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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 5) - Date Night

Summary: The reader and Jensen go on their first fancy date together before attending a nanny happy hour the next night. The reader makes a new friend there to Jensen’s dismay but someone from the past will come along and change things between the new couple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, lying, angst, mention of past child abuse/assault, fluff

A/N: This a rough one, not gonna lie. Enjoy!

________

Friday Night

“Y/N, I’m downstairs when you’re ready,” said Jensen through your closed bedroom door.

“I’ll be there in five,” you said.

“See you in fifteen,” he chuckled before he walked away. You walked back into your bathroom, looking over your hair in a bun. It looked like a freaking messy bun actually. You should have done it down and in big flowy waves instead. You pouted and smoothed out your dress. Of course you were bloated and you’d nicked your leg more than once shaving earlier.

“It’s Jensen,” you said to yourself, taking a deep breath. “He’s never even seen you in makeup before. You’re fine. He’s not gonna say anything.”

You forced yourself out of the bathroom and slipped on your heels, your clutch in your hand. You wobbled for a step or two on the carpet but did better once you were out in the hardwood hall. Ten seconds later you were downstairs, heading over to the foyer area.

“All set?” you asked, Jensen spinning around. He smiled as he stared, eyes looking you up and down more than once, not even trying to hide it.

“Y/N, you look pretty,” said Arrow as she rushed in from the family room.

“Yes she does,” said Jensen. “We’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okie dokie,” she said, wandering off with a little wave.

Half an hour later you were sat at a table in a very nice restaurant, Jensen tugging on his collar. His cheeks were slightly pink but it wasn’t from the cold outside.

“So...what’s a good wine?” you asked, sliding the drink list over to him. “I’m not really good with the names.”

“You like red or white?” he asked.

“Normally red,” you said. “You?”

“I like a Merlot,” he said. “You like dry?”

“Sure,” you said.

“We’re not going dutch tonight you know right. This is all on me.”

“We can go dutch, Jensen.”

“I asked you out and this is fancy, even for me. My treat, okay?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said, looking around the restaurant and over in the distance to the bar. “You know I could go for a lemon drop actually.”

He smirked and set the list down, a waiter coming by. He ordered a gin and tonic for himself while you got your cocktail, Jensen breaking off part of a breadstick from the basket.

“Bread’s good,” he said with his mouth full.

“So. Ackles,” you said, picking up a piece and tearing off a chunk with your teeth. He stared and started to laugh to himself. “Ah, there’s my sweet guy.”

“Thought you were gonna say boyfriend for a second.”

“This is our second official date,” you said. “So. Boyfriend.”

“Yes girlfriend?” he chuckled.

“What’s an appetizer look like in a place like this? Like a tiny cube of cheese with some dressing they’re gonna charge twenty bucks for or something like that?”

“You’re goofy,” he said, a big smile stuck on his face. “Uh, they probably have something like that. There’s normally some kind of bread olive oil bowl option.”

“Fancy people eat like a starving college student apparently,” you said. He tried to hide his laugh as your waiter brought over the drinks and a pair of menus. “Excuse me but can you recommend an appetizer? We’re both new to town and are wondering what you think is a good choice.”

“You can’t go wrong with our sourdough and seasoned oil dipping sauce,” he said. You glanced at Jensen and smiled. “The artichoke spinach dip and tartar crackers are also quite lovely.”

“Do you have anything with a little more substance? We’re quite starving,” said Jensen.

“The fried calamari and crab cake poppers combo is a great option,” he said.

“What’s calamari?” you asked.

“Squid, miss,” said the waiter.

“We’ll have that combo,” said Jensen.

“Perfect. I’ll put that in and be back shortly to get your dinner orders,” he said. He took off and you made a face at Jensen.

“Squid?” you asked.

“It’s fried. Trust me, it’s pretty good,” he said. “I could go for a good steak. You see a filet on here yet?”

“Uh,” you said, eyes scanning the page and seeing most everything was something you’d never heard of.

“There it is,” he said. “I’m getting that and scalloped potatoes. See anything you want to try?”

“Uh, why does half of this seem like it’s a foreign language to me?” you asked. Jensen looked at his menu and chuckled.

“That would be because it’s in French. We’re in Canada and this is a french restaurant.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. He got up and leaned over the back of your chair, glancing at the page.

“These are soups and salads,” he said, pointing near the top. “Sandwiches. Pasta. Main dishes down here.”

“Uh, maybe pasta?” you said. He knelt down and read off the dishes to you one by one, your waiter returning by the time he was just finishing.

“Anything I can assist you with?” he asked.

“I’ll have the fettuccine alfredo with chicken please,” you said, handing the menu to him, Jensen returning to his seat.

“Face principale?” he asked. You stared at Jensen and he smiled.

“She doesn’t speak French,” said Jensen.

“My apologies miss. What would you like for your main side dish?” asked the waiter. “Steamed vegetables, scalloped potatoes, lobster bisque-”

“I’ll have the vegetables,” you said. Jensen ordered and the waiter went to get your appetizer, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think twice about the French thing.”

“Kinda hot that you know French,” you said. “I should try to learn it if we’re gonna be up here for a few months.”

“I’m an idiot and I learned it so you’ll do just fine picking it up,” he said.

“So where’d you learn in the first place?”

“I’m stuffed,” you said, plopping your napkin from your lap onto the table awhile later. Jensen took the last bite of the piece of mouse pie, licking his lips as he finished. “This might have been the best alfredo I’ve ever had.”

“I enjoyed it. Mostly I enjoyed listening to you talk,” he said. You blushed and looked away, Jensen letting out a small hum. “It’s funny. Doesn’t really feel like just a second date, does it.”

“No, not really,” you said. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re friends first.”

“Well I definitely like being friends with you,” he said.

“Me too, Jensen.”

“Want to get out of here?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, the two of you outside a few minutes later wrapped up in your coats. Your feet were cold in just your heels, Jensen’s arm wrapping around your waist when you almost slipped more than once. It was slow going back to the car, especially when it started to snow lightly.

“You know, that dress would still look hot with winter boots,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” you said.

“No apology necessary. I got freaking dress shoes on and my feet are cold. I can’t imagine how you’re holding up,” he said.

“The perils of being a woman,” you said.

“Well, no need to impress me is all I’m saying. I ain’t looking at your feet anyways,” he said.

“Oh well in that case I’ll wear some nice baggy sweats next date.”

“Please do,” he said.

“You really don’t care, do you.”

“I think you look beautiful tonight. But I think you look beautiful every night. You did your hair and makeup and this is stunning, don’t get me wrong. But she’s not more beautiful than the girl at home with hair tossed up all messy walking around in oversized shirts and leggings. It’s like flowers. Both are pretty but one isn’t more pretty than the other.”

“Where the fuck did I find you?”

“At my house,” he chuckled. You whacked his arm and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Almost back to the car. I’ll blast the heat for us when we’re in there.”

“Thanks Jensen.”

“Thank you for the date, honey. I mean it. We’ll do it again sometime. Promise.”

Saturday Night

“Your boyfriend seems pissed,” said Brandon. You sipped up the last of your beer, glancing over to the bar where Jensen was tapping his finger.

“He’s fine,” you said. “So any good parks around the west side of town?”

“Center Grove is always my choice. Good playground, nice area, cops routinely are around. Parking can kinda be a bitch sometimes but it’s worth it in my opinion. My kids love it.”

“You’ve been their nanny for five years you said?”

“Mhm,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink. “Shawn’s mom is their mom’s best friend.”

“Oh. So you had an in already.”

“You know long term gigs are the way to go in this job,” he said. “Not too many American girls come up here. Your accent is cute.”

“Is it, eh?” you chuckled.

“Like I’ve never heard that one before,” he said, Jensen walking back with two beers and a clenched jaw.

“You okay?” you asked as he sat it down in front of you.

“I’m fine,” he said, taking a long sip. Brandon slid off his seat and made a face.

“I need a refill anyways. Nice meeting you Y/N. We gotta hang some time,” he said as he walked away.

“For sure,” you said, Jensen rolling his eyes behind his back. “Jensen what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Well you obviously have a problem with Brandon.”

“I don’t have a problem with him. I have a problem with my girlfriend flirting with another guy.”

“I was not flirting. I’m trying to make new friends. It was your idea to come to this thing tonight anyways.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

“In case I wasn’t clear, I’m not the kind of guy where I’m okay with you dating multiple people at once. I don’t get that not exclusive shit.”

“I’m with you and only you. I was being nice. Geez, let’s just go,” you said. You got up and pulled your coat on, bumping into a guy on the way out. He turned and apologized, staring at you a little long.

“Y/N?” he asked, a big smile on his face. “My Y/N?”

“Dad?” you said, his face much older looking than you remembered but his eyes still the same.

“Dad?” said Jensen. You brushed past your dad and outside, Jensen hot on your heels.

“Y/N,” your dad said as he left the bar.

“Stay away from me,” you said. “Jensen I want to go home right now.”

“What-”

“Right fucking now!”

He held up his hands and you walked around the block to the car, getting inside and Jensen taking off.

“So your dad’s alive huh,” he said. You stared out the dark window with crossed arms. “So is everything I know about you bullshit?”

“What?”

“Is literally anything you’ve ever told me true? Your dad obviously didn’t die when you were a kid. All those late night talks about family and shit, you just like to fuck with people or something?”

“I was not flirting with Brandon you asshole. You didn’t need to know my whole life story the second I meet you.”

“Oh. Okay. Just your fake life story then, huh?” he said. You shook your head as he got stuck at a red light. “If I can’t trust you, I can’t employ you let alone date you.”

“Whatever,” you said. He drove in silence until you were out of the city, going along quieter roads. You were close to the house when he suddenly turned right towards the local park and stopped in the lot, putting the car in park. He touched your arm and you turned, Jensen leaning over and kissing you roughly, far more roughly than you thought he was capable of. You blinked when he pulled back, Jensen looking you up and down.

“He won’t hurt you.”

“What?”

“Did he walk out on you and your mom?” he asked. “You told him to stay away from you. Sort of shouted it at him. Maybe you lied but maybe...I’m sorry I got jealous of Brandon. I’m still scared and I think you’re still scared too and that’s okay. If you lied about your dad, I’m gonna trust you have a good reason for it. I’m sorry for what I said. I trust you and I don’t want to know what my life is like without you in it.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “I forgive you.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he said. “We can just go home, okay?”

“Why’d you pull over?”

“Because I knew I didn’t mean it and I knew I overreacted. I said I’d mess up when we started. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I’m 42 with three kids. Brandon is thirty and young and stronger than I am and can go out to the bar whenever he wants. You have options. You don’t have to settle for me.”

“If I’d wanted to settle, I’d have married my ex. What I wanted was the guy that forgives me for not telling him the whole story cause I’m not ready to say it. I want the guy that makes me happy and feel like I have a teenage crush but it’s deeper than that. You’re not the settle for option, Jensen. Why don’t you get that?”

“The last time I felt like this, I married the girl,” he said quietly. “That didn’t turn out so well.”

“You didn’t get the time you deserved with her. It doesn’t mean it ended badly. You loved her and she knew it. She wants you to be happy again, whether it’s me or somebody else.”

“See? That’s the shit that tells me...it tells me to keep falling for you. I’m so sorry for how I acted tonight.”

“I lied about my dad and not a little white one either,” you said with a nod. You turned away and felt his hand on your cheek. “So much of what I told you was a lie.”

“You don’t have to tell me the truth right now, Y/N.” He stroked your cheek and you glanced over, meeting his soft green eyes.

“My mom died giving birth to me,” you said, Jensen nodding. “He hated me for it. Hated me. He would hurt me when I was a toddler. When I was four he started doing...other things.”

“Four?” he breathed out.

“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal. Not until I started school. I was scared though so I never said anything. One of my friends mom’s realized what was going on when I was over playing one day. He went away and lost custody. I went into foster care briefly and got adopted when I was eight. Single mom who’d lost her husband young. That’s my mom. She was a kind person. Ray was always good to her and to me. But I asked him not to adopt me after she was gone and he knew it was because I was still scared of a dad again. Being a nanny, I’ve met fathers that look at me and I just know what was going through their head. I reported him and kinda fucked up their family situation but-”

“That was the right thing to do,” he said.

“I know it was. I’ve just...I’ve had more than one guy and even a woman walk in on me changing or into my bathroom and it’s like, she’s just the help, nobody cares. They don’t touch so it’s like...what can I even do? Then my house before this one, the guy tried getting in my shower with me and I shoved him and he broke his arm and I just don’t understand why so many people think I’m just a piece of meat. Even my ex never got why it bothered me so much. They didn’t touch me so what was wrong with it? He just didn’t get it. He would get mad if I wasn’t in the mood for sex. Nobody ever fucking gets it except you who I lied to and pissed off tonight and without a word of an explanation why, you say you won’t let somebody hurt me. Do you get why you’re the opposite of fucking settling Jensen?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t Jensen.”

“How?”

“Because you’re a good person. You’re so gentle and kind. I know you’re strong and tough but I see it everyday. You should never be worried about how your kids will turn out. If they are half as good as you are they’ll be fucking great people. Your daughters aren’t gonna put up with shit and your son is gonna be kind to everyone and say fuck you to the toxic guys out there. I can already tell the kind of person you are through them and it’s a good one. A really good one.”

“I’m not the only good person in their lives,” he said. You sniffled and looked down, Jensen’s hand sliding under your chin and tilting it up. “You don’t have to apologize for not telling me all of that. Never apologize for not telling me that. Okay?”

“I never told anyone about…the other stuff,” you said, wanting to look down but Jensen’s hand holding your chin up.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry it took you so long to find people that would protect you.”

“You mean…” He nodded and dropped his hand away, running it over your head. “You’re not gonna like, go back and kick his ass are you?”

“Want me to? I’m very tempted at the moment,” he said.

“I just want to go home. I could use one of those hugs right now.”

“Do you want to stay with me tonight? Just to stay, nothing more.” You nodded and he kissed your forehead, a tiny smile crossing your face. Ten minutes later you were home and the babysitter was gone, Jensen pulling you into his room next to yours. You blew your nose in his bathroom and washed off your face, lifting your head to find a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts on the vanity beside you. He smiled as he ducked out, leaving you to change. You let your hair down and took off your bra before you walked out and saw his blanket on the opposite side of the bed. “Warm enough?”

You spun around as he walked inside and you nodded, Jensen pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry for how I was at the bar,” you said.

“I was the one that overreacted, not you,” he said. You felt goosebumps on your arms and he pulled away to turn up the heat, nodding over to the bed. The covers were flung back and you climbed underneath, Jensen getting in on his side. His arm wrapped over your waist and pulled your chest close to his, face only inches away. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

You moved closer to him, resting your forehead against his.

“Remember last Saturday when we were on the trampoline and you talked about those safety nets,” you said.

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a really good net,” you said softly.

“So are you,” he murmured. He kissed the tip of your nose and you shut your eyes. “What’d you want to be when you were little?”

“A princess,” you said. He chuckled and you smiled. “I wanted a prince to come take me away and everything would be just fine.”

“Really?”

“Princesses were always happy at the end of the movie,” you said. “They got the boy and they were happy. Then I grew up and prince charming doesn’t exist.”

“Cause you’re not a damsel in distress. You didn’t need the prince to save you.”

“But the prince would have made life so much easier.”

“I’m partial to badass princesses myself,” he said. You opened your eyes and he was smiling.

“I’ve never noticed your freckles before.”

“They come out more when I spend some time in the sun.” You moved a hand up and traced under his eye, Jensen nuzzling into his pillow. “Make you a deal. If the badass princess saves me, the scared prince will save her too.”

“Okay,” you said. You kissed him lazily, Jensen smiling through it.

“Do you want to be a nanny forever?”

“Not forever. It’s an easy way to feel like you have a family when you don’t.”

“Now you do,” he said.

“Jensen you don’t know if this will work out.”

“I do and you do and we’ll take it slow anyways,” he said. “Which is why I’m asking do you want to be a nanny forever.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe someday I won’t need one,” he said.

“I thought about being an elementary school teacher when I was eighteen for a hot second.”

“You did? You’d be amazing.”

“Pay in Texas is crap though. I make more as a nanny.”

“If money wasn’t an issue though, would you want to be a teacher still?”

“Anything at all?” you asked, Jensen nodding, nose brushed against yours. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“You okay?” he asked, reluctantly letting you out of bed.

“I’m good. I want to show you something,” you said. You slipped out of the room and down the hall to the playroom, picking up a book. Jensen was sat up in bed when you returned and crawled under the covers. You handed him the book and he smiled.

“I don’t remember buying this,” he said, flipping it over. “There’s no serial code on it.”

“You can’t buy it. I wrote a children’s book and printed a few copies for myself,” you said.

“You wrote a book?” he asked, flipping through it. “Did you draw this?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen staring at you. “I don’t know if it’s any good. I never tried publishing it.”

“You want to write children’s books, don’t you?” he said, starting to read the story.

“I have a number of them written out. I would make up the stories for kids at bedtime and decided to write them down. It’s kinda like whinnie the poo, that age group, you know? Same group of characters but different stories,” you said.

“These are adorable,” he said, turning another page. You were quiet while he read through for a few minutes, Jensen smiling when he shut the book. “I’ve never read a children’s book where they deal with the loss of a parent.”

“The kids really like it,” you said.

“You should publish this. Seriously. It’s cute and I’m a grown ass man and it made me feel better about Dee.”

“It’s just a story,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I make stories for a living. This whole place would fall apart without stories. This is good. You should consider trying to get it published.”

“Maybe if that nanny job doesn’t work out I will,” you said.

“Do you mind if I keep this?” he asked.

“Not at all. I gave it to JJ in the first place.”

“Thanks. I want to read this to the twins tomorrow,” he said. He set it on the nightstand and slid back down, pulling you with him. “Why’d the mom fox die in the story? I would have expected the dad wolf considering…”

“Wish fulfillment for a nice father,” you said. “Plus I like drawing the wolf.”

“I like him. He’s fluffy,” chuckled Jensen. “Is that why you asked if I carry a picture of my kids when we met?”

“I’m done with asshole parents. If they treat their kids like shit they sure as hell aren’t gonna treat me any better. You seemed like a good guy. Good guys tend to do that kind of thing.”

“I’m not always good.”

“Yeah, you are,” you said. You shut your eyes and nuzzled close to him, Jensen letting out a soft hum. “You okay? With me being here.”

“Very. Feeling better after everything that happened?”

“Mhm,” you said. “I’m still sorry I lied to you.”

“Did you ever lie about your mom?” he asked. “I mean aside from the fact she adopted you, did you lie about her?”

“No.”

“Then you didn’t lie, not really. I’m sorry it came out like that. You should have been able to tell me in your own time.”

“You still would have been angry,” you said.

“I still would have come to my senses too. I’m not perfect. I never was.”

“I don’t want someone perfect,” you said. Your head rested against his chest and you let out a soft sigh.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and tucked it under his chin, adjusting the blankets once before he stilled.

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

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Killing Time

Because nothing can kill a relationship like lies.

A modern AU where crosshair is a hitman and you're his loyal girlfriend who happens to be in the bodyguard business, but neither one of you know the other's careers

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, making oit and allusions to smut, also this is in no way accurate to real life and it's just dramatic, please don't hurt me lol

children you have full permission to run away and not come here, in fact please run away

Very few things phased you. The only things that brought you to your precipice of agitation was burning pasta, your phone charger not working, and showing up to your shift only to realize someone had been killing all your clients.

Who said keeping people alive was easy? No one, that was who, and if anyone said it they were wrong or had no experience working with others whatsoever. Making sure others lived to see their next day was deadly business, for the people that were trying to live, at least.

“Charles!” You barked, feet hitting the floor of the bull pen. “What the hell happened?” You slammed your files on your desk, face warm, head just about collapsing with pressure. Your fingers pressed to your temples, hoping that they would grip it, hold it together. “Burke was alive when I left last night.”

“Doesn't matter now." Your coworker dropped his sandwich onto his desk. "Burke is fucking dead now. As dead as a doorknob." He swallowed his bite. "Luckily, you weren't on shift when it happened, so you aren't gonna catch any fire for it."

"Shit, Charles, a man is dead." You collapsed in your chair, a gentle "oomph" escaping your mouth. Your lips pressed together in agitation and you moaned to yourself. "This is the third one in two months. Sure, I'll get a couple cold bodies, but-"

"But this is a lot." Charles sunk into his own chair, grabbing for his sandwich again.

You stared at him, disbelief coating your gaze. "One is a lot, Charles," You snarled, grabbing at the folder on your desk. "Any leads?"

"Oh, yeah. But they're all at Burke's mansion." Charles tossed the crust of his lunch into the trash can. "I can drive ya."

"No, I'll take my car," You grumbled. You swiped the keys from your desk and stood, stalking back towards the elevator, anger eating away at you.

If one more of your clients- YOUR own clients- got killed, you would have to start pulling full shifts again.

___

Your shoes, practical, did little more than tap against the marble floor as you ducked under the Police tape. You skimmed the scene, frowning, eyes gracing past a particularly nasty chunk of gore on the wall. "Shot from above," You mumbled, glancing at the shattered window.

The mansion was huge. You'd been coming here for nearly a year now to keep an eye on Burke, and it still shocked you when you saw the absolute volume of the home. How much house would one man need, exactly?

In your years as a bodyguard you'd watched out for a lot of people- spoiled celebrities, prideful and arrogant politicians, and a particularly interesting Chef who had an unusual desire to cook everything with some kind of caffeine in it. That was probably your favorite client.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice broke the mumble in the next room, probably of detectives or cops sweeping the house for evidence. "You shouldn't-"

"I was Burke's bodyguard." You tugged your badge out or your pocket, allowing the interrupting police officer to take it and examine it. “You can verify with my assistant, Charles. Make sure you tell him he’s my assistant and not the other way around, though, he can be a dick.”

The cop hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Well, we’re still cleaning up the scene.” His hands offered your badge back, and you slid it into your back pocket, satisfaction deflating. “You can come by later after it’s clean. Ballistics is running comparisons right now.” He paused and glanced at the shattered window. “Looks like the shot came from the garage. It’s the only side with no motion sensors or alarms.” The cop’s brows raised in interest. “Know why?”

“No.” You said, calmly, turning towards the front door. “I assume I can go there?” You heard no objection as you stepped outside, tugging your sunglasses back on over your eyes. The sun was unforgiving and you gave an involuntary hiss as the bright rays hit your eyes just right to temporarily give your vision black spots. You blinked strongly and hurried towards the garage.

In truth, Burke had alarms everywhere except the garage because he had so many people and cars coming and going. For any new technology the billionaire was releasing, the man had drugs and other forms of entertainment coming in and out, and it was all stuff that would probably bring him down. That nondisclosure form was still somewhere in the house in some obscure filing cabinet and you really, really, really didn’t feel like having a lawsuit lurking over your shoulders. Life was too good- well, everything outside of people you were being paid to keep alive was good.

Death really killed the whole “survival” business.

You clamored your way to the roof of the garage, noting the ladder was the same one that the gardener used around the several acres Burke owned. The police had to have put it here- the gardener only came in the mornings.

So who the hell climbed up here without a ladder? Most people didn’t want to put in the effort to scale this freehand or wedge between the wall of the garage and the fence to shimmy up. That someone had to be either very determined to kill Burke, for personal motive or financial motive.

You brushed off you pants and glanced around, looking down at the surface of the roof. Nothing- not even a bullet casing- had been left behind. You frowned and raked a hand through your hair, skimming your scalp as you examined the roof, walking to the edge closest to the window.

You stared in, at the shattered glass, pondering. Burke was heading to bed when he'd been shot, you assumed, so the assassian would have had to know his routine. Your mind ran through possibilities again, but you could come up with none that were motivated personally enough or fit enough to climb without much assistance. You trailed along the surface, frowning, unable to find anything, but paused at a smudge of black paint, small, on the corner of the roof.

____

You turned your car down the street, exhaling softly as you pulled into your driveway.

99. That was what the marks said. Very subtle, meant nothing, unless it was a birth year or graduating class. The cops had come back, irritated, snapped a couple of pictures, and told you off about your wild theories of a fiscally motivated assassian. Apparently, you watched too many scret agent movies, or something like that.

You opened the door of the car and climbed out, frustration making you slam it shut. You inhaled the scent of the yard- clean, fresh cut, and perhaps it could help soothe your anger before you went inside.

After fumbling on your Keychain, you unlocked the door and hurried in, locking it behind you. "Cross?"

A savory aroma wafted from the kitchen, and your mouth watered. Your toes found their way out of your shoes and you hurried to the kitchen, pausing briefly at the doorway.

Cross's lanky figure was leaning over the skillet, stirring something, pale hands moving in expertise across the stove top. "Darling, you're late." He drawled.

You sighed, fully entering the kitchen. "Yeah. Sorry." You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his waist, face pressing against his back. You sighed. The day felt a little less bad now- filled with him. "Work kept me."

"How was work?"

You grunted. "A killer. An absolute killer." The irony was not lost on you, but it was lost to your boyfriend. He thought you were an editor for some book publishing company, because cover was the most important thing. You were one of those people trying to stay alive, after all.

Lies hurt, but it was one of the necessary ones. A little lie.

"Yikes." His hands drew plates to himself. "Mine wasn't much better. Got a few new clients, a few new cases." He sighed. "The Baliff forgot to submit evidence."

You mumbled against his shirt. "Law school really paid off, huh?"

"I'll say." He turned around, adjusting your arms, slowly taking your chin and leaning down to peck you. You always melted at his kisses, knees weak and brain numb, and he seemed to know it every time. You hummed, running your hands up his chest, the irritation for the day pooling to your midsection as your fingers gripped his shirt, your lips pulling in on his.

Cross tugged away gently, and you whined, fingers stubbornly clasped. "Wow, really frustrated today."

"Yes," You mumbled.

His lips pressed towards one of their corners in a half smile, and he picked your head. "Go shower. Then we can eat and I'll take care of you."

You hummed, fingers reluctantly releasing him, and you hurried away to the bathroom. You paused at the dresser, rummaging through, grabbing an especially large t-shirt and hipster underwear. Comfort was more important at the moment.

You climbed into the shower, turning the water to as hot as you could and scrubbing yourself off, humming in pleasure as the day came off you and went down the drain. The floral scent of the soap remained, the purple bad working diligently to rid you of your grime and frustration. Lavender really is a natural relaxant. You sighed and leaned back briefly on the tile, feeling every muscle in you ease at the same time.

After toweling off and getting dressed, your padded to the kitchen where Cross was pouring a your favorite wine. You sighed happily, accepting the glass as he skimmed your fresh-showered body. "Thanks."

"Of course." Cross picked up his own glass, taking a sip, eyes still diligently stripping you on their own. You shivered slightly, setting down your glass and looking up at him. "Dinner's ready," He mumbled, leaning in, pressing a hand to the counter of either side of you, leaving your back to the counter. "But I would much rather start with dessert."

You drew in a breath as he pressed his lips to your neck, drawing out a sigh with his teeth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in agreement, and he scooped you up. Your groaned as he drew your legs around his lips, shifting, the agitating heat pooling back between your legs. "That's a good idea." You mumbled, whimpering as he bucked his hips slightly. "I just showered, though."

"Then we can take another one," He hissed, lips covering yours. "You're so damn intoxicating."

You mumbled something against his lips, unable to get a coherent response out as he dropped you on the bed. You bounced briefly, giggling, and he yanked off his shirt and joined you, climbing over you and hovering. "Come here, sweetheart," His finger traced over your shirt between your breasts, running down to the hem. "Let's end the day on a good note."

You whimpered, neck straining as you leaned up for his kiss, and you felt Cross snarl against you, tugging your surrendered form up closer to him. Your body relaxed again, neck loosening and head back against the pillow as he tugged your own shirt up, eyes gleaming with a primal eagerness that made you swoon, ready to work out the agitation for the day you both had.

#crosshair x reader #bad batch crosshair x reader #bad batch au #hitman crosshair #bad batch reader insert #clone force 99 reader insert #crosshair #crosshair x you #minty writes

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stellarstarwarsimagines · 3 years

Note

Hi Anna! How are you? Can I request a Poe x reader please? Poe went on a mission and surprisingly got himself in trouble. The reader is at the base, besides Leia when the info comes and she's losing her mind because he's trying to get out that situation being reckless again. Once the X-Wing touches down at the base, she's running to him, and then she slaps his face for doing stupid shit and then kisses him because she's tired of pretending there's nothing between them and she almost lost him a thousand times and she's done holding herself back. Very fluffy ending. But only if you're up for it. Thank you anyways, I love your blog 💜

Hi! I’m doing okay! Of course you may! You’re so sweet <3 I’m glad you love my blog, and I hope you love this story <3

It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous mission. Poe had reassured you several times before he left that it was going to be one of those in and out jobs. It was supposed to be so quick that he had even made dinner plans with you, promising to catch you up on everything as soon as he got back.

He knew how anxious it made you when he went on missions, so he always tried to make them seem less dangerous than they were when telling you about them. Of course that never worked, because as soon as he was gone, you were glued to the comms. At first you had tried to find excuses, anything you could think of, to hover in the background, listening and anxious for the sound of Poe’s voice, but soon enough, everyone caught onto what you were doing, and General Organa had started saving a seat for you by her side.

Your fingers tapped on the tabletop in front of you in an erratic rhythm, your eyes flashing back and forth between the clock and the light that should be blinking. He should have made contact by now. You had heard as much from the other Rebels in the background who were trying not to show how nervous they were in the presence of you and the General. The anxiety in your chest was making it hard to breath, and you were hoping that no one noticed how heavy your breaths were when you forced yourself to take them.

A hand closed over your own tapping one, and made you jump. You turned to see the General smiling at you with a look that said she knew all too well what you were going through. “You know as well as I do that Poe doesn’t have a perfect sense of punctuality.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze and then pulling away.

That did manage to bring a smile, however brief. “Never on a mission anyway.” You added. In fact, the only time that Poe ever seemed to be on time was when he was meeting up with you.

Almost as if she knew what you were thinking, she spoke again. “What plans do you two have when he comes back?”

“Dinner. Then our usual catch up.” You answered, but then you realized something, and your brows furrowed. “How did you know that we had plans? Did Poe tell you?” You asked, unsure how she would know that because you hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

The General shook her head. “You two always do something after he gets back from a mission. I guess we all like to be around the people we love after we’ve come so close to losing them.”

Love? Did you love Poe? Of course you did. He was your best friend in the galaxy. From the way she had said the word though, it had a different connotation. A connotation that you had always been too afraid to even consider during this time of War.

“You know it’s a sad thing.” General Organa spoke up again, bringing your attention away from your thoughts and back to her. “People are so frightened of losing their loved ones that sometimes they’re too scared to tell them how they feel about them. After all, would it hurt worse if they lost them?”

Your heart was hammering against your chest, because she was describing your feelings for Poe to perfection. You had already almost lost him so many times. In the back of your mind, you had been too scared about how crushed you would be if you did lose him for good to tell him how you felt. That you liked him way more than a friend ever should. “Wouldn’t it?” You whispered, looking back at the comm that still wasn’t blinking.

Her warm hand settled on top of yours, giving it a little squeeze. “I’m afraid you’re the only one that can answer that.” Leia told you, with a small reassuring smile.

You knew that she was right, after all, she always was, and you had to ask yourself, was holding back your emotions by using the War as an excuse the right thing to do? For either of you? Did Poe deserve to know how you felt about him? How whenever your mind wandered, he was the first thing that you thought about? How when you were having a bad day, he was the first person you wanted to see? How his hugs were your favorite thing in the world, and you never wanted to leave them? How his smiles always made your heart beat out of control?

“You guys miss me?”

Almost as if he had been summoned by your thoughts, Poe’s voice came through the now blinking comm, a little breathless, but other than that, sounding like his normal self.

Relief crashed through your body like a wave, releasing all the tension you hadn’t realized you had been carrying. Before you even realized what you were doing, you had pressed the button, leaning over Leia to speak into the device. “Poe Dameron you better get your ass back to base right now.”

When he said your name, even through the comm you could hear the surprise. “What are you doing there?”

“Are you almost here?” You asked, ignoring his question.

“Yeah, about that . . . I’ve got some company.”

