane and make his pain worse. But you had feelings too that had never even been addressed or considered, so you wanted to know.

“Don’t blame SHIELD, you married Laura so something was okay with having a life, a wife, a family.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt and I didn't think you wanted me back.”

“What gave you that idea?” you questioned, entirely flabbergasted.

“When I visited you in Manhattan you said you didn’t want a guy in your way.”

You frowned, trying to remember the interaction. When you finally did, you looked up at him. “That? You thought I meant you? I was talking about other guys, Clint!”

“I thought you meant it as a subtle way to tell me to take a hike.”

Your eyes wildly searched his. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn’t be with the only man you ever loved because he misunderstood a half-assed joke years ago?

“No!” you cried out. “I waited for years for you to come back,” you stated, tears flowing despite your efforts to keep them inside.

He looked down, feeling guilty and ashamed that he didn’t make it more clear back then that he did want you back. “Well, I’m sorry. I thought you were moving on.”

“No,” you informed, your voice full of anger and sorrow. You shook your head. “I was waiting.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. You said your life was too busy at the moment, I just assumed you meant for me, for everyone,” he said, not realizing how badly he’d been mistaken. He thought back to that day the clinic, realizing how your words would’ve sounded, but you thought he knew you well enough you meant other men. Anguish started to wrap around him slowly, creeping up into his throat. “I had no idea.”

“Well now yow you do.” You shoved the album into his chest and went back outside.

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

For the next few days, you cried yourself to sleep. Thinking Clint didn’t want you was one thing. Thinking he just wanted to move on was one thing.

But finding out he actually thought you were telling him to move on was just unbelievable to you. You’d spent all this time, all these years, waiting for him and he had no idea. You thought you were clear. You thought it was understood on both sides that you’d get your lives together and he’d come back for you.

You couldn’t go after him, you didn’t even know what part of the world he was in most of the time. You wanted to write letters, to make it clear. After he joined SHIELD and visited you in college, you thought he’d come back, again. He came back then, right? You just assumed he was still getting his life together.

Then one day… he had visited you… and told you about Laura.

The bell chimed to your clinic, the same one that always introduced new clients and their precious patients. But this bell chimed to signal that the only person you’d ever loved just walked through the doors.

You happened to be out front at the desk, talking to your front desk staff, going through a chart when he walked in. You looked up and saw the disheveled blonde looking like a sight for sore eyes.

“Clint, hey,” you beamed, grinning from ear to ear. You wondered if this was it, if this was when he was finally going to ask you to be with him again. You felt it had been long enough. It’d been over a decade. He was well into SHIELD by now, and you were well on your way to Manhattan’s finest veterinarian. Maybe he was finally coming to tell you he was ready, ready to be together, to start a family -- you certainly were.

“Hey, Y/N, long time no see,” he greeted kindly.

“Yeah, I’ll say. It’s been forever. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he answered, shrugging as he put his hand in his pants. “Hey, you wanna grab coffee? Do you have time?”

You glanced down at your schedule and then your watch. “Yeah, I’ve got a little over an hour before my next appointment. Girls, can you make sure to take care of any walk-ins?” you requested. They said they would and you two were off. The closest cafe was only three doors down. After a quick trip out of your clinic front, you found the cafe, ordered, got your drinks, and sat down.

“How have you been?” he asked and you suddenly realized what had been off about him since he walked in -- he seemed nervous.

“I’m fine?” you responded, sounding as if it was a question. You let out a laugh to indicate how befuddled you were. In a way, it was. You were confused as to why he was giving you small talk. You two grew up together, you were closer with him than anyone on this planet. Why was he being so weird?

“That’s good. Really good. I’m glad to hear it. Your business?”

“The clinic is doing just fine. I’m treating all kinds of animals. I’m really good. Are you? You seem a bit… off.” You wanted to reach towards him, possibly comfort him or just be closer to him. It seemed like you hadn’t hugged him in centuries.

He looked down for a moment. He hadn’t touched his coffee, that was a red flag right there. If Clint Barton could IV the coffee, he would. Something must’ve been really troubling him.

He took a deep breath and then looked up at you again. “I’ve met someone,” he informed evenly.

Ice felt as if it replaced your heart. You stared at him in utter shock, horror, dismay, confusion, bewilderment. You struggled to keep your composure at all. How… How could you have been this blind?

“Oh?” was all your lump-ridden throat would let out.

“Yeah, uh, her name is Laura. She’s great. She really kind of kicks my ass when I need it.” He softly chuckled. “We got married…”

Did he want you to be happy for him? How the hell could you not see this? Were you waiting for a man for over a decade that didn’t want you? Or did he not realize you were waiting?

No, he clearly didn’t want you. If he loved you, if he truly loved and wanted you, he would’ve made his feelings clear for you between leaving the circus and now. All this time… wasted. Hoping without hope, waiting without word, wanting without cause just to find out he moved on, and didn’t even tell you until after it was too late to make your case?

These were clearly the actions of a man who was no longer in love with you, and possibly never was.

“Does she make you happy?” you asked, somehow hoping that would numb the crushing pain inside you.

“She does,” he said with a head nod.

“Then that’s all that matters. Congratulations.” You leaned over and hugged him, fighting back tears harder than you’d ever fought anything.

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

You were in the city, it was Wednesday afternoon. You wrapped up your last walk in, wished the girls a good evening, got to your car in the parking garage, and headed back to the farm. Why, you weren’t sure. At this point, it was pathetic. Clint loved someone else. You weren’t sure how many times he needed to make that absolutely clear.

And yet, you continually ran to him, over and over and over. He showed up and you did anything for him. You never stopped loving him, not even when he told you he was going to give the life you deserved away to another woman.

You didn’t hate Laura, it wasn’t her fault. You were happy that Clint had a good, full life with her and the kids… You just didn’t know why it wasn’t your life with him.

For years you had sacrificed your own happiness, believing that one day he would find his way back to you, but he never did. He even made it perfectly clear to you, through matrimony, that he didn't want you anymore. You still couldn't move on.

How do you move on from the one man who had saved your life? From the one man who saw you when you were scrounging for scraps at dinner? The one man who would take a beating just to find a pretty flower or trinket left in the stands to give it to you. The one man who made you laugh until your sides begged you to stop laughing. The one man who was both as deadly accurate with a bow and arrow as he was with his acrobatic skills. The one man who could brighten your day in the smallest of ways. He could see you when you were down and he knew how to make everything okay. Even being an orphan in a circus with bosses who threatened you and beat you, as long as Clint was there, you truly didn’t care.

When he left your life, the light slowly went out of you. He snuffed out that last small flame in you when he tied the knot with Laura.

Now, his family was gone. You were back in his life, but you didn’t want to be a last resort, and yet that’s all you felt like you were to him. Someone to run to only when he’d run out of options.

For some reason, that was something you never had an answer for.

You returned to the farmhouse, walking in, throwing your keys on the entry table, trodding in with your medical bag. You were absolutely beat. Between working the long hours, the emotional pain, and the long drive, you just wanted to head to bed.

Something caught your eye though. Just as it did, Clint appeared out of the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted happily.

“Yeah,” you said with a bit of confusion in your tone. You peered around him. “What’s going on?” you asked. You could see the kitchen was dimmed, candle light illuminating it with a small strand of fairy lights on the counter.

He reached out and took your hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He pulled you forward, his face warmer than it had been since you’d arrived.

As he tugged you into the room, you could clearly see it. There was a lace tablecloth on the table with two candles, and two romantic place settings. Fairy lights lit the kitchen and counter space. There was a small vase filled with wildflowers you’d seen on the farm.

“What… what is all this?” you asked with some mild excitement.

“I’m taking you on that date you always wanted,” he said with a bit of a shrug and a smile.

You shook your head. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Well, you deserve it. You deserve a lot for having to put up with me, the farm…”

“The farm isn’t so bad,” you said as you lowered yourself into a seat and he began to grab food and plate it for you. “Animals are a breeze to work with. You, not so much.” You smiled up at him with a teasing gleam in your eye.

“I know. You’ve made the hardest part of my life a lot… easier to deal with. If you hadn't answered your phone that day… I honestly don’t know where I’d be. Off a deep-end somewhere.” He sat down across from you and began to eat and sip his wine.

“I’m sure Nat and the rest of the team help keep you sane, when you call,” you added, trying not to sound like you were the sole reason he was mentally okay.

“Somewhat, but having you here, having your help, your presence, knowing I can talk to you any time… It really helps.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Having an escape from… out there is nice too. Of course, I’m always happy to be around you, too,” you confessed a bit uneasily.

You weren’t sure what this was, where it was going. Was this two friends having a dinner date? Or was it truly the date you always wanted that he never came back to give you? You weren’t sure how to steer the conversation and hoped that he’d be a guiding light.

“It reminds me of this time Nat and I had to bunker down in a cave for two weeks. God, I made so many bat jokes I think she was ready to kill me. To be fair, coming out in the sunlight was hard as hell on the eyes,” he said, shaking his head and continuing to eat.

“I bet. Jeez, I couldn’t do that. Any part of your job seems impossible to me. When you all were fighting Loki, oh my gosh. No, it seemed absolutely crazy.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said. “I saw you train tigers and lions and elephants like it was nothing. You were never afraid of them.”

“Because I never intended to hurt them,” you replied easily. “They trusted me, I trusted them. It was simple. But the people, the things, the aliens you face… it’s… a lot. I would be trying to hurt them, and people change when it’s a fight for their life. I wouldn’t have the guts.”

“I bet you would. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and I’ve trained with the best.”

“You’re just saying that,” you quietly said, waving him off.

“I’m not. Really. You know me. I’ll tell you if you can’t handle shit. I used to tell recruits all the time that they weren’t cut out for this job. I’d sit them down, explain everything they might ever face, and tell them I didn’t think they had it in them. Nine times out of ten they listened to me.”

“Did you tell them getting put under mind control was a possibility?” you teased before sipping your wine.

He laughed. “Not until it happened, then I started telling them to be prepared for literally anything. God. We went from taking weapons from the bad guys to trying to knock out aliens, killer android bots, to fighting for the universe. My job was supposed to be relatively simple. Somewhere those lines got blurred.” He shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“I bet. My job never got more exciting than an unusual diagnosis,” you stated.

“I think you liked it that way though,” he suddenly said, staring at you. He had this look of...adoration in his eyes and face that you hadn’t seen since… well since you left the circus.

“You do?” you questioned, thrown a bit by his response.

“Yeah, I mean our lives in the circus were nothing but… well hectic. A new city every few days, training with exotic and wild animals. We never knew where our next meal was coming from and we also had to fight to survive. Our childhood was far from a picnic. I think you chose a job that’s relatively stable and helps animals and people.”

You lowered your head, wondering if maybe that’s why he gave you up. “You must think I’m pretty boring then, hmm? You went and chased adventure, fun, chaos…”

“I went after what I knew. The circus equipped me with skills to be an archer and the only way I knew that I could make something of myself was to go military. I figured my footwork, my acrobatics, and archery would help, and they did. I didn’t care for the action part of it.”

“So if you could’ve had a normal, steady, peaceful life with your talents, you would have?”

“Oh yeah, in a heartbeat. It’d mean I could’ve stayed closer to you.”

He reached across the table and held your hand. You were overjoyed of course, but again that gnawing feeling of being second best began to creep up from your stomach. You quieted it, trying to tell yourself this was all you had wanted, and you should take what you could get.

You smiled at him and held his hand. “I’m glad you found SHIELD, and Nat. I’m glad you found the team.”

“Me too. Oh, man, I have to tell you about this time we were in Budapest,” he suddenly said, his face lighting up.

You nodded, motioning for him to continue and he did. He launched into a full story that had you rolling. It was both scary, thrilling, and funny. He had you on the edge of your seat, listening. Before long, you two were swapping crazy stories. Yours mainly involved animals swallowing weird things or really bizarre animal custody cases or someone once flying you all the way to London to look at their pet bird because they only trusted you. He told you about missions that were funny or odd or where they barely made it out.

When you first arrived here tonight, you were weary, and you weren’t sure you were going to stay, but now, regardless of what tonight was, it was a reason to stay. Your exhaustion was long forgotten as Clint walked you upstairs. He was finally sleeping in his master bedroom again. It was a slow process and sometimes you still ran in there when he woke up screaming or crying in the middle of the night, but at least he wasn’t on that shitty couch of his.

“Well, this is me,” you feebly joked as you stood at your door, throwing a thumb over your shoulder.

Clint just nodded, smiling at you. “Thanks for having dinner with me and giving me a second chance.”

“Thanks for offering me one to give,” you responded quietly.

The two of you looked at each other. That look in his eye had returned, after all this time. He was looking at you just like he used to every night at the circus. That same look that told you he couldn’t live without you and he couldn’t lose you. It was there again and you had it all to yourself.

And for the first time in forever, you wanted to feel him again. You had always loved him, always were in love with him, that much was true, but the longing and desire had been snuffed out quite some time ago.

Now, it was ignited again. His unruly blonde locks were poking out everywhere, reminding you of a younger time, a time when it was you two against the world. His eyes were alive with so much longing, it sent you to the times when you lied next to each other under the stars. He was so close to you, you could feel his body heat.

Your body ached to close the gap in that dark hallway, only illuminated by a full moon and one small lamp upstairs in your room. It was as if kissing in the darkness meant no one knew. It was as if it wouldn’t be like he was betraying Laura in her own home. It was as if it could give him permission or a guise to love you.

And so he took it.

He swept towards you quickly, capturing your lips with his and you nearly gasped from the shock. He tasted… new and yet familiar. The familiar warmth and nuttiness of coffee wafted off of him, as did the smell of farm work, not that different from the circus. But there was also this mintiness to him, this sweetness too, those were new.

You embraced it though. Your hands went to his shoulders, holding them firmly so you could steady yourself. His hands were on either side of your face, where they always found themselves when you kissed.

His lips were firm, tender, moving with purpose. When he let you go, his eyes were closed and you simply stared at him. He rubbed his lips together before saying, “Goodnight.”

He let go of your face before grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze, and he went to his room.

“Sweet dreams,” he quietly called before shutting his door.

For the first time in over ten years, you thought you could actually have sweet dreams, and you retreated into your room, looking forward to the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

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#long lost love #clint barton x reader #clint barton fic #clint barton #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye fic #hawkeye

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donkey-hyuck · 3 years

Text

♫ playlist ♫

word count- 2,378

chapter warnings- mentions of guns/violence | dialogue heavy

series masterlist!

⤷⤷ prologue ➤ chapter one ➤ chapter two ➤ ✵chapter three✵ ➤ chapter four ➤ |you’re here| ➤

𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙍: everything that is written is purely fiction and does not depict reality :)

«────── « ⋅ʚ🔥ɞ⋅ » ──────»

prior to his leave— at around ten o’clock— renjun paid his respects to your company ceo, eunha, and of course, you.

subtly, he took you away from a conversation between another one of your interns as he guided you to a secluded area in the lobby. you scowled your eyes at him before sharply asking what he wanted.

“i’d slow down there, princess. i’m the biggest ceo in china, i can ruin your career like that,” he ended with a snap of his fingers, “ but don’t worry, my love. i wouldn’t do that to you. i just came back to say that i’m taking my leave for tonight. i hope to see you around,” he winked and walked off. however, before he actually left the venue, he was quick to snap a picture of you before actually leaving to his car and sending the picture to his team— his other team.

by the time renjun reached his mansion, he sent doyoung the pictures he took and a general description of your physical appearance. the boys were on their way researching right on time.

—

the weekend came by and you were on your way to ‘style studio’ for an appointment with a regular client. she seemed to like you tons and you couldn’t really blame her, you were the whole package.

when you first entered the small clinic, you saw renjun waiting in the waiting room of the lobby. he was reading some magazine— which featured some of his apparels— before looking up to see who entered the building.

prior to your entrance, renjun figured out where you worked within the body and soul inst. and immediately drove his way there after making a few agreements between some of your coworkers just for a chance to see you again. he figured it was all a coincidence and would never be able to see you again, but he remembered who he was. and huang renjun was capable of a lot of things, which made it possible for him to locate where and when you worked, exactly.

clueless as to who was in the waiting room, you greeted the receptionist— hayoon— a good morning before he told you that someone was looking for you, specifically ceo huang renjun. unfortunately, you were wearing some accessories made by huang&co. which made you regret choosing to wear them in the first place. his company made cute and trendy items, of course you purchased some accessories— though you were to admit that they were a bit on the pricier side.

renjun seemed to notice that you were looking over your shoulder and peering at him so he set aside the magazine that he had in his hands and walked over to you. gently smiling at hayoon and guiding you towards the hallway.

