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thoughtsandbones · 1 year

Text

A not so forgotten history

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc ( codename: Blue)

WARNINGS: Mention of death, war, angst, mental health mention, drug mention, fluff, just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace..

Song inspo: Terra Firma - Delerium ft Aude and 1973 - James Blunt

(lol lowkey wanted to know what Ghost thought of Soap taking photos of Blue)

https://open.spotify.com/track/0fuQ65fX8W94q6QwTFyqgI?si=4fc4c93f25394143 (because you should all here this song.. :) )

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic!c :D

PART 1, PART 2 and PART 3

Part 4

Once Soap came back from the bathroom, he was on his way to meet up with Ghost in the mess hall.

He began humming to himself

She seems like an interesting one Soap had thought to himself. Ghost had mentioned that you had a practically useless file which was mostly redacted.

Soap grew further suspicious once you handed over that piece of shite form to Ghost.

He's hoping Price knows what he is doing... Of course Price knows what he's doing... But that whole mix-up with you being charged for malpractice? That's a pretty big deal

Although he could say the same for their previous Doctor who was too much of a fan of glue in the field.

His thought process engulfed him has he nearly hit the door to the mess hall.

Has he entered the mess hall, he saw Ghost, facing the window watching the remains of the sunset. It was an odd sight... Usually he doesn't keep his back to the door.. Soap pondered

Ghost had his arms crossed, he was leaning against the table nearest to the window.

"Alright L.t?" Soap says once he got near him.. Ghost still had not turned to give him usual glare of this nickname that he would grunt at.

"Notice' you took photos of her" Ghost finally said, turning to face Soap, his arms still across his chest, letting out a sigh.

Oh yeah Soap thought

"I figured we needed intel L.t" Soap said, grabbing his phone out from his pocket and getting the photo he took. "Her forms, and file, like you said were redacted. Heavily"

"Yeah, well that was the usual with Shepherd back then" Ghost said, unfolding his arms and coming over to Soap to view the photo he took of you.

"Even you raised your suspicions sir" Soap said, handing over his phone to Ghost.

Ghost took the phone and held the photo of you in his gloved hands. You were looking at the sunset. He zoomed in, without even thinking about it.

Your face was still lit from the sun setting in the horizon, the orange and pink bleeding across the sky.

The way your eyes lit up from the light of the sunset, that change in colour. There was a softer 'ping' in his chest again, not as sharp as the first.

Not even Johnny's camera could capture a view like that Ghost thought.

'Hmmm'' Ghost says, the gears in his head grinding. He handed the phone back to Soap and crossed his arms again.

Is it really you after all these years? Ghost pondered There was a sense of familiarity with those eyes

Trauma does heavy damage to the brain, so many soldiers have come and gone, and most of them have blurred into one face. The name rang a bell, but he still couldn't picture you from all those years ago.

"Price said she worked here before" Soap said, trying to fill the silence whilst Ghost did his usual quiet analysis.

"Yeah, long time ago" Ghost responded

"Did you know her then?" Soap said puzzlingly. How could he keep this from him Soap thought

"Only from when I dug up some info in the archives" Ghost said

"What archives?!" Soap shrieked

"Restricted access kind" Ghost said back to him "She was a rookie under my ol' Captain"

'What Captain?" Soap asked. Just has felt like he fit into this place and was getting to know Ghost, something new had to ambush him.

Ghost noted the continued level of shock rising in Soap, so much so that his arms started to flap a bit.

"That's classified I believe" Ghost said, he noted a bigger wave and and even shocked expression expanding across Soap "I'll talk to Price 'nd see if we can tell ya Johnny" Ghost added, giving a brief tap on his arms and started to walk to the door.

"Is she dangerous?" Soap asked "After Graves.." Soap started

Ghost whipped around

"No. She's nothin' like that" Ghost quipped back.

Nothing like that bastard Ghost thought

"Sorry sir, didn't mean.." Soap said

"It's fine, you have questions, c'mon let's find Price" Ghost says, heading out of the door.

The both of them headed down the corridor to Price's office

Explainin' this mess to Johnny is going to be... interestin' Ghost thought to himself.

As they reached Price's office, Ghost knocked on the door

"Come in" Price yelled

As they entered they saw Price at his desk, soft jazz playing in the background whilst he typed away on his computer. As Ghost and Soap entered he looked up.

"Ah lads, you read my mind!" Price exclaimed

"Yeah, we needed to talk about some things.." Soap started again. He wanted to get right down to it, and was hoping Price wasn't going to send them to do some menial task when there was a juicy part of history to lap up.

"Yes, I gathered as much." Price said, finishing off typing on his computer, he gestured to the both of them to have a seat on his sofa in his office.

Ghost and Soap took a seat and waited for Price to join them on the small armchair opposite the sofa with a small table in between.

"Guessing you have questions about the new doctor?" Price says smiling at both of them leaning forward as he sat down.

"That and this old Captain?" Soap said suddenly

Price's head looked up from Soap to Ghost, Ghost's eyes darted from Price to Soap's who was still looking at Price.

"What'd you know?" Price says curiously leaning back in the chair.

"That our new medic - well doctor worked under him and that Ghost knows and I don't" Soap responded

"I know a lotta things that you don't Johnny" Ghost said, suppressing a small laugh

Soap turned to Ghost, frowning at him and turned back to Price

"The Captain, was Captain David MacAlasdair, a friend and colleague" Price started

"A fellow Scotsman?" Soap chirped

"Yeah, from Glasgow" Price added "He took under a few cadets and trained them up through the army and most them signed up and passed into the the early beginnings of the 141, before it was called the 141." Price reminisced.

"Codenamed Blue, our new doctor, was one of the cadets that the Captain trained. On a mission to obtain intel at a Russian base in Siberia, the Captain was captured and executed." Price says

"Jesus" Soap whispered a lot of shit went down here in the past that he had no idea about he thought Bad things have happened to too many good soldiers. Too many good men have lost their lives

"The Captain took Blue with him, she wanted to progress further in her career here so she went on this mission" Price continues.

Ghost's eyes widened. He didn't realise that one mission that you went on was that one.

"After the mission went south, contact was lost and we thought she was either KIA or MIA. She made contact with our Russian friend, Nik, and then came home."

"Why did the mission go bad?" Soap asked

"We do not know. The file Shepherd gave was redacted" Price huffed

"Yeh, a two pager turned into 7 words" Ghost gruffed

"Seen the file then?" Price asked Ghost

Ghost nodded back, wanting to hear more of the story.

"Why did she leave?" Soap asks, he felt like he was pestering Price, but he couldn't help it. He needed answers.

"Her choice." Price said, sighing deeply bringing his left hand to scratch his beard.

"She left, and went to medical school. Always knew that one had some top tier brains." Price resumed

"What about this malpractice issue" Soap asked without even thinking.

"That's a whole misunderstanding, and I believe she should be the one to tell you" Price stated

"What's her name?" Soap blurted

"Jeez Johnny, what is this? 21 questions?" Ghost sighed

"Lt, you saw her file, nothing on there." Soap replied rolling his eyes.

"Ghost, you don't remember her?" Price asked

"Vaguely" Ghost responded.

Price got up from his chair, and went to a standing cabinet near his desk, he went through the files and papers until he picked a small white envelope up. He then walked back over to the sofa where Ghost and Soap sat.

Soap perked up at the sight of the envelope.

He opened the envelope, which revealed a small collection of photographs, and flicking through, he found the right one.

"Hope this jogs the brain" Price said handing a photo to Ghost smiling slightly

Ghost took ahold of the photo. All of a sudden a switch triggered in his head when he laid eyes on that photo.

Soap moved towards Ghost to get a better look.

The Captain and you. You had the goofiest face; crossed eyes and your mouth, baring your teeth and the Captain, facing you, was there laughing. Both of you dressed in combat gear, ready for a mission or training? The Captain wearing his beret and you... had shorter hair. A pixie cut with the left hand side shaved.

That 'ping' in his chest flickered again. Deep within his brain the memory of you resurfaced. You were one of the five cadets trained by the Captain and before he was the Ghost...

"This was before the Captain's last mission" Price said, eyeing Soap's curious face.

"She looks completely different now" Soap said, noting your short hair and slimmer build.

"That tends to happen as people age Soap" Price chuckled, sitting back down in his chair.

Ghost continued to look at the photo. He could faintly hear your laugh from all those years ago.

"She thinks I'm dead" Ghost finally says, giving the photo back to Price

"How?" Soap asks

"She knew Ghost as Simon Riley" Price answered.

Ghost nodded

Of course Soap thought, all these revelations about her had made him forget that Ghost was a ghost...

"That's your decision of when you want to tell her Simon" Price said, using his name this time.

Ghost looked up at Price.

"Gonna be a bit difficult" Ghost says

"Would you rather she found out if you're injured or from someone else?" Price explained, slightly nudging his head towards Soap, unbeknownst to Soap himself.

Ghost sighed. Of course I need to tell her he thought

"Where is she now?" Price asked This will be interesting to see how Simon deals with this

"Infirmary" Ghost replied

"Right, guess I better go see her before she starts wondering the base" Price said, getting up.

Ghost and Soap also got up from the sofa and then walked to the door of Price's office.

"Johnny, go ahead, I need to have a word alone with Price" Ghost said

Soap looked at Ghost curiously, and then walked out, Ghost made sure the door was closed before turning to Price.

"What is it Simon?" Price asked

"I err.." Ghost started, he looked at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Price looked Ghost cautiously.

"Ruhari, I called her that name" Ghost said finally

Price chuckled, shaking his head

"Of course you did" Price said "So you did remember her?" Price asked

Ghost grunted. He dug himself a hole and now he's ready to be buried.

"She is going to ask how you knew her name" Price stated, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to tell her Simon, but you need to tell her, she deserves that at least" Price said unfolding his arms and raising his right arm to pat Ghost on the shoulder.

"Yes sir" Ghost replied

Ghost edged towards the door, opening it and they walked out.

"I'll cover you this time" Price said, as they both stood in the hallway as he locked his office.

Ghost nodded and watched Price walk off to the infirmary.

Taking a deep breathe, Ghost put his hand in his front pocket to retrieve the key for your room. He walked down the hallway and found himself outside her soon-to-be room. A thin gold plaque was on the door that had a red cross on it. He unlocked the door and looked inside.

It was barren. Soon to be occupied by her.

The image of her trembling legs flickered in his mind. Her demeanour has changed. She wasn't the same person from before he thought.

Ghost left the room, not locking it, but made his way to an airing cupboard nearby that had spare towels, bedsheets and blankets in it. Pulling out two warm towels, he walked back to the room he was just in and placed the towels on the end of the bed.

He walked over to the window, staring outside. The sun had disappeared, the sky a mixture of dark and light blue. He sighed and then walked towards the door.

He turned around and looked at the towels he brought her, laying on the bed.

How am I going to get out of this one he thought.

Ghost opened the door and left the room, locking the door and made his way to the infirmary. Back to see you again.

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare fanfiction #fan fic ideas #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x doctor #simon ghost riley x medic #simon “ghost” riley x medic #simon riley x you #x reader #cod mw soap #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost cod #mw2 x reader #modern warfare smut

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the-red-mafia · 4 months

Text

The End?

