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#oh god. oh god wait are we gonna have to wait months and pay customs when ordering from coscraft now.
steddieas-shegoes · 2 months
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When Eddie is introduced to Jonathan, they both give each other a look that says “if you say anything, you’re dead” and naturally, Nancy clocks it immediately.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” they said at the same time, only growing the suspicion.
“Seriously? Do you know each other already?”
“No!”
“Yes, but-“
They glare at each other, but Eddie speaks up again.
“He bought from me a couple times. No big deal.”
Nancy looks between them, shakes her head. “There’s something else going on. But we’ve got bigger problems.”
And they did.
For months, their problems seemed to get worse by the day. It was a great distraction.
But honestly, anytime Eddie spent more time with Jonathan, it got harder not to say how they actually knew each other: a make out session in a bathroom at a party when Jonathan was yearning for Nancy.
He told Steve eventually, had to with the way he kept finding ways to avoid being around Jonathan and Steve got suspicious.
“If he said something to you about us, I’ll take care of it. He doesn’t get to say shit about what makes us happy.”
And Eddie couldn’t have Steve lose another fight, so he told him.
“So wait. You and Jonathan…”
“Made out. Yes.”
“Like…with tongue?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember tongue being involved.”
“And hands?”
“They were there too.”
Steve puts his hands on his hips, lifts one to wipe over his face, then settles it back on his hip. “And you liked it?”
“Considering at the time my options were Jonathan or the girl in Hellfire who insisted I wasn’t gay because I looked at her during campaigns, yeah. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve been through.”
Steve huffed. “Yeah, but like. Compared to me-“
“Oh my god.”
“What?!”
“I cannot believe you’re jealous of Jonathan Byers. Again.”
“I’m not! I’ve never-“
Eddie raised his brows. “Never? Not once?”
“That was different!”
“That was worse.”
“I dunno, finding out your boyfriend has made out with the only other guy in Hawkins who’d be up for it is arguably worse.”
Steve pouted for hours. Eddie let him.
It was cute, alright?
And when he got over it, they made out for hours in his bed.
Steve, of course, was the one who told Nancy.
In his defense, he was very high, and Nancy had been pushing him all night, from the moment she caught wind that he might know how they knew each other.
Eddie went inside to grab them all water, and she pounced.
By the time Eddie got back, Steve was half asleep and Nancy was smirking at Eddie.
“You could’ve just said.”
“He’s never getting high for free again.”
“He’s your boyfriend.”
“He’s back to being a paying customer, too.”
Nancy laughed, startling Steve into opening his eyes. He smiled up at Eddie, no clue he’d just given up one of their secrets.
“Hi, baby. You know Nancy didn’t know about you and Jonathan?”
Eddie glanced over to see Nancy rolling on her side, laughing hysterically.
“Yeah. I’m sure that was on purpose. How about we get you to bed, superstar?”
He managed to get Steve onto the couch, where he immediately passed out.
Nancy hugged him, kissed his cheek, like she always did before leaving.
“It’s not a big deal, you know. He’s mentioned that he isn’t only into women. We’ve talked a lot about the Argyle situation.” She walked towards the door. “Steve will get over the jealousy eventually. It’s not like Jonathan wouldn’t have made out with him if he could have.”
She left before Eddie could respond.
Eddie suddenly understood exactly what Steve was feeling.
“Not gonna happen,” he mumbled to himself before joining Steve on the couch and pulling him close.
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withacapitalp · 1 year
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Root Beer
Happy birthday @stevesbipanic !!! I had an idea for this so long ago, but then your birthday gave me the perfect excuse to write it. I'm so honored we are friends, I am still so shocked about it (Flashback to my OG post about Tumblr royalty liking one of my posts) and I cannot wait to get to spend even more time with you <333
“Remind me again why you always pay for Erica’s ice cream?” Eddie wondered as Steve dug into his wallet and forked over the dollar eighty five required for Erica’s scoop of cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles. 
“It’s reparations for child endangerment,” Erica replied immediately, sticking her tongue out briefly as Steve rolled his eyes. 
Eddie automatically stuck his tongue out right back at her, making her laugh as she skipped off to the other side of the counter and waited for her treat. The kids had asked for a ride to the ice cream shop, but in a rare display of discipline, Steve had refused to pay for any of them except Erica, and, shockingly, no one had complained. They had all pooled their money, ordered three sundaes to split, and were now sitting in the corner digging into their treats. 
“I’ll tell you about it some other time,” Steve promised, keeping his wallet open as he turned towards his boyfriend, “Are you gonna get anything?” 
“Still deciding,” Eddie said, bouncing on his heels. 
The shop was no Scoops Ahoy, but it did have a wide array of different options, all with wonderful punny names. He was currently between getting a ‘Bloody Sundae’, which was a vanilla scoop with cherry syrup and chocolate sprinkles, or a ‘Mint to be’, which was mint chocolate chip with whipped cream and bright green sprinkles. 
Maybe he could get both if he gave Steve the right amount of puppy eyes. That usually worked for other things. Dates, getting to pick the movie they watched at night…..other….things. 
Eddie was still thinking through his strategy as Steve stepped up to order. 
“Can I get a large root beer float with soft serve twist and a cone on the side?” Steve asked, using his customer service voice with a charming smile, making the girl behind the counter twitter and twirl her hair as she rang him up and walked off to make his float. 
Eddie blinked a few times trying to register what Steve had just said, before groaning loudly and pulling a disgusted face. 
“What?” Steve wondered, bewildered by Eddie’s vehement reaction. 
“Root beer,” Eddie said with a grimace, waggling his tongue. 
“What’s wrong with root beer?” 
“It’s so…sweet,” Eddie finally got out, trying and failing to find the exact words to explain his complete disdain for root beer. He had given root beer a real try, multiple attempts and everything, but every time he had spat it out, unable to enjoy the taste. 
“Eddie, I have seen you eat a frosting sandwich,” Steve said in a complete deadpan, giving Eddie a raised brow look, “Just frosting and white bread,”
“Don’t judge my trailer park cuisine, rich boy!” Eddie cried in an overdramatic tone, clutching his chest and shaking his head with his eyes shut tight, “I’m not the one having nasty icky sarsaparilla nonsense, making future kisses completely impossible until you have purged yourself of the disgusting concoction.”
Steve burst into bright loud laughter, lighting up the entire store like he was the goddamn sun. Eddie paused in his diatribe, watching Steve with lovesick eyes as he giggled uncontrollably. 
“Sarsaparilla concoction,” Steve huffed out, continuing to chuckle, “God, I love you, you big dork.”
Oh. 
Oh. 
Both of them paused, staring at each other with wide eyes as they took in what Steve had just let slip out. 
It wasn’t like they didn’t both know. They had been dating for three months, crushing on each other for two before that, and every minute had been pure bliss. There was no doubt that Steve was the love of his life, and Eddie had been pretty sure Steve felt the same. 
Now he knew for a fact, and that was a lot to take in standing in the middle of a subpar ice cream shop. 
“I- um- I,” Steve stopped trying to stutter, giving Eddie a nervous little look, letting his eyes drop to his shoes as he shuffled in place. Eddie’s surprise faded into unbearably warm affection. He reached over and quickly squeezed Steve’s hand, knowing he wasn’t able to do more in public, but wishing he could kiss Steve until they were both drunk and delirious on their love. 
“I’ll have a black raspberry shake with chocolate sprinkles, whipped cream, and hot fudge,” Eddie called out as the cashier walked back over with Steve’s float, delivering it with a flirty little smile. Steve didn't even look at her as he took his ice cream, and she rang them up lightning fast, clearly jilted by his non-response. Eddie couldn't care less, dragging Steve over to their tables and waiting for his order to be called. 
“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly as they sat down, the words being overshadowed by the sound of their kids happily screaming at each other. He looked around and risked a quick kiss on the cheek, getting Steve buttered up and happy before he finished his sentence. 
“Even if your taste is trash,” 
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fuck-customers · 4 months
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Pls tell me someone else has been through something similar.
TL;DR: Paid for a strangers groceries. Got asked out by him through his friend. Denied coz Idk why he did that & uh... he was deff not femme presenting so not my preference (& I still feel bad about it lmao). 🥲 #rip
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I don't hate this customer, but I constantly wonder if anyone has had a shared experience like this so if you have, PLEASE leave it in the comments (or reblogs).
(*Shared experience as in... a stranger/customer asking you out for something you did for them while on the clock or something you showed them at work that's a work perk.)
When I was a cashier at the american grocery store "English en Español", I was in a low income area. I constantly had cis men hitting on me for no valid reason, as I'm not the socially accepted aesthetic for "attractive" (probably because it was a small town so there wasn't much selection & I live in cities so I dressed/acted differently than most? Idk. I'm a transman, pre-t & pre-surgery, but present as femme for safety reasons, espec in small towns). I often didn't notice until coworkers told me after they had left or until the man, himself, told me straight up. It was common enough that we had a signal bc apparently I suck at picking up on people hitting on me. NO ONE working that night signaled for this one, despite several of my coworkers seeing this.
So needless to say, I did NOT see this coming.
There was a guy with two girls checking out their groceries at my register. It was late at night, close to closing. When it came to the guys portion of the groceries, he split things up to afford everything. (I feel that lol.) His card declined on the last part. He was maybe $25ish(?) short (idr exact amount). He asked to take off a few things & I was like "Wait, wait." & jumped around & slid my own card & paid for his stuff. At that time (about a decade ago) my finances were mostly stable. I was doing what I could for anyone who needed it. It wasn't abnormal for me to pay for people whose groceries got declined by under $50 if I had it that month. I was stuck at a grocery store all day & people quite literally need food. It's the *least* I could do while financially stable, yknow? He wasn't someone I singled out... just someone else I managed to have the privilege of helping.
But this guy looked like he was both a) about to cry & b) incredibly embarrassed. He barely whispered thank you to me before grabbing everything & RUNNING out the door. His two friends thanked me profusely & followed him out *normally*. Lol.
I didn't have anyone else to check out coz it was almost 10pm at that point, so I was just vibing at my register. Maybe 5 whole minutes later (yes, THAT LONG) one of the girls the guy was with comes back in & runs up to my register.
I didn't say anything coz I was confused. Why is everyone running? Why does everyone have so much energy? Jeeze. 💀
She said, quickly & excitedly, "Remember the guy you just saw that you paid for his groceries?"
Me: "👁👄👁... yeah?"
Her: "Well, he wanted to know if you wanted to go out with him. Like, on a date."
Me, confused, not knowing what to say, stalling: "Uhhhhhhm."
In my mind, I'm thinking: 'Why would he want that? Because I paid for his groceries? Does he think I'm one of those dommes that gives money to their subs? Oh no. I'm a sub, not a dom! Maybe he just thinks I'm nice? Oh god, he's gonna find out I'm NOT nice if we date... but I really only like femme presenting people. How tf do I say that in a small town where I don't want that to get out? I don't know what's happening here, but-"
Me, without hesitation: "Sorry, but ...I like women?"
Her: "👁👄👁... Was that a question?"
Me: "...No?"
Her: "... 👁👄👁 ...Okay, I'll tell him. Thanks!"
Again, with the running. Running out the door. To the car. They looked about the same age as me. Early 20s. Like... where are they getting this ENERGY??? 😭
He NEVER came into the location I worked at again while I was there for 3 years lmao. The two girls did. Ik he lived in the area. This was before the time of grocery delivery. So uh... I feel awful lol.
I also feel awful because I never really say no to anyone in that context or break up with anyone. I always force *them* to say no or break up with me so that I don't have to do it. 😅 I'd never in a million years lead anyone on coz that's completely unfair, but I really just need the other person to do it & I couldn't in that situation so it still sits in the back of my mind like, "oh my god what have I done" kind of catastrophic thoughts spiraling from there. Meanwhile, he probably doesn't even remember I exist. 💀
So rip to me, I guess.
Please tell me someone else has had some kind of interaction where a stranger/customer has asked you out or tried to get with you based on something you did (or did for them) on the clock or a work perk you showed them/they saw. 😭 Pls make me feel less alone in this lmao.
Also make sure to give the follow up tea! Did you go out? Did it work? Are you married? ☕️ 🦊
When I was 19 I gave a lady a coupon for money off (I'm 50 I forget how much it was for.) and this lady tried to hook me up with her 13yo daughter. I dunno if that counts.
-Rodney
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timmymyluv · 2 years
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moon song.
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FAKE INSTA.
FC: rose of blackpink
kpop idol fem! reader x timothée chalamet
hi everyone - the long awaited marriage blurb? sorry it took so long I did hit a bit of a creative block and felt it could get too repetitive and I'd run out of ppl to interact without it becoming shallow/boring so enjoy!
please comment and interact it means the world to me. like, reblog, comment and follow me if you want to see more content from me. mwah!
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yourusername
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liked by jodiewoods,alanabc,taylorrussell and 70.0m others
rehearsals
lanacondor my bestieee is getting marriedddd oh my god I'm going to cry
user76 lana is so cute I love their friendship
user913 who's maid of honour omg I wonder
bpinyourarea it has to be jennie or lisa I swear
pinkchalamet all ik is pauline is a bridesmaid with certainty
liked by yourusername
bellahadid my angel 🦋🦋so proud and excited for u and ur love for what the future awaits
evanmock when u throw the bouquet I better catch it this time or else
taylorswift sound the wedding bells 🔔🎊
swiftie146 TAYLOR WEDDING SINGER CONFIRMED
ysl 🖤
instauser528 so cute that's her custom ysl jacket but timo wore it to an event last month
voguefrance felicitations mon amours 💗
tchalamet
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liked by hallebailey, denisvillneuve, calebmaclaughlin and 45.6m others
florencepugh ok mister no caption 🙄
tchalamet 😁
zaweashton congrats xoxo
yourusername ty zawe 🫂🫂sending hugs and kisses to ur lil bebe and tom 💗
lauriesgirl omg that possessive hand around her thigh
dunechalamet like he's claiming she's mine and I am his wheww
officialrebeccaferguson congrats to you both!
yourusername so excited to see you soon!
ynsplanet SOON?!? IS REBECCA GONNA BE INVITED TOO A STAR STUDDED WEDDING IM SHOOK
yourusername
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liked by zendaya,florencepugh, saoirse_ and 69.8m others
views for days
tagged tchalamet
oliviarodrigo SO EXCITED CANT EVEN WAIT
conangray this is my superbowl
user28 this is my joker too fr
lauriesjo the aesthetic straight out of Pinterest I love my parents
username719 her tagging timmy like he's the view himself 😌
timmysgirl I mean look at him hello?
selenagomez can't wait! ❤️
josephineskriver 🔥🔥🔥
ynchile the steamy emoji did the rehearsal get borderline pg-13 or more 😵‍💫🤣🥴🥵
enews
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liked by honeymoon, jesserutherford, and 5.6m others
it's official- actor timothée chalamet and singer-actress y/n l/n have tied the knot during their star studded destination wedding. photos are sparsely being released by the ultimate private couple but can you spot any other celebrities partying at this event of the season?
tagged yourusername, tchalamet
townandcountry ❤️
theknot 🎉🎉🎉
mayahawke congrats you two!
milliebobbiebrown hooray you lovebirds!!
phoebedyevnor 🏝️
simoneashley congratulations to the happy couple 💗
somsomi0309 HAD THE TIME OF MY LIFEEEEE WITH MY BESTIEEESSSS
kpopfan82 skdkd somi definitely got turnt at the wedding esp the reception
somesomi HAVE U SEEN HER IG STORIES FROM THE AFTER PARTY SKDKD THE YN AND TIMO KISS THEN SOM BUSTING IT DOWN ON THE DANCE FLOOR
deuxmoi
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liked by timofans07, burner824, firepuma27 and 2.4m others
someone sent in this spotting of a number of a-list celebrities in a private resort in the south of France who are all gathered for the dress rehearsal before the well-awaited Timothee and Y/n wedding this weekend. tune in and check out our new podcast episode!
tagged yourusername,tchalamet, florencepugh
dunechalamet maybe mind your own business and stop invading their privacy 😤😐
liked by yourusername
randomuser is it really that private and exclusive if someone was able to sneak in like this?
user924 I mean its peak of the summer I'm sure other people can come to that resort too if they can pay for it 😭
usernamehere ok true true
ynfandom oh my god is yn gonna be pregnant soon what about the tour what about the music or her upcoming movie roles
username32 idk if she's ever talked about wanting kids but it's none of our business
ynsgermany ok yeah we leave them alone and let her be happy if she wants to focus on her career or her own family she's a grown woman she can do what she wants 🙄
user731 normalize not expecting women to get pregnant and have kids if they don't want to! 🙏
ynallover didn't she talk about not wanting kids during that one radio interview years ago I mean her opinions can change
fluentlyforward def not a pr stunt!
chalchalamet92 go away troll loser who can't do anything else but talk trash on other people's lives boo
tchalamet
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liked by justineskye, whitneypeak, jennierubyjane and 68.9m others
💍
theweeknd 🖤
yourusername thnx abel 🥳loved seeing you this weekend
billieeillish y'all deserve this happy ending
liked by tchalamet
anyataylorjoy hugs and kisses to our newly married couple!
niallhoran woohoo congrats! 🎉
megantheestallion hot girl summer no more!
yourusername it's cuffed girl fall soon ☺️
florencepugh simp
tchalamet 😌
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odetoviscera · 1 year
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Liveblogging Mission: Impossible 2, Inevitably
I RETURN, dragging myself through the slog of longform audio editing, to liveblog about a ridiculous series of movies for the amusement of my betters and tyrants, i.e @leupagus, and also to justify my paramount+ subscription. not gonna pay for that two months in a row, so let’s get cracking on with mission: impossible 2 - sunglasses edition
liveblogging below
first and most important observation: this one came out in 2000, which means i was ten and old enough to conceivably watch this movie as it was airing. i have no memory of doing so, but that’s no proof of anything, i often have no memory of the last week.
important audio update: no more panning drum roll on the paramount logo! vast improvement.
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we are in SYDNEY AUSTRALIA at the i-assume-headquarters-and-lab of BIOCYTE PHARMACEUTICALS, which is a very supervillain science name if i’ve ever read one. the russian voiceover talking about creating a monster and namedropping greek mythology while a very shifty scientist shoots himself with a science gun is also telling.
ominous ring-around-the-rosie has transported us to the black-and-white flashback zone? or maybe just the black-and-white Dread zone? unclear.
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terrible cgi airplane my beloved. somehow i doubt it’s coincidence that ethan is seated next to the scientist on a self-imposed deadline of doom. 
“you’ll soon be with old friends” okay is that supposed to be creepy or do they know each other?
oh ETHAN is the dimitri of the ominous opening narration. this raises fascinating questions. no plastic mask, so this is a pseudonym under his own face. he is not affecting a russian accent, so what’s the backstory? is this a longstanding cover? was it established by the imf, or is this a personal project?
okay so chimera is some kind of disease/poison/Substance that was in the science gun, shifty scientist infected himself with it for… transportation? to smuggle it out in his bloodstream? raises the question of why he had to do that with chimera if he WAS able to get the antidote/counteragent bellerophon in a briefcase, though. either way, that’s the 20-hour time limit. got it. now my only question is, does this become the actual arc of the movie, or is this the cold open lol.
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hmm, turbulence in a spy thriller is never just turbulence. oh yeah no there’s gonna be some kind of gas in those oxygen masks. …other than oxygen. (also a very stock “Group Shock” sound when the masks drop lol. come on guys, you couldn’t shell out for a custom foley on that in MISSION IMPOSSIBLE 2?)
interesting, New Face Detected.  very tech bro t-shirt and blazer situation going on there, i hereby assign him hacker.
holy god this is a wide airplane. did we used to make them that spacious??? this looks downright comfortable.
YEP. copilots just knocked the fuck out, captain’s in on it. aaaand set the autopilot to crash them into a mountain, i do believe.
oh ethan is NOT dimitri. has the science guy never met dimtri in person??? …wait, is this even ethan. OH MY GOD IS SOMEONE USING THE PLASTIC FACE MASK???????????
i refuse to believe my sweet boy who has never fired a gun on screen would break an old science man’s neck for no particular gain, this is absolutely not ethan.
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I WAS CORRECT. excellent fakeout, seriously, i bought it. this apparently is our real villain-- head of a four-man squad who apparently feel totally chill about killing everyone in a passenger plane for whatever the dearly departed science man had in his bag.
oof, sorry copilot, there was no avoiding that mountain, might’ve been better if you’d stayed knocked out for that.
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there’s my boy! freeclimbing, from the look of him, which-- well, there are other people who consider that an acceptable if not wholly sane hobby, so i’ll reserve judgment lol.
it does admittedly get him a stellar view to admire
llfakjdf;lkasl;kh and a helicopter shows up to fire a non-detonating missile in his general direction lol. i assume this contains another mission. don’t you people have telephones. i know you have secure lines, ethan called one last movie.
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oh my god the briefing is on a pair of SUNGLASSES. I WAS RIGHT TO CALL IT SUBTITLE SUNGLASSES EDITION, I JUST SAID THAT BC OF THE BANNER ART ON PARAMOUNT+. MISSION IMPOSSIBLE WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.
“you may select any two team members” interesting, it didn’t seem like the teams were ad-hoc last movie-- jim’s team seemed like a pretty stable unit.
third member must be “nyah”-- pausing to read her dossier, she seems to be catwoman. expertise: burglary; circumvention of all security, electronic, laser, human, etc.; gemology lol, one of these things is not like the others. prefers operating near galas. AND she’s not even an agent, she’s a civilian thief that ethan has to personally recruit. i assume there is some nefarious reason her inclusion is being mandated.
“if i let you know where i’m going, then i won’t be on holiday” ethan you should carry that ethos into the logical conclusion, which is not answering your emails/sunglasses-based-mission-summons.
oh now we’ve got a ROCK GUITAR version of the opening theme lol. they’re trying really hard to go Harder and Edgier lol. oh john woo directed. did he direct the first one??? no, it was brian de palma. interesting.
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fancy party, i assume nyah is here to steal something. also these dancers look like they’re one costume change away from summoning an eldritch entity and i would be here for that alternative movie. gratuitous slow-mo on their skirt swirling lol.
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i think ethan is supposed to look Intense and Focused here since i suspect he just laid eyes on nyah but honestly he looks sort of Soulful and Puppyish. it’s the hair. holy SHIT that hair. @leupagus mentioned the blowdrying and she was NOT kidding
here’s our catwoman! absolutely no chance that she is not a love interest, at least temporarily. look at her. oh my god they’re slow-moing the eyefucking across a dancer and nyah disappears behind a skirt swirl lol. holy shit this movie. acquire a single iota of chill.