“mr. huang, what a pleasure seeing you here. on a saturday. at eight o’clock in the morning,” you said through gritted teeth. the man only grinned and asked if you were busy. he also complimented your choice of accessories.

“of course i am, i have a job. and don’t flatter yourself, they were gifts,” you snapped back and got your keys to open your office to get ready for the appointment you had today. but before you were able to open the door, his hand covered the doorknob, preventing you from opening it and turning to him. you looked at him with your brows furrowed and eyes blazing.

“are you busy later? let’s have dinner, my treat,” he smugly said. you blinked at him like he was a crazy person and noticed your client walk through the entrance doors. you didn’t end up responding to him and just pushed past the door to start your day. he just had to show up then.

you just closed the door in his face but then there were screams that were heard out in the hallway. frantically, you peeped open the door just a smidge and detected the amount of fans barging into the clinic. huang fucking renjun.

the older client walked into the room earlier than the fans that had barged in. there weren't a lot of people but it was a good amount that made everyone that was in the building freak. even the client herself was shocked to see ceo huang renjun in the building way too early in the morning. to that, you just laughed it off and got ready to start her treatment.

she was actually the only client you were taking that day and the rest is history. you had no other plans for the day but you definitely did not want to make plans with the ceo himself; he was immature, and inappropriate.

it was only about eleven in the morning when you packed up your things to go back home. surprisingly enough, renjun was still present in the clinic. right when you locked the door to your office, renjun appeared from out of the men’s bathroom and looked at his surroundings, instantly recognizing you walking toward the exit.

out of your peripheral vision, you knew he was still there so you silently groaned but still walked out to your car.

but to your dismay, renjun knocked on your car window startling you. and it only took a minute for you to come back to your senses. you sighed to yourself and rolled down your tinted windows.

“mr. huang, what can i do for you now?” you fakely smiled as he discreetly looked around through his sunglasses. he then leaned against the car door and let his sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose.

“you never answered my request, my love. it’s a yes or no question. but just know that i won’t take no for an answer.”

“so then i don’t really have a choice anyways,” you sighed out.

“nope. text me your address, i slipped a little something in your bag,” he winked again and walked towards his car. before you drove off back home, you searched in your bag to see a note. handwritten from renjun.

‘xxx-xxx — i hope to see you tonight xoxo, renjun. p.s. don’t call me mr. huang! it’s too formal.’

who knew ceo huang would be that much of a flirt.

—

oh, but ceo huang was not a flirt. he just had a natural aura that brought those close to him. renjun was actually the exact opposite of a flirt. whatever girls came by, he just swept them off their feet without even trying. but you; you were a different story. something, some urge or push of his feelings desired you, and he needed you pronto.

and to be completely honest, you were on the same boat, but on a more low-key level. catching the eyes of those who cared, including famous actor— lee donghyuck. the two of you had a little fling, a little something, but it didn’t last very long— only four months— before he just ghosted you. but that’s a different story for another day.

you contemplated for a while about actually messaging renjun. however you just mustered up all the courage you had and dialed his number.

when his phone screen lit up with an unidentified number, he picked up, completely forgetting he gave you his number.

“mr. huang…” you went silent on the other line but he immediately knew whose voice it belonged to.

“my love! are you actually considering having dinner with me?” he gasped, truly aghast that you had called. you were silent for a moment before sighing once more.

“yeah…. i guess i am since you’re too stubborn,” the phrase made him laugh in amusement.

“but i have a few rules,” he hummed, telling you to continue, “i will be calling you mr. huang and if we get into trouble we are just gonna say that this is all business. and i’ll be paying half of the bill.”

his grin was ear to ear and he was jovial to have you join him for dinner.

“okay then, angel. send me your address and i’ll pick you up at eight. dress nicely, please.” the man was stoked to hear you agree and was excited to get to know you.

—

you thought it would’ve been humorous if you were to wear a dress made by huang renjun himself but the more you looked in the large mirror in your bedroom, the more you thought that it would fit the occasion. this dinner was your first time actually wearing the dress, tags on and everything. but it truly was a beautiful dress. the dress was a navy blue satin a-line with an open back, it screamed elegance and simplicity. similar to the ‘face it skincare’ opening party which you honestly don’t really want to think about.

you were actually gifted that dress by none other than lee donghyuck. he invited you to a dinner party with a few costars but never ended up texting you back. but you’re here now, and you’re going on a ‘date’ with one of the most powerful ceo’s in the world.

as you were admiring how the dress looked on you, a text notification dings on your phone. at first you thought it was renjun but it was actually hyunwoo.

‘you free tonight? haseul and i are going out to get blue hill in 20 mins, you down?’

blue hill was a diner in town that was popular for its decorations and attractions plus the food service. blue hill was your home, it always would be. unfortunately, you had to decline the offer with your friends and they immediately called you.

“woah, y/n! why are you so dolled up tonight?” shrieked haseul.

you rolled your eyes and rubbed your face, “mr. huang asked me for dinner tonight. i would love to be there with you guys but that man is so damn stubborn.” the pair have each other a look before looking at your pixelated face and giving you knowing smirks. it made you want to rip out their faces.

“guys, it’s really not like that! he came to the clinic earlier and would not leave me alone! i’m just doing this so that he would leave me alone!” you whined and got another text notification from renjun, “look, i gotta go. i’ll call you guys later.” your friends just laughed and waved you goodbye before ending the phone all. you looked at your reflection one more time and straightened out the nonexistent wrinkles in your dress. it was now or never.

you walked to your front door to see renjun unintentionally wearing a matching navy blue tie with your dress. your heart dropped in that moment. there was no way in hell that you were going to match, and it wasn’t even planned out.

when renjun looked at you he felt as if time stopped again. you were the most beautiful person he ever laid eyes on and he felt like he was home. even after barely knowing who you were, you made him feel safe. and to be quite honest, you felt the same way towards the ceo. just didn’t show it as much.

“wow, you look like an angel,” he unintentionally muttered out. you sucked in a breath, showcasing your collarbone before smiling out and thanking him.

he lent out his arm, to which you hesitantly caved in, and led you out of your apartment complex and into his car. though he was a flirt with you— and he really wanted to— huang renjun refrained himself from holding your hand or your thigh while he was driving to the restaurant.

he ended up taking you to ‘la toque’ which was a lavish european restaurant near downtown. you did not know how you were going to pay half of the bill. silently, you groaned to yourself and followed behind the man.

what you didn’t know, was that you were a part of a mission. of course, he wanted to take you out, from the bottom of his heart, but it so happened to be that there was trouble coming your way.

renjun eyed the place before locking gazes with dong sicheng— the resilient caporegime, lee jeno— the gunman, nakamoto yuta— the vigilante detective, and kim jungwoo— the computer tech. he sent a nod to the boys and guided you to the booth he reserved with a gentle hand on the small of your back, which sent chills down your spine.

unexpectedly, the dinner went smoothly until loaded men shouted through the room of the dining hall. it was all a blur. one moment you hear guns shooting, the next you hear shouting. without knowing, tears trickled down your face and made renjun regret having you come in the first place.

carefully, he cupped your cheek and hid you behind the bar, wiping your tears away and assuring you that everything was fine, but were just left speechless and looked at him with loss in your eyes. this made renjun’s heart hurt but he had to do his job. to keep him alive, to keep you safe.

—

their parents forbid them to never see each other again. but of course, the pair never listened and disobeyed their parents even more.

while violating their parents, the boy and the girl constantly saw each other over the years. they practically grew up together. and in those years, grew not only them, but the feelings they held for each other.

however the boy… well, the boy was being sent off to fight in the war. when he was of age, he told his lover what his family was planning for him. they were both left devastated.

so the two ran away. just like them in the past, they ran away. somewhere far, where people won’t break them apart. somewhere far from their parents and far from the war. because all they wanted was to be happy.

but one night, on one of their adventures; the boy left. he left so as to not let his lover get killed. he left the only other person that loved him for who he was.

they were the same people— rascals— but he did it for her. to keep her safe.

“don’t worry, my love. everything will be fine.”

chapter four ➤ chapter five ➤ chapter six

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @ichigofelix @moonbeamsung @heavenlyhuangs @kisshim @lixseu

#nct #nct dream #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct renjun #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream renjun #renjun scenarios #renjun x reader #renjun imagines #renjun angst #renjun au #huang renjun #nct series

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 32)

From the front door of the building to the elevator there were fifteen steps. Fifteen steps that passed a counter and an orienteering board over the more than ten floor Brooklyn building.

Just as every morning, Mila counted the steps. It had become a habit, just as she, before entering the elevator, began to unbutton her jacket. Inside the elevator she let out a lioness-que yawn as she parked herself against the back wall. Thankfully it had been a calm morning. Jim was already gone when her alarm yelled at her to ‘get her ass out of the bed’. Juri was already awake and parked in front of the tv, watching Clifford the Big Red Dog in his pajamas, which meant that Mila could take a shower before preparing his breakfast. While Juri ate his oatmeal with honey under a blanket on the couch, eyes glued to the tv screen and the happy, big red monster dog, Mila got dressed. Forty-five minutes later she dropped Juri at daycare, kissed him on the cheek and hurried off to work.

The elevator stops with a soft thud and she steps out on the ninth floor and heads for the glass doors to the clinic. She’s let in by the receptionists and is welcomed by the constant scent of fresh cut flowers on the reception desk.

”Good morning, Saif. Morning Vanessa.” Mila greets the always happy receptionist couple, lovebirds in real life, behind the counter as she passes through the empty reception.

The dressing room is empty when she enters. Mila removes her workwear, the slightly fancier than nurses-scrubs in a sophisticated shade of grey, from her locker. She leaves the white coat on its hook (it’s way too formal) and drops the bright pink Adidas trainers on the floor with a thud before starting to undress. They switch between the grey scrubs and plain white every other week; head dentist and dental practice owner Said Kadeem thought it would be a ‘edgy, yet fun way to brand themselves as a fun clinic’. In reality he just couldn’t decide which color he thought looked best. It’s the same with his morning-, lunch- and afternoon coffee; with or without milk? He can stand in front of the machine for hours it seems, with his forehead wrinkled together in concentration to make his mind up.

I’d die for a cup of plain, as black as fucking possible-coffee right now, Mila thinks as she pulls the grey pants over her hot pink thongs, reminding herself to do the laundry when she gets home. Putting milk into a cup of coffee is a crime if anything. She steps into the trainers and pulls the top over her head. She gives herself a last look in the mirror and adjusts her ponytail, before leaving the changing room, entering the break room. It’s not a luxurious clinic; no celebrity clients wearing bigger than their face-sunglasses or heavy politicians with a tail of bodyguards, but it’s one of the best private dental clinics in the area, which makes the staff spaces and benefits really generous.

Gotta get some luxury treatment for making it through university with a toddler at home, Mila thinks to herself and steers toward the coffee machine. She greets her colleagues, who are already parked at the table with coffee mugs in front of them, everybody except Lauryn, who’s entire face is hidden behind a huge Starbucks blonde vanilla latte with extra vanilla and coffee plus caramel.

”Rough night?” Mila asks.

”Never turn thirty.” Lauryn Cassidy groans and puts down the ginormous drink on the table. The bags under her eyes scream ’we need to rest you fucker’. ”Why am I even here today?”

”You’re thirty and responsible.” Kristian Shaffer responds. ”I’m impressed.”

Lauryn groans again.

”I liked myself better two days ago, when I was twenty-nine and carefree.”

”Remind me to take the day off after my thirtieth birthday then.” Sarah Preston says and pours a pack of raw brown sugar into her coffee mug.

”Gosh, I’m glad I’ve been there, done that.” Riley Palmer sighs and leans back into his chair. He puts his hands behind his head and flexes his biceps. ”Trust me, thirty is the new twenty.”

”My god such bullcrap!” sterile nurse Ava Cooper rolls her eyes at Riley’s remark. ”It’s almost as bad as that ugly ’carpe diem’ tattoo.”

”What?” Riley looks at Ava, then at his biceps, where ’carpe diem’ is imprinted on his skin with black ink, in a barely readable font. ”What’s wrong with that? It’s inspiring. Like, a mental note that-”

”Ey, we know what it means.” Mila interrupts him. ”And it’s ugly.”

Riley doesn’t get a chance to reply. Kadeem enters the room and a glued-on, convivial atmosphere settles across the table in the blink of an eye. It’s for the best not to quarrel in front of the boss.

”Preston-” Kadeem announces and points with his whole arm at Sarah. “Hallie Reynolds called and cancelled Phillips’ appointment this afternoon.”

”Is Phillip the one with the ears?” Lauryn looks at Aaisha to get answers, but the angelic Aaisha only bursts into a muffled giggle.

”No, that’s Lennox. You know, Dumbo.”

”Christ sake, Riley, stop giving my patients names.” Sarah gives Riley the evil eye and slaps him on his upper arm.

”Sergeyevna, you’re on your own this morning, I need to borrow Aaisha for some drilling.”

Mila and Aaisha look at each other. Kadeem loves his job, but most of all he loves a good drilling. Well, there goes that calm morning; making eye contact over the patients, joking around, singing along to the radio and Aaisha’s regular 11 am stretch, combined with: ”I’m gonna go down to the juice bar, you want anything?”

”Fine.” Mila replies to her superior in white.

”And please, tone down that bluntness today, will you?” Kadeem pleats. ”We can’t have more body builders leaving the clinic crying. Everyone is bad at dental health and everybody knows it, you don’t have to tell them.”

”I thought that was my job?”

”Our job is to dig around their mouths, smile and tell them to floss properly. And charge for doing so.” Kadeem turns to the coffee machine, which is the start of his first, dreadful choice of the day; milk, or no milk. ”Frankly, I don’t know how you seem to get them to come back every 6 months.”

”Witchcraft.”

”Really?” Kristian puts his head to his side and grins at her. ”Thought it was your radiant, bubbly personality?”

“Nope, that’s Cooper and Cassidy.” Kadeem says, without taking his eyes off the coffee machine. “Sergeyevna is like me. It’s in our culture.”

Yeah, the much well known, yet tremendously rare Moscow-Russian and Shiraz-Iranian-culture. Mila smiles a little. As soon as it became clear to Kadeem during her first interview that she was a relatively fresh immigrant, he became overjoyed and felt an almost unreasonable bond with her. Sure, they are both honest and forthright, but that’s more likely a personal trait. Otherwise they are like night and day. But she likes him, he’s a good boss. And his wife makes a hell of a baklava, not to speak of the kletcha.

As the clock strikes nine they simultaneously leave the break room and heads for their offices and treatment rooms. Mila turns on the lights, cranks up the radio and looks out of the window with her cup of coffee steadily in her hand. Another workday. She puts the mug down at the counter as she hears steps approaching. In the next moment, Vanessa appears in the door, followed by her first patient of the morning, Mr. Hardin.

“Mr. Hardin, nice to see you again.” Mila gives her patient a bright smile and takes his hand, gives it a firm shake. “How are you doing?”

She makes a gesture to offer him to sit down in the actually quite comfy dentist chair. She has taken quite a few naps in them after her lunch break since she started working at the clinic.

“Same old, same old.” The man with thinning hair sits down and shrugs at her. “At least I got the health.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Mila replies. “How’s Irene? Must be busy times now?”

“Yeah she’s got her ass full- sorry.”

“No worries. I bet.” Mila takes a seat in her rolling, saddle chair and rolls up to the computer, where she starts to fill in the patient file. ’Hardin, Mark. Regular checkup. Tartar removal’. Same old, same old. “So, just a checkup today.”

“Correct.” mr. Hardin says. ”How’s the kid? Juri, wasn’t it?”

“Yup, indeed.” Mila replies as she takes two pale blue rubber gloves from its box. “He’s doing well.”