Any relief that you had felt when he answered, vanished at once, replaced with anxiety again. You backed away from the comm as Leia took over, assessing the situation and sending out Poe’s squadron to help him. Apparently he was being chased by the dreadnought he had infiltrated along with a whole squadron of Ties.

It wasn’t good odds, and all you could think about was the conversation you had just had with Leia. Were you about to lose your chance to tell Poe how you felt before you even had it? What if a tie got him? Blew his whole ship up and took him from your life? How would you make it? How would you survive without him in your life? Poe had such a large chunk of your heart, and if he was no longer in it . . .

Would you be left with anything?

The thought left you clutching your chest, struggling to get air into your lungs. You felt Leia’s hand on your shoulder this time, trying to pull you back. “He wants to talk to you.” She said.

You nodded, and leaned closer to the device. “Poe?” You said, biting your lip as you waited for his response.

“Hey, you know I’m going to be okay right?” He said, even though you could hear the rush in his voice, the adrenaline as he dodged ties and attempted to blow up canons on the dreadnought.

“You better be.” You said, your fingers digging into the table in front of you. “I’ve got something to tell you when you get back.”

“Something to tell me?” Poe repeated, and you could almost see the confusion on his face.

Leia’s hand that rested on your shoulder, gave you a squeeze. “Something I should have told you a long time ago.” You admitted, but before he could ask anything else, you bit your lip, your voice taking on an edge. “So if you don’t get back here, I’m going to bring you back and kill you myself Poe Dameron, do you understand?”

Poe’s laughter filled the room, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “Yes ma’am.”

What seemed like hours was probably mere minutes as Poe and his squadron fought off the First Order. Part of you didn’t want to listen, too nervous to hear the outcome, or the moment that Poe might get himself killed pulling some stupid stunt, but you couldn’t stop, knowing that in a dog fight, every second counted. Any moment could change the tide. You were so focused you didn’t think you even remembered to breathe until . . .

“Canon’s out!” A voice called out.

“Preparing to jump!” Another one said.

“See you in a second, sweetheart.” Poe told you.

Leaning back in the chair once more, you let out a sigh, equal parts relieved and nervous that he was on his way back. Leia did the same at your side, and then gave you a look. “Give him hell for me, would you?” She asked, a grin on her lips.

You nodded, then took off as fast as you could to the hangar.

It seemed as if you had perfect timing, because as soon as you stepped foot onto the place, Poe’s X-Wing landed a few feet ahead of you. You took a moment to let out a breath, watching as he climbed out of his ship, throwing his helmet off and revealing those wild, dark curls that you loved so much. He was glancing around in every direction, and your heart sped up when you realized that he was looking for you.

Because as soon as he caught sight of you, a big grin formed on his face.

You ran to him, not wanting to waste another second being apart, and he held his arms open for you, expecting a hug.

Instead you slapped him.

He looked stunned, holding his face with his hand as he stared at you. “OW. What the hell was that -”

You didn’t let him say anything else. Instead you wrapped your arms around his waist and tilted your head to meet his lips in a kiss that it felt like you had been waiting your whole life for. Poe froze for a moment, and you were scared that you had embarrassed yourself, but then his hands cupped your cheeks, and happiness filled your chest as he kissed you back with a passion you couldn’t ever have imagined. You clung to him as your lips moved together in perfect harmony, as if they had been made to kiss each other, and the world faded away, leaving nothing but him and this moment.

A single, perfect moment.

When you pulled away, Poe didn’t move, and a soft smile fell on your face as you took in the wide eyes and dazed look as he stared at you. “The slap was for you being stupid. The kiss was because I’m tired of being too scared of losing you to do it. ” You said, biting your lip as you gazed into his eyes.

It took a couple of moments for him to speak, and when he did, he still looked a bit stunned. “Did that really just happen?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “The slap or the kiss?”

“Both.”

A laugh left your lips as Poe’s fingers tangled in your hair, massaging into your scalp. “Would you like me to do both again? So you can decide if they’re real?” You teased.

“You know, I think I’m good on the slapping, but the kissing . . . I may need a repeat. I think I might have blacked out from how good it was.” Poe’s forehead rested against yours as heat flooded your cheeks. “So I’ll need several more to be sure.” He murmured, his nose brushing against your own.

“Of course,” You replied, a little breathlessly as you felt the feather-like touch of his lips against your own. “We have to be sure.”

Poe grinned as he met your lips in another kiss. The first of many.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #Anonymous

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softbobamilktae · 3 years

Text

The Secret Princes Club [1]- Missing

Pairing: Jungkook x OC, possibly more later

Genre: royalty, fluff, angst

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping and death

Summary: Seven crown princes disappear from their homes on the same night. None of the them can be found, but what is the true reason behind their disappearance?

—————

Footsteps could be heard against the cold stone floors as someone ran through the palace. The distinct sound of metal hitting pavement could be heard a moment later, and the footsteps halted. They returned a moment later even louder. Quicker, even. But no one noticed, for the entire palace was sound asleep. No one would notice the prince was missing until the following morning.

“Prince Jungkook is missing!” Squeaked one of the maids who attended him in the morning.

The entire palace went into a panic as they attempted to locate the missing prince. All that seemed to be left of him was his crown, which had been thrown on the ground near the back entrance of the palace. Almost as if to mock them.

Weeks went by, and there was no sign of the prince, but it soon came to the attention of the royal family that they were not the only kingdom missing a prince. It seemed that all six of the surrounding kingdoms were also missing a prince. They’d all gone missing on the same night, and all left one clue: a crown on the pavement near the back entrance. Whoever had orchestrated this scheme had clearly done this purposefully.

Years went by, and the kingdoms gave up hope of finding the missing princes. The year they’d disappeared, they’d all been between fourteen and seventeen years of age. All seven of them had been the heir apparent to the throne.

◇◆◇◆◇

“Hey! I thought Jin said you could have one bun!” Jimin exclaimed as Jungkook crammed another bun into his mouth.

“Does Jin work twelve hours a day at the mine? No!”

Jimin huffed and took a bite of his porridge. Tae joined them at the table, black smudges on his cheeks and his long hair falling into his face.

“Tae, go clean up. We don’t want to get the tablecloth messy. It took a week to clean it last time.” Jin told him as he set another plate of buns on the table.

Tae sighed and stood up again, heading down the hall.

“Namjoon and Yoongi said they’d be home in half an hour, right?”

“Yeah. The new house they’re building is bigger, so they have to work longer hours this week.” Jungkook mumbled around his bun. “Hobi’s gonna be back from the mill in a few, I think.”

Jin shook his head as he set a pot of soup in the middle of the table. “I don’t know how you guys work those jobs. The bakery is hard enough.”

“Trust me, I’d rather work at the bakery,” Tae mumbled as he returned to the room. He was dragging his fingers through his hair, wincing as they caught on clumps of dirt. He sighed and tied his hair back up into a bun.

“I’m so close to shaving my head. It’s making me even hotter than I usually am with this summer heat. Harvesting crops is not a fun job.” Jimin sighed.

“Would you rather look after horses all day?” Tae grumbled. “Sometimes I want to go back to the palace.”

“Soon, Tae. It’ll be soon.”

Tae huffed, taking one of the buns and shoving it into his mouth.

“Hey, I much prefer working at the mines to sitting all day.”

“We know you do, Jungkook.” Jimin sighed. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t supposed to be a prince.”

Jungkook shrugged. “I’m not particularly looking forward to going back to the palace, honestly. My sister would be a better ruler, anyways. Can’t I just marry Jane and keep working in the mines? I doubt my parents actually miss me.”

“Sure, go for it.” Tae muttered.

The other three boys looked at him.

“What? The whole reason we left was to find ourselves. If Jungkook thinks he doesn’t want to rule the kingdom, there’s no point in going back. He’ll just be trapped in that lifestyle again. And there’s no way his parents will let him marry Jane.”

Jungkook sighed. “I’d miss you guys, though. You’re better family than my real family ever was.”

“Please tell me dinner is ready,” Yoongi exclaimed as he walked into the dining room. He had a huge brown streak on his cheek.

“Jeez, why won’t any of you clean yourselves up?” Jin asked. “You don’t get dinner until you wash up.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and turned right back around to go wash his face off.

Hobi came running in a moment later. Thankfully, he’d actually cleaned himself up a bit. His hair was in knots on his head, though.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Jimin asked Hobi as he shoveled a bite of soup into his mouth.

“Last week?”

“Wanna join me when I shave my head?”

“Sure,” Hobi replied nonchalantly.

Namjoon and Yoongi joined them at the table a few minutes later.

“Staining has to be the worst part of this whole process,” Namjoon complained as he too bit into a roll.

“Really? You prefer building the roof?” Yoongi asked.

Namjoon paused. “Touché.”

“Jungkook wants to marry one of the village girls.” Jimin told the three who hadn’t been at the table earlier.

“What?” Hobi asked. “Are you not going back to the palace?”

Jungkook snorted. “I don’t want to. Do I have a choice, though? If you all return, it’ll be suspicious if I don’t.”

“We’ll just tell them you ran off with the traders,” Namjoon said.

“That’s a great idea! Why didn’t I go into trading?” Tae exclaimed.

“I thought you wanted to go back to the palace?” Jin questioned.

“Eh. It just sounds better than cleaning up horse poop all day.”

“Please, do not run off with the traders next time they’re in town. Or else I’m going with you.” Jimin jumped into the conversation.

“Hmm. Where’s the razor? You needed help shaving your head, right?”

“Yes, actually. You want to help me?”

◇◆◇◆◇

“Man, your hair has gotten long!” Tae exclaimed as he cut off another chunk of Jimin’s hair.

“You’re one to talk. Half the girls in the village are jealous of your hair.”

Tae laughed. “You sure you don’t want to keep it like this?” he asked, running his fingers through the inch and a half of hair Jimin had left on his head. It was choppy, but at least it wasn’t a foot long anymore.

“Cut the back shorter. Maybe it’ll look better.”

“All right.”

◇◆◇◆◇

“Excuse me, miss, but I’m not letting you into the house.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest as he blocked the doorway. “You can state your business out here.”

“I told you. I need to speak with Hak Namjoon.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “And I told you that I need to know what your business is with him.”

The girl sighed, giving in. “I’ve come to offer him a marriage proposal.”

If Yoongi was surprised, he didn’t show it. “All right. I’ll get him.” He shut the door in her face. “Joon! Someone named Hannah wants to talk to you.”

Namjoon was out the door before Yoongi could blink. Yoongi shook his head. Part of him had always wondered if they’d all truly return to their homes.

◇◆◇◆◇

Jin was working at the bakery the next day when he caught a chunk of a conversation two of the girls were having.

“I heard two of the neighboring kingdoms are fighting. One of them doesn’t have an heir, and the other one wants to take over.”

“Stella! We shouldn’t discuss that! War is men’s talk.”

Jin was glad he’d overheard it, though. The kingdom without an heir had been his. And he was sure it was Tae’s parents that were trying to take it over.

He was the last one home that night, and the rest of the boys had to come up with dinner themselves. Burnt pie was the first thing he smelled when he walked through the door.

“Jin’s home!” Hobi exclaimed as the door slammed shut.

Jin sat down at the table with a grim look on his face. “I have to go home,” was the first thing out of his mouth.

“What? Already?” Tae asked, shoulders sinking.

“I was the only heir…and now I’m their only hope.”

The table was eerily silent.

“There isn’t a way around it?” Jungkook asked, finally breaking the silence.

“There never was,” Jin admitted. “I shouldn’t have left, honestly.”

“Can I come with you?” Tae asked.

Jin shook his head. “I think you need to go home, too.”

Tae nodded. He reached up and tugged on his hair, tears filling his eyes. “They’re going to make me cut it.” He hadn’t cut it since he’d left the palace.

“I’ll braid it for you tonight,” Jungkook offered.

“I need to go home, too.” Jimin muttered. “There’s not a better time than now.”

The rest of the guys looked at each other, daring the others to leave as well. But the table remained silent.

“I’ll return home once the house is done,” Yoongi said finally.

“I’m not leaving.” Jungkook said flatly. “Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I’m staying here.”

“Me too.” Namjoon joined Jungkook. “I agreed to marry Hannah. I can’t just leave after that.”

“You agreed?” Yoongi asked, baffled.

Namjoon nodded. Yoongi sighed and buried his face in his hands.

—————

Two

A/N: this has been sitting in my computer for a month and I’ve finally decided I’ll release the first chapter

And don’t ask me how long it’ll be because knowing me it could turn out as 50 chapters

This also takes place in some weird modernish-Korea with a more mixed population that’s split into kingdoms so don’t tell me it’s weird because I know 😂

Taglist: @jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger @taehoneycheeks

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allaboutthebooz · 3 years

Text

Still Learning Pt. Two

Summary: After having everything stolen from her, the reader meets Bucky and they form a relationship, that works for the both of them. She needs money and he needs the company. There are rules that need to be followed. What will happen when the rules are broken?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: drinking, unwanted attention

A/N: Happy Easter, y'all! I hope you enjoy my gift to you! You can catch up here!

“I don’t need to get out more, Sam. I get out enough.” Bucky gripes to his teammate as they step off the plane after they land.”

“Going out on missions and to the restaurants by your apartment, isn’t considered going out man.” Sam explains.

“I had a date a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, which you literally ran out on.”

“Well-“

“No, no more excuses. We’re going out tonight. After this long ass week, we could both use some down time. We’re going, end of story.” Sam solidifies with a smile n his face, but sternness in his voice.”

“You’re a real pain in my ass.” Bucky tells him.

“Someone’s got to be.” Sam claps him on the shoulder, before walking away. “I’ll meet you outside of your apartment at eight!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Eight?! Can’t it be sooner?”

Sam turns back towards him but keeps walking. “Just because you’re 106, doesn’t mean you have to act like it! Eight! Be ready1” He turns the corner for the airstrip entrance and then he’s gone.

“I’m too old for this.” Bucky says, hanging his head.

A month after everything was taken from you, thanks to your good for nothing, asshole of an ex-boyfriend, you find yourself sitting in a packed bar with the girls.

You didn’t have the money to do anything, saving what you can, which isn’t much. You were still trying to get your life back together. Your credit was ruined, but was on its way back to normal, somewhat. That would take a long time though. The police were supposed to be looking for Matt, but he was on the bottom of the list of criminals.

The bank told you that there wasn’t anything that they could do about the money that was taken from your account, since Matt was given authorization to the account, in case something happened to you. They simply said that since is name was on the account, the money was his too. You were currently trying to get that overrules, but you don’t know how long that would take.

On top of everything else, your job has been outsourcing your shoots to temporary photographers and using you less. It was cheaper apparently. That meant that your steady income, has dwindled by half. You were having a hard time paying your bills and knew that you were on the verge of being evicted from your apartment. Even though you had explained to your landlord what happened, there was only so much he could do to help.

Deanna and Lexie have been wanting to go out, to help take your mind off of things, but going out just reminded you that you have no money to spend. When you told them that, they just told you not to worry about it. They made you get dressed and dragged you out of your apartment. Now, you sat at the bar, while both of them danced for a bit. Dwelling on your thoughts while you sipped on your whiskey sour.

Bucky walked into the crowded bar behind Sam, following him to the bar top to order drinks. Both men nodding to the bartender when he holds up two fingers, signaling that he would be with them soon.

“You know we could have gotten drinks at a quieter place, right?” Bucky nags.

“What fun is that? Besides, there are plenty of ladies to choose from.”

“Ladies to choose from?” Bucky questions. “You’re better than that, Sam. Show some respect.”

“True, but you know what I’m talking about. It’ll be good to mingle.” Sam tells him.

“I don’t need to ‘mingle.’ I don’t have time.”

Truthfully, Bucky did have the time. What he didn’t tell Sam was that he had his own means of finding a companion. He has more money than he will ever need. When Tony died, he left them all with a good chunk of cash.

Along the way during his recovery, he learned a lot about what he could do with the money. He invested a lot of it in companies that he believed would be successful and he was right. He had an accountant to help him keep track of everything and he was the only person who knew about his “companions.”

It’s not that Bucky didn’t trust Sam to understand how he spent his money or how he got laid on a normal basis. He just knew he would never hear the end of it. From what he learned; society wasn’t too fond of those types of relationships. The kind of relationships where you paid someone to go out with you and spend time with them. People looked at it as a “sugar” relationship. Bucky just called it having someone on his payroll to be his friend outside of the chaotic world he lived in.

Lame, he knows, but with his past he found it hard for anyone to want to be his friend. He rarely saw anyone outside of work, which was why Same dragged him out tonight. They talked for a bit, before Sam caught sight of someone more interested and excused himself.

He leaned his side against the bar, take a pull from the beer in his hand. He looks around the crowded room, observing those around him. He notices a few women glancing at him, trying to be coy and slyly get his attention. He easily looked past them, his eyes continuing their scan. They land on another woman. This time she wasn’t trying to get his attention.

She looked like she would rather be anywhere but here. She kept her gaze on the bar in front of her. Whatever she was drinking, resting in the glass that was gently grasped between her hands. She was beautiful. She was only a few stools away from where he was standing. He could see a guy on her right, trying to make conversation and even though she wasn’t looking at him, Bucky could see her nod or shake her head and her lips move every now and then.

Bucky wasn’t sure if they were together, not until he saw her shrink in on herself and try to lean away from the guy. She was trying to get away from him but didn’t want to be rude. Pushing himself off the bar and leaving his drink behind, he made the choice to try and help her.

Sliding next to her on her other side, he makes himself know. “Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was brutal.”

The woman turns her gaze towards him, and his heart stutters. Her eyes growing a little wide, in wonder.

“Who are you?” The guy on her right asks.

“Her boyfriend. Who the hell are you?” bucky counters, narrowing his eyes at the dude.

“Adam. I was just keeping her company. She looked lonely.”

“Well Adam, I’m here now. So, you can go bug someone else.” Bucky gently puts a hand on the junction where her shoulder and neck meet, keeping his hand on her jean jacket, but making it look intimate enough.

The douchebag looks from Bucky to the woman. “He really with you?”

She brings her hand up to grasp Bucky’s and his skin burns from her touch. “Of course, he is. Why would some random guy, pose as my boyfriend?” She asks. Her voice even, leveling her gaze at Adam.

“Whatever. Thanks for wasting my time.” The guy huffs before walking away to find his next victim.

The woman turns back to Bucky. “Thanks. I kept trying to not show him any interest, but I guess he couldn’t take the hint.”

“Yeah, I could tell. Thought you could use some help.” Bucky says, dropping his hand and missing her touch already.

“I’m Y/N.” She tells him.

“Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you. Bucky.” She smiles at him.

“You too, Y/N.” He likes how her name sounds rolling off his tongue. “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy your alone time.”

“Or you could let me buy you a drink as my way of thanking you.”

“Or I could buy YOU a drink?”

“Or you could buy me a drink. That works too.”

Bucky smiles at her and waves to the bartender.

TAGS:

Marvel- @shreddedparchment

Forevers- @jamielea81 @dnnwnchstr22 @also-fangirlinsweden

*If you would like to added to the tag list, please send me an ask. I am able to keep up with them better that way!

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel series #marvel reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky reader insert

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 16

Wordcount: 4, 869 Rating: M for strong language, moderate sexual references, violence, and gore The reader is referred to as she/her. "God knows. Maybe you have a greater purpose to serve. Why else did he make you?" Chapter synopsis: And you never considered yourself trigger-happy. But the shots have been fired. They're dead before you can interrogate them. Allen is eager to convince you it was the right thing to do, but even he can't deny the horrors that will follow. The war rages on. Alfred stays ignorant for the meantime, and you revel in his bliss of it. You share one last peaceful night with him before the fearful unknown.

16 - Nothing breaks like a heart

The reader is referred to as she/her.

An ear-splitting bang echoed in the pool room. Blood and small chunks of flesh landed on the tiled floor in a splat. Tearing his hand away with a shaky gasp, he held the wrist and hunched over to writhe in agony. "Ergh... Fuck!" He spluttered, feeling a violent tremble seize his wounded hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He lifted his head to glare at you with the utmost betrayal. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

A sizely hole formed in his palm. The exposed flesh was still oozing out blood like a full sponge, dripping onto the ground in generous puddles. A whole section of his bone was missing. And you did it. You shot Alfred. You paled in horror for a few moments, but as he panted before you with tears streaming down his red and enflamed face, it became apparent that your guilt was unfounded.

"What I did that for? You aren't Alfred!" You exasperated, raising the gun shakily to point it between his fearful eyes. "You're a clone!"

A sour flavor was left in your mouth as you spat out the word. His origins were no mystery.

Nobody else could have been responsible or capable of such a heinous crime. To grow an abomination from whatever DNA was left in their lab. You only imagined them to be created for one purpose, and one purpose only. To torment, kill, and replace Alfred. As the thoughts raced through your head, you tightened your finger around the trigger—"Wait, wait! Don't shoot!" He begged, throwing his arms up.

"I know you're freaking out right now, but I have no idea what's going on either!"

Gritting your teeth at his excuse, you were determined to not let it get to you. But it was easier said than done. "Shut up! Don't think for a second you can fool me!" Despite the cutting conviction of your voice, you took on a terrified expression at the thought of shooting him. "I'm gonna do it. You're nothing but a freak of nature! And you'll never... Never..."

As you trailed off, you realized you indeed couldn't pull the trigger.

Not when the barrel was aimed at a face that looked just like Alfred's.

It was contorted with so much fear and despair, pleading silently for you to not hurt him. The fact that he was a spitting image of him made it even harder. How he moved, talked, acted—seeing it chipped away your resolve, leaving you all but paralyzed. The gun was left juddering furiously in your hands in light clacks, holding him hostage at the moment before death.

"Please. Please don't do it." He whispered, bringing his hands down to shield himself. "You gotta help me, (F/N). I don't know how, but I woke up in this body. That's... That's all that happened."

How painfully familiar it sounded.

I woke up in this body.

The similarities were so uncanny, it was cruel. Giving your head a quick shake, your lips quivered as you uttered this.

"You're lying. You're not real."

Creases formed between his brows. "I'm not lying! And I am real! I'll prove it to you, I swear! We went through so much shit together, like uh—" He pointed at you and laughed nervously as he sifted through the scanty archives of his memories. "—I kidnapped you. Ha! See? I know something! That's how we met! And you hated my guts at first."

You swallowed thickly as uncertainty slowly overwhelmed you. If he could remember that, he had to be real, right? No. You had to fend off the feeling. "That's not good enough!" Your finger stayed on the trigger, and the barrel, on him.

He tensed up as panic caught him in a chokehold. "Okay, okay! Well, er..." His heart was pounding harder and harder with every second he failed to say something. "... Oh! Remember the time I nearly got murdered by a cult leader? He had a whole kabuki mask get-up and everything—just like, like Professor Callaghan from Big Hero 6. You know that movie right?"

You sucked in a sharp breath. The title didn't ring any bells, but what he said had you second-guessing yourself. Was he not lying after all? Lowering the gun at that, your motion was slowed by slight hesitance. "... How... How do you know those things?" You asked faintly. "What are you?"

Before he could formulate an answer, footsteps thudded down the hall. Your thoughts came to a complete standstill.

Then, you heard a voice.

"(F/N)!" They shouted. Was it Allen? Your heart sank when you realized you couldn’t tell—it sounded too similar to Alfred. Or were you just imagining things? The sheer amount of panic was too incapacitating that you couldn't think.

So you did the unthinkable.

Raising the gun once more, you fired a shot into his abdomen.

The second you let the bullet fly, you regretted it.

Both your ears rang as the next few moments occurred in silence. And they would unfold in painstakingly slow motion. Dropping the gun to the ground in a soundless clatter, you watched him stumble back a few steps with his eyes popping out of his skull. Blood was spreading around the flaps of his kimono from a new hole in his chest. But the gore couldn't compare to his look of betrayal.

Of a heartbreak so deep, it destroyed you.

"Oh my God..." You raised both hands to your mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed on the ground in a bloody heap. "I just—I just killed—" Tears streamed relentlessly down to your chin as you stood frozen.

"(F/N)! I heard gunshots. What the fuck happened?!" Allen appeared in the doorway. His loud voice derailed your train of thoughts, forcing you to turn to the man. When you did, your heart clenched at the realization you made a mistake. It wasn't him. Alfred was never down the hall, and you panicked.

He never even had a chance to explain himself.

When Allen caught sight of the corpse by your feet, he dug his hands through his hair. Terror ran deep in his expression as he processed what he was seeing. "Shit, (F/N)." His nose scrunched up in shock. Never did he imagine the day would come where you would take someone's life. At least, not so soon.

But it arrived as an unwelcome surprise, unexpected and uninvited. "Did you kill that guy?"

You nodded profusely as a sob racked your body.

He scrambled over and shielded you from the grotesque scene. "Hey, hey, hey! Don’t feel bad! I’ve killed loads of people too, so welcome to the club!" The man rambled frantically, rubbing away your tears with his fingers. But who was he to tell you these things when he felt his own tears come?

"I’m sure he deserved it, and you were just protecting yourself, so don’t worry!" Allen forced a wide, manic smile.

His efforts to console you were in vain as you cried even harder. Pulling you into his chest, he rested his chin on your head that trembled to your coughs. "I'm so sorry..." Allen screwed his eyes shut and squeezed you tighter. "... I’m sorry I left you by yourself. This is my fault, not yours. It's my fault."

The string of apologies he spewed out was on your behalf, but he meant them with every fiber of his being. He had failed to protect the single most valuable thing to him.

And the blatant lie he forced you to accept was the last resort to preserve it. But it was time that stopped. "No, I killed him." You asserted shakily. He had nothing to do with this, and his eagerness to shoulder the blame only rubbed more salt into the wound. If you let him have his way, you would never live it down.

Without removing yourself from the hug, you pointed at the motionless body with your head turned away. "Look at him. I could never lie."

Allen lingered his gaze on you before obliging, albeit reluctantly. Nearing the corpse cautiously, he kicked its chest to roll it over. It revealed the dead man’s face in all its glory. Alfred’s face.

"..."

What the fuck.

When he thought he couldn’t be any more disgusted by the tyranny of technology, he was proved wrong yet again. This was clearly your father’s doing. And it was a declaration of war. But perhaps, it was just the continuation of the one that never ended.

Arthur was completely shit-faced downstairs. Slamming his beer mug down on the counter after he downed the whole thing, he gasped.

"Bwah! That hits the spot." His cheeks and ears were redder than a tomato, a stark contrast to his companion who was stone-cold sober.

Alfred raised a brow. "Sure looks like it. Dude, you gotta lay off the booze. You’re gonna regret it first thing tomorrow." Once he sighed that out, he rested his cheek on his hand. Then, he glowered at the hallway where you and Allen disappeared to.

"How long does it take to piss? They’ve been gone for ages. Twenty minutes? Thirty minutes? I don’t fucking know," The mechanic let out a low chuckle and slapped him on the back. The force made his torso bounce, much to his annoyance. "What’s your deal?"

The other hummed mischievously. "I was just thinking about what you said." Arthur squinted almost suggestively, causing Alfred to do the same, but only out of being appalled. "Maybe... Maybe they aren’t pissing. Since they’re gone for so long at the bathrooms at that—so maybe, urgh... They’re doing the nasty together." The Brit practically howled with laughter, having figured he was probably right.

It was a plausible assumption. As he humored the suggestion Alfred heated up more severely than his intoxicated friend. You having sex with Allen? His chest whirred and nostrils flared. He'd never been this enraged before, but behind the mask of anger was a deep hurt and toxic kind of jealousy.

"Shut up! You’re drunk and slurring your words. You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Arthur snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, brother. But the only time I’m this honest is when I’m drunk, so."

Alfred’s eyes went round. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot out of his stool and made a beeline to the hall. Before he could make it far, he bumped right into the very subjects of his conversation. Much to his relief, they were in no state that indicated they did anything sexual by nature; you were in his arms and fast asleep. Not that he was happy about it. "Woah. She's out like a light."

"Yeah, so keep your voice down." The other grumbled, bouncing you lightly. "I think it's about time we head home. How drunk is he?"

The blonde blinked. He wasn't expecting him to catch on so quickly. "Off his ass. He's red as."

Allen clicked his tongue and brushed past him. "Called it." Alfred would have dismissed it as something he always did. But since he was carrying you, it made him feel like an extra. So when the man walked off, he followed with a scowl. "Can you get a cab? I'm gonna sit in the corner for a bit."

And sit in the corner he did, laying your body across his lap so you could rest. Alfred narrowed his eyes into a dark glare, lingering on the sight as the club music pounded away in his ears. And he told him to keep his voice down? "Yeah, I'll call you a damn cab."

You pretended to be asleep the whole ride back to Arthur's. It was easy with Allen's shoulder at a perfect height for your face to bury in. For half an hour, you were stuck in that position. There, you listened to the symphony of a trip home from the club: the automated voice of the taxi A.I and the drunken warbles of an intoxicated friend. Without seeing it, you could feel Alfred watching you for the whole duration of the ordeal.

Fortunately, you could escape any interaction with him as Allen carried you to the bathroom upon arriving.

"Oi, where are you taking her?"

The redhead kicked the door open. "What does it look like?"

"Shouldn't you wake her up, at least?"

"Yeah, yeah. Quit breathing down my neck, already."

"Dude—"

The door locked. Setting you down on your feet, you held onto his arms to regain your balance. Once you did, you glanced up at him with the utmost panic. "I can't face him." Digging two hands through your hair, you let out a shaky gasp—"Oh my god, I don't know what to do! I shot him, Allen. I fucking shot him! What's he gonna think of me when he finds out?"

He sighed and gripped your shoulders firmly. With his brows furrowed in a stern expression, he corrected you. "You didn't shoot him. You shot another version of him." Allen couldn't stress that enough. But there were many things he needed to shed a light on in this emergency bathroom meeting. "And it was kinda my fault that happened. If I was there, I woulda' shot him for you."

"That's not the point, here! And it's never gonna be your fault. It's mine, and mine alone. End of story." You swiped a hand across his face for emphasis. While he groaned in dismay, a brief pause followed as you regained your breath.

At least an hour had passed, but you still couldn't wrap your head around it.

"I can't believe I did that. I don't even know how I could! I panicked. I thought Alfred was coming down the hall, but—"

"—but it was me. Doll-" Allen exasperated, dragging out the pet name. "-you can't blame yourself for what you did. Shit happens. And who says what you did was wrong, huh? You probably just saved us all from a bloodbath. And you know that!" Rocking you gently back and forth to shake some sense into you, he leaned in to peer into your wide eyes staring into space.

"That's why you shot him. You did the right thing."

As he blurted that out, the memory replayed in your head again and again like a broken record. Intrusive thoughts were a bitch. And there was one particular detail of the event that you would never forget. "Was it the right thing to do, though?" You murmured, lowering your doubtful gaze to the tiled floor. The betrayal in his eyes was so genuine, you came to regret everything you've done.

"What if he was real like he said?"

You were asking some hard-hitting questions, that was for sure. Everything else was shrouded in a fog of uncertainty.

"Well, it wouldn't matter if he was real. Cuz' he's dead."

Allen's expression morphed into a dark glower.

"But if he was still alive, there'd be two of him, and not for long. They'd kill each other, for sure. I mean, if I found out there was a second-rate version of me farting around out there, I'd kill that poser for sport. Hunt him down like game." Lifting up your chin so you'd look at him, he flashed a grin.

"So don't feel bad. You killed him and saved Alfred the trouble."

Softening your gaze at that, you pulled him into another hug. Allen was always amazing at comforting you in the direst of situations.

"... Maybe you're right."

He chuckled and patted your back. "I'm always right."

But there was still one concern he could never address.

If your father made a clone of Alfred, a real and legitimate copy, there was no saying he could make another. Hell, you even expected him to. He could keep churning him out so long as he had his DNA. The only way to end this threat was quick to cross your mind, but you didn't want to think about it.

You would have to kill your father.

Allen figured. But today suffered enough bloodshed.

Before he left the bathroom for you to use, he held onto your cheek.

Flickering his striking scarlet eyes over your troubled expression, he caught you in a quiet gaze. You could easily translate the untold fondness he watched you with. We can still run away together.

He pulled away slowly, reluctantly. Then, the door closed behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It never crossed your mind the first time he brought it up earlier tonight, but you finally understood what he really meant by running away. Allen wanted to share his life with you. Heat flurried in your chest as you considered the idea.