Velvet and Maroon make their way towards Unor, the rest of the mafia staying behind to fight the guards. Will they be able to overpower him and escape, or...?

Also available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/TheRedMafia

Next Update: [Redacted] Word Count: 4524

Immediately after “The Strike”

Maroon attempted to stay as quiet as Velvet was as they crawled through the vent, but that was nearly impossible. She eventually stopped and turned to look at them.

“We’re right above the room, but there’s a drop. I’m gonna go down first, so wait for my signal.”

“Wait? But-”

“So I can catch you and make sure you don’t make noise,” Velvet clarified. The younger teen’s mouth formed an ‘o’ before they nodded. Velvet disappeared over the edge. Maroon listened for the sound of her hitting the lower level, but it never came. They crawled to the edge and glanced over.

That’s when the explosion went off.

Maroon quickly closed their eyes as the vent below them gave out and a wave of heat hit their face. Their back hit something hard, knocking the wind out of them. Maroon quickly attempted to catch their breath, panic rising in their chest. Coughing came from the other side of the room followed by the chilling laugh of Unor Bolton.

“I would think you would be better at your job than that, fīlia,” he muttered. The smoke and debris began to settle, revealing the man still sitting in his chair. He was turned to his left, away from Maroon. A cough echoed off the walls.

Velvet.

Maroon took a deep breath and struggled to their feet. Air slowly filled their lungs as they raised their hands. A mushroom grew off the chair, knocking Unor to the ground. They jumped over the table and kneeled at Velvet’s side. She had a large scrape on her forehead that bled onto her hand. She coughed again but summoned Kil-layye Mo’ore.

“Maroon, I didn’t see you there!” The younger teen redirected their attention to Unor, who was on his feet again. Velvet threw their sword at him, which he knocked to the ground. Maroon surrounded him with mushrooms that stretched to the ceiling. The man looked between the two teenagers, Velvet grabbing her sword again.

“Quite a…rash plan you had, Velvet,” he began, “To plan an attack on my home- our home! I’d almost be impressed if you hadn’t executed it so horribly.”

“How did you know?” Velvet demanded. Unor broke one of the mushrooms, but it quickly grew back.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said with a wink. Velvet glared at him and raised their sword.

“Then we’re done here.” She charged forward, but Kil-layye Mo’ore hit empty air. Unor broke through two more mushrooms and backflipped out of the enclosure. His hands glowed a dark black before a handgun appeared in each. He fired a shot at each teen, which they both dodged. Maroon attempted to trap him again but he lunged towards Velvet instead.

Velvet sliced at his arm before jumping to the right. Unor stayed on the offensive and fired another shot at her. It grazed her left shoulder but Velvet quickly stabbed at him again. The metal embedded itself in his lower abdomen, forcing him to stagger back.

“Fuck-” she muttered. Maroon grew a mushroom to knock one gun out of Unor’s hand, but it just disappeared in a black cloud. Unor raised the other one and fired a shot straight at Velvet’s chest. Maroon quickly kicked him to the ground, forcing several mushrooms to grow through his hands. He let out a shout but Maroon quickly turned to Velvet. The teen must’ve hit the wall and fallen down but was now getting back to her feet. Unor stared at her as she summoned Kil-layye Mo’ore and walked towards him.

“Crazy what armour will do,” they said through gritted teeth. Unor frowned.

“Armour? I didn’t know you turned into a coward, Velvet.” The assassin kicked him in the stomach, causing the man to let out a grunt. They followed it up by stabbing him in the stomach with their sword. Unor flinched for a moment before coughing.

“So that’s your big plan? Kill me?”

“I feel like that was obvious,” Maroon mumbled. Velvet pulled her sword out and sheathed it. Maroon’s eyes widened.

“Velvet-”

“I’m not letting him go, don’t worry. Just give me a second.” They reached towards their utility belt but Unor’s foot hit Maroon directly in the head. They fell to the ground but Velvet caught them before their head got hit again. She set them down gently before digging her heel into Unor’s open wound. The man attempted to kick at them but they pushed his feet away.

Maroon’s head pounded as they sat up.

“Maroon, you okay?” Velvet asked, taking their gun out of its holster.

“F-fine.” Unor locked eyes with Maroon, sending a chill down their spine.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked. His voice was darker, the words seemingly twisting themselves around Maroon’s mind. He continued speaking, but Maroon couldn’t tell what the words were. Their breath became shallower and their heartbeat sped up.

Attack

Mushrooms exploded around the room, sending Velvet down to the floor again. Unor laughed.

What’s happening? What am I-

Maroon looked around for Velvet. She was getting back to her feet again, this time with mushrooms clinging to her mission uniform.

“Maroon!” They shouted, “Snap out of it!”

“Velvet, I got the camera working again. What’s happening-” Maroon reached up and ripped their comms out of their ear. They threw it on the ground and staggered forward, hands still raised. Velvet moved in front of them. Maroon’s vision blurred but they felt her grab their hand. The mushrooms began spreading but Velvet kept a firm grip.

“Maroon, listen to me-”

“There’s no point, dēvōtiō,” Unor shouted, “They can’t hear you!” Velvet glared at him.

“What did you do to them?”

“Just a little magic,” he said with a smirk. Velvet turned back to Maroon.

“Maroon, I need you to take a breath and calm down. Stick to the plan-”

“Knock her out, Maroon!” Unor called out. Velvet tensed up but didn’t let go of them.

What…Velvet-

“Maroon…” they mumbled. The younger teen took a deep breath, causing the mushrooms to recede from Velvet’s hand. Several more surrounded Unor and pinned him to the floor. He attempted to squirm out of them with little success.

“Maroon, free me this instant!” He demanded. Their vision slightly cleared as they carefully shook their head. Velvet kept a tight grip on their hand as she raised her gun.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he taunted. Velvet narrowed her eyes.

“Try me.”

“You’ll die. If you kill me, half your soul will die. The other half will follow and you’ll cease to exist.” Maroon’s eyes widened.

“That’s…no-” the younger teen tried, but the fuzziness in their head stopped them. Unor smirked.

“It is. If you kill me, Velvet will die.”

“I don’t care.” Maroon’s vision blurred again as they turned to look at their friend.

What? Velvet walked forward, finally letting go of Maroon’s hand. She pressed the gun to Unor’s head.

“Did you not hear me?” he breathed. Velvet glared at him.

“If you’re dead, I don’t care if I’m alive. What matters is stopping you.”

Velvet took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Maroon watched the bright red liquid pour out of Unor’s head before their vision blurred to the point they could barely see. They could hear Velvet’s quiet breathing and footsteps as they walked back over to them. She took their hand again.

“We did it,” she muttered, “He’s dead.” Maroon took a deep breath and let out a small laugh.

“We did, didn’t we?” Velvet immediately tensed up next to them, causing Maroon to turn to their left. They could barely make out their bright red hair and familiar brown eyes.

“What the fuck is that?” they breathed. Maroon frowned.

“What-” Before they could finish their sentence, a gust of wind hit their face and their vision went black.

Solana blocked a guard’s attack with the pole of his spear before stabbing him in the chest. A vine wrapped around the guard and threw him out of the already-broken window. Solana attempted to catch her breath as she glanced at Thorn, who was also panting.

“I think,” it breathed, “That’s all of them.”

“Don’t-” The wall to their right shattered, allowing another squad of B.A.D. agents to come running in. They shouted and pointed at the two mafia members.

“Jinx us,” Solana finished. The elf raised her spear.

“How does he have so many guards?” Thorn groaned.

“Money.”

“I wish Zaeor paid us. Maybe then I wouldn’t hate him as much as I do.” Solana raised an eyebrow and blocked a gunshot from one of the guards.

“Not a Zaeor fan, huh?”

“Is anyone?” Thorn jumped forward and wrapped several guards in vines before sending them out the window. Solana charged as well, spear slicing through a few arms.

“Velvet is.”

“Velvet doesn’t count.”

“And I don’t really mind him, you know?” Solana stated, “He’s a bit, I don’t know, odd? But he’s got good intentions.”

“I guess.” Their conversation was cut short by a guard, who ran forward and managed to stab Thorn in the shoulder. The teen yelled out in pain and Solana quickly jumped to aer aid. They pushed him to the ground and quickly slit their throat.

“Thorn, you good?”

“Fine-”

“Velvet, I got the camera working again. What’s happening-” Mad’s voice cut out right as Solana felt a sharp pain erupt in her left side. Metal clattered to the ground behind her.

“Fuck-” A teen, no older than Thorn, approached. He had light brown hair and sea-blue eyes. Unlike the other guards, the only armour he seemed to be wearing was a bulletproof vest. He held several throwing knives in his two hands. Thorn quickly grew a vine wall in front of them and steadied Solana.

“Don’t let them get close to Mr. Bolton!” Someone, presumably the teen, shouted.

“Solana, you okay?” Thorn mumbled.

“Maroon’s powers- Unor did something to them,” Velvet’s voice came through the comms. One of the guards groaned as Thorn tensed up next to them.

“Commander, it is not safe for you-” Thorn reached up to their comms.

“Do you need me-” Another knife sliced through the wall and the side of Thorn’s cheek.

“You may give me orders when you can deal with a teen and an elf, captain.”

“Shit-” Solana mumbled, glancing at their teammate, “Okay, Thorn, you take out that kid. I’ll keep the others off your ass.”

“Got it.” He jumped around the corner of the wall and attempted to trap him. Solana went around the other side, pulling out their pistol. She fired shots at the remaining guards, drawing their attention.

“Velvet-” Mad paused.

“What’s going on, Mad?” Solana asked, hitting a guard right in the nose. They glanced at Thorn. It narrowly avoided an airborne knife from the other teen.

“The camera’s out and Maroon’s unconscious. Velvet, are you there?” Thorn’s eyes widened and ae turned to Solana. The commander swung a punch at Thorn, knocking him to the ground.

“Shit-” she muttered. Solana fired a shot at the teen but they dodged it. Thorn jumped back to its feet and kicked them in the stomach.

“Solana, Thorn, can you clear me a path to the vent? I’m going in.” Solana turned back to the guards and continued firing.

“We can try,” the elf mumbled, “Thorn, can you get that kid outta here?”

“I’m fucking working on it,” Thorn hissed back. A shot hit Solana’s left elbow, knocking the pistol from his hands. Another shot hit her in the stomach and bounced off her vest. Solana frantically picked up the gun before jumping behind the wall.

“Fucking hell-” Bullets ricocheted off of the plants in front of them. Thorn fell to the ground to his right and the teen immediately jumped on him. They held the knife to aer throat as Solana lined up her shot. A laser hit the commander’s back, sending them flying over Thorn’s head. Thorn stayed on the ground for a few seconds before scrambling to their feet.

“Mad!” they shouted. The bullets stopped hitting the wall but the sound continued. The other teen crawled towards Thorn and grabbed his ankle right as Mad made it past the vine wall. The droid continued towards the vent. Thorn attempted to kick his legs free but eventually grew vines that attached themselves to the commander’s legs. The vines pulled them to the window. The teen went flying but took Thorn with him.

