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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 2 months

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comforting him

(cw: age gap 25/41; nightterrors, scars from injury, könig is having a shitty day, smoking, a bit of angst maybe, smut nsfw, mdni 18+)

the part before: going for a walk

It isn’t always fun and games, like the first time König had nightterrors while I was sleeping next to him.

The scream that woke me up. My disorientation until I knew what’s going on. His big body shaking next to mine. His arms trying to hold onto something. That something being me. And I talked to him, trying to get him grounded in reality again. Soft words, whatever came to mind.

After a while he calmed down, but he didn’t want to talk about it, which is… understandable.

And it happened again today, his pained shouts pulling me from my sleep. My smaller body hanging onto his bigger, trembling one, almost shoving me off me him when he snaps out of it.

I have to tell him at least five times that I’m okay, that he didn’t hurt me at all, that nothing happened to me. And even then, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

We both don’t sleep the rest of the night. Just sitting in the living room, listening to music. I get up every time to change the vinyl or flip it to the B-side, then snuggling back into his lap.

He looks exhausted and I just want to take his discomfort away, but I don’t know how. So I just resort to softly stroking over his shoulders and back, calming him like that.

I try not to see the scars that adorn his body, cutting through the tattoos here and there. Sometimes destroying the motive that already was there. Sometimes seeming like they were worked into the design because they already were there before. My hands caress over his warm skin, trying not to linger too long in one spot. To not think about all the injuries, or about him going on another mission. Probably sooner than later.

He always holds me close to him when I sit on his lap. Just tonight it feels a little bit more like he’s holding onto me not the other way around. Not to slip away.

In the morning, I go to work, König slipping back under the covers while I get dressed.

"Get some more rest, hm?", I tell him, caressing over his cheek before giving it a little kiss. "If you can." I don't know what else to say.

He just looks so tired, dark circles under his eyes. For once looking his age – or even older.

He grabs my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles, grunting softly instead of an answer. I press his fingers before slipping out of his hold and leaving the bedroom, quietly closing the door.

I drive myself to work, yawning a little more than usually while answering emails, getting myself an extra coffee. My mind coming back to him every so often, sighing. Remembering the panic on his face, the empty look in his eyes afterwards. Cut off, inwardly suffering, silent.

When I return home, looking to hug the big guy and give him a big kiss, ask him how he is doing, he is nowhere to be found.

"König?" I call out.

Where is he? I check all the rooms, kitchen and living room at first. There isn't a trace of him, no food cooking on the stove, his glasses set aside next to the book he's currently reading.

Mimi is sleeping on the couch, the little kitty basking in the sun that is falling in through the window.

I think for a moment, almost running upstairs, but no. He wouldn't be up there, he doesn't use the office and I can't hear the shower. So I head downstairs, to the home gym. Usually, he works out while I'm at work, already showered and fresh when I return. But I don't know where else he would be. He surely would have texted me if he had gone out.

I crack the door open a little, peaking my head in. And there he is, wrecking the punching bag that's hanging from the ceiling.

Thud thud thud.

Thwack.

His fists hitting the leather repeatedly, before smacking the palm into it.

The headset is sitting fast on his head, his hair loosely tied together. His shorts tight around his thighs, his muscle shirt sweaty like the rest of him. And I try to ignore how good he looks like that.

His movements come to a halt, seeing me in the corners of his eyes, only doing a half-turn in my direction.

"Hey, how are yo-", I start, but he interrupts me, pushing one of the headphones back.

"What?", he says, louder than necessary and the impatience in his voice startles me.

"I was just-", I repeat, but the look on his face shuts me up as he finally meets my gaze. I feel like I'm intruding, disturbing him when I shouldn't be, and for a moment I don't even know what to say. Startled.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

My mouth drops open, hoping the right words come out, but they don't. The way he looks at me... I can't deal with. The simmering anger, the arrogance the way his chin tilts up, the brows more furrowed than I've ever seen them before.

I shake my head, breaking the eye contact for a moment, just to get away from his stare. "Uh, just- I'm sorry for disturbing you.", I finally press out, slipping back, heading out the room again.

Before I turn around, I see the anger on his face dissipate into frustration and something else I can't put my finger on it.

I rush out the door and up to living room, pacing around until Mimi comes up to me, and I pick the kitty up. Snuggling the little furball. Contemplating if it might be better to pack up my stuff. Give him his space.

I shake my head. No, that would be shitty too. Running away because he has a shitty day.

I sigh. I feared that something like that might happen when I was hesitant to go stay with him. And it's not like he shouldn't be allowed to have shitty days. I just don't really know what to do about them. Yet.

I hear steps, heavy thuds on the stairs, coming to a halt, and I turn to look.

He just stands there, on the top stair, almost hitting his head on the staircase above. The headphones around his neck, his hair falling down into his face. Just looking at me, his arms hanging to his sides, his shoulders slumped down. The distance between us too great, but he doesn't dare come closer.

"I'm sorry, Liebes.", he says, his voice hoarse, the words quieter than I would have thought. Defeat and apology in his expression.

I just stand there, looking at him. I mean, I knew he had troubles. The self-imposed lonesomeness. And I'm not talking about staying home a lot, preferring to be by himself. The stuff about his work that he doesn't want to talk about. The nightterrors, just like today. I don't fully believe him when he says, he doesn't have them often.

The scowl on his face when he thinks I'm not looking. The simmering anger that's seemingly always there. Directed at himself rather than the people around him. Well, most of the time at least.

"It's okay.", I finally say.

He shakes his head, making a step forward, just a small one. "It's not." He sighs. "I'm usually better at hiding... it." Another step. "I'm not angry with you, I swear."

I sigh too. I knew that but apparently, I still needed to hear him say it. A soft sad smile stalks onto my face as I come closer until I'm standing before him.

"You shouldn't need to hide it.", I say, snuggling into his chest, pressing myself against him, still holding Mimi.

He closes his arms around me, embracing us both. He's sweaty, but I don't care right now. I need this closeness.

"You're here because I broke your bed, not to babysit a manchild.", he says flatly, but the edge in his words jabbing at himself is still obvious. And I don't want to point out the flaws in them. I’m not here because he broke my bed. This isn't at all what this is about, but he still seems to be in whatever spiral he was just moments ago.

"I'm not.", I answer. "Something is troubling you, that doesn't make you a child nor does me asking you about it make me a babysitter." He doesn't say anything, his arms only hugging me a little tighter. "So... You wanna talk about it?", I ask.

I can feel him hesitate and then shake his head. "No, I'm..." He breaks off. "I just have to deal with it, okay?" He softly strokes over my hair. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I still do.", I say, softly, finally looking back up at him. I can't stand the defeated look on his face. He averts his eyes, hugging me closer.

And we just stand here in the living room. The three of us in a hug, only our soft breaths cutting through the silence.

Before he breaks it. "I actually got the information on the next mission.", he says, his voice steadier now.

I perk up. "And?"

"I'm leaving next week.", he answers.

I swallow, hard. "Which day?", I want to know, so I can count the days.

"Wednesday." So six days, including today. Shit.

"Okay." I press myself into him, Mimi still in between, and she meows. Tearing me from my dwindling thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby.", I coo, pressing a kiss to her head, and she meows again, freeing herself from my hold, jumping down to the floor.

He takes the chance to pull me flush against him. "Me too.", he mumbles into my hair.

My arms wrap around his waist, my hands stroking down his back. Hugging him back, thinking about what to do.

If he doesn't wanna talk about it, then maybe a distraction will help ease his mind. Or at least take his mind off things. And mine too, now that I know he’ll be leaving.

"Some, uh, friends of mine asked if I wanna go out for some drinks.", I start. "We could join them if you want to." The tips of my fingers brushing over his lower back. "We can also stay home, of course, you know – whatever you prefer. But they actually wanted to go to the pub where we met." I smile up at him, remembering that moment when he got my attention with a simple compliment of my bandshirt.

"That..." He hesitates, but returns the smile then, although meekly. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

I get onto my tiptoes to finally get the kiss I came looking for earlier. He meets me halfway, kissing me, and the way his lips feel against mine sets me a little more at ease.

"Shower first?", he says then, his eyes intently on mine.

"Yes, stinky.", I quip which makes him laugh a little before I pull him with me up the stairs.

I hear him sigh behind me, a deep defeated tone, and I stop in my tracks again, but he just lifts me and carries me to the bathroom.

After the shower he looks refreshed, in a fresh band shirt and his favorite pair of cargo pants. Smelling like his usual shampoo, and he even put on a little bit of aftershave.

He's looking a bit more like himself. Especially when he puts on his leatherjacket, flicking his hair back with a trained move of his arm, so it isn't stuck in the collar, but falls down his shoulders.

The frown on his face is still a little more etched in than usually. It lightens up a bit when we sing along to Slipknot's "Before I forget" on the drive to the pub, and even more so when we join my friends there.

After the general introductions we get some drinks and settle down at the table. My hand in his, underneath the tabletop.

"Can I try? Just a sip." He points at my drink, an orangy-red liquid, more sweet than sour.

I pull one eyebrow up. "Sure, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

But he already took my glass and gulps half of it down.

My jaw drops. "You said just a sip!", I complain, loudly.

He smiles at me, a lop-sided apology, the smile that never lets me be mad at him, before his face contorts into a grimace. "You were right, I don't like it.", he comments.

The nerve. He sees my exasperated expression and laughs. His big hand grabs the back of my head and he pulls me in to press a big kiss to my cheek, and the public display of affection makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter and my exaggerated exasperation disappear.

"I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he says, pulling away, getting up and heading to the bar.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. Looking after him, my eyes are panning from his broad shoulders down his back until they land on his tight ass as his hips sway. Blatantly ogling him, but I can't help it.

Robin’s hand on my forearms pulls my attention to them, and they start to tell me about their newest obsession: little, tiny octopuses. They’re showing me pictures and videos of the cute and small creatures when König gets back. He sets the new drink onto the table in front of me, I glance at him, mouthing 'thank you'. And he just winks.

It doesn't take long until he joins the conversation with the younger guys at the table which quickly turns into a trip to the billiard table. And my friends come in all shapes and sizes, still König towers over all of them. His tall stature bending down over the side of the table to line up the ball, sinking it in the right hole with precision. He is an insertion specialist after all.

Robin and I are laughing and giggling, making the stupid jokes we always do, and I’ve almost forgotten about the troubles today, getting myself another drink.

I look over to the guys again and König’s talking to Dan. Bits and pieces I pick up are telling me that they're talking about some soccer teams and matches. I grin to myself because I know how glad Dan must be that he finally got someone around who's interested in that, because none of us are.

He catches me staring at him, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. I blow him a little kiss before I take my jacket and head out the front door for a smoke.

Moments later, the door behind me croaks and I turn around. The big guy is standing in the entryway, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

“You smoke?” His deep voice fills the silence of the breezy night.

I sigh, juggling the bag of tobacco, rolling papers and filters in my hands. “Used to, but sometimes when I’m out with friends… or stressed… I still go for a smoke.”, I answer, a wry apologetic smile stalking onto my face.

He nods like he understands, putting his hand in his pocket, leaning beside me on the wall. A simple gesture, but when it comes to him, I find even the most minute of movements hot.

“Me too, especially when I’m at work… or having one of those days. Like today.”, he says, the smile turning lop-sided, and after a pause adds: “So… Can I have one as well?”

I chuckle, hiding my slight surprise. “Sure. Should I or do you know how to roll one?”, I ask in return.

His extended hand, the palm turned up, and a little tilt of his head are his only answer. I hand him a filter and a rolling paper with some tobacco, getting myself the same items before I put the tobacco baggie back into my purse.

When I turn to him again, my attention gets pulled in by his hands that softly take the little paper, putting the filter on the right side, pushing some of the tobacco in. Taking it between his middlefingers and thumbs, rolling it up in a swift trained motion. The ease with which he does it is impressive, even more so considering how tiny the cigarette is compared to his hands.

Then he lifts it to his mouth, his tongue darting out, licking over the paper in one swift go, to make it stick.

My eyes go wide, my breath halts in my throat, and I have to remember myself that I need to breathe.

He sees my expression which pulls a laugh from him. “Never thought you’d be jealous of a cigarette, hm?”

That pulls me from my trance, I laugh and playfully smack his arm. “Oh, stop it.” I shoot him a look, my eyes sparkling at him while I tease: “I know, I’ll be getting that as soon as we come home.”

He lights his cigarette with the zippo he always carries in the right outer pocket of his cargo pants, taking a drag and blowing the smoke into the air. “Don’t you know it.”, he says, the devilish smirk coming out. His hand drops down, pinching my butt playfully, and I yelp a little bit, almost dropping my unrolled cigarette.

“König!” But he just grins down at me.

Then I finally manage to roll it, stick the filter end between my lips and search for my lighter.

“Here, let me.”, he says, holding out the zippo in front of my face, the clank of metal and then the familiar snap, before a little flame burns at the top.

I shoot him a thankful look and lean forward until the flame catches on and the cigarette burns. I take the first drag, inhaling it deeply.

He puts the lighter away again, and I fall against him, resting my head against his chest while his arm drops around me, pulling me into him. Sharing this moment together while we smoke our cigarettes.

“To think that this all started because I complimented you on your shirt…”, he says, seeming a little bit caught up.

I laugh, the light sound getting carried away into the quiet night sky. “Is a little crazy, right?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

We fall silent, puffs of smoke inhaled and exhaled. Soft noises from inside the bar making it less quiet. The air around us is thick with things we don’t say.

I think, I like you more than I ever thought I would.

I might even be falling in love with you.

And that scares me.

We excuse ourselves a little early because honestly, I'm tired from not having slept all that much tonight, and the few drinks I had made me a little tipsy. And he kind of promised to eat me out when we get home.

We get to the car and – as so often – he opens the door for me. I smile at him and climb into the seat, but he steals another kiss. One that has me panting a little harder. He pulls away and rounds the car to get into the driver side.

I sit back, turning on the music as he starts driving.

Looking at him. The streetlamps light up his face every so often, casting the one side in shadows.

Wondering what might be going on in his head, the stoic expression not giving anything away.

Whatever went on in his mind today seems forgotten about, he seems like his usual self again. But maybe he’s just hiding it? Or it helped going outside for once, and I ask myself if maybe the time we first met, he also went out to distract himself.

And I don’t even know why, but my heart starts hurting a bit.

How is it like when he is alone at home? Does he talk to nobody?

“What is it?”, he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

I look away and shake my head. “Nothing.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know that it’s never nothing.”, he says with a little sigh, an understanding smile on his face.

“Just thinking.”, I say plainly.

The smile gets a little wider. “Hmm, thinking, that’s a dangerous thing.”, he says, sounding earnest and joking at the same time.

The corners of my mouth tilt up, of their own volition. “It is.”

His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it, and the little gesture soothes me. Pushing the thoughts away as I relax into the leather seat.

His thumb grazes over the sensitive inside of my thigh, and I shoot him a look. The small grin is the only hint that he’s doing it on purpose, only getting wider as he brushes further up until his hand is between my thighs. My fingers clasp over his, but I don’t pull them away. Shamelessly grinding against the palm, relishing the delicious friction and paying him back for his cheeky move. Now it's his turn to shoot me a look.

The sleepiness is almost forgotten about, and the slight tipsiness does nothing but make me even hotter and hornier.

Parking the Mercedes at his usual spot in the garage, he cuts off the engine and I jump out the car before he can even get out and open the door for me.

I take a few steps back, biting my lip, trying to hide the grin that stalks onto my face as he makes his way around the car. His gaze is on me, looking at me from under his brows, unbridled desire in his eyes.

His broad shoulders seem even wider with his signature leatherjacket, his hair moves, the long strands falling down his shoulders, while he comes closer with long strides until his boots bump into my converse and his arms close around me. He almost towers over me, leaning me back in his embrace. His lips crash into mine while my hands grab him, trying to get even closer to him.

We don't say anything, but I can feel the simmering intensity as he deepens the kiss and picks me up, making the last few steps into the house. My legs close around his waist when he pushes through the door, and we're both not breaking the kiss, desperate for more.

I think back to the first time we hooked up, how he carried me upstairs to my flat. How the anticipation and excitement simmered in my veins back then, and his touches still consume me and make me wanna devour him, but it has become so familiar at the same time. How his fingers press into my thighs, grabbing the soft pillows. How his nose nudges against mine when we kiss. How he swallows up the soft noises I make, tasting every single one of them. His chest against mine, the plane of muscles warm and pillowy.

His scent, his taste. How the long strands of his hair feel as I run my fingers through them.

He sets me down on the dresser in the hallway, pulling my shoes off, kicking his boots away and getting rid of the leatherjacket. He doesn't have to say it, I know what he wants, and pop the button on my pants, lower the zipper. His hands grab the waistband, helping me get it off. My pants and panties fall to the floor before he drops to his knees, his eyes fixed on my pussy as he spreads my legs and places them over his broad shoulders.

He pushes his hair out of his face and dives in, his mouth pressing against my lips, and I moan as his tongue darts out and licks me for the first time.

My hands hold onto the surface beneath me, my body slumping back into the wall, the sensation of the cold brick against my shoulders,while he starts to eat me out. Soft groans and mewls drop from his lips, getting lost in the slick and warmth. His lids are closed, his lashes adorning his cheeks, seeming almost solemn. The stern expression he usually wears on his face nowhere to be found, the frustration that was plaguing him today slowly dissipated throughout the evening and I can't find any of it left in his eyes when he looks up at me. Finding mine, holding the gaze.

His nose is buried in the soft curls as his mouth closes around my clit, sucking, licking over it with his flat tongue, coaxing moan after moan from me.

My hands dart out, the one grabbing his fingers that press into my thigh, the other caressing down the side of his face.

"Fuck, can't get enough of you.", he breathes, licking me again. Lapping up the wetness, desperately tasting me.

My eyes turn up, breaking the eye contact, my thighs are starting to shake and I come on his tongue. His hands are steadying me, so I don't fall off the dresser, my body writhing, my head pressing against the hard wall behind me. My moans resound in the small space around us, the stimulation making me lose my mind.

He doesn't stop until I grab his hair, pulling him up to me. He grunts, reluctantly breaking away from my pussy, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss that I answer with the same frenzy. Tasting myself on his lips.

He hastily unbuckles his belt, freeing his erection that has been straining against the zipper, hard, the tip smeared with pre-cum. Breaking the kiss to look down between our bodies. He grabs himself by the base, slowly dragging it over my pussy. Finding the entrance and dipping into the wetness.

His eyes are intently on mine, my mouth falling open as he stretches me, my eyebrows turning up. His jaw drops, his expression mirroring mine.

He's so close, our panting breaths intermingling. A choked moan rising up my throat when he fills me, the tip pressing up against my cervix.

My legs close around his waist, pulling him closer. He lifts me off the dresser, but we don't get far as he presses me up against the wall, steadying me with his arms. Fucking into me, his hips pushing forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.", he curses, the desperation in his voice sending a pang of need between my thighs.

I hold onto his shoulders, my back pressed against the wall behind me, meeting his movements.

"So tight, Liebes.", he grunts. "Driving me crazy."

A little laugh shakes me before him bottoming me out makes me moan again. "What should I say, huh?", I shoot back, teasing him.

He halts and captures my face between his thumb and pointer. "Oh, but you always take me so well.", he tells me, knowing what those words do to me. And they don’t miss their impact.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingle running down my spine. “Fitting together like two puzzle pieces.”, I joke, which pulls a deep hearty laugh from his throat.

“Well put.”, he says, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He hoists me up again, making our way to the bedroom. His dick moving inside me with every single one of his steps, and I sigh as I snuggle into the crook of his neck.

He slips out of me and almost throws me down into the mattress, quickly getting off his clothes, and I pull my shirt above my head, fully naked now. I lie down, my belly against the sheets.

The mattress dips down as he drapes his body over me, his warm skin against mine. I look back at him, propping myself up on my forearms. Inviting him in, and the hurry drops away again.

He brushes my hair out the way, looking into my eyes, as his dick slides between my thighs. My mouth falls open, little panting breaths dropping from my lips, when he drags him himself back and forth, his length pressing against my slick pussy.

He slips into me, filling me up again, and I relish the feeling, familiar but still intense every time. He pulls me up, his hand grabbing the back of my head, kissing me. His lips softly against mine as he backs off and presses into me again. Slowly, savouring how I take every inch, until he's fully seated inside me. Rolling his hips, almost lazily.

Soft, so soft.

“Feels so good.”, I mumble into the kiss, thrusting my ass back, meeting his languid strokes.

Losing myself in the hazy pleasure, the slow and sweet fuck. Moving in unison until his hips are rutting forward, stuttering, as he loses the rhythm. Still kissing me while he comes inside me.

"Ngh, Liebes...", he grunts against my lips, pushing in one last time, slumping down on me, and I feel his weight on me for a moment.

I cradle his face, my thumb coasting over his jaw, wiping away a drop of sweat. His panting breaths fill the room, and I can't help but smile. Pressing another kiss to his lips, a small sweet one.

It seems to stir him awake and he doesn't stay slumped over me, propping himself up on his hands again, smirking down at me.

He pushes into me again, my mouth shaping into an O, my eyebrows turning up, and I can feel the wetness seep out of me as his dick fills me up again.

The question on my face must be clear when I crane my neck to look up at him.

"Didn't think it was over, did you?", he drawls, starting to fuck me harder. "You can give me one more, Hexe."

"Oh fuck.", I mumble as his hips snap forward, colliding with my ass. I hold onto his arm, steadying myself, my nails burying into his muscly forearms.

I remember how he was careful with me at first, afraid to break me. How he doesn't have such reservations anymore. Thrusting into me at an almost punishing pace. Trusting that I would use my safeword if it in fact was too much.

And I remember how I imagined how fucking him must be before we did it for the first time, and how it compares to reality.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy.

Grabbing my hips, positioning me to fuck me even deeper. Sliding in and out of me, bottoming me out which pulls whimpers from me every time. Making me lose my mind quickly.

His hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly.

“Good girl, oh fuck.”, he praises me. “Taking me so well…” He lets go of me, his hand coming down on my butt, and I cry out at the sting.

Alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

My hands are fisting the sheets beneath me, and my eyes are rolling back, lewd sounds getting pulled from my throat, as he plunges his dick into me again and again.

"Fuck, König...", I sigh, his name getting swallowed up when my face gets pushed into the sheets again.

"Say it again.", he grunts, but the hard thrusts of his hips unintentionally shut me up as he leans forward again, pressing me into the mattress. "Need to hear you say it, Liebes."

And I do say his name as I come once again, the sounds turning into uncontrollable moans, and he is not stopping until I'm a writhing shivering mess beneath him and he is pressing sweet kisses to my face again.

He pulls me with him as he rolls off me, bringing my body close to his until I'm draped over him. Basking in the afterglow, pressing myself up against his warm chest, our heavy breaths intermingling.