Tears threatened to return once you realized how much you wanted to do it, just not with him. The desire was there, but it happened to be stronger for someone else.

Alfred had been waiting outside with his back against the wall, arms crossed with a frown. It only deepened when Allen walked out.

"What're you lookin' at?" The redhead mumbled.

"... Nothing. Just wondering why you two spend so much time in the bathroom together." Alfred pointed out, glancing down at the cigarette between his fingers. He would have been jumping for joy if it weren't for wanting to look serious. "What were you doing with her in the penthouse?"

The other felt a spell of irritation hit him. It was always jealousy with this one, wasn't it? But he couldn't be a hypocrite. "None a'ya business, bub." He hummed, slotting the cancer stick in between his teeth. A sly smirk widened his lips as he saw the blonde tense up. "You saw how tired she was. So don't even think about it."

Don't even think about it, he'd said. How come everything coming out of his mouth sounded like a euphemism for sex? Don't keep her up with stupid conversations would've sounded better. Alfred huffed and stormed back to the guest room. Or was it just his mind that was in the gutter? He blamed Arthur for even bringing it up.

Hanging his clothes on a chair, he curled up under the covers. His chest was whirring again, and the discomfort was akin to something you've gone through before. Separation anxiety. When you did show up ten minutes later, he rolled over to the door to watch your form. Hearing the fabric shuffle in your direction made your heart skip in panic.

He was awake.

"Arthur's puking his guts out, so if you hear coughing, it's him."

Hopefully, some light-hearted banter could keep you from acting up. But that was easier said than done.

The blanket lifted briefly so you could get under it. Once you got comfortable, he didn't hesitate to pull you in by the waist to spoon you. Ever since he saw you sleep in the club, and on Allen no less, he'd been dying to do this. "... I tried telling him." He murmured into your ear. "But I've slept through worse. You flop and roll a lot."

The feeling of his breath on your neck and the sound of his husky voice made your heart ache. Every night was spent like this, warm and snug in his arms, but tonight was different. Inside, you were still agonizing over what you had done to him, even if it wasn't exactly him. So to feel his chest rise against your back, then his legs rub against yours, you just couldn't take it—it was all too much.

Rolling over to him, you caught his neck in your arms and pulled it down for a tight squeeze. What you uttered next captured your deepest and most inexplicable desire. To truly be alone with him.

"I can't take it here anymore." You muttered furiously, hugging him around his neck to start crushing him.

He let out a shaky breath at the sudden pressure.

"Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?"

"I can't calm down. I need to talk to you. Alone." Sitting up at that, you pulled him along. It came especially easy as he stood up, eager to understand your spontaneity. "And in someplace that's not here. There's just... Too many people. Four is too many."

Alfred lit up, but his growing smile did his emotions no justice. He was ecstatic. Things were always simpler when it was just the two of you. Maybe you were finally getting sick of these cramped living conditions, the scrutiny. At least, he knew he was. So it was almost as if you read his mind. "Okaay. Are we going on a midnight adventure?" He piped.

But then again, you always seemed to be walking on the same wavelength as him.

He followed you around the room like a puppy as you collected some things—your jacket, then Alfred's phone to shoot Allen a text. We're off to the nearest no-tell motel to talk. We'll be back in the morning. Setting the device onto the desk, you threw him his belongings. His gun and trusty coil of tools. Catching them wordlessly, he shot you a quizzical look. "Well, aren't you mysterious? Where are we going?"

Little did he know, your decision to leave the house for the night had only so much to do with random selfish impulses. From the outside, it looked exactly like that. Up and going without a care in the world, without care for Allen, and becoming unreachable for the next several hours. But after what happened, you just needed time to recalibrate.

"Where we always used to go." You threw your jacket on. Dragging him out into the hall, he caught a brief glimpse of Arthur passed out over the toilet before he found himself in the garage.

Handing him his key, you opened the car door next to the driver's seat. "We have to be quick before Allen tries to stop us."

The said man was sitting on the roof when he heard the rumbling of the garage door. Immediately after the sound stopped, a car sped out of it with an aggressive vroom and disappeared into the night. Narrowing his eyes at the rear window, he stood up and tossed his cigarette over the edge. Where the hell were you going this late at night? And with Alfred, no less?

He could feel hot jealousy prick him all over again. But it was warped with a harrowing kind of sadness. No matter what he did or what he said, he couldn't seem to get in between you two. Allen sat back down and lit up another cigarette. Giving that a few puffs, he surrounded his head in a cloud of grey smoke. Maybe he did know you for too long.

