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kvtie444 · 6 months

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⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET pt. 5

A/N: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!! ehh not proofread lol

Summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

Warnings: nsfw, swearing, mentions of struggling/mental health,

master list with other parts here !!

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Reader pov

From Matt

Can we talk, please?

I'm sorry.

I’ve left him on opened for nearly 2 weeks now, skipping all of his lectures. I feel like shit. I mean this whole situation was ridiculous, no way did I actually believe my teacher was catching feelings for me.

Im laying in bed, my laptop propped up on my tummy whilst im eating popcorn, when I get an email notification, from the school board. Shit. I click on it.

Dear: Y/n L/n

Please consider this a letter of warning concerning your continuing attendance problems. Attendance records indicate that since 02/12/23, you have used a total of 13 days on leave.

This letter shall serve as a written warning, that if excessive sick leave usage continues, you will be placed of a medical certificate requirement. You may also risk facing permanent exclusion.

We would like to speak to you on 20/12/23 in class 1W 3.30 to discuss this further.

Thank you.

I need to get my shit together.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next day arrives, and I reluctantly make my way to the class, anxiety gnawing at me. The school board meeting is scheduled for today, and the thought of facing potential consequences weighs heavily on my mind.

Entering the classroom, I nervously scan the room, and to my surprise, Matt is here - just Matt.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, a hint of tension in my voice. "I need to be here. I am your teacher, aren't I?" he replies, his tone calm but with an undercurrent of concern.

The tension in the air is palpable, and I can't shake off the feeling that someone knows about my affair with Matt. The paranoia sets in, making every glance and whisper feel like a potential accusation.

The minutes tick by slowly and in silence, me and Matt sharing an occasional glance, and when the door opens, my heart skips a beat. Two figures enter the room - a stern-looking woman from the headboard and another person who turns out to be a representative from the school's administration. Panic sets in, and I can feel the colour draining from my face.

The stern woman from the headboard steps forward, her eyes fixed on me. "Y/n L/n, is it?" she questions, her tone authoritative.

I nod, my throat dry, unable to form words. Matt shifts uncomfortably beside me, his eyes darting between me and the approaching figures.

"We're here to discuss your attendance issues," the administrator states, flipping through some papers. "It has come to our attention that your frequent absences are jeopardizing your academic standing."

As they continue to speak, my mind races. Do they know about Matt? Is this about our affair? I try to maintain composure, avoiding eye contact with Matt.

"We understand that personal matters can affect attendance, but it's essential to find a balance," the stern woman adds.

I nod again, managing a weak response, "Yes, I understand."

They go on to suggest counselling and support services, and my mind starts to ease. Maybe this isn't about Matt. Perhaps they're genuinely concerned about my well-being.

However, as the meeting concludes, the stern woman fixes her gaze on me and says, "We hope to see an improvement, Ms. L/n. Remember, your education is crucial."

The relief is short-lived. As they leave the room, Matt leans towards me, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "You okay?" he whispers.

"Mhm," I reply, trying to sound convincing, but doubt lingers in my voice.

"Are you sure?" he persists, scepticism in his eyes.

"Yep," I repeat, unsure whether I believe it myself.

In the aftermath of the meeting, Matt's concerned gaze follows me as we both exit the classroom. The weight of the unspoken truth hangs between us, making the air thick with tension. I can't bring myself to meet his eyes, fearing that he might see the panic and uncertainty that lingers in mine.

"Hey," he speaks up. I turn my head to look at Matt, who nods, motioning to the left. He grabs my hand, pulling me through an archway and behind a secluded column.

"What's up with you, Y/n? Why haven't you replied to my messages?" he asks, his blue eyes looking down into mine. I look away, but he brings his free hand up to force my jaw to face him. I meet his gaze before speaking up, "I'm talking to someone else," I lie straight through my teeth. I wanted to make him jealous, wanted to piss him off.

"Oh?" he coos at me, slightly tilting his head. "Who?" he asks, walking forward with me, pinning me against the wall, our chests practically touching.

"Some guy from this frat house," I think quickly. A small hum leaves his lips before his head cranes down, kissing my neck softly, his hot breath sending chills down my body.

"Thought you said you only liked older guys," he mumbles against my skin. My eyes flutter shut, and my hands instinctively go to his hair.

"I didn't-" I gasp as Matt bites down against my neck, sucking harshly. "I didn't say exclusively," I whine.

"Does he make you feel as good as me?" he mumbles, kissing down my collar, looking up into my eyes through his fluffy hair. I bite my lip to contain my small moans. He bites down again, urging me to answer.

"No," I whine.

"Good," he mumbles against my skin before coming back to my lips and hungrily kissing me, his hands tight on my hips. My nails rake down his chest as his knee slightly parts my leg, rubbing against me, causing me to moan against his lips. What the hell am I doing?

I pull away. "Matt," he looks down at me, shit he looks so good when his lips are all pink and plump after kissing me. I gently push him away. "I can't do this," I say, putting my hands out and walking ahead. He scoffs slightly behind me as I walk ahead.

Matt Pov 😌

I watch Y/n walk away, her silhouette fading into the distance, and guilt washes over me like a relentless tide. No matter how hard I tried to make her hate me, we kept gravitating back towards each other. I couldn't deny the electrifying allure of our connection, even though every rational part of me screamed that it was wrong.

But now, worry consumes me. She's gone off the grid, skipping my lessons, and her grades are undoubtedly plummeting. I can't stand seeing her spiral like this. As much as I've pushed her away, there's a haunting realization that her well-being matters to me more than I let on.

The mention of the frat boy was an obvious lie. Selfish as it may sound, I know she's whipped on me. I treated her poorly, spoke to her like shit, yet she still sought me out. It's a toxic cycle we're caught in, and I'm complicit in it.

I sigh heavily as I make my way to the car park, unlocking my car. The rain looms in the distance, and another wave of guilt crashes over me. She's probably walking home in the downpour right now, and the thought twists my stomach in knots.

A sudden impulse guides me to text her,

From Matt

Need a lift?

From Y/n

I sent her my parking spot, she approaches the car, raindrops cascade over her, framing her figure in a glistening silhouette. She enters the car, and I can't help but notice the weariness in her eyes.

"Thanks," she mumbles, avoiding eye contact. The air in the car is thick with unspoken words, and the rhythmic patter of rain against the car roof creates a cocoon of intimacy.

"Y/n," I start, my voice low and sincere, "I can't keep pretending like this is okay. We need to talk about us, about what's happening."

She nods, "Matt, I really like you. Like a lot. But you're such a headfuck. I mean, one minute you're literally all over me, making me feel like the happiest girl in the world. Then the next thing I know, you want nothing to do with me. It makes me feel used, and I hate you for it. But at the same time, I can't stop myself from crawling back to you," she confesses, her wet hair clinging to her skin as she looks up at me, vulnerability in her gaze.

I lick my lips, taking in the weight of her words. She's bared her soul, and the honesty cuts through the tension. I sigh, unable to deny the truth, "I like you, Y/n. You're smart, funny, pretty, and just overall an amazing girl. But this can't work, as much as I want it to. I tried to push you away, and look how far that got us. Y/n, do you realize how fucked this situation is? I mean, I'm your teacher," I emphasize, my tone unintentionally harsh.

"No shit," she mumbles, her gaze shifting away, focusing on the rain-splattered window.

"Hey," I say quietly, attempting to regain her attention. She turns to look back at me, her eyes searching mine. It's a critical moment, and I have a decision to make. Keep seeing her, make her happy, but risk everything. Or break her heart and face her almost every day in my lectures, knowing how much I hurt her. Shit.

"Do you wanna..." I take a pause, feeling the weight of my words. Do I really want to do this? Yes.

"Do you wanna go out with me sometime? Like a real date?"

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

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canonicallyobserving911 · 3 months

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“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 26 is now available on AO3.

Please note: Chapters 24 and 25 were posted at the same time.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Currently 26 chapters completed: 1M Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 26 of an emotionally distraught and hysterical Eddie while he's on the phone with 9-1-1.

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“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes I’m at 4995 S. Bedford St. and I have an adult male, 31 years of age who's unconscious and unresponsive and I need medical response.”

“Ok sir, can I get your name?”

“Eddie Diaz! I’m a firefighter and a paramedic with the 118.”

“Eddie!” Linda asks.

“Yes! Linda, I’m so glad it’s you.” He heaves past the sob lodged in the back of his throat that feels like a ping pong ball and continues. “Listen, it’s Buck… SHIT!” He stops talking because he remembers he needs to follow protocol for her recording then he tries again. “I mean you need his first and last name for the call. It’s my husband Evan Diaz and he’s also a firefighter with the—the 118.”

“Ok Eddie, I’m checking to see which RA unit is closest to that address but can you tell me what happened?”

“I—I don’t know but I came into the living room; he was swaying back and forth and I caught him before he—he hit the floor. I manually checked his vitals by doing the ABC method… I opened his airway, checked his breathing along with his circulation, then I—I got my medical bag and checked his pupillary response which is fine but his pulse, his blood pressure and his heart rate... and all of them are still low which is why I believe he might be having a bradycardia event. Linda… oh my god, whatever is happening to him is more serious than syncope because he’s still unresponsive.”

“Can you tell me how long he’s been down?”

“It’s been more than two minutes but I didn’t start counting until after I caught him so I could be one or two seconds off.”

“Ok, Eddie, our closest unit is 6 minutes away.”

He frowns and loudly asks, “Six minutes? Why?! I’m sorry please—please forgive me for being loud but I... I—I’m asking because there’s a fire station less than 4 minutes away from here.” He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin because the proximity of their home to the closest fire station in this area is one of the reasons why he decided to purchase it. He wanted to be close to one for Chris just in case they ever have to call emergency services.

Will the RA unit arrive in time to save Buck or will Eddie lose the love of his life? 👀

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago. They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial. But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories. Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie. It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-26 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #The Diaz Family #911 on abc #911 abc #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #ao3 fanfic #buddie wip #“I'm still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”#Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Chapter 26 is available on AO3

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ronearoundblindly · 20 days

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Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle.

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties. For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out.

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don��t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #time and tines series #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #winter soldier bucky barnes #villain!reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #steve rogers x y/n

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lunarw0rks · 10 months

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tf141 with a hypermobile partner? partner has joint aches and pains and maybe the boys help them on a bad flare-up day? 🥹

A/N: I didn't know much about this, so I had to do some research and write based on what I read. Hope nothing is too inaccurate <3

Summary: How I headcanon they would help their S/O with a joint flare-up.

Warning(s): established relationship, GN!Reader, hurt/comfort, chronic pain/medical problems, fluff, no use of y/n, slightly suggestive w/ Alejandro's

Word Count: 1.8k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Hypermobility Flare-up | 141 Headcanons (+ Ale)

Price

Years in the service, and just getting older, John has joint problems of his own—he understands how debilitating, downright disabling those aches can be on bad days. With himself, he’s grown so used to it, he can push through the pain. But you, his partner, in such pain? He can’t brush it off.

You had woken up for the day, after him, naturally. It seemed no matter how early you woke, his side of the bed was already empty and tidied. You felt it when your eyes opened, the slight headache forming from the overwhelming ache throughout your body. If there was anything you thought of doing that day, it was scratched off the list. Even rolling over, and moving the placement of the blankets, was sluggish and tiresome.

You could hear his footsteps from down the hall, the faint clearing of his throat. He waltzes inside the shared bedroom casually, as if he only came in to look for something. But, before he says his usual morning greeting, his eyes squint in concern. He’d notice before you do—the stiffness in your movements, the smallest wince in your expression, the sight of you rubbing your temple in frustration.

❝Don’t get up, I’ll get that for you.❞ He often says, grabbing you whatever the item was—even if it’s well within your reach. When he has the time, he’ll lay beside you, massaging the aches and pains after asking you to point out the worst areas. His way of massaging them; both firmly and lovingly, just enough to relieve the bundles of tension in your irritated muscles. Even if it does little to help, the support means more than he could ever know.

Simon

It was a rare sight for you two—out and about, sitting in the park only minutes from his flat. Today was especially perfect because there were few people there. In fact, it was one of the few places Simon is willing to be, but only with you. Whether it be sitting on one of the benches, or taking a walk around the trails.

You’d explained the condition to him before, how some days are better than others. Of course, he did his best to support it, finding himself doing research on the condition. There wasn’t much he could do, though, except be there for you. Though you were having pain that day, you didn’t want to spoil this precious time with him, even though you should’ve. But you weren’t thinking of that when you began walking when your already-sore muscles started to ache.

Simon then noticed; your steps had gotten slower, and it seemed like you had to exert more effort just to keep up with him. In record time, he stopped walking, placing a supporting hand on your shoulder, leaning down to meet your cringing expression. ❝Tell me, scale of one through ten, love.❞ He’d asked that before, in fact, he does every time. He would be concerned with any number larger than zero, so when your answer is remarkably high, you’ve been ushered to the car before you can retort.

He knew better; these flare-ups didn’t just come out of nowhere, not typically. You had to have felt sore prior, probably even this morning while he was getting ready. Had you struggled to get dressed, and he didn’t notice? He drove home faster than the way he came, helping you with each step up the deck, a firm hand on the small of your back. ❝You don’t need to hide your pain from me, especially not to stay in some bloody park longer. You have me all day.❞ It’s more of a scold, but it comes from a place of care. To feel such intense pain in your joints, yet attempting to keep walking at his expense, he felt guilty.

Soap

Soap knew you had been struggling lately, and you’d explained to him a thousand times that it was just something you would have to live with—some days manageable, others like your limbs where lifting a limb was near intolerable. The world couldn’t stop anytime you were in pain, he knew that, but that didn’t reduce the concern he felt.

The day had gone on like any other; out shopping for essentials… as well as the few items he’d decided to spoil you with, or more so anything you look at for more than a few seconds. Only, today the supercenter was packed and bustling. He walked behind you like a guard dog, and you pushed the cart of groceries, lifting each leg or reaching for an item with a little more sluggishness.

Today was especially bad, and you hadn’t felt the true extent of it until you’d been walking shopping aisles for about an hour. In truth, it was damn near unbearable right now, like your whole body had a persistent migraine. Soap’s eyes were peeled, as if waiting for the moment you would need to tap out of this shopping trip. It finally came, when you’d leaned down to reach an item at the bottom, stopping yourself mid-movement and gritting your teeth. His hand found your waist, leading you to one of the unoccupied benches, slowly easing you on it until you could sit.

❝Sit here a minute, I’ll go check out, eh?❞ He patted your knee gently, though instead of going straight to checkout, he found one of the vending machines first, purchasing you a bottled water to sip on. Somehow, even in the chaos of the busy shopping center, he returned in record time, items bagged and ready to be loaded—there wasn’t a chance in hell you were carrying them, though.