I remember how we joked about him keeping up, him making a comment about how I should be concerned to keep up with him, and most of the time he's right, but seeing him a little out of breath after we just had sex. Just like right now. It makes me feel all kinds of things. Deliciously dirty and heartwarmingly fluffy ones.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm feeling so sleepy.", I mumble into a yawn. The sleepiness caught up and is taking over me now.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple, his arms engulfing me. "That's okay, Liebes, just sleep.", he whispers, and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to his pillowy chest.

"G'night..."

"Gute Nacht."

~ more in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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gofancyninjaworld · 9 months

Text

The List of Predictions for OPM Webcomic Chapter 146

Thank you to everyone who has made a bet. I was hoping that in a great irony, ONE would have put up a continuation, but so far, so bad.

Here's the list! Keep your numbers safe, and we'll see what shakes out!

Number

Prediction

1 Dr Bofoi is already dead. Bonus: Genos gets framed for his death.

2 Who's ex-hero hunter ex-jobhunter Garou hunting now?

3Dr Kuseno is not dead (light edition): Saitama did take him to get medical care after all.

4 Dr Kuseno is not dead (dark edition): Destro and Erimin have done a touch of 'recovery' work

5 Overgrown Pochi remembers that he was a guard dog, hulks out and incinerates the invading robots. All 4 million of them.

6 Tatsumaki returns triumphant and not a moment too soon. Man, what would you guys do without her?

7 Blast finally deigns to show up in this version. Bonus: he meets Blue.

8 Metal Bat gets out of jail.

9 McCoy finally finds some ethics.

10 Turns out that Saitama did follow Genos after all.

11 Saitama goes home and arrives just in the nick of time. Bonus: Somehow King still gets the credit for destroying the robots invading the HA.

12 JOKER: ONE declares that he's ending the webcomic.

13 Webigaza is toast. :(

14 Watchdogman is finally no longer mysterious.

15 Tank Top Master puts on an extra tank top and wades back into battle.

16 Accel gets a reality check.

17 Dr Bofoi has some explaining to do.

18 Zenko is real!

19 Saitama saves the day. Somehow.

20 Lightning Max (and other wounded pro-heroes) find the tender mercies of the Neo Heroes to be far from tender.

21 King shows off his muscles!

22 What's Drive Knight up to?

23 Pig God and robots. Are they tasty?

24 Black Sperm discovers his inner Dimple.

25 Garou and Metal Bat meet for the first time. Bonus: they hit it off!

26 Genos finally has a showdown with his nemesis.

27 Zombieman comes back in style, showing us his hard-earned abilities.

28 Webigaza is saved! Phew! :)

29 Never mind the robot apocalypse, what about Flashy Flash versus the Abandoned Masses? Fight!

30 Saitama gets a new hero name at last! Bonus: it's also naff.

31 My kingdom for a sword! Atomic and his disciples are back, all blazing fury and blades.

32 Darkshine finds his courage to fight.

33 Suiryu saves Suiko.

34 Mr. Fuzzy is pleased: this is all going according to plan.

35 Just because the suits aren't sold to you doesn't mean they're free: the Neo Heroes find out what their organisation really wants from them.

36 Mental health break: Saitama's cactus did survive after all!

37 JOKER: The OPM webcomic is set to be collected and commercially published as a spin off.

38 Saitama and Blue come to an agreement.

39 ONE is extra evil: time skip to the aftermath. How long can this man keep teasing us?

40 The Organization formally makes its demands.

41 The most reluctant hero in the world, Speed o' Sound Sonic, does something about the apocalypse. Bonus: he rids the world of A.

42 Mr. Fuzzy never saw this turn of events coming.

43 For once, Flashy Flash gets to play the main character to his heart's content. He isn't, but let him have it. :)

44 We catch up with Child Emperor and find what he's realized.

45 Raiden gets humbled anew.

46 God cube, God cube, getcha God cubes right here! No bets on who has one or how they're using it.

47 Bang stops clipping his nails long enough to do something about the pesky robots. The HA really owes him one now.

48 Genos discovers the secret of strength. This one really should have been a joker, but I could only have two.

49 Puri Puri's infinite receptacle of love versus a thousand robots. Who wins?

50 Genos gives Dr. Kuseno the decent burial he deserves.

51 One small bright spot: all is well in City Q.

52 Amai Mask comes out of hiding to help.

53 The easiest bet: there is a giant fight between Genos and Metal Knight's robots.

54 We finally find out who the Rampaging Cyborg is.

#OPM #webcomic #predictions #chapter 146 #so many ways ONE could go #I hope one or two come to pass

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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 41

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3.

If you want to talk about books, join my Discord server.

----

Chapter 41

Ron clutched the final envelope in his hand. He didn’t want to open it. What if there was a reason that one had arrived last? What if they’d given him false hope with all of the other parts, and then this was the big letdown?

He was reminded of the time the OWL results had arrived and how sick he’d felt. He’d been convinced he’d failed everything back then, because during every exam, it was as if his mind had gone blank of information, almost as if he was three years old again and didn’t know how to perform a single spell.

But that worked out, he reminded himself. He’d gotten seven OWLs in the end, which was extremely impressive.

And so far, he’d passed every single aptitude test in the three years of his Auror training, including the final ones. It was the theory component that worried him.

He wasn’t good at theory. He couldn’t look at a book and absorb the information. That was Hermione’s area of expertise, and he admired her for it. But… at least he’d remembered some of the stuff this time round.

He’d taken the final tests two weeks prior, and those two weeks of waiting had certainly been the worst of Ron’s life. He’d checked multiple times a day for any Ministry owls making their way through the windows to the point that Hermione had forbidden him from getting the mail. Now it was her job to check it, and if anything arrived, she’d let him know.

It wasn’t helped by the fact that the two week wait had him at home by himself while Hermione worked. There was no more training left, and he couldn’t become a fully licensed Auror until his results were in.

Thankfully, Harry was in the same boat, so Ron had spent most of his time at Grimmauld Place helping Harry prepare to sell the house.

It had been all over the Prophet the moment Harry put it on the market, receiving a lot of interest from people who, Ron was sure, were more interested in coming to see where the Harry Potter lived than buying the actual house.

Who would want to buy a house owned by a Dark wizarding family for most of its existence? Especially one that was unplottable.

Still, Harry was adamant that he couldn’t live there anymore, and he wanted to be done with the whole thing.

“Maybe you should just hold onto it,” Ron had said as they packed up a room used as a storage space for the Blacks and Harry. “Keep it for the future.”

“Can’t anymore, even if I wanted to,” Harry had replied. “I’ve given half the wizarding population the address now. I’m moving.”

Two weeks had passed since that conversation. The two weeks Ron needed to get through in order for the final exam results to arrive. Hermione had left for work at seven that morning, and Ron had Floo’d over almost instantly to see Harry. Together they waited for midday, when the results were due to arrive.

Harry was already tearing into his, scanning the letter. Ron stared at his name on the front. He wished Hermione was here. She would be able to comfort him, probably assure him that he needed to stop being an idiot and that he would do just fine. But she was at work, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

“Er, I passed!” Harry said, looking at Ron. “How’d you —” He noticed Ron’s unopened letter and rolled his eyes. “Oh, go on. You passed, I know you did.”

Ron swallowed. Harry just didn’t get it. He was probably going to pass even if he’d gotten every question wrong, because he was Harry, and they wanted him in the Aurors. But Ron wasn’t Harry. Neville wasn’t Harry. The rest would have to work for their results.

“You did just fine,” Harry said, almost irritated. “Want me to open it for you?”

“No,” Ron said. “I’ll… do it.” He broke the Ministry seal on the envelope and took out the letter.

This wasn’t like getting his OWLs at all. This was ten times worse. He’d dedicated three years to training, he had no alternative plan if this didn’t work out. What was he supposed to do if he didn’t pass the test?

He slowly unfolded the letter that would seal his fate.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?” Harry asked.

Ron looked up, his whole face burning red.

Harry’s smile faltered a little. “You, er, did —”

“Ninety-five percent,” Ron said.

“What?” Harry asked. “That’s… really good!” He folded up his own letter.

“What did you get?” Ron asked.

“Ninety-four,” Harry said.

“I beat you?” Ron asked, surprised. He’d never beaten Harry at a test before. They’d received identical results often, but Ron had never beaten Harry. And he’d not expected it in Auror training either.

“Was never good at multiple choice questions,” Harry said, shrugging and then smiling. “I guess drinks are in order, then?”

“Yeah, alright,” Ron said, air being let out of his lungs like a balloon.

“Ginny’s idea. She said once we got the remaining results, she’ll organise a celebration.” He paused, his smile turning into a grin suddenly. “Hey! This means we’re fully trained Aurors now. We’re Aurors.”

“It’s all I wanted to do!” Ron said, a grin spreading on his own face as the realisation hit him. He was an Auror. Finally. He’d never really thought it was something he could achieve. It usually required higher marks, Outstanding NEWT results and better wand ability than Ron ever could achieve under normal circumstances.

It had just been a dream, but that dream had just become a reality for him.

He sat down in the armchair, clutching the letter still.

He was an Auror.

“Ginny’ll be home tonight,” Harry said. “This afternoon, actually. Once Hermione finishes work, I think we should go out. Me, Ginny, you and Hermione. Neville, too. We should ask Neville. I’ll send him an owl now to see.”

Ron nodded, still not sure he believed it.

He was an Auror.

Harry vanished into another room to find a quill and some parchment and returned, sitting in an armchair beside Ron.

As he was scribbling the note for Neville, he said, head still down, “Hey, I never actually asked officially.”

“Asked what?” Ron asked, vaguely.

“You’ll be my best man at my wedding, won’t you? We’ve set a date. August twenty-fourth this year.”

Ron came to then. He looked at Harry. “Y-yeah, of course,” he said. “Of course I will. And you’ll, of course, be mine?”

“Would be an honour,” Harry said, folding the note up. “The biggest honour to be at the wedding of my two best friends. You guys set a date yet?”

“No,” Ron said. “We’ve not really discussed it. With all the tests, and then waiting for results… hasn’t been the best time to make any clear-cut decisions about something so important. For me, anyway.” In the six weeks they’d been engaged, he knew Hermione had been going through books, reading up on traditions, considering some places, some dates, looking at wedding dresses, and doing a lot of other things to do with the wedding.

But Ron had been too stressed to think clearly about something that seemed a while away, and then after he’d taken his tests, too nervous about the results to plan.

He wanted to be able to make clear decisions about what would be the most important and special day of his life, and while he awaited the results of his future, he couldn’t.

Hermione had understood and said she’d keep some things aside so they could talk about it when he was ready.

“Well, after today you’ll have more time.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, and some of his shock about becoming an Auror dissipated. Now he could anticipate something much more exciting than test results.

…

“I knew you’d both do it!” Hermione said, giving Harry a hug. She then turned to Ron and kissed him. “I’m so happy and proud of both of you.”

“And those test results are amazing!” Ginny added. “One hundred percent on all your final aptitude tests, and almost one hundred percent on the theory. The pair of you are going to make formidable Aurors. Dark witches and wizards have no chance. I think Tonks told me once that she scored ninety on her theory.”

“Don’t give us a reputation before we’ve started, Gin,” Harry said.

Ginny smiled. “You deserve it.”

“We still need our formal offers into the Auror department,” Ron said. “Can’t start a job when we don’t have one.”

“As if Kingsley wouldn’t offer you actual jobs,” Hermione said. “Apart from being very depleted, he needs people like you.”

Ron thought she was right. Now that they’d passed, Kingsley would be sure to offer them actual jobs. And with that came a decent pay rise, which meant a nicer wedding than before.

“Hey, guys.”

Everyone turned. They were standing out in front of the Three Broomsticks, waiting for Neville to arrive, who’d graciously accepted Harry’s invitation to celebrate with them.

“Hey, Neville,” they all said together.

“How’d you go, mate?” Ron asked.

Neville nodded. “I passed. I did well. Eighty-nine percent on the theory, one hundred percent on two of the aptitude tests, and ninety-seven on the rest.”

“That’s great, Neville,” Hermione said, and she stepped forward to hug him. Ginny did the same. Harry and Ron clapped him on the back.

“We should go in then now that we’re all here,” Ginny said, her hand resting on the entrance to the pub.

“I’m still waiting on… someone,” Neville said suddenly, and under the pale moonlight, Ron saw his cheeks tinge pink.

“Who?” Ron asked.

“... someone,” Neville muttered.

“As in… a date?” Ron pressed. Hermione elbowed him as a warning to not pry.

Neville nodded, his blush deepening.

“Who?” Ron said again. “Is this new?”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “Stop being so nosy.”

“A few months,” Neville said quietly.

“Thanks for letting us — your friends — know,” Ron said, but he smiled. “They on their way?”

Neville nodded again. “She’ll be here in a moment.”

Ginny took up a conversation with Hermione about Ginny’s Quidditch team and how she was going, while Ron, Harry and Neville stood in silence.

After a moment, Ron said, “Seriously, who is she? You’ve been seeing someone, Nev?”

“Someone from school,” Neville said. But before he could elaborate, a woman who looked vaguely familiar to Ron approached them, albeit not without a little hesitation.

It took Ron a moment, but he placed her as Hannah Abbott. Ron didn’t think he’d ever spoken to her in his whole time at Hogwarts, though it wasn’t because he had any strong opinions about her. They just… never interacted. Not even during their time in Dumbledore’s Army together.

“Hi, Hannah!” Hermione said before Neville could even introduce them. Of course Hermione would be on more friendly terms with her. She seemed to have spoken to everyone during their time at Hogwarts. “How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks!” Hannah said. “How are you…” She looked around at everyone standing there. “How are you all? Thanks for inviting me.”

“That’s quite alright,” Ginny said before anyone could share an uncomfortable look that they actually hadn’t invited her. Until a moment ago, they hadn’t even known she was coming. But, to be fair, if they had known Neville was seeing her, she would have been invited.

“Let’s go in, shall we?” Ginny then said. “I had a table reserved as there’s a few of us and it’s become a popular night time spot for more than just the creeps of Hogsmeade. Sorry, Hannah, I organised this a while back and Neville only told us today you were coming. I’m sure an extra chair won’t be a bother.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said.

“Just over there,” Rosmerta said when she spotted them. She pointed to a table at the back in a corner that was out of the way of everyone else.

“Do you have a spare chair, Rosmerta?” Ginny asked.

“If you can find one,” Rosmerta said, waving a hand in the general direction of other tables, clearly distracted by her customers.

“You seem awfully friendly with her,” Ron said as he picked up a vacant chair and carried it over to their table.

“The Harpies like to come here after a game sometimes,” Ginny said. “Would anyone like a Butterbeer? Firewhisky? I’ll get them.”

While Ginny disappeared to get the drinks, everyone else arranged themselves around the table. It was a little squishy, but they all somehow fit. Ron found himself squished into the corner of the booth with Hermione (which he didn’t mind one bit).

“It’s nice of you guys to organise something,” Neville said. “And to invite me.”

“You’ve been through the three years with us, Nev,” Ron said. “You’re always invited.”

Neville flushed with pleasure, and Ron felt a wave of affection for him.

��How are you going, Hannah?” Hermione said, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. Ron shifted to give them a little more room and placed his arm around her waist. “I heard that you’re at St Mungo’s?”

How she knew that, Ron had no idea, but that was one of the many things he loved about Hermione. She knew everything.

“Yes, there’s a few from our year who’re doing Healing too,” Hannah said. “Seamus Finnigan… you probably know that, he said he’s still in contact with all of you. And Padma Patil.”

“Yes, I heard she was, too,” Hermione said.

“How is it?” Harry asked. “Healing, I mean?”

“Oh, I love it,” Hannah said. “It’s so rewarding. Tiring, but still rewarding. I’m working in the long-term resident ward. Do you remember Professor Lockhart? He’s still there!”

No one said anything to that. Ron assumed the others were of the same mind as he was — they had seen him there a few years ago, still as mad as ever. Thankfully, Ginny chose that moment to return with the drinks, so no one had to. She had two in her hands, and was levitating the others with her wand. She slid into the booth next to Harry.

“Have you and Neville been in contact all this time?” Ginny asked, looking at Hannah.

“Oh, no,” Hannah said, and she laughed slightly. “Through Seamus, really. We went out one evening after a rough day — me, Seamus and Padma — and he invited Neville and Dean along too. We got talking, reminiscing on a lot of Herbology lessons, and we kind of just clicked.”

Neville flushed, but Ron saw a smile hidden within his red face.

“That’s so good,” Ginny said, grinning at Neville. “What a nice story.”

“Yeah,” Hannah said, also smiling. She then looked at the others with more focus. “And Neville told me about you all getting married.” Her eyes flicked to Harry and Ginny first. “Congratulations.” She then looked to Ron and Hermione. “And to you two as well. Such lovely news. Have you set any dates?”

“We have,” Ginny said. “When we send an invitation out, we’ll be sure to send yours with Neville’s. Guests are welcome, of course, we’re just putting secrecy charms on the invitations to stop any unwelcome guests showing up.”

By unwelcome guests, Ron knew she meant the media. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley would be a wedding that gossip magazines and the Prophet would love to get a story on. High profile weddings such as theirs were not a common thing in the wizarding world.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Neville said, sounding impressed.

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “It sounds mean, but… we just want family and friends there, not snooping journalists trying to get in. So all stuff will be revealed on the invitation and once people read it, they’ll not be able to speak any of it out loud.”

“That’s a bit insulting to your brother, don’t you think?” Ron asked her. “You don’t trust even me?”

“Knowing you and your big mouth, you’ll let it slip by accident somewhere,” Ginny said, and Harry and Neville chuckled.

Ron scowled at both of them and sunk back into the booth.

“Well, we aren’t telling you ours either,” he said, knowing he was pouting.

“Because you don’t have one,” Ginny said.

Ron shot her a glaring look, to which she only rolled her eyes. “By the time you bother to even choose a date, people will have forgotten you’re even engaged. You are the definition of taking things slow.”

Everyone bar Hannah nodded in agreement, including Hermione. Ron looked at her.

“It doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing,” she said kindly.

Ron folded his arms across his chest, leaning on the table again. He said nothing more on the subject.

The evening ended up being a pleasant one, the conversation going on until near midnight. Hannah, who Ron had always considered rather quiet, talked a lot and asked lots of questions about everything.

“Are you really selling your godfather’s house, Harry?”

“Why did you choose to live in Nottingham? That’s where I grew up. I live in London now.”

“How do you think the Harpies will fare against the Magpies next week, Ginny? My brother supports the Magpies.”

She was nice, though, and if Neville wasn’t Neville, who acted shy in many social situations, Ron would have thought he was quite pleased with himself.

“When do you think we’ll be able to start our actual jobs as Aurors?” Ron asked as the clock now ticked past midnight. There were still a few people left in the pub. Though, the later it got, the shadier the people became.

“I’d think very soon,” Hermione said. “They need more Aurors, and now that all the first lot of trainees since the war have finished, I’m sure Kingsley will want you all in as soon as possible. You probably all know what you’re doing more than half the Aurors already there anyway.”

“Flattering, Hermione,” Harry said with a tired smile.

“The truth,” she said firmly.

Hannah stifled a yawn, and truthfully, Ron didn’t blame her. He’d enjoyed the night, but he was starting to think about his bed more than the people he was spending time with.

Ginny and Hannah were still chatting when he fell into a peaceful stupor that had his mind wandering to what was to come for him. Starting a real job, getting married…

He was startled when he felt a hand on his leg. He turned to see Hermione smiling at him. “Do you want to go?”

“Do you?” he asked. “If you want to stay, we can stay. I’ll just… nap in the booth.”

“I haven’t even been home,” Hermione said. “Only to change from work clothes. I think we’re all going anyway.”

Ron looked around to see everyone else grabbing coats, getting to their feet as the conversation died down. Ron took Hermione’s hand as they all exited the pub.

“I don’t know how many times I went there in school,” Hannah said. “But now that we’re out, we mostly go to the Leaky Cauldron. My great uncle is the owner there.”

“Tom’s your uncle?” Hermione asked.

“Great uncle,” Hannah said with a nod.

“I never knew,” Hermione replied.

“Yeah, it doesn’t always come up in conversation.”

They were standing outside now. The temperature had significantly dropped while they’d been inside. Now that he was on his feet, Ron could feel the four Butterbeers and two Firewhiskys he’d drank going through him. No wonder he’d been falling asleep inside.

“Thanks for inviting me again,” Hannah said brightly. “I had fun.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Ginny said. She then looked between Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Or see you again.”

Neville and Hannah left, heading up the main street of Hogsmeade hand-in-hand.

“How nice.” Hermione sighed. “I’m happy for them.”

“Neville with a girlfriend is… strange,” Ron mused, watching their disappearing figures step into the night. He gripped Hermione’s hand tighter, then dug into his pocket to retrieve his wand.

Hermione’s hand covered it.

“Maybe I’ll Disapparate?” she suggested. “I don’t want any unnecessary Splinchings.”

Ron hesitated for a moment, trying to count how many drinks he’d seen her have but couldn’t recall. His brain was a little foggy on the details.

He didn’t even feel drunk, just… heavy-headed.

“Yeah, alright,” he said and stowed his wand back into his pocket.

“You’ll be at the Burrow tomorrow night?” Ginny asked.

“I guess?” Hermione said, sounding confused. “Is there a special reason?”

“Nope, Mum just asked me to ask you. I think she’s a bit upset over the fact that we all only seem to come over for ‘special occasions’ these days. You know, with us having jobs, our own homes, and all that. Kids, for some of us.”

“We’ll be there then,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, count us in,” Ron added, only realising since Ginny had said it that his presence at the Burrow really had dropped off in the last three months or so. They still visited, of course, but he’d spent more time at Grimmauld Place than he did there.

The flat had been comfortable, but it had never been ‘home.’ To a point, the Burrow had still felt like home to him while he and Hermione navigated apartment living. But the Nottingham house had changed his perspective. That was home now, and he felt the same warmth he’d always felt at the Burrow every time he set foot in his house.

There was just so much potential there, so many things that felt right about living there, and so many things he could envision for the future.

“Great, see you tomorrow night then.” Ginny beamed at both of them, and then she and Harry Disapparated from right in front of them.

Ron flinched at the sound, his hearing suddenly oversensitive.

“Come on,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand tightly and taking out her wand with her free one. “Let’s go to bed. I’m so tired.”

