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starluvsx · 5 months

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★𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𖦹 𝐏!𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤

proofread:YUPPP

word count:1.4K

WARNINGS:swearing?thats rlly it

A/N:i wanna do more headannons and stuff like this.this was rlly cute and fun to write.also I look wish the baby project was like a thing at my school but we don't even got working lights in some of the bathrooms soooo.

nick

you guys turned to each other as soon as the teacher said you could choose parameters

y'all were so convinced you would be great at taking care of the kid

you were wrong

You guys didn’t know you were supposed to change the baby until one of your friends told you

the first night nick took the baby too his house and left it on the kitchen table for six hours

he didn't realize he left it there till his mom came home from work and heard crying

you left it in your backpack twice

people said you were starting to look like an actual mom because of how stressed you were over this robot baby

almost set the bay on fire then you guys were trying to make pancakes

"so then I told her I was like why the fuck would you-"you began before you realized neither of you had the baby.you looked around before seeing the babies head dangerously close to the fire coming from under the pan in the stove. "Nick oh my gosh!"you said as you shot up from your seat at the table, grabbing the plastic baby from the counter. “you almost killed her!"you dramatically said as you cradled the baby, touching it's now warm head lightly.you didn't let him touch the baby for the next 2 days.

"y/n I have to hold the baby eventually,I don't wanna fail."He tried to negotiate a few days later.

"only if you promise not to put my baby's head near an open flame again."you asked him to do while rocking the baby.

"bitch im not gonna burn your baby."he joked, making the two of you laugh.you then handed him the baby, still smiling at your best friend's stupid joke. as soon as the baby was in his arms though it began to cry and wail. "Actually you can have your baby back"he said before handing it back to you jokingly.his gesture made the both of you laugh even more.

you guys got a C+, partly because some of the babies' hair was a little burnt.

Matt

treated that baby as if it was real.

literally named it Issac

set timers for every time he had to feed it and change it

The baby had a built-in voice box to make him laugh so he loved to make it laugh and giggle.

wouldn't let the kid go

had to stay on the phone with you on the nights you kept the baby

like the whole night

there was one time where you forgot to feed the baby and he literally freaked out

on the last week of the project he realized he didn't wanna give the baby back

you were already done with it though

everyone at school said you guys were like actual parents by the end of it

you didn't even realize how attached he was to the baby until you walked in on him sleeping cuddled ups that the baby

your phone rang from inside your pocket.the gas station you worked at was empty at the moment so you didn't hesitate to answer it. "Matt" read the caller id, confusing you because he knew you were at work but you still picked it up nonetheless. "Hey baby."he said into the phone.

"hi matt, what’s up,i’m at working right now so I can't talk for long" you explained as you saw a car pull into the parking lot.the headlights standing out in the darkness

"Well i was just wondering if you wanted to come over after your shift, i got some snacks but nobody to share em with." he asked cheekily though the phone.the people from outside stepped into the gas stations mom and her daughter.you laughed at his slyness until faint baby cries in the background.

"Is that isaac?did you forget to feed him?''you asked worriedly through the phone.the mom and her daughter looked at you confused as your young face was talking, presumably, about her baby.

"No I just have to change him" he explained through the phone.shuffling could be heard from the other line before you could say anymore.matt letting out a dad like groan while getting up made you smile to yourself.

"ok yea i'll come over in a little, probably like 9:30, is that okay?"you asked through the

phone.he mumbled a small 'yea thats fine' before we said 'I love you's and 'goodbye's and hung up.the lady and her kid coming up to the register once I put my phone in my pocket.

later

I let myself into the house and was greeted with Mary Lou and Nick watching a movie in the living room. "Hey guys,"I said sweetly, smiling and waving at the pair. They greeted me the same way before I asked "is Matt in his room?"

"Mhm" Mary Lou hummed. I walked down the hall till I made it into his room.i knocked on the door before opening in slowly.i was met with matt sleeping soundly,plastic baby cuddled up to his chest.i giggled a little before taking out my phone to take a picture.

Once I snapped the picture I tapped him on the shoulder lightly to not scare him.he fluttered his eyes open and looked at me tiredly. "oh hey babe" he mumbled out while sitting up and looking around wearily. "Was I cuddling with the baby?" he asked,confused at the doll that was in his now unraveled arm.

"yea you were"I laughed out before moving the 'baby' and climbing into bed with him.

"I was wishing it was you"he said as he pulled closer to him.the little comment making me laugh lightly.

I turned my body to face him before asking "so where are the snacks?" which made him

reach over to his bedside table and grab some chips, candy and 2 sodas.

"right here"he said while smiling and kissing me on the cheek.

you guys got an a+ on the project and your teacher even said you would be “perfect parents one day"

Chris

he actually asked you to be his partner instead of it being the other way around

It was way more stressful than you guys thought it would be

First you guys lost the bottle for a whole day

Literally looked up and down to find it but you just actually could not.

Turns out Chris left it in his locker

He def posts pictures of him and the baby with captions and stuff saying “ me and @youruser babyyyy” and “I think she looks more like me but idk” on instagram and snap

Was actually a very good parent despite thinking he wouldn't be

Dropped the baby like twice though

He also bought like little clothes for the baby so she wasn’t just walking around nakedly

you were so confused when he brought them home

when he would play video games you would tease him and ask him to "not swear in front of the child"

both of you ended up very emotionally attached to the kid

was very committed to being an actual dad after the fact

you guys were tired.watching a movie in chris' bed after a long day at school wasn't the best idea for staying awake.but while you were very tapped into the movie, you could also simultaneously feel his eyes boring into you.you didn't know why but also didn't think much of it.he's always been a bit of a starer.

you decided to continue focusing on the movie until it was abruptly paused. "hey why'd you do that?"you questioned.looking over at the boy who had been looking at you most of the night.

"Wanna have a kid?"he asked.the question leaving you stunned and confused at the sudden idea.kids had always been a possibility in both of your minds but it never something that could manifest into a real physical thing.

"Right now, like at this age?"you asked him to clarify.

"well now, in a years, five years, i don't really care"chris answered

"definitely not now, maybe when we're older with a house, a steady paycheck and you know, a high school diploma."you attempted to explain.

"I can't wait that longggg."he whined

"Well I definitely can,"you sassed. "Now turn the movie back on, I wanna see how this ends."

"probably with them having a baby."he joked under his breath as he reached for the remote to do what you asked

"chris you've seen this movie before you know how it ends"

#sturniolo triplets #influencers #x reader #youtube #celebrity #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #cute #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris surniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolos

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nadinebrooks-marvel · 2 years

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Here is the link to my masterlist.

Stephen Strange x Reader: We Never Were Friends

Warnings: Brief language

“Are you sure I can't get you anything sweetheart?" The waitress came over and asked once again. I believe she told me that her name was Georgia. Or maybe it was Virginia. I do know that her name was a state, but I couldn’t remember which one.

She was a very sweet girl and I planned on tipping her well before I left the restaurant. She had been extremely patient with me and she deserved something to pad her wallet a little. When she walked by to check on the table behind me, I managed to read her name tag. It was Georgia. I thought it was a rather cute name.

Georgia looked to be a couple of years younger than me. When I first saw her, it made me think of how I used to work as a waitress when I was younger. It felt like a lifetime ago.

I worked my ass off during medical school to pay my tuition. It didn't show on Georgia's face, but I was wondering if she was starting to get annoyed with me. I kept telling her that I was still waiting on someone to join me. That had been almost an hour ago.

I had patiently waited on my date in my car for about thirty minutes or so and then I decided to head inside before they gave away our reservation. I texted him a couple of times asking if he was on the way or if something had held him up, but I hadn't heard back. I even called, but got no answer. I thought it was a little strange because he was someone who responded quickly. My date hadn't been working today so I knew that he hadn't gotten caught up with anything work related.

I had this nasty habit of chewing on my lip whenever I got anxious. I had been doing that for the past hour. Each time I glanced at the clock on the wall, the chewing would get even worse. My mom had always joked that one day I was going to chew straight through my lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if today was that day.

"He should be here any minute." I shyly whispered not wanting anyone around me to hear. I had been saying that exact line each time Georgia walked by. She would just nod and walk away. It seemed like I was trying to convince myself more than her. I wonder if this happened a lot. She was handling it pretty well.

Whenever I worked as a waitress, I had my fair share of dealing with people who had been stood up. I would usually offer them a free dessert or tell them that their meal was on the house. This was the type of thing that you never thought would happen to yourself.

Over the past couple of weeks, I had been working on a case with one of the physicians at the hospital. We had gotten pretty close over the course of working with this patient together. I was someone who liked to keep my work and private life separate. I vowed to myself that I would not get close enough to a coworker to date them. When I came home from work, I didn't want to talk about work. But there was something different about him.

One night I was lying in bed thinking about the best course of action for our patient. This happened more often than I cared to admit. I would usually have a mug of bedtime tea to help me fall asleep, but I had drunk the last tea bag the night before. I had been so busy that I hadn't managed to swing by the store to grab some more. I was in desperate need of grocery shopping anyway. I had been living on takeout the past couple of days.

I rolled over and looked at my alarm clock to see that it read 3:49 AM. I pulled out a notebook and began jotting down some treatment plans to go over with Doctor Brandon Wells in the morning.

Brandon was the doctor I was working with on this case. Before this, we hadn't spoken more than three words to each other. I was a plastic surgeon and Doctor Wells was a pulmonologist. He was a physician who specialized in lung conditions.

A couple of days ago we had received a patient who had been admitted after being in a house fire. It was nobody's fault. The patient was a ten year old boy, Ollie Edwards, who lived in an older home. Everyone in his family was alright, but Ollie suffered the worst of it. His lungs had been badly affected by the smoke from the fire and he had major burns on his back and side.

Whenever I tell people that I specialize in plastic surgery, they automatically think of tummy tucks and face lifts. Sure, everyone loves a good boob job, but most of my work was done treating burn victims. I flew all over the country treating people. I even taught a couple of classes from time to time discussing my techniques. I wasn't one to brag, but I was damn good at my job.

I thought about climbing out of the bed to fix a mug of hot chocolate. Maybe that would help me fall asleep. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of my warm bed or wake up my dog who was still asleep at the foot of my bed. I didn't have the heart to move her. I debated getting out of the bed, but then my phone began ringing. I thought something may have been wrong back at home so I instantly picked it up. I stared at the caller ID for a while. Why was Doctor Wells calling me at this hour? I figured it was because he was in the same boat as me.

"I'm guessing that you couldn't sleep either?" I answered after the fourth ring.

"Nope. I've been up thinking about how we can help Ollie. He's a ten year old who has his whole life ahead of him. He should be able to run around and play with his friends without worrying about his lungs."

"I know Brandon. I've been up doing the same thing." I admitted. The reason that Ollie had been so badly affected by the fire was because he went back into the house to save his little sister's favorite doll. Brandon and I stayed up the whole night talking. The conversation did end up drifting away from Ollie. We talked about things outside of work. That was a new one for me. We ended up falling asleep on the phone. The next morning when I woke up, I felt giddy. The last time I fell asleep on the phone with someone was during my college days.

I had been out of the dating pool for a while. It was hard to explain my demanding schedule to someone who had never experienced it. It was nice to talk to someone who understood it completely. I wasn't sure if Brandon was looking to date anyone, but I would be happy to try and see where things could go. We had good conversations and never ran out of things to say. I couldn’t really ask for much more.

Once Brandon and I had finished our treatment with Ollie, he did end up asking me out. I couldn’t say that I was surprised. There had been many more late night conversations and falling asleep on the phone. We had been getting along really well over the past couple of weeks. Honestly, I would have been a little hurt if he hadn't asked me out.

I pulled my phone out of my purse to check the message from a few days ago. Maybe I read our messages wrong. Did I get the wrong day or place or time?

While I had been sitting in my car, I read the message well over 10 times to make sure I had everything right. I was hoping that when I read it this time it would be different. Absolutely nothing had changed since I looked at it an hour ago.

Brandon Wells (From Work): Hey (y/n)! I know that we aren't really supposed to date our coworkers, but I would love to go out sometime. How would you feel about dinner and a movie? We could meet at The Red Lotus. Does 6:30 work for you? I heard they have great drinks. We could see a movie afterward. Your pick!

"That's fine. There's no rush at all. I'm just going to grab you another glass of water." Georgia had a look on her face that could only be described as pity as she walked away from me. I knew she was trying not to look sad, but I knew that look. I knew it very well. Like I said, you think this is something you never think would never happen to you.

I had spent longer than I cared to admit doing my makeup. I did wear a little makeup to work, but nothing like this. I also spent more than I cared to admit on this dress that I was wearing. I did make a decent amount of money as a surgeon, but I was not someone who splurged on something as simple as a dress. It had been such a long time since I had gone out and I wanted to look nice. And on top of all that, I was going to have to tell my sister what happened when I got home. I knew she wouldn’t judge me, but I was feeling a little embarrassed. The two of us lived together and I knew she would be waiting up to hear every single detail of the date. I hope she wasn't going to be too disappointed with the outcome.

I felt myself wondering what Brandon would say when I saw him at work on Monday. Honestly, I would do my best to avoid him. We usually saw each other during lunch breaks. If I did see him, I would probably just ignore him. There would be no more break room chats about our current tv shows or the best food trucks in the city. Our conversations would be strictly business now. If he decided that he no longer wanted to go on a date with me then he could have just said that. There was no need to stand me up.

I had been sitting here for almost an hour and a half. It was hard to ignore everyone throwing all the sympathetic looks my way. Especially all the other couples sitting around me. I didn't need their sympathy.

I decided that now I should just order something to go and save myself the embarrassment of sitting here any longer. Honestly, this might be more embarrassing than the first day of my clinical rotations when I was in medical school. I fell down the stairs at the hospital and ended up with a broken arm. I don't think very many people even remember me falling, but I couldn’t forget that day even if I tried. I thought they were going to kick me out of medical school.

I know it was stupid to think that, but sometimes my mind wandered to the worse case scenarios. Some of my classmates got to give me the x-rays and I thought that was pretty cool.

During that time I was working in obstetrics and gynecology. I loved working with all the moms and babies, but I knew that plastic surgery was where my heart was. Both of my parents were plastic surgeons and I knew I wanted to follow in their footsteps from a young age.

I grabbed the glass of red wine I had been sipping on and downed the rest of it in two gulps. I took a deep breath and got ready to call Georgia over. I was mentally going over the script in my mind of what I wanted to say to her. I knew she would be understanding.

The restaurant that I was supposed to be meeting Brandon at was a new Chinese place that he had been dying to try. I wasn't going to leave without anything so I glanced over the menu and decided what I wanted. That was until someone slid in the seat across from me. I shocked squeak escaped my lips.

I looked up to meet a pair of startling gray eyes that belonged to none other than Doctor Stephen Strange. Stephen Strange was my best friend in the whole entire universe. Once he even admitted that I was his best friend in the whole entire universe as well. He traveled to a couple different universes just to confirm that. I liked to take that as a compliment.

Stephen and I met during middle school. I hated him. I thought he was a stuck up arrogant know it all. I'm sure he thought the same about me. The two of us were constantly battling for the top of our class. We wanted to see who could take the hardest classes and make the best grades. We packed extracurricular after extracurricular into our already busy schedules.

It took some time, but Stephen and I realized how similar the two of us were. During our later years of high school, I ended up developing a major crush on him. The two of us did discuss going to the same university, but it didn't work out .

We ended up on completely opposite sides of the country. We did try to keep in touch while in school, but it was hard with our schedules and being in different time zones. It was just my luck that we took a job at the same hospital once we finished medical school.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed low enough that only he could hear. It seemed that all the tension where I was sitting evaporated from the room. There were no lingering looks as if they were waiting on someone to join me at the table. Even if it wasn't Brandon, it was nice to have someone here.

"Sorry I'm late babe." It seemed like he was trying to talk loud enough so that half of the restaurant could hear him. "I was leaving the hospital and the patient that I've been treating for the past week went into multisystem organ failure. We had to rush her into surgery. She is stable for now. Doctor Klum said she would call if there are any changes in her status. I hope you understand."

"I completely understand. I'm just glad that you're here now. That's all that matters." I gave him a grateful smile. There was no way I was going to be able to make this up to him. I knew that he had made all that up.

He was a neurosurgeon and didn't usually work with patients who experienced organ failures. He easily returned the smile and plucked the menu from my hand. He began flipping through it as I just stared at him. I glanced around and noticed that nobody was tossing looks of concern my way. I guess they all believed Stephen's statement about the patient. We didn't even have a patient together. The last time we had one was eight months ago.

"You know it's not nice to keep a lady waiting." Georgia grumbled when she came back over to our table. "She's been here for well over an hour. If I was her, I would've been broken up with you."

"I wouldn’t blame her one bit if she did break up with me. We're both surgeons at the same hospital and unfortunately I had a patient go into multisystem organ failure as I was leaving work. I know she understands, right (y/n)? Besides, she knows that I plan on making it up to her tonight." He sent a sly wink across the table causing my jaw to drop. Stephen and I did occasionally flirt from time to time, but that was in private. We never flirted like this in public. There was no reason to if we weren't together. Not that I wouldn’t mind, but it always seemed like he was more involved with work rather than his love life.

"Well what can I get you guys?" Georgia offered me a warm smile but glared at Stephen. She pulled out her notebook and got ready to take our orders.

"Can I get the sweet and sour pork with a side of white rice?" Stephen answered and he looked over to me.

"And can I have the vegetable dumplings with a side of fried rice?" I replied before handing the menus over to Georgia. She nodded and quickly wrote down our order. She looked between the two of us before asking the most important question.

"Will that be one check or two?"

"One." Stephen immediately replied.

"Two." I said at the same time as him.

"One check please." Stephen calmly said his eyes not leaving mine. It was as if he was daring me to say that our meal should be on two checks. He had always been a gentleman. Whenever I was with him, he never let me pay for anything, open my own door, or pull out his phone while we were talking. I had always been interested in him, but I didn't think he saw me in that way.

"I'll get that our as soon as possible." Georgia took our menus and walked away to pass our order off to the chef.

"You didn't have to do this Stephen. Thank you, but I'm okay. I was just getting ready to leave."

"Who did you have a date with?" He asked completely ignoring what I had said.

"How did you know that I had a date?"

"I overheard you telling Rose about it while we were in the on call room this morning. Now who was it with?" He replied as if it was no big deal.

"His name is Brandon Wells."

"Please tell me this isn't the same Brandon Wells that is the pulmonologist." Stephen rolled his eyes. When we were in high school, he was always so judgmental of the guys I dated. It doesn’t seem like anything has changed.

"Do you know him?"

"I know everyone who works in that damn hospital (y/n). I can't believe you would willingly go out with Wells."

"And what's that supposed to mean Dr. Strange?" I huffed leaning across the table and playfully smacking his arm.

"I'm just saying that if you were willing to go on a date with Wells, I would have asked you out months ago."

"You do know I would have said yes if you asked me out, right Stephen?"

"No you wouldn’t have. You're just saying that right now because I am saving you from eternal humiliation. If I had asked you out 24 hours ago, you would have said no. You wouldn’t have even thought twice about it."

"How did you even know where the date was?"

"I got all the details from Rose. She wasn't going to tell me, but you know how she hates working with Nurse Nichols? I promised her that I could make sure they didn't work together for the next three months if she told me where the date was. I thought we were supposed to be best friends (y/n). I was a little hurt that you didn't tell me that you had a date." He pouted a little.

"I didn't think it was that important. It was just one date. If it had gotten serious, I would have let you know. I didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing."

"I understand, but I like to make sure that you're being treated like you should be. You know this. It's been like that ever since high school. I sat outside to make sure you got in safely, but I didn’t see the dumbass come in. In all honesty, he should have walked you in. After a while I realized he wasn't going to show up and I couldn't let you ruin that outfit. I don’t know if I already told you this, but you look beautiful. You always do. Especially in those scrubs. Brandon Wells does not deserve a date with you."

Once our "date" was over, Stepehen walked me to my car that was parked around out back.

"Was everyone watching you sitting in there alone?" Stephen asked. We had stopped walking and now we were standing on the side of the restaurant. The place had huge glass windows so anyone could turn and see us standing outside.

"Yeah." I shrugged as if it was no big deal. "They were trying not to stare, but I could tell they felt bad. It's no big deal Stephen. I will never be able to repay for you coming to my rescue."

"Well I can think of a couple of ways." He smirked wiggling his eyebrows.

"That is gross Stephen Strange." I giggled lightly shoving him. I never giggled. That glass of wine must be kicking in. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into him wrapping an arm around my waist. "What are you doing Stephen?"

"Well (y/n), if everyone in there believes we're on a date, we should prove it." He stopped moving and lightly pressed up against me. I tilted my head back so that I could look him in the eyes. His arm that was wrapped around my waist pulled me closer while his other hand brushed a piece of hair behind my ear.

My eyes flicked up to his lips and his flicked down to mine. He leaned down and his lips lightly brushed against mine. I felt my breathing stop. Instinctively, I grabbed his bicep to steady myself and my eyes fluttered closed. His lips were now fully pressed against mine.

When we were around 15 or so, he had been my first kiss. We had gone to a party after a high school basketball game where we had been playing spin the bottle. I hadn't known it at the time, but that had been his first kiss too. I had always imagined him being so experienced with girls back then. Here we were kissing again almost 15 years later. The kiss was too short for my liking and it left me feeling needier than before. It was long overdue.

"You don’t know how badly I want to do that again." Stephen sighed. Our bodies were still pressed up against each other and I refused to be the one that moved away first.

"Then why don’t you?" I whimpered cursing myself with how desperate I sounded.

"Because kissing leads to other things (y/n)." He sadly sighed. I knew he was right, but I didn't care. Not one bit at all.

"It doesn’t have to."

"If we do that again (y/n), I don’t think I'll be able to stop."

"And what's so wrong about that Stephen?" Now I was slightly agitated. Was he not just making sexual comments not even five minutes ago.

"Friends don’t cross that line. No matter how badly they may want to."

"We never were friends Stephen and you know that. We were each other's first everything. Please tell me you remember everything. Stephen, we were other's first kiss, first time, first love. I don’t think we can consider ourselves just friends." I was on the verge of tears now. I just wanted him to understand how I was feeling.

There was a moment of realization once Stephen heard those words. They were words I had been wanting to say for so long and I had a feeling that he felt the same way. The realization in his eyes was soon replaced by lust as he gently pushed me up against the side of the building. There was a growl in the back of his throat as he pressed his lips onto mine. This time the kiss wasn't as tentative as the one before. This one was full of passion. It was messy and needy. It left me shivering from the intensity. I happily greeted his tongue as it slipped into my mouth asserting dominance. The people inside were getting a free show right now.

"You are completely right (y/n)." He whispered pulling away. The two of us were completely out of breath. "We were never were just friends."