“Thorn!” Solana shouted. Mad turned around just in time to see the two teens disappear below the second-story window.

“Fuck,” the droid muttered, “Solana, take care of the rest of the guards and then go after them.” Solana popped around the corner of the wall and unloaded another magazine at the guards. Another shot embedded itself in Solana’s right arm. The elf’s wounds screamed in pain as she hid behind the wall again. Blood dripped down from his arms, hitting the white marble floor.

“Mad, I can’t-” they turned to the vent, but Mad was already gone. They took a deep breath.

You’ve got this, Mona. Just don’t think about the pain and- She peeked around the corner but something hit her in the back of the head. He stumbled to the ground, vision blurring. Solana fumbled with the pistol. Several guards surrounded her, one kicking her gun away. Another lifted their foot and slammed it into her skull, forcing her unconscious.

“What the fuck is that?” Velvet breathed. She stared at Unor’s corpse, or more specifically, the glowing yellow light enveloping it.

“What-” Maroon began to her right. The younger teen suddenly fell, hitting Velvet’s shoulder. Velvet caught them and lowered them to the ground. She kneeled next to them, glancing down to see Maroon’s unconscious face before focusing on the light once again. They moved their head to their lap, keeping their sword firmly in their left hand. She could feel her teammate’s soft breathing, their chest slowly rising and falling.

The light grew brighter and split into five parts. Each morphed into different shapes, different people. They were vastly different in age and looks as the light solidified. In the centre was a tall woman, about 25 with long blonde hair and purple eyes. Her pink blouse was torn with a knife sticking out of her chest. She looked at Velvet with sympathy in her eyes.

The one to her left was a man, probably around Unor’s age. His blue eyes refused to meet Velvet’s. Blood dripped from his head, staining his blue hair a dark purple. He wore a B.A.D. agent uniform with three stars lined up on the sleeve.

The next one, all the way to the left, was a teen. He seemed to be older than Velvet but had pitch-black hair and bright green eyes. He had a set of Roman armour on and a large shield strapped to his left arm. A large red cut stretched along his neck.

Velvet could barely make out the other two people. One was much smaller and hid behind the woman in the centre. All the teen could see was chocolate brown eyes staring at her. The other one, a 25-or-so year old man, was facing away from them. Familiar black hair sat on his head.

“Velvet Bolton,” the woman breathed, “Hello, child.” Velvet stared at her as the ethereal glow steadied.

“Who are you?” Velvet tried to sound intimidating, but her voice faltered. The woman walked forward, the kid staying right behind her. She stopped about a metre away and smiled warmly.

“You wouldn’t remember me. My name is Jacqueline King.” Velvet frowned.

King?

“You would be more familiar with my husband, Mark. I believe you worked together when you were younger?” Velvet carefully nodded. “I…knew Mark. But…aren’t you dead?”

“I am. I- we,” she gestured to the man and teen, “are the people your father killed to steal their souls.” A chill went down Velvet’s spine.

“W-what?”

“Don’t worry, we’re not here to harm you,” she clarified, “Your father’s actions are not your fault.” Velvet glanced back at Unor’s lifeless body.

“So…that was his actual body?” the assassin asked. Jacqueline nodded.

“Your mission is over, child. You did it.” Velvet’s muscles relaxed involuntarily. The woman’s voice seeped into her body, calming her despite the possible danger surrounding her.

“We have something of yours.” Velvet looked up at her as she moved to the side. She gestured for the child behind her to walk.

“Go on, sweet one.” The girl, about 14 years old, stepped into view. A large patch of blood pooled near her abdomen, shining through her white dress. Her long black hair, chocolate brown eyes, gold moon necklace-

Me. Velvet’s eyes widened, That’s me. The girl stood in front of her.

“H-hello,” she mumbled. Velvet looked between her and Jacqueline.

“...Hi.”

“I take it you know who she is, Velvet dear?” Jacqueline asked. Velvet stared at the girl in front of her.

“Is this real?” she muttered. The older man stepped forward next to Jacqueline.

“As real as something involving magical souls can be,” he stated.

“Robert…”

“What? Forgive me if I’m a bit sceptical.”

“I don’t know how you could still be sceptical…” the armoured teen stated, crossing his arms.

“That’s enough, you two-”

“Can we just finish this up?” the man facing away shouted. Robert turned to glare at the back of his head.

“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to go to hell, asshole.”

“I’m in a hurry to get the hell away from you asinī,” he shot back. Jacqueline sighed and turned towards him.

“Do you have anything you want to say to your daughter, Unor? An apology, perhaps?” The 25-year-old finally turned around and met Velvet’s eyes. Pitch-black irises stared her down, sending a chill down her spine.

“What do I have to apologise for?”

“Your actions led to what she went through.”

“Trust me, I don’t need a fucking apology from him,” Velvet hissed. The black-haired girl took a step away from them.

“She’s scary,” she mumbled, “I don’t want to be scary.” Jacqueline put an arm around her.

“I know she may seem scary, but she’s not. She’s scared, like you. Do you see that kid lying in her lap?”

“The one taking a nap?”

“Mhm. She’s worried about them. She thinks we might do something to hurt them. You two are not as different as you think, child. You are two halves of one whole, with different strengths, weaknesses, ideals, and morals. Now, you’re going to become one again.” Velvet’s eyes widened once again.

“What?” Jacqueline turned to them and laughed.

“Did you think we were just going to keep the other half of your soul?”

“I-” the assassin paused, “I didn’t think it was possible.” The armoured teen, Ethan, raised an eyebrow.

“Who told you that?”

“Well-” Jacqueline’s form flickered, the light dimming.

“I’m afraid we don’t have the time to discuss,” she said, pushing the younger Velvet forward, “Go on, little one.” She looked at Jacqueline with a fearful look in her eyes. The woman gave her one final squeeze.

“Don’t worry, my sweet dove. We will meet again. Maybe not in this life, nor the next. It may be thousands or millions of lifetimes from now, but it will happen. And when it does, I will embrace you for as long as I have waited.” A tear fell from the black-haired girl’s face as she nodded. She turned back to Velvet and held out a hand. Velvet stared at it.

“Go on, child,” Jacqueline said to them, “You will be safe.” Velvet lifted her right hand, readjusting Maroon as well. The golden figures slowly dimmed, dust-like particles flaking off.

“Take care of yourself, Velvet,” Jacqueline said, smiling sadly, “You are more important than you could possibly know.” Velvet grabbed the younger girl’s hand. With that, the whole world went black.

Thorn was falling.

The wind whooshed past his ears as he tried to kick free of the other teen’s grip. The duo hit the ground hard. Thorn gasped for air but the commander jumped on top of them again. Angry blue eyes stared down at him as cold metal pressed against his throat. Thorn took a deep breath.

“Listen, man, I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Shut up.” Thorn grew several vines that each tried to pry him off to no avail. The blade nicked Thorn’s skin but the commander moved it. The two locked eyes before the other teen threw his blade on the ground.

“You know what? I’m done.” He stood up, leaving a slightly confused Thorn on the ground.

“What?”

“I’m not helping Unor kill a kid my age. I can’t do this anymore.” The prince quickly hopped to aer feet.

“Uh- well- I’m glad you had a change of heart?” The commander turned around and began walking towards the gate. Thorn glanced between him and the window two stories up. They heard Solana say Mad’s name before her voice suddenly stopped.

I’ve got to get back up there. Thorn raised a hand but was hit in the stomach with a bullet. They fell to the ground and the sound of the shot seemed to catch the commander’s attention because he turned around. Thorn’s abdomen burned with pain that the 16-year-old had never felt before. It bit its tongue to keep from screaming.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were deserting, commander.” Thorn tried to move to see the voice’s source, but aer body screamed in pain. They watched the commander draw a pistol from the holster on his belt.

“Watch your words, lieutenant.” Another shot rang out and the commander staggered back a bit as it hit him in the chest. Another hit his hand and knocked the gun to the ground. Thorn bit his tongue again and raised his left hand. A vine wall sprouted in front of the commander, who after realising, mouthed ‘thank you’.

“What the fuck,” the voice breathed. A man’s face appeared in Thorn’s view. He scowled and raised a gun.

“This bitch is still conscious.” Faint sirens hit Thorn’s ears, and the man looked away.

“Sir, I see UPS ships entering the atmosphere.”

“If they’re not supposed to be here, the guns will shoot ‘em down,” the man growled, turning back to Thorn, “Night night, little bitch.” A final shot rang out, hitting Thorn in the stomach. Their eyelids forcibly closed from the pain, and they quickly fell asleep.

Mad scanned the scene in front of it, screen blank. Mushrooms took over the entire area and outlined the chair from earlier. Maroon and Velvet were unconscious on the far left of the room while Unor’s corpse was a few metres to the right, mushrooms already beginning to decompose it. Mad ran towards the two teens, joining them on the floor.

“Mad.” The droid looked up to see Zaeor standing over Unor. He was dressed in his pitch-black robe, sigils floating around him. Shadows pooled at his feet, forming a lake of darkness. Mad stared at him.

“Zaeor?” they asked, “What-” The god walked forward, almost glaring at it.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I saw Maroon and Velvet go down. I came to help.”

“Velvet’s already dead. I made sure of it.”

“What…do you mean you ‘made sure of it’?” Mad placed their hands on each of the teen’s necks. It was faint, but both still had a heartbeat.

Shadows quickly pushed Mad, slamming it into the wall. Their screen cracked when they fell to the ground.

“You fucking nosy droid,” he growled, “Do you know how many times I had to change my plans because of you? I have been so close to getting Velvet killed hundreds of times, but you kept getting in my fucking way.” Shadows lifted the robot up and pinned it against the wall. Mad’s mind raced as he stood in front of him. He glared, his face close to their TV.

“I knew it,” Mad muttered, “You never gave a shit about us.”

“You? No. You proved to be the worst decision I made in my plan.” Mad attempted to struggle out of the shadowy restraints to no avail.

“What plan? Killing us all?” Zaeor laughed darkly, sending a shiver in Mad’s soul.

“Not all. Velvet was the priority, Solana’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re not hurting Solana-”

“I don’t need to. You already did that, leaving him alone with the guards.” Mad’s soul dropped.

No- Zaeor raised a fist and swung, hitting the left side of Mad’s TV. It recoiled as a ‘critical damage’ notification popped up. The restraints disappeared for a second, causing the droid to slam into the floor. They reformed and pinned it to the ground.

“Returning the favour,” the god mumbled. Zaeor leaned over and tilted Mad’s TV so the camera was looking at his twisted smile.

“And now, with Velvet and you out of the way, my plan can truly begin.” Mad broke out of his grasp, causing him to laugh again.

“Oh what a glorious sight it will be. Such a shame you won’t be able to see it,” he mumbled, “Me, ruling the multiverse with the most powerful weapon by my side.” Mad looked back at him.

“Weapon?”

“Maroon, of course. I’d never let such a talent go to waste. They’ll make a perfect leader for my new army,” he laughed, “Hell, I don’t even have to cast my own mind control magic! Unor did it all for me.” Mad glanced at the younger teen, still passed out in Velvet’s lap.