For eight years, he'd been a brotherly figure in your life. Now, he was afraid that was all he was ever going to be.

~~~

Parking the car in the courtyard after the most thrilling joyride, you pulled Alfred into the reception to book a room. Given his inhumane strength, your efforts to drag him down the hall were to no avail. Peering down at you with a warm smile, his face contorted with an amused look as you tugged at his arm as hard as you could. "Easy there, tiger. This is a motel, not a five-star hotel."

Between two walls littered with cracks was a dimly lit interior. Everything smelt like vomit, piss, and alcohol to boot, and yet, you were bounding beside him in excitement. "I know! But doesn't this feel nostalgic? We lived in these places for ages." You exasperated, scanning a keycard to unlock the door.

Alfred didn't think he was a sentimental person, but hearing you reminisce the past so fondly was enough to change his smile into a bittersweet one. "I guess." He couldn’t remember everything like you, but for now, he could pretend he did. "Motels are economic and discrete, so where was a better place to go?"

Once you both got inside, he felt your hand let go of his. For a moment, he felt just the smallest dash of loneliness—it was the emptiness of not feeling you somewhere where you should have been. Fortunately, it faded when you gleamed at him while you explored the room with child-like curiosity.

"I think I did a pretty good job at converting you." Alfred mused.

You flopped onto the bed to lie on your back. "Converting me to what?"

The mattress dipped to your right, so you rolled over to face him. "To a commoner. Or maybe something lower than that." He grinned devilishly. And for that comment, he would earn a strong shove on his chest. Despite nearly falling off the edge, he merely scooted back in. "I've never seen someone this happy staying in a dump like this."

"Don't give yourself too much credit. I just miss it." Pausing briefly at that, a small smile spread to your lips when you saw his, wide and as endearing as ever. If there was one thing you wanted to see before you died, it was this. Alfred's warm smile. As you lingered on the thought, you realized you were completely smitten with him.

But most importantly, at peace.

This was exactly why you even dragged him here in the first place. For some quality alone time, backtracking, and a good, long talk without interruptions. "I'd know all about dumps." You murmured, reaching out to play with a lock of his sandy blonde hair. "Zao and I tend to find our best friends in them."

He chuckled airily. "Is this me?"

"... Well, sure. But I was talking about Allen."

Things got dark pretty fast.

You both laughed it off. He didn't have great memories of motels, but laying here with you reminded him of what you said about them. A lot of good things happened in these tiny rooms, apparently. And they were what you two talked about until three AM in the morning, standing together out on the balcony. From here, the heart of the city could be seen, from the aerial roads of spinners in the distance to the endless hills of skyscrapers and blinking lights.

"I was thinking," Alfred murmured quietly, turning his head to you. The right side of his face reflected the glow of the city. But it couldn't quite compare to the hope that lit up his eyes, as subtle as it was. "Is everything finally over?"

You turned to him, gaze softened. For just tonight, you would let him bask in his ignorance. And yourself, in his hold. "Not yet." You whispered. The feeling of his hand on your waist was a feeling you could get used to. Reaching out to his other one on the railing, you guided it to your side so he could hold you properly.

Alfred squeezed you eagerly, pressing closer to your body.

Taking his face into your hands, you gave him one last gesture of untold affection. It was a culmination of raw emotion free from your own better judgment. A means to communicate without talking.

You pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

At that very space in time, a singular thought occurred to both of you—I wish this moment would last forever.

"But we'll make it... Just like we always do."

What would you do if I killed you?

Nothing, because I'd be dead.

What if you survived? Or left behind a soul?

Then I'll come back and find you.

The club was still pounding away, much like the headache in his skull. Sucking in a sharp breath, he suffered the worst wake-up call in his short life—he was still bleeding, and in terrible pain. He shakily felt around his wound while hyperventilating on the ground. How he hadn't kicked the bucket yet was beyond him.

"Get your ass up already. I know you're not dead." A man growled in disdain, giving the body on the ground a light kick.

"Gh—!" He let out a pained gasp and clung onto the ground for dear life. It had been years since he felt this alive—ironically, it was when he was inches away from death.

His perpetrator had their dark eyes fixated on him like a stain on the floor. Their pupils were as red as the blood his victim bathed in. But they always had a strong stomach for gore. "What am I gonna say when the owner finds out I'm the reason you even got in here? You're bleeding into the pool." They murmured, raising his leg to keep tormenting the other like a new hobby.

With a few more kicks, the body rolled onto its back.

"Ugh... Fuck... How am I not dead?" He coughed in agony.

The other shrugged, flicking their ponytail over their shoulder. "God knows. Maybe you have a greater purpose to serve." As cryptic as that sounded, it was nothing but the truth. He had more to his life than dying in a nightclub. Dying could be a part of it, but this couldn't be the location to do it, nor could it be by your hand—the closest kin to his creator.

"Why else did he make you?"

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Family Weekend

The Teen Titans headed out for a weekend with their families. Wonder Girl was running a mission with her Amazon sisters. Impulse had planned out some fun with her parents and twin brother. Virus left for their homeworld. Nightstar spent time with her mothers.

Robin, having left Gotham over a year earlier and not looked back, assumed he'd spend the weekend alone in Titans Tower. Then Red X broke in.

Part of Batkid and Robin

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

Robin stared down at his tea with a frown, tapping his fingers against the mug randomly. A small buzz came near and he sighed. “Don’t try it, Virus.” When the buzz kept coming, he glared behind him at the blue Roomba slowly making its way towards him.

It paused, then sighed. Electric blue energy pulled out of the robot vacuum, leaving the black device to roll off on its own. The energy collected into a blue humanoid form with geometric white patterns across them. The patterns on their face formed into a pout as they leaned against the kitchen counter. “How did Robin know?”

He just smirked and turned away.

“Come on!” the Gexin whined and threw themself over Robin’s lap, making the barstool rock slightly. “Robin has to tell Virus how Robin knew Virus was the tiny floor robot. Please!”

“The thing was blue,” Nightstar called from the couch, not looking up from her book.

“Nightstar and Robin have not seen the tiny floor robot before. The tiny floor robot could have always been blue.”

“There’s also the fact Roombas are banned from the tower,” Robin pointed out, patting Virus’s back. “So it had to be some kind of prank.”

“Speaking of, why is there a Roomba in the tower?” Nightstar asked, looking up with a glare and Virus shifted into their amorphous form to hide behind Robin.

“The tiny floor robot is Impulse’s,” they said quickly. “Virus just borrowed the tiny floor robot.”

“Wow, hey, way to snitch!” Impulse huffed, zipping up next to Robin. “And for your information, it’s not a Roomba. Roomba’s are made by iRobot. Uncle Arsenal made this one. Its name is Voobo.”

Robin gave her a look. “Get rid of it before Wonder Girl gets back or its name will be Crushed.”

“Come on, Rob. Can’t it stay?” she asked, batting her eyes.

He was unmoved. “Remember last time?”

“It was a joke! Come on, no one even got hurt. I thought you’d like it. Having Dags around would have kept us on our toes. You love that ‘Constant vigilance!’ stuff.”

“You took one of Wonder Girl’s daggers,” Nightstar said.

“Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to strap one of our kitchen knives to the thing,” Impulse scoffed. “I cook with those, unlike some people.”

“No Roombas -- or Roomba-like devices -- in the tower,” Robin declared.

Impulse booed him and Virus poked part of themself out from behind him so he could see their face patterns making it appear they were sticking their tongue out.

“Hey, you want it to get crushed, be my guest.”

“Shouldn’t you two be packing?” Nightstar asked.

“Nightstar is one to talk,” Virus huffed.

“All my stuff was packed up last night because I’m capable of thinking ahead.”

“Virus only has a few files that Virus needs to transfer into roving storage,” the Gexin hummed, leaning against Robin’s back. “The transfer will only take a minute or two so the transfer can wait until Virus is about to leave.”

“And I’m a speedster. People would get suspicious if I wasn’t late,” Impulse shrugged and scooped up the knockoff Roomba.

“Well, Flash was supposed to be here ten minutes ago so you should probably get packed,” Robin pointed out.

Her eyes widened and she glanced down at her phone. She gave a curse and darted out of the room.

Virus jumped over the counter and grabbed a banana. As they absorbed it, they asked, “When is Nightstar going to leave?”

She shrugged. “Ommi’s waiting for me at a diner nearby since I was waiting for Flash to get here so we could all say our goodbyes together and she’s still tracking down exactly where Troia, Ilia, and Wonder Girl are. We’re going to go raid whatever mission they’re on before Mom gets back from Tamaran tonight.”

“Okay. Then Virus will go do the transfer so Virus is ready to go as soon as Impulse leaves.”

Nightstar shrugged and went back to her book. Though, as soon as they were gone, she tossed it aside and turned her focus on Robin. “You know, I can cancel. Ommi won’t mind messing with Donna, Cassie, and Yara on her own.”

“Kory will be upset if you miss Family Weekend,” Robin pointed out, turning back to his tea.

“She hasn’t been planetside for two weeks. I’m sure Ommi, Uncle Roy, and Uncle Biz will be happy to keep her distracted. Not like we get up to much even when I am there. I’ll just call her later.”

“There’s no reason for you to stay. Go have fun annoying Yara with Artemis,” he sighed.

“If you’re going to spend the whole time brooding all alone again then there’s plenty of reason to stay.”

“You’re the queen of brooding,” Robin chuckled halfheartedly.

“Which means I know how much brooding alone sucks,” she said, getting up and moving to stand over him. “I’ll stay and we can brood together.”

He sighed again and set the mug on the counter. He met her eyes. “I’m fine, Mandy.”

“Dick -”

“Seriously. I’m just going to catch up on some work. I could use the quiet and you deserve some time with your moms. You said Kory’s been getting better.”

“Fine, but -”

“Yara’s on a mission in the Amazon Basin, Irey’s got all sorts of plans set up with her parents and Jai, and Galvio’s going to be off-world. None of them need to be popping in or coming back early just because you think I can’t be alone for a couple of days.” When she opened her mouth, he added, “And neither do any of the other Titans. They’re all working hard to cover for us so we can have this break and don’t need to add babysitting me on top of that.”

She scowled and sat down on the stool next to his. “It’s not that I think you can’t be alone, it’s just that I think you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I meant,” she growled, pushing his chest hard enough to make his barstool tip backward.

He hooked his food around hers and righted the stool before it could fall. “I’ll be alright. A little alone time is good once in a while.”

Impulse ran through the room, stopping only long enough to say, “Dad’s here!” before she was gone again.

Nightstar tisked and stood up. “You’re sure?”

He nodded and she turned away. “Fine, but I’ll have my T-Comm on me if you need anything.”

He didn’t respond.

She grabbed her book as Flash ran in.

“Hey kids,” he said, glancing at the two. “Where are the others?”

“Wonder Girl’s already gone, Virus is preparing to leave, and Impulse is packing,” Robin answered.

“Course she is,” the man chuckled. “I’d say she gets it from me, but Uncle Barry was the exact same way so maybe it’s the Speed Force.”

“I think you guys just like to use that as an excuse to be lazy,” Nightstar said as she left.

“I’m sure Artemis would agree,” Wally chuckled. He turned to Robin and the boy stiffened.

Not visibly enough that Flash would notice, but visible enough that…

Robin turned away to grab his tea.

“So, you heading to Goth-”

“No.”

The man shot over to sit on the stool Nightstar had been using. “One of these days I’m going to get you to tell me how exactly you’re related to the Bats.”

“Good luck with that,” he scoffed. He looked up at the man. “You work with three of them. Four when Flamebird’s having a good day. Why not just ask them?”

Shut up. You don’t care. They don’t care so you don’t care.

Flash snorted. “Right. Like getting info out of a Bat isn’t impossible. If I ask Signal, he just shakes his head and says it’s not his place. Orphan just looks sad when you get brought up and won’t talk for a while. Flamebird won’t talk to me, to begin with, so he’s out. His old man hasn’t been much better since Batkid died -- not that I blame him -- and he only got worse when that new thief showed up in Gotham a few months ago so there’s no chance of him saying anything.”

They don’t care.

“If it’s so impossible, then why do you keep bugging me.”

“Well, you’re not really a Bat, right?”

Robin’s fingers tightened around the mug. “No, I’m not.”

“There you go then.”

He glared down at the tea.

Distract.

“What were you saying about a thief? Catwoman got a rival?”

Flash shrugged. “It’s Gotham stuff so we don’t hear much, but I have heard the new guy’s been giving her a run for her money. It’s not only that though. He’s apparently claimed a chunk of the city as his own and screws with anyone that messes around in his territory without his permission. Especially if they involve kids.”

Robin hummed, not paying attention.

Cass doesn’t care. She’s just sad because I remind her of Jay.

“I think he’s called Red -”

“Daddy!” Impulse shrieked as she came streaking through the room to throw herself at Flash, who was already on his feet with his arms outstretched to catch her and pull her into a hug.

Virus came skipping in after her at a much slower pace, a duffle bag in his arms. Nightstar was a few steps behind wearing her battle armor with a rucksack hanging from one shoulder.

“There’s my light! You ready to go?”

“Yup! Just got to say bye to the others,” she said, squeezing him. She let go and passed the bag Virus was carrying to her father before pulling the Gexin into a hug. “Bye, Vi!”

“Goodbye, Impulse! Tell Turtle Virus says hello.”

“I will. Tell Galv-11 I say hi! Twin solidarity!” She pulled away to hug Nightstar. “Have fun with your moms!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave Impulse’s back two pats before pushing her away.

The redhead just smiled at her before throwing herself at Robin, a move that would have knocked him off the stool and spilled his tea if he hadn’t seen it coming and braced himself. “Bye, Rob! See you Monday!”

“See you, Pulse.”

She pressed a quick -- for non-speedsters -- kiss to his cheek before pulling away. She gave the group a wave as she took her dad’s hand then the two were gone.

“Well, I’m off,” Nightstar said, adjusting the pack and glancing at her remaining teammates. Her gaze lingered on Robin. “Unless someone’s changed their mind.”

“Bye, Star,” Robin said pointedly.

She nodded to him, then Virus.

“Goodbye, Nightstar. Virus has completed the transfer so Virus will be leaving too.”

“Bye Virus.

They waved then dove into the phone outlet that connected to the satellites on the roof.

“Don’t cause Yara too much of a hassle. You do have to work together when you both get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know she loves it,” Nightstar said, waving him off as she turned to leave. “Talk to you later, Dick.”

“Later, Mandy.”

He waited a few moments after the door shut behind her before getting up to go to the couch, tea still in hand. He sat down and grabbed the tablet he’d left on the coffee table. A few clicks had the security feeds up. The speedsters were long gone, Virus was just finishing the transfer over to the Justice League’s long-range satellites that would let him system hop back to his homeworld, and Nightstar was making her way out. He watched her progress until she was completely out of range before tossing the tablet to the side and slumping back against the couch.

He took a sip of his tea and scowled. He set it on the table and buried his face into his hands.

Over a year and a half away from Gotham and he still couldn’t figure out how Alfred made a cup of tea taste like anything other than gross leaf water.

He didn’t know why he still bothered. He’d never liked tea all that much, even when Alfred made it.

It was just… stupid Family Weekend. He hated it. Hated being alone. Hated seeing the others all disappear to spend time with their families. All it did was remind him of everything he’d lost.

Everyone he’d lost.

Or never had to begin with.

He wouldn’t begrudge any of his friends their family time, though, and he certainly wasn’t going to make anyone stay behind with him just because he was a little lonely, even if that meant telling Nightstar a few white lies.

He just wished he had somewhere to disappear off to as well.

He forced himself upright and turned on the tv. He tried to lose himself in a horror movie as he fought down memories of Barbara’s hacking lessons, memories of pranks he’d played on the others with Cassandra, memories of patrolling with Damian, memories of Duke helping him with his English homework, memories of early morning coffee and cereal runs with Tim, memories of nail painting gossip sessions with Stephanie, memories of Jay’s… memories of Jason.

He considered checking in with the Titans East, maybe even visiting, but Nightstar definitely would have considered he’d try that and told Speedy to let her know if he contacted them. Considering the friendly rivalry they had going on after defeating the Master of Games, she’d definitely sell him out in a heartbeat.

Patrolling was also out since Irey would still be monitoring the Teen Titans' social media so she’d know instantly if he left the tower, something he wasn’t supposed to do since they were all supposed to take Family Weekend off, even if he stayed in town.

Normally he’d bury himself in work, but he didn’t actually have any open cases right now.

One good thing about Gotham’s crime rate, you never had to worry about not having an open case.

Shut up!

Robin was so distracted trying to distract himself from his intrusive memories, he almost didn’t notice when the air in the room shifted slightly about an hour after Nightstar left. His hand subtly moved to his utility belt, but he let it drop after a second.

He glared to the side as something invisible settled next to him on the couch. “What are you doing here?”

Red X faded into view with a shrug. “The better question is what are you doing here, kid? I was told you lot were clearing out for your little Family Weekend thing.”

“You were told?”

“Alright, so I might have been eavesdropping on Wonder Babe and Zippy.”

“What are you after?” Robin growled. He stood up and drew his staff as he went over everything in the tower and tried to figure out what Red X would consider worth stealing.

“Calm down,” Red X said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the coffee table. “I just ticked someone off and need a place to lie low for a few days. Didn’t plan to take anything.”

“Right,” Robin said sarcastically. “You didn’t plan to take anything.”

Red X chuckled and held up his hands. “Alright, you caught me. Tell you what. You let me stay and I’ll keep my hands to myself from now until Monday.”

“And return what you’ve already grabbed on your way here?”

It was only thanks to his experience with masks that hid the eyes that the hero could tell Red X was rolling his as he pulled a handful of Robin’s feathers and one of his spare expandable bo staffs from the suit’s hidden pockets. He tossed them onto the table, saying, “You really need to learn how to lighten up, kid.”

Robin lowered his weapon, but didn’t put it away. “Who’d you tick off? And how?”

Red X shrugged and relaxed back onto the couch, grabbing the remote. “The old man. One of the others accidentally got hurt during my last score so now the lot of them are out for blood. They found my place in Jump so it was either skip town until I can get a new place or lay low. And I’m pretty sure skipping town is what they want me to do so here I am. Doubt they’ll think to look for me here.”

“Why would they want you to skip town?” Robin asked as he took in the new information. He’d never realized Red X was part of a team. Who was the old man?

“Uh, because then I’ll have to go back home and that’s their turf,” he said slowly, like it was obvious.

“Where are you from?”

Red X paused in his channel surfing and looked up at him. “You don’t know?”

Robin glared at him.

“No, seriously, you don’t know who I am?”

“I thought I made that clear the first time we met.”

“Yeah, the first time, but…” Red X set down the remote and leaned closer. “Kid, when was the last time you talked to your family?”

That was the final straw.

Robin swung his staff at the thief, who flipped out of the way. Through clenched teeth, he said, “I think the fact I’m here during Family Weekend makes it pretty obvious I don’t exactly have a family to talk to.”

Red X struck out with one of his x’s trying to wrench the staff from Robin’s hands. “Shut up, kid. You can play whatever lost bird act you want for the rest of the world, but we both know you’re one of Batman’s toy soldiers.”

The hero snarled and aimed for the thief's head, but he managed to grab it and disarm him before it made contact. “I’m not a Bat just because I trained with them for a time.”

“Sure, kid.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’ve been a hero outside of Gotham longer than I was one there.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

Red X froze and the hero could feel the thief studying him. When he spoke, there was something sharp and venomous in his tone. “He kicked you out.”

“He kicked me off the team, yeah,” Robin said. “He didn’t want me on the team anymore so I found a new one. Like I said, I’m not a Bat. Why does this even matter?”

“He kicked you out,” Red X repeated. Then he was turning on his heel and marching out.

“Where are you going?”

“Forget hiding out. I’m going to go kill Batman. A nice x to the grapple line will solve all our problems.”

Before Robin could move, Red X teleported away.

“Great,” he growled, running his hand through his hair. He grabbed his tablet and ran to the door. As he rode the elevator down to the garage, he checked the security, running the cameras through all the frequency settings. All that came up were two blips, Red X’s entrance and exit.

As he ran up to his R-Cycle, he considered what to do. He couldn’t just do nothing about an honest death threat (and he knew Red X was serious, even he didn’t understand why), but Batman had made it clear he didn’t want Robin getting involved in Gotham. Maybe if he could get to Red X before he left town…

Well, he’d have to hope he could. If not, he’d have to bribe Dove into passing along the message to Oracle or Batgirl the next time she checked in with the Birds of Prey so they could warn Batman. After that, the thief would be completely out of his hands.

He took his R-Cycle out, but only went as far as the nearest highrise before taking to the rooftops. It wasn’t as effective a tactic in the daylight, but it would still limit the amount he was seen so, hopefully, Irey wouldn’t notice he was out.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do. He’d been trying to locate Red X’s hideout since the thief had appeared, but thanks to the invisibility and teleportation abilities granted by the suit as well as the thief’s own skills and the fact Robin still didn’t know what he looked like under the mask, it was slow going. He’d managed to narrow it down to a certain neighborhood after months of work, but patrolling the area didn’t turn anything up so he couldn’t be sure if Red X was there or if he’d already left.

After two hours with no sign of the thief, he decided to head back in. As he rode back up the elevator, he set up a program to track anyone leaving town for Gotham by train or air and double-checked the algorithm he and Virus had set up to search for Red X on traffic cameras. Neither was likely to turn anything up since Red X was too cautious and Oracle was sure to set up her own once the case was handed over to the Bats, but he had to do something in the meantime.

And if it showed them he knew what he was doing…

Of course, none of that mattered when he walked into the main room of the tower to call Dove and found Red X relaxing on the couch.

“Were you seriously lying about killing Batman?” Robin growled. His anger was less about the thief lying and more because he’d fallen for it, but he was still pretty annoyed all the same.

“Nah. I just realized that you being here also means the others didn’t do anything about the old man kicking you out, and wiping out Gotham’s Bat infestation is going to actually take a bit of planning,” Red X said. That same acidic anger tainted his words, but now it was wrapped in a thin veil of restraint. He could see that same fragilely controlled anger in the thief’s body as he came closer, hidden almost perfectly under his relaxed ruse.

“You really think I’m going to just sit back and let you stay here while you’re plotting murder?” Robin said, stepping in front of the thief and crossing his arms.

“Calm down, kid. I’m not going to do any planning here,” he snorted, tilting his head to see more of the tv around the hero.

“That’s not the point.”

“If you’re worried about being an accomplice, then you’ll be happy to hear you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

Robin pulled out his staff and Red X went stiff.

“Kid, you do not want to fight me right now. Just sit down and watch the movie.”

“Why?” Robin asked, slipping into a fighting stance. “Why are you even going after the Bats?”

“He kicked you out,” Red X growled, the sound of his control cracking slipping in his voice.

“So?”

Suddenly the thief was on his feet and grabbing the front of Robin’s suit.

The hero tried to strike him with his staff, but he deflected the blow and pulled him in until they were nose-to-helmet.

“He kicked you out! He fucking kicked you out! Not even three months after he put a kid in the ground, you were on the other side of the country fighting aliens! Alone!”

“I was-”

“And where are the others? Have you even talked to them? Have they tried to talk to you? They have to know where you are, even if Oracle wasn’t as semi-omniscient as she is! You and your clubhouse are all over the news! Has she or Orphan reached out? Signal? Batgirl? Hell, Tim might be an ass, but I thought he’d at least check-in to make sure you didn’t get killed.”

Robin’s breath caught in his throat and he choked out, “How -”

“Where the fuck was Damian in all this? Did he seriously not say shit about Bruce tossing his fucking kid out?”

Despite his best efforts, he was shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was because Red X somehow knew who the Bats were or because everything he had been burying and reburying ever since he left Gotham was being unearthed and shoved in his face even worse than it normally was during Family Weekend, but he couldn’t breathe.

“You weren’t even at the funeral!”

Robin flinched so hard he’d jerked himself free off Red X’s grip and toppled backward. He slammed his eyes shut against the sting of tears and ducked his head as he took in ragged breaths.

That was not the Bats’ fault. That was all him, and the guilt would always weigh on him.

He’d been selfish, so lost in his own problems that he’d completely forgotten Jason’s funeral. He only even realized he missed it when he spotted the pictures in the news and read about it in the gossip columns. His absence had been noticed, of course. Bruce and Damian told everyone he was sick since it had been before he’d been gone long enough for them to need the boarding school lie, but some didn’t believe it. Dick had read every horrible word there’d been to read.

He deserved it.

As soon as he’d realized his mistake, he’d bought some flowers and spent hours in the cemetery apologizing over and over again, but he knew it’d never make up for what he’d done.

“Don’t you get it? They already let one kid run off and stupidly get himself killed and then they just -”

Robin was on top of Red X in a second, pinning him against the couch. “Don’t you ever talk about Batkid like that! He… What happened to him… You don’t get to talk about him!”

It was meant to come out a snarl, but the tears he was fighting back rang out clearly.

He expected another quip, or for Red X to at least try to fight, but he just stared up at Robin as he went limp in the pin. “Kid…”

“How do you know who they are?” the hero snapped, wanting to focus on something -- anything -- else.

“I’m so sorry. If I’d known they hadn’t told you…” the thief started softly. “I thought…”

“Thought what?”

They just stared at each other for a moment, then Red X raised his hands.

The hero watched for any signs of an attack, but the thief just brought his hands to the helmet. He hit the release and pulled the helmet off.

Robin’s breath caught in his throat for the second time.

Under the helmet was a domino mask, light grey with black outlining the white lenses. Even still, Robin had seen the boy behind the mask in a domino too many times to not recognize him.

He was older, his hair a bit longer and choppier. He had a few new scars and his hair was a white color in the front that was just a little too bright to be natural. It was him though.

“Jay?”

Jason gave a familiar grin as he let the helmet fall to the floor. “Hey, Dickie.”

Robin threw himself off the older boy, scrambling to his feet and pointing his staff at him. “No. Jason’s gone. Dead. I don’t know who you are or why you look like that, but…” Robin was losing the fight against his tears.

“Red Bird,” Jason said softly. He reached out for Robin and the hero swatted his hand away.

“Don’t! You’re-He’s dead! You can’t be him!” Unless… Jason had to be dead. It couldn’t have been a test.

A test he must have failed. That’s why Bruce…

“No. He has to be dead,” Robin said, shaking his head and taking a step back. “He-You wouldn’t have lied to me about that. Not… Not Jason. He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Dickie.” Jason came forward, ducking under Robin’s strike to pull him into a hug. “It wasn’t a lie, I promise. I did die. I just… got better.”

“Got better?” Robin sniffed and dropped his arms, not returning the hug or pushing away from it as tears filled his eyes and slipped past the mask. “How do you get better from being dead?”

“Heck if I know,” Jason sighed and eased the mask off Dick’s face. As he gently brushed the tears away, he explained, “I just woke up inside my coffin months later. I didn’t… I wasn’t all there so I ended up just stumbling around Gotham for a few weeks until I got brought to a hospital. The step-mom from hell found me there somehow and stole me away to toss me in one of her stupid green pools.”

“She put you in a Lazarus Pit?” Dick hissed, finally hugging his brother back.

“Yeah. Don’t know if she was trying to hurt Bruce and Damian again by screwing up my head or if she was in one of her Maybe they’ll love me this time! moods and honestly thought it would help. I didn’t stick around to find out, just rampaged through the compound until I was able to escape. I managed to make my way back to Gotham, but…” Jason pressed his face into Dick’s hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I expected when I got back, but… I didn’t expect nothing. Bruce was carrying on as usual. Everyone was. And Joker’s just… back in Arkham, ready to escape another day. I died and the only thing that changed was that Damian shipped you off to play with some other kids in California. Except no, he didn’t. Bruce kicked you out! When Damian died, Bruce nearly killed himself in his search for a way to bring him back, to the point that Duke’s gang had to step in to watch the streets and Tim had to step in to watch Bruce. When I died, nothing.”

“Jay -”

“I know I’m not Cassandra ‘Prodigy’ Wayne or Damian ‘Bloodson’ Wayne or Duke ‘Perfect Child’ Thomas or Tim ‘Teenage CEO’ Drake-Wayne, but I thought he’d at least care that I got killed!” Jason snarled, jerking away from Dick to throw his hands in the air before slamming one onto the coffee table, cracking the wood. “I thought he’d at least give a shit about me!”

“Jason -”

He slammed his hand against the table again, and again. “But he doesn’t! Not enough to actually do something about fucking Joker! Not enough to try and bring me back like he did his flesh and blood! He doesn’t care! None of them fucking care about anything but themselves!”

Dick tried to grab his arm, but Jason threw him off.

He turned to the young boy with a glare. “And then you! They just got rid of you! What? Was Bruce so happy to be rid of me he realized he should have cut off the kid acquisitions with Tim? And everyone just agreed with him!”

“Red Wing, please.”

Jason had been taking a step towards Dick, but at his words he spun away. He slammed both his fists into the table with a snarl and it collapsed. He dropped to his knees, breathing heavily.

Dick watched him for a few minutes. Only when Jason stopped shaking and tugging harshly at his hair did he step closer and sit next to his brother. When he wasn’t rebuffed, he pressed their shoulders together. “The pit?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Damian told me how it affects people. Besides, that table gets destroyed so often we start to get antsy if it lasts more than a week,” Dick chuckled and Jason snorted. He nudged his brother gently. “Is this okay?”

“I’d never hurt you, Red Bird,” Jason declared, though a bit of uncertainty leaked into his voice.

Dick set his head on Jason’s shoulder with a frown. “I know. I was asking if you were okay with me touching you.”

The older brother smiled and wrapped his arm around the younger. “I’m always happy to be your pillow.”

“I’m serious, Jay.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re always serious lately.”

“I still know how to have fun,” Dick said. “You just keep catching me in serious situations.”

Jason gave him a disbelieving expression, but before Dick could comment it shifted into a smile. A familiar smile.

That smile promised a lot of fun, but also explosions and weeks of being grounded. It promised lectures from Bruce to Jason about needing to be a better example and from Tim to Dick about how Jason was a bad influence. It promised exasperated yet fond looks from Cass, Babs, and Damian. If Steph was involved, it promised retaliatory pranks when they placed most of the blame on her. If not, then it promised endless complaining for leaving her out. It promised secret smiles from Duke, either because he hadn’t been involved but still thought it was funny or because he had been involved and was thanking them for not ratting him out.

Altogether, that smile promised the best kind of trouble.

“Jay,” Dick started warningly, but Jason just pulled him to his feet.

“Prove it!”

“What?”

“You think you can still have fun, then prove it!” Jason chuckled, grabbing his helmet and towing Dick out of the room. “Let’s go wreck some stuff!”

“Wh-Jay! We can’t -”

“Calm down, we’ll keep it to the bad guys’ stuff so we don’t hurt your delicate sensibilities.”

Dick glanced down at the X on Jason’s suit. “Speaking of which -”

“Nope. That can wait for after Family Weekend. Right now we’re just Red Bird and Red Wing, not Robin and Red X. We can get back to our little cops and robber game when your friends get back.”

Dick knew he should probably argue. Even ignoring the fact Jason had been discussing murder not even half an hour ago, Red X was still a criminal.

But Red X was also a back-from-the-dead Jason and Robin wasn’t allowed to work during Family Weekend.

“Where are we going?” he asked as they stepped out of the elevator onto the residential floor.

“First stop is your room. I left my stuff there since I knew it would be the last place you’d check. One of us should also probably change if we don’t want to raise questions.”

Dick didn’t bother to ask how Jason knew his way around the tower to the point of knowing where his room was. Clearly, he’d been spying on Dick. It was probably something they’d have to talk about later since Dick knew from experience that his teammates would not appreciate it, but it could wait.

“Well you’ve already stolen my clothes once,” Dick pointed out, tugging at Jason’s cape.

Jason rolled his eyes. “If you didn’t want someone to take the suit you should have locked it away better.”

“I put it in a safe!”

“Not a good one.”

Dick slapped his arm. “You were trained by Selina. Your standards are unreasonable.”

“You say that like she didn’t train you too,” Jason snorted then tugged Dick closer so he could wrap his arm around Dick’s shoulder. “I should probably change though. I don’t know how the family will react if they find out we’re hanging out and I’d rather not risk it ruining our weekend. I can take care of them after.”

“Jas-”

“Yep. Sorry. Work talk later. So, Red Bird, you know of any bad guy bases worth ransacking? Or at least an empty factory we can go to town in? I got some new toys I want to try out.”

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

Impulse was tapping her foot in superspeed as she scrolled through her phone.

“And none of you have talked to him since Friday morning?” Wonder Girl asked and she paced across the living area.

“We texted on Saturday, but it was just a quick check-in. He said he was busy, I needed to stop worrying, and he’d see me today,” Nightstar said, not looking up from her book. She seemed for all the world relaxed, but the others had all noticed she hadn’t turned the page in over a half hour.

“There’s still nothing on social media,” Impulse said, refreshing the page. “I found a few mentions just before lunchtime on Friday of someone on the rooftops that could have been him, but that’s it.”

“The same can be said for the news sites,” Virus said from inside the computer. “Robin has not appeared on any of the news sites since our fight with Mother Mae-Eye last week.”

Wonder Girl tried her T-Communicator again and scowled when it wouldn’t connect to Robin’s. “Are you sure he didn’t head over to one of the others’ bases?”

“I had Speedy and Dove on Robin duty so I know he didn’t hit Titans East or North,” Nightstar said.

“And Aquagirl tells Turtle everything so if he’d shown up at Titans South she would have told him and he would have told me so I would know and I don’t so he didn’t,” Impulse said quickly.

Nightstar looked up from her book and squeezed the younger girl’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll find him. He probably just took off to do some recon and didn’t tell us because he knew we’d yell at him for not taking the weekend off.”

“He’s going to spend the next week locked in a cell if that’s true,” Wonder Girl huffed. “Then he’ll have no choice but to take a break.”

“Robin would just break out,” Virus argued.

“Maybe I should take a run around the city, just in case,” Impulse said, standing up.

“The tracker on Robin’s R-Cycle showed Robin heading out of the city before the tracker was disabled so Impulse likely would not find Robin by running around the city,” Virus pointed out and the girls turned to his computer.

“You didn’t say anything about him leaving town earlier,” Nightstar said.

“Virus did not think the information was relevant. The information doesn’t help the Teen Titans find Robin since the tracker was disabled before any set destination could be determined.”

“Except we had no idea he’d left town until now! When did this happen?”

“Friday afternoon. Robin le-” Virus cut off as an alert came up. “Oh! Someone just accessed the tunnel leading to the garage.”

“Robin?” Nightstar asked, getting to her feet.

“The people in the tunnel used Robin’s codes, but there are two people and both are on foot. The sensors aren't registering Robin’s gear.”

The girls shared a look and ran for the stars, Nightstar calling over her shoulder, “Meet us down there!”

“On the way!”

Impulse ran down the stairs while Nightstar and Wonder Girl flew down the center. They slipped into the garage to find Virus already waiting. The four took defensive positions behind workbenches and toolboxes just as voices began to reach them.

“You owe me a new R-Cycle. And a new communicator. And -”

Impulse perked up at Robin’s voice, but Nightstar waved her quiet before she could react as a second voice answered, “First of all, how was I supposed to know trying to use your fancy walkie-talkie would break it? Who’s stupid design flaw was that?”

“It’s to prevent it from being stolen and used against the Titans.”

“Okay, that’s actually a good idea, but it’s still not my fault. Second, the paint was your idea! Don’t try blaming that on me.”

“You blew up the crates too soon!”

“No, I didn’t! I told you fifteen minutes!”

“You only gave me fourteen!”

“I gave you fifteen!” the unknown voice yelled as two figures walked into the garage.

The first was obviously Robin, though he was dressed more casually than any of the Titans had ever seen him. Gone was the armored suit, replaced with blue jeans and a red hoodie with a bat insignia over the chest. He still wore his domino mask and steel-toed boots, but the latter was speckled with red paint.

The second boy looked around Nightstar’s age. He was tall and broad, but not bulky. He wore a suit similar to Robin’s, but black and plain. A brown leather jacket was thrown over the top with a red bird patch on the shoulder that matched his red domino mask.

The new boy was scowling at Robin, who was scowling back. Even still, both looked completely relaxed and a smirk was tugging at the new boy’s lips.

“Maybe you need a new watch. Or maybe you just forgot how to count. Did you forget eleven was a thing again?”

The new boy jumped at Robin and instantly the two were brawling, throwing punches left and right and trying to pin each other. The fight was clearly well-practiced, in Wonder Girl’s opinion. Not choreographed or restrained, but instead a flurry of movements that showed how the two knew each other’s fighting style enough to both predict most attacks and roll with those they didn’t. Despite just how rough their roughhousing was, she could see neither was actually trying to hurt the other.

The others didn’t quite catch onto that though as all three darted in to break up the fight. Nightstar grabbed the new boy and pinned him against a workbench while Impulse and Virus placed themselves in front of Robin.

“Woah, what? Titans, stand down. Red Wing, don’t hurt her.”

“Don’t hurt her? I’m the one pinned,” the boy gasped dramatically.

“You’re also the one with the souped-up taser,” Robin deadpanned.

The boy smirked and revealed the device in his hand, which crackled with red lightning. He turned it off and tucked it into his jacket as he winked up at Nightstar. “You know, Princess, if you wanted to get all up close and personal, all you had to do was ask.”

Her eyes glowed purple, but Robin grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she could blast the other boy.

“Don’t flirt with my teammates please,” Robin sighed.

“Not my fault you surround yourself with beautiful girls, Kid,” the boy said as he sat up, winking at Wonder Girl this time.

“Who are you?” she demanded, hand falling to her boleadoras.

“What? Don’t recognize me without the x motif and skull mask? I’m hurt.”

“Red X?” Impulse said, glancing between Robin and the boy.

He gave her finger guns while Robin smacked his forehead.

“What is going on?” Virus asked.

“Well, wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome,” Red X said, stuffing his hand in his pockets. “Family Weekend’s been fun, bro. I’ll let you know when I steal a new cycle for you from the old man so you can tell me if I need to add any bells and whistles. Later.”

“You’re not -” Nightstar started, but cut off as Red X dropped something that caused smoke to flood through the garage. “Impulse!”

“He’s already gone,” Robin sighed.

A moment later the ventilation system kicked in and cleared the air to reveal Robin was right.

The four all turned to him and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sooooooooo… you spent the weekend with Red X?” Impulse asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Red X called Robin brother?” Virus said.

“A really long story. The short of it is Red’s just been keeping an eye on me, in his own weird way.”

“He stole your suit,” Wonder Girl said and Robin shrugged.

“So are we just supposed to not go after him if he shows up?” Impulse asked.

“No, this doesn’t change anything about how we treat him in the field.”