#marvel masterlist #avengers masterlist #avengers marvel #avengers x reader #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor stephen strange

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julemmaes · 3 years

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Honey - part two

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I’m so tired yall have no idea. My eyes are burning and my fingers are cramping cause I’ve been writing all day to get this done, so yeah, I’m very satisfied and some of the blogs that I consider big or are big for a fact started following me and commented on the first part, so I freaked out a little, but I can tell that I’ll sleep peacefully tonight because of that, so thank you all. Enjoy!:)

Oh, and I almost forgot, the song at the end is called “Honey” and it’s by Johnny Balik (shoker, as my man Kieran would say)

masterlist

Word count: 4,966

Lorcan's least favourite day was definitely Friday, unlike all people his age. Not because he didn't like going out in the city at night to have fun and drink until you forgot even your mother's name, but because it was the only day of the week he had to work at both the shelter and the toy shop.

He loved working with the dogs and the few cats they brought in, and although he wasn't really a people person, he enjoyed spending time deciding with the kids and parents what was the best gift to go home with. And although Lorcan would never admit it out loud, he had grown fond of some of the regulars - especially a mother of three who he knew worked as a lawyer in one of the offices above the shop. Almost every day she would come in during her lunch break to buy one of those surprise sachets that cost a euro each and if Lorcan didn't see her coming before he went on his break, he would wait a few minutes before closing up just for her. Elide had managed to find out this detail a few months later after she moved in and he knew she would never stop teasing him because he had a heart of gold.

The phone vibrated in his hand just as he got behind the wheel and he wasn't at all surprised to see that the last message he had gotten was from Elide.

He huffed, not even opening yet another link that would surely send him to yet another website with information on why the world was ending very slowly and why humans were to be blamed entirely. He started the car and drove off towards their house.

Lorcan wasn't a bad person and he really cared about everything Elide was sending him, but he was tremendously tired and all he could think about was how much he wanted to take a shower and pass out in his bed. The fact that none of this was going to happen because Fenrys and Rowan had forced him to accept the invitation out to dinner made it all worse.

It took him less than ten minutes to get home and when he parked and saw the lights in their living room on, he seriously considered backing up and getting out of there to get to Vaughan's house before Elide noticed his car and he wouldn't be able to get away no more.

He was sure his friend would take him in without question if he asked to put him up for a night.

But luck was not on his side as Elide's petite figure appeared in the window and Lorcan could not see her face, but he knew she was smiling as she bounced and waved to greet him.

Despite everything, Lorcan raised his hand in turn and smiled back at her, knowing full well that even she could not see him so low and hidden by the evening shadows.

As he climbed the sixth flight of stairs and mentally prepared himself for two more, he could foresee the flood of words that would wash over him when he entered the house. Elide hadn't kept quiet for the entire day, sending him voice messages and staying with him on calls for the entire duration of his lunch break, so much so that at one point he had wondered if she had gone to class and then to work. He had discovered that yes, she had gone, but she hadn't paid the slightest attention to what they had explained and had gotten half the customers' orders wrong.

When he opened the front door, he recognized the melody of one of the songs she'd put on her apology playlist, the one he'd made for her nearly three weeks earlier after she'd found out he still smoked. She'd seemed so hurt that after he'd gone to bed and cleaned the tiles of his blood until they glistened, he'd stood at the kitchen table and spent hours and hours searching for the perfect apology songs. A bit dramatic perhaps, but it had had the desired effect.

He sighed, slipping off his jacket and putting it as far away from Elide's as possible, so that no animal hair would get on hers. He would clean it later.

The girl in question sputtered out of the living room with a beaming smile on her face, her cheeks strangely red and her eyes so bright they were glossy, "Hello, handsome."

"Hi, Ellie." he murmured, straightening his back and making the bones in his neck crack. Elide approached and Lorcan took a step back, bumping his back against the door, "I haven't showered yet," he put his hands forward to keep her at arm's length, "you can touch and hug me all you want later, but please not now," he begged her.

She gave the cutest pout he had ever seen, "But-"

"No buts, you can wait three minutes for me to wash up without dying," he continued, walking past her without touching her or making any overly sudden movements.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she complained, that adorable pout deepening all the more, "I can always take the antihistamine if I get allergies."

Lorcan shook his head, turning a confused expression on her, "I'd rather you didn't take medication just because you want to hug me."

It was true.

To their great misfortune, Elide was one of the very few people he knew who was allergic to animal hair. Any animal. More precisely, she was allergic to the mites that lived in the fur and the dust that accumulated in it in enormous quantities even on a normal basis. Given that the dogs Lorcan worked with were left to run loose in the fields all day, when he came home he was covered in anything that could kill his friend and roommate in one sniff and he didn't want to have to take her to the emergency room again because they couldn't tell if she was breathing properly.

It was why every night since he'd started working at the shelter he had taken a shower before doing anything else. It was why their water bill had gone up so much since they had found out about this allergy of hers.

"It's just a pill Lor, it's not like I have to get shots or..." she shrugged, as if to indicate anything more invasive than a simple pill.

He brought his hands in front of his mouth like a prayer, looking her in the eyes, "How many times do I have to explain to you that if you take one type of medicine every day, after a while your body no longer perceives it as an extra foreign thing to help you, but as the norm and so it no longer has any effect?"

Elide grimaced, "I hate you."

He chuckled, walking backwards until he reached the bathroom door, just in case she had the great idea to ambush him and jump on his back, "Just wait five minutes."

"It was three before," she said frowning, "And, speaking of showers-" and then she did something that made Lorcan freeze in his tracks. He didn't register what was going on until Elide's shirt was too high up for him to avoid seeing everything. And by everything, he meant everything.

"Elide what the fuck are you doing?!" he turned around, screaming, then his eyes went wide, trying to figure out if what had just happened was true or not. He squeezed his eyes shut, closing his hands into fists, biting his knuckles, "You're not wearing a fucking bra." he said in a voice sharper than he had intended.

He heard her giggle, but the sound came out muffled, "Loorcaaan." she crooned, "Help."

"I can't turn around Ellie, you're naked," he pointed out to her with his eyes still closed, then in a lower voice, "God, you're naked. What has gotten into you?"

He felt her move as she walked around him and stopped in front of him, "Help." she said in a flat tone. Lorcan had to laugh, her tone reminded him so much of the way the green aliens in Toy Story talked.

"Help what?" he asked letting out an amused laugh.

"I'm stuck." she said slurring her words and he felt her move, she was probably wiggling to get out of her t-shirt. And if she was wiggling, that meant her-

Lorcan took a sharp breath, cursing under his breath and trying to quiet his wandering mind.

He arched an eyebrow, though he was pretty sure she couldn't see him either, as doubt crept into him, "Are you drunk?"

Elide was silent for a while, then giggled like a child, "Just a little tipsy."

"Ellie it's seven o'clock," he exclaimed amused, but surprised to learn that she had been drinking, "why on earth are you drunk at seven?"

"Just a little tipsy," she repeated like a broken record. Then she screeched like a pterodactyl and Lorcan burst out laughing again, turning and taking a step or two forward to avoid risking accidentally touching her once more.

"Alright, why are you just a little tipsy at seven o'clock on a night when we're supposed to be going out with the others?" he asked now a little more eager to know the answer.

He heard her snort audibly, "The world is ending, Lorcan, why won't you understand that?"

He opened his eyes wide, not believing what she was saying, pinning them on the picture their friends had given them for Christmas, the one with all their best pictures collaged on a coloured canvas.

And here he thought he was the dramatic one of the two.

He nodded to himself, "So you're telling me that the reason you decided to get drunk before you even went out is because of global warming?"

He heard a rustle and then something hit him on the head, "Sorry, I didn't mean to slap you," she said in the tone of someone who couldn't care less about having hit him, "Anyway, yeah. Global warming and forests catching fire and animals dying and plastic burning..." she took a deep breath and then continued for a few minutes, making a list of all the things she had learned that afternoon by reading all the articles she could find about why humans were the worst living thing in the world.

Lorcan stood patiently listening to her, occasionally getting lost when she introduced topics that were a little too specific, but listen to her he did. The way she was saying all those things was always reminiscent of the little green aliens, but he knew the subject was more serious than it sounded.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he didn't think he'd moved too much, but at one point Elide sneezed and he cursed himself for not having moved fast enough to go to the bathroom.

"I told you you'd get allergies."

"But I didn't even touch you," she squealed back.

"You know that's not necessary for even your soul to start itching too," he scolded her.

Elide remained silent for a while longer, then started talking again, "And we should seriously get some glass bottles, if I see you with those stupid plastic bottles again I'll kill you. Scout's honor." she threatened him.

Lorcan chuckled, "Elide you've never been in scouts."

"How punctilious of you." she scoffed at him, then gasped, "We could buy matching flasks, with glitter and," she gasped again, sounding increasingly excited, "We could have one of our pictures printed on it."

A smile broke out on Lorcan's lips and he knew that if he had looked in the mirror at that moment he would have seen the face of a boy lost in love. He pulled himself together, straightening his back, trying not to think about how he felt about Elide. It wouldn't have done any good to admit that those feelings were real and tangible inside him.

He was staring at Fenrys' face in one of the pictures they had taken on holiday that summer, when Elide spoke again.

"This is a list of things that should make you understand why we have to shower together."

Lorcan choked on his saliva. He coughed a few times, patting his chest.

How had they gone from polar bears dying from melting ice to them showering together?

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in a squeaky voice.

The fact that she was alluding to them showering together while he knew she was half naked behind him, a breath away practically, made him feel so many different kinds of wrong.

"We can't waste water Lor, it's not hard." she sounded exasperated, then muttered, "Sometimes I really think you're being obtuse or stupid."

Lorcan's eyes went wide, "Wow, thanks Ellie."

"You're welcome." she chipped.

He shook his head, sighing and running a hand over his face, "Don't you think there are plenty of other ways we can start saving the world, before we have to shower together?" he took the fact that she wasn't answering as a cue to continue, "Like start recycling?"

Elide gasped again, making him chuckle, "Did you sign the petition?"

"Which-" he trailed off. She was talking about the petition to have a door-to-door rubbish collection service introduced in their town. Something that would force everyone to sort their garbage. "Yes, I signed it."

"Good." she whispered.

"I signed them all," he reiterated, because it was true and he knew that Elide never sent him stupid petitions, that whatever she sent him must be important and it didn't cost him anything to put his email and name on a website if it meant he could make a difference in his own small way.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." she said in a weak voice.

Lorcan felt strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

And not because of the fact that Elide was naked behind him and had just confessed to wanting to shower with him, but because he would have wanted to turn around and kiss her, not do what any other guy would have thought of doing with a half-naked girl. No. Lorcan just wanted to kiss her and take his time in the process, savour the kiss and not be hasty and quick.

He wanted it to be slow and heartfelt, he wanted her to feel every single thing he couldn't say out loud.

"Lorcan?" she whispered, "I'm always stuck and I'm starting to get cold."

He blinked, "Yeah, you're right." then interrupted. They were silent a few seconds, "You really can't pull your shirt down?"

"No."

He took a deep breath. Then another.

"Okay, I'm going to turn around and keep my eyes closed, please stay still so I don't touch- anything. I'm not touching anything. I'll try to help you." he stammered, clasping his hands along his sides. She made a simple grunt of assent and he huffed, raising his hands in the air and lowering them slowly until he touched her head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and then released the elbow that had gotten stuck in her shirt.

"Yay." exclaimed Elide.

Sensing that she was moving freely on her own, Lorcan pulled away again and when the sound of clothes stopped, he asked, "Are you done?"

"Yes," she said singing.

His shoulder sagged a little and he smiled. He opened his eyes, ready to move Elide to the side and go take that holy shower, but whatever he'd thought when he'd asked if she was done must have been the exact opposite of what she'd thought, because Elide's tits were freer than ever between the two of them.

Lorcan grunted, slapping a hand over his face to cover his eyes, "What the fuck, Ellie. Stop flashing me, I'm begging you."

He heard her giggle and then a gust of wind and her laughter fading down the corridor let him know she had run off. He opened his eyes tentatively, peering through his fingers to make sure she wasn't still in front of him and sighed with relief when he finally managed to get into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.

He leaned against the sink, clutching the ceramic between his fingers and staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He never thought the first time he would see Elide's tits would be under these circumstances. He ran a hand over his face again, trying to somehow erase the image he knew he would never forget.

He had just stepped into the shower when he heard something very large and heavy slam against the door. Something that seconds later burst out laughing. Lorcan could only follow as he imagined a half-naked Elide running towards the bathroom and failing to stop in time.

"Are you alright, honey?" he asked her just in case. He turned on the water, hissing when he found it frozen, but not moving from under the jet. After all, a cold shower wouldn't hurt him.

"Let me in." she shouted, slamming her fist against the door, "Let me iiin!"

"Are you dressed?"

"No."

"Then you can't come in."

A scream of despair followed by what could only be a fake hysterical cry made him burst out laughing again, but then for a few minutes all that was heard was the sound of the shower and water falling from his hair.

"Ellie, are you still there?"

The answer came quickly, "Yes."

"Are you still naked?"

"Maybe." then he heard her move against the door and realised she'd been sitting on the floor.

Perfect, he was stuck in there. He reached for the phone and thought of something.

As he finished untangling the knots in his hair and washing out the conditioner, Elide was talking about how harmful the soaps they used were and had even gone so far as to say that they should both shave their heads so as to minimise their impact on the environment.

"What did you do today?" she asked him suddenly.

Lorcan didn't answer, dialling the number of a certain blonde girl who could help him out of this situation. Aelin answered after the fifth ring and Lorcan knew full well that she had done it on purpose, hoping he would hang up so she wouldn't have to talk to him.

"Hello?"

"Listen, something kind of weird happened and I need-"

"Who is this?" Lorcan arched an eyebrow, pulling his ear away from the phone to check the number. It was Aelin's phone. And the chick's voice on the other end was her, he was sure of it. "God, Lorcan, I'm fucking with you, what's up?"

"Funny," he deadpanned, "Elide's already drunk."

"What? But it's not even eight o'clock."

"I know, I came home and she was already like that."

A few moments of silence passed, "Okay, and what do you want me to do?"

"Well, she took her shirt off at one point."

Lorcan waited for a reaction, but Aelin didn't respond.

"And now she's naked in the hallway and blocking the bathroom door and-"

"She's what?" the friend burst out laughing.

"She's naked," he gritted through his teeth, "And she's blocking the bathroom door. I don't know how to get out and I don't want to open the door and push her off and risk hurting her. Is there any way you could come over here and help her? Help me?"

"I’ll make sure she'll never hear the end of it." Aelin laughed louder and Lorcan heard Rowan ask her what was going on. The blonde took breaths before saying, "Ellie flashed Lorcan and how he's stuck in the bathroom because he's afraid of a pair of nice-looking boobies."

"So are you planning on coming?" he asked before he completely lost his patience.

He imagined her wiping tears from under her eyes, "Yes, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"We?"

"Me, Ro and Fen. He's the one driving tonight and he picked us up."

"Okay," Lorcan murmured, "but they can't come up to the house."

"Why?" drawled Aelin, "Because you're jealous?"

He counted to ten, restraining himself from hanging up on her, "No, because this is going to be humiliating enough for Elide without two more of her friends seeing her half naked, so please just come up alone."

Aelin huffed, "You're right, but you're no fun."

They said their goodbyes and Lorcan put the phone down, starting to blow dry his hair.

"Lorcan."

Elide hadn't stopped saying his name for half a second throughout the call and it was starting to annoy him. Then he shook his head, no. He wasn't annoyed by Elide, it was Aelin.

That girl could get under his skin like few could.

"What?"

"You didn't tell me what you did today."

And Lorcan did, so that at least she would stop slamming her hand against the door.

He told her about the last man who'd come to see what dogs he could give his daughter and how he'd seemed so much like the guy who'd abandoned them on the side of the road after not even a week and it had pissed him off. He told her the morning had been even worse, because one of the children had started opening all the toys on display and his mother, who had been right next to him the whole time with her eyes fixed on the phone screen, hadn't stopped him and it had been up to Lorcan to tell him he couldn't do it. It was only then that the woman had realised what a mess it was and had simply apologised to him, running out of the shop so fast that he hadn't even noticed they had left. He had to call his manager and he was not exactly pleased to hear this story, but he also said that they would donate the toys to the church down the street, which was responsible for distributing them to kindergartens in the neighbourhood. That cheered him up a little.

By the time he had finished his story, Aelin had arrived and once he had taken her to her room. Lorcan could finally go out and get ready himself.

***

It was after midnight, the entire group was rocking out on the dance floor of their favorite outdoor club, a place called "The Wild Night" that was on the edge of town, closer to the forest than anything else, and normally Lorcan would have joined his friends to dance and sing, but there was a problem.

A big, huge, handsome problem.

And the problem was called Kyllian.

He couldn't figure out whose idea it had been to invite the boy with them that night, but whoever it was, this person's days were numbered, because Lorcan would kill them first and then use the limbs of their corpse to kill Kyllian.

Kyllian who had now been rubbing up against Elide for hours and who had offered her more drinks than stupid charming grins - and he really was reserving a lot of those for her.

"If you don't stop looking at him like that you're going to make his head explode," someone said, throwing themselves onto the small bench next to him.

He turned his head so fast he wondered how he had managed not to break his neck, "What are you talking about?"

Fenrys arched an eyebrow, "Even if you weren't staring at Kyllian like you wanted to see him disappear off the face of the earth, everyone here, including Elide," he told him with so much as a glare, giving him a slight shove, "would know that you're not really into what's going on on that dance floor."

"He's right," Rowan said to his left, sipping the drink of Aelin's she'd left him. When the hell had he sat there?

Lorcan didn't answer, remaining motionless with his sullen expression.

"I can give you a hand if you want," Fenrys murmured, sucking on the fuchsia straw sticking out of his equally pink glass.

He inhaled through his nose, "And how would you do that?"

"You have to trust me."

"Never." said Lorcan as Rowan said at the same time, "Don't."

Fenrys looked at them both with his mouth wide open and a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt." then finished what was left of the drink in one gulp and stood up abruptly, staggering a little, but holding himself up nonetheless. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the two boys still sitting, grinning, and Lorcan knew immediately what was going to happen.

"Ellie!" he shouted, turning more heads than necessary, "Love of my life!"

Kyllian pulled away from Ellie just enough for Fenrys to grab her hand and spin her around a few times until she burst out laughing and begged him to stop. The new boy didn't even seem to exist anymore as his best friend laced her arms around Fenrys' hips and rocked left and right, increasingly drunk.

Lorcan's heart clenched in his chest as he heard that sound so carefree, so happy.

He didn't realise he was smiling until Rowan cackled beside him, "God, you're fucked."

He didn't pay any attention to him and stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

He heard Lysandra and Aelin calling his name, hyping him up and threw them a real, quick smile that made them scream even louder, as if they were fans at one of his concerts. When he finally reached Fenrys and Elide's side, the blond spun her around ninety degrees and for a moment she closed her eyes, giggling, intoxicated by the amount of alcohol she had ingested, but when she opened them again and saw Lorcan standing in front of her, a smile as wide as he had ever seen it spread across her face.

"I'll leave you Ellie, you're in good hands," Fenrys told her, winking at him from above her head.

But neither of them even looked at him.

His eyes locked into hers as they both took a step forward and found themselves a caress away. Her chest rose and fell in an agitated rhythm. After all, she'd been dancing with everyone for hours, so much so that Lorcan wondered how she hadn't thrown up yet.

His gaze ran over her body, her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbones, and further down between her breasts. Breasts he'd had the chance to see for a millisecond a few hours before and remembered perfectly. The darker shade of pink that had characterized her-

"Lorcan."

He felt his heart pounding in his throat.

She had never said his name like that.

His eyes went up, sliding over lips so full, so perfect, up, over her nose and then up again, finding hers and the music changed, becoming slower, the lights dimmed as the strobes were turned off. Elide seemed to recognise the tune as her lips parted slightly, "Lor," she repeated. He raised a hand until his knuckles brushed her cheek and when she let go a shuddering breath, Lorcan began to sing under his breath.

"Tell me everything and hold no lies. Say you're waiting for better skies," he leaned forward as his other hand slid to her hip and Elide moved closer, until their bodies were fully joined to each other and one of her legs was between his and their hips were one thing moving in sync with the music. He felt Elide's breath against his neck and had to suppress a shudder when she too began to sing along with him.

"Oh, but honey don't taste like summer no more. Stick around now, I miss you every night,"

He lowered his head even more, brushing her nose with his own. The hand that had been on her cheek had slipped over her shoulder and was now tracing the path down her back, grazing the top of her bottom until it rested on her hip.

"Elide," he whispered, breathing on her lips. She closed her eyes, pushing herself up, towards him, and Lorcan held her tighter, moving his fingers over the exposed skin between her miniskirt and the black top she was wearing and there he was. Elide was there, with him, and she was so close to his body that he could feel the heart beating in her chest.

She was there and the next second... she wasn't. Because Elide had snapped away and was now vomiting on his feet. Lorcan held his breath as she was shaken by another gag and he had just enough time to take a step back that she threw up again.

The people around them quickly scampered away, creating a small circle of spectators and casting a quick glance at his friends he saw that they had a large audience. He just hoped Elide was too drunk to remember what happened the next day.

He looked down and grimaced, all sorts of emotions swirling inside him as the girl he loved clutched at him and puked her dinner all over his clothes.

He cursed at whoever decided how things went for breaking the best moment of his life with vomit and then gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, tying it with an elastic band he kept on his wrist specifically for these occasions.

He heard her whimper and put both hands on her shoulders, stroking her in circular motions to help her warm up. Aelin and Lysandra appeared next to them shortly after and when Ellie was firm enough on her feet to walk, they stepped over the pool of vomit and Lorcan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her towards the exit.

"Let's go home, Ellie."

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#elorcan #tog fic #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan roommates au #fluff #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galathynius #honey

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liibrii · 3 years

Text

Built for eternity

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that.

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light.

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do!

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged?

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass-

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him.

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too.

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hqcorenet #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #inarizaki x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #I wrote this very quickly #but it made me laugh so many times #djasf I love Tsumu #libri scribbles

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taizi · 3 years

Text

a little room to grow

@natsumeweek 2021 day 5; freedom/possession

read on ao3

(previous part)

Hinata takes one look at them and says, “Holy shit. Get in here, Natoris.”

So they must look pretty bad, then.

Takashi is uncharacteristically quiet, going right to the sofa and gathering Hinata’s cat up in his arms.

Hinata watches him for a moment, turns and stares directly into Shuuichi’s face, and then heads into the kitchen to snatch up a takeout menu that she keeps permanently stuck to the front of her fridge under a huge Cinnamoroll magnet.

“Sit,” Hinata says with a jerk of her chin towards the table. She tucks her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and unfolds the paper menu with a business-like snap. “I’m ordering enough junk food for all three of us, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like that.”

Shuuichi sits.

Hinata lives with her single mother, who works thirds, and her aunt, who doesn’t work but often has somewhere else to be. It’s unlikely either of them are going to make an appearance tonight.