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marauder-exe · 4 years

Text

Friends- Sirius Black x Reader

Request: Hey sweets! I was wondering if you could do a young! Sirius X reader with 41 and 50 please? Your writing is absolutely fantastic! Also, if possible could y/n be in Ravenclaw? Thanks anyway 💓

Prompts: 41.“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

50.“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

Word count: 1K

It broke your heart. It honestly did. Every time you heard it , a pang of hurt rang through your chest. He had never directly said it to you, obviously not wanting to hurt your feelings, but you'd overheard his friends say it, and some of his girl friends. You knew it wasn't true, there had always been something more. The late night kisses in his common room, the lingering looks. Never just friends. It didn't stop the hurt though. You tired to never let it get to you, because in the end, you still had Sirius, even if there was no labels, although, on a bad day, it could get to you. Much like today.

You had had a restless night, not a clue why, but sleep alluded you last night, so you thought about reading your favourite book to pass the time, but you couldn't find it, which was just great. So you spent some 7 hours, just staring at the roof of your dorm room, thinking of anything at all. It often lead to you thinking about Sirius, what it would like to be acknowledged as his girlfriend. It hurt that you weren't his girlfriend, but nobody else was either, so you couldn't complain. Then after it was time to ‘wake up’ Your dorm mates cat had tried to ruin your uniform, it was not great. Then some weird guy from your house, maybe in the year before, had tried to flirt with you before breakfast.

So you headed down to breakfast, hoping to forget about your terrible morning, and maybe spend a little time with Sirius. The boys, and most of griffin, didn't really care that you spent every morning at their table. Your Ravenclaw friends, did care a little bit, they missed talking to you every morning, but by now they've gotten used to you sitting with the marauders. And they saw how happy he made you, so they couldn't complain. So you started heading toward the Gryffindor, throwing a small wave to your friends at your own table. You caught sight of the marauders, in their same seats as always. None of them had spotted you yet so you decided to scare Sirius, you silently tried to creep up behind him, their voices coming into earshot, then he said it again. Those shitty little words.

“Come on Prongs, you know were just friends” He said toward his friends, obviously oblivious to you stood behind him,James scoffed in response. You straightened and glared at the back of his head. Remus coughed toward his friend, raised his eyebrows and looked behind him towards you. You'd never seen him turn around so fast in your life.

“Alright, love?” He said, trying to play it off the best he could.

“Yeah, fuck you too, Sirius!” You turned around and stomped out of the great hall, attracting the attention of some 5th years. God, could this day get any worse, of course he had to say it on a bad day. You walked and walked and walked, not really caring where you ended up. You just wanted to be away from everyone.

Meanwhile, Sirius was panicking at the Gryffindor table.

“I think you might have royally fucked that one up” James nudged him, as his head was down on the table.

“Realllly? Never coulda’ guessed, thanks Prongs” Sarcasm dripping In his voice.

“Well why don't you go after her?” Remus chimed in.

“Because, she probably doesn't want to see me” He dropped his head back down on the table. Remus aggressively threw a bread roll at him. “OW! What's that for?” Sirius questioned, rubbing his arm where he was hit.” Man this boy was oblivious.

“You idiot. Its not that she doesn't want to see you, its that she doesn't want to be considered ‘just a friend’. Now go and get your woman before I do.” Remus dead panned. Ans with that, Sirius was off, the boys laughing at him from the table.

It felt like he had been walking for hours, but in reality, it had probably only ben a few minutes, but you know Sirius, ever the dramatic. On his way through the corridors, he had asked the paintings if they had seen which way you had went. He was eventually pointed in the direction of the 5th floor corridor. When he pushed through the entrance, he heard sniffles coming from down the corridor. You raided your head from between your knees at the noise. Sirius immediately rushed over to you. He knelt down beside you and just looked into your eyes.

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” You uttered.

“I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.” Your heart broke at his words, how could he think so little of himself?

“Sirius, i- im in love with you, I don't want anyone else.” You whispered wiping away a tear that rolled down his cheek.

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” His voice was hoarse and quiet.

“But you are the only one who deserves it.” You stated. “You forever deserve it Sirius”

“You don't get it, (Y/N)” He pulled away from your touch.

“Then help me understand” You stood up, squaring your shoulders.

“Your the Ravenclaw princess, (Y/N), im the Hogwarts man whore, were not compatible.

“Oh so your just gonna give into stereotypes now, what happened to challenging the system Sirius? What happened to being everything your not supposed to be? I love you! Isn't that all that matters” And in that moment, he thought about it, he really thought about it. When did he become someone who cared what other people thought, he loved her. He didn't need anything else. He grabbed her waist, pulled her closer, hand resting on her cheek, and kissed her with all the passion in the world.

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #harry potter x reader

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Could we get something where billy gets “outed” about being with a male omega? since it’s Cali does it go okay or does it end up negatively affecting his job?? Your latest part got me wondering....

Part 41

Masterlist

There is BIG homophobia and various anti-LGBTQIA themes.

This jumps around the timeline

“I don’t think you should tell the people at work about me.”

Steve was sitting up in bed as Billy leaned against the doorway bathroom, brushing his teeth.

“Come again?” His mouth was all full of toothpaste.

Billy was going to be starting his internship tomorrow afternoon, was going to be heading right there after his morning class.

“I don’t think you should tell them all about me. I mean, you could tell them you have an omega and stuff. I mean, they’ll know from the bond mark, but I just. I don’t think you should actually tell them that I’m, a man.” Billy washed out his mouth, coming to join Steve in bed. He sat in front of them.

“Baby, I’m not ashamed of-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve spoke quickly. “You’re just gonna be around a whole bunch of alphas, and I don’t want them, giving you any shit, or treating you badly for any reason. Any reason you can’t control.”

“What do you want? I love everything about you, and you know I won’t bat an eye at telling them all about my husband.”

“I know, Bill, but that’s, I mean, that’s what I’m worried about. I mean, what if they fire you, just because of me. You’re so smart, and you work so hard, I don’t want this to hold you back.”

“Tell me what to so, Sweet Thing. This is your choice. I just don’t wanna hide the fact that I do have a family.”

“You don’t have to. Just keep it vague about me. Just call me your omega and don’t say my name or anything. I mean, talk about the girls all you want, just leave me out of it.”

“That just means I can’t bring you to company parties, or have your picture anywhere. If that’s what you want, I respect that, but Stevie, this can’t be my forever. I can’t spend my whole working life just, pretending you’re not you.”

“And I think this is a conversation we’ll need to revisit many times, but for right now, as you’re beginning this field as an intern, I think we need to do this. I want you to do this.” He reached up to tug on one of Billy’s curls. He had been growing it out again, but had Steve cut it a week ago when he heard back about the internship. “It doesn’t hurt my feelings that this is our reality. I’ve been a male omega my whole life. I know how it goes.”

Billy turned his head to kiss the palm of Steve’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m sorry you gotta live hidden like this. I’m so proud of our relationship.”

“Me too, Bill. But we can be proud together, with our girls and our family. But at work, just focus on you, and your career.”

It’s not that Billy hates his boss, it’s just that his boss is a douchebag alpha with a love of rigid gender roles and talking about tight omega pussy.

So really, Billy hates his boss.

He works at a desk right outside his big office, isn’t much more than a personal assistant, but it pays well enough that he and Steve could get a home, but after a year at the firm, his soul was fucking gone.

He was swaying in his chair, watching as the clock got closer and closer to the time he could leave, go home to his girls and his Steve for the weekend. They were going to have a beach day tomorrow.

He nearly sprinted out of the office at five, hauling ass to get back home.

Zara had turned a year old just last week, and she tottled up to him as he took off his coat, his suit jacket. He could hear Mina chattering away with Steve in the kitchen, could feel the tension melt outta his body as he smelled chicken pot pie, and the milky lavender smell of home.

“Mina Bea! Please hold your sister’s hand!” Steve was sitting on the towel, holding down the fort as Billy took the girls in the water. A year postpartum, and Steve finally felt comfortable enough to take off his shirt at the beach, made Billy’s eyes drift back over to him periodically.

They played in the water for a while, returning to Steve when Zara started getting grumpy to eat the picnic he had packed. Billy was wrapped around him, laughing as Mina relayed a story from her summer dance classes when Billy felt the hair on the back of his neck raise.

He whipped around, was expecting to see his father, the uneasy feeling in his gut making him feel like a teenager again.

“Bill? You okay?” And then Billy’s eyes locked on his boss, strolling across the boardwalk with his omega wife, their three preteen sons.

His heart sank.

Billy was fucking dreading Monday morning.

Steve was jittery nervous, had made a huge breakfast spread in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

Billy took the stairs to the sixth floor. He didn’t know if he was delaying the inevitable, delaying getting fucking fired.

“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove. You have a good weekend?” Billy didn’t know where the fuck he stood with his boss right now.

“It was very nice, thank you, Mr. Wolfram.”

“Enjoy the beach with your family?”

“Yessir. A perfect day for the beach.”

“Why did I picture you with a wife? I thought you said you had an omega.” Billy’s heart sank.

“I do, Mr. Wolfram. Steve is my omega. He’s my husband.”

“God, always wanted to meet an male omega. What’s he got?” Billy blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“What’s he got? A pussy?” Billy felt like cold water dripping down his spine.

“Why is that any of your business?” Wolfram rolled his eyes, chuckling at Billy.

“C’mon, Hargrove. Just between us guys. I always wondered about male omegas.”

“I still don’t see why it’s your business.”

“Just yes or no. I heard guy omegas have really good pussies. But I heard they have cocks too. I don’t know how you deal with that. Is it big?” Billy was regulating his breathing, going through the exercises the therapist he sees every Wednesday during his lunch hour had given him.

“Mr. Wolfram, I do not want to discuss this with you. This is my husband you’re speaking so disgustingly about.”

“Christ, Hargrove. Don’t be so uptight.”

“I find it incredibly disrespectful that you’re asking these questions.” His chest was heaving. His mind was racing Bill, he’s not worth it. Don’t hit him, don’t throw away your career like that. Billy doesn’t know when the voice of reason in his brain became Steve’s voice, just clutched to it.

“It’s just a little talk between alphas.”

“I don’t like to discuss private matters about my husband. Please stop asking me about his genitals.” He turned on his heel out of the office, stalking back to his own little desk.

He supposes he got off easy, didn’t get immediately fired, and was proud of himself for exercising so much self control.

The day passed as usual until he was returning to his desk from running a file down to the third floor.

He found a neat paper on his desk, a memo from the HR department, a memo informing him of the immediate termination of his position.

Don’t cause a scene, Bill. Just go home. We’ll figure it out. We always do.

He packed his desk quietly, avoiding eye contact with the other employees. There is no doubt in his mind news of his marital situation had spread through the firm.

He left with his head held high, waiting until he got in his car to punch at the steering wheel, to scream and rage and be fucking angry.

The house was empty when he arrived. He collapsed, face down into his bed, settling on Steve’s side, breathing him in.

“Bill? Why are you home? Is everything okay?” Steve was trailing a few delicate fingers down his spine. Billy didn’t know when he had fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.”

“Bill, Baby, you’re scaring me.” Billy rolled over, found Steve, biting his lip, his eyes big and shining.

“I lost my job.” Saying it out loud made Billy feel like shit, made him feel so fucking pathetic.

But Steve’s lip trembled, and his scent went haywire, and Billy moved to tug him onto the bed.

“Because of me? Because he saw us?”

“I really, I don’t know, Baby. I don’t know if that’s why, or, or because he kept, he kept asking me these questions, like kept asking if you have a pussy, and how he’d heard male omegas had a cock too, and if it was big, and I told him I was uncomfortable discussing that with him, and I don’t know if he let me go because of that, I really don’t.”

“But, either way, it’s because of me. Because of what I am.”

“No, Honey. It’s because he’s an asshole, that wouldn’t know a boundary if it bit him in the ass.” He pushed Steve back to wipe at the big teals in his eyes. “C’mon, what do we always say?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“And we will! I can go back to the garage, and look for other firms. We’ll make it happen.” Steve took a deep breath.

“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed a wet kiss to Billy’s head, settling back on top of him.

#one day im gonna fix this timeline #mango #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #harringrove abo #omega steve harrington #alpha billy hargrove #mpreg

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todo-ho-ki · 3 years

Text

In honor of me never writing a single fucking word for the stories I’m still actually working on, I wanted to do something, anything at all, and obviously right now I’m fixating on haikyu instead of BNHA so welcome to...

Chances I’d Fight the Haikyu Boys and the Likelihood I’d Win

KARASUNO

Daichi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 he’s a master of being cool and respectful he wouldn’t give me a reason to square up

Chances I’d win- Manz could crush me with his thighs alone one kick and I’m in the afterlife BUT he wouldn’t fight a lady so 1/10

Suga 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 1/10 a bitch might consider for money or something but otherwise. HEEEELLLL NO

Chances I’d win: suga seems lovely but Manz is as unhinged as his jaw will be when he swallows my arm whole after I try to punch him 2/10

Asahi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -3/10 he’s a soft boy I’d never fight him but +2 bc I might give him a gentle arm punch if need be. Overall -1/10

Chances I’d win: he only LOOKS scary but he wouldn’t hurt a fly tbh he’s probably scared of flies and looking like an asshole for fighting back 9/10 -1 point because Manz got REACH and COULD take me out if he wanted

Noya 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 4/10 he can be a little shit sometimes I stg

Chances I’d win: -1/10 he could jump on me and bite my jugular out I ain’t fuckin w/him. +2 points bc he’s a simp so he probably WOULDNT...but he COULD. Overall 1/10

Tanaka 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 6/10 he do be antagonizing sometimes and I swear if he SAY SOME SHIT TO ME...

Chances I’d win: mans could probably ACTUALLY win a fight hes full of energy and he could probs give me a look and I’d get scared 3/10 bc I don’t think he’d fight me either he’s a GENTLEMAN OK

Kageyama🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -50/10 bitch is SCARY and I know he’ll throw hands I’ve seen it

Chances I’d win: kageyama DO NOT GIVE A FUCK he’s broody in general and have you SEEN HIS SERVES he could slap me into next week(I’d thank him OOP) -370/10

Hinata 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -500/10 Hinata is best boy I’d never lay a hand on him

Chances I’d win: I’d say 10/10 but I’ve SEEN that look in his eyes I don’t wanna know what it means so 6/10

Tsukishima 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: Manz knows all the buttons to press he’s a salty MF 8/10 but not 10/10 cuz he looks hot sometimes

Chances I’d win: he’d probably say something that makes me cry and id get distracted and he’ll walk away 2/10 cuz I could take him if I could see past the tears

Yamaguchi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -60,000/10 yams is a ray of SUNSHINE I could NEVER

Chances I’d win: here’s where things get tricky. He’s friends with Tsuki so he’s def got the sass and shit I think he’d be the one to secretly be able to THROW DOWN 3/10

NEKOMA

Kuro 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -530,000/10 I LOVE him sm I simp too hard I can’t ruin that pretty face and that smirk NO ABSOLUTELY NOT

Chances I’d win: Manz is like a tree he could hold me at bay w/one of those buff-ass arms or crush my head with his thighs and since id let him, -6/10. minus three points cuz he’d charm me out of fighting

Kenma 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 7/10 BAD BITCH GOT A ATTITUDE, NASTY

Chances I’d win: Kenma’s spicy and he WILL fight but I got too much strength on him so 9/10 I think he’d pull out some moves before giving up

Lev 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 4/10 sometimes he’s just...REALLY stupid and arrogant which makes my eye twitch but minus 4 points bc he’s a big softie

Chances I’d win: his arm alone is longer than my body even if he couldnt fight he could swing blindly and accidentally hit the part of my brain responsible for consciousness in a panic. Also 4/10

Yaku 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: absolutely not I love his sassy attitude he be talkin shit sometimes 0/10 plus three points bc sometimes hed aim his tude at me and I STG

Chances I’d win: Manz is small but ready to pounce he’d jump on my back like a spider monkey and punch my skull till it caves in RIP me. 4/10 plus 2 points bc hed take it out on Lev instead

Fukunaga 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 Manz never did nothin to nobody

Chances I’d win: he’d probably say something so funny I’d die from lack of oxygen w/o ever getting a hit in 3/10 if I can breathe I can get his ass

SEIJOH

Oikawa 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: depends on the day but a solid 6/10 he’s a little bitch sometimes but we love to see it. I also don’t wanna be messin up that pretty ass face

Chances I’d win: if he REALLY wanted to he could serve me into a different reality but he wouldn’t fight unless he ABSOLUTELY had to so I could get his ass too. Pre time skip: 19/10. Minus 63 points because I KNOW 27 year old oikawa would WRECK MY SHIT and I’d say please sir may I have some more

Iwaizumi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: yo, you out to DAMN MIND??? -100,000/10

Chances I’d win: look. LOOK. Iwa Chan’s biceps are bigger than my head I mean NOTHING to him. I’m but a pebble to a god. He got a 6’7” attitude cuz he can swing like a 6’7” man. He could probably pull his dick out once and obliterate me with the seismic aftershock of it hitting the ground. -1235/10 minus six points bc ID LET HIM KILL ME

Yahaba 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: solid 7/10 KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS

Chances I’d win: see, you’d THINK this would be where I’d have the upper hand but Manz manhandled mad dog and lived. He’d slam me into a wall until my soul leaves my body right where I stand 3/10 bc he be simpin. Minus 3 points because I’d enjoy it

Mattsun 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: pre time skip:0/10

post time skip: -57/10 I ain’t putting my hands on a face that pretty

Chances I’d win: I’m doomed. He’d give me one look and I’d cave. Im walking out the broom closet limping but not bc of a fight. -41/10

Kiyotani 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: we’ll go with a solid -5/10 for...reasons

Chances I’d win: if I actually stood up to him he’d freeze in place but he could slap me into a different country if provoked 1/10

Kunimi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 we love a man who’s emotionally detached plus he’s hot tf

Chances I’d win: Manz would give up halfway through if he even indulged in the first place. 6/10 minus three points bc I’d win by default after he walks away

INARIZAKI

Kita 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: he’s a good boy -3/10

Chances I’d win: respectable guy but I have no doubt he’d rock my shit I’m ascending to the astral plane 1/10

Osamu 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: uh-uh. 0/10

Chances I’d win: he’s the aggressive twin. One flying kick to the heart and it’s across the gym and I’m dead as FUCK. 2/10 minus 2 points bc PLEASE put your hands on me sir

Atsumu 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: a soft 4/10 he’s a BRAT buuuuuut I love him so fucking much I’d let it go

Chances I’d win: he’s all bark and no bite. Srry bby but you’re gettin FOLDED I love you though. 88/10. minus 370 points bc please spend the rest of your life with me I could never hurt you 🥺

Aran 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -5/10 he’s so sweet why would you fight him

Chances I’d win: he’d serve a volleyball into the back of my head and I take +10 damage from how cool it looks. Can fit my face in one hand probably. -43/10 minus ten points because of how cool he’d look killing me instantly

Suna 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 2/10 he’s a little shit too he’d make someone record it

Chances I’d win: he’d try to fuck me instead. It would work. 1/10 bc I’d slap him afterward but like, sexily

FUKURODANI

Bokuto 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 3/10 emo mode GOTS TO GO

Chances I’d win: his ass would pull me into it’s orbit and he’d use the opportunity to crush me with his thighs. -6/10. Minus 4 points bc what a FUCKING way to go please kill me

Akaashi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 1/10 he’s intimidating you kidding me NO

Chances I’d win: I could take him if he’s distracted by Bokuto. 6/10 if he is, 1/10 if he’s not

Konoha 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -3/10 we love a sassy boy

Chances I’d win: I’m not maiming a face that pretty -28/10 I’d get lost in his eyes tf

SHIRATORIZAWA

Ushijima 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: none and a half I couldn’t even look at him. -.5/10

Chances I’d win: one smack would knock my organs out of my body. Big boy+big body=big death even if he misses the aftershock will stop my heart -67/10 minus four points bc RAIL ME

Tendou 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 14/10 SQUARE UP BITCH

Chances I’d win: WELCOME TO HELL. YOUVE MADE A MISTAKE 36/10

Shirabu 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 he’s too cool

Chances I’d win: he wouldn’t show. Too busy getting his hair cut. I win by default. 10/10 minus four points bc there would be no fight

Semi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: I wouldn’t. 0/10. He’d give me the semi brow and I’d be down and out for the count. I’m not hitting a face that pretty.

Chances I’d win: 2/10. Minus three points bc he’d smash a guitar over my head, killing me instantly. Minus three more points bc I’d ask him to wear a leather jacket first

Goshiki 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: None. 0/10. His words and his bangs are as cool as ever.

Chances I’d win: he’d cry if I looked at him wrong. 86/10 but minus four points bc he’s baby

EXTRAS

Sakusa 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: surprisingly high. 7/10 bc a bitch got a attitude. Minus 8 points because he’s so fucking beautiful I don’t know if I could follow through

Chances I’d win: I’d just lick my hands before I started swinging and he’d leave. 8/10. Minus two points bc I think if he REALLY needed to square up he’d take me down in a fucking headlock until I pass out. Minus two more points because I’d ask him to squeeze harder.

Ukai jr. 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: that’s the wrong F word kids 😏. -34/10 besides I ain’t squaring up with a man that wears a headband like that

Chances I’d win: he probably could eat a bowl of nails for breakfast without any milk. -99/10. Minus 15 points bc I’d stop to ask him if he wants to finish this at my place

Hiragumi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: why would you fight such a good, PRETTY boy? -5/10

Chances I’d win: he’d smile at me and I’d give up. -12/10

Takeda 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: I think he’d kill me honestly. Plus the boys would’ve never had a chance w/o him absolutely NOT -2/10

Chances I’d win: he’s hiding a demon from hell under that green jacket. -60/10

Terushima🏐

Chances I’d fight him: sheeeit I could try but his sexiness would leave me paralyzed. 1/10 if I look at enough pictures I could get past his fucking blonde undercut and tongue ring

Chances I’d win: he’d have my thighs around his head in 1.8 seconds. Will kill me with his tongue. -435/10

#haikyu!!#haikyuu boys #karasuno #Nekoma #Seijoh #FUKURODANI #Shiratorizawa

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birdlord · 3 years

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Everything I Watched in 2020

We’ll start with movies. The number in parentheses is the year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. Here’s 2019’s list.