Impulse opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. “Kid Flash is right. You Gothamites are insane when you get together.”

Robin shrugged again. He grabbed the duffle bag he’d dropped when he and Red X had started fighting and turned to the elevator. “I need to make a call then we can check in with the others.”

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

Dick stared down at his new T-Communicator. He should just call Dove. It would make things easier.

“Barbara Gordon here,” a voice said as the call on the phone in his other hand connected.

Dick took a deep breath and let it out. “Hey, Babs.”

“... Dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I-Hey, how -”

“Jason’s going after Bruce.”

“What?”

“He wants to kill him. He wants to kill the whole family, really, but Bruce seems to be his main focus. Damian too, maybe. I don’t know how much trouble he’s been causing so far, but it’s about to get worse.”

“I-You saw Jason?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine. He didn’t have any reason to do anything.”

“You said he was trying to kill the whole family.”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat and his hand tightened around the phone. “Yeah, well, clearly I’m not part of that.”

“Di-”

“He also might try to steal a motorcycle, but that might have been a joke. You should probably keep an eye out either way,” Dick added then hung up. He turned his phone off when it immediately started ringing. He tossed it into his lockbox and flopped down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

A few minutes later someone knocked on his door. He shut the lockbox and knocked it back into its hiding spot with his foot before calling for them to come in.

Nightstar slipped in, but just shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She waited a moment before saying, “X isn’t Tim or Duke.”

“Never said he was.”

“But he implied he was and you didn’t correct him.”

“Tim and Duke aren’t my brothers, Mandy.”

“By your logic, you don’t have any family at all. So why is X going around calling you brothers?”

Dick didn’t respond.

“Why’d you spend Family Weekend with him? Why are you wearing a jacket you normally keep locked away with all the other Batman-related things you pretend don’t exist?”

Dick frowned and dropped his hand to his hoodie. “It’s not Batman’s logo.”

“Sure, Dick, and I -”

“It’s Batkid’s.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh. Oh shit.”

“Mandy.”

“You think he’s… him.”

“He is.”

“Dick, Jason died.”

“Like I said, long story. He is back. The others know it too, considering the call I just had with Bab-Barbara.”

“You actually talked to her,” she said softly, coming to sit next to him.

“I talked at her. She didn’t get to say much. I just needed to warn her and the others about something Jay said and it’s too involved in our civilian identities to trust the message with Dove.”

“Sure, or maybe you just wanted to hear her voice.”

Dick glared up at her. “I want to hear all of their voices, is that what you want me to say? You know I’m not afraid to admit I miss them, it’s just not going to change anything.”

“Admitting it is the first step,” she shot back. “Now do something about it.”

“They don’t want me, Mandy. I’m not going to go crawling back there just to get shunted back into juvie!”

“You don’t know that’s what will happen.”

“Yes, I do!”

She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up so they were eye to eye. “Aren’t you the one who pushed me to reconnect with my mom?”

“That’s different and you know it,” he said, pushing her hands off.

“Why?”

“She’s your mom.”

“And they’re your family.”

“No, they’re not!”

“Di-”

He stood up. “They know where I am! I’m not trying to hide! I didn’t even change my codename! If any of them wanted to talk to me, Babs could easily contact me! At the very least, she or Steph could have Holly give me the message! Or Damian could ask Jon to pass the message to Eliza and she could give it to me! And yet that call is the only time I’ve heard from any of them since the Fight! Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re terrible at dealing with emotions when they’re your own and the rest of your family is the same or worse,” she deadpanned.

“Just drop it.”

She sighed and got up to leave. She paused before opening the door. “You’re going to have to deal with this one of these days. Probably sooner than you think if you’re going to keep talking to Jason.”

“Doubtful. He isn’t exactly sitting down for tea with the Bats either right now.”

She shook her head and left.

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

A little explanation of characters mentioned

Teen Titans:

Robin - Richard "Dick" Grayson: Foster son of Damian Wayne (15yo)

Virus - Galv-10 "Galvio" of Gex (~16yo in comparison to human development)

Nightstar - Ma’andkori "Mandy" Grace: Daughter of Kory and Artemis Grace (17yo)

Impulse - Iris "Irey" West: Daughter of Wally West, Twin of Jai (15yo)

Wonder Girl - Yara Flor: Daughter of an Amazon and Brazilian God (16yo)

Other Titans:

Turtle - Jai West: Son of Wally West, Twin of Irey (15yo)

Speedy - Dinah "Di" Harper: Second Daughter of Roy Harper (16yo)

Dove - Holly Hall: Daughter of Hank and Dawn Hall (14yo)

Aquagirl - Mareena: Daughter of Kaldur'ahm (14yo)

Supergirl - Eliza Zor-El/Eliza Lutessa Luthor: Clone of Kara and Lena Luthor (13yo)

Bats:

Batman - Bruce Wayne (49yo)

Catwoman - Selina Kyle-Wayne (50yo)

Oracle - Barbara Gordon (41yo)

Orphan - Cassandra "Cass" Wayne: Eldest Child/Only Daughter of Bruce Wayne (36yo)

Flamebird - Damian Wayne: Oldest Son of Bruce Wayne (26yo)

Nightwing - Jon-El/Jonathan "Jon" Samuel Kent: Partner of Flamebird (26)yo

Signal - Duke Thomas: Second Son of Bruce Wayne (23yo)

Black Bat - Timothy "Tim" Drake-Wayne: Third Son of Bruce Wayne (22yo)

Batgirl - Stephanie Brown (21yo)

Red X - Jason Peter Todd-Wayne: Fourth Son of Bruce Wayne (17yo)

#batfam #teen titans #reverse robins #dick grayson #Jason Todd #batkid and robin

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arrow-guy · 4 years

Text

Broken Flock (8/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Okay, I can say, for sure, that this chapter is the end of Pain Pain Pain. Chapter nine will see things start to actually look up and head towards getting better. However, this chapter still does touch on some serious themes that could potentially trigger some readers, so please read at your own discretion.

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Warnings: Anxiety, needles, canon typical violence, general angst

Part 7

“There’s no news,” Steve says.

“Then we need to go further,” Bucky insists. “We don’t know who these people are. We don’t know how they operate and we don’t know where they’d go.”

“I know, Buck, we’re doing what we can with what we’ve got, but we can’t just rush into this without a plan.”

“There’s no proper procedure for this, Steve! The option is to go out, and look. That is the plan. She didn’t disappear on a busy street corner, she was shot down in the middle of the fucking woods and dragged away. If we don’t rush into it, she could be dead by the time we find her.” Bucky curls his hands into tight fists on the table. “She’s already been missing for three days. If we don’t do something fast…”

Steve nods. “I know.”

“I’m gonna pull Stark in on this.”

“Buck-”

“He’ll at least have recent satellite footage we can use.” He shoves back from the table and heads for the door.

“Don’t put this on Tony,” Steve says. “He’s already made himself sick worrying about her.”

“I don’t know what else to do here, Steve. Either we put a team together and get our asses in gear, or I’m going to start tearing the countryside apart till I find her.”

Steve sighs. “Fine. You and Clint start your search. I’ll work with Nat and Sam on this end and we’ll do what we can to help.”

Bucky pauses and looks Steve over. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You have an idea of where to start, so you should go with that. We’ll get everything sorted out here and keep you updated.”

Bucky nods. “I’ll be in touch.”

He breezes out of the room, immediately in search of Clint. Steve sighs and calls Natasha and Sam to meet him.

Clint is with Natasha when Bucky finds him. He places his hand on Clint’s shoulder to get his attention and Natasha excuses herself from the room.

“What is it?” Clint asks.

“We’ve got the green light to start looking for her.”

Clint shoots up from the couch. “Really?”

Bucky nods. “Steve almost didn’t agree.”

“You threatened him with Tony, didn’t you.”

“Yes.”

Clint almost laughs, but clamps his hand over his mouth. His hand moves to the back of Bucky’s neck and he presses their foreheads together.

“We’re gonna get her back, Buck.”

“I know.” Bucky wraps his arms around Clint. “We should leave soon.”

“Yeah,” Clint sighs. “Come on. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“They’ll find me,” I whisper to myself. “I left a note. They’ll find me.”

With my head between my knees, I close myself in my wings. I rock back and forth, trying to find some kind of comfort in myself. I don’t have my shoes anymore and my pant legs are little more than shreds at this point. The jacket I wore when I first arrived is long gone and my shirt was traded out for a thin tank top a long time ago, leaving me with little more than my own down to keep myself warm.

I don’t know where I am or how long I’ve been here, but I do know that Clint and Bucky would never leave me here to rot. Just thinking about how worried they must be brings tears to my eyes. Guilt settles in my stomach and I swipe my tears away before they fall. Crying isn’t going to get me anywhere, and it’ll definitely just leave me more dehydrated and sore than I already am.

The door slams open and I jerk my head up, but hold my wings tighter around me. Through gaps in my feathers, I can see their shadow as they move through the barn. I watch as they pace around the space in front of me. They stop abruptly and I clamp one hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp when they approach me. They grab the chain attached to the manacles around my ankles and I silently beg them to drop it. They take several steps forward with the chain in their hand and they chuckle when they see me curl around myself even further.

Finally, they drop the chain and stop just in front of me. I bite down on my fist in an attempt to stay as quiet as possible.

“Arm.” I don’t say anything or move, and they kick me, laughing when they hear me wince. “I said arm, you dumb fucking bird.”

I slowly extend my right arm between my wings and they grab my wrist and yank me forward. I fall forward onto my knees and catch myself with my left hand. I refuse to look up at them, knowing that they’ll only try to hurt me further.

I’ve realized, in the time that I’ve been here, that they need me alive and in one piece for their tests, but they don’t necessarily care about hurting me. This man is no exception.

“Y’know,” he says idly. “I can’t figure out why they care about keeping you alive. They never did with the others. Went through the first ones like wildfire.”

He jabs a needle into my arm and I turn my face away to avoid the sight of my own blood. He doesn’t do anything to hurt me further, but I still flinch when he pulls the needle out. I shiver and clutch my arm to my chest when he lets go and I see his shadow shake its head.

“They think you’re somethin’ special, but I don’t see it. You look just like every other bird freak that’s been through here. Only difference is that you’re alive and awake.” He crouches down and tips my head up with a finger under my chin. I can see the detachment from what he’s doing in his face, which makes my anxiety spike. “You haven’t been nearly as interesting as the rest, though. Don’t struggle as much. Why?”

“I don’t know,” I croak out.

“Huh.” He grabs my jaw and tips my head from one side to another. “They’ll take you apart, one little bit at a time, till there’s nothing left. You know that, right?”

“Oh.”

“Mmm, and I’ll be there to see it, too. Might even get to help out a little.” His grip on my jaw tightens and I whimper. “I look forward to it.”

I can't stop myself from asking, "Why?"

"You're so innocent and scared." He squeezes my cheeks and his face morphs into something crazed and animalistic. "That little doe eyed look is exactly why."

I don’t say anything and the light in his eyes seems to dim as he loses interest. He shoves me to the side and gestures for someone at the door before he stands up and walks off. Someone new shuffles in and crouches in the same place as the man before. They reach out to my arm and I jerk away from them, only succeeding in cracking my head against the wall. They sigh, shuffle closer, and press two fingers to my pulse. They take their count and then grab at my arm again, and their fingers wrap around my wrist.

“You’re ice cold,” they say.

“I sleep in a fucking drafty ass barn, of course I’m cold,” I mutter.

They hum and squeeze my wrist momentarily before standing and dropping a paper bag at their feet.

“Get some rest,” they say. “You’ll need it.”

They leave and I wait till the door closes to reach out to the bag. Inside, I find a chunk of bread, a couple of slices of cheese, a small apple, and a bottle of water. I nearly ball up the bag and chuck it across the barn, but my stomach growls. I sigh and reach into the bag and take out each item, placing the bread, apple, and cheese in my lap. I set the water on the floor and tear the bag open to make a sort of placemat. I reorganize the food on the torn up bag and stare at it, momentarily wondering why the hell I even set it up like this.

I shake my head and eat what little food I’ve been given.

“Found anything?”

“Some locals have been shooed off their land recently,” Clint says. “They saw some weird shit going down a few weeks back and now they’re being asked to leave.”

“I think they said someone offered to buy their plots to try and get them to leave,” Bucky adds.

“Weird,” Sam says. “They got any idea where these people are holed up?”

“Not from what we can tell,” Clint sighs. “I think they’re too freaked out to try and look into it.”

“Which is understandable, considering the firepower some of these goons apparently have,” Bucky shakes his head. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to just find one guy.”

“I know, Buck.”

“I might be able to help with that.”

“How?”

“We’ve been cleared for aerial recon. I’ll be flying out around the area you’re in later today. See if there’s anything I can find that you can’t see on the ground.”

“How long have you been working on this?” Bucky asks.

“I put in a request the day after you talked to Steve. Had a helluva time trying to get Ross to agree, but Stark suggested that there’d be no way anyone would ever sign the accords if he let one of their own disappear without a trace.”

“Thank him for us,” Clint says.

“Will do.”

Anxious to get the search underway, Bucky asks, “How soon can you get out here?”

“I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Great, we’ll go back over what we’ve got and send you anything useful. Has Natasha found anything since she last called?”

“Not much, but I’ll let her know you could use whatever she’s got.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. See you guys soon.”

“See you.”

Sam hangs up and Bucky leans back in his seat.

“That’s good news,” Clint says. “We’ll be able to cover more ground now. Find her faster.”

Bucky nods absently. “It’s been almost a week.”

“I know.” Clint takes Bucky’s hand. “We’ll find her. She’s strong, we’ll-” his voice breaks and he takes a deep breath. “We’ll get her back.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “You keep saying that.”

“Because we will.”

“Say it enough times, and it’ll come true, right?”

Clint nods. “Exactly. She’s probably doing her best for us. We have to be strong for her too.”

“I know.” Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. “We’ll find her.”

“We will.” Clint kisses the back of Bucky’s hand. “We absolutely will.”

“Yeah, this place looks real sketchy.”

“Explain,” Bucky says.

“The barn is old and rickety, probably a little too close to falling down to keep any kind of livestock in. There’s a building that’s attached though, and it’s newer.”

“Can you get a closer look?”

“Not a chance. Shit’s on lock-down. At least twenty guys around the perimeter, and who knows what else inside.”

Bucky sighs and lays back in the grass. “We’ve been watching this dump for two days. We’re pretty fuckin sure she’s in there. Can we please just rush in and start shooting?”

“Not yet,” Clint says.

“Please, Clint.”

“Give it a day, man,” Sam says. “Let them get a little restless and see what they do. They might just bring (Y/N) to us.”

“It’d give us time to get Steve and Nat up here,” Clint adds. “Extra hands on this would make it easier for us to focus on getting to (Y/N) instead of avoiding getting shot.”

“Fine. But only because we could use the help.”

“I’ll do another lap and then I’m headed back to the compound. I’ll call you guys when we’ve got a plan of attack.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Clint says. “We’ll talk to you soon.”

They hang up and Bucky reaches out for Clint’s hand. Clint laces their fingers and sighs softly.

“We’re so close,” Bucky mutters.

“I know. She’s less than a mile away now.” Clint’s gaze is distant.

Bucky recognizes Clint closing himself off, preparing for the worst. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“You’re shutting down.” Bucky sighs and squeezes Clint’s hand. “She’s not dead.”

“Buck…”

“If she were, they wouldn’t need so many guards.”

“I know, I’m just… I’m just worried.”

“I know.”

Clint flops down beside him and rolls onto his side. “You’re not supposed to be the optimist here.”

“Yeah well, it’s not fun to be pessimistic if we’re both dragging each other down.” Bucky looks over at Clint and offers a small smile. “We’re close. We’ll get her back. There’s no other option.”

“Did you hear what Todd was saying earlier?”

"What're you talking about, man?"

"He said scanners picked up on two bodies a little over a mile away."

"No shit?"

"Yeah, and there was something buzzing by the barn yesterday and today. Said boss lady's real freaked out."

"You think it could be the Avengers?"

The first man laughs. "Why the hell would the Avengers be interested in us? It's not like we've done anything to them."

"I dunno, man. What about this chick?"

"What about her?"

"I think she was with the Avengers for a while. Like I think I saw her on TV at one point."

"Nah, man, that was the Falcon. There's only one Avenger with wings and it's a dude in a suit. We're home free."

“I dunno, man… I got a bad feeling about that.”

“Look, it’s two guys. What can they do against all of us?”

The second man laughs hesitantly. “I guess you’re right.”

I cough into my elbow and freeze when their eyes snap to me. I curl into myself, hoping that they’ll just ignore me and go back to their conversation.

“You got something to add, freak?” the first man asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

He squints at me. “You think someone’s looking for you?”

“I don’t know,” I murmur.

“How the fuck do you not know?”

Anger flares in my stomach. “I don’t know what time it is most of the time. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. So forgive me if I don’t know jack fuckin shit about whatever it is you two are bickering about in your little doorway over there.”

The first man squinted at me and gestured to his friend. “Get the boss.”

“Which one?”

“Both of ‘em.”

“Oh shit.”

The second man ran off in search of the bosses. I can only assume the first man meant the Doctor and her right hand man. I think I’d be worried, if I didn’t know that the Doctor wants me alive for whatever other tests she’s got planned. Besides that, my mind is buzzing with what the two men were talking about. Just the idea of Clint and Bucky knowing where I am fills me with just a little hope.

The second man returns, flanked by three burly guards, followed by the Doctor and her right hand man. The two men from before and the guards wrestle me up from the floor and I do what I can to push back against them. My legs are still shackled to the floor, so I can't get far, but I manage to punch one of the guards in the eye. He stumbles back, clutching his face.

"Don't fucking touch me," I hiss.

The Doctor’s right hand steps up and slaps me across the face. My head snaps to the side and heat blooms in my cheek. The guard I punched kicks me in the stomach, forcing the air from my lungs. I hang in the grip of my captors and they force me onto my knees. I glance up to find the Doctor leaning over me, holding something out to her right hand. He forces my wings flat against my back and he works with the Doctor to belt them down.

“Chain her up,” the Doctor instructs. “Don’t touch her wings, and don’t break any bones.”

She’s answered with a chorus of “Yes, ma’am.” and she walks out of the barn.

“What do we do, boss?” the first man asks.

The right hand tuts. “You hit her, of course, you empty headed morons.”

“Don’t be a puss about it,” I add. I’m going to regret egging them on, but there’s only so much they can do to me, and Clint and Bucky are so close. “Really make it count.”

“Oh, believe me, bird girl,” the right hand says. “We will.”

-----------

Part 9

Honestly, I do not like hurting characters, and I promise we’re nearly at the end of the pain. It’s totally cool if anyone’s still kind of upset with me lmao

As always, I’d love to hear what you guys think, so please comment, reblog, and/or shoot me an ask!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

Tag List:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23 @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @feelmyroarrrr, @darling-loki, @lemonadeorange73, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark

This fic:

@avengerscompound, @nerdy-bookworm-1998, @shirukitsune, @keenmarvellover

#winterhawkxreader #readerxwinterhawk #winterhawk x reader #reader x winterhawk #bucky barnesxreader #readerxbucky barnes #clint bartonxreader #readerxclint barton #bucky barnes #clint barton #steve rogers #reader insert marvel fic

42 notes · View notes

avaticancameo · 3 years

Text

MEETING THE PARENTS | WILL & LEO FOR @theasteriae

LEO

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be here,” Leo said out of the side of his mouth.

“Because I didn’t know.” He could see the tension in Bash’s neck and shoulders as he tried to avoid looking in their father’s direction. He’d have to speak to him eventually, of course—Sebastian was the whole reason everyone was here tonight—but the longer either of them could put that off, the better.

It didn’t help that Leo was already anxious. Not restless like his brother, who’d always had too much energy, absent, but rather the opposite. Hyperfocused on his phone.

Will was in London, filming. He’d be getting a taxi, then a train, and would be home well after this evening was over, and Leo knew his phone had to be turned off on set, but even the knowledge that Will would be travelling sometime that evening made him nervous. He needed to know when he was leaving, when he was onboard, what time he was due in. Not keeping tabs, but so he knew he was safe.

Leo had been in the back of an armoured truck when it was attacked. Even the thought of small journeys made him sweat, sometimes.

He glanced up from his screen ( no new messages ) to see Augustus shaking hands with the party member who’d waylaid him and moving across the room towards them.

“Shit, is that—? Better go before Percy destroys the entire drinks table,” Bash said, dashing off. Leo looked around. His nephew was nowhere near the table of delicate champagne glasses. Fucking traitor.

Still, he fixed a smile on his face and prayed this conversation would be quickly over. Surely, Bash was worthy of more attention than him tonight?

WILL

Will still had his suit on. Very luckily, wardrobe said he could messenger it back once they found out he was planning to surprise Leo. It didn’t take much convincing, chatting to a couple of the girls about how incredible his fiancé was had done wonders. It fit like a glove, slim and a beautiful blue colour that stood out from the black ones drifting around in the already crowded room.

As soon as he spotted Leo, he awkwardly sped over to him, grabbing him by the waist with the intention to show him just how much Will had missed him. It hadn’t been so long this time, three days in London versus the weeks to months they were used to. But it never got easier. “Hey Baby-“

He wanted to hold him, shower him in love to cover up for the fact he would get a small telling off for show. But something was off...

LEO

Leo was in the middle of a sentence, answering Augustus's question about work--Why did you give up an active role in the army for a desk job in Manchester of all places? Sounding more accusative than concerned, even though Leo's injuries might have made touring legitimately too much for him, as time went on--when arms around his waist cut him off.

He knew that touch, knew that voice in his ear, and for a second, he felt all the things he should have felt ( joy, exasperation, love, desire ), but then all those emotions were overtaken by a heavy feeling in his stomach. Fear. His father's blue eyes were boring into him, and Leo felt that familiar wave of panic and nausea come over him.

He scrambled to push Will's hands off, turning over his shoulder with wide eyes and a minute shake of his head. He wanted to say, Hey, baby, back. What are you doing here, you bastard? Give me a kiss. But all that actually came out was, "Will, this is--This is my father. Can you--?" Not. Thanks.

WILL

His chest was swollen with pride, but his brows knotted together as Leo shoved his hands away. This wasn’t right. The full sense of fear on his face was easy to read but didn’t make any sense. Will didn’t see the small shake, instead going for a kiss on the cheek once he had his fiancé in front of him. He pressed his body against Leo’s, trying to set a hand on the back of his neck and totally missing these cues.

At the start it had been Will who was the one to dictate what they acted like in public, so even now he set the pace. He had missed Leo more than anything. Only then did the words sink in, Will glancing back over Leo’s shoulder at the older man. “W-what? Wait, this is who?”

LEO

"My father," Leo repeated, taking a step back to avoid the kiss and the reach of Will's hand. He so badly wanted to lean into them, into him, and let all of this go, but he froze up as soon as he thought about it. "Dad, this is Will. He's a--friend--of mine, from--"

"--Yes. Very friendly, by the looks of things," Augustus said, cutting across him disapprovingly. "A handshake will suffice for me, thank you." His eyes were glacial as he held out his right hand towards Will. "You served together in Afghanistan, did you?"

WILL

Will’s eyes moved from Leo, to Augustus, and back again. Right. That father. The father who pushed him too far and had him feeling so small. Now he really looked at his boyfriend, Leo wasn’t carrying himself right. His shoulders weren’t so broad, and his eyes...

His jaw tightened visibly at Augustus’s remark. But he blinked, and smiled all the same. “Not together, no.” He didn’t extend a hand to Augustus, preferring instead to try and thread his fingers through Leo’s. He looked like he needed it. And Will didn’t need the disapproving look of shock the sight of his hand would earn.

“I was with a different branch, also got blown up. Turns out it’s way more common than you’d think.”

He turned back to Leo, more focused on him. “You alright? You want a drink or something? I can-“

LEO

Leo wasn't as tall as his father or his brothers ( even Bella had two inches on him ), but the way he held himself usually made him look taller. Head up, shoulders back, back straight. But in front of Augustus he seemed to have shrunk. Hunched in on himself, like he was ashamed to be standing there. And no wonder.

"Stand up straight. I can't believe you'd get away with that on the parade square." Augustus let his hand linger for another couple of seconds before dropping it with an unimpressed hum. "So you met where?"

"In the rehab centre," Leo explained. "Yeah--yes--a drink would be--" He managed a small smile. "--Great." He put a hand on Will's arm and gave it a quick squeeze. "Why don't I catch up with you in a bit?"

But Augustus wasn't going to let him go so easily. "No," he said. "Stay. I'd be very interested to hear more." Specifically about his relationship with his youngest son.

WILL

It was hard not to cover his neck in kisses, anything to give be Leo his pride back. But Will tried to read his other half better, pick up on the cues. Augustus was only interested in taking a chunk out of him. “It’s Major now, if you want to address him properly.”

Normally the story of how they met was accompanied with awkward laughter. Nervous and a little hesitant but Leo told it so well. But Will stood fully confused, the ring he had given Leo still visible on his finger. The friend comment he could understand, but the fact Leo’s parents seemed totally clueless? That stung.

He placed his undamaged hand on Leo’s, giving it a small squeeze too. “What do you want me to do?” He was fully ignoring Augustus until he turned back to the old man.

“What do you want to know?”

LEO

"And it's Lord," Augustus countered, "If you wish to address me properly." His cold stare moved from Will to Leo and back again. "I want to know why you're here. This is event is for party and family members only, as I understood it."

Leo's fingers curled around Will's, not letting him go. He didn't want to do this, not here, not now--not ever, if he was honest--but he also didn't want to be left alone with Augustus. He looked around for Bash again, but he'd made himself very scarce, the bastard. "Stay," he said. "Please. Will's here because I invited him, Dad."

"Why?" A sandy eyebrow was raised towards his whitening hairline.

"Because like you said, this thing is for family. And Will is my family now."

WILL

It took a second for him to bite back the retort of I don’t. as he felt Leo hold his hand too. It was a start. He was stood on Leo’s right, fighting the urge to lean against him for support like he always did. It had been a long day and he had expected a nice evening with the person he loved most in the world, not this.

Will have his hand a small squeeze with his two good fingers. “You sure?” His voice was so low it was only designed for Leo to hear. “We can go, you don’t have to be here.”

LEO

Leo bit down on the inside of his lip ( best not to show any outward signs of weakness in front of Augustus ) as he watched Will lean his weight more on his right foot. He was tired, off balance, and all Leo wanted to do was wrap an arm around his middle, kiss his cheek, and hold him close.

But he had to settle for keeping hold of his hand.

“Yeah. I promised Sebastian I’d stay to see his speech and—“

“—Where is your brother, Leopold? We’re all here for him, and he’s not even shown his face yet.”

Good question, Leo thought. “I think he had to take a phone call. Do you want me to go and—?”

“—No.” Apparently Augustus was incapable of letting his son finish a sentence. “I’ll go. Thank you. Make sure you stop and say hello to your mother, she worries about you. But don’t go too far. I’m not finished with you yet.”

WILL

Again, Will ignored Augustus completely. “I’ll make excuses. Blame me if you want, we can get out of here and-“

Augustus was hitting every last nerve he had. At once. He was gripping Leo’s hand just a little too tight.

“Do you want to see your mum?”

LEO

“No,” Leo said, letting go of a long breath as Augustus turned and walked away from them. His shoulders dropped a little way, but his chest seemed to be caving in in the centre. “I mean—Not yet. I just need a minute.”

He slipped an arm around Will’s middle, selfishly looking for support as much as he was now supporting his fiancé. “We should sit down, you must be exhausted. Have you come straight from the studio? I thought you weren’t going to be done in time.”

WILL

The very second Augustus was out of earshot, Will felt Leo change. “What the fuck was his problem?” He muttered, half under his breath and half through gritted teeth. But Leo pulled him close, propped him up so it was easier to take some weight off. He leaned into him, but nothing more to show any real affection.

“You said friend, to your dad. You said we were friends.”

That had been playing over and over in his mind, a little eased by the fact Leo had also called him family.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I couldn’t text on the road, my phone was dead.”

LEO

“What?” Leo’s mind was elsewhere, in work mode, looking for exits; it took him a minute to catch up with what Will was saying. “Oh, yeah, look … Can we go outside a second? It’s a bit hot in here. Crowded.” He still felt like Augustus’s eyes were boring into his back.

They started moving towards the door. There were gardens out the back of the hotel, places for them to sit, for Will to take the weight off his leg. Leo didn’t speak again till he’d dropped down onto a bench, face hidden in his hands. “The thing is, my dad doesn’t exactly—know that I’m out? And I didn’t know how to tell him here. I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to be here. Didn’t know you were going to be here. But I’m so glad to see you, baby, please …”

And finally, Leo leaned in for a kiss.

WILL

Will nodded, following behind Leo with his usual awkward gait. He was a little more stiff than he was letting on, a downside from being on his feet all day. It would be fine when he had a chance to settle. Will say down next to Leo, an arm immediately draping back over where his shoulders should be, an invitation to lean on him now.

But the words caught him off guard. Will pulled back, dodging the kiss himself this time. “What? What do you mean he didn’t know?”

He was a bit in shock at that. They had been talking marriage and babies, a real future together. And somehow this felt like the kind of important thing he should have known. “Does he know anything about us?”

LEO

Leo loved the spot where Will’s shoulder met his neck; it was the perfect place for him to lay his head, with plenty of access to Will’s throat, which was often as bruised as his own. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to do just that, get in nice and close, but Will pulled away from him, looking at him like he’d suddenly grown a second head or something.

“I mean,” Leo said heavily, slumping further into his seat. Augustus wasn’t even here now, and he was still making Leo look small. “He doesn’t know. Well, he probably does now, but—I’ve never talked to him about it. Mum knew. She knows all about you. She doesn’t mention it. But she knows I’m in love with and engaged to the most amazing man I have ever met and will ever meet, and I hope she can find it in herself to come to the wedding. But Dad—“ He winced.

“—I knew he wouldn’t like it. There were so many times I went to tell him, but he has this way of looking at you and just—making you freeze up. So, I haven’t yet, and I’m sorry. But I meant what I said in there. You’re my family, and I love you, I’m just—I’m a fucking coward is what I am.”

WILL

His hand slipped slowly from the back of the bench up Leo’s spine, drifting softly over the back of his blazer. This was a lot to take in, especially here and now. They had been together almost a decade, and seeing how Leo seized up when it came to talking about his parents they just... didn’t come up. But Will assumed they knew about him in the very least.

“Right. So you’ve not done that conversation. Does he know you’re getting married? What does he think is going on?”

Maybe ignorance was bliss. But Will was wound tight now, and frustrated at this whole situation. He swallowed the worst of his hurt at being kept in the dark to try and make the best of a bad batch.

“No, you’re not a coward. Don’t say that. Just... you see how this looks to me, right? We’ve been together almost a bloody decade.”

LEO

“No.” Leo’s left hand suddenly felt very heavy, the ring Will had given him weighing it down like it never had done before. “He doesn’t know anything.” He started fiddling with it, twisting it round and round on his finger. “We don’t talk about this kind of thing. Feelings. He doesn’t care how we feel, just as long as we’re doing something that makes him look good.”

He was breathing heavily, but the hand on his back helped a bit. It would have been more grounding if Will had been less tense, but, Leo reasoned, he had every right to be standoffish with him. “I know, I get it, I do. If our positions were reversed …” He shook his head. “… But just because I didn’t tell one person, Will, that doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I’m not ashamed of you, I was trying to protect you.”

WILL

“What about your brothers? Your aunt and uncle? Did you ask them not to say anything?” His thumb moved in small circles, trying to encourage Leo to take deep breaths. But he was too focused right now to be loving, this was almost the version of him that had been in the army. Information gathering, listening intently, listing off everything he could to help.

It was the same with racing now. In a way. Yet it was so different from the calm and switched off person he usually was.

“It’s not one person Leo, it’s you dad. And you know that. I’m a grown man, you don’t need to protect me.”

LEO

He gave another shake of his head. “Of course not. I didn’t lie, and I didn’t ask any of them to lie for me either. Bash and August don’t talk to him if they can avoid it, and Uncle Thomas, well, him and Dad work together, but they’re on opposite sides of the fence, and they’re about as friendly as cats and dogs, you know?” Leo’s eyes fluttered closed. He rested his forehead against Will’s cheek.

“Maybe I was trying to protect myself too.”

WILL

Leo leaned into him and Will melted just a little. He couldn’t stay angry, it didn’t feel fair. And whatever he tried to say now wasn’t going to help at all. He moved his arm to hold Leo against his chest, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he settled. “Does he know about August and Bucky?” The last thing Will wanted to do was cause more problems.

He sighed, thinking for just a moment and enjoying the feeling of Leo in his arms. “Do you want me to go?”

LEO

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” The kiss made him smile. At last, something felt normal between them. The gap Leo had felt opening up got just a little bit smaller.

But when Will asked if he wanted him to go … Leo sat up again, eyes blown wide. “No, please.” His hands fumbled to find Will’s in the dark. “I mean, if you want to go, I understand, but—if I can still ask you to stay? Otherwise, I’ll come with you, we’ll go home. If you’ll still have me, partner.”

WILL

“If you want me here, then I’m not going anywhere.” Will lent forwards, hands cupping Leo’s face as their lips finally met for the first time this evening. Maybe he should have asked, maybe he should have checked if anyone was coming to make Leo feel better but it had been on his mind even throughout the rollercoaster of meeting Augustus. It was slow and soft, gentle when compared to the usual level of desperate kisses they shared. It always felt like it was going to be too long till they could kiss again.

He paused only to murmur against Leo’s lips, his voice practically a purr. “Forever and beyond, baby. I missed you.”

But there was the very real question of what to do next. Making out with the love of his life was sure to get Augustus asking more questions, it had just been so long since he hadn’t felt comfortable in a room with Leo. His whole life had changed in the last ten years.

“He’s going to know. You’re wearing your ring, and I tried to practically tackle you in there. What do you want to do?”

LEO

Leo felt lost without Will’s hands wrapped around his, but he didn’t have to wait long until they were holding either side of his face, drawing him closer, and Leo gave into the kiss gratefully. It was slow and soft, reassuring, but after a couple of seconds, Leo needed more. He opened his mouth, sliding his tongue up against Will’s.

He’d missed him too.

He wanted to stay in this little outside bubble, under the umbrella, and not think about what came next, but Will was right. Even if Augustus couldn’t see them right now, he was going to find out. He had probably already figured that there was more to their relationship than ‘friends’, which was why he’d started needling them.

“I want to tell him,” Leo said in a small voice. “I hate that he doesn’t know. But here’s not exactly the place, not exactly the time. It’s so public. But maybe that will make him behave a bit better?” It was a long shot, but it might work, he supposed.

WILL

Without thinking, without even really registering, Will let a small moan escape from his mouth as Leo deepened the kiss. He wanted another one, and another one, and to not think about the rest of the evening at all. This was his happy place, right here. His hands moved to Leo’s waist, pulling him as close as the awkward bench would allow. He stopped thinking about appearances entirely. Just one more kiss and maybe it would fade away completely.

“I love you.” He wanted to say it. He wanted Leo to know that no matter what he felt was right, it didn’t change anything. Will was going to be there to support him, to bolster him, to hold him tight. “I love you, I mean it.”

He let his forehead press against Leo’s, not moving away further away than he had to in order to catch his breath.

LEO

"I love you too." Leo's hands had found their way up to Will's face, thumbs brushing over jawbones. His movements were clumsy, desperate, he thought for a moment about climbing into Will's lap. Then he remembered Will was in pain with his leg and thought better of it.

He was as close to him as he could get, though, knees touching, hands touching, mouths touching, until Will pulled away. Even then, he didn't go far. Leo breathed out, tightened his fingers on Will's cheeks. "I love you so much, I--"

Footsteps on the path, frost crunching underfoot. A woman's footsteps, judging by the click of her heels, but still Leo shuffled back slightly.

"Mum," he said.

"Darling." Vivienne was a tall woman with dark hair, like Leo's. She had a fur wrap around her shoulders, pulling it tighter as the wind blew past them again. "Someone said they saw you coming out here, and I was worried; the weather's not very nice. Why don't you come in?" Her smile was vague as she looked from her favourite son to his companion, but there was something sharp about the eyes. "Is this your--Is this him? It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Morrissey, but you must stop monopolising Leo. None of us have seen him for months, and his father's looking for him, you know."

WILL

Will was about to kiss him again, hands ready to pull Leo onto his lap and forget where they were altogether. There was the hotel room upstairs too, with rose petals on the bed and champagne in the fridge. He had really gone all out, because they hadn’t really had a chance to take a breather since getting engaged. Sure, they’d both furiously proposed in what was a hilarious mix up at the airport and then proceeded to celebrate in the car, in the flat, in the hallway... but it wasn’t the same. He wanted it to be a treat, and had really thought this one through. He wanted Leo to know he cared, and that he was here for the long haul.

The grip on his cheeks had Will reaching forwards again in search of his lips before the sound of someone approaching cut him off. Leo loved away, and Wills hands did too. He was going to do better at following cues this time.

Will swallowed and nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t want to say it was nice to meet her. He didn’t really want to lie. He looked from her to Leo to check in. “Do you need some more air? We’re not in a rush.”

LEO

Leo put a hand on Will's knee and gave it a squeeze. He wasn't ready--really, he didn't care if he froze to death if he and Will could just stay out here, uninterrupted--but he knew if he didn't go in now, he wouldn't go back in at all, and he'd feel worse about that in the morning. A coward, even if Will said he wasn't one.

"I'm all right. Could do with a drink, actually, so shall we go back in, make the most of the free bar?" He grinned and got up, offering Will his hand. This time, he was determined not to let go of it. "Mum, here ..." He offered Vivienne his other arm, so she did not slip on the ice as they made their way back inside the hotel. "How was your trip down?"

WILL

Will took the hand, awkwardly shifting his weight as he got up. As always, he was on Leo’s right. But he nodded, staying quiet to listen to Leo speak to his mother. He didn’t really have anything to add, and he wanted to get a good reads on the woman.

LEO

"Hey, all right?" Leo stopped to make sure Will had his balance once, then again going down the stone steps, and across the threshold of the room. There was a blast of warm air, some smalltalk between mother and son that gave nothing away. Like Leo said, Vivienne did not even entertain topics she considered to be 'problematic'.

She promised to save seats at the big table by the window, but before Leo could make good on that drink, they were all being ushered to sit down, as food was being brought out. They had to get an extra chair and place setting made up for Will, who hadn't been expected.

Leo sat between him and his mother. Will had Augustus on his other side.