Velvet’s still alive and he doesn’t know that. I can’t let him take either of them.

“Sure, it will take time,” Zaeor continued, “But I’ve waited 500 years, what's a few decades more? Soon, all gods in the multiverse will bow to me and I will have the power I fucking deserve.”

“You don’t deserve-” Zaeor punched it again, shattering what remained of its screen and disabling the camera. Mad sat in darkness as the god chuckled.

“This is very therapeutic, you know? You can’t imagine how much I wanted to do this to you over the past year.”

“You’re…you’re not going to get away with this,” Mad mumbled, “Thorn-”

“Is dead. That is also partially your fault.”

“Shut up.”

“What, Mad? Can’t take responsibility for your own actions?” Mad could feel their systems shutting down, no doubt due to the damage.

“It’s not…my…fault.” Zaeor let out one last loud laugh.

“I didn’t realise a robot could be so delusional.” Mad heard his footsteps as he backed up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a mansion to blow up,” he called out, “Enjoy shutting down, knowing that all of your friends' deaths are entirely your fault.” A swoosh went through the room, leaving Mad alone with their malfunctioning camera. The shadows pinning them down dissolved. It jumped to its feet, despite the warnings not to. Mad walked forward but tripped over a mushroom on the floor.

They slammed hard onto the ground, their TV detaching from their body and shattering into a billion pieces on the floor.

A/N: ...hi chat. fortis here.

thats it. the books over. is there a sequel? maybe. whens it starting? who knows. youre assuming there is one.

But in all seriousness, thank you all so much for the support on this project. I'll try not to get super sentimental but this book has been one of the best parts of my life for the past 2 years we've been working on it. While I did most of the actual writing, this would not be possible without the other writers, so shout out to them. All of our links are available below so go follow them. And stay tuned: we've got more planned for our favourite traumatised redheads.

If you're reading this on Tumblr, congrats, hit the follow button and stay in the loop on what we're working on. I've got several oneshots, headcanons, and funny stories from the writers room I'm going to be sharing. If you're reading on Wattpad (which most of you are), go follow the Tumblr and get access to all of that stuff. You're gonna want to see it :)

I'm also going to be working on editing earlier stuff, mainly part 1, and fixing formatting on the Wattpad. But in general, the story of this book is over. And I'm pretty happy with it, as I hope you all are. Still have questions? Shoot us an ask on the main TRM Tumblr or my personal blog and I'll see what I can do. But that's it. Signing off for the last time,

- Fortis (@iamf0rtis)

Writers' Socials Fortis/iamfortis: Wattpad - https://www.wattpad.com/user/iamf0rtis Youtube - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCphcnJc-xn1sONNXsLJZxKA Tumblr - @iamf0rtis or https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iamf0rtis Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/iamf0rtis/ Cohost - https://cohost.org/iamfortis?page=0

Kip/softboymudkip: Tumblr - @softboymudkip or https://www.tumblr.com/softboymudkip

Tally/TallyVI: Tumblr - @tally-vi or https://www.tumblr.com/tally-vi Cohost - https://cohost.org/tallyvi?page=0

#...its over?#/the red mafia #/trm part 4 #/chapter 048 #/trm finale #/the end?#/maroon #/maroon pembrooke #/velvet #/velvet bolton #/unor bolton #/solana #/solana roison #/thorn alviar #/mad valentine #/jacqueline king #/robert holly #/ethan clarke #/zaeor

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makarovni · 7 months

Text

Wednesday...Whadda Hell...

Tagged by @adelaidedrubman to share some wip shit this fine Wednesday. For some reason I can only write stories backwards lately, so I'm on like the "finale" of this "movie" in Bianca's Nice Guys verse. If you're squeamish about blood or injuries just warning that there's a kinda icky bit but it's very short, just read at your own discretion. Otherwise, it's Holland being Holland and Bianca being a "get out of the house" type thriller protagonist. Also, redacted the villains' names bc I want it to be a surprise when I end up posting the real thing.

[Holland, Holly, and Healy] head up the stairs and try the door, which is locked. But, interestingly, there's a glass window on it that could be broken to open the lock….

"Don't," Holly says, holding her dad's hand away from the door, "not again. We'll find another–"

…

Startled from her attempt at recuperating by footsteps above, Bianca squints through the window on the door upstairs and notices it to be none other than her rescue team. She sighs in relief, and notices them struggle with the lock. She also sees the glass panel, and recalls Holland's previous attempt at punching through a door window to open it from the other side.

There's no way to communicate with them without drawing attention, so Bianca does something desperate. On the ground is a selection of large rocks, and at her disposal to write with is…blood. Sticking the collar of her coat into her mouth and biting down, Bianca dips her fingertip into her [abdominal] wound and squishes it around, screaming into the fur fabric from the pain. Once she's sure the finger is coated in blood, or at least that the wound will offer more should she need it, Bianca pulls her fingertip out and uses it to write "BE CAR" on the rock. She has to get some more blood on her finger to finish the message, then does her best to aim right for the door's window.

…

"Another way?" Holland says desperately. "Does it look like there's another way?"

Out of nowhere, a hard object crashes through the glass pane and hits Holland right in the thigh, making him scream and double over in pain.

"Ah, fuck!" He exclaims, grabbing at his leg, trying to balance on the railing. "They're just throwing rocks now? Like cavemen?"

Holly picks up the rock and initially makes a disgusted face, but then shares her discovery with Holland and Healy.

"Look. It's written in blood…it says "be careful."" She shows the rock to her dad and Healy.

"That's Bianca's handwriting!" Holland exclaims, then peeks through the now-broken window to see Bianca in the room's lower floor. "It's her! She threw it up here to warn us!"

Healy, meanwhile, uses the rock to push away any excess glass and reaches carefully through the empty panel to unlock the door.

"No," he says as the lock clicks, "it was a warning for you."

At first he's confused, making a face, but then Holly looks at him as if something is obvious, and Holland nods slowly, remembering his first attempt at breaking into a door that way.

Not-so-fond memory jogged, the trio pass through the door and now share the same room as Bianca, though they're on the upper platform with no way to reach her. She hears them come inside, and runs as close as she can to them, waving and smiling.

"Holland!! Holly!! Healy!! You're here!!" Bianca calls out joyfully, nearly in tears.

"I'm here, baby," Holland calls back, reaching out to her to no avail. "Are you okay?"

Bianca decides not to worry him with the injury, and lies. "No, I'm fine."

"What the hell are you wearing?" Holly asks, eyes wide, making everyone else aware that Bianca is still wearing nothing but a fur coat and boots, and said coat is opened up. She quickly, bashfully pulls it closed and fastens the buttons, and Healy looks away respectfully while Holland covers his daughter's eyes with his hands.

"Any other day, that would look so hot on you," Holland says, "but them doing that to you is just fucked up. You had to fight like that?"

She shrugs and laughs. "Yeah, kinda! Look, there's no way to meet up in this room, but I think that catwalk has a staircase in the next room over. We should go that way."

"Sounds good," Healy responds. "Let's go!"

Just as Bianca begins to limp towards the next room, the door slams open, and [Bianca's abuser] is there. Acting on pure instinct, Holland fires his [M40A1 rifle] at him, the gunshot echoing through the entire warehouse. Holland shrieks when he sees what has become of his target– [the abuser's] head has been reduced to a fine, red mist and chunks of skull and brain matter, painting the bare, grey walls of his precious warehouse.

"Holy shit!" Bianca mouths, knowing that yelling would do no good, as everyone's ears are currently ringing. "Nice shot!"

Holland flashes a thumbs up and wild smile at her, while Holly looks at him incredulously, arms crossed.

"What happened to no killing?!" Holly screams over her temporary hearing loss.

"That was [captor's name]!" Holland yells back. "He traumatized her! It's okay that he died!"

Holly shakes her head, and the trio continue into the next room. They stop for a moment and Holland reloads, knowing more people would show up after a gunshot that loud.

"You still said you weren't going to take them out lethally," Healy points out, able to talk at normal volume once everyone's hearing has mostly returned.

Holland shrugs. "I was actually aiming for his leg. Lucky shot, I guess."

Bianca nods and bites her lip. "Fuck yeah, lucky shot! Keep up that energy, [Bianca's other abusers] are here, too."

#if youve seen the movie you know about holland's history with punching windows to get to locks...#my writing #my wips #bianca andretti #holland march #<- for organization do not be mean to me browsers of his tag

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every-non-reason · 2 years

Text

08/26

Damn it, now I’m thinking of Gabriel.

It never really occurred to me that I’m standing in the same place that he once stood in. That he was also sixteen with siblings to protect once. It never occurred to me that there was once another person totally sentient to what was happening in here.

But he was right there. Once.

Whenever Mom would have us dress up for stuff, she’d always grab his collar or his tie in some way to try and fix it. I always thought it was kind of aggressive, but I was still younger and stupid and didn’t know what to do. That’s when Gabe would bat her hand away and start raising his voice, and she’d start raising her own. It would be Dad, me, and sometimes a toddler Lily who would snap them out of it, remind them that we had to look nice and pretend we like each other. I would forget how to breathe for the rest of the day.

I always used to think of Gabe, getting so angry so easily. Making things difficult so quickly. Why? Why did you have to mess everything up? Why couldn’t you just keep it together?

Well, now I know. And he’s not here to tell about it.

I’m pretty sure he appeared in my dream last night, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what we said. Only that I’d felt a pang of guilt and longing that nearly woke me up. But along with it also came a surge of relief. Finally. Finally, someone who would understand me.

Lily aggressively shook me awake the morning after. “Mom says get up!” She bounced around on my bed, on my back, almost off the walls of my room. “Mom says get up!”

I murmured things an eight-year-old should not hear into my pillow before raising my head. “Why?”

“We gotta get the laundry out of the living room. Lolo and Lola are coming soon.”

I finally managed to sit up, sweeping my hair back and kicking the sage-green blankets off of myself. “They’re coming in two days.”

“Mom says start today.”

Of course, Lily’s already dressed and orderly - Mom made sure of it. She’s got waist-long hair that’s usually pinned back with a headband or hair clip, and a nice, flexible shirt-shorts combo that lets her sprint around the house as she pleases. Every color matches up. Every hair brushed into place. The perfect photo to send back to our family in the Philippines.

I hardly feel like her sister.

There was the sound of dishes clanking together in the sink. It was enough to instantly put my nerves on edge.

You’re supposed to be doing that, a voice told me in my head. It’s certainly not mine.

That’s only when she’s not up yet, I reminded myself - or, whatever version of myself this was.

You could’ve been up before her, it continued, changing paths like it was nothing, but no. Up late again. You didn’t even see your dad off for work this morning.

I hate that I feel like this. I know that I’m doing just fine and that it’s summer break and that there aren’t any rules saying I can’t stay up late. I know, and yet these kinds of feelings are always stronger. There’s a lot of times where my brain refuses to listen to common sense like this.

Mom was tense today. If emotions acted like forces in the air, hers and Lily’s were in a fight scene out of an anime. Both were bouncing off the walls, but for different reasons. Lily was fueled on the excitement of Lolo and Lola and pancit bihon. These were the things that were scaring the life out of my mother.

