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neowinestainedress · 11 months

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hi is it ok if i request for a drabble where reader and johnny/jeno/doyoung/haechan (basically any of my biases lol) are in a established rs. i mean the scene is literally just reader gets fucked so good she gets into pretty deep subspace and how any of the guys wld handle her carefully and with so much care and love .. 😵‍💫🙏

w!: subspace, unprotected s*x, dirty talk, aftercare (everyone) | overstimulation, mentioned oral (f receiving) and fingering, (with johnny) | oral (m receiving), fingers sucking (with doyoung) | tied up s*x, blindfold, mentioned use of toys, overstimulation, (with jeno) | oral (f receiving), light dumbification, reader goes silent (idk how to explain this), overstimulation (with haechan)

a/n: hi! wrote something for all of them, hope you like it! also i hope i got it right and you didn't mean a poly relationship

JOHNNY

Johnny always makes sure to treat you like a princess, pampering you any chance he gets and giving you everything you ask for. Even in the bedroom. There’s no denying he loves being in control, but he always puts your pleasure in the front line. Sometimes even too much…

Just like right now. Johnny’s pounding deep into you, pressing you down into the mattress while his fingers keep torturing your already sensitive clit.

You lost count of how many times you came from his fingers and tongue but you don’t care and neither does he.

Johnny loves when your brain shuts down completely because he’s fucking you too good. He loves watching your eyes roll back and your mouth part open, slightly curled up in a cute, dumb smile, while you moan his name — the only thing your brain can remember. You feel like you’re floating into another dimension and you can barely make out Johnny’s face as another orgasm washes over you, but he doesn’t stop.

“Good girl,” Johnny whispers, fingers leaving your overstimulated clit to caress your cheek in soothing motions, “let go of everything. You don’t have to worry about anything, you have me.”

You hear him but you’re still overwhelmed, tears piling at the corners of your eyes and moans getting messier. Your hands try to grab on something but you feel like you have no hold anyway and when you start to mumble his name with urgency, Johnny leans down.

“Shh, pretty girl, it’s alright,” he whispers, kissing your lips and caressing your hair, hips still fucking against you but slowing the rhythm as he checks in. “Can you take my cum? Just one last orgasm, I promise.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his sweet gaze before nodding weakly. “Ju-just one,” you plead, tears spilling down your face as you uselessly try to don’t come another time.

“Just this one, babe. Let me fill you up, alright?” Johnny coos, kissing you again, knowing how much that calms you even if pleasure has gotten to your brain completely.

It doesn’t take him long to come, hips slamming the last few times against your ass while he keeps you pressed against the mattress, muffling the loud groans caused by his orgasm — and the soft ones from you — in a heated kiss.

“It’s alright, princess, it’s alright,” he whispers when you start sobbing, trying to come down to earth but feeling your body on fire and the shock of the climax still buzzes in your veins. “I’m here, alright? I’m right here,” Johnny says, pulling out of you and falling to the side, dragging you along with him so he can wrap his arms around you, caressing your hair as you lay your head on his chest. “You did so well, love,” he praises, lulling you in his arms, kissing the top of your head, and caressing your back.

You let yourself go in the warm sensation, snuggling close to him slowly starting to feel your body again as the high dims.

“What about a shower?” Johnny asks after a while of sweet nothings whispered to your ear.

You groan, shaking your head, and hiding more in his embrace. “Later.”

Johnny chuckles, throwing his head back like he always does and then kisses your forehead again. “Fine, later. Anything my princess wants.” And those are the last words you hear before falling into a deep slumber.

DOYOUNG

Maybe it’s the weight of life and responsibilities, but when you’re with Doyoung, you just want to give him full control and turn your brain off.

And Doyoung loves it, the trust you put in his hand makes him feel powerful — and loved — so he always makes sure to give you what you want.

Gently guiding you with a tight hold on your hair as he moves your mouth on his dick, delicately using your mouth like a toy, hearing the clicking of your heels as your feet swing side by side as you try to create friction between your legs.

You barely made it past the door when you clung to him and begged him to fuck you, and how could he say no?

“Good girl, just like this. You only have to suck my dick, that’s the only thing you’re here to do,” he whispers, gently caressing the skin of your neck while his head falls back.

You don’t see it, too lost in what you’re doing, eyes closed as your mouth sucks him like you know he likes. There’s little to no pleasure in giving oral for most people, but not to you. You love doing it, and something about it makes your head feel light and disconnected from everything.

It doesn’t take him long to reach his high, hips fucking up into you unconsciously while the hold on your hair tightens. You keep sucking until you’re sure he’s done, swallowing before looking up at him, silently pleading for a kiss.

Doyoung is quick at kissing you back before lifting you up and taking you to the bedroom.

“You’re that wet already, love,” he voices out, running his fingers on the wet patch of your lingerie. “Let me finish to fuck your brain out, then.”

You emit a shaky moan when his dick enters you, stretching you so nicely and hitting deep into you. You’re soaking wet, and it’s easy for Doyoung to drive his hips against you, setting a steady rhythm from the start.

“Fuck, babe, sucking my dick got you so wet. It really turns you on, uhm?”

You nod weakly in response and your mouth opens right away when you feel two fingers tap against your lips and your pussy clenches as soon as they make their way into your mouth.

“Can you take them further?” He asks, teasingly pushing his digits down your throat, watching your eyes water as he tests your gag reflex. “Yeah, just like this, good girl,” he praises, watching as slowly nothing but lust fills your eyes.

You’d love to keep them open but they flutter shut the moment you start sucking, arching your back as Doyoung starts fucking you more intensely, he holds you close by the waist while his lips smear kisses on your skin.

“Look so, so pretty like this,” Doyoung praises, “my messy pretty baby. Are you close?” He asks, already knowing the answer, feeling it in the way your pussy is squeezing around him, and how much cum it’s dripping out, but he still loves to see you blink your eyes open, tears rolling down the corner and muffle a low ‘yes, please,’ before you go back sucking his fingers. “Yes? Are you gonna come with my fingers in your mouth?” He coos, tilting your head to the side, it’s kinda like a mockery for him but he can’t fight the smile on his face when you nod swiftly and smile at him.

Doyoung loves seeing you like this, all your walls falling down around him, and being so vulnerable only in his hands. He truly means it when he says you’re beautiful even with spit on your face and tears streaking down your cheeks as you try to fuck back into him to reach your high.

And when it finally hits, is so strong that you bite his fingers for a split second, body tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms you. Doyoung follows soon after, grunting and moaning as he thrusts into you a few times, every stroke sending you a bit more into that spiral of mindless pleasure.

“Fuck, babe, that was good,” he breathes out, fingers leaving your mouth so he can kiss you. “Are you okay?” He asks but you’re not back to earth to reply to him yet, in fact, you’re still shaking and panting, and your eyes are closed. If he didn’t know you by heart, he’d be worried, but he knows it’s just a sign the sex was extremely good.

So he keeps you close to him caressing you and whispering nice words to your ear. When you’re back to earth, still a bit shaken, he smiles.

“We still have dinner to make, I wanted to prepare your favourite dish but you suddenly changed all my plans.”

You laugh, hiding in the crook of his neck in embarrassment before moving back again. “Sorry, it’s pent-up stress leading to extreme horniness,” you laugh. “But I guess we can cook together?”

“Mhh,” Doyoung hums, pretending to think about it. “Sounds like a good idea.”

JENO

Jeno knows you trust him completely, and that’s the hottest thing for him. When he has you tied up and blindfolded and he can play with your senses watching rationality leaving your body with each passing second, he knows he got incredibly lucky to have you.

Jeno also knows you’d do anything he asks you do to with no hesitation, especially if you can get something out of it. It’s cruel of him to make you do all the work, especially after he already made you come twice, rubbing the vibrating wand on your clit until you were shaking and moaning, but he can’t help it.

You’re too cute like this. The white bra still covers your boobs while your chest heavies trying to fill your lungs with air, your lips puffed from how much you’re biting on them, and some tears staining your temples, slightly wetting the black blindfold. But the best part is the way your hips are grinding against the palm of his hand, ‘work for it,’ he ordered just a few minutes before when his fingers started teasing your drenched pussy, and here you are, doing exactly what he told you to do.

“Look at you, such a desperate, pretty little thing,” Jeno coos, grinning as you try to do your best. Your movements are messy, legs struggling against the restraining that keeps them parted, and he knows your body is moving automatically, not a single coherent thought in your brain, just instinct and greed. “Come like this, and then I’ll reward you. Do you want my dick?”

An embarrassing moan rolls from your lips as a reply and your hips start chasing the high faster, eager to have him.

“Won’t it be too much for you? Are you sure you can take it?” He teases but you nod either way.

Proving him right is not what you want, but when he’s into you, fucking his dick deep into your wet walls, you know he was. Maybe it’s not too much, but it’s surely a lot. You can’t move, you can’t see him, and everything feels doubled, every emotion having a bigger effect on you.

“Always playing with fire,” he tsks, “what would you do if I wasn’t here, uhm? What would you do if I didn’t know your limits?”

“I — I,” you mumble but nothing that makes sense leaves your brain, so you just moan his name.

“You don’t have to worry, kitten. You have me, I know exactly what you need. I know exactly how to take care of you,” his voice is reassuring but his fingers rubbing against your clit make you moan loudly, hips squirming trying to move away.

“I can’t — I can’t take it,” you cry out, shaking your head.

“You can, babe. Trust me,” Jeno hums, kissing your lips, dick twitching inside you when you whimper in the kiss and clench harder around him. He knows that if you weren’t tied up you’d be hiding your face, so he decides to get rid of the blindfold and see your wrecked expression. “You’re so pretty when you look like a mess for me,” he praises.

At this point you can only smile numbly, letting your head roll back as another orgasm washes over you, triggering his soon after. Legs shaking, and cheeks stained with tears as you moan his name like a chant, that’s all he needs to come into you.

“Fuck, babe,” he moans breathlessly, shaking his hair out of his face as he slowly pulls out of you, “you did so well. Let me get you out of this, uh?” He says as he undoes the knots and runs his hands on your skin to caress it even if there are no marks on it. “Are you okay?” He asks when he lays next to you, pulling you close to him. You can only hum and nod, feeling your eyes heavy.

“There should be some ice cream left, I think you deserve it,” Jeno proposes, caressing your hair and then rubbing his thumbs on your cheek.

You giggle, nodding weakly. “If you drag me to the kitchen.”

HAECHAN

Haechan starts with subtle touches, on your back, on your arms, on your thighs, and then it moves to kisses, every now and then, each one in more daring places, but all with no sign of giving you what you want the most.

And only after edging you for hours, he has you on his bed, squirming, moaning and crying as he edges you over and over again. His mouth is his favourite thing to use to watch you fall apart, sucking your pussy eagerly while his hands roam on your body, torturing your clit until your hips start bucking against him and your thighs clench around his head.

Now, there’s a very specific reason why Haechan loves teasing, edging, and overstimulating you.

The first time you stopped answering him, he panicked, thinking he had done something wrong, but after a while, he realized you only did this when the sex was particularly good. So after he talked to you, and made sure it was something normal for you, he never missed the chance to tease you.

“Oh, what’s wrong, babe? Dick so good you forgot how to talk?” He taunts, a smug smirk on his face as he slightly slaps your cheek to make sure you’re at least listening, and when you nod, pleading, almost apologetic, eyes looking up into him, he chuckles. “Yeah? That’s alright, babe. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Just be my pretty, good doll and take everything. It feels good, right?”

You nod mindlessly, sinking your nails into his skin as you come again, pleasure never ending as he keeps fucking into you, hitting your sweet spot until your legs shake.

Haechan groans, holding himself back to don’t come and keep stimulating you, driving you past your limits.

“Can you take another one for me?” He still asks, watching you nod and vainly open your mouth to let out a verbal reply. “It’s alright, I don’t need your words, babe. Just stay with me.”

So you nod, eyes squeezing, tears rolling down your temples while your mouth is open only to suck in as much air as possible.

“Fuck, babe, do you hear how wet you are? All the pretty sounds your pussy is making? Do you love me that much?”

Swift movements of your head are the only answer you can give him, feeling like you could explode from how much pleasure you’re feeling. You came so much already, and you know this next one will hit harder than all the ones before.

“My pretty baby, is it too much for you? No? You can take it a bit more? Yes, you can, I knew you could,” he praises, keeping his eyes locked into yours. It shouldn’t turn you on like this, but you honestly find it so hot how he can understand you even with no words. Just a look, just a gesture and he will always know what you need.

And Haechan thinks the same, it shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but the fact that you don’t pull away and you trust him completely even when your brain acts like this, means the world to him.

This time your lips part to say something that doesn’t make it past your throat, it’s a call of his name to beg him to make you come, but once again, he doesn’t need words. Even if tonight he pushed you a bit further your limits, he still knows them.

“You’re close, I know. It’s getting a lot, babe. Don’t worry, come for me one last time, okay?” He reassures you, fingers moving to rub on your clit, watching your eyes snap open. That’s the last drop, the orgasm hits you like a rough wave, finally dragging out of your mouth a long, high moan as your back arches off the mattress and your legs still.

“Shit, I —”, Haechan’s words die in his mouth as he reaches his orgasm too, hips slamming faster against you before coming to a stop.

He lays on top of you for a while, keeping his weight off by standing on his elbows, as he kisses your cheeks. “You did so good, babe. I love you so much,” he praises, leaving one last peck on your mouth before gently pulling out and laying on your side.

Haechan doesn’t say anything to don’t overwhelm you, he stares at you, caressing your hair and cheek, and only when you shift closer to hug him, he speaks up. “Are you okay?”

You nod, still whimpering as you feel sensitive. “Good.” You’d say more but you fear you won’t be able to make a phrase that makes sense soon.

“Was it a lot?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to explain what you mean. “Yes but no. It was — it was good.”

Haechan chuckles, “It’s alright, it’s alright, let’s not do too much now. I just wanted to check in, you can put your brain to rest again. We can bathe and then worry about the rest tomorrow.”

You smile brightly, feeling so comfortable he doesn’t find you weird, and kissing him again. “Big tub, please.”

Haechan lifts you up, starting to walk out of the room. “Yes, in the big tub, I think you deserve it after everything.”

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

#anon answered #johnny smut #doyoung smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #suh johnny smut #kim doyoung smut #lee jeno snut #lee haechan smut #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours #nct dream hard hours

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akoyaxs · 6 months

Text

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 2 ༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies w Benefits ༊ 5.6k words Warnings: arguing, Aonung is a little shit, reader is a little bit bitchy, oral (fem recieving), edging, p in v, THIS WILL BE A SERIES!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

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You don’t sleep well. It’s not surprising, given that your body’s aching from your fight with Aonung, and you other… rendezvous, and when you finally can’t take the uncomfortable tussling on your sleeping mat, you let out a soft hiss and sit up.

The light permeating through the gaps in the marui’s weaving is watery and cool and dim. Not quite moonlight, but you doubt the sun’s even broken the horizon yet.

You look over at your family sleeping around you. Your parents share a mat with Tuk tucked between their bodies, and Kiri’s curled up beside you, her choppy hair falling over her peaceful face. Neteyam’s on his back, face twitching slightly from whatever dream he’s having, and Lo’ak’s slumbering facing his brother, head nearly lolling onto Neteyam’s shoulders.

You feel a soft pang at the sight of your family, all peaceful and still while you glance over them. All your annoyance at training with Aonung, and your tiredness after the events of the previous day fade away as your mind clears, and you remind yourself of your position in this family.

No one asked you to do it, of course not, your parents and siblings thought it may break you, but you’d always been the protector. Since you were born, minutes before your twin Neteyam came, you knew that it was up to you to defend your siblings, help your parents and do anything in your power to make this family work. If it was a fortress, you’d be the moat around it.

So, gently tucking Kiri’s hair out of her face and hitching Lo’ak’s blanket higher over him and Neteyam, you slip out of the marui into the still, watery morning. The village is quiet; the only sound coming from the gentle waves lapping below the walkways and maruis. There’s no one out, so you take advantage of the emptiness, the first moment of peace you’ve been able to steal since you arrived in the reef.

And there’s one more thing you haven’t done since you came. The one thing you truly loved, that was yours and yours alone. You sneak through the village, wincing at every creak the bouncy woven walkways make with every few steps. You have your bow slung over your shoulder and your knife tucked away into your tewng as you leap off the last platform onto the sand and then finally into the forest.

To be fair, they never said you couldn’t leave the soft beaches and cool water of the bay, to go beyond that line of bright white sand and into the closest thing to home you had here. It’s not like you’re breaking any rules, spoken ones at least, but you can’t help the feeling that you’re doing something wrong, that someone’s watching as you step off the sand.

But once your feet fall on soft grass and the open sky fades to soft emerald foliage, you can’t be fucked to worry. The lapping waves are replaced by rustling leaves and the twittering of hidden creatures, and the salty, tropical scents are replaced by what is distinctly forest. And then finally, a familiar shrieking noise calls through the forest, and your face lights up as you run towards it.

Your ikran is perched in the trees, obviously delighted to see you, though clearly disgruntled she was abandoned for so long. You reach up to stroke her long neck before connecting your kuru and sliding onto her back.

Eywa, you had missed the rush flying gave. The wind in your hair and the twist in your gut as you watched the ground soar past beneath you. The way you could twist and dive and swoop was terrifyingly breathtaking. You let go and let out a delighted cry, flying freely through the sky.

You finally make it past the forest and over the ocean. You swoop in ever widening circles, down and down towards the water. You tilt over the surface so you can reach out and brush the water with your fingertips and her with her wingtips.

As you spiral back up, you spot a very familiar figure gliding through the ocean below you. Broad, tall, hair braided back as he darts through the water on a tsurak. You scowl as he looks down hurriedly as you swoop over him, the sun having risen just enough for your shadow to cast over him.

You both know the other is there, but you ignore it. You continue to fly in wide circles, hair flowing behind you, legs holding tight to your ikran while you let your arms go and catch as much wind as possible. Aonung continues to do whatever the fuck he’s doing below, maybe hunting?

And then finally, you feel your ikran slowing down through your tsaheylu, and with a small sigh of disappointment, you swoop down to the beach below. It’s not the same one as the bay of the village, but it will just mean more time for yourself to find your way back. Unfortunately, there was someone already on the sand.

“What are you doing?” you ask bluntly, when Aonung looks over at you sliding off your ikran and disconnecting your kuru.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, nodding to your ikran. “Got sick of being incompetent underwater? Went for a little walk in the forest?”

“It’s not like I can’t-” you start to say, but he scoffs.

“You can’t.”

His voice is blunt, uninterested. It’s practically a command, and your eyes instantly narrow. You’ve never been good at following orders; something that always drove your dad crazy, something that always made Neteyam try to fix up, though you were a firm believer in dealing with your own messes.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” you say sharply, eyes narrowing somewhat the longer you stare at his stupid, entitled face. Aonung’s face twists in a lilting grin, eyes trailing up and down over you as he scoffs.

“Your future Olo’eyktan,” he says simply.

“And what happened to me not fitting in, that I’ll never be a part of the clan with my baby tail and scrawniness?” you ask, your growing anger clear in your low voice.

Aonung doesn’t reply, just looking you up and down again, and you decide to stoop down to his level, eyes roaming across him, prepared to find some new insult to hurl if needed. He is admittedly very well built, with a sculpted, solid chest tapering into a slimmer waist, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He is broad and tall, something infuriatingly obvious already knew, but you hadn't noticed the sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way the veins in his arm flexed when he tensed. Well you did, but you only noticed when he was moaning beneath you. And then you flick your gaze back up to him and find him glaring back.

“Are you going to storm off again?” Aonung asks, his voice sounding slightly amused as you turn away and stride away from him along the sand.

“No,” you scowl, trying not to let your irritation show too much. You don’t want him to realise how deep he can get. Under your skin. That’s all. But he seems to guess what you’re shamefully thinking, because his voice sounds even more cocky when he speaks again.

“Do you need some help freak?”

“Fuck off,” you growl, still determinedly not looking back at him over your shoulder as you definitely don’t storm away. “I don’t need help, least of all from a cocky, brainless, dull, oblivious, pestering, rude, taunting, tiny-dick-”

“Right,” Aonung laughs, and you can practically hear the amusement in that deep voice. You can also picture the smirk fixed on those fish lips as he watches you stride away. “Quite tiny-dicked, wasn’t I?”

You turn with a furious hiss, only to find him feet away, laughing at you. His eyes are sparkling with amusement at the sight of you, flushed and irritated and hair streaming behind you. He’s got you right where you had him yesterday, furious and frustrated while he can just enjoy the sight.

“Why are you still so cocky,” you snap, jabbing him in the chest. He doesn’t shift in the slightest, and if anything, he looks even more amused, grinning from at least a foot above. “I won. I beat you every time, but you are just so infuriatingly, incomprehensibly fucking arrogant that anything I say, any time I win, nothing can get into your stupid, cocksure head.”

You pointedly smack the top of his head, and he grins even wider, before reaching out to grab your wrist before you can hit him again.

“Let me go.”

“You know,” Aonung says, fangs glinting in his wide smile as he stares down at you, “you really shouldn’t be attacking your future Olo’eyktan.”

“You really should let me go,” you say bluntly, trying to tug your wrist free from him without looking like you’re struggling. “Before I smack you so hard that you never get to become Olo’eyktan.”

Aonung just laughs, pulling you an inch closer so once again, you have to tilt your head right back to maintain this glare. It seems unfair, that you always have to be the one working to bitch stare this stupid infuriating freak.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means let go of me before I smack your aquatic ass back to Eywa,” you hiss. Aonung’s mouth twitches again, but to your surprise, he lets you go. He doesn’t step back though, and when you try to walk around him, he just grabs your shoulders to stop you passing.

“Where are you going?” he sighs, as amused as ever.

“Away from you,” you snap.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Aonung says, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he glances over your shoulder, and you attempt to shrug him off and continue in your way.

“Like I’d believe you,” you huff. “After you left Lo’ak outside the reef.”

“The village is back this way,” Aonung says tightly, his amusement starting to finally fade somewhat as you finally manage to shove him off and start storming the other way.

“Yeah, I don’t really trust you,” you call over your shoulder.

“Fine,” he shouts back. “Get lost then, I don’t fucking care. Maybe there’s an akula around here that can make itself useful and finish you off.”

At that, you stop. Chest heavily as you suspiciously contemplate what to do, you wonder vaguely why he’d lie. But also, him telling the truth and actually trying to get you back to the village doesn’t seem like a very likely possibility either. You squint suspiciously at him for a few moments, and he just glares straight back. Reluctantly, you let your arms drop to your sides and you do the walk of shame back towards him.

“Decided to trust me then freak?” he asks with a cocky little grin.

“Don’t make me regret it fishlips,” you say shortly.

As you storm away, you can feel Aonung’s gaze blazing into your skin, and after a few moments, you can’t take it any longer, rounding on him with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

“Can I help you?” you snap. “Is there a reason you keep staring at my body, or are you just planning new ways to call me a freak?”

Aonung rolls his eyes, though he looks a little abashed you caught him. When you’re clearly waiting for an response and it becomes clear his little scoff isn’t answer enough, he clears his throat and pastes a frown onto his face.

“You have a lot of scars,” he says, slightly awkwardly.

“Sorry, is that repulsive to you?” you snap. “Are my freakish blemishes blasphemous to the perfect prince? Would you like me to dress like a fucking nun so you don’t have to see my scars?”

“No,” Aonung says, his frown becoming more gentle, though he clearly doesn’t even know what a nun is. “That is not what I meant. I just… some are very big scars.”

“Yeah well,” you say off-handedly, trying not to let some of your bitterness into your voice as you lower your gaze to your body. You’d rather die than let him think you feel sorry for yourself. “You’re very sheltered in the reef, very safe. Not everyone gets that privilege.”

Aonung’s frown becomes a little more comprehensive, and he blinks a little. “What did they all come from?”

“Why are you so curious?” you snap defensively. “Because if you’re going to taunt me about that, you’re fucked up-”

“We have to train together for who knows how long,” Aonung cuts you off, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying we have to get along, you’re probably incapable of holding a conversation longer than two minutes without rage and violence anyway, but if we have to train all the time, I should know if you’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” you say shortly, tail wrapping defensively around your leg. “They’re all old anyway.” When Aonung’s clearly waiting for you to say more, you sigh and continue. “Mostly from training when I was younger, some from my iknimaya and encounters with animals in the forest.”

You hope to Eywa that’s all, because you don’t really feel like going into the nitty gritty of the other ones right now. Unfortunately, Aonung has a knack to do exactly what you don’t want him too.

“And this one,” he says, nodding to your hip. You freeze and shift uncomfortably. It’s hidden, as you’re always careful too, beneath the string of your tewng. A circular marr in the skin between your hip and stomach, perfectly round.

“What one?” you say, hoping he’s not talking about what you think of.

But he doesn’t just say it, point out that you’re hiding it, he reaches out and brushes his finger over the small bullet wound concealed under the delicate string of your tewng. Instantly, you flinch away and hiss, tail flicking up defensively and ready to fight by instinct. Aonung just drops his hand away, and you don’t need to even look at him to know he wants an explanation of it.

“It’s a bullet wound,” you sigh. “I was shot by an avatar in the forest, when we were ambushed. I was hit while escaping with Kiri.”

“Seems like something you should mention,” Aonung points out. “You know, getting shot seems kind of prudent.”

“I’m surprised someone so dense even knows that word,” you mutter to yourself, before speaking so he can hear. “It’s not that important really, I’m more focused on my family.”

“You were shot,” Aonung says, squinting at you as though confused. “And you’re thinking of your family?”

“Yes,” you say defensively, face feeling hot. “I mean, I had to protect them. Kiri and Lo’ak were scared, and I didn’t want Neteyam to get any blood on his hands-”

“And you have it then?” Aonung asks quietly. “Blood? On your hands?”

Your silence is answer enough, and his eyes widen slightly.

“We were at war,” you say stiffly, not quite sure why you’re trying to justify yourself to this skxawng. “I had to kill to survive, and I would happily kill to protect my family. I just did what was necessary.”

Aonung just stares at you. You wonder faintly if maybe you have something on your face, or maybe if your flight had made the wind blow your hair everywhere. Then you wonder why the fuck you’re even thinking about your appearance. It doesn’t make any difference to Aonung what you look like, you’re going to look like a freaky foreigner anyway.

“How’d you even see that anyway?” you ask dully, turning back and continuing to walk. He catches up beside you, staring down shamelessly. You feel a small pang of irritation that he can stare so casually; you’d have to lift your head up to glare at him, which seems like a lot of fucking effort when you don’t even want conversation.

“It’s pretty clear,” Aonung says, which doesn’t exactly clear things up. “It’s all pale and-”

“It’s always hidden,” you say stiffly.

“Well,” Aonung says, a certain slyness to his deep voice that makes you scowl and finally look up at him. “Only hidden when you’re wearing your tewng. So without it- OW!”

You storm ahead, having already whipped your tail across his chest and stomped on his stupid foot. You ignore the flush in your face, feeling stupid that you thought he wouldn’t mention it again. Stupid smug skxawng, needing to remind you that you fucked.

“You’re so childish sometimes,” he sulks, rubbing his chest, which now has a purplish streak from where your thin tail had whipped him.

“And what are you then?” you roll your eyes. “Because last time I checked, I wasn’t chatting about us fucking like some pathetic virgin.”

“You wish,” Aonung scoffs. “I was just saying it was interesting that no one else has seen you without your tewng yet-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you say slyly. That finally shuts him the fuck up, and he stops dead in his tracks. When you look up to grin victoriously, his eyes are narrowed and his face is deader than you’ve ever seen it. The coldness in his eyes, the anger that you don’t quite understand, only fuels your triumph that you finally managed to wipe that smirk off his face. “What’s wrong? Upset you didn’t get the first hit of the pretty new thing?”

“I don’t like sharing,” Aonung says stiffly, and you scoff.

“Good,” you snap. “Because there isn’t anything to share, I’m not yours. I’m also not some delicate little nun, just because you think I’m a peculiar freak doesn’t mean other people find me unappealing-”

“Who?” he asks, his voice a crisp, cool rumble.

“Like I’d tell you,” you roll your eyes.

“They wouldn’t.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” you hiss at his sharp words, stepping in to glare at him. Again. “You’re looking down on your other clan mates for fucking me when less than a day ago, you were fucking moaning under me. You got fucking hard by me shouting at you.”

You expect Aonung to get angry again. He looks like maybe he’s about to shove you, maybe yell at you, maybe even grab your kuru again. There’s a certain dark, cold anger in his eyes, the same one he always gets when this happens, when you’re close to him, shouting him down and glaring furiously. But then his scowling lips loosen into a small smirk, and you brace yourself for some infuriating stupidity.

“I only wish they did a good job,” he says coolly. “I don’t like you, but I can’t have you getting a poor idea of the Metkayina. Honour my clan, protect my people, you know.”

“Your interest in my sex life is suspicious Aonung,” you say, eyes narrowing as you try to figure out what he’s doing. “What should it matter to you? Because I know I didn’t ruin any standards for Omatikayan sex, not with the way you were moaning.”

“Was I disappointing to you princess?” Aonung smirks, not in the least deterred by your dig at him. “And don’t bother lying,” he adds amusedly, when you furiously open your mouth. “I was there. I felt the way you were squeezing me-”

“And you liked that, didn’t you.”

“Yes,” he says, unabashed. He’s staring down at you in a way that makes you deeply suspicious. “But if you want to be pleased, all you have to do is ask.”

“You don’t like me,” you point out. It’s a basic fact, a mutual one at that, and he just nods.

“No, I don’t like you,” Aonung says simply, casually. “But I can’t have you sauntering around with the worst opinion of me. Infuriating I can handle. Taunting, yes. Pestering, I try my best. Cocky, absolutely. But tiny-dicked, or unsatisfactory… I’d rather get shot too.”

“What are you suggesting then?” you say wearily, eyeing him suspiciously as his smirk widens. You didn’t mean to sound quite so open to ideas, but he certainly looked like he was about to suggest the hell out of something.

“Let’s cut the crap. We both left satisfied last night, and don’t lie to my face and pretend you’ve had better. You help me, I help you.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have a good time,” Aonung says bluntly, and you look at him in surprise. You weren’t at all expecting him to be so open, and somehow it doesn’t feel as satisfying as you’d hoped. Somewhere deep, you’re too suspicious about what he’s about to say next to feel any pleasure from his words. “And you know you’d be lying if you said you didn’t. No matter how many moans you bit back doesn’t change the fact your lips were bloody from trying to be quiet. Even when you closed your eyes, I could see them rolling back. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought princess, forgetting I could feel you clenching, hear your heavy breaths, your heartbeat-”

“Stop!” you snap, scrunching your face up to hide your embarrassment, to cover it up with yet another wave of irritation and shoving him hard in the chest. “Just SPIT IT OUT!”

“I can help you out,” Aonung says slyly. “And you help me, whenever we need… release.”

“What?” you snap. You scowl, then consider it. He had been good, if you’re listening to him and stop lying to yourself. Not just good. Eye rolly, leg shaky, heart thumpy good. So good that you had to physically bite yourself to stop yourself from letting him know just how good he was. And then you scowl again. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up, fish lips?”