He motions his head towards the exit, which is just far enough to make it. ❝Can you walk?❞ he asks in a hushed tone, leaning close to your ear to keep the matter relatively private, so as not to air out your medical problems to the whole store. He walked with your pace, not his usual speedy one, eyes at attention until you reached the passenger side of the car.

Gaz

It took weeks of convincing until you both figured out a routine; him being your workout partner. ❝I’m not going to judge you, babe, it’s my job to be fit—not everyone else’s.❞ He was dead serious; no matter what fitness level you were at compared to him, or whatever limits you had in place for your body, he just wanted another activity to spend his time with you.

It wasn’t the exercise, or the prospect of Kyle judging you that was gnawing at you; it was your illness. Sure, there were stretches you could try to alleviate it, but wouldn’t that drag him down? He wanted to run, do push-ups, do weight training, etc…

Kyle knew you had issues, but didn’t understand the syndrome; the chronic aspect of it. In truth, he wanted to help you, to assist you in the stretches and therapeutic movements that might alleviate it. But there were things you just couldn’t do, not on those bad flare-up days. Though it took him a few seconds to understand when you said you were sitting today out, he dropped the offer the second he did. He knelt beside the bed where you were sitting, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. ❝I’m not going to force you, what kind of man would I be? If you need to rest, you rest.❞

One of his hands gripped your ankle, gently shifting the position you were in until you were laying down in the bed. Then, he removed the sneakers you had struggled to put on, setting them aside. Without another word, he returned with an over-the-counter pain med—something, anything was better than watching you laying there aching. ❝I want you right here today, alright? We can try out some stretches tomorrow if you’re up for it.❞

Alejandro

It was no secret how touchy Alejandro could be—downright needy at times. You were the little spoon today, his hand snaked around your waist with a firm grip as he pecked along your neck. With him, it wasn’t always sexual, he’s just handsy. Right now, however, it was. He hadn’t seen you all day, and had he known you were having a flare-up, he would’ve removed his ever-roaming hands. Alejando’s mouth, once tracing along your neck, was removed when he noticed how unresponsive you had been to the intimacy. ❝Mi amor, are you not in the mood tonight?❞

It wasn’t his fault, he was away all day, and the fact that he stopped the second he noticed something was off—that spoke volumes to you. When you rolled over to face him, a small grunt escaping your lips, he reached up and caressed your cheek, nodding slowly.

He understood now, even with your wordlessness. ❝Don’t feel bad, Cariño, it’s not your fault.❞ He reached for your arm, the one you had been struggling to prop yourself up with, laying it beside your head. This way, you were curled up on your side, aching muscles in a state of relaxation—at least, as relaxed as they could be. ❝We’ll stay in bed tonight. Just like this.❞

Compared to before, the hand wrapped around you was near a hover, to not put any pressure on the joints. His adaptability was endearing, and his tenderness made you want to swoon. You probably would, if you weren’t in such discomfort.

Kate

She wasn’t with you often, but when she was, she surely made a show of it. Ordering in, dim and romantic lighting on the patio, light conversation over the greasy takeout—it was priceless. She wasn’t blind to your issues, in fact, it came up quite early in your relationship. But, she was home with you for once, and you were making your best attempt to not let the chronic pain get in the way of it.

The pain meds you’d taken before dinner, they helped some, but that stiff, heavy feeling made you sluggish. ❝That bad today?❞ She lifts her gaze from the plates she was stacking, seeing how you’d been massaging a particularly sore spot. It was merely a part of you she had to learn to deal with, to find a way to at least cheer you up. Sitting down at the outdoor dining table only alleviated the pain briefly, before you felt stiff once more.

Your lack of response, how you only replied with a nod, she tightened her lips into an empathetic frown. The sliding door opened, then the faint clammer of the plates being set in the sink, before she was back out there with you. ❝I have an idea,❞ her hand outstretched, moonlight illuminating her features. You need to get the blood flowing anyway, and you’d never pass up moments like this with her.

Once she had your hand in hers, she let you take all the time you needed, until you were both in the grass. One hand still held yours, the other on the back of your head, resting it on her shoulder as she swayed with you. It was cheesy, sure, but the gesture meant everything. ❝How’s that?❞ She whispers into the air, followed by the chirping insects. The pain hadn’t dissipated entirely, but slow, fluid movements eased up the bundles of tension.

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley #simon riley fluff #ghost mw2 #kate laswell #john price #captain john price #soap mctavish #kyle garrick #alejandro vargas

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medicalrecordsummaryservice · 2 months

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medicalrecordsreview1 · 7 months

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sophierequests · 2 years

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Can I request a Hurt/Comfort & Angst fic featuring Nikolai x f!Reader? Maybe f!Reader is some sort of duke's daughter and promised to the second prince of Ravka who is serving in the first Army infantry at the time. However, when news of his devastating injuries arrive to the palace, she rushes off to see him in the medic tent at the Fjerdan front as the doctors are unsure whether he will live or not - only to be joined by a person she'd least suspected by her side: Vasily Lantsov. His royal idiotness himself. How will they react to seeing Nikolai dying? Maybe f! Reader has some previously hidden abilities that will be able to save the little Lantsov...

my blood is tainted // in the bright lilac light part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This request was so good oml! I loved writing it, even though I was very sleep-deprived whilst reading it for the first time, because I thought you wanted me to write a love triangle kind of thing with Nikolai and Vasily dslgsakg (don't ask). But I really like how this turned out, so thank you for the request! <333 Also, I love the term royal idiotness, so thank you for that.

You can find part two here!

Summary: After Nikolai gets badly injured, the reader throws all caution to the wind to go and see him. Is there still a chance for him to survive?

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, slight Fluff

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: mention of death, injuries, blood, infections and Vasily Lantsov (this is a teeny tiny bit gorey, but not too much)

You felt sick. Violently sick. At this point, you would have preferred hunching over the toilet to empty the contents of your stomach than obsessively rereading the slightly crumpled-up letter you held on so firmly. It didn't matter how many times your eyes skimmed over the neatly written lines, the words didn't magically distort and somehow create a different sentence. They stayed the exact same.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N,

I deeply regret to inform you that your fiancé Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, has been majorly wounded in action in the performance of duty and service of his country. The nature of his wounds has not been fully assessed as of now, but I would advise you to calm your worries. Our mediks are highly trained and will do everything in their power to restore his health. You will be promptly furnished with any additional information received.

Your obedient Servant,

Sergeant Pechkin

Sergeant in Charge of Records

No matter how many soothing words littered the text, you were well aware that his actual state was far from decent. After years and years of political training from your father, you knew that the First Army only bothered to send out notifications once the soldier was on the brink of death.

Nikolai was dying.

Your soon-to-be husband was dying, and they didn't even have the guts to tell you the truth. The man you had been friends with since childhood - the man you had been promised to for even longer - was dying and there was nothing you could do about it.

Well, nothing official, at least.

"Ma? Da? I'm going out for a ride!" You called into the drawing room of the visitor quarters of the Grand Palace. You didn't push your luck by going in to say goodbye to your parents properly. They would never approve of your plan, so any sort of confrontation would be ill-advised.

"Of course, my dear!" Your father's baritone voice called from behind the door. The sound of his voice was rather joyous, indicating that he already had one too many glasses of wine today. Maybe this would help with concealing your absence.

"Be back before supper! We're not waiting for you this time." Your mother added in her usual scolding tone. Maybe staying away unnoticed wasn’t that easy after all.

"I promise!" As soon as you finished that sentence, you began hurrying off in the direction of the stables. The bag on your shoulder wasn't filled with your usual riding equipment, but with a few rations of food and other things you would need for a three-day ride to the Fjerdan border.

On your way down the stairs the devil himself - Vasily Lantsov - passed you. He paused, letting his eyes dart over your dishevelled appearance. By now, they should have also received the notice about Nikolai’s injuries. However, the King and Queen were notorious for keeping their letters stashed away until they had time to open them in the evening. You imagined how they would react. Would they be devastated? Would they want to seek revenge? Or would they continue to act stone-faced, even though their son could already be dead?

“Well, you look…lovely.” He chuckled, giving you a quizzical look. Even though it was still early in the afternoon, he looked like he was already terribly drunk. And judging by the sour smell coming from his mouth, that shouldn’t be too far from the truth. “Where are you headed?” Saints, you really couldn’t stand him.

“I’m off to go on a ride. The weather seems pleasant today, so I just have to seize the chance.” The honeyed pitch of your voice would have been blatantly obvious to any sober person, but thankfully, Vasily didn’t belong to that group of people.

“Sadly, my dearest brother isn’t here. I’m sure he wouldn’t have allowed his future wife to go on a ride all by herself.”

“What a shame he isn’t here then. But if you’ll excuse me, I intend on leaving while it’s still light outside.” You didn’t wait for him to say anything in return before speeding down the few remaining flights of stairs.

The military encampment wasn’t too far from the Fjerdan border, so with a bit of pep in your horse’s step, you completed the journey in three days. You only took breaks to eat and rest, but the adrenaline of needing to see Nikolai before he died kept you awake.

“Lady Y/L/N! What are you doing here?” Pechkin appeared from one of the tents as you handed your horse to one of the soldiers, who was assigned to take care of it. The sergeant looked as if he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in forever, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of what might’ve caused his distress.

“I’m here to see my fiancé.” You answered sternly, putting all the years of training your facial expression to use. The man shifted on his feet, not wanting to deny you, whilst also not wanting you to see whatever husk was left of Nikolai.

“His Royal Highness is currently not in a state to allow visitors I’m afraid. It really would be best to.-”

“I’m here to see my fiancé. I won’t leave until I know what happened to him, and how his chances of survival are. This is not up for discussion, Sergeant.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his already greying hair. He knew that you were stubborn - you were supposed to wed Nikolai Lantsov, of course, you were stubborn - but he had hoped that you would at least be a bit less persistent.

“Fine. But you might not enjoy seeing him like this.” He motioned for you to follow him in the direction of a small grey tent. The medik tent. Your heart sank when you reached the entrance. What would you see? Would you be able to stomach it?

Pechkin halted briefly, sparing you another thoughtful glance before lifting the flap and allowing you to enter the cluttered room. It seemed to have been his personal tent before it was repurposed as his infirmary. You peered around. A tiny desk stood in the corner of the room, a stack of opened letters - probably yours - was sprawled out on top of it, right next to a collection of various maps and plans.

Your heart dropped when your gaze met the reason for your distress. An unnaturally pale-looking Nikolai Lantsov laid in a makeshift sickbed. His face was completely devoid of any emotion or life, as a medik stood next to him, presumably checking his vitals and medicine intake.

"Saints…" You whispered under your breath. You had seen him injured countless times before, but never had he looked this empty.

The man behind you rested his hand on your shoulder in a futile attempt to comfort you, but you didn’t even acknowledge his presence. The medik turned to face you with a glum expression on his face. In that moment, you assumed the worst.

“How did he get injured?” It took you a few seconds to register that the words were your own. It felt surreal.

“His group got ambushed, and he tried to defend the others. They got overpowered and he was stabbed. We were lucky to find them while it was still daytime. Had the night already started to set in, we would probably not have been able to retrieve them.” Pechkin explained. You didn’t have to face him to know that a tight scowl was adorning his face. He and Nikolai had gotten along great - it was a fact that always seemed to matter greatly, when he brought it up in his letters - so you could assume that he was quite affected by the whole situation.

You walked over to the bed, sitting down on the free space right next to him. If he hadn’t looked so pale, one could have mistaken his critical condition with a very relaxing good night’s sleep. His breathing was unnaturally shallow, but it still could’ve just meant that he was asleep. However, you knew better.

“His heartbeat is drastically too slow.” The medik spoke up, taking the elongated silence as his turn to address you. “There were minor scratches we managed to heal fine, but the stab wound seems to have a much larger effect on his body than we had expected, even though it appeared to be quite minor on first glance. By being exposed to dirt and other outside influences, it looked quite infected once he came into our care. We tried to treat it as best as we could, however, the infection still remains. It pains me deeply to say this, but it is unsure whether he’ll manage to survive his injuries.”

“Has he been awake at some point or has he been unconscious the whole time?” You asked suspiciously. The mediks assigned to treat the sons of the Royal family were highly skilled, and you had your doubts that the effects of a supposedly minor stab wound would cause him to be in such a terrible state.

“Yes, there have been a few times he has been semi-conscious, but it appeared to be more of a feverish daze than actual consciousness. We have not found a feasible explanation for this sort of behaviour, though.”

“What does the wound look like?”

“I don’t think that this information is suited for-”

“Sergeant Pechkin, I have seen people’s tongues get cut out after betraying their country. I have seen people get beheaded for way less than that. I have seen the marks of war, and I wish to live long enough to survive its wake, so I should begin to get used to it.”

“If that is what you wish for.” The medik said slowly, coming up to stand right next to you. He removed the heavy blanket, revealing a previously white bandage that had been soaked with blood by now. You could see the man frown, as he worked on removing the fabric that covered his injuries.

Nothing could have prepared you for what hid underneath.

The gash truly didn’t seem to be that deep, what really startled you were the purple and black veiny bruise patterns that originated from the wound, spreading over the expanse of his chest. The smell emitting from the wound smelled foul, sickly-sweet, whilst also carrying the stench of mould with it. This wasn’t a normal stab wound.

“How long have the bruises been there?”

“Uhm, they started showing one day after he was retrieved. They started off as blue and purple bruises, but have changed over the last few days to look like…this. We have never seen an injury similar to this.”

This told you everything you needed to know. The sadness you had felt prior to this was replaced by anger.

“That’s because it isn’t-”

The flap to the tent was thrown open again, revealing a person you would have never expected. Vasily took wide strides as he walked inside. He looked surprisingly calm, but as much as you wanted to discredit his feelings, you knew that he would still be devastated if he had to watch his younger brother die.

“Your Royal Highness!” Pechkin called out, visibly startled by another royal showing up without notice. You imagined that another unannounced appearance would cause him to go into cardiac arrest. The sergeant wanted to speak again, but Vasily silenced him with a simple wave of his hand.

“I’m here to see my brother, that is my right.” You moved to stand up in order to allow him access to Nikolai, however, this offer was quickly dismissed by a disapproving glance. “Stay there, it’s fine. You,” He turned to the two other men inside the room with a grimace on his face. “I’d suggest you leave for the time being. I’m sure Lady Y/L/N would like some time with her betrothed without the presence of military officials.” After giving each other a reserved look, they both left the three of you alone.

“I see that you have diverted quite a bit from your original plan.” Vasily stared you down. It was the same stare he used to give Nikolai and you after finding out about your newest shenanigans back when you were young kids. “Do you have any idea how worried the duke and the duchess were, when you didn’t return in the evening? Having their only daughter suddenly disappear without any trace or note about her whereabouts? You should be glad that my parents didn’t send out the Royal Guard to look for you.”