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sorry i have to show you this very lesbian dancing. i’m sure it has a deep cultural meaning for wherever this is but at least one of those meanings has to be “butches fighting over the prettiest femme at the dance”.
meanwhile nyah is sneaking around upstairs and taking advantage of all the stomping to make door-opening noises without being noticed. oh she’s a high-tech thief. comes prepared with Gadgets. and of course ethan has gotten there ahead of her, he is the specialest boy.
ah yes, classic “quick, hide on top of me” maneuver lol. in ethan’s defense, nyah’s the one who pulled HIM down. alkdh;flkahskljgh; “do you mind if i’m on top?” “no. either way works for me.”
df;lakhdfl;kahl nyah why are you trying to pick a lock while straddling this man and expecting him NOT to interrupt you lol
you deserved that knee to the ribs ethan lol. very gentle though. she likes him.
stolen necklace in the cleavage. A Classic. i repeat: she’s catwoman.
nyah my darling, my beloved, the star of my life, you are so pretty and so good at crime, WHY do you have to be flippant in the critical moment that ethan gives you One warning and immediately do the thing he advised against, setting off an alarm. please. please do not acquire a tragic case of damselitis. i am begging. i will do the lesbian dancing to enchant you.
flkahdl;kfhas;lkh okay first of all, ethan’s cover as security engineer? excellent, that’s how they get you. second of all, MR. KEYS??? BIT ON THE NOSE MY BELOVED BOY.
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lkdhf;lkahdflkashl oh my god ethan you are such a brat. he’s telling them how to make it harder for her to steal from them. the pigtail pulling. the exuberant shit-taker energy of him. i give it five minutes before he makes her hand the necklace back, which, again-- in her cleavage. YEP there it goes lol.
dalkfhdl;khfa;lkh ETHAN TRIGGERED THE ALARM. babe that’s not gonna endear you to her lol, your recruitment skills are rusty.
WHY IS THERE SLO-MO ON ETHAN STUMBLING AROUND AFTER SHE PEELS OUT IN HER FANCY CAR. JOHN WOO IS THIS YOUR FAULT????
oh wow the motorola car phone lol. every now and then the 2000 of it all is very clear.
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listen you have to give ethan credit for determination and chutzpah. look at her. she’s impressed, she’s charmed AND she’s mad about it lol. nobody does it like ethan hunt. it’s the relentless border collie energy.
oh his pitch is to wipe her slate clean. that’s probably worth something.
okay of the two of them NYAH is the real daredevil lol, she just SIDESWIPED this man. d;lfkhas;dlkfha ethan putting his seatbelt on like a good boy. he had it off for his Suave Spy performance. 
ethan’s defensive driving skills really being put to the test here lol. aww, “sorry” at the passing motorists they’re recklessly endangering lol. the goodest of boys. “watch the road, watch the road--”
oh no, damselitis again, she’s spun out and ethan is having to like, bodyslam spin her car with his car to keep her from careening off a cliff-- nyah is really not as good at this as she thinks she is. i suppose this could be a character trait and not an irritating trope. maybe “arrogant to the point of suicidality” is one of her characteristics lol. 
OH MY GOD the slow mo and the fading in and out of the spinning cars and the close-ups and the Soulful Single Vocalist MOVIE PLEASE. WE GET IT. SHE’S THE LOVE INTEREST. PLEASE.
okay listen nyah if you don’t take the job after this man has literally pulled you off the side of a cliff…
he’s already doing the Soft Boy Face Touches he did with claire last movie lol
oh we’re going STRAIGHT to the kisses. and the sex, apparently! get it nyah, he’s hot and ya’ll just trauma bonded.
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HOWEVER-- fascinating character moment with ethan here before nyah wakes up. he wakes up, looks over to see her in bed beside him, and makes THIS face. sighs, covers his face with his hand, stares at her for a moment before he wakes her up with more Soft Boy Face Touches. i could peel this scene apart like an onion for the next 5000 words. the Instant Regret™. the hesitance. the cautious tenderness. at first i thought this might have been a bit of honeypot to reel her in-- obviously with some real Romantic Chemistry underneath, we know how it goes-- but with this reaction? no. whatever impulse of ethan’s this was, it was genuine and it overpowered his common sense in ways he isn’t unpacking. how SLOWLY he reaches for her, once he’s resigned himself to the fact of her presence and whatever it meant and is going to mean. distinct impression that this is the first time he’s allowed himself this specific vulnerability since the fade to black with claire, who betrayed him-- was betraying him the whole time-- and who he watched die. it’s like five seconds long. i have a problem and his name is ethan hunt.
i will note we’re 23 minutes into this move and still only one team member in lol
okay we’ve gone somewhere with a festival that involved the crucified christ being paraded through the streets and is that ANTHONY HOPKINS??? is he joining the team???????????
oh no okay he’s the imf boss. can’t say i’m sad to lose kittridge lol.
okay so ethan is seeing the scientist to dimitri message from the opening narration for the first time. and he’s looking a bit shellshocked. Tell Me Your Secret Backstory, Ethan.
oh yeah ethan is willing to drop everything immediately to pick up Mr. Scientist, he’s gonna be Unhappy to find out that he’s already dead. …after being flown on a commercial carrier, the thing ethan specifically says not to do, lol. my boy, so smart, etc.
ooooh my god, the imf set up the villain squad with the ethan mask and vocoder? IMF WHY DO YOU SUCK SO MUCH AT EVERY DAMN THING? WHY DO YOU TORMENT MY BOY?????
yep, sean ambrose is the villain supreme, an imf agent-- they have history apparently, and ethan doesn’t like him.
oh that’s why nyah has to be on the team-- she’s ambrose’s ex and they want her to be their honeypot. yeah ethan’s not gonna love that either.
“she’s got no training for this” “to go to bed with a man and lie to him, she’s a woman, she’s got all the training she needs” THE MISOGYNY, sir. after jim this must just be the imf Culture. oooh, his little SMIRK-- he can tell they slept together and he thinks it’s funny. what a dick lol.
did he just show ethan nyah and ambrose’s SEX TAPES??? okay no it’s footage of the crashed plane lol
oof, first fight. this is a Messy situation lol. interesting little character moment on nyah after the shouting, too-- the way her expression kind of stills and you can see her Construct this little smirk she’s usually wearing, making it clear how much of a mask that is. she’s had an idea for how she can work this angle, and she’s not happy about it, but she’s going to do it, so-- no use continuing to cry about the milk.
okay the scheme being to get ambrose to break nyah out of prison is quite clever. play on his white knight fantasies. nyah is aware of her own damselitis lol.
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okay so i guess our other two team members are coming along-- billy, who looks like he might be piloting the helicopter, and-- luther!!! a triumphant return. i wonder if they’ve worked together previously.
dflkahd;lfkhas;lkh luther’s 800 DOLLAR GUCCI SHOES. sir how much do they pay you for spying and how much of that is bonus income from off-the-books hacking.
df;lkashdl;fkhal;k aww billy just wants to break into the Preexisting Camaraderie between ethan and luther and is getting NO traction lol
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ambrose looks like he’s gonna cream his pants just seeing nyah on the dock, sir PLEASE get some dignity, you are a VILLAIN, have some SELF RESPECT
…okay i know Evil Airline Captain is probably just suspicious of nyah’s sudden return but the WAY he is squinting at nyah and ambrose’s Reunion is making him look like a jealous friendzoned wannabe-boyfriend watching the object of his affection return to an abusive relationship. keep it in your evil boy pants, sir, ambrose just isn’t that into you.
aaand of COURSE the unrealistically accurate realtime satellite footage the team is watching comes in just in time for ethan to watch them kiss lol
“now there’s a bloke who knows how to give a proper welcome. /nudges luther/ oh don’t get me wrong mate, you were very friendly also.” alright so i’m tallying billy up for bisexual lol
Evil Airline Captain is on the same page as me re: nyah being catwoman lol
god ambrose is creepy. “undress in front of me while i gawk at you.” nyah what did you EVER see in this guy.
giving us the quick and dirty greek myth overview. i often forget that this is not necessarily common knowledge to everyone, so fair enough i guess.
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i am TELLING you, either they HAVE fucked or Evil Airline Captain (hugh, apparently) WANTS THEM to fuck and it being thwarted by how extremely straight ambrose is. this whole scene reads like old married couple where the wife is giving husband the cold shoulder and kvetching about his affairs.
oh that cigar cutter is gonna come back for a finger
oh oof, it’s not coming back, it’s taking the fingertip Right Now. ambrose does Not like being questioned. (my “they have fucked” argument is getting yet more evidence on the basis of the Suggestive Poses during this scene btw.)
oh billy is on site! delivering ear pieces! i wondered how they were going to get in contact with her.
hmm, biocyte ceo is here. getting blackmailed for his product?
oh good, nyah gets to do some Thieving!
jesus, hugh is hair-trigger, he didn’t even clock billy as an actual threat before Strangling Him
lol nyah does Not follow instructions well
“what are you gonna do, spank me?” cue luther Awkwardly Clearing His Throat ldkfa;lkdhf;la god these movies are funny. even intentionally, sometimes!
well damn, chimera fucks you up but good. looks like you hemorrhage out of your PORES. seriously guys, why did you have to create a Murder Virus in the first place?
ethan’s telling nyah to pull out, but there’s no way he doesn’t have to go in an extract her
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oh no, NYAH, you put the envelope back in the WRONG POCKET!!! babe it’s careless mistakes like this that get you caught by your psycho ex!!!!!!
…we’re focusing a lot on biocyte ceo, i wonder if he’s gonna get chimera infected or something. yeah he’s fussing about the taste of his cigar, can’t roll down his window, his driver isn’t responding-- Dude Is Fucked. not sure WHY, you’d think he’d be a potential buyer, but-- aaaand there’s the aerosol in the air vents, and down he goes. maybe not dead? definitely fucked up though.
nyah if you can’t find ambrose and you’re supposed to fuck off, it is Time To Steal A Boat, not commence further investigations
oh lol yep ethan didn’t wait for her to make her own attempt, he’s already on site to get her
oh huh, ambrose (?) is playing mind games with biocyte guy-- face mask to look like Science Guy, biocyte guy in a “hospital” room. getting more information i guess.
“i needed to know just how bad the disease was in the real world, not just in the lab” jesus, go ahead and kill biocyte guy lol
aha! not ambrose, ethan! that makes much more sense lol, although given the implications that science guy and “dimitri” had some kind of friendly connection, and given how shellshocked ethan was to find out he was dead, playing his friend’s (?) ghost must have been. how shall i put this. Emotionally Complex. more evidence for my “ethan hunt doesn’t process his trauma he just repeats it until it stops hurting” theory.
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…WAIT okay, ethan isn’t on the island to collect nyah bc ETHAN IS NOT ON THE ISLAND, THIS IS A GODDAMN IMPOSTER, ethan was off doing that song and dance with biocyte guy, “ethan” is just AMBROSE IN A FUCKING MASK AGAIN. getting final confirmation that nyah’s lying to him (and not just, like, stealing his shit out of habit) and telling nyah to “do anything ambrose asks”. YEAH I BET YOU CREEP.
seriously though how easy are those masks to make lol
Sad Villain Hours. no honour among thieves, you dingbat, get over it. just fuck hugh, he’s (in your words) gagging for it.
oh this is interesting, ambrose and ethan are both breaking down the impending biocyte op from their respective perspectives. that’s a fun way ot switch it up.
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this shot is just here bc it’s cinematic and this movie isn’t as fun to look at, generally, as the last one. seriously, there were so many interestingly composed shots with compelling color choreography and clean, sharp lines in the first movie! this one hasn’t felt as interesting to watch from a purely visual perspective.
lol luther is trying so hard to dissuade ethan from the tactic he is Obviously going to choose
“he’ll undoubtedly engage in some aerobatic insanity before he’ll risk harming a hair on a security guard’s head.” is ambrose’s analysis, and this is an interesting observation about ethan and Ethan Stunts, i think. last time, the first real Ethan Stunt was the back of the train chase trying to catch jim without getting dissolved into a red mist by a helicopter. if ambrose’s assessment of the motive for ethan’s upcoming Stunt is accurate-- and i’d guess it is, based on what we’ve seen of ethan’s morals and standards of behaviour-- this suggests that ethan’s Stunts are less motivated by “this is the only way, period” and more motivated by “this is the only way that Doesn’t Hurt People (other than ethan)” and that’s a fascinating nuance to this conversation.
dfl;akhd;lfkhaslkh luther’s terrified, teary-sounding, “ETHAN WAIT”. bless. poor luther is just constantly sitting with his heart in his throat during this shit lol.
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imf has all the coolest gadgets. i guess that makes up for their operational incompetence?
finally another interesting shot-- Villain Squad marching in to fuck up ethan’s plan and we’re following their reflection in the Shiny Floor. i’d like more robust colour grading, this is a little washed out, but i’ll take it.
hmm, luther is saying they brought nyah into the building with them, but i didn’t see her with the villain squad… either she’s been kept out of frame for this reveal-- odd choice-- or the transponder has been removed somehow and villain squad is carrying it to fuck with them. (in which case fingers crossed that nyah hasn’t been hobbled, that thing was in her ankle.)
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now, see… why would you have laser’s set up over your petri dishes??? what kind of science choice is this??????? i mean it’s convenient, don’t get me wrong, but
aaand we’re down to One Chimera Shot Left, so any minute now Villain Squad will show up lol
oh wait. ethan is having some kind of revelation about the 20-hours thing and the fact that Science Guy injected himself chimera For Some Reason.
ah, whatever realization he was going to come to was interrupted by gunfire. unnecessary floor slide from a goon firing up at him lol
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ethan’s first Shots Fired in two movies-- shooting a goon who had just picked up the Final Chimera Shot after ethan dropped it in a hail of gunfire. now, obviously this probably clear from a moral/ethical standpoint even by whatever ethan’s standards (not technically stated, only observed) are, however-- watching this scene, this is clearly just john woo’s influence. the man’s claim to fame is gun fu. this is the gun fu scene. i feel vaguely displeased to have had ethan’s story besmirched by this, lol.
anyway, i have a feeling that now that the Ethan Shoots People seal has been broken, we’ll start to see more of it.
oh damn, someone just planted a bomb on (i assume) luther’s van. LUTHER YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS STOP GAWKING AT IT IN THE SIDE MIRROR AND JET!!!! ILU!!!!!!!!!!!!!
billy screaming LUTHER is me rn
lol ambrose looks so dissatisfied that his goons can’t seem to shoot this One Man
oh my god ambrose really was That stupid? he didn’t realize From The Video Message that Science Guy had injected himself with chimera??? sir… i’m embarrassed for you…
hmm, they did bring nyah. still not sure why they didn’t have her on-screen until this moment when they had luther literally say she was present.
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break for Rainbow Ethan!
luther! only slightly blown up and late with his intel lol
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so what are the odds nyah pockets the vial somehow? she’s looking very Sainted here which IS concerning from a Surviving The Movie perspective
oh my god she’s going to inject HERSELF. smart but stupid, nyah.
ethan Instantly setting a 20-hour timer has several implications: first, obviously, he’s going to get her bellerophon and that’s the rest of the runtime lol; second, he had that timer queued up, so either intentionally or accidentally infecting himself Was A Consideration
exfil time! Operatic Soundtrack. nyah telling ethan to shoot her! nice try babe but absolutely no chance of that, you’ve engaged his Trauma and he is now going to be absolutely deranged about this
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incredibly dramatic exit by ethan hunt lol. nyah left behind to fend for herself bc, you know, no parachute and she’s now worth 37 million pounds.
oh my god the absolutely cartoonish Slap Foley.
the freeclimbing came back with plot relevance! significantly less impressive cliff, though
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on my life i cannot get a good screengrab of this but just trust me that this is ethan hunt kicking a man in the face lol. followed by more gratuitous slo-mo of some kind of falling bicycle kick lol, JOHN WOO GET OUT OF MY FILM
ambrose and biocyte guy are making An Exchange-- ethan is here presumably to get the bellerophon for nyah
fal;kdfl;kashdl;kh they’re bargaining for STOCK OPTIONS and setting nyah loose in public to be their living viral bomb to raise an urgent need for bellerophon and raise the stock value. and pairing it with a hostile takeover. Very Capitalism. 
ethan’s martial arts stunts are getting absolutely wire-fu. again i sense the hand of john woo.
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ethan is for once taking the direct route to his target and OH MY GOD THIS MOVIE
so are we just saying now that doves are ethan’s spiritual animal? bc you might be able to talk me into that. …oh god i’ve given myself mission impossible daemon au brainworms FUCK
ethan’s response to “raise your hands very slowly” from hugh-- who inexplicably didn’t just shoot him; maybe he wants to deliver him to his boss/daddy/dom????-- is to TOSS A GRENADE. I TOLD YOU HE WAS GOING TO BE DERANGED ABOUT THIS
they’re all underground by the way, so this tunnel system is probably unstable now
ethan has been caught but has, of course, tunnel visioned on The Cure Is Here
…oh my god wait, NO, there was no time for a mask and a vocoder and a WHOLE OUTFIT SWAP, there’s no way that ethan swapped places with hugh… oh my god, “ethan” isn’t talking he’s just making Muffled Noises, somehow he’s been gagged under the mask or something, HOW. HOW. MOVIE HOW.
congrats ambrose you just killed your own guy. notice the finger any minute now-- yep
huh ambrose actually looks pretty broken up about this, can’t decide if he actually liked hugh or he’s just pissed to have missed out on killing ethan (who of course has taken off with the vials)
The Boys tried to pick ethan up but the lz is too hot, so instead he’s Sunglasses Motorcycle Man. why the sunglasses? no idea. where did the motorcycle gang he stole this bike from come from? also no idea.  This. Fucking. Movie.
oh my god luther just fired a bazooka at a car that was pursuing ethan lol
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i swear someone just made a checklist of Cool Action Guy Shots to paste ethan into lol
car chase car chase car chase-- honestly this bit is kind of boring, ethan is just shooting at people and stunting on the bike
“she’s only got a little time left” interesting that they set that timer but have not been actually tracking the time except in this very vague way
okay this is an actually interesting bit of the car chase-- ethan does Something (i don’t know i don’t do vehicles) to make his bike throw up a lot of smoke, which obscures the oncoming truck so that the pursuit vehicle drives in front of it and gets t-boned (and instantly explodes, bc… This Movie)
nyah has of course gotten herself as far as possible from a population center in the time remaining to her and is looking like she’s going to cast herself into the sea. not sure if that would pollute the water in any way, or the marine life for that matter, but her options are admittedly pretty limited
oop! ethan’s gas tank was punctured by ambrose firing at him-- didn’t explode, miraculously lol-- so my guess is he’s going to run out of fuel before he can reach nyah
bike standoff with ambrose
oh my god are they bike jousting…
these deranged bastards just LEAPT OFF THEIR BIKES at each other, COLLIDING IN MIDAIR AND CAREENING OFF A CLIFF TO THE BEACH to have a fistfight. nobody makes ‘em like imf
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ethan is not winning this fistfight by the way, even before ambrose pulls a knife. he gets a couple of good hits in but he is very much getting his ass kicked. but he manages to overpower ambrose-- only when the knife is very literally millimeters from his eyeball, something something near-death experience adrenaline-- and twist the knife away from him. at which point ambrose promptly begins taunting him about nyah’s imminent death.
ethan throws the knife away! the Ethics make another return i guess? he will probably now win the fight out of The Power Of Love and Moral Righteousness.
luther and billy have found nyah! shame they aren’t the ones with the bellerophon.
god this fight with ambrose is taking forever lol. it’s more evenly matched this time but ethan still isn’t exactly winning handily. ethan’s preferred strategy seems to be Kicks, which is interesting given his upper body strength has to be significant to manage the freeclimbing. the boys have brought nyah in the helicopter!
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ethan finally shoots ambrose! probably overdue at this point, but he makes This Face afterwards so i suspect he has some feelings about it that he’s not going to unpack, ever.
more Soft Boy Face Touching
fha;ldkfhal;skh the imf is bitching that it didn’t get a living sample of chimera, ANTHONY HOPKINS YOU FUCK RIGHT OFF
ethan makes this Face whenever he’s talking to imf brass now. it is the face of I Do Not Trust You, and it is well deserved frankly, but ethan, babe, why do you still work for them then
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triumphant romantic reunion
OKAY MOVIE AND THUS LIVEBLOGGING COMPLETE. i think this one felt a lot more traditional as an Action Spy Thriller? ethan’s aversion to violence was more a Protagonist Point Of Order than the sort of seamless way it was blended into his behaviour in the first film, where it was never POINTED OUT it was just… a fact. at some point between movies he’s moved from The Face forced into an uncomfortable role as mission leader/soldier by his circumstances, to a more traditional james bond-y action spy who is comfortable with using any weapon at his disposal, as long as it’s against the right targets. some of that i think i can safely lay at the feet of john woo, bc you don’t hire him to direct unless you plan on a lot of Gun Action and Explosions. some of it is probably character divergence as a result of a sequel script trying to pull audiences. cruise is probably the reason the character still feels identifiably like ethan hunt, just ethan hunt in a Weird Place Right Now.
not as pretty, some of the action dragged for me, i wish nyah got to be more Capable, but still some interesting character work to pick apart and i think if i hadn’t just watched the og movie i would be more kindly disposed to it lol.
7/10, Give Me The Secret Dimitri Backstory!!!!!
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RANT OF A LIFETIME
I swear to fucking god, Apple is going to turn me into an asshole customer, because y’all better not be wasting my fucking time!
For the past month or two, the back of my phone has been getting hot as fuck, plus my battery has been draining, and taking a long time to recharge (Since its so hot, it refuses to charge)
But of course their little tests say the phone is perfectly fine.
Day 1, walk in there to get it done. “Skkrrrt nope, you need an appointment” fine, I make an appointment and come in the next day.
Day 2: Come in for my appointment, tell me everything looks fine according to their tests, but I CAN pay 90 bucks for them to replace the battery if I want, but I should go home and back up my phone first. Goes home, struggling for hours to backup my phone because I don’t have enough space on my laptop and I’m not trying to pay just so I can backup to iCloud
Day 3: Come in to replace my battery (Because they told me to just come in whenever within 5 days, because that’s how long they hold parts for). Sit waiting and waiting. “Oh hey, we can take your phone but we’ll have to hold it over night. There’s 5 phones ahead of you and we close in 2 hours.” “Can I make an appointment to reserve a spot for another day for me to come in?” “Nope. Have a good day”
Day 4 (Today): I go in maybe 45 minutes after they opened, and these mfs are acting like I’m brand new. Sit down ready to just hand my phone over, get it done, pay, and leave. But nope. “Hey your problem might NOT be your battery, because all the tests say its fine. Oh and also if we work on it today it’ll take about 2 hours because your phone isn’t backed up” “I did back it up. Just through my computer not iCloud” “Oh. yeah here’s the thing. If the battery isn’t the issue, it can be an internal software thing, and with your computer, it will just back up the problem again, because your computer just synced up what you had before, but with iCloud, that’s somehow magically not the case. So I’m going to suggest you pay to upgrade your icloud rn, so your phone is backed up”
And I’m like “This is my 4th trip here and not one person has told me that” Like what the fuck, why are you wasting my time. And I swear if this bitch said to me “It’s up to you” one more time, I was gonna snap. “I’m basically pinned in a corner aren’t I?” “Pretty much” then fucking do it. Jesus! Because YEAH I totally want to carry around a phone that is burning up and draining all the time, but no worries, apples little diagnostics say its fine. FOH!!! 