Aonung rolls his eyes, but before you know what’s happened, he’s flipped you onto the ground. Body trapped under his, arms pinned above your head. Your faces are inches apart, eyes scanning over each other, his breath fanning hotly against your neck. You’re aware of your situation. He’s smarter this time, legs trapped under him, arms pinned back. You can’t escape. And you aren’t going to flatter him by trying to. Instead, you find yourself nodding imperceptibly, your legs spreading unconsciously. Traitors.

Aonung smirks and hitches himself up slightly so he can slide further down your body. His fingers trail over your body, over your waist and the darker blue stripes across your stomach.

“You’re so strange,” he taunts you.

“Arent you supposed to be proving some kind of point right now?” you point out. “Insulting and freak-shaming me isn’t exactly a great way to get into my pa-”

He’s got experience, that much is for sure. You can tell by his expert movements as he swiftly unties your tewng, or when you shift, and he reaches to pin your hips still against the sand. There’s a moment of self-consciousness where you squeeze your thighs, and he frowns up at you. Then his strong hands are muscling them apart, and before you know it, his face is buried between your thighs.

When his nose nudges again your clit and he licks a long stripe up your cunt, you let out a small hiss and immediately reach to grip at his braided hair. He’s obviously hell bent on proving himself, because when he points his tongue and darts it into you, your hips rut straight into his face. And to his credit, Aonung doesn’t protest or make any snide comment. He sticks to his job, and he does a damn good one at that. Which is infuriating, by the way.

Because he is smug about it. He’s mean with it. He never stays somewhere to long, and when you try to tug his head, he grins against you and closes his lips around your clit and sucks. Hard. In a way that makes your head spin, and the first time he does it, you can’t catch yourself before a loud whine escapes your lips. He ignores your tugging, choosing to move your hips to his leisure rather than putting in the copious effort of moving his now slicked, shining face.

But he knows he’s doing well. He can obviously tell, given the way you’re rutting against his lips and tongue and even fangs as though your life depends on it. When he slides in a finger, you clench so tight to it you might as well have tried strangling him. You have no patience for humiliation, you’ll deal with his certain taunting and teasing once you’ve cum so hard Eywa will blush.

You wonder blindly where the fuck he learnt all of this, and if he usually puts in this much effort for people. Other girls wouldn’t be as difficult to please, you conclude. He’s putting in the fucking work. Stupid skxawng. You’re humping your cunt into his mouth hard enough that you probably would have caused a pretty serious neck injury if he wasn’t stupidly, ridiculously massive, but he’s just pulling your ass even closer to the point your little whimpers that slip through your mouth are audible.

And then he’s pulling away. You scowl and gasp, reaching to tug his head back towards you, but he just laughs crudely and pins you back up against the sand. You squirm and struggle with him for a moment, but when his hips slot between yours and his tented tewng slides against your clit, you’re cut off with a lewd groan of frustration.

“So wet, aren’t you?” he taunts, grinning at your slick smeared across his tewng now. You make to protest, to snap at him or maybe even shout, but his hips roll fluidly against you again and you let out a humiliating whine. “So eager. You’re the fucking hypocrite, whining for me.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, face flushed and trying to pretend like your voice wasn’t actually as hot and bothered as it came out.

“Just say the words,” Aonung mock-coos. You try to turn away, to break the stare, but his face just follows, and you continue to be trapped in that smug, blazing gaze. “Say them, and I’ll help you out.”

“You’re a fucking perv,” you hiss, trying to level your breath, but his hips roll against you again and your growl is cut off by another lewd moan.

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one losing her mind over a few touches,” he grins. “Go on freak, just say it.”

“Fine,” you snap, relenting when he digs you a little deeper into the sand with a slower thrust against your clit.

Aonung smirks, looking infuriatingly delighted by himself. There’s a minute where you want to smack him right then and there, drag him by the kuru and drown him and maybe even toss him off your ikran, but then there’s a deeper, more urgent desire to get your annoyance fucked out of you. Stupid horniness, getting in the way of perfectly logical plans of justified murder.

“What was that?” he grins, hefting you towards himself in a way that grinds him in the perfect spot, and you bite down the moan you nearly scream. “I need words.”

“Fuck me then,” you growl, frustration etched in every fibre of your being, in your words and face and glare. And especially in your aching core.

“On one condition,” Aonung says. He has some twisted enjoyment of this scene, you splayed out and half-naked below him, teeth sunk stubbornly into your lips, yet not strong enough to hold back the stream of frustrated, lewd whines that slip through your obstinate cracks.

“What,” you seethe, seconds away from strangling this skxawng with your kuru. He takes his sweet fucking time before responding, thoroughly enjoying your squirming figure below him as he lazily rolls his hips against you.

“You stop holding back those moans of yours,” he whispers, hot and heavy right against your neck. Where he can doubtless hear, even feel how urgent and desperate your pulse is. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You growl in frustration, pushing aimlessly at his shoulders in an attempt to do what you had yesterday, ride him until he was the one moaning and quailing beneath you. But his solid form stays stubbornly above yours, that stupid smirking face grinning right down at you.

“I thought this was about you trying to please me,” you grumble, letting your head fall back against the sand in irritation.

“You really are a brat,” Aonung grunts. His voice is getting more tense, eyes darkening further, and you realise all his attempts to tease you, all his efforts to drive you to a pleading point are edging him in the process. But you don’t have time to think of some sly plan, some way to taunt him later and a clever idea for now. You’re horny and impatient and you aren’t someone who takes teasing kindly. You aren’t one to give in easily, but you’ve protested enough.

“Fine then,” you huff, tossing your head so your hair’s out of your face. “Give me something to moan about, then we’ll see what happens.”

Aonung grins, finally sliding away long enough to disregard his tewng, and then he’s right back above you, lining himself up and holding your hips down to keep you still.

“You want something to moan about?” he grunts, snapping his hips forward in one fluid, deep movement, burying himself deep into you.

And you do. The sound you let out is a hoarse gasp, a breathless cry, but it’s strangled before it’s even fully out of your mouth. Aonung pulls out to the tip, where you’re gripping him so tight there’s no fucking possibility of him slipping out, before pushing back in with the force of a fucking rocket.

You aren’t even sure if you can moan, not when he’s literally fucking the breath out of you with each unrelenting, ravenous thrust. There isn’t much you can do, not much you think you’d be able to do regardless, when you’re pinned below him. You’re just being fucked further and further into the soft white sand, which feels like some ironic comfort to his insatiable pace.

But when he lifts your hips up a little, slamming into a new point that knocks a fucking cry out of you, you find your fist instinctively sinking into your mouth to hide it. Instantly, Aonung’s hand is pulling it carelessly away, eyes blazing as he pushes it away from your now vulnerably empty mouth.

“What did I say freak,” he snarls.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you spit. “Calling me freak when you’re trying to fuck the breath out of me.”

“Call me what you like,” Aonung says carelessly. “Just don’t hold it back.”

And then, before you can snap back a retort, that familiar heat is growing again. Aonung can feel it too, by the way you’re clenching around him so tight you may as well be trying to strangle him. But there’s certain things you’re still trying to hide, especially now that you can’t even have your moans to yourself.

Like the way you’re watching his muscles ripple with each movements, arms tense and flexed beside you, back rippling and shoulders broad above your slimmer figure. When you think about his hands, the way just one could wrap easily around your whole throat, you moan like a fucking whore and tighten around him in a way that has him groaning.

And then finally, out of nowhere although it was a long time coming, the wave crests, and your vision fades to blinding white. You clench like a vice around Aonung, and he fucks out through it with deep, hungry thrusts. You’re barely aware of the face you’ve never come this hard in your life, or that you’re moaning loud enough on this echoey ass beach that the village can probably hear.

When you finally come down, Aonung’s let himself go. You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

You both breathe heavily for a moment, Aonung having decided to unceremoniously flop onto the sand (which mostly means his massive body is crushing you). When you finally have enough breath, and probably forty perent of your usual life, you weakly shove at him.

“Get off my skxawng.”

He obliges, grudgingly, rolling the last few inches so he’s flopped and spent beside you. Who’s also flopped and spent. Neither of you speak. You can’t think of anything to say, and you wonder vaguely if that’s just you being fucked out or your just lost for words.

“Have an answer yet?” he says after a long moment.

“We have to go to training,” is all you say, sitting up with a groan and sliding on your tewng. Aonung huffs a laugh, also sitting up and watching you struggle to clothe yourself.

“Of course,” he rolls his eyes. “Ow.”

You leave him there on the sand, striding away back to the village before his amused voice calls out behind you.

“You’re going the wrong way again skxawng!”

──────⊱⁜⊰────── ༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re @yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

#avatar fanfiction #aonung #aonung fic #aonung x reader #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #aonung fanfiction #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #avatar #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #best enemies #enemies with benefits

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averagewriter-inthedark · 29 days

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His Reason to Fanboy 🦸‍♀️ | Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x MovieStar!reader (romantic) Dagger squad (platonic), Marvel actors (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, pop culture references, timeline events not completely in order | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: about 7k

Requested 📨 yes/no for Anonymous (tagging @eternalsams though cause I know how much you love Mickey <3)

Premise: Little was known about the private life of energetic WSO Mikey 'Fanboy' Garcia to his fellow Top Gun alum. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to all thing's superheroes and Hollywood's biggest stars. So it's the biggest surprise of their lives when the face behind his call sign Fanboy is revealed after years of wondering who claimed his heart when he was just a teenager.

Note: gosh writing this reminded me how much i love writing famous!reader x dagger pairings. this was so fun and long awaited so big apologies to the person who requested this last summer 🥰🥹. I hope it was worth the wait and I did it justice!! 🫶🏼

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If there is one thing the Dagger squad knows about their energetic WSO, Mickey Garcia, it’s that he lives up to his callsign Fanboy. Everyday they bear witness to his knowledge of all things superheroes and who’s dating who in Hollywood. The man’s apartment--or dorm on base depending on where he is--gives away all his interests and pop culture loves. Anyone who becomes friends with Mickey would have no trouble finding a birthday gift. There'd be endless ideas.

Each room of his home had its own theme. Go to the bathroom and you’re hit with his love for Star Wars. Doctor Who memorabilia coats his kitchen. Then his living room looks straight out of Avengers tower. Throughout the apartment there’s knick knacks from attending a multitude of conventions, including a wall dedicated to signed pictures and movie posters.

“Damn, Garcia,” Hangman whistles, roaming the vast collection. “You sure are a collector.” The WSO laughs, waltzing to his fridge to collect a case of beers for the squad.

“My pride and joy.”

“I can see that,” Jake stops in front of a glass case filled to the brim with Funko Pops and figurines. One striking detail was the majority being characters of a certain actress hot in the Hollywood scene. “I see you also got a crush on Y/n L/n.”

The name sent a large smile on Mickey’s face, filling his chest with warmth and butterflies, though his friends were too occupied to notice. “You can say that.”

“C’mon, Mickey!” Y/n shouted at him from the sidewalk, waving a hand frantically toward the movie theater. “We’re gonna miss it!” It was a packed house, Mickey weaving through a horde of people after his mother dropped him off, promising to pick the two teenagers once the film ended. Listed in bold letters on the showings were “Spider-Man 2”, along with several others but they didn’t matter to them. They were there for the newest Spider-Man, having anticipated it all year.

Y/n stood with a cross body bag filled with candy, holding up the tickets. “You’re lucky I already got our seats.” Mickey fell into step as she led them inside, rolling his eyes playfully.

“At the very least we’d miss the previews, Y/n.” He held the door open, “not the end of the world.”

“Speak for yourself,” she teased, thanking him in the process. Together they beelined for the concessions. With a soda and popcorn bucket in their hands the teens made it to their seats right as the lights dimmed. Y/n visibly excited during the trailers for National Treasure, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Then when it came time for the movie to start, she barely touched the popcorn. Leaving Mickey to enjoy it for himself. They shared candy and gasps during intense scenes.

When the film ended the teens made their way out immersed in a debrief, “Harry is going to be a problem in the next one,” Y/n predicted with confidence, “Now that he knows Peter is Spider-Man, he’s gonna go after him to avenge his father.” The girl threw her hands up, “Which wasn’t even his fault!”

Mickey laughed, popping a few leftover skittles in his mouth, “I’m kinda sad about Octavius. He had a change of heart in the end.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. They walked in the direction of the Dairy Queen next to the theater. Craving some ice cream while they waited for Mickey’s mom. “I hope one day I can be in one.” Mickey peered at her, frowning at her tone which was a mix of longing and sadness.

“A superhero movie?”

“Any movie really,” she chuckled, pushing her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. “A superhero one would be amazing--just because I love them so much.” Since they became friends at eight years old and their shared interest in comics, Y/n and Mickey watched pretty much every superhero movie to exist. Only when they turned 10 did their parents allow them to go to the theaters on opening weekend with supervision. It was the past year they were able to go alone now that they were fifteen and in high school.

Living in California, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Y/n had always had a desire to go into acting. Begging her family to take her to auditions. Which was difficult considering they had full time jobs. Y/n’s mother a paralegal and her father a mechanic. When Y/n turned 10 her parents agreed to take her to commercial auditions on weekends. She landed several jobs, including ones for well known brands like Coca-Cola, Cheerios, and Motarola to promote their new phone. Children's toys, and hotel marketing. Recently came guest roles on popular tv-shows, like That’s So Raven, House, and voice acting on Danny Phantom. She had her agent to thank for that.

But she was itching for that big break.

“You’ll make it, Y/n,” Mickey put his arm around her shoulder, the girl leaning in. “You’re the most ambitious, hard-driven, working person I’ve ever met. You’ve got family and friends who support you. An agent who cares about you.” If there was one thing he was right about it was her support team. Y/n’s agent Tanya had been with Y/n for two years and worked endlessly to secure her projects. The two were introduced in 2002 shortly after Y/n had a small role of a young vampire in Queen of the Damned. Her first feature debut, but it was so small she wasn’t listed on the credits.

Tanya believed in Y/n more than anyone else. She was the reason Y/n appeared on more tv-shows than commercials within the last two years. While getting movie roles proved difficult, Tanya was determined and had Y/n pumping out auditions left and right.

Mickey squeezed her shoulder gently, adding a friendly kiss to her cheek that made her heart flutter. “It’ll happen.You just have to be patient.”

If only the two had made a bet that day. Mickey never lost faith in Y/n’s potential. And when they finally entered a relationship junior year after years of mutual pining it only heightened. They both attended University of Southern California, Y/n pursuing acting while Mickey studied aeronautical engineering. While finishing high school, Y/n auditioned consistently for L.A productions, accumulating credits on Constantine (which had her loss for words getting to work with Keanu Reeves), Ugly Betty, Bring It On: All or Nothing, and her personal favorite, X-Men: The Last Stand. Then in 2006 she had credits on Transformers, Knocked-Up, and Freedom Writers which were released in 2007. Those roles would benefit her in the years to come for the connections she made with co-stars.

Her building resume those years resulted in Y/n getting that big break she dreamed off. One crisp January day in 2007, having just wrapped on a guest appearance on Suite Life of Zack & Cody, Y/n received a call from Tanya. Changing the trajectory of her career forever.

“I’ve got you an audition to play Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter in this new Iron Man production.”

Y/n literally spit out her soda, choking as she tried to say, “I’m sorry, did you say Iron Man.” Of course she heard correctly, but Y/n being the massive comic fan she had to be sure.

“Yes,” Tanya chuckled, Y/n could hear her typing away on her laptop. “I’m emailing you the scene--you’ll read for Jon Favreau, Kevin Feige and the casting director. There’s a chance Robert might be there for you two to do a chemistry read.”

Y/n rushed to her laptop, nearly running into the wall of her dorm when she cut the corner too fast. The *ding* of the email coming through sounded, Y/n sliding into her chair at a rapid speed to open the document and print it out.

“So you’ll do it?” Tanya’s voice reminded the girl she was still on the phone.

“Where do I meet you?”

Now if Y/n were being honest, she wasn’t too confident of her chances of getting the role. It was the inaugural film of this highly anticipated Marvel franchise. Not to mention an L.A set so who knows how many up and coming actors are fighting for a spot. Y/n knew her odds were slim. But she was going to give the best damn performance ever.

She planned to tell Mickey about the audition once she knew the outcome. As much as she loved and trusted him and his faith in her, Y/n didn’t want to disappoint him. Not that she ever could, Mickey adored her and supported everything she did. But since he loved superheroes as much as her, this was important to him as well.

The audition process was a long and painful process. Following the initial reading, Y/n had been called back four more times as the team narrowed down their choices. They did several scenes, particularly the ones with Robert since the character would be on screen with him the most. Each time Y/n read with Robert it was nerveracking, but she handled it well and really put her acting capabilities to the test. The man complimented her after every session to which she was grateful for. It boosted her confidence. Even if she didn’t get the role, Y/n was thankful for the experience and hoped to work with Robert in the future.

After a grueling month-long process, Y/n received the call she’d been waiting for. From Kevin Feige himself. “We want you to be our Jordyn Stark.” It took everything in Y/n to hold back her screams of joy. Releasing them the second they ended the call. She nearly woke up the entire dorm hall, thankfully no cops were called.

Mickey was over the moon when she told him the news. Jumping from his side of the booth to pull her up into a massive hug. Kissing all over her face, “Oh my God this is amazing!! You’re gonna be a superhero--I knew you could do it! Holy shit!” They looked like little kids in a candy store, bouncing up and down in a fit of excitement.

Proud of his girlfriend, Mickey dragged her to the nearest comic store. Purchasing a comic that featured her character and figurine. “Will you do me the honor,” he held up a sharpie, grinning at the look of joy on her face, “of signing this for me. I want to be the first person to have THE Jordyn Stark aka THE Iron Lady,” he winked, and finished, “aka THE Y/n L/n’s autograph.”

Tears formed in her eyes. Both from the overwhelming amount of happiness and because of Mickey’s whole show. People passing by gave confused looks, unaware the girl was about to become the face of a whole generation.

Iron Man’s release sparked a new era in Hollywood. Marvel Studios got the green light to begin plans for a whole phase of projects in the universe. Reception to Y/n’s performance of Jordyn Stark was well received. Fans and critics praised her, fellow actors committing she was the scene stealer.

Rosario Dawson, a massive comic book fan, stated in an interview when asked if she saw Iron Man, “Are you kidding? I saw it three times in theaters--I was blown away! And the girl who played Tony’s daughter, I believe Y/n is her name, oh my gosh she was amazing,” the woman talked with her hands, “Every scene she was in had me either laughing, on the edge of my seat, or simply going ‘wow, this girl is talented’. She matched Robert’s energy on screen so you’d think they are a father-daughter duo in real life.”

Samuel L. Jackson, who would go on to be Y/n’s co-star in future Marvel films and Hollywood projects, said, “Look I don’t say this lightly, but that girl is gonna go places. And to think this is her first big supporting role in a motion picture!” He smiled brightly, “what a talent.”

Y/n was full of excitement, not hesitating to sign her name on the dotted line for a multi-picture contract--but not before her agent and lawyer read over it. The success she garnered from Iron Man occurred rather quickly. In the following year Y/n found herself attending award shows for the first time. Winning Best Supporting Actress in an Action Movie, Best Scene Stealer, Best Duo with Robert Downey Jr. and Best Breakthrough Actress at the MTV Movie Awards. She also won her category for the Kids Choice and Teen Choice Awards.

Before long her agent was blowing up her phone. Iron-Man 2, 3 and The Avengers were already accounted for and Y/n wanted to lengthy her filmography to prevent being typecast. Obviously she loved Superhero/Action movies, but she desired to be a versatile actress. Countless auditions, but Y/n soon became a staple name in the early 2010s with performances in Tron: Legacy, Black Swan, Insidious, Grown Ups, Contagion, teaming up again with RDJ and Jude Law in Sherlock Holmes. Then in 2012-2014 Y/n added Men In Black 3, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Enemy, The Hunger Games: Mockinjay and Interstellar to her list. Working with amazing directors and popular franchises pushed her into international stardom. Plus making lifetime collaborations.

Oh, and can’t forget being nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars and Golden Globes. Winning the latter and making Y/n one of Hollywood's most desired acts. Now whenever she appears in a project, the Golden Globe Winner precedes her name.

And Mickey was there every step of the way. He was living his dream of working in aviation, completing OTS and flight school to become a weapons-specialist officer in the Navy. The backseater to the pilot, but just as important. Y/n was beyond proud. Thinking of all those times Mickey randomly gave plane facts or begged her to go to the air show in high school. Anytime she traveled and saw a figurine of a plane he was missing from his collection she got it. Luckily the Navy kept him on the west coast. Making it easier to see each other during her days away from set. He loved his job. And Y/n loved him.

Maintaining a relationship while in high-demand careers was no easy task. Especially when one’s a movie star and the other goes on classified missions for the government. Add on the fact they wanted to keep their private life a secret to prevent media scrutiny. Y/n worried in the beginning Mickey would view it negatively. Not posting about him on social media or bringing him to premiers and award shows. Like he was some dirty secret. But Mickey, the wonderful man he is, never was bothered. In fact he liked the idea.

They talked consistently, sometimes everyday unless they were occupied with work. Y/n kept him updated on every audition. Sharing the excitement with him each role she landed and comforted by his voice when rejected. And while he didn’t go to the premieres, Mickey was at every opening weekend for her movies. Dragging his friends along each time. It’s no surprise he earned the callsign Fanboy for his endless passion for movies. Specifically the superhero ones. While drunk the first weekend in flight school he gave the entire lore of the current MCU projects. To anyone he would just be labeled a superfan. Unaware of the true reason behind his love for the MCU.

The mid-to-late 2010s did not disappoint. Y/n’s contract for the MCU extended as Jordyn Stark became a prominent figure in the franchise. And with her strong chemistry and bonds, Y/n collaborated with several of her Marvel co-stars in projects outside of the MCU. Jeremy Renner in Arrival, working with Denis Villenueve again starring in his Enemy and Sicario. Brie Larson in Room, Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak. Both of whom, with Samuel L. Jackson, starred in Kong: Skull Island with Y/n. She worked with Tessa Tompson in Annihilation--who would go on to cite inspiration from Y/n’s performance in MIB when she joined the franchise in 2019. Then after working with him in Men in Black 3, Y/n teamed up alongside Josh Brolin in Sicario, Deadpool 2, and eventually parts 1 & 2 of Denis’ adaptation of Dune.

“Oh she’s one of my favorite people to work with,” Josh said during the press tour for Endgame after the interviewer mentioned all the times the two collaborated. “I had first seen her in Freedom Writers back in 2007 and thought she was just spectacular. Then of course in Iron Man, what can I say,” he shrugged while beaming, “It’s because of her and Downey that we have the MCU in the first place. They really set it in motion and to capture that feeling of, ‘this is going to be something’ so early on is incredible.” Josh crossed his legs, grinning wide as he added, “I love working with Y/n, I’ll say yes to any project if she’s attached and I’m excited for this next thing we got going with Denis after this.”

Besides movies Y/n continued to land jobs on shows whenever she was back in L.A. Tanya, her agent with an iron fist, booked her guest appearances on The Good Place, Black Mirror, Hannible, and The Americans. Her gig on Daredevil stirred major discourse in the Marvel community. Especially after it was announced years later the MCU would be buying the rights to the Netflix Marvel productions. In 2017 she had a recurring role as part-time companion to the 12th Doctor on Doctor Who. Becoming a fan favorite, the actress was constantly asked by fans and reporters if she had plans to return for the upcoming 60th Anniversary special. Y/n enjoyed her time in England and met up with several friends. Christopher Nolen, in fact, had called her up with the offer of a role in his upcoming work, Tenet.

How could she pass that up?

2019 from the start was going to be an interesting year for the actress. At the height of her career Y/n felt the train was non-stopping. Traveling around the world. Press tours and interviews. Finding time to decompress was a task in itself. In between projects Y/n visited Mickey at his base in Northern California. Just like old times they’d go to the movies together. Only in disguise to hide from fans and the paparazzi. Sometimes they’d see her movies--usually at Mickey’s request, but Y/n always felt weird watching herself on screen. She’d think after over fifteen years in the industry she’d be used to it, but nevertheless she’d tend to think, ‘I could’ve done that better,’ with every scene.

By September of that year Y/n was gearing up for a major project with longtime friend and collaborator, Denis Villenueve. Endgame had taken over the globe, concluding 10 years of buildup between characters and storylines. Tears upon tears were shed at the premiere. Unsure of what Marvel had planned for Jordyn Stark, Y/n prepared for the next chapter in her career. On top of Endgame she’d been in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the rom-com, Isn’t It Romantic. She’d signed on for a three-picture deal with Deadpool, but now he was also going to join the MCU, so the future of her character was in question. Ryan, however, assured her she’d remain in the universe, already texting plans of potential dialogue and jokes.

Then there were countless interviews and promos.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n!” her excited tone was directed to the camera, sitting criss crossed on a pastel purple fabric that lifted into the backdrop. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions sent in from Twitter and play with puppies.” She rubbed her hands together, “Bring them in!”

Dream come true if she were being honest. Surrounded by tiny four-legged creatures that caused her heart to sour. Answering the questions was actually the difficult part, pulling the slips of paper from the bowl and reading aloud, ‘What has been your favorite role to play?’

“This is probably obvious,” her laugh was light and genuine, “but it has to be the one, the only, the absolute icon herself, Miss. Jordyn M. Stark.” Y/n visibly awed as a beagle pup climbed into her lap. “Anyone who knew me growing up--.” she instantly thinks of Mickey, smile widening, “knows my love for superheroes and comics in general. I was always at the movies opening weekend, sometimes even opening night, to watch the newest release. Getting to play Jordyn Stark has been an absolute dream come true. Not only has it fulfilled a longtime aspiration of wanting to play a superhero, but it’s opened the door to so many opportunities,” she points out the obvious, “she put me on the map. It’s crazy to think it’s been over a decade since I brought Jordyn to life on the big screen and until Marvel lets me know what’s next for her, it’s a bittersweet end to an amazing chapter in my life.”

‘What’s been the most challenging part of your career?’

Y/n thinks for a moment, petting the husky pup biting her shoelaces, “I think having to migrate from what my life was like before booking Jordyn--which is ironic considering that’s what every actor's goal is. To get that big break that shoots them into stardom if you say…” her hands move to emphasize her point. “Going from a freshman in college working a part-time job at a hotel and getting tiny gigs on L.A productions,” she lifts her left hand up, then her right, “to the train never reaching its stop…it was a big shift. I definitely was the type of actor calling up co-stars with questions like, ‘is it always like this?’” she ends it with a chuckle, “I think I managed it well, but I still think about it from time to time.”

‘Favorite actor/actresses to work with?’

She doesn’t hesitate, “Downey of course, that’s my ride or die. His name on my phone is literally, ‘Work Father/Iron Dad’.” She laughs with the crew, “And Josh Brolin--love that man so much. I’ll actually be seeing him soon and I’m excited to catch up.” A pup barks for attention and Y/n lifts him in her arms, “I love working with Tessa Tompson. She and I got close on set during Avengers and I gave her advice on joining the Men In Black family. If there’s one actress I’d love to work with again it would be Viola Davis.” Y/n clutches a hand to her chest, “We had to do so many scenes over because I could not stop staring at her in awe and would miss my cue or forget my line. Ah! I was so embarrassed--but she was great about it and I freakin’ love her. I really really adore Keanu Reeves--in fact,” a wink is sent to the camera, “I might actually have some exciting news to share soon regarding a certain action franchise he’s in.” Seconds after the interview was released Twitter was buzzing. Excited about the potential of Y/n joining the John Wick series.

‘Is there another superhero, or possibly villain, you’d be interested in playing on the big screen?’

“Ooo I like this question,” Y/n grins, clapping a bit only to have the puppy in her lap playfully take a bite at her fingers. “As I mentioned I love comic books, so any chance to play a character in one I’m taking. If I had to choose….” she scratches her chin before smirking, “Poison Ivy is one of my favorites from DC--if I were to play her alongside Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn I think that would be so iconic. I’d love to play a villian/anti-hero in general,” she shrugs nonchalantly. “ The closest I got to playing one was Shock in Daredevil. Every other character in a superhero setting I’ve done has been heroes. There’s so many villains in X-Men I think are intriguing--Dark Phoenix, Fatale, and Copycat. But for sure Poison Ivy is my top choice.”

‘Do you have any advice on romance?’

The question fills Y/n with heat, giggling under her breath which the camera catches. “I don’t think I’m the best to answer this question, because when it comes to romance I just wing it--,” her hands raise in defense, “which had worked to my advantage.” The topic of relationships was rare for Y/n. No surprise there since she’s been known to keep her private life private her entire career. Not to mention she’d been with Mickey for half her life. “My partner on the other hand is very romantic. He loves to plan dates, surprise me with my favorite candy, and will send memes at the most random times of the day because they remind him of me. He’s not in the industry,” she is quick to point out, giving viewers a first time look of her personal life, “but he knows a lot and is my biggest supporter. I love him dearly.”

The video went viral on twitter and, as expected, people had a lot to comment on the clip of Y/n’s love life.

@/Lokidarling: awed so many times watching @/SuperY/n talk about her partner. I hope to love someone like that one day.

@/TheDoctorsWife: So we can all agree Y/n L/n’s partner is the luckiest man on the planet.

@/MTV: currently sobbing that our wife @/SuperY/n is off the market.

@/Slick_like_AgentK: @/SuperY/n heard the rumors about her and Sebastian Stan and said ‘NOT TODAY!’

In the weeks leading to fall Y/n made plans to read Dune at Denis’ request. Had auditions lined up for Succession, Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and The School for Good & Evil. And desperately needed time with her fiance. The two recently engaged following their 30th birthday.

Technically they were legally married under California’s common law. They’d been together since 16 and while no rings were on their fingers, they had assets. Including cars, apartments, and dogs. Still they wanted a wedding and proper marriage documents. Both agreed to sign each other's prenup. A scene almost comical when they approached both their lawyers, who along with their families and Y/n’s agent knew of their relationship.

Admittedly, the engagement was a result of upcoming events. Ever since Mickey informed her of his orders to return to Top Gun for a classified mission Y/n had been stressed. Thoughts plagued her mind of the dangers Mickey could face. Not just the mission but the training itself. She’d heard of incidents of technical malfunctions in the air that led to someone’s death. The thought of Mickey hurt or worse, dead, in the line of duty was her worst nightmare. And since she was not his wife, medical professionals were required to not share any information of his status if he were admitted.

So before he shipped out, they did what the typical military couple does on a time crunch: they went to the courthouse.

Did Y/n’s publicist bribe and threaten to sue the official if TMZ got word? Only God bore witness to that interaction.

By the grace of a higher spirit Mickey came home to her. They had little to no contact while he was off shore so the second he called her up saying he was back in Fightertown Y/n was packing a bag. Speeding down the next morning.

Their time together was private, and unbeknownst to both it would be the last. In a sense that is.

Because they pulled off the impossible, Mickey and the rest of the Dagger Squad were declared an official strike squad for the Pentagon, basing the team at Fightertown. A good thing for the couple. Now instead of a four-hour drive it was cut down to just over two hours.

“How long will you be gone?” He brushed his fingers down the length of her arm, the two cuddled on the couch watching The Bachelorette.

“A few months,” was her reply, nibbling on a twizzler. Sighing, she nuzzled against his touch, not wanting to think about the long flight to Budapest ahead of her. She’d planned to use that time to read Dune before her first day on set. “Maybe less if all goes well. How long will you be offshore?” Y/n referred to his pending mission with the Dagger Squad. She felt him shrug against her.