The TV is on in the living room, playing what sounds like Sailor Moon. Takashi is watching it just because it’s already on, but he’s slowly becoming more invested the longer he sits there—Shuichi can tell from the way his hand on the little cat in his lap slows its petting, the way his round brown eyes become fixed on the screen. The sounds of traffic and rain outside are muted, the outside world hardly existing past what little pieces of it make it through the open window in the kitchen.

It’s peaceful here. It’s almost home, even.

Hinata puts the phone down, sits across from Shuuichi, and crosses her arms on top of the table. Her silence is expectant.

Shuuichi says, “I don’t think I’m going to university.”

His friend inclines her head, an invitation to go on.

“The university my father wants me to go to is almost an hour away from here,” Shuuichi says, clenching his fists. “And it wouldn’t be possible for Takashi to transfer there, because someone in the school district administration is a cousin of his or something. Word got around about his behavior, and they don’t think he’d be a good addition to their student body.”

“Takashi’s relatives haven’t had anything to do with him since he was five,” Hinata says hotly. “What the hell do they know about his behavior? He’d be the best thing to happen to that school in the last hundred years.”

Shuuichi, who completely agrees with her, says, “You’re biased.”

“I’m right.” She taps her fingers anxiously against the table. “Let me guess, your dad—”

“Doesn’t see the problem. Told me I was going anyway.” Shuuichi barks a tense, humorless laugh, sitting back and pushing a hand through his hair. “Could you imagine? Me, leaving Takashi in that house, with those people? With no one but ghosts to talk to?”

It was inevitable that Hinata would find out about Shuuichi and his brother’s ‘gift,’ given how much time they spend together and all the odd things Takashi says on a daily basis. The most remarkable thing to come of the ultimate reveal was the solid three months she spent relentlessly trying to bribe, coerce and blackmail Shuuichi into using his paper magic to send her notes during school hours, because they were put in different classes in their third year.

Now, she frowns deeply, and says, “No. That won’t do. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it,” Shuuichi replies.

“I would be okay,” Takashi pipes up. Shuuichi looks up to find his little brother standing by the table with wide, grave eyes. He’s tugging anxiously at the cuffs of his sleeves. The worry on his face doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t fit someone his age. “If you had to go.”

Shuuichi pushes his chair back and lifts his arm. Takashi rounds the table and allows himself to be tucked against Shuuichi’s side snugly.

“Maybe you would, but I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says. “I’d miss bugging you too much.”

“I mean it,” Takashi says stubbornly. “I don’t want you to get yelled at anymore.”

“I mean it, too,” Shuuichi replies. “Dad can yell all he wants. You’re stuck with me, squirt.”

Saying it out loud settles something anxious that’s been rattling around in his chest. Knowing what he has to do makes it easier to focus on the steps that come next. For now, he tilts to the side so that he can rest enough of his weight on his little brother that he starts to sag underneath it.

“Nii-san! Stop, you’re heavy!”

“What was that?” Shuuichi says loudly, tilting farther, half out of his chair at this point. “I’m heavy? Is that what you said?”

The doorbell rings, and Hinata says, “No no, I’ll get it, don’t let me interrupt your intricate bonding rituals,” which is a cue that they should stop messing around and go help her carry in the frankly staggering amount of takeout bags a weary-looking delivery boy is wielding on the porch.

“Munchkin, will you get some glasses and the iced tea?” Hinata asks. “Let’s eat in front of the TV like slobs.”

Takashi slides back into the kitchen, skidding a little too far in his socks and knocking the paper towels off the counter, and Shuuichi snorts. It feels like the first time he’s smiled in a year.

Hinata touches his arm. “Hey,” she says seriously. “I’m going to visit Isamu on Thursday, and I’m staying for about a week. You two should come with. Stop thinking about all this stuff for a bit and give yourself a break.”

“I don’t want to bother you guys—”

“Try not to be an idiot for once in your life,” Hinata says with an exaggerated air of total exhaustion. “You know it wouldn’t be a bother. Besides, Isamu has a little sister Takashi’s age, and she’s into all kinds of weird stuff. They’d probably get along like a house on fire.”

Shuuichi thinks a week in the country sounds pretty good, actually. He’s mulling it over when Takashi comes running; with a stack of colorful plastic glasses in one hand, a pitcher of tea in the other, and a box of Koala March tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Can I have these, nee-san?” he asks brightly. He looks nine years old again instead of ninety, all that worry from earlier finally unseated.

“Oh, I guess,” Hinata says with deep reluctance, as if she didn’t buy them specifically for Takashi in the first place. She doesn’t even like chocolate. “Dinner first, though! Put those koalas where I can see them!”

She cares about Takashi like it’s effortless. Like it just makes sense to make space for him in her home and keep his favorite snacks in her kitchen. Considering the place they came here from, it disarms Shuuichi completely.

“We’ll go with you,” he says without thinking.

“Of course you will,” Hinata replies immediately. “I was only asking to be polite. Now eat your food.”

And that’s how they wind up in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto, of all places. It’s unmistakably beautiful but Shuuichi only gets a brief moment to appreciate the scenery before Hinata is dragging him—and by extension, Takashi—out of the station to the street outside, where a familiar face is waiting.

She releases Shuuichi in order to fling herself bodily at Isamu, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Hinata is much taller than her boyfriend, which Shuuichi thinks is just typical of Hinata, but Isamu doesn’t care. She could be seventeen feet tall and weigh a thousand pounds and he would still find a way to hold her.

“Hey,” he says over her shoulder, lifting one hand to wave at the Natoris. “Hug train is pulling out of the station, get yours before it’s gone.”

Laughing, Shuuichi says, “I’m good. Takashi?”

“No, thank you,” Takashi says politely.

“Your loss.” Hinata sniffs, and busies herself with picking up the bags she’d flung to the ground. “Is your sister at home?”

“Mhm,” Isamu says, taking one of Takashi’s bags and slinging it over his own shoulder. “She’s shy. I’m amazed she agreed to meet you guys at all. Bribery was involved.”

Takashi shuffles, glancing sideways at Shuuichi.

“I’ll bet you two-thousand yen that you’re best friends by the end of the day,” Shuuichi says at once, to make the situation a win-win. That always works.

Sure enough, Takashi holds out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it solemnly.

Isamu gives Shuuichi a deeply approving look and says, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

Tooru and Takashi are actually best friends within about an hour and a half.

Once the Natoris have been settled into a large guest room and wandered around on a cheap tour of the estate, and Hinata has dumped all of her stuff in her boyfriend’s bedroom, Isamu drags Tooru out of hiding to eat a late lunch with them.

Tooru shuffles into the chair across from Takashi and makes her polite introduction, and then mumbles that she only has a couple of friends so she isn’t sure what they ought to talk about. Takashi blithely replies that he doesn’t have any friends, because he can see yokai and people tend to think that’s strange. Shuuichi and Hinata are both frozen, holding their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they wait to see which way this is going to go, but Isamu just takes an unhurried sip of tea.

And then Tooru lunges across the table to seize Takashi’s hands, shouting, “You can see yokai? You have to come meet my grandpa!” and all but drags him out of the kitchen, their lunches left untouched.

“You might never get your brother back,” Isamu says mildly. “That’s okay, there’s enough space here for two little weirdos.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?” Hinata demands.

“I don’t believe in things I can’t see for myself,” Isamu replies. He waits a beat, rolling a thought around in his head like a marble, and then adds reluctantly, “But if three people I trust can see them, maybe that’s just as good. I already apologized to gramps for thinking he was just a delusional old man.”

“You did not say that to your grandpa,” Shuuichi says, horrified.

“I didn’t say it, I just said I was sorry for thinking it.” Isamu sits back in his chair, frowning at his plate. “Tooru never needed any proof. She believes him just because she loves him. I think there’s value in that. Figured I’d give it a try.”

When Shuuichi tracks the kids down later, they’ve multiplied. Sasago and Urihime are supervising as Tooru, Takashi, and two little boys of a similar age chase each other around the garden, a half-dozen little yokai running underfoot.

Takashi spots him and brightens, breaking away from the game to jump up onto the porch and slam into Shuuichi’s side. Shuuichi ruffles his hair, because it’s already a windswept mess, and it makes Takashi wrinkle his nose in annoyance.

“Taki-ojisan wasn’t feeling well, so he’s taking a nap,” Takashi explains. He’s flushed from the sun and grass-stained. “We had fun, though. All of his yokai friends had lots of things they wanted to say to him so we played telephone. Mostly they were teasing him, which didn’t seem very nice, but it made oji-san laugh a lot.”

“And who are those two?” Shuuichi asks, nodding at the unfamiliar boys.

“Tooru’s friends from school. They were coming by to see if Tooru wanted to go to the river with them, and she introduced me.” Shyly, Takashi adds, “They’re nice.”

“Hey!” the russet-haired boy calls over. “Are we going swimming or what?”

“Can we, please?” Tooru asks, folding her hands together.

His brother gazes up at him with eyes that are big and hopeful, a look that has worked for him for years. Shuuichi shakes his head ruefully.

“As long as you stay with Tooru, and don’t let your phone get soaked,” he says sternly. “And you know to answer when I call, right?”

“Right,” Takashi says, without attitude, because that’s one of their most important rules. “Can I take Urihime with me? She’ll throw Satoru in the water if I ask her to, Sasago won’t.”

“For that reason alone, you’re taking Sasago,” Shuuichi replies.

It’s a noisy circus troupe of kids who finally leave, armed with towels and a bag of snacks pilfered from the kitchen and an entourage of rowdy spirits that only one of them can see.

Shuuichi leans against the gate, watching them go. He’s wary of the unfamiliar yokai, but with his shiki nearby and clearly unbothered, he doesn’t see a reason to break up the strange congregation. Over the years, he’s had to get used to the way Takashi attracts these things. They come to him like moths to a flame.

Most exorcists hate yokai, but Shuuichi doesn’t. How could he? His little brother is a medium, and some of the only people he can count on to babysit for him are his familiars. Yokai are so much a part of his life that to hate them would be to fill his heart with hatred, and he doesn’t have room in his heart for all that. It’s too full of other things.

Hinata joins him by the door.

“You know,” she says carefully, “I was going to bring this up later, but…the university that Isamu and I are going to is only a half-hour away from here. And the schools here are really good.”

Shuuichi stands in the sun, watches his little brother laugh with children his own age, and exhales.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsumeweek #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #taki isamu #the squad has finally arrived :') bless #my writing #natsuyuu fic #second hand

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mistflyer1102 · 3 years

Text

lesson

Summary: While waiting for Q, Bond teaches the techs a thing or two about improvisation.

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

“You ask him.”

“No, you ask him! You’ve been here longer!”

“Which is why I’m smart enough not to take that bet.”

Bond tilted his head as he calmly walked up to one group of huddled techs smack dab in the middle of Technical Services in Q-Branch. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet -- Marcela even looked up and waved when she saw him -- but none of the other techs seemed to notice, intently focused on something in the middle of the table. He slowed down though, when Marcela detached herself from the group and walked over, smiling cheerfully. Not an emergency then, given that it’s actually quiet and calm for once, he mused to himself as he stopped in front of Marcela. “Good morning, am I interrupting something? Q left something at home, thought I would drop it off for him,” he said gesturing to the knot of techs that were now all standing stiff.

“Nope, they’re just figuring out whether to make bets on one of the double-ohs,” she said, smiling as she shrugged her shoulders. As third-in-command of the branch, Bond knew she had seen and heard all in Q-Branch. Betting on Double-Os did not faze her very much anymore. “Anyway, Q is in a meeting right now with the R&D guys, do you want me to take whatever it is he forgot and hold onto it?” she offered, extending a hand.

Bond shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m not in a rush. And I’m intrigued by this bet. Which agent are they betting on and about what?” he asked, glancing over at the knot of techs. He could see that one or two were already trying to discreetly, casually, shuffle away from the group.

Marcela arched a brow at him.

Oh.

Bond inclined his head at her before moving towards the group. Some of them had to be new, the veterans knew he wouldn’t actually do anything to them. Well, nothing to warrant a stern reprimand from Q, which was just about anything and everything. Only Q could get away with giving Bond shit, which he did more often than his techs actually knew. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” Bond said, leaning in between the techs closet to him. There were numerous squeaks of surprise and murmured hellos as they shifted slightly in place to give him room. “So, enlighten me. What are we talking about? Something that the benevolent overlord shall not hear about?” he asked, grinning when a few techs blinked at him in surprise. They had to be new, all of Q’s staff knew that Bond knew the in-house nickname for Q.

For a moment, no one spoke. Bond could almost see them silently debating who was going to deal with the Double-O at their table. “Um, no, I guess not? It’s, uh, really not that important, or work-related, anyway,” one of the techs -- definitely a newcomer, Bond didn’t recognize him -- said finally, gesturing to the tabletop. Bond looked down to see a few innocuous items, including a pencil, a sheet of paper, a ceramic saucer, a rubber band, and a set of car keys. The tech shifted uncomfortably when Bond looked back up at him. “Well, Max and I are new to the Technical Services Station, we just started last week, and a bunch of the others are saying that double-ohs can weaponize anything you give them. I, er, we don’t quite know what to think, or believe,” the tech admitted, scratching the back of his neck as Bond hummed thoughtfully.

“And you’re betting that I can or can’t weaponize everything on this table?” Bond asked, picking up the keys to study them. He was mildly annoyed to find that the car manufacturer was not emblazoned on the main key as it usually was.

Another tech said, “Well, we can kind of guess on the pencil, I’m Max by the way, that’s Eddie. Anyway, we can guess that the pencil, you can just throw it like a dart at someone,” Max said, gesturing to the first tech before leaning on the table. “But...yeah, the Quartermaster complains every now and then that he can’t give you guys anything because it ends up wrecked somehow, and I didn’t think that it was possible to do that with every little thing in existence. So we pooled these items as examples.”

Bond nodded. “Well, you can also stick the pencil into a space where it doesn’t belong, mechanical gears are the usual place since it jams everything up. Did that to an alarm clock once, that was also the one and only time Q ever overslept to date as an MI6 employee,” he said, setting the pencil down. “But imagine doing that to a car, or some overly large weapon.”

The techs nodded, one of them grimacing.

“Keys...keys are useful as weapons on their own, and for the cars they usually work for,” he said, turning to Marcela, who was tapping something out on her tablet. “Where did you get these? Is Q hiding a new prototype from me?”

“No, they are replacement keys for my car, and I was the only one in the group who had their keys with them. Please don’t wreck my car, I really like it,” Marcela said, not looking up from her work.

Bond set the keys back down on the table next to the pencil. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to touch your car. Promise,” he said, crossing his heart with a finger as Marcela glanced up at him. “Employee cars are off-limits.”

She blinked.”Really? I actually didn’t know that.”

Bond nodded. “The only employee car I’m allowed to drive is Q’s, and that’s in emergencies only,” he said, picking up the saucer. He held it up for the techs to see. “Useful for either causing distractions, or for buttering Q up if you want something from him. He normally drinks his tea in that Scrabble mug of his, but if you really want to up the ante a bit, bring it to him in a teacup and saucer when he’s sitting down for a meeting with the other department heads. Almost works every time.”

Eddie frowned. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘almost’?” he asked, resting his hands on the table.

Bond said, “Q got even more irritated with me once when I did that because it was more of an apology than a bribe.” He set the saucer down, and then reached for the rubber band. “I don’t think I need to go into the applications of all this, but it’s good for keeping doors closed enough that no one can immediately crash in when you’re working, but should only be used as a last resort. It’s also good for securing the plastic wrap around the laundry detergent to lessen the mess when one of the cats knocks the container down off the machine,” he said, turning the rubber band over in his hands.

“Don’t you have a cap to the container, sir?”

Bond said, “We had a cap, it disappeared one day. When small items disappear in our flat with two cats around, you have to accept the fact that you’re never going to see it again.” He set the rubber band back down, and he didn’t miss the sense of anticipation suddenly heightening as he picked up the sheet of paper. “This… this you can just straight up set on fire and go from there,” he said, grinning as the techs blinked, and began to mutter amongst themselves. Bond glanced over his shoulder, and then grinned when he saw who was approaching them.

Eddie raised his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I should have thought of that,” he admitted, taking a step back as Bond handed him the piece of paper. “Okay, Max, you win, you win,” he said, grinning as he handed a few quid over to Max, who cackled as he pocketed the money.

“What is going on over here?”

Abrupt silence fell over the group as Q appeared, still looking a little grumpy from the meeting. Only Bond and Marcela didn't react, Bond grinning at Q as Marcela continued tapping away at her tablet. Q stared at the items on the table, and then turned to Bond. “Please...I do not know what you are doing here, but I want this branch to be standing by the end of the day.”

“And it will, we were just settling a bet,” Bond replied. “Nothing is getting destroyed today, promise. I just came by to drop off your tea tin, the one you brought home last night to refill,” he said, offering the tin to Q. “Nothing is broken, and the cats are fine.”

Q studied him suspiciously, and then glanced at his techs, who discreetly dispersed back to their work stations. Then he nodded. “Thank you, James, for bringing me this. I need it, especially since I’m about to go into a budget meeting with M and the Treasury. If you decide to stay here, please stay out of the techs’ way, let them do their job, and do not make a nuisance of yourself,” he said, smiling at Bond before his attention strayed back to his phone.

Bond swept a mock bow as Q turned to leave. “Of course, my Quartermaster.”

He laughed when Q flipped him off over his shoulder.

#00q #james bond #humor #mistflyer fanfiction

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years

Text

Surprise

Everyone was so nice about my first Dean fic, here’s a Sam one! Again, thanks in advance for any critiques or advice!!

Title: Surprise

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4904

Summary: Mostly fluffy, a little smut, some angst when the reader realizes she’s late.

Warnings: One smutty bit--separated by spacing, some light swearing, oblique mention of abortion, pregnancy

gif by study-of-supernatural

Dean tossed his phone onto the car seat next to him. “That thing in Cleveland sounds like vamps for sure. So we’ll just drop you off at the bunker on the way.”

You looked quizzically at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop me off? No, I want to come.”

Dean flicked his eyes up to the mirror to make eye contact. “Well you obviously can’t go hunt vampires right now, so, sorry.” He turned the key in the ignition and threw the Impala in reverse. Before he could back out of the parking lot, Sam stopped him.

“Dude, what? She’s hunted vampires with us dozens of times.”

“I’m not taking you to a vampire nest when you’re, you know, parting the red seas,” Dean addressed his response to you in the rearview mirror rather than Sam. “Too dangerous.”

“Oh my god,” you said under your breath, stunned. “You did not just say that.”

Sam’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, his lips parted while he tried to find something to say. Dean looked over at him in an exaggerated “what?” grimace.

“Dean, it is so fucking weird for you to know that,” Sam insisted.

“No it’s not, she was talking about cramps when we were at Jody’s a few months ago, it’s not that hard to keep track of 4 week chunks,” Dean tried to justify.

“We are not talking about this, Jesus Christ!” you snapped, startling both brothers. They turned in their seats to look back at you. “And Dean, not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I am not on my period.”

“Wait, yeah you are,” he started, ignoring your glare and the awkward tension building in the car. “We were in Sioux Falls for fourth of July on a Wednesday, then that would mean 4 weeks later was the witch in Nebraska, and two days ago was Wednesday. So that’s another 4 weeks,”

“Dean!” Sam interrupted, his hands thrown up in frustration. “What the hell?!”

“Again, and I don’t know how much more I can emphasize this, it’s none of your concern at all, but I’m not on my period and I will be coming to Cleveland,” you responded, leaning back in your seat to indicate that you would not be discussing the matter further. Dean sat for a moment before rolling his eyes and backing up out of the parking lot, seemingly having given in.

After a few moments, the implications of Dean’s too-keen observation started to sink in. You had been on your period at Jody’s, because you remembered being thankful that you weren’t in a grown-up magical frat house and rather a normal home with some other women for it. Normally you loved living with Sam and Dean, but there was a certain kind of comfort and camaraderie that only other people with periods understood. And his math was right, that would’ve been 8 weeks two days ago. Had you been on your period during the witch hunt in Nebraska? Dammit, you couldn’t remember at all. As you often did when surprised with it during a job, you cursed the fact that you weren’t the kind of person who wrote something down on a calendar about your cycle.

You shifted in your seat, trying to calculate. Fuck. Why couldn’t you remember if you were on your period in Nebraska? 2 days late wasn’t that big of a deal, but if you were a month late… You watched Sam try to rub some tension out of his neck absentmindedly. Was he wondering the same thing you were?

This was not the time to be worried about it. You couldn’t figure out anything either way in the car—what were you going to do anyway, count the number of extra tampons you had in your bag?—and relatively soon you’d be in Cleveland. There would be opportunities to talk to Sam alone, to get to a drugstore, to figure this out. You took some deep, deliberate breaths. By your estimation, it would take about 7 hours to get to Cleveland. Curling up in the darkness of the backseat, you dozed fitfully until Dean woke you up to grab some food. Stressed but knowing that the boys would notice if you didn’t eat, you forced down the better part of a buffalo chicken sandwich and gratefully relinquished your fries to Dean. You couldn’t tell if Sam seemed nervous or just tired through dinner and knew better than to ask in front of Dean.

When you got back in the car, you offered Sam the backseat so he could stretch out and sleep. Singing along to Creedence Clearwater Revival with Dean helped take your mind off of the racing questions until finally the Impala pulled into a motel outside Cleveland. You grabbed a top sheet and pillow off of one bed to put on the couch as you usually did on the road with Sam and Dean, and were asleep by the time you slipped your boots off under the plasticized coffee table.

The next morning, you carefully slid Dean’s keys out of his jacket as it hung on a chair. Your hope was to be back before either of them woke up, and you knew you were pushing it. Sam and Dean had been asleep for a little under 4 hours, and you knew it would be miraculous if they stayed down for a 5 hour stretch. Gently catching the door behind you, you didn’t hear any movement on the other side and hoped for the best.

The first drugstore you found was a little mom-and-pop establishment with a very sweet looking woman in her mid 60’s behind the counter. She was eating what looked like a cruller and drinking coffee from a steaming ceramic mug while reading a magazine. You congratulated yourself silently for brushing your hair to look more presentable to her as you pushed three pregnancy tests across the counter. She brushed off her hands on a small white apron tied around her waist and smiled warmly as she rang up the tests.

“Sweetie, do you want a bag for these?” she asked.

“No, I, uh,” you stammered, realizing you were more nervous than you had convinced yourself you were on last night’s drive. She softly touched the back of your hand on the pregnancy tests and pointed down a little side hall next to the counter.

“Bathroom’s on the right,” she offered graciously. You nodded, taking the tests with you as you followed her directions. Unbuckling your jeans, you almost thought “I can’t remember the last time I took my pants off this fast,” chuckling aloud when you realized you absolutely could remember the last time your pants were taken off this fast. God, how stupid could you both have been? If your gut was right, that you had skipped your period in Nebraska, it meant your slipup with Sam at that bar in Montana was the likely culprit. Normally so careful both about making sure Dean wasn’t around to find out as well as protection, you were playing with fire that night. You had been stealing sultry glances at Sam for hours as Dean ripped through shots. Dean had found some bikers to play pool with, and you’d been brushing against Sam for longer than you needed to every time you snuck by the table for another round. The guys were fun and loud, and made the three of you feel at home. Dean was in the middle of being convinced to sing karaoke when you reapplied your lip gloss slowly with Sam’s eyes on you, and Dean was too caught up with the start of both another round of whiskey and a new game when you had told Sam you were headed to the powder room.