It’s like 10:50 at that point. “Ok so I’ll check you in, and looks like it’ll be done at 12:15″. I ask one more question, and she answers. She looks down at her ipad “Oh looks like someone checked in before you, so it’ll actually be done around 1″ “OH HOW CONVENIENT”. 
Oh and here’s the real kicker, so they say to backup your phone so that when they work on it, there’s a possibility it will wipe all the data off the phone. Which I did, but now it’s crucial that I do it through iCloud. Tell me why this woman is like “Ok, I’m going to turn off the icloud backing up for now (Because it’s not done) because since we’re replacing the battery it won’t have a power source to keep backing it up” “But you guys told me to back it up before you work on it at all” “Yeah, but it won’t have a power source so it won’t continue to backup” Like.... do you understand why that makes me raise an eyebrow??? Just let the battery replacement be the fucking fix so I don’t have to deal with bullshit anymore, because my patience is beyond thin!
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pinkgameboys · 1 year
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Oh yeah I posted it on Twitter since I have a bigger following there and it was a d0n@tion post because I'm pretty fucked rn but uhhhh over the weekend apparently some worthless cuck piece of shit skimmed one of our cards and used it to spend FIVE FUCKING HUNDRED DOLLARS on a big dinner and a night out at the bar. 200$ at texas god damn roadhouse and 300$ at a fucking shitty grody downtown bar. We've been dealing with the bank trying to get it all refunded and once we get it back we're closing the account. But it's been a fucking nightmare.
We found the first 200$ charge that fully drained out account on Saturday night and then found out our bank has ZERO customer/fraud support outside of lobby hours and there is ZERO way to dispute charges through the app or website so we just had to sit and wait until Monday morning. Go in monday, blah blah they swiped a physical card supposedly and since we have our cards it must be a fake copy. Cancel that card and wait for a refund.
12 hours later we get that refund late last night and cool okay I guess we'll be okay. Wake up this morning to see that the 4 charges totaling 300$ went through now. Call cops and file a police report because now we're gonna be filing criminal charges against this guy as best we can. Back to the bank, find out that those charges were put in on Saturday night they just didn't go through because we didn't have the money to cover them but once we got our refund and I got one of my work paychecks, we now had enough money to pay those charges. File the report for the refund, cancel my card too and pull all the remaining cash out. Go to Wells Fargo to open a new account and we have to come back with an appointment because they're understaffed.
Oh also my paycheck has been the exact same since I started but this month is 110$ short and I've yet to get an explanation for why.
So anyway now it's just a shitty waiting game. Oh and another oh also, this all happened a few days before our power bill is due which means that's now gonna be a major hassle to deal with because both cards are cancelled and we don't have a new account yet. It's due the day after our Wells Fargo appointment and getting our power shut off due to nonpayment can get us evicted. I'd guess they might make an exception for us like they would if the power company had a sudden issue and wouldn't take payment but that doesn't really help how stressed I am.
And one more oh also, the paycheck I'm short on is the one for my car payment. Since I'm short, I don't have the money to pay my car payment this month until this gets fixed with my work. Fucking cartoonish levels of bonkers.
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skenpiel · 3 years
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so fucking pissed. oh i am SO fucking pissed. im gonna go hold my big clown doll and have it sing to me so i wont be so pissed.
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dollslayer · 3 years
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Botanical Interest - Thorns
Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader
Summary: After dating the notable mobster Steve Rogers for a couple months you think you’ve got him figured out. An altercation in an alley leaves you questioning whether or not that’s true. 
W/C: 1995
Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, swearing
A/N: Holy smokes! I am completely overwhelmed by the love that the first part to this story has received. Obviously, I couldn’t help myself so I wrote a part 2 also as an entry for @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s 5k soft dark challenge! Using the Mob!Au and the dialogue prompt “Oh, Honey, you weren’t supposed to see that”.
If you want you can check out part one here and my other mob fic here! Cheers!
Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist
______________________________ 6pm was fast approaching as you began to close up shop for the day. Steve was here to pick you up for dinner and much to your embarrassment walked in on you having a very difficult conversation argument with a very difficult customer over pricing and promotion. Having run your small business on your own for years you knew how to hold your own but you completely froze when you saw Steve enter the shop out of the corner of your eye. 
“I- listen Mr. Andersen, I appreciate all the business that your venues have given me but I can’t afford a raise in advertising prices right now. I’ve been reliable and trustworthy and I’ve always treated your venues with respect. I’ve never been an issue for you, please don’t raise the rate. Wedding season is coming up and I need the exposure.” 
You tried to bargain with him quietly, hoping the music overhead would prevent Steve from hearing but it was a low volume and a small shop. You’ve only been dating for a couple months. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, especially not at work. 
Mr. Andersen exhaled sharply. You could tell he was annoyed at you for the pushback. “Look, I’m sorry but we can’t be making exceptions every time a business owner comes groveling.” 
Tears stung your eyes, you really did generate a lot of business through Andersen’s venues. They listed you as one of their recommended vendors to their clients, it’s been huge for you. Knowing that Steve was there made this even worse. “If I’d have known you were going to cry like this I would’ve just done it over email I mean really-”
“That’s enough.” Steve cut him off before he could humiliate you any further. He sent a quick text and shoved his phone back in his pocket before pulling himself to his gull height and squaring his shoulders. “You’ve done enough, now get out.”
A scoff from Andersen and a harsh glare directed towards you and he was on his way out of the building. Steve’s phone vibrated but he didn’t check it. Instead he walked over to you and extended his arm to rub your back. 
“Are you okay? That guy was a total fucking prick to you, you don’t deserve that.” Steve consoled you. He seemed calmer than you expected for having just witnessed something like that. You’ve seen him agitated but never upset. Maybe he was restraining himself for you but it didn’t matter, you appreciate him being there for you. 
“I’m fine, I just need to finish closing up shop and we can get to dinner. Just give me a minute” you said as you began to sweep up. 
“Alright, sweetheart. I’m double parked so I’m gonna go to the car and try to find a space.” You nodded as hummed along to the music. 
____________________________
As Steve left the shop he pulled his phone out and checked his text from Thor ‘we got him’. When Steve heard that man talk to you like that he knew you didn’t want him to threaten Andersen and make the situation worse. You were already on the verge of tears so he decided to ask one of his men to hold Andersen out back where he could have a few words with him. 
Stepping around the corner into the alley behind your shop he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to be quick so you wouldn’t find out. He didn’t want to upset you further, he just wanted this guy to know that you can’t treat his girl like that. And maybe he could be talked into giving her the advertising for free.
“So you think you can talk to my girl like that huh?” He questioned. Andersen looked like Thor had already punched him once in the process of restraining him. Thor’s hold on Andersen’s arms tightened. 
Andersen was scared, but not scared enough to Steve’s liking. Before Andersen had the opportunity to answer Steve cocked his fist back and launched it directly to Andersen’s jaw. “Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We’re expanding and we need the money so I have to raise-”
Before the excuse could be finished Steve hit him again. “Stop! Please!” Andersen begged.
Steve chuckled. “No I don’t think I will. I can’t just let people go every time they grovel to me. They’d never learn.” Another punch landed. 
“You’re not gonna raise your prices for her. In fact, you’re gonna call her up in a couple days and apologize by offering her advertising free of charge for all of your venues. Do you understand?” Steve asked coolly. 
Andersen coughed up some blood. “I- I can offer her half price but I can’t just waive the cost like that!”
“Not good enough.” Steve punched him even harder, Andersen was nearly knocked out. Steve thought about the tears that slipped from his girl’s eye and couldn’t stop himself. He struck Andersen one more time with a growl and his head hung limp between his shoulders. Just then he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him and froze, hand still in a fist. 
_____________________________________
Finally done with most of your tasks all you had to do was take out the garbage and empty the vase of leftover stems from bouquets into the dumpster. You opened the back door just in time to see Steve land a brutal punch to Mr. Andersen’s cheekbone. Mr. Andersen’s head fell and it was clear he had been knocked out cold. 
You hadn’t even realized you’d dropped the vase until you felt the shards fall around your feet. You couldn’t look away when Steve looked up at you with wild eyes, you’d never seen him so angry. You felt the way you did the day you met him. Nervous and frozen in place.
His face instantly fell and through his heavy breathing said “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He was trying to relax his features as he approached you but you could only take steps back and into the shop like a scared animal being cornered. 
Your heart was hammering in your chest and you couldn’t tell if you were more angry or scared. You held your hands out in front of you and stammered “I’d better.. I need to lock up shop I’ll um, I’ll go”. “Sweetheart wait!” Too late. You shut the back door and locked it behind you. 
You went to your back office and sat down, not even sure where to go from here with this. You two had talked about his work a bit, it wasn’t like it could be avoided forever, you just didn’t think he’d bring it into yours. You weren’t scared of Steve doing something like that to you, you were scared of that look in his eyes. His capability of doing something like that with little thought.
Oh, God, what does this mean for the shop? Mr. Andersen will have you blacklisted. He’ll tell every wedding planner in Brooklyn. Now your heart was hammering for a whole other set of reasons. Too busy spiraling as you thought about it all you didn’t hear the bell of the front door ring. 
A knock on your open office door pulled you out of it and you looked up to find Steve. He wore what looked like a truly regretful expression on his face. You fought the urge to yell at him. You’re an adult, you’re going to talk about this like adults. Let him say his piece. 
He had straightened up, his hands were clean and his jacket was back on. He gave a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me, but I want you to know I would never ever do anything like that to you or anyone close to you. I only want what’s best for you.”
“And that’s punching one of my main sources of income?” You snapped. You appreciated the apology but you were getting too worked up in anger thinking about the future of the shop.
He was a little miffed at the outburst and became defensive. “That man disrespected you, disrespected your work. No one talks like that to my girl. That’s how we settle things in my world!” 
“Well you’re not in your mob world right now you’re in mine! And things don’t get handled like that! Do you have any idea the toll that could take on my business? He’s gonna have me blacklisted by the end of the day if he wakes up.” The last words came out a bit broken as you felt more tears build. You were more worried about the business than anything. 
Steve walked around the desk to console you just like he had not twenty minutes ago. He gently put a hand on your forearm. “You’re right. It’s not my world, it wasn’t my call to make and I had no right to react like that. I didn’t even think about that. The way he was talking to you, I just.. I got so mad. You work so hard and you don’t deserve that. Sometimes I forget there’s more than one way to handle things.”
Okay, that went better than expected. This is what made Steve so interesting to you. Steve was funny and sweet and charming as hell, but beyond all that there was this tender heart. He was dangerous but he was also fiercely loyal. He was more than a mobster and he was better than the brute force he used. It’s why you were able to accept that part of him, because it wasn’t his entire life, it didn’t consume him.
“Thank you for saying that,” You said quietly. You looked up to him and could tell that he really did feel bad. “I accept your apology and I appreciate it. But you have to make things right with Mr. Andersen. I’ll pay the new rate but you have to apologize before it’s too late.”
_________________________
Steve was beginning to harbor resentment towards himself for fucking this up for you. Andersen just made him see red, he has such a hard time shutting that part of himself down. You work so hard and care so much there’s just no way he could let that stand. He just hoped to work through it and move on. He really didn’t wanna screw it up.
Steve was much more at ease knowing you accepted his apology. “I won’t like it but I can do that. It’s only fair. Can I make it up to you over dinner? We’ll make a quick stop to the hospital to set things straight with Andersen.” When you shut the door in his face in the alley he had Thor take him to the hospital. He’d call another town car to get home. 
He’ll apologize to Andersen and pay the hospital bill, but you’re not paying the increased rate. No way. Steve will pay him off enough that he won’t be telling anyone about the altercation, either. Win-win in his eyes.
You leaned your head against his shoulder in slight exhaustion and nodded. “Can we forget the reservation? I really want breakfast food right now.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Of course sweetheart, you wanna get takeout and go back to mine?” He felt you nod. “Yes, please”. 
“Let me just order a car and we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry again, sweetheart, I promise I’m gonna make it right even if that guy’s a douche.” You laughed a little bit and wiped the few tears that stayed in your eyes.
“So.... your girl, huh? Is that like some mob slang term I don’t know about? Are we official?”
A smile graced his lips. “I’d like to be, if you would.” 
You smiled back at him. “I might be persuaded with waffles.” 
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patchofsunlight · 3 years
Text
Hands | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: Bakugou learned from a young age to keep his hands to himself, even when his entire body longed for touch and his eyes filled with tears at the loss of a comforting habit.
WORD COUNT: 2.4k
WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, angst, touch starved bakugou!!, kind of a character study? i think about him a lot, one kiss, cursing, consensual hand holding (PFFFT), mitsuki fucking sucks but what’s new
I hope you like this!! please remember feedback is always appreciated and all that. thank you for reading!! sorry if it sucks LMAO I DID MY BEST AND I KINDA LIKE IT
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When he was a child, before he even cared about quirks or rankings or strength, Bakugou Katsuki loved holding hands.
No one knew exactly why, but that was just something he liked. He would hold Izuku’s hand while they talked and ran around the neighborhood, he would take his teacher's hand in his ever so softly whenever he walked over to their desk to ask a question. Katsuki would latch onto his dad with the most loving, tiny grip he could muster, and he would even interlace pinkies with his mom when she was having a good day and didn’t deem his manners “too soft”,  “too weak”, “too foolish”. Those were nice days in the Bakugou household.
Bakugou Katsuki was five years old when he had his heart broken for the first time. It was a few weeks after his quirk manifested and he was just so excited to play hero (with a quirk, this time!) alongside his friends after school that he didn’t even hesitate before grabbing Izuku’s hand exactly like he always did, jumping up and down with energy and happiness, rambling about how he was gonna be the number one hero one day — until Izuku screamed, pulling his hand away with a painful expression. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows, confused at his best friend’s antics, and then he saw it: the raw, burned flesh of his palm.
Katsuki had hurt his best friend.
It’s very easy to fix objects, his dad used to tell him while stitching up one of his ripped shirts, you just get a bit of glue or yarn and you put it back together, a smile graced his lips at the feeling of his son taking his hand immediately after he let go of the sewing needle, but people are a lot harder to patch up, Katsu. People can’t be fixed, sometimes.
He wasn’t exactly sure of when he started shoving his hands inside his pockets, when he started opening doors with his feet and touching people with his shoulders to get their attention. It took him a while to understand that that first occasion wasn’t an accident, and that controlling his quirk when he got too excited or just overly happy was too hard and the security he got from all those tender touches he so eagerly searched from everyone in his life wasn’t worth the risk. The best thing Katsuki could do, for himself and for others, was to keep his hands to himself, even if they felt cold and empty and his big red eyes filled with tears at the loss of such a comforting habit.
He told himself it didn’t matter. You’d have to overgrow that over time, anyway, his mom reminded him at some point. Such childish, silly bullshit. Only softies hold hands, Katsuki, and we both know you’re not a softie.
It was easy to pretend he didn’t miss it. After a few years, the lack of touch was simply another part of his life he consciously chose to ignore, another longing he conditioned himself not to think about. It wasn’t like many people noted his abrupt change in behavior either — there were other things about him that were much more worthy of attention than that, like his killer quirk and quick brain, like his determination and ambition. Who cared about the fact that little Bakugou Katsuki didn’t want to hold hands anymore? Who cared about the fact that little touchy and clingy Bakugou Katsuki now barely touched others? 
Such childish, silly bullshit. Only softies hold hands, Katsuki, and we both know you’re not a softie.
He met her during his second year at UA. Y/N was mostly quiet, but still friendly and hardworking, fighting hard for her place as the number one student in Class 2-B. A project involving the two classes put them as partners, and project meetings soon became sparring sessions that turned into study group that led to study dates and then real dates and, by the beginning of his senior year, Katsuki had gotten himself a girlfriend.
He wasn’t certain if she noticed the way he purposely kept his hands out of reach when they walked side by side, or if she ever saw how he always made sure his palms were pointing away from her skin whenever they hugged or cuddled. He didn’t think anyone would ever pay enough attention to him to the point of perceiving his hesitancy. It didn’t matter that Bakugou had gained complete control of his quirk, it didn’t matter that he still felt his skin and his hands tingling with the urge, the craving for touch — the satisfaction wasn’t worth the risk, not the stupid satisfaction he didn’t even need. Such childish, silly bullshit. Bakugou Katsuki was doing very well with letting go of old customs, no doubt.
But Y/N noticed. God, of course she did — she noticed all the longing gazes, all the small flinches. She noticed how he never let his hands touch hers and at first it made her worried. Didn’t he want to touch her? Had she done something wrong? Her boyfriend wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, even though he had been putting in the effort to talk to her whenever he felt a bit under the weather or bothered. 
However, this seemed like a bigger problem, like something he would never speak of unless she brought it up. It seemed deeper.
“Katsu?”
He lifted his scarlet eyes from the book in his hands and turned them to her sitting figure. They were both on his bed, despite curfew starting in less than an hour and the knowledge they shouldn’t be alone in his dorm. To be honest, Aizawa was quite used to watching the Class B girl sneak out of his student’s room every other night, wearing one of his many hoodies and those shorts that she always left in his closet. As long as they weren’t causing him any trouble, Eraserhead didn’t cause them any trouble, either.
“Yeah?” his voice was clearly tired after a day full of training and studying, a hint of sleepiness dripping from his tone.
“How come you never let me hold your hand?”
Katsuki froze on the spot, feeling his heart pick up its pace until it was beating so loud he could hear it by his ear, throbbing. He gulped harshly, sweat immediately gathering up on his hands from his own anxiety. She had noticed?
“What do you mean?” he tried to laugh calmly, but his chuckle sounded forced and nervous. He put the book away.
“You never let me hold your hand,” Y/N’s cheeks were tinted red with shyness. She had been pondering on how to talk to him about this for days now, yet seeing him so flustered made her surprisingly tense. “You avoid touching me with your hands in general, actually,” her chuckle sounded as forced and nervous as his, “is… Is there something wrong? Would you feel better if I stopped touching you so much? Does it make you uncomfortable? Because I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Katsu. You can talk to me about things like that, you know it.”
He couldn’t get himself to answer, unable to move or truly process her words. He really thought he had been slick, huh? He really thought she’d never notice, he really thought she’d never care. How would she feel if he told her he was afraid to hurt her, that he was afraid he would lose control of his quirk and burn her somehow, like he had done with Izuku all those years ago? Would she think he was childish and silly, too? Such childish, silly bullshit, Bakugou Katsuki scared of holding hands with his girlfriend, scared of touching her and holding her like she deserved to because what if it went wrong? What if he fucked it up? The best thing Katsuki could do, for himself and for others, was to keep his hands to himself, even if they felt cold and empty and his big red eyes filled with tears at the loss of such a comforting habit.
People are a lot harder to patch up, his father told him. He didn’t want to be guilty of screwing this up, didn’t want to destroy the relationship he cherished so, so much. Would she think he was weak for being this reluctant? Would she laugh at his stupid antics and tell him to grow up and stop being such a softie? Would she get mad? Should he even tell her?
“Katsu?” her soft voice relaxed his muscles like it habitually did, and he sighed deeply before meeting her worried eyes. “Talk to me?”
Y/N had always had this amazing talent of making him feel at ease. Ever since they met, so many months ago, she had this blinding quality that urged him to be quieter, calmer, less defensive. She didn’t even have to try tearing down his walls — they simply melted away when she smiled at him for the first time. He had never really talked about this issue with anyone else before, and he didn’t know how to even start, but Y/N made him want to try. Still, the words felt heavy on his tongue.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered so quietly that she leaned in to hear him, furrowing her eyebrows in disagreement.
“Come on, Katsu. Please?”
He inhaled deeply. She stared patiently, waiting for him to organize his own thoughts enough to explain the thousands of things running through his mind. When his eyes met hers again, he felt warm all over. Katsuki loved the way she looked at him — there was no fear, no ulterior interest, no nonsensical admiration. She looked at him and she saw… Katsuki. Just that. And, strangely, that seemed enough.
The boy averted his eyes from hers. “I don’t want to hurt you with my quirk.”
Oh. Oh? That, well, that was definitely unexpected. The crease in Y/N’s eyebrows deepened. 
“Why would you ever hurt me, Katsuki?”
The future hero lifted his head to look at her instantly, confusion swimming in his red gaze as he answered, “I mean by accident, Y/N. I—,” he almost stopped himself right there, yet her expression caused him to continue, “I really liked holding hands when I was younger, you know? With my friends, teachers, family, and all that,” his ears were bright pink with embarrassment that subsided when she smiled softly at the new information, “it made me feel safe or whatever. Then I—then I got my quirk and, sometimes, when I held hands with people it just—,” he exhaled heavily before letting out a sad, defeated laugh, “I have burned a nasty amount of people. I don’t want to do that with you, too. I’d never want to hurt you.”
Katsuki was hardly a vulnerable person. He tried to be, yes, because he wanted this to work and for it to work he had to meet her halfway somehow during certain moments, but it was so, so difficult. It was so difficult for him to open up and talk about one of his biggest insecurities of all time, about one of the things he most craved for. He didn’t want to scare her away.
“Katsuki.” Her tone was serious and she stared at him with such intensity that he lost the ability to breathe for a second. “I understand where you’re coming from, but that’s bullshit.”
Bakugou blinked. “What?”
“You’d never hurt me, okay? I know you wouldn’t. I trust you, Katsu, so much. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about this before,” she bit her lip thoughtfully while he could only stand there, dumbfounded with her reaction. 
Out of all his imagined worst-case scenarios, this was a surprise. 
“Katsu,” the girl called to him again, smiling lovingly in that way that made his world spin in its axis when they first met, “do you trust me too?”
“Of course I do,” there was no hesitation this time. Of course he did.
“Can I touch your hands?”
Once again, he froze on the spot. She looked at him expectantly.
People are a lot harder to patch up. She was trying, though. She was really trying to fix the ripped pieces of himself he tried to bury under anger and seclusion, pretending there was nothing wrong and that this was just how things were supposed to be. 
Bakugou looked down at his own hands, studying them carefully. With a last shaky exhale, he nodded.