“I’d say no more than a couple weeks. Rooster is team leader and Mav’s supervisor. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Tilting her head up to look at him, Y/n smiled, “I want to meet your friends. They sound like great people.”

“They are,” Mickey grinned, matching her gaze, “You’d love them--but I have to warn you they can be a handful. Especially Javy.” He laughed as the memory popped in his head, “It’s amazing we can get stuff done at times.”

Y/n thought for a moment, laying her head back on his shoulder, “Maybe when I get back we can talk about going public. What do you think?” her tone was nervous, butterflies in her stomach for his reaction. This was the first time in a while the idea of disclosing their relationship came up. And considering they were now legally married, keeping it secret was harder by the day.

Mickey tightened his hold around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. It made her instantly relax, “Whatever you want, mi amor.” He smiled at her sigh of relief, “You know I won’t object--so long as you’re sure about it.”

“I am,” she doesn’t hesitate, “we’ve kept it hidden for so long--which I’m amazed by with all the times we’ve gone out.” The fact her disguises worked made her laugh any time she thought about it. “Everyone at Marvel pretty much had their suspicions that I was in a serious relationship. Never said anything, which I’m grateful for. But I want to share you with the world,” leaning back up, Y/n cups his cheek, stroking his jaw followed by a sweet kiss to the lips, “because you are my world.”

If only there was a camera secretly concealed in Mickey’s apartment the day his closest friends discovered the secret he’d been harboring. It happened unexpectedly, completely taking them both off guard.

Wanting to surprise Mickey after months away filming, Y/n arrived in San Diego with their favorite take out in hand and headed straight to his apartment. As she was taking the items from her car she noticed a man with a very large camera across the street.

Pointing the lens straight at her.

“Fuck,” was the first word out of her mouth, beginning to grab things in a rush.

“Y/n! Y/n over here!”

Preparing herself, Y/n put on a brave face and turned on her heel. “Hello!” she smiled and waved, seeing the pap had moved closer but still kept his distance. “All I ask is please don’t take photos of my license plate, if you don’t mind.” Running into paparazzi while driving her own car always brought fear. Many celebrities had unfortunately dealt with fans showing up to their homes due to their license plate being leaked. Y/n tried her best to prevent that whenever she could.

Thankfully the gentleman was nice, waving a hand in return. “No problem!” He continued snapping pictures as she walked, following behind several paces. When she got inside, without her usual disguise because she was in a rush, Y/n caught the stunned expression of the doorman and receptionist. ‘Cat’s out of the bag.’

Ruffling for her key once in the elevator, Y/n shot a quick text to her agent and publicist, ‘sooooo we might have a problem…although it's not the worst if we’re being real.’ Quickly putting her phone back in her bag to not see the incoming replies--to spare herself the stress--Y/n hurried to the apartment. Not even giving Mickey a warning before she busted inside only to shock herself with the discovery of people inside.

“Oh my,” she said aloud, hearing the sound of someone dropping their phone followed by several gasps and a ‘what the fuck?’.

Mickey, however, was jumping from his seat, “Baby!” he shouted in glee, rushing to encompass her in a massive bear hug. Completely oblivious to the fact his friend's jaw dropping reactions behind him. “When did you get it? Just now? I thought you were coming on Monday!”

Wrapping her arms around him, Y/n remembers why she was there in the first place. “I wanted to surprise you,” lips meet her cheek. “I brought Sambino’s.”

Mickey moans like he just won the lottery, cupping her face, “You are a living angel. How did I get so lucky?”

Smirking, Y/n hands him the bag as they untangle and replies, “You didn’t make fun of me for being the only girl in our third grade class who liked comics.” She scrunches her nose when he ‘boops’ it, followed by a quick kiss to the lips.

By now the group taking up the entire living room had stood up, congregating in the kitchen. All wore matching expressions: flabbergasted, awe, and pure confusion. The man closest to Mickey who towered over everyone spoke first.

“Garcia,” Payback choked out a laugh, wrapping his head around the fact he just witnessed his partner kiss THE Y/n L/n. His hand waved in their direction, “When you said you and your highschool sweetheart preferred to keep a low profile…her being the actress you’re obsessed over was not at all what I had in mind.”

Jake scoffed, “speak for yourself, I thought he was bullshitting us about having a high-school sweetheart,” at Mickey’s look of offense he raised his hands in defense, “What? You hardly ever spoke of her and quite frankly--” hands wave around the place, “you have no pictures whatsoever.”

“Oh I do,” The WSO winds an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, to which she leans into. “Just they’re in photo albums and kept in a safe place. Away from prying eyes.” A playful smack hits his chest, Y/n rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Javy cuts in with a confused chuckle. “Are we just going to ignore the fact we’re in the presence of an A-list actress--who is dating our Fanboy.”

Bob gives a friendly smile, “that makes sense why he’s always talking about the MCU and seems to know the direction it’s going before we do.” The fellow WSO then adds after chucking, “it’s because you’re really a big fan of Y/n.”

Rooster belts out a laugh, “Yo that’s kinda ironic. Fanboy dating his celebrity crush he never shuts up about. I couldn’t have predicted that at all.”

“Dating is putting it lightly,” Y/n finally speaks up, face full of amusement. Placing a hand on Mickey’s chest, their attention instantly goes to the ring on her finger.

“Well shit,” Jake whistles, causing Nat to nudge him with her elbow, though she matched his stunned expression.

“Damn, Garcia!” Javy goes to dab him up. Reuben does the same while saying, “Congrats man!”

“I know we may look like we’re calm,” Natasha chuckles, catching Y/n’s attention which makes her become nervous. “But I think I can confidently say for all of us we're freaking out inside--at least I know I am.” the pilot blushes, stunned to be talking to one of her favorite actresses of all time. The previous night she literally sat down to watch How to Get Away With Murder. Particularly the season Y/n was a recurring character on.

The squad knew Mickey grew up in the same town as Y/n after he mentioned the high school he attended in Orange County. It had been the first time they hung out at his apartment where they saw his entire collection--and pretty much shrine--dedicated to his favorite franchises. Following Jake’s comment of Mickey’s little ‘crush’, the WSO casually said, “Yeah, you can say that. We actually went to high school together.” This was then followed by Mickey whipping out his sophomore year book to show proof. Ever since the squad was envious and sometimes tried to ask questions but were brushed off.

But to discover the two were married? Now that was unexpected.

Once everyone departed after several hours of giving detailed accounts of their lives--plus mentioning to Mickey a Pap had spotted her and the likelihood of the internet discovering their relationship--,Y/n let out a heavy breath, unable to fight the grin off her face. Giggling when Mickey gave her a look of ‘What did you think?’ “That was fun--Ah!.” A squeal escaped her as he picked her up, spinning them in a circle.

“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he brought her into a passionate kiss, setting her down but keeping their chests pressed together.

“Why didn’t you?” she teased, kissing him again while combing her fingers through his short hair. A blush rose on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she spoke with honesty, “but I understand. We were both surprised. I wasn’t expecting an audience--probably should’ve sent you a heads up.” Mickey shrugged, swaying them side to side.

“Honestly I’m glad you didn’t,” a light laugh escaped him, picturing his friends' faces once again. “If there was one way I was going to break the news to the squad that I'm married to the woman I keep dragging them to the movies to see, it would be like that.”

Y/n broke into giggles, thinking to all those times Mickey sent her photos of him and his friends in the theater with captions like, ‘You already know what’s going down.’ ‘Jake and Javy are trying to bet who would pull you if they got the chance.’ ‘Wish you were here…so I could steal your sour patch kids.’

“Which, speaking of….” Mickey stepped back a bit, hands landing on her waist with eyes full of wonder and question. “How do you think we go from here? Now that the whole world is about to know about us?”

Y/n smiled brightly as she pictured the future. Moving her arms to wind around his neck, feeling her belly fill with warmth and happiness.

“I think….it’s time we plan that wedding.”

E! News reported that evening, “It looks like Bruce Wayne isn’t the only superhero who’s good at hiding information--tonight Golden Globe winning actress Y/n L/n has confirmed via Instagram her marriage to longtime partner, Naval Weapons Officer Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Turns out the two have been in a relationship since they were teenagers--sixteen to be exact! They officially became a couple in 2005 as juniors in high school and have kept it hidden from the limelight. Wow! Talk about a well kept secret.

“The news came following reports of Y/n spotted in San Diego several times outside of Garcia’s apartment complex. Photos then surfaced on Twitter of several occurrences where fans have speculated seeing the two in public. Cozying up at movie theaters, enjoying a weekend getaway to Hilton Head, and internet sleuths have even found an instagram account they believe is run by L/n strictly for close friends and family. Former classmates of the 30-year-old actress have come out saying they remember the two together like peas in a pod. We even have a photo someone shared of the young couple attending their high school prom. Y/n revealed in the summer of 2019 she’d been in a committed relationship, but has never given details until now.

“Y/n L/n first got her big break in Hollywood at eighteen years old when she was casted as heroine Jordyn Stark opposite Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man. After years of small supporting roles and starring in popular commercials, the now critically acclaimed actress has appeared in several blockbuster films including Black Swan, Interstellar, La La Land and most recently Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. Besides Marvel, Y/n has been part of multi-billion dollar franchises--Men In Black, The Twilight Saga and The Hunger Games just to name a few. Then in 2016 she won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal as DEA Agent Molly Coleman in Denis Villenueve’s Sicario. Coming down from the high of Marvel Studios record breaking release of Avengers: Endgame, Y/n recently wrapped on the upcoming sci-fi production of Dune--her fourth collaboration with Denis and has an ensemble cast with names like Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Fergason, and Josh Brolin.

“In her instagram post--featuring several photographs of the couple over the years starting from when they were children to the most recent of their courthouse ceremony--Y/n thanked Mickey for his continued love and support of her, remaining her quote “cheerleader and shoulder to cry on as I progressed through this wild journey of playing dress up on the big screen. You never lost faith in me. You stood by my side, first as my best friend, then as my boyfriend, and now as my life partner. I am forever grateful for you, Mickey Garcia. And while the Navy may have given you the name, It’s an honor to be your reason to fanboy.”

..........

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

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majorietaylorsversion · 11 months

Text

meet cute w/ bellamy

you are having a boring night at a boring bar, until you meet bellamy.

(all characters are 18+)

warning: drinking

The door opened, and you felt the warmth of the room on your face. It was late autumn, with the leaves finally done with turning red and now were in the process of beating the snow to the ground. With the cold nipping at your nose, you step through the threshold.

A wave of noise hits you straight away, as you struggle to not let it slow you as you follow your friend further inside. The laughter combined with a thumping beat of music almost makes you want to dig your heels in and flee, but you’d already promised you’d stay for at least one drink. So you weave your way through the thick tangle of bodies, to the bar, with dimmed lights and a limited number of empty seats. You sighed. Ignoring the call of your bed, and your lovely apartment, you turned to the bartender.

Hesitantly, you got out, “Uh, I’ll have a strawberry mojito, if that’s all good.”

"Sure, sugar, that's all good with me." The bartender replies, his eyes dragging slipperly down your form. You shudder in response, but quirk a half smile, just to keep him happy. He looks to be around twenty years your senior, judging from the almost complete lack of hair and the sort of wrinkles, but he is still making your drink.

He keeps his eyes on you while he whips up your cocktail. By this point you have turned to your friend to chat, half paying attention and half intentionally avoiding the slick-like-oil gaze of the side of your face.

Your eyes dip around the bar you've been partially dragged into, and find despite your lack of love for loud places, it's actually not too bad. It's full of people, yeah, but there's not much you can do. The fullness gives it a more cozy vibe, especially with the season and current weather, and once you actually pay attention to the music, it's more of a pleasant hum than an incessant banging of instruments. You can see smiles on peoples faces, hear murmurings of laughter, and you know from the rosy blushes on everyone's cheeks, this bar isn't bad. Save for the creepy bartender.

"Oh look! There's Raven and everyone," your friend pipes up, "Hang on, let me go say hi." And without waiting for your reply, she’s already jumping off her seat, to go see her friends that you very much don’t know. Leaving you alone. With the bartender.

You grimace, but really, you should’ve expected it. This is why you don’t go out. You’re staring wistfully at the group of people your friend has just joined, the thrum of bodies, mixed with sweet smiles and half drunk laughter, floating it’s way back to you across the room. You’re still staring when your drink is put next to you with a clink of glass on wood. The seat squeaks slightly as you turn back towards it. You have to admit; it does look good. All pink and strawberry and hopefully not too strong.

“There you go, sugar, drink that on up.” The gag that makes its way up your throat is almost impossible to stop, but despite everything, you don’t want to be rude and spit out the drink you’d just sipped. That would be rude. That would be causing a scene. Both, you want to avoid. You pull that half smile back on to your face, dragging your eyes up to his face, but that’s it. You are officially ending this interaction. Grabbing your drink, that suddenly seems even less appealing, you turn back around, hoping that your friend had not actually forgotten about you. No such luck.

After more than five minutes of waiting patiently at the bar, you are seriously considering just downing your cocktail in one go and hightailing it out of here. Before you can, a broad figure slides into the spot next to you, already turning to the bartender to order a drink. It startles you, slightly, the annoyance of the evening making you forget there are actual other people at this bar, not just your (officially ex) friend and the weird man at the bar. But, no, you think, it does not change your plans. You still glance up at the stranger, curious enough to want to catch a glimpse of his face, to add a teeny bit of excitement to your dull night.

He’s already looking at you when you do, and you only catch a hint of warm brown eyes before you look away, heat already creeping to your cheeks. He’s pretty. He’s really pretty. And he’s chuckling at your reaction, a low drawl of a sound. You don’t turn back to him, instead deciding to look everywhere else, even when his large body boscurs a significant portion of your view of the room.

A drink clatters down next to you, and the man says something to the bartender, probably a thank you, but you don’t catch it. He doesn’t leave yet, and from the corner of your eye, you know he has angled his body towards you now. A flutter of butterflies erupt in your stomach in anticipation, but you don’t move. Maybe he’s going to tell you that you’ve got your shirt on back to front, or something. You’re doing something wrong, something embarrassing, something stupid, that’s why he’s looking at you. You glance at him again, meeting his eyes again, despite the nerves, and he looks like he’s going to say something, he’s smiling, he’s opening his mouth, he’s -

“Hey sugar, you got a boyfriend?” You and the stranger immediately break eye contact and instead turn to the source of the interruption. The bartender, oblivious to the conversation you both were about to start, is again, staring you up and down. You shudder in response, crossing your arms over yourself in an attempt to conceal your body from his leering gaze.

“Um, well, I actually…” You don’t know what to say, his eyes are making you nervous, very much not in a good way. You were caught off guard, normally you would be able to form some response along the lines of ‘fuck off, pervert’ but your confidence has failed you.

“That’s none of your business. Leave her alone.” The man replies properly for you, a welcome saving grace, with . He adjusts his position as he stands slightly straighter, taller, over the bartender, and you breathe a sigh of relief. While you shouldn’t need another man to stick up for you, you know creeps always listen to them more anyway. The bartender just shrugs and says, “Whatever, man,” and turns away.

“Sorry about that,” he says to you, and before he can get out the rest of the apology, you interrupt, “oh no, thank you. He’s been like that the whole night. Thanks.” He shakes his head again, the annoyed expression still present.

“You shouldn’t thank me. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“But you didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” You smile up at him, a proper one, and he drops the annoyed look when he sees it. He really is handsome, with his strong jaw and dark curls, and he’s looking at you with a hint of amusement in his eye. You like him. You hope he likes you too.

He laughs, shaking his head again, relaxing his stance and goes back to sitting on the stool next to you. And when he smiles, he smiles big, his whole face lights up.

“I’m Bellamy.” Bellamy. You think you may have heard his name before, in passing, a stranger that you heard people whisper about. Bellamy. You like it more than you should.

“I’m Y/n.”

“You got any plans this evening?”

“I was just going to go home but, I’m open.” He nods at your response. He hasn’t stopped looking at you.

Bellamy moves slightly closer, his head bent towards you so you can hear him better in the loud room. Your eyes widen a bit when he does, because now you can see him up close.

“Wanna get out of here and get some food? I hate bars.” You nod too eagerly, but you don’t care. He laughs in response, and by the fond look in his eyes you are certain now that he likes you.

Bellamy downs his drink and you just leave yours, as he slips his large hand into your palm and pulls you towards the door. He keeps you close as he works his way through the crowd, looking behind him to make sure you’re still there. As you're about to head out the door, you catch sight of your friend with another girl, dark haired and gorgeous, both grinning wickedly at you. She gives you the thumbs up and a wink, and you smile back.

The evening was finally looking up. You take a deep breath of fresh air when you make it outside, not letting go of Bellamy’s hand.

You can’t keep the smile off your face.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy imagine #bellamy blake imagine #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake fanfic

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taeraerizz · 1 year

Text

live, laugh, love taerae

「taerae x gn!reader」 genre: fluff

summary: you love taerae. he loves you. and how does he show that? through a convenience store date of course :)

warnings: snacks and a grave is mentioned? +all in lowercase

wc: 725 (not really proofread)

a/n: i've never written a fic before, i have no idea what im doing so pls give me feedback or any reccomendations. if something does not suit a gn!reader or i missed out on any warnings pls tell i would hate to be that person 😭. please interact w this fic in any way if u liked it. besides that pls be kind and enjoy taerae's love. dont forget to vote!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

the town was slowly starting to settle down as the night passed by. the only thing brightening up the street being the convenience store behind you as the dim light of the lightpost seemed as if it hadn't been replaced for the past 4 years. traffic was few, only a couple of taxis and buses carrying tired workers back home. and if it wasn't for the loud chime of the bell of the conveniece store door, you could swear that you were able to hear your mum watching her favourite tv show a few roads down.

"y/n!" you lift your gaze up from your slippers to meet the pair of eyes whose owner gifted you with them just last week. apparently he saw them in a stall on the side of the road and its cute ears reminded him of you. the pair of eyes that held so much comfort that you didn't think it was possible that an actual living human could have such mesmerising eyes. the same owner of that contagiously genuine smile that would brighten up even the gloomiest of days. oh, and the owner of that charming voice that got you hooked from the very first conversation held between the two of you. the beauty of kim taerae was limitless.

"y/n, i got you something special!" taerae announced as he started to lightly jog his way to your seats with a plastic bag in his hands. "well you took almost a century in there so i sure hope you did," you chuckled with a teasing tone. he squinted his eyes in return, slightly leaning away in his seat. "oh well, you just won't get the most special present that i've ever ever gifted in my life then," he huffed as he hugged the plastic bag that rested on his lap to hide you from its contents. you giggled at his actions.

"better than these slippers?" "definitely better than those slippers," he stated confidently, suddenly pulling a seriously face. "alright alright grand prince show me the damn thing already," you said with a cheesy smile.

"okay drum roll please…" the sound of your fingers hitting the edge of the table could slightly be heard amongst the rustling of taerae's plastic bag. "and please do close your eyes too love." a couple minutes went by and the beats of your fingers were starting to slow down, your eyes fighting the urge to unshut. "just need to fix up one more thing… and done! i present to you, the love of my life, this gift to symbolise my gratefulness towards your presence in my life these past few years." your eyes were closed but you just knew that the smile he had on his face was one that could even make the most deadliest beasts fall in love. "now, you may open your eyes!" and you weren't wrong. because the scene you saw when you opened your eyes was a scene that you would love to frame and take to your grave to hold onto forever if you could.

taerae's beautiful figure, the quiet city behind him, and the string lights hanging off the umbrella that shaded the two of you. oh what a heavenly sight it was. too mesmerised by the scene in front you, you completely forgot about the so called most special present taerae has ever gifted. "y/n? y/n! hellooo y/n?" you broke out of the trance you were in and made eye contact with taerae whose sparkling eyes kept looking back and forth between you and the table infront of you. so you followewd his gaze… and subconciously, tears clouded your sight. your favourite snacks, tulips (your favourite), along with photo strips you took earlier that day were beautifully arranged into a bouqet. each and every one of them radiating one thing, love. "how- what- when did yo-" you were choked up. your brain wasn't functioning properly and you couldn't process the fact that taerae, THE kim taerae had just gifted you with the most precious thing you could ever recieve. you looked up to see his face, it looked even more dear than it ever did before. "i love you y/n. i really do."

and though you knew it was impossible. you wanted to stay there forever. with the actual no.1 gift that could never be beaten. kim taerae.

#boys planet x reader #boys planet imagines #boys planet fics #boys planet #boys planet scenarios #bp999 #kpop imagines #kim taerae #taerae #i love him #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 x reader #zb1 fluff

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twogyuu · 2 years

Text

impossible to ignore you [one]

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader

(Featuring: Jimin, Sooyoung (RV Joy); mentions of Namjoon, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Chan, Jun, and Wonwoo)

Synopsis: When the stranger you met on the curbside of the club becomes perhaps the best thing you never had.

Genre: Fluff, angst, smidgen of crack if you squint, businessman!Jeonghan, notniceguy!Jeonghan, gradstudent!reader, overzealous!reader, bestfriend!Jimin, S2L

Warnings: Use of profanity, alcohol use, attempt at fwb w/o success (i.e. a man makes OC very uncomfortable asking for the dirty deed), mentions of food, burnout, insecurities

Please note, even though there are no explicit scenes in this chapter, there maybe suggestive scenes in future chapters - not suitable for minors, otherwise read at your own risk.

WC: ~ 11K

A/N: It’s here 🤗🥰 Part 2 to come soon!

A special thank you to @sleeplessdawn and @wonwoonlight for beta reading, helping better develop this fic, and everything in between 💙

masterlist || next

“Make some noise!”

The crowd let out unified shriek, tones of various pitches, some lasting longer than others. Hands all around him were thrown up in the air while the dance floor beneath him shook under the weight of people jumping up and down. Jeonghan ducked his head to avoid getting smacked in the face by the girl in the bubble pink dress flailing her equally fruity purse around. He dodged yet another offender, a presumably intoxicated young man headbanging rather violently. Elbowing his way through the sweaty bodies, Jeonghan made his way to the edge of the dance floor.

Oh, how he regretted coming out with Soonyoung tonight. The club was not Jeonghan’s scene, let alone one that played EDM music. No – he liked to spend his Saturday nights laying on his new couch, perhaps a new Netflix show playing on his TV, or soft acoustic music filled his apartment, while he ate some delivery fried chicken, excited, knowing well that he didn’t have to do any dishes this evening.

Yet, here he was.

Without Soonyoung, or anyone else from their party, in sight – they were all probably chasing after the women in tight tube tops and slinky dresses eyeing them at the bar earlier that night.

A heavy sigh leaving his lips, Jeonghan roughly shoved open the glass door of the club to leave the retrid place. A blast of wind whipped him in the face, ruining his hair and sending a cold sensation up his spine despite his navy blue suit jacket hanging loosely around his form. Nonetheless, it was nice to smell fresh air, nothing of the stench of alcohol and feet inside. It was also less claustrophobic and nauseating, only a few people lingering along the sides of the brick building, either engaged in quiet conversations, or quite frankly, stoned and stuck in their own world.

Hands tucked in his black jeans, Jeonghan’s leather shoes clicked against the ash gray pavement as he walked towards the curb, grateful to finally find somewhere relatively clean to sit and rest his aching legs – better than the sticky floor where people spilled god knows what. He hissed as he settled on the pavement; his bottom meeting the hard surface, it turned out to be much icier than he was expecting. Another cool breeze passed, and, this time, Jeonghan was more prepared for it than the first. He relished in the way it swiped away any remnant of sweat from the club from his face. He didn’t really care if it messed up his hair anymore; he didn’t really intend on impressing anyone tonight.

His peace didn’t last long, however, the sound of sniffling evading the quiet chatter surrounding him. Jeonghan turned his head to the right to find a woman, a sparkling navy blue jacket shrouding her shoulders, slumped over her phone, the screen lighting up her face. Her bare legs were stretched out before her, her feet without shoes – he noted a pair of black stilettos sitting next to her. She was young, perhaps the same age, or a few years younger than him. It was hard to make out the features of her face underneath the dim-lighting of the club’s neon sign, but her hair was curled into soft waves that seemed to frame her face well. A loose fitted, black slip dress hung from her shoulders, stopping just shy of her ass. Move any further and it would ride up – Jeonghan certainly would be in for a view.

Had it been anyone else, Jeonghan wouldn’t have bothered, but there was something about her that intrigued him. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he wanted to talk to her – perhaps not necessarily to offer solace or comfort, but merely fulfill his selfish curiosity and boredom. Why would a pretty girl be sitting out here on the curb on her own, sniffling and staring at her phone, when she should’ve been inside dancing the night away in the arms of someone like Soonyoung?

Jeonghan scooted over, slowly but surely in her direction. He was attempting to do it obvious enough to catch her attention, but still discreet enough that he wouldn’t come off as a creep trying to hit on her – because he wasn’t. He had an inkling she didn’t want to be bothered tonight. When he was a good foot or two away, Jeonghan cleared his throat loudly. Much to his relief, her gaze flickered in his direction.

Rocking back and forth, he opted for a corny conversation starter, hoping to garner some sort of laughter from her. “The weather sure is nice tonight.”

He lost her attention just as quickly as he got it. Her sniffling had ceased (maybe you just had allergies?) and you turned your head in the opposite direction.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t the type to be into small talk.

Jeonghan opted for a straightforward approach.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asked bluntly.

You gawked at him momentarily before looking around to see if he was talking to someone else. Your eyebrows creased together, and you pointed at your chest. “A-are you talking to me?”

Jeonghan chortled and nodded.

You sighed and bowed your head forward, a tired expression on your face as if you were bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders. Jeonghan waited patiently for your answer.

“Look dude,” you held up a hand sluggishly, fatigue written all over your face as if this wasn’t the first time you’ve been approached by a creep tonight, “I’m flattered and I appreciate the advance, but I’m not in the mood to be hit on tonight. This,” You waved a finger between the two of you, “... isn’t going anywhere.”

Blunt. Jeonghan was right – you were direct and didn’t like to play games, at least for tonight you did. This was kind of nice; a refreshing change from the usual push and pull he had to play with girls he met.

As you plainly stated your intentions, he decided to as well. “I’m not trying to hit on you,” Jeonghan shrugged, noting the way your brows furrowed together in suspicion at his declaration. “I’m merely trying to pass time and make conversation with the only other conscious person outside.” He looked over at his shoulder at the few stoned people loitering around to make a point. “I don’t like clubs and my friends ditched me, so I’m here.”

“You could just go home,” you deadpanned.

“My friends may have left me to fend on my own, but I’m not an asshole,” Jeonghan tilted his head in your direction. “I’m the DD for tonight – as I’ve always been. Soonyoung gets pretty shit-faced.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“No,” the corner of Jeonghan’s lip perked up in a lopsided smirk. “You’re hard to convince, aren’t you?”

You tilted your head to the side and shrugged.

A soft chortle escaped his lip.

Feisty – how cute.

“Your turn,” Jeonghan tried again. He planted his feet on the ground and leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. “What are you doing out here?”

Tongue in cheek, you narrowed your eyes at him to scan his form. His mid-length hair must’ve been combed back neatly before; either he had sucked face with someone who rustled it up or it was just a result of headbanging too hard inside. What stood out to you the most, however, was that he wore a fucking business suit to the club. It was navy blue, slim fit to his lanky form. He paired it with a white dress shirt underneath without a tie. The first few buttons were unclasped, exposing his sternum. Most people wore a dress shirt with slacks at the fanciest at the club – the fact that he wore the whole ensemble puzzled you. Though you do recall him telling you the club wasn’t his scene; maybe he wasn’t lying after all.

“I’m bored,” you vaguely explained.

Jeonghan glanced down at his watch. “It’s only ten.”

“Exactly,” you raised your eyebrows at him before looking at your phone.

“Then . . . why don’t you just go home?” Jeonghan threw the question back at you.

Surprisingly, a pleased smile formed on your lips. You quickly ducked your chin into your chest in an attempt to hide from him though he already caught a glimpse of your grin. It tickled a part of Jeonghan’s brain, knowing he was slowly cracking away at your icy demeanor. Unlike most, it wasn’t sweet nothings that made your heart flutter apparently; you liked a good tease it seems. You’d get along well for the rest of the evening if it keeps going this way.

You regained your composure, clearing your throat, and pointed your thumb back at the vibrating building. “My ride’s inside.”

“I heard Uber’s are nice these days,” Jeonghan pointed out.

You scoffed. The audacity of this man – was he trying to talk to you or get you to leave?

“I’m here with a few girlfriends,” you started, “It’s only the second time I’ve been clubbing? I was hoping it would make me feel less shitty, but it only made me feel worse.”

Stroking his chin, Jeonghan asked, “How come?”

You chuckled half-heartedly, tearing your gaze from him and hanging your head pathetically. “It’s stupid.”

“Shoot your shot – I’ve heard many stupid things in my short time twenty-seven years of life.”

Though you knew you owed him nothing, a part of you felt the urge to explain to Jeonghan your situation. It’s not like you’d ever see him again and to be frank, you were having a rather rough night. Venting and pouring out your heart to a stranger didn’t seem like a bad idea. He didn’t seem sketchy or untrustworthy either. What was he going to do with this information? At best, it would make for a kicker of a Reddit story on r/dating.

“I got dumped,” you said quickly.

“Aahh –”

“But not really.”

“Huh?” Jeonghan’s chin crinkled at your response.

“I thought for once, I’d be different and instead of waiting around for someone to ask me out, I shot my shot with someone.”

“And you got rejected?” Jeonghan concluded.

“Mmmm . . . not at first,” you closed your eyes. “We went out for dinner, really nice guy, honestly, and I thought it went well, but, jokes on me – he doesn’t want to see me again.”

“Hm,” Jeonghan hummed, “Did you like him?”

“I mean,” you fumbled with your fingers, “Kind of? We had a good conversation and I off-handedly mentioned I liked cooking and he said we should cook together sometimes – I thought he wanted to see me again.”

“Well,” Jeonghan let out a sigh. He leaned back on the heels of his palms. “Nice guys usually end up being jackasses anyways.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan shrugged as if the answer was obvious and gestured towards you. “Just look at you – you thought he was a nice guy, but he ghosted you.”

“That’s one person – and hey maybe, it is just a ‘me’ problem,” you argued.

“Well how many other nice guys have you seen before this one and they never called you again?”

“To be fair, I didn’t really like them.”

Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a small blueberry. “Yeah, keep blaming yourself – that ought to solve all your relationship problems.”

“Clearly, you’re not a nice guy,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

“I’m not,” Jeonghan admitted, “Nor do I pretend to be.”

He was frustrating, no doubt. However, you found yourself enjoying this back and forth. There was no filter you had to put on, no niceties, no pretending to be a normal person. Not to mention, it was getting challenging to keep up with him with his forwardness. You didn’t mind, however; it added flavor and spice to conversation you weren’t used to.

“Fair – at least you’re honest about it,” you said.

“Why lie when they’re going to find out anyway?” Jeonghan sighed, picking at the invisible lint on his pants.

“I like you,” you said simply, but suddenly, cocking your head to the side.

Jeonghan only blinked at you, a blank expression on his face. “Pardon?”

“I like you,” you repeated, sensing that you rattled his ‘cool guy’ complexion with your blunt statement, “In a platonic sense – I appreciate the straightforwardness, owning up to your personality. Nothing romantic.”