01 Little Women (19)

02 The Post (17)

03 Molly’s Game (17)

04 * Doctor No (62)

05 Groundhog Day (93)

06 *Star Trek IV - The Voyage Home (86)

07 Knives Out (19) My last theatre experience (sob)

08 Professor Marston and his Wonder Women (17)

09 Les Miserables (98)

10 Midsommar (19) I’m not sure how *good* it is, but it does stick in the ol’ brain

11 *Manhattan Murder Mystery (93)

12 Marriage Story (19)

13 Kramer vs Kramer (79)

14 Jojo Rabbit (19)

15 J’ai perdu mon corps (19) a cute animated film about a hand detached from its body!

16 1917 (19)

17 Married to the Mob (88)

18 Klaus (19)

19 Portrait of a Lady on Fire (19) If Little Women made me want to wear a scarf criss-crossed around my torso, this one made me want to wear a cloak

20 The Last Black Man in San Francisco (19)

21 *Lawrence of Arabia (62)

22 Gone With the Wind (39)

23 Kiss Me Deadly (55)

24 Dredd (12)

25 Heartburn (86) heard a bunch about this one in the Blank Check series on Nora Ephron, sadly after I’d watched it

26 The Long Shot (19)

27 Out of Africa (85)

28 King Kong (46)

29 *Johnny Mnemonic (95)

30 Knocked Up (07)

31 Collateral (04)

32 Bird on a Wire (90)

33 The Black Dahlia (05)

34 Long Time Running (17)

35 *Magic Mike (12)

36 Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (07)

37 Cold War (18)

38 *Kramer Vs Kramer (79) yes I watched this a few months before! This was a pandemic friend group co-watch.

39 *Burn After Reading (08)

40 Last Holiday (50)

41 Fly Away Home (96)

42 *Moneyball (11) I’m sure I watch this every two years, at most??

43 Last Holiday (06) the Queen Latifah version of the 1950 movie above, lacking, of course, the brutal “poor people don’t deserve anything good” ending

44 *Safe (95)

45 Gimme Shelter (70)

46 The Daytrippers (96)

47 Experiment in Terror (62)

48 Tucker: The Man and His Dream (88)

49 My Brilliant Career (79) one of the salvations of 2020 was watching movies “with” friends. Our usual method was to video chat before the movie, sync our streaming services, and text-chat while the movie was on.

50 Divorce Italian Style (61)

51 *Gosford Park (01) another classic comfort watch, fuck I love a G. Park

52 Hopscotch (80)

53 Brief Encounter (45)

54 Hud (63)

55 Ocean’s 8 (18)

56 *Beverly Hills Cop (84)

57 Blow the Man Down (19)

58 Constantine (05)

59 The Report (19) maddening!! How are people so consistently terrible to one another!

60 Everyday People (04)

61 Anatomy of a Murder (58)

62 Spiderman: Homecoming (17)

63 *To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (95) Of the 90s drag road movies, Priscilla is more visually striking, but this has its moments.

64 Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (92)

65 *The Truman Show (98)

66 Mona Lisa (86)

67 The Blob (58)

68 The Guard (11)

69 *Waiting for Guffman (96) RIP Fred Willard

70 Rocketman (19)

71 Outside In (18)

72 The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (08) how strange to see a movie that you have known the premise for, but no details of, for over a decade

73 *Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country (91)

74 The Reader (08)

75 Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (19) This was fine until it VERY MUCH WAS NOT FINE

76 The End of the Affair (99) you try to watch a fun little romp about infidelity during the Blitz, and Graham Greene can’t help but shoehorn in a friggin crisis of religious faith

77 Must Love Dogs (05) barely any dog content, where are the dogs at

78 The Rainmaker (97)

79 *Batman & Robin (97)

80 National Lampoon’s Vacation (83) Never seen any of the non-xmas Vacations, didn’t realize the children are totally different, not just actors but ages! Also, this one is blatantly racist!

81 *Mystic Pizza (88)

82 Funny Girl (68)

83 The Sons of Katie Elder (65)

84 *Knives Out (19) another re-watch within the same year!! How does this keep happening??

85 *Scott Pilgrim Vs The World (10) a real I-just-moved-away-from-Toronto nostalgia watch

86 Canadian Bacon (92) vividly recall this VHS at the video store, but I never saw it til 2020

87 *Blood Simple (85)

88 Brittany Runs a Marathon (19)

89 The Accidental Tourist (88)

90 August Osage County (13) MELO-DRAMA!!

91 Appaloosa (08)

92 The Firm (93) Feeling good about how many iconic 80s/90s video store stalwarts I watched in 2020

93 *Almost Famous (00)

94 Whisper of the Heart (95)

95 Da 5 Bloods (20)

96 Rain Man (88)

97 True Stories (86)

98 *Risky Business (83) It’s not about what you think it’s about! It never was!

99 *The Big Chill (83)

100 The Way We Were (73)

101 Safety Last (23) It’s getting so that I might have to add the first two digits to my dates...not that I watch THAT many movies from the 1920s...

102 Phantasm (79)

103 The Burrowers (08)

104 New Jack City (91)

105 The Vanishing (88)

106 Sisters (72)

107 Puberty Blues (81) Little Aussie cinema theme, here

108 Elevator to the Gallows (58)

109 Les Diaboliques (55)

110 House (77) haha WHAT no really W H A T

111 Death Line (72)

112 Cranes are Flying (57)

113 Holes (03)

114 *Lady Vengeance (05)

115 Long Weekend (78)

116 Body Double (84)

117 The Crazies (73) I love that Romero shows the utter confusion that would no doubt reign in the case of any kind of disaster. Things fall apart.

118 Waterlilies (07)

119 *You’re Next (11)

120 Event Horizon (97)

121 Venom (18) I liked it, guys, way more than most superhero fare. Has a real sense of place and the place ISN’T New York!

122 Under the Silver Lake (18) RIP Night Call

123 *Blade Runner (82)

124 *The Birds (62) interesting to see now that I’ve read the story it came from

125 *28 Days Later (02) hits REAL FUCKIN’ DIFFERENT in a pandemic

126 Life is Sweet (90)

127 *So I Married an Axe Murderer (93) find me a more 90s movie, I dare you (it’s not possible)

128 Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (67)

129 The Pelican Brief (93) 90s thrillers continue!

130 Dick Johnston is Dead (20)

131 The Bridges of Madison County (95)

132 Earth Girls are Easy (88) Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum are so hot in this movie, no wonder they got married

133 Better Watch Out (16)

134 Drowning Mona (00) trying for something like the Coen bros and not getting there

135 Au Revoir Les Enfants (87)

136 *Chasing Amy (97) Affleck is the least alluring movie lead...ever? I also think I gave Joey Lauren Adams’ character short shrift in my memory of the movie. It’s not good, but she’s more complicated than I recalled.

137 Blackkklansman (18)

138 Being Frank (19)

139 Kiki’s Delivery Service (89)

140 Uncle Frank (20) why so many FRANKS

141 *National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89) watching with pals (virtually) made it so much more fun than the usual yearly watch!

142 Half Baked (98) another, more secret Toronto nostalgia pic - RC Harris water filtration plant as a prison!

143 We’re the Millers (13)

144 All is Bright (13)

145 Defending Your Life (91)

146 Christmas Chronicles (18) I maintain that most new xmas movies are terrible, particularly now that Netflix churns them out like eggnog every year.

147 Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse (18)

148 Reindeer Games (00) what did I say about Affleck??!? WHAT DID I SAY

149 Palm Springs (20)

150 Happiest Season (20)

151 *Metropolitan (90) it’s definitely a Christmas movie

152 Black Christmas (74)

THEATRE:HOME - 2:150 (thanks pandemic)

I usually separate out docs and fiction, but I watched almost no documentaries this year (with the exception of Dick Johnston). Reality is real enough.

TV Series

01 - BoJack Horseman (final season) - Pretty damned poignant finish to the show, replete with actual consequences for our reformed bad boy protagonist (which is more than you can say for most antiheroes of Peak TV).

02 - *Hello Ladies - I enjoy the pure awkwardness of seeing Stephen Merchant try to perform being a Regular Person, but ultimately this show tips him too far towards a nasty, Ricky Gervais-lite sort of persona. Perhaps he was always best as a cameo appearance, or lip synching with wild eyes while Chrissy Teigen giggles?

03 - Olive Kittredge - a rough watch by times. I read the book as well, later in the year. Frances Mcdormand was the best, possibly the only, casting option for the flinty lead. One episode tips into thriller territory, which is a shock.

04 - *The Wire S3, S4, S5 - lockdown culture! It was interesting to rewatch this, then a few months later go through an enormous, culture-level reappraisal of cop-centred narratives.

05 - Forever - a Maya Rudolph/Fred Armisen joint that coasts on the charm of its leads. The premise is OK, but I wasn’t left wanting any more at the end.

06 - *Catastrophe - a rewatch when my partner decided he wanted to see it, too!

07 - Red Oak - resolutely “OK” steaming dramedy, relied heavily on some pretty obvious cues to get across its 1980s setting.

08 - Little Fires Everywhere - gulped this one down while in 14-day isolation, delicious! Every 90s suburban mom had that SUV, but not all of them had the requisite **secrets**

09 - The Great - fun historical comedy/drama! Costumes: lush. Actors: amusing. Race-blind casting: refreshing!

10 - The Crown S4 - this is the season everyone lost their everloving shit for, since it’s finally recent enough history that a fair chunk of the viewing audience is liable to recall it happening.

11 - Ted Lasso - we resisted this one for a while (thought I did enjoy the ad campaign for NBC sports (!!) that it was based on). My view is that its best point was the comfort that the men on the show have (or develop, throughout the season) with the acknowledgement and sharing of their own feelings. Masculinity redux.

12 - Moonbase 8 - Goodnatured in a way that makes you certain they will be crushed.

13 - The Good Lord Bird - Ethan Hawke is really aging into the character actor we always hoped he would be!

14 - Hollywood - frothy wish-fulfillment alternate history. I think the show would have been improved immeasurably by skipping the final episode.

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smoljamswrites · 4 years

Text

all is fair in love & war | bts x reader | chapter 4

pairing: bts x female reader

genre: mafia!au, series fic, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut

warnings for this chapter: abuse, fat levels of angst (but then there’s a fluffy part that’s then killed by more angst), swearing, degradation, mentions of stalking, y/n cries? is this a potential trigger, idk?

a/n: just an fyi, incase it isn’t clear, the italics in paragraphs are thoughts. Plus, I apologise if this chapter seems a little jumpy in terms of moving from scene to scene - but it’s just so I could get the story to progress quicker, so I can get into the real meat of it. Oh and I probably butchered the Korean street name system thingy so if you could excuse that, that’d be great. Thanks for reading and supporting this fic! I love you all!!

fic playlist is here x

Clutching at your hair, Sunny roughly drags you into the living room. To say she was livid would be an understatement. The anger darkened her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed, and jaw clenched as she brought you to a stop – right in front of Yunseo and some of the other members. She had phoned them when you begged her to not to tell anyone about the guy in the car, declaring you had a “contact within the outside world”. They had sent a car to pick you both up at that moment, and her hands haven’t left your hair since – gripping onto it so hard, making your eyes water.

Yunseo sits directly in the middle of the leather sofa, his crew of Syndicates placed strategically around the room. They’re expecting me to run…interesting. You’re pushed down onto the floor, your knees harshly colliding with the solid laminate.

Before you even lift your head to meet his eyes, Yunseo has already began to raise his voice. “Who was the guy, Y/N?!” his voice was filled with hatred, fires of fury smouldering his narrowed eyes. You look down onto the floor, shaking your head, not saying a word. Why the fuck would I tell them Jungkook’s name? They’re gonna have to try a lot harder than this, you muse.

A sinister chuckle escapes past Yunseo’s lips, and it makes your stomach churn. You know it isn’t long until they start getting violent, but that isn’t going to make you cave. Not yet. “Listen, we can do this the easy way – you tell me his name, how you know him and what was said between you two – or we can do this the hard way” at that Yunseo rises from his seat and the other members follow suit to loom over you.

You’re on your knees, head lifted to meet eyes with your intimidators. Your eyes wander to Juwon, and you find yourself surprised he isn’t playing with your hair or finding another way to place his grimy hands on you. A smirk toys on his lips, liking the way you look through your eyelashes at him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Sick fucking bastard! Your blood is boiling; you are sick and tired of being treated like this. Like you’re just a possession to them. Adrenalin hits you, and it makes you feel alive. Your heart is beating so fast, you feel as if it going to fly straight out of your chest. Standing up, you notice for the second time this week you are feeling yourself getting brave.

“No. Why don’t you fucking listen to me? Fuck you! I hate all of you! Why didn’t you just kill me, huh? Kill me! Go on, I dare you!” the adrenalin is flowing through your blood, and it feels like you can’t control your limbs, which is why it is such a surprise to you as much as it is to your ‘superiors’ when you lay your hands on Juwon. Putting all the force you could muster; you use both hands to push at his figure. Due to Juwon not expecting this, he falls back, rage evident on his face as soon as he reaches the ground. Within the same millisecond, your body is dragged back by somebody else, arms restricted, and you don’t even wince when Yunseo’s fists come flying towards your face. You don’t know whether it’s the surge of adrenalin or if its because you’re used to the pain by now, but you just feel numb to his actions. Each punch, to both your face and body, sends signals to your brain that makes it feel like your internal organs should be bursting – but yet you don’t seem to feel a thing. It’s like you’re unconscious, but you can see everything that is happening. All you can feel is your heart beating loudly in your ears, and it’s almost deafening.

“Who the fuck was it, you dirty fucking slut?!” Yunseo’s spit flies at your face, amazingly faster than the blows.

It is at this moment, that your body realises what is happening. Your mind snaps back into reality and every hit sends a painful jolt through your body. Your face is soaked from the tears, and you’re screaming, finding it hard to hear your own screams over their harsh words. You need this done with, and you need it done with now.

“F-fine I’ll tell you! Just don’t hit me again, please!” you whimper out. The member who was propping up your body lets go, leaving your limp form to fall to the ground. You can hear snickers coming from around the room. They really think they’ve won, huh? Cute.

“I-I met him at ‘Angels’ and to be honest I don’t really know him. But for the past few days, he seemed really obsessed with me. When I saw h-him outside the shop, it creeped me out, I didn’t expect him to be there, and I lost my cool, I guess.” You begin, trying to simultaneously catch your breath, “I went up to his car and literally asked him why he was following me. And when he wouldn’t answer me, I called him a creep and left. That was when I saw Sunny there.”

They all hold the same look on their face – like they want to believe you but they’re not quite sure yet. Your throat feels on fire from all the screaming and crying, but you find it in you to continue, wanting to finish your web of lies perfectly, “I didn’t want to tell you because I see the way you hurt people, and he seemed like an ordinary guy, just too caught up in his own horny feelings and I didn’t want you to hurt him because of that. I guess I felt scared for him.”

The Sin Syndicate members all look towards their leader, awaiting their new order, and you do the same, praying that they believe your story. Yunseo scratches at his stubble on his jaw, seemingly deciding on his next step. He addresses the members first, not bothering to look in your direction, “We’ll keep an eye out for him – Sunny you know what he looks like right? Perfect.” And then he spares a glance at you, “As for you, get to bed, I don’t want to see you right now.”

Your legs shake and your whole body feels extremely sore. Clutching at your own waist, as if you were stopping your intestines from falling out, you drag yourself to your room. You flop down onto your bed, head pounding. Yet all you can think about is Jungkook’s safety – what will happen if they find him? God I shouldn’t even care about him, he’s a fucking stalker! But yet you still reach into your drawer fifteen minutes later to retrieve your phone, deciding on warning Jungkook.

Fuck. Your phone shows you that you have already had missed calls and many text messages from him. You move your thumb to press the correct button to get onto the messaging app, then instantly press again to pull up the conversation between you and Jungkook.

Jungkook: please don’t be mad! I can explain, I promise. It’s just not something that I can explain quickly x [19:26]

Jungkook: ‘You have missed calls from ‘Jungkook’ at 19:29 and 19:41. This is a free call alert.’

Jungkook: please don’t ignore me Y/N, it’s important that I know that you’re okay x [19:59]

Jungkook: ‘You have missed 3 calls from ‘Jungkook’. This is a free call alert’.

Jungkook: Just hear me out Y/N x [20:04]

You feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach. You can tell Jungkook is worried about you and you hate that you made him concerned. But you still need to think about his actions, following you around is not okay. You have every right to feel mad. It’s because of him that you just got the beating of your lifetime!

You: I don’t understand how you’re eager to give me answers all of a sudden, when earlier you wouldn’t give them me!? What’s changed now? Finally worked out an excuse? [20:13]

He messages back relatively fast, which draws your mind back to feeling guilty for worrying him. Oh God! I still have to warn him!

Jungkook: I get that you’re mad but not replying for almost an hour after I last seen you isn’t funny! You had me so fucking worried! I literally thought the worst, okay! I thought something had happened to you. WTF?! As for the answers you want (and deserve) I will give them you, I promise. All you gotta do is meet with me because I need to explain things face to face, it’s easier. The situation is too complicated for me to rush the explanation or to type it out on text x [20:15]

Leaving isn’t a problem. It’s the making sure Jungkook remains safe and that he isn’t seen by any Sin Syndicate member that’s the issue.

You: I’d be happy to meet you so I could finally know wtf is going on, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to. [20:16]

You know that you have to go; this could be your opportunity to explain to him that he needs to be careful – maybe you could explain to him the full situation…can you trust him with that?

You: Okay so I have an idea. But for it to work, you gotta be able to work with me or this could end terribly, trust me! (I’ll explain later!) Make sure you are by your phone all day tomorrow, if you can, and when I have the chance to meet you, I’ll message you to let you know. I don’t know what time it will be but it will definitely be tomorrow because I really need to tell you something too! [20:18]

Jungkook: deal. x [20:18]

Not wanting to be the cause of his fretting again, you ensure to message him one last time before turning your phone off and getting some well-deserved sleep.

You: Goodnight x [20:19]

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

You haven’t been able to concentrate all morning. You haven’t got a performance on main stage today, but you still had to show up for work, especially with what had happened the night before. So you’ve been preoccupying yourself with speaking to clients and helping the waiters and waitresses. There is no way you’ll be practicing today, let alone performing for everyone. Currently, you’re sat at the bar, swirling your tiny umbrella around in your glass.

Getting yourself out of bed this morning was a nightmare. As soon as you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, it had sent an aching pain right through your entire being. Your head felt too heavy to carry from the offset, and all you wanted to do was to lie back down again. But you knew you couldn’t. If you wanted everything to go smoothly you knew you had to start moving.

You feel almost criminal – your phone being hidden in the fluffy slipper sock that your wearing, planning to sneak out for a while. The girls haven’t spoken to you yet, but they don’t miss the opportunity to send malicious glares in your direction. Not that you want them to speak to you; you know they hate you and the feeling is mutual. Just then someone places their hand on your back, and you jump at the feeling.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong? You’re all jumpy…is everything okay?” a familiar voice begins to calm your worries, and the way his comforting tone spills past his lips with ease sends a foreign sensation to your core. You move to meet his eyes, and a concerned look adorns his face.

“I’m fine Jin. Just got a lot on at the moment, I guess.” You decide to play it safe, considering you blurted out probably more than you should have done, the last time. But still, his evident worry doesn’t fade.

Taking a seat next to you at the bar, he ghosts his hand over yours- almost like he was deciding whether he should take your hand in his, but then chose against it. “Is there anything that I can help with?” You snap your head in his direction. Oh my god, what a fucking genius!

Your emotions must have shown on your face, because his brows drew together like he was wondering what you could be thinking about.

“Yes! Woah okay so,” you begin turning your body and bringing your hands together in excitement. Your voice instantly lowers as you speak again, “I need to meet a, well uhm-, a friend. But the problem is, I can’t leave. It’s super important that I meet with him today, so maybe, if you could help me that would be amazing! I’m thinking that you could wait half an hour or so, then request a private dance from me? And that way then they’ll think I’m preoccupied elsewhere, meaning that I could leave? What do you think?”

“Yeah sure, I’d be happy to help.”

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

Making yourself look busy with other clients for the next 30 minutes was harder than you had anticipated. You struggled to focus on the conversations you were having with them, as your mind kept flitting back to your previous chat with Seokjin.

God he’s a lifesaver! I seriously owe him one.

After what seemed like centuries, Yunseo calls your name. Making your way to him, you tried to look as sheepishly as possible, knowing it’d be best to make this stunt look believable. “Y-yes sir?” Nice! Make him think you’re scared after yesterday.

He doesn’t bother to speak for long, evidently pissed at your antics this week, “A gentleman has offered me a pretty large sum of money to book two back-to-back private dance slots with you. I’d be an idiot not to accept, so you’ll be in there for an hour. Keep him happy.” And with that he’s gone. You have to look at the floor to prevent anyone watching from seeing the smile forming on your lips.

Entering the same private dance room as last time, you quickly shut the door and squeal as you make your way over to where Jin is sitting.

“You are currently my favourite person ever! You’ve given me a whole hour! You’re the best seriously!” You know you look like an idiot because you just can’t stop smiling. You pull out your phone from the side of your sock and begin to text Jungkook.

You: Hey, I’m okay to leave now, but I must be back before half one x [12:33]

Bringing your attention back onto Jin, a sudden realisation hits you. “Shit! You’re gonna have to hide for an hour while I’m gone!” The smile is instantly wiped off your face, as you prepare yourself for an annoyed Seokjin. Yet, he doesn’t appear annoyed at all.

Shaking his head and continuing to smile, he stands up, “I know. Don’t worry! If you wanted, I could drive you to wherever you needed to go to meet your friend?” he goofily shakes his car keys and you giggle.

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

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, you are speechless. This dude must be earning the big bucks if this is his own fucking Chevrolet Corvette! The shutting of Jin’s door brings you back to reality, “So where are we going?”

Oh right, duh. Removing your phone from your sock once more, you turn on the screen to read Jungkook’s message and position it so Jin can see.

Jungkook: okie dokie, do you know where the café is on Myeongnyun-ro? It’s only a few minutes away from Angels x [12:35]

“ahh right then, lets go!”

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

Getting out the car and thanking Jin, you make your way towards the café door. Instantly you start fretting as Jungkook is nowhere to be seen. Sitting down at a booth, you begin to text him, but you’re interrupted by the door in front of you opening, making the little bell above it ding!

Jungkook walks through the door and you swear to God you stop breathing for a second. Your eyes trace his tall, well-built figure; from his chocolatey tousled hair down to his two-toned, bulky shoes. When his eyes meet yours, they instantly light up, and he moves his hand; gesturing for you to come over. As you get closer, the more nervous you feel. You notice the way he bites his bottom lip, and starts wringing his hands together, and that made you relax. He was just as nervous as you were. Reaching his figure, you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Your mind wanders to the night that you met, and a goofy smile overtakes your features.

“Hey, what drink would you like?” he says, nerves still evident in the way he spoke.

“You’re sounding like Mr. Persistent Bartender again” you giggle, proud of the way he visibly loosens up at the sound of your joke.

Jungkook lets out a chuckle, as he rolls his shoulders back, “Shut up, lemme buy you a drink” he whines. His voice cuts straight through your heart, sending warmth through your body. Yet you can’t let him give you another drink for free.

“No no it’s fine! I’m not thirsty. Don’t spend your money.” You reach to grab his arm, as he moves in direction of the employee standing at the till.