“Is he walking yet?”

”More like running.” Mila focuses on the framed photography on the wall, picturing a tropical beach with clear blue turquoise water. Holy crap, he’s growing up so fast, she thinks as she pulls the gloves over her hands. “He’s been on the run for awhile now. Just as I was apparently.”

“They grow fast.” Mr. Hardin shakes his head, as if he can’t believe the basic biology of humans, and leans back in the chair. “But you’re young and healthy. That’s good. This virus, huh?”

“Yeah it’s really strange- Scoot, please.” Mila instructs her patient before continuing to check the tray on her cart, making sure all of her tools are in place. “Great.”

“Both New York Presbyterian and Mount Sinai West are soon overrun. I mean, if that doesn’t sound serious I don’t know what does. Irene’s working double shifts at Langone here in Brooklyn and they still seem to get more and more deaths each day. I think the death toll was, about 70 yesterday, and that’s just Langone. Must be like, 300 in New York alone.”

“Mhm, it’s horrible.” Mila replies monotonously, while scrolling through the x-ray of Mr. Hardin’s lower row of teeth from his appointment the year prior. She’s been trying her best to live life as normal as possible despite the deadly virus. Life has to continue, somehow. “Do you have any issues with sensitivity? Pain?”

“No, just tartar. Like, a lot. Irene found these small pieces in the sink-“

“We’ll fix that today.” Mila says quickly and gives her patient a radiant smile. She doesn’t need, or want, to hear what poor Irene Hardin found in the sink. She’s got a pretty good clue. “You’ve quit smoking yet?”

She turns and looks at Mr. Hardin, who’s shoulder goes up to his ears. He transforms from his regular, very accountant-self (because that’s what he is) to an ashamed puppy in the clinical chair. Mila shakes her head at him, smacking with her tongue. Mila turns to the radio and increases the volume of Angus Young’s voice wailin “You’ve been thunderstruck” to the more than famous guitar tapping.

”Ah. This is why I like going here.” Mr. Hardin says with a smile and points at the radio. ”I listen to NYC Rock in the car, every day.”

“Okay mr. Hardin, let’s rock and roll.” Mila pulls the sterile face mask over her nose. It smells clinical and plastic. She grabs the probe and the mirror and smiles with her eyes at mr. Hardin from underneath the mask.

She starts to work. It’s a regular day. Not too hot, not too cold. The sun is shining into the office and Angus Young continues to blast out that they’ve been struck by thunder, about a billion times. The only thing that looks like its’ been struck by something is her patient's teeth. What on god’s earth is he doing during the nights? Chewing bricks?

”Mr. Hardin, are you tense?” Mila asks.

”Howch do choo do chiiit?!” Mr. Hardin manages to utter, with both wide eyes and wide open mouth. ”Schee, chish isch wchy I gcho cher! Ycho are likche a cheraphchist-”

Mila sighs and removes the tools from his mouth.

”No, Mr. Hardin. You grind your teeth, bad. They look awful. Stop it or you won’t have teeth left.”

”Oh.” He replies and swallows, then bursts into a smile again. ”But you see, this is why I go to you and not that crappy Family smile clinic down in Brownsville, that Irene goes to. Honesty, blunt honesty. I like that.”

”Good to know.” Mila says and signs at him to open his mouth again, to let her continue working on that tartar. ”Not everybody does. I once made one of those body builder’s cry because I scolded him for not brushing his teeth right.”

Yeah she was pretty hard on that poor guy, but honestly, his gums looked like minced meat. Mr. Hardin smiles as best as he can with his mouth wide open.

The next song is by The Hellacopters, which makes her smile once again underneath the mask. She saw them perform, one of their last appearances, with Darya a couple of years ago. But suddenly, in the middle of ”-hey boy, you understand. Say your prayers, or you'll be damned-” the song’s interrupted by the breaking news-jingle.

”We’re interrupting with some disturbing news from downtown Manhattan, where chaos has erupted outside Mount Sinai’s hospital.”

Mila pauses in a movement and glances at the radio.

”Police have been called to the morgue where the-”newscaster seems to be groping for words, as if he himself does not believe what to say. “The dead seem to have woken up.”

It is only thanks to the slightly sticky gloves, which hug around the tools, that Mila doesn’t drop them in Mr. Hardin's mouth, at that proclamation.

”Police began firing shots as the bodies- patients, began to attack civilians and medical staff.”

Mila returns to the tartar, but she can’t focus entirely on Mr. Hardin’s hardcore tartar infestation, even though it’s an astonishing collection; if Aaisha hadn’t been asked to help Kadeem out, she’d been sitting on the opposite side of Mila, and her big brown eyes would have been bigger than usual by excitement. It’s surely a dentist thing only, being excited by tartar. Mila tries her best to stay focused, but her mind drifts off to the radio and the rise of the living dead, where the ’on the spot’-broadcaster now interviews a doctor from Mount Sinai.

“-at least ten former patients, declared dead during the week, escaped the morgue and attacked people on the street. Dr. Berkowitz, head of ICU, can you explain what just happened?”

”I don’t know.”

“Were the patients in a coma?”

“No.”

”Dr. Berkowitz, did you or any of your staff, by any chance, make a mistake?”

”No, as I said, they were deceased. Dead.”

”You’re sure?”

”Yes, ofcourse.”

Mr. Hardin makes a gesture with his hand and Mila removes the tools from his mouth.

”Turn up the volume.” He says and rises on his elbows.

Mila obeys, reaches for the radio and turns the volume wheel up a notch.

“How do you explain the situation, then?” the interviewer asks, now louder than before. He sounds more and more irritated, or afraid, Mila can’t really know the difference. “Dead patients suddenly... awakes?”

“I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Berkowitz, we have to- We get disturbing breaking news from Weill Cornell Medical Center that- what!?” The interviewer exclaims, as if he can’t comprehend what he’s hearing from the third party in his ear. ”Okay, ehrm- we get news that a similar incident occurs right now at Weill Cornell. I repeat, Weill Cornell. Police have been dispatched to the spot and civilians on the street have taken shelter in nearby shops and restaurants. It’s been confirmed that eight- no, nine, people have been injured and a woman has deceased, by severe blood loss. I repeat, one woman is dead and lying in the street. According to eyewitnesses- Neil, you sure about that?” The interviewer asks. “Sorry. Eye witnesses claim that the woman, and I’m sorry about this, is being eaten by the deceased. If you’re in the neighborhood, do not go outside, I repeat; do not-”

Both Mila and Mr. Hardin stare at the radio under complete dead silence. The tools are frozen in her hands and her heart beats hard inside the grey scrubs.

“I gotta-” Mr. Hardin swallows. “I- I need to call Irene.”

“Yeah..” Mila replies. A rush of sickness runs over her. Is the room suddenly swaying, or is she just, overwhelmed? Is this real? She casts a glance at Mr. Hardin, who climbs out of the leaned back chair, still with the pale blue plastic sheet around his neck. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He leaves the room. Mila hears him talk on his phone outside the door. Should she call someone? Her mind wanders to Juri and mama first. With trembling hands Mila picks up the phone from her pocket, unlocks it and goes into the messages. She changes the alphabet to cyrillic starts dictating a text message to mama. In order not to worry her beloved mama more than necessary, she simply writes: ‘Good morning mamochka. How are you today? Love you.’

She presses ‘send’ and then finds her way to the contacts, where she quickly finds ‘Jim’. Signals are heard. She spins in her chair, faces the window. He picks up the phone at the fourth dial.

“Cricket.” Jim greets her. His warm, amazing smile is felt through the phone and instantly calms her soul.

“Thank goodness.” Mila sighs and massages her forehead. “Hi.”

Jim chuckles on the other end. She can see him clearly in front of her. Black suit and white shirt. He’s just had a haircut and said bye bye to the ponytail. Tall, handsome beyond comparison. Probably with his tenth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. It’s a miracle he can keep his cool with that much caffeine in his system.

“Hi.” He replies softly. “What a pleasant surprise. Does milady want to hire a personal security guard?”

She can’t help but smile like an idiot.

“I can offer a very favorable package price.” Jim continues. “Annually. How about ... ten years? Initially.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Through the phone, she can really picture how one of Jim’s eyebrows starts to go up, towards his forehead. Usually she plays along with his shenanigans and jokes, but she can’t. Not now.

“You’re on speaker or something?” He asks.

“No. No, sorry. I’m not.” Mila replies and sighs. “Have you heard?”

“Nope. Or, depends on what I’ve missed. What's the talk of the town?”

“You’re nearby a tv or a computer?”

“I’m in the office. Hold on.” Jim starts tapping on the computer. Mila hears the rustle of the buttons in the background. “Oh. That’s-” Jim pauses and reads. “All of them died of the virus?”

“Apparently.”

“I’d say it was a mistake by the hospital, if not- but...” he pauses. “‘New York Times reports that it’s more than twenty patients. Could be more.’ What the-”

“What’s happening?” Mila asks, can’t conceal her feel of discomfort.

“Dunno.” Jim says. “Hey, I can get off work by-” he pauses, as to looking at his watch. “I’ll pick Juri up earlier, in about two hours. I’m sure he’s fine but, just in case. We’ll fix dinner.”

What have I done to deserve this guy, Mila thinks inside her head.

“I love you.”

“You love me for my incredible mashed potatoes.” Jim grins through the phone. “Love you Cricket. It’s gonna be fine.”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x oc #jersey on my mind #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead fanficition

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Three, “If It Kills Me”

A story about what happens when she can’t be just his assistant anymore, and he can no longer be only her boss. Now, can they be happy with being just friends?

Read this story from the beginning here! :-)

Inspo tag here!

*NEW* Spotify playlist in the works can be found here, songs that inspire me for the story and have significance in the story c:

Warnings: one brief mention of vomiting, and some mild language.

SNEAKY PEEEEEEEEEEEK

“And Becky’s face consumes my thoughts, much like it’s been captivating my conscience as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly.

There it remains for days, much like it has been. It follows me through the air as I stare out the window, floating above the clouds. It crops into my conversations, leeching any enjoyment gathered from them. I even see it in a crowd of people inside the walls of the courtroom before I deliver my closing statement. When I look a second time, I’m disappointed to find the eyes of a stranger.

I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. I miss all of it.”

Song Inspiration: If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz (click to listen)

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh electricity, you know?” - Steve Harrington, Stranger Things

The warm rays hit my cheeks as my sandals pound on the pavement. I wonder how I could ever be unhappy given the May sun shining down on me, and walking from my favorite restaurant. Without fail, the blissful idea is stolen away by a swarm of thoughts dosed in reality. And a particular one that reminds me of what I need to do, despite the dread I’ve been feeling. Not even the former respite of Asher’s hug after our shared lunch can keep them away.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I swipe through my apps until I find the right one. Stopping in front of my gray car, I lean against the door with a huff. My thumbs hover across the screen nervously, followed by a curse under my breath. Quickly, they flit across the screen composing words in front of my eyes. Sliding into my driver seat, I stare at the screen for a moment longer before hitting send.

I wait for the chime to come, telling me I have a new message, from him. Nervousness coats my limbs and only grows worse as the minutes tick by driving home. Waiting. But when I check my phone after walking in the door, my lock screen showing my dad and I’s smiling faces is blank.

No new messages.

Sliding off my black sandals, I pad through the shared living room and kitchen area before reaching my bedroom. My laptop beckons for me across the room on my desk, and I sit down before it. I hope that maybe if I don’t procrastinate this specific thing, maybe things will turn out a little better. But as I’m opening a study guide for Family Law’s final exam, I’m proven wrong.

The chime grabs my attention immediately, making my fingers still on the keyboard. Flitting my eyes to the lavender Speck phone case, I grow antsy at wondering who the text is from. And what it says. Inhaling nervously, I pick it up and wake up the screen. The few words of a preview I see of the text cues a sour anxiousness to grow in my stomach. Bringing my knees up onto my chair, I pull them against my chest as I open the text.

Hey I’m so sorry I’ve been terrible at texting back, finals these next two weeks are getting to me. Speaking of that I realized that I have to take a final at the time we’re supposed to get lunch in a few days. I’m really sorry but can we reschedule . . . again? I was thinking in two weeks when I’m finally free from the clutches of uni????? :(

Harry

sorry cant love. im in edinburgh all that week for a case. lets talk about it when im back. good luck w finals xx

Sighing, I type up a short response, agreeing to that. With guilt casting a shadow over me, I return my attention to the lengthy study guide. The gross feeling in my stomach remains, and with its arrival, my excitement for our lunch date is replaced with disappointment. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks since we rescheduled it the first time, due to me messing up the dates, again. Peeking my eyes at my phone, I turn away and slump against my chair.

It’s been a month since I saw him last, and although we’ve sent a handful of texts, they haven’t been enough for me. Skye, of course, told me that there’s nothing stopping me from showing up at his office door, but she’s wrong. I don’t know his schedule anymore, and for all I know, I’d be waiting around for him. Plus, my appearance would just yell ‘desperate!’ Sometimes, I wonder what little world Skye is tucked away into that’s far simpler, not realizing I still have to work during the day, especially more so this summer.

But as the days drag on with chemo and radiation appointments, and lectures upon lectures, I think maybe Skye has the right idea being so optimistic. Maybe.

Over the next few weeks, I see him at almost every corner I turn, and it hurts more than it should after all these weeks. The ignored texts shouldn’t feel like a fresh stab wound when I see that Scrabble box in the family room, get on that very same lift, or walk past the nurse’s station I found him leaning against that morning. Nothing compares to the piano and the pang I feel in my chest at the sight of it. It comes every time I walk through those doors and am reminded of the intimacy held on those keys. No, it didn’t get easier after the first time being back there with my dad, or the fifth time. Avoiding that gray sofa like the plague only reminded me of the texts I sent him that went unanswered. I can’t blame him though, because like a bitch, I took a week sometimes to reply to him.

The tight feeling in my chest only feels heavier as I sit on the plaid couch in my childhood living room. I can’t even enjoy watching FRIENDS like I used to be able to, as their faces bring forth the sound of his laugh. It pains me to turn down their voices as I dig my phone out from under the cushions. I try not to let it get to me when I, once again, find no new text messages. My attempt is futile and it only causes me to take longer to open the phone app. By now, I know his number by heart, but my shaky hands cause me to mess up a few times.

Pressing the phone to my ear, all I can hear is its ringing and the pounding of my heart. As the seconds drag on, I’m almost certain I’ll hear the voicemail next. But then I’m pleasantly surprised, although the bitterness in my stomach blossoms.

“Hullo?” His gravelly voice pulls my lips into an instant smile. Rubbing the back of my neck anxiously, the words fall from my lips hurriedly.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” he responds curtly, a clattering noise heard in the background before he mutters a ‘shit.’

“I’m sorry, did I call at a bad time?” I ask quickly, regret filling my veins.

“No, yer fine. ‘m jus’ makin’ dinna.”

“Oh um, nice. What are you cooking?” I inquire, twirling the braided silver ring on my pointer finger. Swallowing, I wait to hear his molasses drawl again, like music to my ears.

“Jus’ a stir fry. So . . . why’d ya ring?” Harry responds, a coolness hugging his voice.

“Um, I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” he hums awkwardly, followed by the sound of a door closing. Squeezing my eyes shut, uneasiness falls over me in a wave. Oddly, I wonder if all of a sudden I can’t call to say hi. “Ya, we’ve both been busy. Cases fer me, an’ prolly uni an’ yer dad’s treatments fer you.”

“Yeah,” I agree aloud, my chin falling to rest in my palm. But it leaves a second later to lose my fingers in my hair. “I wanted to tell you that I finished my finals last week, so now I just have clinical left in the fall. Oh, and my dad got to ring the bell today. He’s all done with chemo and radiation after his scans all looked good. It’s hard to believe that he’s cancer-free. His doctors will, of course, have to keep an eye on him in the future to make sure it doesn’t come back, but I couldn’t be happier.”

“Tha’s wonderful, love,” Harry coos into my ear, the first notes of happiness heard in his voice. It begins to put me at ease, and cause me to think maybe something isn’t off after all. “‘m really glad t’ hear that- well both o’ those things.”