“Not the response I get from most people, but alright,” he muttered, but nodded slowly in acknowledgement.

“I’m not most people,” you chuckled.

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged, an equally amused chortle seeping through his teeth. A comment like this was whatever to Jeonghan. Again, it wasn’t like he was looking for anything else other than good company this evening.

Silence ensued, and albeit you were strangers, it wasn’t uncomfortable. With his pointer finger, Jeonghan found himself drawing invisible circles on the cracked pavement, contemplating your odd character. It must’ve been pure luck that he approached someone as chill and low-key as you. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you pulling at the hem of your dress, presumably so you wouldn’t accidentally flash him, you tucked your knees into your chest. You turned to him to show some level of interest that you did want to talk more than just this – even if it was for a little while longer.

“Why’d you come to the club if you don’t like it?” you peeped.

Jeonghan glanced up in your direction, “It’s one of my buddy’s birthday.”

You wrinkled your nose. “And he wanted to come to the club?”

“Chan’s young,” Jeonghan explained. You assumed ‘Chan’ was the birthday boy in question. “And he likes to dance, so naturally, these places make sense.”

“Same,” you nodded, “Sooyoung likes to dance too, so she lets loose in places like this.”

“Soon-young?” Jeonghan asked, wondering if he misheard. Did Soonyoung invite you to the same party and he just wasn’t aware?

“No, no,” you waved him off, “Soo-young. I doubt she knows you.”

“And what makes you think she doesn’t?”

You rolled your eyes, cocking an eyebrow at him with a bored expression gracing your face. “Calm down hot shot.”

A chuckle escaped his pretty pink lips – not that you were staring, you just noticed them when his eyes crinkled into crescents, revealing his pearly white teeth.

“I have a friend with a similar name – Soonyoung,” Jeonghan explained.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you told him, “You mentioned him earlier.”

“Jeonghan!” a cheerful voice shouted from behind the two of you, followed by a bout of bubbly laughter.

“Speak of the devil,” you heard Jeonghan mutter under his breath. He scooted in his place, turning around to face Soonyoung. You followed his gaze to a group of men. The one with silver hair, who you assumed was Soonyoung because he was the only one laughing, had his arm slung over one of his friends.

“Hey Jeonghan!” Soonyoung shouted again, his speech slurred. He tried to take off in a run, but his other friend held him back from tumbling forward. “Let’s, let’s,” Soonyoung hiccupped, “Home! Let’s go home – Seungcheol said I need to . . . drink, sleep and, and, go to water.”

A low chuckle bubbled from Jeonghan’s chest. “Looks like I get to go home now,” he whispered to you teasingly.

You checked your phone, the screen reading 11:24. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as to just how long you’ve been talking to the stranger.

As if he read your mind, Jeonghan added, “Time flies when you’re having a good time.”

You didn’t bother to say anything further, just huffing and staring back at the club door to see when it would be your turn to leave. The pink and purple flashing lights and the music growing heavier by the second, you doubted it, however.

“The name’s Jeonghan, by the way,” he told you, interrupting your musing. He stood up from his spot on the curb. “Yoon Jeonghan.” He reached his hands up into the air, stretching his limbs from the crumpled state. You blushed at the way the front of his dress shirt untucked from his slacks, exposing the soft skin underneath momentarily.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered in return.

Reaching into his suit pocket, Jeonghan pulled out a cream-colored business card and navy fountain pen. Quickly, he scratched down something on it before handing it to you. You blinked at him a few times before taking it into your own hands. You skimmed the front, the side holding his name and presumably the business he worked for engraved in gold letters. Flipping it over, you saw a phone number written in near chicken-scratch, some of the numbers already smudged with faint fingerprints from the both of you holding the business card earlier. You had to squint to make out the two at the end.

“It was nice talking with you tonight, Y/N,” Jeonghan said before you could ask him why you gave him this card and phone number. He looked down at his leather shoes before returning his gaze to you. “If . . . you’re ever in need of a friend, I’m just one call away.”

“T-thanks?” you asked more than you replied, confused why he would just casually drop his number, let alone to be friends. Earlier he had claimed he was just passing time. People didn’t do this, unless . . . was he romantically interested in you? Then again, Jeonghan had been fairly honest with you tonight.

“See you around,” Jeonghan gave you a small wave before turning away, sauntering towards his friends.

“Bye,” you said more to yourself than him. You watched him duck under the silver-haired boy’s other arm and hobble towards a sleek black Lexus. Two other men, a shorter fellow with an otter-like smile dressed in a silver bomber jacket, and one who was tall with broad shoulders with the facial structure of that of an actor (he winked at you on their way to Jeonghan’s car), skipped behind.

You looked back down at the business card, flipping it back to the front:

Pledis Co.

Senior Consultant

Yoon Jeonghan, MBA

Black Lexus, MBA, senior consultant, the sleek navy suit, and fancy fountain pen. . . Jeonghan had to be rich, and of a high-class.

Why’d he ever want to hang out with a broke graduate student like you?

Sometimes, you wondered why you opted to return to school when you absolutely abhorred it. You fell asleep fifteen minutes into your lectures every class, your only friend in the program, Jimin, too kind to wake you. The calculations you had to do for homework looked like alphabet soup. You were pretty sure you were vitamin D deprived because you’re stuck in the dungeon of your department building (aka your lab) for most hours of daylight. Not to mention, you were also technologically challenged, your codes crashing your laptop and the university computers frequently because they were that inefficient. And, worst of all, you still had to work your internship on top of all of this, where you were paid minimum wage to look at spreadsheets – it wasn’t nearly enough for you to afford the packs of ramen noodles you bought every week, which was all you could afford these days in light of inflation.

Frustrated, you pushed back your laptop, the screen offering the only source of light in the study room. You had been working on a code to automate data extraction for your research project for the past three hours – and you still couldn’t get it to work properly. It took ten minutes to load, only to overheat your laptop and give you an error message. You tugged at the drawstrings of your hoodie as the opening closed in on your face, the fabric muffling the inhuman sound you made out of frustration and annoyance. Without much else left to do, you pouted in your seat, reaching for your bag of Konjac jelly and violently inhaled the lychee flavor.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Jimin commented from the other side of the table. He peered over the top rim of his laptop, shooting you a concerned look while adjusting his thin-wire framed glasses.

Crushing the empty plastic container in your hand, you frowned at him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything?”

You pointed at him, “You were thinking it.”

“Thinking what?”

“That I have anger issues and that I’m an idiot for going back to school.”

Jimin sat back in his seat, an incredulous expression on his face. He scoffed and shook his head. “You’re projecting again – you really need to work on that.”

“Jimin, I can’t do this anymore,” you whined, immediately shoving your face into your arms.

With a heavy sigh, your friend rolled over in his chair, offering you small pats on your back. Jimin was used to this; it was a regular occurrence since the beginning of the last year of your master’s program. You were all burnt out more than most because of your ongoing internship.

“One more year, Y/N. We’re almost done,” he told you.

“That doesn’t make it go any faster,” you muttered.

“Trust me,” Jimin sighed for the umpteenth time that day, “You don’t want it to go any faster – before you know it, it’s going to be the end of the year which means scrambling to finish research, graduation theses, and interviewing for jobs.”

You let out a whimper at the thought he planted in your head.

“How about we take a break?” he offered instead.

“How am I going to –”

“Cursing at your screen while angrily sucking in Konjac jelly isn’t productive,” Jimin interrupted.

“Fine,” you relented, reaching over to slam your laptop shut. You started collecting the sheets of paper scattered around you to tuck them away in your blue plastic folder.

Jimin offered to buy you a warm bowl of kimchi tofu soup from your favorite shop on campus and you willingly agreed – you were not one to turn down free food, after all.

“How was the club on Saturday?” Jimin asked as the two of you started down the street. The streetlamps were already starting to turn on because the sun was setting. You frowned knowing that it wouldn’t be much longer until you’d walk out and it’d be pitch black and cold outside.

“It was meh,” you replied.

“Meh?” Jimin inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Details, Y/N, details.”

“I-I dunno,” you protested, “We left around 8:30, took some cute pictures, and then started dancing, but I got tired pretty quick, so I left to go sit outside, around 9:30? 10? I’m not sure.” You made a point to leave out Jeonghan, not wanting Jimin to sprout any bright ideas.

The space between Jimin’s brows dipped, his mouth opened agape in horror as if you just committed the worst crime known to man.

“What?” you frowned.

“You went to the club, dolled up all cute like you did in Sooyoung’s Instagram story, just to sit outside?” Jimin deadpanned.

“Y-yeah –”

“The point of you going was so you’d let loose and show that asshole Moonbin what he was missing out on!” Jimin exclaimed.

“Jimin,” you said, a warning lacing your tone, “You know I’m not about that revenge life.”

“Yeah, but I am – even if you don’t want to, I’ll manifest it for you.”

“Look,” you waved him off, “It wasn’t all bad. Moonbin was nice – really charismatic, sweet, and flirty. It was a good time at the very least.”

“But he gave you false hope and you went around moping the next day,” Jimin sniggered.

“And what of it?”

Jimin moved to stand in front of you, halting you in your stride. Placing his hands on either shoulder, he gave you a stern look, his brows hidden underneath his mat of overgrown blonde hair kissing his lashes coming into view as he furrowed them together.

“Y/N,” he stated firmly.

You returned the gesture, placing your hands on his shoulder as well. “Jimin.”

He frowned, knowing you weren’t taking him seriously. “Truthfully? It makes me kind of sad seeing you put yourself down over men.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“Just because Moonbin, or the guy before, or the guy before that one, rejects you, doesn’t make you any less,” Jimin’s hand moved up to cup your cheek. You felt his thumb brushing up against the apples gently.

“Park Jimin, you’re being overdramatic,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just tired of seeing you throw yourself at men who don’t deserve you, alright? Quit it, you’re a whole ass golden trophy,” he stated firmly.

“Where are you even –”

“You don’t have to say it for me to know, Y/N.” His hand fell from your shoulders, shoving them in the pockets of his khakis instead. Jimin’s eyes fell to the ground, kicking the invisible pebbles with the toe of his red Converse sneakers. “We’ve been friends since middle school and you’ve asked that question every year,” Jimin paused, scrunching up his face and crossing his arms over his chest. In a high pitched voice, he mocked you. “‘Jimin, why don’t boys like me? Am I not pretty enough? Am I too mean? Even Hyerin managed to get a boyfriend before me – I’m tired of being so lonely.’”

“I do not talk like that,” you protested.

“You did in middle school,” Jimin scoffed. “The years after that were just different variations of the same question.”

“Okay! So what?” you waved your hands, “I’m kind of lonely and I want a taste of what you and Sejeong have – is that such a crime?”

Jimin linked his arms with you, tugging you along to keep the two of you moving towards the soup restaurant before they closed. “It’s not, but I want you to stop blaming yourself for things not working out.”

“I mean, I’m the only common denominator amongst all these failed relationships.”

“Again,” Jimin rolled his eyes, “You’re being dramatic. They weren’t even relationships to begin with.”

“You know what I mean,” you mumbled.

“You deserve everything that’s good, and that includes enjoying yourself at the club,” Jimin rounds back to the beginning of the conversation.

You hummed in response, knowing there was no use arguing with him. For a while, the two of you walked with your arms linked, only the sounds of your sneakers tapping against the sidewalk echoing in the distance and your thoughts occupying your brain. You knew Jimin had a point: It was the twenty-first century, where women were mostly given equitable opportunities. You were working towards your engineering master’s, a promising job in sight if you continue your internship, and you had a handful of loving friends. What more could you ask for? You were well-equipped to take on life on your own, and not to mention, you had been doing so for the past twenty-six years. Jimin and Sooyoung never failed to remind you of your accomplishments thus far. For some reason though, no matter how much your friends told you and you tried to convince yourself, your heart still ached at the thought of how lonely you were.

You wanted to love someone wholeheartedly and someone to love you back just the same. On chilly nights like this, you wanted to feel the warmth of someone’s hand holding your own. You wanted sweet goodbye kisses before you left for classes each morning. When you got back after a long tiring day, you wanted someone to envelop you in their embrace, as if absorbing half of your burden. And if it was an extra hard day and you were crying, you wanted someone to wipe away your tears with the pads of their thumbs, gently caressing your face. When you loved, you loved hard – you just wanted someone to do the same for you. Though you hated admitting it, It’s why when nice people like Moonbin show the slightest hint of interest and kindness, it sparked something in you and your whole future together flashed before your eyes. Thus, when the dates don’t go anywhere, you felt like a fucking embarrassment. So quick to fall in love, and quick to be dropped.

Was fate so cruel that you wouldn’t ever know the feeling of love?

“Hey,” Jimin suddenly called, interrupting your internal moping. He looked at you cautiously and sucked in a sharp breath.

You side glanced at him momentarily, adjusting your black beanie, waiting for him to continue. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the soft golden glow of the kimchi stew restaurant spilling onto the sidewalk in the distance.

“I know I just said all that but,” he chortled nervously, “Do you, um, I don’t know, wanna meet someone else?”

“Really Jimin?” you weren’t even surprised. Half of the people you’ve gone on dates with this past year were setups through Jimin. Though the both of you were extroverts, his network of friends was far more extensive than your own.

“He’s a good guy – really, really great, I promise,” Jimin begged. He tightened his grip on your arm as you pulled open the wooden door. Mrs. Jung, the restaurant owner, recognized the both of you from the cashier, waving hello before gathering two menus.

“What happened to ‘being happy on my own’?” you asked, searching the sea of people for an empty table.

“I want you to find your soulmate and the man of your dreams too, alright?” Jimin pressed. “His name’s Namjoon – he’s one of Sejeong’s friend’s older brothers. Has a nice corporate job, smart, easy to talk to; he could make a conversation with a bag of sand interesting!”

“Should I be concerned?” you spotted a small wooden table in the corner by all the worn posters and made your way over. The sturdiness of it was questionable as it was tilted to its right, but your stomach was starting to rumble, the Konjac jelly from earlier clearly not holding you over.

“No,” Jimin huffed, settling in the metal chair across from you, the legs screeched against the concrete floor as he slid into the table. “It means he’s good at talking – I think you’ll like him a lot.”

“Hello my dears!” Mrs. Jung greeted the both of you. “I’ll give you a couple minutes.” She handed you menus before stalking off towards a customer waving and calling for her. You offered her a kind smile as she waved goodbye for now, though it fell the moment you glanced back at Jimin.

The plastic-covered menu in front of him, he pleaded you silently with his eyes. “You’ll never know unless you try,” he sang, knowing well that your curiosity always got the better of you. He glanced down, skimming over the various entrees, though you knew he’d always get the classic bibimbap.

Holding in your breath and squeezing your eyes shut, you silently cursed yourself for being so desperate. Jimin was right – at this point, your forever lover could literally be anyone.

“Fine.”

Jimin grinned excitedly, perking up in his seat. “You won’t regret it, I promise! Namjoon’s not the type to lead you on. If he likes you, he means it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” you grumbled.

After placing your orders, you fumbled with your phone for a while, pretending to be busy. As it was the weekday, your Instagram feed was quite dry and Twitter was full of the same old jokes. All of your unread texts had been answered, no replying back quite yet – then again, the only two people you ever texted frequently were Sooyoung and Jimin. Out of sheer boredom, you pressed on the contacts button, as if the white silhouette of a person in the light blue square was calling your name. You really had no reason to be scrolling through your contacts, but there was one name that caught your attention: Yoon Jeonghan.

It glowed in bold black letters, the only name under “Recently Added.”

Admittedly, during the drive home from the club, huddled away in the back seat among the other sleepy girls, you had secretly added him, tucking away his business card in your purse. You didn’t anticipate ever contacting him, but you didn’t think it would hurt to just have his number handy.

You never know until you try right?

The crackling of your soup in its hot stone pot tore your gaze away from your phone. Not bothering to click off the screen, you tucked it away in your lap as Mrs. Jung’s husband happily placed your meal in front of you. He wished you to eat well before returning with Jimin’s equally hot bowl of bibimbap.

You stared at your phone once more, your eyes scanning over his name again and again.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Unknowingly, the corner of your lips twitched up, threatening to curl into a smile as an idea sprouted in your head like a weed amidst the green lawn.

“What are you smiling at?” Jimin asked. His silver spoon hovered over his steaming bowl of rice and mixed vegetables, a perfectly fried egg with browned edges sitting atop.

“Nothing, nothing,” you brushed him off.

He frowned, wondering what was on your phone that got you preoccupied. He clanged his spoon against your stone pot. “Eat – before it gets cold.”

You nodded, gesturing to him to have his first, yet you didn’t pick up your utensils. You waited for Jimin to be busy with his food before returning to your phone.

Hastily, you clicked on Jeonghan’s name, then the text message icon.

You figured you might need him after this date with Namjoon.

Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh, shifting uncomfortably in the leather office chair. He glanced over to Wonwoo beside him, his assistant much more focused and engaged in the conversation than Jeonghan himself. This meeting about their newest client had gone on longer than he had expected, Jeonghan waiting for their boss to announce the end of it any minute so he could escape to the safe haven of his office – or even better, home. It was nearing 6PM and the discussion at hand was not anything new; Mr. Lee was just reiterating the concerns expressed at the meeting last week and the email sent last Friday. They were beating a dead horse with no resolve and he was tired. Alas, money had to be made and that involved being here, listening to Mr. Lee drone about this company’s horrid structure.

Saved by the bell, a soft buzz suddenly vibrated in Jeonghan’s pants pocket. He fished out his phone, noting the text message icon next to an unknown number. For all he knew, it could’ve been a phishing scam, but he’d take any distraction he could get at this point. Swiping at the screen, he pretended it was an important message he needed to check.

[unknown number]: hi hi this is y/n – from the club a few nights ago.

The corner of Jeonghan’s lips twitched, threatening to curl into a smile, though he’s not sure why. He shook off the feeling of uncertainty, just grateful for your message as a source of entertainment during this dull period. He pressed his lips into a thin line, attempting to maintain a serious demeanor for show. Pushing his glasses up, Wonwoo glanced at Jeonghan momentarily, catching a glimpse of the message. He snorted at Jeonghan’s fingers hovering over the touch keyboard, debating how to reply to you. Too absorbed in formulating his response to you, Jeonghan barely noticed Wonwoo’s prying eyes before he turned back to his legal pad, scribbling away a few notes. Though you’d just met, it was as if you knew Jeonghan needed saving from the boredom of this meeting. Another message popped up in the blue speech bubble.

[unknown number]: i figured it was only fair you had mine – in case you get a random call from a stranger one of these nights ya know lol

[unknown number]: i hope you’re having a good day~

Jeonghan couldn’t hold it in much longer, finally allowing the smile to spread across his face. You were cute – blunt, but cute, even in text. He finally started tapping away, opting for a simple message before clicking his phone off and tucking it back in his suit pocket.

[jeonghan]: thanks.

The last thirty minutes of the meeting were a little more bearable after that.

That was the last you heard from Jeonghan: a simple text saying ‘thanks.’ It would be a lie to say you weren’t disappointed that it was all he replied with. However, you figured he was an important and busy man based on his business card. To be fair as well, you were merely a stranger he met at the club – no more, no less. As the weeks went on and work piled up between classes and your internship, thoughts of him became far and few. For a moment after your date with Namjoon, you considered texting Jeonghan, but decided against it since it wasn’t all that bad.

As they all were, Namjoon was nice. He had spilled orange soda down the front of your white shirt, but apologized profusely, letting you wear his oversized hoodie for the rest of the night. It would’ve made for a first meet cute to tell at your non-existent future wedding (yes, you thought this far out by the end of the movie), but by the end of the night, both of you felt nothing more than just wanting to be friends. Indeed you were disappointed, but you were content with the clear communication of your mutual feelings. Jimin was at least right about one thing: Namjoon wasn’t the type to lead you on, and for that, you were thankful.

You could only hope your next date would be the same.

Yes, that’s right – next date. You already had another one lined up for you: Haneul, a friend of Sooyoung’s friend. Though you had hardly noticed him then, he had apparently taken interest in you the night you went clubbing but didn’t have a chance to voice it before you disappeared outside. This was the first time you’ve heard of someone admiring you from afar, and admittedly, it was very heart fluttering and flattering.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaned into your full length mirror while smacking your lips together once more to evenly distribute the bright color before looking up. In your reflection, you saw Sooyoung standing against your dresser, holding a folded windbreaker in her hand. She usually came over before your dates to help you get ready. Before her current job as a fashion magazine editor, she worked a few years as a licensed cosmetologist.

“Soo,” you spun around, a frown already planted on your lips.

She hung the jacket from her fingertip in front of you. “Bring it – the forecast says it’s going to rain tonight.”

“It doesn’t match the fit,” you argued.

“Do you want it to match or do you want to get wet?” she asked. Reluctantly, you took the windbreaker from her, knowing well that she had a point. “You didn’t have anything else. We need to go shopping sometime soon.”

“Just in case, I guess,” you mumbled.

“Just in case,” she chirped. She glanced at her gold rimmed watch. “What time did Haneul say he was coming to pick you up? It’s almost 8PM.”

“7:30,” you said quietly, your voice trailing off. You picked up your phone and tapped on the screen revealing no new messages. Perhaps you were more excited for this than you should be.

Sooyoung pressed her lips into a tight line. “You still want to go?” She peaked over her shoulder and out the patio window. The clouds were gray and heavy, leaving an unsettled feeling in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was worried about the weather or there was something about you going out on a date with Haneul that didn’t sit well with her. He was a friend of Joohyun’s, and though she claimed he was a “good guy,” Sooyoung had only met him a handful of times, each leaving her with a funny feeling. He was nice, no doubt, but too nice, it was uncomfortable.

“Jimin said you never know until you try,” you sang, flopping onto your couch.

Sooyoung followed suit and took a seat on the empty cushion next to you. “That doesn’t mean throwing yourself at everything that has a dick.”

You let out a half-hearted chortle and lightly slapped her shoulder. “Am not – this is merely a ‘hang out’, dinner between acquaintances.”

“Sure,” Sooyoung rolled her eyes. Reaching over, she pushed baby hairs out of your face. You had always been like a little sister to her, she couldn’t help but feel a little overprotective of you. Well aware you had been on the hunt for the love of your life, she didn’t necessarily want to stop you either. Before she could open her mouth to say much more, your phone buzzed and you tore away from her touch.

“Haneul’s here,” you said breathlessly. Scrambling off the couch, you grabbed your crossbody from the kitchen island and tossed her a pair of keys. “Lock up for me? Love you! Goodnight!”

Sooyoung cupped her hands together, hardly catching the keys as it fell against her chest. The door had slammed shut when she looked up again.

“Use protection if you guys get saucy!” Sooyoung shouted even though you were probably bouncing down the stairs already.

With a heavy sigh, Sooyoung stalked over to the window. She blocked off the light inside your apartment with her hands and peered outside. She could make out your excited figure bouncing excitedly towards Haneul’s car.

Sooyoung could only hope all would be well.

You knew it was too good to be true.

He was too good to be true.

From the brush of his fingers against your own, the light hold of the small of your back walking in, to wiping sauce off your lips with his thumb and the jokes he made about romcoms, Haneul was the poster child of a good first date. He listened to you attentively, kept your side dishes replenished, and he seemed genuinely interested in your hobbies and your work.

It was good, until it wasn’t.

Sitting in front of him, with the beef burning into the grill, all the joy and happiness that was bubbling through your system ceased like water dousing a campfire.

“No,” you deadpanned at his question.

“But I drove you here and I bought you dinner,” Haneul said as if it was the most obvious trade off.

“No,” you said a little harsher. You smacked your metal chopsticks on the table.

“Babygirl –”

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off harshly.

Haneul scoffed, “So desperate to come on a date, but won’t even do the favor of sleeping with me? Shit, Y/N, I’m doing you a favor just taking you out like this.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you gave him a stern look. Nervously, you swiped your tongue over your lips, clenching your jaw, trying your best not to cause a scene right now. “Look, you prick, I’m more than happy to pay for dinner and find my own way home if that’s what you wanted to do. Take a hint? No means no, and I’m not afraid to call the cops on you if you try something funny.”

The saccharine in his eyes at the beginning of this dinner hardened and molded into something dark and bitter. He stared holes into your forehead, though you didn’t budge. When you said you were looking for love, this wasn’t on the agenda. You were a respectable woman, and it was your body – no man should make you feel bad for not wanting it. Nonetheless, as each second passed by, it was getting harder and harder for you to hold your tough demeanor. Your mind spun 560 scenarios as to how this could go so wrong and get dangerous. You were thankful you suggested Korean barbeque rather than the movies when he asked what you wanted to do. Lord knows what would’ve happened in the depths of that theater.

“You fucking bitch,” Haneul growled. Turning around, he snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and angrily stomped out. Eyes of the guests nearby followed him until he ran down the stairs, returning to look at you, some offering apologetic smiles though you didn’t want their attention or pity. When you were sure he was out of sight, you let out a breath of relief, squeezing your eyes tight. The waitress must’ve felt bad for you, putting together the pieces of what happened, as she came over, concern knitting her brows together, asking if you were okay and offering you water. The restaurant no longer seeming as joyful and fun as you first perceived it to be, you turned off the grill and asked for a check. She was kind enough to give you a discount, which you thanked her with a nice tip.

And that’s how you found yourself here: Sitting at the counter of the 7/11 down the street, water dripping off the hem of your skirt as you stared at your phone, debating who to call. You used up all your cash at the restaurant and you left your wallet in your backpack at home, so you couldn’t even take the bus back on your own.

On one hand, you could always call Jimin and Sooyoung: your best friends, your ride-or-dies. However, you knew Jimin was spending the night with Sejeong and didn’t want to interrupt knowing they hardly saw each other during the weekday, nor did you want to end up being a third wheel again. You loved them, but they never failed to make you feel lonely at times. Alternatively, Sooyoung who was most likely with her fiance . . . you just didn’t have the heart to face her right now.

Thus, that left you with one person: Jeonghan.

“If . . . you’re ever in need of a friend, I’m just one call away.”

His words from the club reverbated in your skull. Did he mean it?

There was only one way to find out.

You inhaled sharply and pressed the call icon next to his name, squeezing your eyes tight as you pressed your phone to your ear. Whatever happened couldn’t be much worse than now – stranded, wet, and alone at 7/11.

The dial tone rang once, twice, and then a third, each one seemingly longer than the one prior. Your nerves were starting to get the best of you the longer he left you unanswered. This was a bad idea; calling Jeonghan to pick you up out of all people? What were you going to tell him anyways? You hated interrupting date night for your best friends, but perhaps Jimin would be a better bet – you’ll take him and Sejeong out for dinner when you get your next paycheck to repay them.

Just as you were about to hang up by the eleventh ring, you heard a click, then someone shuffling at the other end. Your breath hitched in your throat as you gulped down the lump in your throat.

There was a rather loud cough before he started talking.

“Hello?”

A phone call from you on Friday at 10:34PM was the last thing Jeonghan was expecting today. It had been weeks since you last talked, he was pretty sure you had thrown away his business card and your short string of texts were probably lost within your inbox now. Yet, when your name lit up his phone screen in his darkened living room like the first time you plug in Christmas lights, he wasn’t sure if should’ve been excited or annoyed.

Truthfully, Jeonghan contemplated leaving your phone call unanswered, sending you to voicemail. If it was important enough, he figured you would be the type to leave a message or even send a follow-up text. Hair dripping from the hot shower he just took and a soiled towel thrown over his shoulder, Jeonghan was just about ready to settle in for a quiet night for the first time in a long time. Because of the weather, Seungcheol and Soonyoung canceled their plans of bar hopping much to Jeonghan’s relief.

Then again . . . you were you. You wouldn’t just call to bother him for shits and giggles, would you? His finger shifted from the red ‘ignore call’ button to the green one on the left. Swiping his pointer finger across, he silently cursed himself for being a tad too caring for someone he hardly knew.

Jeonghan faked a cough into the crook of his arm before he answered.

“Hello?” he said into the speaker of his phone.

“Hi?” there was an evident shake in your voice. Jeonghan wondered where you were, making out the noise of rain pelting glass in the background. “Is this . . . Jeonghan?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replied slowly.

“Hey, this is Y/N,” you re-introduced yourself, “From the club so many nights ago? Sorry, this must be all very sudden for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan shoved his free hand into the pockets of his gray sweatpants. He dug his toe into a hole into his cream colored rug. “I remember you – and don’t worry about it. I wasn’t doing much anyways. What’s up?”

Your end of the line remained silent for a few minutes, sans the muffled sound of a bell ringing and muffled chatter in the background. He wondered where you were – that certainly couldn’t have been your home.

“Y/N?” he asked again.

“Oh right,” you chuckled nervously, starting to speak particularly fast, “Do you want to go out for drinks?”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly. Quickly you added, “I had a bad date, and uh . . . it’s raining really hard.”

And as if to emphasize the bad weather, lightning cracked outside Jeonghan’s window. A rumble of thunder was soon to follow, loud enough to shake the lamp in the corner of the common.

Jeonghan was too stunned to speak, and he wasn’t sure if it was because you actually took him up on his offer to call when you needed a friend, or what you did to be in the situation you currently were in that you were that desperate to call him. Though his heart yearned for the comfort of his newly bought couch, his conscience suggested that you probably needed a friend more than he needed a pre-bedtime nap right now.

“Jeonghan?” you called. “If you’re busy or really don’t want to, I can –”

“Send me your location, I’m coming,” Jeonghan said, already fumbling with his keys.

Jeonghan must’ve lived nearby as it seems like as soon as he hung up, he had arrived just as fast. Glancing at your watch, you figured it might’ve taken him fifteen minutes at most to get here – impressive, especially with this rain. Stopping at the front entrance of the 7/11, he rolled down the passenger window so you could better see him with the downpour obstructing your view, and waved at you to come out. Though, you found it rather unnecessary as his black Lexus being in this part of town already stood out so much on its own.

The moment you opened the door and saw his crisp leather seats, you immediately felt guilty climbing in with your soiled garments. Rain dousing the top of your hood, your eyes flickered innocently from the seat to Jeonghan.

“Get in,” Jeonghan instructed you. Fortunately, it seemed he was one step ahead of you. Jeonghan reached into the backseats and pulled out a towel and worn, but thick brown colored sweater.

As if it would help, you brushed the rain droplets off your sleeves and sat down. The uncomfortable sensation of water seeping through your skirt immediately sending shivers up your spine. Jeonghan chortled softly at your twisted expression and tossed the towel and sweater onto your lap.

“Thanks,” you said to him, the first thing that came to your mind.

“Yeah,” he replied. Jeonghan shifted in his seat to face you, one elbow eased up against the head of his seat, his other hand resting on the wheel, he tilted his chin at you coolly. “Dry yourself off,” he pointed at the sweater, “When we get to the bar, you can change into that. In the meantime, try to stay warm, hm?” He leaned over and adjusted the heat settings.

“We’re actually going to the bar?” you blurted.

Jeonghan leaned back in his seat. “I don’t see why not?”

“Jeonghan, I don’t even have much money left on me –”

“Don’t worry about it – I’ll pay.”

You paused and stared at him wide-eyed. “Look, that’s very kind of you, but you’ve already done a lot coming out here. You can just take me home – I don’t want to be much more of an inconvenience for you.” You gestured to the items in your lap, “This is already enough.”