“I know, but I had no other choice, Vasily! My parents would have never allowed me to go, and I couldn’t have lived with the fact that he might die without me seeing him one last time.” You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks. His chiding was the last thing you needed right now.

“You have no idea how long it took me to convince them to allow me to look for you.” He sighed, throwing the bag he carried on the ground next to him. His tone had also grown a bit softer, even though he still sounded as boastful as ever.

“Why?”

“I saw the letter, and I opened it. All hell would have broke loose if my mother had found out about her little precious boy being on the brink of death.” His gaze wandered to his brother, but it flinched away as soon as he saw the extent of his injuries. “I knew immediately where you went. It was the perfect opportunity for me to get here unnoticed, even though I’m sure that spell won’t last too long. I assume that they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“So you lied to your parents, because you didn’t want them to know what actually happened?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less honourable than I had imagined it. But yes. That’s precisely what I did.”

“I- I’m not quite sure what to say. That’s probably one of the most honourable things you’ve done.” He waved your comment off, allowing himself a more concrete glance at Nikolai, his eyes never meeting the wound, however.

“Saints, that smells terrible.” The crown prince had to cover his mouth in order to resist the urge to vomit. And for once, you couldn’t even blame him. “What happened?”

“Stab wound.” You didn’t feel like voicing your suspicion, but Vasily wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“A stab wound? That does not look like a simple stab wound, Y/N.” That’s because it wasn’t. You knew exactly what it was, and how you could still give him a chance to survive this. The only thing keeping you from it, was the measures you had to take to make it happen. “You know more than you’re letting on. What is it?” It was for the best to give in. Maybe he could help you.

“Have you ever heard of Vaizite?” He shook his head as a response. “Some also call it the Violet Rot. It’s a very strong, chemically created poison, that you’d usually only find in Shu Han. I have no idea how the Fjerdans managed to get their hands on it, but I’m sure there had to be some crooked scheme going on.”

“Is it fatal?”

“That’s difficult to say.” He gave you a frown, but you weren’t keen on seeking his approval. “It was not specifically created to kill. The Shu usually tend to put it in their prisoner’s drinks to torture them. If ingested it poisons you from the inside out, but it doesn’t kill you. It does, however, make sure that every waking moment is spent in excruciating pain. It slowly eats away at your muscles, until you’re unable to do anything but lay there and endure the pain. When they think you have suffered enough, they dispose of them through killing them as a supposed act of mercy.”

“But he hasn’t digested it, has he? What happens if the blade was laced with it?”

“It is to assume that it could be fatal. Not immediately, but eventually. By indirectly injecting the poison in his blood stream, it could have a way worse effect on his health than if he had consumed it. I have never seen the bruises develop that fast.” You fiddled with the straps of your coat, avoiding his penetrative gaze.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Do you still recall what I studied at Ketterdam University?”

“Something that had to do with plants?”

“Herbology. That’s what I studied. There was a very long and drawn out unit on recognizing and working with poisonous plants. One unit included a plant called Oshrovov, also called Assassin’s Polkweed. It’s deadly when touched, but once you dilute it with some other chemicals, it can be the perfect weapon for torture. We talked about that quite a few times, so I do know a few things about it.”

“So you know what to do to save him?” Hope was evident in his voice, and you knew that you had no other option than to reveal something you had hoped to keep hidden for just a bit longer.

“I can try, but you might not like what I’m doing. And you have to promise me that you won’t allow anyone to enter while I work.” Vasily raised a brow in confusion. What exactly were you planning to do.

“A promise coming from me isn’t worth a dime, but if that’s all it takes for you to help him, I can’t say no.” That was good enough for you.

“Good. Get that bowl over there.” You pointed at a brass bowl that stood on one of the sidetables close to the entrance. He obliged, carefully watching you as you began to lean over Nikolai’s torso.

“Where am I supposed to put it?”

“You’re supposed to keep it in your hands, until I tell you to do otherwise.” Vasily had to bite back an offended remark as he listened to you bossing him around, but you just didn’t care about his royal feelings at that point. “I’ll need you to act quickly and catch the poison once I extracted it.”

“Extract it? How are you planning on-”

“See for yourself.” With that, you let your fingertips hover over his body, whilst shutting your eyes tightly. You had imagined that you might be a bit rusty in using your Small Science, but after you felt a familiar hum hit your palms, it was as if you had never stopped training it in the first place.

Since you had never been officially trained at the Little Palace, you had only a few minor lessons with your mother to fall back upon. They had kept your abilities hidden away from anyone that wasn’t close family, so it was a pretty dangerous for you to be so callous with using them, especially around someone like Vasily Lantsov. All of these worries faded away when you realized who exactly was lying in front of you. You needed to save him.

Your hands twitched ever so slightly when you located the poison. Quickly, you focussed your Small Science on directing the substance towards the open wound. You felt how it tried to latch onto his arteries, but your determination was stronger.

“Vasily, keep the bowl ready.” Not wanting to be asked twice, he stretched it out towards you, keeping it as far away from him as possible.

Slowly but surely, a thick mass of purple crawled out of his wound, taking the dark black tendrils with it. When you finally removed all of it from Nikolai’s torso, you didn’t hesitate to quickly drop it into the bowl. The substance splashed as it met the cold metal, but it didn’t manage to get even close to touching either of you. Even though you had been quite careful, Vasily still recoiled after watching the liquid fall. Before he could dump it on his shirt, you grabbed it from his hands, hastily making sure to keep it out of reach.

When your gaze shifted back towards your partner, you felt your heart do a flip as you noticed his normal breathing pattern return. The wound was still there - you weren’t a Healer, so what did you expect - but the dark bruises that littered his chest were finally gone almost completely, just like the rotten smell.

“You’re Gri-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll make sure to dump the whole bowl of poison on you.” You threatened, pointing an accusing finger at the slightly frightened Vasily. “And if anyone else should ever get wind of this, I’ll make sure to provide you with an even more painful death than anything you could imagine.” It was a completely empty threat, but it still did its job.

“Alright, I will take this secret to my grave!” He exclaimed, raising his hands with a scared expression on his face.

"You better do."

Vasily quickly called for a medik, giving him some half-arsed explanation for the sudden disappearance of the bruises. The medik quickly got to work, cleaning and disinfecting the gash again before bandaging the wound again.

You didn’t even have to wait a full day before Nikolai’s cheeks reclaimed their previous colour, and his eyes eventually pried open. He let out a low groan as he attempted to sit up, but you reacted faster. With one hand on his chest, you pressed him back down into the mattress. It was only then, that he noticed where he was.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded hoarse, but as long as he was alive, that didn’t matter. “Y/N! What are you doing here? Why are you-”

“You almost managed to get yourself killed, Nikolai. Of course, your fiancé is going to be here.” Vasily cut him off, a self-satisfied grin on his face as his brother’s head whipped around to face him.

“Vasily? What are you doing here?”

“Your situation was critical. No matter how many differences we might have, I’d still not let you die alone. You’re my brother, after all. Or do you really think that lowly of me?” If he heard your muttered ‘yes’, he chose to tactfully ignore it, rather taking joy in Nikolai’s utterly befuddled expression.

Whilst their brotherly bickering was continuing, his hand snaked its way into yours, gently squeezing it in an act of reassurance. You couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful you were, that he was still alive, giving you the warmest smile he could muster.

“I was poisoned?!” He exclaimed as his brother had finished the basics of what happened before you arrived.

“You were stabbed and poisoned.” You added with a sly smile, watching as his concerned gaze shot towards you.

“What happened to the poison? How did they get it out?” His eyes filled with realization, as he glanced between you and Vasily. “Y/N, please don’t tell me-”

“Vasily is the only one who knows. Don’t worry. The information will be safe with him, won’t it?”

“She threatened to kill me if I tell anyone, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Vasily grumbled, causing Nikolai to let his head fall back in relief. He had expected the worst, but he knew that you were smarter than that. “Wait, hold on a second, you knew about her…disposition?”

“Of course, I knew. She'll soon be my wife, in case you have forgotten.” You pressed a quick kiss to Nikolai’s hand, soaking up the feeling of finally being near him again. From now on, everything would be okay.

Well, after you explained to your parents why you had disappeared for other a week. You sadly couldn’t use your Small Science for that.

Taglist:

Grishaverse in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #netflix shadow and bone #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #grishaverse fanfic

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xoxiu · 1 year

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my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader

chapter nine table of contents masterlist

taglist

discord

summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.

tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline

taglist: @allamericanuniverse @llallaaa

Kiwo sat in the center of the bed staring down at the Nintendo Switch in her lap. It was one of the gifts from Yoongi, and one of the things she wanted the most. It felt weird, however, to get one under these circumstances.

She had rules with it- no playing it without permission, no internet, and no more than two hours on it. Yoongi had gotten so many things to play with, and he didn’t want her to rot her brain on video games all day. They were all in a box under the bed- some yarn for Kiwo to crochet with, slime, board games, books, and other little things she had little to no interest in just yet.

Yoongi had gone all out during his shopping trip. A large dog kennel sat in the corner of the bedroom close to the bed, with a large fluffy dog bed inside. There were pink blankets and stuffed animals in there as well, and fairy lights decorated the outside. Some of the bigger stuffed animals sat on top of the kennel. Kiwo looked away with disgust, only for her eyes to fall on the bedside table.

There sat three pacifiers in pink, blue, and white. Kiwo wanted to be disgusted by them, but with her need for oral stimulation, she secretly wanted them. She would never give in, though, especially if it meant satisfaction for Yoongi.

Kiwo hissed as her headache throbbed harder, and laid down on the bed, Switch abandoned next to her body. She was now face-to-face with the pacifiers. The familiar flips in her stomach only broke her gaze, and she rushed for the en suite bathroom.

“For a research university, I expected Yonsei to have higher web security,” Hoseok remarked from the couch behind Yoongi. The office was currently inhabited by the hacker, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Yoongi ignored the younger’s voice and continued to view the files in front of him.

As an international student, Kiwo had to send over various medical records to the university for insurance reasons. Since she was still deathly ill, Yoongi figured he could check her medical records to see if there were any pre-existing conditions. Hoseok and Taehyung, however, visited only in the hope of meeting Kiwo.

A file marked ‘outpatient psychiatric services’ caught Yoongi’s eye, and he quickly downloaded the record.

”Kiwo Louise is a 17-year-old female with a history of Autism Spectrum Disorder, social anxiety, depression, and a panic disorder.” Yoongi’s eyes widened at the opening statement. He was completely unaware that Kiwo was autistic. He browsed the document for any other information.

”The patient was diagnosed with autism around the age of 6 or 7. She has a history of self-harm but currently shows no intent to harm herself. She has a history of sexually acting out.

“She has a history of social awkwardness, emotional outbursts, and infantile behaviors. Her emotional state appears to be delayed, placing her near a 7-year-old’s milestones for emotional intelligence.

”She has a slight speech delay with the /r/ sound in all forms, as well as consonant digraphs. Ms. Louise has attended speech therapy since Kindergarten.”

All Yoongi could do was stare at the screen. All this information was considered vital to Kiwo’s health and well-being, and Yoongi felt inadequate in his handling of it.

“That’s quite the cocktail of drugs, hyung,” Taehyung said as he leaned against the back of Yoongi’s chair. He read the files over the elder’s shoulder much to Yoongi’s dismay.

”Probably sick from withdrawal, poor thing.” Hoseok got up from the chair to look at the files as well. The three silently stared at the computer screen until Taehyung finally spoke up.

“I could easily get you the medications- it’s not like antidepressants are illegal.”

“Can I come with you?” Hoseok asked. Taehyung simply shook his head no, but Hoseok’s smile never faltered.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi said, “Watch my email to see if anything work-related pops up. I’m going to check on Kiwo for a bit.”

Yoongi stood up and left the two other men in the office. They stared at each other with concern over Yoongi in their eyes.

“He’s been fidgety since Kiwo arrived,” Hoseok took a seat in the desk chair, and took one quick spin on it. “And I’m sure her getting sick suddenly isn’t helping.”

Taehyung agreed and politely dismissed himself to get what Yoongi needed of him. Hoseok whistled out of boredom at the computer desk, refreshing the email client every few minutes.

He wished he could see Kiwo- Yoongi has been very secretive over her and rarely let any of them see her. From what Seokjin had said, she’s a shy but polite young girl, with a very cute round face. Hoseok wished he could go into Yoongi’s room to see for himself, but had no reason to do so.

An email came through. It was a video conference reminder for Yoongi. Hoseok finally had his chance to see Kiwo. He quickly got up and headed for Yoongi's bedroom only to find Taehyung exiting the room. The younger man gave him a huge smile before speaking.

"She's asleep right now, but you should see her. It's just the cutest sight."

Taehyung patted his back as he passed him. Hoseok stood in front of the door for a moment, reveling in his excitement before finally opening up the door slowly. The room was dark sans the light from a bedside lamp illuminating Yoongi's face. The elder sat with his back against the headboard, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Kiwo was splayed across the bed horizontally, with her body all sorts of twisted up while her head lay on Yoongi's lap. Hoseok's smile widened at the cozy sight. His eyes eventually fell upon something blue sticking out of Kiwo's mouth.

A pacifier.

Hoseok almost felt his heart leap out of his chest. The sight of her small face, flushed cheeks, and a pale blue pacifier was almost too much to take in at once.

"What's up?" Yoongi asked, putting his phone on the bedside table next to him.

"This cannot be the Kiwo you've been telling us about," Hoseok shook his head in disbelief, "she could never hit you upside the head with an encyclopedia."

Yoongi chuckled at the memory and gently moved Kiwo's head and arm from his thighs so he could get up. When he arose, he gave a big stretch before looking back over at Hoseok. The man finally came back to his senses to inform Yoongi of the upcoming meeting. The elder closed his eyes with an exhausted sigh before speaking up.

"Can you wait here in case Kiwo wakes up? Maybe try to give her the medication when she does?" Yoongi walked over to his closer and attempted to look nice and presentable by throwing on a blazer over his dress shirt. Hoseok nodded and sat on the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

He was so excited for Kiwo to wake up.

The sun was setting and Hoseok was growing tired, yawning and closing his eyes every few seconds. Kiwo had yet to wake up, and Hoseok doubted she would before Yoongi's meeting ended.

Hoseok watched the pacifier fall out of Kiwo's pouted lips and gently land on the blanket next to her. She stirred slightly and slowly began opening her eyes when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

"That was the most bullshit meeting ever," Yoongi stated, throwing his blazer to the side. "Did you know the company president was acquiring another hotel chain? We can't possibly afford that!"