She took his hands in hers, letting her fingers interlace with his cautiously so as to not startle him. Her thumb caressed his palm ever so softly and he fought the instinctive flinch that threatened to push her away. After years without it, this type of touch felt too intimate, too close, too new.
He liked it. 
He smiled.
“See? Nothing to worry about.” Y/N smiled back, grinning when he took it upon himself to squeeze her hand in appreciation. “You’re fine, Katsuki. I like holding your hand.”
His smile grew wider and he leaned in to kiss her, living for the feeling of her fingers squeezing his while their lips moved slowly. They had kissed a million times before, yet this felt different. If given the chance, Katsuki probably wouldn’t mind being stuck in that moment forever, with her lips on his and his hands on hers — Y/N had melted away all his walls and defenses from the start, and he was incredibly glad. He was incredibly glad for her.
His heart was beating fast inside his chest, especially when she pulled one of his hands up slightly to let it cup her face. A shiver went down his spine as he felt the curve of her jaw under his fingertips, the softness of her skin touching his. When there was not any air left in their lungs, they parted from each other. She turned her face to kiss his palm affectionately and his entire face seemed to burst with love and gratitude.
“I like holding your hand, too.”
She giggled, and, for the first time, Bakugou felt like it’d be alright if he decided not to keep his hands to himself. Such childish, silly bullshit, waiting around when he could’ve been holding hands this whole time.
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A/N: so that was it!!! i hope you liked it!!! hehe hello
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taglists
all: @kiedhara @wingeddemonclub @thedemigodsarealivebitch @ray-ofmoonlight​
also tagging @tsuhika bc i am: a fan and you gave us permission to tag you in shit SOO KJSFBIUEFB LMAO SORRY
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Text
Seasons of Med: Season 2 and Seasons of PD: Season 4: Necessities, Love, & Care (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)
Your age: 15
Jay's age: 29
Will's age: 31
You were currently sitting at the library, trying to figure out how you'd get food for dinner. It was January and you had run out of your Christmas money two weeks ago and you had burned through your money from helping with kettle corn at the beginning of December. Right now you were SOL: Shit outta luck.
Your mind wandered back to the last day you had helped working the kettle corn stand when it was a dreary late October day.
"We have kettle corn, caramel corn, cheddar, Chicago style, and a few other flavors," you explained to a customer. She picked up a medium bag of caramel corn. "That one?"
"Yes, dear. Me and my husband love this stuff," the old lady said.
"I'm sure. It's really good! It'll be six dollars." She pulled out a five and two ones. "I'll be right back with your change."
"Oh, no, keep the change, dear. Thank you for the popcorn."
"You're welcome. Have a nice day."
"Y/N," Emma said to you. "Can you grab me a lemonade from the cooler?"
"Just one?"
"Yup, just one."
You grabbed it from the cooler and were about to pass it to her when you saw who her customers were: Jay and Erin.
"Y/N?" Jay asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Working," you answered quickly. "Little bit of extra money never hurt anybody. The real question is, what are you doing here? I know Erin hates being outside when the weather is crappy."
"It's because he's annoying when he whines and begs to do something, so I figured it was just best to give in," Erin answered.
Jay rolled his eyes. "God, I can't win with either of you. Why do you always gang up on me?"
"Because, Halstead, us girls gotta stick together," Erin laughed.
"Okay, okay, fine. Y/N, what popcorn should I get?"
"First of all, it's kettle corn," you corrected. "And, I suggest the cheddar. Or, if you want a combination of both salty and sweet, then get the Chicago style. It's cheddar and caramel."
"Me and Erin like sweet, but I know you. You like cheddar. And you'll pick out the cheddar pieces when you're at my apartment, so I'll get the Chicago style."
"Or," Erin started as she picked up a large bag of caramel and a large bag of cheddar, "We could get this big bag of caramel, and then you could have this bag at your apartment for Y/N. That way the flavors aren't touching."
"Erin Lindsay and not liking her food touching. Fine, we'll take what Erin suggested and one lemonade."
"One or two straw holes?" Emma asked, picking up the lid-punching tool.
"One's fine," Jay answered.
"They swap enough spit as it is," you whispered to Emma, causing her to laugh.
"What'd she say?" Jay asked.
"I can't tell you. It's a secret."
He huffed. "Fine. Keeping secrets from your big brother? That's cold Y/N, that's cold."
"So you're saying you never kept secrets from Will?" Erin asked.
"I have the right to remain silent."
"Exactly," Erin said. "How much does he owe you?"
"Excuse me? I didn't know I'd be the one paying for all of this."
"You were the one who dragged me outside, so yes, you are paying, Halstead. Now, get your card ready."
Jay rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. "How much?"
You did the math in your head. "$23."
"Emma, can you check her math?" Jay asked and you rolled your eyes in his lack of faith in you.
"$10 for the cheddar and $8 for the caramel makes $18...plus $5 for the lemonade...yup $23."
You handed him the card reader. "And now it's just going to ask you a few questions," you told him after his card went through.
Without allowing him to read it all the way through, Erin hit the tip and no receipt buttons. "Hey!" Jay exclaimed.
"Don't blame me! You were the one who wanted me to come out here!" She turned to you and took the bag of kettle corn as Jay picked up the 32 oz lemonade. "Thanks, Y/N!"
"No problem! Just make sure he doesn't buy any more paintings of motorcycles!"
Man, how you wished you could work that job right now because it was only for a few hours on the weekends. But, it was winter now, so there were no street fairs, farmers markets, or festivals going on. Because of this, your money had run out. You'd have to do what you'd have to get yourself some food, even if it would leave you with a guilty conscience.
With that in mind, you got up and left the library.
***
"Pop's been complaining of chest pain and refuses to go to the hospital," Jay told his older brother as he walked through the front door and into the living room.
"Of course he did," Will grumbled. Then, he turned to his father. "This won't take long. Unless it's bad. Then you'll have to come with me and actually go to the hospital this time."
"You can't force me to do anything," he argued as he watched his oldest son open up his medical bag.
"Just let him do his job. He knows what he's doing," Jay agreed with Will. Then, he remembered something. "Where's Y/N?"
"At school."
"At school? At 5 pm?" Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Sometimes she stays after school and does homework. She's always home before it gets too late so I don't ask."
It's not like Jay and Will could have known this, though. Yes, you would talk and they're obviously there for you because they're your brothers, but your dad's parenting skills--or lack thereof--hadn't ever come up. You'd get together with your brothers once a week, but it was usually at one of your brothers' places. They rarely came inside your and your dad's place.
"All units, we have reports of a robbery at 3020 East Main Street. Assistance requested," Jay's radio stated.
Jay looked to Will, silently asking if it was okay for him to take it. "I've got it from here."
"Thanks, man," Jay said, clapping Will on the back and leaving the house.
He drove to the small corner market that had made the call. It was only a block away from where you and your dad lived, but despite it usually being somewhat slow, today it was even slower. There was only one car parked in the lot, so Jay was confused as to who would even rob this place.
He put on his vest and walked into the store. "Got a call about a robbery," he said to the store manager as he entered.
"Yes, right over here."
He led Jay over to where a girl was sitting on a stool, tears rolling down her face. She held a box of pasta, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of peanut butter. Her coat was unzipped, revealing the tampons and pads she had stuffed inside her coat after she had ripped open the box.
"Y/N?" Jay asked in disbelief. "What are you doing? What were you even thinking?"
"I- I'm sorry," you sniffled.
Then he turned to the store manager. "You called the cops on a fifteen-year-old girl for grabbing what looks to me like necessities?"
"I've let her go the past two times when she needed things, but today she didn't have the money, so I couldn't let it slide."
Jay threw $30 in the man's hand. "There. Now it's all paid for." He turned to you and took the loaf of bread. "C'mon."
You followed him out of the store, waiting to be yelled at as you entered his truck, but it didn't come. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he handed you the bread. "Why? Why did you do this?"
"There- There's barely any food in the house. I was just hungry."
Jay looked you up and down. He hadn't been really looking for changes in weight like he told Natalie he would do six months ago. He kept it up for a few months and then winter came around and it was hard to tell because of bulky jackets and sweaters. But, now that he actually looked at your face and hands in an investigative manner, it was clear as day: You had lost even more weight.
"And the other stuff?" he asked.
"Dad won't buy them for me. Says that they're too expensive and to just use something else. He said that if he had had a son he wouldn't have to worry about it, like it's my fault. Usually, I take some from school, but I ran out and I needed them."
"And the food?" Jay asked as he started driving back to his childhood home.
"I get breakfast and lunch at school, but I have to eat dinner at home. And on weekends I just skip meals and eat breakfast and dinner."
"What? What about Dad?"
"He gets takeout or he goes to the bar and isn't home until late."
Jay sighed as he pulled into the driveway. "Go pack a bag, kid. You're staying at my place until further notice."
"Really? I thought you guys forgot about me?"
"We could never forget about you. It's just, work has been busy for both of us. So, sorry if these last few times we've all been together for dinner have seemed a little rushed. Now, go inside and grab your stuff while I have a chat with Will and Dad."
"Dad, Will," Jay said after you had run upstairs and they were sitting on the couch. "I need to talk to you. In the kitchen."
"Really, Jay. Why can't it be here?" your dad grumbled. "First he--" He pointed to Will. "Wants to take me to the hospital because he said I have a valve issue and now I can't even have a conversation with my sons while sitting down?"
"Just get up, dammit!"
The three entered the kitchen and sat down, but Jay stayed standing. "Jay, what's going on?" Will asked.
Instead of answering his older brother, Jay just opened the fridge. There was a half drank gallon of milk, a jar of grape jelly, and a can of pasta sauce, along with other condiments, and a lone egg sat on a shelf. "This? This is what you expect your daughter to eat? I caught her stealing from a store just so she could get food and tampons!"
"Well, I'm not gonna pay for it."
"Excuse you?" Will exclaimed, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean you're not paying for it? She's your daughter, isn't she? Then you have a legal responsibility to feed her, make sure she has shelter, clothes, and goes to school!"
"She can go get a job."
"She is fucking fifteen!" Jay yelled. "She doesn't need to be worrying about where her next meal is coming from! She's supposed to be worrying about getting a good grade on a math test or if that boy likes her or not, but not that!"
"She needs to learn to grow up someday. And she won't if you boys baby her like you always do whenever you see her."
"Baby her?" Will yelled, disgusted. "She's a kid. She needs to be babied sometimes. She needs fucking food and a nice home to come home to, not whatever the hell you think this is."
"It hasn't been a home since your mother died."
"Yeah, we gathered that," Jay scoffed. "But you don't have to take it out on her."
"Jay," your small voice said from the doorway into the kitchen. All three men looked over to you, your backpack on your back, a duffle bag slung over your shoulder, and your favorite blanket wadded up in your hands so that you could carry it without it dragging on the ground.
"Ready to go?" Jay asked, his voice immediately softening.
"Uh, yeah," you answered, unsure of how your dad would react.
"What do you mean ready to go?" Pat Halstead asked, standing up from where he had been previously sitting at the table. "She's not going anywhere!"
Will rushed over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder while Jay stalked over to be face to face with your dad. "She is coming with me until further notice. You're lucky I don't arrest your ass for child neglect!"
"You wouldn't do that to your own father!"
Jay pulled the cuffs out of his back pocket. "Oh yeah? Try me."
He sat back down and Jay turned to you. "Here, let me take that." You handed him your duffle bag and followed him and Will outside.
"Jay, I gotta go. I gotta get Dad to Med to get the valve fixed. And, I said one hour out of the hospital tops and it's been two."
Jay closed the truck door once you were safely inside with all your stuff. "Good luck trying to get Dad to go the hospital," he scoffed. "Get going. Don't give Goodwin another reason to fire your stupid ass."
"I'll call an ambulance if I have to." Then, Will smacked Jay upside the head.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"You know what it was for. And, I'm your older brother, it's my job."
"I'm your older brother, it's my job," Jay mocked. "But, in all seriousness, do me a favor and make sure Y/N's all caught up on her immune- immune--"
"Immunizations?" Will laughed.
"Yeah, those."
"I'll do that. And if she's not, I'll give them to her tonight when I come over to your place after my shift is done...which will be in like two hours...depending on how much of a pain in the ass he is to get in the hospital."
Jay nodded, and then got in the truck, both of you making your way to his place.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," Jay said after you had put your stuff down by the couch. "You have homework?"
"Yeah," you looked down, not wanting to even try and struggle through your homework...or have Jay sign the slip that said that you failed your last test.
Jay smiled. "I'll help you with it when I'm out of the shower, okay, kid?"
"How'd you know--"
"That is the universal facial expression of I need help, but I don't know how to ask for it. I'll be ten minutes tops."
And so, you tried to struggle through your homework for ten minutes. But, you ended up working and reworking the stupid algebra problem. Why did math need letters anyway?
"Okay, I'm back," Jay said as he pulled a chair out to sit next to you. "What are you workin' on?"
"Can you sign this first?" you asked, sliding the yellow paper over to him along with the pen. You hoped he'd just sign it blind, but as you saw his eyes skimming the page, you knew that wouldn't happen.
"Did you try your best?" he asked as he slid the piece of paper back to you after signing it.
"What? Yeah, of course, I did."
"Okay, then we'll figure something out. Now, how about we eat some dinner? I've got pizza in the freezer. That okay?"
"That's great," you answered.
Jay got the pizza in the oven while you went and changed into your pajamas. You decided it was in your best interest to have Will help you with your math homework.
***
"Ah! The man of the hour!" Jay exclaimed as he pulled out the pizza and Will entered the house.
You immediately noticed the red bag he was carrying over his shoulder and the two king-sized Twix bars.
"Why do you have your medical bag?" you asked.
"How did you know this was my medical bag?"
"I'm not stupid, Will."
"Okay, so you're all caught up on your shots, but I need to do a blood draw because I need to see if you're deficient in any vitamins and minerals. Have you been eating enough fruits and veggies?" he asked.
"Probably not as much as I should," you admitted. "They're too expensive unless I get the canned kind and I don't like those unless it's canned peaches. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Short Stack. None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. I just need to take the blood and then get it sent to the lab to see if you need to get any specific pills to get your vitamin and mineral levels up."
"Okay. Does it hurt?" you asked. You knew what a shot felt like, but you'd never had your blood drawn before, so you didn't know what it felt like to have a needle in your arm for a long time, taking blood. You knew what it felt like to have an IV in from when you passed out at the movie theater, but you didn't know if this needle would be the same size or bigger.
"You just feel a slight pinch at the beginning."
"Like getting a shot?"
"Like getting a shot," he confirmed.
"Hey, I was thinking," Jay started as he reappeared from the kitchen area, "what if we have celery and carrots with ranch for dinner, too? You know, like when we eat chicken wings at restaurants and they bring you some veggies, except we'll have ours with pizza."
"Okay," you agreed. "I like ranch."
"So does everyone in the midwest," Will joked.
"What's the medical bag for?" Jay asked. "She needs shots? And, what's with the Twix bars?"
"No, I'm drawing her blood to see if she's deficient in anything. And, there's one Twix bar for her and one for you because we all know how you feel about needles, Jay."
Jay rolled his eyes. "We doing this before we eat?"
"Yes. And, I need you to answer some questions for me, Y/N. These are strictly doctor protocol questions, okay? You don't need to be embarrassed about any of the answers."
You nodded.
"Okay," Will started, "When did you last eat? Just need to write it down for fasting glucose levels."
"Um, lunch at school, so around noon."
"So, six-hour fast," Will scribbled down on a piece of paper. "Next one, are you sexually active?"
"Will!"
"It's just standard protocol, just in case I need to test for STDs."
"No, I am not. Next question."
"Okay, last one: When was your last period?"
"You've got to be kidding me. I'm not pregnant, I haven't had sex!"
Will chuckled. "It's not for that. Sometimes when people are deficient in vitamins and minerals, they can lose their period for months at a time, signaling that their body isn't healthy. The medical term is amenorrhea." But, what he wanted to say was that when girls are underweight, this can also happen. And, from seeing how baggy your sweatshirt and jeans were on you, he assumed that you'd lost ten pounds since last going to the doctor when you passed out in the movie theater parking lot, making your weight loss a grand total of 25 pounds, which would qualify you as being underweight.
"Oh. I started today."
"Okay, good to know. Any changes in length or heaviness of menstruation?"
"I swear, I'd rather have Natalie or April be asking me these questions," you grumbled. "But, yes, it's a lot lighter and it went from me having my periods for five days to two days. Can we please stop talking about this now?"
"Yeah, we're all done. Sorry about that, but it's protocol."
"Says the guy who's drawing my blood at Jay's apartment instead of in a hospital, where it should be done."
"Hey, I've worked in much worse conditions than this in Sudan. How much water did you drink today?"
"A lot."
"Okay, good." Will started to unzip his medical bag. He passed a Twix bar to Jay. "Here, eat this and focus on it so you don't focus on the needles and then freak out."
Jay rolled his eyes, but took the candy bar and unwrapped it.
"Do I get one?" you asked.
"Once I draw your blood, yes, the other one is for you. Now, right or left arm?"
You held out your left arm and Will moved to the other side of you so he had a better angle. He sanitized his hands and then snapped on a pair of gloves.
"So, what do you do?" you asked. "I've never had my blood drawn before."
"I just tie off your arm so that I can get the veins to show a bit better, wipe down the spot with an antiseptic wipe, stick the needle in, and then wait for the vial to fill up."
"That's it?"
"That's it. Can you make a fist with your left hand for me?"
You did as Will told you and then he tied a band around your bicep and started touching the inside of your elbow, trying to get some veins to show. He furrowed his eyebrows and moved down your arm, rubbing your forearm and then going back up to the crook of your elbow and gently pressing there.
"What's wrong?" you asked.
"You just have really small veins is all. I could take the blood from the big vein in your forearm, but I don't really want to do that one since it's so big. Can you squeeze your fist tighter for me?" You did as he said while he kept pressing on the crook of your elbow. "There we go. Got one. Now, turn and look at Jay while I get the needle ready."
You looked at Jay and tried not to laugh. "You okay?"
"Me? I should be asking you that," he replied. "You're the one who's about to get stabbed with a needle."
"It's just that you got some sweat on your forehead. You look nervous."
"They're needles. They're tiny little sharp metal objects and if one breaks off--"
"Jay, respectfully," Will started, cutting off his brother, "shut the hell up, so you don't scare my patient. You might just want to look away instead of watching me. Then you might feel fine." Then, he turned back to you. "Okay, Y/N, keep looking at Jay. Close your eyes if you want to. You're going to feel a small pinch."
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Then, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly and grit your teeth, trying not to yell out as the needle pierced your skin.
"Hard part's done," Will said. You nodded, still keeping your eyes closed.
"That was not a small pinch," you retorted about a minute later.
"Sorry."
You opened your eyes and watched as the blood flowed from your vein into the small tube that was hooked up to the needle.
"I thought you hated blood," Jay pointed out. "And here you are, watching the entire process."
"I'm fine when it's my blood if it's not a huge, deep cut," you explained. "It's other people's blood I don't like."
"Well, that takes any job in the medical field off your career choices," Will said.
You sat there for a few more minutes, waiting for the vial to fill up. Will pressed on your arm, close to the needle, to see if more would come out. "This vein is really small," he said.
You watched as the blood coming into the tube started becoming slower and slower, in what looked to be bubbles.
"Just a little more," Will muttered.
You started taking deeper breaths as you felt sweat start to bead on your forehead.
"Okay, let's see how much this gave me." He pressed his thumb above where the needle was and you turned back to Jay as he removed the needle.
Then, he got the blood into the vial. "Bad news," he started, "I might need to take more. Let's see how much extra there is." He put the extra into another, smaller vial. "Yeah, this one clotted too, so bad news, we need more."
You nodded and closed your eyes, feeling your face get hot and starting to feel lightheaded. You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing this uncomfortable feeling to go away.
"You doing okay?" Will asked.
"Yeah," you answered.
"Okay, I'm gonna do your right arm this time." You held your right arm out to him. "Make a fist for me." You did as he told you and he tied the blue band around your bicep.
But, you were getting even dizzier. "Actually, can I get some water? I feel dizzy."
"Course," Will said. "Jay, can you get her some water and juice if you have any?"
"Apple juice good?"
"That's fine," you answered.
Will untied the band from your bicep. "We're just going to wait a few minutes until you feel less dizzy before I take more blood, okay?"
You nodded and took the water from Jay when he came back.
"Let's have the juice after I finish," Will suggested after a few minutes had passed and you finished the water. "Feeling better, Short Stack?"
"Yeah, let's get this over with." Your forehead was still a bit sweaty, but you were a lot less dizzy.
Will repeated the same process as the last arm and it went a lot faster. Turns out he picked a bit bigger vein in the crook of your elbow of this arm than he did the other one.
"And, we're done," Will said as he capped the vial.
He handed you the juice. "Thanks," you said. "That was not fun."
"I bet. At least you didn't pass out. I've had a few patients do that when I went through my clinicals. That's why normally when someone gets their blood drawn, they sit in this chair where something is flipped down in front of them so they don't fall out of the chair just in case they pass out."
"Jay, do you pass out?" you asked.
He scoffed. "No. I don't even get dizzy. My body doesn't react like that."
"He just breaks out into a sweat whenever he sees needles," Will whispered, loud enough for Jay to hear.
"Hey! I heard that! Take one more jab at me and you won't be getting any pizza, Will. I mean it!"
Will held his hands up in a mock surrender while you finished up your juice. Then, Will started to pack up his medical stuff and Jay brought the pizza and veggies and ranch out, along with plates of course.
You ate your pizza while Will helped you with your math homework. Once you finished two slices of pizza and some celery and ranch, you said that you were done.
"You sure?" Jay asked. "You can have as much as you want."
"I'm good. Gotta save some for tomorrow." Your eyes widened as you realized what you had just said. "I'm gonna go take a shower. It's been a long day."
"Okay, clean towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom where they always are," Jay said, trying not to react to what you had just said even though he knew exactly what you were doing.
You were rationing food.
"Fuck," Jay said as he put his head in his hands when he knew you were in the bathroom and out of earshot.
"What? What did she mean by gotta save some for tomorrow?" Will asked.
"She's rationing it. I used to do it in Afghanistan. Save some of my MRE and put it in my pack to eat the next day if I was on a long trek and we knew we wouldn't get back to base. It would be cold and usually disgusting, but I'd choke it down because it was calories and I needed fuel to be sharp in case we came in contact with combatants."
"Poor kid. At least we had Mom."
Jay nodded. "What happened with Dad at the hospital?"
"Had to have a mitral valve replacement because his wasn't working properly. Told him over and over to get his checked regularly, but he didn't because he's stubborn. He went for the non-surgical option first, but then there were complications, so Rhodes performed surgery. He's fine."