Unbeknownst to me, I find myself nodding along with his words as if I needed his confirmation. But his words stop there, and the sickening feeling that something is wrong settles back in. A small ‘yeah’ stumbles off my lips as my fingers form into a fist in my lap, debating what to say next. Or if I should ask what I’ve been wanting to say the entire time.

“We weren’t able to get ahold of each other a few weeks ago to reschedule lunch. Would you still like to?” Going out on a limb, I let the words fly.

I watch for them apprehensively, uncertain if they’ll take flight. The loud sound from his side, the subsequent shuffling, and a voice saying his name shoots them down hastily.

“‘m sorry, I gotta go. ‘ll text ya ‘bout gettin’ lunch,” Harry remarks, his words stringing together swiftly. I barely have the chance to say an ‘okay’ before he abruptly hangs up, sewing together an unwanted thought for me.

Tossing my phone to the other end of the couch, I fall back against the cushions. Turning up the volume of the telly, I avert my gaze back to the make-believe world I’ve always taken comfort in. As the phone call gnaws away at my insides, planting insecurities every few steps, I let the characters whisk me away. Even if their faces and familiar jokes will now never stop reminding me of him, and something I let go of that I didn’t know I had. I only feel worse when I realize that I knew then that he’d never send that text, and I think he knew that, too.

“Staring at it isn’t going to make it ring, y’know,” somebody states, pulling me from my webs of thoughts.

Lifting my attention away from the black screen in my hand, I catch Myles looking at me impatiently.

“Wha- ‘m sorry. I was listenin’.”

“Then what’d I just say?” he requests, the hand propped against his chin rising in a silent question.

My lips fall apart to welcome my voice, but nothing comes out. Shrugging, he receives his answer and replies with a disapproving glare.

“Hare, this is important stuff. We’re leaving for Edinburgh tomorrow for the case, it’s a huge one.”

“I know, My. Jus’ repeat what ya said, please,” I huff, batting a hand at him. His eyes roll into the back of his head when he leans back in his leather chair.

“I swear to God, Harry, I-.”

“Stop,” I retort, growing annoyed.

He plays with the point of his quiffed blonde hair before clearing his throat. Although I try to listen the second time around, my gaze is lulled back to my laptop screen. My fingers itch to touch the keys and type up words, and when Myles begrudgingly answers his ringing phone, I find my chance. Sliding my silent phone into my pocket, I click on the blue thought bubble, only to be met with disappointment. Brushing it away, my fingers fly across the keys and my words are sent with a soft hum. Soon, Myles hangs up the phone with a perturbed sigh and resumes the conversation we were having. Again, I try to return to the bubble we share and the words that occupy it, but my mind is consumed with the anticipation of that coveted ding. And with Becky’s face, much like it’s been captivating my thoughts as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly.

It crowds my mind when I wait for the boarding call, tapping my fingers along the screen and watching the words be sent off. I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. All of it. I miss all of it. It gnawed away at me slowly, and terribly, burying doubts beneath my defenses. They sprang up when I least expected them, and when I thought about sending just one more text. A few words wouldn’t hurt anything, I thought, but at the same time, I distrust the ultimate impact they could have.

The pounding jars me from my reverie, bringing me to my feet slowly. Padding past the television and kitchen area, a yawn jumps from my lips. Another pound lands on the door, dragging my brow into a knot.

“Oh, shuddup!” I exclaim in disbelief, wrapping my fingers around the smooth metal of the door. Yanking it open, I find the grinning bearded face of my mate standing on my stoop. “‘m not goin’, Rore, I already told ya this.”

“C’mon, Harry, I’ll look like a right idiot being there all alone,” Rory responds, his steps telling me he’s following me inside once I turn around. “Help a mate out here.”

“Ya, ‘coz ya were so helpful tha otha day when I asked ya t’ consult with me fer the Starkey case.” Scoffing, his words pause between his lips as I fill a glass of water from the attachment on the fridge. “Why’re ya goin’ anyways, since it sounds like sumthin’ yer dreadin’? And since when d’ya even go t’ these sorta things? Last place I thought ‘d see you at, Rore.”

“I don’t, but it’s for me sister’s showing. I can’t miss it, she’s me baby sister. I’d hear about it from me mum for weeks.”

Snorting, I have to pull the glass of water away from my lips.

“Hope ya bloody choke on that water, mate,” Rory scoffs, only making me laugh harder. Water flies from my lips as I’ve forgotten the glass on the marbled countertop. “Are ya coming or not, Harry? Ya know it’s a good place to pick up chicks, too. They blooming love these art gallery places.”

Recovering from my fit of giggles, I turn my head to find Rory waiting with the question in his eyes. He huffs and riffles a hand through his tousled blonde hair a few shades lighter than that which covers his face. Shaking his head, he wiggles his head at me.

“I’ll consult with you on the next case, or even give ya first pick,” he whines, folding his hands together under his chin, as if he’s praying.

“‘m yer bloody boss, I always get first picks,” I murmur, a smile cracking at the end of my words.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” he spits, pushing at a chair in front of the seated bar attached to the kitchen island. Clucking his tongue, he messes with the collar of his navy blue blazer thrown over a bloody Zeppelin shirt. Yeah, you sure look artsy there, Rore. But with the next words that fly from his sailor’s mouth, he pins me down. “What’re ya gonna do here anyways, sit and watch the bleeding telly all in your lonesome when ya could be with me getting damn a date?”

Biting my lip, my house slippers come into my view and when Rory’s eyes find them, a laugh explodes from his lips. “Go hurry up and bloody change before you’re too far gone, mate. I’ll be in the car,” he titters before his voice falls with a delighted sigh. Delight found in my pain.

“Two cases, Rore. Any two cases I want, ya consult with me on. Ya got it?” I argue, following on his footsteps.

“Whatever makes ya feel better, mate. I know you'll be thanking me later tonight.”

“Doubt it,” I mutter, watching him open the door, sure there’s a sly grin covering his face.

I turn to jog up the stairs until I arrive in my bedroom. Quickly, I toss on skinny jeans, a Keith Haring shirt, and a mustard button up smattered with faded white flowers. I look rather artsy, I reckon, I decide as I look at myself in my bathroom mirror. It’s an easy feat when you’re standing next to wannabe Rory over there, though. After taming my hair and finding a pair of shoes, I pad down the stairs.

“Alexa, turn off all o’ my lights,” I announce, slipping my wallet and phone into my pocket as my hous darkens around me.

“Take fucking long enough?” Rory groans when I slide into the passenger seat of his silver Sentra.

“Shuddup and drive, will you? So we can get this ova with.”

“If you’re gonna be an ass tonight, then just go back inside,” he almost laughs, beginning to back away from the towering walls of my house.

“Talking ‘bout yerself, are ya now?” I quip, bringing my phone from my tight pockets, tapping in my passcode.

“I’ve noticed, y’know,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for me to hear him. Looking up from the bright screen, his eyes don’t stray from the road. “There’s a girl, isn’t there? Or there was?” he continues, a man I’ve come to love over the last three years he’s worked with me. And somehow I thought I had fooled him, but it turns out, I haven’t. I can’t even fool myself.

“Sumthin’ like that,” I whisper, my attention straying back to the conversation lit on my screen. Another day of the ball being in her court, and she just leaves it in the bloody corner, neglecting it. “I see why ya wanted me t’ come now . . . jus’ don’ try t’ set me up with yer bloody sista. She’s like twenty.”

His hearty chuckle fills the space around us, the words of a song from Death Cab for Cutie lurking in the background. “I won’t, but y’know she’s not gonna let ya out of her sight, mate. She’s had the hots for you from day one.”

“Oh God, Rore, what’d I let ya drag me into here?” I joke, my lips curling into a nervous smile. But the smile feels good, and it feels even better when her name disappears from my screen, and I forget my phone in my pocket.

“What happened to making me dinner?” I whine from the couch, crossing my left leg over the other under the comfort of my blanket.

“That was when you were busy, and well, the other day when I was feeling generous. Not today, missy,” Skye scoffs, the sound of the fridge shutting marking her words. Something lands in my lap with a plop, startling me.

“Wow, how gourmet. Why thank you, I definitely don’t need to make dinner now,” I joke, picking up the wrapped piece of string cheese.

“I know you’re still going to eat it. Just eat cereal or something, you hobo. I’m going to bed at a decent time, unlike somebody.”

“Hey, it’s a Friday!” I argue, pressing the page down button on the remote, waiting for something to catch my eye on Netflix.

“Yeah, and some of us still have a job on Saturdays!” she calls from her journey down the hall.

“Party pooper!”

She remains silent on the defensive line, and so does the list of boring content on the television screen. Relenting, I click over to My Stuff and press play on the next episode of FRIENDS. Relaxing into the cushions, I unwrap the cheese and slowly eat it in strings. Giggles flow from my lips watching the scene unravel in front of me, and some eye-rolls because of Ross or Monica. After a while, my legs stray to the fridge, and I return to the tan sectional with a bowl of Cheerios. The milk threatens to spill over the side when I sit up suddenly, almost yelping in laughter at the scene when Monica and Rachel lose their apartment to Chandler and Joey. The sugary Cheerios soon disappear, and the milk follows them as the episode nears the end.

Placing my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, I hurry back to the sofa to catch a Phoebe scene. My cheeks warm with a smile, but they soon grow cold when my thoughts have to interrupt with a memory of his face. That god awfully sweet smile adorned with his cherry lips and precious dimples. Without knowing what I’m doing, the cartoon looking app appears under my nose, and pictures fill my feed. I take a second look at a few of them that catch my attention, the angry voices of Rachel and Monica tickling at my ears.

Soon, the search bar materializes and although it feels wrong, I type in letter after letter to create his name. I can’t remember the last time I glanced at his profile, just to catch a hint of him. Finding the profile I’ve become familiar with, I tap on his picture and wait for his profile to load. Glancing away, the tv captures my attention once more as I scratch at an itch on my leg. Yawning, I rub at my eye before it falls back to the blindingly bright screen. Blinking hard to clear the haze from my vision, I scroll down to see what new pictures he’s posted, although they’re usually few and far between.

I find the most recent picture I recognize and tap through them. Picturesque shots from high in the clouds. His unbelievably adorable niece. Food-grams. A picture of a homemade pizza is making my mouth water and is still stuck in my mind when I happen upon the next photo, and the most recent one. The moisture in my mouth is wicked away, suddenly bone dry when the image in front of my eyes slowly registers with me. But I can’t believe it, even though I’m seeing it. I don’t want to see it, or believe it. The moisture reappears in the corners of my eyes quickly as a sourness quickly knits together in my gut. The image shakes in my hands and then blurs in my eyes, accented by the thrashing of my heart inside of my chest.

“Skye!” I shout, the words leaping from my lips with little success.

My lip wobbles and I feel my entire face collapse from pain, disbelief, the whole shebang. The sob screaming from my lips is muffled by my fingers coming to my mouth.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I mutter, inhaling fast and feeling the tears in my throat. Because I can feel it everywhere in my body - the pain. In my eyes, my stomach, my hands, and my chest. The sight of Harry’s lips touching that of another girl’s sends knives into my heart, and my stomach roiling. “T-this can’t . . . ,” but my words escape me, because the multitudes of feelings punished with anguish and despair course through me.

“Skye!” I yell again, not realizing that I’ve gotten to my feet. I stumble at first, feeling the weakness reach my legs. Her name leaves my lips wet with tears as I run past the kitchen and down the hall.

Pushing open her door, darkness meets my eyes, and I swear in that moment it swallowed me. Hitting me, I grab the doorframe and feel my forehead fall against it. Leaning there for support, the sobs roll through me, the very reason still clutched in my hand.

“Whaaaaat?” she groans tiredly from her bed across the room.

But I only reply with a sob of her name, hiccups havocking my chest. My hands claw at the wall, darkness coating my eyelids.

“Ree?” Skye asks groggily, the click of her lamp following her words. “What happened? Are you alright?” she hurries, the pillowy patting of her covers being thrown back meeting my ears.

Her arms wrapping around me are almost numbing, and do nothing. And feel like nothing. But when I feel my head meet her chest, the slowed-down world I lived in for those few seconds vanishes.

“Skye, I-. . . ,” I attempt, once again falling up short as tears suffocate my voice, much like they’re making me feel. Shakily, I press my phone into her hand as I try to find safety in her arms.

I wait and then am rewarded with her intake of breath followed by a sigh. “Holy fuck,” she whispers, and retaliates by pulling me closer against her. “Come here, Ree.”

She walks me over to her bed and helps me under the covers until I’m surrounded by them, and her arms.

“Who i-is she?” I demand sloppily, searching for something to hold onto and to anchor myself with. I’m compensated with the smooth fabric of her shirt that I cling to the back of, my head falling into her hair. The mundane scent of strawberries wafting from her body tries to relax me, but to no avail.

“Ree-,” she begins, but I don’t let her start, let alone finish.

“I want to kn- I need to know,” I respond, sniffling against the warm expanse of her neck. There’s shuffling next to me before she sighs, and I sense the light of my phone. Tapping prods at my hearing as I try to form coherent thoughts.

I’m met with images of him. Harry. His dark curls, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and the high-pitched giggle that accompanied my tickling as well as his own. The intruding memories rack my body with shaking sobs, pressing my lips together as new tears gush over them. My belly contracts with each sob, and I don’t even register the cramping in my hands from holding on so tightly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Skye hums warily from above, pulling my head into her neck, leaving her arm there to shield me from her words. Or the image that I can’t remove from my mind even if I tried. It’s burned there indefinitely now.

His arms in a blue button-up surrounding her and his lips enveloping hers. A smile creasing his cheeks with happiness, and spreading to those of her dark cheeks. Her curvy body pressed against his, flowing ebony curls tickling her chocolate skin.

“Tell me.”

“Okay,” Skye caves, the tips of her fingers running marathons along my back, in attempts to calm me down. But I don’t know if the tried and true will work this time, although it has for every other, even when my dad’s life was painted with the C-Word. “She’s a London based artist, does some sculpting and gallery work locally. According to her Instagram account, anyways.”

“I asked . . who is she?” I repeat, my voice wavering under the dominance of the tears.

“Her name’s Bailee Taylor.”

“W-what does her page look . . . like?” I request, exhaustion blanketing me, and only adding another feeling to the rest. Blinking away the tears, I try to take in a deep breath, but my memories hit me with the safety I felt in his arms. Unwaveringly.

“It looks like they’re . . dating,” Skye announces quietly, squeezing me around the middle. The confirmation I didn’t know I’d been searching for hits me like a train, knocking the air out of me again. And all of a sudden, hatred pulses through me, asking me where to lay it. Where to feel it. “There’s a few pictures of them on her feed, looks like they met maybe a few weeks ago.”

“Why?” jumps from my lips finally, taking a nosedive to join a sea of unanswered questions. The word shakes the second it leapt from my tongue, and somehow it hurts more than all of the rest. “I h-hate him,” I cry, my nose smushing against her skin when I try to hold onto her tighter than I already am.

“No, you don’t,” she coos, raking her fingers through my hair slowly, and carefully.

“I know, b-but I wish I could,” I answer, the memories dancing through my head at hyper speed. Falling asleep in his arms, and waking up in them. The tickling fight. The almost kiss. The Scrabble game. Waking up to find him waiting there in the doorway. Him coming back even after the way I treated him. Finding him standing there at the front of the lecture hall. The reprieve of being in his arms again after so long spent away from them. And then, like a wall, my mind runs into the strings of unanswered texts. The canceled lunch dates. The both of us ignoring the other’s texts, but then at the end, it was him. It was him who was awkward during the last phone call. He hung up on me abruptly, and I heard somebody else was there. Was it her? It’s possible they would have already been together by then. He said he’d text me to set up lunch, and he never did.

“It won’t make you feel better,” she murmurs, cupping my head with her palm. The sound of tears edging at her words only makes mine come harder, and the feeling in my gut grows louder.

“Then what will?” I beg, wondering if I’ll ever forget the taste of the salty tears. A taste I thought I could forget just late last month when my dad was cured. News that I told him, and had been impatiently waiting to do all day. “I thought I was just feeling okay again, Skye.”