He had given you about a 2 minute head start before slamming open the door of the bathroom, crashing into you as a long arm cracked the lock into place. Sam, normally sweet and gentle Sam, had reacted to your teasing him all night exactly the way you wanted to, the heat and urgency and need searing through him as he tore at your belt buckle and you at his. He gathered a handful of hair at the base of your neck as he kissed you deeply and nipped at your bottom lip. You groaned as he moved down your neck, his hot breath sending electrifying chills down your spine. Suddenly his other hand was under your thigh, and he pulled you up to sit atop the old porcelain sink. Your jeans held on to your right leg for dear life as you tried to yank free of them, ultimately getting only your left out before Sam’s impatience got the better of him and he left your mouth to drag his tongue, long and languid, across your clit. When you gasped, he pulled firmly on the handful of hair he still had, arching your back into the mirror behind you.

You hadn’t even thought for a split second of the consequences when you had pulled him into you on that sink. All that had mattered for those fervent salty minutes was the rhythm of Sam pounding you into the bathroom wall, hearing the creak of the sink ache underneath you, feeling the throbbing of yourself around him, the shiver you felt in his arms when you licked at his neck and earlobes. When he finished, sticky and hot on your stomach and inner thigh, you had cleaned up as fast as you could before getting your clothes back on, checking both of yourselves in the mirror for evidence before leaving one at a time to rejoin Dean and your new friends. You remembered the way you had ached so good in the days following, the way Sam blushed the next day when you winked at him over pancakes.

In a way it felt poetic, to be once again in a strange bathroom. You lined up the tests next to the sink as you washed your hands, begging for time to move more quickly. One by one their results developed in cloudy blue words.

Pregnant

Fuck.

By the grace of God, Sam and Dean appeared to still be asleep by the time you got back to the motel room. You slipped Dean’s keys back into his jacket pocket and took off your boots, lying back down on the couch to pantomime sleep as you tried to figure out your next move. Sam roused first, and you jumped on the opportunity to talk before he got to the shower, startling him as he walked by the couch to get to the bathroom.

“Sam, can I talk to you?” you whispered.

He jolted before closing his eyes hard. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, you scared me,” he responded, his voice rough with sleep. “Two seconds, ok?”

“Yeah sure. I’ll be outside,” you said, shoving your feet into your boots and heading for the small cast iron bench outside the motel room. Sam came out a few minutes later, smelling of toothpaste and looking like he had raked his fingers through the worst of his bedhead tangles. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

“What’s going on?” He looked concerned, and you realized you probably weren’t keeping the worry off of your face as well as you would’ve hoped.

You took another deep breath, trying to keep your voice level as you responded. “So, Dean being a creep yesterday got me nervous, because I think he might be right,” you started. Sam’s earnest eyes encouraged you to keep going. “In that I’m supposed to be on my period right now. And I should’ve been on my period in Nebraska. But I’m not now, and I wasn’t—” Sam finally made the realization you were leading him to, his eyes widening as he held your gaze. “—in Nebraska, so I took a test, really three tests, and I think I’m pregnant,” you finished, the words tumbling out of your mouth like an avalanche furtively mumbled outside the Ohio hotel room. “And I, uh, you’re obviously the only person I’ve been with, so I thought you should know.”

Your voice cracked on the last words, and you bit your lip to hold back the involuntary tears. Sam took your shoulders in each hand and looked into your eyes. “Hey. Hey, okay, look at me. Everything’s okay.” He pulled you into a firm hug, his ropey muscles around your shoulders and back feeling like an anchor in a storm. You stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to breathe smoothly around the lump in your throat threatening to burst while Sam gripped you tightly. When you shifted your weight, he let go and left a stabilizing hand on your lower back for a moment. You and Sam sat on the bench side by side staring out at the half-full parking lot in the morning dew.

Sam cleared his throat. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly. You were worried if you looked at him you’d start crying, so you kept your eyes locked on the asphalt.

“I don’t know, I guess. Hadn’t really thought that far,” you said honestly. “I mean, how many pregnant hunters do you know?” You finally looked over at Sam when he didn’t respond. His brows were knitted together as he looked at his hands in his lap.

“Not very many, I guess,” he mumbled, barely audible. He straightened his spine and set his jaw. “If that’s what you want to do, I totally get it. I’m here no matter what you decide.”

“Well, what would you do?”

“It’s not my call.”

“Sam, I’m asking because I want to know. What would you decide?”

“I’d give it a shot,” he said, firmly but quietly. “I think we could do it.”

You let his answer hang in the air for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Sam chuckled, looking back down at his hands before meeting your eyes. “Pretty sure.” He smiled, a small and self-conscious smile that made him look more unsure of himself than you’d ever seen him. When you smiled back at him, a tear slipped past your eyelashes. You wiped it away furtively as you began to laugh. Then Sam was laughing with you, his own eyes wet and bright. For the first time since you were in the car yesterday, you didn’t feel like you were racing and clawing to stay afloat. It felt like maybe things would be okay.

You heard a creak and saw Dean’s head poking out of the motel door. His hair was unkempt and the neck of his t-shirt was stretched out; he’d clearly just woken up. He squinted a puffy eye at you both. “What’re you guys doing out here?”

You gasped for breath in between your hysterical giggling. “I’m pregnant,” you managed to squeak out.

Dean’s head kicked back into his neck as he opened his eyes wide. “This feels like a conversation I should have pants on for.”

“So you’ve got a bun in the oven,” Dean said, pouring syrup over a short stack at a nearby diner. “Is this a moment for congratulations?” He squinted at you, carefully trying to keep his expression neutral.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” you said shyly. Eggs had seemed like a good idea when the waitress came over, but now the idea of putting them in your mouth was too much. Dean seemed to read your mind, rolling his eyes and forking a pancake onto your plate.

“Who’s the baby daddy? Should I be calling Springer?” Dean smiled slyly. Sam was notably quiet, looking down at his omelet like it had all the secrets of the Rosetta Stone.

“Shut up,” you said, grimacing at him. “Between the two of us, I think you know who should be more scared about a random baby coming into the picture.”

“Fair enough, I yield,” Dean chuckled. “Seriously though, who’s big papa?” Dean took a comically large bite of sausage, and you waited a beat to make sure he wasn’t about to choke.

“Sam.”

Dean coughed and sputtered around the bite of sausage, snatching his coffee to help him swallow. He bared his teeth when he realized how hot it was and pounded a closed fist on his chest. “Good one, jackass. Seriously, who is it? Maybe that detective from Sioux Falls who’s always getting you coffee cake when we’re there?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You shot a look over to Sam, who clenched and unclenched his jaw before looking up at Dean. As was often true, they were communicating with their eyes in a way you couldn’t understand. Sam raised his eyebrows slightly, and Dean closed his eyes very deliberately before putting his fork down and steepling his fingers on the table. “You guys have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. He opened his eyes after a long moment and sucked on his teeth. “Start talking,” he growled.

“We’ve been, you know, uh, spending a lot of time together—” Sam started before Dean waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“How long?” Dean asked, still steely.

Sam gulped hard and pursed his lips. “Like 7, 8 months?” He looked to you for confirmation and you nodded slightly.

Dean’s nostrils flared and he bit his bottom lip. “Eight goddamn months, Sam? Are you kidding me?” You tried to meet Sam’s eyes but he was avoiding Dean by looking out the diner window. “Sam!” Dean barked. You watched an older woman a few tables away look over at your table and threw a weak wave her way to apologize for the noise.

Sam finally turned to look at Dean. “Dean, I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, eight months. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, it just didn’t seem like the right time and then a lot of time had passed, and—”

“—it didn’t change anything so there wasn’t really any point to talking about it,” you finished. Sam gave you a tight smile to indicate his thanks.

Dean looked from you to Sam and back before picking his fork back up and stabbing another piece of sausage a little harder than necessary. The fork scraped against the plate unpleasantly. He raised it to his mouth before reconsidering, letting it clatter to the plate. “Sam, I asked you like five times if there was something going on and you said no every single time. What the hell, man?”

You leaned back in the booth and watched as Sam chewed his lip nervously. On some level, you were glad it seemed like Dean wasn’t as mad at you as Sam, but you felt guilty both for not having told Dean and that Sam was incurring his wrath alone. Sam let his head loll back on his neck.

“Well?” Dean repeated. You could sense now the note of sadness in his voice peeking out between the waves of anger. Sam still didn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” he finally answered softly.

After a long stare, Dean finally went back to eating. You and Sam followed, and the three of you ate silently for a few minutes.

“You’re keeping it, then?” Dean asked, his voice low and raspy as he kept eating.

You finished your bite and took a sip of orange juice before answering, hoping this meant Dean had processed some of his anger. “I think so. I just found out this morning so it’s all happening kind of fast. Sam said he wants to try.” A smile crept onto your face involuntarily as you looked over at him.

“You cannot just try with a fucking kid, did you two get dropped on your heads? You’re going to what, put a play pen in the dungeon of the bunker we live in? Do you hear yourselves?”

You winced. “Dean, I don’t know, okay? You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t think Sam does either. I’m just trying really hard not to freak the fuck out right now, and I gotta be honest: you’re not helping.” You reached out to squeeze his hand. Dean allowed it but didn’t squeeze back. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”

Dean’s face fell and he rubbed a quick circle in the back of your hand before pulling away to stroke his face. He looked so tired suddenly. “Are you guys leaving now then?”

Your eyebrows and Sam’s communicated your confusion. “No one’s leaving. There’s still a job here, regardless of whatever soap opera bullshit we have going on,” you said.

“Get real, like either of us is going to be able to focus on a hunt if we know you’re cracking necks pregnant.” Dean scoffed.

“Okay, then she can stay in the motel and we can talk about this more back at the bunker,” Sam offered, ever the peacemaker. You glared at him but he specifically avoided meeting your gaze, knowing you’d be frustrated at this plan.

“I’m done talking about this right now,” Dean said abruptly, yanking his wallet out of his pocket and throwing far more money on the table than the bill would’ve cost. He started toward the door, leaving you and Sam to run after him or risk being left.

The car ride was silent and tense. When you got back to the motel, Sam and Dean stayed in the car as you got out alone.

“We’ll probably only be a couple hours, just to the morgue and back. See you soon?” Sam asked.

“Not really a ton of places I could go with no car,” you responded.

“I’m sure you could figure something out,” Sam chuckled. You saw Dean’s hand tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

“Dean, is your suit in the trunk or do you want me to grab it?” you asked, trying to offer an olive branch.

“Trunk,” he said curtly. Sam made an apologetic face and waved as they pulled away.

With the motel in the rearview mirror, Dean’s fist shot out to dead-arm Sam. “Are you fucking stupid? You’re so fucking stupid!” he grunted in between punches.

Sam tried his best to block Dean, very aware of the road in front of them. “Dean. DEAN! Stop hitting me, alright? Jesus Christ, I get it!” Dean finally stopped and Sam rubbed his sore arm. “God, Dean, I’m sorry, ok? I should’ve been more careful and I should’ve told you.”

“God, Sam, what were you thinking?” Dean slammed a palm into the steering wheel. “I mean, this has got to be your last job then,” he said, resolute.

“What? No! I can still be a hunter if she’s pregnant. Plenty of hunters have kids,” Sam snapped.

“Yeah, like Dad? Jo’s dad? How’d that work out for them? Wake up, Sam. At best you leave her alone raising a kid with no dad, and at worst they both get killed from some crap you get caught up in. If you go straight, get a day job, some house somewhere, maybe you have a shot at keeping everyone alive.”

“She’s a hunter too, she knows how hard it’s going to be, okay? We’re going to figure it out,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, you both keep saying that, don’t you? So start figuring it out then, dumbass. Tell me your groundbreaking plan to keep a target on your ass ganking demons and monsters with a baby Björn on.” He looked at Sam condescendingly. “I’m listening, Sammy. Turn on that genius brain of yours and lay it on me.”

“Enough.” Sam said firmly. “What do you want me to do then, Dean? I can’t exactly take it back, and it’s not like I could force her to do anything even if I wanted to, so tell me what you think I should do!” Sam’s voice rose, the fear coming to the surface.

The tension hung in the air like a curtain for a long minute.

Finally, Dean slammed the steering wheel again. “Son of a bitch,” he said emphatically. “Okay. You’re right. We’ve got to figure out what you’re going to do.” He took a deep breath and pushed it out forcefully.

Sam’s shoulders relaxed noticeably at Dean’s change in tone. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice.

“Man, eight months? I must be pretty stupid,” Dean laughed, still somewhat angrily.

Sam realized Dean was trying to lighten the mood and decided to let him have it, despite his bruised feelings. “There were a few times when I thought for sure you knew, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah? Like when?”

“Remember when, ah, you came home early from that Die Hard thing?”

“Drive in double feature that got rained out, hell yeah. I was pissed.”

“And when you got back to the bunker the kitchen was a mess and she said she was making like, cupcakes or something?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude, the kitchen? You’re a dog.” He smiled slyly at Sam, who laughed. The mood in the car was lifting like a low cloud after a bit of afternoon sun, and both of them relaxed into themselves for a few minutes of road.

Dean cleared his throat. “Do you love her?”

Sam turned to Dean, locking him in his gaze. “I do, yeah,” he said, softly and earnestly.

Dean thumped a big hand on Sam’s back. “Then congrats, baby bro. Look at you, all grown up. If I’m being honest, I thought I was going to be the one who finally got the girl.”

“Wait, Dean, if you have feelings for h—” Sam started.

“No, nah, not now. It’s been years, she’s like a sister to me. Yesterday I would’ve said she’s like a sister to us,” Dean chuckled. “But she’s obviously a gorgeous girl, tough, smart like that? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it when she first started staying with us.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “She’s going to be a good mom, Sammy.”

“I think so too.”

In the motel room, you tried hard to focus on whatever Alaskan logging show was on but failed. Dean was right, this whole situation was overwhelming. The moments of hope you had sitting on that bench with Sam seemed lightyears away.

A few hours later the boys finally walked through the motel door in their suits. Their expressions were unreadable, and Dean had a paper bag presumably of evidence in his hand that he set down on the small kitchenette table. Sam walked over to a bed, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket as he went. Dean mirrored the motion as he sat down at the table. It was always obvious they were brothers, but these small moments of such strong resemblance tickled you, even despite the circumstances.

“How’d it go?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light as to not reveal the time you’d spent pacing and panicking while they were gone.

“Seems pretty open and shut, we’re going to hit them tomorrow morning. Apparently they usually close down the tiki bar and then crash for a few hours before hitting the third shifter joints,” Sam said calmly, patting the bed next to him for you to sit down. You complied.

“You deserve an apology,” Dean began. You tried to keep the surprise off your face so as not to discourage him from continuing. “I wouldn’t have lied about it for the better part of a damn year, but if you guys are happy and everything, I can hardly judge about a slip up. Mistakes happen.” He let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “So, I’m sorry. And I know normally you’d like a nice peaty Irish whiskey, but I figured under the circumstances this was more appropriate,” Dean reached into the paper bag on the table and pulled out a fluffy white cake with big pink, blue, and yellow frosting roses. In graceful, elegant script along the top, it said,

“Sorry Sam didn’t pull out!”

You blushed and laughed out loud, reaching over to lightly slap Dean’s arm. “How much did you have to pay them to put that on it?”

“Oh, they do the writing for free,” he grinned devilishly. “Want a slice?”

“Sure,” you said, thinking a piece of cake at 10 am couldn’t be any weirder than this day already was. Dean got up to look through the cabinets for the cheap silverware and Corelle plates that seemed standard issue for motels like this.

You turned to Sam. “What’re we going to do? I mean, it’s not like we can take a baby with us on the road, no offense, and to be honest I don’t know that I want to stop living this life. And I definitely don’t want to leave Dean, or the bunker, or—” Sam stopped you by lacing his fingers through yours.

“We’ve figured out way more complicated problems than this. We’re going to make it work. If that means babyproofing the bunker or living in a duplex with Dean or driving around the country in a big RV, then that’s what we’ll do. Believe me, I’m scared as hell too. But there is no one I would rather bring someone into this world with. I love you.”

“Thanks, Bridget Jones’ Diary,” Dean said, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes while you rubbed the beginnings of tears out of yours. “Sam, how big do you want your piece?”

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester #spn fanfiction #spn oneshot #spn fluff #spn fic #sam winchester one shot #spn reader insert #sam fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #reader insert

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

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

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

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

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

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

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #taz amnesty

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yespleasetommyshelby · 3 years

Text

Chicago fire imagine Herrmann + Daughter reader imagine for - @jayxuptons

Laying in a hospital bed is not the way I thought I'd be spending my Friday evening, but hey, that's the life of a firefighter right? Growing up with a fire fighter for a father I knew the dangers that I was going to be up against, the fire, the smoke, half collapsed buildings and heights that would make most peoples heads spin. But being stabbed in the leg by a freaking out meth addict was not even on the top 100 things I was worried about.

I sighed as I rolled my head to the side to see the clock on the wall, hissing as I jolted my leg slightly, a groan leaving my mouth as I realised the doctors had left about 10 minutes ago, which meant that any second now the storm was about to rip its way into my room. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and replayed the afternoons events in my head.

"Y/N, Otis, you take the basement, Kidd, Mouch, take the ground floor, Herrmann, you're with me up top." Casey began yelling as soon as we pulled up outside of the burning house, a young woman and a small boy sitting over by Ambo staring up at what I'm assuming was their home.

"Any idea what happened cap?" I asked as I followed Casey and the rest towards the smoke spilling door.

"Mum said the place just went up in flames, the dads still in there but she doesn't know where, keep your eyes peeled." He nodded towards me, sending him a quick nod back before we entered the building and went our separate ways.

Carefully feeling our way around through the smoke me and Otis made our way down to the basement, the smoke thickening the further we descended into the dark space.

"Fire department! Call out!" Otis yelled as he led the way, his flashlight only finding dust covered boxes and a plastic Christmas tree sitting in the corner.

"Fire department! Anyone down here?" I yelled, listening to the sounds of the fire crackling above before a small scuffle caught my attention. "Hello? Call out if you can here me!"

Following the sound I slowly rounded a desk that was sat against the wall, I half expected to find some kind of wild animal, a raccoon or a squirrel, what I was not expecting was the burning pain that erupted in my thigh and the knife that was lodged in place.

"Otis!" I screamed as the guy who was hiding behind the desk jumped up pushing me out of the way, causing me to fall to the side smacking my head against the corner of the desk before I landed on the floor with a thud, surrounded by darkness.

By the time I had managed to open my eyes again I was lying in a hospital bed with Jay and Will Halstead by my side. Jay had explained that the guy in the basement was actually the father to the small boy I saw waiting outside when we first arrived at the scene, he'd been using for a few months and the mum was planning on leaving which is why he had set fire to the place, but Otis had caught him and called for backup as soon as he had heard me yell. Leaving Will to explain that other than a scar, an aching leg and a banging headache I would be just fine and ready to return to work in a few weeks.

"Where is she?!" I heard him before I saw him, his voice floating through the ED, the once loud talking of people in the hallway dwindling down to nothing but a murmur.

"Herrmann, calm down, she's fine." I could hear Casey, his voice growing in volume as I assumed they came towards the door.

"Don't tell me to calm down when my daughter is lying in hospital!" His voice louder now as him and Casey came into view through the glass doors.

Leaving Casey with one last hard look he turned and came into the room closing the door behind himself.

"Hi dad." I smiled small, waiting to see a change in his face to reveal just how pissed he was about it all.

"Don't 'hi dad' me." He muttered, shaking his head slightly before flopping down in the chair besides the bed.

"Dad I-"

"No! Do you have any idea how scared I was when I heard Otis through the radio? When I heard that you were stabbed and there was nothing I could do about it?" He said, voice deep and eyes hard like they used to be when I'd done something stupid as a teenager.

"I know but-"

"No! You don't know! You don't know what it's like to have to sit and wait to be told whether or not your daughter is gunna survive after being stabbed by some jacked up asshole?!" He was almost yelling now, little bits of spot flying from his mouth as he tried to keep his temper in check.

"But I do know dad! I know what it's like to be the one sat in the waiting room, waiting to know whether my dad was gunna be coming home at the end of the day! Sitting next to mum, holding her while she cries about how she doesn't know how she'll be able to keep the family going without you! I've sat there hundreds of times with my mind running round in circles because I don't know what the outcome will be!" I started to yell, my voice falling with every word as tears started to slip down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I uh, I didn't think about all the times the table was turned." He sighed sadly, reaching out and taking my hand in his.

"I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to scare you, I mean, I didn't even see the guy till after the knife was in my leg." I breathed a laugh, trying to ease some of the tension.

"Not funny." He deadpanned before a small smile appeared on his face. " I'm sorry I yelled, I was just so scared when I heard what had happened." He said softly, squeezing my hand slightly.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." I offered a small smile.

"I'll let you get some rest, I've gotta call your mum and keep the house updated, Otis has been blaming himself since it happened." He chuckled slightly, liking how his work family had accepted his daughter as one of their own, although they'd already known her for years before hand.

"Tell mum I'm fine and I love her, and let Otis know that it wasn't his fault, but next time he can go investigate the noises." I smirked with a giggle as dad narrowed his eyes at me.

"Yeah, yeah." He shook his head as he stood up placing a small kiss on my forehead before he made his way towards the door, stopping with his hand on the handle. "I love you kid." He smiled softly.

"I love you too dad." I smiled back, watching as he gave me one last smile before leaving.

Turns out the storm I was expecting was nothing more than a bit of rain and whole bunch of sunshine.

-----

I hope you enjoy! I had no idea where I was going with this and wrote this out all in one as the ideas came to me!

#chicago fire imagine #chicago fire imagines #Herrmann imagine #Herrmann x daughter #one chicago imagines #requested

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samanthadalton · 4 years

Note

Thank you for writing my Poppy sketchbook request!! I loved it! 😭😭💕💕

Anyways, I have another idea: Poppy and MC doing body shots at a frat party!

I'm so sorry I keep requesting stuff. Hehe

I’m really glad you loved it anon it means a lot. Sorry if you were waiting a while for this one because I’m working through the requests now, I hope you enjoy it 💖💖

pairings: Poppy x mc

(Takes place after chapter 7 of queen b)

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth (i forgot i had a taglist for poppy but if you wanna be added on in future fics let me know 😁)

word count: 2.3k (its a long one)

Body Shots

The party at the frat house is in full swing, music blaring from the speakers, the pulsating and infectious beat echoing throughout the entire house. Every inch of the house is filled with drunk college students, all immersed in the party, drinking, dancing, playing beer pong and the classic, hooking up.