Yoongi suddenly remembered that Kiwo was sleeping, and his raised voice most likely woke her up. He peered over towards the bed only to see half-opened eyes peeking out at him and puffy pouted lips.

“Hi, sleepy girl. Did I wake you?” He asked walking over to the bed and running a hand through her tangled bed hair. There was no response other than Kiwo gently closing her eyes and sighing.

“Have you said hi to Hoseok oppa yet?”

Kiwo turned away with a whine, her perky butt now facing Yoongi. The blond sat on the bed and lightly tapped her bottom twice, just hard enough to get her attention. Kiwo once again let out a whine before saying a sharp ‘hi’.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and shook his head.

”So disrespectful, you brat,” Yoongi said. “Need to teach you some respect and manners.”

Hoseok let out a small laugh before talking to Kiwo in a baby voice, “Hi Kiwoie! Can Hobi oppa see your pretty face?”

Small feet kicked out in response, but Kiwo did sit up. She hid her flushed face in her hands.

“Can you be a big girl and take your meds for me?” Hoseok continued to talk to her as if she were a child, and it appeared to be working somewhat.

“We got your medication for you to help you feel better,” Yoongi said as he picked up the bag full of bottles. “Just so you can trust us, you can take them yourself. There’s water on the table.”

Kiwo removed her hands from her face but kept her head down. She grabbed the bag from Yoongi’s hand and grabbed one of the bottles. It was, in fact, one of her psychiatric medications, so she felt no fear in taking them.

It was even the name brand of them.

“Taehyungie oppa brought them for you,” Hoseok said, doubting that Taehyung got to meet Kiwo. She most likely was still asleep then.

Feeling uncomfortable with the stranger near her, Kiwo just fiddled with the plastic bag anxiously. Finally, she felt somewhat comfortable with Yoongi- he wasn’t that bad of a guy, he didn’t hurt her and was very accommodating. This Hoseok, however, Kiwo felt unnerved by. He smiled and was a bit too cheerful, and it almost felt like he was hiding something malicious from Kiwo.

Yoongi must have picked up on Kiwo’s nerves, and sent a look toward Hoseok. The younger man understood and stood up to take his leave.

“I better get going now, have a good night Kiwo and Yoongi hyung!”

Kiwo looked up to watch Hoseok leave. Then she took her meds, one by one, with big drinks of water to wash them down.

Yoongi smiled. He slowly was beginning to understand Kiwo better. Even though it may be different than he initially planned, he was determined to know Kiwo inside and out.

#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #mafia au #bts little space #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #vminhope #namjin #my house of stone your ivy grows

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she-wolf09231982 · 24 days

Text

Tim Gutterson

“Two Worlds…”

Summary: You had a “Like/Hate” relationship with your coworker, Tim Gutterson until hidden feelings came to a head after a firefight and you both had the ride of your lives one drunken evening.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, TimGuttersonx!FemUSMarshal, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, Drinking, Justified Show References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking, Angst/Conflict, SMUT, FOREVER FLUFF

@awaterfalls it’s a long one! 😮‍💨 Hope you like it!

~~~~~~~

Harlan, Kentucky

You had been assigned to the U.S. Marshal Service in Lexington about three years ago. The day you set foot in Harlan was the start of the constant battle of finding your place amongst the residents there. You were from Chicago…an outsider, a stranger, a Yankee…and to them, that was almost worse than having dark skin. Might as well be an alien.

Even after living there for three years, you still had problems with the locals when it came to doing your job. Work would be intolerable if you didn’t have a good team and a chief supporting you.

Sure, the day you walked into the courthouse to report for duty, Chief Art Mullen and his three ‘A’ team marshals Raylan Givens, Rachel Brooks, and Tim Gutterson gave you a hard time for being a city girl so far away from home. The first year was rough finding your niche with this group. But it didn’t take long for you to show your worth and true colors when you had to assist in the field with a couple shoot outs with some of Boyd Crowder’s goons.

A tough shell to break through was Tim. At first he barely said a word to you, but as luck would have it, you’d be assigned to work on 12 hour stake outs with him or follow up on leads together for a case, which eventually led to a few exchange of words here and there.

You’ve learned that Tim was an Army Ranger and served at least two tours in Afghanistan and had claimed a few high-profile targets during his tours. According to Art, he also served in Iraq. Sometime after leaving the service, Tim joined the US Marshal Service and became Task Force and the team's sniper. In your eyes, he was quite the badass.

Your professional relationship towards him was much different than with Raylan and Rachel. You constantly argued with him and his whole presence was exhausting. You couldn’t relax around him because you were always waiting for his next quip with you.

Although Tim was impenetrable and good at his job, his endless sarcasm and snide side comments towards you usually left you feeling quite indifferent with him altogether. He picked fights with you for his entertainment, and quite frequently ended up with you leaving the room. It didn’t help you had a desk that set right next to his.

His favorite nickname for you was ‘Rookie’ even though you’ve been there for years.

“That name is getting real old, Gutterson. It’s not even cute anymore.” You say to him one day in the office not even looking up from your paperwork you were writing on.

“I beg to differ.” He muttered.

You shake your head while taking a deep breath. A mischievous grin appeared across Tim’s face.

“Tim, leave the girl alone,” Raylan scolded, “she’s gon’ use that crazy back room city girl violence on you.”

Rachel chuckled from her desk.

You look at Raylan unamused, “Thanks, Raylan.”

“I wish she would.” Tim challenged.

“You having fun?” You ask as you stood and walked in front of his desk.

“It’s a slow morning.” He returned without missing a beat.

“Yeah, well careful what you wish for.” You warned before walking towards the double glass doors to leave the office.

“Why you alway pushing her buttons, Gutterson?” Rachel asked.

“Gotta keep those Yankees on their toes.” He replied.

“Ain’t you a Yankee? Indiana is right next to Illinois.” Raylan pointed out.

“I grew up in a town in Southern Indiana with a less than 700 recorded populous, Raylan. I ain’t even close.” He explained.

“I see.” Raylan scoffed.

~~~~~~~

Due to the murders and money heists linked to Harlan, the U.S. Marshals office had their hands full chasing leads and confronting big time Dixie Mafia sindicates. You in particular were never allowed to question suspects or witnesses alone due to your city dweller pastimes. So of course you’d be paired with Tim and/or Raylan.

This specific situation required the three of you to ride together. A woman employed by one of the whore houses in town had been abducted by a local man who was known as Chooch. Raylan suspected that she knew too much about a murder that recently occurred and the culprit behind the killing ordered a hit on her to tie loose ends.

Chooch, however, was a man of very little intelligence. But his intellectual shortfalls were compensated by his size standing at 6’4 and probably weighing close to 300 pounds.

Instead of killing her on the spot as he was told to do, he bound her hands and feet and took her to a wooded clearing. His boss appeared with two of his cronies to finish off the woman and Chooch.

"I won't let you kill her!" Chooch stated, standing between the girl bound on the ground and the men waiting at the tree line.

"Fine!" The boss says, “Then you kill her like you were ordered to!"

Just then, you Raylan, and Tim having followed these men, step out from behind the trees with your weapons drawn.

“Nobody move!" Raylan orders.

“HANDS!" Tim commands.

No one complies.

“Keep your hands where we can ‘em, gentlemen.” You instruct.

There ensues a conversation in which Raylan explains to Chooch that his boss and the other two men are there to kill him as well as as the woman.

“He’s lying! He’s trying to turn us against one another.” The boss defended.

“If that’s not what he’s here for then why did he bring back up?” Tim reasoned.

Chooch seemed to understand what's at play in this situation, and started to feel around his waist, looking for the gun he had tucked in his waistband.

“You’re really gonna die for a guy who’s tryin’ to kill you?” Tim cautioned.

"You can't still be taking his orders.” Raylan insisted.

Chooch paused, the wheels turning in his head.

“It’s all I got.” He finalized as he removed the pistol to fire.

Chooch takes a round from both Raylan and Tim, staggers but doesn't go down. The other three other men all draw and fire as you, Tim and Raylan take cover. Raylan tucked himself behind a tree while you and Tim crouch behind the truck parked in the middle of the clearing.

The bawling woman tied up and gagged in the open laid on her stomach as flat as she could on the ground.

“I’m goin’ to get her.” You tell Tim.

“The hell you are!” Tim declared pulling you back by your vest strap.

You almost fall backwards on your ass.

“She’s gonna get hit! I’m going!” You bellow and slip away before he could grab you again.

“Son of bitch, Y/F/N! Get back!” Tim spat out.

You stayed low running to the woman. You make it to her unscathed and start shaking her by the shoulders.

“Get up! We gotta find cover! Come on, MOVE!” You yell over the gunfire slicing the zip ties on her wrists and ankles so she could move.

You grab her by the arm and guide her towards the trees opposite of the truck. Tim and Raylan take out the two goons but the boss and Chooch get away with a few gunshot wounds.

When the chaos died down you emerge with the woman, still leading her by the arm to Raylan and Tim.

“What the fuck was all that about?” Tim barked at you.

Even Raylan looked at Tim in shock.

“I beg your pardon, Gutterson?” You reply with skepticism.

“You ran out in the middle of a goddamn fire fight! I told you not to go!”

“I told you I was going so you could cover me.” You justified.

“Don’t matter. You could’ve waited until we dropped them to get her.” He completed as he stormed off.

Bewildered, you look at Raylan.

“What the hell just happened right there?” You ask gesturing where Tim just walked away.

“I don’t know. I ain’t never seen him react that way.” He professed.

~~~~~~~

The week following the Chooch conflict was torturous at the office after Tim yelled at you. He held his grudge from that day, and made zero effort to hide it. He didn’t playfully argue with you, or poke fun at you. He didn’t even call you ‘Rookie’ or ‘City Girl” anymore.

He did, however, irritably side eye you from his desk or force annoyed exhales out when you had to speak to him about work. If he did respond to you, it was brief, low mumbled words or just a simple “Mhm.”

~~~~~~~

The next two days were your days off, and you couldn’t wait to spend it away from Tim’s resentful glares. It was karaoke night at one of the local bars in Harlan, and you were perfectly content with spending the evening alone getting drunk and singing to anyone who’d listen.

You’re about a six pack’s worth of beers and three songs into the evening before you noticed a familiar face from the small stage. You squint, shading your eyes from the spotlight.

“What the shit?” You say not realizing you had swore into the microphone.

The people who had been watching you started laughing. There stood Tim, standing in the back of the crowded room, holding a beer spectating your musical performance.

You roll your eyes then step off the stage to return to the bar. The owner, Pete, met you from across the counter.

“Hey, Y/F/N, you ok?” He asked as you leaned on your elbows on the surface of the bar.

“Just saw a coworker I’d rather not see. No big deal. Can I get another beer, please?” You explained.

“Comin’ up, darlin’.”

You look over your shoulder to see if Tim was still there. To your dismay, he wasn’t in the same spot you had just seen him in.

“Great, he’s on the move.” You say to yourself.

You go to take a drink from your beer and you’re startled by a smooth gravelly voice from behind you.

“Who is?”

You choke on the beer you just drank and end up in a coughing fit. You turn and meet Tim’s face.

“Jesus, Gutterson! Where the hell did you just come from?” You chide.

He couldn’t help but smirk. Once again entertaining himself at your expense.

“Guess you’re slippin’. You gotta pay attention.” He teased.

“Guess so.” You reply as you take another drink turning your back to him.

He invited himself to sit in the barstool next to you.

“Um, what if I was saving that seat for someone?” You presented.

Tim scoffed, “You ain’t here with anyone.” He said confidently drinking from his glass.

“You’re so sure? Well, I’d rather be here alone than be here with you.”

“Is that so?” Tim asked mockingly.

“You’ve been pissy towards me the whole week. You’re making it weird at work.”

“Well if you hadn’t fucked up, maybe it wouldn’t be weird.”

“I didn’t fuck up. I didn’t follow your order and it pissed you off.”

“You’re goddamn right it did. You could’ve been shot. What you did the other day was a real rookie move.” He interpreted, “You’re better than that.”

You look at him suspiciously.

“Did…did you just compliment me?” You ask.

“Absolutely not.”

You nod to confirm and looked back at the beer bottle in front of you.

You each sit in silence, drinking your beverages until you both ran empty.

“Hey Pete, one for me and the lady here.” Tim called over to the end of the bar.

“Sure, Tim.” Pete acknowledged.

“You don’t have to.” You state.

“I know I don’t.” Tim replied simply without looking at you.

You didn’t push the topic any further when Pete placed the beers in front of you. Tim ‘cheers’ your bottle and takes a hearty drink. You are utterly befuddled by his demeanor, but you choose to ignore it.

“Do you take requests?” Tim asked.

“What?”

“Requests for songs. Do you take ‘em?” He clarified.

“Oh. Uh, no one’s ever asked.”

Tim nodded taking another sip from the glass.

“It’s a shame, you’re pretty good.” He added almost too quiet for you to hear.

“Ok, why are you being nice to me? You’re never nice to me. Like, never.” You snap.

“Hey, lighten up, it’s exhausting for me to be pleasant towards you, too.” He barked back.

“Then why are you sitting by me?”

“Well you haven’t exactly asked me to leave.” He pointed out harshly.

You chug the rest of your beer, “You’re a grown ass man, you could’ve left whenever you wanted.”

You stand up, pull out a $100 slamming it on the bar for Pete. You go to turn to leave and you feel Tim grab your wrist, swinging you around locking his lips onto yours.

Your first instinct is to push off him, but the moment you slacked your mouth open to protest, his tongue ran across your lower lip leaving you a melting mess in his arms.

Your hands slide up into the back of his head and pull at his hair. He groaned into your mouth as you hungrily nipped and licked at his lips. His hands greedily kneaded at your hips, pulling you into his hardening dick.

