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lily-drake · 1 year

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Lesson 8: Find What's Worth your Protection

Random: *glares at Marin* Marin: *blinks* … Jon: *leans slightly towards her* what’s her deal? Marin: if looks could kill.. *grins* well, I still wouldn’t care but- Jon: she’s glaring at you like you killed her mother. Marin: *blanks* …. Jon: did.. did you ki- Marin: *snaps her attention towards him* no???? *smiles warily* at least I don’t think so- Jon: Marin! Marin: *pushes his shoulder playfully* what??? *looks back at the Random* I had many missions, who knows, maybe shes a cousin or whatever. Jon: *groans into his hands* ~~~~~~~ Marin: …you’re not fazed by this. Jon: you’re Damian’s sister. Marin: I’ve done considerably worse than my brother has. Jon: again, you’re Damian’s sister. Marin: …which means? Jon: that you both were raised to be assassins and I? Don’t? Care? Marin: …you’re not fazed by my molds. Jon: *grimaces* Damian kind of.. explained the situation. Marin: *blinks* …did he? Jon: yeah… Marin: … Jon: sorry-? Marinette: *shrugs* its whatever, so what are we going to do later? Jon: uhh- homework-??? Marinette: sweet!! Let’s go. Jon: uh-huh..

Damian stared at the letter laid across his desk. He had read it, reread once, twice, thrice, and yet he still couldn’t fully process the words.

“ I don’t want to be found so don’t look for me. I am going to be who I want, I’m going to act how I want, and I’m not going to force myself to do things that will make me feel terrible. You will no longer be able to pressure me, and that means you will NOT pressure someone else instead. ”

Was he truly that terrible? Was it truly his fault for pressuring her and unintentionally pushing her away in the process?

“ I love my dearest little brother. Stay strong and know that I will one day visit. For now, I’m figuring things out for myself, and I finally feel like I have a grasp on my life. ”

He reread those few sentences over and over and over again reassuring himself. She would return, she would come back. She never broke a promise, not once. He scowled when he had read the last part of the letter, Jon was afraid of him! But then again, Jon still hadn’t told him despite the fact that Marin had been gone for three weeks now. It was infuriating. Speaking of Jon, he hadn’t heard his annoying voice at all yet, something was up.

Damian tucked the note away in his desk almost reverently before he stood up and marched out of his room. He would check the kitchen first, but the only one there was Beast Boy.

“Where is Kent?” He demanded while crossing his arms. Beast Boy turned to him with a confused frown before he shrugged.

“No clue man. Last I heard he had a “private call” to make, something about someone calling him, or whatever.” Damian’s frown deepened. It didn’t matter, he would just head to the training room, nothing defeating the highest level of holographic enemies wouldn’t fix.

______ Jon was on a secret mission, well, secret in the fact that he just didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing. What was he doing, well, currently he was trying not to let the craziest of the al Ghul-Waynes cut his head off. “Hey, hey! It’s me Marin! Please don’t kill me!” He shouted, keeping his hands up and forward in a show of peace and surrender. Her eyes were dark and predatory as she studied him.

“What are you doing here?” She growled, baring her teeth in a way that was definitely threatening.

“Is it so wrong to want to make sure my friend is okay after weeks of radio silence?”

He could hear her heart skip slightly at that, she was surprised. “What makes you think we’re friends?!” She snarled, pushing the blade that no doubt had bits and pieces of Kryptonite in it, further against his neck. He was so screwed. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

“The fact that we spent years together attending Gotham Academy and you know, our side job.” He replied nervously, making sure to keep perfectly still unless he really did want that dagger slitting his throat.

Marin let out a small hum, thinking over his words while allowing the dagger to stay firmly planted against his neck. “Fine, your answer is acceptable.” And just like that, the dagger was removed and hidden in one swift motion.

Jon let out a sigh of relief, moving slightly away from Marin to catch his breath. “Damian still thinks he’s scarier than you and I still don’t know how to convince him he’s wrong.” Jon gasped, cupping his throat as if that would protect it. He could feel the slight sting against his next from where the blade laid across the skin.

“Damian assumes much and understands little. He will not allow himself to believe that others can be feared more than himself. That’s one thing that will never change.” Marin stated with a roll of her eyes, “Now, why are you really here?” She demanded with a simple raise of her brow.

“Is it really too much to believe that I just came to check-up on you?” He asked, trying to show how sincere he was. All he really knew was that there was a falling out between Marin and the rest of her family that was so bad that she refused to come back. He wouldn’t pry or ask details, but he wanted to make sure his friend was okay. Her heart quickened slightly.

“As it’s coming from you, I guess not.” She replied flippantly. Jon honestly could not tell what she was thinking, she’d always been hard to read.

“So while I’m here, why don’t we go somewhere?” Marin sent him a sharp glare, and Jon quickly put his hands up in surrender once more. “Somewhere public of course. And it doesn’t have to be somewhere you visit often! I just wanted to catch up with you is all.”

“If you try anything, I will disassemble you piece by piece with my strongest and dullest kryptonite knife.” She watched the way the boy paled, enjoying the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed back his fear. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

Marin gave him a sharp nod before she turned on her heel and started walking away. Jon stood there for a few moments more, still frozen in shock before he hurried after her. “Wait up Marin! Come on, it’s not like we’re in school right now.”

Marin just rolled her eyes, a small smirk on her lips as she watched Jon running after her. Once Jon was right at her side, her smile was gone without a trace. “Sooo…” Jon began, side eyeing her with a large grin.

“None of your business.” She replied sternly.

“Come on, I didn’t even ask anything yet.” He whined. Marin rolled her eyes, but never faltered in her steps.

“Doesn’t matter, the answer is still the same.”

Jon sighed and crossed his arms, “I just wanted to know if you like anyone you’ve met here.” They walked in silence for a few minutes, before she finally answered. It wasn’t that she hated this type of silence, she just liked making people wait in suspense.

“There are a few people that I’ve come to tolerate.” She replied flippantly. His eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Oooh, is that so? And what have these people done for you to even “tolerate” their existence?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, that’s why I asked.” Goodness, she forgot just how infuriating this farmboy was.

“Well isn’t that just a shame, guess you’ll just have to suffer in your curiosity.” She mocked as she weaved through the crowded streets with ease, all while Jon attempted to stay by her side.

“You never were the merciful twin.” He muttered to himself.

“Only when it suits what I need.” She shrugged, stretching her arms slightly. Jon gave a small exasperated huff before they continued walking together in silence. It lasted all of five minutes before Jon slightly nudged her to gain her attention. She raised a silent questioning brow at him, usually he just called her name. She watched as he tilted his head slightly to the left in the direction of a middle aged woman that was glaring at her, and specifically her.

* Marin blinked a few times, trying to see if the woman was familiar at all, because no one glared at her like that without a reason. She felt as Jon moved in slightly, whispering next to her ear, “What’s her deal?”

“If looks could kill,” she started, a small grin creeping up her face, “well, I still wouldn’t care but-”

“She’s glaring at you like you killed her mother or something.” Jon muttered jokingly, cutting her off. Marin didn’t falter in her steps, but it was a near thing as any signs of amusement quickly fled her face. Jon actually pauses and stared at her with a mix of fear and worry in his eyes. “Did…did you ki-”

Marin felt her body snap to attention, a jolt of fear rushing through her. For a second, she thought Bruce was there, waiting to catch her slipping up so he could finally turn her away. But he wasn’t here, she needed to remember that. He. Isn’t. Here. “No?” She tried to give Jon a smile, pulling in as much of Rebecca as possible, but came out as more of a grimace than anything. “At least I don’t think so…” She said trailing off slightly, trying to recall if she actually had done that. Rebecca was always getting lost in thought, she was always the dreamer.

“Marin!” Jon hollered in shock. She needed to focus right now, maybe Rebecca was the wrong mold to use. But she was also very nice and playful, so she’ll stick with it. Rebecca Marin playfully shoved Jon at his shoulder, before continuing her walk, almost skipping down the street, forcing Jon to pick up the pace after her once more.

“What?” She said with a smile, glancing at the seemingly random person one last time before looking forward. “I had many missions. Who knows, maybe she’s a cousin or whatever.” She said in an almost playful tone. She could hear Jon’s muffled groan, but she didn’t care, she just needed to get away from this place. Get away from the people she may have harmed when she was in the League.

Jon watched Marin, he could tell she was currently using one of her molds, it was a little jarring at times, but he understood why she did it. As they walked farther and farther away from the crowds he watched as she slowly removed her mask, returning once more to being Marin. He had seen her do this so many times when they were at school or on missions, but no matter how many times he watched her do it, it never took away the sense of hurt he felt for her.

They stayed silent for another long while, traveling everywhere yet nowhere at once. This time, it was Marin to interrupt the silence, “...You’re not fazed by this?” Her tone was flat, not giving away any of her emotions. Marin was officially back.

“You’re Damian’s sister.” He replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“I’ve done considerably worse than my brother has.” She countered.

“Again, you’re Damian’s sister.” He responded as if that explained everything.

With a small huff of frustration she asked, “Which means?”

“That you and your brother were both raised to be assassins and I? Don’t? Care?” Marinette watched from the corner of her eyes as he tilted his head slightly with an unsure, almost sarcastic, smile.

“So, you're not fazed by my molds?” She asked, raising her brow in challenge.

Jons smile became more of a grimace as he glanced away uncomfortably. “Damian kind of…explained the situation,” he answered hesitantly.

Marin really shouldn’t have been surprised, but as she blinked at Jon, she could admit (never out loud) that she was a little shocked. “...Did he?” Damian always tried to avoid talking about the League, and especially her molds. Damian hated them, so it was a little shocking that he would even tell someone else about them rather than pretending she had Multi-Personality Disorder….Now that she thought about it-NO! She wasn’t going down that rabbit hole right now.

“Yeah…Sorry?” he still wasn’t looking her in the eye. She didn’t like that, but who cares. It’s not like it really mastered in the end. When she looked away from Jon and back to the street in front of her, she noticed that she was in front of the bakery. Well, if he wasn't fazed, then it didn’t really matter who she was right now.

So, with a shrug of her shoulders and a lightness to her step that always seemed to follow Marinette, she replied. “It’s whatever, so what are we going to do later?” She asked with her brightest smile, it almost felt real when she watched Jon’s reaction to her switch.

“Uhhh, homework?” he asked more than stated, obviously unsure where this was headed.

“Sweet! Let’s go.” She cheered as she grabbed ahold of his arm and started dragging him towards the bakery, and away from the eyes she could feel following them.

“Uh-huh.” Jon let her tug him forward with a roll of his eyes, his farm drawl coming out slightly. She would never admit this out loud, but it was nice to have an old friend teammate here, and hopefully for once, she wouldn’t be the reason they got killed.

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 21 days

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Above Snakes

Part 6.2! Look, I am not a murder mystery writer so hopefully this doesn’t come off as cheesy or too predictable… I’m trying my best here 😅

Pairings: Sam Kiszka X Danny Wagner

Warnings and tags: 18+ only please, no minors!! Adult themes including: mentions of death and murder, questioning of loyalty, very brief fighting and a very small bit of blood, angst and crying, cowboy AU, please let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 3.8k

It took nearly twenty minutes of Sam pacing around the office talking aloud his racing thoughts to himself, his brothers, whatever god was listening, the bare faded paneled walls, until Josh finally had him calmed down- at least enough to take a seat in the chair.

Josh’s office had always been small, just four walls big enough to hold a desk, two chairs on either side of it, a small mini fridge with a microwave on top, and a water dispenser. The eldest brother sat in his usual spot- he was the only one still level headed enough to maintain his composure. Jake had remained silent the entire time it took to console the youngest, leaning against the wall behind Josh with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his head hanging in deep thought.

“We have to help him” Sam begged as he sat forward in the chair, placing his shaking hands on the edge of the desk. “He couldn’t have done that… right?”

“We’re going to help him Sammy. I’m going to call the lawyer in just a minute. First I need you to take a few deep breaths” Josh sushed him. “And you,” he turned his chin over his shoulder next, barely gaining any acknowledgment from Jake that he was talking to him now, “you’re going to tell me everything that happened yesterday”.

Jake sighed and pushed off the wall, moving just a couple of feet to stand next to his other half, only ever taller when one was sitting down and one was standing. “Let’s get to the chase,” he began making Josh’s eyebrows shoot up and Sam nearly fall out of his chair with anticipation, “Danny and I went to a bar last night. I went back to the motel first. He was there probably an hour and a half after I left, and when I saw him make it back to his room he’d brought a girl with him”.

Sam’s color drained from his entire body at Jake’s reveal. More thoughts raced through his already aching head. A girl? Why would he bring a girl back to his room? Surely they didn’t hook up or anything? “What? No…” was all he managed to actually say, his words falling out of his mouth in a confused and hurt tone.

“Did you recognize this girl? Do you think Danny knew her?” Josh spoke up, trying to rationalize the situation for everyone.

“I don’t know” Jake replied, shaking his head slowly, “it was late and dark, all I know is she was fucking drunk. Danny had to carry her inside-”.

“Did you say anything to him?” Sam blurted out in a raised voice, cutting Jake off. “Did you even try to stop him?!”

“No, I didn't try to stop him. Danny’s a grown ass man he can make his own decisions”.

“So you just what? Saw him drag a drunk girl into his motel room on your watch and didn’t think ‘hmm maybe I should go check on them’, ‘maybe it’s not a good idea for Danny to be shacking up with randos from a shitty bar in fuck-if-I-know-where’?!” Sam was getting more and more heated, almost ready to jump back out of his chair and throw himself at his brother just so he could get some frustration out. Wouldn’t have been the first time a tassel broke out between the two.

“Just because you and Danny have something going on together doesn’t mean I’m his babysitter when you’re not around Sam. Maybe you should be less worried about whether or not he slept with her and try to help us figure out why they think he killed somebody”.

At that Sam’s eyes started to burn and tear up again. Besides his grandparents Danny didn’t have anyone here to look after him. He was an outsider and in the eyes of a small town that practically made you guilty. Sam was the only one who truly knew him- was supposed to be there for him, but now he was beginning to doubt whether he ever truly knew him to begin with.

He closed his eyes and tried to conjure up an image of Danny in his mind. Sweet, kind, beautiful, Daniel. The first picture that came was of just earlier when they were having lunch, sitting across from Danny at the table so elated to be seeing him again and Danny with his crooked content smile as he chewed his homemade meal. Then he was closer, looming over Sam in his head and pressing savory kisses to his mouth… if he really had slept with that girl and then- how could he have come home and acted like absolutely nothing had happened?

“I think I’m going to be sick” Sam groaned and threw his hands up to rub his eyes with the heels of his palms until he was seeing brightly colored blotches instead.

“Jake, come on” Josh pleaded with him to show Sam some mercy. “You were close with Danny too. You don’t honestly think he could have hurt that girl do you?”

Jake huffed and moved to sit on the edge of Josh’s desk, crossing his arms defensively back over his chest. “No, not on purpose anyways”.

“Well I think we can all agree on that. Let’s take the rest of the evening off to process all of this. I’m going to call the lawyer now and see what information we can get out of the sheriff's office as his employer. In the meantime I expect you too to look out for each other”.

Sam and Jake both shot each other a glare then turned back to Josh with an argument ready on their tongues, but Josh silenced him with one raise of his hand. He’d made his decision and as the eldest that meant it was final.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you” Sam finally spoke calmly after a few good minutes of standing outside slumped over the fence of the pin with Jake beside him nervously pinching at his lip, once again deep in thought. “It’s just Daniel… he and I…” though Jake had already insinuated that he knew what was going on, and Josh didn’t question it either so he must’ve known too, Sam still felt like now was an appropriate time to lay everything out in the open. “He’s become really important to me, and I just can’t stand the idea of him sitting in a holding cell while Josh is just making phone calls and we’re standin’ around doin’ nothing”.

The thing was Jake hadn’t been doing nothing. This whole time he’d been replaying the arrest in his head over and over again. When it happened he’d been so caught up with seeing Tommy McVain, the man who stole the love of his life from him, daring to step foot on his property even if he was in uniform. Now that he’d had the chance to process it though, some things just weren’t adding up. Like why was their country’s sheriff's department doing the arrest and not the county where the crime occurred? Why would Tom come out here personally knowing Jake would be here to stand up to him? He just couldn’t shake the feeling that they had this all wrong, and dread was starting to set in. He needed answers, now.

“I’m going to call the motel we stayed at last night and see if there’s something I’m missing” Jake explained as he dug his old cell phone out of his pocket. Sam stood up and moved closer to him while Jake put the speaker on and they waited with baited breath as it rang once, twice, then an elderly lady picked up.

“What can I do for you?” She immediately asked, not greeting them or giving her name.

“Hi, this is Jacob Kiszka and I stayed there last night with one of my employees. I think we might have checked out with you early this morning”. He began, hoping it was indeed the same woman and that she remembered them.

“Wasn’t me, was my sister. She’ll be back on at seven thirty. You can try callin’ back then”.