All your efforts go to waste when he shakes his head at you, dismissing your previous comment, “Hey, I’ll take a coffee and… she’ll have a hot chocolate.” You pull on his arm like a child and tell him you’re fine, but this only spurs him on further. A smirk sits on his lips as he continues, “and can the hot chocolate have whipped cream and marshmallows too please?” He looks down at your unimpressed face, and he coos ruffling your hair. God, you’re going to be the death of him!

“Would you like sprinkles too?” you hear the barista ask, but you’re too late to reject the sprinkles as Jungkook has already beaten you too it. And of course he says yes.

“That’ll be £7.85 please. And I must say, you guys are such a cute couple!” the barista gushes and you feel heat rise to your face. You peer over to Jungkook and see him giving her the money with the biggest smile on his face.

“Thanks! Keep the change.” Grabbing both of the drinks, Jungkook walks back to the booth, with you trailing behind him, embarrassed. You slide in the seat opposite him and he pushes the hot chocolate towards you. Sarcastically rolling your eyes, you move the cup towards your mouth to take a sip. It tasted so heavenly; you swear you could have orgasmed. Lifting your eyes from the cup to look at Jungkook, you see he’s already looking at you – and he’s looking at you expectantly.

“….what?”

“You first.” The two words sends you into a frenzy, reminding you of why you’re actually here. Fidgeting in your seat slightly, you remove eye contact as you think about how to tell him. Okay so you’re gonna have to never ever speak to me again because I don’t want you to die. So, it’s been nice knowing you! Thanks for the hot chocolate.

You cough, ensuring your voice still works before lowering your voice, “Okay so what I’m about to tell you is really serious. I’m not joking or lying or whatever. I really need you to believe me, okay? I’ve lied to you – I don’t live at a stupid dorm, and I don’t go to college. In fact, the only proper schooling I have ever had was only for 2 years and it stopped when I was like 5. And from then, ‘til the age of 11 I was home schooled, if you could even call it that.” You realise you’re rambling, and you quickly decide to get to the point, “I live with these people. They’re not really nice and they hurt people and sometimes they hurt me,” You don’t notice as you’re not looking at him, but Jungkook tenses at this admission. “they don’t let me have proper contact with anyone. And um- they saw you speaking to me yesterday. Well, Sunny did, and she told the others, and I’m so fucking sorry but they’re looking for you now. And well, I need you to delete my number, stop talking to me, and forget about me forever just so I know that you’ll be safe-“

Your little speech is cut off by a giggle, and your eyes dart up, finally, to meet his. Why the fuck does he find this funny? Does he think I’m joking? Furrowing your eyebrows together, your whispering voice harshens, “Guk, I’m being serious here! I can’t believe-“

His voice is considerably loud compared to your quietened tone, “Y/N calm down, I’m pretty sure I can handle Syndicate” Jungkook finds your state of confusion very amusing, as he rests his head on his hand and smiles right at you.

Before you can interrogate him on how he knows Sin Syndicate, he cuts you off, “My turn yeah?” he moves his hand to take a hold of yours, “I’ve been following you since you came to our club because I’ve been worried. We all have. And by we, I mean…Bangtan. I’m sure you’ve heard of us…” his eyes search yours and all he sees in return is pure panic. “Please hear me out! We don’t want to hurt you, I promise. Bangtan doesn’t hurt innocent people – we protect the innocent. All through my training, I was told the chilling story of the young girl, who had to be kidnapped due to a slip up in the Syndicate’s System, tortured not just by the grief of losing her family, but by the men who held her captive. When the new generation of Bangtan took over 7 years ago, we vowed to find that girl, and keep her safe. And here you are. You don’t need to worry about me, yeah? Syndicate doesn’t know our true identities, and it’s gonna stay that way, right?”

Your heart is thumping so loud, you’re certain he can hear it, “…oh yeah. I won’t tell anyone, I promise” your voice is barely a whisper. You feel so fucking numb, it feels like you’re dreaming.

“So, do you have any questions?”

Do you? “Um, I don’t know, my mind’s a little blank at the moment. This is a lot to take in. Um- do you kill people then?”

He lets out a breath, and gently moves his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, “not in the way Syndicate does. Syndicate will kill anything that breathes, just to make a point. We kill people that are like Sin Syndicate. Does this make sense?” he looks up from your hands to meet your gaze, and you quickly nod, “The best person to have explain to you all the technical stuff is our leader Namjoon.”

Now it’s your turn to divert your gaze again, as you ask a question you really don’t want the answer too, “ahh, so you all have roles then?”

“Yeah.” Gulp. ”I’m Bangtan’s assassin.”

You immediately tense. Assassin? Like the one in charge of killing people? Like the guy who murdered my family? No way. I can’t do this.

“Y/N-“

You flinch at the sound of his voice, standing up and instantly ripping your hand away from his. You feel sick to your stomach. “I gotta go, they’ll be wondering where I am” you say quickly, trying to blink back the tears that were starting to form. And just like that you exit the café and leave Jungkook behind, wondering what on earth he’s just done.

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

You enter through one of the fire exits at the back of the club and head straight for the toilets. Running into a cubicle, you quickly lock the door behind you and sit on the closed seat. The tears that you had held back were now escaping, causing sobs to rush past your lips. With your head in your hands, tears drip through your fingers, onto the tiles below. Your breathing hitched as you hear his confession again.

‘I’m Bangtan’s assassin.’

Thud! Thud! Thud! You’re interrupted by a banging on the stall door.

“Y/N is that you?” the voice called, and you recognise it to be Grace’s.

“..yeah..”

A breathy laugh sounds out into the room, “good! We thought you did a runner!”

You stay in the cubicle for a while longer – only coming out when you know Grace has left. Letting the door swing behind you, you head straight to the sink to wash your face.

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

Meanwhile, Jungkook is walking aimlessly around the city. Filled to the brim with rage and self-loath, he is wandering various streets, the only company he has is his thoughts.

Why the fuck did I tell her that I’m an assassin? I’ve fucked everything up. Now what’s she gonna do, huh? She could snitch on us all, which is unlikely but not impossible. Or she could cut contact with me. Either way, the guys are gonna be pissed. Oh god, what if she got caught heading back? What if they’re beating her right now? I swear to God if I find-

“OI!” someone yells from behind him, making him instantly turn to find out who’s shouting. Two guys and one girl stalk towards him – is that the Sunny girl? They head straight towards him, but Jungkook’s never been one to back down from a fight.

“Yep, that’s him boys. Get him!” Sunny remains in her spot, about 3 metres away from Jungkook. She crosses her arms as she watches the drama unfold.

The two men lunge for Jungkook, but it’s him that gets the first punch. Hitting one of them, they stumble back, whilst the other slams Jungkook, head first, into some near by shutters. Punching the man in the gut, Jungkook gets his own back; but it’s not long until the duo gets the upper hand. Jungkook is left in a bad shape, as he slides down the shutters. The 3 Syndicates laugh menacingly as they leave – unaware of who they’ve just laid their hands on.

Pulling his phone out from his pocket, he quickly dials the number he was searching for.

“Hyung...?”

next chapter update: Wednesday 19th February 2020 9pm gmt

tagging: @dearlydreadful @honeydewseoks @whimsicalwoodlands @toddsgirl27 @wendyiiwl @asifetch7 @barbyisafangirl @miraculyfe @btsxdoll @laluzdirectioner @slutkoo @bubbletae7 @h5naaa @smollmonajinsa @vivpurple7 @purplelady85 @vi-hoshi

let me know if you wanna be tagged in future chapters!

Thank you so much for reading

110 notes · View notes

phroyd · 4 years

Link

WASHINGTON — An agitated President Trump offered a string of combative and often dubious assertions in an interview aired Sunday, defending his handling of the coronavirus with misleading evidence, attacking his own health experts, disputing polls showing him trailing in his re-election race and defending people who display the Confederate flag as victims of “cancel culture.”

The president’s remarks, delivered in an interview on “Fox News Sunday,” amounted to a contentious potpourri more commonly found on his Twitter feed and at his political rallies.

The difference this time was a vigorous attempt by the host, Chris Wallace, to fact-check him, leading to several clashes between the two on matters ranging from the coronavirus response to whether Mr. Trump would accept the results of the election should he lose.

The president made a litany of false claims about his administration’s handling of the virus, despite evidence that key officials and public health experts advising the president made crucial missteps and played down the spread of the disease this spring. In the interview, Mr. Trump falsely claimed that the United States had “one of the lowest mortality rates in the world” from the virus.

“That’s not true, sir,” Mr. Wallace said.

“Do you have the numbers, please?” Mr. Trump said. “Because I heard we had the best mortality rate.”

The United States has the eighth-worst fatality rate among reported coronavirus cases in the world, and the death rate per 100,000 people — 42.83 — ranks it third-worst, according to data on the countries most affected by the coronavirus compiled by Johns Hopkins University. Mr. Trump said that by increasing testing, his administration was “creating trouble for the fake news to come along and say, ‘Oh, we have more cases.’”

Mr. Trump falsely claimed that the coronavirus case rate in other countries was lower than in the United States because those nations did not engage in testing. When Mr. Wallace pointed out a low case rate across the European Union, the president suggested it was possible that those countries “don’t test.” And when Mr. Wallace pointed out that the death rate in the United States was rising, Mr. Trump replied by blaming China.

“Excuse me, it’s all too much, it shouldn’t be one case,” Mr. Trump said. “It came from China. They should’ve never let it escape. They should’ve never let it out. But it is what it is. Take a look at Europe, take a look at the numbers in Europe. And by the way, they’re having cases.”

Mr. Trump called Dr. Anthony S. Fauci, the nation’s top infectious disease expert, an “alarmist” who provided faulty information in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic.

“I don’t know that he’s a leaker,” Mr. Trump said during the interview. “He’s a little bit of an alarmist. That’s OK. A little bit of an alarmist.”

Mr. Trump said that Dr. Fauci had been against his decision to close the borders to travelers from China in January. That is misleading: While Dr. Fauci initially opposed the idea on the grounds that a ban would prevent medical professionals from traveling to hard-hit areas, he supported the decision by the time it was made.

Mr. Trump also said Dr. Fauci had been against Americans wearing masks. Dr. Fauci has said he does not regret urging Americans not to wear masks in the early days of the pandemic, citing a severe shortage of protective gear for medical professionals at the time.

Mr. Trump said he doubted whether Dr. Robert R. Redfield, the director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, was correct in predicting that the pandemic would be worse this fall. “I don’t know,” Mr. Trump said. “And I don’t think he knows.”

He said public health experts and the World Health Organization “got a lot wrong” early on, including a theory that the virus would abate as the weather warmed — one that Mr. Trump himself had promoted repeatedly. Then the president reiterated his earlier claim, unsupported by science, that the virus would suddenly cease one day. “It’s going to disappear, and I’ll be right,” Mr. Trump said. “Because I’ve been right probably more than anybody else.”

Mr. Trump insulted Fox News pollsters as “among the worst” when presented with data that showed him trailing former Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr., the presumptive Democratic nominee, claiming that he had seen polls that showed him winning.

“I understand you still have more than 100 days to this election, but at this point you’re losing,” Mr. Wallace told Mr. Trump after detailing a new Fox News poll that showed Mr. Biden leading the president by eight points, 49 percent to 41 percent, among registered voters.

“First of all, I’m not losing,” Mr. Trump replied, “because those are fake polls. They were fake in 2016, and now they’re even more fake. The polls were much worse in 2016.”

But in reality, the Fox News poll was much better for him than another major survey released Sunday. A Washington Post-ABC News poll showed Mr. Biden with a double-digit lead: 55 percent to 40 percent among registered voters. The numbers were part of a slate of polls showing Mr. Biden’s lead widening as the pandemic weighed on the president’s approval ratings.

Mr. Trump said he was not worried about losing the election with the decision last week to replace his campaign manager, Brad Parscale. Mr. Trump called Mr. Parscale “a great digital guy” before saying that many of his 2016 campaign hands were getting more involved. He did not mention his new campaign manager, Bill Stepien, by name.

When told that Mr. Biden was chosen in the Fox poll as the more mentally sound candidate, Mr. Trump disputed that finding and defended his cognitive test results to Mr. Wallace, who said he had taken the same test that the president had bragged about acing this month. Mr. Wallace pointed out that one of the questions asked to identify an elephant.

“It’s all misrepresentation,” Mr. Trump said. “Because, yes, the first few questions are easy, but I’ll bet you couldn’t even answer the last five questions. I’ll bet you couldn’t. They get very hard, the last five questions.”

Mr. Trump suggested that he might not accept the results of the election should he lose. Mr. Wallace, who spent the interview grilling the president — a tactic he has used in other high-profile interviews — pointed out that Mr. Trump said the same thing in 2016.

“You don’t know until you see,” Mr. Trump said. “It depends. I think mail-in voting is going to rig the election. I really do.”

Mr. Trump, who has voted by mail, has repeatedly warned, without evidence, that mail elections would involve robbed mailboxes, forged signatures and ballots printed by foreign countries.

Mr. Trump again tried to attack Mr. Biden, claiming that the former vice president wanted to defund the police. The president suggested this was evidenced by his work with more progressive Democrats to create a charter pledging to work together on matters including changes to policing.

“It says nothing about defunding the police,” Mr. Wallace said of that document.

“Oh really? It says abolish, it says defund. Let’s go! Get me the charter, please,” Mr. Trump said, before demanding to see the document. In a promotional clip of the interview, Mr. Wallace said the president had been unable to find evidence that Mr. Biden sought to defund or abolish the police.

When Mr. Wallace asked the president if he could understand why Black people would be angry about their increased likelihood to be killed by the police, Mr. Trump reiterated a claim he made in another interview last week: that white people are fatally shot in high numbers, too.

“I mean, many, many whites are killed,” Mr. Trump said. “I hate to say, but this is going on for decades.”

Statistics show that while more white Americans are killed by the police over all, people of color are killed at higher rates.

Mr. Trump also refused to back down from supporting people who were against abolishing the Confederate flag, even as Mr. Wallace pointed out that they had used it in defense of slavery. The president equated the movement to pull down the flags and Confederate monuments to “cancel culture,” a term more commonly used to describe a boycott against a person, often a celebrity, who says or does something culturally offensive.

“And you know, the whole thing with cancel culture, we can’t cancel our whole history,” Mr. Trump said. “We can’t forget that the North and the South fought. We have to remember that. Otherwise we’ll end up fighting again.”

Phroyd

#trump #covid #misinformation #lies

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years

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10/22/2020 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 39:1-41:18, 2 Timothy 1:1-18, Psalms 90:1-91:16, Proverbs 26:1-2

Today is the 22nd day of October welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it's great to be here with you today like every day. It's always, always a joy to be here with you as we take the next step forward and that next step forward….well…that will continue our journey in Jeremiah but when we get the New Testament we’re moving into the middle pastoral epistle known as second Timothy, and we’ll talk about that when we get there but let's…let's dive into Jeremiah. We’re reading from the Christian Standard Bible this week. Jeremiah 39, 40 and 41 today.

Introduction to second Timothy:

Okay. As we said at the beginning, we are moving into another of the pastoral epistles. These are letters that are personal in the Bible, not like circular letters written to entire churches to be read and performed before a congregation and then past to another church. They are personal letters. They are attributed to the apostle Paul although as we talked about, these pastoral epistles are highly disputed and have been for centuries. And there are, you know, very few biblical scholars these days who would say the pastoral letters were actually written by the apostle Paul. That mostly comes because historians, church historians, who have watched like the development of church structure have been able to kind of observe that these pastoral epistles, they seem to have developments within church structures that came after the apostle Paul's life. Nevertheless, the letters are like Pauline in…in nature and are…are written to be from the apostle Paul to these two pastors Timothy and Titus as personal letters that contain a lot of church structure instructions, yeah, that still provide controversies in certain sections and segments of the church today. But this letter, second Timothy is written in the name of Paul, may have been written by Paul, and would be the final of the pastoral epistles. And as its later, like a late letter, if the apostle Paul did write this letter than this is the last known writing of the apostle Paul's life. And if Paul didn't write it then somebody familiar, somebody of the Pauline school, somebody who’s theologically under Paul or under one of these pastors of the churches was…was indeed kind of counting the last days of Paul. And, so, Timothy who this letter is written to, like the last one that we read was the pastor the church in Ephesus. And this is a church that Paul spent a lot of time in. So, these people knew Paul and they know Pastor Timothy pretty well. And Paul at the time is in prison in Rome. He had appealed to Caesar. He’s waiting to find out whether he’s gonna live or die and as it turns out he's…he's gonna die. And Paul's imprisonment is also a matter of scholarly debate, not whether it happened or not, but it…it seems like laying out the timeline of Paul's journeys that he may have been released for a time, and had freedom again for a time. So, when he first came under arrest when he was first imprisoned in Rome, he kinda had some freedoms. We see that written in the Scriptures. It was kind of more of a house arrest. He was under guard, but he had some freedoms. Like he wasn’t just in dungeon and then as the timeline kinda lays out it seems like he was released from custody and then he traveled again for a period of time, and then it would be during those, that small time of freedom that he wrote first Timothy and Titus, which we’ll read next. And then Paul was incarcerated again, and this would be A.D. 66. And not to get to technical, but this is some of the reasons like dating Paul's life, you can't date right down to the days on things, but you can get pretty close in when his wife would've been. And then looking at church structures etc. etc. knowing like some of these things came to be later that's why a scholar would think about these letters being later than Paul's life. But around 66 A.D. Paul then was arrested again, and this was under Emperor Nero who just was …was a savage to Christians and persecuting them and executing them and denigrating them. It was a…a bad time. And, so, when Paul was arrested again, he didn’t have the kind of freedoms that he had before. He was then at that point in a cold dungeon waiting to die pretty much. That’s the…the writing was on the wall. So, the idea then is that from this imprisonment, and we’ll see in the letter, that it’s full of melancholy, like it's full of the type of hopeful language we would expect from a letter like this, but also just sobering realities of the circumstances and the likely outcome being martyrdom. This is the tone of second Timothy. And, so, we can take second Timothy as the last things we would hear from this apostle, sort of like the…the period at the end of the sentence, the last things that get said. So, I mean, the marginalization that was happening among the church, people would identify as Christians being completely set aside and really, really pressed in on and persecuted, most everybody had deserted Paul. Like people were waiting for Jesus to come back. He wasn’t coming back. Paul, the guy that had showed them this way, is imprisoned. The Empire has got a vendetta against people of this faith. So, there just like, “yeah. That’s not gonna work for me” and just went back into the wall work and back to whatever they were doing before. And, so, Paul is alone. Only Luke the physician who we believe to be the author of the gospel of Luke as well as is the book of Acts stayed in Rome with Paul. Paul knew that he was probably gonna die. From the tone of this letter he was hoping to see Timothy just one more time, like one more time in this life face-to-face and that he had some final counsel just in case that face-to-face couldn't happen, some final words of encouragement, some final words of instruction. And given the backdrop that I just, you know, that I just said for us, that's why we find famous verses in this letter, like “I have fought the good fight of faith. I have finished the race.” And, so, we begin. Second Timothy chapter 1.

Prayer:

Father we thank You for Your word. We are so, so grateful for Your word and Your direction and Your counsel and Your comfort in these days. And I…I'm sure the generations before us trailing back to the very day that these words were penned, that those who read them felt this way. Thank You, thank You, thank You for being here for us when things are confusing. Thank You for taking us back into this melancholy territory in the early formation of the church as we are reading a letter that…that gives us language for the end of the apostle Paul's life and the convictions that were held intact, even as he faced…even as he faced like…like that his head was going to be severed from his body. That's a pretty stark thing to think about. And, so, Holy Spirit, as we continue our journey through the New Testament, as we continue our journey through…through the books of prophecy. Come, lead us into all truth. Lead us in the way that we should go. Lead us on the narrow path that leads to life. Lead us deeper into our relationship with the Savior. And we ask in His name, the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, yeah, it’s home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. It’s where the Global Campfire lives. It's home for the community that we are. So, like I say most every day. Check it out. Stay connected. Check out the Community section. Check out the Prayer Wall that’s at the Community section. You can always, always, always pray for each other.

And if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if that's your preference, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello my fellow DABylonians this is Kevin in California checking in and real quick just want to ask that you would continue to pray for my three sons - Levi, Moses and Tekoa - that God would give them peace and wisdom and courage. But my main call is I wanted to call Chris in Florida. Wow man. That’s…that’s some heavy stuff. Thank you so much for calling in and reaching out. I’d be honored to pray for you and your 12-year-old daughter. So, let’s pray Familia. Holy Father, Son and Spirit thank You for this man Chris. He’s calling in for his…his beloved daughter and the mourning and grief and healing that she will have to go through with such a difficult thing as losing a mom. And I just pray God that Your Holy Spirit would fill this man Chris with great love and courage and wisdom to love and guide and comfort his daughter through this time of grief. May he and his daughter grieve well together. And I pray God that You’d give him great opportunities to let the tears flow Father. Give them places and opportunities to feel their grief and let it flow and heal through that God. Thank You, Father for what You’re going to do in this man Chris’s life and his 12-year-old daughter. Thank You, God that You have a plan and those plans are for good. Thank You, God that this lady is now with You Lord and I…

This is from junk to treasure. I’m calling because I heard Joel Maddox reach out for help. He was the first caller on Monday, October 19th’s broadcast. Joel I just…you said you can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror and you’ve lost everything and you’re ready to give up and you don’t know what to do. This is when you look at yourself in the mirror as a child of God and you start from where you are. You call upon the Holy Spirit and you ask for help and direction and you start by setting small goals each day of what you can do until you can get back on your feet and regain. I don’t know whether you lost possessions or what it is you lost but we just pray over you and we ask the Holy Spirit to circle around you and uplift you and we praise God that you called out for help because it’s not too late when you ask for help and just pray that God will hold on to you in a mighty strong way so that you can get your eyes set back on the right path. We pray these things in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Hello DAB family this is Shantay calling from Metro Detroit and I wanted to call and share some good news with you all. I just received a call from a company that I’ve been interviewing with and I hadn’t heard from them in a good while. And, so, I thought they just forgot about me. But anyway, I found out today they offered me a job in Florida. And, so, I am like so…so many emotions. I’m so grateful and thankful to God for just working everything out. I’ve been furloughed since April. It is now October and I have a job offer and I’m…I’m just…I’m so amazed and it’s just…ahh…thank you to each and every one of you that have prayed for me over all these years. This month, October marks my 10th year of listening to the Daily Audio Bible and you all have seen me through so many ups, so many downs, so many back up’s, like just…you guys have been praying for me since the beginning and I just…I thank you all and I love you all so much. I’m so grateful for each and every one of you, for Brian and Jill I’m so grateful for you too…you…you have just blessed my life, your saying yes to doing the Daily Audio Bible and…and reading the Scripture in and out, day in and out, rain or shine has just blessed my life and so many others and I’m just…I…I’m so very thankful, so very thankful. So, I just want to call in with that praise report to everyone. Thank you for your prayers. I love each and every one of you. And, yeah, okay I know I’ve been cut off so I’m just gonna stop now. But if anyone else is still listening, I love you all so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you for all that you do…

Hi, it’s Sherry from Kansas. I would like to ask you to continue praying for Jennifer. She’s the 13-year-old girl I told you about that her dad is super morbidly obese and her mom has mental issues and is very abusive. The dad can’t even get out of a chair or anything. And Jennifer started cutting herself and lying and doing a little stealing as well. But Jennifer’s mom told Jennifer that if she wasn’t dead before her 18th birthday then Jennifer’s mom said she would kill herself, which is a horrible thing to say to a child. But this is the kind of things that Jennifer’s mom says. Anyway, CFS, child and family services has gotten involved and I’m just really praying for them for wisdom and for something to happen, but I don’t know what at this point. So, I just want to ask you to continue praying for her because Jennifer is really a wonderful girl and she’s acting out and doing the things she’s doing because of the abuse that she’s suffering. Anyway, thank you all for praying and God bless you.