Poppy Min Sinclair stands in the corner of the living room, a scowl etched on her face as she observes her surroundings. Veronica’s nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly live streaming for her picta fans and after many gruelling hours of begging and pleading, Chloe was back at the queen b’s side as her number 2. Chloe looks at the party-goers longingly, wishing she could join in on the fun but with Poppy in a sour mood tonight there’s no chance of that happening. After throwing away her remaining self worth to get back into the strawberry blonde’s good graces, she was not about to mess it up again by ditching her.

You hover at the front door of the frat house, self-conscious about being in the public eye after weeks of hiding since Poppy released that embarrassing hog calling video. Everywhere you went, you were met with stares, laughs and even a student or two who would mock you.

“Girl stop worrying” Zoey says reassuringly placing her hand on your shoulder, “everyone’s practically forgotten about the video.”

You glare at Zoey indignantly, and then roll your eyes, “no they haven’t. I mean yesterday someone literally sent hay to our dorm room. Maybe this was a bad idea.” You turn away from the door and begin walking away. Zoey chases after you, her hand firmly clasps your arm as she tugs you towards the door.

“Bea, pleaseeeee. Tonight is all about getting drunk and having fun. Please stay” She bats her eyelashes while giving you the puppy eyes treatment and your doubts start to dissipate.

You stand a little straighter, giving Zoey a resolute nod, “you’re right.” You begin mentally steeling yourself as you stare down the Alpha’s front door, which somehow looks way more intimidating than the first time you were here.

Zoey ushers you in through the front door where you are met by a half naked, unmistakably drunk, Ford who throws his arms around both you and Zoey, “looks who’s hereeee.” he takes a swig from the cup in his hand, “we were hoping you would come Bea.”

“Really?” you raise an questioning eyebrow at Ford who replies with an eager nod, pulling both you and Zoey into the living room. He motions at the dj who gives him a knowing nod, and the music suddenly changes and the sounds of your hog calling, which begins to echo throughout the entire frat house, evoking an assortment of reactions. All the students turn to look at you, humour written all over their faces while embarrassment is on yours. You look around the room and your gaze meets Poppy, whose lips quirk up, her eyes glimmering with amusement as she stares you down. You feel like you’re staring right at the face of the devil itself, and anger begins to flood through your body.

Zoey looks at you apologetically once the normal music resumes and she draws you into a hug, and mumbles an apology in your ear, “we can go if you want you.”

You eyes once again roam the room, most students once again indulging in the party while some gawk at you, finding the ordeal humorous. You mind drifts to Poppy and how infuriating she is, because this is all her fault. You shake out of your reverie and softly shake your head, “no.” Zoey raises a worried eyebrow at you, “I came here to get drunk so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” You both walk over to the keg, pouring yourself and Zoey some beer in some plastic red solo cups and drain the entire thing within seconds before refilling it.

“You might want to take it slow,” Zoey says, as she carefully sips her beer.

“Nope, I need to forget the last couple of weeks existed,” you raise the cup almost as if you're doing a toast before downing the rest of it. You sharply inhale as you feel the alcohol beginning to warm your body, and you feel yourself starting to feel more at ease. You’re about to pour yourself another cup until a familiar voice comes up behind you, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“I see the Alpha’s are doing their regular charity work by taking in a stray,” her voice crackles with detest as she looks you over, but you notice her eyes lingering on your body but you don’t blame her since the dress you’re wearing is doing wonders for your figure.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already used a line like that before Pops, don’t tell me you’re losing your touch already?” you give her a little smirk, her eyes glowering at the sound of the nickname you’ve given her but she brushes over it and returns a demonic smile.

“Hmm, maybe it’s because my point still stands. You don’t belong here. Maybe you’ll be better off on that farm of yours, getting down and dirty with the pigs than the frat boys.”

“You didn’t mind getting down and dirty with me a few weeks ago.” Chloe who’s standing behind Poppy gives a small gasp, while Zoey stares at you, mouth hanging open. Poppy however, stares at you, all sense of amusement wiped from her face as a fire begins to burn in her eyes.

Poppy turns her head slightly, speaking over her shoulder, “leave us now.” her voice commanding, and Chloe awkwardly migrates into the party. A few seconds later Poppy raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Zoey, “why are you still here new money? Did befriending Farmsville cause you to lose brain cells or something?” Zoey sputters and looks to, waiting for your answer.

“It’s okay Zo, go and enjoy the party. One of us should be able to without feeling like the air is being sucked out of the room.” Poppy lets out a small huff but Zoey obliges and walks but not before mouthing, “you and Poppy?”. You respond with a wink and then you’re left with the strawberry blonde who’s just staring daggers at you.

“Listen here you oversized gremlin” she takes a menacing step towards you, but you stand your ground no matter how much steam is coming out of her ears, “you weren’t even that good in bed so I wouldn’t get all high and mighty if I were you.”

“Funny, because I remember you screaming out my name.”

“Hmm, I remember you begging me to say yours.” she retorts, with less sass but her tone almost seductive. As the air between you intensifies, Poppy does something you would never expect, she looks away.

“So what’s her majesty doing in a place like this? You clearly aren’t having any fun?” You begin refilling your drink while Poppy’s face twists in disgust.

“You’re still talking to me?”

You roll your eyes, “Why are you always such an uptight bitch? Does it ever kill you to have some fun?”

“I have fun Farmsville. I’m just not a juvenile like you, finding entertainment in the most banal things.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just plain boredom, you’re not sure but something within you sparks a challenge as you raise an eyebrow at Poppy and say, “prove it.” Maybe Poppy’s feeling the same way as you, because her eyes mirror your exact feelings when she gives you a small grin.

“Okay Farmsville, but first I need a drink.” You lift up your cup towards Poppy who pushes it away with disgust, “no a real drink.”

As the party blazes on, Poppy leads you to a secret room within the Alpha house which is a replica of a bar, only smaller but you repress making a joke about how it’s a literal minibar.

Poppy reaches behind pulling out a bottle of tequila and looks at you with a devious glint in her eye. “Now we can have fun.” She takes out two glasses, pouring out a drink for you both, and you both quickly down the drink. You slightly wince as the tequila burns your throat but Poppy seems unaffected as she refills the glasses again.

“Damn,”

Poppy raises a cocky eyebrow at you, “bet you didn’t think I could hold my own Farmsville.”

“I’ll have to remember to not underestimate you.”

“You have a habit of underestimating me Farmsville, just know I will never back down” she runs a finger down your chest, and you sharply inhale as you gaze into her eyes. As the atmosphere intensifies you find yourself almost drowning in Poppy’s brown doe eyes, and you begin to slowly lean in, Poppy notices your expression and quickly lifts her glass blocking your face and drinks it all before setting the glass down hard. “You’re falling behind Farmsville.”

You quickly grab the other glass draining the contents before giving her a small grin, “please, I could literally drink you under the table.”

Without missing a beat Poppy retorts, “but could you drink off me on the table.” her voice commandeering with confidence. In the moments that follow, Poppy easily unzips her dress and slips out of it, before hopping up on the counter and reaching behind grabbing a lime wedge and a few salt packets. She eyes bore into yours as you helplessly appraise her body, your mind flashing back to the night you had sex with her, and how perfect her body felt against yours. How her nails dug into your back leaving red marks all over it, but the pleasure was too much for you to care about it. As your eyes travel back up Poppy’s body you reach her eyes, which are glimmering with humour. “So?” She lifts up a salt packet in her hand, “are we going to do this or are you too much of a coward?”

You step forward daringly, and take the salt packet from her hand before licking your own hand and sliding it down Poppy’s chest, the substance of your saliva sticking to it. You rip open the salt packet with your teeth, while maintaining eye contact and slowly guide the strawberry blonde’s body down the counter and empty out the contents of the packet onto her chest. Poppy lets out a giggle, her cheeks flushing red as she takes you in. You pour some of the tequila into her belly button and eagerly begin licking her chest, your tongue exploring the swell of her breasts. You hear some light gasps from Poppy as you kiss your way down to her belly button, your lips encircling it as you begin to suck the alcohol out of it. Once you’re done, you move your head up and begin looking for the lime wedge, your brows furrowed with confusion until Poppy opens her mouth and you see the lime wedge between her teeth.

You stare at Poppy before slowly moving down to her mouth and taking the wedge between your own teeth, your lips softly graze together before you tilt your head up, biting down harder on the lime squeezing out all of its juice. You laugh victoriously as Poppy sits up and begins to pull you down onto the counter.

“My turn.” She begins hastily unzipping your dress and pushes you down onto the counter, as you lie down she straddles your hips. She pours a glass and balances it on your chest. She licks her fore and middle finger before sliding it down your throat and pouring some salt onto it. She delicately places a lime wedge on your lips, your mouth opens slightly biting down on the peel. Poppy leans down and begins to run her tongue down your throat, her tongue caressing it as she licks up every grain of salt before moving down your chest. Her lips curl around the glass as she picks it up with her teeth, emptying its contents, plucking it out of her mouth and moving down to the lime wedge. As she slinks down, your eyes meet hers, as she takes in the lime and begins to bite down on it. While the peel is still in your mouth, she finishes the rest of it, slightly wincing by the time she's done. In that moment you look over at Poppy and her eyes glisten with want and her gaze lingers on your lips. You turn your head spitting out the rest of the wedge, grab the back of Poppy’s neck as your lips come crashing together in a passionate kiss. Her lips taste sour, hints of the lime juice and tequila remaining on them as you nibble on her bottom lip, eliciting a few high pitched moans from the queen b.

You stay attached at the lips, Poppy’s tongue invitingly tangling with yours, as you kiss her without restraint. Your hands slowly start to trail down her body resting on her hip. You’re about to flip the strawberry blonde over on the counter until the door abruptly opens and a gasp pulls you out of the moment. You look over to see Veronica, phone in hand as she ogles at the two of you.

Poppy pushes you away, jumping off the counter, “you better not be live streaming Lombardi” her voice quickly sobering up as she glares at the ombre-haired girl.

“I wasn’t and I’m going to leave. Have fun with whatever this is.” Veronica gestures between the two of you before slinking out of the room and as you get your bearings, you see Poppy already slipping her dress back on.

“So that’s it huh?”

Poppy doesn’t answer, her gaze averted from yours, she quickly zips up her dress, before running a hand through her silky hair and moves towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns towards you, “this was fun Farmsville. Maybe one day we’ll continue this in a more private manner.” She gives you a small wink and disappears, leaving you and your whirlwind of thoughts.

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc

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kaitycole · 3 years

Text

Black Dahila

Summary: Liam and Drake finally learn what happened when Constantine confronted Eleanor and Jackson about their affair.

Word Count: 3328

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Jackson x Eleanor, Jackson x Bianca

Warnings: Mentions of adultery, murder, illegitimate children

Song Choice: n/a

Part 19 of WP. To catch up, read here.

It’s not until he goes to sit down and catches a glare from Bastien that it finally hits Jackson why his former mentee is here and he makes sure to grab Luke’s arm when he goes to sit down.

Liam sits down in the arm chair that is close to the sliding glass doors he assumes leads to the backyard. He scrunches up his brows when notices Jackson’s hesitant to sit down. It has been three years since he took the throne and the weight of his title still hasn’t fully clicked with him.

“Oh no, please sit. I’m not here as King, this is your home after all.”

Jackson nods, slightly embarrassed before he lets go of Luke who sits on the left end of the couch closest to Liam and Jackson sits in his usual chair, one that is across from Liam.

“It seems a lot has changed in Cordonia.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, the atmosphere starts to feel heavy, like all the weight was resting on his shoulders.

“Leo abdicated for love, truly pulling an Edward VIII. Olivia had a lot to say about that.”

“How is Olivia?”

“She told me not to even bother to come here.” “Sounds like her. And Lythikos?” “She rules with a silver dagger, the people love it, the suitors not so much.” Jackson lets out a laugh and Liam feels himself untense for the first time since they pulled back in front of the ranch. It startles him at first, the fact that he could feel almost comfortable with the one person he wanted to set on fire. But it is truly rare that he gets a moment to just chat with someone.

“The Beaumont brothers, how are they? Bertrand married to some insufferable noble woman yet?”

Liam and Bastien share a brief exchange before the corners of Liam’s lips threatens to twitch into a smirk. “You’d honestly be surprised at who he married. He even has a son.”

“Poor woman.” Jackson jokes which gets Bastien to crack a smile.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Liam stands up, holding up his ringing phone before walking out the glass doors behind him.

“I don’t suppose we could share a drink and talk about the old days, could we?”

“I am on the clock.” Bastien continues to look straight ahead, trying to simply just avoid his old mentor. His first concern is Liam, next would Drake, then maybe once they were back in Cordonia could he worry about his own feelings on the matter.

To say Bastien is hurt would be a gross understatement, he is angry, pissed the fuck off and devasted that the man who taught him what he knew didn’t feel the need to clue him in on what happened. The fact that he had spent most of his life raising Drake and Savannah like his own because of how much he owned Jackson all while pushing down the grief and guilt he felt over their alleged deaths.

“How is that if Liam isn’t here on King’s business?”

He finally lets his eyes flick over to the man he used to look up to, keeping his face emotionless. “My job is to protect the King regardless of the business matter. You should know that or have you forgotten the duties you had sworn to uphold?”

“That was Drake, he’s almost here.” Liam walks back into the house, unintentionally interrupting their conversations. Bastien just nods, his glance refocusing on the wall in front of him, eyes scanning across the family photos lined up on the mantle.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Eleanor’s idea to have so many photographs taken, she was like that when she married Constantine. Even before Liam was born, she had pictures taken of them with Leo, of Leo through the years and once Liam was born, even more were taken. She made sure Olivia was included in the family pictures they took, even if the official royal family photo didn’t have her in it, she still kept the ones with her in her personal photo albums. Bastien makes a mental note to have the servants look for them when he returns so that Liam will have them if he wants to see them.

* * “Luke, why don’t you go bring the cattle back in?”

Drake arrived just moments ago, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch to Luke, meaning he’s closest to Jackson. Liam asked to hear Jackson’s version of Eleanor’s pregnancy which prompted Jackson to basically ask Luke to leave.

“This involves me too. I’m staying.”

“We can talk about this later, Luke.”

The young man simply crosses his arms, shaking his head. He wasn’t going anywhere, after everything he’s learned over such a short amount of time, he honestly didn’t trust his dad to tell him the same details he gave his older brothers.

“I’m old enough to know. You will literally be talking about me, I’m staying.”

“I really don’t see any problem with Luke being present. He must have questions just like the rest of us.” Liam’s regal tone comes out, while Drake is used to it, the other Walkers look at him amazed. A small smile curls the left side of Jackson’s lips, he could see so much of Eleanor in him.

* * With shaking hands, she pulls the tests out of her pocket and hands them to him; she had taken four of them. He looks at them, unsure of how to act and he feels himself unable to breathe. The unsureness of what this meant left him with a mixture of fear and unease.

“Please say something.” She pleas, tears swelling in her eyes.

“Congratulations.”

She reaches out for his arm, the plastic tests clattering against the floor as she drops them, throwing herself into his chest, “it’s yours.”

Jackson stumbles backwards, the reality crashes into him like a strong wave, leaving him breathless and fearful for another. The question on his tongue leaves a bitter taste, knowing that the words will hurt her, wondering if she’ll react the same way Bianca did when he asked her a very similar question.

“Are you sure?”

The Queen pulls away, her expression resembling a wounded puppy whose owner just pushed it away. She sucks in her bottom lip, eyes filling with even bigger tears as she bites down on her quivering lip. She lets out a shaky breath, nodding repeatedly before she turns and walks away, leaving him and the pregnancy tests behind her.

Liam stands up, anger radiating off of him which Drake quickly picks up on, standing up as well. “I’m sorry, did you really question my mother?”

“Liam…” Drake steps forwards, hands reaching out, trying to calm his best friend.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you act as though she was just some common mistress.”

Drake’s hands are on Liam’s shoulders, pushing him backwards even though he knows Liam can easily push him out of the way. He quickly looks towards Bastien who is watching, but not moving, honestly, he’d be completely fine if Liam beat Jackson to a pulp. He was completely surprised at Drake’s behavior, growing up he would throw a right hook without hesitation and for a lot less than everything Jackson’s done over the years.

“I know what it seems, but you have to…”

“I don’t have to do shit.” Liam pushes Drake off of him, sitting back down in his chair. “She risked her life, her family, everything for you and you dared to treat her that way.”

The room quiets, no one saying anything or even moving, the tension can easily be felt. Liam feels torn, torn between saying fuck it and leaving, returning to Cordonia as if none of this ever happened, but also wanting to know more about the events that led to his mother’s behavior. Drake is torn between his dad and his best friend and Jackson is torn between doing the right thing and telling the events for what they are or saving face with at least Luke.

“Would you like to call it a day, Sir?” Bastien takes a step closer to Liam.

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t continue to drag this or the trip out.”

* * Eleanor’s stomach drops, it isn’t uncommon for Constantine to have a guardsman summon her to his office, but something feels off. The last time she had even spoken to her husband was roughly two weeks ago, the day that he picked up on her sour candy craving. She has managed to stay holed up in her suite which wasn’t too bad seeing how her morning sickness was horrific this time around.

Jackson’s nerves twist even tighter when he sees Eleanor walking towards him, seemingly going in the same direction. He had been at home when Novak came to get him, telling him the King needed to see him immediately. For the last several days he’s tried to see the Queen, to apologize, but based off the maid gossip she had locked herself in the Queen’s suite, not even letting Liam in to see her. He tries to make eye contact with her, wants to try to give her a soft, comforting smile, but her eyes stay locked on the tips of her shoes.

Novak is standing outside the King’s office, opening the door when they both get close enough, a small bow for Eleanor and Jackson suddenly understands why he’s been called when Novak’s gaze avoids his.

The scene in the office isn’t reassuring for either Eleanor or Jackson, Constantine is standing with his back to the door and Timothy is standing to the right side of the King’s desk. Jackson can see something on the desk but he can’t make out what it is.

He turns around, sitting slightly on the edge of his desk, looking at both of them, a stone-cold expression in his eyes. Constantine stares at his wife, trying to or more like hoping that she will give him some reason to forgive her. He wants to be wrong, he wants things to go the way that they should. He wants to be told that he’s just been overthinking and connecting invisible dots, but when all signs point one way, it’s hard to go towards the other.

“How long have you been two sneaking around?” “Constantine, I…”

“I think it’s important to remind you that I already know the answers to the questions I plan on asking, there’s really no reason to lie at this point.” His words are often chilling, but the coldness of his words sinks deep into their bones, a shiver creeps down their spines.

“Over a year.” Eleanor wraps her arms around herself, trying to calm down her racing heart that’s lodging its way in her throat.

“And this?” He holds up the pregnancy tests, tossing them to the ground between them. The thin white plastic tests clatter against the floor, bouncing a bit on impact. It had been reported to him that a maid found a few tests in the guardsman suite not to mention there were some found in the Queen’s bathroom.

“Three or so months.”

Constantine’s stomach drops, but he doesn’t weaver from his stoic nature. He couldn’t exactly calculate when she could’ve gotten pregnant, but he could be for sure that she was in no way carrying an heir. But even with this reveal, he had already known that, just not really wanting to accept it. Accept the fact that he’ll most likely go down in history as the king that lost two wives.

“But there’s a chan—”

The King starts laughing, amazed at just how far his wife is willing to go to try to save her lover. She has to know that he wouldn’t have called them both there if he didn’t have all the evidence that he needed.

“These prove that to be a lie.” He grabs the thick envelope off the desk, walking closer to Eleanor, who tightens her grip around herself. “Or do you need a reminder?”

She lets out a gasp at the explicit nature of the photographs of her and Jackson, face turning red from embarrassment that her husband had seen them. It’s the first time since the pair had returned from Valtoria that she felt shameful of her actions, curious as to how he actually felt at her betrayal but scared of what his plan was.

“What’s going to happen?”

Constantine walks to his desk, sitting in the thick leather chair before swirling it around to face them, a sinister look on his face. He wants to laugh, the fact his wife cheated on him with a man that hasn’t even tried to take some of the blame baffled him. Even when Liana had left, when he knew he had nothing to do with her choice, he still carried the burden of blame because to him, a real man wouldn’t be able to tolerate the woman he loves name being tarnish in any way.

“Despite the obviousness of the paternity, I had an appointment made for you under Ellie Rhys, your two highest maids will help you disguise yourself.”

Eleanor just nods, what more can she do, she’s already done enough. Jackson still hasn’t said anything, if he was honest, he hasn’t thought much of the fact Eleanor had told him she was pregnant. He doesn’t want to think that it could be his because it means that everything will come to the surface and he isn’t ready for that. He’s not ready to own up to what he’s done, for all the damage that will be the result of his selfish actions.

** The week’s wait is dreadful for Eleanor, especially on top of her hellish morning sickness and practically nonexistent energy level. Towards the end of the week she’s surprised to see Constantine slip into her room, asking how she’s feeling. But when she tries to reach out, to get him to really look at her, he excuses himself, his only warmth being given to the unborn child.

She’s summoned to his office just a couple days later, this time without Jackson which has her completely worried, but he assures her that he just wanted to speak with her privately first. He has Timothy hand her the sealed envelope from the doctor’s office, telling her it was addressed to her not him so he didn’t open it.

He doesn’t have to ask for her the results, he can read it on her face and while he had a strong feeling it wasn’t his, a teeny piece of him had thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, but receives no sympathy from him, his expression as icy as ever. He waves Timothy who goes to the door and lets Jackson into the office.

“You two are to leave the country, actually this side of the Atlantic. What’s that things Americans wanted?” Constantine snaps his fingers as if that gesture would trigger his memory, “ah yes, a white picket fence. Surely you two could have that ideal now.”

She sniffs, wiping a few tears from her cheeks. “What am I going to tell Liam?” “Nothing, he’ll think you died, a pretty standard death of a noble when there’s a coup.”

“A coup?” Jackson finally speaks up, much to the royal couple’s surprise.

“Ah, yes.” Constantine taps his chin before looking at Timothy, “care to explain.” “Yes, Sir.” Timothy nods before turning back to Eleanor and Jackson, proceeding to go into detail about how things will happen. That they’ve been investigating a radical group called ‘la Force de Pert’ and staging a coup, under their name, could help them take action against them.

He tells them that an announcement will be made that says the Queen was taken hostage by the group and Jackson made the heroic decision to go rescue her without backup. That night after the media left, the two of them would be escorted to a private airport where they’d be taken somewhere in America, free to live their lives however they please.

Timothy makes sure to emphasis what the King has just said, that they are never to return back to Cordonia or anywhere in Europe for that matter. That the fifty states that America has to offer should be big enough for them, even the US territories were up for grabs, but once they landed, they weren’t to cross any ocean for any reason. They weren’t to talk about their prior stations, anything related to Cordonia, the two of them were to simply fall off the face of the earth.

“You expect me to just leave Liam? Leave him here with you?” Her voice breaks, she tries to understand what is being said but the only thing she can think of is her son. “I won’t, I’m taking him with me.”

Constantine chuckles, pushing himself out of the chair, slowly striding towards Eleanor, his hand cupping her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It’s almost cute how someone in your position thinks you can tell me how things are going to happen.”