“That’s alright!”Jake butt back in quickly before she hung up, “I just have a few questions, maybe you can answer them for me”.

“Listen, nightly rates are nonrefundable, it’s printed on your receipt”.

Sam rolled his eyes and folded his arms back over the fence with a scoff. He was obviously fed up already with the crude old lady and thought this was going to go nowhere.

“Actually, I was just wondering if anyone else had access to those rooms after we checked out? Do you have a way of seeing when the key cards were used?”

The lady went silent over the other end, finally realizing this wasn’t a routine call of someone complaining about their business. “You’re wondering bout the girl they found this morning aren’t ya?”

Sam perked up again, maybe Jake was onto something by calling there.

“Poor shame what happened to that little thing. She was a beauty, jus glad she wasn’t from round here. It's already going to be hell enough keeping this quiet. Bad for business”.

Jake’s heart jumped into his throat. There was no way of telling if the girl Danny brought back was a local or not, but the more information he got from the old woman the more anxiety built in his stomach, threatening to fill it up and push everything else up and out of the way.

“So no one else went into the rooms after us? No housekeeping, maintenance, anyone else at all?” He pressed again, panic starting to form in his voice.

“Housekeeping doesn’t round till noon, sheriff's department was already here at ten am. Though before then there was a man asking which rooms had been stayed in last night”.

None of this was making any sense. They checked out just before eight, someone had to have known to come check their rooms before housekeeping came otherwise how would someone have been found so quickly? “A man? Did he say his name?”

“He showed me his badge. Mc-something. He asked if I’d seen one of ya with the girl. I tells him my sister says room 108 comes back with a girl late at night, and what do you know room 108 becomes a crime scene”. She slapped her hand down on her desk, the sound of the mug full of pens Jake vividly remembered seeing this morning rattling over the speaker. She was getting upset about answering all these questions, she’d probably already been hounded all morning by officers, but Jake had gotten all he needed from her now. He thanked her for her time before ending the call, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

Tom had been there. He was the first person on the scene, and that was Jake’s worst nightmare.

“I’m going up to the sheriff's office” he declared as he started off towards his truck.

Sam immediately chased after him, “I’m coming too!” Jake gave him a warning look when he jumped into the passenger's seat, but Sam wasn’t about to back down. “I need to see him” he pleaded and Jake’s shoulders fell as he silently nodded and threw the vehicle in reverse.

When they arrived downtown the corner that the sheriffs office sat on was filled with cars- it was unusual normally there were just a handful but now they had to park across the street and walk over.

Despite the crowd that had gathered inside, it was relatively quiet when Jake and Sam entered. Nearly two dozen heads turned towards them, some of them sending scowls over when they noticed who it was, while others only sported a look of sorrow.

“What can I do for you boys?” The deputy manning the front desk asked out of obligation since everyone seemed to know why they were here. The whole town knew who they were and what business they ran, and it was never slow news when a new hand got hired out at the Kiszka ranch.

“I’d like to see Daniel Wagner” Sam spoke softly.

“Can’t, the boys in questioning” the deputy replied, running his tongue over his teeth and fiddling with a stack of papers on the desk as he avoided eye contact.

“He can’t be questioned without his lawyer, who is on the way I might add” Jake spoke up, unafraid of whoever could hear him. “Let my brother back there to see him”.

His eyes flicked up to Jake, a look of annoyance sitting heavy on his brow as called a colleague over to escort Sam back. “Only one of you at a time”.

“Go Sam, I’ll stay up here” Jake called out when Sam turned back to check with him, though his feet were already hurriedly carrying him away.

Sam wasn’t unfamiliar with the holding cells at the sheriff's office. It wasn’t out of the ordinary around here for the youth to get caught up partying until the cops busted them, the few who got caught in the scramble being hauled off for their parents to come pick them up. When there wasn’t much else to do in a small town the threat of sitting it out in a tiny sweaty cell never really much deterred you from going out again the next weekend. Or at least that was Sam’s case growing up.

It was one right turn down a short hallway and through a door with a keypad lock, then a quick left and they were already at the old jail house the sheriff's office had been built off of. In the very first cell was Danny, sitting on an old metal bench that was bolted to the concrete floor with his head in his hands.

“Wagner, visitor!” The officer who escorted Sam hollered, startling Danny who looked up, relief washing over him when he came into view.

“Sam, you came?”

Sam immediately ran over, gripping onto the rails that separated them until he was being yelled at to back away. “Yeah I came. What the fuck Daniel how did this happen? Have they said anything to you? Have you said anything to them?”

“I don’t know Sam. No, I haven't said anything. I kept asking for a phone call but they’ve had me sitting in here since they came to pick me up. Do you know what’s happening?” He looked desperate, confused, and scared, but still happy that Sam was here now- hopefully to rescue him.

“Jake is trying to get some answers, and Josh called our lawyer. He lives a bit out of town but I’m sure he’s almost here” Sam assured him. He wanted to console Danny, tell him everything was going to be alright and he’d be here for him no matter what. The problem was though every time he looked at him his stomach still churned.

“I have to ask you something” Sam began, unsure if this was really the right time to be interviewing Danny himself, but he needed his mind at ease. He needed to know if Danny had been with someone else, had been unfaithful to him even if they’d never specifically detailed the lines of their relationship. “Last night, Jake said he saw you with someone”.

Danny hesitantly looked over at the deputy who was still standing nearby, though he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them now that Sam had behaved and backed away from the cell. “What did he tell you?”

“He said he saw you bring a girl back to your room from a bar and that she was wasted” Sam replied, trying not to sound too condemnatory. He didn’t want to believe this had happened, but he also didn’t believe his brother to be a liar either.

“Did he also tell you that he left me at that bar to begin with? Ditched me without a word to find my way back on my own”. He took Sam’s eyes widening as a no, so he continued on. “Yeah there was a girl, and she was wasted. Too drunk to be driving and too out of it to be at that bar alone. There were some sketchy guys buying her drinks. I had a bad feeling about it so I offered to drive her home. Or at least I tried to, but she wasn’t really coherent at that point. I went back to the motel because that’s the only place I could remember where it was. She slept in the bed and I slept on the floor and I swear to God in the morning she left and we went our separate ways”.

Sam took a moment to process all Danny had told him. Though he should have been relieved that Danny and the girl hadn’t done anything together, he was more confused with how this had all ended here- Danny sitting in jail with a supposed murder charge. “So if she left then who did they find in your room?”

“They found someone in my room?” Danny stood up and started pacing around, folding his hands behind his head and waving his elbows around as he tried to breathe through his panic.

Just as Sam opened his mouth to explain they heard a loud crashing sound and some yelling coming from down the hallway.

“Talk’s over, come with me”.

Before either could say much of a goodbye Sam was being drug back through the hallway until he was tossed to the other side of the door he’d come through. Back out into the open of the station he immediately saw what all the commotion was about.

On one end of the room Jake was being restrained by a group of officers as he lashed and kicked and yelled. “What did you do to her!”

On the other end was the sheriff's son Tommy McVain holding a napkin up to his nose, his tan uniform stained with blood.

Sam stared at the mess in front of him, frozen in place as his brother was being taken away now too.

“Lock that asshole up with the other one!” Tommy yelled as he checked his napkin to see if his nose was still bleeding before noticing Sam watching from across the room. He locked eyes with him and shot Sam a threatening look, just begging for him to act up too.

Any other time and Sam wouldn’t have cared- he would have jumped right into a fight and had his brother’s back with no doubts. Today had been a day full of surprise after surprise though, and it had somehow drained him both physically as it had mentally. Instead he moved to take a seat by himself.

Whatever the hell Jake got into this time was going to have to be his problem now.

Twenty minutes earlier

Jake watched Sam disappear before the officer at the desk asked if he needed anything else. “No, I’m just waiting for McVain” Jake informed him, stepping away from the counter and moving over to the already crowded seating area.

“Mrs. Johnson?” Jake asked the woman who was sitting down with a tissue in hand, her eyes glazed over and her husband's hand draped around her shoulder. “Do you remember me?”

She looked up when she realized he was talking to her, then tears started silently rolling down her face again as soon as she took him in. “Of course I remember you Jacob” she peeped, her voice barely capable of making a sound after all the sobbing she’d done earlier.

“Can I ask what’s the matter?” He had a suspicion- it had been nagging at the back of his head since Danny got arrested earlier. The large crowd of distraught community members at the station was just another piece of the puzzle setting the picture Jake had in mind.

He watched as her husband’s grip on her cardigan tightened and she reached up to wrap her fingers around it for support. “It’s Suzette, she’s…” her voice started to shake again and she couldn’t get the words out- wasn’t capable of bringing herself to actually say what she couldn’t even believe was true. “We umm, we’re waiting to see her. They haven’t let us see her yet”.

Jake’s throat began to tighten, threatening to cut off his own air supply at the sound of her name, but he held himself together by a thread. All the emotions he had right now were being mentally cut off so he could focus on what he came here for. “Have they told you anything? What happened to her?” He absolutely did not want to be asking this of her parents, but they were going to be his best bet for information at this point.

“Tom found her. He said she’d been missing all night. I just can’t believe anyone would do this to our poor daughter” she started to break down into tears again so Jake offered her another tissue from the box sitting on the table in front of them and decided he’d better leave them alone now. Besides, they had already confirmed what he feared most.

It was never some random girl from a bar Danny had in his room that wound up dead. Suzy McVain was the victim and Jake knew with certainty that Danny had nothing to do with it. In fact, he was sure he knew who did.

From across the station a door to an office opened and out of it was just the person he was waiting for. He stood up and walked through bodies, not even registering as his shoulder bumped into arms and even one person tried to stop him. His vision went red as it zeroed in on Tommy stepping out of the office, completely unaware of what was coming for him.

Jake’s fist met his jaw first, clipping him on the corner right where his ear connected no doubt making it ring violently. When Tom turned in shock to face him Jake’s second blow landed square on his nose knocking him backwards.

“What did you do to her?!” Jake yelled, ready to punch him again, but suddenly he felt his arms being pinned back as he was restrained.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Tom yelled back, grabbing the first napkin he could find and bringing it to his nose to stop the blood from getting everywhere.

“Suzy! What the fuck did you do to her!” Jake repeated and he tried to kick next, his entire body thrashing around just to get at him.

He hadn’t even noticed Sam had come back and seen the end of his fit of rage. It didn’t matter anyways, nothing mattered right now, only beating Tommy up to a pulp did.

“Lock that asshole up with the other one!” Was the last thing Jake heard as he was carried away by three men and thrown into his own cell.

#Greta van fic #Greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #sam kiszka #sanny gvf

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keewriting · 3 years

Text

Cove x MC - One Shot #7 (request)

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

CONTENT WARNING: mild spooky imagery in the beginning!

The cobblestone stairs twisted up the spiral tower endlessly. Your breath was short as you struggled to navigate each gnarled step. You couldn’t see your legs, but they felt gelatinous. As much as you tried, you couldn't push your body to move faster.

The tumultuous sky loomed overhead and shifted unnaturally. Green light stretched upward from the base of the tower. The blinding rays were lifelike in their movement. You frantically turned around and caught a glimpse of the horrid Thing. It moved slowly.

The shadowy form clung to the wall of the tower. Bony, black protrusions jutted into the stone from its body. The hollow cracking sound made you nauseous. A sheer membrane shielded its face. You whipped back around to focus on climbing the tower.

The steps in front of you crumbled. The hollow cracking rang in your ears. The Thing rose from the misplaced steps. Dark clouds tumbled around your body. The membrane peeled back, revealing pale skin that clung to a contorted expression. Its mouth hung agape, allowing you to peer into the void of its maw. The hollow eye sockets began to glow green. The ghastly Thing lunged forward as the ground beneath you collapsed. You opened your mouth to scream, but you couldn’t hear your own voice.

You jolted awake in a tangle of bedsheets. Your chest felt tight and your limbs were immobile. The darkness felt heavy on your wide eyes. You heard a shuffling sound from the floor. Your heart pounded, the reality of the situation had not yet settled in. Still reeling from the nightmare, you prepared for the worst. Instead, a mess of green hair popped into view.

Cove stood up and walked to your bedside. Your heart rate slowed, but your limbs still felt stiff.

Cove: What was that?

Cove’s voice was low and hoarse.

Y/N: What?

Cove: You screamed, Y/N. Are you okay?

You blinked heavily. Your mind still felt fuzzy.

Y/N: I’m sorry… I had a nightmare.

The moonlight leaking in through your window lit up Cove’s face. His expression was soft and concerned. He placed his weight on your bed. You didn’t object, so he lifted the blanket and settled in next to you.

Body still rigid, you couldn’t scoot over to make more room for Cove. His options were to hang precariously off the edge of your bed or close the gap between your bodies. He hesitated for a moment before sliding his body closer. He propped his elbow on your pillow and tucked his other hand close to his chest.

Cove: Can I do anything to help?

Y/N: Stay here with me.

Your heart rate leveled with Cove’s presence, but you still felt shaken. You squeezed your fists, finally in control of your body. You brought your palms to your eyes and rubbed them with a low groan.

Y/N: It felt so real, Cove.

Your throat tightened while remembering the nightmare. Images of the Thing flooded your mind. Tears pricked behind your eyelids as you tried to regain control of your thoughts. You lowered your hands to your chest and took a deep breath.

Cove: Y/N…

Hearing Cove’s soft voice broke you. Your lip quivered as tears rushed down your cheeks. Cove gasped beside you. He tentatively placed his hand on yours. His palm felt hot.

Cove: I’m here, please don’t cry.

You turned toward Cove and nuzzled your face into his chest. He raised a shaky arm to cradle it behind your head.

Cove: Do you want to talk about your nightmare?

Your strained vocal cords could barely utter a reply. They faltered under your sobs, but Cove got the message. He held you in silence for a few minutes. His body felt tense. You tried to calm your breathing and relax but it was futile. Cove realized the situation was not improving.

Cove: I’ll tell you a story to distract you.

Cove waited for your nod of approval. He settled his arm under you and rested his head on your pillow. The other arm still cradled your head. He stroked your hair as he spun the tale.

Cove: This is a true story. It happened long ago, only a few miles out from this very coast. Deep under the ocean, in a bustling underwater mecca.

You closed your eyes to imagine the story, but the gaping mouth of the Thing appeared instead. Your eyes snapped open. You opted to focus on the junction between Cove’s neck and chest. The shallow dip above his clavicle rose and fell with his breathing.

Cove: The most beautiful merperson lived in an extravagant coral castle at the heart of the city. Their shining smile warmed the hearts of every fish they met.

Cove described the merperson. Every detail seemed to match your appearance and demeanor perfectly. He spoke casually, almost as if he was hoping you wouldn't catch on.

Cove: There was one lucky merman who—

You absentmindedly traced your finger over Cove's chest, causing him to stumble over his words.

Cove: The uh— the merman. He was lucky. Lucky…

Cove was flustered, but he took a deep breath and powered through. You caressed the soft, warm skin. It vibrated under his low voice.

Cove: This merman got to spend every day with his beautiful friend. Basking in the warmth of their sunny smile. He knew he was lucky, but there was always something picking at his heart.

Your face felt hot. Butterflies dancing in your stomach replaced the tightness in your chest.

Cove: The problem was, the merman didn’t know if their friend felt the same about… how much he cared for them.

Your heart lunged into your throat. The heat from your face traveled throughout your entire body. Cove’s voice continued shakily throughout his tale. The merman and his beautiful merperson went on adventures across the sea. They had an unbreakable bond even through uncertainty and adversity.

Cove’s storytelling immersed you in a fantastical realm. You listened intently and your nerves settled. Soon, your eyelids felt heavy.

Cove: In the end, the merman realized that it wasn’t simply luck. It was an indescribable magic. The most magnificent treasure in the sea.

You submitted to your sleepiness and allowed your eyelids to fall. Your mind clouded with ethereal images of a sweet love between two merpeople. As your consciousness faded, you felt Cove push the hair from your face and delicately kiss your forehead.

Cove: Sleep well, Y/N.

You blinked your eyes open to bright light and warmth. You stretched your arms and knocked into Cove’s face. You didn’t realize he fell asleep in your bed with you.

Cove: Oww…

He grumbled and swatted at you gently. His arm fell and dangled off the side of your bed. You sat up to get a better look at his face. It was rare for Cove to sleep in longer than you.

Y/N: Cooove…

You crooned, hoping to wake him. He mumbled incoherently. You extended your finger and poked his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and focused on your face. They snapped open wide.

Cove: Oh, shit—

Cove’s hand clamped over his mouth. He scurried to sit upward. You couldn’t hold in your laughter. He smiled sheepishly but maintained his distance.

Y/N: Good morning, sleeping beauty.

Cove: I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood.

His eyes softened and his body relaxed. The spot next to him looked inviting. You shifted your position and rested your head on his shoulder.

Y/N: I feel a lot better thanks to you.

Cove’s hands fidgeted in his lap. He gnawed on his lip, lost in his thoughts.

Y/N: Cove?