You pull back with a gasp, “Let’s get outta here.” You purr.

~~~~~~~

As soon as you get through the door of your apartment, he slammed the door shut and pinned you against it, ravenously kissing you like a starved man. You loop your fingers onto his belt and pull his hips into yours, snaking your body against him to feel some friction against your aching core.

He bent down, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist to carry you into your bedroom.

“We really doing this?” He questioned.

“I don’t know why we didn’t already do this.” You admit.

Tim dropped you on your back onto your bed, removing his jacket and tossing it into the darkness. You slide backward until you reach the headboard.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” He asked reaching for your ankles and pulling you back towards him with a jerk.

You gasp at him manhandling you, signifying you enjoyed being thrown around a bit. Tim wasn’t shy. He swiftly removed his shirt, displaying, to your surprise, a decently lean upper body. You lay there in a trance as if he was your private strip tease.

“You like what you see?” He teased.

You look at him and nod while biting your lower lip. He leaned forward over you, caging you between his arms. He locked his lips onto yours again, pushing you backward with the force of his kiss until you were flat on your back. He rested onto his elbows leaving most of his weight onto you. His knee slid between yours, pushing your legs apart. His strong hands groping under your shirt, you didn’t even notice he had unhooked your bra already.

You sit up and pull your shirt off over your head while disposing of the loose bra hanging on your arms. You flip Tim into his back and straddle yourself on top of his aching dick. You grind into his swelling heat. The friction of his cock against your clothed entrance had you gushing wet in your panties already.

He groaned, grasping your hips guiding your fluid like movements against his dick making it throb and pulsate. He wants out bad. He hissed pulling your face to his, your mouths clashed like lightening, one tongue exploring the other while panting into each other’s mouths.

His relentless, calloused hands clutching your waist pushing you down harder onto his clothed dick while he gently thrusted upward. You pull your lips away allowing your mouth to hover over his so you can feel his heavy breathing on yours, inhaling his growls into your slightly open smiling mouth as he stares eagerly into your eyes.

He moved you off to remove his pants and boxers. The articles of clothing tossed into the dimly lit oblivion as he kneeled on the bed in front of you…You gaped at this man in front of you.

Wow…

His dick was generous, rock-hard, and pulsating a flushed red with all the blood that's coursing into it as he held himself in his hand.

"His hands, though..." You thought to yourself.

Those powerful, deadly hands that handles weapons like second nature. Those hands were about to be used to do unspeakable and erotic deeds to your body. He got work on whatever clothing you had left on you, unwrapping the rest of you like a gift from God.

Tim smiled widely seeing you lay there like a goddess then slithered over you. He leaned back on his heels and hoisted you up from your ass onto his lap as you wrap your legs around his waist.

You feel his cock settle between your slick folds sliding up and down between them desperate to find the entrance.

“Did I get you this wet?” He teased.

“You sure did.” You whimpered into his ear.

He kisses and licks your bare chest as you throw your head back grinding into his thrusts, both of you gasping and growling at each other. Every time he bucks into your folds he brushes your clit with the tip of his dick sending shock waves through your entire nervous system.

He looked at you, and without breaking eye contact, he uses his hand to direct the head of his cock into the opening of your slippery entrance. You whine as he slides right into you with little resistance. He closed his eyes and snarled when he bottomed out.

“Y/F/N...you’re SO tight..." He rested his forehead onto your chest trying to catch his breathe.

You pull his face upward placing a deep, tonguey kiss on him as he lowers you down onto your back with one arm holding you and the other hand holding himself up on the bed cradling you downward. You fall to the mattress without him slipping out of your drenched pussy.

Not taking his eyes off yours, he rails into you harder, and deeper causing your breasts to bounce upwards each time his pelvis slams into your thighs. He groped at them with one hand while still gliding in and out of your wet cunt, grunting from the throat. He increased the intensity of his thrusts until you can hear the 'slaps' of his balls hitting your ass.

You smile devilishly at him as you rub on yourself with quick circles as you roll your hips into his thrusts. You whimper as you feel your edging orgasm. Your pussy dripping onto your comforter at this point as you clench yourself around him. He can feel you squeezing his cock intermittently, sensing your finish.

Tim snaked his fingers around your throat, giving you a tender squeeze.

“Go ahead, let go for me.” He growled.

“Fucking wreck me, Tim.” You begged.

His pace increased, hammering into you as he brought up one of your legs over his shoulder to get deeper inside you.

You let out a demonic shrill, "Oh...my...fucking God, Tim!"

He maintained his pace, spanking your exposed ass cheek and you were done for. You splurged onto his throbbing dick as he rides out your orgasm until he reaches his.

One final hit into your cunt and he’s coating your walls with his spend. He holds himself there, panting. You can feel his dick twitch and pulsating inside you.

He lets go, letting all his body weigh onto yours resting his head on your chest. Your breaths almost syncing, you wrap your arms around him, running your fingers through his thick hair. He looks up to you and trailed kisses up to your neck, along your jawline then pecking your lips softly.

Your eyes meet and you each lazily smile at eachother.

“So will this make it weird at work?” He asked.

You laugh, “Only if you let it.”

He repositioned himself onto his back and pulled you into him.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Gutterson.”

He gently scoffed, “Yeah, don’t go tellin’ anyone.”

Before slipping into sleep, you feel him kiss your forehead, leaving you a hot mess in his embrace. You feel safe. Two worlds collided like a train wreck and it was the best feeling ever.

~~~~~~~

#justified #tim gutterson #tim guttersonxfemale reader #tim gutterson smut #jacob pitts #us marshals #smut

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kickingitwithkirk · 2 months

Text

Restless Man Part III

Summary: Beau Arlen finds himself in the middle of a case with more twists than a country road.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reina Cetanwakuwa-Stanley

Word Count: 1015

Warnings: cursing, show level violence, derogatory remarks (some in native languages) poisoning, murder

A/N: The inkling for this work started when I heard Jensen singing Restless Man. This AU has elements based on historical information and canon from the Big Sky series.

*Set after the series finally 3:13 That Old Feeling.

A/N II: All Native American words/sentences are resourced from freelang.net and glosbe.com *some algorithmically generated on these sites.

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no beta -all mistakes are mine

PT II Masterlist

Walking into the offices of Dewell & Hoyt, Jenny nodded to her partner as Denise commented, “Ohh girl, long day?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“We took the liberty of grabbing some food, figured you’d be hungry.” That made Hoyt smile, “Thank you. I missed lunch since Beau went MIA on me today.” Cassie laughed, knowing her friend too well. “Like you didn’t enjoy every minute of being in charge.” Hoyt plopped down in the chair beside her, opening a to-go container. “Wouldn’t deny that. It was a nice break from his constant chattiness. So, do either of you know anything about this meeting?”

“Not much,” Denise responds. “When Beau called, all he said was to make sure you and Cassie were here.” They tuck into their meals, catching up on the rest of their day, when the offices' rear entrance door opens and clangs shut. Cassie and Hoyt pull their firearms as heavy footsteps come closer, and a man appears in the back room's doorway.

“Whoa!!” Arlen raises his hands.

“Jesus Christ Beau! We could’ve shot you!” Hoyt snapped, lowering her gun. “I texted Cassie an hour ago saying I’d be coming through the back door.” Holstering her weapon, Cassie says, “The only text I got was from Kai.” Arlen pulls out his phone and frowns at the not delivered. “Must have been in a no-service area. My apologies for starting you ladies.”

Hoyt starts, “What’s up? It’s not like you to disappear at the drop of a hat.” Cassie adds, “Don’t forget leaving vague messages and sneaking through people's back doors.” Arlen laid the manilla folders he’d brought on the desk. “Gerald Stanley left a safety deposit box in my name containing these. They have some interesting information.”

“That’s where you’ve been all day?” Cassie asks, picking up the files and handing one to Hoyt. Arlen grabs the extra chair by Denise, who passes him a takeout box with her usual flirting. “Yes..sorta. The bank was the first stop. After we examined the boxes…”

“Who’s we?” Hoyt interrupts, making the other two women look at each other when Arlen says, “Gerald requested that his granddaughter be present when I opened the box.”

“You took Reina Stanley!” Hoyt’s voice rose. “What the hell, Beau? I’m your undersheriff! Why didn’t you call me?” Arlen gave her a look. “The inquiry needed to be handled with discretion, and based on your reaction, you wouldn’t been able to do that with her there.”

“Okay, moving on.” Cassie says, “You found these medical records. What did you do next?”

“We went to Montana State University and talked to a Biotechnologist before heading to Billings to see Gerald’s doctor. They said he came in with unusual symptoms, and after a battery of tests, couldn’t be certain what was happening but, off the record, thought it was poisoning.” Hoyt, annoyed but somewhat calmer, sat her file down. “Without a definitive diagnosis or other evidence, it’s all circumstantial, not enough to open an official inquiry.”

Arlen swallowed his mouthful of food. “Reina has information that I can’t disclose but points to a hypothetical scenario that could explain why someone, or ones, wanted Gerald out of the way. That’s why I wanted to meet up. Cassie,” he pulled a paper from his pocket. “Could you look into this for me? Going through official police channels might tip off whoever is involved.”

“Oh, wow. I see why you’d want to keep this quiet.” She reassured him they’d be discreet and handed it to Denise. “You do realize this also makes Reina a suspect?”

Arlen acknowledged that before turning to his undersheriff, “So Hoyt, you miss me today?”

“Ha! You wish.”

Arlen is on the phone four days later when he hears a knock on his door. He sees Cassie Dewell standing there and waves her in wrapping up his conversation. “Sounds good. Thanks for letting me know.” Hanging up, he turns his full attention to her. “Hey, Cassie, got something for me?”

“Denise spoke to a cousin-in-law who works in the state capital offices about that info you gave us. They said, off the record, several months ago, Gerald dropped by to see the governor without an appointment. By the time he left, they had put the Silver City expansion scheme on hold until the department had sufficient information about the environmental impact on some type of lizard living there.”

“Wow, I had no idea Gerald had that kind of pull but smart, using good old bureaucratic red tape.” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “One more thing: the cousin said besides the out-of-state developers, a subsidiary contractor under the Stanley umbrella is involved.”

Arlen got his confused expression. “Wait a minute, he had one of his contractors stopped? That doesn’t make sense. So we’ve got,” Arlen held up a finger, “One out-of-state developer, who I’m sure is very angry about the delay after investing time and money into this project.”

Cassie adds, “Two, the subsidiary contractor also heavily invested. Three, other businesses in the area who would’ve benefited from providing goods and services during the development. Four, landowners that were going to make a hefty profit from selling their property.”

“And five,” Arlen says, “The Stanleys themselves.” He grabs his football, squeezing it frustrated. “We’ve got way too many suspects.”

“I agree. I want to speak to Reina,” Cassie said knowingly, "Since she’s the one who gave you the information.” Getting up, Arlen followed her out of his office. “Maybe Gerald said something she considered irrelevant that could help narrow the list.”

“You do realize she’s still a suspect. Reina might’ve fed us that information to throw us off the trail because she’s the one who orchestrated Gerald’s death.”

“I don’t think so,” Poppernak said as they walked by and stopped at his desk. “You know something, Pops?” The deputy responded. “Maybe. I remember some gossip about Gerald forcing Holland to give him custody of Reina. Cody would’ve known...”

“Mo!” Cassie’s interruption of the overly talkative deputy was too late and saw bewilderment cross Arlen’s face as he spit out, flabbergasted.

“Cody Hoyt?”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

RM: @deans-spinster-witch

#restless man #beau arlen #sheriff beau arlen #beau arlen x native ofc #beau arlen x reina cetanwakuwa-stanley #jenny hoyt #cassie dewell #denise brisbane #mo poppernak #cody hoyt #big sky season 3 #big sky #big sky s3 au #big sky au #jensen ackles #katheryn winnick #kylie bunbury

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zapsalis-d · 1 year

Text

Narudar: Chapter Fifty-One: The Exile

SUMMARY: Following Din's encounter with the Armorer and the Mandalorian covert, his communication with you slowly begins to diminish.

WARNINGS: Slight fluff, canon-typical violence

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

MASTERLIST >>> MAIN MASTERLIST

To say you didn't feel guilty was a lie.

Din had reassured you time and time again that it didn't matter whether he removed his helmet in front of you. That this was something he'd allow for the rest of his life, no matter what happened. But voluntarily or not, he was still breaking his Creed. That was a lingering thought you could never quite eradicate from your mind... and honestly, you couldn't think of anything you could possibly do about this situation.

Because the thing was, it was his choice. It was his decision to show his face to you, and he was determined to keep doing so. The problem was that he was searching for a way to redeem himself, to mend his damaged Creed. What would he propose to do then? Because then he'd end up in an incessant cycle of breaking and fixing his Creed, over and over and over again. As much as he wanted it, that wasn't going to work out.

Of course, there was marriage—and, yes, he'd mentioned it before—but you weren't even sure if he was up for that.

At least the thought of it all distracted you from the medic while she treated your arm. There were a few stitches involved, along with a cool bacta wrap around your forearm. She was even kind enough to sew the ripped pieces of your cloak back together, ultimately covering up the wound. You made sure to pay her well for her services. Work like this did not come easy, not in this galaxy, and especially not on this isolated ringworld.

However, your only concern was that by the time you finished, there had been no sign of Din. He hadn't contacted you yet through the commlink, and even as you waited a while in kalzoc alley, he didn't appear anywhere. Eventually, though... you began to hear fighting. Weapons clashing against beskar. He was definitely still in there, and that worried you—because what if they found out about his Creed and that was the reason why they were fighting him? He was even injured... Did they not care? He could defend himself to an extent, but with his wounded leg, surviving was improbable if they truly were becoming hostile towards him.

All those thoughts and anxieties panicked you, and you couldn't stop yourself from walking inside.

The first person visible was the Armorer, down below. Her golden helmet was familiar to you, and her visor spotted you immediately. The sound of weapons clashing continued, but she didn't act against anything. She didn't seem aggressive either, which calmed you down... so you took this as an opportunity to climb down the ladder and meet with her. In front of you was Din, along with a somewhat recognizable Mandalorian. Engaged in battle. He was larger and taller than Din, but seeing how this wasn't exactly a death fight assured you even more.

There was no heading back, though... You were here, and Din surely saw you from his peripheral vision already. Your eyes shifted over to meet with the Armorer's gaze. "Why are they fighting?"

Her visor returned to the fight. The Mandalorian with dark blue beskar headbutt Din, hurling him aside to a wall on a lower level. Still, they were visible and you watched as he hopped down, brusquely grabbing Din before slamming his head against the wall.

He was going to feel that for a while...

"Paz Viszla has challenged Din Djarin for the darksaber," the Armorer explained in her usual monotonous voice. "Whoever achieves victory takes the title of Manda'lor."

Paz Viszla—you quickly recorded the Mandalorian's name in your mind. His gloved hands reached for the fallen darksaber, igniting it instantly. Seeing as Din didn't move from his spot on the floor was concerning, though.

"Fate has brought this blade back to my clan—" Viszla shouted, struggling to lift the darksaber. "—and now fate will end yours!"

By then, Din slid aside, and the weapon struck a metal pole besides him instead. Already, Din brought his vibroblade out to defend himself. Although when Viszla attempted another attack, Din bent down, dodging once—twice—standing upright again. But the taller Mandalorian seized Din by the neck, beating his head to the wall once. That staggered him for a second, though as soon as he recuperated, he slashed twice with his vibroblade, penetrating through exposed skin. With Viszla distracted, Din took advantage and wrapped both his arms around his neck, restraining him from striking him anymore. With the blade pinned to Viszla's throat, the Armorer interrupted the fight.