"That's good... I guess." Jay glanced around and he saw your duffle bag sitting outside the bathroom door. You had grabbed your clothes to bring them into the bathroom and left your open duffle bag by the door.
Jay stood up and started walking towards it.
"What are you doing?" Will hissed.
"I need to see if she's got anything else in there that will help prove neglect. I'm assuming it needs to be proved...I only know criminal court cases, don't know much about family court cases."
"What do you mean family court? You're going to fight Dad to be able to take care of her?"
"Yeah, I'll fight to be her legal guardian. Unless you want to do it. My loan went through for a new apartment, which has two bedrooms, so I figured I might be better suited."
"Go ahead. You'd probably have a better chance anyway because you were around more when I was in New York."
Jay nodded and started to dig around your duffle bag. He chuckled and pulled out your Build-A-Bear. "She still sleeps with Beary," he said as he held up the stuffed bear. "Probably doesn't change his clothes anymore because she's too old for that, but he's in pajamas."
"Remember that military uniform you got for her bear? Mom said she barely took Beary out of that because she missed you so much."
"Yeah, and if she wouldn't have dropped him at the airport, I might not have met Mouse."
The two fell into a comfortable silence as he continued to dig through your bag. He got to a big zip-lock bag full of pieces of fabric that were stained light reds and browns.
"Will, c'mere," Jay said, waving him over. Will squatted down next to Jay. "You know what this is?"
Will sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I saw a lot of this when I worked in Sudan."
"Well, what is it?"
"So, when girls don't have access or money to buy feminine hygiene products, they'll use scraps of fabric and wash them. Looks to me like she cut up some, um, she cut up some underwear and then used them as make-shift pads. If they aren't taken care of properly, she could end up with an infection. And, if she tried to use them as tampons instead of pads, it could lead to TSS, which stands for Toxic Shock Syndrome."
"We're gonna have to talk to her about this now, aren't we?"
"Unfortunately, yeah. She's not gonna be happy you dug through her stuff, so I'll let you explain why you were going through it. And, if she used them as tampons, I want her to get a pelvic exam, just to make sure she didn't get any infections. Much more likely to get an infection from tampons than pads."
Jay nodded. He hated having the current conversation and knew he was going to hate the next one even more, but he knew he had to do these things if he wanted to petition the court for legal guardianship.
Jay picked up your duffle bag and brought it to the living room and he set the zip-lock bag full of pieces of fabric on top.
"I can't believe we missed this," Will said. "I mean, we're both trained in how to spot abuse and we couldn't even spot it in our little sister."
"There weren't outright signs," Jay said. "No bruising, limping, cuts, burns, nothing like that. And, it's winter, it's easy to hide the weight loss. But, I still agree with you. If we would've spotted it earlier, we could've gotten her out of there."
"I'm pretty sure she's officially underweight now."
Jay ran a hand through his hair and then stood back up. "I'm gonna go put clean sheets on my bed. I'll let Y/N take it tonight so that we can keep talking out here when she goes to sleep."
"Good idea."
A few minutes later, Jay was back on the couch next to Will and you walked out of the bathroom, wearing a baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants that you had to keep pulling up because they were too big on you now, and a pair of fuzzy socks. You were cold all the time now and wanted your hoodie out of your duffle and wanted to put your dirty clothes in there, but when you looked down to the spot where you thought you had put it, it wasn't there.
"Guys?" you asked. "Have you seen my bag?"
You walked over to the kitchen table where your blanket was sitting on the chairs and wrapped that around yourself instead.
You furrowed your eyebrows as you saw your brothers on the couch, your duffle bag in front of them on the floor, and on top, your bag of ripped-up, old underwear that you used as pads when you didn't have any.
"You went through my stuff?" you asked, starting to become angry.
"Y/N," Jay started, "I know you're mad and it was me who went through it and not Will, so don't be mad at him, be mad at me. But, I went through it to see if anything was in there that could help me get you out of dad's house. Permanently."
"You- You want to have custody of me?" you asked.
A small smile appeared on Jay's lips and he nodded. "It wouldn't be considered custody because I'm not your biological parent, it would be considered guardianship, but yes, I want you to stay with me. And, my loan went through for a new apartment, so you'd have your own room and everything."
"Okay."
Jay looked at Will, not wanting to be the one to start this conversation. And, he figured Will would be the best one to start it because he was a doctor.
"Y/N, we need to ask you about these." Will motioned to the zip-lock bag on top of your stuff.
You sat in the loveseat across from them and looked down at your feet.
"It's okay, you're not in trouble," Will continued. "We just want to know how you used them in case you need to get a pelvic exam to check for infections in that area."
Your lip began to tremble as tears started to roll down your cheeks. "I used them as pads," you said quietly. "Dad wouldn't buy me any and I stopped getting them from school because I thought they'd suspect something was wrong if I- if I kept taking them."
"One more question," Will said softly. "I just need to know in case we need to take you in for this. I know you said you used them as pads, but did you ever try and use them as tampons?"
"No. I only used them as pads," you whispered. "I was scared to use them as tampons." You looked up at your brothers, who both had tears in their eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you rushed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner I was just--" You let out a wail and Jay got up and knelt in front of you.
"Hey, hey, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? Absolutely none of this is on you. It's all on Dad. Every single bit of it. You are not the one to blame."
You launched yourself into his arms, crying out every emotion you had felt these past few months: anger, frustration, fear, sadness, it was all coming out now.
And, Jay just held you and let you cry it out because that was what your guys' mom used to do for him. And, he knew it worked.
Twenty minutes later, your wails were just quiet whimpers and you pushed yourself back up onto the loveseat, where Will had moved to the spot next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you leaned into him, craving the comfort that had been denied to you for so long.
"You still have that Twix bar?" you asked.
"All that crying made you hungry, didn't it, Short Stack?" Will asked as Jay got up to retrieve the candy bar from the table.
You nodded.
"Thank you," you said when Jay handed you the Twix bar. You unwrapped it and broke it into the two sticks. "You guys want any?" They both shook their heads: they knew you needed to get as many calories in you as possible.
Jay sighed, he might as well get this hard conversation over with you tonight as well. "Y/N, you can eat as much as you want. I won't say anything about you eating too much, okay?"
You looked up from your candy bar. "You won't call me a burden because I'm eating your food? Like Dad did?"
"He said that?" Will asked, giving Jay a look that read when I see him next, I can't be held accountable for my actions.
"Yeah. One time there were some leftovers he had gotten from a bar and I was so hungry and it was the middle of the night, so I took them out and heated them up. The microwave timer must've woken him up because he came out just as I was about to start eating and then he yelled at me for eating his food and called me a burden."
"Well, we don't think that. Neither Will nor me think that," Jay told you. "And you can eat as much as you want."
You yawned as you crumpled up your Twix wrapper.
"Tired?" Will asked.
"Yeah," you mumbled.
"It's been a long day," Jay said. "You can take my bed."
"Jay, it's your apartment, I can't--"
"Y/N, this isn't up for discussion. I already put clean sheets on the bed for you."
"Is- Is there a fan in your room? I can't sleep without white noise."
"There is. You want me and Will to tuck you in?"
"I'm too old for that." You stood up and Will did, too. "Jay, can you hand me Beary? He should be in my duffle."
"Here you go, kid."
You took your bear and held him loosely in your arm. Then, you enveloped Jay in a hug and did the same for Will.
"I love you guys."
"We love you, too," Will said.
"Now get to sleep. You've still got school in the morning. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Dad sometimes wouldn't be home when I woke up for school. He'd be at a friend's house sleeping off a hangover from the night before or just sleeping."
Jay furrowed his eyebrows. "Doesn't he have to work?"
"He does work, but only a few days a week. The other days, he stays out really late and then comes home either drunk or hungover."
"I see," Jay stated. "Well I won't be doing that, I can promise you that."
"I know. You aren't like Dad. Neither of you are." You yawned again. "I'm going to bed, goodnight."
A few minutes later, you were out like a light and Will was still at Jay's apartment.
"So, Abby called me the other day," Will started. "She's looking for you. Says she's in town for a few days and wants to meet up."
"Oh yeah? She say why?" Jay asked, wondering why his ex-wife--who was the result of a blackout drunk wedding in Vegas, a thing that lasted only 24 hours tops--was in Chicago and was looking for him of all people.
"She said you two are still married."
Jay threw his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."
***
"Morning," Jay said as he stood at the stove flipping some eggs. "Sleep good?"
"I slept really good. Didn't even hear you wake up."
"Fan did the trick then?"
You nodded and grabbed a mug from the cupboard and went to start pouring yourself a cup of coffee.
"Nuh-uh," Jay chirped, putting his hand on the handle of the coffee pot as well.
"Why not? I drank it at Dad's."
Jay raised an eyebrow. "You drank coffee at Dad's?"
"Yeah, on the weekends sometimes that would be my breakfast because it curbs my appetite and there wasn't a lot to eat."
Jay sighed. "Well, you'll have enough to eat here, I can promise you that. And, coffee stunts your growth."
"Jay," you groaned. "I haven't grown since sixth grade."
"Okay, well, then you don't want to become dependent on it at such an early age, then. Come talk to me when you're a legal adult or in college."
"Fine." You let go of the coffee pot and put the mug back in the cupboard.
"You can have juice though." The toast in the toaster popped up and Jay placed the toast on a plate and then put a slice of cheese on each piece and then an egg on top. He also put a small bowl of strawberries next to it. "I'm gonna go get dressed while you eat. And then, once you're ready, I'll take you to school."
"Okay, thanks, Jay."
"You're welcome, kiddo."
You rolled your eyes at the nickname and then went to the fridge to get the apple juice. When you opened the fridge, you saw a brown paper bag with your name on it. Curiosity got the best of you, so you took it out and looked at the contents while you ate your breakfast.
Inside was a ham and Colby jack cheese sandwich with lettuce, pickles, mustard, and mayonnaise, an apple, a coconut-flavored Greek yogurt, celery with peanut butter, and a chocolate chip granola bar. There were also two dollars at the bottom of the bag paperclipped together with a sticky note stuck to the top.
For chocolate milk. ~Jay was what the note read.
Tears sprung to your eyes as you continued to eat your breakfast. You don't remember the last time you brought a lunch to school; you'd always get your lunch for free at school. When you got the paper from school about the free/reduced lunch because teachers noticed you didn't have much to eat, you waited until your dad was hungover and it was early in the morning, and handed him a pen and he signed the paper blindly. And, that's how you got lunch and breakfast at school without any cost to you or your dad.
"Hey, I can just brush my teeth at the kitchen sink if you want the bathroom--" He cut himself off when he saw the tears in your eyes. "What's wrong?"
"You- You made me lunch?" you asked as you turned to face him.
He smiled. "Of course I did. I know how bad cafeteria food can be. And, if it tastes good, it's usually not very good for you."
"Thank you," you said as you wiped a tear away that had rolled down your cheek.
"Aww, hey, don't cry, don't cry. It's okay. You're safe now. You don't need to worry about where your next meal will come from. And, I'm going to petition a judge for legal guardianship in a few days. I just have to have a few conversations with some lawyers."
"Does this mean you have to move? I don't want to kick you out of your apartment."
Jay dismissed that with a wave. "I already put in a loan application for a new apartment. Two bedrooms. Really nice."
"Can you tell me about it? While I finish eating my strawberries."
Jay nodded and sat down in the chair across from you. "It's a two-bedroom, washer, dryer. But, I know you don't care about those things. There's underground parking. It's got a gym, a whole club level, with like a coffee lounge, and all this other stuff."
"That sounds really nice."
"Yeah, it is a pretty nice building. Coffee lounge would be perfect for you to get your homework done if you don't feel like staying in the apartment."
"I thought you said I couldn't drink coffee?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I meant the caffeine in the coffee. Decaf coffee and lattes and tea lattes, that's a different story. I'm sure they have pastries there, too."
"Never pegged you for a coffee snob," you joked.
"You learn a lot about coffee and about a person when you have to get your entire unit coffee. I'll let you in on a little secret: Ruzek's coffee order is the most complicated."
"Really?"
"Really. Now, go finish getting ready. Don't want you being late for school."
***
"Hey, Er, can you meet me at the diner we usually go to?" Jay asked his girlfriend over the phone after he had dropped you off at school.
"Yeah, no problem. Give me fifteen minutes. We haven't caught a case yet, but we should keep our radios on just in case. Everything okay?"
"It's a long story. I'll explain everything in person, okay?"
"Okay," Erin answered skeptically. "I'll see you in a few."
Fifteen minutes later on the dot, Erin walked into the little diner and spotted Jay sitting in the corner booth.
"Alright, what's going on?" she asked after she had ordered her food and some coffee. "You sounded really stressed on the phone."
Jay sighed. "I'm going to fight for legal guardianship of Y/N."
"What? Why? What happened?" Erin asked as she widened her eyes.
"Our dad, he uh, he hasn't really been the greatest. Not keeping food in the house, calling her a burden when she tries to eat some of his food, not buying her products for you know...girl stuff. She's probably lost like 25 pounds since the end of last school year. And, I know that doesn't sound like a lot with the amount of time that's passed, but she's underweight. Will drew some of her blood last night to see if she's deficient in some vitamins or minerals."
"My God."
"Yeah, so, I know we were going to move into your place together, but I need another bedroom and my loan went through at that place I told you about, so I'm going to put an offer in there. You could always move in with me if you want, but I don't know if it would be a good idea for that to happen right away. I just want to get Y/N healthy again. I'm sorry."
"Jay, I get it. She's family. Do you know how you're going to go about this? Did you talk to Voight about taking any time off to sort this out?"
"Not yet. But, I think I'm going to call Antonio and see if he can help me out with getting a meeting with ASA Stone. I know he works criminal cases, but he's gotta know some stuff about family court cases. So, I figured he might be able to help me with this whole process."
"Good idea. If you need any help, just say the word and I'll be there."
Jay smiled. "Thanks, Er." He didn't want to have the conversation he was about to have, but he knew he had to tell her. "There's uh, there's one more thing I need to tell you."
"Okay, what is it?"
"About eight years ago, I was married."
"Excuse me, what? You were married and you didn't tell me?"
Jay knew this was a bad idea...which was why he hadn't wanted to tell Erin, but now that he wasn't officially divorced for whatever reason, he knew needed to tell her. "Just let me explain."
"Yes, please do," Erin sneered.
"Her name's Abby. She ran Cultural Support during my last tour in Kandahar. About a year after I came home, I saw her at a funeral in Vegas. Was... was a guy in our unit, he had redeployed, and, um, he didn't... Um, I was, like, blacking out most nights, and we were both pretty shook up. And, um, we got married." He chuckled at the thought of his twenty-one-year-old self thinking that marriage was a good idea. "It was, like, a 24-hour thing, it was a total joke, and it is long over."
Erin just stared at him, as he waited to be chewed out by her. "Jay, you married this girl. And you never told me, and you were never gonna tell me," was all she said.
"I know. And, I'm sorry. But, I'm meeting up with her in a few days to sign the documents that I thought I'd signed because she's getting married and we need to make the divorce official...even though, in my mind, it's been official for eight years.
"Er, please don't hate me, but with everything going on, with me trying to get guardianship of Y/N and me finding out that I'm somehow still married--"
"You want us to take a break?" Erin asked, finishing his sentence for him.
Jay nodded. "I'm sorry. I just don't think I can juggle a relationship with all this other stuff. And, it's not fair to you."
Erin swallowed. "Well, just tell me if you need any help with Y/N. I'll always be there for you. Relationship or partnership, I'll always have your six."
"And I'll always have yours."
Erin's phone buzzed on the table and she picked it up. "It's Voight. We caught a case."
Jay laid some bills on the table. "Then let's go."
***
"Got the results of Y/N's bloodwork back," Will told Jay over the phone while he had a quick break for lunch...even though it was four o'clock in the afternoon. But, that's the thing about the medical field: breaks are never regular.
"And? Any deficiencies?" Jay asked, walking into his bedroom as you were at the table doing homework and he didn't want to distract you.
"Yes, two actually. Iron and riboflavin. The low iron explains why her periods have become shorter and lighter, but that can also be attributed to how small she is now."
"How do we go about this then?"
"I'll send you a list of foods that have levels high iron and riboflavin. Oh, riboflavin's found in vitamin B by the way."
"Okay, care to tell me what iron and riboflavin do? I know iron helps with hemoglobin and red blood cells, but I have no idea what riboflavin does."
"You're right about iron. I'm shocked. Or, what do the kids say these days? I'm shook."
"I swear to God, please never use that phrase again. And, I know what iron does because I paid attention in high school nutrition class, thank you very much."
"If I remember correctly, I helped you with most of the homework in that class."
"Whatever, you helped me. Now, tell me about riboflavin."
"So, riboflavin just helps convert food into energy and is needed for healthy skin, hair, blood, and a healthy brain." Jay could hear a beeping in the background on Will's end. "Gotta go. I'll send you that list of foods right now, though."
"Thanks, man."
You looked up as Jay came back into the kitchen. "Everything okay?" you asked.
Jay pulled out a chair and sat across from you. "So, I just got off the phone with Will. He got the results from your bloodwork back."
"Is it bad? Am I dying?" You set your pencil down, bracing yourself for bad news.
"No," Jay chuckled, "you're not dying. You just don't have enough iron and riboflavin, which is a specific B vitamin. Will sent me a list of foods that have high levels of those in them. You up for some grocery shopping? We can also grab some multivitamins that have those in them, too, just to help your levels stabilize faster."
"Okay, we can go now. I'm due for a break."
***
"So, some foods that contain riboflavin include milk, eggs, cheese, yogurt, meats, green leafy vegetables, and riboflavin enriched grains and cereals," Jay read off his phone.
"I've had a lot of those today already," you pointed out. "Eggs and cheese with breakfast. I had that yogurt for a snack at school, and I had meat and cheese on my sandwich and I had chocolate milk with my lunch at school."
That was just standard, Jay thought. He wondered what you ate when you were at your Dad's. And, he knew that if he wanted to obtain guardianship of you, he'd need to know these things.
"What did you eat at Dad's?" Jay probed.
"I mean, I barely made it to school on time most mornings because I was trying to be quiet so I didn't wake Dad, which made me move slower when getting ready. So, I'd usually just grab a small thing of dry cereal when I got to school and eat it in my first class. I never checked to see if it was one of the enriched ones. I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize. There's no way you could've known. Now, what did you usually have for lunch at school?"
"I always tried to get veggies with my lunch, but most of the veggies were the gross canned ones, like canned corn or green beans. I don't like those. Sometimes, they'd have little salads as a side and I'd get those. Sometimes they'd have yogurt parfaits and I'd get those. But, I'd usually go for the pre-made subs, because at least those would have veggies on them...even if it was just lettuce and pickles. I'd usually try to get an apple or banana as my side, too." You paused. "If I was getting meat and cheese from the sub and milk from my chocolate milk, then how am I deficient in this?"
"It's probably because the meat and cheese schools use is so heavily processed that there are little to no vitamins left in it," Jay answered.
"And you know this how?"
"As you get older, you acquire a lot of knowledge and one of those things is that the more processed a food is, the fewer vitamins and minerals are preserved...and I watch a lot of The Food that Built America on the History channel."
"Oh, okay. What foods are on that show?"
"Usually it's about fast food. One episode I watched last week was about ice cream and popsicles and how they came to be in America. Pretty interesting."
"Can we watch an episode tonight? That show sounds good."
"Of course." He paused in front of the fresh produce. "Take your pick. But, just make sure you get some leafy greens for the riboflavin and some fruit and other green veggies for iron."
You picked up a few things such as more apples, a bag of Clementines, bananas, spinach, carrots, and celery, and then, you shocked your brother as you picked up a bag of kale.
"Kale?" he asked. "Didn't know you liked it."
You shrugged. "I heard it tastes kind of like spinach. And, I saw a recipe on Pinterest for a salad that has kale, lemon juice, and dates. Is it okay if we try that?"
"You know, I think that would be the perfect side for dinner tonight. I'll add lemon juice and dates to the list."
"I didn't grab too many fruits and veggies, right?" you asked, not wanting to waste food or your brother's hard-earned money. "I- I can put some back if you want me to."
"Nope, it's all good. We can always freeze the bananas if they go bad for smoothies or banana bread. And, we can always turn the apples into apple sauce. Spinach and kale freeze well, too and you can't even taste them if we put them in smoothies."
"How do you know this stuff?" you asked.
"I used to watch Mom cook a lot when I was little. And, when I moved out on my own, she gave me a copy of a cookbook she always used. Said the recipes at the beginning of the book were simple enough that I wouldn't burn my apartment down."
You laughed at the thought of your mom scolding Jay if his apartment got ruined from his cooking. "Do you still have it?" you asked. "The cookbook, I mean."
"I do."
"Can we make something out of it tonight?"
"You know, I think that's a great idea." He pursed his lips. "How about Mom's chicken pot pie? I think I have some frozen peas and corn in the freezer and we can use the carrots we just grabbed in it, too."
"That sounds really good. Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me." Jay paused. He figured now would be as good a time as any to tell you. "Uh, do you remember the day that we got ice cream and went and played soccer with Ben when you were little? The night that Mom went into the hospital?"
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat at the memory of that day.
"Well, she told me to take care of you. There's no way I would break a promise to Mom."
"She said that?"
"Mhmm."
"It's like she knew something was going to happen."
"Mom was a smart lady. Will had to have gotten it from somewhere and he sure didn't get it from Dad."
You laughed. "Hey, you're smart, too. Just not sciency smart. You're more puzzle smart because you put the pieces together of who committed a crime." Jay laughed at your description of his job. "Oh, is the recipe for Mom's garlic mashed potatoes in that cookbook?"
"It is. Want those as a side along with the salad you mentioned?"
"Yes, please...if it's not a problem."
"They're super simple and quick to make." He scribbled on a piece of notebook paper that he had written down a few groceries on, like the salad ingredients you had mentioned. "Alright, potatoes, a rotisserie chicken, and pastry dough have all been added to the list."
***
"I'll be back later tonight, no later than midnight," Jay told you two days later on Sunday night. "I know it's not ideal because you have school in the morning, but try and get some sleep while I'm gone, okay?"
"I'm used to being home alone at night, Jay." You shrugged. "I'll be fine."
"I know, it's just that not something I want you to get used to. Feel free to eat anything you want, cook anything you want. As long as you don't burn down the house, I don't care what you make. Oh, and remember to take your multivitamin before bed."
You rolled your eyes. "I'm fifteen, not five. Now, get going. Don't want you to be late to meet that lawyer."
"Love you. I'll be back by midnight. Lock the door behind me."
"I will. Love you, too."
With that, Jay left his apartment to go meet with ASA Stone and you locked the door behind him as he told you.
***
"So, Antonio told me you have some custody questions," Peter Stone said once he closed the door of his office.