You moved your hand next to his and nudged his pinky with yours. He lifted it and allowed them to hook together.

Cove: I’m sorry I slept in your bed. I didn’t ask. I was going to get up but you fell asleep and then I fell asleep.

Y/N: I wanted you there.

Cove: Oh. Then... I’m not sorry.

A goofy grin spread across his red face. Your heart overflowed with affection for Cove.

Y/N: You know, I was thinking about the story you told me last night. To me, the beautiful merperson is the truly lucky one.

You sat up straight to face Cove. His eyebrows rose quizzically.

Y/N: I know from experience that having someone willing to swim across the sea for you is the best feeling in the world.

Cove’s cheeks flushed red. He leaned forward, then hesitated. Your heart swelled.

Cove: I um—

His words got cut off by your mom calling your name loudly from downstairs. You stared at each other in shock. This was one of those unapproved, in through the window sleepovers.

Y/N: Window!

You hissed urgently under your breath. Cove was already scrambling to the window when you heard footsteps climbing the stairs. You followed Cove to see him off on his journey. The footsteps grew louder. You whipped your head towards the door, then back to the window.

To your surprise, Cove’s face was inches from yours. His eyes met yours before he leaned in for a kiss. It was quick, barely a peck. He ducked out the window and made his exit without another word or glance in your direction.

You shut the window and turned around in time for your mom to knock on the door. She invited you down for breakfast. You grabbed your phone from the desk and followed. You were stuck in a daze with the feeling of Cove lingering on your lips. You worried that Cove would regret the kiss.

The phone vibrated in your hand, breaking your trance.

Cove 8:27 AM: See you later?

Y/N 8:28 AM: You know it.

You clutched the phone to your fluttering chest. Only Cove could so effortlessly ameliorate that dreadful night. The memory of the nightmare felt so small compared to the story and the kiss.

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shadyteacup · 3 years

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Could you write something where reader has a nightmare about port mafia Dazai going after her, when Dazai wakes up to her freaking out in her sleep he tries waking her up and when she does she still thinks she’s dreaming? Eventually she calms down but feels really bad picturing Dazai like that :(( angst to comfort

I'm back from the dead! I didn't use fem pronouns because I didn't have to, but since u requested it, the reader is fem .. I feel that this is more of a comfort fic if the reader is Dazai himself, lol.. Sorry it took so long..

Osamu Dazai x Fem! Reader||Warnings: violence, nightmare.|| Angst to comfort|| Word count: 1482.

Nightmare

You had known Dazai since his mafia days. You were a friend of Nakahara Chuuya, and had bumped into Dazai when the you and Chuuya were meeting up after your school. You knew that Chuuya was involved in gangs and probably violence, but he was your friend, and you trusted him.

"So, how was school?"

He asked you, hands in his pockets. It had been a few weeks since he had contacted you. He looked different, almost as if these past few weeks have scarred him. His clothes were more expensive. You could tell by their fancy look and glimmer. His jacket was probably genuine leather. He adorned a strange but cute hat too.

"It was okay. Where have you been?"

He glanced at you, raising a bow.

"You must have robbed a bank or something to afford that jacket. It looks really dope, by the way."

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze.

Sighing, he began talking as you two made your way to the park.

...

Sitting down on the swing, you gave the ground a light kick, enough to rock you slightly.

Chuuya sat on the swing adjacent to yours.

"So you joined the mafia. Interesting. "

He was confused as to why you weren't alarmed about his revelation.

"And you're okay with that?"

You shrugged.

"As long as you don't get me killed, or anyone I care about is hurt, I'm cool. Besides, you always find a way to fall into trouble. This isn't new."

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Great."

You heard shuffling behind you. Without turning back, you said,

"You can join us, you know. You don't have to keep hiding. You're doing a really bad job anyways."

"Who're you talking to?"

"The spy in the bushes."

Chuuya swiftly turns around, ready to attack, when Dazai peeps out of the green mesh.

"Dazai, what the hell are you doing here?!"

And that's how you had met your boyfriend. You had seen him in action a couple of times too. It scared you, but you were able to appreciate the human in him.

...

It was pitch black. You couldn't see a thing. Your hands were probably tied behind your back. You could feel the rough threads of the rope dig into your wrists. It hurt. You tried maneuvering your way out of the knots, only for them to grow tighter. Wincing at the pain, you tried to sit up. You were lying on the cold, hard floor of some abandoned building. Your captor was yet to reveal himself.

Pushing yourself up, you quickly got a hold over yourself. Trying to maintain balance, you tried your best to peer through the dark. Soon enough, your eyes adjusted, and you could see that you were in a small room. You could spot the door. Nothing sharp resided near you. You couldn't cut off the rope. Well, you just have to run out of here then. As you were about to reach the door, it flew open.

You gasped, taking a few steps back.

"Thought you could escape? How cute."

Dazai stood at the door. You felt relieved. Maybe he was here to help you! But the look on his face and the sneer at his lips said otherwise.

"Dazai! Thank God you're here. Help me out of these ropes-"

You were cut short as you were suddenly slammed into a wall. The impact and the sudden movement made you gasp.

Dazai stood in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, and his knuckles had turned white from the pressure he was applying.

You were sure his fingers would break through the cloth of your shirt and draw blood from your shoulders.

One of his eyes was covered in bandages, while the other was glaring down at you. His entire aura was different.

No. Rather, it was something you hadn't sensed in a long time.

His long black trench coat hung loosely over his shoulders as he towered over your shaking form.

"In case I haven't made it clear; You're not getting out of here. Not alive, that is."

He threw you forcefully to the side. You banged into a wooden desk. The edge hit the right side of your torso. You winced in pain before dropping to the ground. You felt a kick on your stomach. Your entire body lurched forward at the impact.

"Hah! Stop! Please..."

Your words were futile. He kept carelessly plunging his hard boot into your torso. You were sure that you'd broken a few ribs. They had probably pierced your lungs. You could feel blood rise up your throat.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. what.. did I do..?"

You kept repeating these words, trying to get him to stop. Somewhere along the process your ropes had loosened, but didn't have the energy to free yourself. It would be in vain anyways, since he won't let you step foot outside the door.

After a few more kicks, he finally stopped, crouching down to your eye level.

"You're so pathetic. Goodbye, Y/N."

He pulled out a gun and shot you in the face.

...

You jerked awake, sweat glistening on your forehead and your breaths were shaky and uneven. Dazai woke up from the sudden movement, trying to guage the situation.

"What's wrong?"

His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you scurried off the bed. You placed a hand over your torso, trying to find the bruises that he had probably left.

"Y/N?"

Dazai asks as he slowly makes his way over to you. When you notice him coming tour way, you panic.

"No! Don't come closer! Please! I'm sorry!"

Dazai froze in his place. He knew you were having a nightmare, he just didn't know he was the one making it scary.

"Okay, I won't. Tell me what's wrong."

You stood shaking, back to the wall as you tried making sense of your surroundings. You were able to make out the bed and the bedroom. The room that the two of you shared. It was dark. Probably nighttime. You were just having a bad dream. That wasn't real. This is. Dazai won't hurt you. He isn't in the mafia anymore.

"Y-you won't.. hurt me?"

Your frightened stare and broken whispers broke Dazai's heart. What did you dream? Did you see him as a monster? Is he being a monster to you? Dreams are only reflections of our subconscious minds. So do you fear him?

"No, I won't hurt you."

He says, trying to calm you down.

"Promise?"

You whispered.

"I promise. I won't ever hurt you. Ever."

You gulped down your fear and slowly inched over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He stool completely still, fearing that if he moved even a little, he might scare you. You placed your cheek on his chest, inhaling his scent. It really was him. It was your Dazai.

When you realized what had just happened, tears began flowing down your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry.."

You managed to say between sobs.

Dazai hesitantly placed his arms over you, gently rocking you.

"Shh.. Don't cry. It's okay now."

"I'm so sorry.."

"Why are you sorry, sweetheart? It was just a dream, right."

You nodded against his chest.

"But I made you the villain. You're not a bad guy. You're amazing. I don't know why... I can't think of a reason why I saw you.. like that.."

Dazai's heart broke a little more.

"Maybe I am a monster. I'm just too good at hiding it."

His ominous tone wasn't meant to warn you. It was a result of his own self hate. He hated that he used to be a monster. If he hadn't known you, then maybe a couple of years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice before hurting you.

"No, you're not. You're a child hiding under a strong façade. "

Dazai's eyes widened at that.

"What?"

You pulled back, wiping your tears off your face.

"I saw it the first time we met. You were just a child who was asked to grow up too fast. You hadn't lived your childhood. Under all the threats, jests, murders and plans, you're but a scared child."

He just stared at you.

"That's part of the reason why I trust you. I know you didn't mean to harm. You were just told to. Now that you have a chance to do what you truly want to do, you choose to not harm. I really admire that about you."

You caressed his cheek in your palm.

"I don't know why I dreamt what I just did, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that you would never hurt me. I trust you."

Those three words.

'I trust you'.

They were enough for Dazai. They meant so much to him.

With a shaky whisper, he muttered.

"Thank you."

You smiled, pulling him in an embrace.

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dreamingaboutreid · 3 years

Text

Hospital Bed Confessions: Chapter 7

*Continuation*

*Flash-forward*

Spencer was truly in awe. It had been 8 months since you joined the BAU.

Hotch seemed much happier with no more mountains of paperwork on his desk. All the files were neatly filed in Y/N’s office and his workload was greatly alleviated. He also had someone to confide to and understand a little bit of the pressure he had been experiencing.

Emily loved having a fellow Chesapeake Bay alumnus. With JJ being on mom-duty, Emily had a friend to go out with after she returned to the team, and they seemed to have plethora of things to talk about and relate to. He often heard them discussing their love of Kilgore Trout or favorite traveling destination.

Penelope was ecstatic to have another affectionate and loving member on the team. Y/N spent a lot of time with Garcia on deciding cases and it was evident how much they cherished each other. Y/N often brought in colorful collectibles and helped Penelope arrange them in her office.

Rossi respected Y/N’s focused yet good-natured character. They shared stories of their time in the military, which they rarely disclosed with the other members. He thought of Y/N as a daughter and took pleasure in sharing his knowledge of cars and whiskey.

JJ treated Y/N like a sister. It was obvious how similar they were. Both attentive and considerate with remarkable people skills. Y/N also became JJ’s go-to babysitter as JJ full heartedly trusted her with kids, which was a huge compliment coming from JJ.

Derek enjoyed Y/N’s company, who had a surprising knowledge of football, and would often make fun bets on what team would win the next game. He would also come to you for solid advice when he needed someone to level with him.

Not to mention, everyone was thrilled to go home at least an hour earlier normal, thanks to your fast but thorough write-ups you continued to do every day on behalf of the team.

For Spencer, you were a whole new world. He not only appreciated you as a hardworking member but as a new best friend.

You never interrupted him and seemed genuinely invested in whatever he said. Whether it was a new book he was reading or a new foreign film that came out. You truly made him feel heard and cared for. After he told you about Maeve, it felt like something was taken off his shoulder. Like you knew his pain and rather than only feeling sorry for him, they shared it together.

He also truly admired your ability to talk to people. Whether it was a serial killer who was holding a gun to someone’s head or a sobbing parent who had just lost a child or even an abrasive detective they had to work with, you just knew exactly what to say.

Spencer couldn’t place a flaw in you. The way you smiled, talked, listened, walked, ate, slept, heck everything, seemed so perfect to him.

When Blake came to his apartment to say her farewell, he was devastated. Another person was walking out of his life. But for the first time, he didn’t wallow up in his apartment by himself, blaming his eidetic memory for repeating all their conversations in his head or contemplating then shutting down his mental debate on taking dilaudid.

He didn’t hesitate to dial your number, and you appeared in front of his door in a matter of minutes. You had the ability to listen to his problems and somehow make them go away, or at least make him feel better.

While he always appreciated it, it bothered Spencer after a while how you never came to him when you wanted to feel better. You managed to carry all that weight without yourself ever breaking.

But he realized that it wasn’t anything personal. You just never showed much emotions to anyone, except for happy ones.

Spencer remembered when Derek asked you one day,

“How come you never come to us when you’re feeling down? There’s no way you’re always a ray of sunshine. Even baby girl has her emotional breakdowns.”

You had quickly brushed it off and said, “I’d rather make people smile than worry or cry.”

And it was the end of that.

Spencer often thought about this. Derek made a very good point. You were human after all.

But he knew that there was something much darker in you.

While you didn’t voice your emotions, your eyes told a different story.

When you were interrogating unsubs, your eyes became cold but your words remained calm and almost soothing, as if you were luring them out their lies to know their true intentions. When you were talking to victims or victims’ families, your eyes showed sympathy and it comforted whoever you were consoling when explaining that the unit was doing our best. And when you were talking to the ones you loved and cared about, you allowed your eyes to relax but there was a twinkle that he couldn’t keep his own eyes off of.

He hoped that you would open up to him, like he had to you.

But, it wasn’t too long until his wish was answered and he witnessed something that changed everything.

Y/N’s POV

You were exhausted.

It wasn’t the workload or rigor your job came with.

It was the emotional tole. You learned how to compartmentalize your feelings well from losing the ones you loved from experience.

But this job was different from talking to soldiers or serial killers. You were talking to normal people. You had unconsciously put your guard down and the emotions hit you little by little.

Every day, you walked in to deciding which cases to solve and you walked out hoping it was the right one to choose. The extra work you were doing actually helped keep your mind out of all the feelings and reality and helped focus your energy on something tangible.

You weren’t sure what came over you that day, but you had been on edge the whole jet ride back from a case. When everyone arrived back to the office, it wasn’t just you who was drained.

“Everyone go home early and get some ready. You deserve it. But report back tomorrow at 9 to finish your statements,” stated Hotch.

“I think I’ll stay back. Finish some of the paperwork,” you stated with a weak smile.

Hotch looked at you reluctantly.

“Are you sure? Everyone’s worn out. It’s okay to go,” Hotch said.

“It must be all the coffee,” you joked lamely, hoping Hotch took the excuse.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice as it was quite normal for you to stay late.

“Alright. Well, everyone thank Y/N on the way out and report back tomorrow at 10,” Hotch said as patted you on the back as he exited.

“Thanks for the extra hour of sleep,” Rossi stated as he walked towards the elevator.

“You’re an actual lifesaver,” Morgan commented.

As everyone said their respective greetings and left, you quickly ran up to JJ.

“Hey, JJ. Can I ask you a favor?” you asked.

“Of course! I owe you anyways,” JJ said.

“Do you mind if you give Spencer a ride home? Usually I take him, but I don’t want him to wait for me and he seems pretty tired,” you stated.

While you truly loved the arrangement you had with Spencer, you needed some space right now.

“Sounds like a plan. Just tell him I’ll be waiting in the car,” JJ said as she grabbed her belonging.

You thanked her and gave her a quick hug.

You turned and found Spencer already reading a book by his desk. Even though you thought Spencer always looked handsome, you had to admit that he did look tired.

“Hey, Spence. I think I’m going to stay a little late today.”

“Yeah, I heard you telling Hotch. I don’t mind waiting,” he said.

It must have been the pent up emotions you had been suppressing as you could feel your eyes slightly tearing up. You quickly forced them away, praying Spencer didn’t catch on. No matter how many times Spencer displayed his kindness and patience, you always appreciated his small acts of compassion.

“No, no. You must be exhausted. I asked JJ to take you home, and she’s waiting in her car for you. Seriously, get some rest,” you reassured Spencer.

After a bit of reluctancy, Spencer replied,

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t keep JJ waiting for too long. Thanks, Y/N. Don’t stay too late.”

You simply nodded and you watched Spencer walk away while looking back.

You waved, indicating that it was okay to leave.

After he finally left, it was just you, all alone. You turned off the lights in the pit, making it pitch dark, and walked into your office.

Closing your door and only turning on the light on your desk, you went to the corner of the room and sank down as you burst into tears.

It wasn’t the first time you had a breakdown. But it was always behind closed door. In the bathtub in your house. In the comfort of your bed. At the safety of your house. But today, you couldn’t hold it until you went home.

As you wept, you hoped the tears you released would somehow erase the remorse you felt. You sobbed without anything holding you back until you felt a looming presence over your crouched figure.

“Oh my gosh, Spencer. You startled me, I didn’t notice you were here,” you quickly said as you tried to wipe away the evidence of your momentary vulnerability. You didn’t need a mirror to know that it was an unsuccessful attempt.

“Sorry, I saw the light in your office and thought you’d be in here.”

“Did you forget something?” you asked, puzzled by his unexpected return.

“No, I just didn’t want you to be all alone so I told JJ that she could just go home,” Spencer said softly.

He continued, “I also saw you were a bit uneasy earlier.”

So Spencer hadnoticed.

“In fact, it seemed like you were stressed the whole day. Are you okay?” he asked.

You weren’t sure if it was the display of Spencer’s empathy again or the fact that he recognized something was bothering you when you were able to hide it from a group of profilers, but you felt the tears reappearing again and you didn’t want to hold back.