"It is done."

Her voice echoed through the empty space. Everyone froze. The clanging of weapons against beskar stopped.

Din won.

"Paz Viszla," the Armorer started. "Have you ever removed your helmet?"

"No," he answered without doubt.

"Has it ever been removed by others?"

"Never."

Wait, why was she...

"This is the Way," the Armorer declared, and Paz Viszla repeated after her immediately. Still, Din wouldn't release his hold on him yet.

"Din Djarin," she called. The second you heard his name, your stomach twisted and sank... She was about to ask Din the same—and no way was he lying about. No doubt would he make the truth clear to her. This would be the perfect moment to disappear from here, but... that would make everything seem worse. The Armorer would suspect something between you two instantly.

"Have you ever removed your helmet?"

Silence was her only answer.

Din didn't reply... he couldn't.

You could hardly imagine how he must be feeling right now—the regret, the sorrow, the culpability. This had been his entire life. The Creed was something he had sworn to since he was a kid, and now? Now he has to face down the Armorer. Someone who's probably known him since he took the Creed and promised to never reveal his face to anyone, no matter the circumstances. He shattered everything he ever believed in, and there might not be a way back...

The Armorer repeated her question again, this time with more urgency. "Have you ever removed your helmet?"

Still, he couldn't bring himself to speak...

"By Creed, you must vow."

Reluctantly, Din freed Paz Viszla, stepping away from him. Quietly, he muttered, "I have..."

There was a pause. A long, agonizing, tedious pause. The Armorer's disappointment lingered in the air. "Then, you are a Mandalorian no more."

"I beg you for your forgiveness." Din never sounded so desperate to redeem himself in his life. "How can I atone?"

"Leave," Paz Viszla growled, still recovering from the earlier fight. "Apostate."

"According to the Creed, one may only be redeemed in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore," she explained to Din. But Mandalore of all places? That planet was cursed. Sure, you never visited... though you listened to plenty enough stories from Din. You'd never visited the world in person, though.

Din seemed like he couldn't believe it—and he had reason to. This was an impossible task if Mandalore truly was poisoned. But... at least it was a way to recover his Creed, right? It was highly likely that he'd take that opportunity. "But the mines have all been destroyed."

The Armorer did not offer any help whatsoever. All she responded with was, "This is the Way."

Silently, Din sighed... and didn't utter another word. He only collected his fallen darksaber and his jetpack, walking past the Armorer and past you, without another glance.

You... might've messed up.

You shouldn't have come here— why would you even think of doing this? All you could do was stand there for a moment... and the Armorer stared. Did she blame you for this? She definitely had reason to accuse you of that. But she didn't speak, and you couldn't bring yourself to explain anything either. Because what could you possibly do? Apologize? No, that wasn't going to fix his Creed. Neither could you clarify what occurred that led to Din removing his helmet, because then she'd find out that he was willing to reveal his face. You couldn't make matters worse for Din. So the best you could do was leave.

You just needed to be there for Din now. That is, if he decided to discuss this with you. Which you doubted. You expected him to remain wordless for the rest of your trip to Tatooine, and that was okay. He needed his space right now, and you were going to give it to him. Still, the guilt buried deep into your chest and only worsened after witnessing all of this... Again, it was his choice—his decision. He chose to take his helmet off to save Grogu, he decided to show you that he loved you, and he wanted to offer one final goodbye to the kid. You shouldn't feel this culpability over something you never caused purposefully, but these feelings and doubts pestered you to the core. There wasn't anything you could do against this.

Once kalzoc alley was far behind, yourself and Din searched for public transportation. The spaceport was rather crowded, especially the ship that traveled off to Mos Eisley. Although before you could board the transport, an alarm blared. A droid along the side captured your attention, carrying boxes and packages besides him.

"Excuse me," the pilot droid called for you and the Mandalorian. "You're going to have to remove your weapons."

"I'm a Mandalorian," Din declared as you both approached the droid. Even after becoming an outcast to his kind, at least he didn't deny that he was still a Mandalorian. "Weapons are part of my religion."

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't board a commercial flight with your weapons." It presented a thin card to him, offering him to purchase it. "If you wish to discuss this with my supervisor, I will gladly book you on tomorrow's flight."

"Fine," Din gave in, snatching the card from the droid's claws. After he inserted the chip into one of the cases, the top opened up and revealed an empty space for your belongings.

"I don't think I trust this," you muttered under your breath. You were unsure about this, considering you never had to remove your weapons for transportation before... But extra precaution wouldn't hurt.

Both yourself and Din emptied out your weapons. From sabers to blasters to knives to whistling birds, even. Anything that could harm someone, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed, was placed into the crate. "Well, I know everything that's in there..."

It took longer than you expected. You seriously underestimated the amount of weapons you both owned. Once finished, the droid confirmed it was okay for you to board the transport safely.

Din took the window seat, and you were settled besides him. For the majority of the ride, he spent his time staring out the transparisteel, out towards the dark void of outer space. There wasn't much to say, so you were silent the entire journey to Tatooine. Although you should feel delighted about the fact that you were going to retrieve your new Razor Crest, this... ruined it all. It was going to be a long ride for sure.

You couldn't decipher whether or not Din was angry with you, considering you entered the covert without permission. He specifically suggested not to. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask, because the last thing you needed was to spark another argument. All you could offer was your hand... slipping yours underneath his palm, your fingers softly wrapping around his knuckles. And he pulled his away for a second—but only to remove his glove. When he grabbed your hand again, squeezing it gently, you felt yourself relax. No words, but that was enough to assure you that he wasn't annoyed. Not with you, at least.

He enjoyed feeling his skin against yours. You found that he'd been liking that recently... It comforted him.

Your face rested against the cool of his beskar pauldron. Drowsiness soon took over...

↡

You stirred awake once you felt the warmth of Din's hand disappear and the soft whisper of your name. Blinking away the blurriness from your eyes, you soon came to realize that you had fallen asleep against Din's shoulder—and arrived at Tatooine. Besides you, Din stood whilst slipping his glove back on. You followed suite, slowly exiting the transport behind long line of travelers. As soon as you stepped off the ship's ramp, the defected pilot droid greeted you.

"W-Welcome to Mos Eisl— Mos Eisley! On behalf of all our crew, thank you for traveling star liner travel." It continued blabbering on about transportation while yourself and Din proceeded to collect your weapons. Everything seemed to be in their place, and intact, without any damage whatsoever. "We wish you a pleasant stay and hope to see you again very soon!"

After that, the first stop was of course Peli's hangar. However, it seemed that every time you visited her... she was occupied by something crazy. This time, it happened to be that she was being attacked by a giant womprat. Although Din quickly took care of that, blasting it down with one bullet, saving a screaming Peli. She struggled to rise back up onto her two feet. "Oh— oh! What an entrance! BD?! You good?"

Your eyes fell, catching sight of a cute little BD droid. It didn't seem damaged whatsoever, except for a leg it seemed to favor.

"What do we owe you the pleasure?" Peli asked, happily approaching you guys. "You here to slay another dragon? Chasing down some elusive bounty?"

Hm. Those were good times...

Well, not really.

But at least you had Grogu, and you were all together. Not separated.

"We got your message," Din reminded her.

"Message?" She paused, confusion etched across her features... "What message?"

"You know, the message you sent us very recently," you explained, hoping she hadn't totally forgotten that she somehow managed to claim a ship for you guys. "Don't you have another Razor Crest for us?"

"Oh! Yes, that's right. That's what I said. That's what I do. I've been working my butt off, yeah! Did you bring the cash?"

You found it strange she didn't remember for a moment, but... that's just Peli. Din handed over a small bag suffused with credits inside. "It's right here."

"Mind if I count it? Not that I don't trust you, I just wanna make sure you don't give me too much." Peli turned, tossing the currency over to one of the pit droids besides her. "Hey, droids, make yourselves useful! Count this up, and then fire up the grill before that thing gets gamey. Right this way! Wait 'till you get your eyes on this baby."

A thrilling sensation welled within your chest, and you could tell Din's feelings were mutual when he trailed closely behind Peli. She led you both to a section of her hangar where she maintained ships that were under repairs. Under a tarp seemed to be the new Razor Crest. Even with it right in front of you, it was still difficult to believe that you finally managed to locate a ship for yourselves. It might not be the same Crest where yourself and Din shared memories in, but at least this was sufficient. It would take you places when needed, without having to rely on public transportation. This was good. A ship would do you guys good.

"So, where is your unlikely companion?"

The question caught you off-guard, but the subject was bound to pop up. After all, she did care and protect Grogu while you were gone bounty hunting... They shared some sort of bond with each other as well. There was a pause. You couldn't bring yourself to speak up.

But Din answered, "I returned him to his own kind."

"Why the hell would you do that?! I coulda made good money off that thing." Peli seemed downright disappointed, but chuckled anyway. "Open a petting zoo."

Once Peli reached the ship, she set her hands over the blanket obscuring the vehicle underneath it. You weren't gonna lie, it... didn't seem much like a Razor Crest. Not under that sheet, at least. Maybe you were wrong, but it seemed much too small to be one. Still, Peli couldn't seem to contain her excitement. You wished you could have her energy and positivity for yourself, because that cheerful personality she had always seemed to lighten your mood. "Ready to have your minds blown?!"

A million thoughts ran through your head within a split a second—but as soon as she pulled the cover off the gunship, there was only one thought on your mind: this wasn't a Razor Crest. No, it wasn't even a gunship. It was... some sort of starfighter. But you didn't ask for a starfighter, you asked for a Razor Crest. Your enthusiasm immediately diminished, and you discreetly casted Din a brief look of disappointment.

"But... didn't you say you had a Razor Crest for us?" you asked the mechanic, who didn't seem any less delighted as she revealed the ship. "This isn't a Razor Crest..."

"I never said I had a Razor Crest. I said I had a replacement for a Razor Crest."

"No, you di—"

Wait.

You quickly remembered the recording of her message, playing as much as you could recall through your head.

Heya! Heard about your ship, uh... you know, blowing up into a million pieces. Well, have I got news for you. Because I am your friend and I care about you guys, I thought about surprising you with a replacement for the Razor Crest! And.. well, I found it!

"Oh."

This setback was rather discouraging... and you were certain Din wasn't exactly pleased with these news either. Peli was only trying to help—and you appreciated that. Very much. Seriously, you loved her and she was one of the kindest people you knew. But how were you supposed to fit in this little starfighter? If the Crest was considered small, then what was this? There was a cockpit, and it seemed the droid port had been replaced for an extra seat in the back. But that was it. If you were going to resume bounty hunting, this wasn't ideal for that type of job.

"I don't have time for this—" Din was already turning to leave.

Your disheartened expression was clear at this point. "It's just a starfighter."

"Not just any starfighter— come on!" The mechanic tried to defend herself and the ship. "This is an N-1 Starfighter, handmade for the Royal Guard and commissioned personally by the queen of Naboo!"

"This is a pile of junk," Din declared. He wasn't wrong. Now that you pushed through the disappointment of realizing this was a starfighter, you noticed the ship wasn't even complete. There were parts everywhere and it was a disorganized mess. It wasn't in working condition.

"You should've specified it wasn't a Razor Crest," you voiced.

"I did! I said it was a replacement! Not a Razor Crest. A replacement!" Peli sighed heavily. Then, "You want your credits back?"

"Yes," was Din's instant response.

"No skin off my dip-swap. Droids! Bring this lovely couple their money. Here you go— it's that easy. Sorry to waste your time. Okay?"

Silence filled the air as you waited for the droids to return with your credits. Okay, you felt bad—you weren't going to lie. After all, she did go through all this trouble, searching for a ship that you could call your own again. She recognized your struggles and her only desire was to help. Maybe it wasn't what you wanted... but the fact that she thought of you two when she was so occupied with her own job was endearing.

"While we're waiting... can I tell you a little something about this honey?"

There was quietness, and Peli took advantage of the opportunity to continue.

"I know she doesn't look like much, but you got here a lot earlier than I expected, and I didn't get a chance to finish. I mean, clearly you can see I've got all the parts right here." She grabbed a part from the starfighter, pulled a random wire, simply causing a mess before shoving it all back together. "Hmm? It all had a home. Okay? Oh, look, a family of scurriers... Let's not disrupt the nest."

Din shifted closer, slightly interested now...

No, you wanted to say. No, you wanted the Razor Crest. Not this.

"You know how hard it is to find all original parts from way back in the galactic Republic? I mean, these are all handmade. No droids! And not only that, what I'm gonna do—just because I like you two—is I'm gonna add on some custom modifications that'll make her faster than a fathier. And! Because this baby's pre-Empire, she's off the grid. And did I mention she can jump into hyperspace with no docking ring? I mean, come on! Ya gotta see the potential!" Dust billowed up into the air as soon as she removed the tarp completely from the starfighter. "Woo!"

A pit droid stepped in with a familiar little bag of credits in hand, but Peli immediately gestured for it to shoo.

Din, nearing the starfighter, lifted a random part... and water, or some sort of liquid, spilled out.

"I'm telling you, you gotta believe me!" Peli approached him, silently hoping he'd accept and be able to persuade you as well. "This is a classic." Slamming her fist onto one of the thrusters, an outer plating collapsed to the ground from the impact. She ignored it, though. "Look, at least let me put her together before you decide. Can you give me that?"

Din was indecisive... shared a glance with you, as if searching for assurance. But you didn't know, truly. If this were the correct decision or not was impossible to know at the moment. This was something you'd have to wait out and see if its advantages weigh out its cons. This wasn't precisely what you wanted it to be, but it was a ship after all—and it would take you wherever you needed whenever you needed. So...

"There you go. Hm?" The mechanic revealed a tool, instantly beginning to work on the starfighter. "Get this baby up and goin'. You know, it'd be a lot faster if you helped..."

She offered a wrench...

Oh, what the hell. There wasn't anything wrong with trying it out.

note;

HII AGAIN !

i hope you liked this chapter !! the season finale for season 3 gave me the inspiration to finish this chapter. what did you guys think of season 3 ?? i understand why people both loved and hated this season... but the ending i really really really liked 🥹 as much as i love content from the mandalorian, if they left it at that and decided to finish the series there, i'd be satisfied.

but... apparently there's gonna be a season 4 PLUS a movie that's gonna close up all the stories from the "mandoverse" ? i'm actually pretty excited to see din djarin on the big screen 😭 i hope the movie will live up to its hype. i wonder how its gonna go... 👀 however way its gonna go, i already know how the narudar storyline will end 🤭

all your comments and feedback are so important to me ❤️

THANK YOU ALL !!

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#narudar #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal #reader insert #star wars #star wars x reader

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sjsmith56 · 21 days

Text

Just a Dad, Chapter 28 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky, Lacey, and Tommy settle in to the new home. Preparing for the baby leads to some memorable moments.