I was about to move towards the aforementioned laundry baskets when Mom’s voice rang over the sound of running sink water.

“[REDACTED]?”

I took a deep breath in. “Yes, Mom?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking me what to do?”

“Move the laundry baskets. Right?”

A pause. The sink turned off. I will give it to her that she was actually doing something this time around, instead of yelling orders from her seat.

“Mhm!” The response was dripping in a giddy, manic form of sarcasm that stabbed at my heart. “And make sure to check back with me after, all right?”

The things I wanted to say to her at that moment would’ve made Lolo and Lola faint. They also would’ve made Lily run to hide in the hallway closet where our jackets muffle the sound, shutting the door and clapping her hands over her ears. I’m too old to join her back there now, but I knew that feeling too well. The jackets - and whatever older siblings you have - are supposed to be your company in there. Not the ones making the flames rise higher just outside.

That’s the only reason I gave Mom a simple “Okay.” One that she couldn’t possibly say was filled with attitude.

It’s what I would’ve done - or tried my best to do - had I been in Gabriel’s place. And I am now. Still trying to get used to that part. It’ll take me a bit.

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sukirichi · 3 years

Note

Breakfast: ingredient 64 + sugar 5 for inumaki

Okay, but like- what about inumaki's first kiss? His mouth is a very sensitive area and his first kiss would be a very intimate act, so here's what happens: reader and him are mutually pining BUT all everyone else sees is the sexual tension between them.

Somehow itadori manages to lock them in a dark small space, where they share their first kiss, yet they don't speak about it and to each other for a long time. At some point itadori (i swear this kid is a matchmaker) points out how y/n and toge can't even glance at each other and inumaki breaks. Late at night he shows up at reader's dorm, pins her to the wall and kisses her like no tomorrow. After they eventually have a rough make out with toge's shirt coming off, they lay on her bed where reader tells him she really likes him and he grabs her chin to stop her rambling and she looses it when she sees so much love and lust swirling in his eyes (they maybe have a third make out round 👀) and in the end they come to the conclusion they love each other and that they should have acted sooner on it.

I don't know if make outs count as nsfw and i read that you can write only sfw for inumaki, so it's okay if you can't complete this request. Just let me know you if can't.

Also get prepared to be spoiled spammed with asks.

— 🍰 strawberry shortcake anon

delicate

the first kiss with inumaki toge is as delicate as he is.

meal order: ★🥞 + 64 (canon au) + 5 (mutual pining) + sensitive first kiss with inumaki, them trapped in a room + yuuji as matchmaker uwu + WALL PIN KISS YES SIR + basically hot af inumaki

warnings: nothing really, just make out sessions and implications of smut, also UH soft dom inumaki toge, i guess? unedited as always

song i listened to while writing: I.F.L.Y. by Bazzi

note: 🍰 anon TYSM for this request, my heart was legit doki doki the whole time. this totally reminds me of why inumaki was my first crush and he’s the reason i came to watch jjk lol i love him so much <3 i hope this is what you’ve been looking for and that you like it! i had a lot of fun writing this one!

“Yuuji, don’t!” You tried to scramble against the strawberry haired boy’s grip, but he was far too strong, and it didn’t help that Nobara’s riled up self was helping him push you back inside the storage room. “Yuuji, Nobara, I’m your senpai, have some respect—” You don’t get to finish your words before you’re pushed inside, landing on the floor with a thud.

“Yuuji!” You banged your fists on the door once you’ve recovered, screaming at the top of your lungs. From outside the door, you heard the underclassmen giggle and run away, leaving you with your crush, Inumaki Toge, of all people.

Falling down into a squat, you wrapped your arms around yourself, refusing to look at him. You were only thankful that it was dark so Toge wouldn’t see how your pupils blew wide, your body responding at the soft scent of his perfume and laundry detergent. He’d been your crush for who knows how long now, and your first memory of meeting the cursed speech user burns at the back of your mind to remind you that it’s been years, and yet you’ve barely spoken to him.

Unlike the other students, your cursed technique wasn’t the most useful in combat. Your technique allowed you to nullify the abilities of others, but the downside of it was that it didn’t have much advantage against curses, so you had to rely on your physical strength to exorcise.

On the bright side, though…

“So,” Toge begins, shuffling away from the dusty wall and closer to you. Your heartbeat raced when his knees brushed against yours, thighs pressed against one another. “You’re a victim of them too.”

“Hmm, guess so.”

Neither of you speak for a while. Toge himself wasn’t much of a talker, and he barely batted an eye when Maki and Panda hauled his ass inside the storage room. He was so calm and placid that your mind was in mess – both because you were comfortable and happy in his presence, but at the same time, your palms were so sweaty and the room was so stuffed you could barely breathe. It didn’t help that Toge was humming too, reassured that he wasn’t going to hurt you with his powers.

“Uhm,” you started nervously, fiddling with your fingers. The silence stretched out thick and cordial that you couldn’t bear it anymore, and you turned to Toge with wide eyes, blinking back rapidly when he faced you as well, his deep purple eyes like a painting before you. “Do-do you know why we’re locked in here?”

Your palms grew wetter with each ticking second; Toge taking his time to answer.

Nobara had eavesdropped on you gushing to Megumi on how Toge looked so cute during breakfast this morning, and the girl immediately ran off to tell her best friend, Yuuji; the two of them sharing the same braincells.

Before you knew it, everyone split into two groups, your classmates dragging Toge away while Nobara and Yuuji manhandled you, hissing into your ear to man up and fess.

As if it was as easy as that! Inumaki Toge – albeit approachable and kind – was still the light of your life, the apple of your eye, and he barely acknowledged your presence the whole two years you’ve been with him. He was much closer with Maki and Panda while you got along more with the younger ones (although you wouldn’t hesitate to redact that statement after doing this to you), so the chances of you ever striking up a full conversation with him were low.

You only admired him from afar, sighing dreamily into your hands while he trained with Panda. Megumi seemed to be the only decent one, silent and bored as ever while you rambled on tirelessly on how much Toge looked so buff under his uniform yet had the face baby, stating over and over again he was born just to drive you crazy.

You should’ve known someone would find out one way or another, but heavens forbid, not him. The both of you were barely friends to begin with – you didn’t want to shatter whatever mutual respect you had for each other just because you crushed on him hard.

Mind running back and forth over the different ways Toge could reject you, because obviously someone had told him, or obviously he knew already – why else would he be locked here with you if your friends didn’t know something? It was getting hard to read his face from the darkness; the only thing you could make out were his long lashes and lips visible with his collar down.

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he avoided your gaze, and you swallowed audibly at the sound of his husky voice; unused to speaking this much. “But…but we’ve got nothing to worry about. Gojo-Sensei or Nanamin will come around soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded at his words, cursing inwardly that this was your perfect chance to confess or at least try and be friends with him, but your whole body was burning, feet frozen in your place that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You watched from the corner of your eye as Toge rocked back and forth in his heels, cheeks puffed out, and your eyes zeroed in on the snake tattoo beside his lips.

Toge rarely ever let his collar down to muffle his voice, so seeing him expose his lips like this almost felt intimate. He looked so pretty, long lashes fluttering on top of those warmed cheeks and strong arms wrapped around his knees.

He was just an arm’s length away. This was the closest you’d ever gotten with him, and maybe it was because you’d kept your feelings a secret for so long that it suddenly burst through. Faster than you could take notice of yourself, your arm reached out to cup his cheeks, thumb swiping against the tattoos. “Pretty,” you murmured, Toge stiffening up under your touch.

His eyes skewed over to yours, wide and unreadable, but there was something there – something burning. He had to bite down his cheek as you caressed his face absentmindedly, and it wasn’t until his fingers came up to your wrist that you realized what you were doing.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the warmth of his skin now searing because of your embarrassment. “Toge – I-I didn’t mean to – I’m so sorry! It’s just, your tattoos look so pretty and I’ve always—”

Your words are thrown right back into your mouth when Toge tugged you forward, sending the both of you toppling to the ground. Toge’s hands were delicate, just as delicate as your touch, when he cupped your face, his lips moving with yours. You were stunned for a moment before pleasure and fireworks exploding everywhere burst within you, prompting you to kiss him back in urgent fervor.

Toge’s lips tasted like candy, his sighs into your mouth melting your insides until you’re crumpling his shirt, eyes shut so tight in fear that maybe this would all disappear the moment you opened them.

Your hands travelled everywhere – from his shoulders, to his neck, his jaw – before it settled into his hair, the satisfaction of finally getting to run your hands through them has you weakening in his hold. Toge keeps his grip on your waist firm, almost possessive even, and he held you up both, sitting up while your arms wound around his neck.

A curse must’ve possessed you because you moaned into his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip, tugging it inside his mouth so he could taste your cherry chapstick.

He wasn’t in a better state than yours. As the cursed speech user, his mouth was one of his most sensitive parts, and it took all energy it had in him to not kiss you senseless right then and there, your lips swiping over his mouth in such a mind-numbing sensation.

It felt like his body was on fire, the heat licking up from his toes to right where you were pressed on him. Your lips on his was scorching, the soft sighs and moans you gave him only adding to the fuel.

Toge groaned as your nails subconsciously pulled at his hair, making him grind you down into the V of his lips, pressing your chest firms against his until there was no more space. Through the darkness and nearly airless atmosphere of the room, Toge still managed to take your breath away, your lips moving in synch and you were falling, falling, falling.

He effortlessly held your weakening arms up before he pulled away, both your chests panting at the sudden heated kiss. His eyes trailed down from your lust-filled gaze to the bow of your lips, where the flesh was plump and abused.

Toge’s thumb swiped over your lips that had you frozen solid because he looked at you so gently, delicately, almost as if he didn’t want to hurt you. But he never could – you nullified everyone’s powers and allowed him freedom in your space. You’d let him come again and again, welcoming him with open arms if he wanted so, and in that moment, you believed he did.

Although why would he want you?

Fears and insecurities struck a chord in you and you scrambled away from his lap, leaving Toge all alone in the ground. You ducked your head down to ignore the confused and hurt expression on his face, turning back to the door instead. “I’m so sorry,” you rasped out in one breath, “I-I didn’t mean for that kiss to happen and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Please just forget this ever happened and I really wish you and I aren’t awkward for this. Okay, good night. See you around.”

Pulling your phone out of your pocket after cursing yourself for not thinking of texting Megumi sooner, you speed dialed the younger boy, begging him to unlock the door.

Megumi came around a few minutes later. Toge had long settled behind you, silent but still catching his breath from your previous lip-locking. His presence unnerved you and you rubbed your hands up and down your arms, praying to whoever divines self that Toge would forget about this as well. The moment Megumi came around, you leaped out of the room, leaving two confused boys – with one of them unknowingly shattered.

The next few days were hell.

You and Toge hadn’t talked much at all before, but now, you both pretended as if the other didn’t existed. During class where there had to be pairings, you immediately sided with Maki and pushing Panda to Toge’s way, the latter frowning behind his collar every time you avoided his gaze.

You just couldn’t handle being anywhere near him after that kiss. You feared that your heart would combust and you’d further embarrass yourself in front of him, as if you weren’t embarrassing enough with how excited you were as you kissed him.