Jeonghan chuckled, you weren’t quite sure if he was bluffing or not. “I told you to call when you needed a friend and you did. You don’t need to pay me back anything – in return, all I ask is for company over drinks.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to protest, he cut you off again. “A deal’s a deal. I’ve come out this far – why not finish it?”

You figured it wouldn’t be much use arguing with him. He seemed like the type – one that wouldn’t budge once he has his mind set on something. Thus, you muttered a soft ‘okay’ and clicked your seatbelt on. Peering up from your lap, you noted how Jeonghan stared at you with serious eyes, his brows knitted together. When he caught your gaze, he was quick to look out the front window. You raised the towel to dry your hair; not shortly after, he shifted gears and took off in the opposite direction he arrived.

“It suits you well,” Jeonghan sniggered, his eyes skimming over your form in the brown sweater as you walked out of the bathroom and took a seat across from him. Holding the hem of the sweater, you peered down at the front: the face of a teddy bear was plastered in the middle, its face textured with terry-like fabric. When you settled down in your seat, Jeonghan was still grinning at you teasingly. He slid over a mug of beer, bubbles floating through gold-colored liquid and foaming white at the top.

He raised his glass and titled his head forward towards you, “Cheers.”

You gave him a tight smile and used both hands to hold yours up before chugging down a good fourth of it. You could hear Jeonghan sucking in a satisfied breath through his teeth. Though your face twisted at the bitter taste, it settled in your belly, sending a satisfying warmth across your cheeks immediately.

Jeonghan set his mug down on the chipped wooden table with a light ‘clink.’ He noted how ‘LSM x CYJ’ was etched in the center, their initials surrounded with a heart. He scoffed a little, surprised adults (assuming only 18+ people were allowed in the bar) were still into these childish things. Wherever they are, he silently wished LSM and CYJ were happy and doing well.

“Thank you again for coming out,” you said hesitantly. Jeonghan lifted his gaze from the table. You moved back ever so slightly at the sight of his large chocolate brown eyes. They were . . . pretty; so pretty, you were sure you were going to get lost in them – like a goldfish swimming in an ocean. You lifted your beer and tapped the glass lightly. “The beer too – I owe you one next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?” Jeonghan chuckled. His fingers danced along the rim of his mug.

“If my streak of bad luck continues, perhaps,” you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. You had hoped your flush from the alcohol was enough to hide the growing blush on your cheek from his comment.

He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “I’m counting on it then.”

You nodded fervently, “Okay, cool.” You raised your beer to your lips and gulped down a mouthful.

“Tell me,” Jeonghan started when you set your mug, “What happened this time?”

“Ttch,” you smirked, twisting your face in disgust at the memory. The wound was all too fresh.

“I think you owe me that much of an explanation – calling me out in this weather and treating you to beer. And besides,” he pushed his beer forward, “I could use a good story.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘good’,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Bad story it is then,” Jeonghan smacked the table, “Let’s hear it.”

A small burp escaped your lips, eliciting a bout of chuckles from Jeonghan. Did he really find you that funny or was his alcohol tolerance just bad . . .? His cup was barely half done.

“His name was Haneul,” you licked your lips, clasping your hand in between your thighs. “You remember Sooyoung? My friend from the club.”

Jeonghan nodded, listening rather attentively.

“Apparently he was a friend of a friend of Sooyoung’s and was there – liked me apparently, but I spent the majority of my time on the curb talking to you. So yeah, they told me and he reached out to me. So we went to get some grilled meat.”

Jeonghan noted the way you started shifting uncomfortably in your seat at what’s to come. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, the space between his brows already dipping.

You chortled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your hair was still damp, trickles of water still dripping onto your shoulder. “I like it when people are . . . honest? Yeah, that’s the word. I like it when they’re just honest and straightforward with their intent with me. And I mean, he was, uh,” your eyes flickered up at Jeonghan before they dropped to your lap again. You tugged at the sleeves of his sweater, hiding your wringing hands. “He was honest. I don’t know why I’m being so weird about this because people our age do it all the time, but he asked for –”

Jeonghan held up a hand, cutting you off. “I think I know what he asked for.” He was getting uncomfortable just watching you squirm in your seat about this. “You don’t need to repeat it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You gave him a grateful smile, sucking in a sharp breath, your shoulders visibly relaxing. A moment of silence passed while you collected your nerves.

Swirling his drink, Jeonghan pouted. “So after you said no, he just . . . left you there?”

“Basically,” you replied flatly.

“Did you pay for the meal?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Damn – asshole.”

“A little bit.”

Jeonghan scoffed, “A little bit? A lot bit in my book.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you said you weren’t a nice guy?”

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I’m disrespectful – that’s just . . . low, guilt tripping someone to sleep with you against their wishes.”

Interesting was the only thought that came to mind. Jeonghan was not nice, but he was more thoughtful than most guys you’d met.

Glumly, you only shrugged, returning to your alcohol. Jeonghan watched you down the remainder of it, lazily placing your now empty mug on the table. He figured you were probably tipsy, watching you blankly stare at the floor.

“So,” he said loudly, grabbing your attention. “You had a bad date when I last saw you, and another one today.”

“Well, I had one good one,” your mind flitted to Namjoon.

“But?”

“We had a mutual agreement that we didn't like each other.”

“Two bad dates, one that didn’t work out, all within two weeks . . . Why do you do it?” Jeonghan asked abruptly. He raised his beer to his lips.

“Do what?” you asked innocently.

“This,” he twirled his finger around, “Dating – you seem . . . weirdly adamant about it. One would think two traumatic experiences would halt you already.”

“I’ve been on more than two bad dates,” you giggled drunkenly.

Jeonghan waved his hand in front of him, entertained by your drunken state. “All the more reason to stop.”

When your laughter died down, the smile on your face fell and you stared up at him, glassy-eyed. “I wanna know what it feels like.”

“What what feels like?”

“Love,” you drew a heart in the air with your pointer fingers shyly. “I’ve never . . . dated before – not seriously anyways. Just a lot of crushes and one-sided pining.”

“Huh,” Jeonghan poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“What?” you pouted.

“I just think . . . love is overrated.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve bet you dated a lot, that’s why you said that,” you presumed aloud.

Jeonghan shook his head and pushed his empty mug to the side. “I’ve had maybe one or two serious-ish relationships, but nothing I wanted to keep long-term. I’m not into commitment.”

“Oh,” you said a little softer this time.

“And by that, I don’t mean I’m a friends-with-benefit kind of guy, or like, into flings.”

“Then . . .” your voice trailed off.

“Relationships are just . . . annoying? It’s not that I don’t want someone, but the thought of having to take into consideration someone else in every decision of your life is so cumbersome,” he placed a hand on his chest, “I can hardly take care of myself, I don’t know if I could do that for another person – at least, not right now.”

“Don’t you want to know the feeling of being in love though?”

��If it’s anything from what I’ve seen or experienced, frankly, no.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet,” you suggested.

“I don’t believe in soulmates and finding ‘the one,’” he remarked.

“Geez,” you huffed, “Tough crowd.”

“Not tough, I just chose . . . this life,” Jeonghan explained.

“Hm?” you hummed in confusion.

“I simply don’t believe in fate and all that hand-wavy jazz,” Jeonghan he pointed at an ambiguous point on the wall behind you. “Life is a series of consequences from the decisions we’ve made . . . and rather than finding the one, I hope to wake up every day wanting to choose someone and right now, I choose no one.”

“Okay Aristotle,” you shook your head, the vision of Jeonghan getting blurry. You could feel the effect of the alcohol already starting to hit. “That just went way over my head, but you do you, though admittedly, I kind of like that.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, only the sounds of quiet chatter from the few guests echoed through the bar. Your hands tucked under your chin, you lazily watched Jeonghan finish the rest of his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He was just so pretty – and you say this without romantic interest. The dim lighting of the bar highlighted his features so well, his cheekbones were tall, his nose belonged to that of a sculpture. His brown locks, albeit messy and wavy, sat perfectly swept across his forehead. And did you forget to mention his beautiful eyes?

How was he so . . . effortlessly perfect? Handsome, rich, seemingly down-to-earth, content with himself – you aspired to be like him.

“I like you, Yoon Jeonghan,” you blurted before you could catch yourself.

Jeonghan placed his empty glass on the table and waved over the bartender, asking for the check. “I’m aware,” he chuckled, “You’ve said that before, unless . . .”

You sat up a little, waiting for him to finish.

“Something’s changed?”

“What would change?” you asked him stupidly.

“You like me more than you make yourself out to?” he asked playfully. “If that’s the case, Y/N–”

You crumpled a napkin and threw it at his face. Jeonghan flinched and frowned at you.

“Let me make things clear, Jeonghan,” you slurred, “I just want to be friends with you. Like I said before, I like you – platonically, you’re interesting, and you’ve got a strange, but practical, outlook on life. People like you,” you jabbed a finger at him, “And me – don’t jive. If I go anything further, I’ll just get my heart broken and right now, I don’t need that.”

“A girl who knows what she wants and needs,” Jeonghan nodded approvingly, “I dig that.”

“We’ll stay friends,” you said just to be clear, “Drinking buddies at best.”

“Drinking buddies?”

“Bingo,” you snapped your fingers and winked at him. “It’s more fun and comfortable this way. I’ll have someone to vent to when my dates go awry, and if you ever want to go off about something that happened to you, I’m all ears.”

“Low-key,” Jeonghan nodded, “I’m in.”

You raised your hand for a fist bump. Jeonghan’s eyes flickered from your hand to your eyes in disbelief. “What are we? Ten?”

“Just do it, man,” you protested.

A deep chuckle rolling off his tongue, he complied.

After paying the bill and sobering up with some water, you plugged your address into Jeonghan’s phone and he took you home. By now, the rain had quieted to a light drizzle, droplets of water clinging onto his windows. It was a quiet drive to your apartment, only the hum of his engine and the wheels sloshing against the wet pavement. You had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, cheek pressed against the seatbelt – that definitely left a mark when he woke you up.

Jeonghan knew he wasn’t into relationships and commitment, but watching you dash towards the door of your apartment building wearing his brown sweater, your head ducked under your windbreaker you were using as a makeshift umbrella, he knew he did kind of want to see you again.

As a friend only, of course.

#jeonghan x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic

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hayleythecannibal · 2 months

Text

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Sixteen Hassun

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Court Scenes, Lying, a smidge of Jealousy, Desperation, Slight Possessiveness

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

the speaker as MARION VEGA, prosecutor. She has the floor. A smiling assassin.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, the Minnesota Shrike, killed young women who looked just like his daughter. He killed them and he ate them.” Vega pauses and looks at Will. He sits, shackled, with his attorney LEONARD BRAUER. JUDGE BERTRAND DAVIES straight ahead. An audience in the gallery. No jury. A bailiff stands guard.

“Will Graham understood how Garret Jacob Hobbs thought, which is how he caught him. Shot Hobbs dead as he cut his daughter's throat. Will Graham and his partner Dr. Y/N L/N saved Abigail Hobbs's life. But this profile he created of her father was so vivid, he couldn't escape it. In an unconscious state, he killed three more young women.” She has a remote for a projector in her hand and she CLICKS it. The LIGHTS DIM. KER-CHUNK -- the lights flicker across Will's face as a slide changes on a screen. SLIDE: CASSIE BOYLE MOUNTED ON ANTLERS.

“Cassie Boyle.” KER-CHUNK -- MARISSA SCHUUR IMPALED ON ANTLERS.

“Marissa Schuur.” KER-CHUNK -- ABIGAIL HOBBS. Will looks down.

“And Abigail Hobbs. Mr. Graham saved her from her father, but couldn't save her from himself. He killed her and ate her. At the very least, we know he ate her ear.” KER-CHUNK -- a ghastly image of the ear Will threw up.

“What he did with the rest of her is locked away in the recesses of Will Graham's traumatized mind, or so he would have you believe. Something else you should know about Will Graham. He's an eideteker. He has a remarkable visual memory. He is keenly insightful to the human condition and I would argue, the smartest person in this room. Capable of creating a psychological profile of a different kind of killer, one that would become his alibi.”

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE COURTROOM - DAY-

JACK CRAWFORD paces, waiting. KADE PRURNELL approaches. “Moment of truth.”

“If I knew what the truth was.” Jack says as he prepares himself to take the stand. “There’s nothing wrong with your instincts.” Prurnell says as she looks him dead in the eyes. “My instincts have not yet arrived at conviction.” Jack says as his head bows towards the sky. “Mine have. With the benefit of no prior involvement and no personal connections to the accused.”

“Meaning, I can't be impartial.” Jack says softly and with slight understanding.

“Of course you can be impartial. But right now, you're not. You have to believe something. As long as there is reason and evidence to believe. You have reason. You have evidence. Will Graham is playing a game.” Kade Prurnell is certain in her beliefs. The courtroom door opens and Jack turns, expecting to be called. His nerves evident. But it is just a bailiff exiting. Kade softens. “I understand why that would be hard for you to accept.”

“Let’s hear that theory.” Jack says with slight defiance and an unreadable expression, “It is easier to be a man who missed a friend's suffering than it is to be the head of Behavioral Sciences at the FBI who missed a killer standing right in front of him. There's a reason you're a witness for the prosecution, Agent Crawford.” Prurnell says with a cold gaze. “What reason would that be?” Jack says as he meets her eyes with a cold gaze of his own.

“If you can't represent your own beliefs, represent the Bureau's. Will Graham lied to the FBI. He lied to you. And you know it.” She holds his arm, reassuring, cheerleading. “Let yourself off the hook, Jack.”

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

Jack is on the stand. Mid-testimony. Vega in front of him, but Jack's eyes are on Will Graham. Will does not look away. There is a female bailiff on duty. I’m directly behind Will, I keep my eyes on Jack. “How did you meet Will Graham?” asks Ms. Vega

“I met him at the opening of the Evil Minds Research Museum. He disagreed with what we called it. He told me the title mythologized banal, cruel men who don't deserve to sound like supervillains.”

“What was your first impression?”

“He was intelligent. And arrogant. And very likely on the spectrum.”

“Which is why he was never real FBI. He failed the screening procedures.”

“Yes.”

“But you felt he was qualified to work in the field.”

“Under my supervision. And with a Partner.” I look down at my lap with a clenched jaw.

“You believed he was valuable because he can think like a killer?”

“He can think like anybody. He has pure empathy and projection. He can imprint profiles on the blank slate of his mind for us to read. Its one of the reasons I though Dr. L/N and him would work well together” I smile softly at the thought.

“Sounds like a supervillain. She points to a table in front of the bench. It is laden with marked evidence bags, dozens of them, including five fishhooks, for each of the victims.”

“Five horrendous murders. Over forty different pieces of forensic and physical evidence. That tell us Will Graham knows how to think like a killer because he is one.” Jack looks up at Prurnell and then at Will. Vega presses.

“Rather than being tormented by the work he did, Will Graham enjoyed the cover his role at the FBI gave him to commit his terrible crimes.” Jack looks at Kade Prurnell. Then Jack looks at Will. “I don't believe that to be true.” Marion Vega is thrown off guard by that.

“Agent Crawford?” For Jack, this is a moment of clarity; he looks at Will, talking to him; committing to what he feels to be true. “Will hated every second of the work. Didn't fake that. He hated it and I kept making him do it.”

“Why then, when you gave him the opportunity to quit, did he refuse?”

“Because he was saving lives. I was warned by more than one person, including his partner Dr. L/N, if I pushed Will, I would break him. I put checks and balances in place, then ignored them. And here we are.” In the gallery, Prurnell looks saddened. She exits. Will stares at Jack on the witness stand, and Leonard Brauer can't hide a smile as he makes a note.

A PADDED ENVELOPE -- MARKED URGENT -- CARRIED BY A PARALEGAL - COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY

Where Will Graham is at the defense table with Brauer. Brauer is late 40s, cocksure and aware of his own abilities. “What does Jack Crawford drink? Because whatever it is, I need to send him a very expensive bottle.” Brauer says with a shiteating grin on his face. “He said I'm a killer because he drove me insane.”

“He paved the road for your defense.”

“He didn't say Will was innocent.” I say as I approach Will and His Lawyer. Brauer shakes his head. A pragmatist. “Innocence isn't a verdict, Dr. L/N. "Not guilty" is. This isn't law, it's advertising.” Brauer says as he looks to me.

“Advertising trivializes, it manipulates, it's vulgar.” I say for Will. “Boo-hoo. So's the law. We have to create the desire to find you "not guilty," which does not exist in this courtroom. We're manipulating the consumer into buying something they don't need. They don't want your innocence. Unconsciousness in a pretty package, that I can sell.” The paralegal brings the envelope down to Brauer.

“Thank you.” The paralegal turns to leave and Brauer opens the envelope and takes out another envelope. He pulls open the second envelope. Shakes it over his legal pad.

“If I take the moral high ground with you, I'll get you killed.” SLO-MO as flakes of DRIED BLOOD drop like snow onto the pad – WILL GRAHAM -- his face falls -- BACK TO REAL TIME -- a HUMAN EAR drops onto the pad. Gray, spotted with DARK BLOOD around the rough edges of the incision. I gasp loudly and cover my mouth.

“I think I opened your mail.”

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Hannibal and Y/N stand beside Jack, watching him thoughtfully. Jack absently listens as BEVERLY KATZ, BRIAN ZELLER, JIMMY PRICE work on the ear and the envelopes, reporting their findings. Lips move WITHOUT SOUND until their VOICES SLOWLY FADE IN. “Shrunken capillaries. The ear was cut from a corpse no more than forty-eight hours ago.” Zeller says as he gestures towards the ear.

“Before the trial started.” Bev says. “We fumed it all -- ear's clean, no prints on the envelopes besides the courier, paralegal and the lawyer.” Jimmy says as Hannibal leans over the ear in fascination. “One thing's for sure. Will Graham didn't do it.” I say from next to Hannibal.

“Although, I wouldn't be surprised.” Zeller says with a distaste for My recently incarcerated Partner. “The timing is deliberate, choreographed to drop the ear at the start of Will's trial.” Jack points out as he ignores the distastful Zeller. “Such a gift has great significance.” Hannibal says as he place a hand on my Lower back, causing my breathing to hitch.

“A "gift." From who?” Jack asks with a furrow of his brow. “Will claimed someone else committed the crimes he's accused of.” I say, “He said that someone was Hannibal.” Jack says with a raised brow. “Perhaps he was half right.” Hannibal says as Jack looks at Him, considers what he is saying. “You gotta be kidding me.” the angry, impassioned Zeller --

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

...the DOORS OPEN and FREDDIE LOUNDS ENTER. Without ever fully revealing her face, leads her to the witness stand, favoring Will as she makes her way down the aisle. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.” Marion Vega questions Freddie Lounds, mid-testimony.

“Would you please describe your relationship with Abigail Hobbs?”

“It was sisterly. We were very close. I was helping her write a book about surviving her father.”

“Did you ever discuss Will Graham with Abigail?” Did they ever when i spent time with Abigail she’d tell me about her interactions with Freddie Lounds.

“Yes. She bonded with him after her father's death, even saw him as a father figure. Which he took advantage of until Abigail began to feel threatened by him.”

“Did Will Graham ever threaten you?”

“He told me it wasn't very smart to piss off a man who thought about killing people for a living. I believed him. I was terrified.” Bitch please. I was there, i could feel the cockiness and Arogance, but never fear nor terror. “You spend a lot of time with murderers and their victims. Why were you terrified?”

“Will Graham never struck me as a victim. He was something else.”

“Why was Abigail so afraid of him?”

“Her father killed young women as substitutes for her. She told me she was worried Will Graham wasn't interested in substitutes.” A catch of breath as Freddie's emotions suddenly catch her. What a wonderful Actress she is, able to get even the jury to choke up. I roll my eyes and Will turns around and looks at me then back at the stand.

“This is all hearsay, your honor.”

“We'd argue excited utterance–”

“I'll allow it.” The judge remarks

“Abigail told me she believed Will Graham was going to kill her and cannibalize her like her father wanted to do. She was right. I should have listened to her.”

“You blame yourself for her death?”

“I blame Will Graham.” Freddie wipes her eyes. STARES Will down. And I almost walk up there and Knock her the fuck out.

“Your witness.” Brauer stands. “Miss Lounds, I've only been recently retained on this case, so forgive me for not having all the details. Can you remind me how many times you've been sued for libel?”

She Hesitates “Six.”

“Six. How many times did you settle?”

“Six.” She sighs her farce fading. “Six. Thank you. Nothing further.”

COURTHOUSE - CORRIDOR - DAY-

Jack Crawford standing in the center l he is blocking Freddie Lounds's path. “You and I spoke at length about Abigail Hobbs. You suspected her of complicity in her father's crimes.” Jack says with anger and suspicion. “I remember our discussion.” she says as she crosses her arms

“Just chose not to mention it.” Jack says with annoyance for the red head. “No one asked.” Freddie looks at Jack, deadly serious now. Real emotion. “Abigail was a frightened girl, who put her trust in Will Graham. And he killed her.”

“Your testimony made her death sound like it was premeditated.”

“Murder, Jack. Her murder.”

“Did that conversation with Abigail Hobbs ever happen?” Freddie stares, then: “You're looking after your friend. I'm looking after mine.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Hannibal and Y/N face Will standing on his side of the bars. “It seems you have an admirer.” Hannibal says with a amused smile.

“You think someone sent me an ear because they admire me?” Will asks confused, I look at him with soft eyes. “The boundaries of what's considered normal are getting narrower. Outside those boundaries, this may be intended as a helpful gesture.” I say to him. I want to reach out a hand but i know the guards would most likely stop me. And Hannibal keeps gracing his hand on my back.

“How far would you go to help me?” Will asks as he turns his head towards Hannibal. “It hadn't occurred to me to send you an ear. But I'm grateful and intrigued that someone has.” Hannibal says and he inconspiculously runs his fingers up and down my spine.

“Gratitude has a short half-life.”

“So can doubt. Our ideas are not set in stone. When exposed to new thoughts, they adapt into their most potent form. I have new thoughts about who you are. There may very well be another killer.” Hannibal says as him and Will lock eyes.

“I want there to be.” Will says as he looks at me. “Some part of you still suspects me.” Hannibal says as he looks down at me then to Will. “I don't know what anyone is capable of anymore. Even myself. I know there's no evidence against you.” Will says, i close my eyes and sigh.

“There never was.”

“Accusing you makes me look insane. I'm not insane. Not anymore.”

“You may not be guilty. Tell Us about your admirer, Will.” I ask as i step forward slightly. “He's experienced. A sophisticated killer. He has a wit and a whimsy. Parodied the crimes We investigated so well We didn't know he was there. He's connected to me somehow. He knows me. Or thinks he does. He certainly knew about the cases.” Will says, i nod in agreement.

“You could be describing me.” Hannibal says as he steps behind me. “I once thought I was.” Will says as he watches as Hannibals hands grace my shoulders. “This ear you were sent presents an opportunity, Will. If someone else is responsible for your crimes, perhaps he now wants to be seen.” I say, i know the killer is close. You could say they’re right behind me.

“Why would he want to be seen now?” Will asks confused on this situation put at hand. “He cares what happens to you.” Will Graham holds Hannibal's gaze.

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

Y/N sits in a solitary chair opposite Will Graham locked into his therapy cage. Shafts of sunlight giving the space a cathedral feel. Leonard Brauer paces to one side. “I don't want the first time you do this to be in court. Dr. L/N, weren't you and the accused romantically involved?” I dont blink.

“How is that relevant to the case?” I ask, i really dont want my love life out into the court. “It's relevant to your testimony. In that court, your affections, your pro-anything Will Graham will be on trial. Get all starey and non-blinky like you did and it'll undermine you and me, but mainly him.” Brauer says as he looks at me.

“My testimony is based on my professional–” I say but am cut off “You're smitten with the accused, Dr. L/N. It's adorable. But not our brand of defense.” Y/N looks caught.

“Marion Vega will smell it on you like you stepped in Young Adult and tracked it into the courtroom. Were you and Will Graham romantically involved?” I look at Will, then at Brauer; this is all so painful. “There was a Blooming relationship between me and Mr. Graham, yes.”

“How was it?” I again can't avoid looking at Will. Then at Brauer. “The advance came from Will. And i initially rejected it.”

“Because he was dangerous?”

“Because he was unstable.”

“What made you change your mind” I look at Will. My eyes say one thing, My words another. I looks at Brauer -- definite. “I don't have romantic feelings for Will Graham Anymore. I have a professional relationship.” That sits in the air. Brauer breaks it. Pleased. “I like "professional Relationship." It's so... indifferent. Unless you look like you're lying when you say it. And you didnt, which will fool the jury. But we all know…”

“She was lying.” I am looking at Will, the painful truth of this hurts. The fact i have to lie or pretend that i dont Lov- is this what love is? Protecting with no remorse of the others that are affected. All i want is for Will to be Free. so that we can try to move on from this. We save lives together. But there's gonna be a day and age where we wont be the most innocent when it comes to blood shed. Like I even am at all.

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Jack Crawford, Zeller, Price and Katz are gathered around the ear. Looking seriously concerned and energized. “You've identified the ear?” Jack asks who is actively wondering where Y/N is. “We ID'd the knife that cut it off.” Zeller says with a shrug of the shoulders.

“It's Will Graham's. The blade matches the cuts on Abigail Hobbs's ear and on this one.” Beverly says as Jimmy Price zooms images of the two ears on a SCREEN.

“It was presenting in court as evidence. And then it went to the courthouse evidence room.” Beverly says. “It was checked out by a bailiff at the courthouse. Andrew Sykes. And it never went back.” Price says as JACK as certainty grows in him. Energized.

FBI SUV - NIGHT-

Jack sits in the passenger seat of an FBI SUV, looking at a neat tract home, all lights dark. He raises a HANDSET.

“Go.”

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Shadows move out of shadows as two FBI AGENTS pause on either side of the front door. One nods at the other and he crowbars the lock – As the door FLIES OPEN – A BLUE SPARK A small electrical relay taped to the doorjamb is thrown and we follow the WIRE, taped down the floor and through the hall, into the next room.

The wire reaches a black shape in the room and FLAME BLOOMS, blue and yellow, beautiful as it quickly spreads. A ROAR and a BURST OF ORANGE LIGHT as flames suddenly surge --

CLOSE -- the blossoming fire as it spreads, reflected up close in a staring EYE...

FBI SUV - BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Sudden glow of fire fills the car window next to Jack's face, reflected, bathing Jack's face in HEAT and LIGHT as the darkness is chased from the windows of the house and FLAMES

can be seen -- Jack bursts from the SUV and the reflection disappears.

CRASH! The house windows shatter outward as the heat and flame inside builds. Jack shields his face as we hear the ROAR and RUSH of the fire --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

QUIET and a muted stillness -- the calm after the storm. A FIRE CREW is leaving, their job done. The house is still intact, but the windows are gone and the place is smoke-damaged. LOCAL COPS are putting up incident tape and turning it into a crime scene.

The house still SIGHS and GROANS from heat contraction. The interior is dark, eerie shadows thrown by work lanterns. Smoke hangs in the air and water drips. Jack navigates the burned home with a flashlight. His feet splash through gray puddles. Jack turns his flashlight into the lounge and his face tightens in grim horror. In his FLASHLIGHT BEAM we see a horrific tableau -- the CAUTERIZED BODY of the DEAD BAILIFFhas been IMPALED on the rack of a huge STAG'S HEAD.

JACK CRAWFORD -- he stares at the body like it is a personal insult. SMOKE-BLACKENED FACE Torn into a permanent clown's mask. Burns can't hide what was done to the dead bailiff's face. Right ear missing, Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. BEVERLY KATZ, up close

to the body --- as she tweezes trace evidence into a bag.

WORK LIGHTS now illuminate the mutilated corpse. His uniform is fused to his charred body. A badge and name tag, "Andrew Sykes," melted into his chest. Brian Zeller taps it with his tweezers. Jimmy Price comes from the front door, walking Jack, Y/N, and Hannibal through.

“Wanted to give us a warm welcome and still leave something to find.”

“An arresting piece of theater.” Hannibal says as he runs a gloved hand against the SOOT on the wall. Rubs it in his fingers and smells it. Hannibal approaches the body closely. Jimmy Price steps back to let him take it in. Hannibal slowly walks around the corpse on the stag's head.

“It's Will Graham's greatest hits.” Zeller says and i Glare harshly at him. “Are we addressing the elephant in the room? The charred, mutilated elephant right over there.” Jimmy says as he gestures towards the corpse. “Could we have been that wrong?” Jack asks us. I look at him with empathetic eyes.

“About Will Graham? No. We couldn't. He practically took a selfie with each of his victims.” Zeller says and quite frankly im ready to knock him out…….or shoot him in the foot at the very least. Because his very biased opinion on Will Graham is gonna interfere with this investigation.

Hannibal watches the proceedings like a polite dinner guest watching a family argument, but not engaging in it. “The evidence we found was immediate and almost presentational. May as well have been gift-wrapped.” Bev says, she’s uttering the words of me and Will.

“That's what You and Will said about Cassie Boyle when she was found in that field. "Field kabuki."” Jack says as he faces me. I nod as I try to keep cool. The utter amount of fear, Betrayal and grasping to life the victim had in his last moments was extremely hard to ignore. And Zeller pissing me off does not help in the slightest.

“There wasn't any evidence before Will was apprehended and there hasn't been any since.” I say with narrow eyes towards Zeller. “He ate a girl's ear. It was inside his stomach. God knows how much else of her was in there.” Zeller says as he stands up and leans towards me trying to act all menacing. But all it makes me feel is like he needs a good ass kicking.

“Should've taken a stool sample.” Jimmy says softly. “Knock it off.” Jack says to me and Zeller.

“Tell me, Jack. What impact could this have on Will's trial?” Hannibal says as Jack considers the implications...

COURTHOUSE - DAY-

Jack Crawford and Kade Prurnell stand before the large, ornate desk of Judge Davies as he gets into his robes. “This murder raises serious doubts about the case against Will Graham.”

“Your team provided the evidence.” Judge Davies says with furrowed brows. “The overwhelming evidence.” Prurnell says with narrowed eyes. “Then you understand how significant it is for me to question it.” Jack says with gusto. “We heard your testimony, Agent Crawford. Are you sure you're not trying to assuage your own guilt.” Prurnell asks sarcastically and rudely. “Yes. I'm sure.”

“I'm not.”

“Why is it so important to you that Will Graham be found guilty?”

“I have no agenda here. What is important to me is the truth.”

“Andrew Sykes was mutilated in the exact manner Will Graham allegedly mutilated his victims. In ways that have not been made public.” Jack says as he is looking positive about his findings. “Will Graham isn't saying he didn't kill those people. His lawyer's running an unconsciousness defense. In effect, he's admitting the acts, just not the responsibility.” Prurnell says with large arm gestures

“Will has always maintained his innocence, despite gaps in memory. Whatever Brauer's strategy, this would offer a new line of defense.” Jack says almost Happily. “That's for Mr. Brauer to tell me, Agent Crawford, not you.” Judge Davies says, “Yes, your honor.”

“If Mr. Brauer does bring up this murder, I will give him leeway to present it in evidence.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Jack risks a glance at Kade Prurnell, who meets his gaze.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

“...Will Graham manifests publicly as an introverted personality. He would have us believe he places on the spectrum somewhere near Asperger's and autism. Yet, he also claims to have an empathy disorder.” Dr. Chilton is on the stand.