Length: 4.6 K

Characters: Bucky, Lacey, Tommy, Sam, Maria, Fury, and more.

Warnings: Pregnancy and labour description.

Author notes: Soft, mushy Bucky is very much in play in this chapter.

<<Chapter 27

🤰 👩‍🍼

When Bucky was made training officer the training facility had just opened, built to his recommendations. It was everything he asked for to help the Avengers bring their skills up to a higher level. Now, barely a month after the wedding Fury called him into this meeting, and the pessimist in him was sure they were going to tell him that he wasn't doing a good job, that he had squandered the investment they made in him and the facility. Instead, he found Bruce Banner there, along with a midwife and a nurse. The biggest surprise was seeing Lacey sitting with them.

"Sit down, Barnes," said Fury. "It's all good. Since we weren't able to help with the birth of young Tom and be there to monitor the pregnancy of a natural born super soldier it was suggested that we set up a birth centre for your next child. Considering that we would want to keep access to the baby as secure as possible we felt it prudent to keep it in house. Here is the team; Bruce, you know already. We have contracted with a local nurse midwife, Tara Lang, and a nurse who will assist with other health issues on the compound as well as the birth, Irene Santana."

"You did this for me, for us?" asked Bucky, still not quite used to having services such as this available to him. "Bruce, have you ever delivered a baby before?"

The green skinned man chuckled. "I wasn't always stuck being just the Hulk. When I was on the run I offered my medical services in some of the poorest areas of the planet. I've delivered dozens of babies in the harshest of conditions. Didn't lose a single one. We're going to get an ultrasound room set up, not just for you, but for the whole team, and we're interviewing technicians as we speak. Everyone that works here has to pass a security check and any blood we take from you and the baby will be processed on site then destroyed so no one else has access to it. At the same time, we want you to have as normal a birth experience as possible."

Bucky's mouth opened again but nothing came out for a moment and he grasped Lacey's hand. "I don't know what to say, except thank you," he finally replied. "I was worried how we were going to do this."

He coughed and took a couple of shaky breaths before Fury dismissed them. They all walked over to the health centre where Lacey was weighed, her abdomen measured, and her blood pressure taken. As Bruce and Irene watched, Tara asked Lacey to lay down on the examination bed and pull her leggings down to expose her abdomen. Putting some ultrasound gel on the exposed abdomen she pulled out a portable ultrasound unit.

"This is just for the heartbeat," she said. "At five months we'll do a proper ultrasound, and determine the sex of the baby."

Gently she pressed the wand onto the skin and moved it around before finding the heartbeat. Bucky's face lit up as he heard the sound of his child's beating heart. It was fast, strong, and it brought the super soldier to tears. Bruce grabbed a couple of tissues for the man and handed them to him.

"It sounds good, Buck," he said. "We'll check the heartbeat every time." He looked at Lacey. "Fury accessed your prenatal records with Tom. He was actually born post-term, you know that right?"

"He was a week early," she said. "Are you saying he was late? Is that a problem?"

"Not a problem but I think he developed faster than a normal child. His Apgar score was excellent, and he had the weight and length for a child about a month old. Considering what you told me about how soon he walked and talked after I'm guessing a super soldier baby just develops faster. We'll keep an eye on how big this one gets plus do some extra monitoring of your birth hormones. Tom being late didn't seem to cause any issues for him but it does affect the umbilical cord if we let it go on too long. Just something to keep in mind."

Over the next few months everything seemed to go on as usual. Bucky excelled in his training officer position, receiving compliments from many who took the firearms course from him on his thoroughness and professionalism. Those who took the fitness courses complained at first about what a taskmaster he was but they couldn't argue with the results as many of the staff, both enlisted and Avenger, noticed their fitness levels soared. Fury brought in more healthy food options although the burgers and fries were still the most preferred of the cafeteria's most popular dishes. The dedication that Bucky gave into designing tactical exercises for the Avengers was valuable as he tapped everyone's knowledge for ways to improve team mobility and communication. Most missions went off like clockwork and even the ones that didn't always offered something to improve on and learn from. The plan to use Bucky's knowledge of languages had to be modified as he was being spread too thin so other alternatives were used, including online language instruction, weekend retreats conducted entirely in a foreign language and visiting instructors. More than once it helped them to successfully infiltrate secret bases in other countries.

Lacey was well into researching her non-fiction book on trafficking, using her own experience and interviewing other survivors, who she sought out to bolster her contention that the world wasn't doing enough to stop the whole sale trafficking of people as a commodity. She even took a few trips to other countries who had established anti-trafficking units, including Wakanda, to learn what horrors they had uncovered. It was an eye-opening experience to know that what happened to her could so easily happen anywhere in the world.

Tommy bloomed in public school, becoming active in sports, although he had to dial his efforts back in order to keep his abilities secret. He developed some good friendships and often brought his friends to the farm where they built a tree fort in the woodlands, and went fishing in the pond, after Bucky made sure to stock it with lake trout. Then there was that glorious day when Tommy, completely geared up, was finally permitted to ride his motorbike without supervision over the property. Lacey was still concerned about his safety but Bucky assured her that if he broke anything it would heal within days.

At five months into Lacey's pregnancy the ultrasound unit at the compound was in place, a technician was on duty as they had already provided service for some of the staff. This would be the first pregnancy scan and Bucky waited nervously in the waiting room with Lacey, holding her hand tightly enough that she had to whisper that he was hurting her.

"Sorry," he grinned. "I'm just nervous. There wasn't anything like this when I was young. When Ma got pregnant with Rebecca I thought she was just getting fat. Then one day she wasn't there and Dad said I had a baby sister. I wasn't thrilled about being a brother at 13 but it wasn't like I had a choice. The crying and the diapers weren't easy to get used to." He looked at Lacey's bemused expression. "Sorry, I'm saying too much, aren't I?"

"No, I like hearing this," she said. "You haven't said much about your childhood. So that was what, 1930 when she was born? That was during the Depression."

He nodded. "Not the best time to bring a baby into the world but we managed," he said. "I did odd jobs for extra money. Dad did overtime at the ship yard whenever it was offered. Then one day, Rebecca laughed at me. It was the best sound in the world. She must have been two or three months old and I made a funny face. She giggled so I did it again and she laughed." He stopped and swallowed, becoming emotional. "That's when I knew that I wanted to be a dad some day. Didn't know then how long it would take me to be one."

He put his arm around Lacey and squeezed her shoulder, kissing the side of her head to keep from crying. Just then the technician came out and beckoned them in. She gave them a minute alone for Lacey to prepare then placed a paper cloth over her legs and hips, tucking it into her panties. Bruce came in and greeted them.

"Tara is home sick today so I'll be doing this visit," he said. "Let's see what we have."

As he and the technician did all the preliminary scans, checking the size of the skull and making sure everything else was as it should be they finally got a good full body scan and the technician froze the image, turning the screen towards them.

"There's your daughter," she said, pressing a button to print it out.

"A girl?" said Bucky. "A baby girl? Wow, you can tell that?"

"Well, a boy has something obvious between the legs and all the views we've seen this morning don't have that, so yeah, it's a girl," she replied, smiling up at Bruce.

He pulled the picture off of the printer and handed it to Bucky. "You're going to be a girl dad," he announced. "Congratulations."

As much as he tried not to cry before there was no stopping the tears this time and Bucky began to weep as he looked at the picture. He just shook his head and kept looking at the picture, then touching Lacey. She smiled indulgently at him, taken by this look at her husband's softer side. Both the technician and Bruce left, leaving them to cleaned up and get through the emotional process. Ten minutes later in his office Bruce counselled Lacey to keep eating well, get regular exercise, to continue having sex for as long as it felt good, then he could give them some resources about alternate positions, etc. and to enjoy the whole pregnancy experience. On their way out to the car Bucky looked at Lacey.

"We can still have sex?" he asked. "Won't that hurt the baby?"

Touching his face she kissed him. "It won't hurt the baby. Once I get bigger we can't do it missionary style but there's other ways and we can try every single one of them."

"I never knew," said Bucky, then he put his arms around her. "I've noticed your breasts are changing. It's quite nice. Not that I don't like them already."

Lacey patted him on the chest. "I know what you mean," she said. "They'll get bigger, trust me." She stopped beside the car. "I love you, Bucky. I'll see you at the normal time for supper?"

He nodded. "I love you, Lacey Barnes."

They kissed for some time, drawing a whistle from a passing Torres. Pulling away, Bucky caught up with the younger man while Lacey got into the vehicle, started it up and headed home.

At the six months mark they went out shopping for baby furniture, picking up a crib, bassinet, change table, and dresser. Bucky painted one of the bedrooms a soft cream and rose colour, finding inspiration on Pinterest for a girl's bedroom. After he and Tom assembled the furniture together and arranged it he realized they needed a rocking chair, crib mobile, baby monitor and other assorted accessories that he looked up on an expectant parent's website. He was all ready to jump in the car to pick them up until Lacey told him about baby showers.

"Sam, how do I set up a baby shower for Lacey and the baby?" he texted to his best friend, not quite believing his wife that such things existed.

"You don't, but I know who can," replied his friend.

Two weeks later, Bucky received another text while he and Sam were in New York City for a publicity appearance on TV that there was a problem at the compound. Getting in the car they drove straight there where an MP directed them to park away from the main building "just in case." Outside the building they saw Fury, standing next to another MP, both of them listening in on a headset, from what looked like a command post. Bucky could hear the words "captive" and "ransom."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Not sure," replied Fury. "There's some kind of occupation going on in the cafeteria. They just began showing up a couple of hours ago, bearing packages. Said that if we did as we were told no one would get hurt. They have Lacey."

Bucky looked alarmed. "Is she okay? They haven't hurt her have they? How did they get past security?"

Fury shook his head. "I've tried talking to them but they want you. No weapons, no sudden moves, no tricks. They have someone on the inside. Sorry, Buck, but as the only super soldier you're the only one I can count on to get in there and turn this around. Good luck."

If Bucky had taken a moment to think about it he would have realized he was being set up but he was so concerned about Lacey being held hostage that he just went along with it, opening the door and stepping into the eerily quiet building. Keeping his senses alert he slowly approached the opened doorway of the darkened cafeteria.

"It's about time you got here Barnes," said an ominous female voice.

He knew he had heard that voice before but he couldn't quite place it. Then he heard a giggle from within the space and for the first time realized that the situation wasn't exactly what it appeared to be. He stood in the doorway for some time considering the situation then finally someone turned on the lights and a large crowd of people, both male and female, yelled "Surprise!"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Sam with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Now this is a baby shower," he announced.

Lacey came forward with a big smile and hugged him, then pulled him over to a raised area where two armchairs were set up. He tried to pull away but she persisted.

"We're both the guests of honour," she declared. "If I have to sit up here so do you. Come on, Dad. Your fans await."

Reluctantly, he sat in one of the armchairs and looked out over the faces. Then he saw one of them and realized who the voice from the darkness was. Pepper Stark smiled at him and he stepped down to offer his hand.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here," he said, then he was at a loss for words.

"It's my pleasure," she replied. "I couldn't make it to the wedding but I didn't want to miss this. You're going to be a girl dad and Tony loved every moment of it. I'm sure you will, too."

Affectionately she hugged him then pushed him gently back towards his seat. Sam and Maria got up to the podium, smiling at each other. He stepped back to give Maria the first words as she looked out at everyone then at Lacey.

"In the fall of 2014, Lacey Williams showed up at the Avengers Tower," began Maria. "Escorted by an FBI agent she told Steve Rogers and Tony Stark an incredible story of helping one James Bucky Barnes out of a tough spot. Then she broke the news that she was expecting his baby. We were all ready to keep her in the Tower, look after her and make sure that neither the CIA or HYDRA got anywhere near her. But we're talking about the Avengers here and things got in the way. After an encounter with Ultron, Lacey decided she was safer going into hiding. She had her baby, Tom, who's now almost ten years old. It's 2024, she's pregnant with Bucky's baby again, not accidentally, and we finally got around to having that baby shower for her. This time, the CIA are not looking for her, HYDRA is so far underground that I don't think we'll ever see them resurface but never say never, and the Power Broker is still the First Lady of The Raft. So Lacey and Bucky, here's a party for you and your baby girl. Sam, why don't you introduce our first contestants, ahem, gift givers."

"Well, you know him as Hawkeye, her as the patient and understanding Laura Barton," he said. "But to Lacey, they'll always be the people who were there the most for her when she needed to hide, giving her sanctuary on their farm, hosting their wedding, and becoming surrogate parents for the pair of them. Clint and Laura, come on up!"

A large gift that was placed right beside the stage was uncovered by the couple, revealing a rocking chair. After hugs and kisses they sat down and a steady stream of people were introduced with their gifts, which would end up filling a truck with baby wear and accessories, including a jogging stroller, car seat, crib mobile and everything on that expectant parent website that Bucky had contemplated buying. Sam and Maria had a funny or touching story to tell about everyone there. After a couple of hours the shower wound down and an army truck was brought to the front to transport everything over to the house. Everyone helped to put everything in the truck and several Avengers went with Bucky to unload it at home while Lacey drove the car. Tom, who was home from school by then took great pleasure in checking everything to see what his baby sister was getting.

"Did you get the same stuff when I was a baby?" he asked.

"No, mostly hand me downs from Clint and Laura," she said, "although Steve Rogers brought things every time he visited. Shuri sent things as well on behalf of your dad. Tony Stark gave you the climbing gym, understanding that you needed something to satisfy your need to climb and jump. He even came out when you were little and climbed all over it with you."

"Ironman? For real?"

"For real," she said. "He cared about you, about us."

"He gave you that after Steve and I fought him," added Bucky. "I know he tried to understand what was done to me to turn me into the Winter Soldier. Pepper said he forgave me for the death of his parents, accepting that I had no choice." He noticed a look on Tom's face. "No one will ever control you, Tom. I would search to the ends of the Earth for you if anyone took you again. Even though the Winter Soldier did terrible things my own personality always broke through, trying to stop them from using me. You are a good person inside and that will never change."

Bending his head down to Tom's Bucky pulled his son in close and kissed his head. The couple hugged him, reiterating their belief in him, with unconditional love. He saw that love in them on a daily basis, how Bucky would massage Lacey's shoulders when she was tense, rub her feet and ankles when they swelled from the pregnancy, and when his dad would drive out during the night to find food to satisfy his mother's cravings. Every time the baby moved Bucky was there talking to it and he would invite Tom over, saying she needed to know her big brother's voice. As Tom watched all the little things that Bucky did to make things better for Lacey, he realized what real love looked like between a man and a woman.