Gosh, what would Toge think of you now?

You bet he found you so weird, and your suspicions were only confirmed when he’d resorted to avoiding you as well. No more polite and cheery good mornings! in the hallway or asking what he had for lunch, no more random texting of memes at 3am because you both didn’t have friends outside the institute.

Pure silence from the other side.

It should’ve comforted you – you wanted to stay away from him, right? – but you only grew restless. Your focus dwindled with each passing day, finding yourself at the back of Toge’s head longingly when he wasn’t looking, then sighing as you chastised yourself from being stupid.

To be honest, that kiss only made your feelings multiply tenfold.

Now that you knew how warm and comfortable Toge was to the touch, how his lips tasted and how his hair felt under your touch – you crushed on him impossibly harder than before.

You reached a point where you tossed and turn around in bed, unable to fall asleep; completely unaware that just a few doors down, he was doing the same. It had you thinking back to that day all over again, wondering why did he kiss you? If he liked you, why did he never talk to you? He never even noticed you before and you were always the first one to strike conversation, but because the others were always around, chats were limited, one-worded, and awkward.

That cursed technique of yours was still useless, after all.

“Would you please stop moping around?” Megumi slammed his book down on the table next to you, and you jumped in your seat, clutching your pencil to your chest. “I’m tired of you eye-fucking Inumaki-senpai.”

“Wha – ? No, I wasn’t, what are you talking about?”

“You’ve both been acting weird,” observed Yuuji who stopped fighting with Nobara over who would win in an arm wrestling fight without special abilities: Gojo-Sensei or Nanami. Nobara nodded beside him, stealing Yuuji’s crisp chips before speaking. “You both can’t even glance at each other. All of us can feel that something’s wrong between you two.”

“They probably fucked in the storage room.”

“Nobara, keep your voice down!”

“Why should I?” she smirked, jabbing her thumb to an asleep Toge lounging on the field with Panda. “Your precious crush is asleep. He won’t know. But whatever, what did happen when we locked you both there?”

“You all humiliated me, that’s what happened!”

“What do you mean humiliated?” Megumi asked this time around, and you buried your face in your arms, glancing over at Toge again. He was slumbering peacefully, his body shaded from the sun under the tree, and your fingertips itched with the urge to hold him close again.

“He doesn’t like me,” you concluded with trembling lips, sending one last longing glance at Toge. “And I think I just absolutely ruined everything.”

No matter how much your underclassmen tried to cheer you up, your spirits were never lifted. You trudged back to your room that night, tired and drained from all the events that you just buried your nose in your textbook, studying about curses for next week’s exams.

The words began to blur and you sighed on your seat, glancing at your phone. It was nearing midnight and the dorms were oddly quiet, but you guessed everyone just had a long day.

Soon, you brushed your teeth and moved to retire for the night when three soft knocks came from your door. Your hand stilled on your blanket, brows furrowed at who could it be this time of the night. After fixing your hair to make yourself presentable, you swung the door open, ready to hit Yuuji if he came here to drag you down to the movie room and force you to watch horror movies again when you were harshly pushed, the stranger kicking the door back.

You gasped as warm lips came crashing down to yours, your hands pinned above your hand with just one arm.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it was Toge who’d placed a knee between your legs to prevent you from falling; your knees already turning to jelly before you even registered it was him. The familiar taste of something sweet like candy and cough syrup coated your senses and you moaned in his arms as his hands ran under your shirt, making the hairs on your body prickle up in anticipation.

Toge took advantage of your moan, his tongue slipping inside before it clashed with yours. It was too much – his overwhelming scent, his tongue tasting yours, his hands squeezing your breasts tenderly – you were on the verge of falling apart.

Fire burned all over your body, pure instinct dominating your conscious mind as you pushed him back, Toge falling down with you scrambling above him.

He grunted at your sloppy actions of trying to tug his shirt over his head, but he complied, reaching up at the same time you leant down for another wet, heated kiss. The kiss this time around was far less gentle and more urgent; your mutual pining for one another tipping over the edge until all hell broke loose.

You settled into his lap as if it were a throne and he encouraged you to take it, to claim him because he considered you the queen of his world.

“Toge, I,” you rambled after every peck, unable to form a complete sentence because you kept wanting to kiss him. It was nearly impossible to pull away now that he held you so close, making you feel like home and driving you absolutely insane. “I can’t do it anymore, mmhm, I want you so much – always have – I don’t want to avoid you and I just want to—”

He stopped your rambling by grabbing your chin forwards, his lips molding over yours again and dancing with it like two perfectly syncopated performers.

Toge’s curious hands ravished every crevice and dip of your curves as he sucked on your tongue, tasting it fervently like a traveler memorizing his path. You shuddered when Toge’s nimble fingers travelled down to cup your ass to lift you upwards, pushing you closer and deeper into his mouth.

None of you cared about anything anymore. You could barely focus on anything but letting your hands roam free down his chest, Toge rutting up to you when your cold hands brushed over his nipple.

Needing air to breathe, you pulled away first, panting as your forehead pressed against his. You stared at each other, lips swollen and wet from the hot make-out session. You were sure that your adoration for him was clearly evident in your eyes, that your feelings for him sparkled and radiated like the bright sunshine’s warmth he always made you feel.

But that wasn’t what drove you crazy.

It was the fact his expression mirrored yours; only his had lust swirling around his dark eyes, an unexplainable plethora of emotions flooding through them. You were breathing hard and so was he, his soft pants warming your lips that were still sore from his hungry ministrations.

Now was the time.

It didn’t matter that maybe he didn’t feel the same way for you; you liked him so much. Your feelings poured over the glass and your eyes glossed over with how your heart frantically chanted his name, wanting nothing and no one else but him.

“I love you,” you confessed, “I fucking love you.”

To your surprise, Toge chuckled, pulling you forward until his chest was flushed against yours. He captured your lips for one last kiss, delicate this time around as his hands cupped your jaw. You tilted your hide to the side to deepen the kiss, and you sighed while Toge rubbed soothing circles at the sides of your jaw then down to your neck.

“You better,” he mumbled through your lips, “Because I fucking love you too, and I don’t want to play this game of push and pull anymore.”

It was your first time to hear such dominance in his words, to witness such need and possessiveness shine back through his eyes, his lips travelling to the sides of your face. Submissively, you arched your back to him and allowed him access to your neck, head lolling to the side. Even as Toge slowly but surely left little love bites to mark you as his, he was gentle and delicate, soft yet hard, bitter but sweet like the longing you had for one another.

Even as he had you trapped under his arms, his heat nestled into the deeper, intimate parts of you that only welcomed no one else but him; your lover was absolutely delicate.

And you only fell for him harder than you already have.

#inumaki toge x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #inumaki toge #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki to/ge x reader fluff #inumaki to/ge x reader romance #inumaki to/ge x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader romance #inumaki to/ge #toge x reader #toge x reader romance #I LOVE INUMAKI SM

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mrsamaroevans · 3 years

Text

TIGHTROPE PT. 2 | MIGUEL GALINDO

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader. This follows from: Tightrope.

Request: Yes!

Words: 4,052.

Warnings: English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor.

A/N: Guys, without joking, I’ve been writing this since the first part was posted and that was nearly a year ago lol. But it’s finally here and I hope you like it! *Gif is not mine*

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

“Never sure, never know how far we could fall”

The past eight months, Miguel never felt so out of place like he was feeling by day four you were out of the house. He’s been feeling so bad not only emotionally because you were not with him, but physically ‘cause he started to catch a cold. His meetings with Potter were frustrating him even more and he was more tired than ever to have meetings with Los Olvidados or the MC.

He took a look at the last months of his life and he knew he had screwed everything up. Miguel hated himself for that; not Potter, not Los Olvidados or the MC. Him. He was the only one to blame for the situation his marriage was in.

That night when Cristobal was sick, he told you how sorry he was and promised you he would make an effort to be more at home. Two months ago, he had the chance to change the way your marriage was going and he didn’t do anything.

You’ve been together since you were sixteen. He knew about the loveless marriage your parents were living in because that was the reason why he had to work so hard for you to accept the first date. Miguel remembers how much you tried to avoid your feelings for him, how careful you were with every step of your relationship. He promised you he wasn’t going to hurt you and he didn’t. When he had to go to Cornell? You tried to break up with him, arguing about all the time he would be away with those pretty New Yorkers but he assured you, you were the only one who he could want to be with. Miguel did everything he had in his hand to make your long-distance relationship work, and instead of feeling away from him, you felt like nothing was different.

He did everything right back then, so right that when he proposed in the winter holidays of his fourth year in Cornell, you accepted without hesitation.

Why couldn’t he be like the twenty-two-year-old Miguel Galindo?

Miguel saw your face appearing on the computer’s screen and suddenly, he started to feel better. He texted you asking you to do a video call and felt relief when you accepted.

At least you didn’t want to avoid him the two weeks you were going to be away.

“Hey! How are you?” He asked and you smiled. Miguel loved seeing how passionate you were about your job, so he smiled for the simple fact of seeing you smiling.

“Fine,” you said “And you? You sound different,” you asked, a bit concerned.

“I’m catching a cold, but I’m fine,” Miguel said nonchalantly.

“There’s medicine in the cabinet of our bathroom,” you told him “You should take some before you feel worse”

“I’m better now that I’m talking to you,” Miguel said and you chuckled immediately “What?”

“You did it too soon,” you said and added when he frowned: “Trying to make me fall in your arms again”

Miguel laughed. He wasn’t trying that, he was just being honest, but now that you touched the subject…

“I know you said we’d talk about it once you come back, but…”

“And we’ll do it” you interrupted him and Miguel understood you didn’t want to talk about it at that moment “I had an interview earlier, that’s why I’m all dressed up,” you said, changing the subject.

“I think you look gorgeous,” he said, and when he saw the look you gave him, he laughed “And how did that interview go?”

Miguel and you talked about a bunch of stuff. You told him about the process of publication of your book and he listened to every single word that came out of your mouth. He didn’t realize how much he missed hearing you talk until now, and when you least expected it, you and your husband talked for three hours straight, something that hadn’t happened in so long.

“You know? This takes me back to those four years you were at Cornell” You said and Miguel nodded.

“Yeah… our old computers didn’t have this quality but, yeah, they helped us,” Miguel said and when he was about to say something else, he saw you turn your attention somewhere else.

“Oh, hi baby” he heard you say and Miguel knew immediately who was the person that walked in the room where you were “Just be careful, Lucy, please”

“I’ll come back as soon as it ends, Mrs. Galindo,” a feminine voice said and then he saw Cristobal in your arms.

“It’s okay, have fun” You smiled, and then the door got closed “You wanna see daddy? Look who’s there!” You pointed to the screen and Cristobal looked at it. A smile appeared when he saw his father and Miguel smiled as well.

“I miss you two so much,” Miguel said, feeling tears in his eyes at seeing you both smiling so wide, but, a thought he didn’t like at all came to his head.

You seemed happier now than in the past eight months and it broke his heart because he felt so alone. Every night he expects to walk in your bedroom and see you sleeping, kiss your head, —kisses you never felt— and lay at your side. But all that he finds is an empty and cold bed.