Hello Daily Audio Bible audience I’m calling on October 17th I’m a listener in Maryland and I’m calling for two people who call this week. One was a lady and I’m sorry I don’t remember your name, but she was very upset because she was alone, and she desperately wanted to be married and she had no children and she was 62. It spoke to me because it was near my birthday and I turned 64. I too have never been married and I have no children; however, I don’t feel alone in that I do know that the Holy Spirit watches out for me and makes it possible to for me to move through this journey. The other person whose name is James, he had sort of the same problem except he was a young man and he had been in foster care and he was alone, and he was going through rehab. James, your strong, I could tell it in your voice and you’re a good person. You were asking for prayer and hoping that your parents were still alive and well. You also have the Holy Spirit that is taking care of you. So, both of you, make it…you will make it to through the loneliness. You just have to get it in your heart and in your mind and in your spirit. Thank you.

Hello, my name is Jackie and I’m asking prayer for my brother Sonny who’s in the hospital with chest pain and stomach pain possibly due to stress. He has lost his job and battling with some financial __. Also for my sister, she’s a single mom, she’s not working, she has a college aged son in need of a financial blessing, in need of scholarships she’d applied for but due to COVID-19 everything is closed down. I’m also asking prayers for my son who’s single, hasn’t been married, has no kids, and is __ and lonely. And I’m asking God to cease the loneliness and I’m also worried sometimes, worried about my future, what’s gonna happen. I feel stuck __ that God would just relieve my stress, relieve the loneliness. __ pray for my DAB family I greatly appreciate it community. I love you all. I love you Brian and Jill and there are so many I keep praying for you. I thank God for this community. Have a blessed day.

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sian22redux · 5 years

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Field of Dreams

Part 2 of 2. Y/N has a surprise for Steve when he worries about the fallout from their spat. Fury and the Avengers just might, might, also be involved. ^_^

A little baseball history, one huge surprise, and a spark that begins to flame.

Rating: G. Steve Rogers x Reader.

@nomadicpixel‘s winning fic from my Cleveland’s loss to Boston. As usual it isn’t short (what moi?) but was such fun to write. I know waaaaay too much about the ‘Trolley Dodgers’ now. Enjoy!

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

“Still can’t talk to women.”

Bucky shakes his head, reaches across Natasha’s yogurt and Clint’s pancakes with his metal hand to snag the very last strawberry while Steve sits and glowers at the morning’s feed.

It’s humbling. Frustrating and embarrassing all at once, but unfortunately the straight up truth. He can’t talk to women and the evidence stares up from his Starkpad. Y/N’s elegant brows crashed together, his own mouth set in a line below the blaring headline: ‘Unfriendly Rivalry?’

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he mumbles dejectedly, running a hand through his still-damp blond mop. The past three days of coverage have been appalling. Blogs and pundits shredding Fleur and Y/N for speaking out. Blaming her for the entire stupid mess. Branding her as some sort of Feminazi for daring to argue with America’s Hero.

It’s so unfair. Misogynistic and unbalanced and sticks in his craw because the truth is he is the one who is in the wrong.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat “How did we go south so fast? I apologized for the tweet. She was gracious and understanding and I just…”

“Couldn’t let go of something you see as wrong?”

The whole table bursts out laughing. Sam’s throaty chuckle echoes. Bucky’s head back guffaw trails up towards the ceiling. Clint looks like he might pop the latest stitches in his gut while Bruce reaches for a napkin to wipe his streaming eyes.

Thanks. Thanks guys.

Nat smothers her own knowing smirk in a dainty coffee cup while he groans and tries to hide his head in his hands. Point to the assassin who always goes straight to the jugular. He knows the whole thing is pointless but games at Ebbets Field with Bucky were some of his fondest memories from before the war. It rubbed him wrong. Got his back up and heck he should have known to back down from the edge but that doesn’t mean that he always can.

“I am an Idiot.”

”Confirm!!”

“Tony!”

“If the suit fits, Cap. Morning all.” Starks’s CEO saunters in and swipes a piece of toast from Bucky’s grip, flips a chair back to front and casually sits astride. Their chief needler is dressed for corporate battle in a Givenchy three piece suit. He ignores the protest of ‘Hey!’ and wolfs his purloined breakfast down.

“Snooze you lose, Winter. Head on a swivel.” He grins in the face of Bucky’s glare as Bruce, ever the peace-maker, sets another piece on Bucky’s plate. “Not that I think Miss Y/N will be too upset by the result. There is no such thing as bad press in this biz.”

“Not upset?!” Steve’s jaw hits his knees. “Even the Post and Times have carried it on page 3!”

“Exactly.” Tony points with an absently filled coffee cup. “Headline coverage is headline coverage. The whole country is talking about it. The assholes who told her to get out of the boardroom will drive up her sales in sympathy.”

Steve bites his lip. “Really?”

“Yup. They’ll get a nice bounce out of this and probably a few million follows. Wish I’d thought of it.”

From somewhere above Clint’s purple arrow mug there is a strangled snort. “You, publically picking an argument? That’s not news, that’s an everyday occurrence.”

“Sure thing, Birdbrain. At least I….”

“Guys. Guys.” Steve puts up his hands. The morning’s habitual serving of trash talk is giving him a headache. He rubs his temple and tries to think this through. Should he make some sort of statement? Tweet out an apology? Would flowers and a note be more personal or should he assume she wants nothing to do with him in this universe or next?

That last thought makes the bright sunny day feel like a wall of cloud’s rolled in, but who is he kidding?

Expressing himself had gotten him into this mess. The last thing he wants is to make it even worse.

“What should I do?”

The table falls uncharacteristically quiet. Sam claps him on the shoulder as he rises and takes his dirty dishes to the sink. Bruce mumbles something about ‘relays’, following Clint’s retreating back. Bucky, the traitor, puts his metal hand out as if to say, ‘don’t look at me. you’re on your own pal.’

The only two left in support are pointedly ignoring him. Tony and Natasha hover over their Starkphones, avoiding his pleading gaze until, suddenly, Natasha’s ‘pulls’ up a page to float, glowing blue, above the jam.

“I think it’s been decided for you.”

Steve blinks, quickly scans the hologram of the New York Times fifth page while Tony whistles low. “Brilliant. They’re freaking brilliant. I’d like to poach their PR rep.”

Natasha thumps him on the arm. “Tony. Focus.”

“Just kidding. Ah, not actually. But I will send a few tens of million their way. Jarvis?”

<Sir, it is already done>

“Excellent.”

While Tony texts Pepper excitedly with this news, Steve, slack-jawed, reads the page size Invitation in detail.

It is blue on white, stamped with the Dodgers official logo and signed with the sort of flourish gained only from practicing calligraphy.

Natasha’s smiling so wide he can see her pointy teeth. Tony is grinning from ear to ear. And Bucky, Bucky is trying to hide a tear.

“Every boy’s goddam dream Stevie,” he says, “She’s got class. Class and guts.”

That she does. But holy hell. Him play in a game? He’s so rusty a swimming pool of oil couldn’t help. Besides, when the Avengers have some downtime they more often kick a soccer ball around. Sure he’s thrown out ceremonial first pitches since coming out of the ice, but the last time he’d hit he could barely connect the ball and bat. Now? Serum’d up? Would he explode the ball like Randy Johnson did a bird? Would it leave orbit and be a danger to traffic on Elysian Ave? He’d have to dial it down. Check his swing somehow. It’s worrying, but the sweet reality of jogging freely around the bases without wheezing or coughing up a lung hits home.

Wow. It would be fun. You never forget the smell of popcorn and hotdogs and chalk and…..

A little anxiety starts to set in. “I haven’t played in seventy-seven years.”

“Seventy-nine,” quips Buck. “High school gym class. You bunted and Mickey Ryan got to pinch run.” His best friend shakes his head and reaches for his phone, pulls up the Dodgers’ message app. “You’re going man. And we are going with you.”

Steve blushes. Gives in to reality. Yes he’s going. And inside--in his heart of hearts--- he’s looking forward to seeing Y/N too.

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

July 1st..

“Good morning Captain Rogers. Welcome to Dodger Stadium.”

“Good morning Miss Archer,” Steve shakes hands with Fleur’s Press Secretary, stands uncertainly on the pavement outside the Player’s entrance. It’s warm and not too windy, perfect playing weather, but already he has a little trickle of sweat down his back. Astride the doors is the welcoming committee: the team’s Clubhouse manager, assorted assistants and one extremely starry-eyed ball boy. He shakes hands and greets them all, tryies not to notice the crescendo of clicking automatic flash.

The press hounds gathered in a less welcome contingent are making him nervous to say anything.

“Please call me Stephanie,” says the fresh-faced young woman in Dodger blue holding the days jam packed schedule. “I am helping LA today. And don’t mind them Captain. They aren’t allowed in the locker room.” She points a stylus toward to the blue tinted glass doors. “Come into the club house and we can get you suited up.”

Steve follows the ticking of her high heels into a hushed and new smelling corridor and then through one-way glass doors to arrive in a brightly lit but utterly unmodern room.

“What the?”

He stands speechless; stock still in the open central space, and his mouth is open and catching flies.

The LA locker room has been transformed. Instead of high tech monitors and computer feeds and OLED TVs, the room is hung with old style Dodger pennants. Pictures of 40’s Brooklyn. Advertisements for the ‘Subway Series’; the ’41 and ’47 World Series played by two New York teams: the Yankees and his ‘Dem Bums’. The lockers are mostly empty, a few hung with wooden hangers and old-style jerseys, baggy knickers and long blue socks. Before each cubbie is a wooden stool. And on the few laden shelves are blue caps and helmets with the familiar ‘B’.

Exactly as the Brooklyn clubhouse would have been almost 80 years ago.

“We thought this might be your size,” says Stephanie, leading him by the elbow to a spot with pride of place beside the onfield door. The white cotton of the home uniform is soft, stitched with exactly the swooping letters of yesteryear and about two size larger any other that he’s seen.

“You did this…?”

She nods and smiles as he gingerly takes the deep blue helmet down. “The whole team and management. I know Brooklyn didn’t used to wear helmets back in your day but the League insisted. This is a regulation game and the bats are rather stronger now.”

And so am I, Steve thinks, settling the heavy plastic down over his head. It’s snug, fits so exactly he suspects Tony has been involved. Only the cheek-guard feels odd. He rolls his neck a little, trying to get a feel of the slightly lop-sided weight.

“Miss Y/N figured you are used to wearing helmets.”

“Yeah,“ he blushes, looking down and amazed to find a familiar pair of dark all leather cleats. “Do you do this every year?”

Stephanie’s lips twitch as she barely conceals a grin. “No sir. Just this one.”

All this for him? Incredible. Steve’s throat closes up. “Uh.. uhm. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” the blond ponytail gives a shake, “thank Miss Y/N. It was her idea. I’ll leave you to dress and then you can exit through that door and meet her at the gate.”

Soon enough, Steve is left to dress all by himself. He shrugs out of his shirt and chinos, pulls on the kit and fumbles with the knickers’ blue belt and loops. What a time for butterflies. He’s nervous, he really is, caught between wanting to help a team and just take in the wonder of it. There’s a number 41 on the jersey’s back--Harry Taylor’s number musn’t be retired. Will they play him in left field like the big Irish slugger? If he was coach he would. Steve doesn’t know the plays, the cutoff points, or the signs.

He finishes tying the (perfectly fitting) cleats and stuffs white batting gloves into his back pocket feeling mostly set. A quick few strides takes him through the home team tunnel. It’s weird-there’s no one hanging round, no one snapping pics or asking for photographs. He hustles a little more and then stops short just where the sunny square of outside light blinds him momentarily.

The clubhouse was a dream but this is something else.

Dodger stadium is dressed up like Ebbets Field. Low swagged banners for advertisements on the bleachers. Vendors in vintage dress. Pennants for a World Series win in1955 and six for National League championships. An organ’s live music is playing over the speakers and not a recording system.

And on the first and third base lines the ‘home’ and ‘visiting’ teams are all lined up. Twenty-five guys in Brooklyn white and blue, twenty-five in LA grey. Some of the current team and veterans of many ages.

They stand at attention with caps over their hearts.

Wow.

“Number 41, playing for Brooklyn, Steve Rogers!!”

The announcer’s words are drowned by the roar of the swelling crowd. Steve starts forward, intending to take his place at the end of the home team line, but he makes it only to near home plate before his feet become glued again. The audience is on its feet. Stamping. Shouting. Cheering on not Captain America but a man who’s had this dream.

Forever.

It can’t be real. It can’t, but he looks up to the owner’s box and there are the Avengers assembled in Brooklyn Blue. Whistling and clapping. Waving flags of oldtime Dodger blue just like the crowd. As thrilled for him as he is.

He doffs his cap and turns around, slowly, carefully; waving it to acknowledge the entire park.

“Captain? Steve?”

He shakes himself out of a daze and turns to look down at Miss Y/N who stands just at his elbow. She is smiling, pretty and perfect in a Brooklyn ball cap and summery light dress. Her long dark hair is glossy and flowing down her back and incongruously he wants to tuck away a stray strand that floats in the wind.

“Fine Miss. Just shocked. Amazed.” His tongue can’t manage anymore. His heart is pounding and his chest is tight and he know it isn’t asthma but isn’t sure quite what. A hearattack? Impossible? Anxiety? No, he’s happy not upset. Happiness?! Most likely. It seems to be that her hand is warm on his.

She’s moving to pull him over to the teams, set to introduce him but they stop a moment. He’s having trouble not tearing up. Her brow furrows worriedly. “Are you ok?”

Not really but then none of this seems real. “Fine, fine Miss Y/N.”

“Call me Y/N, please.”

“Thank you. Y/N. Tell me..” he asks quietly.

Her cap tilts up and she has to shield her eyes from the sun. “What?”

“Why? Why did you do all this? You didn’t have to. You….” could have hated my guts forever, he wants to say but manages to keep it in.

Y/N gives a quiet sigh. “I thought about it. What I said and what you said and I realize that I was wrong. Our situations are totally different. When my team was traded I was furious for months.. years honestly, but I had that last game at Olympic Stadium. I got Gary Carter’s autograph and Pedro Martinez’ too. Said goodbye. Kept a souvenir ball. You didn’t have that time to grieve. When you woke up they were gone and that was a cruel surprise. I can’t turn back time, but I can take you a little of the way there. Let America’s hero have the chance to play. And give your Dodgers’ the proper send-off you deserve.”

Steve is gobsmacked. This incredible, amazing, baseball crazy woman has changed this game just for him. He stands staring down at her, wondering how he got so lucky. He ticked her off and she’s still coming back.

Like Peggy.

He stands a moment, stunned by his own realization and watching her rummage in her purse. She shoves a scoresheet and binoculars aside and pulls out something that looks suspiciously like a ball.

“Steve I wanted to apologize. And the game is that, but also I got you this.” She puts the scuffed up, flaky old leather of a Brooklyn ball into his upturned palm.

“It’s…”

The home run ball he caught on May 26, 1941.

The game that Shield played on the oldtime radio as he was waking up in another world.

The blue ink of the date and name were faded but unmistakeable. The poor agent greeting him could have never known. Of all the games to pick..one burned into his memory. The Brooklyn Eagle had run a picture of him and Pete Reiser on the center of the sports page: the skinny ‘local kid’ giving back to the Rookie of the Year his very first home run ball. That dinger had tied the game, launched Pistol Pete onto a year of league-leading runs.

Of course Steve could never forget it. It was, he’d once assumed, his fifteen minutes of fame.

“How?” Did you know?

Y’N laughs. It wrinkles her freckled nose adorably. “If you thought baseball was good for stats, just see the MLB now! It wasn’t hard to find. A Steve Rogers in the forties catching Pete Reiser’s first home run ball.”

He supposes not. But… he scans her face. She can’t know that that was the game he woke up too? Or can she? Did Fury get involved? Was this another way for him to apologize for his little trick?

And does it really matter anymore. He scuffs a cleat against the astroturf. “Look I’ve been an…”

“Ass?” Y/N grins as she can’t help but tease. “I am not the one known as ‘America’s Ass.’”

He laughs. “Not in these baggy things.”

“I don’t know they aren’t so bad.”

Are they flirting?! Oh god they are and he hasn’t blundered yet.

He throws the ball nervously from hand to hand. “It’s too much..it’s….”

“Just what you deserve.”

After that they go down the lines; shaking hands with every coach and player new and old. The day is to honour old timers and Steve is delighted to find it includes six players still alive from before the team was moved: Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale and Cody Bellinger, Branch Rickey who he remembers enlisted in the Army in ’42, and Tommy Lasorda, player and then winning coach. They are wrinkled and grey-haired but still hold their gloves with ease, josh with him about being the perfect designated hitter for a team, cat call the ‘vistors’ who are mostly LA alumni.

Soon it will be time to take the field. One last handshake to go. Y/N directs him along to the next in line and he looks over to find the young LA short stop who had been there is gone.

Replaced by a white-haired, thin bearded man in uniform and wheelchair.

“Would you like me to autograph that for you son?”

This time Steve’s jaw hits the floor. “Pete…?”

“Reiser..yup.” The old man taps his head. “So lucky to be here. 96 years young. 1 year younger than you are.. though I’ll allow it you look a little better.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, well somedays neither can I,” Pete chuckles. “Got all my faculties if not my legs. Dodgers in LA. Who would have credited it, but sometimes change is good. These bums keep winning championships.”

Steve smiles. Perhaps he’s right, but Pete was the guy that won them a pennant after twenty years of drought. “You almost turned them round, Sir.”

“Now quite how I remember it. But I do remember a scrawny kid who volunteered to give me my ball back.”

Of course he had. It was what a good fan does. Steve flushes. “I am so honoured.”

“That makes two of us, son.”

Steve looks up to cheering friends and then back at Y/N. She’s held her official boardroom style composure for an hour under the sun; introduced with pride every player new and old, but this time it’s she that can’t speak. Wipes tears from off her cheeks; smiling freely and quite unconcerned that Fox Sports is televising this live.

No way she doesn’t understand how important this moment is. And Reiser. Who’s had to give up his ball.

Fury’s so going to hear from him. Later.

There’s a faintly impatient ‘Cap’ and Steve turns quickly back. Pete’s gesturing, beckoning him down and so he drops down on his haunches. The old Dodger leans forward and taps a gnarled finger on the ball.

“Super serum or whatever, lad let me give you some advice. You see that one?” He points over Steve’s shoulder to Y/N who is distracted, joking with A.J. Ellis who will the catch the game. The sun is bringing out red highlights in her hair.

“Take it from me, I can tell. She’s sweet on you.” A pair of watery blue eyes twinkle. “And Lordy she’s a keeper.”

“Yes sir.”

Steve rises and on Tommy Lasorda’s signal jogs out into centre-field. Once there he punches his hand in his glove, plays a few rounds of long toss, and stands, not quite able to take it in.

The noise. The smell. The sheer huge expanse of field.

I am so lucky to be here. So blessed. So hoping I don’t drop the ball.

He doesn’t realize he murmurs the last out loud until Bucky’s voice breaks into his earpiece.

It is the one concession to Stark’s vigilance. “Of course you will.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

Steve laughs. His and Bucky’s friendship, unlike the Dodgers, will never change. As he waits, nervous and excited, for Clayton Kershaw’s windup, he looks up to the owner’s box and reflects that, after all, Pete Reiser may be right.

Sometimes change is good.

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@nomadicpixel; @theycallmebecca; @pegasusdragontiger; @mycapt-ohcapt; @patzammit; @neutralchaos1; @arizonapoppy; @weirdlet;

#Field of Dreams #sian22redux #writes #steve rogers #baseball

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notesonnotes · 4 years

Text

Notes on Hyperview

Hey music fam! Today we’re taking a look at a band called Hyperview! Hyperview is a 5 member pop/punk/emo/hardcore band from Buffalo, NY. Each member took a little time to answer some questions for us to get to know them and the band a little more. Take a few and see what they had to say!

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NON: How did you all meet? What drew you to start a band?

AJ: I’m AJ and I do a lot of yelling. I was trying to get a band together in Los Angeles and then again in Sacramento. Nothing really stuck so I figured I’d move back to the east coast and landed in Buffalo. I met Courtney and Matt online. They were looking for a guitarist for a new project since their last pop/punk band had some sort of falling out. Couple of changes to the lineup and now I’m on vocals with the additions of Steve and Chuck for guitars. I’ve always wanted to play music since middle school, but I didn’t start teaching myself guitar and singing until about high school.

Courtney: I'm Courtney, I play the drums. I've played music the majority of my life. I was involved in small projects in high school, and took classes in college that was playing as a band. Then after I graduated I wanted to do it all for real.

Steve: Hey I’m Steve and I play bass. I've been friends with Matt for years and he invited me to play in the band. He's been doing projects for a while and I wanted to be a part of this one.

Chuck: The band was already established for about a year or so before I joined. Actually, I met the singer through a craigslist ad, and spoke to him on Instagram, and I guess we had common ground of what we wanted musically.

Matt: I’m Matt and I do guitar/backups. We all met through a various series of online forum postings. Whether they were from other bands or pieces of older bands we all used to be in. The exception is Steve which I met through high school friends, whom I eventually became roommates with. We all started bands for different reasons for different times in our lives. I started a band when I was younger to have a place I could go, express myself, and probably fit in. It was a long time ago and I don’t really remember exactly why, but I’m sure it had something to do with thinking I was an outcast when I probably wasn’t.

NON: What drew you to this style of music?

AJ: I went to middle school in Coral Springs, FL and there was this upcoming pop/punk band building a sweet culture around town. It was New Found Glory. Meanwhile, my older sister was showing me bands like Senses Fail, Hawthorne Heights, and Panic! at the Disco.