When the day came where a government vehicle was waiting at the school for him after he was pulled from class, and Nick Fury opened the back door Tom knew something was up. Fury told him his mother was in labour and his father was by her side. They rode back together to the compound. On the way, the Avengers director told him about trying to find Bucky Barnes when he was on the run, before the CIA or HYDRA did because he believed that the real man needed help to finally break free.

"You did that even though he almost killed you?" asked Tom, who had always been intimidated by the director.

"I did," replied Fury. "I had heard about the Winter Soldier but until he and Steve Rogers first fought I didn't know he was James Barnes. It all made sense then, what HYDRA did to him to make him comply, and I began looking over what files I could find. When Natasha Romanoff leaked all of SHIELD's and HYDRA's files onto the internet I began decrypting the ones related to him, and realized the enormity of the crime that was perpetrated against your dad. I always wanted to make sure that your dad came out of all of this intact and with a purpose in life. After his family, that sense of purpose was going to be with the Avengers, I hoped."

"I want to be an Avenger," said Tom, hesitantly at first. "Uncle Steve said I could."

"We would be honoured to have you," said Fury, kindly. "You have the same qualities as your father, showing that when you fought back after the Power Broker kidnapped you." The driver of the vehicle pulled into the compound and checked in at the security gate. "Now, you can wait in the waiting room outside the birthing centre, or you can hang out with me for a while, and I can give you the real grand tour of the facility so that when you join us, after college because you deserve that, you'll know where everything is."

"What about my parents?" asked Tom.

"They'll know you're with me," said Fury. "When your sister is almost born we'll go back and you'll get the chance to meet her, and give your parents some love. Your choice. It's always your choice, Tom."

He spent the next two hours with the man, then Fury suddenly tilted his head and touched his ear, acknowledging a message he must have received in a comms piece. They walked to the waiting room of the birthing centre and Fury left him there, saying it wouldn't be long.

Inside the birth room Lacey was in the final stages of labour. The baby's head crowned and Tara, the midwife, was massaging the perineum to soften it further, allowing the baby's head to be born. Through the mirror mounted behind her Bucky watched, amazed as his daughter's nose and mouth were suctioned out briefly then her head turned to allow a shoulder to exit the birth canal. Once that happened the rest of her came out quickly and their baby girl was laid on Lacey's belly. With tears in their eyes they both touched her then laughed when she cried out. Bruce, who was there mostly in case something went wrong smiled at the couple, genuinely glad they finally had this moment together. After Tara offered Bucky the scissors to cut the cord, the nurse, Irene, brought her over to the warming table and Bruce performed the check on the baby's reflexes, ecstatic at the results. Two weeks early by the calendar, this baby showed all the signs of being almost a month old, if she was a normal baby. Nodding his approval at Irene, Bruce watched as she bundled the baby up, put a stocking cap on her and carried her over to her parents.

"Look at her, she's so beautiful," said Bucky. "She's perfect."

When Lacey began to nurse their daughter Bruce saw a man who had once been the most feared assassin in the world lose it completely. Placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder Bruce wasn't expecting to be enclosed in a bear hug. Then Bucky sat and wept, gingerly touching his daughter as Lacey smiled affectionately at her husband.

"Tom is in the waiting room," said Bruce. "Once the afterbirth is born he can come in here. I'm taking a sample of the umbilical cord but the rest will be transported to Wakanda for Shuri to study."

"Anything for science," said Lacey calmly. "What did she weigh?"

"8 lbs 13 ounces, and she was 23 inches long," he replied. "At two weeks early she has all the hallmarks of a baby already a month old."

Shortly after Lacey finished feeding their daughter she delivered the afterbirth. Bucky held his daughter as Irene cleaned up Lacey. Then she went out to the waiting room and brought Tom in, helping him get washed up and gowned. Leading him into the room he went over to his father sitting in an armchair with his sister on his bare chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Letting her feel my skin and hear my heartbeat," replied Bucky, gently. "Apparently, it's something recommended for the baby to help her get used to being out of the womb. Would you like to try it?"

"Can I?" asked Tom, excitedly.

Bucky nodded and watched as Tom pulled his gown down, took his shirt off and took his father's place in the armchair. Gently he laid the baby on his son's chest and showed him where to put his hands.

"Tom, meet Laura Natasha Barnes," he said. "Both of them were important to your mother when she was pregnant with you and after you were born so we decided to honour them by naming her after them."

The new big brother bent his head over his baby sister and kissed her hair, then placed a finger in her hand, grinning when she grasped it firmly. Bucky encouraged him to talk to her, and Tom whispered about all the things they would do on the farm, and all the animals they were planning to get. When a little smile creased her face her brother kissed her again and stroked her delicate skin, looking forward to the day when he did this with his own child.

It wasn't all roses in the months that came after Laura's birth, as both Bucky and Tom got used to a baby that didn't always follow the rules of the house. But nothing was solved with frustration and both of them always took a deep breath to help dissipate any negative emotions whenever her crying pushed their limits. As Laura got older and began to walk and talk early, the challenging moments gave way to wondrous ones as they all helped the baby girl adapt to her abilities. When Lacey discovered she was pregnant again, after a birth control failure when Laura was 8 months old the family took it in stride, welcoming Steven Samuel Barnes to the family 37 weeks into term.

A rambunctious child who always had a smile on his face he kept Lacey on her toes. The love that was shared between the family of four was extended to include the blonde toddler who was sweet enough to charm just about anyone, including a certain director of the Avengers who made sure to always have candy in his pocket that he slipped both small children when they made an appearance at the compound. Bucky and Lacey found such great compatibility that they faced all challenges together, with love and humour, and the certainty that they would always have each other's back.

It isn't over yet. Two more chapters, looking ahead to the future.

Chapter 29>>

Series Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #dad Bucky #family man bucky

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blackbat05 · 2 years

Text

Lion City

Stephen Strange x Reader

A/N: This is self-indulgent and again wrote this in one sitting😬 It’s 1am here so please forgive me.

Genre: PG-13 (A few curse words, like two?)

Summary: A medical conference is in town this week and you meet a charming stranger with secrets to hide.

The grey clouds finally part, allowing the skies to breathe cool air into the humidity that had been tormenting the city for weeks.

Sure, the bustling city life was enough to wear any living being down. But if you focused on what truly mattered, even if it was you against the world, you’ll win by a fucking mile.

Shops form a neat row, from fast food joints to high end restaurants, all serving the same purpose on a weekend morning.

You settle yourself at a cafe that made wicked bagels, pairing it with hot chocolate that melt down your throat.

Friends and family were out and about, engaged in activities. A mother and daughter whizzes by their bicycles, headed towards the iconic Marina Bay Sands.

“Is this seat taken?”

A neatly dressed male stares at you politely, waiting for your response. Any longer spent gawking at his well-defined features, and you would have made a fool out of yourself in record time.

“Oh! Please, have a seat!” You inwardly cursed at yourself - a handsome stranger who probably thinks that you’re a complete weirdo. A fine way to start your Saturday.

He thanks you, placing his cup of Americano along with a club sandwich. You look around the cafe and realize that it was indeed crowded.

Students with venti sized coffee cups frantically typing away at their laptops, chasing down assignment deadlines. Couples engrossed with nothing else but themselves. A family of four sits at the maroon sofas, young children slurping blends of mango and raspberry.

You feel a pair of eyes on your back and you feel a need to fill the air with a little conversation. You hope it didn’t fall flat like a few minutes ago.

“So… you don’t look like you’re from here.”

With bated breath, you hoped that the man wasn’t offended by your intrusion. Looks like you didn’t have to worry, as he gives a charming smile. “You’re certainly an observant one.”

“Yeah, it kinda comes with the job.” You grin. “I’m in social services,” you explained upon his silent urge for you to continue. “So, what brings you to the lion city? Uh…”

“Benjamin. Benjamin Cale.” He extends a hand for you to shake.

Munching on your pastry, you fell into deep conversation, finding out more about the man in front of you.

“I can’t believe it! You’ll be attending the conference as well!” The common topic had certainly bought you closer.

Crowd thinning out, all that remained were crumbs on plates and empty cups. The conversation with Benjamin was friendly yet mysterious. It intrigued you.

The moment he glanced at his watch, you find yourself standing along with him. A flicker of regret passes Benjamin’s face.

“Don’t worry!” You reassured him. “It must be important. Besides, I kind of kept you here for an extra hour.” You added, laughing at the coincidental fate.

With another apology, Benjamin grabs his belongings, rushing out of the cafe. Once out of sight, you sit back down again, processing your encounter with Benjamin. Phone beside the salt shaker, you could hear the exclamation marks ringing in your head.

Idiot! You think. How could you be so air headed and not ask for his number?

Slumping back against the chair, you calculated your odds of finding Benjamin in a crowd of 600 people at the conference tomorrow.

***

“Sorry! Excuse me!” You repeated yourself for the fifth straight time.

Blaming your luck for your boss handpicking you to attend this medical conference on a Sunday, you guessed that intellectuals sacrificed their social lives for science and what have you not.

All you wanted to do was to find your seat and get out of the main hall that was swarming with every medical professional that you could name.

The only comfort was the plastic plate that you were precariously holding in one hand that contained rice noodles and mini eclairs. Weird mix but you did what you had to do to prepare for a lengthy three hour conference that consisted of hearing professionals arguing about issues that needed to be solved five years ago.

Finding your labeled seat, you dropped your belongings at the side, ready to dig into your eccentric mix of food, hanging onto the hope that you’ll be able to meet Benjamin today before he’s on a plane back home.

Not that you were expecting anything, but you still couldn’t spot him as the conference was about to start. Sighing, you take out your journal and willed yourself to focus on work.

***

Barely a hour and a half in, you found yourself doodling on the page that you dedicated for the updated medical model a professor was presenting. You wished you were in your pajamas, pigging out on strawberry ice cream instead of in this hellhole.

As you doodled your last picture, a loud crash could be heard from behind the stage, sending murmurs across the audience.

Seated in the middle section, you noticed that people were standing up to get a look of whatever ruckus was happening at the front.

An uneasy feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, you throw your things into the bag, before leaving your seat to investigate. Before you could even move another step, people were running in your direction, screaming bloody murder.

The front of the stage was catching fire and was spreading rapidly towards the audience, swallowing everything in its midst.

Flattening yourself against the wall, you see an older man trip, unable to get up. Fighting against the crowd, you manage to get to his side, quickly escorting him to the safe zone.

“Mr Cale is still inside!” He tells you, breaking out into a terrible cough from the smoke earlier. Cale… it couldn’t be… Benjamin? Worry coursed through your veins as you could see that the flames were only getting stronger.

Reckless courage overtaking your mind, you ran back in, the cries from the man falling on deaf ears. You weren’t a genius but any longer and Benjamin could die from smoke inhalation.

Grateful for your spare kit that you carried around, you wrapped a cloth around your mouth, attempting to find him in the unforgiving heat.

“Benjamin!” You cried out. “Benjamin!”

There was still no response. You think about where you found the man and decide to start from there, praying that the fire hadn’t completely obliterated everything at the middle section.

Eyes watery, you take cautious steps, reaching your destination. And then you see it.

David and Goliath. A David in the form of a red cape, battling a fiery Goliath that roared back in retaliation. You grit your teeth, considering your options.

“Damn it!” You open your kit, revealing a pair of water bearers. You’ll figure out things later if you didn’t end up fried like that banana fritter you were considering to get at the buffett table earlier. Help now, questions later.

“Benjamin!”

He turns around, alarmed to hear someone else. “What are you doing here? You need to get out!” His hands work fast, sending a well aimed spell at the fire that had now taken the form of what seemed to be a demon.

“Helping you! Doesn’t hurt to have an extra hand right?”

This disapproval on his face was evident despite the increasing smoke. “This isn’t a game!”

“Who said anything about a game?” You winked, activating your weapons that took the shape of a neon blue whip. “Hold it down for me would you?”

He thanks his stars for being quick witted because not only were you reckless, but you had also charged forward without telling him more of what exactly you were going to do.

Easily roping the demon by the neck, you pulled hard, causing it to stumble in its movements.

“WHATEVER YOU WERE DOING, DO IT NOW!” You screamed over the raging fire.

He swiftly conjures a portal beneath the demon, further sucking its powers dry. The tag team between you and him had easily reduced the fire demon to ashes, smoke around you fading away.

His eyes narrow at the door where the fire department were about to burst through any minute. Not exactly a good place to talk.

So he grabs you by the arm, and leads you through a portal back to the cafe where you first met him.

***

“I get to ask the questions!” When you finally regained your composure, you confront Stephen who seems to be a little too calm considering what had just happened.

“Who are you and what did I just see?”

“I could say the same for you.”

You give him a death glare to show that you meant business. He sighs, raising his hands slightly in defeat.

“My real name is Stephen Strange. But you probably know me as-” He snaps his two fingers, allowing the illusion to drop.

“Doctor Strange.”

You blinked, incredulous at this new revelation. All this while, you were flirting with an Avenger. If only your mom could see you now and your poor attempt at the dating life.

He quickly brings you up to speed, ending with another shocking piece of information that linked you and that fire demon.

“So you’re saying that some magical fire being is after me and has been tracking me? That’s how it nearly burned the entire convention centre down?” You slowly repeated. Stephen nods, watching your reaction.

“God, I must have been working too much. A weekend at work and I go bonkers.” You put your hands in your face.

“I know this is a lot for you to take in, but I need to know if you have any ideas of the origin of your powers?”

You shake your head. “No. One day I was at work and I was in charge of inventory. I found these water bearers and the rest is history. Believe me, I would like to know if I could.”

Stephen is sympathetic upon seeing you utterly confused. It reminded him of his first days at Kamar-Taj and the Sanctum.

He remembers reading your profile, courtesy of Clint Barton. After gaining these weapons, you used them to do good. Despite being thrusted into a different world, you had embraced it to the best of your ability.

“Then give me a chance. Give us a chance and we’ll figure it out.” Stephen takes pen, scribbling numbers onto a napkin.

“This is my number. Call me when you need.”

“Where are you going?”

“Business.” He places the napkin in your hand. “I promise I’ll be back. Besides, there are people who would like to see you as well in New York.”

Like deja vu, Stephen leaves the cafe, performing another disappearing act. You unfold the napkin and see that something else was written on the other side.

I’m very sorry about lying to you, but I meant everything I said yesterday. If you would allow me, I would love to take you around New York, to get to know you better as Stephen.

Folding back the paper, a million things were running through your mind like a bullet train. Two things were clear though:

1. You finally were getting the date you deserved.

2. You were going to be a fucking Avenger.

It looks like the good old lion city still had things to offer.

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #dr strange x reader #dr strange #stephen strange fluff #dr strange fluff #benedict cumberbatch #stephen x reader

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