You broke into sobs for the second time that day and slowly slid back into the position you were originally in.

Spencer didn’t hesitate to join you as he sat and put a tight protective arm around you while he just let you cry.

“Am I making the right decisions? Who am I to choose who dies or lives? What if….” you trailed as you muffled all your worries into his chest.

For the first in a long time, you felt safe in the arms of someone else. You didn’t have to, or heck, want to hide yourself anymore. When Spencer held your hand, you knew.

You looked up to see the most understanding eyes, and you knew right then and there that you had found your person.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds

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luci-four · 3 years

Text

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for...” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“.....What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait--”

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege's attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day--”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now--”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one--”

“You could do it!”

“--and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord--”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes--”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting--”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See... what, exactly?”

“The--”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“..... I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You... had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but... I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But--”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it--”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he'd have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so... emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean... here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here--”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al...right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems...” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know--”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something... but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs--”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in... to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m--”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess...” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought... if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

#om! diavolo #obey me! diavolo #om! diavolo x reader #obey me! diavolo x reader #om! fic #obey me! fic #om! writing #obey me! writing #satans bookmark #anyway stan diavolo i love him and his lil puppy self

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rogerslovesstark · 3 years

Note

Hi there! A huge fan 💜💙 I was wondering if your requests are open?

If yes, could you please write an angsty fic where in reader is dating Bucky and for some reason he belittles her and breaks off their relationship. After which eventually everyone on the team stops talking to her. She's forced to leave off on her own and struggles a lot. Later Bucky realises his mistake and tries to contact her but the old her is gone. Like she finds her own happiness. Sorry if it's too detailed☹️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNING: Angst

Your recruitment to the team was quick and very low-key. Almost no one knew that you had joined the Avengers because you requested Tony not to hold a press conference. You loved being an Avenger, the idea of helping people in need was so fulfilling.

However, the spotlight of being an Avenger was not pleasant. You did not know how Tony and Steve were able to handle it, the constant feeling of eyes on you, paparazzi almost always being on top of everything you do.

The few events you did go to, you stood with Bucky most of the time. He always kept you safe and comfortable while the party was booming. The two of you would walk around the venues Tony would rent out, looking at the architecture of the building, admiring the art that was around.

The conversation was kept minimal because there was already so much noise from the party. Both silently agreed that there was no need for extra noise.

It was the New Years Party two years ago where Bucky asked you if you wanted to slow dance. The Venue had multiple balconies and he chose the smallest one for the two of you to dance.

The two of you swayed to the soft music that could be heard from the party. Once the clock hit 12:00, Bucky leaned over and kissed you. You two began dating shortly after.

Every Sunday was a day for a date unless either of you had a mission. Every other week you planned a date for you and Bucky, walks in the park, restaurants, bars, everything you could think of.

You developed a dependency on Bucky. Always seeking his reassurance, seeking his comfort and touch. You felt as though you were not complete unless you were with Bucky.

Your childhood was to blame, primarily your father. Physically, your dad was there but not emotionally. You never received emotional love from your father, the ‘I’m so proud of you’ or ‘you’re doing amazing’ Just a stiff nod.

Being raised by your psychotic father was the reason you developed into the cold-hearted killer you were. From 16-19, you worked as a mercenary and killed for money.

You craved emotional validation from someone because you were so deprived of it when you were a child. You struggled to form relationships with others because of it too. That was one of the main reasons why you were not as close to the team.

Bucky would always smile at you, or kiss you when you were excited about something you would accomplish. On missions, he would always stay near you unless instructed otherwise by Steve.

Bucky has been extremely off recently, always working with Steve, or working out with Sam, helping Wanda train her new abilities because it’s hard to kill a super-soldier than a normal human.

He had missed five Sunday dates. Five of them. In those five weeks, you barely saw him and it was driving you crazy. You constantly would search for the time where the two of you could just be alone. You were so deprived of physical touch and emotional love, you began to fall into a depressive state.

You walked towards the conference room, you asked Friday where Bucky was. She said he was in the conference room alone which is weird that she specified.

You opened the door and found Bucky just sitting on his phone. It was almost 10:30pm and he was just chilling in the conference room on his phone.

“Baby, I’ve been looking for you,” You said, walking over to him and running your hands along his broad and muscular shoulders. He was always so tense when he was sitting hunched over.

He shrugged you off his shoulders and turned to look at you. Not a soft, loving kind of look that a lover would typically give his lover; he gave a harsh glare as if you had done something to him.

“God, you are so fucking annoying, you know that,” Bucky said. He grabbed that hand that was touching you and stood up from his chair. He let go of your hand rather quickly as soon as he stood from the chair.

“I can’t fucking stand being around you Y/n, I don’t know why I ever asked you to be my fucking girlfriend,” He said, lowering his face closer to your face so the two of you were at eye level.

Tears pooled in your eyes, every word he said was like a thin blade stabbing you in the stomach over and over again. You did not know what you did wrong, you had not even seen him in almost a week despite living with him.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I’ll be better, what can I do to be better, please,” You whispered, if your voice were any higher, you would being sobbing.

Bucky just watched as you pathetically tried to hold your sobs in. You really were a weak woman and Bucky knew that. He knew that he held you in the palm of his hand and if he wanted to, he could break you.

He watched as your world crumbled around you because Bucky had decided to hurt you. Your hands were shaking and curled into fists. Your nose was turning red from holding back your tears.

“You are nothing without me, and I don’t want you anymore, so get the fuck out of my face and leave. No one on the team likes you, they would rather see you dead than ever have to see your horrific face ever again.” Bucky snarled, ready to see you burst into tears.

He knew that was the last straw.

You quickly turned around and left before you burst into tears. Bucky grabbed your arm and tried to turn you around, wanting to see you cry. You were forced to turn around, tears in your eyes pulling your hand back and smacking Bucky on his cheek.

You left him dazed in the conference room. You ran to your shared room, collecting all your belongings. You had a small apartment in the heart of Montreal that no one knew about. You deliberately left off your information given to FRIDAY.

“FRIDAY, get rid of all information regarding Y/N L/N” You requested.

“Request denied, reasoning: unauthorized access to function,”

“Override denial, code Tony Stark has a fat ass” You rolled your eyes at the code Tony had told you to be used as a last resort code.

“Permission granted, removing all information regrading Y/N L/N,”

You grabbed a piece of paper on your desk, writing a short goodbye to Tony knowing he would wonder where you went. You quietly walk over to Tony’s office and placed it on the monitor he mainly used.

You left the compound shortly after, walking seven miles to the small car you planted in the forest. You prepared this as a last resort option. You never wanted to use this car but times were desperate and you had to get away from Bucky.

++++

You were struggling, barely able to figure out how to live on your own. The money you had saved from working for the Avengers was running low and the waitress job you did have has barely enough to pay the bills you had.

Montreal was really expensive you ended up realizing, with such a horrible job, you sold your apartment and moved in with some college students in a small house. You shared a bedroom with one of the women in the house.

Ashley, your roommate, actually found the job for you, she helped you changed your appearance and spotted your money whenever you were desperate for it.

You had no skill set for an actual job, the only skills you had were killing. And your skills had developed rapidly as an Avenger. You knew what you had to do to survive.

The first kill that you had was a child trafficker in Toronto. Ashley covered for you, saying you two would go to a spa for a girl's weekend. She stayed at the spa while you finished the job. You gave her 20% of the income made.

You two had gotten close over the two years that you spent in the shared house. She was one of the only people that you trusted at this point. She suggested that you started therapy, which you decided to actually go to.

Your therapist wanted you to start realizing that you were more than who you surrounded yourself in. You deserved the love that you craved and you could only get it when you truly loved yourself.

++++

Bucky was laying in the bed the two of you shared. Two years had passed since he had driven you out of his life. He didn’t know why he did it, he was so upset because he saw you flirting with Tony. But Tony got engaged to Pepper only a few days later.

After nine months of you being away, he started to crave your presence in his life. He asked FRIDAY where you were but she had no information on you. When FRIDAY said she had no information on you, he had one of the biggest meltdowns he ever experienced.

You were officially gone from his life. Even with all the winter soldier experience of tracking people down, he couldn’t find you. Bucky knew that you were smart, you could hide in plain sight if you wanted to.

It was in Toronto that he saw you again. Bucky’s whole world stopped after he saw you. You were so different now. Your hair was completely different from what he was used to, and you dressed differently too.

It took him two months to finally get you to speak to him.

“What do you want Bucky?” The way you used to speak to him was so soft, now you were so cold towards him. Bucky’s stomach churned, almost nervous to respond to you.

“Y/n, please come back, I’m sorry for everything I have done to you, everything I said was a lie. I still love you” Bucky pleaded to you.

“Bucky I’m not the same woman I used to be, you broke me, I was so broken and I was the only one who fixed me. You don’t get to come back after I learned how to not live with you.” You shouted at him.

Tears pooled in Bucky’s eye, he had lost the one person who had shown him, true love. The one person he wanted to protect for the rest of his life. He lost you, forever.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x Female Reader #Winter Soldier #WINTER SOLDIER ANGST #james barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes angst

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

I’m bad at prompts so I have an aesthetic vibe for a fic: dusty library, silver glasses, warm blanket, hot tea, cold voices.

Jon wants to get Martin’s attention. Daisy and Melanie have an unusual plan.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I need...I need to make sure he’s okay. Daisy’s already tried and well, you-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly.”

Jon sighed. He needed to trust Martin, he knew this. But how could he, when he faded more and more each day? When Jon couldn’t reach him, couldn’t know he was safe? He needed to touch him, make sure he was still solid, still there. That Jon still cared. And if Jon could just break through-

“He won’t let me talk to him. And I don’t know what to do.” The words came out more plaintively than he would’ve liked. Melanie gave him an unimpressed look, Daisy leaned back on the couch. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly decided to confess his feelings to these two, perhaps it was the leftover alcohol in his system from their afternoon drink. Basira was off on another lead and Daisy needed the distraction. They all did. And now they were back at the office, bored and lethargic, Jon dodging the paper balls Melanie lazily tossed his way.

“You’ve got to do something,” Daisy drawled, idly picking at her nails. “To get his attention. You’ve got to make him come to you.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon groaned in frustration. “If I did, I would’ve done it already.”

“Wait.” Melanie sat up straighter, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I know exactly what to do.” Daisy and Jon shared a glance as she broke into a smirk.

“And Martin won’t be able to resist you.”

____________

“Is this really necessary?” Jon asked, flinching back as Melanie applied the pink-coated brush to his cheek. “It seems a bit excessive.”

“Stop moving. And yes, if you want to look the part.” Melanie wielded the makeup brush like a weapon as Daisy followed with a critical eye. “Does he look pathetic enough?”

“Hmm.” Daisy leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Jon’s face. “I think he needs a bit more. Just a pinch.”

“Agreed.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jon snarked, leaning away from Melanie’s hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. It’s not going to work.”

“You agreed to this because you know it’s going to work,” Melanie insisted, dipping the brush in the compact. “Trust me, Martin won’t be able to resist doting on you if you look properly ill. When I came here the second time ‘round, he hovered outside the door the entire time. “Do you need anything, Jon? Can I get you some tea? Are you feeling alright?”

“That’s not what he sounds like-”

“That’s exactly what he sounds like,” Daisy smirked, settling back into the couch. “If you don’t like the makeup, we can always go with option two-”

“I am not letting Melanie punch me, thank you very much.” She still harbored a lot of residual (and rightful, in his opinion) anger from the surgery incident, and he wasn’t willing to be the outlet for it. “How do we know he’ll even see me?”

“He goes down to the library every Wednesday, sneaks in and out real quiet-like,” Daisy repeated for the third time. “Trust me, I know his patterns.” There was still some Hunt in her yet, no matter how much she starved it. Listen to the quiet. He didn’t say it aloud, but from the look in Daisy’s eyes he didn’t need to. “We’ll set you up there. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to miss you.”

“Whatever you say,” he grumbled, batting away Melanie’s hand. “Are you done yet?” She evaluated him with a scowl.

“That should do it.” She shut the compact with a definitive snap. “I was going to add a bit of purple eyeshadow under the eyes, but that might be overdoing it. You already look like a zombie.”

Daisy nodded appreciatively. “Powder did the job. God, Melanie. You’re a pro.”

“Thank you,” she preened as Jon rolled his eyes. “Now, for the finishing touch!” She leaned forward, yanking the scrunchie out of his hair and ignoring his yelp with an air of satisfaction. “Perfect!”

“I fail to see why that was necessary!” His head ached from the sudden pull on his hair, which was now falling down his shoulders in a tangled, ruffled mess. God, I must look insane. He lifted a hand to put it in some semblance of order when Melanie grabbed at it, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, you’ll ruin it!” she snapped. “Martin likes it when it’s down.”

“How do you know that?”

“God, he really is oblivious,” Daisy said with a disbelieving chuckle. “I may have only visited a few times, but even I saw the way he stared at you whenever you so much as touched your hair. It was sickening to watch.”

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you settled. We have to time this perfectly.” Melanie gestured impatiently for him to get up. “Daisy’ll take you up. I’ve got to grab something.” Jon didn’t trust her but in all honesty, what did he have to lose? The things we get up to when Basira’s gone...though I suppose this is significantly better than the Coffin Incident.

Daisy took his arm, leaning on him for a bit of support as they made their way up to the library. To anyone else it would look the opposite, that he was the one relying on her- Daisy was good at hiding her weakness. “There’s a couch by the front desk,” she murmured as they rounded the corner. “It’ll be right in his line of vision.”

“What if he isn’t paying attention?” Jon worried, watching as the other staff studiously avoided their gaze, side-stepping them in the hallway. The Archives were truly toxic, and no one wanted to anger the heavily-scarred, scowling Archivist and his rabid ex-cop friend. For the first time in his life, Jon was intimidating. He didn’t like it.

“He always pays attention to you,” Daisy insisted. “He just doesn’t want you to see it.” The words put a lump in his throat. He wondered if they were true. He opened his mouth to reply when Melanie scurried up behind them, her arms full of-

“No.”

“Yes.” Melanie pushed into him, impatiently urging them forward. “Trust me, it’ll work.”

“I am not-” He was cut off by a surprisingly strong push from Daisy, landing him on the couch with an ‘oof.’ Melanie threw the offending object around his shoulders- a fluffy pink blanket Jon recognized from its place on Basira’s cot. He tried to worm his way out of it but Melanie gave him a sharp slap on the arm, ignoring his hiss of pain. He looked around, wildly embarrassed by the entire situation to find that the room was strangely empty, which was surprising for the time of day. I suppose everyone’s trying to avoid us these days.

Daisy froze, her eyes narrowing and posture straightening. “He’s coming.”

Melanie swore, running around the corner and coming back with an old, heavy tome she'd snatched off the nearest shelf. She grinned, an almost manic thing that Jon instinctively leaned back from. “The final touch,” she said proudly, not waiting for his answer as she opened the book with a flourish, flipping the pages in front of his face like a fan. He flinched back, utterly confused.

“Melanie, what on earth are you-”

_______

Martin heard him before he saw him.

The scurrying of feet across the hardwood was strange enough, but Jonathan Sims sitting on the library’s best couch, sneezing into a fluffy blanket and looking bleary-eyed and very exhausted was even stranger. Well, not the exhausted part. That was Jon’s normal state of being.

But there he sat, wrapped in Basira’s fluffy pink blanket with a flushed face, messy hair, and an ashen pallor that could only come from sickness. Martin had seen it before, back when he lived in Document Storage and Jon was working himself into the ground, much like he was doing nowadays. He felt that pang of worry that accompanied those long nights in the Archives, something he was trying desperately to tamp down.

Working for Peter was infuriating and isolating, just as it was supposed to be. He was constantly reminding himself that it was for the greater good, that he was doing something important, protecting his friends. Protecting Jon. But how could he protect him when he kept finding Martin, even though he promised to trust him? How could he protect him when he kept throwing himself headlong into any danger he could find? How could he protect him, when his biggest enemy was himself?

Another sneeze. Jon looked almost confused by it, maybe even offended that it happened. It made him want to smile, an urge he fought down as he tried to remember Peter’s promise to keep them safe if he kept his distance. He hazarded one last glance, sure that he wasn’t in Jon’s line of sight that he noticed one last detail- Jon’s sweater. Incredibly baggy, worn, light blue knit- a color he’d never seen on him before.

Martin’s sweater. And with that, he found himself walking over to Jon almost involuntarily, steps loud and purposeful as they startled Jon from his perch on the couch. And when Jon noticed him he smiled, so bright and happy and obviously extremely out of it if he was having this reaction to Martin. His face really did look flushed up close- he must have a fever, especially if he wandered up here in this state. Martin successfully resisted the urge to feel his forehead.

“M-Martin!” God, how could he not talk to Jon, when he said his name with such happiness? He fought to keep his voice level and cool as he responded.

“Jon. What are you doing up here?” Jon’s smile dimmed slightly, and Martin tried not to feel guilty. He did not succeed.