“I know, Ree, I’m so sorry,” she returns, placing her cheek against mine, the first tear peeking through in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

I unpeel myself from her anxiously, kicking away the blankets before my feet land on the floor.

“Where are you going?” she almost demands, the sound of her following me far away.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I confess, rushing down the hall before falling to my knees in front of the toilet. The Cheerios and milk from earlier make a reappearance, along with the string cheese, and mushy contents of my other meals.

Running a cold cloth along my face, Skye kneels in front of me, her face painted in sadness.

“How can it hurt so much, Skye, when he wasn’t even mine?” I croak, focusing on the lone tile in our bathroom that doesn’t match the rest of the flooring.

“I think you’re wrong, he was yours, Ree.”

“I was so close. I fucked up, again,” I weep, my lips collapsing with yet another sob.

“Don’t say that, don’t,” she insists, tucking her hair behind her studded ear when it goes every which way with the shaking of her head. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. She’s so pretty . . Of course she is,” I remember aloud, breathing in quickly before the tears take hold of me once more. Closing my eyes, I reach out for her and let my head rest against her shoulder.

“She really isn’t, Ree. A big pair of tits doesn’t make you pretty, and anyways, you’re far prettier. He could do much better, like you.”

“You’re just saying that,” I confess, trying to swallow, but my throat has tied itself into knots with the thoughts of him. And when that word falls out of bed inside of my head, I find that it can hurt worse. “I was his Becks, Skye, I thought it was right there. That it was gonna happen for us.”

“Oh, Ree,” she cries, sniffling against my hair when she pulls me against her. “I know, I’m so sorry . . so sorry.”

Nodding into her chest, it feels right as her necklace digs into my wet cheek. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and so does every other part of my body in some way. Somehow I let her bring me back to her bed, and hide me away in her arms. My head swims with questions, then fleeting hatred for him, and inconsolable longing the very next. I shed a tear for his smell, his contagious smile, that Scrabble game we’ll never finish, the churros I’ll never be able to eat again without him ruining them for me, the color of his eyes I could never forget, and the lost feeling of his lips I never got to kiss. The list miles long of things I never got to say to him, or do with him, or make him feel. Because now she does, and she isn’t me.

“I-I thought . . that he felt the same way about me, and that somehow he knew that I loved him.”

A whimper escapes Skye’s lips as my tears fall into her neck, adding to the puddle I’ve shed there.

“What does she have that I don’t? Am I not interesting? Does she have a nicer body than I do? Am I not pretty enough? Was I not nice enough or appreciative of him?” I weep, the questions flowing off my lips from the recesses of my mind. My name greets my ears firmly, but I ignore it. “I was trying to answer his texts when I could, but things got so busy with uni and my dad. All the driving, the tests in both places, and I couldn’t keep dates right in my head. Maybe if I’d texted him back sooner that one time, or made the lunch date on the right day the first time-.”

“Becky, don’t do the ‘ifs’ thing,” Skye urges, pulling the covers further up our shoulders before returning to combing my hair back again and again.

“But I can’t stop thinking about what went wrong, a-and how much I miss him, Skye. I miss him a hundred times more after seeing that picture,” I reveal, falling into her, my lips meeting her shoulder. My teeth dig into my skin and I let them, numb to the pain as the same word is too busy with my mind. “I don’t know if I ever wanna see him again.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to, I’ll always want to. Like something inside of me will always want him.”

The sunlight streaming in through the windows is the first thing I see when I awake. Ducking my head back under the covers, I pull them over me with a groan. The blissful ignorance of the first few minutes after waking up follows me, until it all comes crashing back.

“Are you awake?” a voice murmurs, sleep clinging to it.

“Unfortunately,” I whisper, staring into the muted light underneath the gray covers.

“I can stay home if you want me to, I was just making some breakfast,” Skye responds, the tapping of her feet along the floor following.

“No, don’t cancel your hair appointments because of me. I’ll be . . I’ll be fine,” I tell her, but then the tears greet me good morning.

“Oh, Ree, I’ll cancel and we can watch movies all day, or FRIENDS. Whatever you want,” she announces. The bed falls to one side when she sits on the edge, and I feel her hand find my back.

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d say that,” I return, turning around and sitting up to dive into her arms. “I was hoping I had dreamt it all and it was just a bad dream. But my life is the bad dream.”

“Oh, Ree,” she coos, surrounding me with her arms. “I know this is cliche and it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll get better.”

“I don’t know about that. My life is a running joke lately because it feels like it’ll get better, and then it just gets worse.”

“Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it, Becky?” somebody asks. Looking up from my cupcake, I find the face of Sophie.

“Yeah, end of next week,” I answer, picking an orange sprinkle from the white frosting to eat.

“Do you have any big plans?” my boss asks as she places her lunch in the microwave.

“My brother and I hang out every year, we’re twins.”

“Oh, how fun! I remember meeting him once when he brought you lunch one day,” she smiles, turning to face me as she waits in front of the humming microwave.

I just nod and dip my finger into the frosting, feeling it melt on my tongue a second later.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yep, just tired is all,” I fib, taking a bite of the carrot cupcake, although I’m not wrong when I think about it. Skye has been a lifesaver for the last two weeks helping me get back on my feet. Thinking back on it and all of the tears leaves a funny taste in my mouth, but I try to brush it away with a forced smile.

“How old will you be this year, Becky?” Sophie asks, pulling out a rolling chair to sit to my right at the long table.

“Good old 26.”

“Wow, still a spring chicken, I’d say,” she comments, bringing a quirky smile to my lips. I almost follow her laugh with mine. “Well you know what, an early birthday present from me is you can have the rest of the day off. You always do a great job, Becky, and so you deserve it.”

“Sophie, I-,” I begin, my jaw falling to the floor.

“I mean it, go. Get out of here. Go do something that makes you happy, love, it looks like you need to,” she smiles, squeezing my arm from across the table. Standing to my feet, profuse ‘thank yous’ leave my lips before I leave the break room.

I drive around with my windows down, unsure of where to go instead of home. Before I know it, I find myself walking into my favorite little coffee shop. I’ve always loved to hang out here with a cup, reading a book, doing homework, or just relaxing on one of their sofas.

Soon, I sit down with a Cubano sandwich and an iced cinnamon roll coffee, my very favorite. Pulling a book out of my work bag, I crack it open to the first page, unable to remember when I last had the time to read a book for fun. The words of Ruth Ware stare back at me, slowly drawing me into a made-up world, and away from the desolate one trying to swallow me.

Quickly, I’m grateful for the respite from the thoughts mucking up my mind. Instead I lose myself in the sentences that spin a scary story, thanking my old self for stashing something besides a romance in my bag. That’s the last thing I could even think about indulging in right now. For some reason, the mystery entices me, a genre I’ve always had a love for. I think, especially now, it’s the aspect of being able to solve a mystery, and to fix a problem. If only I could do that now, I wish silently with a spiteful snort.

Placing my empty plate on the return area by the cash register, I return to my cozy spot on the couch and to my book. Losing my fingers in my hair, I prop my head up and open the book to where I had left off. Soft indie music trickles from the speakers as conversations float around me. Several more sofas are dotted around the large room and booths, as well as tables varying in sizes. Friends play board games borrowed from the shelf by the fireplace, and others do schoolwork or actual work. A laugh from behind the counter echos through the room, right as the bell on the front door jingles. Although across the room, I can hear the voices floating in from the sidewalk. Cars honking and birds chirping. The sounds make me itch to leave the air-conditioned room, and bring my reading outside into the June sunshine.

The words covering the pages root me to the spot, but they can’t protect me from what I hear. It’s a voice that I know inside and out, from the shortened words to the often used words. My vocal cords soon begin to tangle into knots in my throat at the mere noise. Beneath my baby blue blouse, there’s a clobbering in my chest as the voice grows near and then stops. Instinctively, hair falls through my fingers as I lower my head, wishing to remain unseen. Unknown.

I can’t stop myself, and there I am looking up to see that crinkly-eyed smile through wrenching tears.

Harry.

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candycanes19 · 4 years

Text

Playing in the Dark with No Escape ** Non Con** Violence

Please read tags. Non Con Rape and Miscarriage

The next morning you and Daniel are enjoying breakfast and he is talking on his phone about some work thing. You are happy not to have to talk to him because it always ends with you getting hurt in some way or another. Silence is welcomed by you but it is not for long when Daniel hangs up his phone.

“Princess, you need to get yourself ready for the doctor so hurry along and get showered and dressed.” Daniel starts cleaning up breakfast and sends you on your way.

You turn on the shower and enjoy the hot water cascading over your body. You relax and try and forget where you are during your shower. Daniel has rarely bothered you in the shower but low and behold he opens the door and joins you.

You whisper to yourself. “Fuck me” and luckily Daniel does not hear you. He comes up behind you and puts his hands on your hips and nuzzles your neck.

“Do you know how absolutely gorgeous you are, Princess. My Princess” he attacks your neck with kisses and little love nips along your neck and shoulders. His hands move from your hips to your shoulders and then one ends up around your neck.

“You are mine” and with that statement he kicks your legs open for him. He lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you again. You groan at the intrusion and try to move your hips away but he pushes with his other hand on your hip to keep you where he wants you.

His hand on your neck squeezes tightly and you try to calm your nerves and let him do what he wants. He continues thrusting and it is not as rough as it usually is, and maybe it is because he is not upset at you.

“Fuck Princess so good for me. So tight and wet so perfect. Love you so much” and his hand on your hip moves to your clit and he plays with it and you come hard on his cock. He continues his thrusts and they become a bit rougher and he does last much longer himself and paints you pussy white with his seed.

“Oh princess I love you so so much. You gotta know that. Now we need to get together because Doctor Winston will be here soon. He kisses your shoulder and gets out. You stay in the shower a bit longer just so you can be alone when you get out.

When you get out Daniel has laid out a towel for you. You dry yourself off and go and get dressed for your doctor visit.

*********************************

When you were ready, Daniel came and got you and brought you into the living area of his house. It was very masculine with dark blues and blacks for the furniture and a few paintings on the wall but it fit Daniel from the bit you knew about him.

The doorbell rang and Daniel walked over and opened the door, “Good Morning Doctor Winston, great to see you. Thank you for doing this for me. I appreciate it so much. My girlfriend is just not up for traveling around.”

“Anything for you Daniel. We know with how much you help us out at the clinic, I am willing to help you out anyway I can or any of my staff.” she says.

You overhear their conversation and can not believe that Daniel would be kind and helpful. But when they walk into the room you stand up and smile.

“Hi,” you say, putting on your best smile for show.

“Hi, (Y/N) it is nice to meet you.” Doctor Winston says shaking your hand.

“Thank you” you feel Daniel come around you and put his arm around your waist.

“We really hope that (Y/N) is pregnant. We are super excited to start our family.” Daniel says kissing your temple.

You just smile at Daniel and then at the doctor and then put a hand on your abdomen so it looks like you are excited.

“Then let me start my exam” Doctor Winston says, “(Y/N) if you do not mind, I need you to pee in a cup and we might be able to find out quickly. I have the tests and I need to take some blood as well.”

She hands you a cup and you walk to the downstairs bathroom. You pee in the cup and follow the directions and wash your hands. When you come out you hand the doctor the cup and she then gets some stuff out of her bag and starts the test.

You sit patiently and feel ridiculous at finding out if you are pregnant. You have been feeling miserable and throwing up at the weirdest times. Plus with all the sex that you both had been having it would be a shock if you were not.

Daniel was sitting next to you holding your hand. You knew better than to start something in front of someone else fearing your life. So you played along even though all you wanted to do was tell the doctor that you were being abused and raped by this man. And that if you were pregnant did you have options but you knew certainly that would end your life if you even suggested not having the baby.

Finally after what seemed like forever, the doctor came back over and prepared to take some blood, “Now this will not be bad just a quick poke and then we will be almost done” she said and then she poked you with the needle and took some blood.

After your blood was taken the doctor put a bandaid on your arm, “Now from my preliminary test results, you are pregnant. Congratulations. I will definitely need to see you at my clinic for check ups to keep up the progress of your pregnancy and make sure all is well.”

You hear that you have to go into the clinic for your next appointment and your hopes get raised that maybe you can escape from Daniel and live your life free.

After she checks a few more things during your exam, “Overall you seem in good shape and you need to get some prenatal vitamins and then schedule that check up. Is there anything else I can help you with, (Y/N)?”

You so desperately want to say that you need to escape but you shake your head no. “I am good. Thank you” you say with another fake smile.

“Very good and you two again congratulations on the baby. What a great way to start your day” she said as she packed up her stuff.

Daniel showed her to the door and then he closed it and walked back over to you. You will as still as a statue because the shock of a baby that part of you wanted and part of you did not want because of what had happened to you by this monster sitting next to you.

Daniel moves his hand to touch your abdomen, “Our love for each other is growing inside of you. This is wonderful. I am so happy. I love you Princess.” He moves his hand to cup your cheek to kiss you deeply.

“We should celebrate” Daniel suggests, “What would you like to do, Princess?”

You know what you want but you will get punished badly for it so you say, “I do not know.”

“Come on Princess there has to be something I can let you do.”

“Let me see my cousin. Please” you are sure your suggestion will fall on deaf ears.

“Your cousin? Oh yes Kacey right? You two are like sisters since you both were only children. I remember that.” Daniel says which freaks you out at all that he knows about you.

“Yes, can I see Kacey?” you beg.

“I might be able to work it out so we can meet for coffee. If that is what you want?” Daniel smiles at you.

“More than anything” you say and are sure you can get Kacey to save you.

“Sounds good. Let’s call her and we can arrange to meet. Just for you Princess” He leans in for another kiss and you let him because what’s the point of resisting anymore. All you will get is roughed up more and you have no energy for that now that you have a little life growing inside of you.

*************************************

Kacey gets to the coffee shop first and waits for you to show up with Daniel. She had been worried about you since you had not called her in several days.

When she sees you and Daniel she motions for you over to her table.

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), I have been so worried about you. I am glad you are alive and looking well.” she hugs you tightly.

You start to cry at the feeling of just being in close proximity to your best friend and cousin. And when you pull back she notices how upset you look.

“(Y/N) what’s the matter?” she asks.

Daniel buts in and says, “I think the pregnancy hormones are kicking in for (Y/N). Pregnant women can be emotional sometimes.”

Kacey looks at you and you nod, “I am pregnant.” you say putting a hand on your abdomen.

“Oh how wonderful, (Y/N). I am happy for the two of you. A baby is a wondrous being. Congratulations.”

“Thank you Kacey” you say and you all sit down, “Oh where are my manners, this is Daniel my boyfriend.” you introduce him to Kacey.

“Nice to meet you Daniel and I am Kacey. (Y/N)’s cousin and best friend. I am so glad we got to see you both. I have missed seeing my best friend.” Kacey explained and grabbed your hand in hers.

Daniel noticed that you two seemed very close and that would be a problem in his mind. But he would let it go for now.

“So why have you been so MIA, (Y/N) your boss said you were on sick leave. They found your car left in the parking lot at work. I had it towed to my place because they said at your apartment complex you had moved out. And I drive it some so it gets some use. Are you going to need it because I can get it to you?”

You look at Daniel and he smiles, “That actually would be good if (Y/N) had her car at my place now since we are living together.”

“Sounds good so what do you guys want to eat. This place smells like heaven.” Kacey says and you guys look at your menus.

You guys order and then you say you need to go to the bathroom, “Kacey will you come with me?”

“Sure” she says, “Be right back, Daniel,” you say, kissing his cheek. He looks concerned and grabs your hand quickly and whispers in your ear, “If you do something, you will be sorry.” he threatens you. You look at him. “I understand.” and you get up with Kacey and walk to the bathroom.

When you get in there you ignore what Daniel says and grab Kacey’s hand, “Please help me Kacey. Daniel is a bad man. He had hurt me and kept me prisoner in his house. He forced me to have this baby. I am so scared. He told me not to say anything but I can’t take it anymore. Please please help me!” you beg with tears flowing.

Kacey pulls into a hug, “I had a feeling something was wrong when I had not heard from you in several days. I will see what I can do.”

“He is going to hurt me again when we leave because I told you but I can’t have his child and live this way much longer. He is scary…….” and you start crying again.