"Sorry to lean over you," Leo said with a small smile. He was still holding Will's hand underneath the table. "I wanted to make the proper introductions. Dad, this is Will Morrissey, and he's my fiancé."

On Leo's other side, Vivienne's lips grew thin. "Leopold," she hissed. "This is not appropriate here."

WILL

Will nodded again, but he shuffled awkwardly on the step and had to hang onto the rail. He was so much more graceful on wheels than on his feet. He moved into his seat awkwardly too, wondering if he should have spoken to Bash about showing up. He had just assumed it would work itself out, he wasn’t close with Leo’s oldest brother but they seemed to get on well enough.

Will squeezed the hand in his, rubbing his thumb over Leo’s knuckles. He could read was was going to happen, lowering his voice again to put his boyfriend at ease. “It’s okay, you-“ he didn’t want to force it, he didn’t want Leo to feel like he had no choice. It was fine, he’d be fine. But there it was.

The first time Will had heard him use the word Fiancé.

He should have been ready, but it caught him off guard. He smiled wide, his grin beaming back at Leo. Who he wanted to kiss then and there. Another hand squeeze would have to suffice. “Yeah- thats me. Hi.”

LEO

Leo's answering smile was wobbly as he waited for his father's response. That word, fiancé, was like a hot air balloon; it made his chest swell and filled his belly with warmth. The problem was, Augustus's attitude was likely to bring all that crashing to the ground. His words could make Leo feel deflated at the best of times, and while he was happy with Will, this situation wasn't ideal.

He did have to see it through, though. He owed Will that much. And he owed it to himself to be honest.

Augustus did not say anything for a long time, and when he finally did, it was to his wife. "You knew about this?" That was his first concern. "And what about the people at your work, Leopold--do they know too? Because I'm telling you, if anyone gets a whiff of this, you can kiss any further promotions goodbye."

He didn't look at Will once.

WILL

“Your son has been promoted in the last year, remember?” Will could take insults. He’d heard them before, muttered under people’s breath when they saw him and Leo together from time to time. It was a feeling, like hair up on the back of his neck that just told him he was unwanted. And he was okay with it.

What he couldn’t take was being ignored. “Leo is a brilliant leader, and he’s so patient. With recruits. With me. He’s a real credit to the army and his family.”

He wanted to carry on singing Leo’s praises, or maybe just kiss him instead. But instead he raised his good hand to lean across and put on Leo’s knee beneath the table, turning to face him more.

“You amaze me every day.” Baby. He was careful not to say it, but Leo would know it was there.

LEO

“My son can speak for himself,” Augustus said coldly. Never mind the way he’d interrupted Leo earlier. “Do they know, Leopold?”

“Yes, and they don’t care.” He said this a little more sharply than he’d intended to. How many times had he had to defend his relationship to people, family and strangers alike? He was tired of it. “Because I’m damn good at my job.”

Vivienne made a little noise of protest, but he ignored her, Will’s words making him smile. He put his hand over Will’s on his knee and looked up at him, blue eyes under dark lashes. “I’m not as amazing as you.”

He turned back to his family with renewed courage and conviction. “Will is an incredible man, and I’m so lucky to be his.”

At the top table, Sebastian stood up, lying a hand on Cee’s arm and bending back down to say something to her, smiling, before he took the microphone that was offered to him. “If I could just have a couple of minutes of your attention before we all eat, thank you …”

Augustus turned over his shoulder to look at his eldest son before facing forwards again, eyeballing Leo unpleasantly. “This is not the man I raised you to be. I don’t think disappointment is a strong enough word.”

WILL

“Your right, he can. So why don’t you let him?” Will couldn’t let that one go. It very much ground in his gears that Augustus was so selective. And he was so willing to argue back that Leo was the better of the two of them until his boyfriend found his words. He just needed confidence.

He let Leo speak, his soft smile spreading as he did. He completely missed the fuss at the top table, lost in the earnest blue eyes. But Augustus once again tried to put Leo down.

“Disappointed in what?” Will’s grip tightened, the loving look lost as he seemed to switch in an instant. “Disappointed at the fact he was willing to risk his life for his country? Disappointed he managed to work through recovery and chose to put himself in harms way over and over again? I meant what I said, he’s a credit to his family. But none of that is thanks to you. If anything, it’s in spite of you.”

His mouth was running away with him, and he needed to stop. He had said he would behave after all. Will turned back to Leo, leaning in to make it clear he wasn’t interested in what Augustus had to say in return. “We don’t have to stay, you shouldn’t have to put yourself through this. We can go, if you want. I’m sorry I made such a big deal baby, it’s really not important to me-“

LEO

Leo was quiet for a moment, one half of his face red with shame and rage. When he spoke, his voice started off low, but it grew louder and more passionate as he got into his stride. "You're right." Barely audible. "No, you're both right. This isn't the man you raised. The way you brought me up--or had me brought up, might be more accurate--taught me to be strong, to stand up for myself and for what I thought was right. That last bit definitely came more from Uncle Thomas. But while I sit here and let you go on at me without talking back, I'm just giving you more ammunition. I'm gay--gay as in I like to sleep with men--just one man these days--and gay as in happy because of that one man--and the only thing that's disappointing about that is that you can't accept it."

He didn't realise he had stood up until he was on his feet and his chair had crashed to the floor behind him. Bash paused and looked at him, aghast, but Leo didn't even notice. "I'm changing my name, I'm making a new family with Will, and you can be a part of that, if you want, but it's got to come from you now. I'm done trying to please you, when nothing I do will ever be good enough. Bash is going to be the next Prime Minister, for God's sake, and you still pick faults with him."

Finally, a glance up at the top table. Leo and Bash looked at each other--Bash white in the face--and Leo cringed apologetically. "So, yeah--" Voice loud enough for the whole room to here. "--To summarise, vote for Sebastian, and--call me, Dad, if you can find it in yourself to change your mind. Mum," he turned to look at her and gave half a shrug. "Call me, please."

Then he turned on his heel, a perfect military manoeuvre, and marched out of the room.

WILL

Will watched the whole thing rather than really living it. He was seeing it unfold with nothing but concern and care. He knew Leo was incredibly brave, and that he would choose his moment to find his voice. And Will wanted nothing more than to pick up the glass of champagne in front of him, down it and cheers to the room in celebration. Because it had been incredible.

Yet the look between Bash and Leo set him back down to reality. Will stood awkwardly, hurriedly following Leo as fast as he could and not caring at the eyes on him. He bolted through the double doors, only stopping when he had hold of Leo’s cheeks in his hands. He was standing between Leo and the exit, and he wanted to pull him close then and there. And he put Leo first.

“Hey— hey look at me. What do you want to do? You said you wanted to hear Bash speak? I’ll go back in there with you, I’ll get the train home. I have a hotel room upstairs I don’t care just...” he could hear confused talking from inside, as voices raised a little. But his own eyes never left Leo for a second. “How can I help you right now? Tell me what you need.”

LEO

“You.” It was that simple: Will was everyone and everything Leo would ever want or need again. Fuck his father’s prejudice, his mother’s subservient nature, even Bash’s anger at him stealing the spotlight on tonight of all nights, Leo. If none of them spoke to him again, what did he care? He had Will. And they were all as bad as each other.

His hands sprang up hold Will’s face, pulling him into a rough kiss. “Bash won’t miss me,” he insisted raggedly when he moved on to mouthing at Will’s neck. “A room? I might make it to the lift. This is a fancy place, might even have mirrors, what do you say? Think we can hold it up for a little while, baby?”

WILL

He returns the kiss without thinking, all passion and desire. All the things Augustus would curse them for. It didn’t matter, because his heart swelled in his chest. And then there was Leo’s lips on his neck, hands and his back, instantly irresistible. But Will pushed him back, putting space between them so that he could get a full look at the man he loved. God he wanted to give in now be pressed up against the glass.

“Leo, Leo look at me. I need you to be sure, alright? We can have a conversation if you want, I’m sure Sebastian will understand...” he wasn’t going to let Leo live to regret this. He was so justified, so in the right but family... family wasn’t so easy to settle. “I will do whatever you want but I’m here. I promise.”

LEO

Leo didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think, but Will’s strong hands forced him to, just for a minute. He stood, held at arm’s length, breathing heavily, but the command helped. Look at me. After what felt like a lifetime in the army, he was quick to do as he was told.

Blue eyes raised, hands gripping Will’s wrists. “I’m sure,” he said, almost pleadingly. “I’m sure. I just want to pretend tonight went exactly as you planned, and then we can deal with anything else tomorrow. Please, Will, you asked me what I needed, I need you. I need you.”

WILL

That was all the confirmation Will needed. His hands slipped from Leo’s face to his collar, pulling him in again. Drinking him in, pressing messy kiss after messy kiss against him. Every few heavy breaths he found enough space to whisper I love you so softly only Leo would hear him. Someone pushed aside the door to the ballroom, and the stir inside pulled his attention for just a moment.

“Upstairs. Come on.” His grin was back firmly in place, knowing in his heart this was too good to be true. The illusion would shatter at some point, be in minutes or hours from now. But if Leo wanted to live in this moment, Will wasn’t going to be the one to break the spell. He wrapped his arm around Leo’s, leading him towards the lifts. “If you rip this suit the girls from wardrobe are going to kill me.”

LEO

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Leo's voice was low and yearning as he repeated it back to him, hands splayed across Will's cheeks, nails and the edge of his ring digging into skin.

He was still trying to kiss Will as he steered them towards the lifts. "Better wait till we get upstairs then," he muttered against his mouth. He didn't have the patience for buttons or zips right now. Would very happily have just torn it off him.

It ended up crumpled on a chair, Will having as little time for finesse as Leo, it seemed. Leo could see it when he opened his eyes. His head was pillowed on Will’s chest, somewhere between asleep and awake. “You’ve worn me out, Moz.” But the complaint was half-hearted at best. “How was that? One for the highlights reel?”

#homophobia tw #this si very much a coming out story just so you know what you're getting in for #i don't have any will tags but tada #lou made him a thing now

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yoonjinkooked · 5 years

Text

On Call | part 1

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka

Pairing: Y/N / Jungkook

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers / Rom-Com / Humor / Smut

Warnings for part 1: ranting, mentions of blood and injuries, good ass flirting, lots of good looking doctors, mentions of sex. The explicit stuff is saved for part two.

General warnings: (explicit sex, cursing, more to be added)

Word Count: 5147 +

Summary: After a catastrophic first date, you end up leaving the hospital angry, tired and date-less. Hoping to have a drink or five, you end up in a nearby bar, sitting next to the same doctor who caught your eye earlier.

A/N: I had to split it into two parts. I REALLY did not want to do that but I am absolutely not happy with how I wrote a large chunk of this, so I am writing it all over again. I can’t keep you waiting anymore so I’ll split this one. The smutty stuff comes in the next chapter.

I’m sorry for the long wait, life got in the way. I will have a day off before the weekend so I think I’ll manage to finish it then. To make it more specific - Part 2 by Sunday!

Let me know what you guys think! :)

First dates are horrible.

Even if they’re going well, even if you end up meeting the love of your life, that first date is always going to be horrible, at least just a little bit.

You’ve had shitty first dates and some not so shitty first dates but you’ve never had something that you’d call a traumatic first date. Until today.

Giving Tinder a shot wasn’t something that you really wanted to do. Dating apps were always something you were skeptical about, despite having a good friend who had met his current fiancé over one of said apps. A place for horny people who want easy sex – that’s what those dating apps were for you.

You have refused to install one, until you have become just that – a horny person who wants easy sex. Two glasses of wine and three dick pics later, you have actually managed to find someone who seemed… okay. Good looking, but not loud about it. No dick pics – big bonus. And he actually managed to avoid cheesy pickup lines and just… asked you to meet up for coffee. So, you have decided to give Adam a shot. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Save from horror movie scenarios, of course.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, Adam could turn out to be an idiot who doesn’t watch where he’s walking and he could end up stepping into an open manhole in the middle of the street, grabbing you by the hand as he fell, knocking you on the ground in the process, all while still managing to break his leg.

But what kind of bad luck would you need to have for that to happen?

Apparently, the amount of bad luck you have is sufficient. Adam did indeed fall into a manhole but not before grabbing hold of you while trying to keep himself balanced – you were too surprised to react in any way, so not only did he end up falling but so did you, hitting your head on the pavement and scratching your arm on concrete.

All you can remember clearly are his yells and blood. The rest is a blur, from the point of you calling 911 to you sitting here, in a hospital, waiting to be checked by a doctor.

In the history of bad first dates, this has to be the runner-up, at the very least. All of that before the biggest plot twist of the night – the arrival of Adam’s girlfriend. The girl was worried sick and the moment you saw her throw herself onto a broken Adam, you silently decided to not go into his room after all.

At least the cut on your hand isn’t too bad – it stopped bleeding over the last few minutes and other than a light headache and an immense feeling of embarrassment, you’re doing pretty okay. Well, you’re also annoyed with waiting in a very crowded waiting room – apparently your situation is not serious enough to earn you a room, bed or even a simple chair.

“Taehyung, go check on him,” the voice belongs to a doctor walking past you, obviously giving some instructions. He’s handsome as hell, tall and with dark hair – much better looking than Adam. He probably watches where he’s walking too. “Check back with me when you’re done, okay?”

“Excuse me,” he turns around when you call him, finally deciding to no longer wait in silence. “Can someone tell me where to go or what to do? I have been waiting for more than an hour.”

“What are you here for?” he ask as his eyes go over you quickly, narrowing down on your arm. “Bad fall?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “I hit my head a bit too. I feel okay though.”

“Any pain?” he asks, walking closer to you. Close enough to make you swallow a lump because holy fuck, he is really good looking.

“Just a regular headache kind of pain,” you explain. “And my arm does hurt a bit too.”

“I’ll have a nurse clean that up,” he tells me. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Y/N,” you force a smile. “Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Okay Y/N, please do what I say. Lift your right arm up,” he instructs and you do as he said. “Put it down. Now please stick your tongue out,” you follow his lead, even though you feel like a bit like an idiot, sticking your tongue out in the middle of a hospital waiting room. “Good. Now please follow my finger – just with your eyes, don’t move your head. Okay?” you follow his finger left to right, gulping yet again as you become aware of very direct eye contact. You repeat a mantra in your head, reminding yourself that it’s literally his job to look at you.

“Just a weak headache you say?”

“Well, if we ignore the growing death wish, yes,” he frowns at your tragic joke, causing you to smile and shake your head. It’s too complicated to explain anyways.

“You seem to be doing just fine, Y/N,” he reassures you. “If you feel any pain, just a regular pain medication should help. If your headache doesn’t leave you by tomorrow night, I’d advise you to come back here for a checkup. But for now, you don’t need a CT. I’ll just have… Jimin!” he calls for someone. And boy oh boy, it’s someone alright - a very good looking, blonde young man in blue scrubs walks towards us. “Jimin, please clean up her wound and see if stitches are needed,” he tells him.

“Sure thing, Dr. Kim,” Jimin smiles at the doctor.

“And Y/N, remember, if you feel anything unusual, come back here. Okay?” Dr. Kim asks.

“Okay,” you nod obediently, knowing damn well you will already be on your way back to the hospital the second you feel anything out of the ordinary.

“Follow me, Miss Y/N,” Jimin instructs you with a smile and you follow him. As you do, you can’t help but wonder if every damn person in this hospital is good looking – both he and Dr. Kim could be supermodels if they really wanted to. Or maybe they aren’t that good looking and you’ve just hit my head a bit too hard.

“MOVE!” you jump up when a yell carries through the hallway. Before you can even react, Jimin is grabbing your intact hand and pulling you to the side. Backed up against the wall, you watch in shock the scene that unfolds before you. A group of people is literally running through the hallway with a stretcher between them. “Move, move, move!” you realize now who is yelling – it’s the doctor who is all but lying on the stretcher. You don’t see much as they pass you – it’s a blur of people, different colored scrubs and blood. What you do see is that a doctor is literally above the patient, who is lying on the stretcher, his hands too bloody for you to see and understand what the hell he is doing. And then they’re gone, taking a turn to the right at the end of the hallway. You can still hear him yelling commands, his voice fainter by the second.

“Holy shit.”

“Yes,” Jimin chuckles. “Just another day at the office,” he starts walking again and not knowing what else to do, you just follow him, avoiding stepping onto the droplets of blood that coat the floor. It looks like that’s also a part of their every day schedule.

“Isn’t that patient more important than I am?” you wonder. “I mean, this is just a scratch. I could probably even clean it up at home, he looks like he needs more help than I do.

“Miss Y/N, there were three nurses around that stretcher,” Jimin smiles back at you. “If I go there, I would do more harm than help. Doctor Jeon and the team can handle it.”

Agreeing with his subtle suggestion that this really is none of your business, you shut up and follow him. Finally, you have a chance to sit down when the two of you end up in a small office, equipped with what one would call basic doctor supplies. You wait as Jimin collects what he needs, before he turns on the light and takes a good look at your injured arm.

“Ouch, that’s not pretty. Did you fall?”

The snort that leaves you causes him to raise his eyebrows in confusion. “You could say that. My date fell into a manhole,” you almost chuckle when I see Jimin’s eyes go wide in surprise. Honestly, you would have laughed hard if Adam didn’t actually get seriously injured. “And nearly dragged me into it with him.”

“That sounds like… a bad date,” he comments.

“Yeah. First date too,” the grimace on Jimin’s face says it all. “We barely even shook hands before he was falling down. I guess I’m gonna go celibate now. Did I mention his girlfriend showed up at the hospital?”

“Ouch,” he comments. Before you could respond, the touch of an alcohol soaked swab makes your hand flinch as Jimin start’s cleaning your injurty. “You are having a rough night.”

“More like a rough year,” you mumble.

“Miss Y/N, you need to look at the bright side,” Jimin smiles at you. It’s easy for him to say – he strikes you as a big ball of fluff and positive. You, on the other hand, are a walking disaster. “After the rain comes the rainbow. Karma has her way of doing things.”

“If you say so.”

Jimin works in silence while you stare at the floor and contemplate your life, deciding to leave the hospital as soon as he is done with fixing you up. A part of you wanted to find Adam and his girl, cause a scene and tell her to get away from him. Hell, if you had more energy, you would have gone with that plan. Now you just want to leave and get yourself a drink. Or five. When Jimin finished with cleaning your arm and applying some cream, you smile and thank him, asking for directions to the nearest bar.

After spending a few minutes wondering whether or not you should call your best friend and ask him to join, you have reached the conclusion that Hoseok’s bright and cheerful personality is not something that you need tonight.

He would chuckle at the story, telling you to look on the bright side, to be glad your leg wasn’t broken and that you got out before you ended up being ‘the other woman’. And while all of that would be absolutely correct, you do not need a ‘cheer up, buddy’ tonight. What you need is a decent amount of time to be alone and gloomy, wallow in self-pity and maybe drown in alcohol. With the day you’ve had, you deserve it – all of it.

“You sure you want another one?” the bartender asks when you point to the almost empty glass of Long Island Iced Tea in front of you – that’s what he served when you asked for a ‘drink that may end up killing you’. “Those things are pretty strong. You’re not driving, are you?” he asks, forcing you to make a mental note to tip him well because he’s actually worried about my well-being, even if I’m not.

“Not driving. And trust me, these are not nearly as effective as I want them to be.”

“Drinking to forget?” he’s asking too many question but he is getting the drink ready, so you take it.

“Hopefully.”

You have deleted Tinder the moment you sat down at the bar. It’s impossible to know when you’ll be ready to try again but one thing is certain - you won’t be trying on some cursed, shitty app. From this point on, you will go through my life without focusing on men and dick. You solemnly swear that you will not look for anything – in fact, you will wait for it to come on its own. And if it doesn’t, well, life goes on. With a job you like and a fairly cool group of friends, even an occasional hobby, you’ll have plenty of things to keep yourself occupied.

But. No. More. Men.

“Evening, doc!” the bartender’s cheerful voice snaps me you of a daze. “The usual?”

“Yep,” the voice next to you speaks up and against better judgment, you turn my head to look at him. As he sits down in the chair next to yours, you realize this is the same doctor that was yelling his way through the hallway earlier. Looking away from him, you decide not to draw attention to yourself. No particular reason why – attention is just the last thing on your mind now.

“Rough day today, doc?”

“No rougher than usual,” he chuckles. You focus on your drink, pushing the lemon around the glass with a straw, kind of pretending that it’s Adam and you are pushing him around. “You seem like you’ve had a worse day, what the heck happened to your arm?” it takes you a second to realize that the doctor is directing the question your way.

“I was dragged to the ground,” you mumble, not bothering to look his way. “Hurt my arm and hit my head.”

“Is your head okay?” he asks and even without looking at him, you know he is asking this as a doctor and not just a guy at the bar – there is literally a change in his tone, which suddenly turned serious.

“One of your colleagues checked it out and unfortunately, my head is okay,” you reply.

“You look way too young to sound so pessimistic,” he chuckles and you turn to him, slightly annoyed with his pestering. The earlier theory you had on how every employee of the hospital across the street is handsome is proven to be true because holy crap, he’s hot. You didn’t get a chance to notice it when he flew past on the stretcher earlier but now, even with the dim lights of the bar you’re at, you can see him much clearer. His face is gorgeous, flawless, with big brown eyes looking at me and a tiny smile on his lips. From what you can see, his physique is equally impressive. He is, simply put, hot as hell.

“I’m also way too sober for this conversation.”

If you had met him yesterday, who knows, maybe it would have ended with an offer to suck him off in the back alley – that’s how hot he is. But today sucks. Therefore, you won’t.

“Seems like you’re going to fix that soon enough,” he chuckles at you, probably because you are downing the drink much faster than one should down such a strong cocktail. “As a doctor, I’m obliged to tell you that you should hold back on your drinks if you’ve suffered a hit to the head.”

“How ‘bout a hit to my pride?” you turn on the stool to look at him, challenging him. It’s evident that he is simply trying to have a conversation. His tone wasn’t condescending either – it was more of a good natured suggestion than a doctor’s advice. Still, it annoyed you, just a little. “That one can hurt just as hard as a hit to the head, can it not?”

“It can,” he nods his head. “But what can possibly be that bad?” he asks.

Do you speak up or keep your mouth shut?

To hell with it. You need to rant, are almost drunk and will never see him again.

“Had a date today,” you pause to take a sip of my drink. “First date. He fell into an open manhole.”

“Wait, is that the dude with the girlfriend?” he asks and you turn to him so fast, you think your neck muscle is strained. “Are you the girl who made a scene?”

“No I didn’t!” you gasp, shocked that he’d even suggest something like that. “I haven’t said a word to him! The girl showed up, I put two and two together, went to get my hand fixed and ended up here.”

“Who fixed your arm?” he asks, frowning in suspicion.

“A very hot blonde guy.”

“Jimin,” he chuckles and I nod my head, remembering the name now. “That explains a lot.”

“That explains what?” you ask, momentarily distracted when you notice the bartender serving the doctor his drink – mineral water. Sure, there’s ice and two slices of lemon in the glass but it is just mineral water. If that’s his regular drink, you don’t even want to know what he drinks when he’s feeling a bit tamer.

“Jimin has a habit of meddling into people’s lives a bit too often,” the doctor chuckles and a lump forms in your throat as you focus on his side profile – clear skin, chiseled jaw, cute nose and messy hair. Even his speech, now a bit slower than earlier, is hot. “He must have put two and two together because from what I’ve heard, he asked the dude where his date was, right in front of the girlfriend,” he tells you.

“Serves him right,” a dark chuckle leaves you as you realize just how thankful you are for the overly meddling nurse who did my work in your stead.

“The chick flipped and caused a ruckus,” the doctor continues. “With the way you’ve been sulking at the bar, I thought it might have been you. Stupid, I know – you even said it was a first date.”

“I’m just glad that’s behind me,” you mumble in response. “Or, will be, when I finish this drink.”

“The guy is a dick,” the bartender suddenly joins in, having obviously listened to your conversation. You can’t blame the guy – you’re sitting right in front of him. “You seem like a decent girl,” he tells you. “Why would you waste time on cheaters when you have nice guys like Doctor Jeon around?” he hits the doctor on the shoulder, hard, beaming down at him.

“You’ve always been a bad wing-man Chris, but I think you might have just outdone yourself.”

“Doctor Jeon isn’t even drinking,” you smile at the bartender. “I’m sure he’s not interested.”

“Doctor Jeon needs to drive home and hopefully get there in one piece,” the doctor laughs. “And please just call me Jungkook – the doctor thing is getting a bit weird,” he adds, obviously ignoring your comment that he isn’t interested. Could it mean that… no, probably not.

“Take a cab, Jungkook,” you tell him, turning around to stare at the shelves full of drinks, expensive and cheap, dark and colorful. Looking directly at him would be a very bad idea. “Life’s too short.”

“Mineral water is just fine,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, I might get called back to the hospital tonight. Probably not, but I never know. I’d rather be able to help someone than drunk.”

“Did you save that guy from today?” you ask, this time risking at all and looking at him, seeing the confusion on his heavenly face. “The one on the stretcher, the guy you were all but sitting on?”

“Ah,” he nods his head in understanding. “He’s in intensive care but most likely will make it through the night. He’s in good hands.”

“Doctor Jeon is a trauma surgeon,” the bartender, Chris as you now know, tells you with a knowing look. “Very big deal in the hospital.”

“Trauma surgeons or Doctor Jeon in particular?” you laugh.

“Chris, I think some glasses want to be polished,” Jungkook’s jaw clenches but you can still see a hint of a smile as he looks at his friend. “Don’t meddle, please. I can flirt just fine on my own.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” you laugh. This is becoming… very interesting.

“I’m about to, as soon as I find out your name,” he smirks your way. That one action, that one tiny smirk, made him 10 times more attractive than he was seconds ago.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats. Okay, it may be too soon to tell but you have an inkling of where this might end up going and at this point, you are ready to pray to god that it ends up going that way. More than once.

“He’s single,” the bartender suddenly pipes up.

“Chris.”

“And the kindest guy I know,” Chris still continues, ignoring Jungkook’s glares.

“Will you stop?”

“No,” you laugh at Jungkook. “No, I like this, he’s telling me all I need to know. Tell me, Chris, how often does he flirt with lonely ladies at the bar?” you ask.

“First time I’ve seen him do it,” Chris replies without blinking. “Beats your guy from earlier today by a mile.”

“That he does,” you agree immediately. Just superficial conversation and one look at Jungkook was enough to reach the same conclusion. Granted, you haven’t really had the chance to properly talk to Adam but his girlfriend did and based from what you’ve heard, she doesn’t like him that much at the moment.

“How about you talk now, Y/N, before Chris here finds my birth certificate,” Jungkook turns to you.

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to share.”

“I doubt you’d be interested in hearing my life story,” you chuckle. “I’m a real estate agent. I’m tired and not as drunk as I want to be.”

“That’s all you think I need to know?” he laughs, leaning just a tiny bit closer. “Tell me who you are when you’re not angry at some random dick. Tell me about your hobbies, your interests, the things you hate the most, your plans for the future.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me or are you scouting for a would-be wife?” you frown.

“Play your cards right and ask me that question later.”

It’s so fucking endearing – he laughs at himself as he delivers such a cheesy, yet somehow smooth line. He is literally laughing at himself and that makes you chuckle too – he’s not taking himself too seriously and is genuinely funny. Hell, if he plays his cards right, you might just ask him to marry you.

“I hate cucumbers,” is what you decide to tell him. “Tom Cruise too – he’s creepy. I don’t like people who waste my time. I’m a TV show addict, I could live on popcorn and I never wear high heels. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” your eyebrows are raised as you throw the ball over in his field.

“Not even close,” he responds. Judging by the little smirk on his face, he can definitely tell that your interest is peaked in all the right ways. “You’re just making me want to know more, Y/N.”

“Unfair,” you pretend to glare at him. “It’s your turn now – it’s only fair if I know as much as you do.”

“Alright,” he nods his head. “I’m a surgeon, as you already know. I’m… a pretty boring guy if I’m being honest. I work, workout, occasionally meet up with my friends and sleep. I like cucumbers but I can’t stand eggplants. I never really gave Tom Cruise much thought but you do have a point, he is a bit creepy,” Jungkook grimaces and you laugh, glad to hear you’re not the only one with that opinion. “I barely even have a life outside of work.”

You were goofing off at first but by the time he finishes, the humorous tone of the conversation isn’t really there anymore. He’s a doctor, a surgeon at that – it’s not hard for you to imagine just how big of a price his personal life had to pay in order for him to have a career like that. While it’s a shame, in your opinion, it was a decision he was very much aware of – as well as its consequences.

“Seems like maybe I’m not the only one who needs a drink tonight,” you give him a pointed look.

“Nah,” he smiles at you, shaking his head. “I still need to drive. Besides, you’ve had a bad day. This is just a regular day for me. Well, almost regular – I don’t usually talk to a pretty girl by the end of it.”

This time around, you stay silent.

It’s not something you can say and seeing as you do find him attractive it’s not the logical response either. You should smile at him, run fingers through your hair, try to appear as sensual and as flirty as possible – or as much as you can be, with dirty jeans and a big ass scratch on your arm. Doctor Jeon ticks off all the boxes, or at least all that you can think off, with your mind a little bit hazy, thanks to Chris’s mean cocktail. You should play the game and see where it’ll take you.

But you don’t. No, you stay silent and you look at the drink before you, ignoring the pair of eyes you feel on you. Perhaps you have had enough? Perhaps Adam was the last straw, your last chance before giving up completely? Maybe, maybe not. But for whatever reason, you decide to stay silent.

To his credit, Jungkook follows your lead. He doesn’t push you and that makes him look even better in your eyes. He was following your lead, pushing as far as you’d let him. Not all men have that ability, sadly. Jungkook does, he has something you can only describe as a peaceful aura. He strikes you as a laid back, everything is going to be okay, kind of guy. He’s not desperately trying to impress, nor is he trying to pull off a bad boy vibe. Thinking about it now, he seems like the most mature guy you were ever interested in, even in passing, even if you’ve only talked to him for a few minutes.

Now you want to speak up, say something, anything, but your mouth just opens and closes, as you find that as much as you want to, you’re not capable of forming words.

And why would you? Come to think of it, seriously, why would you? You barely even talked. You have had a day from hell, you are tired and there’s not much he could provide you with, other than a distraction. It would do it’s trick, you might get a good night and a few worthy memories but at the end of it all, you would probably never see his face again. At least outside of the emergency room.

Your brain is playing tennis with itself, throwing the ball from one side to another as you debate whether or not something should be done, mentally listing all the pros and cons to each option, asking yourself further questions that simply lead you nowhere. That’s the way overthinking works and you should know, since you do it all the damn time.

His glass hits the bar a bit too hard and you flinch, looking at it from the corner of your eye. It’s empty, the tennis match in your head is slowly coming to an end – no winner. You do nothing, don’t say a word, don’t look at him. You only look at the bartender as he tells Jungkook to keep an eye on the bar as he goes to get more tequila from the back.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks and the moment your eyes meet, the beat of your heart turns frantic. You wish you could slow it down somehow, or at least ignore it and focus on other things. Nope, none of it could work even if you tried – your heart is going berserk and all you can look at is Jungkook’s face. His eyes really are a one hell of a sight. “I’m going home now,” he tells you, his eyes looking around your face, from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. “I would very much like to take you there with me. You had a horrible day and you deserve something to keep your mind off it. I’d be happy to oblige. It would also be a nice change for me, to not go home alone once,” he adds.

Okay, it’s happening. The ball is on your side now. The problem is, Jungkook’s suggestion sounded more like a ‘let’s go steady’ than ‘do you want to fuck’ and that leaves you uneasy. Not a single thing about this screams one night stand to you, other than the fact that he is very much a stranger.

But you want to. God, do you want to. You want to suck him dry and run your hands through his hair as he fucks you – on a desk, on the floor, up against the wall, in the shower, on the bed – wherever it’s physically possible, really. You can’t remember the last time someone so stupidly handsome was offering you what Jungkook is offering now. Even if he makes it sound way more romantic than it should sound like, the hidden promise is there – you’d get dicked down.

Fuck it, you want it. Even more so, you need it.

“What kind of distraction are you suggesting, exactly?” you ask, praying to everyone and everything that your poker face is as stable as you want it to be.

“I think you know exactly what I’m suggesting, Y/N,” he mumbles, still keeping his eyes directly on you. It’s a little uncomfortable and your first instinct is to look away, to save yourself, but you can’t. With every word he says, he is drawing you in, deeper. “We can play coy, if that’s what you want, but you know very well how this is going to end.”

“And what about my head?” you do play coy, but you also throw in a subtle smirk, to make sure your intentions are clear, even though they are very much different than your words. “Weren’t you worried about me drinking after I’ve hit my head? How could a… distraction be healthy for me?”

“Oh, it could be,” he chuckles. “Healthy, enjoyable and dare I say, addictive. And just to settle your worries – nothing better than doctor supervision over the course of the night.”

You laugh because fuck it, it’s sold and you want him to know that.

“I trust I’ll be in good hands.”

“Oh, you will be,” it sounds both exciting and sinister and it stirs you in all the right ways. “Let’s go,” you are surprised with how quickly he takes out a couple of bills from his back pocket and throws them onto the bar, paying for both of your drinks and then some. He doesn’t wait for Chris to get back – he’s already on his feet and reaching for your hand. “Let’s go – I don’t want to waste more time.”

You let him drag you out of the bar, hoping that his dick is just as good as his game.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #doctor jungkook #jjk #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfics #jungkook scenarios #jeongguk

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19mrs-barnes17 · 4 years

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How Could I Ever Forget?

Summary: “Hello! Can I make a request for Dean x reader. Dean x reader have recently confessed their feelings for each other. Soon after, the reader loses her memory. The brothers help her have a “normal” life away from hunting & they stay away from her. After a few weeks/months, the reader calls Dean, because she has a nightmare and he rushes over to see her. He secretly keeps seeing her and over time she slowly starts to fall for him again. Maybe you can include them being soulmates? Thank you!” -Anonymous

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings:

Word count: 3,245

A/N: wow this one had some plot to fit, haha. Enjoy! (Ps. title is from a Next to Normal song)

“C’mon Via, I can handle a shopping run. My memory is getting better and I’ll have the list to help. Please? I need to get out, being cooped up here is driving me stir crazy.” Your sister’s eyes darted to the side, mind running through the request several times before caving and nodding. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

She handed over your emergency phone and the list, still nervous about your first solo excursion since the accident. No one would tell you much about it, you had been hit hard on the head and had forgotten three years worth of your life. But, nobody said what did it or any other specific details about that night. Only ever saying your phone broke and providing you with a new one full of only family members.

The last memory you had before the gray three year gap was of your sister calling you in a motel room. For the life of you you couldn’t remember the name or why you were even there. It was too fuzzy and the only thing you were able to recall was that you were meeting people. But no one would tell you who or why? Some said it must have been some dream or figment of imagination but you knew better. And one day you’d find out.

For now you strolled down aisles and pushed a cart, your pace quite slow as you attempted to prolong your excursion. You had missed doing mundane activities as silly as it may sound, you had been treated like a glass figurine. She had denied you every request, not allowing you to do anything that could be remotely dangerous. You couldn’t even help in the kitchen, she was terrified of any more damage befalling you. It was suffocating.

“Hey Y/N? Can you grab me some washcloths from the closet?” It was one of the few tasks that she deemed safe enough, what could towels do to you right? Knock down a couple boxes apparently, but thankfully you caught them and no one was alerted. You couldn’t handle further seclusion.

One box had your name on it, but you had never seen the thing in your life. Unless… Quickly you hid the box in your room and emerged from the hall with some rags. You excused yourself to get washed up for dinner, doing your best to not trip up. When you were alone you pulled the box from your closet and sat on your bed, hands frozen on the tabs. You were terrified that you’d find nothing special, but frightened of finding something that had been hidden from you.

A sharp pain stung in your chest as you rifled through the objects that held a strange familiarity. There were photos of you, people you didn’t recognize with arms around you and smiles on your faces. A pair of green eyes gazed up at you from a bright screen at the bottom of the box, your hand having brushed against it. One fingerprint and a button later and you were staring at a home screen background of you and the man. Your head rested against his shoulder as you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. Both of you held bright smiles on your faces, his beautiful green eyes on the camera as he was likely taking the photo.

You stared at the small markings on your wrist, they were what showed up when you met your soulmate. It was said that it was some ancient language and that the name of your soulmate was written in it, but no one seemed to be able to crack it. Not one person could translate the language, it had perplexed the world for years and eventually fell into the background of news. Even despite the discovery that when you read your soulmates markings it translated in your head. Only you could read your own name on their wrist. You wondered if this was some relationship you had found with someone who wasn’t your soulmate, or if he was your soulmate. But if he was, why wasn’t he here?

Footsteps echoed in the hall and your name was called, you quickly shoved the box under your bed and gathered yourself. Now was not the time to tear down the hope of more freedom, not before you found out more. You needed insurance that this was worth it and you weren’t seeking out someone who wasn’t there. He could have died in the same accident for all you knew. God you hoped not.