“I, um-” Jon stuttered, his usual sign of nervousness as he ran a hand through his hair. His hair, that was mused and tangled and falling in his face. Fuck. “I w-was reading.” He struggled to pick up a particularly heavy-looking book from where it sat on the couch next to him, its title obscured from Martin’s view. “It was getting, er, a bit stuffy down in the Archives.”

A red flag if Martin ever saw one. They rarely left the Archives these days, unless it was for a quick lunch and even then, Jon had to be dragged out bodily. He sighed, trying not to meet Jon’s pleading eyes. And still, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you...okay?”

Jon looked down to his lap, the blanket half slipping off his shoulders as he fidgeted with his hands. Martin looked pointedly away. “Not feeling very well,” Jon murmured to the ground, looking strangely nervous, maybe even guilty. That didn’t make sense. He must be really ill, if he’s actually admitting to it. Martin hesitated, fighting between what he should do and what he really, really wanted to do. The cold evaporated just a little and Martin had never felt so seen.

He missed that.

And so, less reluctantly than he would have liked, he extended a hand down to Jon, who looked at it in shock. “C’mon. Let’s get you back downstairs, I’ll make tea.” Make tea. His solution for everything, he remembered Tim deriding. But Jon looked at him like he’d offered much, much more than that. Maybe he had. The hope in his eyes was too much to bear. So when Jon put a thin, scarred hand in his, he looked away, even as he helped him to his feet.

To his disdain and delight, Jon immediately leaned into his side, as if trying to leech warmth that Martin couldn’t provide. In fact it was now Jon who was the warmer of the two- the Eye would not accept the chill of the Lonely, and the fever probably didn’t help. He was like a touch-starved cat looking for a crumb of affection, and god did he want to give it to him. If it were the Martin of a year ago he would have blushed, stammered, maybe even squeezed him back. Now he can only offer him the shoulder, nothing more.

Jon didn’t say anything more than a muttered thanks as they made their way down to the Archives, as if he were afraid of spooking him. More than one staff member they saw stared; Martin had been AWOL except for a few official emails, and was now suddenly the assistant to the head of the institute. To see him with the dreaded Head Archivist must have been even more of a shock. He felt pity- what a pair we make.

By the time they arrived at the archives, Jon had leant almost all of his weight against Martin’s side, making it difficult to maneuver them both down the stairs. No one was there, and he wanted to scold the other three, wherever they were, for leaving Jon to wander in his condition. I’ll fix him tea, get him on the cot and then I’ll go, he promised himself.

Easier said than done.

He barely managed to pry Jon off of him, and only with the promise to return with a cup of tea did he let go. Never in his wildest daydreams did he imagine Jon to be this clingy, hanging off him like a limpet. As he made his way to the break room he drew the Lonely back to him like a security blanket, albeit a cold one. You can’t stay. You have to go. He looked blankly around the room he used to think of as a safe haven; it was no longer familiar, different mugs on the table, different food in the cupboards, a bag of makeup on the counter. He no longer had a place.

Jon was sitting up on the cot when he arrived back, cup of tea in hand. He pointedly didn’t meet his eyes as he handed it over, staring at his feet and ignoring Jon’s thanks as he turned to leave. Go go go-

“Wait!”

Damn it.

He turned. “What is it, Jon? I have to-”

“Will you stay?” His face was so open, so vulnerable it made Martin ache with longing. “Just- just for a bit.”

Martin sighed, trying to maintain his stoic façade. “You know I can’t.”

“I miss you.”

“Jon-”

“I know, I know,” Jon replied, voice going quiet. He thought dying would harden the man, but it only seemed to soften his sharp edges. “I’m sorry.” He held the mug between his hands, staring down like it was something precious.

“It’s fine,” Martin replied, though they both knew it wasn’t.

“Will you stay if I don’t talk?” Jon leveled that hopeful gaze at him again and Martin looked up to the ceiling for divine intervention that wouldn’t come.

“Jon-”

“Please.” He was begging. His eyes were bright, whether from tears or the fever Martin couldn’t discern. But what was he to do, say no? Not when he was like this, not when he was sick. Martin made excuses, none of them particularly convincing even to himself and they certainly wouldn’t be to Peter, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made his choice as soon as Jon said the word.

“Okay. For a bit.” That smile again. Jon said nothing as Martin tentatively sat beside him on that small, rickety cot. He would only stay for a bit, until Jon fell asleep. He had no one to look after him, after all. He would go back up and face Peter later.

For now, he let Jon rest his head against his shoulder. He let his fingers rise of their own accord and brush the hair from Jon’s face, eliciting a shiver. When he fell asleep, Martin didn’t move. He needs the rest. So he sat, reveling in the warm, heavy weight of everything he’d given up, everything he stood to lose, and knew he made the right decision.

Much later, when he’s faced Peter’s disappointed gaze and a mountain of extra work, he notices the strange, powdery cast on his sleeve from where Jon had laid his head. When he rubs at it, his fingers come back with hints of pink and white. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together- the footsteps in the library, the absence of Daisy and Melanie, the makeup on the counter. He wants to roll his eyes, wants to be angry.

Instead, for the first time in months, he laughs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581141

#my writing #prompt fill #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #melanie king #season four #lil bit of fluff lil bit of angst #i apologize if this wasn't what you were looking for but the idea grabbed me and i couldnt let go lmao #balanced-to-a-tea

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solomonish · 3 years

Text

Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

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justmypartner · 3 years

Text

Still Breathing: Chapter 7

Summary: AU | When a case goes sideways, Hailey wakes up in the hospital with a revelation that leaves her evaluating her life. While she recovers at Med, she meets Jay, an aloof, yet intriguing patient that catches her by surprise. The two get to know one another as they take on the task of rediscovering what it’s like to truly live, and eventually learn their lives intersect in more ways than one.

Writer’s Note: I realize how mean that cliffhanger was, so I offer you this chapter in apology. I *hope* it makes up for the torture that last line of chapter 6 created. I think this is my favorite chapter so far, so I really hope you enjoy!!!

Read on AO3 or below

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Stillness followed as those words left his mouth. They stood before one another, barely inches apart, and somehow it was still too much space. Her hand remained trapped in the confines of his, laying rest over his heart. It was as if the world around them stilled too. There was no noise, no wind, no movement, just the two of them there on her walkway, their hearts beating in sync with one another.

It took her a minute to process. At first, she wasn’t even sure if it was real — if the words that left his mouth weren’t just some figment of her imagination. Then she noticed the look on his face, the firm set of his jaw, and the glimmer in his eyes, and it was all enough to assure her that it was real.

She released her hand from his grasp, reaching up to cradle his face. He closed his eyes with the touch, his hands finding her waist, pulling her even closer against him. It was the type of touch and intimacy that was unfamiliar for them, yet it felt like a habit they’d practiced every day. She raised up, ready to let everything go, the thought of his lips against hers the only thing on her mind. Then, he removed his hands from her waist and brought them to rest on her forearms, pushing her away gently.

“You’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” he told her, a pang of regret in his voice.

She released the breath she was holding, dropping her forehead against his chest as she let out a confounded, “I know.”

“Trust me, I want this, I just want it when we both have a clear state of mind,” he told her, and she pulled away so that she could look up into his eyes. His level of honor and restraint only made it harder for her not to jump him right then. Though as difficult as it was to admit, she agreed. She wasn’t so happy about it in that moment, but she knew the future and sober version of herself would appreciate their prudence.

“You know, you ruined my surprise,” she whispered as her hands dropped from his face to his collar, fidgeting with it for a moment before resting against his chest.

He cocked his head at her, his left brow raising to voice his lack of understanding.

“That thing I needed to tell you earlier… I was going to say I’m falling in love with you too.”

He bit his bottom lip to smother the smile that broke out with her words. He then grabbed her hand from his chest, slowly raising it up to leave a kiss on the top. Her eyes fluttered closed, melting at the sensation of his lips against her skin. God was she regretting those last few shots of tequila.

“Goodnight, Hailey,” he said as his lips pulled away from her hand, a low gruff in his voice sending shivers down her spine.

“Goodnight, Jay,” she told him, grudgingly pulling away from his grasp.

She turned and walked up to her front door, turning around when she got there to see he was watching her every move.

She wasn’t just falling in love with him, she was nose-diving, like she had been shoved from a precipice with no warning. Hearing him say those words back only made it worse, giving her that feeling of falling all over again. Though, as enraptured as it made her, it also scared her half to death. She chose to push those fears aside for the time being. They were falling for one another, and that was the only thing that seemed to matter.

— — — —

“Upton! You coming to Molly’s tonight?” a voice echoed through the small locker room, startling her as she shoved the last of her things into her bag. When she closed her locker door, Adam was standing behind it with a look of anticipation on his face. Kim stood behind him with a similar look, both of them eagerly waiting for her response.

“I’m sorry, I have plans,” she told them. She had to force a sad tone, trying her best to keep the smile from breaking away at the thought of said plans.

Not even the hangover Hailey had woken with the morning after the confession was enough to dampen her mood. The first thing she saw when she woke was a text from him.

Good Morning, please don’t work late tonight. We have plans.

And don’t even ask, it’s a surprise ;)

She spent the rest of the day staring at the clock, and to her delight, the case wrapped early.

She slugged her bag over her shoulder as she moved to exit the locker room. Kim and Adam followed her movements, keeping their eyes on her as she kept her stare straight ahead.

“C’mon, it’s your last few days of desk duty. That’s something worth celebrating. Also, you’re starting to give me a complex. I’m thinking maybe you just don’t like us,” Adam said, the playful twitch in his voice making her chuckle.

“Shut up. You know I love you guys, I just… have plans,” she said, nervously trying to avoid having to explain exactly what her plans were, or rather, who her plans were with.

“Uh huh. Are we ever going to get to meet these plans?” Kim questioned, her inquisitive look implying the double meaning of the word.

“I- I don’t even know what that means,” Hailey laughed out, shaking her head as she felt her cheeks burn.

“Oh, but I think you do,” she said, Adam’s head now snapping in her direction. Hailey opened her mouth to object, but Kim cut her off.

“Please, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your face lights up when your phone buzzes. I’ve seen it for weeks, I guess I just figured you would’ve told us by now,” she shrugged.

“You know, now that you say it, I’ve noticed that too,” Adam butted in.

“Hm, maybe it’s about time you both make detective then,” Hailey said sarcastically, pushing the door for the bullpen open as they descended the stairs into the lobby.

The department wasn’t as big as it seemed. Hailey had come to learn everyone was connected in one way or another, so revealing anything could mean inadvertently breaking her promise to Jay. She found it best to avoid the subject in any way she could, which meant avoiding even the idea of him when it came to talking to anyone in the CPD.

“Why don’t you invite him out tonight? We’d love to meet him,” Adam proposed.

She tried to come up with an excuse, and she was grateful when her thoughts were cut short.

“You three, come here,” Trudy instructed. They shared a look between one another before descending the rest of the stairs and coming to lean against her desk.

“Little birdie tells me you’re back in the field soon,” Trudy said leaning over her desk as she directed her attention to Hailey.

“Your source may be correct,” she told her, forcing a slight smile that hid her mixed feelings about the idea.

“That’s great. Try not to get shot again, will ya?” Trudy said bluntly.

“Yeah, copy that,” Hailey said, rolling her eyes as she smiled at the sergeant.

“You two,” she addressed, pointing to Adam and Kim. “Either of you hear from Halstead?”

“Halstead?” Hailey questioned before either could answer.

“Yeah, he’s the other detective who’s on furlough,” Adam told her before directing his attention back to Trudy. “I haven’t heard a peep since the day before he left.”

“Neither have I. I still can’t believe he just up and left out of nowhere,” Kim added.

It was the first time Hailey was hearing anything about the detective. Curiosity got the best of her, so she pressed the conversation further.

“Where’d he go?”

“No clue. Voight came in one morning with furlough papers on his desk, along with a note that said he was going on some long-planned trip. It was super unexpected-“ Adam’s voice continued on, but Hailey’s mind failed to comprehend a single word.

Her vision blurred and the noise around her muffled. Her mind brought her back to that first night with Jay. When he was still a nameless stranger, telling her his story for the first time.

My team doesn’t know about my cancer. They think I’m on vacation, traveling the world or sitting on a beach somewhere.

Suddenly, she made a connection she should have seen from the beginning. Voight had told her about the detective who took furlough, the whole reason he’d brought her onto the team in the first place. It would be a lie to say the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but she didn’t entertain it enough to actually believe it could be true. Hearing Adam talk about this Halstead guy, giving an eerily similar story to what she knew about Jay’s team? It made her nervous. She wasn’t even sure why. Her first thought was that it was some unwarranted guilt for being his replacement. She didn’t exactly take his position, but some paranoid part of her imagined him seeing it that way — as some sort of betrayal. Before her mind could roam too far, she snapped back into focus.

“I really have to get going,” she lied, looking down at the time on her phone then bringing her attention back to the trio before her.

“Have fun with your plans!” Kim called out as Hailey moved to exit the building. She waved a hand back, not turning around to let them see how rattled she was.

She didn’t want to stick around for more details. She didn’t want to have the theory confirmed. She figured if she could continue to live in her world of blissful ignorance, everything would be okay.

She was halfway home, lost in her thoughts when her phone rang. His contact popped up on her screen, and it was enough to cast away all of the cloudy thoughts fogging her brain. The rest of the night was about being with him, about openly sharing those feelings she’d tried to keep locked up for weeks. Whether or not he was the same detective from her unit, she wasn’t going to let the idea and whatever implications it carried ruin her night with him.

When she got home, she took a little extra time to pull herself together. He’d told her he was picking her up, remaining vague about the evening’s plans, so she kept in her work clothes and just fluffed out her curls a little more than usual. Her heart picked up in her chest when she heard a knock at her door. She felt like a teenager, giddy about her crush coming to pick her up for a date.

The wide smile she was greeted with on the other side of the door immediately had her grinning right back.

“Hi,” he said, the smile never leaving his lips.

“Hi,” she returned as she joined him on the stoop, closing the door and locking it on her way out.

He grabbed her hand as they walked out to the street, interlocking their fingers as he pulled her closer to him. She looked up at him, that same smile stuck on her face. She could get used to being that close to him.

He drove them deep into the city, and she tried piecing together what he had in mind. He’d asked her about her day, and she’d asked him about his, but none of that small talk distracted her enough from eventually figuring out their intended destination. It wasn’t until he was pulling into a random parking lot by the river that her heart officially dropped into her stomach.

“No…” she whispered. He just chuckled from the driver’s seat, shifting the truck into park as he looked over at her.

“Jay, I am not jumping into the Chicago River. Do you know how polluted that thing is? And don’t even get me started on the number of bodies I’ve had to pull out of there,” she rambled and he reached over, placing a hand on her knee, making her freak out for an entirely different reason.

“You don’t have to, but it would be more fun if you did it with me,” he said, rubbing his thumb against her jeans.

“Are you sure you even need to be doing this? Isn’t your immune system wrecked by the chemo and everything?” a sudden look of panic overcame her face.

“I don’t plan on drinking the water, Hailey. I’ll be fine,” he assured. The tense look on her face told him she wasn’t so convinced.

They eventually got out of the truck, and he gathered a bunch of towels from the back. It was nearly 9 pm by that time, so it was dark, and not to mention very cold out. Chicago Autumn was nowhere near as brutal as Chicago Winter, but it wasn’t exactly swimming weather either.

As they approached the bridge, she only became even more nervous. He’d settled by a bench on the riverwalk, dropping towels on it before kicking his boots off and shooting her a questioning look.

“Last chance,” he said, prepared to make the walk up to the walkway of the bridge alone. She blamed it on a brief lapse of sanity, but she couldn’t shake the idea of wanting to join him. She wasn’t sold on the idea, but she also didn’t think she could bear to watch him jump in alone.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered. She shook her head as she kicked her own shoes off, resting them next to his.

“I’m coming with you.”

“What?” he asked, a smile breaking away across his lips.

“It’s the whole point of the list, right? Make some memories… live a little?”

His smile grew and he nodded, holding out his hand for her to grab as they walked up to the bridge together. They probably looked insane, walking on the bridge barefoot in the middle of the night. When they made it to the ledge, the nerves only got worse as she looked down into what she knew to be very cold water below.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked as he released her hand to climb over the railing.

“We’re still breathing aren’t we?” he returned, and she shook her head at him with a nervous groan.

Once he was on the other side, he balanced himself with one hand on the railing behind him and offered her his other. She took it hesitantly, climbing over to join him on the other side. With one hand joined with his and the other grasping the metal behind her, she looked down into the dark water.

“Ready?”

She whimpered.

“If I catch a disease from this, I’m blaming you.”

He laughed, pausing only for a second before taking the leap without warning, his grip on her hand pulling them down together.

She let out a scream as their bodies gave way to gravity, and in a matter of seconds, they were submerged under the unbearably cold water. The sensation sent chills throughout her body as every muscle tensed up. When her head rose above the surface, she gasped for air, looking around for Jay. She treaded water for a second, her head swiveling around to try and find him. A brief panic overcame her, but then his head popped up a few feet away and she let out a sigh of relief. Somehow the beanie he wore survived the jump.