“Please, Constantine.” Her lip starts to quiver, but he tightens his grip on her face.

“You have no room to make demands.” He drops her face, turning to go back to his desk.

“I’ll just come back and take him! You will NOT keep him from me!”

“If you step foot on this side of the Atlantic,” he stops, turning around on his heel, “I will have him killed.”

There’s a heavy silence that drops over the room, it’s almost smothering as Eleanor tries to catch her breath. Tears cover her cheeks, shaking her head, trying to understand his callousness, how he could threaten his own flesh and blood.

“You wouldn’t! He’s a prince of this country!”

“He is the SPARE!” His voice booms throughout the room, causing her to flinch, his ice-cold tone ripping through her.

“Constan—” Jackson stops when he sees the bewildered expression on the King’s face.

“You may be on personal terms with the Queen, but I assure you that we are not.” He sits back down behind his desk, “I should hope you also know the same sentiment goes for your children, if you try to return.”

Jackson just nods and Eleanor looks at him horrified, confused as to how he could willingly agree to this, agree to give up his children so easily.

“Don’t look so down Ellie, it’s honorable for a guardsman to die a hero, isn’t that right, Jackson?”

“I can’t just leave my son, Constantine. You can’t ask me to do that!” Eleanor cries out, unable to stop herself from falling to her knees.

“You’re right, I’m not asking, I’m telling.” He leans back in his chair, “but are you even thinking about Liam when you shout things like that?”

She looks up at him, tears still blurring her vision, a broken expression on her face, “of course I am.”

“Tsk.” Constantine shakes his head, “think about it. If you came back for him, you’d basically be telling him that your bastard baby is more important than him. If Liam really mattered to you, you wouldn’t have put yourself in this situation to begin with, you didn’t think that I’d find out and just let it continue in the palace, did you?”

“What about Drake and Savannah?” Jackson quickly asks.

“Ah, yes. Bianca will receive a sizable compensation for her loss so they will be taken care of. They will be more than welcomed to stay at the cabin, as long as they don’t threaten Liam’s reputation.”

“Excuse me?”

“Although he is the spare, Liam has an important role to fulfill as prince. It doesn’t look good for people of his station to be involved with those with yours. Just look at the predicament at hand.”

#choices #the royal romance #witness protection #witness protection au fic #trr liam rys #trr drake walker #trr constantine rys #trr jackson walker #trr eleanor rys #oc luke walker

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mrs-geuse · 4 years

Text

Jealousy - Hank Anderson x Reader

Re-posting because Tumblr didn’t let it show up in the tags...

Anonymous requested: “Can you please write some jealous!hank x reader? Or some Hank x pregnant!reader fluff?”

(I tried to keep this as gender neutral as I could, sorry if there are mistakes!)

Warnings: Language, alcohol use.

Hank Anderson should not be one to judge about public intoxication – and he was not judging. He was worried. This was so not like you.

Connor had been the one you called and that stung. He tried his best to swallow down that jealousy, he really did, but he was so hopeful to come in and play the hero for you. There was something about you that just made him want to play protector, but he knew you’d hate that.

Yet you still called Connor when you got drunk tonight and it was obviously not a call to Hank. Whatever the Hell that meant. What you and Connor had was a friendship and he needed to let that go.

“Hank, they’re at Crazy Matt’s,” Connor’s voice interrupted him as he grabbed his keys from his desk, shouldered on his coat.

“Glad they answered for you,” was Hank’s only response.

“That didn’t happen. Location services are still on their phone. I…noticed from the social media post that was made.”

“Great detective work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go get my ass handed to me by your bff.”

Connor had a date tonight and Hank couldn’t help but wonder if your outburst was due to that little fact. Naturally, Hank’s only date was with a bottle when he got home so Connor called in a favor. Of course, he was glad to do it – the three of you were pretty inseparable after you’d met.

So here he was speeding toward Crazy Matt’s to pick you up. Too fuckin’ bad, you didn’t want company. Pain in the ass…

In the small parking lot, he noticed your car wasn’t there and he was instantly cussing because – damn it – if you dipped to another bar, he was going to have to chase you around this city all fuckin’ night.

He slammed the car door harder than necessary and stormed his way toward the entrance. Crazy Matt’s was a pretty seedy place and he hated that you went there. Apparently, you knew the owner or some shit.

Eyes scanning around the bar, he grumbled to himself.

“Can I get ya somethin’?” the dark-haired man behind the counter greeted him.

Hank ignored his interest in what was on tap. “Do you know Y/N?”

The idiot let his expression change, yet responded, “Who wants to know?”

“Look, it’s been a long night, and I’m a friend,” the term stung something in him and the thought he’d like to drown in alcohol. “I just need to know they’re okay.”

He nodded. “Saw them go out back a few minutes ago. Left their drink so I’m sure they’ll be back.”

Hank tapped the bar, nodding in thanks as he glanced at what you’d been drinking.

There was a lot to be said about Hank, but he was not a patient man. A few seconds and he was back outside, glancing down the side alley.

What, had you gone to hook up with somebody? Fuckin’ a…

The sight shocked him.

“Y/N!?” he jogged over because it was all he could muster.

You stopped momentarily, looking breathless and disheveled and…damn it, alluring. But his eyes were instantly on your bleeding knees.

“What the fuck happened?” he almost pulled out his gun just in case something was amiss.

You waved him off, patting him on the shoulder and he stilled at the touch. “Guess I’m not great at running while inebriated,” you answered simply.

“And you were running because…?” during his question, you held his shoulder, balancing so you can pull off your shoe and get the gravel out.

He wanted to wrap his arms around you but instead he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Some jackass stole my wallet,” you waved it in front of you, clearly having gotten it back. You weren’t too flustered but the blood was dripping down your knees and it kinda stung.

You stumbled a little when getting the shoe back on and he was forced to hold you upright, your shirt having slid up just the slightest and his thumb pressed against your bare skin. Hank inhaled sharply, moving his finger as soon as he noticed.

“I’m taking you home,” he responded gruffly.

“Fuck off,” you pushed your hand against his chest but it did nothing to move the big man. “I’m not going home.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’re bleedin’ all over the place. I’m leaving and you’re coming with me.”

“No,” you pulled from his grasp, stumbled a little, still feeling your drinks. He caught you and his grip was surprisingly soft considering his voice was gruff. “Hank,” you muttered, grabbing onto his jacket and sliding your hands up to the collar. You watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard. “I’m going in to finish my drink.”

“The drink on the bar?” he managed to question. At that, you nodded. “Yeah, no you’re not.”

“Hank!” you were about to debate with him when he interrupted you.

“-Be pretty stupid ‘a you to leave a drink unoccupied for so long then down it. You know better than that.”

You smiled at that; glad he wasn’t arguing with you for once.

“Then buy me another one, Lieutenant. Let’s enjoy the night.”

Your tone of voice stirred something in Hank and he struggled to speak something coherent for a moment, his mind traveling to some impure thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.”

•••

Hank needed a drink, but didn’t expect to have one at a seedy bar tonight. He’d bought a bottle and was ready to tell everyone else to fuck off on this Friday night, but the change of plan wasn’t terrible.

The anxiety he felt at the moment was overwhelming. It wasn’t often that the two of you were alone, Connor playing a big part in the times you spent together and you both were very aware of that. But you’d become fast acquaintances and he’d grown to enjoy your company.

“Thought you were goin’ to clean up,” he nodded at you as you stayed right beside him at the bar.

“Eh, sure, I will. They got a deal goin’ on tonight,” you wriggled your eyebrows.

“Oh yeah?”

“Two shots for the price ‘a one.”

“Shots?” he repeated.

“Yeah. So…you’re my whiskey guy, aren’t ya?” you nodded at the bartender and ordered some.

“Christ…” he muttered, wiping a hand down his beard.

“Aw, come on, Hank, I know you’re always drinking alone. Live a little,” you gripped onto his jacket again, looking up at him with those eyes and, fuck, was he done for.

“Fine,” he grunted when the glasses come. You clinked the glass with him, smirked, then both slammed back two shots.

The burn was so welcomed right now, he needed something to rid his clouded mind.

“How about you get us another drink?” you sauntered off to the bathroom to wipe off your bloody legs.

And, fuck, what was he doing? He knew you and Connor would go out sometimes, knew the boy wonder didn’t drink with you and you’d sometimes make a comment that Hank should join. He avoided it. Because it was you. Because he knew what he would be like with alcohol around you and, damn it, he couldn’t let his guard down because he’d end up saying something stupid and chasing you off and the three of you would stop spending time together. Not to mention you’d end up doing just what you did tonight – calling Connor over him.

By the time he watched you wander back out of the bathroom, he was halfway done with his drink and had ordered another.

That Matt guy had stopped you and you were chatting with him, laughing at something he said. He knew you two knew each other, but how well and…well, how? Guy seemed kinda seedy, just like the bar.

Not to mention, he started touching you – hand on your shoulder, the two of you started walking toward the bar – and he slung his arm around your neck, kissed your temple, smiling the whole time.

You didn’t seem to mind, but that made Hank mind even more. What the Hell was he doing here? He’d told Connor he would come pick you up, not sit here and watch you find someone to hook up with.

Only you found the table he’d grabbed for you, came back with another round of shots.

“On the house, apparently,” you shrugged. He took one. “Oh, no, you get both. Any more, I’ll be on the floor.”

Hank could handle his booze pretty well, sure. Only he hadn’t really eaten today and the speed that the two of you were drinking…he was buzzed already.

“I need food,” you voiced, reading his mind. “Split a burger and fries with me?”

Hank swallowed back the last shot. “Sure, yeah.” You grabbed a waitress, ordered something. He felt a little loose, a little less anxious. “So, Connor’s date tonight…”

You smiled. “Oh, yeah, how do you think that’s gonna go?”

He’d meant to cast that line, hook you in, pick your brain, but you gave him no indication of discomfort.

“You first.”

You sipped your drink. “I think it’s good he’s getting out there. Proud of him for acting on his feelings, yanno?”

Hank nodded at that, contemplative. “You have anything to do with him finding the courage to ask them out?” That would tell him…

You smiled shyly. “Perhaps. Why, Lieutenant, did you miss your opportunity?”

Hank chuckled at that. “Fuck no. Plastic prick…” he trailed off. “So, what’s got you all fucked up tonight?” he blurted and then, “shit, I’m sorry. That, uh, that voicemail to Connor…”

You were surprised by that, though you knew he was blunt. “No, it’s fine. I…just long week. Stupid shit at work, tired of biting my tongue when people wrong me. Just…felt like I needed a night to be in my feelings.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just really fucking dull, aren’t I?”

“Hank…why…” you looked concerned for a second. “why do you say that?”

Maybe it was the shots talking or the kindness you showed him, but he admitted, “Thought you…maybe had feelings for the kid.”

“What!?” you almost spit out your drink. “Hank, he…he’s like a brother to me, that’s pretty fucked.” You laughed and he was glad he hadn’t pissed you off, seen your fire. He knew it was there.

“Ah, I’m fucked so don’t act too surprised.” He downed the rest of his drink.

“Cheers to that,” you clinked your glass with his and drank.

“You come here often?”

“What is that, some shitty pickup line?” you laughed and he noticed your eyes flash to his mouth.

“Well, no, just…curious. What’s up with the owner?” he couldn’t help but ask.

You leveled your gaze with his. “Hank,” you started to which he hummed, acted casual. “I’m sensing a pattern here. You worried? Competition?”

“Wh-what?”

You winked at him. “You got nothin’ to worry about, old man. We just gotta leave before…” you glanced at the bar, expression changing.

“Before…?” his slightly-more-than-buzzed mind was slow to the take, that and the flirtatious air about the conversation was giving him some ideas, stirrings in his gut…

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?” you mumbled with a sigh. “They…uh…do this thing…” you started looking under the table and Hank was slow to the take, pressing his arm over his lap as your eyes scanned down there.

“What the fuck?” he felt his cheeks heating up. “Y/N?” Seconds later, you pulled a pink sticker out from under the table. “What the fuck?” he repeated.

“Oh, God…”

A voice came over the loud speaker by the karaoke setup, announcing, “You know what time it is, folks. If I could please have everyone look under their tables for a sticker…” the announcer gave the crowd a second and people around them followed instructions. “Here at Crazy Matt’s every Friday at 8 we do a nice little ice breaker. Hold your stickers high if you’re one of the five lucky tables.”

Y/N sat perfectly still and Hank felt a sense of dread but also…some excitement. You kept looking a little lusty toward him. A waitress was coming by each sticker table and dropping off some salt and limes and vodka…

Oh, shit…

“Don’t be shy, Y/N,” a voice called. Matt, the owner, walked over. “Soon as I saw your friend here sit down, I knew it was gonna be a show…come on, partake. Live a little. On the house.”

“Y/N?” Hank asked tentatively. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Body shots,” Matt answered instantly. “Every Friday at 8, we treat our guests – if they sit at the right table. Little ice breaker, some free shots, good company…” he eyed Y/N. “I’ll gladly take your place if you’re…”

“No,” Hank found himself answering instantly, to your surprise. The thought of him licking salt off your body, drinking a shot off your skin…Hank had enough of this jealousy bullshit but he was not going to sit idly by.

Matt raised his hands up, nodded, walked away as the waitress dropped the supplies off.

“Hank, you don’t have to…”

“Nah,” he waved it off. “I…why the fuck not? Live a little, right?” he quoted that asshole, was for sure pretty far gone to be agreeing to this, his heart pounding harshly in his chest.

The announcer talked them through the steps as the waitresses cleared off the tables. When was the last fuckin’ time he’d done somethin’ like this?

You looked tentative as the waitress took your hand, helping you up on the table. Hank looked at you, gazed at your body as you laid back, tried to keep his mind focused on something else and not how you looked sprawled out in front of him. The alcohol let his mind wander. And then your hand halted the waitress and Hank’s mind cleared.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Hank, you are not drinking a shot out of my bellybutton,” you laughed, glancing around at the other customers doing just that. He didn’t know how to respond so he just stood there looking stupid, feeling stupid for agreeing to this if you were just gonna back out. Fuck, he put himself out there just for you to turn his ass down… You grabbed the salt shaker and looked up at him. “Well? How do you think that salt’s gonna stick, Lieutenant?”

It took him a second to register, but he nodded, grabbing the shot glass the waitress brought over. Slowly, he watched you lift your shirt, saw the exposed skin, almost groaned. You handed him the salt shaker and watched with eager eyes as he dipped his head down toward you. The sensation of his facial hair registered first and then his soft lips pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your abdomen. You inhaled sharply at the sensation, biting your lower lip.

Your fingers almost forgot to fumble for the plate of limes, but you managed to as soon as he started sprinkling the salt on you and then his mouth was back to lick it off your skin. You moaned against the lime in your mouth, unable to hold back.

Hank smirked a little, stood up, took the shot. As he swallowed, he leaned down to get the lime, his mouth lingering over yours before biting into the thing, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Annnd switch!” came the announcer’s voice before Hank was even done.

He pulled back quickly, stood straight, pulled the lime from his mouth, then helped you back off the table.

“I, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“My turn,” you chuckled, stepping close to him, pressed your hands to his belly.

“I am not showin’ my shit in here,” he stopped the trail of your hands toward the hem of his shirt.

You shrugged. “Suit yourself,” and instead moved your hands to his collar, pulling it down slightly.

Before Hank knew it, he felt your lips on his neck, tracing your tongue over the sensitive skin, nipping a bit.

“Fuck…” he mumbled, completely aroused at that point.

You sprinkled the salt on the spot then inched up to put your mouth back, flat tongue lapping it up. It ended before he wanted it to and his half-lidded gaze watched as you slammed back the shot.

Fuck.

He grabbed the lime, put it in his mouth, felt like a complete idiot. When he turned back to you, he felt your hands grip on the back of his head, dipped to meet your lips, stopped himself from grinding his body against yours at this close proximity.

Your lips were on his, no shame, no ghosting like he’d done, full-on around the lime, kiss…

You bit the fruit, pulled it from his mouth, tossed it on the plate at the table, then pulled him back in for another kiss.

Hank felt like the floodgates had opened. Fuck, had he thought about what it would be like to kiss you…

His fingers gripped at your hips, pulled you into him, mistakenly let you feel his erection.

“Hank…” you pulled back from the kiss, traced your hands down his torso.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Your order,” came a voice and, go figure, it was that Matt guy holding their burger and fries. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

And there it was, perfect timing for you to pull away from him, slap him, call him a pervert for getting so worked up over this…

“Can we get that to go?” you asked Matt and Hank couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded.

“Uh…yeah…I…yeah,” Matt scurried off.

“Too much?” you asked, gnawing at your lower lip.

Hank felt like his jaw was on the floor still. “I mean, this…you…”

“I’m done being in my feelings, Hank, so I’ll be very forward: I want you. This ends one of two ways tonight and both of them I need to leave.”

Hank felt bold for once tonight. “What are the options?” his voice was deeper, laced with flirtation, arousal. He stepped closer to you to hide his erection in case someone was looking.

“Either I go home alone, cold shower, play with myself to get you off my mind…or you take me home, we eat this together, and see where the night takes us.”

Hank never thought he’d leave half-empty drinks at a bar but on this occasion, he gladly raced out with you in tow: dinner in a to-go box, whiskey half-drunk next to the tip on the table.

So maybe you weren’t lying – you weren’t into Connor after all…

#hank anderson #hank anderson x reader #detroit become human reader insert #detroit become human #hank anderson reader #hank anderson reader insert #clancy brown #detroit become human x reader

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

The Three Words to Remember in Dealing with the End

I’m trying something new y’all, this is a third person POV because I want you to unveil the actions at the same pace as Jason and not MC/reader. I absolutely loved writing this, so hopefully I did it right and you will enjoy this adventure like I did!

ps: this isn’t something fun or light hearted, it might be triggering for some people. if you are in a fragile mindset right now (especially with everything that’s happening right now), maybe it would be best to save it for later. Please take care of yourselves xx

Masterlist in bio/pinned

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader (ish)

Word count: 5060

Warnings: death (major theme), language

Summary: Jason finds something deeply unsettling during a not so typical night in Gotham (I’m not saying more y’all, read and find out).

It had been a strange night for Jason. Things had been quiet, not too quiet to become suspicious, but enough to underwhelm him at an unsettling level. Everything from the gloomy, yellow-ish night sky above him to his tensed muscles screamed trouble--and his instincts were rarely wrong--but there was nothing big happening. He was almost tempted to pick a fight with the wrong person just for the sake of it, just to shake off this nagging feeling that serious shit was about to blow in his face. Although starting beef again with Sionis would be quite entertaining, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with another tantrum from the eccentric man on the longer term.

So instead, he kicked the door from the building’s roof on which he was hanging around and half heartedly climbed down the stairs. Plastic tarps were flapping around in his face like badly designed Halloween ghosts, and the wind in the half constructed walls were whispering unintelligible songs in his ears. That specific construction site had been abandoned as the recurrent vandalism had weighed the construction costs into the negative, making the company leaving it behind completely as a rotting proof the poorer Gotham neighborhoods were no longer a concern to city hall. Jason thought about the community center that had been bulldozed down to make room for the apartment complex, leaving dozens if not hundreds of children and teenagers without an after school hangout place, and it made him sigh. Now the cheap carcass served to shelter squatters, or well, him when he needed a hideout in between safe houses.

The building in itself wasn’t very high like the skyscrapers one could find in the diamond district, it was rather on par with the rest of the apartment complexes around. From a distance, you couldn’t even differentiate it from the rest. Cheap, smog stained concrete looked the same whether or not it was a finished product. The aesthetics wasn’t something developers around here were aiming for, nor were the resident seeking lodging. Low income neighborhoods didn’t get to benefit from trendy landscaping. But the city didn’t really care about that, they claimed nobody really came around here anyway, like poor people weren’t people in the first place. But Jason knew, and every day he resented those officials on the city council a little bit more.

A thud coming from the floor he had just passed made him halt his descent, his ears strained to try and catch some more noise. He waited a few seconds, and concluded it must have been a squatter tripping and falling on the floor when no other sound followed. But he hadn’t taken a full step down that a loud and clear cry for help bounced on the unfinished plaster on the walls. Without much more thinking, he turned around and climbed back up the five steps he had already taken, going straight for the origin of the sound. He was about to round the corner of a threshold when he bumped into a frantic young woman, her eyes wide and terrified.

“Please help!” She cried, gripping the sleeves of his leather jacket like it was a lifeline. She had an angry, scabbed rope mark on her neck and bruises the size of fingerprints around. “Somebody’s after me, he tried to strangle me!”

Well, that was a new one. Usually, there would be little punks making graffiti or trying to steal material from the structure, petty non-violent crimes like that, but he had never seen homicide, especially not since he started coming around. Nevertheless, he gently pushed the woman aside and pulled out his gun, ready to investigate.

“Stay close” He said, and she nodded vigorously. He carefully walked inside the room, analysing his surroundings for any thread or hostile individual. The floor creaked lightly under his boots, making the woman jump every other second. However, his search eventually came up empty, so he clicked the safety of his gun back on and slid it back in his thigh holster. He faced the girl and shrugged. “If there was anyone here, he’s long gone”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah” He replied. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m not sure” She flinched, still visibly. “To either questions, to be honest. All I remember was seeing this blurred figure grab my head and slam it on the floor, then his hands were around my neck… And I woke up, and there we are”

“Do you have any idea who did this?”

“No really” She rubbed her temples. “I was grabbed on my way back from work and dragged in here. I know it was a man, but he was masked”

“Damn” He muttered, looking around. There wasn’t much left to do now, beside making sure that woman got home safely. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Do you have somewhere safe to go?”

“Yeah, I have an apartment a few blocks away” She nodded timidly.

They climbed down the stairs, Jason following a pace behind her. She was recoiled on herself, her eyes darting from one place to another like she was expecting to be jumped at any time now. She was shivering from the harsh wind, clearly not dressed for one of Gotham’s cold September nights. He thought she was lucky to have fallen onto him and not someone with ill intentions. The people coming here usually left each other alone, but with the lady’s assailant on the loose, he wouldn’t be so trusting of everyone’s intentions around here.

“Here, we’re almost out” He said as the front door came into view. She sighed in relief as she took the last step down and closed the distance with the door. She reached for the handle, pulled, but nothing moved. She then tried to push, but it didn’t move any more.

“I-It’s like it’s locked” She stuttered in disbelief.

“Let me try” Jason stepped forward, pushing and pulling the door like she did before. Strange, that door was never, ever locked. He then tried to pick it, even break it, to no avail. The door simply wouldn’t open. He huffed and took a step back, thinking. “Let’s try the backdoor”

The pair moved through the ground floor, passing in front of a few empty sleeping bags on the way. Jason went straight for the small door, only to be met with the same problem.

“Alright, you wanna play this game?” He muttered harshly, pulling out his gun and aiming at the handle. He fired a shot, but the bullet bounced right back on his red helmet. “Son of a bitch!”

He muttered a few more curses before kicking the stubborn door in frustration, then turned to the woman.