Daniel has a feeling and walks to the bathrooms and opens the women’s bathroom door and sees you hugging your cousin and crying. He is livid.

“(Y/N), we are going now” you both jump away from each other and he comes at you and grabs your arm harshly,

“Get off my cousin you asshole” Kacey yells.

“She is not well and anything she told you is a lie. We need to leave” and he takes you out and marches you out of the coffee shop. Kacey follows but quickly leaves money on the table.

Kacey is too late because you and Daniel are in your car and leaving the parking lot.

In the car, Daniel looks at you and yells, “You will be punished and I will not feel bad about it. You are such a little disobedient whore. I do something special and you fuck it up. Why? I am so good to you and you just do not listen.”

You cringe at what he is going to do to you. Then a thought hits you, “Daniel if you hurt me you hurt the baby. Please don’t hurt us. I am so sorry please. I beg of you not to do something to hurt your baby. Our family.” you cry putting a hand on your abdomen to try and hope that will make him rethink his punishment for you.

When you get home Daniel has a strong grip on your upper arm. He is literally pulling you into the house. When he opens the door and throws you inside and then slams the door shut. You had fallen but got up and bolted but Daniel was close on your heels and grabbed you around the waist.

“You will not get away” and then he throws you onto the floor and pounces on you. Rips at your blouse and bra and leans in to bite one of your nipples and pushes your skirt up and rips your panties and undoes his belt and zipper and pulls his cock out and slams into you so roughly that you scream for your life.

“No no no” and you close your eyes and try to not feel at how roughly he is taking you against your will.

You raise a hand and scratch his face and that earns you a slap and more rough thrusts.

“Fuck you whore” and he is relentless with his thrusts. And he pinches at your nipples and you fight him as best you can. You pull at his hair and that seems to turn him on more, “Bring on bitch” and then you cry because his cock hits you in the right place and you come and then he spills his essence into you with another rough thrust.

He leans up and slaps you again, “Whore, just a whore” he pulls out and then grabs your arm..

“Let’s go” and he takes you back to your prison, “Clean yourself up and think about how to act right.” and he locks you in again.

The shower is becoming your best friend and you try to wash away the sin of your encounter with Daniel. He was never letting you out of his sight after your stunt. And you just hoped that Kacey could help you but who knows. You were very scared and now even more so for the baby growing inside of you.

You look down at your body and pray that you and your unborn child will survive.

That evening as you are sleeping you wake up to awful pain in your abdomen and then you notice blood between your thighs.

“Oh god no no no! Help me. No” you scream.

#daniel jones x reader #Daniel Jones #adam driver #Playing in the dark with no escape #The Report Movie #non con #rape #violence #candycanes19

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kenzieam · 4 years

Text

The Tutor - Chapter Three

Pairing: AU Bucky X Levi

Rating: M (my usual, lovelies)

Warnings: language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse

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@iammarylastar @captstefanbrandt @jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @everythingisoverrated @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @oliviastan17 @igothroughphasesalot @sashli @lorilane33 @pinknerdpanda

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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Levi the jock needs help in high school and her twin brother, Steve, volunteers his newest friend, Bucky. Seemingly just to piss her off, Bucky accepts but soon realizes there’s more to the Levi than she lets the average spectator see.

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I’m an attention whore with cabin fever, I’d love to hear what you all think about my newest story, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE leave a review, my Lovelies!

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Okay... Brock’s dead.... now what??????

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Steve stared at the phone in shock for a beat before looking up at Levi with disbelieving eyes. “Brock is dead.”

Levi turned to Bucky, eyes huge in her pale face, mouth working as she tried to speak. Sudden, unexpected tears glittered in her eyes but there was no time right now to puzzle out why. Steve looked back and forth from his sister to Bucky a few times before pulling impatiently on her arm.

“C’mon, we gotta go! Mom’s hysterical!”

Levi let herself be draw away, but her eyes stayed locked on Bucky’s and he could only stare helplessly back.

What the fuck was happening?

It wasn’t until he heard the screech of tires as Steve raced away did Bucky break out of his stunned trance, looking around blankly as the rest of the world continued on unawares.

Had Levi had something to do with this? His mind mused but he shut the thought down quickly. There was no way Levi had anything to do with her stepdad’s death… right?

Having no heart for Christmas shopping right now, Bucky opted to go home but found himself pacing his room restlessly, body on autopilot while his mind raced over all the possibilities. The way Levi had looked at him when she’d learned, had there been a kernel of guilt in her amethyst eyes?

No. It couldn’t have been, Levi wasn’t like that.

But how could he know for sure, he’d only been friends with Levi for a few months… had both the twins been involved?

This was crazy and Bucky firmly told that part of his brain to shut the fuck up. He didn’t need to watch his sisters tonight and he was desperate to help Levi, anyway he could. Without engaging any more brain cells with potential objections, Bucky stuffed a few clothes into his backpack and strode from the room.

“Mom?” He bellowed as he crashed down the stairs.

His mom appeared, flour coating her hands; the girls giggling in the kitchen told him they were baking together. “What, Bear?”

Bucky Bear. He towered over his mother by a good eight inches and she still called him by his childhood nickname.

“I gotta go-”

“What happened?” Her voice lost its levity, became pure concerned mother. She’d met Levi a few times and seemed to genuinely like her.

“Levi… her stepdad. Her mom called right after school, he’s dead.”

Flour spread to her face as she clapped her hand to her mouth, and it would have been funny under any other circumstances. “Oh no, that poor girl.”

“I’m going over there-”

His mom opened her mouth to argue but Bucky interrupted.

“I’m going Mom, Levi needs me. I’ll stay over if she asks me.”

His mom sighed, seeing she would get nowhere arguing with her firstborn. “Alright, but don’t get in the way.”

Bucky nodded and turned to leave but she called his name again, a hesitation in her voice. Almost warily, she reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “James, don’t take this the wrong way but… I’ve seen how you look at Levi-”

“Mom!”

“-and right now, she’s not thinking clearly… don’t do anything you might regret later. People sometimes seek the wrong type of intimacy when they’re vulnerable.”

Bucky frowned, the fact that he would, in a heartbeat, give himself to Levi if she asked him was besides the point. “No. Jesus, Ma; how can you even think that right now?”

Color highlighted her cheeks. “Just mind what I said. She needs a friend right now, that’s all.”

Bucky would deal with the absurdity of that later, right now Levi needed him. Nodding once more, he left his mom standing unhappily in the entrance, staring after him as he left.

Two unmarked police cars and unfamiliar Mercedes sat in the driveway and Bucky pulled to the side, out of the way. Fingers of doubt trailed cold up his spine, what was he doing here? He hadn’t been invited; he’d never even been here before. What did he think he was doing, muscling in on this private scene? But the look in Levi’s eyes as Steve had dragged her away made up his mind; her tongue had been frozen, but her eyes had begged him to help. Shouldering his pack, Bucky walked to the door and knocked.

A cop answered, frowning at him. “And you are?” The Sahara held more moisture.

“He’s a friend, let him in!” Steve shouted from somewhere in the background. Bucky held his face neutral, but he itched to sneer smugly at the cop glowering at him. His eyes adjusting to the dark interior, Bucky looked around, searching for Levi.

Spotting her, he strode directly to her, stopping just short of pulling her into his arms. A few feet away, Steve spoke quietly with a detective. Levi stood by herself, her arms hugging her own body and, as Bucky reached her side, she tore her gaze away from her brother and focused on him.

“Bucky,” she murmured, then her face crumpled, and she turned to him as he opened his arms automatically, scurrying into his embrace and crushing her face against his chest. Heart hammering, he rubbed calming circles on her back with one hand and cupped the back of her head with the other, murmuring soothingly even though he had no idea what to say.

Steve finished with the detective and turned to approach Bucky and Lev when a tall man appeared from the main floor hallway. Clad in chinos and a crisp white button-down, he didn’t need the addition of the stethoscope around his neck to say he was a doctor. Seeing the twins, he strode towards them, barely sparing Bucky a glance.

“Your mother is resting.” He stated, his voice low and calming. “I needed to sedate her, and she will most likely sleep through the night. I placed a call to my clinic’s pharmacy; they will be delivering a few prescriptions soon. One is a sedative for if she gets too anxious during the day, the other is a sleeping pill for night. My colleague is a grief counsellor and I’ve asked him to come by tomorrow morning to speak with your mother. He may recommend further appointments; please don’t hesitate to speak with him yourself if you need.”

“Thank you,” Steve answered, stepping away from Levi and Bucky leadingly, the doctor following so they could speak in low voices.

“What can I do?” Bucky asked quietly, at a loss.

Levi didn’t answer, only burrowed closer.

Within a few minutes, the doctor and cops had left and the silence in the house was deafening. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, looking lost for a heartbeat before setting his jaw and turning to walk towards his sister. His eyes flicked to Bucky’s for a moment before dropping back to Levi, still secure in his arms.

“I’m going to go look in on Mom.” He murmured before disappearing down the hall.

Bucky pulled away from Levi slightly, tilting her head up with his hand and searched her face. She tried to smile reassuringly, but the tears still running down her cheeks gave her away.

“Why am I crying, Bucky?” She whispered. “I hated him.”

Bucky couldn’t think of an answer, reaching up to brush her tears away instead. A deep tender desire filled him, the urge to do almost anything to take away Levi’s pain. Unable to find any words, he pulled her back to him; surprising himself, and Levi, if she hadn’t been too distracted to notice, when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Steve reappeared, jaw flexing but relief flashed in his eyes when he saw Levi still in Bucky’s embrace.

“Let’s order out, go upstairs and relax; maybe watch some movies? Okay?” His eyes again hit Bucky’s, telling him he was invited too then looked back down at his sister, waiting for her answer.

Without lifting her head, she nodded against Bucky’s chest.

“Do you need to call anybody?” Bucky asked Steve quietly. “Family? Tell them about Brock?”

Steve grimaced. “She’s down for the count right now, but Mom will want to do that herself, trust me. The woman deals with things by going Type A, right Lev?” He tried for a jocular tone, but it fell short and he swallowed, eyes searching his sister’s face before sighing and turning to the stairs. “C’mon.”

Steve lead them to a large family room on the second floor. Like everything else in the McMansion, it was monstrous and sumptuous, a huge 75” flatscreen on the wall and a sprawling sectional in front of it. When Steve went downstairs again to answer the door to the pharmacy delivery and order the pizza, Lev took the opportunity to start pushing around equally enormous cushioned ottomans, creating a large, padded platform inside the sectional, a veritable nest piled high with blankets and pillows. Larger than a king-size bed, there was room for all three of them to spread out, but Bucky doubted Levi would stray too far away from either him or Steve.

When she was finished, Levi tugged distractedly at her shirt, then glanced up at Bucky. “I’m going to have a shower and change.”

“I’ll go help Steve.” Bucky supplied, flashing her a reassuring smile before turning and hurrying downstairs.

Steve sat at the kitchen island, fingers tracing the pattern of the butcher block distractedly. Hearing Bucky, he glanced up and gave a weak smile. Bucky took the stool next to him but didn’t speak.

“Aortic aneurysm.” Steve finally murmured. “He came home early from his office; told Mom he had a stomach-ache and collapsed.”

Bucky remained silent, knowing his participation wasn’t wanted or needed right now.

Steve huffed out a loud breath as he scrubbed his hands over his face, turning it into a long, drawn out growling sound before dropping his hands again and staring hard at a small scabbed-over mark on his knuckles. “The man’s done nothing but make mine and my sister’s life hell for the last ten years and then he has to up and die, just blink out like a fucking light.”

Without paying for his sins, Bucky heard clearly. Reaching over, he rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder silently and held it there. Steve glanced over at him and flashed a hard grin, opened his mouth to say something more but the doorbell interrupted him, and he stood wearily to answer it. As he passed Bucky’s back, he paused, “I’ll be up soon, can you go sit with Levi? I don’t know what she’s thinking right now, and it scares me.”

“Sure, brother.” Bucky answered, climbing off the stool and heading for the stairs. The voices of Steve and the delivery person fading as he climbed. Just as he reached the landing, a door opened across the monster family room and Levi stepped out, towel drying her hair. Although she was clad in sweats and a hoodie, Bucky’s man-brain forged ahead without orders and, using the template of her Halloween costume, visualized her curves underneath, earning a stern warning from the rest of his head.

Seeing him, she managed a weak smile and ventured to the platform she’d created, settling down in the middle. Bucky kicked off his shoes and followed, leaning back on a monstrous pile of pillows beside Levi when she patted the spot next to her. The other side of her remained free for Steve and she grabbed the remote, bringing up a variety of menus on the television screen. Even as her thumb tapped at the remote, flipping through menus, Levi’s attention wasn’t on it.

“He’s really dead,” she muttered, eyes still locked on the screen. Bucky turned his head to look at her, but she didn’t look away from the tv. “Bastard spends the last decade with me and my brother under his thumb and then fucks off.” She threw the remote down and wiped angrily at her cheeks.

Bucky rolled onto his side to face her and reached out, taking her hand. She let him, and glanced his way, angry spots of color on her cheeks.

“I didn’t even get to show him.” She continued, her voice low. “I didn’t even get to prove to the prick that I was more than the spoiled little princess he said I was. That I was smart and worthy and going to make something of myself. The fucker got the last laugh anyway.”

“No,” Bucky murmured quietly. “He didn’t. You and Steve win, because you’re still here and you will make something of yourself.”

“I’m quitting the teams.”

“What? But Levi, that’s your-”

“I hate it, I hate them. I’m not as talented as Steve and I was only there for the scholarships anyway.” She turned on her side and clasped tighter at Bucky’s hand, pulling their hands up under her chin. “I want to try Architecture; I mean, I’d be behind all the others who’ve been working toward that for years, but I can take a year off and get experience interning somewhere-”

“Or just enroll in general studies.” Bucky added. With me, at the nearest community college.

“Yeah,” Levi agreed, warming to the idea. “I can work for awhile and save-”

“Or,” Bucky couldn’t help interrupting, throwing out a telepathic “Fuck you, Brock Rumslow’ as he did. “Your mom can take Brock’s money and help you.”

Levi frowned, considering. “I don’t know if I want-”

“It’ll be the ultimate ‘Fuck You’. The bastard held out on you, but you take it anyway; you and Steve deserve it, for all the shit he pulled.”

Levi shrugged, not totally convinced but then the doorbell rang again, and the first real smile Bucky had seen since they’d left school earlier lit up Levi’s face.

“Pizza’s here. C’mon.”

Levi and Steve checked on their mom once more before going back upstairs and setting out the bounty. Steve had gone all out, two large pizzas, wings and a massive pan of brownies from the local restaurant and Levi had raided the fridge, stocking a small wheeled cooler with all manner of beverages. To look from the outside, their actions resembled a party, a feast to celebrate Brock’s death, but Bucky knew it was much more. Sure, there was a relief in the air, but Bucky saw that this gathering was more for comfort and reassurance right now; the twins battening down the hatches and bringing Bucky along with them and that made him wonder gloomily if he was the twin’s only true friend.

Steve was hugely popular, lettered and hero-worshiped for his skills on the school’s teams but those that surrounded him at school were a posse; hang-arounds and fans only. The same was true of Levi, if she wasn’t followed for her own status on the teams then it was due to her being Steve’s sister. They’d brought Bucky into their sectional sanctuary because he was the only one who liked the twins for who they were, not what they were and that simultaneously broke and warmed his heart.

After a brief tussle between the siblings that Bucky wisely stayed out of, a movie was chosen, and pizza slices divvied up. For the longest time after his dad’s death, simple luxuries such as restaurant food had been out of reach for his family and the ability to just sit and feast on seemingly unlimited pizza was a novelty Bucky had not yet grown used to.

As he marveled silently over it, Bucky watched the twin’s shed their masks, the front they put on for the world, and let down their guard. Levi was far from the spoiled princess he’d witnessed at their first meeting on the sidewalk, a soft gentleness about her that thankfully had not been corrupted or shattered by her stepfather’s cruelty; and Steve was far deeper and intelligent than the carefree jock he was forced to play for the crowd. People didn’t like their heroes complicated, nor their princesses bare and natural and perhaps the greatest tragedy that had befallen the twins, beyond an abusive stepfather, were the expectations, the dance they were required to perform as both schoolyard stars and taken-on children of a public businessman like Brock Rumslow.