“See that was not so bad!” he called out, his cheeky laugh causing her to swipe water at his face.

They swam to the riverwalk, and Jay pulled himself up onto the sidewalk first as Hailey followed behind. The swimming and the effort it took to pull her up must have been too much for her shoulder, and she winced in pain as she exerted herself up onto the sidewalk.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching out to help her stand once she was on solid ground.

“Yeah, that just made my arm a little sore,” she said, rolling her shoulder out.

“Here,” he told her, grabbing a towel and walking towards her. He wrapped it around her tightly, giving her a smile before wrapping himself up in one of his own.

They carried their shoes back to the truck, their feet leaving footprints on the dry pavement. Out of nowhere, she began to laugh, drying the droplets that trailed down her face with the edge of the towel.

“What?” he asked as he blindly laughed along with her.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” she said, shaking her head.

“Worth it though, right?”

“Debatable,” she muttered as her teeth chattered.

When they made it back to the truck, they threw their shoes into the back, and he immediately got his keys to start it up. He was trying to get it as warm as possible before they climbed in.

“Hang tight a bit, I’ve got some more towels for the seats.”

She hoisted herself up onto the tailgate, scrunching the towel against the ends of her hair to dry the droplets leaving tiny puddles all around her. Every part of her body was shivering. The wet sweater she wore clung to her skin, only making her even colder. She did a quick scope around, finding herself in the clear before trying to tug the sweater over her head. She found it hard trying to pull her right arm through. The pain from her irritated shoulder made it almost impossible, and she let out a sharp wince every time she tried.

Jay walked around the truck, his movements halting when he noticed what she was trying to do.

“Do you need help?” he asked hesitantly. She was half topless with her right arm stuck in the sleeve of her shirt, and she found it sweet that he was so seemingly unsure of if it was okay to look at her like that.

“Uh, if you don’t mind,” she said, her chest rising and falling quickly, no longer just because of how cold she was.

He made his way over, standing between her legs as he helped pull the sweater over her head and slide her remaining arm out of the sleeve. He tossed it somewhere in the back of the truck and quickly took the towel from beside her to wrap it over her shoulders, pinching the ends together at her chest.

“Thanks,” she said. He nodded before picking a towel up for himself, resting it between his knees as he removed his own shirt. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she saw his bare torso, the muscles contracting and relaxing as he pulled the shirt over his head. He kept the beanie on as he draped the towel over his shoulders, and she frowned as she watched water continue to trail down his face from it.

“You don’t have to wear that for me,” she told him in a low voice, her eyes pointing to his head. His mouth parted as if he were going to object, but she just reached out to him, pulling him closer by his arm. She watched him swallow hard as the gap closed between them and he was right back to standing between her legs. She took the hat off slowly, causing him to shudder. His hair was thin and patchy, but it still had a slight wave in it. It wasn’t as bad as he’d warned. She actually found him to be far more attractive without the hat.

“Brunette. Very light brown, but brunette,” she voiced with a smile, dropping the beanie beside her.

His breath was shallow, and he remained silent for a moment.

“I know it looks bad, you don’t have to be nice,” he said evenly, his mouth barely moving as he spoke. The insecure look on his face and the way he couldn’t look her in the eyes filled her heart with pain.

“Jay-“

She couldn’t find the words, so she grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him down to her so that she could pepper a slow trail of kisses against the top of his head. Then her lips trailed down his temple and to his cheek, finally pulling away to rest her forehead against his.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered. “Plus, you should know I kind of have a thing for brunettes.”

She felt him let out a relieved sigh as his mouth curled up at the sides. Instead of responding he just leaned into her and captured her lips with his.

Her shoulders dropped as she kissed him back. She felt his hands almost immediately snake under her towel to slide against her waist. His fingertips against her bare skin sent chills throughout her body and made her pull him even closer to her. The kiss was hungry and slow, and she was certain she’d never been kissed that way before. When she pulled away, he followed, and when she slid a hand down his chest, his grip on her waist tightened. It was the kind of kiss that made her lose all sense of time and space — the kind you only dream about. He moved his hands to her legs, gripping the sides of her thighs to pull her closer toward him, and eventually those same hands rose to grab at the sides of her face. He instilled a warmth in her that was almost enough to make her forget how cold she was, a warmth that lingered even after he’d pulled away.

“Wow,” she muttered, mindlessly playing with the chain around his neck.

“Yeah,” he said, stroking a thumb down her jaw as his eyes blinked open.

“I uh- I don’t mean to cut this short,” she breathed out, still trying to catch her breath. “But it’s really cold, and I desperately need to get out of these clothes.”

They laughed and he raised a brow at her, causing her to swat the back of her hand at his chest.

“Not like- You know what I mean,” she giggled.

“I do,” he grinned. He leaned down and left one last peck on her lips before grabbing her waist to help her down. “Let’s go.”

As she thawed out on the drive home, she also cooled down from that moment they shared. Then she thought about her unintentionally suggestive comment. They hadn’t talked about it, they hadn’t exactly had the chance to, but she wanted to take things slow. Maybe part of it was not wanting to accept the option that left them with a short amount of time together, or maybe it was the fact that she’d never really figured out what a real relationship should look like. Either way, she knew what they had was unlike anything she’d ever had with anyone else. She wanted to make sure they did things right. Though she wasn’t exactly sure if he was on that same page.

“Hey, um I know time’s not exactly on our side, but I do want to take my time with us… with you,” she told him as his eyes flickered from the road to her.

“I want that too,” he nodded, reaching over and intertwining their fingers together.

“You do? You’re okay if I want to take things slow?” she asked him, uncertainty clear in the way the words left her mouth.

“I don’t have any expectations, Hailey. All I know is I want you, and I want this. Everything else we can take day by day,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. She smiled, reaching over and grabbing at his face to leave a kiss against his jaw.

— — — —

Hailey insisted on a shower the second they made it back to her place. Jay took that as an opportunity to order dinner, light a fire, and build a bed of pillows on her living room floor. She just about melted into a puddle when she came out to find the setup, a still shirtless Jay trying to dry his pants by the warmth of the fire.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked as she sauntered her way over, her mouth agape at his surprise as she brought her arms to wrap around his neck.

“Better,” she said, flashing him a dimpled grin. Her eyes surveyed the room before meeting his again.

“I never would have guessed you were a romantic,” she teased, her eyes pointing to the setup before them.

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes as his fingers tightened around her waist.

“I can throw those in the dryer if you want to shower real quick,” she told him as she nodded to his soggy pants, her fingers once again fidgeting with the chain around his neck.

“My shirt’s in the back of my truck, any chance you got a shirt I could borrow?”

“I don’t know I kinda like this look you’re rocking right now,” she said, sliding a hand down to poke a finger at his bare chest. He let out a chuckle, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as he sent her a smirk that could make her knees buckle. “But… if you insist on putting a shirt on, I’m sure I have one that’ll work.”

“Okay,” he murmured. He leaned forward and her face scrunched up as he left a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “Be right back.”

He left his clothes out in the hallway and she tossed them in the dryer. She had a collection of oversized shirts she often wore to bed, so finding one that fit him wasn’t hard. She picked one out and left it on the door handle of the bathroom before making her way back to the living room to wait for him.

Not long later, he returned in just the shirt and his boxers, causing a smirk to creep across Hailey’s face.

“Actually, I think I like this look better,” she told him as he made his way over to her.

“The jeans were still damp, also I figured if you get to be comfy, so do I,” he smirked, helping her with the boxes of takeout splayed across her coffee table.

“Hey, you don’t see me complaining,” she winked at him. “I’m going to go get a beer from the fridge, you want one?”

“Sure,” he said, nestling into the pillows she was retreating from.

When she made it to the kitchen, she checked her phone that rested on the counter. She had one text from Kim. The message elicited a mindless smile the second she opened it. It was a picture of Kim, Kevin, and Adam at Molly’s, their drinks raised in the air as their bright smiles lit up the screen.

I hope your PLANS are treating you well. Totally not sending this to make you miss us ;)

Her smile fell when she looked over at Jay in her living room and she was reminded of the conversation at the district earlier that evening. What if he really was the same detective from Intelligence who took furlough, the one who left them shorthanded, the one whose spot she had filled. Part of her wanted to talk to him about it, but then again she found it pointless to try and put out a fire she wasn’t even sure was lit yet. She took a step back from it, trying to settle her mind on just being with him, savoring every bit of that perfect night that she could. She pulled two beers from the fridge before turning her phone off and rejoining him in the living room.

The rest of the night was filled with easy conversations, tangled-up bodies, and lazy kisses. Yet, there were a few times that night when she tried the name on him. Jay Halstead. She repeated it in her head, and she couldn’t shake the way it seemed to fit him so well. Then her mind would drift to a reality where it was true. A reality where he was better and he was back at work, and they were partners, and they worked well together, and that same way he naturally made her feel safe translated to when they were on the job. She was pulled even further into the fantasy when she imagined they would get to go home and work well together there too, build a family, spend time with their friends, and everything in that reality seemed to be so perfect. It seemed like the kind of well-lived memories she would have wanted to have when she woke up in that hospital room.

Then she looked over at his beautiful face in the orange glow of the fire before them, the light from the flames creating dancing shadows across his face, and she realized he wasn’t that guy and that wasn’t their reality. To her, he was just Jay, and their reality was perfect moments and indefinite timing. Though that might not be as ideal as that one she’d created, she just knew she wanted every moment with him she could get. He’d taught her how to live, how to find a way to appreciate life outside of her job, and it made her that much more grateful for everything he was. She found some solace in that, so she tried to push that fantasy from her mind completely. Though no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but replay the name Jay Halstead in her mind. It made her wonder if maybe that was one part of her fantasy that carried some sort of truth.

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic #justmypartner fics #collection of Em’s fics

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

deny, deny, deny

read on Ao3

5 times someone told Sam and Bucky they cared about each other, and the 1 time they showed it.

“You two bicker a lot,” Dr. Raynor says, eyeing the two men who sit, fuming, on the other side of her desk. “If you won’t speak to each other, then tell me this, instead. James, why would you ignore Sam’s texts?”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath. Sam seems genuinely curious to hear the answer. Raynor glares until Bucky sighs and repeats himself, staring at the floor. “Didn’t wanna bother ‘im.”

“What? I was the one texting you, Bucky! Why would I -”

“Just drop it, Sam.”

“…Fine.”

Folding her hands on her desk, Raynor sighs. She can’t be certain, but Bucky has been her client for a few months now, and she knows it takes a long time for him to tell the truth. In this case, however, she thinks the truth is there, as a small part of it. The way that the tips of his ears redden tell her that there must be more to it.

She isn’t blind. She has a feeling she might know that answer. So she leans forward a little. “Good. Thank you for that answer, James.” Her gaze slides to Sam, whose arms are crossed over his chest as he looks toward the wall. “How does that make you feel, Sam?”

He scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for him, he still -”

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Raynor interrupts, feeling a headache coming on. She blows out a breath. “You’re both big boys now. You can handle this -“ she gestures vaguely, because she knows that they don’t quite understand yet, “- if you just talk to each other. Emotions are powerful things, you can’t ignore them forever.”

Bucky groans. Sam huffs.

They don’t get it. She’s not sure she wants to see them flounder, but she should put it out there, anyway. She leans forward. “Emotions including love, that you may have buried deep below.”

For a split second, she is met with stunned silence, before they both erupt, loudly. Denying, denying, denying, pushing the feelings down even deeper than they had been before despite the way that they fluster.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Deep breath in and out. They’ll accept it soon, someday.

Still, she shakes her head, effectively cutting them off. “No matter what kind of love it is, you care about each other. And that’s the bottom line. Once you cross it, things’ll be a whole lot easier.”

Sam looks at his lap, blinking. Bucky’s cheeks flush pink.

Raynor needs a drink.

“This is really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” John hates the man standing in front of him. Maybe, in another life, they could have been friends. But the stubbornness just pisses him off, so he goes for Bucky’s weakness. He knows Bucky can take being insulted, but there is one thing he won’t accept. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

He watches Bucky’s cold stare waver, if only for a moment. John takes that opportunity to stand his ground, glancing behind Bucky, to that open door he wants to go through so desperately. Karli is right there, and the only thing standing in his way now is Barnes, and his stupid loyalty to Sam.

Bucky thinks so highly of Sam, he doesn’t have any other choice but to use that one weakness.

So they lock eyes again. “I know you care about him. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Beside him, Lemar shifts his weight from one foot to the other as Bucky looks down for a split second. John knows what it’s like. He’d never leave Lemar behind, though he knows with Sam and Bucky, things are a little different. He can feel Zemo’s eyes boring into them now, clearly amused. They wait.

Bucky’s jaw is clenched, every inch of him now rigid. John knows the feeling, and knows perhaps it might have been unfair to put him in that position; he knows he would stop at nothing if it were his wife in that room. That’s almost the equivalent of what Bucky must have been thinking.

But the ends justify the means.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Bucky turns around, his shoulders still tight, and John exchanges a look with Lemar as he speaks. “You’re right. We should help him.”

John’s grip on the shield tightens. Lemar grins. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” he suggests as they start up the stairs.

Bucky ignores them both, readying for the fight.

“Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam asks, cool and collected as ever. “And if that’s how you feel, then what about Bucky?”

Zemo carefully removes the ice pack from his forehead, weighing it in his hand as he sits up. He doesn’t know how to feel about Bucky just yet. For now, that question doesn’t have an answer. For now, Steve Rogers is the only exception, and he can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

Still, he has to have some kind of fun, right?

So he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tilting his head to get a better look at the man sitting at the table, and shrugs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Sam blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Sam, I always thought you were an intelligent individual,” he replies, only slightly teasing. He does like Sam. He’s righteous, level-headed, and doesn’t make any stupid decisions. Except, perhaps, the person he might have chosen to love. “What do you think of James?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Nodding, the other smiles and looks down, gathering his thoughts. “I think he’s annoyin’ as hell,” he answers slowly. “But...he’s passionate, smart, a big softie deep down...and he always does the right thing even though he’s hurting, too.” He pauses, then adds, “I still can’t tell if breakin’ you out of jail counts as the right thing, though.”

Zemo smirks, leaning back a little, tossing the ice pack from one hand to the other. “You know, when I first met my wife, she hated my guts.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Zemo.”

He chuckles, somewhat sadly, then continues. “These fights that you and James have, over the small things, they are nothing more than just couple’s quarrels.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he turns to look at him fully, as if he’s lost his mind. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Bucky and I are just -”

“Just what, Sam?” Zemo tilts his head, as if challenging him. This is exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. It isn’t often the calm and collected Sam Wilson loses his cool, and Zemo likes to know he’s one of the ones who can get a rise out of him. “Friends, partners, all these terms you both throw around…” He thinks back to that look on Bucky’s face when John had challenged him, and his smile returns. “Perhaps you ought to think about what you truly want.”

And okay, maybe it isn’t just wanting to get a reaction from Sam. Maybe Zemo has seen the good in both of them, and thinks, perhaps, they ought to be happy, for once. His own partner is long gone, but it isn’t too late for Sam and Bucky.

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but he is cut off by the heavy sound of the door opening, and he immediately falls silent as Bucky walks in, with news that the Dora Milaje are after Zemo. Although Sam recovers quickly, staring at his laptop, Zemo side-eyes him, wondering if he might be blushing.

So Zemo stands up, shaking his head. How juvenile.

Sarah leans against the truck, wiping sweat from her forehead. It’s been hours, and she still can’t believe Sam has managed to pull off receiving this much help. She knows their parents did a lot of favors, but she never could have imagined it would pay off this much one day.

She’s already made up her mind. She can’t sell this boat. It means so much to her, and to Sam.

Her gaze drifts toward the dock, where Bucky is helping Sam carry some things to Carlos. She’s almost certain they’re bickering again, but as they walk, their shoulders almost touch. Sam smiles. It’s something she hadn’t realized she had missed so much.

Seeing her brother smile, and seeing the reason for that smile, is all the evidence she needs to agree to let Bucky crash on her couch. The sun is already dipping closer and closer to the horizon, and she knows people will begin returning home soon. Personally, she has to get the boys to bed. But she lets herself enjoy this moment as long as she can.

When Sam and Bucky place down their loads, Sarah whistles, getting their attention to wave Sam over. Bucky seems to think about following, but is soon distracted by AJ and Cass, excited to meet their uncle’s ‘cool friend.’ Sam chuckles as he tells them to behave, then makes his way over to his sister, a huge grin on his face.

“What’d I tell you? I knew we could make it work,” he says, spreading his hands. Just as confident as ever, she supposes. She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she can’t stop smiling, and his grin fades a little. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nothing. I just missed seeing you so happy,” she admits, because although they tease each other, although they bicker, she loves him. She has no trouble admitting she cares. Seeing the confusion on his face, she hops up to sit on the back of the truck, folding her hands in her lap. “You were gone. For a really long time. And that’s okay, I know what you had to do.” A pause. “When you came back all sad-puppy-dog in the rain that first night, my heart broke. I guess I’m just trying to say I’m glad my brother’s back.”