“You choose your words very carefully, Dr. Chilton. You chose the word "claims."”

“Will Graham has never been diagnosed. He won't allow anyone to test him. He has carefully

constructed a persona to hide his real nature from the world. He wears it so well, even Jack

Crawford couldn't see past it.”

“But you did?”

“Mr. Graham and I had no personal relationship for him to manipulate. I have objectively studied him and the crimes of which he is accused. These murders were measured and controlled. The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes. Because that man is a fiction.”

“You discount the encephalitis he was suffering as a cause?”

“He managed his illness with the help of his neurologist, whom he murdered for his trouble.”

“Is Will Graham an intelligent psychopath?”

“There is not yet a name for whatever Will Graham is. He kills methodically and I believe he would kill again, given the opportunity.”

“Thank you, doctor. Your witness.” Brauer stands up.

“Dr. Chilton, Will Graham spent his time catching murderers for the FBI. You don't see a contradiction between that and the cold-blooded killer you describe?”

“No, I don't. Will Graham is driven by vanity and his own whims. He has a very high opinion of his intelligence. Ergo, he caught the other killers simply to prove he is smarter than all of them, too. Saving lives is just as arousing as ending them. He likes to play God.” Chilton smiles. Certain in his damning testimony.

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will Graham lies on his bunk. Somewhere off, a demented soul begins screaming in a repetitive wail. A mind in torment. Will stares into the ceiling as the wailing continues, unabated... Will closes his eyes. The cell block lies in darkness. Silence. A SUDDEN hollow CLANG as the bolt slides back in the CELL DOOR. Will Graham's EYES OPEN. Instantly awake. He looks to the cell door, which slowly opens. An invitation.

BSHCI - CELL BLOCK - NIGHT-

A sound rises -- the hollow CLOP of hooves. Will peers and sees the BLACK STAG, night on night, as it slowly fades into the shadows at the end of the hall. Will follows it into the darkness, past empty cells, toward the end of the cell block where he can now see the GATE stands open. Will peers into the NURSES' STATION. Empty. Will walks toward the open GATE and up the stairs beyond.

“Will?” Will turns to see Hannibal, amidst the shadows, standing at the door of his cell, pointing him back inside. A KLAXON SOUNDS, harsh in the silent dark. now behind Perspex. He is --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Hannibal and Y/N stand outside the doors. Will shackled to the table within. The doors open and Y/N and Hannibal both ENTER. He pulls Y/N a seat then sits and pushes a file across the table to Will.

It slides across the table until it COMES INTO FOCUS. It's a wide shot of the BURNED HOME of Andrew Sykes -- his body on the stag's head in all its glory. Will looks at Hannibal, long and slow. Then he pulls the photo toward him, shackle chains rattling on the table. “My admirer?”

“What do you see?” He begins reading a forensic report and then turns back to the image of the crime scene: A WIDE SHOT of the burned room. Will grabs my Hand and closes his eyes. I've realized we ground each other in our moments like these. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. I close my eyes as I feel his thumb stroking my hand.

IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS MIND, A PENDULUM SWINGS. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings, wiping away Hannibal. FWUM. And the privacy room PLUNGES INTO DARKNESS. The CRIME SCENE PHOTO FILLS FRAME. Pull up and away from it to reveal Will STANDING IN DARKNESS. HE NOW STANDS IN THE ROOM in the picture, pre-fire/pre-murder. Hiding in shadow. We are --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

The bailiff ‘Y/N’ enters in her uniform, turning on a light. His Mind is playing tricks on him again, a cruel trick but a trick indeed. She sees Will. She KNOWS Will.

The STAG's HEAD stands in the center of the room. The bailiff looks confused. Before she can speak – “I shoot Mr. Sykes once, collapsing lungs, tearing through his heart's aorta and pulmonary arteries.” Will Graham raises a silenced handgun and SHOOTS the bailiff ‘Y/N’ square in the chest.

“He will die believing we were friends. It is his last thought.” The bailiff's face falls in shock and blood blooms on the chest of her uniform... Will moves to the dying bailiff and, as she would fall, Will grabs him. LIFTS HER BODILY as Will swings Her, high and hard, down onto the stag's head. RAMP back to NORMAL SPEED as the antlers burst brutally from the bailiff's chest...

“His death isn't personal.” Will's hand, gloved, removes WILL'S POCKET KNIFE from the evidence bag. He stands over the gruesome dead bailiff ‘Y/N’. Will's face knots in effort as he starts to cut, ETCHING a GLASGOW SMILE. “He is merely the ink from which flows my poem.” He stands to reveal he has now cut off the RIGHT EAR. As it drops into an EVIDENCE BAG --“My tribute. This is my design.” Will Graham stares down at his work.

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

Will Graham as he looks up from the photographs to Hannibal stroking the back of a hyperventilating Y/N. Her Head buried into the crook of his neck. Obviously coming out of a panic attack. Will looks worried and goes to say something but Hannibal shakes his head.

“It's not the same killer. He murdered his victim first, then mutilated him. Whether it's me he thinks he's copying or someone else, that's not how we roll.”

“How do you roll?”

“Cassie Boyle's lungs were removed when she was still breathing. Georgia Madchen was burned alive. What I found of Abigail was cut off while her heart was beating.”

“Then this is blunt reproduction?” Hannibal asks as he runs his fingers soothingly up and down Y/N's Spine. “You knew that already.” Will responds as he watches Hannibal's hands on his lover's body. “Would've liked to have been wrong.” Hannibal says as he watches Will’s eyes curiously.

“Occam's broom. You intentionally ignored facts that refute your argument and hoped nobody noticed.” Will says with a raised brow. “You noticed. I wanted to dispel your doubts once and for all.” Hannibal admits as he strokes Y/N's Hair, “My doubts about what?”

“Me. I want you to believe in the best of me, Will. Just as I believe in the best of you. This crime offered us both reasonable doubt.”

“It offered us a distraction.”

“Maybe this acolyte has given you your path to freedom. Even Jack Crawford is ready to believe, Will.” Hannibal suggests

“It would be a lie.”

“No greater than the lie that binds you here, that claims you are guilty.” That lands on Will. “I must admit to selfish motives. I don't want you to be here.” Hannibal says shamelessly. “I don't want me to be here, either.” Will says as he reaches a hand to stroke Y/Ns arm, (Because that's what he could reach).

“Then you have a choice. This killer wrote you a poem, Will. Are you going to let his love go to waste?” Hannibal says as he smirks on the inside as he smells the sweet aroma of Y/N’s hair. WILL GRAHAM ponders that choice as he Looks at his lover, His Butterfly --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Y/N is mid-discussion with Will Graham and Leonard Brauer. “We were heading one direction and now, we are heading another.” Brauer says with an enthusiastic smirk. “You're going to abandon your defense strategy, the entire case you've built... mid-trial.” I say flabbergasted at the current situation.

“Exciting, isn't it?” Brauer says without a care. “This seems reasonable to you?” I ask completely and utterly once again Flabbergasted. “Not only reasonable, fashionable. There's a killer on the loose, demonstrating all the hallmarks of Will Graham's alleged murders. Somebody out there likes you.” Brauer says as he turns his attention to Will.

“You suffered an illness whose brutality was matched only by its perversity. This happened to you, Will. We all saw it happen. Me and Hannibal saw the most.” I say as I grasp his hand softly.

“I didn't see all of it.” Will says as he strokes my hand with his thumb. “I didn't see any of it.” Brauer says as I eye Brauer and decide to remain calm.

“It was cruel. And it was real. Do you think this killer committed the murders you're accused of?” I ask Will seriously, now i dont think this killer committed Will’s ‘Crimes’. But I do think another killer did. “Don't answer that. Not in front of me. It's inconsequential.” Brauer says as he shook his head.

“But is it true?” I ask, “You're being awfully high and mighty, Dr. L/N. Adorable, but high and mighty. Very ivory tower. Very reductive. Very far from the point, which is the exoneration of your ‘friend’ Will Graham.” What the actual hell is that supposed to mean.

“And the point you're trying to make is reasonable doubt.” I say incredulously, “That's a win.” Brauer smirks. “Best you can hope for is mistrial.” I say confused at his motive. “Will Graham's alive. Also a win.”

“You won't be able to plead unconsciousness again.” I say worried about this. I dont want anything bad to happen to Will. I don't know what I would do if something did. “Your fast, triumphant diagnosis of unconsciousness was the best play we had. Now we have a better play. Needless to say, I won't be calling you to take the witness stand.”

“Who's taking the stand in my place?” I ask confused, I’m Will’s partner. What the hell is this fucker on about.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

Hannibal’s Eyes are straight ahead. As he walks forward – We hear the hollow CLOP of hooves coming closer... Will turns his head and sees only Hannibal in his smart suit as he moves past and toward the witness stand. Stay on Will.

“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God…” Will turns

Brauer stands before Hannibal Lecter. “Describe your relationship with Will Graham.”

“I was asked by Jack Crawford to monitor Will's emotional well-being while he consulted on cases. I was never officially his psychiatrist.”

“If you weren't his psychiatrist, what were you?”

“I was meant to be another part of Will's stability. I failed him in that.”

“How did you fail?”

“I was unable to determine if Will's condition was due to mental illness or stress from his work at the FBI.” Hannibal looks straight at Will. Holds his gaze. Jack and Y/N are in the gallery. Prurnell to one side of them. “My mistake was never considering his innocence. Until the murder of a bailiff from this courthouse.” Hannibal looks at Will and then at Jack. In the gallery, Prurnell turns to Jack Crawford. Hannibal locks eyes with Will. “How do you know this, Dr. Lecter?”

“I have been asked to consult on the case by Jack Crawford. He wanted a profile of the bailiff's killer.”

“You believe the bailiff's murder was committed by the same person guilty of Will Graham's alleged crimes?”

Marion Vega stands. “Profiles aren't evidence, they're opinion. This is hearsay.”

“I'll allow it.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“I believe there are alarming similarities in the crimes.” Hannibal says as he looks at the judge. “Will Graham accused you of the crimes for which he stands trial. And yet, here you are, testifying on his behalf for the defense.”

“Will rightfully couldn't accept these actions as his own. A mind faced with the possibility of committing such deeds finds an alternative reality to believe in.”

“You don't blame him for that?”

“No. Will Graham is and will always be my friend.” Hannibal holds Will's gaze. “Your witness.”

Vega stands. “Dr. Lecter, what was the cause of death in the bailiff's murder?”

“A bullet to the heart.”

“And Will Graham's victims, alleged victims? Their cause of death?”

“Mutilation.”

“That's different than a bullet.”

“No two crimes of any killer are going to be exactly the same.” Hannibal says as he looks to Y/N, she’s looking at Him. Hoping that he does not damn her lover, Her partner. “Is it common for a killer's mode of operation to be wildly divergent?”

“Not common. Not unheard of either.”

“Your honor, the witness's personal beliefs and biases are driving his conclusions. These are clearly two different killers, two different cases. The prejudicial impact outweighs the probative value.”

“There is sufficient similarity to consider this defense on the issue.” Brauer says as he stands.

“I'm ruling this defense inadmissable, Mr. Brauer. All previous testimony on the matter will be stricken from the record.” Judge Davies says. “Thank you, your honor.” Jack, Y/N react to the finality of the judge's statement. Hannibal glances at Will, an apology, then averts his eyes.

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - MORNING-

JANITOR pushing a motorized circular floor scrubber down the hall. He wears headphones and tinny ROCK MUSIC can be heard. He stops at the doors to our courtroom. Pushes them open and FLICKS ON THE LIGHTS. They illuminate the room and the janitor GASPS!

Where the mighty seal once adorned the wall behind the bench, a terrible sight now is revealed. Judge Davies -- MUTILATED, hanging suspended from the hook that once held up the heavy plaque. His arms out sideways in a Christlike pose, supported by a wooden rod. He has been made into the iconic statue of Justice -- the top of his head is missing and bandages cover his eyes. He is holding a set of scales in one hand.

Judge Davies’s BRAIN sits in one scale, his HEART in the other. The janitor stands, stunned, the tinny music still rapping a beat against his ears…

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

A CRIME SCENE in progress. Katz, Price and Zeller are processing the dead judge, Jack observing. Hannibal and Y/N are walking down the aisle, awestruck by the tableau. “Not only is justice blind, it is mindless and heartless.” Hannibal says as he looks ahead, I nod my head “No kidding” I say as I gaze at the macabre beauty of the literal metaphor of the image before me.

“Judge was killed in his chambers, then hauled out here for display.” Jack says as he approaches me and Hannibal. “How did the killer get so close?” Hannibal asks. “There was no signs of a struggle. Mutilation was postmortem.” Bev says as she points it out.

“He was shot in the chest just like the bailiff. Can't find the entry wound because he removed the heart.” Zeller says from beside the body. “But there's an exit wound. No slug. Must have took it with him.” Jimmy says smiling like he almost always is. “A trophy.” I say as Jack averts his eyes from the death tableau. He speaks privately to Hannibal and I:

“I didn't know how much I wanted this to end, until it didn't. No verdict. No ending. It starts over. Right from the beginning. Like the trial never happened. Why?” Jack asks us, the psychiatrists.

“Psychopathic violence is predominantly goal-oriented, a means to a very particular end.” Hannibal says and i nod in agreement. “The killer wanted a mistrial?” Jack asks with furrowed brows.

“It's an elegant, if rather unorthodox, solution.” I say with a straight face and honestly im quite satisfied with the result because I now have more time to prove Will’s Innocence. “To what?” Jack asks me and Hannibal.

“He spared Will a guilty verdict and, for the moment, spared Will's life.” I say calmly and I feel shivers up my spine as Hannibal’s Hand grazes my lower back. “Is this the same killer? Or is Will still on trial in your mind?” Jack asks Hannibal, “I feel like St. Peter, denying Will a third time. Like you, I fear my hopes about him were wrong. I don't think it's the same killer.” Hannibal says as He looks past him and Jack turns to see Kade Prurnell in the doorway to the court. Taking in the terrible sight.

“Excuse me.” Jack leaves Hannibal and me and goes to join her in the doorway to the court. They are silhouetted in the doorframe, as the crime scene work continues behind them.

BAU - FORENSICS LAB - DAY-

A WEB PAGE clicks up on screen. "Murda-bilia." It is a website dealing in murder memorabilia -- killers' signatures, former belongings, etc.: amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials, that sort of thing. Jimmy Price turns away from the screen to reveal Jack, Y/N and Hannibal with Zeller and Katz.

“You want a signed Gacy painting, this is the guy who'll get you it. Name's Jonathan Mullion. I went through all of the bailiff's email traffic. Three messages he replied to were using a nym server which furnishes an untraceable address.” Jimmy says with a amused smile.

“Belonging to this guy Mullion.” Jack says as Beverly Katz looks at Jack, Hannibal, and Y/N. “We found an old partial print in Sykes's house. Not enough points to stand up in court, but it came back to Mullion. He was arrested for breaking into a murder scene and stealing artifacts.” Bev says as Zeller points to a report.

“Look at the date, Jack.” Zeller says as Jack looks at the report. His face falls. “Mullion was arrested in Florida. Same day Cassie Boyle was killed. There's no way he was in Minnesota.”

“Will Graham was in Minnesota.” Zeller says and i scoff, “Me and Hannibal were also in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered. But i don't see anyone throwing accusations at us.” I say angrily at Zeller. Jack looks at Hannibal. Saddened. “We got an address?”

MULLION'S APARTMENT - NIGHT-

A weird, dim single-room-occupancy apartment. We SLOWLY PAN over the walls and see strange outsider art- type stuff, amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials; it’s serial killer memorabilia. A desk sits amid the clutter. A green glow from the laptop that sits above it. The SCREEN SAVER winks: "JUST SAYING HI TO THE FBI." Take in the crumpled paper on the desktop.

Y/N, Hannibal, Zeller, Price and Katz are now in the room. Zeller, Price and Katz are

cataloging evidence. Beverly hands Jack a bound book. He opens it. Monograph on Time of Death by Insect Activity, by Will Graham. It is signed by the author. Jack sighs deeply. Hannibal stands over the laptop. Looks at the message winking on there.

“Poor Will. I fear his new friend has condemned him.” Hannibal moves away from the laptop. Just like that, as if by magic, a pair of folded EYEGLASSES sits by the laptop. Hannibal walks to the foreground as, behind him, we hear --

“Are these the judge's eyeglasses?”

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

A shaft of light. Will's hand wafts through it, turns as if to catch the light. Y/N sits opposite him. “I was hoping a verdict would've Helped. I can't exactly blame your lawyer.”

“Faith in any sort of legal justice has never been any more comforting than a nightlight.” Will says as he gazes Lovingly at me.“There are so many miscarriages of justice when it comes to identifying psychopaths. You could have easily been misdiagnosed.” I say as I bring my chair next to him rather than opposite of him. I’m tired of being away from him. “I've already been misdiagnosed.”

“Not by the court.”

“Not yet.”

“How are you feeling, Will?” I ask as I brush his hair out of his face with my fingers.

“I'm numb except for dreading the loss of numbness. I walked out of that courtroom and I could hear my blood like a hollow drumming of wings. I had the absurd feeling whoever this killer is, he walked out of that courtroom with me.” Will says as he places a hand on my thigh. “He didn't.”

“He's going to reach out to me.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants to know me. What do you want?” He strokes my Thigh softly. She considers the question before answering simply: “I want you.” I say softly as i look him in the eyes as a single tear falls.

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal x reader #fem!reader #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds

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roeroe-world · 5 months

Text

could’ve been.

starring: eva apio as nefertari zain, tupac shakur as himself

set in 1993.

warning: profane language, use of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sexual activity

Loud rap music blared throughout the packed spacious building. Bodies danced together to the melodic beat of Snoop Doggy Dogg’s track, Ain’t No Fun (If The Homies Can’t Have None). Drinks and smoke surrounded the crowded, overwhelming atmosphere.

A nightclub named Pulse happened to be the club Nefertari and her childhood friend, Tanya, decided to attend. Dressed in their best, hair done to perfection as well as glam. They wanted to scope the scene tonight and so they did.

Their eye-catching appearance earned a plethora of stares, some of jealousy, several in admiration or pure desire. They were used to it. Los Angeles’ night life was their niche.

“This club is bumpin’ tonight.” Tanya acknowledges the live scene, slightly dancing along to the music. The pair immediately strutting for the bar.

Remaining silent, Nefertari just observed her surroundings and ordered a, “Sex on the beach.” As typical as it sounds, it happened to be her favorite drink. Her go-to.

The alcohol cocktail contained peach schnapps, orange juice, and Vodka. The sweetness mixed with the tangy flavor, curating a perfect fruity alcoholic drink. A Sex on the Beach could never go wrong in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Tanya just ordered a simple shot of Vodka.

As Nefertari takes a sip of her glass, the attractive women began to strut further into the dim-lit club, scoping out more of the scene. Upon doing so, the pair stumbled amongst the star studded VIP section.

Nefertari finds herself pausing in her tracks to meet eyes with the one and only, John Singleton. The director of films, Boyz N The Hood and Poetic Justice. Her brown orbs held a sense of familiarity and admiration.

John Singleton happened to be accompanied by the star of one of his films, Tupac Shakur.

Her mouth instantaneously goes dry, growing stuck in place. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. It had been so long since she and John saw one another.

John’s eyes lit up, “Nefertari? That you? Girl, get over here.”

The velvet robe was let open and in came the pair, several eyes falling upon the women, including the ones that Nefertari couldn’t keep hers off of. Tupac Shakur.

He was a rap sensation. A rap sensation she’d been a fan of since his 2Pacalypse Now days. Vividly, she remembered the day of the premiere of his ‘Trapped’ video. She thought he was incredibly handsome. Also, enthralled in the fact that he’s extremely vocal about social injustices.

The famous director stands to his feet, happily embracing the young woman, “Damn. You look good, Nefertari. How you been?” He quizzes. She could feel several individuals eyeballing their interaction, knowing they’re probably wondering how the two knew of each other.

Well, to go into detail, Nefertari and John met at Eddie Murphy’s mansion in 1991. Eddie Murphy was throwing a party which was filled with actors, musicians, comedians, you name it. It was a truly star-studded event.

The young woman accompanied LL Cool J as his date and nothing else short or more than that. Apparently, that night, she caught the eye of John. It was quite funny because he thought LL and Nefertari were dating, deciding to back off after approaching to ask for her number when she was finally by her lonesome.

But, the rapper gave him the green light, “Nah, man. It ain’t even like that. She just the homie. Do you.” It was the absolute truth.

They were really just friends.

That night, she and John exchanged numbers and remained in touch for almost a year. The two would talk on the phone for hours on end, laughing and at times he would tell her his deepest secrets. That she held close to her heart. She wouldn’t tell a soul because it was some things he spoke out of comfort in her.

They hung out occasionally whenever neither of two weren’t busy. Either getting dinner, going to see a movie or just walking around a park while indulging in deep meaningful conversations. What they had was special in Nefertari’s eyes, though, that’s as far as their relationship had gotten. It was more of a friendship in her perspective, a very close friendship and bond that she cherished.

One day, Nefertari found herself changing her number due to an obsessive boyfriend she was running away from. So, in result, the two lost touch.

Being from North Carolina and moving to Los Angeles was a hell of a transition, both physically and mentally. It was quite difficult trying to adapt into a complete different state that was fast-paced. Quick to move on to the next.

During her time of residing in Los Angeles, she’s met a plethora amount of all kinds of people. Some were trying to become famous, some were trying to remain famous, while some were already famous.

Nefertari met a lot of powerful individuals along the way. Most of those individuals hold the key to the ins and outs of this industry. As long as she’s lived here, she held a lot of secrets. Secrets that could ruin careers, lives, and break up happy homes.

Hollywood could make you jaded. She didn’t understand how she, herself, was still in this town.

Sending a dazzling smile, showcasing her pearly whites, “I’ve been great. How are you? It’s been a minute, huh?” She suppressed her feelings. A habit she’d picked up after being in Hollywood for so long.

When she and John lost touch, it saddened her incredibly. She enjoyed their long conversations, his corny jokes and occasional unwanted film directing advice. But overall, he was one of the few people that understood her.

“Also, this is my friend, Tanya. She’s in town visiting me for the weekend.” Upon introducing her friend, she watches John embrace Tanya as well.

“So, where you been all this time? It’s like you disappeared on me.”

“Well..” Nefertari began to explain and their full-fledged conversation started from there. They were back like they never left, catching up like old times.

“Wait a minute. I haven’t introduced you two. Hey, Tupac…” With a swift motion of his hand, he motioned for the rapper to come closer. He was adamant on the two meeting. Eventually, their eyes met and it instantly sent shivers down her spine.

He was eye-catching, for sure.

His presence was demanding and almost made her nervous. It wouldn’t be long before she’d break a sweat, gulping silently. She took in his physical appearance, both of them showcasing their pearly whites.

His shaved, bald head was clean. Also, adorned with a black and white bandana. The diamond of his nose ring shined ever so brightly. He was dressed in a black and white baggy outfit as well as a pair of matching white sneakers.

He exuded confidence and self-assurance yet humbleness, she liked that in a man.

“Tupac, this is my good friend, Nefertari Zain. Nefertari, I’m sure you know who this is, Tupac.” He introduced the two, a grin amongst his lips.

The rapper stuck his hand outward and the beauty sat her palm against his, not able to take their eyes off of one another. “Pleasure to meet you, Nefertari.” He puts emphasis on her name with a smirk, irises analyzing her frame closely, enjoying the view. His soft, plump lips meeting the back of her hand.

“You too, Tupac.”

Nefertari couldn’t deny. She was extremely flattered.

It was apparent that they both liked what they saw. Nothing else or anyone else in that room mattered. And from that moment on, something ignited between them.

They would exchange numbers that exact night, flirting endlessly.

————

For months on end, they remained in contact and would talk on the phone for hours. They became close friends whom hung out whenever they could and had amazing times together. Equally, the pair enjoyed one another’s company.

They’d gotten so close that he introduced her to his family. Almost every studio session, she was there and observing how he worked. She watched him write, effortlessly freestyle, there was no denying his talent.

She’s dated several talents within the industry and honestly every single one of them inspired her. A very few held a special place in her heart, some were just there to get over the last. Tupac was already in that category of an individual that squeezed into her heart with his charisma and outspoken, blunt nature.

Which explains why the rapper decided to invite her out to his six-bedroom home in Atlanta. He paid every expense it took for her safe arrival, including a charming driver by the name of Antonio.

Comfortably, they laid in Tupac’s king-size bed. Fully clothed, considering neither of them participating in any activities that included them being naked. Instead the pair engaged in a conversation.

That was their relationship in a nutshell. Sex wasn’t a priority.

It was clear that neither of them cared or was thinking about sex in the heat of the moment. They shared a blunt and Nefertari sat quietly, listening to him rant about his legal troubles. She didn’t care about what they did nor talked about as long as they were breathing the same air, she would be fine.

It was no secret that Tupac ran into the law several times. In fact, he had cases on top of cases. He was a troublemaker but it wasn’t intentional.

Moments of being around him, watching how he interacted with family, friends and his fans. He isn’t entirely what the media portrayed him to be. He wasn’t violent for no reason. But he could get quite rowdy when you pushed his buttons.

From what she’s observed, you did not want to get on his bad side.

“What you thinking about?” His doe, brown expressive orbs pierced into hers. Their eye contact was often passionate, finding themselves staring into one another’s soul.

Twiddling with his dark brown vest, she smiles softly, “Just listening to you. That’s all.” Nefertari’s head laid onto his chest, his heart beating playing in her eardrums, her right leg on top of his comfortably.

This was what they did whenever they were alone, lay up. They also would play card games, video games, smoke good weed— whatever they were in the mood for. Tupac never pushed himself on her and for that, she’s grateful.

But at times, honestly, she wished he would because she would tear him apart. Plus, she wasn’t that bold enough to initiate anything.

His large hands caressed her clothed back, admiring her facial features as she admired his. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.” One of his hands reaching to grip her chin to lift her face upward toward his, his red dilated eyes squinting slightly while blowing the smoke from between his lips and unintentionally entering her nostrils.

She began to blush uncontrollably, their noses only a few inches apart due to how close he’d gently forced her. The constant compliments would leave her blushing, making her melt internally and Tupac knew that. He was such a tease.

She loved the rush of being in his presence. There was never a dull moment with him especially when she’s riding shotgun in his Mercedes Benz while he drives like a bat out of hell.

He was also a gentleman. Something the media never seemed to want to showcase.

Often, they focused on the negative; Him shooting two cops, starting a brawl with the Hughes Brothers, supposedly taking advantage of a woman, etcetera. Nefertari was able to witness his good side, his soft side.

“Fuck the world!” She noticed he would often say aloud and she found herself screaming it as well especially when her friends would warn her about him. They had nothing but bad things to say about the rapper. Clearly, she didn’t care what they’d say.

She defended him with everything in her and would shout, “Fuck the world!” as Tupac would.

His ways were rubbing off on her and she loved it.

“I ain’t gon’ lie. I’m falling for you like a mothafucka.” He speaks truthfully, finger tracing up and down her arm. “I think I love you.”

“I’m growing to love you too, Tupac.” Neither of them moved a muscle, never breaking eye contact either. “What should we… do now?” She began, tension brewing over between the pair. “Should we act upon these feelings or just, let them be feelings.”

A heavy sigh passes his lips and instantaneously he looks away, Nefertari knew that he was bound to say something she wouldn’t like. “I have to let you know… there are other women.” She had no choice but to respect his honesty, remaining calm.

Her best attempt of maintaining her nonchalance seemed to be working. Though, in the inside, she was fuming with jealousy. The thought of him wrapped in another woman’s arms pissed her off to a great degree. Then again, she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

But no matter what, she would always be there for him. No matter how many women he slept with. They weren’t her. They could never be.

“I don’t want to lead you on. I don’t even want you to think I’m leading you on. I truly enjoy your company and I would like to continue this thing we got going on. You aight with that?”

Truthfully, Nefertari had no choice but to be. The relationship the two shared meant a lot to her and she didn’t want him out of her life. He’d just stepped in four months ago.

Nodding, a light grin amongst her two toned lips, “Yeah. It’s cool.” No. It wasn’t. The grin was placed to cover up the frown she fought and won against.

His unreadable eyes searched hers as if he was looking for something in particular, though, he remained silent. Eventually, he connects their lips. “Beautiful.” He speaks in between the loving kiss they shared.

That’s all there was… a kiss. A passionate, soul-snatching kiss.

————

Overtime, Tupac had been filming another film, Above The Rim. But shortly after that began, she began to see less of him. Though, still they would speak on the phone every once in a while. But those phone calls became once every blue moon. With the amount of court dates, interviews, filming, he had a lot on his plate.

There would be times he wouldn’t answer her calls nor her pages. It was a clear indication he didn’t want to be bothered, so, she let him be.

Nefertari wasn’t sweating it though. She was busy as well, finding more work as a model and a video girl. During their hiatus, she was able to get more work done.

There she was at a fashion show on January 24th of 1994. The young woman was getting prepared to walk the runway for Calvin Klein, having her makeup and hair done. Her eyeballs peered onto the mirror, remaining silent, in deep thought as she observed both the beauticians work.

Suddenly, her phone would rang. Without a hesitation, she reaches for her Motorola Piper Cellphone that sat on the bright white-painted vanity. Answering in her soft tone, “Hello?” She awaits for the unknown person to speak on the other end, given the fact that she hadn’t even looked at the caller ID.

“Nef, how you doing, baby?”

She knew that voice by heart. Then, her heart actually began to race. After all this time, he finally gave her a call. But she wasn’t complaining. As long as she heard his voice, she was fine. The fashion show no longer mattered.

She was willing to drop everything to go see him where ever. Didn’t matter the hotel nor the distance. All he had to do was name it and she’d be there.

“I—I’m great. It’s been so long. How have you been? Filming going great so far?” She found herself stuttering, eyes fluttering and immediately smiling genuinely. Something she hadn’t done in a while.

“Yeah. We just wrapped that shit up like two months ago. What you doing right now?”

“I’m in glam, preparing for a fashion show.” As stated before, she would drop everything to see him. “Did you have any thing in mind, or…?”

A sharp silence meets her eardrums and her eyebrows furrowing together, remaining silent as well. She was awaiting a response, wanting to hear him say, “Come see me.”

But instead, he says, “I want to apologize.”

“For what?” Her inquiry passes her lips instantly.

“Doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do…” He began. “I lead you on. I knew that you fell for me— shit— I fell for you too.” Shuffling is heard on her end, indicating that he was shaking his head. “Like I told you before, you are not the only woman. That and I got a lot of baggage. It’s too much shit going on in my life for me to ever take a woman like you serious.” The rapper pauses, a heavy sigh escaping his throat.

“The day I told you I was still seeing other women, I didn’t say anything, but I saw the hurt in your eyes. You knew all along yet you didn’t say a word because of your feelings for me. You were more than willing to put up with it… when you deserve more than me. I can’t be the man you need me to be.”

Nefertari could feel her heart breaking into two, though she maintained her composure, considering the glam team was still working on her. “What are you saying, Pac?” Desperation filling her tone.