Miguel didn’t want a future without you and he knew he had to work really hard to keep you in his life.

“What are you thinking, Mickey?”

Miguel looked at his friend, he didn’t even realize he was that quiet and thoughtful. Nestor sat down on the stool next to his and looked at him.

“You miss her so much” Nestor teased once Miguel didn’t say anything.

“I do” Miguel nodded, he had a glass of scotch in his hand and when he took a sip, he realized it was already warm, so he left it aside “I fucked it up, hermano. We never had this distance before, not even when I was at Cornell… and it’s all my fault”

“Well, it’s a progress that you already accepted it,” he said and Miguel scoffed.

“At what damn moment” Miguel sighed and leaned his forearms in the bar “I feel like I’m losing her”

“She thinks the same about you” Nestor confessed, making Miguel look at him.

He should have expected it. You and Nestor started to spend a lot of time together since he was your driver. You met Nestor at the same moment you met Miguel, you were friends, it was obvious you would talk to him.

“You can’t lose her, Miguel,” Nestor told him “(Y/n) and Cristobal are the best things that have happened to you, not the cartel, not the protection you’re having from Los Olvidados… your family”

Nestor was right and Miguel knew it. Not anyone would stand his life and everything that comes with it, but you? You were there since the beginning, you never judged any of his decisions. He was so lucky to have you in his life, ‘cause people could talk shit about him, the cartel could be crumbling down, but at the end of the day, when he walked through the door of your home, you were there, welcoming him with a smile and a kiss. You were all that he needed.

“I know,” Miguel said, immediately “I have always known that, I just… I don’t know what happened, I’m trying to remember but… I can’t. I thought we were fine, I thought I was just working like before and then my son got sick and if I hadn't woken up in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have even noticed” he sighed again, summed in frustration “I didn’t want to be the absent father and husband my father was and here I am. My wife is miles away from me and she looks happier”

“Don’t you think is because you’ve been talking every day?” Nestor asked, raising an eyebrow at him “She loves you, Miguel. Never doubt about it… I’m going to the airport tomorrow for her, you wanna come?”

Miguel nodded. He would do all that it takes to bring his family back.

You had your son in your arms as the babysitter helped you with your suitcase. You missed so much your home that you were so happy that your days in New York came to an end, and for the giant smile Cristobal had, you knew he was also happy, even if he didn’t understand what was going on.

“Let’s find uncle Nestor, you’re gonna help me?” You asked, looking at your son’s face. He smiled at you and wrapped his arms around your neck.

“Over there, Mrs. Galindo” Lucy said, pointing away and when you turned around, you froze for a moment.

Miguel was there with Nestor, and when he spotted you, he started to make his way through the crowd to reach you. You didn’t know what to do for a moment, he surely surprised you ‘cause Nestor told you he had a meeting with Los Olvidados that day. You definitely didn’t expect him to be there.

“Look, baby… it’s daddy” you told Cristobal and he looked at where you were pointing “It’s daddy, baby…”

As soon as Miguel reached you, Cristobal stretched out his arms to his father, and being as happy as never in the last eight months, Miguel took him out of your arms.

You took the chance to turn to the babysitter “Lucy, thank you so much for helping me… we drive you home?” You asked, but she shook her head no.

“My brother is picking me up,” She said.

“Are you sure?” You asked again but she only nodded, “Thank you so much again… Cristobal, say bye to Lucy,” you said, grabbing your suitcase and caressing Cristobal’s back.

The babysitter smiled when Cristobal waved his tiny hand at her, and then she started to walk to look for her brother.

As soon as she walked away, Miguel used his free hand to cup your cheek and kissed you before you could object. You pulled back, frowning, and with a small smile on your face “Someone is too affectionate today”

“I missed you,” Miguel said “And I’m not talking only about these past two weeks…”

“It’s not the place, Miguel,” You told him, but stood on your toes to kiss his lips again “Let’s go home…”

Miguel held your hand the whole way home, he asked you about the flight and about your last two days in New York that you couldn’t talk.

“You’re too affective today” You whispered, looking at him and grinning when he caressed the back of your hand with his thumb. He smiled and turned to you “How’s your mom?” You asked to change the subject.

“Happy ‘cause you’re coming back,” he said “She also missed you two… I think Cristobal helps her with her treatment”

You looked back at Cristobal, who was busy playing with a stuffed bear in his car seat “I also noticed that… what did she say about the psychologist?”

Miguel sighed and you half-smiled, you didn’t need more to know what your mother-in-law thought about that idea “You know her, she doesn’t want to go to a loquero”

“Well, we knew she’d say that” Miguel nodded at your words “Maybe Dr. Kamen can convince her… I’ll talk to her, don’t worry”

Again, Miguel realized he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t know what he had done to have you in his life, you were too good to be true ‘cause even after all that distance, you were there for him, having his back like you had done since you were sixteen.

So he kissed your hand and you smiled.

When Nestor parked outside your house, Miguel leaned to the backseat to take Cristobal as you jumped off from the SUV and smiled when you saw Dita in the front door.

“You’re finally here, querida,” She said, walking to you and hugging you “How was your trip?”

“It was great,” You said, and as soon as Miguel appeared with your son in his arms, Dita’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh, mijo, I missed you so much” Dita smiled and Miguel let her take Cristobal in her arms “You must be hungry,” Dita told you and you couldn’t hide the fact she was right “Let’s go inside, lunch is ready”

That night, even though Miguel wanted to be with you when you bathed Cristobal, he received a call and couldn’t make it. You weren’t mad. You understood that besides his family, he also had other important things to take care of, also, you saw in his eyes that he wanted to fix things up. He didn’t want to lose you and you also didn’t want to lose him.

“Sorry for that,” he said as soon as he crossed the door of your bedroom. Cristobal was in his bed already and you knew he wouldn’t wake up until the morning arrives “I went to see Cristobal… he looks tired”

You smiled.

“Yeah… he was,” you said, taking your earrings off and leaving them on your bedside table. You were tired as well, you would put them to your jeweler tomorrow.

“You also are... We can talk tomorrow”

“No. I promised we would when we had time alone” You said, turning to him and patting the bed for him to sit at your side “What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m sorry” It was the first thing he said “I know I haven’t kept all the promises I made the day we got married. You’re the most amazing wife and mother out there and I haven’t appreciated you the way I should” he shook his head and leaned his head back looking at the ceiling “I used to say that I work a lot, but now I know that’s not an excuse. ‘Cause, you work a lot too and you haven’t neglected our son, our house, or our marriage… I can see it now”

Our marriage.

Those two words made you shiver. You have confronted him about Adelita’s baby and you were afraid that the words he used just confirmed your biggest fear. But he could see that in your eyes, ‘cause he started to shake his head.

“I swear to God, amor, that between Adelita and I never happened anything,” he said, grabbing your hands. There were tears in his eyes, afraid of you not believing him “I can see why would you think that and, unfortunately, I have nothing else than my word for you to believe me” you looked him in the eyes, you wanted to have proofs but how could you have them? You had to trust him “You’re the only woman I have ever love and that’s how it’s gonna be forever. You can trust me”

“I do,” You said after a few seconds “If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened”

“Nothing” Miguel insisted, sitting closer as one of his arms landed on your shoulders and kissed your head.

“Thank you for not ignoring my feelings,” you said with your eyes closed. You missed having him so close, the smell of his cologne taking you to all the happy memories at his side.

“I’m sorry it took me too long to finally see it” he got a few inches apart from you, so you opened your eyes and looked up at him. You couldn’t deny it, you were a bit disappointed for that action “And… I know this is not romantic but…” you leaned back to see him better. Miguel was nervous and the only times he was like that were, when he asked you for the first date, when he proposed to you and when your son was born “We’ve been married for ten years now, and if you want… I want to renew our vows”

You were surprised.

You didn’t know anyone who wanted to renew their votes. The only thing that you heard of marriages when you were young, was that they were so tired of being in them.

“Miguel…” you barely whispered when he got on one knee in front of you. His hand grabbed a small black velvet box from his suit coat and opened it.

“Would you like to marry me again?” Miguel grabbed one of your hands as you were still trying to find your voice “I can’t promise you I won’t make mistakes again because I’m not perfect, but I promise to always put you and my family first”

You smiled. Your eyes getting watery as you nodded.

Miguel sighed in relief and took your engagement ring off your finger to place the new one “I love you” he told you as he stood and the next thing he did was cupping your cheeks to kiss you.

You accepted his lips, leaned back, and held from his dress shirt where you looked for its buttons as the kiss went from sweet to passionate. It had been so long since the last time he touched you like he was doing it at that moment, and your heart melted when you realized that his touch felt the same as always.

But, of course, the moment was interrupted by Miguel’s phone.

“Are you kidding me?” He said, irritated at whoever he was talking to “Potter wants to talk now? Does he know what time is it?”

You sat in the bed and looked at him as he walked around the room. You bite your lower lip as you recognized Alvarez’s voice coming out of the device and from what you could hear, you knew Miguel had to leave.

“No… tell him I won’t go anywhere”

You walked towards him and stood in front of him so he could see you. Just by looking at your face, he shook his head, but stopped when you placed one of your hands on his chest “Go. They need you” you whispered.

Miguel covered the microphone and shook his head again “I got it, amor, they won’t interrupt us”

“I’ll be here when you come back,” you told him with a smile as you wrapped your arms around his middle and left a soft kiss on his chest. He didn’t understand how he could deserve someone like you “Go. It’s okay”

He sighed and gave in “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Miguel said kissing you, before walking out of the room as he buttoned his shirt.

Your eyes stayed at the door for a couple of seconds and when you looked down at your left hand, you smiled at seeing the new ring on your finger. If you wanted a proof, that could be. The butterflies in your stomach made you giggle while you made your way to the bathroom to take a shower.

Half an hour later, you were doing your skincare routine. You had a small smile while remembering the past weeks and how you were feeling things were changing just stepping into Californian ground. It all started to feel like before and you were not even afraid that things could change for worse. What happened today was proof enough for you to be sure that you could overcome anything.

You turned to your left when you heard the bedroom door being closed. After placing all the products where they belonged, you walked back to the bedroom just in time when Miguel was about to call your name.

“What happened? Potter just wanted to say hi?” You asked and Miguel chuckled at your joke as he was taking his coat off.

“I was in the car and I realized that I didn’t care what he wanted, so I asked Alvarez to come back,” Miguel said, unbuttoning his shirt and looking directly at you “I want to spend this night with you and nor Potter nor anyone is gonna interrupt”

“Amor… I was being honest when I told you it was okay” You told him smiling once he reached you.

“I’ll deal with him tomorrow” Miguel smirked and pulled off the strip from your robe “I love you”

Your hands cupped his cheeks “I love you too”

| ONE YEAR LATER |

The sky was bright blue. There were no clouds and the weather was perfect. Miguel and Cristobal were in the pool while you watched them from the bed in the tent Miguel asked to be built. They were having fun until the little one wanted some cookies from the kitchen and as demanding as his father, he wanted to go for them.