There’s another pause until Sam comes to sit beside her, so that their shoulders touch. He nods. “It’s been a rough couple years,” he murmurs, and she nods. It has been for both of them.

They gaze at the boys, who are excitedly coaxing Bucky to flex his metal arm, who has a confused look on his face as per usual. Sarah rests her head on Sam’s shoulder, just grateful to know she’s no longer so alone. And then she sits up, turning to face him.

“But enough of that sappy stuff,” she says. “Tell me about Bucky.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me his awful attempt at flirting was actually successful.”

“What?” Pulling a face, she shakes her head. “No, not that. Tell me about him. A guy that makes you smile that much is probably one worth keepin’ around.” She nudges his shoulder and he chuckles a little, his gaze returning to the man in question.

“You’re the second person who’s asked me about him recently.” He seems to collect his thoughts for a moment. “...He reminds me a lot of Riley, sometimes.”

Sarah nods, having expected something like that. “Is it the same?” Sam and Riley had always been close, but she had never seen them get physically close the way that Sam and Bucky did. Sam shakes his head.

“Some things are better. Some things are...more annoying.”

“It’s okay,” she assures, patting his shoulder as she slides off the truck to stand up. “In case you were wonderin’, I still know everything, and I also happen to know he feels exactly the same about you. He cares about you, and I know you care, too, so it’s up to you to do somethin’ with it.” She grins as a stunned look appears on his face, walking away before he can even think of something to reply with.

She hopes they can get their heads out of their asses and realize it. After all, having Bucky around could be pretty helpful.

“I’m sorry for how things ended down there.” A lie. “But for what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.”

Things had gotten dangerously close for Sharon. Too close. Luckily, though, Sam and Bucky haven’t found out the truth. If they had...well, she doesn’t want to think about what she would have to do if that were the case.

But here he is, their new Captain America, standing there in front of her with a soft chuckle and a slight nod. “Thanks.”

“All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky interjects, sounding...somewhat annoyed, for some reason. Her abdomen hurts terribly, but it’s not like she can’t handle a single gunshot wound. Still, standing around probably isn’t going to do her any good, so she nods and lets Bucky guide her.

They walk in silence for a little while until she looks at him. His gaze is fixed ahead, maybe lost in thought about something. Her eyes narrow a little. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“I mean, you basically cut Sam off. Why’d you wanna leave so bad?” Her interest is peaked when she notices that, despite the fact that his expression barely changes, his ears redden.

Bucky clears his throat. “In case you forgot, you’re kind of bleeding out here, Sharon.”

She huffs. “I told you, I’m fine.” Watching him for a moment, she attempts to piece the puzzle together. His eyes hadn’t left Sam since he returned with Karli’s body. Back at her apartment, he’d seemed almost angry when she had complimented Sam without his shirt on. It dawns on her and she smirks. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush.”

His ears redden further. She guessed right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I like you?” Deflecting the accusation and dissing her all in one go. She’s almost impressed.

“We both know I’m not talking about myself.” She grabs his arm, and they both stop walking. He won’t look her in the eye. “Hey, it’s okay, all right? Your secret’s safe with me.” Of course, unless he gets in her way. That’s a bridge she’ll cross if it comes to it. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a great candidate for you.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head a little. “...I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Sighing, she nods. “Of course you don’t. Look, you should just go for it. What do you have to lose?”

A flicker of pain flashes across his face. “Everything,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly.

“Sam wouldn’t leave you if he didn’t feel the same. You shouldn’t hide from him.” She winces, then, not quite sure why she’s giving him advice. If he knew the truth, he’d have left her to die. But she doesn’t dwell on that, feeling his hand on her arm to ground her, and they begin walking again.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Sharon. She might have gone down a different path a long time ago, but she still thinks they both deserve to be happy.

Unless, of course, they get in her way.

It’s late when Bucky comes to Sam’s door, knocking quietly before opening it to stand in the doorway, offering a beer out to him. “Fresh air?”

Sam accepts, and they walk outside together, footsteps sounding in tandem on the empty dock. A fresh sea breeze whips past, but not enough for either of them to get cold, the smell of salt filling their noses and the last couple cries of the seagulls before they settle in for the night.

They stop in front of the boat, admiring the work they had done on it together. Sam breaks the silence first. “Thanks for helpin’ out. With everything.”

Bucky looks at him and nods. “You’re welcome.” A pause. “It’s nice here, you know. Quiet. Nothing like New York.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

They gaze at each other for a moment before turning to their bottles. Silence is filled by the quiet crashing of waves in the distance. There’s a tension there that hadn’t been there before; an unspoken understanding of the situation.

Sam looks at Bucky, noticing the way the shadows under his eyes look a little lighter than they had been before. Bucky’s jaw is clenched, showcasing the stubble he’s been letting grow out, and Sam can’t help but think he looks princely.

And Bucky looks at Sam, at the way the moonlight so perfectly etches his features, his eyes bright as they stare back at him. He remembers the way Sam’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, how he reminds him of a sunshine that had pulled him from the deep, dark abyss he had been stuck in after Steve left.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been standing there, quietly. Two words tear from Bucky’s throat, like he has no choice in the matter. “Sam, I…-”

Instead of answering, Sam steps closer, cupping one of Bucky’s cheeks, smashing their lips together. It’s rough but sweet. Sam tastes like vanilla. Bucky tastes like beer. And nothing has ever felt so right before.

Sam pulls away and chuckles. “I hope that was what you were gonna say.”

Bucky smiles, though his face is bright red, placing a hand on Sam’s hip to pull him closer. “Somethin’ like that. Want to say it again?”

“I like that idea.”

They suppose they can put the promise of ‘going their separate ways’ on hold for a little while.

#marvel #mcu #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #they're in love but stubborn your honor #anyways #everyone knew they were in love even before they admitted it ty #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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ahopelessromantic · 4 years

Text

No Grave ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of blood, surgery, a gun wound, quite some angst, Spencer and Reader are next level whipped for each other

Is there truly nothing that can get in-between true love? Spencer and you are forced to find out in the most painful way.

(A/N: I kind of let myself get away with this one, it’s dramatic af lmao. But I listened to Hozier’s Work Song while writing it, so can you really blame me?)

Derek Morgan normally prided himself in having fairly quick reflexes. He had played college football, his rifle scores had always been consistently good, he was able to take down an unsub in less than a minute. But none of that had helped him when a psychotic suspect had shot down his best friend. He had to watch it happen as if it was in slow motion, his voice failing him and not even allowing him to yell out a warning. Spencer had sunken to the floor with a surprised look, blood already beginning to seep through the fabric of his shirt. He coughed weakly and immediately all of Morgan’s attention was on him. Full of worry, he barely even noticed Hotch arriving on the scene and taking down the suspect. “(Y/N).” Spencer spluttered out; his voice hoarse. Now, all of a sudden, everything was happening way too quickly. Morgan frowned in confusion at his friend’s words. “Is that the Unsub’s accomplice? Come on, Reid, stay with me.”, he growled, applying pressure to the gun wound. But he could feel Reid’s body growing limp. “Call (Y/N).” Was the last thing Spencer weakly whispered before passing out.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Emily hummed calmly, placing her arm around Morgan’s shoulders. He took a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. “Then why am I here and he isn’t? Why wasn’t he wearing his goddamn vest?!” He made a move to get up in agitation, but Prentiss pressed down on his shoulder, effectively stopping him. “You know Spencer would have taken it off to negotiate with or without your blessing. And blaming yourself isn’t going to help anyone right now. We’ll know more soon, okay?” He nodded, burying his face in his hands. It had been three hours of surgery already, and it wasn’t looking good for Reid. “Has Garcia found anyone with the name (Y/N) in the unsub’s life yet?” JJ shook her head, watching Morgan and Prentiss with a worried look on her face. “Nothing. Are you sure he said that name?” Morgan was about to snap at her, mad that she dared to criticize his memory at that moment, but then a nurse headed their way. They must have made up an odd group, just a bunch of tired-looking agents draped over various chairs and even the floor. “You’re with Doctor Reid?” This time there was no way for Prentiss to stop Morgan, he jumped up from his seat and towered over the unsuspecting nurse. “Finally, we see someone from your staff! Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve gotten any updates?” The nurse flinched, then regained her composure and straightened up to meet Morgan’s glare head-on. “If you’ve been here for so long already, you probably know that we’re not allowed to give you any information on the patient.” Morgan visibly deflated. “Can you at least tell us if he’s alive?” The nurse sighed, a conflicted look on her face. “Listen, his emergency contact is on its way. Maybe they can tell you more.” With that she disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind a clueless team. “Reid has an emergency contact?” Rossi asked but only got confused faces as an answer. After that, it was back to waiting. Just when Morgan thought he was going to lose his mind; someone came their way again.

You were sure you looked like an absolute mess. You had woken up from a terrible nightmare, and ten minutes later the hospital had called you. Before the staff member had even begun to speak you had already known that something was wrong. Like a madman, you had bolted through your apartment and carelessly gotten dressed. You were sure you had forgotten about half your purse’s usual contents back in your apartment. With some spare clothes and a hot to-go cup of coffee, you had gotten into your car and driven as fast as never before in your life. At some point, you had either switched on autopilot or gone into shock, or maybe even both. It was only in the hospital’s garage that you tuned back in, wondering how you had even gotten there in one piece. Upon seeing your reflection in the elevator up to the ICU you became painfully aware of the fact that you were wearing Spencer’s sweater. And with that, your emotions overcame you, threatened to pull you under like a deathly avalanche. With tears streaming down your face you made your way to the front desk, stating your name as calmly as possible. Your whole body was shaking and after the first whiff of hospital air you threw up into the nearest trash bin. One of the nurses had been so kind as to lead you to a waiting area and explain that Spencer was still in surgery. The people sitting there matched the descriptions of his team members and you weakly smiled at them. “You’re with Spence, right?” One of them jumped up from his seat and nodded, looking at you expectantly. “He’s- They told me he’s still in surgery.” Was all you were able to bring out before you broke down sobbing. A woman with dark hair pulled you into a much-needed hug, and if had you been less worried about your loved one’s wellbeing you would have felt bad about ruining her shirt with your tears. “I’m sorry if it seems insensitive, but I think we all have to ask.” A serious-looking man spoke up once you had slightly calmed down, now sitting next to the kind woman in one of the hospital’s dingy chairs. “Who… are you?” You were still so deep in thought that you hadn’t even heard the question, absently playing with the ring on your left hand. It was a habit Spencer normally called you out on, taking your hand whenever he spotted you doing it. It was also how the team’s glances landed on your ring, their breaths catching in their throats. “I’m Spencer’s wife.” You said with a heavy voice, swallowing down a sob. The team looked like they were about to bombard you with questions, but then a serious-looking nurse made her way over to you. You felt every single muscle in your body tense up. “Doctor Reid is out of Surgery.” For a moment you felt as if you were floating, ready for more good news, but upon seeing the expression on her face you could swear your heart stopped for a moment. “Would you please come with me?” You nodded and got up, your legs feeling like jelly. The nurse led you to the front of a hospital room. “You can go in and see him now, but I have to warn you. Your husband suffered a gunshot to his heart, and although the surgery has been successful, he’s still in a critical condition. He’ll only be somewhat safe once he makes it through the night.” You nodded, and without stopping to think for a moment you stepped into the room. If your heart hadn’t been broken before by the mere prospect of never looking into Spencer’s beautiful eyes again, it would have surely shattered into pieces now. Seeing his lifeless body on the hospital bed filled you with an indescribable ache like someone was physically trying to claw their way through your chest on the search for your now cold heart. The hot tears on your cheeks were the last reminder of warmth in your body, and you quietly whimpered. You sank into the chair next to his bed and felt yourself completely break, burying your head in the hard mattress. The eerie beeping of the heart monitor and the sound of the oxygen tank posed the soundtrack of your demise and for a while, you completely lost all track of time. You had known that his work was dangerous, and you had always been somewhat prepared for something bad to happen one day. You set up as his emergency contact was proof of that, of a partnership whose very essence it was to constantly fear losing each other. But nothing could have ever prepared you for this, sitting next to his pale form and feeling like you had been shot just as bad as him. It didn’t quite want to fit into your head, that this could be it. This could be the last breaths you would ever witness him take and it made you want to scream in pain. If everything had gone according to you, your life with Spencer had been nowhere near to being over. Hell, it had only just started. You gripped his hand, more to anchor yourself than anything. “Spence, baby. Do you remember the day we got married?”, you whispered in a last fit of broken hope. Maybe talking to him would bring him back to the land of the living, bring him back to you. Your wedding had been such a spontaneous decision, and yet, somehow, it had been the best day of your life. You had been speaking about the concept of marriage over breakfast, how commercialised weddings had become over the years, and then suddenly he had looked at you over the rim of his coffee mug and asked you if you wanted to get married today. There hadn’t even been any nervousness in his voice, he had been so certain that this was the way for you two to go. You had laughed at first, asked him if he was crazy, to which he had just retorted that he was crazy about you. “Nothing is going to change anyway. I’m yours and you’re mine for the rest of our lives, right? Might as well save some taxes while being together.” His words had been so profound that you hadn’t even had the chance to say no. So, that day, you in your prettiest sundress and Spencer in his best suit, the two of you had gotten rings from the jeweller around the corner and then driven to the courthouse where you had signed your lives away to each other. Now, sitting next to him in the glum hospital room, all of that seemed like a far-off memory. A sunlit moment of joy in a now so dull seeming world. “Your life is mine, and my life is yours, remember?” You whispered with an aching soul. “My life is going to end with yours and I’m not ready for that yet, okay?” Your voice broke. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.” You started sobbing again, and at this point, you were surprised you even still had tears in your body left to cry. All night long you weren’t able to get a minute of sleep, your gaze continuously fixed on the rise of his chest. If he was going to stop breathing, you had to be there. A doctor came by to check on Spencer in the early morning hours, looking somewhat hopeful. “He’s made it through the night, that’s good. Your husband is a fighter, Mrs Reid.” You almost hugged the poor guy, so grateful to finally have received good news again. “He should be waking up slowly, once he’s awake we can transfer him to a regular care room.” You nodded and looked back to Spencer, hooked up on various machines and tubes. The shadows under his eyes were dark, and although you wanted nothing more than to see his face full of life again you wished he would just take his time waking up. Normally you always had to force him to go to sleep. The team had been a huge help in keeping you sane, all of them had been camping out in the waiting area, waiting for any kind of news. Of course, you had wished to meet them under different circumstances, but nothing to bring you together like your husband almost dying, right?

Spencer woke up around noon. At first, you hadn’t even noticed it, but then his hand had twitched next to yours and your brain had immediately switched back into hyper-focus. He scrunched up his face, and then with the faintest morning voice ever he mumbled out a quiet “Ow.”. You started laughing and crying at the same time, pressing kisses all over his hand. “Why does my chest hurt?” He grumbled; his eyes still closed. “You were shot in the heart, honey.”, you reminded him, your voice almost matching his. It was then that he opened his eyes and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. You were never again going to forget how beautiful they looked. He weakly gripped your hand in his, his expression still more confused than anything else. “Is that why everything hurts?” You laughed and nodded, leaning your forehead against your joined hands. “I’ll go get the doctor in a minute. But do you even know how much you scared me?” Spencer lifted your chin and looked at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. “How does that song you like so much go again? No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her? You’re not getting rid of me that easily my love.” You breathed out in relief, leaning into his touch. “I love you so much, Spencer.” For a whole moment you got lost in his eyes, and it was there you knew that you were never going to take another moment with him by your side for granted. You were going to hoard them like a greedy madman and hold onto them until age or death would have to pry them from your hands. But then life picked up its normal speed again, doctors came swarming into the room to check on Spencer and you were filled with nothing but gratefulness to the universe for giving you more time with him, more time to make memories for your collection.

With a smile on your face, you watched the team spill into the room, all of them looking more than happy to see your husband alive. It had been two days since the surgery, and the nurses had only now given Spencer the clear for visitors again. Morgan sat down across from you, punching Spencer in the shoulder as gently as possible. “That’s for almost dying on me, and for not telling us that you’re married! We could have notified her much sooner, man.” Spencer had half a heart to look guilty, distracting himself by playing with your wedding ring. “You guys know how dangerously close Unsubs sometimes get to us. (Y/N) is all I have; I couldn’t risk her ever getting hurt. It’s got nothing to do with you, I promise.” Emily crossed her arms, looking down on Spencer in feigned anger. “Well, that’s good because we really happen to like your wife. She forced us all to sleep while she was waiting for you to make it through the night.” Spencer’s eyes met yours and you basked in the warmth flowing through you. He already had a cheeky grin on his tired face again. “Why does that sound so familiar?” You chuckled and rolled your eyes, gripping his hand even tighter. There was no way in hell you were going to remove yourself from his side during the next few weeks. After a few days he was cleared to return home, and you couldn’t wait to have your home feel like just that again. Home just wasn’t the same without him.