“Well, somebody doesn’t want us to leave '' He stated with bitter humour. “Maybe your wannabe killer is still around, after all”

“Oh god” She gasped, her chest suddenly heaving quickly. She was having a panic attack. “We’re trapped. We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”

“Hey, hey” He tried to reassure her, an uncertain hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let him get near you. He certainly didn’t plan on having me around, so he’ll stay away if he knows what’s good for him. We’ll find a way out”

She bent over, hands on her knees, and shut her eyes tight, focusing on her breathing until it somewhat calmed down. She then nodded slowly, standing straighter again. “O-okay”

“You sure?”

She took a deep breath and nodded again.

“Alright…” He drawled out, looking at her for a second more to be sure she was actually okay. “Let’s go around and see if there’s anyone in here tonight, and if they have seen anything”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” She eyed him with uncertainty. “...He could be out there”

“Then it’s his mistake” He shrugged. “Come on”

Like earlier, she followed closely behind him as he checked each floor in detail. He came across a few homeless people he had seen around before, none of which could ever commit murder, or attempt to for that matter. He saw it in their eyes, they were harmless. They had been on the second floor, the only one which seemed inhabited at all that night. The third floor came up empty as well, so Jason didn’t waste time there either. However, he was a little more careful on the fourth. It was where he had found the girl, so there was a slight chance the assaulter might still be hanging around there. He began with the first apartment on the left, then the one on the right he initially searched. He paid specific attention to any detail he might find; hair, cloth, blood splatter, anything. He was crouched over a suspicious stain when he heard it.

A deafening scream.

In less than a second, he was on his feet and through the threshold of an adjacent room, only to come face to face with a decaying corpse. The woman was staring with horror like she was in a trance, a hand covering her mouth to either hold back any more screams or her own vomit. Probably both, Jason thought.

“That definitely complicates things now” He hummed.

“How can you be so calm?” She was freaking out again. “There’s a body! A dead body!”

“Yeah, I know” He replied, unbothered, taking a step closer to observe. The nauseous smell of decomposition was starting to get through his helmet, and he genuinely wondered how she hadn’t barfed her guts up already. Her state of shock perhaps helped to keep her together, at least for now. “Looks like it’s a woman. Probably has been there for two weeks or--fuck this is nasty”

He backed up and gently pulled her out of the room, away from the corpse. She didn’t need to see anymore of it.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news” He sighed. “Bad news is your guy and this poor woman’s killer are most likely the same person. Good news is that you, unlike her, escaped him”

“Oh god” She gagged, but dry heaved on air. “This can’t be happening”

“Okay, listen” He sighed, “I’m sure this is a lot for you, and you didn’t ask for any of this. But the killer is potentially here keeping us trapped, and I need you to hold it together a little bit longer until I figure this out, kay?”

She gave him a wild look like he was crazy. “How can you expect me to hold it together?”

“Is there anything you can focus on?” He tried, getting a bit impatient. Things weren’t adding up in his head and he needed to concentrate, but he couldn’t if his new unwilling investigation partner started freaking out every other minute. Then, he noticed her fingers fidgeting with a necklace around her neck, a small ring with a azur gem hanging from it. “What does that ring mean?”

She looked down at it, like she was surprised she had subconsciously showed it up. “Uh, it was my mother’s. Family heirloom, y’know. She gave it to me when I graduated college”

“It’s very pretty” He said. “Look at it and think about your mother, okay?”

She nodded, and he took a step away to pace around in peace. So there was a killer who managed to trap them into the building, or intended to trap only her, which was why he was hiding away now that Jason was here too. But then again, Marty on the second floor didn’t see or hear anything all night, and that guy had a sharper ear than a cat. Then came the question of why he didn’t see or smell the body on his first general scouting of the place. Surely, a decaying body would have ticked him off way sooner. Maybe the killer dragged the body from a higher floor? It would make no sense as to why he would have done that, but there was no other logical explanation.

He went to rub the bridge of his nose, only to be met with his helmet. He let out another muffled curse and looked at the ceiling in exasperation. “This is the one time I could use one of my stupid brothers”

“Why?”

He let out a dry chuckle. “They’re idiots and annoying as fuck, but they’re better detectives than I could ever be. Solving this nonsense puzzle would be an easy game for them”

“Then what’s stopping you from calling them?”

Jason paused, staring at the woman for a moment. No, it wasn’t that simple. “Last time we spoke, I… We fought pretty bad. I don’t think they ever want to see me again”

“I’m sure--”

“We’re on our own for this, trust me” He interrupted, his tone dry enough to make her recoil. He coughed and relaxed his tense posture, taking a deep breath. “I can solve this, I don’t need them. I’ll go check the body again, stay here”

“Wait!” She called before he could turn around. “What if he comes back?”

He blinked a few times, then began patting his side and pockets. He wouldn’t leave her a gun, or she’d hurt herself in the state she was in, or accidently shoot him for that matter. Nervous firing rarely even found their intended target anyway. A knife was also out of the question for the same reasons. Besides, she didn’t seem skilled enough to hold her own with a blade, and he had no idea what weapons the killer carried. The knife would basically be useless, if not more dangerous for her. He finally felt a small lump in his pant pocket, then fished for it. He pulled a small taser that definitely wasn’t his, remembering he had disarmed it from a goon earlier that night. He had no idea he had kept it, but it would do.

“Here” He held it up to eye level, pressing the button. A blue-ish current was formed, crackling and fizzling. “You hold it out and press the side button to turn it on. Don’t point it at me or yourself. Got it?”

“Uh-- I guess--”

“Great” He pushed the device in her hand and turned on his heels without more ceremonies.

He inhaled deeply and held his breath as he returned to the corpse, thinking about a thousand better ways he could have been spending his Friday night. He crouched next to it, grimacing at the decaying skin that made the victim’s identity barely recognizable. He noticed the dried out hair first, it was the same color as the poor girl on the other side of the wall. The exact same, he could have sworn. The killer must have a very specific m.o. he stuck to. There had been a couple of girls going missing in the last weeks, it must have been one of them. Nobody would think to check here, or rather nobody would bother. He turned his head to the side, coughing as he worked to catch his breath despite the putrid smell. He forced himself to return to his half assed detective work, scanning for any trace of struggle or aggression. The rope the killer used to choke her was still around her neck, but that was nothing Jason could work with as he already knew about the obvious neck fetish that was in play here. He poked the rotten skin with the end of his gun, pushing hair and clothes away to try and find something he could have missed with a first glance. No viable piece of information could be found in the teeth or under the nail since he was about two weeks too late, and he could not make the distinction between decomposition marks and actual contusion marks. Dammit. He had nothing.

He was about to give up when something shiny got his attention on the victim’s chest. There was a chain plunging into the neckline of her shirt, and with his gun he carefully pulled it up. He was certain his brain physically broke in two when he came face to face with a stained, yet recognizable ring with an azur stone.

“What…” He trailed off softly. “... The Fuck”

Thinking about it, the victim’s clothes were awfully similar to what the lady on the other side was wearing, beside the obvious dirtiness difference. He looked over his shoulder, to where she was pacing nervously, then back to the corpse. Same hair, same clothes, same ring. Same approximate size, same bone structure, rope position coinciding with her strangling mark. Jason did not want to be thinking what he was thinking, because only crazy people were seeing ghosts. But was he totally sane? That was debatable. It would explain why they were locked in the building for no goddamn reason, or why Marty didn’t hear anything, or why he did not notice the corpse or the smell during his initial search, or why that lady did not stop once to rethink asking an armed stranger in a red mask for help, or why…

Besides, ghosts would not even make the list of the weirdest things he’s seen. He himself came back from the dead, so the idea wasn’t actually that far fetched. But now, the question he faced was, how do you tell someone they’re dead, when they’re convinced they’re alive? Bruce’s training did not prepare him for that, and honestly neither did Ra’s.

He slowly stood up, trying to scour his brain for a gentle way to break it to her. He couldn't just rip the bandaid off, that would be insensitive. And if she really did control who could get in and out of the building, would sending her into ghost shock--if that was even a thing--risk trapping him here forever as well? How does one even deal with a bloody ghost? Reluctantly, he returned to the other room, where the woman looked at him with hopeful eyes. Jason felt a pinch in his heart, knowing he would be the one to break the news to her.

“Anything?” She asked, her arms wrapping around herself. He gave a sad nod, and she sighed in relief. “Good, I just wanna go home”

“I…” He struggled to find the words. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N)” She said, uncertain.

Jason was glad his mask hid his expression. His eyes closed as his suspicions were officially confirmed; she had disappeared a little less than three weeks ago without a trace. She had been presumed dead by the GCPD, apparently rightfully so, he found out.

“(Y/N), I have good news and bad news”

She kept staring at him to let him speak. She didn’t seem to grasp the undertone of his words, or how he somehow said it completely differently than the previous time. She really wasn’t aware of her situation.

“Good news is that I found who the victim is” He began, his voice heavy. He wasn’t the type to just get emotional for strangers like this, but this one especially struck a chord in him. “Bad news is… You’re--you’re not going home, (Y/N)”

Her face fell. “W-What?”

“The… Body, on the other side” He half heartedly pointed behind him. “It’s you. You went missing three weeks ago, and you’re...”

“That’s crazy!” She shrieked. “That’s impossible! I’m here, I’m right here, I’m real…”

Her voice faltered at the end, like she was starting to doubt herself. Jason softly jerked his head to the other room, silently making his way back to the corpse with her carefully following behind. He stopped and crouched like he had done minutes ago, and in the same way, lifted the ring. Something clicked in her face, a newfound horror etching on her features. This time, it wasn’t because she found a corpse, but because she found out the corpse was hers.

“No…” She stumbled back, and Jason hurried to steady her. He didn’t know if it was necessary, since she probably couldn’t even feel physical pain anymore, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He escorted her out of the room once again and waited beside her as her entire reality came crashing down. It felt surreal for him, he couldn’t even imagine what it was like for her. He let her slide down the wall and rest her head in her hands as she processed all of this. “I can’t be… My family, they must be worried sick”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)” He sighed, sliding down next to her.

“But I’m--” She tried to argue, then a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m not ready to go”

He took off his mask for the first time, ruffling his hair in the process. The least he could do was to give her a human face as the last she would ever see. “Take all the time you need, I’ve got nowhere else to be”

She eyed him with confusion, at both the removal of his mask and his words. “Why?”

He smiled sadly at her. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. I’m Jason, nice to formally meet you”

“I don’t think it matters now” She mumbled, casting her glance downward. She handed him back the small taser, realizing she wouldn't need it anymore. “I’m dead. I don’t even know how I’m even still here, or where I’m even going. I don’t understand anything--”

“You don’t have to,” He interrupted softly. “It’s okay not to understand. And it’s okay to be afraid. But death is a part of life, and despite how scary it might be when it rings at your door, sometimes it’s better not to fight it”

“Easy to say for someone who is still alive” She said, making his lips subtly curl up. At least she was calming down now.

“I died years ago” He admitted, and her eyes widened comically. “No, I’m not a ghost if that’s what you’re wondering. I was resurrected through magic… But I know what it feels like”

“How did you die?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Jason hesitated. He wasn’t used to talking about this, but he figured he could at least vent to a ghost. It might even make her feel better about the circumstances of her death, he thought. “I died in an explosion” He finally revealed as he looked away. “I realized I was dead when the countdown reached two seconds and nobody came for me. Two seconds isn’t a long time to come to term with the end of your own existence, and everything that comes after”

“I suppose not” She sighed. “I guess I’m lucky I have time to figure it out. What’s it like, on the other side?”

“I honestly can’t really remember” He shook his head. “My memory from the moment I closed my eyes to when I reopened them is scrambled. And even if I did recall, it might be different from you”

“You think so?”

“I hope so”

He did not elaborate on that, and she did not ask. Jason wasn’t sure whether his visions of hell were from his time in the grave, or if the pit messed with his perspective, but he certainly hoped this girl wouldn’t have to go through something similar as well. They waited in silence for a moment as neither felt the need to speak up. He respected her need to have a moment to herself to absorb all this like he had wished he could have had. He had never felt as vulnerable as when he waited, helpless and unable to move, for the bomb to go off. He had been terrified, clinging to a last hope it was just a nightmare, or that help would have swept in at the last second like it always happened in the movies. He had been truly alone then. Perhaps it was why she had found him earlier, she felt his connection to death and his ability to relate. She seeked one last ray of warmth before disappearing, one last attempt not to be forgotten by reaching out to someone with the best chance to understand her. He doubted it was a coincidence he was the one she let help her.

“You didn’t have to stay with me…” She spoke up. It could have been ten minutes or more, Jason couldn’t tell. He had been in his head the whole time. “But you did, for what it’s worth. Thank you, Jason”

“You’re welcome, I guess” He half shrugged. “It’s… It’s just things I wish had been said to me in my last moments, comfort I wish had been brought to me when it was time to go. I’m glad it helped ease this transition for you”

She gave him a small smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel her unnatural cold radiating on him, see the bleakness of her skin and the absence or a steady rise and fall of her chest now that he was up close.

“Well, I’m glad you found me” She muttered, letting her hand fall back down to her side. “I… I think I’m ready to go. But before, could you do me a last favor?

“Sure” He nodded.

“Could you bring back my necklace to my mother?” She asked, staring straight into his eyes. And probably his soul, by the looks of it. “This case might never be solved, I don’t want it to be lost in an evidence bag”

He was initially surprised by the request, but it made sense. This would be the last thing her mother would have of her daughter, and it didn’t belong in a locker kept away forever. He nodded. “I can do that”

“Thank you” She gave him the first real smile he had seen on her face. Her eyes had lost the life in them, that was obvious, but there was this peacefulness that hadn’t been there before. Her resolve to accept her faith showed more and more in her expression, and it was steadily becoming clearer she did not belong to this plane of existence anymore. Two weeks trapped in between life and death without being heard or seen must have been so exhausting, and now she was ready to let go. “Just one more thing”

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at her sudden knowing expression. He could see it clearly despite her image slowly fading away. Was she even aware of it? He didn’t know, but it didn’t seem painful. He hoped it wasn’t, she deserved an undisturbed rest for what had been done to her in this life.

“A piece of unwanted advice from a dead girl?” Her tone was a bit playful. He let out a quiet chuckle, his shoulders barely raising. “Call your brothers”

She became serious, and so did he.

“The worst thing about this, is that I left this life without even being able to say proper goodbyes to my family” She explained. “I wish more than anything I could just see them one more time to tell them I love them, but I can’t. Don’t take for granted there will always be a later for it, because there might not be”

“I…”

“Please, for me” She said, almost entirely faded now. “I hope I see you again one day, Jason. Thank you for everything”

And then she was gone. Jason stared at the empty space beside him, like there had never been anyone there. The cold spot was gone, and with it the last image of her smiling face. The smell of the corpse returned at full strength now that she wasn’t there to manipulate the surroundings, but he couldn’t be bothered by it as much as he was before. He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from where she had been seconds ago, struggling to tell whether or not it had actually happened. But it must have, the entire experience had felt way too real to be a product of his imagination, and the dead body served as a material proof his head didn’t conjure it all up. Slowly, he stood up and went back to the body for one last time. He’d have to place an anonymous call to the police to tip them to the body tomorrow, after giving a heads up to the squatters to steer clear of the building until the situation died down. He bent down and only took the necklace without disturbing anything else, slipping it in a pocket for safe keeping. He’d also have to find a way to give it back to her mother without making it seem like he had killed the girl…

With one last silent goodbye to a new found yet ephemeral friend, Jason made his way down to the first floor, his step a little slower and heavier than last time. The first light of the morning peeked shyly through the sky of Gotham as the clouds appeared clear up, like it was their way of reflecting the peaceful passing of a soul on the other side. He never believed in symbolism in nature, but this once, just this once, he could make an exception. He reached the bottom of the stairs and carefully made his way to the main doors, pausing in front of it. The birds in the walls didn’t seem to mind him as they sang the arrival of the morning, and he put back his mask to face the outside once again. He gripped the door handle, pushing even so slightly.

It opened with a groan.

Sighing, he stepped outside and fished for his phone in his back pocket. He went to his contacts, scrolling down until he found the name he was looking for. Reluctantly, he pressed it and came face to face with the taunting call icon. Surely he would still be awake, his patrol would have ended not too long ago. Or he’d be asleep, and then he’d disturb him. Hesitating, his thumb hovered above the lock screen button, then over the call one, then again, the lock screen. He let out a frustrated huff, looking at the sky. There might not be a later… Or perhaps there will. But was he ready to take that chance? He looked at his phone again, taking a deep breath and making his decision.

As the first sun ray reflected his helmet, he called Dick Grayson for the first time in years.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

WIP Wednesday: Whumptober Previews, Take 2

I still have a few more to go, but I am in the final stretch for writing my @whumptober2020 pieces! I already posted one preview of what I have so far (you can see Days 1-12 here), so here are previews for the rest of what I have written - and sneak peeks at what’s planned out but not written yet!

Whumptober starts tomorrow - we’ll see how you feel about my work this go-round! Last year, Whumptober Day 1 introduced Daniel Michaelson. This year... it starts with Danny, too.

Day 13:

“Vanni, they thought he was you.”

“I know, Ridley!” Rossi never snapped at Ridley, but here it was, and Connor forced in a hitching, shaky inhale around the tremendous, inescapable weight pressing down on him, determined to keep breathing long enough to understand. “I know they did.”

“And they fucking poisoned him and then dumped him to fucking die-”

“I know!” The two men went silent for a second, Ridley staring with shock at Rossi and Rossi glaring furious towards the window without looking back. Connor’s breath, rattling in his struggling lungs, was the only sound in the room.

Day 14:

Peter glanced over his shoulder, back towards the house. The thermometer had climbed a little more, reading 98.5 degrees Farenheit now, and Peter blinked as he shivered again, swallowing without any saliva. His mouth felt dry, and strange. Why was he shivering - how did he have goosebumps - if it was almost one hundred degrees?

As if he’d heard Peter’s thoughts, the side door opened and Micheal came out, wearing his weekend outfit of slim black slacks and a pale heathered gray t-shirt, what Madam allowed him to wear. He was carrying a glass of water with ice and a little striped straw stuck in the top. The black shock collar he was never allowed to remove - not yet, Madam said, not until Micheal learned how to be silent without needing encouragement, to her satisfaction - cut a wide band across his neck, the black box small and nearly perfectly blended in at the back.

“Peter,” He said in a low voice - not quite a whisper, but just as quiet. “I brought you a drink, I-” He looked up, squinting towards the sky. “It’s hot. Should you be out here?”

Day 15:

He drops back to the ground, groaning, eyes fluttering open and shut, before he reaches out to grip onto Ora’s arm again. He turns to look at them, and his eyes are glowing so brightly he can see the reflected light on Ora’s face, the flicker of yellow against their irises. There are things that move beneath the light in Ryan Michaelson’s eyes, and he no longer feels them pushed back under the surface of his skin.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” He whispers, and his fingernails dig into Ora’s arm until they begin to bleed and whimper, but they don’t - can’t - pull away. Not until he lets them.

They will be lost in his eyes until he decides to let them go.

Day 16:

Count to ten, Tris! One… two...

Her voice is so loud he jumps, but when he looks to the left, nothing’s there. Just the white walls, plain and featureless, white tiles that were smooth under his fingertips back when he was allowed to touch them.

Everything is cold, and the boy has been shivering for so long that his muscles ache from the constant tense-and-release, tense-and-release, struggling to keep him warm.

Day 17:

She giggles a little, then glances over her shoulder, mouths something at the cameraman. Oliver can guess what. Edit that out.

Kelly Donahue doesn’t want the episode to be aired with her giggling like a schoolgirl at a bit of idle flattery. Well. Everyone has their things they like to hide, don’t they?

She has her giggle. Oliver has a teenage boy locked in his bedroom.

Day 18:

“Your mother,” Patrick interrupted, with gentle violence, “believes that you are squandering an opportunity.”

“An-... a what-”

“We respect your decision - and your brother’s - to refuse interviews, especially at his early date.” Patrick sounded like he’d rehearsed this answer, delivered with the same smooth cadence he had during his speeches before the Board of Directors. “But, considering the effort it took us to find you-”

“The effort it took Nate to find us,” Ryan corrected, ice growing along his veins at the same time it took over his voice. “Nate. It was Nate who watched the videos, it was Nate who talked Abraham into showing him the yard, it was Nate who spent fucking night after fucking night trolling fucking satellite photos to try and find us. Don’t act like the effort came from you. It came from my brother’s goddamn fiance.”

Day 19:

“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”

“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”

“Your instincts-”

“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”

Day 20:

He’d been flying, and the fall had been worse than the arrow, at first.

The sudden burst of white-hot pain had stunned him, caught him mid-spin enjoying an early-morning chill, and sent him tumbling to the ground below.

He’d heard his own frantic keens of panic and fear as if from a distance, and then they’d been drowned out when he slammed into the trees, feathers flying all around him as they were ripped free by the branches he smacked into one after another on the way down.

Day 21:

"Mmhmmm. Christopher. Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "No known health problems. Autistic."

Jake looks up, and Nat calmly looks back at him, while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment we’re sending him into.” Chris whimpered, and Nat’s voice went ragged, her eyes closed tightly against the sight of his face pale, sweaty, twisted with pain. “Listen. Just-... just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time while he gets worse!"

Day 22:

Rossi picks the glass up and just as he tilts it up to his lips, Connor rears back and up on his knees and swings one of his hands, the black leather ‘paw’ smacking into the rim of the glass and spilling it in an arc across Rossi’s suit, onto the table, soaking his cards and hitting the next person at the table right in the eyes.

“Connor, what the fuck?!” Rossi’s voice isn’t furious, not yet - he’s too shocked to get beyond the simple surprise.

Day 23:

The drugs in his system weigh him down, he is too exhausted to understand what’s happening or how to begin to fight it. His eyes keep trying to close and stay closed, and he whimpers, forcing them back open.

“Pozhaluysta…” He groans, collapsing forward against the heavy solidity of the man, the soft tailored fabric of his expensive suitjacket, the scent of clove cigarettes that clings to him like a woman’s fingers clutching tightly. “Pozhaluysta, otpusti menya…”

Day 24:

“My name is Melody,” The girl said, nearly extending her hand, but then she realized the creature’s right hand was nothing but wickedly sharp talons, and it was bound in front of him to his left. “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The creature blinked once, twice. Watched her, tense and maybe suspicious, and then shook his head. “No… no name.” He spoke slowly, as though words came only with difficulty but a soft little trill sounded under one voice, layered it with another. “Pet.”

Day 25:

“Wh, where, where, where-where, where am, am I-”

“Sssshhhh.” The person in the dark blue uniform presses a plastic-gloved hand to his shoulder as he tries to sit up, pushing him back down. “Hey no, you gotta stay steady, there. Don’t move.”

“Please-... please, sir, h-hurts-”

“Not sir,” The person says, gently, a bit of auburn hair falling over their forehead. “Can you see?”