"That's right," Jay replied as he took a seat in front of Stone's desk and turned his phone completely off and Stone took a seat in his chair behind his desk.
"Didn't know you had a kid, Halstead."
"No, I don't actually," Jay chuckled. "I have a kid sister. Name's Y/N and she's fifteen."
"Okay, and why do you want guardianship then?"
"When me and Will, my older brother, were kids, our dad kinda checked out on parenting us when we hit our mid-teens. But, we had our mom around, so it was okay. I went over there the other day because my dad was having some heart issues and I called Will. When I was there, I got a call of a robbery and it was Y/N. She was stealing food from a corner store because our dad wasn't feeding her," Jay explained.
"I see. So, other than her word and her stealing food, do you have any proof of this?"
"I know I should've called DCFS before letting her stay with me, but I couldn't let her stay there a minute longer, Peter. She's lost like 25 pounds in the past six months and she's deficient in both iron and vitamin B."
"Okay, what we have to do is petition for guardianship in front of a judge. I can help you with the documents and I can even represent you at the hearing if you want."
"Wow, yeah, that'd be great. Thank you."
"Anything else you want to tell me about your dad? Any physical or emotional abuse?"
"Not technically, but there is something else." And then Jay launched into all the information you had told him two days ago.
"Okay. And, you know your dad could theoretically press kidnapping charges against you because you took his kid without his permission?"
"I do. But he was basically starving her. No jury would find me guilty."
"I'm not going to argue with you about that one because I agree with you."
"So, do you think I have a chance of getting guardianship over Y/N?"
"In theory, yes. But, most judges like to keep the child with their biological parents. But, seeing as Y/N's fifteen, she does get some say in who she stays with," Stone explained. "When we have a custody or guardianship battle, we use the child's best interest standard. This means that you must prove that you are capable of providing food, clothing, housing, medical care, and a stable home life for Y/N. There will be one or two home visits before appearing before a judge, just to let you know."
"I'm aware of that. And, I just put an offer in on a new apartment with two bedrooms this morning and they're pretty quick in responding, so I should know in the next few days whether or not I got it."
"That's a good start. And you are financially stable to raise her until she turns eighteen, so three more years?"
"I am."
"Alright, let's start on those documents then. Unless you have any more questions for me?"
"I do actually. I, uh, I just found out that I'm technically still married. Something about me not signing the divorce papers even though I specifically remember signing them? And, before you ask, me and this girl served together, we were both twenty-one, going through rough patches and it was a Vegas wedding eight years ago. Lasted no more than twenty-four hours."
"It's really good that you told me this because any good lawyer would find that out when you file for guardianship. It's possible that she didn't co-sign the divorce papers. If that's the reason, I can help you draw up new divorce papers right now."
"Really? You'd help me with that?"
"Of course. A friend of Antonio's is a friend of mine," Stone said as he started typing on his computer. "So, what you can do is you can file for a no-fault divorce."
"You're gonna have to be specific, Stone. I know a bit of criminal law because I've had to testify in criminal cases, but like I said, I don't know family or civil law," Jay said.
"What a no-fault divorce is, Jay, is that you don't have to prove that either of you did anything wrong to get a divorce. All you have to do is state that your marriage is unsalvageable and continue filing for divorce."
"That's it? What if she doesn't sign it?"
"The divorce papers will be served to, uh...what's this girl's name again?" Stone asked.
"Abby."
"Abby. The divorce papers will be served to Abby and she has twenty days to file her response with the court. If she doesn't, then the court rules it as an uncontested divorce and then you're officially divorced."
"Me and Abby are meeting up to talk about all this tonight. But, can we just fill out paperwork for this no-fault divorce just in case things don't go as planned? I just really need to get guardianship of Y/N. The least amount of problems, the better."
"Of course. And if everything goes well with her tonight, then just give me a call and I'll shred the documents."
"Alright, just tell me where to sign."
***
"Wilson is running through the showers wearing nothing but a Kevlar vest, right?" Jay reminisced on the good parts of his Ranger days with Abby at a bar around 8:30 that night after his meeting with Peter Stone.
"Well, the lieutenant said, all outdoor activities to be conducted in body armor." Jay laughed at Abby's rendition of their lieutenant's voice. "Do you remember, he had his girlfriend's name tattooed on his ass?"
Jay set his empty drink down on the bar. "Did he tell you that was his girlfriend? That was his dog's name," Jay laughed.
"That actually makes more sense," Abby said. "I could go for another one of these."
"I, um, I shouldn't."
"Gotta get back to the barracks?"
"No, I uh gotta get back to my little sister, actually. I'm looking after her at the moment. It's a long story. Do you have the papers?"
"I, uh, I don't have them."
"Abby."
"It's just, I never told you. Even that crazy day we got married, I never told you that I loved you, Jay. It didn't feel right. But, I loved you, Jay. I do love you."
Jay sighed. "Abby, you deserve everything good. I'm just not the guy that's gonna give that to you." He brushed her hair to the side and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
After putting some money on the bar to pay for the drinks and tip the bartender, he left the bar. Guess he was going to need these no-fault divorce documents, anyway.
He was almost to his car when he heard someone calling his name. And, it was a voice he knew all too well.
"Erin?" he shouted as she came closer. "What are you doing here?"
"Would it kill you to turn on your phone? You need to get to the district. Now."
"What? Why? What's wrong?"
She got in his passenger seat. "Just drive. I'll explain on the way."
***
You were sitting on Jay's bed reading a book when you heard a knock on the door.
Slowly, you got off his bed and made your way out of his room. You took a knife out of the knife block, but you hoped you wouldn't need to use it. Jay would've told you if someone was planning on stopping over. And, if it was Will, he would've given you a heads-up.
The knocking got louder and more aggressive. "Jayson! Open this door! I have the right to see my daughter!"
Dad.
With the knife still in hand, you backed up and then, once on the carpet, ran back into Jay's room and quietly shut the door and locked it. You pulled out your phone and tried Jay. It went straight to voicemail. The pounding was getting louder. You tried Will. It went straight to voicemail because he was on shift. You thought you heard your dad starting to kick the door now instead of just pounding on it with his fists. You tried the last person you thought could help.
"Y/N?" Erin asked as she answered her phone and paused the tv show she was watching.
"Erin," you whispered. "I'm scared. I need help."
"You need help? Can you tell me why?"
"My dad, he's- he's here. He's looking for me." You heard a crash.
"Jay? Y/N? I know one of you is in here!"
"I- I think he just broke down the apartment door. Please help."
"Okay, okay, here's what you're going to do. I want you to hide somewhere and I'm going to call a patrol car over there right now. You're going to turn your phone on silent and I'm going to call you right back," she told you.
"Okay," you whispered as quietly as you could.
"I'll call you back in one minute tops."
You moved as quietly as you could with the knife and your phone still in your hands and opened Jay's closet door. You buried yourself behind the two garment bags that contained Jay's police blues and his military dress uniform, hoping against hope that your dad wouldn't find you.
Your phone lit up and it was Erin. You answered.
"Y/N, the officers will be there soon. I don't want you to talk. Just know that I'm on the phone with you."
At the same time, as she was talking to you over speakerphone, she was texting the team. She assumed you couldn't reach Jay or Will since you had called her. She told them what was happening and that a few of them needed to get to the district because they needed to find Jay's location. She also told Voight to get ahold of Sharon Goodwin so she could notify Will of what was currently happening.
"Chicago PD! Put your hands where we can see them!" you heard from your hiding place.
"See?" Erin said. "I told you that you'd be okay. I told them that you were hiding, so if someone opens the door, it's just an officer."
Just after she said that the closet door opened.
You squeaked.
"It's okay. You're safe," the officer said. "We're just going to take you down to the district. You're safe."
You peeked out from your hiding place and you saw the blues of the officers. You slowly made your way out and followed the officer out to the patrol car, the one that didn't house your dad for a breaking and entering charge at the moment.
***
"Where is she?" Jay yelled as he entered the district.
Platt just pointed to the bench next to one of the offices where you were sitting, staring at the floor, with a police jacket draped over your shoulders.
He sunk to his knees in front of you. "Are you hurt? Did Dad hurt you? Did he put his hands on you in any way?"
You shook your head.
"Oh thank God."
"I was so scared," you whispered. "When you and Will didn't answer, I thought he was gonna get me."
"I'm sorry. I turned off my phone when I talked to ASA Stone, and I forgot to turn it back on. I'm so sorry. C'mere."
You all but fell off the bench and into Jay's arms. "Is he going to jail? I don't want him going to jail."
"He was drunk out of his mind. I can ask not to press charges, though."
"Please. He needs help."
Although Jay didn't say it, he knew you were right. Jails and prisons didn't rehabilitate, they just taught criminals how to be better criminals. He knew that his dad needed rehab, a twelve-step program, anything.
"Okay, I won't press charges. But, I think we're gonna need to stay with Will for the night because our door's broken. What do you say we run home and grab some clothes to bring to Will's? And, since Dad will be here for a little longer, we can run to his house and get more of your stuff. Sound like a plan?"
"Can we get Dairy Queen on the way to Will's?"
"We sure can."
***
"I- I don't think any of these dresses will fit me anymore. They look way too big," you said to Jay as the two of you unpacked a bunch of your stuff in the guest room of Jay's new apartment. You wanted to think of it as the guest room for now instead of calling it your room just in case Jay wasn't awarded guardianship. You didn't want to get too attached.
Jay sighed. He figured you were right. He would see if Erin could take you, but their relationship was on the backburner right now. And, Erin had some stuff with Bunny she had to work out after she had brought her that pearl bracelet and said that she might be leaving Chicago. So, now wasn't really the right time for him to be bugging Erin about going shopping with you. And, he couldn't ask Kim because she was taking some furlough after finding her sister brutally sodomized after a night out.
He thought about asking Will if Nina could come, but he didn't think that those two were too happy with each other at the moment since Will hadn't told Nina about their dad being in the hospital and she had to find out from Natalie. Not Will's greatest moment.
He racked his brain for more women he knew.
Then it hit him: Gabby.
Yes, they had briefly dated, but that was five years ago. She was married now and his feelings for her were completely gone. They were civil with each other when they saw each other in the field and would chat when Gabby showed up at the district to pick up Eva or Diego.
"How about you try a few on after we finish unpacking, and then if none of them really fit, I can give Gabby a call and see if she'll take you shopping while I work on unpacking the rest of the house," Jay suggested.
"Okay. Will's gonna be over after his shift to help though, right?" you asked.
"He better be. He said he would. If he doesn't come, he better have a really good excuse."
"You can't unpack the kitchen without me," you told him.
"Why not?"
"I can't have you putting the glasses and other stuff on high shelves because I wanna reach them without having to climb on the counter."
"Okay, fine. I'll keep your short little height in mind while I unpack." He paused. "Do you want to get those fancy word stickers for your room for one of the walls?"
"Decals? And, it's not my room yet."
"Listen, after that stunt Dad pulled at my old apartment, Stone is 99.9% positive that I'll be granted guardianship. We just have to jump through all the hoops first."
"Like the home checks?"
"Like the home checks," he confirmed.
"What do I say in court?" you asked a few minutes later as you were putting the pillows on your freshly made bed.
"You just tell the truth," he answered.
"Will you be in there with me?"
"No, I won't. Stone said that usually in these cases you talk to the judge by yourself so that you can't be intimidated by either of the people who are fighting for custody or guardianship."
"So you won't be there? Will won't be there?"
"Will will be out in the hall and I will be in a different room. I'll be in like a witness room, where they make witnesses of a crime wait so that their testimony isn't swayed by what the other people are saying on the stand. But, me and Dad will be in the courtroom at the same time, just so I can see what he'll be saying."
"And, I'll be in there then, too?"
"Yes."
"What kind of questions do they ask me?"
"Stone said that since you're older, you get a say in who you stay with, so they'll ask you questions like who've you known the longest, who you feel safest with, who you want to live with, etc."
"Will they ask me questions about Dad? Like how he didn't give me food and how he broke into your apartment?" you asked.
"They will," Jay confirmed. "But, Stone will be in there for those questions just in case he needs to object to something."
"So the only time I'll be alone with the judge is when they're asking me the first few questions? Like who I feel safest with?"
"Exactly. Now, do you need help putting these books on the top shelf of your bookshelf?"
***
"Hey, how was your day?" Jay asked as he came home from work that afternoon. It was a shock that he was home by 5 pm, but you had a big day tomorrow. Not only was tomorrow Friday, it was the day you and Jay had to go to court to see if he would be awarded guardianship of you.
"We've got a problem," you stated.
"Um, I can try to help you with it, but let me go put my gun away first."
While he was doing that, you pulled out the slip of paper and the note that Gretchen Cunningham had written, saying that she wouldn't allow you to make up the test you would be missing because you had to go to court.
"Alright, what's the problem?" Jay asked as he walked into the kitchen.
"Cunningham. She's the problem...as always."
You handed him the papers and he read them over. "Yeah, this isn't going to fly. She doesn't need a judge's signature to allow you to take the test. I'll talk to the school tomorrow morning when I call to tell them you'll be absent."
"I hate her," you groaned. "She's so mean. And, I know what you're gonna say. You have to deal with people you don't like. But, she lost one of my assignments and told me I didn't turn it in and couldn't re-do it!"
"Well did you?" Jay asked. "Turn it in, I mean."
"Jay!"
He put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I'm just saying, could be your fault."
"Yes, I turned in the stupid assignment. And, she paired me up with the stupidest kid in the class and told me to do well on this assignment because he needed a good grade to pass. It's not my fault he's failing! Don't put his grade on me, lady!"
"And she wouldn't let you re-do it?"
"Nope. But it's fine. I'm still getting an A. That might change if she doesn't let me take this test, though."
"It's like deja-vu from my freshman year all over again. Why doesn't she retire already? She's like 100."
"Or they could fire her," you quipped. "Or I could switch classes."
"I'll see what I can do. Who's the other history teacher?"
"Um, Miss Hedge."
"Hedge? As in Jayne Hedge?"
"Yeah, it's actually her. Why? Do you know her?"
"Yes he does," Will said as he entered Jay's apartment. "In fact, they went to freshman snowcoming together."
"How did you even get in here?" Jay asked, turning around to look at his older brother.
"For a cop, you're not that smart. You didn't lock the door behind you."
"I don't lock my door when I'm still awake. And, seriously? You just had to tell Y/N that, didn't you?"
"You guys can't just leave me hanging now. Tell me the story!"
"Fine," Jay grumbled and Will just laughed and sat down at the table, too. "I met her at school, obviously. She was on the freshman basketball team and I had winter weight training for the soccer team. I thought she was pretty and she was really smart, too. And, I knew that a bunch of the girls went to get Taco Bell after practice, so me and some of my friends decided to go, too."
"There used to be a Taco Bell close to school?" you asked. If there was, you'd never seen it before.
"It got torn down just after I graduated," Jay answered. "Anyway, we went to Taco Bell and I started talking to her and we talked a lot after practice. I'd walk her home sometimes. Then, I asked her to snowcoming and she said yes."
"So, why'd you guys break up? I know you dated Allie in high school."
"We realized we were better off as friends." Jay shrugged.
"And he realized he liked Allie more," Will added.
"Yeah, that too."
Will set a big bag of takeout on the table.
"Seriously?" Jay asked. "I thought we weren't going to do this that much anymore so we can get Y/N's vitamin and mineral levels stabilized."
"I'm sure she'd appreciate the break from your mundane meals," Will said. "And, I got us all side salads to go with the burgers instead of fries, so calm down." Jay gave him a look. "Fine, I got the side salads along with the fries. But, they're made out of potatoes, so they're technically a vegetable."
"For a doctor, you don't know much about nutrition, do you? And, my meals are not mundane."
"Dude, you'd have chicken, spaghetti, or grilled cheese every night."
"Not every night, just a lot of nights when I'd get home from the district late. I'll have you know me and Y/N have been making really good diners lately. Wanna tell Will what we made last night for dinner, Short Stack?"
"We made this really good pasta. We used Orzo, which looks like rice, but it's pasta. And we made a sauce out of tomatoes, onions, and orange juice. It was supposed to be lemon juice, but Jay didn't have any. We put chicken sausage in it for protein...and spices of course," you told Will.
"That actually sounds really good. Wow, Jay cooking every night, not something I expected."
"I like it," you said. "And, he lets me play whatever music I want when we cook."
Will rolled his eyes. You had Jay so wrapped around your finger that he'd do almost anything for you. Will didn't think he himself was that bad, but deep down, he knew he'd do anything for you, too...despite not being in Chicago as long as Jay had been.
***
"So I got a call from Stone this morning," Jay said around 11:30 that night when he and Will were sitting on the couch, each nursing a beer.
Will set his beer down on the coffee table in front of him. "And?"
"And, as of yesterday at midnight, I am officially divorced from Abby. Turns out, they served her the papers and, since she didn't sign them and it had been twenty days, it turned into an uncontested, no-fault divorce."
"Congrats, man. Might've been eight years too late, but you're a free man now."
"Amen to that. And it came at just the right time."
"Yeah," Will agreed. "You nervous for tomorrow?"
"Not really. More nervous for Y/N than anything. I've testified in criminal cases, so I kinda know how this goes, but she hasn't. And, before me and Dad go in to plead our cases, she has to talk to the judge all by herself. I just wish one of us could be in there with her."
Will nodded. "Know what they're going to ask you?"
"I know what Stone's going to ask me because we prepped, but I have no idea what Dad's lawyer is going to ask me. Pretty sure he's got just a public defender, though. Hopefully, that works in my favor."
"Not always, man," Will disagreed. "The public defenders who do these cases only do these cases. They've had a lot of practice."
"You really know how to make me feel better, thanks," Jay replied sarcastically.
"Rather have you hear it from me before the case than someone else after. Are you going to get cross-examined?"
"Probably. Don't know what they're going to ask me though because it's a cross. Stone set up some sample questions for me to answer with him to practice, but I'm going in blind. I'm used to it though because I've testified before. But, this feels like my biggest case."
"Because it probably is."
"Are you talking about tomorrow?" you asked as you quietly padded across the floor towards the living room.
"Y/N? What are you doing up? It's almost midnight," Jay pointed out.
"I- I know. But I couldn't sleep. I'm scared. What if I have to go back to Dad's? What if they find neither of you fit and I have to go into foster care?"
Jay patted the empty spot on the couch next to him and you sat down. "We just have to trust the system. That's all we can do."
"I know, but I can't sleep. And I'm so tired."
"I have an idea," Jay started and stood up, "stay here."
"I'm gonna go look for some melatonin," Will said after a few minutes of you two just sitting in silence. "I think Jay still has some for nights that he can't sleep."
Will was still rummaging around Jay's cabinets when Jay came back with a big black box with some cords and a cardboard box balanced against his hip.
"The hell is that?" You quickly covered your mouth when you realized you had sworn. "Sorry."
"It's okay. And, to answer your question, this is VCR. And, I have a bunch of videotapes in this box." He turned from you to face the kitchen, where Will was still opening and closing cabinets. "Will? What are you doing?"
"Looking for melatonin for Y/N. You got any?"
"First of all, it's so late that if you give it to her now, she'll sleep through her alarm and we can't be late for court tomorrow. And, second of all, I keep it in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom."
Will closed the cabinet and made his way back to the couch to sit next to you as Jay started to hook up the VCR to the tv. "Uh, Jay," Will began, "you know it's a little late for a movie right? And, I should get going in like half an hour?"
"We're not watching a movie. I recorded a bunch of the Blackhawks playoff games on one of these and I thought Y/N'd like to watch the 2010 Stanely Cup final series against the Flyers. Or, we could watch the final series against the Bruins when they won the cup last year."
"Let's watch the 2010 one," you said. "I don't think I watched it because I wasn't into watching hockey as much as I am now."
"And you have Jay to thank for that," Will pointed out.
"You can record things on there? Like an old-school DVR?" you asked.
"God, now I feel old," Will groaned. "Wait until she learns about floppy disks."
"Floppy what now?"
"Nevermind. Only 80s-90s kids would get it."
"We get it. You guys are millennials."
"Got it!" Jay exclaimed as he popped the videotape into the VCR and it started playing. "Now, shut up so we can relive this, Will."
You fell asleep before you even reached the end of the first period.
***
You rubbed your eyes and then looked around you to notice that you were still on the couch. You craned your neck to see the time on the oven on the other side of the open concept kitchen and living room and saw that it was 5:45 am. Jay was at the gym now. And, you knew you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep because you were already starting to worry about the rest of the day. You had to be in court at 8:30 and had to be talking to a judge at 9:00, the judge that would determine who you would be living with, which would inevitably determine your future.
God, you were thinking just like the teachers talked about the SATs, how if you didn't get a good grade on that standardized test that your future would be ruined.
You stood up and stretched and then went back to your room to grab the book you were currently reading. Then, you turned on a few lamps and grabbed a yogurt and fruit from the fridge, along with a glass of orange juice. After wrapping yourself in a blanket, you started to eat and read, hoping that that would keep your mind from wandering and worrying at least until Jay got back from the gym.
Half an hour later, Jay unlocked the apartment door and walked inside, confused as to why you were awake. It was only 6:15 and he had told you just to be up by 6:45.
"What are you doing awake, Short Stack?" he asked as he grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter.
"I woke up at about 5:45 and I couldn't fall asleep. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to worry about. I just want you as well-rested for today as possible. You have your dress all ready? Know what shoes you're going to wear?"
"Jay," you whined. "I picked all of that out last night because you told me to."
"Just didn't want you to have to rush. I can turn the game back on for you so you can watch it until you have to start getting ready?"
You nodded and Jay came over and fiddled with the tv and the remote, going back to the middle of the first period where he thought you had fallen asleep.
"Okay, I'm gonna take a shower. Will said he'll be here around 7:45. Oh, and you can take that history test when you get back on Monday, in Miss Hedge's class."
You smiled. "Okay." Then, you turned your attention back to the hockey game.
***
You widened your eyes as you stood in the second bathroom getting ready. You had gotten dressed (into a navy blue, lacey dress that ended just above the knee that you had bought with Gabby a few days ago), washed your face, brushed your teeth, did your makeup, but now you were cursing yourself for being so stupid. You had no way of doing your hair. You didn't have a straightener here. And, your typical ponytail or bun wasn't going to cut it for court.
"Jay!" you yelled as you exited the bathroom and knocked on his bedroom door.
He opened it as he was tying his tie. "Yeah? Everything okay?"
"I don't have a straightener! I can't do my hair and if I wear my hair like I usually do then it will look bad on you and--"
"Hey, hey, calm down. We've still got over 45 minutes before we have to leave. I'll give Gabby a call and see if she's not on shift and can let you borrow hers."
You sighed the biggest sigh of relief. "Thank you."
Five minutes later, Jay knocked on the bathroom door as you were brushing your hair. "Gabby will be here in ten."