“Sir, you have absolutely no business still looking this good after getting shot in the heart.” Spencer laughed in surprise, shoving his wet hair out of his face. He had taken his first shower by himself today, finally able to fully move his arms again without ripping the stitches open. “Honey, I haven’t worn anything but hoodies and sweatshirts since getting back from the hospital.” You could see the familiar blush on his cheeks he got whenever you complimented him, and it filled your chest with warm honey to see him like that again. “Still. Being alive suits you.” He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, getting into bed and patting the empty spot beside him. “I know it’s early, but come sleep with me?” His painkillers made him constantly tired, but you’d prefer a sleepy cuddly Spencer over a Spencer in pain any day. “Like you even have to ask.” You giggled, turning off the lights and cuddling up next to him. “I know it’s a weird question.” You spoke into the darkness after listening to your husband’s calm breathing for a while. “But when you were on the other side… did you see anything?” You could feel his chest vibrate with a half-hearted chuckle next to you. “Go to sleep, (Y/N).” You shook your head and further curled up into his size. “I’m gonna need to hear you breathing for at least thirty minutes more before I’m able to fall asleep.” He took a deep breath and started drawing circles on your skin through the fabric of the ratty old MIT t-shirt of his that you always slept in. “It was just… lonely. And cold. So cold. For some reason, I knew you weren’t there. So I decided not to stay.” You tried to wipe away the tear that had snuck down your cheek as discreetly as possible. You had expected many answers, but nothing quite like this. “God, I love you.” You whispered with a trembling voice. Spencer turned to fully face you and caressed the side of your face. “I love you too. More than you can even imagine. But you should sleep now. I’ll still be here tomorrow, I promise. I’m never letting go of you again.” You nodded and snuggled into your pillow, a hand on Spencer’s chest. “Are you… checking for my heartbeat?” Eyes already closed, you giggled. “Shhh. I’m not letting go of you again, either.” With that, the two of you fell asleep. Spencer hadn’t lied to you. He was still there the next morning, and every morning after that as well for many more years. No matter how dangerous life became, he was always going to crawl back to you and you to him. No graves could hold your bodies down.

#requested #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #mgg #Matthew gray gubler #Matthew gray gubler x reader #BAU #BAU Team #BAU x Reader #derek morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #hozier

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otomegema · 3 years

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title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #help ive fallen into gojo brain rot and cant get up

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

Do Something Bad, Too - Part 5

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: It’s like every single Alpha on the planet won’t rest until they’ve confessed their eternal wish for you to mother their children, and it’s getting old. Luckily, that’s a problem Bucky might be able to fix.

Warnings: language, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of violence

A/N: sooooo..... lets not mention the last time i updated this fic was four years, and get excited that im finally updating!! woo!! i really hope this was worth the wait, im very anxious about letting you guys down. let me know what you honestly think! love u all, thank u for sticking with me

series masterlist | main masterlist | my ko-fi

You stay in Nat’s apartment in the Tower for the rest of your heat, which lasts an entire week. Nat comes and goes throughout that time to make sure you’re drinking enough water, to make you dinner or run you a bath, or sometimes just to keep you company when you’re capable of that. She doesn’t stay long, though, aware her presence just makes the unbearableness of going through heat even worse. She also doesn’t mention Bucky’s clothes or anything about that first day, which you’re immeasurably grateful for. You don’t think you could talk about it without crying.

To say you’re humiliated is an understatement. Mixed with that is all this guilt and shame and self-hatred for inflicting that situation on you and Bucky. Mostly for Bucky. He had made it so very clear he was only comfortable helping you with the scent thing, and even with that there were boundaries. You had blown through them all by showing up to his apartment, triggering both your instincts to do things you couldn’t control, and now he probably resented you enough to never want to see you again.

You don’t blame him. It doesn’t stop it from hurting so much, though.

You’ve well and truly fucked yourself now. Not only is it omega instincts driving you towards Bucky now, but also your own stupid, naive heart. You miss his giant hands and broad shoulders that block out the world for a second, narrowing your scope to just the two of you. You miss the way you can breathe around him, how the world doesn’t feel so scary and foreign to you when he’s by your side. It’s crazy because you weren’t even close, you weren’t even really friends, but now you never will be because you’re so goddamn stupid it’s actually astounding.

Nat’s plan had not worked. And this time, you couldn’t even blame her for this colossal backfire. This is all your handiwork.

You’re back in your office, returning to work once your fever died down and you could stand to be in the vicinity of other alphas without passing out. Maybe you’re tapping rather aggressively on your keyboard, and maybe all the techies on the floor can hear you sigh and groan in frustration every two seconds and are sending you strange looks through the glass. Whatever, you’re their boss, they can’t say anything. Besides, your boss has requested some rather strange security upgrades and you’re not sure if it’s within your job description to email Tony Stark and say what the fuck?

It turns out you don’t have to, because Tony Stark comes to you. It’s not often he takes part in the day to day workings of Stark Industries - that’s your job, after all. But he comes striding into your office eating an apple and wearing sunglasses during the middle of the day, and points a ringed finger at you.

“You’re back,” he says, and you find yourself glancing down at your baby-blue pantsuit just to make sure you are, in fact, back. Stark takes a very pointed breath through his nose and adds, “You smell terrible. This is great!”

“Great?” You can’t help but sound bitter. Your smell is hardly great to you. Even after sweating out your entire body-weight and taking more showers than is considered healthy, you still smell like Bucky. You can’t escape him - not your thoughts, not your heart, and certainly not the way your skin seems to emanate him like he’s crawled underneath and set up shop. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, because it’s not real, and just serves to remind you of the terrible mistake you’ve made. You hope beyond hope Stark doesn’t recognise the other alpha scent clinging to your pores.

“Yes, great. I need your help,” he says, sitting down in a chair opposite your desk. You glance at the specs you have open on your computer, the strange security upgrades he wants you to make to the Tower, and then back to Stark’s million-dollar smile. It’s unsettling. You feel a headache forming before he even opens his mouth.

“If this has anything to do with these emails-“

“Those can wait,” Stark says, waving a dismissive hand at your computer. He lobs his applecore into the bin beside your desk as if to punctuate his point, then says, “This is a request on behalf of the Avengers.”

“Um,” you say, rather eloquently. Avengers? What on earth could they want with you, unless- you groan, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “Natasha.”

“She highly recommended your expertise,” Stark says, and that headache brewing in your temples blooms into a full-blown migraine. He stands, smooths out his slacks, and says without room for question, “Follow me.”

This is how you end up back in the residential floors of the Tower, much to your chagrin, which Stark seems to pick up on. The closer you get to Bucky’s floor the more fidgety you become, heart racing and skin turning clammy until you watch the numbers fly by and you leave him somewhere in the clouds above Manhattan. The elevator doors ding open to a floor that seems to go on forever, full of gym equipment and fancy simulation tech you figure the Avengers must use to train. You find Natasha’s red head on the sparring mats, tackling someone to the ground with her thighs, and glare daggers as you follow Stark into the room.

“She’s alive!” Natasha calls across the room, ignoring your death glare for a knowing smirk. Her voice echoes through the warehouse-style gym floor, drawing the attention of the others in the room. The Avengers, and all of a sudden you feel like an eighteen year old kid watching aliens attack New York on a grainy satellite TV in the desert again. This is like meeting celebrities on another level. Steve Rogers finishes wrapping his hands as he walks over to you and Stark, Sam Wilson beside him, and Natasha gives Clint Barton a hand to help him up from the mats.

“What have you roped me into now, Nat?” you ask, not bothering to hide your frustration. You’ve just about had it with her meddling, but you should’ve known it was a pipe dream to think she would stop.

“We know you’re very busy, we won’t take up much of your time,” Steve Rogers says, extending a hand and introducing himself like he needs to. Captain America needs no introduction.

“I know who you all are,” you say, giving them a nod. “And you’re right, I am busy. So why am I here?”

“You and Nat must get along like a house on fire,” Clint says, earning him an elbow in the gut from Nat herself. You grin, all sharp in the way Nat tells you looks scary in a hot way, and watch as he subtly shifts behind Nat as if to hide behind her smaller frame. It’s only then that you register the scents mingling between them, and realise that Clint Barton is Nat’s omega. She grins at you, beatific and serene, as if she can read your thoughts and knows exactly what you’ve just figured out.

“Let’s not hold (Y/n) up any longer,” Nat says, grinning in a way that always spells trouble for you. “She’s a woman in high demand.”

Stark leads them to what seems to be a large empty space in the training facility, but it’s soon filled with hologram projections from a tiny Starkpad he pulls from his pocket. You fall into step beside Nat, using your height advantage to glare down at her and convey the level to which you want to strangle her right now. She just loops her arm with yours and kisses you on the cheek, frustrating your attempts at intimidation before you can even begin. Bloody Russian spies, you grumble to yourself as you come a halt in front of the holograms.

You’re looking at building specs, that much is obvious. Why, though, is entirely lost on you. The structure is a tall hexagonal building reminding you of a panopticon, with security floors in the centre and what seem to be prison cells surrounding them. Details jump out from Stark’s hologram - security cameras, miniature guards patrolling the floors, thermally sealed doors and electromagnetic force-fields on the cells. It’s a prison, you surmise, and you’re starting to get a bad feeling as to why you’re here.

You turn to Nat and say, “I’m not going back in the field.”

She pats your arm with only a tiny bit of condescension and says, “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re my Head of Security,” Stark says, then gestures to the hologram building, “If you can design impenetrable security systems, surely you can undo them.”

“You want me to help you break into this place?” you ask. The team all nod, and you look back at the intimidating, virtual-blue building in front of you. “It’s a fortress.”

“Yeah, they really upped the anti on security since I was in there,” Sam Wilson says, earning him a reproachful look from Steve. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety starting to thread through your chest. Failing the Avengers doesn’t seem like an option, but from where you’re standing, neither is breaking into this facility.

“I’ll need to know what it is first,” you say, “Then I can try and help you. Emphasis on try. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“It’s called the Raft,” Steve says, his face growing stony and set as he talks. “It’s a prison designed for enhanced persons by Secretary Ross. After Germany, I broke Sam, Scott, and Clint out. But Wanda-“

“We need to get her out of there,” Clint says. You pretend not to notice as beside you Nat discreetly takes his hand, rubbing her thumb across his bruised knuckles.

“Leave the search and rescue to us,” Stark says, and you watch him shift uncomfortably under some inscrutable looks Steve and Sam are giving him, “We just need your help on how to get into the joint.”

“Simple,” you breathe, but only Nat laughs. This seems like an impossible task, but from the look of everyone around you, failure isn’t an option. You’re going to have to make the impossible possible. It’s a good thing you’ve had some experience with that - in the military, trapped into sand-filled corners with no foreseeable way out, it really did seem like you were working miracles to stay alive out there. You swallow past a dry mouth and blink through desert-gunked eyes, say, “I’ll need that Starkpad, and some time.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Stark says. The hologram disappears in a blink as he throws the Starkpad, no bigger than your palm, which you only just manage to catch. Stark clicks his fingers, as if an idea as just occurred to him, and says, “Oh, I almost forget to tell you! The Raft is underwater. Completely submerged, middle of the ocean, super top-secret. Fun, right?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Fun is not the word you you would use. Only forty-eight hours to break into the most secure facility in the country, if not the world? This day couldn’t possibly blindside you anymore.

As if the universe is conspiring against you, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from overhead speakers to say, “Mr Stark, Sergeant Barnes is on his way to the gym floor.”

You feel your whole body lock up, heart seizing in your chest - Bucky? Here? You weren’t prepared to see him yet, or speak to him. What would you say? How could you apologise for one of the worst crimes you may have ever committed, and you’ve killed people? Natasha unloops her arm from yours, tries to soothe you with a hand on your back but it does nothing for the anxiety shooting sparks throughout your blood stream.

“How many times have I got to tell that illiterate Soviet popsicle, he’s not on the fucking team,” Stark grumbles, storming towards the elevators with a scowl. Steve clenches his fists, glaring after Stark but Sam holds him back. He mutters something only Steve can hear which makes him close his eyes and exhale sharp through his nose - frustrated, but calming by the nanosecond.

It’s a shame nobody thought to do the same for you.

“What did you just call him?” you say, ignoring Natasha’s warning murmur of your name as you follow after Stark. Maybe you still have some residually elevated hormones from your heat, or you really are just a lovesick idiot who can’t control her temper, but whatever it is has you absolutely incensed. Stark stops dead, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your voice, and spins on his heel to stare at you incredulously.

“Excuse me?” he says, blinking owlishly at you as you lean up into his space. You’re aware you’re overstepping the boss/employee line, but you can’t help yourself. The rage is brewing, and with each laboured breath Bucky’s scent grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can smell. It settles over your skin like armour, and the urge to protect that hold on you, to protect him, is beyond your control - it’s primal.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ever,” you snarl, watching with satisfaction as Stark’s eyes turn round and wide.

He glances behind you towards his friends and says, “Are we sure she isn’t an alpha? Sheesh.”

“Tony,” Natasha warns, but it’s too late. You use the palm of your hand to slam into Stark’s solar plexus. You kick out his kneecap and he drops on one knee, wheezing and gasping for air. It all happens so fast you can’t even think about the repercussions of assaulting your boss, let alone what’s driven you to do it in the first place.

“I don’t need to be an alpha to kick your ass,” you hiss, glaring down at Stark who looks up at you like you have, in fact, lost your mind.

At that moment, the elevator dings and reveals Bucky practically seething behind the elevator doors. He storms in, larger than life - in the week or so it’s been since you’ve seen him, you’ve somehow forgotten how physically intimidating he actually is. You immediately step back from Stark’s kneeling figure, feeling the strange need to hide your hands behind your back like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Bucky glances wildly between you, Stark on the ground, and the ring of Avengers in different states of attempting to intervene. He heaves ragged breaths and is emitting a scent that threatens to take you to your knees, too. Authoritative, powerful, protective.

That submissive, animalistic side of you makes you really hate being an omega sometimes.

“Why is she here?” Bucky asks someone behind you, probably Natasha. He swings his, frankly, frightening gaze to Stark and demands with just as much venom as you had, “What did you do to her.”

“Jesus Christ, nothing!” Stark wheezes, clutching at the spot on his chest you’ve definitely bruised. He points an accusing finger at you and cries, “She hit me!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your hands start to shake where you clutch them behind your back. You look to Bucky like maybe he can explain, which makes you sick to your stomach because he’s not yours to look towards. Now, more than ever, that is abundantly clear. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do!” Natasha pipes up behind you, helpful as ever. Bucky glares at her for you this time, releasing you of his burning-hot stare. His gaze has the power to paralyse you, and you need to get away from him, this, all of it - right now. You don’t get a chance to, however, before Natasha once again sticks her foot in it and says, “She was defending your honour, James.”

“Yeah, and I’ve no idea why. One quick google search should tell you he doesn’t need any-“

It takes you a second to realise the snarling, growling sound echoing through the gym is coming from you. Your face burns as you roll your lips together, cutting the sound off completely. For your entire life you’ve been headstrong and confident, but this whole experience with Bucky from the very first day you met him has shaken your entire self-perception. Everything you’ve known has been turned upside down - it was easy when all alphas were assholes, and you were one omega they couldn’t fuck with. Now, you stare down at your shoes and refuse to look in Bucky’s direction because he’s affected you so much you can’t even control yourself anymore. The worst part is that it’s entirely your own doing, because Bucky made it very clear you aren’t the one he wants, so everything you’re doing right now is just incredibly humiliating.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky’s voice makes you shudder. Looking at him would surely make you burst into flames, from embarrassment of the last time you saw him which you can’t even think about, or from the shame of pathetically defending a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you. He doesn’t even want you here, storming up to ask why you’re in his home in the first place.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, giving Bucky a wide berth as you head for the elevators. You can’t get there fast enough, practically sprinting to press the close-door button as fast as you can.

“Wait-“

And then, the absolute worst thing happens. You almost crush the Starkpad still in your hand from clenching your fist so hard - you have to, in order to keep your hands by your sides and not in Bucky’s personal space. Because just as the doors are about to slide closed, he slips in between them and FRIDAY seals you both in. The elevator fills with Bucky Bucky Bucky, just like your heat-addled brain has been chanting at you since you stumbled into his apartment a week ago.

Bucky stares at you wide-eyed, and you stare back just the same. This could possibly be your worst nightmare come to life, especially when the elevator screeches to a halt and FRIDAY’s dulcet tones hammer your fate home.

“I appear to be having some technical difficulties,” FRIDAY says, sounding confused if an AI can sound like anything. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to fix this. It seems someone is manually overriding my control of the elevator.”

“Nat,” you groan, in unison with Bucky. So that’s it. You’re stuck in an elevator with Bucky and are being forced to face the music, by the powers that be. The powers being Natasha, a no good meddler who is going to be in a world of pain when you get out of here. Alpha be damned.

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