“K-Kind... kind of... hurts-”

“Sssshhhh. I know. I know it does. Just hang on. Tori’s going to help me get you some paperwork going. Don’t worry, kiddo.” The person pats him, lightly, and then looks up, brown eyes scanning the hallway outside. “You’re not the first we’ve pulled through this.”

Day 26:

Calon Nie hummed to himself, tapping talons on the floor, watching the boy sit so still, as though stillness could protect him from the dangers of the world. “Good. Failed, you, to keep new eyes. Costs a life, to give something new. Killan Josta, human boy, he fail Calon Nie. He fail the life given, when eyes don’t work. Did not respect sacrifice.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” The boy said hoarsely, curling in on himself even more, his wings instinctively curling protectively around him. “I… I don’t want anyone to d-die for me. I didn’t mean to-... I didn’t mean to fail. I, I tried to p-pray for them, to stars, to-”

“Paugh! Mysteries do not hear you.”

Day 27:

Jake answers, and on the other side of the door, the old woman stands holding a large cardboard box in her arms, her grandson present, as nearly always, at her side. He holds a large box, too - so big, in fact, that only the top half of his face is visible.

“They’re sayin’ it could be a week before we get power back,” Ruth says, with a world-weary sigh. “A full-on week. We figured we’d bring you some supplies.”

Day 28:

Ora Collins is hungry.

Day 29:

Jake is a tall man, but the emergency room always made him feel so small. Even now, part of him rehearses the scripted stories. I fell while climbing a tree. I crashed my bike. I tripped going down the stairs.

He has lies to tell today, just like he always has, but today the lies are for Chris, not himself.

He’s my brother. No, different dads, that’s all. His mom lives a few states away, I handle all his medical stuff.

Day 30:

(AKA Possession, Part 2)

Ryan and Nate take down Abraham Denner.

Day 31:

Danny is left for dead.

#ash does whumptober #whumptober previews #whumptober prep #whump

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

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TwiFicMas20 Day 3: Married in Vegas

I hope December is treating everyone well <3 Today’s offering is ‘Married in Vegas’. G requested it to be included in FicMas months ago, and it’s here. In pieces, because I may have over-estimated how ‘ready’ it was to be seen.

It also degenerated into something terribly depressing, when I was definitely going for something happier, rom-com meets coming of age, so large chunks definitely need to be rewritten.

Oh, and if you want more of a specific fic, you NEED to tell me, or it will simply languish on my harddrive, forgotten forever.

Onwards!

I meet him on a Thursday night, in the shitty little bar where I work. We talk, he drinks, and then he leaves.

By Saturday night, I am Mrs Alice Whitlock-Hale, with a ring bought from some cheap jewellery vendor and a plastic flower crown in my hair.

It was the best night of my life.

Okay, so I could start at the beginning. But the true beginning is a four-year-old girl being left behind when her mom runs away with her baby sister, and the middle is when, at fourteen, that girl is thrown out of her father’s house. She tries to go home once, at sixteen, only to find out that her dad and step-monster moved away. Left the state and left her behind without so much as a forwarding address.

But that story is depressing as hell, so we’ll start when things get interesting.

My ‘husband’ – Jasper Whitlock-Hale - was a strapping 6-foot-something soldier fresh from his last tour – honourably discharged, he was quick to inform me when we first met, and I could tell that was a point of some pride for him.

I worked at a bar called ‘Sassy’s’. It had been opened in the 70s and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been cleaned or redecorated since those halcyon days. The current owner was Bruno – his son, Emil, was the manager. They were both decent, in that they paid me on time and never groped me. It’s pretty sad when those factors qualify as ‘decent’, but you tend not to be too picky when you’re applying for work at places like ‘Sassy’s’.

Especially when you’re an underage runaway.

How were we still in business? Well, we did dollar beers after nine at night (it wasn’t good beer), and we served pretty good nachos, and we had a huge flat-screen television. Oh, and we ignored any kind of gambling that happened in the dark corners.

It started off as a totally normal night – the usual crowd waiting for their cheap beers, wiping down sticky tables, and killing time. If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be any decent sports playing tonight, and no one would bitch much if I switched the channel over.

He walked through the door just after nine, limping quite obviously. He was wearing a button-down shirt, jeans and a worn leather jacket. He looked kind of haunted – but that isn’t exactly unusual in Vegas; if you don’t arrive with regrets, you’re probably going to leave with them.

He also looked too young, too clean and way too promising to be a patron at Sassy’s. I was slinging beer at that point, as he approached.

“Beer, please,” he said as he sat at the bar.

“Dollar, thanks,” I said with a smile, grabbing a chipped – but clean – glass, and grabbed a dish of peanuts. They were pretty good – more than often, they were my dinner.

“Thanks,” he nodded once, staring at the amber liquid for a moment. He looked exhausted.

I kept working – stacking fresh glasses, packing the dirty ones into the ancient dishwasher behind the bar that Bruno had installed last summer, so proudly. Pretty sure it was older than me, but it meant that I didn’t have to deal with the washing-up anymore, so I smiled and thanked him, as if I didn’t spend at least half a shift trying to get the damned thing to work.

“Mija!” Luis ducked his head out of the kitchen, passing me a plate.

“Thanks,” I said. “Need a drink?”

“Nah, just fine girly.”

Luis had it easy. He was in college, so this was a part-time gig for him – he only came in two nights a week. He earned twice what I earned, but we didn’t get as many orders for food, so he got to sit in the tiny-ass kitchen (seriously, two people couldn’t fit back there) and study. He’d make me dinner every shift we worked together, which was nice of him. Tonight was grilled cheese.

On quiet nights, I liked to prop the kitchen door open, and sit on the bar and listen to him talk about his classes while I ate. He was always hinting about me going to college, about financial assistance and scholarships, but it just wasn’t going to happen for me.

I had a mouthful of food when the group in the corner started yelling for more drinks. These guys knew Bruno and Emil, so I had to tolerate their smart-ass mouths. They liked to tease the ‘princess’ who worked there. I got that from a lot of regulars, but these guys liked to imply that I was a whore, and tell me they’d wait for me after work to ‘test me out’.

Luis said it was because they were testing me, and they were pissed that Bruno never fired the white girl. Camila, one of the ex-waitresses, was the daughter of one of them and that was why they never tipped me. A form of protest. I never breathed a word about it, and treated them just as well as any other customer.

“Beers, gentlemen,” I said, sliding the tray onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I’ll say,” one of them leered and another slapped me on the ass. I rolled my eyes and turned to go back to the bar.

“Rough night?” the guy at the bar said as I returned.

“What? Oh, them,” I shrugged, picking up my sandwich. “They’re here every night.”

“They act like that all the time?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re just blowing off steam. Don’t like that I kept my job and one of their daughters didn’t,” I said. “Can I get you another?”

“Please.” He watched me move carefully. “What’s your name?”

“Mary,” I said, placing another beer in front of him, and grabbing a soda for myself.

“Jasper, ma’am,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Jasper. You from around here?”

By closing time, Jasper had nursed four beers and half my sandwich – which he inhaled like he hadn’t eaten in a while. We’d chatted. He’d just returned from his third tour in the Middle East – he didn’t say much about that, though I heard some pride in his voice when he mentioned it.

We talked about Vegas a bit, about the things he missed when he was overseas (his aunt’s chocolate cake, the cool forests of Washington state, and books). He was just passing through Vegas, here for a few days. Trying to adjust back to civilian life.

He stayed as I cleaned up, loading the dishwasher and scrubbing down the benches and tables. He watched as David and Sammy came up to pay, smirking as I leant over the bar to reach the money, giving them an unwilling flash of my pitiful cleavage.

All twenty-six dollars of it, in crumpled bills.

“Thanks,” I smiled brightly, handing them a receipt and a package of matches with the logo on it. They grunted at me and left. Their table was a mess of napkins, peanuts and glasses.

“Hope they tipped you well,” Jasper said as he watched me load the tray.

“Oh, they don’t tip. They hate me,” I said, as I piled the garbage onto a tray.

“How long were they here?”

“Since five. It’s fine, really,” I said. “It’s tradition.”

“No, it’s being an asshole,” Jasper muttered.

Luis chose that moment to leave the kitchen, bag on his shoulder.

“It’s closing time,” he sung at me, just like every night. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

I snorted. “Well, Jasper, it’s been nice talking to you, but I have to lock up,” I said with a little regret. He was a nice guy, and nice guys didn’t spend a lot of time at Sassy’s.

“Do you need a lift home?” he offered and then froze. “Sorry, that sounded really… seedy. I was going to offer to split a cab.”

“Thank you, but Luis gives me a lift,” I said.

“Okay. Do … you work any other nights this week?” he asked, almost shyly.

Luis was doing his best to be invisible, grabbing the trash and dragging it out the back.

“Tomorrow morning, from eleven til seven, I said. “Beer is full-priced, I’m sorry to say.”

“Okay. Thanks. It was nice talking to you,” he said again, fumbling with his words.

“You too. And if I don’t see you again, have a good time in Vegas,” I said, and, leaving money tucked under his glass, Jasper finally rose and limped out.

I sighed; dumping the glass in the sink and counting out the four dollars for the till, I jammed the tip into my bra. There wasn’t much else to do – I was opening tomorrow; we opened from 11am til 1am, so it would be me who unpacked the soda in the backroom, and the glasses and ran a mop over the perpetually sticky floor. So I could go into the kitchen and change out of my uniform and go and find Luis.

Once the hot pink wig was peeled off, my black hair stuck clammily to my face. My make-up had mostly melted off and it was a relief to tug on my leggings and hoodie and grab my bag.

Luis was waiting for me in the car as I locked up.

“So, you and soldier boy,” he began as soon as I got in.

“Ugh, really?” I pulled my tip out of my bra. “He was alone, and flirting with the waitress. Won’t see him again.” It had been a quiet night – fourteen dollars, plus whatever Jasper had left me. I mean, on average, I made maybe twenty-five dollars in tips a night.

And I stared. Two twenty dollar bills were staring at me, along with six dollars. A forty six dollar tip for four dollar beers. And half a cold grilled cheese sandwich.

“No, he didn’t like you at all,” Luis drawled.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, but inside I was giddy. He was dashing, and smart and polite. And now I could make my rent.

“Here were are. Sleep well,” Luis pulled up in front of the apartment block.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, spinning my keys around my finger, and headed home.

The apartment block was a grim brick building of roughly eighty apartments. I lived in number 48. Well, I rented a room in number 48. The apartment was really Victoria’s. Victoria had two kids and never actually told me what she did for a living. Nothing would surprise me. She was a bitch, didn’t give a shit about her kids, but rented out the third closet-sized bedroom complete with air mattress and a locked closet full of canned soup to me for the princely sum of eighty bucks a week.

What did I know about my new husband?

He walked with a limp – I was guessing an injury that got him discharged from the military.

He had a twin sister – one he spoke of with equal parts affection and irritation.

He liked history – American military history, specifically.

He was raised in Texas, until his mother died when he was 10. He and his sister were packed off to live with his mom’s best friend and her husband in the wilds of Washington state, where he stayed until he finished high school. He never mentioned his father.

And he was a consummate gentleman.

I, on the other hand, lied my head off.

Well, I only told the usual lies – I was 21, earning money for college, hoping to be a nurse one day. Oh, and when he asked about my family, I told him they were dead. It was better to keep it simple, it meant there were no questions.

We got married on the Strip, Saturday night.

And when he woke up Sunday morning looking hilariously horrified at the fact we got married, I might have exaggerated how drunk I was.

That makes me sound like the worst kind of person, and I don’t think I am, really.

I mean, he was dressed very nicely, he had a black AmEx, and was clearly educated. But I didn’t want to take advantage of him, truly. I wasn’t looking for money or anything. He was so nice, so handsome and he made me feel safe. And before she left me, my mom always told me that life was meant to be full of adventures, and I had to get out there and grab them with both hands. She didn’t leave me with many good memories, so I kind of held onto that advice.

Just once, for a moment, I wanted to pretend to be the type of girl who could marry someone like Jasper Whitlock. The kind of girl who got to stay in beautiful hotel suites.

He kept apologising to me, seemingly more shocked that I had slept on the hotel couch than the idea we had gotten drunk, married and might have had sex. He looked completely panicked, pacing and muttering and staring at me like a stranger.

I took advantage of the giant bathtub and the endless selection of bath gels and lotions whilst he tried to be subtle about the panicked phone calls he was making, his knuckles white as he gripped the damning piece of paper that declared us husband and wife in the state of Nevada.

I emerged smelling of cherry blossoms and lavender. I mean, I only had the previous night’s clothes – my black mini-skirt, leggings, a Sassy’s tank top and my poor flats – but at least I was clean and tidy.

“I need to shower,” Jasper managed as I came out. “There’s coffee and juice if you want something.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

As I went to grab a drink, his phone buzzed and I looked down to see the messages flash across the screen, one after the other.

ROSALIE (CELL) 9:17:04am: Cut the tramp loose. C spoke to E & u can annul when u get home. JFC.

CARLISLE (WORK) 9:17:11am: I’ve spoken to Eleazer, and he’s willing to work this out.

EDWARD (CELL) 9:17:24am: Tell me this is a joke or something. Rosalie keeps shrieking every time she calls.

ESME (CELL) 9:17:31am: Rosalie told us. Bring her home with you and we can fix it. Love you XOXO

BELLA (iMessage) 9:17:49am: R u ok? Saw on R’s FB what happened.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:00am: Did u srsly marry a stripper in Vegas?!?

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:09am: Rose is losing her shit. Nice knowing u.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:34am: At least send pix of what she looks like dude.

I turned away from the phone, though it was fascinating watching the messages pop up. My cellphone was a beat-up second-hand Sidekick Tiffy had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the back bedazzled in pink and purple, and the only text messages I got were from Luis, Emil and Bruno, about work.

Or Victoria, bitching about the rent.

I grabbed my drink and sat on the couch, flipping on the television whilst I waited for Jasper to finish in the shower. He emerged, looking calmer, though pale and hung over, snatching up his phone, with a towel slung around his hips. I tried not to stare – goddamnit, this guy should not be marrying strange bartenders in Vegas. He would have absolutely no trouble getting a date. I knew I was bright red, refocusing on whatever cartoons were playing on the screen.

Jasper took me to breakfast at the hotel restaurant afterwards - I felt super underdressed with my sweater over my top, as I was served the fanciest eggs I had ever seen. Jasper crumbled a bagel up and drank about a gallon of coffee, barely meeting my eyes. I figured I might as well take advantage of my wedding breakfast, and also helped myself to fruit salad that included fruits I wasn’t aware were even available in America, and a doughnut that looked hand-painted with icing.

“I have some appointments today,” Jasper said, finally, when he finally pushed his plate aside. “We could meet for dinner later.”

I popped the last bite of doughnut into my mouth and wondered if he was planning on leaving town, leaving me behind.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

I had the day off, surprisingly enough. Normally on my days off, I had plans – sometimes I worked for a catering firm I was registered with, for some extra cash. Sometimes I’d hit the thrift stores to try and pad out my meagre wardrobe, or go and sketch or read in the park. I hated hanging around the apartment, since Victoria, James and Laurent kept unpredictable hours and could be there all day.

But today, I had nowhere to be. My phone needed charging and I could do with a few extra hours of sleep – a headache was definitely lingering. Plus, if breakfast was any indication, I needed to dress up for dinner. I was pretty sure that breakfast had cost more than my entire wardrobe. But I had one dress that was passable.

Luckily, the apartment was empty when I slipped in and collapsed into my bed, noticing only for a second that the hotel couch was far and away more comfortable than the ancient air mattress Victoria provided.

I was woken at five pm by a text message from Jasper.

360-555-0134 5:03:44pm: My meetings are done. Just heading back to the hotel for a shower. Our reservation is for 7:30pm. Pick you up at 7?

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face – I hadn’t been sure I’d ever hear from Jasper again. But he was taking me out to a fancy dinner. Hell, I would have been over the moon if we went to a movie and ate hot dogs in a park. Flipping open the keyboard, I tapped out a response.

775-555-0182 5:04:59pm: Sounds good – am sending my address. Hope your day was good.

I had two hours to get ready for the fanciest meal of my life.

I could so do this.

—

Considering my resources, I didn’t think I looked too bad. I’d left my hair loose, since I didn’t own a curling wand or straightener, and managed to paint my nails with the half-empty bottle of nude pink I’d found amongst my stuff.

My dress was a black polyester number I had fished out of a basket at the thrift store and had cost me eight dollars. It was a baby-doll style and I thought it made me look older. My shoes were black wedges that were nowhere near fancy enough, but I didn’t own any proper heels.

I had run to the drug store around the corner for a lipstick, a deep crimson that made me feel much older and more glamorous. The effect was somewhat spoilt by the fact I didn’t own a decent coat, just a purple cardigan and a hoodie. And the only purse I owned was a silver crossbody-bag that looked like I had only paid two dollars for it.

At seven on the dot, I emerged from my room to find Victoria, the kids, James and Laurent eating pizza.

“Look at you, baby,” James was practically drooling as I walked through, jamming my wallet and phone into the tiny bag. “Told you she was gorgeous.”

Laurent made a non-committal sound but his gaze never left my legs, ew.

“Where are you going?” Victoria demanded, glaring at me. She definitely preferred me as skinny, bedraggled Mary instead of girly Alice.

“I have a date,” I said.

“A date? Finally working for the money, Mary?” Victoria said. “Thought you were too good for that.”

I made a face at her. “A date. With a guy. Where he takes me to dinner and we talk.”

“You didn’t come home last night,” Victoria said carelessly, and I caught a dark look pass over James’ face. “Excuse me for assuming that you’d come to your senses.”

I swallowed my vulgar response and grabbed my keys. “Don’t wait up.”

My stuff was packed up – in the end, I had only a small duffle bag and my messenger bag of stuff for nineteen years of life.

Jasper was planning on driving back to Forks over two or three days. He had considered – and offered – to pay for us to fly back, but I’d never been in an airplane before, and figured a road-trip would give me time to prepare to meet Jasper’s family.

I wasn’t expecting it. Not for James to half-punch, half-slap me, and shake me by the throat. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burning, slightly disoriented from the blows.

James half-threw me against the fridge, the handle digging into my back. I dropped my bags as he grabbed me by the scruff of the shirt and pulled me back towards him.

“You think you can leave?” he spat at me. “Stupid bitch, think you’re better than this?”

I tried to pull away, but I was too small.

“You’re just like Vic. Just like ‘em all. You’ll come crawling back when that prick gets bored,” he purred at me, one hand sliding down my stomach and I suddenly was terrified. “I’m not picky, I’ll take you back – when you beg.”

“James.”

We both jerked around to see Laurent standing in the doorway, with one of Victoria’s daughters in tow.

James pasted a bright smile on his face. “Just sayin’ good bye to Mary here. Takin’ her chances in sunny California.”

Laurent looked from me to him and shrugged. “Coming?”

James looked back at me and sneered. “Yeah. The trash can take herself out.”

Within seconds, they were gone, and I was alone. I span on my heel and headed to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My throat was red, where he’d shaken me, and my eye and cheek were already swelling – and my lip was split. My back and shoulder ached, plus my right ankle was tender.

Thankfully, the collar of my cardigan would cover up my throat, and my sunglasses would cover up my eye. Hopefully, my lip would stop bleeding by then. Nothing that indicated James had hurt me. But I didn’t want to hang around, in case he came back.

Snagging my bags off the floor, I dropped my keys on the kitchen table and fled apartment 48 for the final time.

Jasper was waiting in the bar with a coffee and the paper when I showed up. I’d tried so hard to dress nicely – a blue shirtdress and lavender leggings – but the women in the hotel foyer made me look like a middle school student.

“Hi,” I smiled as I reached the table.

“Good morning,” Jasper said, jumping up to take my bags. “Can I get you anything?”

“An oj?” I asked, looking around at the fancy surroundings. I wasn’t sure anything as pedestrian as an orange had ever crossed the threshold of this place.

“Certainly.” A hotel employee suddenly appeared at Jasper’s elbow. “Could you put these bags with mine? And the lady would like an orange juice, and perhaps the brunch menu?”

“Of course, Mr Whitlock,” the employee said.

I wriggled around in my seat, gazing around the bar. One woman was wearing the most incredible red and gold heels, and another had an embroidered floral dress that was to die for.

“The hotel had some computer difficulties this morning – we should be able to leave soon,” Jasper said to me, drawing my attention back to him. “I’d like to make it to Boise tonight.”

“Sounds good,” I said, as a waiter swept to my side, placing the fanciest glass of juice in front of me, and a tasselled menu. “Thank you.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Jasper said, looking guilty. “Early start. But please, get whatever you want.”

“O-kay,” I said. I wasn’t very hungry, and my throat hurt after James’ assault, but I needed to eat – I wasn’t sure if we’d stop for lunch. Rule number one was never, ever turn down free food.

A hotel employee appeared at Jasper’s elbow the second my breakfast plate was cleared, to let us know that the ‘issues’ had been fixed, and our luggage was in the car.

It was happening. We were going.

Mary-Alice Brandon: now leaving Las Vegas.

The motel was neat and pretty clean, with two double beds and a TV. We’d grabbed burgers through drive-thru, and were ready to settle in for the night.

I had some ancient pj bottoms and a tank top to sleep in, and didn’t think of anything else as I left the bathroom, my hair hanging loose.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jasper was at my side in a second, his eyes wide.

“What?” I gave him a confused look, and belatedly realised that my make-up was washed off and in my tank top my throat was bared, the bruises that James had given me so much darker and angrier than before.

“Oh, um, my landlord’s boyfriend had a problem with me leaving,” I said uncomfortably.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “We can find a doctor in the morning.”

I waved it off. “I’ve got painkillers in my purse. Just have to wait til I heal.”

Jasper was determined to buy me clothing as soon as we finished breakfast, and I gave up and let him drive me to the Gap outlet. It was a novelty to be able to purchase whatever I need, something I wasn’t used to, as I carefully chose jeans and dresses. I also picked up a winter parka on sale, when Jasper warned me how wet and cold Forks was.

But when Jasper went to pay, he gave me a Look. “My sister spends more on a single pair of shoes,” he grumbled at me as I gathered my bags.

“I’ve got everything I need, I swear,” I said. “Probably too much, honestly.”

On the way from Seattle, I tried to memorise everything about Jasper’s family and friends, so not to fuck this up worse than it already was.

There were his ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, Esme and Carlisle. They had one biological son, Edward, who was 22 and married to Isabella, with a toddler named something strange. Ness, Jasper called her.

Jasper’s twin sister, Rosalie, was engaged to a man named Emmett, who was also one of Jasper’s best friends. They were building a house in Forks, and were getting married at the end of the year.

Jasper’s best friends were Emmett and a man named Peter, Jasper’s roommate in college, who now worked at a law firm in Seattle and had a girlfriend named Charlotte whom Jasper called ‘an angel’, and designed wedding dresses.

I felt like I needed flashcards.

#twificmas20 #ficmas20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #alice/jasper #jalice #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #human au #getting married in vegas #wip #my fic #my fic: vegas

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