Courtney: I grew up listening to this style of music my entire life and have always had it ingrained into me.

Steve: I was a big ska and punk kid growing up. As those scenes faded away pop punk started to pick up so that was the natural progression musically. I guess my sharp edges got rounded off over the years and I became more attuned to the melodic side of things.

Chuck: I’ve been into pop-punk stuff since I was a kid. The first CD I ever bought was New Found Glory’s “sticks and stones” from media play.

Matt: Pop punk was the first style of music I actually connected to. I mean I had a stack of my old man’s records, a Coolio CD, some Weird Al, and a bunch of mail order albums you’d grab out of your neighbors mailbox. Though none of it hit quite like Blink 182 and NFG in the summer.

NON: What's the story behind the band name?

AJ: I really loved Title Fights album Hyperview and thought it would be a cool name for the band.

Steve: Needed a name, AJ gets name credit

Chuck: I’m assuming it’s derived from a super tight album, that everyone should listen to.

Matt: The band name came from giving up on finding a name that we came up with because every band name was taken already, so we just used an album name one person in the band had listened to. It was most likely better off we went with a name that isn’t so genre conforming, so you have to listen to the music before you hate it and not just going off the name. NON: What has been your favorite venue to play so far?

AJ: I think my favorite show was at BJs in Fredonia. It was only like our second show and the placed was PACKED out. Those college kids didn’t come for us but they still jumped around with us and sang the words to our cover songs. ‘Twas sick!

Courtney: So far my favorite place we play at is Mr. Goodbar, the turn out is always amazing and we always have such a good time.

Steve: Favorite venue is rec room

Chuck: My personal favorite was Rec Room, here in Buffalo. We’ve had good times at Goodbar and Mohawk place as well.

Matt: Being a small local band, all venues are pretty much the same and rating them of ‘best’ is going to be biased by how good the crowd was. If we had 12 people going hard in a dumpster canister off Bailey then that would be the best venue we played. That being said, I loved BJ’s in Fredonia, I only wished we had this incantation of the band coupled with the live experience we’ve gained since. NON: What is your dream venue?

AJ: Don’t really got one, honestly. I think venues are second to the people. I’d rather have twenty raging kids in a basement than five head bobbing peeps at a larger venue.

Courtney: The dream for right now would be to play Town Ballroom, and then it just goes up from there.

Steve: Dream venue is an aircraft carrier. We play while mortal Kombat happens in front of us

Chuck: Honestly, probably the Town Ballroom or Riverworks. It’s always been a dream of mine to play on a big stage right at home.

Matt: Dream actual venue is either Red Rocks or the O2. I don’t really think about venues like that because when you are facing the reality of music, it’s the moon away. I just want to be in people’s lives to a point I could have a career in the industry. NON: Who are some of your inspirations?

AJ: The bands I listed earlier are definitely inspirations. It’s hard to narrow down but a handful of my favorites would include: Silverstein, The Story So Far, Balance and Composure, mewithoutYou, letlive. and A Day To Remember

Courtney: As far as playing music and drums, the artists that inspire me most would have to be Dani Abasi, Cyrus Bolooki, and Jake Massucco.

Steve: Less than Jake, Rancid, Blink, Story so far, Four year strong

Chuck: I’m a complete sucker for the 90’s and 2000’s pop-punk and emo bands. New Found Glory, Bayside, Sum 41, Taking Back Sunday etc.

Matt: Inspirations, well there are a lot of people I think are great artists. Without sounding like I bottle my own farts and age them like a fine wine; I (at this age) am more inspired by the general culture of art in any medium. Anything that you can feel the creative effort in, even if you don’t understand it or even do it. I watched this guy rehab old paintings. That inspired me. I didn’t want to clean an early 20th century fruit study, but you know what I mean. NON: Where do you see yourself/selves in 5 years?

AJ: Hopefully in a city near you touring our butts off!

Courtney: In five years, I would like to have toured and to continue doing tours across the states or if we get lucky in another country.

Steve: On that aircraft carrier baby

Chuck: Hopefully on the road with some super rad bands, playing in really cool venues, for really awesome people.

Matt: 5 to7? Probably washed up as fuck somewhere, but I tried

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years

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12, 20, or 41? o:

Thank you for my prompt! I chose number 12: ‘We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town’.

time has changed (nothing at all)

Jake sat nervously in the booth at Shaw’s Bar, feet tapping to the beat of a song that he doesn’t remember knowing.

It had been close to ten years since he’d been back here, in Brooklyn. Having moved - by no choice of his own, thank you very much Roger - to Dallas when he was 17, the opportunities to return had been scarce. To be fair, after a while it just became easier to stay away.

The face of his watch glowed as he activated the screen, checking the clock for the eighth time since sitting down. She was late. He drums his fingers against the bottle of beer in his hand, less interested in taking a drink than he is in distracting his mind from all of the thoughts racing inside.

A cold breeze sweeps through the establishment as the bar’s front door swoops open, outside noise evading the inside, and a flash of red hair catches his eye. Gina, the girl he’s known since childhood, makes her way through the crowd before stopping in front of him.

“Long time no see, boo.”

He stands, wrapping her up in a hug, both smiling as the familiarity of it all immediately comes back to them. Their mothers were still the oldest of friends, and through them they had been able to keep tabs on each other’s lives over the years. It had made the most sense, when his flight had landed earlier this morning, to contact her and organise a catch up.

They had only just begun talking when Rosa appeared, a warm smile taking over her face, the kind reserved for only her oldest of friends. She slides into the booth quickly, scooting until she is next to Gina and wordlessly nods for another drink from the waitress. Boyle arrives shortly after, gripping Jake into an uncomfortably long hug before grabbing a chair from the opposite table, sitting on the edge of the booth. The conversation flows easily, each of them excited to finally be in front of each other instead of the text and email format that had ruled their lives for the last ten years.

His eyes keep flickering towards the door, heart skipping a little every time he sees someone walk through. Dropping a little more each time it isn’t her.

“She knows.” Gina leans into him, pulling his attention away from the bar. “She got the same text the rest of these guys did. She knows. I just don’t know if she’s going to turn up.”

Jake nods, plastering (what he hoped looked like) a relaxed smile on his face and turns back to his friends. It really had been too long, and there was much to discuss.

Amy watches from her vantage point on the other side of the bar, watching the four of them laugh together, and once again tries to draw up the courage to go over there.

It had been so long since she’d seen his face, and heard his laugh. She hadn’t realised how desperate she had been for both, until Gina had texted her. Her heart had been tangled up in her throat all afternoon, and watching him now made it no better.

This was Jake Peralta, after all. Her high school sweetheart, and the boy man she once would have called the love of her life. The reason behind countless nights, crying herself to sleep, wishing above all else that he hadn’t relocated to Dallas: that he was still there holding her as she slept, and that he hadn’t instigated their break up, telling her that she deserved far better than someone like him.

It was Puppy Love, her parents told her over and over, tired of watching the light fade from her as the days wore on. Sixteen year olds don’t know what love truly is - and one day you’ll look back on this and understand that. She told them they were wrong, and that she would never heal. And then, eventually, she did.

Amy had taught herself to keep the memories of him locked up, stashed away in a safe place that not even she could access without really trying, safer to tuck it all away than to watch them burn. She had dated, had opened up her heart to others, and for ten long years she had played an incredibly convincing role of Amy Santiago Is Fine. But people who were completely fine, and totally over their exes, didn’t hover on the other side of the bar with their feet feeling like blocks of concrete.

He laughs, loud and happy, and she feels it hit her chest. She used to know that laugh like the back of her hand - knew the expanding of his chest, the tightening of his belly, the way he would laugh with his entire body. She had loved to be near him when he did, finding his joy so contagious that it would only be seconds before she was joining him, laughing without even caring that she didn’t know the joke. He was utterly addictive, and so very in love with her, and together they had felt as though they could take on anything.

She tries to forget the feeling of her stomach bottoming out as he turned up at her door, tears in his eyes as he stuttered out that his family was moving. His father had been cheating on his mother Karen for longer than either of them cared to acknowledge, but Roger had been transferred to a base in Dallas, and Karen was determined that the change of scenery would be the solution to everything (a quick Facebook search a few years ago told Amy that this had definitely not been the case).

The back of her mind still holds on to the way Jake began to grow distant in the weeks leading up to the move. How he faced her with the saddest eyes she had ever seen and tried to convince her that her life would be so much better once they were apart, how he was holding her back from greatness, and how amazing he knew she could be - how amazing she would be. How the tears had streamed down his face as he turned to walk away, shoulders stiffening as she called out his name, hands clenching and never turning back.

Out of all the books she had read, none of them had ever taught her that heartbreak was an actual, physical pain.

His eyes have been searching the bar all afternoon and somehow, through the crowd, they finally latched onto hers. She notes the way they seem to light up, new-found crinkles around the edges as he smiles over at her, and she can’t help but smile back. Quickly, she orders a drink and heads over to the booth.

He looks older now, which makes sense given the years that have passed, but it was still unexpected. His curls are hidden, contained in a shorter haircut, and there is a light stubble peppering his jaw. But his smile is the same, warm and seemingly only for her, and after all the welcome hugs and happy hellos are over, she slides into the booth next to him and he mumbles “It’s really great to see you, Ames,” and it’s as though he never left. It had been so long since she’d been called Ames, and she hadn’t realised how much she had missed it.

The years have been kind to her, Jake thought as he watched Amy interact with their friends. She was beautiful - she always had been, but there was more to it now. She carried herself with the confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted; forever humble in her appearance and blushing whenever she caught him staring at her (which, to be honest, had been pretty often, but he honestly couldn’t help himself).

Her leg brushed against his as the conversation grew rowdier, leaning forward to quickly defend her version of events as the five of them began sharing stories from their high school days. It was ridiculous how his skin had shivered at the contact, no matter how brief, and Jake knew that he needed to do whatever it took to make this afternoon last forever.

He hadn’t ever wanted to leave her. Had regretted every single word he’d said as he watched her heart break in front of him, and in the seconds that followed had been desperate to turn back and wrap her into his arms, apologise for everything and promise never to leave her. He didn’t want to go to Dallas, he didn’t want to leave her. He would have lived outside the school in a cardboard box if it had meant he could have stayed with her. But he was young, and he thought he knew better. And he had regretted it ever since.

Their looks linger now, the booth falling quiet as the other three read the mood and head over to the opposite side of the bar to play dartboard. Words had been stunted at the beginning, sticking to polite queries that they both knew the answer to from secret checks of the other’s social media over the years. Slowly but surely, the awkwardness began to fade, and Jake remembered all the reasons why nobody else he had dated in the years leading up to now had ever been able to hold a candle to her.

The touch of her leg again, though still fleeting, felt much more deliberate, and the tension crackled between them. It had nothing to do with the empty glasses on the table, and everything to do with them - what they would have been, what they should have been, and what they could be once again.

He would wait, until much later, to tell her the things that he’d only dared to hope that she’d be interested to know. How this trip wasn’t a quick stopover, and that he was moving here to attend the academy and finally realise his dream of joining the NYPD.

How he’d played their reunion over and over in his mind, and that the reality (even if it hadn’t involved a fifteen-piece orchestra playing while she ran into his open arms) was far greater than anything that he could have imagined, because it was real, she was here, and that seeing her face after all this time had been the highlight of his year.

How he hoped, more than he could find the words to convey, that she would be willing to go to dinner with him sometime so that they could finally be alone after being apart for so long.

He walks her home later that night, hands swinging down by his side as he works to keep the tone of conversation light and breezy. She doesn’t tell him, and he doesn’t notice, that she’d been directing him in circles for the last half hour, taking wide berths around the same block because she simply wasn’t ready for the night to be over.

That even though he had left, and they had each done their best to erase each other from their minds, it had been crazy for her to think that he’d ever really gone.

Finally, they are at her front door, and he leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on her cheek. She shifts, moving her mouth towards his, and their lips melt into the kiss they had both been craving for the last ten years. The kiss that solidified that after all was said and done, they were still the only one in each other’s heart, and that no matter what it took, there was no turning back from here.

Jake pulls away first, smile beaming through him to the very tips of his feet, and when she invites him inside he doesn’t hesitate. Nothing even needed to happen tonight - he would wait forever, if she asked. He just wasn’t ready to walk away from her again. He wasn’t willing to walk away, ever again.

After ten long years, he was finally back where he belonged. And it felt so good to be home.

#my fic #cliche post prompts #b99 fanfic #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99fanfic #thank you Erica 😁#title from ten days #missy higgins

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6ftgirlfriend · 5 years

Text

Falling For Stars

Collaborators: @sweetdreamsjetaime 💝/ edited by @lovebird1517 💖

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury

Summary: Rising star, Lucas Lallemant, has no clue what’s going on. For all he knows, his costar, Eliott Demaury, doesn’t give a fuck about him. He had made that pretty clear when he got all cozy with his girlfriend, Lucille, right in front of him. So can someone explain to him why the hell everyone thinks they’re dating? or Co-Stars to lovers!AU with all the angst/fluff and French shenanigans to keep me up at night!

Episode 1 - Regret.

AO3 Link

He was falling into oblivion, willingly with no sense of control

Falling from the heavens, they would shine so bright

Falling into the ocean of his eyes,

they would pierce through the soul

Falling into the storms of his embrace, they would unravel the heart

The collision was inevitable, the comet’s end

No shooting star should feel this, to be a burning and dying wish

It was endlessly cold, infinitely dark amongst the others

He was the fallen star, forever trying to stay ablaze…

—The Little Lone Star

SAMEDI 9:12

Lucas jolts awake by a sudden noise. He’s brought back to reality when he hears the roaring echoes of the shower being turned on.

He squints up at a pale ceiling that was not his own. His was made out of glass that allowed him to gaze up at the stars whenever life got too rough. He’s always found comfort in them, but they are not here right now to calm his beating heart. Where the hell is he? The bed sheets curled around his torso are definitely not his. They are soft and comforting yet suffocating at the same time. The tidiness and luxury of the bed are a sharp contrast to how messy and average he remembers his to be. He feels out of place. Seriously? What the hell is happening? The grey curtains hanging loosely against the glass frames barely prevent any sunlight from seeping through. Lucas almost goes blind while trying to blink his heavy eyes open. He feels dizzy, disoriented and worst of all; like total absolute shit. Fuck! How much did he drink last night?

The hangover reduces Lucas to nothing but a living corpse. He tries his hardest to sober up, but every single one of his brain cells is screaming at him to stop overworking them. Not only is the sun trying to blind him, but the birds outside are chirping loudly to God knows what tune. The sounds of bustling cars and productivity outside rang through his ears and intensifies his headache. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs at the absolute mess it is. Suddenly, a cool breeze grazes his exposed skin sending a shiver through his whole body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. He curls up in the bedding once more but sits up in surprise when he notices that he was completely naked and space next to him is empty. He truly loathed his existence at the moment.

Lucas looks around the room with a big frown. The scattered clothes on the floor and the lone ripped condom packet by the trashcan don’t leave much to the imagination. Fuck, he had sex with someone yesterday in his drunken daze, didn’t he?

Lucas groans from the realization. He reaches for his clothes by the bed and tries to get dressed quickly. The sooner he gets the hell out of where ever the fuck he is, the quicker he would feel sane again.

He stops halfway through putting his shirt on when he hears the shower turn off. He turns to see an unfamiliar figure step out of the bathroom. Lucas chokes on air. The guy in front of him is half-naked, and Lucas’s brain short circuits. Droplets of water slowly drip down the man’s body, and Lucas uses his remaining self-control not to combust on the spot.

The nameless man seems unfazed by Lucas’s presence and proceeds to shake his damp chocolate curls into a small towel; his arm muscles flex with every movement. He looks unreal with a lean body that’s as tall as the door frame and broad, muscular shoulders. His skin is pale, and the yellow tint of sunlight makes him look as if he’s glowing.

Lucas snaps out of his daze and mentally scolds himself for thirsting over a stranger. The shame he was feeling a few moments ago comes back to hit him once again at full force.

Lucas doesn’t properly look at the guy’s face, but he knows.

It’s not him.

This man, as hot as he is, is not the one he wishes him to be. The one he dreams he could wake up to every morning. The one he wants is not his to take and keep. Lucas can’t even fantasize about what it would feel like to be with him. Yet, there’s an invisible pull that always leads straight to him.

Him, who, ever since the beginning, would send his heart running for the hills whenever he made eye contact with those steel blue eyes. God those eyes.

Lucas is too hungover to handle all this shit this early in the morning. He feels like an avalanche is submerging him. His whole body is frozen, and his heart is heavy. He fucked up. He really fucked up this time.

It hits him out of nowhere as the events of last night clear up in his head.

Regret.

***

YESTERDAY NIGHT, VENDREDI 21:41

The camera lights are flashing and lighting up the night. Lucas scoffs at all the people dressed in big fancy gowns and expensive suits. He wants to tell them that this is The César Awards and not a fashion show. Lucas lets it go because he won’t allow any negativity tonight.

He’s rejoicing because Je T’aime won Best Film. It’s the first movie Lucas played in that gained so much success. He even got nominated for the award of Best Actor because of it, but sadly he lost it to his costar, Eliott Demaury.

Lucas’s not even mad about it because anyone that has ever worked with Eliott knows that the man has a natural talent in acting.

Lucas remembers how shocked he was when he received the news that he would be staring along Eliott. Around that time, Lucas’s career in acting was starting to pick up after the public loved his performance in La Honte. His portrayal of a struggling teen with Tourette’s syndrome blew the masses away because it was the first time they saw mental illness depicted in a positive light. Two days after the news, he got to read over the script and instantly fell in love.

The film was based off a best-selling novel; about a Canadian teen, Hugo Babineaux, sent to study abroad in Paris, France. While there, he falls for his host family’s eldest son, Julien Favre. Julien is a devout Catholic, but couldn’t resist falling in love with the Hugo. Their forbidden love is passionate and bittersweet, as the film touches on the issues of homophobia and religion—the journey of coming to accept one’s sexuality and owning up to who you want to be.

Lucas practiced day and night to make sure he matched Eliott’s talent and did the role of Hugo justice.

But no amount of practice could have prepared him for the first time he met Eliott. Because fucking hell, the guy was beyond gorgeous in person.

Eliott’s icy gaze left Lucas breathless.

And I’m falling so hard for you.

He almost broke his neck from having to gaze up at him.

Would you be there to catch me, too?

He couldn’t be real. Those luminous caramel locks had to be made from strands of silk, entwisted, like a storm. He looked like an angel among men.

Maybe I should keep this to myself.

It was honestly intimidating to be working first time with such a renowned actor.

Waiting ‘til I know you better.

Lucas could only hope his weak, stupid heart could take it.

I don’t wanna be something you can throw away.

The film was a massive hit; the fans went crazy for the chemistry that Lucas and Eliott shared. They were the perfect duo. Lucas had come to understand everyone’s fondness towards Eliott, especially when he smiled so big that it reached his eyes. Or how his kind and bright demeanor would light up the room. But those little things shouldn’t matter. Why should he care that Eliott made his heart flip every time he enters a room?

It’s nothing but stage fright jitters. Lucas would reassure himself.

Eliott is an enigma. His happy-go-lucky attitude is a starch contrast to the vivid and dynamic characters he plays. His first role was that of a blind prodigal genius painter who had to adapt to life after a tragic accident flipped his whole world upside down. His performance in the movie landed him many awards, and he became one of the youngest actors to win the prestigious award in France.

Despite the unworldly harmony between Lucas and Eliott on the big screen and during interviews, it’s an entirely different story behind the scenes.

Anyone who knew these two could see the tension between them. Eliott loves to tease, calling him a hedgehog because of his wild spiky hair, and Lucas tries very hard not to blush every time he touched it. He also tends to sneak up on him and whisper random things in his ears, and that makes Lucas lose his mind. And Eliott’s answer to his flustered face is to outright laugh at him. Why did he let this guy get to him so much? Every time they would touch even by accident, Lucas would feel breathless.

Eliott must be doing it on purpose; he must enjoy seeing Lucas reduced to a complete mess.

But Lucas is done with these little games.

He plans to confront Eliott tonight and ask him exactly what the hell they are.

Lucas tried his best to avoid doing relationships, only settling for one night stands. He’s too scared of the paparazzi invading his privacy. Besides, Lucas isn’t out to the public yet. But he feels something for Eliott and is willing to risk it all for the chance of being in a relationship with him.

Lucas makes his way backstage to Eliott’s dressing room where the talk will take place. If everything goes well, they would be boyfriends by the end of the night. He abruptly stops when he sees Eliott in front of the room arms hooked around the small waist of a brunette. Lucas has seen her before. Her name’s Lucille Dubois; a supermodel, singer, and songwriter. She’s famous and loved by everyone. Lucas swallows the lump in his throat. They look good together. Perfect.

Of course, they would be dating. Lucas turns away, and his heart clenches at the reality that nothing could ever happen between Eliott and him. All the sneaky touches and stolen looks were for nothing. He can’t believe he let himself think that there was a chance Eliott would like him back.

He needs a drink. Now.

He heads straight out for the bar.

***

After only a few shots, the world around Lucas starts to spin, and he feels the adrenaline pumping through his whole body.

That’s when he sees it: a pair of long legs striding towards him in determination. Muscular and veiny hands pull him wrap around his waist and pull him in a tight hug. There’s barely any space between them, and Lucas shivers when a deep voice whispers in his eyes.

Lucas wishes the nameless hands buried in his hair belong to Eliott. But the reality hits when the man says in a low and raspy voice.

“I’m Étienne.”

Lucas looks away from his lips to his darkening eyes. Lucas is sure he won’t remember the name for very long, but he nods and presses his lips against his in a heated kiss.

He doesn’t know how they got to the apartment. Which wall he’s currently pressed against, but Lucas doesn’t complain. Their clothes are gone the moment they get to the bedroom.

Behind his closed lids, Lucas sees red flashes of visions. Is it another daydream? A memory? All he sees are familiar dark eyes piercing through him. Not now, please. Lucas runs his hand through Étienne’s hair in hopes of distracting himself from thinking of Eliott.

Why is he in my mind right now?

Étienne’s warm lips trace Lucas’s collarbone, and Lucas wonders what Eliott’s lips will feel like on his skin. He hates the fact that he’s so jealous of Lucille. All Lucas wanted to do when he saw Lucille wrapped in Eliott’s arms was to replace her. He wants to be the one that gets to kiss Eliott every time he wants and feel his beautiful hands on his body.

But that would never happen because Eliott doesn’t love me.

PRESENT, SAMEDI 9:31

A voice fades in,“…—cas, Lucas? Hello? Still with me?”

Lucas blinks at the waving hand in from his face. He cranes his neck up to look into a pair of concerned onyx eyes.