Dinner passed by in a blur and you excused yourself for bed, faking a yawn and lying about an early start on cleaning tomorrow. In your room you sat with the empty box on the floor and the contents sprawled across your bed. Time to research the hell out of this green eyed guy. For some reason his name pulled up police reports and wanted ads, you were terrified. When you looked into him, Dean Winchester as you soon discovered, he was reported dead. So many years ago, and yet somehow you had been with him in the last three years. Maybe they were doppelgängers. They had to be. But this left you at square one, no lesser known guy with the same face showed in your search.

Eventually you gave up, you weren’t finding anything this way and you were going to have to find out by asking your sister. You were really not in the mood to be rejected and ignored so you put off continuing the search until tomorrow. Eyes growing heavy and your body falling into exhaustion you slipped beneath the covers. Tomorrow you were going to hunt down that man and find out the truth, by any means necessary. You had to know.

There were flashes of lightning as the rain shot down in rough droplets from the stormy clouds above. It was a violent storm and you were caught in the middle of it, alone. Or at least, so you thought. As you pressed onward you heard a stranger's voice call out your name, and it oddly felt normal to hear. When you whipped your head around you saw those green eyes you’d been hunting all night. He called out for you to duck and you obliged, a shot rippling overhead. When you turned a man, no a creature, lay still on the pavement with a pool of red dispersing from its lifeless body. It terrified you how calm you were about the murder you had just witnessed, but what really scared you was how relieved you were. Like it was a job well done.

You slipped when making your way to the green eyed man, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. What you saw next fizzled in and out and you could hardly make it out. You saw flashes of a taller gentleman by a vintage car, the trunk filled with weaponry, and images of a hand held out to you.

You were coated in sweat as you shot up in your bed, body shaking as you tried to stand only to fall to your knees. What the hell was that? An hour passed as you attempted to discern fiction from reality, the nightmare had felt so real. Almost like a memory which scared the hell out of you. What happened over the past three years. You had been a hunter of sorts, that was all you remembered. But, a hunter of monsters?

You sat back in your bed, eyes never leaving the newly found phone. There weren’t a ton of names in the contacts but there were so many non-family members, and that scared you. Not a single name that you scrolled past did you recall ever meeting. There were text messages and conversation you could have sworn you’d never had if not for the overwhelming evidence before you. When you reached W in the contact list your heart dropped, there he was. Dean Winchester. Green eyes and all, smiling up at you from the phone screen. Curiosity struck and you opened up your messages, eyes freezing on the most recent in a series of missed messages.

I love you and I miss you.

It was sent only two weeks ago, and only a month after you had woken up in the hospital with a chunk of your past missing. Whoever he was, he was alive and he wanted to see you or at least he did weeks ago. It was stupid, but you were desperate and couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of it before. Your finger hit the green button and you were pleased to hear the ringing. You still had access to the past, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take advantage of it.

There was a click but no voice spoke from the other end, you were afraid he no longer wanted to speak. What if he had cut his losses after you continuously didn’t respond, moving on with someone else? Whatever the case, you still had to know.

“I know you answered. I can hear you.” There was a pause of silence before he spoke, his voice tired and soft.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again. Are you okay? Did something happen?” He was spiraling rather quickly and you could hear the pain and anxiety dripping from his voice. “Sammy said your sister came to take you home.”

“Sammy? Who- I…” He didn’t know, he didn’t know. Oh, god. How the hell do you tell someone who loves you that you don’t remember them? How can you break their heart like that?

Well, it certainly wasn’t over the phone. You slipped on a jacket and snuck out of the apartment, keeping Dean on the line. The box was in your hands as you crossed several streets to the nearest open park.

“Okay, I’m out.” He started to make concerned comments about your phrasing but you cut him off. “I need your help.”

“Done. What do you need?” It was strange for someone you didn’t know to have such faith and trust in you, to immediately offer his assistance with zero hesitation. You gave him your sister’s address and asked him to meet you at the designated park before you gave him any more information.

The moment you heard the rumbling of an engine you knew it was him, though it was still at least a street away. You weren’t a car person but the familiarity of the engine was all too memorable and you couldn’t deny that you knew that car. It was unmistakable. But when the man exited the car, his door slamming shut before his green eyes lifted to meet yours, you felt the strangest pull in your chest. Something in you wanted to jump from the swing and toss the box to the side, to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. It scared you a little, the strength of the emotion.

“Dean.” A soft smile tugged at his lips, but there was concern clouding his eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He nodded and moved to sit in the swing beside you, his eyes wandering to the box you held in your arms. You moved to open it, pulling photos and a necklace from within and handing them to him. Taking a deep breath you prepared yourself.

“That’s you and Bobby outside his house in the junkyard. You’d helped him fix up a car, it was your first one and he… He wanted to commemorate it. Always was into that cheesy stuff when it came to us.” Your brow furrowed, eyes flickering between him and the photograph.

“You knew? You knew I didn’t remember?” He nodded softly, eyes tearing up as he ran nostalgic fingers over the glossy image. “And you left me to figure out the last three years on my own?”

“I’m sorry.” His head hung low, eyes closing as a tear slips down his cheek. “I only figured it out when your sister ran into me outside her apartment building. She cornered me, the only one who knew about your secret life, and told me to back off. You finally had a chance at a normal life, and I knew she was right. So Sam and I stayed away.”

“How could she?”

“She was only trying to help. You were pretty banged up after that car wreck and she only wanted you safe.” Dean wiped the tear trail from his cheek, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Car wreck? What about the rest, the creatures I see every night when I close my eyes? Why do I keep seeing you?” You were growing more hysterical by the minute and Dean slipped off his swing and knelt before you. He caught you as you fell into him, arms wrapping around him as you let the tears flow and soak his shirt.

“I can’t explain everything, not in just one night. Not only is it kind of impossible, it's probably not healthy for you.”

“Then you come back every night. You come here and you tell me it bit by bit.” Your eyes were frantic as you searched his eyes. He sighed before nodding, and you hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” You pulled back and looked into his eyes, your expression growing serious. “Okay, business first I see. Where to start?”

“The beginning.”

You sat before him in the empty park for hours, listening to the story of how you met and how you had been a hunter. You still had so many questions but it was beginning to get light out and your sister would have a fit if she saw you weren’t in your bed. One more hug and you waved Dean off, his sleek black car fading into the distance. For weeks this went on and you listened to him describe your life and the people you had met. Once he had finished, after several nights of storytelling, he handed you a journal with your name on it.

“Here, it's your hunter’s journal. Cases you worked on and sometimes mentions of people you encountered. All inside, in your words.” You remembered, a little surprised it wasn’t included in the box. It started when you and your sister lost your parents to a vamp, ending just days before the crash. Scanning over your handwriting tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t thank him enough for his help. Though you hadn’t magically regained your memory, you at least had answers and that was enough for now. But something was still missing.

“Time to finish the story.”

“I did, the crash and your sister telling me off is the last I know.” You raised a brow at him and pulled up your photo album on the phone, swiping until you found a picture of you kissing his cheek.

“You sure about that? Because I know for a fact I don’t exchange ‘I love you’s’ freely and I certainly don’t go around kissing people on the cheek.” You handed over your phone and he smiled softly at the photo but there was still a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “Who are you to me?”

“Officially? Nothing that planned on being something. You got into the crash three days after I told you I loved you. So, I’ve never actually heard you say it back. But, I thought we were something.” Your heart dropped, eyes closing as you took in a deep breath.

Three days after he confessed and you reciprocated interest. Only three and he lost you in a mere instant. You had found someone and lost them in less than a week. It was no wonder you felt such strong pulls toward him, you loved him and you had forgotten. But in these few weeks of meeting nightly you had begun to see why he had been someone you stayed by. He was a good man who had had a rough run, and you knew the feeling all too well after what happened to you.

“I can’t remember loving you.” His eyes met yours but soon tore away to his car, looking at you becoming too painful. “But every time I see you I feel it, I feel the pull and I know I did.”

“You… do?”

“I know I love you Dean Winchester. I just have to know you again.” You placed a hand on his cheek and suddenly his eyes widened. “What?”

“Your wrist, I uh, It’s my name. It says my name.” You quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled back his jacket, eyes growing wide.

“And there’s mine. Clear as day.” You chuckled softly to yourself and shook your head.

All this time you had known your soulmate and fate had ripped him from you, taken him without remorse. Your eyes met his and you sat wondering how the two of you never noticed before, how neither had tried to read the others. He had been before you, sitting with that dopey smile that made you want to kiss him all over. There was no way you were letting him out of your sight, not again. Screw a normal life, something would have found you sooner or later. You’d rather spend your days getting to know the love of your life all over again.

“Stay here.” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek and ran, your legs burning when you reached your sister’s home. The light flipped on as you were stuffing a duffle bag with all your necessities and you froze in place.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Via stood wrapping her robe tighter over her pajamas before crossing her arms. “Where are you going?”

“I found him Via. He was there all along in my missing years, my soulmate.” Your sister’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It was Dean.”

“Well, then we better make sure you pack it all safely. Tell lover boy to bring that Impala he nicknamed around.” She smiled softly at you through the tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m gonna miss my big sister, you and him better visit. I mean it.”

“Of course.” When all was packed away you hugged your sister and called Dean, he was there in minutes. “You don’t mind me moving in right?”

“Hell no. Sam and Cas will be glad you’re back. Even if they had a problem I’d still move you in.” You chuckled softly at his serious expression and his eyes softened. “I’ve missed you and your laugh.”

“Good. Cause I’m not leaving you again anytime soon, so better be sure.” His smile slowly faded as he approached you and wrapped an arm around you.

“I’m dead certain. There’s no one I’d rather have at my side than you, no one I’d rather love.” You leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips, unsure where the courage came from.

Wrapping both arms around his neck you continued to kiss him and kiss him like you’d starve without the taste of his lips. He held on, not wanting to lose you again and you gladly welcomed the feeling. Your sister coughed loudly behind you and shooed the make out session “off her single and lonely property”. Dean smiled as he pressed down on the gas pedal and held your hand in his, everything was finally starting to put itself back together.

Tags: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes @cantnkrusshedevil

Send asks to join tags!

#supernatural #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #cw #requested #kayla answers #kayla speaks

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zwritestuff · 4 years

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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Two) - Kyara

A/N: Kiara is twenty-two today, and what a better way to celebrate than with a new chapter? I’m very much in love with this fic, and a third chapter should be on the way. Hope you enjoy this one though! It didn’t turn out according to my plan, but oh well. Shit happens.

Read on ao3 too!

***

If Kiara is completely honest, she has no idea why she started “hiding” at Kyne’s office in the first place.

Well, maybe she does have some sort of idea; she was mad at Wilbur, that one bitch of a CEO her father was — is, sadly — great friends with, for having completely dismissed her when she tried to express her opinions during a meeting, and spoke down to her as if she was a little kid and not an adult.

She had left the meeting seeing red, and the fact Lena was all over her, reminding her of all the things she had to do and blurting out message after message didn’t help. Kiara understood that it was just her job, but god damn it, Lena couldn’t understand simple hints for the sake of her life. So, before she undeservingly snapped at her secretary, she came up with a half-assed excuse to leave her office; she just needed to wander around to calm herself down.

Her first thought was to come to Rita, because she always knew what to say and how to calm her down, and Rita’s secretary, Tynomi, was probably the bluntest, funniest woman in the entire company. They always managed to cheer her up. Unfortunately, Rita had yet another meeting — Kiara swore she was the only CEO besides her that actually did her job.

She was wandering around the offices of the accountants when she saw Kyne’s door; Kyne had something that pulled Kiara like a magnet, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. Maybe it was the fact she made her laugh within a minute of meeting each other, or that every time she came to pick up or drop off some reports, she always managed to, at least, get a giggle out of her. And god knew she needed a laugh now.

So she knocked on an impulse she would later be grateful for.

Kyne was totally entitled to not want to listen to her problems or to kick her out (which she wouldn’t do, because everyone was afraid of her, apparently), but she let her stay, and offered her as much of her attention as she could, considering she still had work to do. And she even gave her advice — well, of sorts.

“I mean, you’re the boss of the boss of my boss; if anything, you could just tell her to chill or you’ll fire her. That should calm her,” she had said, placing her chin in her palm, her voice coming out as monotonous, though Kiara distinguished a playful gleam in her eyes. A giggle came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“I would, but I’m not that mean — and she’d tell my dad, anyway.” She shrugged, slightly rolling her eyes. She heard Kyne chuckle, and her heart skipped a beat. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I have to go, I have a meeting to attend, but thank you for letting me hide here.” She winked at her out of yet another impulse, but Kyne didn’t seem to mind, since she smiled at her in a way that knocked the air out of her lungs.

Okay, that was weird, Kiara thought.

“You’re welcome to hide here any time, miss Schatzi,” Kyne said, with that pretty smile still on her face. Kiara turned to see her, grabbing the handle of the door for dear life.

“You know what? Just call me Kiara.” She smiled bashfully and left, walking back to her office as fast as her heels allowed her.

She had shut the door in front of Lena’s face when she wouldn’t stop asking where she went, and had silently resolved that she wouldn’t go back to Kyne’s office unless it was for the sake of her job.

Kiara was also a pathological liar.

She came back one, two, three, who knows how many times, again. She’s not sure, but she knows it was enough for it to become a habit. Sometimes she’d also bring some sort of sweet so Kyne wouldn’t think of her as such a burden. Kiara knew she would get annoyed of her visits at some point, but that had yet to happen, and she was glad for it.

But their almost daily meetings hadn’t escaped the eye of the other employees, much to Kiara’s annoyance.

After setting the record straight with Lena and asking her to be a little less suffocating, they had managed to struck up a friendly relationship, built on the fact that Kiara asked her to be as blunt as possible with her, and in exchange she was honest with her when she went to visit Kyne in the middle of work hours. So it didn’t surprise Kiara when Lena had told her without hesitation that a good chunk of the employees thought she was sleeping with Kyne.

While Lena being blunt with her wasn’t that out of the common — her employees thinking she was sleeping with Kyne? That sure was a hell of a shock.

“You commit a mistake once and people vow to not forget it ever again,” she had grumbled once Lena was done telling her all about the gossip surrounding her and Kyne.

Lena cocked one of her perfectly painted eyebrows, intently staring at her. “Come again?”

Kiara quickly dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Nothing.”

She tried to not pay attention to what the people said about her — in fact, she was great at it — because she shouldn’t pay any mind to cheap office gossip. So Kiara went on with her life, without letting the rumors stop her from visiting Kyne.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the rumors reached her father.

Kiara’s father is a lovely man, he accepts her for who she is and always seeks out for her wellbeing. Though he makes misplaced comments more often than not, he never does it with ill-intent — oh, and there’s also the fact that he tried to turn Kiara into the son he never had, and when she came out he thought it was his fault that she was a lesbian. She finds it funny now, though she can’t say it was funny at that moment.

And because he cares about her, he’s always asking if she has had any dates recently, or if she’s going out with anyone at the company. It’s safe to say that when one of his friends came to him with the gossip about his own daughter, he got excited rather than offended.

“Am I going to meet your girlfriend at the ball next weekend?” He asks over dinner, and Kiara nearly chokes with her lasagna.

Now that’s why he wanted to have dinner out with her; he usually stays late at work, and Kiara ends up eating dinner with her mom and their three dogs.

Kiara swallows her lasagna and coughs a little before speaking. “Girlfriend? What do you mean?” She squints, tilting her head a little. She knows he’s talking about Kyne, but she prefers to play dumb.

Her father gives her a complicit smile, the kind he’d give her when she was little and they had gotten mud on their clothes after Kiara’s mom told them to not get dirty. She hasn’t seen that smile in years.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, pumpkin. I’m glad you’re seeing someone! You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He sounds so supportive and happy, that Kiara can’t bring herself to tell him it’s all just a huge misunderstanding.

So Kiara decides to bite the bullet and tell her dad she’s dating one of the accountants of the company, and the proud smile on his face makes it more difficult to lie to him. But at the same time, it isn’t hard to list off all the things she likes about Kyne, because she does like her — as a friend, clearly, but her dad doesn’t have to know that.

He promises her he’ll get Kyne on the guest list of the charity ball, so she can properly introduce her to him and her mother, as well as their friends. Though Kiara nods and thanks him with a huge smile that she hopes doesn’t look forced, her hands are sweating and she knows right away that the first thing she’ll have to do tomorrow morning is talk with Kyne.

***

It’s Wednesday morning, and Kiara buys a cup of coffee and a bagel on her way to work, because she knows what she’s about to ask Kyne will probably make her hate her guts. She wouldn’t blame her.

Surprisingly, it goes far better than she expected. Kyne says yes, in her very Kyne-like way. And Kiara can’t believe it. What surprises her more is the fact Kyne seemingly had no idea about these rumors; if Kiara is lucky, she has no idea about what people said about her even before she started working full-time at the company.

She promises to take her shopping for a dress and leaves her office with her heart plummeting in her ears, the sight of Kyne’s flustered expression ingrained in her brain.

Kiara goes back to her office, walking past Lena and asking her to pretty please get Kyne’s phone number from the company’s records. Kiara notices she’s curious, but Lena doesn’t ask why she wants it or how she doesn’t have it, considering she spends almost every day with her; she just cocks a brow her way and replies with a polite yes ma’am.

She tries to get her job done, to answer the e-mails still pending in her inbox and call back all the people she has to call back, but the only thing on her mind is Kyne. She’s not sure if it’s the guilt of having dragged her, or the impatience for Friday to arrive bubbling up in her stomach, but as soon as it’s time for lunch she sprints off to Rita’s office.

Rita always knows what to say, and right now, Kiara needs someone to tell her this isn’t an incredibly bad idea, even though that would be a lie.

Before she notices she’s knocking on her door and finds Rita along with Tynomi, who greet her with a wide smile.

“Hey Kiki, we were just heading out, wanna go have lunch with us?” Rita asks with a smile, but Kiara shakes her head no.

“I’m fine, thanks. But I could use your help with something,” she says, fidgeting with her fingers. Rita motions at her to take a seat, as she sits back on her chair and Tynomi perches herself against the desk.

Kiara tries to sum up the mess she had gotten herself into, and she can’t blame them when they try to hold back laughs by biting their lower lips and squeezing each other’s wrist.

“So now I need someone to tell me this isn’t a catastrophically bad idea, and that we won’t get caught lying at the ball,” Kiara dramatizes, and Rita snorts, exchanging a brief look with Tynomi before speaking.

“Poussin, you leave me speechless. You could’ve just told your dad it was a misunderstanding,” Rita says with a shrug and Kiara groans, folding her arms.

“Kyne said exactly the same thing — it’s not that easy!” She protests childishly, and the older women laugh at her expense. Kiara wants to be pissed, but she’d also laugh at herself, honestly.

“I mean, it’s a bad idea depending of the way you look at it,” Tynomi says, “You can either be the laughing stock if people find out you’re faking a relationship with this woman, or, you can win an actual girlfriend. Depends how you play your cards,” she explains, as if it’s that easy. Rita hums in agreement, and Kiara rolls her eyes.

“I don’t like Kyne like that.” It’s the first thing she says, sounding more defensive that she intended to. “I just don’t know how to go about this. I enjoy Kyne’s friendship a lot, and I don’t wanna lose it if we fuck this up,” she admits bashfully, and their expressions soften up.

“Then I think you should be talking things out with her, not us,” Rita says, with that motherly tone she always uses when she knows she’s right, and Kiara knows there’s no use fighting her logic.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen? She’ll break up with you?” Tynomi jokes, earning a laugh from them.

“If I run, I think I can get to her before lunch finishes…” She mumbles absent-mindedly, standing up and heading to the door. “Thank you, girls. See you later!” Kiara gives them a grateful smile and a wave before she leaves.

“Be careful running with those heels!” Rita exclaims as she’s closing the door.

Kiara walks as fast as she can through the hallways, trying not to trip with her own feet. She anxiously looks around, searching for Kyne’s purple jacket — God bless Kyne for always wearing jackets with unconventional colors to work.

She hears a ping and pulls out her phone, smiling when she sees a message from Lena with a contact attached. Her message reads that she’s sorry for the delay, but she got distracted by someone — Kiara has an eerie feeling that said someone is a woman from the architect team, but she just replies with a thank you.

She turns in a corner, ending up in the hallway of Kyne’s office. Kiara smiles when she sees Kyne’s purple jacket at the end of the hallway, walking away with her friends.

“Kyne!” She exclaims, ignoring the ache in her feet as she trotters towards her. Kyne turns around, looking at Kiara with a flustered expression. Her friends turn around too, but their faces read nothing but pure mischief. “Wait up, I was looking for you.”

“Me? Why?” She asks once Kiara is near enough. Her brows are knitted in a frown, stealing glances at her friends, who have their attention focused on Kiara.

Kiara shakes off the nerves, sucks in a breath and smiles at Kyne, hoping that she goes with the flow. “Well, we’re going to have lunch together, aren’t we?” She bites her lower lip, hiding her sweaty palms behind her back.

Kyne squints. “We’re— oh!” She blinks repeatedly as she catches what’s going on. “Oh, yeah, we are. Sorry guys, I forgot. Go on without me.” She gives them a bashful look as she ushers them, and the one Kiara recognizes as Priyanka from the architect team snorts as she drags the other two women with her.

Once they’re alone, they stare at each other awkwardly, until Kyne speaks again.

“Uh, mind telling me what this is all about?” She asks, fidgeting with the ring in her index finger. Kiara bites the inside of her lip, with her hands still behind her back.

“We’re going to have lunch?” She replied, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Kyne cocks a sly brow, and Kiara groans. “Okay, fine, this is very last minute, but hear me out.” Kiara takes a few steps closer, face inches away from Kyne’s. She tries to not get distracted by the rosy undertone in Kyne’s cheeks. “I know we spend almost every day together, but when you think about it, we don’t know much about each other, and couples are supposed to know each other to every little detail. If someone finds out that this is a lie, it’ll probably be because of our lack of knowledge about each other – and lord knows I don’t want to be the laughing stock of the company.”

“Why would you be the laughing stock of the company?” Is the only thing that Kyne questions from her logic, tilting her head to the side as she furrows her brow. Perhaps it’s just Kiara’s mind, but she could swear she felt a tinge of defensiveness in her tone.

“Imagine how embarrassing it’d be if the daughter of the owner was caught faking a relationship? A lot of people already think I’m a hoe that sleeps around; I’m sure this would be deemed pathetic instead of debunking my reputation,” she explains with an eye roll. Kyne’s expression softens up, and she gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I know this great place some streets away, if you don’t mind walking in heels,” Kyne offers, and Kiara smiles widely.

They get to really know each other beyond what co-workers do they hate and how much they dread Sandy the secretary of the front desk over pumpkin pie and sorrentinos; Kiara learns that Kyne knows how to play the flute traversière since she was a teen, knows how to sew and is fluent in Tagalog.

She offers Kiara to teach her some insults, and between laughs she replies that she’ll teach her French insults in exchange. In the back of her mind, Kiara thinks this might just work.

#some things are bound to be fic #kyara #kyne #online kyne #kiara schatzi #rita baga #tynomi banks #my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction

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jaybear1701 · 4 years

Link

Scylla's so engrossed in the latest issue of the American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology that she doesn’t notice Tally enter her office until she plops herself in a seat on the other side of her desk.

“Good morning!” Tally greets.

“Morning.” Scylla smiles, closing the journal. “You’re up bright and early.”

“Couldn’t sleep. I think we might have a break in the Windpipe murders,” Tally waves a manila folder and Scylla grits her teeth that Raelle’s anatomically incorrect nickname is spreading. Even the news media has picked it up in their coverage, much to Scylla’s chagrin. “Thought maybe Raelle would be down here so I could share the news.”

Scylla's brows knit together. "Why would she be down here?"

“Because you’re practically joined at the hip,” Tally says matter-of-factly, like, duh.

The blaze on Scylla’s cheeks spreads fast and fierce. “T-that’s not,” she stutters. “We’re not joined at the hip.”

“That’s not what Sergeant Quartermaine says.” Tally shrugs. “Or Abigail. Or Dr. L’Amara. Should I go on?”

And because Raelle has the worst timing in the whole world, that’s when she decides to stroll into Scylla’s office, bright and fresh, carrying two cups of coffee. Because of course.

“Morning, Doc,” Raelle sets one cup down in front of Scylla as Tally lifts one, wholly amused eyebrow. “Tally, this is an unexpected surprise.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Tally smirks. Scylla wishes she could just disappear from this conversation.

“Wha?” Raelle looks confused as she sits next to Tally.

“Nothing.” Tally eyes Scylla’s cup of shame before pouting at Raelle. “Hey, why don’t you ever bring me coffee?”

“One, you’re usually not in until later.” Raelle ticks off the points with her fingers. “Two, I know Gerit always makes you a snooty pourover, anyway. And, three, well I can’t think of a three. But you can have mine, if you’d like.”

Raelle offers her coffee to Tally, who shakes her head dramatically. “No, it’s fine if you like Scylla more.” Tally winks at Scylla, while Raelle flushes. “Besides, I’ll only stay long enough to share my news so you both can get back to your little coffee date.”

Raelle and Scylla both avoid making eye contact with each other, but neither corrects Tally’s assumption. Scylla’s pulse flutters as she reaches out for her coffee and takes a small sip. Kona, no cream, one sugar. Just like she likes it.

“So,” Raelle clears her throat. “What do you have?”

Tally scoots to the edge of her seat. "How much do you guys know about the history of Salem?"

“Honestly? Not much.” Scylla shrugs. “Which is sad given that my family apparently came over with the early settlers.”

“Really!” Tally’s brows shoot up. “Let’s put a pin in that for now. How about the Salem Witch Trials?”

"The basics, really. I'm no expert." Scylla’s not sure where Tally’s going with this line of questioning, and neither does Raelle.

“What’s this have to do with the case, Tal?” Raelle asks.

Tally raises a finger. "Patience, my dear Collar. Patience. As you may recall, one of the first victims was Constance Treefine. Another, Benjamin Saint. And yet another was Kendall Swythe."

"All High Atlantics," Raelle taps the lid of her cup. “Bells and I already questioned their families. Nothing but dead ends.”

Tally nods. "Right, but maybe you're talking to the wrong people. Those tattoos on the victims? They're sigils. Of demons." She pulls out a sheet of paper, and hands it to Scylla. Sure enough, it depicts the markings Scylla found on the bodies.

"So you're saying, what?" Raelle asks when she gets the paper, tilting her head and flipping the paper.

"What if the killer is targeting people they think are 'evil' in some way. Like those rumored to be descended from the original Salem Witches. People like the High Atlantics."

It's a common enough tall tale in Salem. One that even Scylla remembers from her time growing up in town, though she always suspected it was a myth perpetuated by High Atlantics themselves to enhance their own prestige.

"But other victims weren't High Atlantics," Scylla points out.

"Also true! But, on a hunch, I ran a search and all of them are members of the Associated Daughters and Sons of Early American Witches. The name speaks for itself.” Tally pulls out yet another paper from her folder. This time it appears to be a roster, which she passes to Raelle.

Raelle squints at the list. "You're saying the killer is, what, some kind of witch...hunter?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but we're clearly not dealing with a sane person right now," Tally says. "This could be the key we need to find a common thread about who they’ve interacted with.”

“Like someone with access to potent chemicals,” Scylla says, impressed.

“Exactly!” Tally beams.

"This is incredible, Tal." Raelle hands the paper back and pulls out her phone. “I can’t wait to tell Bellweather.”

“I thought she was off today because she had a thing for her cousin’s wedding.”

“She does,” Raelle types out a quick text. “But she’ll want to know about this.”

“You know what we should do?” Tally’s eyes are round, excitement rolling off her in waves. “We should go out to celebrate this weekend.”

“Celebrate what?” Raelle asks. “We haven’t caught the asshole yet.”

“Celebrate our hard work,” Tally explains as if she’s talking to a child. “Boost morale. You know, rah-rah interdepartmental unity! What do you say?”

Raelle fidgets in her chair. “I mean, I’m game if Ramshorn’s in.”

They both turn to look at Scylla--Raelle cautiously optimistic, Tally openly hopeful and expectant. Scylla knows she should say no. But Tally's enthusiasm is utterly contagious, and her heart answers for her.

“Sure.”

***

The pizza parlor is packed by the time Scylla arrives, the air teeming with conversation and the mouthwatering aroma of baked dough, tomato sauce, and cheese. Scylla nervously tucks her hands in her skinny jeans, worrying that perhaps she spent too much time on her makeup and hair and would look like she was trying too hard… and then feeling annoyed at herself for worrying in the first place. It’s just dinner with co-workers. No big deal.

She sees Raelle waving in the distance, beckoning her to a booth tucked in a relatively secluded corner of the restaurant.

"Glad you made it, Doc.” Raelle smiles, as attractive in casual jeans and a navy flannel shirt as she is in her work suits. “I wasn't sure you'd show up."

The truth is, Scylla almost backed out. Had even dreamed up a fairly plausible excuse to back out. But it’s been several days since she last saw Raelle and, the truth is, Scylla might have missed her. Just a bit.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Scylla says as she slips out of her black leather jacket and hangs it on a nearby hook. She feels the heat of Raelle’s azure gaze skimming down the length of her outfit, and Scylla’s secretly pleased she chose to wear her favorite blouse, the one that clings to her curves just right.

“The others should be here soon." Raelle averts her eyes and polishes off the last bit of beer in her glass.

Their waitress, a pretty brunette with green eyes, slides up to the table and sets down a basket of breadsticks and a couple of saucers. “Can I get you another, miss? And something for your girlfriend?” She winks at Scylla.

“Oh.” Raelle’s eyes widen. “Um, we’re not…”

“I’d love a Pinot Grigio, if you have one,” Scylla answers smoothly. The way Raelle’s mouth drops open makes the fib worth it.

“Coming right up!” The server whisks away Raelle’s empty glass and goes to get the rest of their order.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to let people assume,” Scylla says off Raelle’s questioning look.

“Fair game.” Raelle bobs her head. “Well, as your presumed girlfriend for the night, can I say how nice you look?”

“Why, thank you,” Scylla says, appreciating how Raelle’s shirt brings out the blue in her eyes. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Detective.”

“Now, none of that.” Raelle wags a finger. “We’re both off-duty. It’s Raelle or else I’m fake breaking up with you.”

“Okay,” Scylla acquiesces. “Raelle.”

The pleased smile that stretches across Raelle’s face makes Scylla’s stomach swoop.

A cell phone buzzes, and Raelle fishes it from her pocket. “Sorry.” The corners of her lips turn downward. “Tally says she can’t make it. Something came up with her boyfriend, Gerit. And…” Her frown deepens. “Looks like Abigail’s stuck picking out bridesmaid dresses with her cousin.” She glances up at Scylla. “I know what this looks like, but I swear I didn’t plan this.”

Scylla chuckles, even as her heart rate speeds up. “I didn’t say anything.”

So it’s just her and Raelle. Alone. Having dinner. As if on cue, the restaurant dims its lights for the dinner crowd, and they both nervously laugh.

“So,” Scylla says, racking her brain for something to say that can distract them from the sudden awkwardness that descends on them.

“So.”

"You guys have been busy lately.” Work is always a safe subject, Scylla thinks as she picks up a bottle of olive oil from the table and pours some on her saucer. She tears a small chunk off one of the breadsticks, dips it into the oil, and eats it. It’s soft, garlicky, and deliciously savory, and Scylla nearly moans.

Raelle tears her eyes from Scylla’s lips and helps herself to the bread, too. "Yeah, we’ve been trying to chase down the leads from Tally’s research. Think we're making headway in the case."

"That's terrific."

“After that robbery, I think Quartermaine will have my ass if we don’t solve the case soon.” Raelle takes a big bite out of a bread stick.

“Probably.” Scylla nods. “Anacostia is nothing if not results-driven. Demanding, but fair.” She takes a deep breath, willing to take a chance with Raelle. “It’s what makes her a great mom.”

Raelle practically chokes, coughing so hard that Scylla wonders if she should start performing the Heimlich maneuver. But the server rushes over to give her a glass of water. “Mom?” She asks after she gulps some water down. “Quartermaine doesn’t have kids.”

Scylla bites her lip. “She was my court-appointed guardian, after my parents died in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Scylla shakes her head. “She kept me out of a lot of trouble back then. Reminded me to hold on to the good in life, and set me down the right path. And when the guardianship ended, she still watched over me, even when she didn’t have to.”

“That’s um…” Raelle frowns, a mixture of shock and a bit of trepidation flashing across her face, cogs cranking at the realization of what she’s done with the woman who’s like a daughter to her superior officer. “That’s… wow.”

The server returns with their drinks, and Raelle chugs down nearly half her beer. Scylla can’t help but laugh.

“I’m glad this is so amusing for you.” Raelle swipes at her mouth with a cloth napkin. “Got any other bombs you’d like to drop on me?”

“Maybe.” Scylla grins mischievously. “The night’s still young.”

***

Maybe it’s the buzz from the wine, or the comfort of good food and even better company, but Scylla can’t say no to Raelle when she suggests they take a walk together. It’s the perfect fall evening, with just the right amount of nip in the air. They take their time wandering until they reach the waterfront, where ambient light from old street lamps and restaurants glint off the dark waves of the harbor.

“So, you’re from Salem?” Raelle asks as they stroll side-by-side, close enough that their shoulders brush on occasion.

“Born and raised,” Scylla confirms. “After my parents passed, I decided to go to Johns Hopkins and never looked back. Apart from Anacostia, there were just too many painful memories here.”

“I get that.” Raelle hooks her thumbs in her pockets. “It’s part of the reason I left Cherokee after my mom died.”

Scylla’s chest aches in sympathy. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all.” Raelle takes a deep breath. “She was in the military. A combat medic. Served two tours only to be taken out because she tried to help a convenience store clerk being robbed at gunpoint. Rotten luck, huh?”

Without thinking, Scylla takes Raelle’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “She was very brave.”

“Yeah.” Raelle smiles sadly.

“You take after her,” Scylla doesn’t let go of Raelle’s hand, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Raelle shrugs. “I try my best.” Her thumb brushes the back of Scylla’s hand, and that light touch is enough to spark a shiver down Scylla’s spine. They turn down one of the older piers. The wooden planks creak beneath their feet. They let each other go when they can’t walk any farther. It’s darker further out on the water, but Raelle’s blonde hair seems to glow in the moonlight.

“Scylla?” Raelle asks.

“Hm?”

“Are we… ever going to talk about it?” Raelle’s voice is quiet, unsure, so unlike her usual cocksure bravado.

Of course, Scylla knows exactly what Raelle’s talking about. It’s been hanging over them for months now, unacknowledged and unsaid. She supposes this conversation is inevitable, no matter how badly she’d rather avoid it.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” Scylla says. “That night, I was trying to, I don’t know, live a little. In the spur of the moment. It’s not something I’m used to doing.”

“Me neither.” Off Scylla’s incredulous look, Raelle adds, “Look, I know there are lots of rumors about me. But they’re not true.”

“So you don’t have all-nighters?” Scylla tries not to sound jealous.

Raelle laughs softly. “That’s not what you think it means.”

“Then enlighten me.” Scylla crosses her arms.

“Sometimes the other detectives need someone to cover a stake out for them. And I volunteer in exchange for little favors.”

“What kind of favors?”

“Oh,” Raelle half shrugs. “Like, finding out someone’s favorite coffee order, for example.”

That’s the last thing she expects Raelle to say and, embarrassed, Scylla scuffs her shoe against the pier. “I see.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Raelle takes a step closer. “And then you show up at a crime scene, no less. And I thought, maybe it’s fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Scylla says, weakly.

“I didn’t either,” Raelle admits. “Until I met you.”

Scylla’s heart throbs against her ribs. “Raelle…”

“Look, I know you don’t date co-workers. And I respect that, but I just want you to know that night wasn’t just some notch in my belt for me. It was special. You’re special. And I…”

Scylla surges forward and captures the rest of Raelle’s words with her lips. A beat passes and Raelle places her hands on Scylla’s hips to pull her closer. The kiss deepens and it’s as dizzying as Scylla remembers, like the ground has fallen out from beneath them and they’re free-floating in zero gravity. She clutches at Raelle’s shoulders, the flannel soft beneath her fingertips. When Raelle’s tongue traces her bottom lip, Scylla gasps from the frisson of electricity that jolts through her. It’s too much. Too intense. And she has to take a step back and out of Raelle’s arms.

“Sorry,” Raelle murmurs, eyes glazed but concerned .

Scylla shakes her head.”No, I’m sorry.” It’s hard to catch her breath, and she already misses Raelle’s warmth. “I think about that night. Of course, I do. And I panicked that morning and left. I didn’t expect to see you again, either, or that you’d be… you.” She licks her still-tingling lips. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m not very good at letting people in. But you? You make me want to try.”

Raelle reaches out and cups Scylla’s face with one hand. “There’s no rush.” Her thumb caresses her cheek, and Scylla leans into her palm, eyes closing. “Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Raelle drives Scylla home to her apartment building, and it takes all of Scylla’s willpower to stop herself from pulling Raelle inside right then and there, caution be damned. But Raelle’s a true southern gentlewoman and leans over to give Scylla a goodnight peck on the cheek, making sure she’s safely inside before heading home.

***

Tally calls her the next morning, awfully curious to know how dinner went. Scylla can practically feel Tally’s glee over the line.

��I told you, Tally, it was fine,” Scylla says as she presses the phone to her ear. “Just a quiet dinner between colleagues.”

“That’s it?” Tally’s disappointment is palpable.

“That’s it.” Scylla feels bad about lying, but she wants to keep whatever she has with Raelle to herself, for now. It’s too new. Too uncertain. A sprout that needs cultivation and shelter. Her cell beeps from a text as Tally begins to talk about Gerit.