Before long, the pizzas were all but forgotten and, after both siblings had gone back down to check on and sit with their mother for a while, night was falling, and Levi was yawning against Bucky’s shoulder. While Steve perched a few feet away, Levi had snuggled right close to Bucky, burrowing under a blanket and against him. They shared a stack of pillows and, after a while, when Steve didn’t yank them apart, Bucky even gave in to his cravings and wrapped his arm around Levi to hold her closer. Her head on his shoulder was a comforting weight and, while her hand didn’t stray from its place on his chest, its presence there made warmth seep through his body.

It bordered on heavenly, the chance to just relax like this, and while the reason behind it was unfortunate, if only for the grief it was putting their mother through, Bucky wished that this night would never end.

At some point Bucky fell asleep, and a gentle nudge to the shoulder woke him the next morning. He blinked, inhaling sharply and raised his head, looking around in confusion for the source of the poke. Steve loomed over him, a wry grin on his face.

“Sleep well?” He quipped and, when Bucky frowned, puzzled, he jerked his chin to Bucky’s side. Turning to look, Bucky saw Levi, still curled into his side. His arm was still around her and he’d been resting his head on hers, his face buried in her hair. Levi’s fingers curled into his shirt and she clung to him, spider-monkeyed around him like a body pillow.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled, although he wasn’t really but it seemed appropriate to apologize to the big brother of the girl you had just slept beside.

“Don’t be.” Steve replied briskly, offering Bucky half of his toasted pop-tart and settling back on the cushions nearby. “She needs friends; I need to be her brother.”

“Would you…? I mean…” Bucky broke off, not even sure what he was asking even as his cheeks began to heat.

A knowing gleam in Steve’s eye told Bucky that he’d been paying far more attention than Bucky first realized. “She’s had enough guys mess with her head to get to her body.”

“I would never-”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that she needs, she deserves, something real and genuine.”

Bucky looked squarely at Steve and, although the thought had never truly coalesced in his mind before, although he’d never really let himself explore the possibility and, to be honest, he had no idea where Levi’s mind was on the topic; he knew, deep down in a place that maybe had always known, from the very moment he’d turned on that sidewalk to see who the hell was yelling his name; in that instant that it was absolute truth.

“It’s real to me.”

#bucky barnes #au bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky fanfic #au bucky fanfiction #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fantiction #bucky x lev #bucky x levi #bucky x oc #au bucky romance #au bucky angst #au bucky drama

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midnightmarev · 4 years

Text

Just To Pet My Dog?!

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Pre-Moxiety

Word count: 2285

AO3 link

Notes: Based off of an incorrect quote by @ssslimyboy

Summary: Whatever Virgil had imagined would happen today, it most certainly wasn’t this! This man nearly died, just to pet his dog! Like, what? Okay, let’s rewind the day a bit to see what actually happened, shall we?

Just To Pet My Dog?!

“Alright, Ann. It’s 4:30. We gotta head out now if we don’t wanna be late for the vet’s.” A whine was heard. Virgil chuckled. Anastacia really didn’t want to go the vet. Virgil couldn’t really blame her. He himself never liked going to the doctor’s office either.

“Wruff!”

“I know, Ann. But it’s just a check-up,” he said, finding the leash as well as some of Anastacia’s favourite treats. She starts wagging her tail when she catches their smell. She was a beautiful albino German Shepherd, and he’d had her since she was a pup.

After another minute of dosing her with love, they were out of the door. It took about 15 minutes to get to the clinic, and their appointment was at 5 pm, so they would have some time to spare once they got there.

They were walking peacefully down the street when Virgil was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts at the sounds of tires screeching. Virgil looked up and saw a bespectacled man with curly honey-brown coloured hair. And he was crossing the road at what one would call superspeed without a care for his life. All Virgil could do was stand there and stare. What the actual hell was going through that man’s head?! The road was heavily trafficked this time of the day with people just wanting to get home from work.

Virgil visibly winched when a bus nearly hit him. Luckily the bus driver stopped just in time to not hit him. What was this guy thinking?!

Oh no! A car! Virgil stands there in silent terror and anxiety, praying to any and all deity that the man stops before he’s run over. He doesn’t, but the car does, and he slides across the hood. And a second. And third. And suddenly he’s standing on the pavement in front of Virgil, out of breath. But he’s smiling like a goofball? He seems super excited. Why?

“Oh my gosh!! Can I please pet your dog??” he asked, looking like he had to physically restrain himself from attacking Anastacia with love and pets and cuddles.

The question catches Virgil entirely off guard. What?

Anastacia also seems baffled. Humans were weird, but she never thought they would want to risk dying just to pet her.

“Um… sure?” Virgil hesitantly answered. And the man began to pet Anastacia, who gladly, but very confused, accepted the soft strokes to her fur.

“Did you just- did you nearly get hit by a bus and slide across the hood of three cars just to pet my dog?” Virgil asked incredulously after he broke out of his stupor.

The man giggled while petting Anastacia and getting concerned face licks from her. “Obviously.”

Now, Virgil wasn’t really the type to fall for people just like that, but the only thought that crossed his mind after that response was ‘is this love?’ and Virgil was in a daze. Here was someone who risked his life to say hi to Anastacia, because he thought she was the most important being in the world. Just like Virgil did.

All Virgil did for the next two minutes was stare at the man. The man who nearly got himself killed to pet Anastacia. The man who almost died and was now cooing at Anastacia like nothing had happened. The man who now casually told Virgil his name. “I’m Patton, by the way.”

And instead of answering Patton politely with his own name all Virgil could say was “You could’ve died! Are you out of your mind?!” And Virgil, anxious, awkward Virgil, internally facepalmed at his own words.

“Hmm?” Patton looked up at Virgil, eyes widening. “Oh my, I’m terribly sorry for distressing you! I can be a bit impulsive at times,” Patton sheepishly admitted. “And I’ve never seen a white German Sheperd before, and I kinda let my impulsiveness take over.” He looked down to Anastacia again, emphasising it by scratching her behind the left ear. He looked very guilty. That would not do.

“Uhm, I get that. Not many have. Well, she’s not just white, she’s albino. And albino German Shepherds are rare, to say the least.” Virgil scratched his neck, not knowing what to say next. “Where were you headed?” he then asked, feeling extremely awkward.

“Nowhere in particular, really. Just needed to clear my head. Had a small argument with my brother.” Patton looked, and sounded, sad at that. Why did Virgil always screw things up? Patton had been in a good mood for getting to meet Ann, and now Virgil made him think about something bad that happened to him. Stupid Virgil.

“I- I’m sorry to hear that. But that happens sometimes, right? Between siblings?” Virgil asked, trying to help. He didn’t have any siblings, so he didn’t really know the feeling. And he never spoke to his parents. They had basically disowned him at this point. But that wasn’t the same as having an argument with someone you loved and who loved you back.

Patton nodded. “I suppose. It’s just not often it happens, but it’s too often for my taste. I hate fighting with him,” Patton said, just as sadly. “But enough about me!” His cheery smile was back. “Where are you two cuties headed? Maybe I can join you?”

“Uhm, we’re just going to the vet for a check-up. But uh, sure?” Virgil stammered out, still trying to process the innocent nickname.

“A check-up? Has she been sick?” Patton asked worriedly. They started walking together.

“No no, she hasn’t. It’s just standard procedure with albino dogs. They just need to make sure her immune system is alright, and no genetic errors have popped up, or something like that. Anastacia’s as healthy as can be.”

Anastacia whined at the mention of them going to the vet. Strangers groping on her body was not her pack of treats.

Patton chuckled. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want to go, though. And that’s such a beautiful name! Anastacia.”

“Yeah, she’s been complaining a lot today because of it,” he smiled down at her. She responded by looking up at him, innocently. Their interaction made Patton giggle, and oh if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound Virgil had ever heard.

“Well, I don’t blame her. Going to the vet isn’t the most fun thing to do with your afternoon. You know? If it’s the vet just down here, you might be lucky, Anastacia. My old friend, Logan, works there, and there is no one as gentle as him!” Patton happily exclaimed, bending down to her to scratch behind her ear.

“Really? Do you think you would be able to make him do the check-up? She’s not very comfortable with most people, and last time she bit the vet we ended up with…” Virgil trailed off, remembering the day. He was very picky with who got to examine Ann, and they went through several vets before ending with the one she bit.

“Really? Patton asked, looking down at Ann, who purposely avoided looking at him. “So she chooses who get to examine her, or what?” Patton enquired.

“… and I’m also really “picky” with who is allowed to examine her,” Virgil sheepishly admitted.

“As you should be. She deserves only the best and most caring hands to do the examination!”

Virgil was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought her a treasure to the world. She was his emotional support animal and had helped him get through some of his roughest times and a lot of panic attacks. He would only accept the best for her.

Before they knew it, they were at the clinic. Virgil sat with Ann next to him while Patton was talking to the receptionist about getting Logan to do the examination. They had arrived ten minutes before the check-up, so they had some time to themselves while waiting.

Patton and Virgil held a light conversation, talking about anything and everything. They really hit it off.

“Anastacia?” someone asked. Virgil looked up to see a man dressed in the usual vet attire. He had a tie around his neck, making him look even more professional than any of the other vets. He had glasses on, similar to Patton’s, and black hair slicked back.

“That’s us,” Virgil answered. He encouraged Ann to stand up and say hello. He really hoped this Logan was to her liking. It seemed so.

“Salutations. Please, follow me,” the vet, Logan, said, motioning them towards a room down the hall. “In here, if you will.”

Virgil nodded. He went inside the examination room with Ann following on his heel.

The human vet the nice, but crazy, human had introduced her to was not so bad. She still didn’t like it here though, and would much rather go home.

“Patton told me she bit the last veterinarian to examine her?” Logan inquired.

Virgil looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, she’s not all that crazy about going to the vet, even if it’s only a check-up.”

“I see,” Logan mumbled. He then went to a basket to search for something. When he emerged, he had a plushie in hand. “Here, this should help her with what I assume is her anxiety.” He handed the plushie to Ann. “It has helped my own canine companion a great deal.”

Virgil watched as Anastacia cautiously sniffed the plushie before slowly taking it, accepting coordinated and gentle strokes to her fur by skilled hands. No other vet had ever been like this with her. He faintly smiled.

“Now, if you will guide her to lie here?”

The examination went well. She was calm all throughout and not once did she growl at Logan. When the examination was over, Logan declared that she was much healthier than most dogs her age.

During the examination, Virgil learned that Logan had a husky named Laylin, but whose pet name was Star. He learned that Patton and his brother, Dee, were really close and it hurt Patton a lot on the rare occasions they fought. He also learned that Patton was very much gay and very much single. And he was waiting for Virgil and Anastacia.

“Salutations, Patton,” Logan greeted when he recognised Patton, sitting and waiting for Virgil.

“Heya, Lo! How did it go?” he asked. He looked genuinely worried. It was sweet. He already had formed some sort of connection to both man and dog.

“Anastacia is as healthy as a dog her age should be. It’s not many dogs that have the optimal health, but it seems like you are excellent at keeping her at peak health,” Logan said, the last part directed towards Virgil.

“Ooh, that’s good to hear! OH! Maybe we could set up a playdate so that she and Star can meet each other! And Nini could join too! She’s Dee’s snake! She’s sooo cute!! They would love each other!” Patton exclaimed, making some of the other patients look at him with various expressions; pet and owner alike.

Virgil and Logan chuckled at Patton’s antics. “You know, it would be good for Anastacia to interacts with other dogs, and to have a healthy experience with animals that aren’t dogs,” Logan pondered to Virgil. He already knew Patton would win. Nobody could resist his puppy dog eyes, and once he’d made up his mind, there was nothing that could deter him.

“Why not. My friend, Roman, is always on my ass about me having to leave the house more,” Virgil shrugged. They seemed like kind people, and his anxiety wasn’t telling him not to.

“Language!” Patton scolded him. Virgil was so surprised he first stood with his mouth open like a goldfish before bursting out laughing. “What? There are innocent ears here!”

When Virgil’s laugh died down to a giggle and had gotten a hold of his breath again, he looked incredulously at Patton. “You just do that? Scold people for their language? At the vet’s?” Virgil giggled.

Logan leaned over. “You’ll get used to that. And no, not just here. Anywhere,” he stage-whispered.

They laughed with each other before exchanging numbers. Logan had to get back to work, and Virgil urged Patton to go back and clear things up with his brother. Virgil could see the strain in Patton’s smile and the pain in his eyes.

Patton insisted on following him and Anastacia home, though. “Just to make sure no one else tries to cross the busy road to pet her,” he joked, bumping his shoulder into Virgil’s.

They said their farewells at the door, Patton declining the invitation to come inside for a glass of water. He needed to get back to Dee and Nini. Patton gave Virgil a small hug instead, saying thank you for being allowed to befriend Anastacia as well as being a well-needed distraction from his thoughts.

After Patton had left, Virgil gave Anastacia some of the promised treats for being so docile with Logan, before letting her trot into the living room and jump onto the couch. She was proud of herself. She had singlepawedly made sure her human got new friends. And a love interest. Dogs above knew he needed love from another human. And if she got new animal friends out of it, who was she to complain?

Virgil sat next to her, scratched her behind the ear, and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He was so going to text Roman about his crazy day. He wrote a short message saying he so needed to talk face-to-face because his day had been beyond absurd. Before he pressed send, he looked at Anastacia, smiled, and thought about Patton’s smile and adorable giggle. Only one thought occupied his mind. Ann looked at him and voiced it:

“Yeah, this is love.”

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writingfordreams · 5 years

Note

can you do a doctor!taron au? Maybe The ER after the reader gets sick somehow?? Thank you!

of course, wonderful anon! i hope this was alright! more under the cut.. this one got kinda long! TW // shot wound mention, sickness, clinical talk. ♡ click here to request!♡

It started out as a cold. Sure, alright, you’ve had colds before. You take the usual precautions, i.e. cold medicine that had been in your cabinet for who knows how long, a quick stop to the store for the good, strong liquid stuff and hey, chicken noodle soup is buy one get one. Why the heck not? It’s a slow derail into suspicious territory when five days pass and you’re still just as sick as you started, if not worse. A friend from work even stopped by to see if you were alright, how odd is that? Seemed really theatrical, if someone had asked you.

So you take a cab to the ER (After being weirdly scared of passing out at the wheel). You had always been turned off by the idea of a hospital, but the wait for a doctor’s appointment was nonsense at this point, and you need to be checked out now. You’ve got the shakes the same way you did when the AC’s on too low on a winter morning, and is that sweat or tears? The place is clinical, and surprisingly calm. Lots of clean lines and soft, professional murmurs. You had always imagined ER’s as they were in the movies.. fast moving like a highway. Someone with a shot wound screaming bloody murder, and doctors who were just a little bit too good looking to be believable. Instead, a lovely woman gives you a plastic bracelet and asks you to take a seat.

Twenty one minutes (And one half of a podcast) later, you’re being called in. After giving some additional information, you’re asked to wait in a small room with all the usual stuff; scales, blood pressure machines, the things they stick in your ears. You sit up in your spot on the twin sized bed, clicking off your phone and averting your attention once a male doctor walks in. He’s got his back turned for a moment, writing something swiftly on a clipboard before letting out a friendly “Alllllright.” to start things off. When he turns, you gulp audibly. He shoots you a smile, then frowns. “My word. You’re shinier than my trainers.” Naturally, he lifts his foot and points with the same hand holding his pen. “Got ‘em last weekend. Gotta love a pay raise.” He works his way around the room comfortably, discarding old gloves and replacing them with new ones, wiping down the counter of something you don’t wanna know the specifics of, and finally he clears his throat, walking closer. Only then do you realize you hadn’t said a word yet. “Uh,” You begin, then it’s your turn to clear your throat. Except, you wince at the pain. Doctor no-name takes notice. “Sore throat, I presume?” He says pointedly, and you nod. “It’s been like this since earlier this week. Four or so days, I believe.” You say, then the doctor tuts to himself with a saddened yet thoughtful look. He offers a hand, expression unchanging. “Doctor Egerton. Have you been to this location before, my darling?” To which you shake your head, and adjust your posture a bit after noticing your familiar, gradual slump. Dr. Egerton opens his mouth as a signal for you to open yours and sticks a thermometer under your tongue.