“Great, you’re back. You scared me.” Ethan? Elias? Says with a sigh.

His face immediately lights up when he locks eyes with Lucas.

“How was the view from up there? Did you catch any stars?”

His deep voice brings Lucas back to reality. Lucas must have been mentally gone for a long time because the man was now dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie. He was also holding a coffee cup in each hand. The aroma of the drinks makes him crave the caffeine he needed to wake up.

Lucas quirks his lips because he’s suddenly feeling shy. He’s still half-naked and is in desperate need of a shower. He stares at the wall behind the boy trying to find his way out of this shitty situation.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s been fun.’ No, too passive. ‘Look, this can’t happen again.’ Too insensitive. ‘It’s not you; it’s me?’ What a fucking cliche.

“Uh, ahem—No stars, just really tired.” He settles avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“Yeah, I get that.” The pretty stranger chuckles softly with a coy smirk.

“I mean we didn’t get much sleep last night. Are you sure you are okay?”

Lucas nods shyly, cheeks heating up.

“Good. How about some coffee? Croissants?” The guy smiles brightly and gosh, why does he have to be so lovely? It only makes him feel ten times worst for what he’s about to do.

“Coffee should do, thank you…?” Lucas dragged it out, waiting for a name as he takes the cup of coffee. The handsome stranger seems to get the memo and answers quickly. “It’s Étienne, Étienne Calvet.” Étienne’s smile grows wider when Lucas almost spills coffee on himself.

Étienne Calvet. The name rings a bell; he’s a famous model in Paris. He has soulful eyes and perfect features that are often present on brand names such as Givenchy, Lanvin, Prada, and YSL. Lucas heard a lot about him because Étienne is also a writer and openly bisexual. Lucas mentally scolds himself for not realizing who he is sooner.

“No need to thank me. Listen, last night, we didn’t have time to introduce ourselves, but I know you. Lucas Lallemant, right?”

Lucas could only nod, still in shock. Étienne squeals.

“Wow! I can’t believe it. You almost won the César Awards. Congratulations on the nomination! The movie was beautiful. That scene where he dives into the ocean when he found out—” Étienne goes onto praising Je T'aime in great detail.

Lucas wants to dig a grave and bury himself in it. Étienne sounds genuinely interested and excited like a fanboy meeting their favorite celebrity for the first time. Lucas is not sure if he should be flattered or creeped out.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it. He needs to come clean to this guy. He swallows his guilt down and proceeds to grab the sheets around his waist, giving Étienne a stern look as he gets up from the bed.

“Look, thank you, Étienne.” Étienne’s smile only gets brighter.

“For everything but I’m sorry this…” Lucas gestures between them. “It can’t happen again…” Lucas feels like vanishing into thin air when he sees Étienne’s eyes dime slightly. He gazes downward for a few seconds before bringing his face back up with his signature smile.

“As I said before, no need to thank me. But could we at least be friends?” Étienne is now looking down at the ground again, resembling a kicked puppy. He has a way of making Lucas feel like a total dick.

Lucas knows it’s not a good idea. He should decline and spare Étienne the heartbreak, but he’s not thinking clearly right now. So he holds out his hand with a small smile.

“Okay. Just friends.”

***

SAMEDI 10:19

After almost an hour or so, Lucas finally steps out into the streets of Paris. After running through the shower and exchanging numbers with Étienne, they said their goodbyes. Étienne’s hopeful expression is going to haunt Lucas forever. But for now, Lucas pushes all that away and focuses on getting home.

Lucas has always loved mornings the most out of all the times of the day. Fresh air, dew on the pavement and the calming ambiance are precisely what he needs at the moment to relax.

Which is why he decides to take a short walk around the city. He still can’t believe he slept with a complete stranger. A part of him gets it; he was heartbroken and miserable. For fuck sakes, the guy he loves is dating another person. He had every right to act on his emotions. He fell for Eliott like those shooting stars he sees every night before falling asleep. Ugh.

He shakes his head to snap out of his negative thoughts. This needs to stop. Seriously. He needs to focus.

Lost in thought, Lucas doesn’t notice a group of suspicious men following him. The men were discreetly taking pictures of Lucas, trying to figure out where he was last night. According to the rumors, Lucas left with a special someone. They were vultures preying on the carcass of any previous night’s drama.

They wanted to be the first one to get the scoop, and so they hurriedly make their way to an unsuspecting Lucas.

“Lucas Lallemant! Monsieur Lallemant! Can we ask what your whereabouts were last night!?”

Fuck. My. Life.

Lucas mentally curses his luck. He knew this was going to happen eventually, but why now? Lucas knows he looks like complete crap right now, and that’s not an appropriate look for the cameras. Great fucking timing. The universe must be laughing at him.

“Monsieur Lallemant, are you aware of the rife speculations that you might be seeing someone? Can you tell us who!” One of them urges boldly. What kind of sick question is that? Lucas is shaking; not only from anger but also from fear.

His fears of being outed. He’s afraid the world would criticize him, and people would label him as just another “gay icon.” He didn’t want to be a label. He’s just a man named Lucas that happens to like other men. That should not be a reason for people to criticize him.

Did they see us? Who else saw him leave the party?

Lucas is usually really good at dealing with the mobs of paparazzi, but today, he is beyond exhausted. Not wanting to start a scene, he quickly covers his face and flees from the scene. He vaguely hears them say something about a hickey at the back of his neck followed with the sounds of cameras flashing.

His eyes widen in panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Lucas can’t breathe because his lungs are now filled with dread. His heart is drumming quickly in his chest.

Flashes of this father’s disappointed scowl washed over him. He feels sick to his stomach. His dad hated his existence already, so what would he think when he founds out Lucas is gay?

He would probably say with a disgusted face that he was disappointed in Lucas.

No!

Why should he even bother if he’s going to be a disappointment anyway?

Shut up!

Why can’t he be like the others? He just had to end up being the unwanted gay son, didn’t he?

Stop it!

Lucas starts running; becoming one with the wind. He is running away from not only the paparazzi but also all his problems. His heels are clicking on the stone pavement as he zooms past pedestrians and street performers.

Could this day get any worse?

And the universe gladly accepts the challenge. Within the next moment, his phone starts vibrating from a message. Lucas abruptly slows down and hesitantly pulls the device from his pocket, unlocking the screen.

It’s from him.

Eliott.

Eliott: “Mind telling me why people are saying we started dating?”

Eliott: “You could’ve asked me first, Lulu. ♥️”

The next text sent makes his heart drop. It’s a slightly blurry picture of himself leaving the bar. He looks extremely drunk and is holding hands with someone. Lucas is a hundred percent sure it’s Étienne dragging Lucas to his apartment. Thank fuck, the picture is so blurry no one could see anything but Lucas. However, the headline reads, “WHO WAS THIS MYSTERIOUS NEW FLAME?” And the article goes into details of webbing lies out of the photo.

It’s like time had stopped and the world froze. Lucas’ head is pounding from everything that’s happening at once.

This was it — the biggest mistake of his life.

He wishes for a falling star to crash upon him. He just wants it to end it all.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(A/N: Oh.My.God. This is my first time writing fanfiction, guys! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Special thanks to @sweetdreamsjetaime and @lovebird1517 for helping me!

Additional info: I’m thinking of making this into a tv show format about these two soulmates having to work for their love (the angst, the drama!) but it’ll be worth it by the end. There’s going to be behind the scenes content too (meaning; covers, magazines, and social media content?), so watch out for those (SKAM style👀). I would also love to read your feedback and any thoughts you have on the story! ☺️ Thank you so much for reading! Best wishes!🌠)

#skam france #skamfr #elu fanfic #elu fic #myedits #elu aesthetics #ffs fic #falling for stars fic #i can't believe i did this #this was so fun!#I hope you enjoyed this #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu au #elu au fic #skam elu #elu

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 41: Restless

Source: @minidodds

Chapters 1-40

Rafael Barba was making his closing arguments, meaning this trial was finally going to end. Laura was looking forward to the opportunity to go to the gym and work off all this nervous energy. As nice as it was to have the opportunity to sit for hours doing nothing but watching Rafael, the trouble was the “sit for hours” part. Laura wasn’t much good at sitting still. She found it especially difficult in this situation, because she couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment the defendant was going to go off. He was visibly wired, taut, like a panther crouched and ready to spring.

Laura wasn’t the only one who felt it. She could see the court bailiffs eyeing him, too. She would let them take care of the defendant, Cameron. But Rafael sat less than ten feet from him. And if Cameron decided to go after Rafael, Laura was going to get to him first. Rafael didn’t have to love her. He could be as brusque and businesslike as he wanted. She’d been dealing with that all summer, and she rarely still cried about it. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. And it certainly didn’t mean she would let anyone hurt him.

She missed Rafael a hundred times a day. At first, the pain had been so acute she sometimes had to lock herself in the bathroom at the station and just sit on the floor, knees pulled up tightly to her chest, rocking and crying. That hadn’t happened in a while. The months had done at least that much. These days, missing him usually took the form of hearing him say something particularly clever, or seeing him do something that reminded her of when they’d been a couple. She usually didn’t cry about it anymore. Usually, but not never.

Laura wasn’t concerned that Cameron would be acquitted – he wouldn’t. But until he was safely shackled and out of this courtroom, he was a threat to Rafael, and she was anxious. Not a good state of mind for someone as restless as Laura to be in as she sat through a week-long trial. She was glad the day was nearly over; it had been a long afternoon.

Rafael, on the other hand, was in his element. He had no fear of Cameron. Cameron was a blowhard and a bully, nothing more. Rafael was in complete control of this trial, making sure that a rapist went to prison and wiping the floor with smarmy Trevor Langan in the process. It was a good day. Best of all, he could feel Laura in the first row, directly behind him. He wasn’t above showing off in front of her, even now.

Rafael and Laura had somehow cobbled together a working relationship, cool and impersonal and overly polite as it was. He thought there might even someday come a night when he didn’t purposely work too late to avoid being home at times he used to spend with Laura, only to lie awake thinking about her anyway. For some reason, she and Stone still hadn’t gotten together. He knew that because he had seen Stone a couple of times at Forlini’s, treating the bar like a corner bodega where he could just stop and pick up a girl on his way home.

He also knew it because, prior to a meeting one morning, he’d been pouring himself a cup of coffee and overheard a conversation between Fin and Laura.

“So how was your date with Rollins’s friend?”

Since Fin and Laura were the only two at the table, Fin had to be speaking to her, although Rafael’s back was to them.

“I only did that as a favor to her. And he was a troglodyte.”

Rafael couldn’t help but grin with both amusement and relief. Which was stronger, he didn’t examine too closely.

“Troglo-what now?”

Rafael turned around then, not being able to convincingly spend any more time simply pouring a cup of coffee. “A caveman,” he told Fin as he sat down at the table.

“Why’nt you just say caveman, then? Damn nerds all up in here…” Fin complained.

Spontaneously, accidentally, Rafael and Laura had begun to share a smile before both catching themselves and awkwardly fumbling to look elsewhere as though it hadn’t happened. That moment had been both the highlight and the most painful part of Rafael’s day. He couldn’t have known that the same was true for Laura.

At this moment, Rafael was walking around as he gave his closing argument, first standing in front of the jury to address them directly, then standing in front of the defense table and gesturing toward Cameron as he laid out the evidence, link by link.

Laura wished he wouldn’t do that. As long as he was closer to Cameron than he was to her, Cameron could get to him before she could. With each additional fact and piece of evidence, she could see Cameron’s jaw clench harder and his face get redder. His hands had been in fists throughout the trial, but now he was actually knocking them softly against the table in front of him. A couple times, he shifted his weight as if to stand. Each time, Laura shifted hers in the same way, ready to jump up.

Cameron’s obvious difficulties controlling his seething anger had caused the court bailiffs to move a little closer to him. One, a wiry Asian woman who looked like she could move quickly, stood within 5 feet of the defense table ready to act. The other, a tall, beefy white guy with a very red face, had inched to within three feet of the defendant. Although he stood slightly behind Cameron so that he couldn’t be seen directly, Laura could sense the defendant’s awareness of the bailiff just behind him.

Rafael continued his closing, bringing up a photograph of the victim on the large screen across the room from the jury. Laura noticed Cameron’s face turn a frighteningly dark shade of red that seemed almost purple.

This wasn’t good. She elbowed Fin, sitting at her left, as she moved forward to the edge of her seat. She pulled the edge of her blazer back from in front of her holster and unsnapped the strap that secured her weapon. Fin did the same.

Rafael moved back behind the prosecution table. Continuing his closing, he turned toward the defendant, who glared at him with abject hate. Laura leaned forward and placed an arm on the rail between the gallery and the counsel tables. That was when Rafael made a particularly strong point, put so cleverly that there were scattered laughs in the courtroom. That did it.

At that moment, the defendant’s pent-up rage exploded in a violent roar as he used one hand to push the table at which he had been sitting halfway to the judge’s bench. With the other, he pulled the red-faced, beefy bailiff toward him by the belt and grabbed his sidearm before the bailiff had a chance to react.

In one fluid movement, Laura stood and vaulted the rail with one arm, throwing herself at Rafael and allowing her momentum to knock him to the floor, where she landed on top of him. She pulled her Glock from its holster and aimed, leaning on Rafael’s back as much to cover his body and keep his head down as to give her a steady firing platform. “Stay down,” she said into his ear. But it was already over. There had been only one shot: Fin dropping the defendant where he stood.

The courtroom filled with the cries of terrified onlookers and court staff, the judge pounding her gavel and screaming ineffectually for order, and the chaotic banging and scraping of fifty people trying to escape from the room using the same two doors. Laura didn’t immediately let Rafael up – she surveyed the entire courtroom from where she lay on top of him behind the table to ensure that there was no further threat. The other detectives were doing the same. When they saw that there was no more danger, the rest of the team began to assist those in distress and work to calm the general panic.

Laura levered herself off of Rafael’s back and sat up next to where he lay prone on the floor. She holstered her gun, then gave him a quick but thorough once-over and saw no blood. “¿Estas bien?”[1]

Rafael began to roll to a sitting position. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Laura put her hand on his shoulder and pushed off him to stand. She offered him her hand to help him up, which he declined. “I’m good here.”

She squatted down next to him. “Look at me, Rafael.”

He did. Her heart contracted at being this close to him, looking into his beautiful green eyes.

“You’re OK,” she said, nodding slightly at the same time and willing him to believe it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.” He didn’t look, or sound, convinced.

Laura, not knowing what else to say and not wanting to crowd him, especially given their circumstances, stood up and said, “I’m gonna see what I can do here.”

For the next two hours, each member of the team was busy taking statements from those who had been present during the shooting. They assisted the crime scene unit and the Medical Examiner as they did their work, finally helping to load the body onto a cart for transport to the morgue. As Laura turned away afterward, she noticed that there were less than ten people left in the room. One of them was Rafael, sitting slumped in his accustomed place at counsel table, head down, hands folded in front of him. He stared at a legal pad that she could see had nothing written on it.

She walked over and leaned on the rail near him.

“You saved my life,” he said, not looking at her.

She pulled a chair from the defense table and sat down facing him across his table, trying to figure out what a neutral distance was. After what had just happened, she knew to let him speak if he wanted to, or just sit with him if he didn’t.

“You knocked me down. If he’d have shot, he’d have hit you instead of me.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

He looked up at her with his eyes, not moving his head.

“That’s why I knocked you down. Bullet would’ve gone right over our heads. Anyway, Fin got him.” She deliberately tried to keep her voice neutral, factual. She wouldn’t deny the reality of the situation, but needed to avoid feeding his reaction.

“And then you stayed there, protecting me. Why did you do that?”

“You know why. It’s the job.”

He didn’t respond. He looked over at the bloodstain where Cameron’s body had been. A team of custodians was already beginning work to clean the stained area of the floor.

“By tomorrow, that’ll be gone, and it’ll be like this never happened.” He sighed. “Except it won’t.”

“No. It won’t. But you’ll be OK anyway.”

They sat in silence. After a few minutes, Lieutenant Benson called to them that it was late and there was nothing more to be done, so the team was leaving.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Laura answered in a casual voice, waving nonchalantly. There were some intrigued looks between the other members of the squad.

“I didn’t think he’d do anything. I thought he was all talk.”

“Most of them are.”

“But you and Fin took him seriously.”

“That’s – “

“The job, I know. But I feel like I should’ve been shot, just for being such a colossal idiot.”

“Good grief, Rafael, if stupidity was a capital offense… I know there’s a good joke there, but I’m too tired to think of it right now.”

Rafael actually chuffed and his lips twisted at that. “Raincheck.”

“Thanks.”

Again they fell into silence. Rafael was busy processing what had happened. He appreciated Laura just sitting with him, not judging or preaching, just letting him work it through. With anyone else, he might have felt the need to be cool, to downplay his reaction. But even after everything that had happened between them – or maybe because of it – he didn’t think he needed to waste the effort with her. When the custodial team actually began mopping up pooled blood, Rafael decided he’d had enough.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

“Let’s.”

They both liked the way that sounded. As they walked slowly from the courtroom, somewhat farther apart than perhaps other coworkers might, Rafael thought how much he needed to spend the evening with her in her cheerful, laid-back apartment. He needed to eat takeout in front of a ridiculously violent movie where The Rock did impossible stunts and beat the hell out of everyone he came across, and he needed Laura next to him wearing one of her grubby outfits, with her hair pulled thoughtlessly into a knot on top of her head. And then he needed to make love and fall asleep holding one another.

The similarity of their thoughts, had they known it, would have shocked them both. But they would have to settle for being together in the same car on the ride home.

Both were quiet, awkward, uncomfortable, trying to figure out how to be together outside of work. They’d had drinks with the whole squad a couple of times since Rafael had ended their relationship, which had been a little awkward at first, although liquor helped. But this was the first time they’d been together alone since their breakup. It helped that they’d just been through a traumatic experience, which gave them an obvious topic of conversation and also the bond that unites people who have been through such an event. But there was a massive, obnoxious elephant in the room that was pretty hard to ignore.

They walked down the street, far enough apart that there was no chance their hands would accidentally touch, making occasional innocuous remarks about the September weather and the shortening of the days that comes with the season. Laura knew that she should try to get Rafael to talk about Cameron’s attempt to shoot him. But she was uncomfortably aware of her angry words to him that first day, when she had told him that they were not friends, and that he was no longer allowed to ask whether she was OK. She decided to do the right thing, and let him call her a hypocrite if he wanted to. The fact was, she would do the same thing for any of the other members of the team in a similar situation.

“So, um… Cameron. It’s supposed to be helpful if you talk about this kind of stuff.”

“So Lindstrom said,” Rafael responded.

“Yeah, I guess this isn’t your first time to the dance, is it?”

“And I can’t help but notice that this stuff didn’t happen to me before I met you. Coincidence?”

Oh, it felt good to hear that gentle, teasing tone in his voice after so long! It hurt terribly, too, but Laura was used to everything wonderful he did reminding her of what she’d lost. She would have loved to say something clever back, but could think of nothing. Self-conscious and nervous, all she could do was smile.

“Lindstrom wanted me to tell him the whole story of what happened with Rhee. Apparently, that’s healing. But this... you were there. You know what happened.”

“Actually, it would be interesting to hear it from your perspective. I mean, did you expect me to tackle you?”

“No! As a matter of fact, I was meaning to ask you how you got there. How much do you weigh, anyway? It felt like I got hit by a truck.”

“You did not just ask me how much I weigh! I know your mami taught you better than that.”

“I stand corrected. Still felt like a truck.”

“Thank you. Or sorry. Not sure which.”

“Thank you? Why would it be thank you?”

“OK so maybe for you it’s sorry. But if I tackle a bad guy – sorry, offender or suspect, not bad guy – I’d be thrilled if he felt like he got hit by a truck.”

Laura had exaggerated the way she said “offender or suspect”, making gentle fun of his instructions to her during their first witness prep meeting together. Rafael would like to have been able to spit out a few curse words when he actually felt his dick twitch just from being teased by her. His mind went temporarily blank and he completely forgot what they were talking about. ¡Coño![2] Three months apart, and she still affected him every bit as much as she ever had.

Fortunately for him, she went on. “You might not have noticed it, you were too busy pontificating, but-“

“Pontificating? I do not pontificate.”

“Waxing eloquent?”

“Better.”

“Anyway, you were putting your thing down,” she looked mischievously at him, causing yet more agitation in his pants and his mind to once again go offline temporarily. “So you weren’t watching Cameron. But we were, and the bailiffs were, because it was clear he was going to blow. So when he did, I hopped the rail and covered you.”

“Literally.”

“But that’s my story. You were supposed to be telling me your story.”

They reached the parking garage and, as he always did, he opened her door for her. As she always did, she found that small courtesy disproportionately sexy.

When they’d buckled in and Rafael was starting the car, he said, “I honestly didn’t see it. I was concentrating on putting my thing down,” he looked that teasing, under-the-eyebrows look at her and suddenly it was her whose body was responding. “I was in the zone. I had an outline, and I was running through it. Maybe paying a little attention to how ill Mr. Langan was starting to look… And then Cameron stood up and the next thing I knew, OOF.”

“And…?”

“And I… wasn’t quite sure what had happened for a second. I think I felt you hit me at the same time I heard the gunshot. I think.”

“Happened pretty fast. I’m not sure, either.”

“Which means if Fin hadn’t gotten him, you might not have gotten there in time.” The drop in the volume and register of Rafael’s voice evidenced the effect this realization had on him.

“Fin got him,” she said in a quiet, but firm voice.

“Yes, but…”

The implications hung in the air for a moment.

In the same quiet tone, Laura asked, “Did you and Dr. Lindstrom ever talk about ‘what ifs’?”

“A little.”

“Dr. Charles said you look at them like you’re window shopping. You acknowledge them, say ‘isn’t that interesting’, and move on.”

“Lindstrom said something similar. Maybe not as picturesque.”

“Fin got him, Rafael.”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes of silence ensued, during which they each followed their own thoughts.

“I have to thank you for being there. Again.”

“Someone messes with you, they mess with me.”

“So I’ve heard. Nice to know it still applies.”

That night, after they said an uncomfortable good night as Rafael took the elevator and Laura the stairs to their respective apartments, Laura let herself into her apartment just before the tears became uncontrollable. Everything about him was the same: all the things she loved about the way he looked, his ability to tease her in a way that felt like foreplay, the smoldering looks he didn’t even know he gave, the way he smelled when she was close enough… Everything but one, crucial thing. He didn’t want her. For the first time in weeks, she found herself sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking to dissipate some of the biting ache of loss.

It was one of those nights when Rafael laid awake, unable to think of anything but Laura. He didn’t even care that it hurt like hell. He couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to.

[1] Are you OK?

[2] All-purpose swear word.

#rafael barba #raul esparza #law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #fin tutuola #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice

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