“Although we haven’t been much on speaking terms, I was still thinking of you. I was thinking of you in court, those jail cells, when I was filming—I’ll always think of you. You’re a beautiful creature, inside and out. You don’t need a fuck up like me in your life.”

“Don’t speak about yourself that way and I don’t care about any of that stuff or the media or—” She starts, only to be interrupted.

“This ain’t about the media, Nefertari. Fuck them. This is about us. As hard as this will be, man, I love you but we gotta part ways. All I’ll do is hold you back and you don’t need that. I’m fucked up right now.” The young woman couldn’t believe her ears right now.

No-one else in that room mattered, even from the night they met at that nightclub, “I wish you would stop telling me what I need.” She protests, her voice raising but she still remembered to conduct herself in an appropriate manner. “I know exactly what I was getting myself into. You’re who you are and I can’t do anything but accept that.”

“It’s over, Nef. I’m sorry.” There was not enough protesting she could do to change his mind. He was adamant on his decision, knowing he was losing a friend and a potential lover. “I wish you nothing but the best, baby. I gotta go.”

“Guess this is goodbye, then.” She has no choice but to let him go. It’s what he wanted.

A long, emotional pregnant pause poured amongst the two. No more words were exchanged. There was nothing either of the two could do or say to make their situation better. Technically, they had been over since he stopped responding to her calls and pages, but he’d finally given her the closure she deserved. That was the least he could do.

The rapper didn’t want to leave her hanging with unanswered questions, wondering why he’d disappeared on her. It was better to be honest than to avoid her like he planned to do initially.

The moment he ended the call was the moment he ended their relationship. There was no more Nefertari and Tupac.

Meanwhile, Nefertari’s stared into the mirror of the vanity in pure silence. A sense of derealization sneaking amongst her saddened being but she disguises it, holding her head high so the makeup artist could continue to work on her canvas.

Seven months and out of those seven months, they weren’t on speaking terms for two months. As naive as this may sound, Nefertari thought they were building something; a relationship. Just for that building to come crumbling down when Tupac told her, “It’s over.” Those two simple words ended it all.

Though, in the midst of her pain, the two words she could think of is could’ve been. They could’ve been, in different circumstances and in an alternate life.

Maybe another lifetime.

#black love #tupac shakur #black men #black women #romance #90s #eva apio

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pinkberrypocky · 6 days

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pmmm rewatch live notes: ep 4

madoka's convo w homura in this ep literally destroyed me. when she asks homura if she's seen people die before i made a noise akin to a wounded animal and my friends looked at me like i was insane. just wait until they understand. then they will be in pain like we are.

The nurse’s in kyosuke’s hospital say that they hope sayaka will be able to be the hope he needs to recover emotionally, which is silly considering she uses her life to restore his use of his hands

Sayaka is in such denial that she wants something out of kyosuke and healing his hands

Blue balls of light fall around madoka in the opening scene in the opening

End of the opening is red

Madoka looks at her fried egg at breakfast while dissociating sadly which looks like mami’s soul gem and then starts to cry

Sayaka asks madoka to talk about what happened the day before later when madoka tries to bring it up

Sayaka is always trying to shove down and avoid the uglier parts of being a magical girl that don’t fit in her image of what it should be

Madoka isn’t sure about being a magical girl anymore after seeing mami die which shows how much she values life (for herself and for others)

Sayaka says that mami took them into the fights to show them the resolve required before they became magical girls, but in reality mami was hiding the weight of the burden she was carrying for her secret selfish hope to not be fighting alone

Kyubey tells sayaka about how the other magical girls are going to react now that mami died knowing it will upset her and then says that only other magical girls have a right to judge them

Another instance of him pushing them to be magical girls at every opportunity

Manipulative bastard

When madoka visits mami’s empty apartment it’s sunset and the lighting is red/orange/yellow

Madoka calls homura “homura-chan” even though she doesn’t know her

She knows her on a subconscious level and that’s why she never second guesses it

Or its because she wants to do what others want without a regard for what she wants

“It seems like you’re a veteran, though in a different way than mami… it seems like you’ve seen a lot of people die… how many?” woof madoka asking these things to homura is brutal

Imagine you go through hell cycle for years and watch the one you love die countless times only for her to ask you if you’ve seen people die before

Madoka cries when she hears about how no one will know how hard mami fought to project people

Which is so ouch when you think about how madoka does that to the extreme when she turns herself into a god that saves magical girls from becoming witches and erases herself

Madoka telling homura how she’ll never forget her is SO PAINFUL

Because she has forgotten homura over and over and over

Yellow light from the window when sayaka is with kyosuke

Red light coming from the floor

Sayaka tries to lighten the mood with kyosuke just like how she tries to brush off magical girl horrors

As sayaka realizes that the only way kyosuke can have his hand healed and play again is through a miracle, kyubey appears again to manipulate her in her weakest moment

He is a shadow backlit by bright yellow light

When madoka runs into hitomi who is affected by a witch’s kiss the lighting is very dim while the two of them converse and the people are almost entirely in shadow

Madoka follows them even though she knows that she can’t do anything to help them

She is always passive, following and worrying and yet unable to do anything both because of fear and because she isn’t a magical girl

The first active action from madoka in one of these situations is when she throws the chemicals out the window so that the people under the witch’s curse can’t use them to kill themselves

When she does this the broken glass cast a disturbing shadow on her face

And it only causes the masses to begin to attack her and renders her even more helpless as the labyrinth opens around her

This is the first time madoka is in a labyrinth alone and she very quickly succumbs to fear and despair

Madoka’s strength is her care and love for others so as soon as she’s alone she is powerless

When they talk after sayaka saves madoka from the labyrinth sayaka laughs and brushes off the fact that she became a magical girl

While madoka is clearly distressed and tries to argue with her (which is interrupted by homura arriving)

Kyosuke’s room is lit with blue when he realizes that his hand is blue

We meet kyoko when she talks w kyubey about how there’s a new magical girl in mami’s territory and

Kyubey eggs her on in her anger and says “what are you going to do”

Kyoko calls sayaka a hatchling

#puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #madohomu #madoka magica #holy quintet #madoka kaname #homura akemi #mahou shoujo madoka magica #kyoko calling sayaka a hatchling is also literally crazy wtf why would they do this to me #it happens right at the end of the ep and my friends did not understand why i had such an insane reaction to it #like hello??? hatching from what? a grief seed mayhaps?#its just all the little word choices and allusions to the full horrors that will be revealed is so delicious #this show hurts so much i fucking love it #doomed yuri for the win #if it doesn't make me cry i don't want it

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the-knightmare · 1 year

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Dreams of You I Wish Were Sweet

Have some Zoey/Ben from Escape Room (2019).

Warnings for depictions of violence, implied death, and night terrors.

Also on A03

Minos had them again. She was stuck behind the glass as Ben struggled to stand in a rapidly collapsing room. The sounds of glass smashing, and wood splintering filled her ears and reduced any logical part of her to the desperate pleas for Ben to hold on while she thought. Zoey was fumbling with a puzzle box when a pained scream made her drop the contraption. The room Ben was trapped in had shrunk to the point where he could only lay flat on his back. Tears pricked her eyes, as Zoey ran to the window. Her legs collapsed just as Ben was buried under rubble and the room finally closed in on itself.

Zoey closed her eyes in a silent scream, only to have the room reset when she opened her eyes. This time, Ben was standing in a room rapidly filling with water. Frantically, Zoey raced around the room trying to find something, anything, to break the glass. Minos had stripped anything useful from the room, only a secured chair and table too big to throw decorated the room. The water was just over Ben’s head now.

“Hold your breath, Ben, I’m going to get you out,” Zoey cried, pressing her hand to the glass.

Ben’s hand met hers but slipped away as air bubbled out of him. He floated above her, looking like a puppet before a performance.

“No!”

Zoey slammed her hands against the barrier. She battered the glass again, and again, until her hands were bloody, and it was not glass she was hitting, but ice. Kneeling, she watched Ben’s body as it was pulled by the current. Her frozen limbs seemed to move in slow motion as she crawled along the ice. No matter how much she tried, Zoey could not catch up. Her breathing became shallow, cold sweat beading on her brow as the aired thinned until she was dizzily kneeling in an escape tunnel. Ben swayed across the room. There was not enough time for him to make it to safety, and Zoey watched in horror as he stumbled forward and fell. She tried to crawl to him, hoping she could drag him to safety, but she could only choke and cough. Breathable air was running out. Zoey needed to get out, but not without Ben.

She would not leave him. Her mom, Amanda, there was nothing she could have done to help them. But Zoey could help Ben. She had to save him. She just had to get across the room, and they would be okay. Black spots danced across her eyes. Just a few more feet. Zoey’s chest burned, but she could almost reach him.

Her fingers just barely grazed Ben’s jacket when her vision cut out.

“Just a bit more,” she muttered, “We can still make it.”

Collapsing next to Ben, Zoey tried to fight the poisoned air in her lungs. She felt herself slipping away, all the panic she tried to muster faded into a frustrating nothingness.

Just as everything went black, Zoey jolted awake. Her chest heaved as she tried to reorient herself in the new room. Except it was her room, in her apartment, not a Minos trap.

“Zoey?” A sleep-heavy voice asked, “you alright?”

A warm hand pressed against her back, grounding her in the assurance that this was not some Minos trick. Zoey stayed quiet for a moment, focusing on the comforting warmth at her back before turning to face Ben.

“Just a bad dream.”

In the dim light of dawn, Zoey could see the concern on his face and felt a rush of embarrassed shame wash over her. She had hated when Allison had seen her startle awake at random hours, but even though Ben knew exactly what was going on she could not bring herself to tell him exactly what she saw when she closed her eyes. Sometimes she saw her mom fall through sand, other times Amanda, Rachel, Danny, Nate, their faces swapping in the middle of whatever torture scene her mind had conjured. Other times it was Ben. Minos using him to get to her, punish her, recruit her, it didn’t matter. It never mattered. It always ended the same.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

Arms wound around her waist and Zoey relaxed into the curve of Ben’s neck as thumb rubbed gentle circles into her hip. This position was no longer new. They had begun sharing a bed a month after moving in together, it had seemed natural with the number of nights spent comforting each other. Whatever their relationship had become, neither had ever addressed it, caution overruling anything else, though tonight Zoey felt too tired to be cautious.

“I saw you,” she said softly, the only indication Ben had heard her was the stillness of his hand. Zoey missed the comfort of the gently moving thumb but continued her quiet confession.

“You were trapped in rooms; all I could do was watch. Nothing I did could save you, and I…” Zoey swallowed around the rising lump in her throat, “I…I could-”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I couldn’t save you,” Zoey finished shakily, “I couldn’t save you, I tried, but I couldn’t save you.”

“Well, I’m right here, alive, because you did save me,” Ben’s voice was low and soothing in her ear.

Tears slipped down Zoey’s cheeks and soaked into Ben’s shirt as he continued to reassure her that he was alive, she had not failed, Minos couldn’t them anymore.

“But I almost lost you. I’ve…we’ve both lost so many people. I can’t lose you too,” Zoey interrupted.

“And you won’t. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to go,” Ben said, his words sounding more like a promise than its usual joking tone.

“I don’t ever want you to go,” Zoey confessed.

For a moment they were silent, each taking in the other’s words. Zoey turned his over in her mind, each meaning like another possible solution in a puzzle. She had always had a hard time understanding people. It had always seemed as if they were operating at the same frequency, and she was left in a feedback loop of failed interactions made worse after the plane crash. But with Ben, it had been as if she was finally beginning to connect again. She had started having dinner with her roommate before moving out of the dorms, joined study groups and the physics society.

A soft kiss pressed to the top of her head broke Zoey out of her thoughts.

“In that case, would you want to get coffee sometime?”

Laughter snorted out of Zoey before she could stop it. The normalcy of the question throwing her off balance, where just for a moment she could imagine them as just another boy asking a girl on a date instead of waking up screaming dreams of Minos horrors.

“Don’t we already have coffee together?” Zoey teased, knowing what her answer would be no matter what.

“Well, I just meant like a date, but if, you know, you aren’t into it-”

“I’d like that,” Zoey said, interrupting his nervous stammering, “but I think we have a few hours before anywhere is open.”

“In that case I vote we go back to sleep. If you’re okay with that?”

The suggestion of sleeping again after a bad nightmare was usually enough to send a wave of anxiety through her. Half the time, she chose to lay awake or get some work done rather than face the possibility of more horrors. But that anxiety did not raise its head. Only a heavy tiredness that she didn’t want to fight.

“Sleep would be nice.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ben studied her face, as always more concerned with her wellbeing than what he wanted.

“I am now,” Zoey reassured, settling more comfortable into his arms.

Ben fell asleep first, and she listened to the steady rise and fall of his breathing like a lullaby. As she began to drift into sleep, Zoey hoped that one day she could dream about Ben without it turning into a nightmare. That she could see her mother and dream of the days before the accident. Until then, she vowed to herself to fill her life with pleasant experience to dream about, starting with that coffee.

#escape room (2019)#zoey davis #ben miller #zoey x ben #mild violence and blood #hurt/comfort #tw nightmares

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catrinathomas · 1 year

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Key features of Sony SLT-A55

Key Elements 16.2MP High Goal Clear Mirror for Quick Concentration 921K Speck 3" Tiltable LCD screen 3x 18-55mm Focal point (Equiv to 27-82.5mm) Inherent GPS Full HD 1080/60i Video 3D Breadth Scene Mode Speedy AF for Full HD Film Catch 10 Casings Each Second Constant Shooting Up to ISO 12800 Responsiveness

Assuming you like to live like there's no tomorrow, this Sony Alpha DSLR-SLT-A55 Advanced Camera W/18-55mm Focal point will take you to the main edge of DSLR innovation, with the very first clear mirror plan. Interestingly, a high-goal live picture see with fast, precise stage recognition self-adjust is accessible consistently - through the LCD or the electronic viewfinder. This implies that in any event, moving articles stay in sharp concentration consistently, whether you're shooting full HD video or stills.

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You get exact pictures and 100 percent outlining on the LCD screen or eye-level viewfinder. ISO 12800 Responsiveness Inconceivably clear low-light pictures without forfeiting point of interest, made conceivable by the low-clamor Exmor APS HD CMOS picture sensor and refined BIONZ picture processor. Live View in LCD or EVF You can utilize both the LCD screen and Electronic Viewfinder for creating shots. Both give a what-you-see-is-what-you-get see of white equilibrium, center, profundity of field, openness and 100 percent outlining precision, in addition to enlightening on-screen shows.

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

#i am reposting this fic i wrote in October cause i didn't realize all my suptober fics are kinda gone #and i really liked this one so here you go #i edited just a little but not a lot so sorry about mistakes if beta's wanna beta with me that would be dope #destiel #wormstachewrites #my writing #fic #deancas #destiel fic #dean saves cas from the empty #selective mutism castiel #cas deal with the trauma of the empty #castiel is scared of the dark #dean #cas

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missmonsters2 · 3 years

Note

i’m so excited for your halloween drabbles omg. what about r asks vampire!nat to bite her bc she wants to stay w nat forever but nat doesn’t think she can do it bc she never wants to hurt r. anyways lots of angst

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: None. Kind of sads ):

Note: Modern AU set. Pumping out drabbles but why are they all 1k+ wtf

Count: ~1.2k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"How could you ask me that?"

The devastation in Natasha's tone falls over the two of you like a heavy blanket, threatening to crush you.

"How could I not?" You asked with your voice trembling.

Natasha shook her head vehemently. "No," her voice was hoarse as she closed her eyes. "No, no, I can't."

"I'm not asking for it today or even any time soon," you swallowed. "But there's a time limit on us if you don't. You'll be alone if you don't."

You knew Natasha knew. It was in the way she looked at you, at your fragility as you breathed and bled.

But you had known she would be averse to it. After all, Natasha's change had been violent.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Youth was fleeting—especially more so now when Natasha was frozen in time.

You think Natasha regrets not appreciating the fact that she could grow old. She regrets not spending more time with the people she loved—still loves, even though they're gone.

Natasha still has you, of course. And for that, she'll always be thankful.

But you still see the loss that hollows her face every day, the loss that dims the light in her eyes.

You still remember finding Natasha.

You had come home for the summer break from college, happy that you only had one year left before your degree was finished. It was late when your flight got in, and Natasha hadn't been at the airport like the two of you planned. Your texts and calls went unanswered.

You hadn't been worried, though. Natasha often got held up at work unexpectedly and would be unable to text or call. So, you hailed a cab and showed up at her home. It had been eerily quiet, but perhaps Natasha was still at work.

When you opened the front door with your spare key, though, you knew something was instantly wrong. The smell of rust overwhelmed you, almost making you gag. The quiet darkness made your skin crawl.

Wrong. Something was terribly fucking wrong.

It was when you entered the kitchen that you dropped everything in your hands, your keys making a loud clatter.

Bodies.

Blood.

Steve.

Wanda.

Bucky.

Tony.

Pepper.

There was so much fucking blood and stillness.

Your hands were shaking, blood pumping in your ears, as your heart was pounding. You vaguely recalled your eyes continuously searching for Natasha's body, and you found it by the balcony sliding door.

Natasha was still breathing, and you cried as you knelt next to her to try to check her vitals as you called 911.

Everything had been a blur after. Natasha was in the hospital for a couple of days. She had woken up surprisingly quickly, and the cops were able to take her statement.

Natasha didn't know who had killed everyone and attacked her. She did have a late night at the office but came home for a quick shower before going to the airport to pick you up.

Everyone else had already been at her place to prepare your late-night welcome back party.

Everyone had already dead when she came in. She had been surprised that the neighbors hadn't heard anything. Just as she was calling 911, she had been attacked from behind and knocked out.

The police said Natasha had been lucky she hadn't bled out to death because she had been attacked in the neck, but the assailants had quickly left after for some reason.

While all of this happened, you quickly found a place to rent short-term. A month-to-month apartment because there was no way Natasha wanted to return to her home, even when the police were done with the crime scene.

It had been slow at first, but there had been changes happening to Natasha. She constantly complained about an ache and a burning for weeks until one day, you found her sitting at the open fridge, gorging herself with what looked like a dead squirrel and packaged raw meat.

"What's happening to me?" She cried with blood around her mouth.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It had taken time to figure things out. I mean, your obvious first guess was a vampire because all it seemed that Natasha could consume was blood. The raw packaged meat in the fridge was doing nothing for her.

But it was almost disbelief that held the two of you back from believing it. After all, there was no one you could turn to.

Until a man named Nick Fury showed up. He had heard about the attack in Natasha's home. He was some kind of director for an organization for supernatural beings.

Things had been a little easier after. There were answers, and there were people.

The only thing that continued to remain difficult was your romantic relationship with Natasha. It was a constant push and pull, and Natasha said it was hard to control her urges when she was around you, and things got too...heated.

Natasha's control steadily grew better, and with that came an urge for revenge to find who had done this to her—to find who had killed the people they loved.

The search went on with some success. It was almost like a game of tag, a really long game. But as time went on, you were becoming aware of the fragility and finality of your life. And so was Natasha.

"You're asking for this?" Natasha hissed. "You know exactly how hard it is for me to live like this and you're asking me to turn you?"

"Yes," you clenched your jaw. "Not because I want it."

You shook your head as Natasha shook her head and started to walk away. You started after her, grabbing her hand.

"Because I don't want to be without you, Nat. I don't want you to be alone forever," you pleaded her to understand. The desperation building up in your throat and in your grip on her hand. "Unless you're telling me you're okay with going our separate ways eventually because I won't be able to keep up with you down the line. I don't want to kiss someone who's always going to look 25 when I'm pushing plus forty."

Natasha turned around, her face somber.

"Unless you're telling me that you're going to move on without me, that you're going to find someone new to love and love better than me, I can't leave you alone." The words sting more than you ever thought they could. The idea of Natasha loving someone else. You'd want her to move on and be happy—you do. But it would sting knowing that there could be someone out there for her that isn't you.

It's written all over your face, and Natasha sucked in an agonizing breath as she pulled you into her arms, holding you so tightly it was on the brink of pain.

Natasha swallowed. "How could you even think there'd be someone I could ever love more than you? That I could love again after you?" Natasha felt like something was threatening to spill over. It happened all the time with being a vampire. Everything was heightened.

Anger. Happiness. Sadness. Love.

Fear.

"But you can't ask me to do this. You can't ask me to bite you and expect that I might not kill you." Natasha sighed as she let you go. "Can we not talk about this now?"

You looked at Natasha's face, that careful struggle you could see for Natasha to keep everything from cracking and spilling over into a downwards spiral.

"Yeah," you nodded, pulling her in for another hug. "Another time."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x you #mm: my fics #mm.drabble.nat

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shmaptainwrites · 3 years

Text

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 [𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Evan Buckley x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — After a one night stand leaves you with a positive pregnancy test you did not expect the father to be involved, but looks can be deceiving

WARNINGS — mentions of sex, swears, some light angst, not very descriptive birth scene

NOTE — okay this has been in the wips a while just waiting to come say hi so HI

“So you’re...?”

“Pregnant yep,”

“And it’s mine?”

“Yep,”

“And you’re sure?”

“You know for a first responder you ask really dumb questions,” you cocked an eyebrow up at him. “and look I wasn’t planning for this to happen, I rarely do the one night stand thing, but here we are. I told you, my end of the deal is up,” you patted your hands on your legs and stood up.

“W-Wait!” Buck stuttered, looking up at you. “You’re having a baby...my baby,” he wasn’t even talking to you at this point, just trying to process the information you had given you.

“Look, I might be a complete idiot for asking this, but...do you want to be involved? I’m-I’m not planning on getting rid of him..or her,”

“You’d be okay with that? Like me coming to appointments and whatever else you need?”

“Well yeah I’m not against it,” you nodded. “I’m just surprised is all, forgive me for saying this but you don’t seem like the ‘arise to fatherly duties’ type person,”

Buck nodded, rubbing his neck nervously.

“Yeah, I could see why you might think that,”

“So you’re in? Like all in?” you asked carefully, looking down at him,

Buck stood up and nodded putting a hand out for you to take,

“All in,”

—

“Hey Pops can I talk to you real quick?” Buck asked, looking over at Bobby as they walked towards the empty locker room.

“Sure, what do you need, kid?” he said as they entered the room and sat on the benches.

“Um well, a-a...a girl I slept with she got, y’know...pregnant and I-I was just wondering if I might be able to get off my shift early tomorrow to go to the doctor with her,”

Bobby just stared at the boy, whatever he just said was like having his head dunked in a bucket of ice water, repeatedly.

“Bobby?” Buck looked at the captain oddly until he snapped out of his daze.

“Oh yeah!” Bobby looked up at Buck and nodded. “For sure I can cover for you,” he assured him. “I-I just have one question,”

Buck nodded for him to continue.

“Do,” Bobby lowered his voice, “do people know about this?”

“So far just you, I found out a week ago,” he explained. “And maybe if you could keep it to yourself just until (Y/N) and I figure things out a bit more, it’s a little hectic and I don’t think her parents are too happy about it all,”

Bobby nodded and patted the young man on the back,

“Hey I’m proud of you for stepping up like this, it’s big of you,”

“Thanks, Pops,” Buck gave him a light chuckle.

“If you need any help don’t hesitate to ask, kids are a big responsibility,”

“I know,” he nodded, pressing his lips together. “That’s why I couldn’t leave her on her own, it wouldn’t be fair, to her or the kid,”

Bobby felt as if he was talking to a whole new person, but it made sense, Evan Buckley always did have a soft spot for kids.

—

Buck sat anxiously in the dim doctor’s office, wringing his hands together and constantly looking back up at the door.

Finally, only a few moments before your appointment was scheduled for, you opened the door and walked into the office, Buck standing immediately to greet you.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” you apologized. “A few things came up and I-I just lost track of time,”

“No, it’s alright,” he assured with an awkward nod. “H-How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you nodded while he led you to the front desk so you could check-in.

“You can just head to exam room 2,” the receptionist told you and you nodded, giving a quick thank you.

When you got into the room the doctor there handed you a gown to go change in while Buck took a seat at the side of the room, waiting for you to exit the washroom.

You came back and sat in the chair with a little help from Buck to sit up there comfortably.

“Alright Mrs. (L/N) you and your husband are here for the ultrasound correct?”

“Um he’s not my husband,” you chewed the inside of your cheek while regardless, the man next to you gave you a hand to hold.

“Boyfriend?”

You both shook your heads again.

The doctor looked confused and Buck sighed, filling in the blank,

“Baby daddy, from a one night stand,”

“Oh now that makes more sense,” the doctor nodded while he flipped through his papers.

You pursed your lips and frowned, opening your mouth to say something before closing it and looking back at Buck in confusion.

“And what do you mean by that?” you asked finally.

“He just seems out of your league is all,” the doctor shrugged and you opened your mouth in protest, taking your feet off the stirrups and looking at him with an utterly and completely offended expression, but before you could cuss out the doctor Buck came to your defence with a blunt,

“Well I think she’s hot, I mean, I slept with her so that’s kind of obvious,”

Now you looked over at the father of your unborn child, your face contorted with bewilderment.

“Buck, not the time!” you exclaimed and he shrugged. “And I want another doctor please,” you added while Buck nodded, helping you off the chair and back to the front desk, but before you left the exam room, Buck turned back to the doctor and shook his head and said,

“You have terrible taste in women,”

Once you had cleared things up with one of the receptionists and she had gotten you to see another doctor within small opening she had, heading to another exam room you finally turned to Buck exclaiming,

“What the hell was that?!”

“What he said or what I said?” he asked for clarification.

“At this point both,” you huffed. “I mean what you said was nice and all, but I mean-I-I just don’t know what to say back to that,”

“You don’t have to say anything it’s just the truth,”

“God how was I ever convinced to sleep with you,” you muttered.

“Hey I am very likeable, ask any of my co-workers!” he countered playfully.

“Really? I’d love to, especially whoever your superior officer is, that would be great,”

“Well theoretically it would be but practically they don’t really know I knocked you up,”

“Then tell em, I’m sure that’ll butter them up real nice for me,” you chuckled.

“You’re feisty,” Buck growled and you slapped his arm.

“Hands off Buckley,”

“If you say so,” he raised his hands up in defence before resting them on his hips. “But we both know you’d hook up with me without a second thought,”

You would have responded with another bright retort but the doctor walked in, a happy smile on her face, ready to do her job, and now you could only hold your breath and hope everything was okay.

—

This was going to be a field day. And who said you couldn’t have a little fun with Buck, after all, half the time he was a bit of a snarky asshole so you got to get a bit of payback this time.

Outside of the station, you slipped on a fake pregnancy belly before grabbing your purse and heading inside.

“Excuse me ma’am can I help you?” one of the firefighters asked, she wore large clear rimmed glasses and bore a sweet smile.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m looking for Buck? Evan Buckley, he said he worked here,”

The woman’s eyes went wide, but she quickly composed herself, calling out to her colleagues.

“Hey, Chimney! Athena! Bobby! Come here!”

There was a small patter of footsteps and soon you were joined by three more people. Perfect this was exactly how you wanted this to go.

“You know this kind lady is looking for Buck, I haven’t seen him have you guys seen him?”

“Woah! (Y/N) what happened did I miss a month or five?!” Buck exclaimed, running down the steps to meet the group.

“Since when did you knock someone up?!” Athena countered, watching as the young man came to your side.

You couldn’t hold it together anymore, laughing and slipping off the fake belly.

“I knew you weren’t gonna tell them,” you punched his arm. “Anyways, you must be Hen, and Chimney, Athena?” you pointed to the officer and she nodded. “And Pops,” you grinned at Bobby. “Nice to meet you guys I’m (Y/N), the baby mama,”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Bobby smiled, lifting a hand to shake yours.

“Likewise,”

“Could I get you some food, something to drink? Tea? Water?” he asked.

“Actually some water would be nice,” you nodded.

Buck looked over towards you resting an arm on your shoulder.

“So did you just come over here to scare the crap outta me?” he asked.

“Pretty much, I mean isn’t that kind of my job?”

“Oh screw you,” he groaned, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and motioning for everyone to head upstairs.

“So are you two a thing or…?”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “Just a not so one-night stand,”

“And this one actually took on some responsibility?” Athena asked. “This dumbass,”

“Good Lord woman cut me some slack!” Buck responded and shook his head.

“It’s alright hon, I know what you mean,” you sighed. “I look at this one and decide he’s the best one like I can't understand how, he looks like he's a complete dog. I swear I have better judgment under normal circumstances,” you laughed and Buck looked slightly offended.

“That’s no way to speak about the father of your unborn child,” he poked your stomach.

“You say that as if you’re not sleeping with like ten other women right now,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m not, I swear it! Ask Pops or my roommates,” Buck exclaimed. “I promise I’m not,” he turned you around, looking seriously in your eyes.

You turned your head and looked at the firefighters surrounding you.

“I-Is he being serious I can’t tell if this is a joke?”

“(Y/N) come on have I ever lied to you?” Buck insisted.

“I’ve known you for like two months,” you shook your head. “Barely gives you time to lie to me I don’t know if it counts,”

“But I haven’t, and here I’ll make a deal right now, I won’t sleep with anyone, not while you're pregnant and we’ll work it from there,”

“Take the deal, we can enforce it!” Hen exclaimed. “I'm begging you please,”

“If it makes the woman happy then it’s a deal,” you nodded. “They’ll be watching you,”

Bobby came and handed you a glass of water and you thanked him, taking a seat on the couch.

“I like her, can we keep her?” Chimney asked Bobby and you laughed.

“Well, she’s welcome here whenever she wants,” Bobby nodded. “Buck’s family so now you are too,”

“Welcome to the party pal,” Chimney grinned.

“Stop it with the Die Hard references! It’s just more annoying now that I understand them,” Buck groaned and you patted his head.

“Is it typical for everyone to pick on him here?” you asked and they all nodded vehemently.

“Perfect, I’ll fit right in then,”

“I’m sure you will (N/N),” Buck whined. “At the expense of my poor poor heart,”

“Benefits of being the mother of his child I get a free pass to make as many jabs as I want, score,” you grinned. “Maybe this won’t be that bad,”

—

“Oh shit it’s that bad,” you gagged, leaning over the toilet bowl. Lucky for you Buck had stopped by to drop off some food from Bobby when this wonderful bout of morning sickness came.

“If I could trade places with you I would,” Buck rubbed your back gently, holding your hair out of your face.

“No you w-,” you gagged again heaving into the toilet. After your stomach stopped lurching for a moment you spat out whatever bile was in your mouth, panting from the exertion. “No, you wouldn’t,”

“You’re right I wouldn’t,” Buck admitted and you couldn’t help but let out a small painful chuckle. “I guess you don’t want those Cheetos now do you?”

“Don’t even talk about food right now Buckley,” you warned, leaning away from the toilet and back into his chest.

It was odd, the warm feeling that came to your stomach. You weren’t sure what it was, hoping it was maybe because of morning sickness, but something told you it was more than that. The way the feeling lingered, felt right.

Maybe it was just because you were carrying his child, but everything in your head screamed that he was a guy who would only hurt you but that didn’t stop your heart from wanting him.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, making sure to hold you loosely so he wouldn’t upset your stomach.

“Hey look I have the day off,” he whispered. “If you want I can stick around, we can just turn on the TV and take it easy? I can take care of dinner,”

“You mean you can call Bobby to bring some more food,”

“Actually I was just thinking going down to the station and eating with everyone else,”

“You know what, right now that doesn’t sound too bad,” you sighed, “You sure you don’t have some single dude thing to do today?”