"Oh thank God."
***
"Thank you!" you exclaimed ten minutes later as you opened the door, revealing Gabby with her hair straightener. And, behind her, was Casey.
"No problem. Just tell me if you're not used to it and need help."
You took it from her. "No, I should be good. Thanks, though. C'mon in. I'm pretty sure Jay's around here somewhere."
They came into the apartment while you ran off to find Jay.
You knocked on his bedroom once more and he opened it, this time completely ready for the day. "Gabby and Casey are here," you told him.
"Casey's here?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Yeah. I think he just came with Gabby."
"Okay. Go fix your hair. I'll go talk to them."
Twenty minutes later, you were finished and slipping your shoes on when you heard a knock on the apartment door. "I got it, Y/N!" Jay yelled.
Well, I hoped you would because you're closer to the door than me, you thought to yourself.
Jay opened the door, and since it was exactly 7:45, he was expecting to just see Will. But, what he saw both shocked him and made him want to cry from appreciation at the same time.
Standing next to Will was Natalie and behind them was all of Intelligence and Trudy Platt and Mouch, all of Squad 3 and Truck 81 (minus Casey because he was inside), Sylvie Brett, Chief Boden, April, Maggie, Dr. Rhodes, Dr. Charles, Reese, and Noah.
"You're all here for the court case?" Jay asked, stunned.
"Well, Natalie has to testify about Y/N's deficiencies and weight loss, but yeah. It's better if the court sees that the person trying to get guardianship has a ton of support. So, I figured I'd call in reinforcements...even though I'm pretty sure my big personality is enough."
Jay rolled his eyes. "Your big ego maybe." He paused, not knowing how he was going to fit everyone in his apartment even if it was bigger than his last one. "However many of you guys can fit inside, can come in. Um, some of you might just need to meet us at the courthouse--"
"Jay, they just came now so you could see how many people were behind you. They're just gonna meet you there. Except for me. I'm driving you two." Jay furrowed his eyebrows. They didn't talk about this. "I'll explain later."
"Gabby," you said as you walked out of the bathroom. "Can you--" you stopped as you saw everyone outside Jay's apartment.
"They're all here for you and Jay," Gabby explained as she stood up. "And, you can't cry because it'll smear your makeup, so hold back the tears."
You nodded as you held them back. "Can you, uh, check the back of my hair to make sure I got it all straight?" you asked.
"Two spots are still a bit wavy. Let's go fix it so you can get going."
A few minutes later, Gabby had fixed your hair and everyone besides Will and Jay had left and were on their way to the courthouse. You slipped on a pair of black ballet flats and your coat.
Will had explained that the reason he was driving was that if Jay didn't get guardianship, he didn't want him driving in such a distressed state. Will had worked on so many patients who were in car accidents due to their emotional state and he didn't want Jay to be one of them.
"Ready?" Jay asked you.
"As ready as I'll ever be," you said as you wiped your sweaty palms on your dress.
"All you have to do is tell the truth."
***
You thought you'd be comfortable inside a courtroom because of the crime dramas you'd seen. But, standing inside one was very different from watching a fictional tv show.
No one but you, the judge, the court reporter, Peter Stone, and your dad's lawyer could be in the room for this next part, so everyone was either in a witness room or waiting outside in the hallway for the go-ahead to be let in. You would be allowed to be in the courtroom while they were talking to Jay and your dad, but they wouldn't be able to be in the room when you talked to the judge...for obvious reasons, such as influencing what you would say.
"All rise."
You stood up next to Stone as the judge, who you now knew as Judge Callahan, entered the room.
Once you sat down, you were called to the stand. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?" you were asked as you placed your hand on the Bible.
"I do," you answered.
"Alright, please allow Miss Halstead on the witness stand," Judge Callahan said. "Now, I'm just going to ask you a few questions. All you have to do is answer them. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Okay, first question: Has your father, Pat Halstead, ever hit you or physically abused you in any way?"
"No," you answered.
"Has he ever neglected to give you necessities, such as food, water, clothing, or shelter?"
"Yes."
"Can you please elaborate?"
You did. You explained how your dad never had food in the house and would yell at you and call you a burden if you tried to eat his leftovers.
"Is it true that your father tried to break into your brother's house to get you?" Judge Callahan asked.
"Yes."
"Who do you feel safest with?"
"My brother, Jay Halstead."
"Who would you prefer to live with?"
"Jay Halstead."
***
Jay sat on the witness stand. He had answered all of Stone's questions, including all of the questions about him finding you stealing, what you had been using for pads, and what he had been told that you had been eating at your dad's house. Natalie had testified about your physical well-being, weight loss, and iron and riboflavin deficiencies. But now, it was time for Jay's cross-examination. And, he sure as hell didn't expect this next question to be asked.
"Mr. Halstead," your dad's lawyer began, "you previously said, and I quote, that your dad clocked out on parenting you and your older brother, Will, when you were in your teens, around when you started high school. Can you elaborate on that?"
"Objection!" Stone yelled. "Relevance?"
"Speaks to a pattern."
"I'll allow it," Judge Callahan said. "Please answer the question, Mr. Halstead."
Jay nodded. "He clocked out on parenting me and Will because he said that were essentially grown men at this point in our lives, we didn't need him cheering us on or him helping us. He didn't come to a single one of my soccer games in high school. And, if by some miracle we went out for ice cream or something just me, my brother, and my dad, he wouldn't pay for ours. Said we were old enough to pay for ourselves.
"But, we had our mom. She came to all our games and school events. She made us breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If she wasn't there, I don't know what would've happened to me and Will. My dad didn't even want me to go into the military and didn't want Will to go to medical school. He said a real man went right to work. The only time I felt loved by him in all my teenage years was when I left for the military. It was like because he knew I might die over there that he figured he'd say he loved me one last time."
"Redirect, your honor," Stone said. Judge Callahan nodded at Stone. "You said that your mom made you and your brother lunch. Are you doing that for Y/N?"
"Objection! Relevance?"
"Speaks to Mr. Halstead's abilities as a parent."
"I'll allow it. Please answer the question."
"I actually do," Jay answered. "I make her a packed lunch to bring to school every day and I'm sure to add foods high in iron and riboflavin to help those levels stabilize quicker. The first time I packed her a lunch, she actually cried because she hadn't gotten a lunch from home in so long."
"Thank you."
"Mr. Halstead," your dad's lawyer started, "you were previously deployed overseas in Afghanistan for two tours of duty. While I thank you for your service, is it possible that you could have PTSD and hurt Y/N in the middle of the night?"
"I would never hurt her!"
"While you are fully conscious, maybe. But, while you are in a sleep-addled state, isn't it possible that you might think that the person waking you up is an enemy soldier and not your little sister?"
Jay sighed. No one knew this about him, not you, not Will, not his dad. No one. And now all of his family and closest friends were going to know since they were in the courtroom watching this entire thing unfold.
"I am on Prazosin for nightmares caused by my PTSD," Jay answered.
"And how long have you been on this medication?"
"For about two years."
"And this has helped you manage your nightmares?"
"Yes, very much so."
"No further questions."
***
"Jesus, Jay," Will said after you had watched your dad's testimony on why he should get to keep you. It was the usual: how he was your father, so, therefore, he deserved to keep taking care of you and it's what your mother would've wanted...despite her telling Jay to keep you safe before she died. They already had the responding officers testify about the break-in, so he couldn't deny that and he was under oath, so if anyone found out he lied, then your dad would be held in contempt.
"I'm sorry I never told you, man," Jay said. "I just, I thought of it as weak that I couldn't deal with my own shit." He grimaced when he realized he had sworn around you. "Sorry, Y/N."
"It's okay. I hear that stuff at school."
"I'm just upset you didn't tell me they were getting that bad, Jay," Will lamented. "I know I wasn't there for you a lot after Mom died, but I'm here now."
Jay nodded, and Will knew he didn't want to talk about the topic anymore. You looked through the little window into the courtroom and saw that the judge was coming back from her chambers.
"Guys, I think she's made a decision," you said nervously.
"Whatever happens, me and Jay will be there for you," Will promised.
All you could do at this point was nod, as a lump was forming in your throat from all your nerves.
Jay led you back into the courtroom and you sat at the front, between Jay and Will. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress and Jay gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Judge Callahan stood up.
"By using the child's best interest standard of who can provide food, clothing, housing, education, medical care, and a stable home life for Y/N Halstead, I declare Mr. Jay Halstead the legal guardian of Y/N Halstead."
You could've sworn that you stopped breathing the second she said Jay's first name. You were so overwhelmed that you just turned to him and started crying as he wrapped an arm around you while he listened to the judge state your dad's visitation rights.
But, you didn't hear any of that. The only phrase that kept repeating in your head was I declare Mr. Jay Halstead the legal guardian of Y/N Halstead over and over again.
Now, you knew that you'd always have the necessities when you lived with Jay. You wouldn't have to worry about where your next meal was going to come from or if your dad would be out until 3 am drinking. You wouldn't have to worry about having access to tampons or pads and not be embarrassed anymore to ask for some from school if you forgot to put any in your backpack that day. But most of all, you knew that you would be loved and cared for.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Did I make anyone cry with this one??? The blood draw scenario was actually based on when I had to go and get my blood drawn the other day and thought I was going to pass out, which is why that scene was so long. Anyway, thank you again for reading, and please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!
taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e
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simsadventures · 3 years
Text
Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride
Mob! Steve x Reader
Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers. 
Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing
Word Count: 7969
A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx
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Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 
“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 
“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 
“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing. 
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2 weeks ago
“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it. 
“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell. 
“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured. 
“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker. 
You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.
“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care. 
The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.
Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer. 
This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building. 
Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen. 
“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed. 
“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation. 
“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.
“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill. 
The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you? 
It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option. 
No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home. 
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“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York. 
You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month. 
Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month. 
Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig. 
So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you. 
The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that. 
You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more. 
Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon. 
You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere. 
“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him. 
“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless. 
“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out. 
“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit. 
“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?” 
He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well. 
“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act. 
“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him. 
“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far. 
John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair. 
“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets. 
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If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that. 
But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again. 
“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan. 
“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that. 
“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh. 
“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part. 
“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of. 
He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off. 
“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good. 
“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care. 
“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about. 
“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud. 
Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really. 
“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding. 
“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop. 
You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be? 
Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently. 
The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically. 
“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you. 
“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”
“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine. 
But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first. 
“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure. 
“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?
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Wednesday 
“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work. 
You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come. 
“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking. 
“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh. 
“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust. 
“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him. 
“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?” 
They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables. 
“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly. 
God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening. 
You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed. 
Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. 
Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice. 
You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did. 
Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it. 
Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure. 
The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside. 
“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him. 
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again. 
“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity. 
“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him. 
You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him. 
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As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all. 
But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet. 
A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked. 
It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes. 
“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm. 
You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body. 
Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God. 
“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known. 
“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening. 
“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped. 
Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible. 
“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously. 
“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface. 
“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?” 
He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa. 
“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint. 
“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really. 
“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly. 
“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?” 
“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?” 
“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!
You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy. 
“What would be expected of me?” 
“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being. 
“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate. 
“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.
Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.
“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 
“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 
“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.
“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers. 
“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you. 
“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously. 
“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”
“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well. 
I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9. 
“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes. 
“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.
“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit. 
He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP. 
The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal. 
“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning. 
Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer. 
“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.” 
“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…
“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.
Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will. 
You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind. 
“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him. 
“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away. 
Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit. 
Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.
/ Next Chapter >
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clarks-letterman · 3 years
Text
Bucky Barnes x Male!Reader
A/N: Okay so this is gonna be a series, and so it’s kinda slow with yours and Bucky’s relationship, sorry not sorry:)
TW: abusive and creepy boss, cursing, slight gore(?)
The snow rapidly fell to the ground as you muttered some 'uh huhs' and 'mhmms' while on the phone. You lightly tugged at your incredibly short uniform, nervous at what news would come next to make this morning even worse.
"(Y/n) (L/n) get back to work! Your ass better be in here in the next minute or you're fired!" Your boss yelled, keeping track of how long you were on break. He really wanted to get his money's worth for what he was paying for you to serve people. Usually, you were good at keeping track of the time but it was your landlord on the phone. He had regretfully told you that you were being evicted by the end of this month.
"Coming!" You yelled back, praying he wouldn't be mad if you could just explain yourself. Meeting back up with him inside that's exactly what you tried to do. "Sor-sorry, it was just my landlor-" he cut you off, "I don't give a shit, that's a personal call that went over your given break time. Now get back to work."
"On it", you said politely, not wanting to deal with anything else he had to say.
God, there was so much you wanted to say to him.
Mostly the fact that he was a major creep, going so far as to make you wear a women's uniform. It was both embarrassing and uncomfortable, as it was tighter than a male's uniform. Besides that, he never gave you an ounce of respect, and made you do every disgusting clean up job in the diner.
~~~
Later that day wasn't any easier, so you couldn't even look forward to a calm evening shift. The only thing that ever made it better was your two favorite customers, Steve Rodgers and Sam Wilson. They were by far the nicest customers to ever visit the diner.
You quickly seated them and tried holding a short conversation after they gave their orders, but your boss immediately shut it down. The sloppy, older male had come over, "What's going on here, (Y/n)? Don't distract the customers with your bullshit." You could smell the beer he had drank, not even waiting until after closing to drink it.
Steve interjected to try and ease your boss, "Actually, we had started the conversation with (Y/n)."
"Whatever", he said gruffly, "just go get their food, bitch." You walked away quite fast, trying not to set him off in front of customers.
~~~
"I hate him, I hate him so fucking much." You vented to yourself in the kitchen, trying to make whatever Steve and Sam had ordered. Since the boss went on a drunk firing-spree a few days ago, almost no one was left working in the kitchen. Which left you to do double the work for the same pay.
"I hate the fact I'm doing more work, I hate that he's a fucking weirdo", you kept talking to yourself, just trying to get whatever emotions out before you left the kitchen to talk to him. As you were talking, you noticed the cabinets starting to sway open and some of the dishes in the sink were shaking violently.
"I hate that I'm being evicted by someone who is just as bad as my boss, I hate-", you stopped yourself when one of the plates had fallen off the counter. Panic set in as you desperately tried picking it up with only your hands, only to cut them on the broken pieces of the glass plate. That's when you heard your boss approaching. "Fuck", you muttered under your breath.
The footsteps came closer, and you looked up to the kitchen door. He came in, swinging both doors open and looking like he was going to kill you. "You bitch", he said, using his strength to pick you up and slam you against the wall, hard.
"After everything I do for you!? You're so fucking ungrateful", he says as he pressed you against the wall even harder. Your boss is preventing you from breathing, so it feels as if you were sinking.
All you could do what let out a small chuckle, "The fuck did you ever do for me?"
The lack of oxygen was kicking in, you were fading in and out of consciousness, your vision was going blurry. A terrible pounding in your head was taking over, although it didn't last long. You didn't know why but your boss must have slowly let go of you, as the pressure of him against you was gone. Regaining your vision was quick to follow after the pressure was gone, but maybe you shouldn't have seen the sight before you.
~~~
Outside of the kitchen, in the dining area, Steve and Sam patiently waited for their food. They knew how your boss was hurtful to his employees, and honestly felt bad for you. And they tried to help by going to the diner to support you. So, they were patient for their food, and never complained if there was a problem.
Concern washed over both of them though, as they heard the glass breaking and yelling going on in the kitchen. Which they expected, but it's what happened next that surprised them.
Everything in the dining area was floating, from things as small as forks to things as big as tables. Steve and Sam weren't sure what it was, so the escorted any remaining customers out. Then, they went into the kitchen to help you, and begrudgingly, your boss.
What they saw was quite horrifying, since it all came from you. It was your boss, in the air, as he seemingly choked on nothing. You were slumped against the wall, your eyes dazed as you let out sounds as if there was a struggle. Steve tried to help your boss, while Sam ran over to you.
"(Y/n), (Y/n)!", Sam shook you, trying to get you out of your trance.
"Hu-huh?" You said softly, glancing at Sam and then over at you boss. He'd made a loud thud, which you were confused by.
"He's out", Steve said, walking over to join you and Sam. "How did you do that?", he asked.
The memories started coming back to you, "I don't know, I was just really upset."
Sam looked up at Steve, who towered over you, "Do you think he's like Maximoff?"
"Maybe," Steve replied, "(Y/n) do you want to come with us to the Avengers Compound? I think there's some people you need to meet."
~~~
Walking into the Avengers Compound, you were shaking more than an intense earthquake.
Do I have powers?, you thought, What if it's nothing? I'd feel so bad for wasting their time.
The thoughts plagued your head, you always doubted your what you were capable of. Honestly, you doubted yourself now more than ever.
It's so dumb that I even have any kind of power, like why of all people did I-, Steve cut off your thoughts.
"And here is the conference room", he said.
Fuck. Holy shit I am not ready for this, you felt as if every part of you had turned to stone.
Sam was following behind both of you, but cut ahead to let himself in the room. Steve then kept the door open, letting you walk in before him and following behind you as you entered the room.
Steve quickly guided you to the front, letting you be seen by the Avengers that were in the room. Only a few of them were identifiable to you; Tony Stark, Nick Fury, and Spider-Man. That wasn't including Steve and Sam though, as you already knew them. Spider-Man was wearing his mask, most likely to keep his identity from you.
The only other person in the room besides them, was a guy you didn't recognize. You focused on his features. He had brown hair that was parted down the middle, which had fallen and covered a good bit of his face. Being seated meant you only saw his upper-body, and could see him sporting a metal arm alongside a leather jacket with straps. Similarly to Spider-Man, he too was wearing a mask. It only covered half his face, leaving his pastel blue eyes to express each emotion he felt. If you were being honest, you actually wanted to see the rest of his face.
You moved your focus back to the silence of the room, realizing Steve had finished introducing you to the group.
"So, what can he do?" Tony asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Clearly waiting to be impressed by you.
"Well, he's like Maximoff," Steve said, "he can move things with his mind."
Sam joined into the conversation, "Yeah, he made dozens of things float in the air at the restaurant, and it was some seriously heavy stuff."
Tony and Nick seemed intrigued by hearing this, but you decided to correct them. "Tha-that's right, but I'm not sure how I-ieven managed to do that." You stuttered as the man in the back's eyes met yours while you talked.
Tony started talking right after you, "Well, that's what training is for."
~~~
It was the following day, and you were beyond nervous for your first day of training.
There was a short period of relief last night that washed over you, but any remnants of it had already dried up. Apparently, you were going to spend the next few weeks at the Avenger's compound where you would be able to hopefully learn to control your power. You were glad to hear that they were more than welcoming, as you were getting evicted and would have no where else to go.
Outside of the positive changes in your life, you were stuck thinking about last night. You came across the guy from earlier in the conference room, who had gone from being a stranger to a jerk in your mind. While everyone else you spoke to was nice, he wasn't. When you greeted him after the meeting, he only gave you a look that was as if he wanted to hurt you. The only good thing to come from it was that you saw him without his mask, which you could say that you weren't disappointed in what he looked like.
Your train of thought was put on a halt when you saw someone phase through the wall that was adjacent to your bed.
"Oh- uh, you're-" You paused for a second, "Vision, right?"
"Indeed, Mr.Stark requested that I made sure you were awake and dressed by seven-thirty for your training." He spoke, his eyes following you as you got up from your bed and went over to the closet.
"Okay, thank you?" You said the last bit in an odd tone, feeling the awkwardness of the conversation after Vision gave you the information about your training.
Grabbing some clothes, you turned around and was ready to ask him to leave. Except he wasn't there.
Huh, I guess phasing through walls in a quiet thing to do, you thought, chuckling a little to yourself.
~~~
"Okay, tiger. Let's see what you got." Tony stated over the loudspeakers, with Natasha, Bruce, and the guy from last night standing behind him.
They had put you in a testing room, with the other four being separated from you by an incredibly strong glass wall. You weren't gonna lie, it felt weird to be observed like this. It didn't help calm you down, if anything, it had made you more nervous.
The next ten minutes only embarrassed you, as you were told to move various things around the room, but the efforts were to no avail. It made you feel weak to try and replicate what Wanda had demonstrated for you the previous night.
You approached the glass wall and spoke to the four Avengers, "I'm starting to think I don't have any powers."
"Hey, Bucky, why don't you give (y/n) here a little motivation?" Tony asked, gesturing toward the door that connected the separated areas.
Bucky, huh, I wonder why he never told me his name himself, you thought.
As he walked in, you quickly made your way over to him and extended you hand, "Hi Bucky, I'm (y/n), I don't think we-".
He cut you off, "It's James".
"Okay, James. Well I'm glad to hopefully be working alongside you soon." He didn't reply, only keeping a serious face as he walked to the opposite end of the room from where you stood.
Great, the one guy who actually looks like he wants to hurt me is giving me 'motivation'.
Once again, he glared at you before pulling out a throwing knife. He took a second to aim it before throwing it at you before you could protest against it.
With natural reflex you raised you hands to cover your face and turned you head, waiting for the blade to pierce your skin. Although, you never felt any pain, so you slowed opened you eyes and looked around to see where it had gone.
That's when you noticed it had diverted upwards and went into the ceiling, seemingly right before it hit you.
"Oh thank god." You mumbled under your breath.
Tony then sent in Natasha to see if you divert various things at once. James threw another knife at you, while Natasha fired her gun.
Their combined efforts did not work though, as the bullets went in random directions that were anywhere but near you. James' second knife had been sent into the ceiling again.
"Bucky and Natasha, come back in here. I wanna see if (y/n) can handle the Hulk!" Tony exclaimed, while Bruce stripped down to his boxers before walking in the room.
In seconds he had grown into the swollen green beast, and you were tasked with force of using your power on him.
Shit, I'm supposed to move him?
You took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to focus on using your power to lift the Hulk. At first, it was surprisingly easy to lift him, but you started to struggle. There was this pounding in your head and your body felt like it was being constricted by a tremendous amount of force.
Hulk fell to the ground as you did yourself. The sounds of a distressed Tony and Natasha running into the room was the last thing you heard before everything went dark.
~~~
Your eyes slowly opened as the sound of the heart rate monitor got progressively more annoying to you. Over the sound of the monitor, you heard two people talking. Unfortunately, you could barely move from when you passed out.
“Look, I know him okay! I know who (y/n)”, You weren’t sure who it was, but you guessed it to be James.
“What do you mean? He was just a waiter and now he’s gonna be part of the team, who else could he be, Bucky?”, To you, this guy sounded like Steve from his voice.
Bucky took a second to respond, “He’s from HYDRA.”