Once it beeps, he gives off a pained look after looking at the results. “One-hundred and one. My god, did you drive here?”

“Cab.” You say.

“Right. Okay,” He sighs through the word, and opts to walk to a counter beside the bed, leaning his lower back against it as his arms crossed. He’s looking to you expectantly, “So. Four or so days,” He then picks up that clipboard and scribbles something rather quickly. You wonder if he has that terribly hard to read doctor handwriting. You really shouldn’t find that concept so cute. “Sore throat. Sweats, I’m assuming.” He lists, and you shift uncomfortably at that, a hand coming up to cup your opposite bicep. He looks back down at his clipboard and tuts some more, seemingly in thought. “Says here your insurance covers the cost of the visit,” He smiles at you tightly but warmly, “So.. one less worry, Miss [Y/L/N].” Setting down his clipboard, his arms cross once more. His arms. “I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say it’s the flu. You’re a shoo-in, unfortunately.” His head tilts with an empathetic look. You can hear the pitter-patter of rain outside the building. They should really put a bigger window in this room, you think. Dr. Egerton turns, writing something on a small piece of paper and adding it to his clipboard as you watch him. His back looks toned under that top, and you find that thought ridiculous. Doctor. Flu. Right. Back on track, for goodness sake.

He turns with another smile, and you could really, seriously die. Half from the flu, and half from him. “I’m gonna put you on some antibiotics. Sound good? Oh – and I’ll get in touch with your primary doctor and all that business.” He gives you that small piece of paper, and your fingers brush like some teen movie. You try not to blush, dammit. “Looks like you got here just in time, aye?” You shoot him an awkward, lopsided smile and let out a genuine chuckle. “I guess.” You say, “So.. that’s it? I’m all cleared?” There’s a pang of disappointment in your gut. You hope it doesn’t show on your face. Or maybe you hope it does, who even knows anymore. You’re a little delirious off this newfound flu and Doctor Handsome keeps shooting you those smiles that would make your knees give in if you could bother to stand. He leans back again, arms crossed like routine. “Yep. What, did you expect the full ER movie experience?” His face is animated endearingly as he speaks, shifts a little where he leaned. “Y’know, the stretcher, the screaming, multiple professionals crowding you. Maybe Mum or the lover is called and comes with a big teddy bear.”

You laugh a little. “God. Just a parent for me, then.” and it’s back to cradling your bicep.

“Oh, sorry about that.” Dr. Egerton offers sheepishly. “You know, it’d be the same for me.” You can’t tell if he says it as an offer of comfort or if it’s the truth. Either way, you’re taking it.

“Teddy bears are better, anyway.” But teddy bears don’t smile at you like that.

He speaks with a certain dreamy agreement. “Of course. Better to have a cuddle with at night, right?”

You scoff, all friendly like you had known him for way longer than you had. “Don’t tell me Dr. Egerton sleeps with a teddy bear.” The face he makes to counter is ridiculously mock offended and lovely. “The lip! And to the man helping aid you. Blimey.” There’s a little fizzle of laughter between you two before a small bit of silence. It’s filled by a small sigh on your part, and a light cough from a busied Dr. Egerton. “Ooookay.” He begins, sing-songy before looking up at you. God, you bet he can sing. “You should be all good to go, Miss Y/L/N.” He hands you one more full sized paper as you stand and offers you a glove covered hand. “I would say I hope we meet again but, if it’s in the context of this room, I sincerely hope not.” He says.

“You should really see me when I’m not.. gross. I might’ve asked you out or something.” Holy shit. Where did that come from? You must really be delirious. Then you see the face he pulls and, yeah. No regrets. Gone with the rain which seemed to have stopped at some point during your visit. He pauses as if to think to himself, then a slow smile comes to light. He takes back that little paper swiftly before turning to lean it on the counter, jotting something down and handing it to you. You don’t think anything of it.

“Get plenty of rest, alright? Drink liquids, no dairy products, have a fruit or two when you’re feeling up to it.” He twists the door knob, “Have a good one, Miss Y/L/N!”

You offer a smile in passing as he leaves the room. It only grows once you notice it was his personal number on the back of that paper.

#taron egerton x reader #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fic #taron egerton imagine #taron x reader #taron egerton fanfic

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mvssmallow · 5 years

Text

Bloodline, Part VIII

Previous Chapters Soundtrack: The Hills

He probably should’ve known by the way his skin itched. There’s a looming chaos in the distance.

He’s escorting Mrs Lee, his 87 year old osteoporotic patient, out his clinic room when his neck itches. Just as his fingers reached up to scratch it, he notices the blurry blob of gray through the window panel of the clinic’s back door and well, shit, his stomach just drops.

He pauses to mentally thank every God out there that his consult room is right out the back and the closest one to the exits. Hardly any of the staff bother to venture this far, which means it’s easier to smuggle Alleged Criminals in and out without being seen.

Not that he’s thinking of doing that again but still, he’s grateful for the location.

None of that gratefulness does anything to stop that rush of adrenaline, tinged with both hopeful anticipation and panicked dread. He’s not prepared for this.

But when is he ever?

There’s a haze of smoke and where there’s smoke, there’s fire. In the back of his mind, that old clichéd saying floats around, mocking him with its cloying melodrama.

Smoke. Fire. Jiwon.

Yeah, that’s sounds about right.

“You can’t smoke here”.

So many things to say and that’s what comes out. It’s what his arrogance, ego and pride lets him say. Self Preservation wraps around him like a suit of armour because maybe he’s not prepared for this whole conversation but he will damm well make sure that he’s not gonna walk away with another wound this time.

He sees Jiwon’s smile, downright feels it hitting his gut, before he sees the rest of his face, which remains shrouded in the gray fabric of one of those oversized hoodies that’s somehow too familiar by now.

“Gonna call the cops?”

Don’t take the bait, Hanbin. Don’t play with this. You’re a goddam professional remember? He knows he’s glaring pointedly while his head screams loudly at him but still, it can’t drown out the involuntary stuttering of his logic or the way he just wants to shake Jiwon’s shoulders and ask him where the hell he’s been for the last 3 weeks or how he still finds Jiwon’s presence so intoxicating in the all the best and worst ways...

“What?” Jiwon asks with a smirk, taking a slow drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke towards the sky. “Smoking a crime now?”

Gathering whatever frayed nerves he has left, he feels his arms crossing over his body in a move he knows is defensive. “Not if you put that out.”

Another smile; wide, knowing, amused. Like this was playing out just as expected.

There’s no protest though, just the stupidly arrogant roll of broad shoulders and crack of a neck as Jiwon snuffs the almost new cigarette against the wall of the clinic. It leaves behind ashy specks of grey that float to the ground like dead snowflakes and his eyes follow them for a moment before looking back up and locking straight into the fire of Jiwon’s eyes.

He really wants to punch that smirk off his face. Stitches and scars be dammed.

“What are you doing here?”

And just like that, the arrogance slides right off the face in front of him. He really should’ve known. The pit of ‘badness’ in his gut is rarely wrong.

“Just wanted to ask you a question.” Jiwon looks somewhere off into the distance and shrugs, the action could’ve been interpreted as casual or uncaring but Hanbin dares to let himself think otherwise, as stupid as that is.

“Okay?” He says warily.

“The antibiotics you gave me didn’t really work. They did shit all actually.”

Oh. This is about medicine. Of course it is. Why else would Jiwon be here?

“Are you still sick? I could-”

“It’s not me.” Jiwon interrupts harshly. “They weren’t for me.”

There’s a frustrated grumble that he really doesn’t expect and a grimace that he does. The words are ground out of Jiwon’s mouth so emphatically and miserably, as though they’re taking a whole lot of effort and sacrificed pride.

He immediately thinks of the worst things because negativity is his preferred mode these days. Maybe it’s Jiun. Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe it’s that girl-

“It’s my mum.”

Shit.

That’s even worse.

It’s probably comical really, how stupid and dumbfounded he looks with his mouth open, poised to say something that he can’t quite decide on. But just then, the clinic’s back door clicks open behind him and every muscle in his body tenses into hot panic. Jiwon takes a step backwards, hand suddenly reaching for something in his hoodie pocket, posture locked and loaded, ready to either fight or leave.

Shit.

“Er, Dr. Kim? Could I have a word?”

Jin.

Relief floods through him in an exhilarating rush. Okay. It’s just Jin. He can deal with Jin. Maybe.

“Sure. Of course.” He replies, keeping his voice as civil and neutral as possible.

Jin shoots him an equally neutral expression, nodding once before ducking back inside and closing the door.

Letting out a loud sigh, he turns to Jiwon with an apologetic look. “Give me a minute? I’ll be back.”

Jiwon’s gone back into Evasive-Mode again; his eyes dark and dead, his face an unreadable blank slate, his posture staying tense, even the hand in his hoodie stays there, seemingly unable to relax or let down its guard.

“Jiwon?”

Shutters boarded up, head already shaking, body already moving away. This is all too familiar. No no no, not again.

“Jiwon? Can you wait a few minutes?.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll come back later. I gotta go pick up Jiun anyway.”

His watch tells him it’s 1230pm. School doesn’t finish until 3pm. So now they’re back to lying to each other again. It’s just so stupid and futile. Every conversation just goes round and round, like a dog chasing its tail or water circling down a drain. He wonders why it’s only him that’s getting frustrated by this.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. Please....just wait.” He huffs out, tone accidentally more irritated than he intended it to be. Jiwon opens his mouth, probably to protest, but no, he’s not going to wait to hear it today.

“For God’s sake, not everything is about you okay? Think of your mum and just wait for me! You came all his way, you can wait for 5 minutes!”

Shit. Too far, Hanbin. Too far. There goes his professionalism.

There’s a brief glaring-contest. Fire meets Fire again. But then, the last thing he expects to happen actually happens; Jiwon shakes his head, shrugs like he doesn’t give a shit and sits back down on the steps in silence.

“Thank you.” He sighs in annoyance.

“Whatever.” Jiwon mutters, quietly but equally annoyed.

He turns quickly, making his way inside before anything else happens.

“Are you seriously right now?!” The corridors are empty but Jin appears out of nowhere to hiss at him as soon as the back door clicks shut. “What the hell is he even doing here in the middle of the day?! Donghyuk is in his office! He could’ve seen you!”

A painful grip closes over his elbow as Jin drags him into his consult room and shuts the door.

“Before you say anything-”

“Oh no! Don’t start with me! I’m talking first!” Jin interrupts, face livid with disapproval. “Deal with whatever he wants fast. He can’t be seen here and you’ve got three people waiting for consults. You are not fucking up your career and job for him. You’re not. Okay? I’ve seen this shit before and it never ends well. They’re all the same, Hanbin. You know this. Stop thinking with your dick on this one.”

He flushes with both embarrassment and indignation. “That is not what I’m doing!”

Jin just rolls his eyes and fixes him with a terrifying parental glare. “I’ll stall the clinic for 5 more minutes but after that, you’re on your own. Fix whatever he wants then tell him to fuck off or come back at 6 when everyone else has gone. I swear to god Hanbin, he’s doing this shit on purpose to piss us off. Since when has he ever come here early anyway? I swear to GOD!”

Jin yanks the door open, still ranting under his breath as he makes his way back out towards the front of the clinic.

He rubs his eyes tired, willing his heart to slow down and his nervous system to chill the hell out. None of that actually happens.

He half expects Jiwon be gone by no, there he is, still sitting on the back steps of the clinic and staring into the parking lot with a hypervigilant look on his face.

“He yell at you?” It comes out gruff but oddly sympathetic.

“Something like that.” He replies in resignation. “Listen. I need to get back to work but what do you need me to do for your mum? If she’s not well, I can see her here for an appointment? After hours if you want.”

Jiwon shakes his head. “She can’t leave the house. She’ll freak out.”

He doesn’t do house visits, especially not in this part of town but....

“Do you want me to see her at home?” It’s blurted out before he can stop it.

“No.”

“Then what?” He pushes, tired and anxious about the minutes ticking by.

“I don’t know! Isn’t there anything you can give her? She’s coughing every fucking night and Jiun can’t sleep so he turns the TV on full blast, which means nobody is sleeping either so he’s missed three days of school and I can’t keep babysitting him instead of working.”

For a moment, Jiwon sounds like a normal guy just trying to do his best for his family in the face of a bad situation. It’s so raw and honest and endearing that something thaws inside him. The coiled ball of irritation in his gut unravels in one fell swoop. Jiwon is just a guy. Like any other guy.

Just a guy.

But stupid, stupid, stubborn guy who might be good at killing and crime or whatever else they accuse him of but he’s useless with everything else. Hanbin doesn’t fully trust him, he’s still on edge and doesn’t feel completely safe yet but the dark shadows of worry that flashes across Jiwon’s face, for barely a second, is just enough to help him make his decision.

He takes a pen and piece of crumpled paper out of his coat pocket and holds them out in front of Jiwon’s shocked expression.

“What?”

“Write down where she is.”

“What? No. You’re not-”

“I’m not asking. Just do it. I have to get back to work.” He drops the items into Jiwons hands and wills his legs not to shake too much. This is so unprofessional. You’re an idiot Hanbin.

Jiwon looks down at the pen and paper before standing up and making to give them back. “Look, I get you wanna help or whatever but I think she just needs some different tablets-”

“And you’re not a doctor.” He interrupts bluntly, folding his arms across his chest to stop them from trembling. “If you didn’t want help then you shouldn’t have come. So what’s it gonna be? Write it down or just leave Jiwon. I’m not standing here arguing with you all day.”

Part of him thinks he might’ve pushed this way way way too far today, his words coming out harsher and more aggressive than what he actually feels like on the inside. If Jiwon wants to stab him in the gut just for pissing him off then yeah, he probably deserves it.

After a long pause, it comes as a shock to him that Jiwon just grunts out a quiet ‘fuck!’ under his breath and scrawls hastily on the piece of paper before turning so they’re looking at each other again.

Fire meeting Fire.

“Here!” The crumpled scrap of paper is pushed against his chest.

Jiwon’s gaze doesn’t shift from his. The once dark and dead eyes are now shiny and so sharp in a way that he didn’t know was possible to see in a human.

“You heard about me?”

"What do you mean?”

“You heard about me.” Jiwon repeats. It’s not a question. More of a statement. “You know about me.”

“I don’t....” He shakes his head, his argument suddenly weak and not convincing anybody. “It’s just rumours...”

Jiwon laughs but the mirth doesn’t each his eyes at all. They’re still hard and piercing right into him. “You heard about me. So I don’t have to tell you what that piece of paper means do I?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head, letting go of the charade. Yeah he knows. Yeah he’s heard all about Jiwon at this point but whether there’s any truth in the stories and myths remains to be seen.

“Alright then.” Jiwon nods, stepping back. “Come alone. If you think you’re being followed, just go straight home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The order terrifies him for some reason and a sick dragging feeling of unease settles into the pit of his stomach again.

“Don’t fuck me over.”

A violent shiver tears down his spine. There’s no politeness in the statement. No consideration spared. Whatever niceties they’ve exchanged before is forgotten. There’s nothing here now but menace and intimidation.

It works.

And in that moment, the cold, sobering, fucking terrifying realisation finally hits him: the rumours are true. This is Jiwon at ‘work’. This is what he does.

He can’t even speak after that. Jiwon is still staring sharply at him in expectation and it’s not until he forces his head to nod that Jiwon regards him one last time before turning to walk away without saying anything at all.

He doesn’t stop shaking for the next five consults and is so nauseated that he skips lunch altogether. Jin is still pissed so he’s left to have his mental breakdown alone in his room.

The crumpled piece of paper burns a hole in his pocket and by the time 6pm ticks by, he feels the heavy, draining exhaustion right in his bones. He doesn’t even bother to stop his hands from shaking as he pulls the paper out to read the messy scrawl.

Fuck.

Here goes nothing.

#hello #BLJ anyone?#Bloodline #well would you look at that-I have actually updated something #please listen to the music link

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