“No dating or sex until at least after the nine months remember? I’m keeping my promise,”

“Being a good example for your kid then?”

“Figure if I’m gonna be a dad I should at least try to act like one a little,”

“This is by far the weirdest arrangement I’ve ever come across,” you noted. “Like I’m serious, I thought I was in this alone,”

“Well not only did you get me but you got the crew, at this point, it’s a bit of a package deal,”

“And I couldn't be happier, they’re great, treat me like family…” your thoughts drifted to your parents for a moment but you shook your head, you didn’t need to think of that now.

“Course they would, you’re...you’re really likeable,”

You chuckled lightly with a nod.

“Yeah that’s why you knocked me up, isn't it? My smashing personality?”

“And your great ass,” he added and you slapped him lightly, too exhausted to do anything else.

“You wanna sleep for a bit?” Buck asked and you nodded. “Come on, let me help you up,”

You stood on wobbly legs, following him to the bed where he helped you get under the covers, pulling them up to your chin.

Just as he was about to leave the room you reached out for his hand, just barely linking your fingers, pulling him back gently to stay.

“D-Do you want me to lay down with you?” he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Could you? This is the first time I’ve gotten sick like this since I was a kid and my mom always used to stay with me, but…”

“Yeah, Yeah of course I can stay,”

Buck lifted the blankets and slid into the bed, carefully wrapping an arm around you and allowing you to readjust your position.

He gently rested his chin on the top of your head while you laid against his chest.

It was nice and you hated how you knew you really could get used to it.

—

“Chim you ready?” you called to the firefighter as he came up the stairs.

“Ready for what?” Bobby asked curiously while you both sat at the table.

“They eat like 15 meals a day together,” Buck explained. “It’s really hurting my pocket so Chim you better be paying for the diapers,”

“Seriously after five months of this, I’ve got you covered,”

“I’m surprised your appetite grew so early,” Bobby added. “When my wife was pregnant it took at least until month seven before she started eating our entire house inside out,”

“Well it hasn’t grown that much,” you said honestly. “Hmm how do I put this, have you watched Bones?” you asked and the man nodded.

“Think of me as Aubrey, I could literally eat an elephant by myself,”

“Yeah to be perfectly honest I’m hoping this-,”

“Ah no no no,” Buck plugged his ears and you gave him a look.

“I was gonna say, kid! This kid doesn’t need to inherit my appetite.” you tossed your hands in the air and facepalmed. “We-No I just found out the gender of the baby and Buck keeps saying he doesn’t want to know,”

“That’s because the surprise is the best part,” he countered and you rolled your eyes.

“You say that as if you didn’t just have a vocalized internal battle when I told you I knew.”

“Okay, but what is it,” he whined.

“See!” you exclaimed.

“Oh, I wanna know!” Chimney grinned and you leaned over and whispered it in his ear.

“Me too,” Bobby nodded, walking over to you.

“What are we doing?” Hen asked, making her way towards the kitchen.

“We’re finding out the gender of the baby before Buck,” Chimney explained.

“Oo 20 bucks says he’s gonna break before the end of the day,”

“No one’s gonna take those odds cause you’re damn right,” you chuckled, now telling Bobby.

“Awe that’s so great (Y/N) I’m really happy for you,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Bobby, now if you could convince your work son to just grow a pair and let me tell him that would be great,” you grinned. “Hen do you wanna know?” you asked and the lady nodded, jogging up to you so you could tell her.

“Awe it’s gonna be a little-,”

“Hey!” Buck exclaimed, eyes widening and just motioning to the air around them.

“Come on Buck she didn’t say it was gonna be a boy,” Chimney kicked his feet back and took a handful of blueberries, putting them in his mouth.

Buck’s eyes went wide and you chuckled with a sigh.

“Surprise!” you said lamely. “You’re having a son,”

Buck’s hands went to cover his mouth and you gave him a bright smile as he ran over to you, lifting you in his arms and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Careful Buck,” you laughed. “I take that as you being happy about this?”

“Very,” he nodded. “Wow, I’m gonna have a son, Pops you’re gonna be Grand Pops,” he looked over at Bobby who rolled his eyes at the comment.

“If you guys are taking name suggestions can I throw in Chimney junior?”

“He’s not your kid Chim, he can't be junior unless it’s yours, and Chim isn’t even your real name,”

“Really?” he asked, surprised and Hen just shook her head.

“I don’t know, the name will come when it comes,” you nodded. “Right?”

“Mhmm, finally something we can agree on,” Buck pressed another kiss to your cheek and you hoped they couldn’t see how flustered you were. So instead you just held him closer, hiding the warmth in your face from him, but making whatever bubbling feelings inside you all the more obvious to the three firefighters surrounding you.

—

“(N/N)! You ready?”

Buck walked through your apartment tossing his keys on the table and looking around.

“(N/N)?”

Buck walked into your room, hearing the soft cries from the washroom.

He quickly ran inside, seeing you curled up on the floor in between the wall and the bathtub. Your hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and your eyes were red and puffy, making him assume it had been a while that you were like this.

“Woah, what happened,” he asked, bending down next to you and picking up your phone but you inched further away from it.

“N-No take it away,” you begged. “I don’t wanna be near it,”

“Okay, Okay,” Buck assured, quickly removing it from sight and sitting down next to you and pulling you in his arms.

“What was it?” he asked. “You sick? Did you see something that bothered you?”

“My parents,” you whispered. “Again,”

“Shit,” he muttered. “What did they say this time?” he asked.

“I-I-I just wanted to tell them I’m fine and healthy,” you sobbed lightly into his shirt. “But they think I’m making a mistake. They didn’t want me to keep it, they think I-I’m some whore that goes sleeping around,”

Buck cupped your face in his hand wiping away your tears with his thumb and delicately pressing his lips to your forehead, hoping it might offer some comfort, not knowing it really just made things so much more complicated.

“What happened to ‘we’ll support you no matter what’? Is that just a white lie parents tell their kids?” you whispered.

“I don’t know (N/N),” he admitted in a soft voice. “But I do know I hate seeing you like this,” he pressed. “It’s not good for you and it’s not good for the baby, a-and when you live on the other side of town I can’t be there every time something happens,”

“Buck, what are you saying?” you asked.

“I… I want you to move in with me,” he said quietly.

“W-What?” you faltered, turning slightly to look him in the eye.

“It’s close to my work and that means I can be close to you so if you need me I’m there,”

“Buck-,”

“Just think about it okay, I hate seeing you like this and I wanna help,” he insisted, tucking some hair that made it out of your ponytail behind your ear.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay… You know what, what the heck,” you nodded. “I’ll move in with you, it’ll be good for-for the baby,” you said, your eyes trailing down to your growing stomach, a visible bump now having formed. “It’ll be good he’s close to his dad,”

Buck pulled you in tight again, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“One weird family… and (N/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“When we tell this little guy we’ll support him no matter what… it’s not gonna be a white lie. I promise,”

—

“Alright Pops what are we making today?” you asked, coming over to Bobby’s side while he cooked.

“Your favourite,” he chuckled. “Figured you’d appreciate that,”

“Oh you’re the best,” you grinned, stepping up on the stool and sitting on the counter next to the stove. “In another life, you would’ve made an amazing chef,”

“So I’ve been told,” he nodded. “How’s the move been with Buck?”

“Not too bad actually, he makes breakfast which is nice if it’s not burnt,”

“You know we actually banned him from cooking here,” Bobby explained and you frowned curiously.

“God, what did he do? No, I take it back, what genes are my child inheriting?”

“We do a rotation for dinner sometimes and it was maybe his first week here and he somehow almost burnt the kitchen down making pasta salad. Pasta salad. You only need to boil water for that! And can you imagine, a firehouse on fire!”

“Oh good Lord,” you shook your head while Bobby offered you a spoon to taste what he was making. “Is he really that dumb?”

“I don’t know if dumb is the right word,” Bobby pursed his lips together. “It’s more like could be smart but he doesn’t think before he does stuff, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you agreed. “But even aside from all that he’s just… he’s Buck y’know,” you smiled softly to yourself.

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded, knowing that look anywhere. “I know what you mean,”

“He’s been really great through all this,” you found yourself admitting, “I really wasn’t sure what I was expecting when he said he wanted to be involved, but I don’t think this was it,”

“Yeah, I've learnt that when it counts Buck rises to the occasion,” Bobby exclaimed. “And boy if that kid doesn’t think you count. I haven’t seen him as happy as he is now, while also simultaneously being responsible and-and using a little will power and it’s just something all of us didn’t think we’d see,”

“Glad I could be of service,” you put a hand out to shake Bobby’s but he pulled you into a hug instead.

“You’re family (Y/N), don’t forget that,”

“I’ll try not to,” you smiled softly, trying to push back the tears welling in your eyes. “Really though Bobby, thank you,”

“Of course. Anytime,”

—

The way your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach could not be attributed to anything but what was being shown on your TV screen.

Don’t you dare Evan Buckley I swear to God-

He dared.

There had been a landslide after a minor earthquake, only a 4.2 in magnitude, nothing LA wasn’t already used to. The fact of the matter was, the city wasn’t built in the smartest way. People didn’t stay away from the dirt mountains causing things like this to happen, harming normal citizens and putting the first responders who needed to save them in danger.

In a way, the landslide was kind of like a mix of an avalanche and earthquake. Like the avalanche dirt would slide down, trapping whatever was in its way and like an earthquake, there was normally more to come afterwards.

Right now from what you could see a poorly placed restaurant was almost covered in rocks and dirt, damaging the structural integrity of the building and making it difficult for some of the firefighters to get in there.

But that never stopped Buck.

You could see behind the reporter how he rushed into the building, right before another rumble of rocks and you swore you could feel the baby kick as if he was telling you he saw it too.

Looking past the entrance to the restaurant on the screen you were able to see the pile of rocks just waiting to roll down the hill, probably crushing anyone left in the restaurant.

Bobby and Hen pulled out a few uninjured people while Chim came around with a few others pulling somebody out of the debris on a gurney.

“Firemen have been able to evacuate all except one child still remaining in the building,” the reporter stated and you grimaced knowing that meant he wouldn’t leave unless he managed to get the kid.

“Come on Buck, Come on,” you whispered, balling your hands into fists, staring so intently for any sign of him coming out.

Not before long, you heard a rumble and quick,

“Get out of the way!” from Bobby, seeing the rocks tumble down the hill. Quickly you grabbed the remote and shut it off.

That didn’t just happen. You didn’t just watch him get crushed in a building.

You could feel your throat closing and your heart start to beat erratically while you stared at the blank screen.

If he was gone, who was going to raise the baby with you? Drive you to the hospital? What happened to, I’m all in?

You frantically wiped the tears from your eyes, grabbing the tissue box and clutching it close.

No, it wasn’t real, he could have gotten out. Buck always got out.

You fumbled around through your tears, trying to find your phone, dialling Bobby’s number knowing you’d have better luck getting a hold of him.

The phone rang through to voicemail and you hung up and tried again, and again, and again, even switching to Hen and Chimney, hell even Athena if she knew more than you but nobody was picking up; you could only assume that was because what they needed to say to you couldn’t be said over the phone.

An ungodly noise escaped your throat as you staggered back into the kitchen table, grabbing onto the edge for support.

Your body was quick to respond to the stress, sending a shooting pain in your lower abdomen causing you to hold on to your belly and curse mother nature for making Braxton-Hicks contractions a thing.

You bit back a groan of pain while the tears streamed down your face. It was just too much. Too much to think about, too much to feel, you wanted Buck here. More than anything you wanted him by your side.

The way he supported you, treated you like family, even bringing you into his own, the feelings of love and acceptance were unparalleled when you were with him and you never wanted it to end. But all good things come to an end, right?

After around an hour, still no word from anyone at the station house, your tears had calmed slightly, just waiting for someone, anyone to call or knock on the door.

What you were expecting was for it to click unlocked and open, in walking what looked like an extremely exhausted and worn-out Evan Buckley.

You quickly pushed yourself up off the couch and ran up to him, giving him a prompt slap across the face before pulling him into your arms, letting yourself sob into his shoulder.

“Don’t do that!” you exclaimed. “Don’t go making me think you’re dead, a-a damn phone call Buck that’s all it would have taken!”

“Hey, hey I’m sorry, the cell towers were down,” he gripped onto you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You can’t just-just leave me okay,” you whispered “It’s not just me, there’s-there’s the baby a-and as much as I want to think I can do it by myself I can’t. I can’t,” you sobbed.

“I know,” he nodded, pressing his forehead to yours, a thumb brushing away your tears. “I’m here I promise. I’m here for both of you,”

“I-I saw you! I saw you in the building,”

Buck gently started to move you away from the door, shutting it with his foot and pulling you along through to his room.

“Come on let’s just lay down a bit okay,” he said quietly. “It’s gonna be fine I’m not going anywhere,”

You listened to him carefully lowering yourself down into the covers, watching as he made his way around to the other side, coming next to you wrapping an arm underneath you, his free hand resting on your stomach.

You grabbed onto his shirt tightly, your head tucked into his chest.

“Why did you go back in?” you whispered.

“There was a kid (N/N), a-and I just kept thinking of you and the baby and if anything happened I’d… I don’t know what I’d do with myself,”

“‘Thena’s right, you damn Buckley’s have hearts of gold,” you sniffed, looking up at him and ran a hand through his hair.

“Really? She said that?” he chuckled through some light tears.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I-I just...When I thought you… I’ve never felt that way before and I know it’s in the job description, but… you’re gonna be a dad,”

Buck nodded, hugging you again, peppering your hair with kisses.

“I know, I promise I’m gonna be careful,” he assured you. “I’m gonna be there, I’m gonna look after you, I’m gonna do everything to keep you safe. I promise,”

“And I’m counting on you to keep it,”

—

“Come on you guys barely have any photos,” Hen pushed, kicking her feet up on the table.

“Yeah come time when the little one wants to see any pictures of the pregnancy, what are you gonna show him?” Athena asked.

“I don’t know, I just-photos haven’t been at the front of my mind right now,” you chuckled lightly.

“Then let us take them,” Bobby suggested. “Here come on let’s do one right now,”

“Bobby I’m not sure that’s a good idea-,”

“Okay if not for you then for me,” he smiled. “It’s my work grandbaby,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of them.

“Alright,” you sighed, pushing yourself up with slight difficulty, accustoming yourself to the added weight in the front. “Let’s do this, Buck up you get,”

“M-Me?” he asked, pointing to himself.

“Yeah you’re the father of the baby are you not?” you asked and he shook his head with a smile, hopping up and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Okay say cheese!” Bobby grinned and you and Buck both smiled for the camera, allowing Bobby to take a few pictures of the two of you together.

“You guys look adorable,” Hen cooed. “This kid’s gonna be lucky, he’s really got a great pick for parents,”

You chuckled lightly, “Thanks Hen, only a few months to go, then we’ll see if we’re really up for the challenge,”

You took a seat back on the couch and Buck sat on the ground, next to your legs facing your stomach.

“You gonna talk to him?” you asked. “I can go get that microphone thing your mom sent-,”

“Nah it’s okay we’ll just do it the old-fashioned way,” he grinned. “Well what to say,” he sighed. “Hmm, well kid it’s me, your dad-,”

“Tell him something he doesn’t know,” Chim jabbed and Buck rolled his eyes.

“Well, did you know that clouds come from these factory machines-,”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you stopped him, holding your stomach. “Did you just say clouds come from factories?”

“Yeah, don’t they?” he asked and you burst into a fit of laughter.

“Buck you can't be giving our kid false information before he’s born!”

“Wait they don’t?! What is that then?!” he exclaimed.

“Evaporated water that's condensing in the sky idiot,” Athena noted with a chuckle and Buck shook his head while yours was thrown back in laughter. He pressed a soft kiss to your stomach,

“Sorry little man, maybe you shouldn’t listen to dad,” he admitted, resting his forehead against the baby bump and letting out a chuckle. “God where did I come up with that one,”

Neither of you could see Hen pulling out her phone and snapping a few more photos of you, texting them to Bobby and Athena.

It seemed so obvious to everyone but you and Buck that you were both clearly in love with each other. As weird as the situation was, there was a connection there, an emotional connection and they only hoped you could grab onto it before things changed.

—

Working at eight months pregnant was not pretty. Your feet were swollen and you were exhausted from standing all day.

You loved your job, seeing small newborn babies every day, the way their parents would light up when they held them, you couldn’t help but hope that’s what was in it for you.

“Good Lord does the back pain get any better?” you asked one of your patients, resting a hand on your lower back and trying to stretch it out.

“Unfortunately not, it gets worse,” Laura sighed.

“But I’d say it’s worth it,” you smiled, grinning at the small baby in the cot.

“(N/N) your shift is up,” Cecelia came into the room and let you know.

“Well that’s my cue Laura, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you waved.

“See you (N/N),”

You grabbed your things and clocked out, heading into your car and driving back to Buck’s apartment.

You weren’t expecting him to be home, he had a shift after all.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, surprised when you were overcome with a welcoming aroma and warm lighting.

“Buck?” you called, walking into the apartment, still clad in scrubs.

“Oh hey, you’re back home!” Buck grinned, stepping out of the kitchen and tossing the dishrag to the side.

“What is all this?” you asked, taking off your jacket.

“I just thought you might be able to use a bit of a-well I don’t know, just something nice. Here,” he smiled, taking a bag off the couch and handed it to you. “I remembered when we were looking for baby clothes at Macy’s you said you liked this dress so I thought it might be nice to get it for you,”

“Buck,” you cooed, looking inside to see the floral pattern dress. “Let me go put this on then we can eat. Did Bobby come over and cook?”

“Nope this one’s all me,” he grinned.

“No way” you laughed. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Buckaroo,”

“Just go put the dress on,” he rolled his eyes.

You nodded coming to press a thank-you kiss to his cheek before heading off to your room and taking off your scrubs and trying on the dress.

You had to applaud Buck, he managed to get something that fit you perfectly.

With a tired yawn, you walked back out to the dining room where the table was nicely set and Buck was bringing over some food.

“Candles, my favourite food, you really went all out,” you noted while he pulled out your chair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll come on, a guy can’t treat the mother of his child?” he asked. “And you look amazing,”

“You don’t have to say that, I look terrible, I’m eight months pregnant and just finished a twelve-hour shift,”

Buck only served you some food and shook his head, handing you a glass of non-alcoholic wine.

“(N/N), do I have to tell you the same thing I told the doctor when we went into the first appointment,”

“Oh shut up,” you blushed.

“Hey I was thinking, I have a name,” he suggested.

“A name? The wind blew you in a direction?” you asked, eating a bite of salad.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a small smile. “It’s just after everything that Bobby’s done for us and I-well I think we should name him Nash,”

“Nash,” you smiled to yourself. “I-I love that,”

Buck chuckled, “Glad we could agree on something, I’m not gonna lie I was a little nervous bringing it up,”

“Why? You think I was gonna fight you on it?” you asked.

“Honestly I wasn’t sure what I was expecting,” he took a deep breath. “I just want to make sure your happy, with everything,”

“And I am Buck, really you’ve been more than great,” you assured him, putting down your fork. “But what about you? Are you happy? A-And I mean we haven’t talked much about what happens after the baby is born-,”

“I want you to stay here,” he interrupted quickly. “I mean if you’re okay with that and that’s something you want, but… I want to be present. I’m not gonna be the dad that flaked on his kid,”

“And that would make you happy?” you asked.

“More than anything,” he reached out and squeezed your hand.

“What about you getting your life back to normal?” you asked. “Isn’t it kind of a bit of a cock block if I’m here?”

Your heart clenched as you said the words, but that’s just how it was. You and Buck were separate people, not a couple, just happened to be having a child together.

“We’ll figure everything out when the time comes, I’ve still got a month of celibacy to go,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry about it (N/N), I’ve got it,”

“Course you do, you’re Evan freaking Buckley,” you grinned, reaching back for your fork with your free hand and continuing to eat the delicious food Buck had allegedly prepared.

Right about now life felt really good.

—

“Oh my God!” you cried in pain, lurching forward on the hospital bed. “I hate you so much right now Evan!”

Buck’s knuckles were turning white as you squeezed onto his hand so hard he thought all his joints were gonna pop.

“Come on (N/N) you got this! He’s almost here!” Buck exclaimed in encouragement.

“I can’t,” you sobbed with exhaustion, falling back down to the bed. “I can’t it’s too hard,”

“(Y/N), (Y/N) look at me,” Buck insisted, turning your face to look him in the eye. “Who are we?”

“Huh?” you frowned.

“Who are we (N/N) come on!”

“We’re… we’re Buck and (N/N),” you panted.

“And what do Buck and (N/N) do?” he asked.

“We-We prank people? Buck where the hell are you going with this?”

“Yeah sure we do that, but you know what we don’t do?” he grinned. “We don’t give up, now come on gorgeous show me what you got,”

You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand and nodding before letting him go stand with the obstetrician.

“Okay we’re going to start pushing (Y/N) are you ready?”

“No?” you asked and Buck shook his head in a chuckle. “Fine yeah, let’s get this little S.O.B. out of me,” you nodded.

“Alright start pushing in three, two, one,”

On the doctor’s count, you started to push, crying out in pain as you did so.

“Hey, hey! I can see his head!” Buck noted. “Come on (N/N) you got this, keep going!”

You pushed again at the doctor’s instruction, almost laughing when you heard Buck say,

“Oh, well yeah definitely a boy,”

“One more (Y/N), can you give me one more?” the doctor asked and you nodded pushing one more time, finally hearing the cry of your baby and falling back onto the bed while Buck came to tend to you, wiping away the sweat from your forehead with a spare towel.

“You did so well (N/N),” he smiled, happy tears in his eyes. “You were amazing,”

“Oh me? I did nothing y’know just carried a baby for nine months then kicked him out of my uterus, what’s new?” you chuckled tiredly and he laughed along with you, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

“Miss (L/N), Mr. Buckley, I think you’ve got someone who’d like to meet you,” the doctor said softly walking over to you with a wrapped bundle. She handed you the baby and you carefully adjusted your arms to hold him comfortably.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, whispering quietly, not wanting to disturb the small child. “I’m your mama, and this is your daddy,” you said, turning to look up at Buck, the tears clearly welling in his eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you, right, Buck?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a sniff. “It’s real nice,”

You lowered your head and pressed a gentle kiss to his head before lifting him up slightly and started to hand him to Buck.

“You want to hold him?” you asked and he nodded his head carefully, reaching out his arms and enveloping the small baby in them.

“Hi Nash,” he sniffed again. “Jesus kid it hasn’t even been five minutes and I’d give the entire world to you if I could,”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” you yawned, the exhaustion finally catching up with you.

“You should rest (N/N),” he whispered, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours. “You’re just… you’re amazing okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back. “But I can be amazing after I sleep,”

“Of course you can,” he chuckled. “I’ll be right here, rest well,”

—

“Someplace for a first outing,” you looked over at Buck and he shrugged. “Come one he’ll love the story when we tell it to him. Plus I forgot to tell everyone you had the baby until yesterday so either we come here or they go to the hospital and find an otherwise occupied room,”

“Alright, alright,” you nodded, taking Nash out of his car seat while Buck took care of the baby bag.

When you entered the station you could hear a very loud and obvious,

“They’re here!” from Chimney, causing you and Buck to laugh, quickly making your way upstairs to meet with everyone.

“Oh my God look who’s here!” Hen exclaimed giddily, making her way towards you and taking a peek at the small baby. “Guys he’s so precious,” she cooed. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us for a week that she had already had the baby!” Hen looked over at Buck and slapped him upside the head.

“Ow!” Buck groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “Do you want to meet the kid or not?”

“Fine, fine,” she rolled her eyes and Bobby, Athena and Chimney quickly came to join you guys.

“So does the little guy have a name?” Athena asked curiously.

“Yeah he does,” you nodded. “The wind blew us in a direction and that direction was Nash.” you grinned looking over at Bobby who seemed incredibly surprised by the revelation.

“Nash as in Captain Nash?” Chimney asked and you and Buck nodded.

“Thought it was appropriate after everything you helped us with,” Buck explained. “W-We hope you don’t mind it kind of just happened and we agreed on it,”

“N-No it’s… it’s really thoughtful,” Bobby nodded, trying to keep his composure, “Can I-,”

“Hold him? Of course,” you nodded, placing the baby in his arms, watching as the group crowded around him.

“Man, Bobby’s gonna make this kid fat as hell,” Hen muttered and you and Buck shook your heads with a laugh.

“As long as you guys love him, honestly, this kid could do a lot worse,” Buck noted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Yeah, and he’s got two great parents to walk him through life,” Athena gave you both a smile. “And a whole fire station too,”

“Peach sister!” Chimney held up a hand and Athena humoured him with a high five.

Station 118 finally, after nine long months, had its newest addition, little Nash Buckley.

—

“Finally managed to get him down?” you asked, holding a mug of hot tea and looking over at the view of the city.

“Yeah, he was a bit fussy, but what am I gonna expect, he’s a mama’s boy,”

Buck made his way towards you, standing right next to you and looking down at his feet.

“You know I’ve been thinking about our agreement, you know the one about me not sleeping with or dating anyone while you're pregnant,”

“Hmm,” you hummed, glancing at him for a moment. “Oh yeah, that,” you nodded. “Wanna get back in the game? Go back to whatever it was you were doing before?”

“Actually… yeah, b-but no,” he nodded. “I-uh I met someone and I wanna, I wanna do right by her. Try and do things differently. Do them right, not like the old Buck,”

“She must be special,” you sighed. “Does she… know about me? And Nash?” you asked, placing your mug on the nearby table, finally looking up at Buck.

“Yeah I think she does,” he smiled with a soft chuckle.

You swallowed thickly but continued.

“Well, who is she? What does she do?”

“Um, you see,” Buck said, licking his lips and taking your hands in his. “S-She’s a nurse and she’s got this amazing laugh a-and she just so happens to be the mother of my child,”

“Buck-,”

“(Y/N), just… just hear me out,” he interrupted you. “You and I we-we work together, something about you just makes me want to be a better person and I wanna make you feel-,”

“Buck shut up,” you whispered, slipping your hands out of his and grabbing his face, firmly pressing your lips to his while his hands wrapped around your waist.

Months, you had been waiting months to do that. And when your lips finally parted, slightly swollen and chuckling while you took in some air.

“I guess you were right,” you murmured while he continued to press soft kisses to the corner of your lips.

“About what? I’m almost never right,”

“You said given the chance I’d hook up with you, without a second thought. Let’s just say there aren’t many thoughts going through my head right now,”

Buck laughed, pulling you into his arms, allowing you to rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Guess everything kind of worked out didn’t it?” he noted.

“Yeah, I guess it did,”

Buck slipped his hand into your hair, pulling you back gently and pressing another kiss to your lips, his forehead resting against yours only to be interrupted by soft cries coming from your bedroom.

“Nash can mom have like three minutes of peace?” you whined, stomping your foot and Buck laughed.

“Well if mom wants she can stay in dad’s room tonight, get some real rest?”

“Mom would like that,” you nodded, pressing one last kiss to his lips before going to tend to Nash. “She would like that a lot,”

—

“Buck there’s some people out from who wanna talk to you,” Hen called. “Looks like reporters,”

“Huh, okay,” Buck wiped his hands and nodded, jogging down the stairs and meeting the reporter out front.

“Hey, firefighter Buckley right?” the reporter asked.

“Yeah, just call me Buck,” he nodded and offered his hand for her to shake.

“Well Buck I’m Carolina Saunders, with one of the local news stations, we were wondering if you might be able to answer some questions for us about a recent call you had,”

“Oh yeah, um for sure,” he nodded as the woman with her held up the camera.

“So is it hard to manage being a firefighter and just living life. You’re what in your mid-twenties,”

“Yeah I’m twenty-five,” Buck nodded. “I don’t know, shift work is tricky sometimes but we make it work,”

“And what about your calls, was this past call one of the most interesting or different types of emergencies,”

“I’m still a rookie,” Buck explained. “So I don’t have nearly as much experience as half the people at the station, but uh that call was a hard one.”

“But you saved four people,”

“Yeah, but it doesn't get less hard when you lose people,” he explained. “No matter how many times it happens,”

Carolina nodded and moved onto the next question.

“Well out Twitter seems to be blowing up,” she noted, just as your car pulled up into the lot. “Everyone’s wondering if you’re single,”

“Um, I am-,” he cut himself off when he saw you were struggling at getting Nash out of the car. “Could you excuse me a moment?”

He ran over to you, saying a quick hi before unbuckling his son from his car seat and cradling him in his arms while you took care of the baby bags.

“I gotta go back quickly,” he said, “You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, go finish the interview I’ll be okay,”

Buck jogged back to Carolina and apologized.

“Sorry about that,” he chuckled. “What was the question again?”

“Oh just something from our Twitter followers, they’re asking if you’re single,” she laughed.

“Well I’m not sure if you could tell from this little guy, but no I’m not,” he smiled, looking over at you. “That’s my girlfriend and this is our son,”

“Oh, could we ask her some questions?”

“Sure if she wants,” he nodded. “Babe, c’mere,” he motioned with his head and you nodded.

“Hi,” you smiled and the reporter introduced yourself and asked if she could ask you some questions. “Sure,” you agreed.

“So what’s it like dating a first responder?”

“It’s hard sometimes, we’ve had some close calls but Buck loves it, I can’t imagine taking that away from him,” you explained.

“Oh that’s so sweet,” Carolina smiled. “Well we’ll let you go for now, but we’ve got permission from your Captain to stick around a bit longer and just get some filler footage if you don’t mind,”

“Yeah, yeah for sure,” Buck nodded and then turned his attention to you grinning like an idiot and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey,” you chuckled.

“Hi,” he responded. “You good?”

“Great,” you assured him just a few of the people from the station house came outside to greet you.

“Oh look who’s here,” Bobby grinned, holding his hands out to Buck just as Nash mimicked his namesake and babbled at him to be held.

“You wanna see Bobby?” Buck asked. “You wanna go see Bobby?”

Nash squealed in delight as Buck swooped him over to Bobby who tossed him a little in the air before bringing him back down and peppering his face with kisses.

“Oh hey baby,” Hen smiled. “Nash seems to be having the time of his life with Bobby,”

“What can I say, my baby picks favourites,” you chuckled and hugged Hen.

“I’m not complaining,” Bobby grinned while Nash tried to bite off his nose.

“He teething?” Hen asked and you nodded.

“He loves chewing on Buck’s fingers, it’s gonna start hurting pretty soon, but for now it’s pretty cute,”

“We got Denny a teething necklace, it worked like a charm,”

“Oh I’ve seen those,” you nodded, “Hey Buck maybe we should think about getting one?”

“Yeah, ask long as it keeps my fingers out of his mouth. We can get him some of those chew things you put in the freezer too,”

“Oh look at Buck being all like a super dad,” Chimney chuckled and came over to join them.

“What can I say, I can be responsible,” Buck puffed out his chest only to be slapped in the head by Athena. “Ow woman!”

“Give him a break ‘Thena he’s good,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. “Real good,”

“So when’s the wedding?” Bobby asked. “Cause you guys have got a perfect ring bearer,”

“If I get anything to say, soon, but we all know that never happens,” Buck chuckled.

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Count on it gorgeous, it’ll happen,”

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