234 notes · View notes
jiminrings · 3 years
Note
umm maybe this is me projecting bc i am messaging you during my break but for a drabble request, yoongi in a retail setting???? 😐😐😐😐 oc could either be a co-worker or a regular customer who asks too many questions 😔😌
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retail-type beat
drabble week: day three
drabble week masterlist
pairing: customer!yoongi x retail worker!reader
wordcount: 3k
glimpse: "hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second. anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"
feedback + support mean the world to me!!
the last time you checked, work doesn’t start until nine
you kNEW it doesn’t start until 9 in the morning, so clearly that’s why you’re just wearing slides instead of your sneakers
the company uniform is either black or purple (it has to be from what the store is selling though so you can get to choose) with of course!!!! a lanyard!!!!
and you know this, because you’re still wearing your slides from home because it isn’t opening time yet
“goddamn it, i forgot to bring my slippers,” jin moans the moment he walks to see you, looking down on your feet that only reminds him he’d be stuck in his cool yet painfully uncomfy sneakers
he’s probably the only co-worker that you’re truly close with, not feeling the urge to sell him just to get a free day
“i told you to get the sneakers that nurses use!!”
hands-down one of the best purchases you’ve ever made
retail’s hard and it’s not exactly the best-paying job!!! thankfully the franchise owner is a bit more generous so that’s why you get slightly-higher hourly pay
“i would if they looked a little more seasoned,” jin snorts and stubbornly crosses his arms, “i might sacrifice my pride and buy some compression socks.”
OOOOOH THOSE ARE GOOD TOO
makes you feel like ur walking on air
but lol no seokjin isn’t ready to buy those just yet
he’ll settle on some blisters and putting salonpas patches because they look cooler that way, thank u very much <3
jin yawns, talking about finding a steam iron somewhere to replace a blowdryer so he could break in his shoes
“you wipe the glass this time.”
oh right he absolutely hates wiping down the glass — even before opening!!! even when there aren’t any grubby kids that would soil it instantly with their equally as grubby hands
you don’t mind it honestly
you might honestly like it
you prefer wiping the glass a hundred times over than steaming clothes
there is nOT a single thought in your head when you spray on the solution to the glass, rag and squeegee tucked between your fingers when-
maybe you should’ve hOLY FUCKING SHIT
it’s not opening!!!! it is nOT nine o’clock in the morning!!!!
you know that the shop you’re working in is pretty fucking famous and it’s located on one of the most populated streets ever BUT THERE’S ALREADY SOMEONE
although the bucket hat seems familiar from a distance and-
oh it’s just yoongi
yoongi?
yoongi’s already here????
:O
yoongi, the guy in question, is an always customer!!
no, not a regular customer — an always customer
he comes every week and maybe even twice within that period
he’s a nice talkative customer who likes asking questions and even occasionally guides the other customers on what to buy and where to find it
he’s yoongi!!! of course that’s expected of him
he’s been going here long since you ever started working here, and jin keeps iNSISTING that he’s been here more frequently since you started like a year ago
but doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?
“woah, yoongi’s already here? — doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?”
?!!?!!
“i was just thinking the exact same thing.”
jin bangs the glass with his fist and you automatically wince and frown
you dO like cleaning the glass panes!! you didn’t say you liked cleaning them a second time :(
“YOONGI!”
“YES??”
you push jin’s fist away to wipe at the smudge his hand left
“IT’S NOT OPENING YET!”
“I KNOW!!”
wow they’re uh
they’re really loud
sometimes you forget how seokjin could be since it’s been awhile since you heard him yell
lol no one’s been shoplifting recently so you haven’t been hearing him
a mind-blowing idea is for jin to come outside and talk to him in a normal talking voice, so your ears would stop ringing
“HEY! WHAT IF YOU JUST ENTER EARLY IN?”
“REALLY? IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED??”
"YOONGI, EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR KNOWS YOUR NAME. NAMJOON EVEN GAVE YOU A CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFT, AND WE DON'T GIVE CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFTS TO ANY OTHER CUSTOMER!!"
namjoon, who technically should be called mr. kim because no one really thinks to call the franchise owner with their government first name, is actually pretty cool
but he's too busy these days and haven't been visiting because he's too busy tending to his newly-opened coffee shop
as if the money he earns from opening his franchise in a day alone isn’t enough :0
"IF YOU SAY SO?"
you’re the one who hikes up the roll-up door in the slightest, enough for only yoongi to enter and not encourage anyone else to nOT enter when it’s still not opening time!!!!
he only has to crouch a little but he still has to dust his thousand-dollar pants as if he crawled through mud
his cream-colored slacks with a large black hoodie that has a giant bear embroidered on the middle of it and mules
... you don't hate his outfits
pretty cute, actually
it's yoongi!!
you'd never catch him lacking!!!
you don't even have to envision him rocking the shit out a paper bag
one time, he came in the store wearing the WRINKLIEST brown linen jumpsuit that no iron could possibly fix and he still pulled it off
toon-teen-ten!
oh god that’s the sound of the intercom
and the sound of the intercom equates to jungkook
... as in jeon jungkook who’s the floor manager and his constant top one goal for every month is to endearingly annoy seokjin
he’s young and mischievous!! but if you were to ask him, only you and jungkook are the people in this floor he’d actually get drinks with outside the shop
“seokjin come to the lingerie department right now, please.”
you see the thing is :D
“now this is just funny
there’s walkie-talkies for everyone here!! jungkook likes intercoms, and seokjin like yelling!!
“WHY ME AGAIN?? I’VE ALREADY FOLDED-“
“there’s a literal rat and i need yOU to catch it!! you know that i hate rodents!!”
him and jungkook are forever gonna be on this eldest-youngest brother dynamic and while jungkook pouts and shared the extras that he gets, jin is the one who kills the bugs :D
10/10 totally fair
fine then!! he’ll catch that goddamn rat
that leaves you and yoongi. alone.
“why did you come so early this time?”
you ask out of courtesy, genuinely baffled too because you know that yoongi’s a creature of habit
yoongi’s eyes pop out, head fervently shaking no
“i’m typically not the type to do that, no.”
???
is he-
are you-
are you both talking about the same thing
yoongi’s face flushes in embarrassment, his mind just then registering what you were actually saying
“o-oh! it’s because last night, i dreamt of the sweater i saw here last week!!"
oh right
typical :D
"need me to find it for you or do you already know the aisle?"
you align the folded shirts by the corners as you pass, looking at yoongi briefly while he trails behind yoh
“not unless you pulled it out already."
he's hoping that dear god you haven't
the black sweater with the moon aND buildings on it and when you turn on the flash, the windows of said building reflect it right back???
he SHUDDERS just by thinking about it
it’s gonna go with everything!!! an instant boost of serotonin every time he sees it
"for you, yoongi?" you shake your head, a small smile on your face that he only sees every once in a while, "i'd comb through the entire stock room."
wait
that’s sweet :((
“i’ll hold you to that.”
you know what??? you're less cranky when it's only him, and a couple of hundred people less
your smiles aren't for customer-service and you don't have misplaced clothes hanging from your shoulders and your walkie-talkie isn't talking in latin
or when no one’s asking you to reach something from the top shelf
or when you’re on the way to the intercom because a kid got separated from their mother
or when someone’s approaching for a refund for a shirt who has a stain that’s 100% no doubt customer error
his feet immediately move on its own because he’s memorized the outline of this too many times
there it is!!!
the sweater he’s dreamt about is already on his hands, only a handful few left
the piece is considerably more expensive than majority of the items here, so that’s why they’re all spaced-out instead of being clustered altogether
yoongi rarely goes to the dressing room, regardless if it's a full-house or not!!
he could just look at an item and immediately tell that it’s made for him ta know
he's beyond sure that this sweater fits him perfectly, but he may want to be here a little longer
yoongi may have say inside one of the fitting rooms and spent a little time in it just to sit on the chair inside, not fitting the sweater at all
he's gotten his item SO quick and he wished he could've just walked slower or pretended to not know where it was!!!
he wants to spend a little more time here
you don't hate yoongi!!! but sometimes he could just be... yoongi
he's quite talkative and strikes it whenever, making you unguarded
he could be overbearing but like an overbearing kind of nice
yoongi’s nice!! he’s the type to ask a lot of questions sure, but he’s also the type that would point the other customers what to buy and where to find it
he’s the type to find an obvious faulty stitch on a shirt, but he’d just quietly exchange it instead of asking for the manager
he’s the type you wouldn’t want to stand behind in line because it would take a long time for him to finish, but he’s also the same one who buys giftcards with generous amounts for family and friends
yoongi’s kind of cool and that’s cemented on your mind
"what do you got for me?"
he materializes out of nowhere, spooked because you thought he already ringed up and was out of the store already
it just happens to be ten minutes before opening and you’re doing last-minute arrangements on a new spread
well, yoongi most certainly is still here and his attention’s piqued
“we have... a new collection."
you clear your theory, awkwardly gesturing because you’re more than aware that yoongi hasn’t seen this either
“yeah, i know that. but like, what's going on??" he gestures to the displays and racks, squinting his eyes, "what's the theme? what's the material?"
:O
uhm you haven't read the brief about this
you aren't even sURE if there is one!!
doesn't everyone make up something on the spot in retail
or atleast that’s what seokjin tells you
“the theme," you clear your throat, scratching your temple before gesturing towards the full rack, "is everything."
“everything?
yoongi’s eyebrow is raised, not expecting that answer at all
you look back to the new feature, and nOW that you think about it,, there's no cohesion at all
“y-yes. the shop was going for the theme of uhm, everything... all at once — yeah, that's it. everything all at once."
it’s a nice way to put it when not one bit of the new collection goes together
“hmmmm. i like it,” yoongi nods solemnly and tilts his head, “and the material?"
"the material?"
you repeat, eyesight not the best so you can’t really tell anything off the bat or uh aNYTHING really
"t-the material is shirt."
they're all shirts!!! that’s it
yoongi grimaces in disgust, the first time you’ve seen of it
“what?? you can't say that.”
he outsretches his hand to the nearest article, holding it up by the hanger
"this, right here, is satin. see how it shines like silk, but doesn't feel like silk?"
uhm yes
you have a gist of what he’s saying but yes
yoongi picks up a pink button shirt this time, flipping it inside out
"this, is silk charmeuse. look at the inside, is it smooth?"
okay where is he going with this
he urges you to put your hand on the fabric and uhhh you didn't sign up for this???
it looks smooth, sure!! end of discussion
"yea-..."
“it's not. it's rough. it is smooth, but it's dull. silk charmeuse is still silk, but the backing it has is different from the lustrous part."
okay yoongi
you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and it has to do something with the tone he’s using on you
“can't believe you didn't know that!! how about this," he plucks out a shirt with a tiny print at the middle of it, "cotton or polyester and rayon?"
"i don't-"
there’s an itch in your neck that you want to scratch, a tell-tale sign that you just wANT to remove yourself from this situation
“come on!! it's a dead giveaway!!"
:((
why is he being like this?
toon-teen-ten!
“y/n, panty section please. jin almost got bit by a mouse and he needs comforting. two minutes until opening, people!!"
jungkook speaks at the right moment, and jin’s little incident is enough of a reason for you to bolt
yoongi's still looking at you but you can't afford to embarrass yourself further
“bye. happy shopping."
huh?
yoongi’s face falls when you leave as cold as that!! typically when you were going to show him out (when it’s regular shop hours), there’d be a smile :((
there's not even a customer service smile :(((
yoongi goes to the only cashier that's open so far and it happens to be far away from you and a teary seokjin
seokjin's fine he didn't even get bit!! that much he could say
but are you okay? uhhh you kinda went cold on him by the end and he thought he started on a good note
yoongi doesn't visit for another week and you don't find yourself counting the days until you meet him again
you did not have a devil wears prada moment where anne hathaway has an epiphany for fashion knowledge
you just felt belittled at a job that isn’t exactly what you wanted anyways
needed, yes. but wanted? not exactly
you know that basic knowledge about clothes is required in a retail job like this and you have it!! you do!!!!
you’d know more if only there were actual available resources for employees to know!!! nobody besides yoongi asks anyways
you’d know if you have time to yourself and aren’t working two jobs trying to make ends meet and tHEN you could pull up a book or something!!!
you’d know if your life is as lax as yoongi’s and could have the budget to buy new things for yourself every single week
“jin, i need to ask you something.”
he hums as called, looking at you briefly until you get on with it
“do you know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse?"
he shrugs casually while you're sitting inside one of the closed-off fitting rooms to catch a break, sharing a burger because the store’s packed-packed
why did you ask him? it’s too easy
“one's made by worms, and the other's a pokémon."
that,.,., could not possibly be righti* it brings you a laugh and you honestly don’t even try to correct him
it’s 11:15 and you kNOW it’s time to resume your shift, straightening your shirt because atleast one (1) person would hound you when they see a familiar red lanyard
oh you’re hounded alright
“hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second.”
yoongi????
oh
you haven’t seen him for a week and you don’t know what to feel in all honesty
"anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"
wow
you're quite speechless as he holds up the item
really?
this thing all over again???
why are you even surprised
the only thing that yoongi gets your customer service smile, fishing your hand from inside the sweater to show him
“70% wool."
that's it???
NO GOOD MORNING????
you're mad at him, aren't you?
he knew it :((
he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what
he’s gonna fix this!! he will
which is why the very next day, he takes the day off from his work and comes to the store at a time he knows you’d surely be there
you're on cashier duty and you like it actually :D
you have an option to sit and the way you’re just gonna scan pricetags (and occasionally enter the code if it doesn’t work) is really appealing
“good morning!"
you’re about to grab the items from the basket laid on the counter and your eyes could only see the very familiar hand
the same one you’ve seen go through racks and racks
yoongi??
he sets his items one by one, buying himself more time
the first one is the same exact sweater he came to wait for before opening
“you already bought this."
you tell him even before you could hold it back, looking back at him briefly before you scan the tag
“i know. i just wanted to see you."
oh
oh
yoongi threw a bunch of other items (individually) so it would be a longer talk, but you scan each item quickly that he’s grabbing things from the counter
hand sanitizer!!! hair ties!!! keychains!!!! yeah he needs them
“i'm sorry that i tend to spring shit on you most of the time. you don't need to know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse."
you only chuckle then, a meek smile on your face
"it's okay, yoongi.”
“it's not."
... it’s not?
yoongi fidgets, opening and closing his mouth like he’s nervous!!! he’s never had his credit card cancelled but he could only feel that this type of jitterness is more than the former
“can i make it up to you? no lanyards, no baskets, no customer service?? i don't wanna fuck things up with you."
“don't feel obligated-"
“i know i could be a condescending ass who expects people to automatically know fabric and whatnot, but i wanna make it up to you."
alright yoongi’s a really good apology-maker
you mIGHT be even flustered a little
“you're holding the line, yoongi.”
“i cleared my schedule."
“i haven’t!!!!!” - guy in the back
“dinner at my place at 8. i-i promise to make your hard-earned break after your shift worthwhile!!!"
hmmm
maybe that wouldn’t hurt
“okay. just because you're holding the line."
“fine by me."
:))
yoongi transfers all the items he bought, all but one, to his tote bag
he hands back the paper bag to you, scribbling his address on the back of the receipt before he does
he lingers a little while at the counter, the people behind him ALREADY switching lanes to the one seokjin’s just opened beside you
it's the sweater that he has too
yoongi scratches the back of his head, this time being the meek one
“what? m-matching sweaters for our first date. s'cute."
191 notes · View notes
juniorgman187 · 3 years
Text
Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1
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A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.
Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past.  Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k
I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series. 
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*  
Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.
A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital. 
But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.
Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer. 
Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.
But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid. 
To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?
I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing. 
My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner. 
Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England. 
“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place. 
“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return. 
“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.” 
I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.
Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.
Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s. 
I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do. 
See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order. 
However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore. 
It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream. 
As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia. 
But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would. 
No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.
I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was. 
My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out. 
“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second. 
“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned. 
She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all. 
I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand. 
Someone important from my past was here tonight.
As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.
“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind. 
I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too. 
“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive. 
My eyes. 
“Here, take my jacket.” 
My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.
“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping. 
“Spencer Reid?”
I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for. 
I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then? 
But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.
He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.
“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.” 
“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me. 
He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.” 
His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid. 
In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look. 
The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing. 
“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first. 
“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.” 
I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer. 
“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body. 
To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.” 
Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories. 
11 Years Ago ...
I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities. 
My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.
There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.
It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me. 
To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy. 
Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been. 
I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’
But of course, I never did. 
As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands. 
“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion. 
I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.
With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.
I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine. 
As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years. 
Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain. 
Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me. 
So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time. 
While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that. 
He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.
After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke. 
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us. 
“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it. 
“So, who are you here for?”
For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.” 
It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties. 
“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?
“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.” 
Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?” 
“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive? 
“Jeez, you must be really smart.” 
He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.
Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went. 
“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.” 
Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more. 
“What is your IQ right now?”
“131.”
My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was. 
“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”
I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there. 
“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”
“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”
“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”
You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me. 
Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored. 
How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring. 
That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.
Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.
“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted. 
I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there. 
Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist. 
“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him. 
“Likewise.”
I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!” 
He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!” 
I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name. 
“What’s yours?” He yelled back. 
I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time. 
“Next time?” 
With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away. 
“Bye, Spencer!”
Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me. 
- Present Time -
By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order. 
“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal. 
When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?” 
Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders. 
“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.
“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent. 
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.” 
I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize. 
Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.
I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes. 
But that’s not the worst part. 
The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her. 
“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.” 
“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage. 
All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 
_ _ _
After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace. 
I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.
Now, I had to live with that. 
“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.” 
Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night. 
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer. 
I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”
I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back. 
“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence. 
“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.” 
He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being. 
“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell. 
“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”
The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded. 
“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.” 
“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed. 
“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go. 
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.” 
I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition. 
“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.” 
Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further. 
“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-” 
“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.” 
His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.” 
With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?” 
Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about. 
Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions. 
“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.
The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends. 
“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away. 
It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily. 
“Do you have any guesses of it could be?” 
He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”
I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”
He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.” 
“Nope.”
“Nicole.”
“Nope.”
“Gertrude.” 
“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”
“Olive.” 
“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell. 
“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed. 
“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued. 
“Francis.”
“Okay, maybe this is impossible.” 
My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed. 
“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).” 
He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”
“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently. 
My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something. 
“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”
And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off. 
The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything. 
Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear. 
I love Spencer. 
If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair. 
One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!” 
He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.
“You love me?” 
There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession. 
In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter. 
“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?
In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door. 
“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-” 
He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him. 
I learned, that day, that you do only live once. 
But you can die over and over again.
From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was. 
Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”
Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else. 
“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.” 
He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.” 
I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago. 
“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing. 
There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own. 
His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust. 
“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back. 
“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.” 
The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard. 
Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.
It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you. 
As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion. 
No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it. 
When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine. 
Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy. 
He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle. 
He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it. 
He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking. 
I love you.
The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat. 
“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.” 
He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was. 
Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.
He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.
Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out. 
Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom. 
But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.
Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.
“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.
“Looking for this?” He teased.
All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back. 
“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”
No arguments from him. 
Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask? 
Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself. 
_ _ _
I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth. 
Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable. 
Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.” 
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip. 
It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory. 
At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.” 
Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again. 
And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did. 
Six Weeks Later ...
“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?” 
She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.” 
It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently. 
My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago. 
What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself. 
To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly. 
I was pregnant. 
Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater. 
I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess. 
I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them. 
“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection. 
And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain. 
So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.
I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth. 
“I think I might be pregnant.” 
You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head. 
“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy. 
“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too. 
“Well, have you taken a test?” 
I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?” 
She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing. 
“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.” 
We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now. 
When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently. 
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time. 
“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked. 
“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.” 
I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face. 
“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.
“Well, first, what do you want it to say?” 
That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”
“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?” 
Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire. 
Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.” 
We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace. 
“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.” 
Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.” 
Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face. 
“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!” 
And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed. 
Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade. 
What about Spencer?
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*  
PART 2 HERE!
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palbabor-writes · 3 years
Note
OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)
ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.
Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     
Word Count: 11,800
Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 
Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 
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Mise en Place
/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”
This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 
The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 
The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.
No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.
There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 
“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 
“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.
“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”
“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”
“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”
The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 
******
Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 
Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 
You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 
“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.
“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 
“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”
The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 
“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 
You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.
Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 
“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 
“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”
“Never seen you before.”
“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 
“You supposed to drink on the clock?”
You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”
He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 
You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.
“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”
“He doesn’t need to pay.” 
You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 
“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  
“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”
******     
You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 
Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.
The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.
It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 
You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 
“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.
“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 
“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 
He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 
“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 
“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 
For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.
Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 
Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 
Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 
Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.
******   
As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 
There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 
Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  
Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 
A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 
Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 
Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.
Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 
You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 
To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 
******
A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 
You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.
You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 
The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 
Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 
“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 
“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”
Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 
“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 
“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”
You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”
Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 
You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”
“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”
“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”
“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”
“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 
It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”
“What toy?” 
His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”
Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 
You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 
“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 
“Can I take a hit of that?”
“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”
“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.
“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.
“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”
He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 
Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 
“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”
But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 
******                
After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.
The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.
It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?
You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 
His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 
Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.
With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 
Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 
******    
You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 
No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.
So, you hand in your written resignation. 
Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 
“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 
“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 
“This doesn’t feel like you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 
“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 
“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”
“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”
“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”
“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”
“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”
“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.
******
Then, Kamino happens. 
You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 
Late one evening, your phone rings. 
It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.
You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.
It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.
He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 
Now, to work.
“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.
“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.
Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 
“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”
“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.
“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”
“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 
“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”
“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 
You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.
“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.
“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.
“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”
“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.
“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 
“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”
“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”
He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 
“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 
“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…
“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 
“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 
“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.
“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.
“About, well, you.”
“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.
“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.
“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 
“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 
“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.
So, you shove him. 
You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 
He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 
Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.
“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.
“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.
“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.
He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 
You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 
“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 
“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 
Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 
“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.
Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 
“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 
You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 
You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 
His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 
“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 
“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 
“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.
He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 
Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 
As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 
“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 
You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 
Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.
He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 
There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 
You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.
“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 
“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”
He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 
“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”
Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.
“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 
You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 
True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 
“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.
Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.
“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 
His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 
“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 
“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”
“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.
“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 
“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 
“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 
Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 
“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 
He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 
“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 
Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 
His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 
“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 
“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 
In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 
Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 
“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 
“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.
“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.
“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.
“Stand up,” he instructs. 
You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 
He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.
Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 
To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 
You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 
So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 
Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 
“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.
He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 
He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 
Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.
He’s worried he can’t do it. 
He’s never been alone, not like this. 
Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 
He needs to see this through. 
He wants to, he has to.
Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?
It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 
Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 
He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 
Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 
After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.
“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.
“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”
He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.
“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.
“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”
“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”
“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.
“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”
“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”
Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 
Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love
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