Scylla's heart stops when she reads it.

Raelle Collar: I can’t stop thinking about you.

Affection fills her chest, fuzzy and warm. She types back: I miss you, too.

***

At work, nothing really changes. On the surface, their normal routine continues and they keep things strictly professional. Raelle drops off a coffee every morning, and Scylla updates the detectives with new autopsy findings when she has them. And, in the rare moments they’re alone, they steal heated kisses that Scylla can feel all the way down to her toes.

Raelle is true to her word, and doesn’t push Scylla for any more than she’s ready to give. They can’t quite say they’re dating, when they have no time to actually go on any. But their pace suits Scylla just fine. Slow and steady.

And their colleagues are none the wiser. Except for Anacostia, who comments at their next lunch, “Something’s different about you. You’re...glowing.”

“I did use a new shampoo recently.” Scylla deflects and flips her hair. “Maybe that’s it?”

Anacostia narrows her eyes. “No, that’s not it.” She spears a piece of kale from her salad. “Collar’s been different lately, too. Calmer. More focused.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Humming, Anacostia chews thoughtfully. “What indeed.”

***

Eventually, Abigail calls Scylla into a meeting with Tally and Raelle. They sit around a table in a small meeting room that’s been serving as the command hub for the Windpipe Killer case. Photographs of the victims are taped to multiple white boards that line the walls of the room, with various bits of evidence, timelines, and potential leads are scribbled in blue dry erase marker.

Abigail nods at Scylla when she enters, Tally waves her hand excitedly, and Raelle gives her a small secret smile that makes Scylla’s heart skip a beat.

“How can I help you, ladies?” Scylla joins them at a conference table littered with notes, three venti-sized coffee cups, and half-eaten boxes of Chinese takeout.

“Remember when you told me your family helped settle Salem?” Tally asks, typing furiously on her laptop keyboard.

“Sure,” Scylla says.

“And did you know that one of your ancestors was accused of witchcraft?” Tally looks up, her brown eyes wide.

Scylla can’t help but laugh. “What?”

Tally swivels her computer screen toward Scylla. It shows lists of names and several family trees. “From your mother’s side, I traced your genealogy to Sarah Cloyce, who was accused but never indicted by a grand jury during the Witch Trials.”

“We’re working on a theory that the killer, whoever he or she may be, is targeting the ancestors of women and men suspected of witchcraft,” Abigail says.

“Right,” Scylla nods. “Tally mentioned that before.”

Tally snaps her fingers. “Yes, but not just any ancestors. The ones who were accused, but either escaped, were pardoned, or were never indicted.”

“All the victims fit the profile,” Abigail stands and walks toward one of the whiteboards, scrutinizing the picture of Kendall Swythe.

“Okay,” Scylla says. “So you’re saying the killer is, what, trying to finish the job?”

“Bingo,” Raelle finally speaks up. “I knew you were a sharp one, Doc.”

Scylla shakes her head. “Am I in danger of some sort?”

“No,” Raelle quickly reassures her. “Not at all. Unless you’re secretly a member of a Salem witch society. It’s the one common thread we’ve found among all the victims.” She pauses. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” Scylla frowns. “Then why are you telling me this?”

Abigail turns back around, hands held behind her back. “If the killer is among them, we don’t want to tip them off by questioning folks. We need someone to join that group and be our eyes. Someone who can prove their lineage.”

“Who isn’t from a family of well-known law enforcement officials,” Tally inclines her head toward Abigail.

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Raelle says. “But obviously I’d keep you,” she clears her throat and Abigail rolls her eyes. “We’d keep you safe until we catch this son of a bitch.”

Scylla doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ll do it.”

Raelle blinks in surprise. “Are you sure? If you need some time to think it over...”

“No.” Scylla locks eyes with Raelle. “I’m in.”

#raylla #motherland fort salem #mfsweek #raelle collar #scylla ramshorn #non-magic au

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me - Chapter 2

Warnings: very light smut

Tagging: @thunderintheshadows, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

It's shortly before midnight when she joins him outside; just beyond the back fence and gate that he and Ovi had built to keep the kids -or at least attempt to- contained when outside on their own. Their property is private and secluded; just the kind of quiet, and security they'd been craving. Fifteen acres with its own stretch of private beach, a vast area of woodlands to the left, just beyond the guest house that Ovi and Chloe share, and their closest neighbour two hundred yards away.

In Colorado their 'thing' had been to end the evening out on the porch swing; it was often their only chance to actually carry on a proper conversation without being constantly interrupted by the kids. When they could temporarily stop being parents and just be Tyler and Esme. The therapist had been adamant about it; that they both realize their roles in each others lives far extended raising a family together. That they needed to get back to staying connected beyond the realms of parenthood; important that the connection was not just physical, but emotional as well. At first Tyler had thought it was all a load shit; both what the therapist had said and needing to see one in the first place. That the change of pace and scenery would be more than enough to not only keep the connection between them and make it stronger. Not realizing until they had started sitting down to talk to someone just how fractured things actually were. He'd always thought that things were fine; that they'd gotten past the toughest and darkest spots and that they were nowhere near disintegrating and that if their problems ever got that bad, they'd be able to get through it on their own.

Once they actually started concentrating on things -the way they fought and the intensity in which they did, the horrible things that were said to one another- it became apparent that there was a lot repairing that needed to be done. It wouldn't been easy or a short fix, but at least it could be put back together.

The sand is soft beneath her feet; cool and refreshing as it slips between her toes. The beach itself is relatively unspoiled and remarkably preserved; the old owners never using it, preferring to just enjoy the views of the ocean and the remarkable sunsets. Their road itself hasn't seen children in in over thirty years, and shortly after they'd move in they would routinely find notes and small presents for the kids in their mailbox from residents further down. About how nice it was to them see them out on their bikes or chasing one another, how great it was to hear their shouts and their laughter.

Mac lays beside Tyler on a blanket on the beach, raising his head to watch her as she approaches; giving small whimpering noises -his happy sounds, as the vet calls them-, tail beginning to sway back and forth. He's grown like weed; not even full size yet but massive and strong. But despite the mail man's fear of him, he's surprisingly docile. Growing up with four kids that constantly love on you and never you leave you alone and always sneak you treats will do it. And he's loyal and fiercely intelligent; always sensing when one of his people may need a little bit extra attention. Tyler's arm rests along Mac's back, hand slowly stroking the shepherd's impossibly large ears and scratching the scruff of his neck.

“You need to move,” Esme says, and points to a spot on the sand. “You're in my spot you stinky, hairy beast.”

Her husband doesn't move his forearm from over his eyes. “Are you talking to me or the dog?”

“You're not that stinky,” she playfully retorts, and then once more points to the sand. “Mac, seriously. Move. I know he's your person, but he's my person too and you have to share him.”

All it takes from Tyler is a ruffle of the fur and a “Move, mate” and the dog obliges; sauntering over to his master's other side, the curling up in the sand, making sure that least one of his paws is in contact with Tyler's body.

“Worst behaved dog ever,” Esme grumbles, and sinks down onto the blanket, lying on her side and tucking herself under her husband's arm when he immediately wraps it around her. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder as she places hers on his stomach and rest her head on his chest. It's soothing. The sound and smell of the ocean, the warmth of his body and how solid it is against her, the scent that clings to him; mixture of cologne, laundry detergent, and sweat. It's familiar, but remarkably him.

“Kids asleep?” he asks, and she nods.

“Every last one,” she replies with a content sigh.

It doesn't happen often; the three older ones falling asleep fairly early and easily, while Declan and Addie spend hours alternating who needs the most attention.

Her hand continues to rub his stomach; she likes the extra weight he carries there now. His body thicker than it was before. Even more muscular and powerful. And she rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at him, his forearm still over his eyes.

“Tired?” he asks, his palm slowly moving over her shoulder and down her arm, then travelling back up again.

“When am I not tired? Do you and Ovi work tomorrow?”

“Just a few odd jobs. I shouldn't be home too late.”

It had been an easy decision; getting back into doing home renos and general repairs. They don't particularly need the money, a large chunk of the five million left even after buying the house, all the furnishings, and doing repairs and upgrades. But he enjoys working with his hands; the finished results giving him a sense of accomplishment. It keeps him busy and his mind focused on the task at hand, and having Ovi with him meant he could let the kid handle any personal contact with clients and Tyler himself could avoid actually having to interact with people.

Her hand slips under the front of his shirt, finger lightly drawing a circle around his navel, and she feels him shudder against her when she runs a fingertip along the waist band of jeans.

He clears his throat noisily. “Do you mind?”

“No, actually I don't,” she grins, one finger dipping underneath the denim, then slowly moving along his skin.

“Well you should,” Tyler grabs a hold of her wrist, pulling her hand out of his pants and then entwining their fingers together. “Stop.”

“Like you're not enjoying it.”

“That's the problem. I am enjoying it.”

“It's been three months,” she laments.

Sighing, he nods.

“Three months, fifteen days and thirteen hours,” she clarifies, and he opens his eyes and looks down at her. “What?” she shrugs. “You're not keeping track?”

He grins. “I may or may not have it in my calendar on my phone.”

She laughs at that, then buries her face in his neck; lips pressing a series of soft, feathery kisses on his jaw line, just under his beard.

“Would you stop...” he uses the side of his head to push her away, and shifts uncomfortably against the sand. “....knock it off.”

“You don't miss it?” she refuses to be deterred, her free had coming up to comb through his hair as her lips find the side of his neck, the tip of her tongue trailing over the scar left behind from Dhaka.

“Of course I miss it. I miss it a fuck of a lot, but...stop...seriously...stop...”

“That's a first for you. I didn't think you knew that word.”

“You need to just calm yourself down and leave me alone,” he grumbles.

“My hormones are insane,” she pouts. “Like off the charts insane. And it's been three and a half months and I miss you.”

“How can you miss me? I'm right here. Every day.”

“No, I mean I miss you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You mean in the biblical sense?”

She giggles. “Exactly. What you don't miss me?”

“Of course I do. We just...” the frustration finally gets the better of him and he shoves her over onto her side, then grabs a hold of both of her wrists in one hand before lying down behind her. “...it's too soon.”

“It's been two weeks since she was born.”

“Which is way too soon,” he insists, and pressing a kiss to the back of her head, groaning when she slides closer to him, so that her ass pressed right against his crotch. “Really? Are you serious right now?”

“I think I know my body.”

“Well so does the doctor and he says it's too soon. So...” he has to pull his hips back so no more contact can be made. “...fuck off, already.”

“You're grumpy.”

“I'm not grumpy. I'm horny. And sexually frustrated. And you know damn well what you're doing right now and you need to stop.”

“There's other things we can do,” she reminds him.

“Yeah and I won't be able to stop at just the other things. So please,” he tightens his hold on her wrists and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Stop. Be nice to me.”

“I was going to be very nice to you, But fine...” she dramatically huffs. “...if you want to have to keep studying alone.”

“I think I can handle another two or three weeks of 'studying alone'. That's nothing compared to three fucking months. You going to be good?”

“If you insist.”

“I do,” he says, and kisses her cheek. “Unfortunately.”

He releases his hold on her wrists, lacing their fingers together once again pressing their joined hands against her; eyes closed, face buried in her hair.

****

“I heard you met the hot teacher today,” she comments.

“She's about twenty years older than me but if you think she's hot...”

“You damn well know that's not who I was talking about. I mean Millie's teacher. The little blond thing with big boobs.”

“I didn't even notice.”

“Oh please. You're a guy.”

“I'm a guy that's not interested in meeting other women. So...”

“Your daughter said she was all 'touchy feely' with daddy.”

“She was not all touchy feely. She tried to touch my arm. And give me her phone number.”

Esme scowls at him over her shoulder. “Excuse me, what?”

“To talk about your daughter,” Tyler clarifies. “Because your daughter has a mouth on her.”

“Maybe because she takes after you.”

He snorts.

“She is all you and you know it. I am not taking the blame for her mouth. She is all attitude. Your attitude. She even has the same facial expressions as you. So I am not being held responsible for her being a smart ass. You can deal with that. You can give her shit.”

“I already did. I told her not to be so much like her mother,” he laughs as she attempts to elbow him in the stomach, then lifts his head and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“Millie says the teacher likes you. And that she's going to ask you out on a date.”

“Yeah? Good for her. I like you. So she's shit out of luck.”

“Six years and we're still at the like stage?” she teases. “I thought we'd at least be at infatuation by now.”

He grins. “We are way past infatuation, baby.”

“Do you think she's cute?”

“Who?

She huffs dramatically. “Millie's teacher. Do you think she's cute?”

“I think you're cute.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I wasn't paying attention. I'm not looking to pick up so why would I?”

“You must have noticed if she was cute or not.”

“Baby...” he sighs. “...I'm not looking at other women. I'm perfectly happy with the one I have.”

“So you've never thought about it? Hooking up with someone else?”

“Have you?”

“We're not talking about me. I have no reason to want to find someone to hook up with. Maybe you do. It's been three months.”

“Three and half but who's keeping track?”

“And in that whole time you've never thought about it?”

“Esme, I don't want to fight. I just want to lie here and hold you and talk. Normal talk. Not the talking that leads to a fight. It's too late and I'm too tired. I have never, ever thought about that. Not once in the last six and a bit years. Cheat on my wife because she's pregnant and can't put out? I do know how to jerk off, you know.”

“You said a long time ago it wasn't the same,” she points out.

“It isn't. But that doesn't mean I want to fuck someone else. There's only you. There's only been you since we met. And it's only going to be you for the rest of my life. So stop...” he kisses her temple. “...don't turn this into a thing.”

“I swear if that teacher asks you out on a date...”

“No one is asking anyone out on a date. Your daughter is super paranoid. And she has a fucking mouth on her.”

“Then watch your fucking language around her,” Esme retorts, and they both laugh. After several minutes she rolls over to face him; forehead resting against his, a hand coming out to push through his hair. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“That was a big step for you today. Huge, actually. You haven't been able to anything like that in two months. Especially going into town with that many of the kids with you? At least not without an anxiety attack. Everything went okay?”

“Everything was fine.” He doesn't tell her about the hyper-vigilance being in overdrive; noticing every little sound, every little movement out of the corner of his eye. It hasn't been that bad in a couple of months. Whether he's learned how to control it or if it's actually getting better, he doesn't know. But being that alert and that agitated at the park had not been a good sign.

“I'm proud of you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I know how hard you're trying. I also know how hard it is for you to go out of your comfort zone like that. And that you it somehow makes you weak; that you have the issues you do.”

He nods in agreement.

“You are far from being a weak man, Tyler. You are anything but weak. Don't let your brain tell you otherwise, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, giving a small, unconvincing smile.

“You're brave whether you see yourself that way or not. You fight against your own mind every second of every day. And you win every time. If that's not brave, I don't know what it is.”

He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her; long and soft, closed mouth open closed mouth. Then chuckles when she attempts to push her lower body against his, his hand falling to her hip to prevent it from happening. “You told me you'd be good.”

“Then stop being so good at making me want to do bad things,” she responds, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. They're silent for several minutes; listening to the sound of the ocean, feeling each others warm breath against their faces. And he once more places his forehead against hers, a hand on the small of her back.

“What are you thinking about?” Esme asks. “And don't say nothing because your throat always gets tight and you get those creases in your forehead.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff that you don't need to worry about.”

“I hate to break it to you, but your stuff became my stuff when you decided you wanted to get married. So it's technically our stuff now.”

“We're not supposed to talk about the kids when we're having 'us time' remember?”

“I don't think we're expected to totally stop talking about them. That's impossible. We have five of them. One is bound to come up in conversation. And I actually brought Millie up first when I mentioned the hot teacher, so that means you get to mention at least one kind now. It's only fair.”

He grins. “You have weird rules.”

“You expect anything less than weird? Buddy, are you new here? Our house is full of weird.”

He can't argue with that.

“It's about Tyler isn't it.” It's a statement, not a question, and he gives a nod of confirmation. “If we could just get in to see the doctor or find another taking new patients....”

“Maybe the one in Sydney isn't a bad idea,” he suggests.

“You're the one who said it was too far to go,” she reminds him. “And neither of us like the fact that she's pro school and pro pushing medication.”

“I do not want to drug my kid up. He's five.”

“But that's what they're suggesting,” she fidgets with the chain around his neck as she talks. “Or what this doctor told them we should do.”

“He's five,” Tyler stresses. “He's a little boy.:

“I know, but...”

“He's a little boy,” he firmly repeats. “And I'm not letting them turn him into a fucking zombie.”

“I don't know what more we can do without outside help,” she frets. “We've tried taking certain things out of his diet, we've given him supplements, we've given him punishments and choice rewards for good behaviour. So until we get to see who we want...”

“He is not going on medication. We already talked about this. You know how I feel. He's a little boy. My little boy. He's my son.”

“He's my son too,” she gently reminds him. “And you're not the only going through this, remember? We're supposed to be in this together. It's not supposed to divide us.”

“There has to be something else we can try. Even if it means taking him to that doctor in Sydney. Just to see what they say.”

“They're going to say put him on meds.”

Tyler sighs.

“I know you're mad, but...”

“I'm not mad. I'm frustrated. Millie and Tanner are doing fine. They're not having issues. They're doing better here than they were in Colorado.”

“Well, Tyler's different. He feels things differently. He always has. Tanner may be the sensitive one, but Tyler's the intense one. And he's been that way since he was a baby. A lot of emotions inside that little head and body of his. He just doesn't know how to deal with them. Who does that remind you of?”

He stares at her pointedly.

“Don't even try to pin this on me. Millie and Tyler are the ones that are exactly like you. Millie just isn't as intense as you two.”

“He told me today that he hates his brain,” emotions chokes at him as he speaks. It's heartbreaking; to her that your kid thinks they're broken and needs someone to fix them. “That he hates how it works. That is doesn't work right.”

She gives a small, sympathetic smile and lays a hand on the side of his face; thumb running across his lips, knuckles brushing against his beard.

“He asked me if I would fix it. Fix him. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when I can't even fix my myself.?”

“He's not broken, Tyler. And neither are you.”

“What he's like this because of me? What if I passed something along? Like some kind of fucked up gene?”

“That's not how it works. That's not how any of this worlds. You didn't start having issues until you were an adult and started doing the job. It's everything you've done and everything you've seen. It's because you almost died. You didn't pass something down to him.”

“I hate this. For him. That he's going through this and we have no goddamn clue how to help him.”

“It's not that we're not trying...”

“Maybe we're not trying hard enough. There has to be other things out there, yeah? Things we can up on and...”

“Tyler, we have four other kids,” Esme reminds him. “They need us too. And we have a baby. A brand new one. And she needs us...both of us...even more. We've done everything we can for now. And don't even suggest pulling him from school because I can deal with that. Not with Declan and a newborn. There is no way I cope with that. And I already know you won't be able to handle it, so get that thought out of your head.”

“We can hire someone.”

“To do what? We don't even know what's going on with him. We need to find someone that can figure all of that out. You know we can't take on anything else. You need be out there keeping yourself busy and I've got a toddler and a baby to look after.”

“So we call the people in Sydney and take him there. It's something at least. At least someone can look at him and tell us what the fuck is going on. Because this is bullshit. Not knowing how to help him. It's bullshit and it sucks. He's a little boy.”

“If that's what you want to do, we'll do it. If you think Sydney is the best option...”

“It's the only option. Right now at least. I don't want this dragging on and him ending up like me. Because I'm fucked up. I don't want that for him.”

“Okay...first of all...” she shoves him over onto his back, then straddles his waist. “...you are not fucked up. You have some issues, yes. But you're working on them. That's all that matters. Second, I love you. And I'm tired of you shit talking yourself all the time. You're brave and you're strong...”

Tyler rolls his eyes.

Scowling, she takes his face in her hands. “ You are brave and you're strong and so is your son. You're both going to be okay. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

Grinning, he lays his hands on her eyes. “And you call me stubborn?”

“You are honestly the most hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass I've ever met. But...” she runs her hands up and down his chest. It's been six years yet she still hasn't tired of the way he feels; all hard muscle and sheer power. “...you're my hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass. You're stuck with me. Sorry.”

“I can think of worse people to be stuck with.”

“I bet the hot blond teacher isn't one of those people,” she snidely remarks, and then shrieks when he abruptly sits up, wraps an arm around her waist and flips her over onto her back; a hand behind his head to avoid it striking the sand.

“Fuck the hot teacher.”

“That's exactly what she wants. I mean, I can't say I blame her. That's pretty much all I wanted when I first met you too, so...”

“So now the truth comes out,” he teases, as he kneels between her splayed thighs, and leans over her, hands on either side of her head, bearing his weight on outstretched arms. “Six years later.”

“Six years and two months, actually. But yes. Yes, it's the truth. I totally would have let you take advantage of me the same day we met. In that crappy little shack of yours. I no longer feel shame in admitting that.”

“You should have just told me then. I would have been game.”

“Oh right!” she laughs. “Hey strange Australian with the nice hair and even nicer eyes, let's fuck,”

“I see absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he grins.

“You would have thought I was a slut. And that would have made working together extremely awkward.”

“Why? We were fucking in Dhaka anyway. Wouldn't have made a difference if we fucked before that.”

“You might have decided you didn't want to do it again.”

“Yeah....right...” he chuckles. “...that totally would have happened. I would have definitely been able to stop at just one time.”

His words make her think of G; that last conversation they'd had in the forest while waiting for Tyler to reach the extraction point with Ovi. Shortly before everything had just turned to pure and utter shit. How he'd playfully teased her about knowing exactly what had been going on in that hotel room for five days; that any single, red blooded male would have jumped on a situation like that and taken advantage of it. And how'd he turned towards her; his face and his tone suddenly so serious.

“He's not going to be able to let you go, you know.”

She hadn't thought much about it at the time. Things were still so new and they still had a long road ahead of them when it came to actually getting to know each other outside of sex. No one know how awful things would go; they all thought they had so much time left. She and Tyler would travel together and see if there was the chance of something real developing; if there were feelings that extended past pure, animalistic lust. And G would return to his wife and they'd start the family they so desperately wanted.

And then everything changed. In the blink of an eye. G never made it out of that forest. At least not alive. And she'd end up spending the next few months practically living at the hospital; getting to know her future husband in the midst of all of the pain and the surgeries and the therapies. And maybe, in a way, things were better because of it. Because they'd started things off in the darkest and most worrisome of places. It couldn't get much worse than the immediate aftermath of Dhaka. Not by a long shot.

“What's a matter?” Tyler asks, when she squeezes her eyes shut.

“I was just thinking about something,” she opens her eyes and gives a reassuring smile. “About someone actually. G.”

He frowns.

“Not like that! Just something he said. When we were in the forest. I haven't thought about it in over six years.”

“What was it about?”

“You, actually.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“It was all good, I swear. He was actually talking you up. Putting in a good word for you. And it must have worked. Because here we are.”

“Yeah...” he grins. “...here we are.”

He leans down to kiss her. Longer this time. Deeper. Not pulling away when he feels her tongue slip between his lips and press against his teeth; allowing his mouth to open and meeting her tongue with his. It's the most intense kiss they've shared in three and a half months; complications in the last trimester making things complicated and worrisome and forcing all thoughts -and need- of sex right out the window. And he feels one of her hands in his hair, the other slipping up the back of his t-shirt, needy fingers exploring his muscles. “You shouldn't kiss me like that,” he's breathless when he pulls away, and shivers when her nails slowly travel down his spine. “Or do that.”

“You kissed me first,” she argues. “So this is your fault.”

“Yeah but you're the one feeling me up,” he points out, back stiffening, teeth biting down on his bottom lip when those nails drift along the small of his back, just under the waist of his jeans.

“I can't help it. I can't help if if sexy lumberjacks turn me on.”

He chuckles at that, then buries his face in her neck with a frustrated groan. “I don't think it's just sexy lumberjacks.”

“You're right. It's just you in general. And by the feel of things...” she lifts her hips, so her body comes in contact with his crotch. “...you're kind of turned on too.”

“Kinda? There's no kinda in this.”

“There are other things,” she reminds him, as her fingertips -still under the waist of his jeans- slide around to his stomach. “We just can't have actual sex.”

“I told you. I won't be able to stop at just other things.”

“Get it together, Tyler. You're almost forty one. You're more than capable of stopping at the other stuff. Please?” her mouth is against his ear; breath warm against it. And his entire body shudders when she traces the outer edge with the tip of her tongue. “I just really miss you. And I really...really...really need you get me off.”

“You can't do it yourself? I've had to do it myself. For three months.”

“I could. But I want you to do it. Because I miss you and you're so good at. So very, very, very good. Please?” her teeth scrape against his earlobe. “Pretty please?”

“Esme....you know this is a bad idea...”

“How can something that feels this good be a bad idea? We're not having sex. We're just making each other feel good. Wouldn't you rather me do it for a change? Instead of having to do it for yourself?”

“I would actually,” he admits.

“Then...” her lips are on his neck now; kissing, sucking, biting. “...what the hell's your issue?”

“No issue. I just...fuck...” he groans, when her tongue finds that scar on the side of his neck. “...maybe we should go inside.”

“Let's stay here. I can actually make noise out here.”

He grins, then reaches for the ties on the front of her pants. “Very good point.”

Her eyes close and she gives a long, content sigh when his palm comes in contact with her pussy, and he finds her hot and wet; her entire body shuddering when he presses the tip of his index fingers against her clit. She won't last long. He can hear it in her ragged breathing, feel it in the way her entire body tenses, and how her greedy, frantic fingers pop open the button on his jeans. And he groans against her neck at even the simplest of touch; painfully hard and leaking precum, hips jerking against her hand when her thumb brushes over the engorged tip.

It's like being a teenager again; frantically making out, hoping to get off before being caught, lasting just as long. Only a handful of minutes before she's demanding that he kiss her as the orgasm hits, all noise muffled by his mouth against hers. And when her hand tightens around him and picks up pace, he's coming as well, face buried in her neck as he issues a long drawn out “Fuck”.

Neither of them moves of speaks for what feels like hours, and eventually Tyler rolls over onto his back, a forearm over his eyes, his chest heaving. He'd missed it. Missed her. But it wasn't until now that he realized just how much.

She snuggles into him, an arm across his stomach, head on his chest. And he drops a kiss on the top of her head and softly strokes her back.

“Thank you,” she sighs, and then giggles, and he can't help but laugh.

“No. Thank you,” he says.

Another sigh, then raises her head long enough to place a kiss to his chin.

He pushes a hand through her hair, letting it fall to the space between her shoulders. “I love you.”

“So that's what it takes to get an 'I love you',” she teases.

The words come easily to him now, but the first eight months of marriage had been a struggle for him when it came to saying them. His first foray into being a husband hadn't ended well; he'd broken her with his decision to leave while their son was dying, but not before she'd broken him by cheating multiple times while he was stationed overseas. It had made falling in love difficult, but had made expressing it even more difficult. Now he says it all the time. Never missing the opportunity to tel her. And vice versa.

“I do you know,” he says. “Love you.”

“I know you do,” she rubs his stomach softly, smiled up at him. “I love you too.”

He kisses her temple, then tightens his hold on her. Wishing they could stay like that...lying on this beach...forever.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #best part of me #extraction #Chris hemsworth character

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gleedalehq · 4 years

Text

a dark secret unveiled

Who: Clara Evans (@fieryclaraevans), Peyton July (@southsidepey) ; brief appearance by Derek Gilbert (@derek-ghoulie) w. brief mention of Cassie Bailey (@cassiexbailey)

What: Clara and Peyton stumble across an unexpected secret

When: October 26, Evening

Where: Bridgemont Estates, St. James’ Masquerade

Notes: If there are triggers you need me to mark, please let me know

Peyton

Peyton needed some time away from the dance. One of the guys started to make her feel uncomfortable and knew she had to get out there before she had a full blown panic attack. So, she decided to get some fresh air and it would be best to walk along the beach. Once she arrived there, Peyton slipped off her heels & mask before she started to walk mindlessly. After a while, she got lost in her mind, thinking about things when she saw a log. She furrowed eyebrows, knowing that logs didnt come down this far from the river. She glanced behind her, wondering if anyone was following her and then continue to walk towards the log. Once she got there, she could feel shear panic run through her body and felt sick to her stomach. "No..." She sped up her walking and then started to run before she stopped and let out a scream when she noticed it was Sebrina's body. She dropped her dress, her heels and her mask as she wrapped her arms around herself. She couldnt stop looking at the body, or even move. She was frozen there.

Clara

Clara only snuck out momentarily, enough for a joint and had every intention on going back. There was definitely more she could pocket to make Daddy proud, and there was definitely more scenes she could cause.

She was about to head back to the manor when a bloodcurdling scream distracted her. A scream like that meant something. Without thinking she followed the sound and found Peyton standing alone. It didn’t add up until she walked closer.

The body was almost unrecognizable but even she could place it. Sebrina Smythe.

“Holy fuck...” she mumbled. “Oh this... this is something.”

Peyton

Peyton was close to tears as she stared at the body, covering her mouth as she quieted her sobs. She didnt noticed someone had joined her until she heard someone mumble.

She glanced over to see Clara, then she looked at the body. She slowly uncovered her own mouth then she can opened up her mouth, but no sound came out and glanced out towards the water. She wondered how long the body had been there, just, lying behind the manor. She knew that she needed to let someone else know, but her legs were still frozen there.

"W-we need to get someone." She finally spit out, glancing towards Clara once more. "W-we c-cant just leave h-her here." She stuttered out, wondering if it was the cold that was making her do it.

Clara

Clara wasn’t sure she wanted just anyone showing up. As innocent as she actually was, her standing above the body of a Smythe wasn’t exactly something most NS’rs would take very kindly to.

“Yeah,” she told Peyton, in an effort to placate her. “I’ll text someone, don’t worry.” The only people she even wanted showing up were her own people.

She pulled her phone out the the purse, careful not to reveal anything else she had in there to Pey, sure she wouldn’t hear the end of robbing the St. James’. She scrolled and found Derek’s contact info and shot him a text.

Back of the manor. Beach area. 911.

Peyton

Peyton fought against the tears as she looked over Sebrina's body, knowing that things will come unglued and she didnt want to be in Riverdale for it, but she knew that she wanted to be there for Jackie.

"T-thank you." She said as she started to rubbed her arms and glanced back out at the water. She chewed on her bottom lip as she carefully walked around the body, the best she could and then glanced back at Clara.

Peyton picked up her dress, prayed that none of the flowers from her dress had fallen off and then walked back where she was standing at, by her heels & mask.

Derek

The evening had been positively eventful, and he was right in the middle of showing the new girl in town why he was such a beast when he got Clara’s text. Huffing in annoyance at the shit timing, he still finished Cassie up before getting himself dressed and heading out to the back of the manor indicated by the urgent text. All the while he thought to himself if someone’s not dead, someone’s fucking gonna be.

He approached and saw Peyton first, looking confused and hesitant. She didn’t seem hurt. Clara would’ve had no reason to attack her. But soon enough he saw what they were looking at.

Were he a gambling man, the bloated, purple and blue corpse appeared to belong to one Sebrina Smythe. It was impossible to tell how long the body had been in the river but it was definitely too long, chunks of flesh missing from being battered around by the lake and probably gnawed at by fish and other creatures.

Unphased, he arched a brow and looked over at Clara. “You called me out here with a 911 to look at an old dead body? What do you want me to do about it? This is a crime scene now, you can’t fuckin’ move it or anything.” He glanced back over at Peyton. “Call the actual police. No ones gonna get accused of murdering that thing tonight.”

Clara

Clara could Derek wasn't pleased to be called out here, she could see it in the way he walked. That being said, what was she supposed to have done? It's not like she trusted many, or any, people outside of the Ghoulies. He wanted to be their leader, this was the stuff he was going to have to deal with.

Then again, if one Ghoulie standing over Sebrina's dead body, two was probably worse. She wasn't going to let Derek know that had even crossed her mind now though.

"Look," she answered, completely turning away from Peyton. "I heard her scream, I came running, as one does when they hear screaming and this is what I find. Excuse me if I don't exactly know how to deal with a dead fuckin' body."

So maybe getting worked up wasn't the best thing either, and she would probably pay for that later, but she couldn't help it. Like Moni always said, she was a firecracker, it was just in her DNA.

Peyton

Peyton swallowed hard when she listened to Derek, nodded before she pulled out her phone from her bra and dialed the police. She glanced between them, let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through her hair carefully.

"Hi, yes. Um. I found the body of Sebrina Smythe a..and she's behind the manor of the St. James. It looks like she was washed up on shore." Peyton started to say as she stepped in the water, and closed her eyes a bit. "N-no, no one has moved the body a..and I just walked around it, to make sure it was Sebrina Smythe." She glanced at Clara & Derek and let out a breath.

"Y-yeah, I'll go and meet up with the police and show them where Sebrina's at. The address?" Peyton said before she told them the address and hung up before she placed it back into her bra. "The police will be here in a few minutes, in the meantime, you two, should go. I dont want you two to get hit once everyone gets wind about this. I realize that no one will get arrested, but, I dont want anyone to go after you two. However, it's up to you guys if you want to stay."

Derek

Rubbing his eyes in blatant irritation, Derek glared in clara’s direction. “You literally had nothing to do with the body. You turn around and you walk away. What the hell were you expecting I’d be able to do about it? Not like she can be revived. And she was a huge bitch anyway.”

He sighed at Peyton. The cops would be here any minute to fetch the body of their beloved little NorthSider wench. Derek pointed at Clara again. “Princess, go gather up everyone you can find and evacuate. The second the cops get here this place is going on lockdown for questioning. I’ll send out a text but go.”

He shrugged at Peyton. “I’ll hang back.”

Clara

Clara waited patiently as Peyton made the call. When Derek spoke she could help but stand a little straighter. She was just supposed to leave him here? She didn't like the sound of that, but he'd given her an order and she was damned if she was going to step out of line right now. "Yes, Daddy," she answered, putting her phone back in her purse and flash a little of the good's she'd already grabbed at him, obviously out of view of Peyton.

As she walked away she quickly texted everyone even if she knew Derek would too, and made her way to gather everyone on the path out, none of them were going to be caught tonight, not if she could help it.

Peyton

Peyton watched as Clara walk away, stepped out of the water and away from Sebrina, wrapped her arms around her body once more. She slipped on her heels as she stood next to Derek, mask in her hand and knew that her makeup was messed up.

"I should probably text everyone I know as well, right?" She asked as she looked up at Derek. "Never been in this situation before, so not sure if Im doing anything right or not." She glanced back at the body. She let out a breath, that she apparently was holding and really wanted to put her hair up but she didn't have a hair tie. "Do you think they're going to take me down to the station to get a full report?"

Derek

Derek half expected Clara to fight with him about it, but the priority needed to be getting everyone out that had a loaded purse or bag filled with shit they stole from the manor. Especially with everything in clara’s bag. He dug out his phone and fired off a quick group text to the Ghoulies.

Glancing down at the corpse again, Derek shrugged. “If you want? I’m having my guys get the hell out of dodge before the cops start pointing fingers and asking questions. I don’t really give a shit what you do for those shitty snakes.” He reached over and carefully patted Peyton’s back. “I doubt it. The body’s been decaying for awhile. I can’t imagine they’d waste time bringing you there for a lot of “I don’t know” answers.”

Peyton

Peyton listened to Derek, rolled her eyes as she gave him a pointed look. She didnt want to argue with him right here and in front of a dead body. She opened up her mouth but she closed it and pulled out her phone back out of her bra.

"Thank you, for patting my back carefully. Be aware of the sticks and bobby pins on the left side and the flowers." Peyton replied as she quickly texted everyone that she knew, froze over one name and quickly skipped it before she went back texting. "Never know, I could be a suspect, which would be hilarious because I didn't come back, shortly before or was it after she went missing. I don't quite remember, but you're right. Though, probably ask me where I was on the Fourth of July." She put her phone back into her bra and shuddered a bit. "I should've brought a coat with me."

Derek

Derek shrugged again. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, P. This is very clearly not a recent murder and I can tell you right off the bat you’ll fair a hell of a lot better with the cops than I will.” He glanced over at her, shaking. “Why the hell wouldn’t you come out here with a jacket? For fucks sake.” He shrugged off his suit coat and offered it to her so she could put it around her fancy dress herself. “Here. Put this on before your nipples fall off.”

Peyton

"Because I was in a middle of a mild panic attack at the moment." Peyton pointed out and rolled her eyes as she grabbed the jacket. "Even though I've wore less in the cold, thanks." She slipped on the jacket and pulled it closer to her. After a while, the cops showed up and Peyton gave Derek his coat back after thanking him, knowing that she shouldve kept it on. She showed them where the body was before she followed one of the EMTs to get checked out. She felt a storm was brewing now and she didnt like what was going to become of it.

#gdhqplot #tw: dead body

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