“We have fruit here,” You told your son, pointing at the bowls on the table as Miguel helped him to take his blue lifejacket off. Cristobal pouted and shook his head no.

“I want cookies” he insisted.

“Fine, just two,” you said and your son nodded. he grabbed his father’s hand and dragged him all the way to the kitchen.

You smiled watching them going inside the house. Their curls and swimsuits dripping water as they walked. There was no doubt that Cristobal was looking more and more like his father as the days go on.

The giggles of your son became louder as they approached the tent. You looked up from your phone and saw your son with two cookies in both of his hands. You turned to Miguel, questioning him with your gaze.

The expression on his face was saying “I couldn’t do anything”

“I said just two cookies, hun,” you told your husband once Cristobal sat near you.

“I told him so,” Miguel said quickly “Tell your mother what you told me”

Cristobal smiled when you ran your fingers through his hair “Two for me and two for little brother” he looked at you and then turned to the bassinet at your side. You couldn’t stop your laugh and neither did Miguel.

“But little brother can’t eat cookies yet,” you told him.

“Can I eat them for him?” Cristobal asked looking up at you with a big smile, trying to look as innocent as he could.

You looked at Miguel who didn’t even try to hide his smirk. Like father, like son.

“Fine,” you told him “but you’ll have to wait an hour before you go to the pool again”

Cristobal nodded too eagerly probably not knowing what an hour meant, and when Miguel was about to say something, your youngest son started to whine “Hey, little man. What’s wrong?” he asked taking the baby in his arms and trying to coo him, “I know, I know. You don’t want to see me now; you want your mami”

You smiled when Miguel kissed his forehead to place it in your arms so he could eat.

Miguel laid on the bed with Cristobal, they were close to you but not enough so they wouldn’t get you or the baby wet. He was having a conversation with his son, at least, the kind of conversation a three-year-old kid could maintain, which soon started to fade away and when you looked at them, you saw your oldest son sleeping on Miguel’s chest.

“He gave up,” Miguel said with a smile when he noticed you were watching them. One of his hands was on Cristobal’s back and the other in his hair “You want to try for a girl?”

You chuckled while patting your newborn child on the back “It’s been only six days since this little one came out of me… give me two years to forget the pain and we can talk about it”

“We have a deal here” He smiled at you and then kissed his son’s head “I think he likes being the big brother”

“Yeah, he gets extra cookies” you both chuckled at that “Today was wonderful”

“Every day at your side is wonderful”

“Ugh, cheesy” you laughed and Miguel looked at you pretending to be offended.

“I’m not taking it back, because it’s true” Miguel shrugged as best as the kid in his chest let him “I love you, you know it”

“Hun… I love you too”

Miguel stood there, lying in bed and looking at you and your sons. He was thankful that you had given him another chance, ‘cause he realized by looking at you three, that he couldn’t see his life without you.

“Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go”

Tags: @luckyharley1903

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo fanfiction #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x you #miguel galindo x female reader #Mayans MC #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fandom

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prophetparadox · 3 years

Text

DMC OC Week Day 1: Introduction

(I made this image in a picrew, so it’s not totally accurate to her design but it’s the best I could do with limited options)

It’s officially midnight so fuck it, time to make my first post for this prompt week! I may have just gotten into this series, but I do have an OC and since I plan on writing a fic soon I figured participating in @dmc-oc-week was a good way to start! So it’s time to meet my girl Kay! So I’ve filled out an infographic for her, and wrote up a little drabble to go along with this, get ready to learn more about her as the week goes on! Though if you read my stuff on AO3, you’ve probably already seen her a little bit, but let’s get this ball rolling!

Name: Kay [Real Name REDACTED]

Age: Mid-20’s (24-26) (as of DMC5)

DoB: September 26th

Race/Species: Human, mostly...

Height: 5’6”/167 cm

Weight: 117 lbs.

Appearance: Kay has medium length brown hair that goes just above her chest, her left eye is brown but no one knows what her right eye looks like as it’s covered by a dark purple eyepatch and hidden further by her hair covering her right eye. She wears a purple sleeveless top, black capris, a gray hoodie that is usually tied around her waist, light gray boots, and fingerless fishnet gloves.

Personality: Kay is a cheerful albeit socially awkward girl, but she has a stubborn side and isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind. Emotion wise, she wears her heart on her sleeve and isn’t good at hiding how she feels unless she bottles it up. She tends to be optimistic, but there might be something darker lying deeper... She’s very affectionate towards the people she cares about. That being said, Kay is also rather secretive. She doesn’t open up about her past, being vague and only bringing up as little as possible. It’d take a lot of trust for her to open up about such things. Due to being around Dante for so long, she’s developed a bit of a sarcastic attitude.

Quick Facts/Abilities: Kay primarily wields her axe Fenrir, a Devil Arm, in battle, but she does have firearms training courtesy of Lady and carries around a pistol. Despite her right eye being covered up and hidden, she doesn’t seem to be handicapped by this and behaves as if it weren’t hidden at all. She has a good sense of intuition, being able to know if someone is trustworthy or has demonic power.

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

It was always strange when the office was quiet. If it wasn’t a song blasting from the jukebox filling the space with noise, it was the chattering of its employees. Even more rare was when the quiet wasn’t because the power had been shut off. But today seemed to be a rare moment where the power was on but not a sound could be heard. But in all honesty, that didn’t really bother the sole occupant of the office at the moment.

Sitting down on the couch with a book in hand was a young woman known simply as Kay. Without any “work” to do, she had time to finish yet another book she’d had on her long pile of things to read. And with the others still asleep, she could enjoy the peace of the lazy April morning. Though admittedly, she was having trouble focusing on the words. Perhaps it was too quiet? Or maybe it was because she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet? She wasn’t sure. All she knew is that the peace and quiet had quickly lost its appeal. Maybe Dante would wake up soon and then they could-

The phone on Dante’s desk began to ring, sounding louder than usual thanks to the deafening quiet. The sudden noise made her nearly fall off the couch. Quickly stuffing her bookmark into the novel, she leapt up from her seat and dashed for the phone. No one else was around to answer, and it might just be a job! She had to take this chance. She picked up the phone, holding on to the possibility that this would be big.

“Devil May Cry!” she answered, as she had many times before. She listened intently to the person on the other end, unable to hide the grin on her face when they gave the password. “Alright, I think we can help you. What’s the issue?” she asked, grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper so she could write down the details. This was perfect! She could take this job and-

“I’ll be taking that, thank you!” The voice behind her and the sudden stealing of the phone from her hands snapped her out of her good mood. She didn’t even have to guess who it was, she knew that voice all too well.

“Dante, what the hell?!” Kay shouted, turning to face her “boss”. From the looks of it, he’d just tumbled out of bed and was woken up by the phone ringing. He didn’t bother answering her, simply giving a cocky grin in response.

“Sorry about that, mind repeating what you said there?” he said, responding to the client on the phone. Dammit, he was gonna steal the job for himself! She seethed in silence as Dante attentively listened to the client. “Alright then, I’ll be there asap, we’ll discuss payment afterwards,” He put the phone back on the receiver and grabbed Rebellion. “Duty calls, Kay! You know the drill, hold down the fort while I’m gone!”

“Of course you won’t let me come with,” Kay sighed, sitting down in the chair already aware this would be a losing argument. But it was still worth a try, maybe he’d come around for once? “I don’t see why, this assignment isn’t that tricky.”

“Which is why you’re staying here. Besides, someone needs to hold off Lady and Trish if they come knocking! And if there’s anyone I trust the office with, it’s you.”

She knew that was meant to be a compliment, but she’d heard it too many times and was getting tired of it. “Come on, Dante, I’m not a kid! I can handle myself out there, you’ve seen it with your own eyes!” she argued.

“Sorry Kay, but my mind’s made up. This is a one man job, you wouldn’t be able to do much if you came. They’d all be dead before you could swing your axe,” He leaned down to tousle her hair, earning him a groan of annoyance from her. “I’m sorry, but I have my reasons. You’ll understand one of these days. Just trust me, would ya?”

There it was, the excuse he always pulled. He always had his reasons that he never explained and one day she’d totally understand it all. That was usually a sign the conversation was over. “Just go already.” she said with the wave of her hand at the door.

“I’ll make it up to you, kiddo. I’ll treat you to something when I get back!” he said as he walked towards the door, trying to make her feel better. It was hard when by treating her he meant they’d get pizza from a fancier joint than usual and she’d be the one stuck picking it up.

“I’m still not your kid, Dante! I’m a grown woman!” she called out as he made his way out the door. Once again, she was left alone in the office.

Kay stood up and made her way over to the kitchen, unable to ignore her hunger and resigned to eating alone. She was so tired of being left behind with no explanation. She’d been fighting demons long before she met Dante, but he just seemed content to make her watch the office and pick up pizzas or coffee. She was getting tired of this, she wanted to see some action again! Go out in the field and kick demon ass! But noooooo, she was stuck here.

Maybe one day she’d be able to head out there again, prove to Dante that she was just as capable as him or the girls, take down demons like she used to. But clearly that wasn’t today. But soon, something had to happen soon. They’d get a job so big that he couldn’t leave her behind and then he’d see! Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

But for some reason, she felt as if that hope would become reality soon enough. She could just be getting her hopes up, but she wanted to believe her intuition was right. If only she could see the future and know for certain… Until then, she’d just stay here and hope that someone would walk through the door or dial their number and change everything.

#Prophet posts #Devil May Cry #dmcocweek

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

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Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Four)

Summary: Jack finally comes to the conclusion that he needs some help with his off-the-books investigation. Unfortunately, the only person who can help him is Agent (Y/L/N), the woman who hates his guts.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Four Stark Mansion, Los Angeles (Previous Chapter)

Just once, it would be nice for something to work out in my favor, a frustrated Jack thought to himself, just once. After weeks of searching through countless Los Angeles telephone books, he’d finally made contact with an old Navy buddy from the war that could help him with his ongoing off-the-books investigation. Unfortunately, the man turned out to be absolutely useless; though he’d been an assistant codebreaker on a battleship for several years, Seaman Luther Pulver hadn’t a single clue as to what sort of code was written in Peggy’s ‘uncovered’ file, the file that chronicled her supposed war crimes and the one that had been gifted to him by Vernon Masters. And to add to Jack’s growing annoyance, Pulver had innocently suggested he get into contact with a Bletchley Park codebreaker for assistance, unaware that the Chief of the New York SSR worked not twenty feet away from one and that she hated his guts with a fiery passion.

Since their contentious confrontation outside the bank a month earlier, Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had avoided Jack like the plague and flat-out refused to utter a single word to him or even acknowledge his presence; if she for some reason had to directly address him, then it was with an icy demeanor that even Dottie Underwood couldn’t match. He’d never say it out loud, but (Y/N) intimidated him just as much as she annoyed him, and the thought of having to grovel to her to continue his investigation caused his stomach to twinge unpleasantly.

“Chief Thompson! I didn’t realize that you were still awake…” Jack glanced up from his scotch to see Edwin Jarvis standing in the doorway, dressed in red tartan pajamas with a glass of milk in his hand. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, I was just going over some case files.” Jack downed the rest of his scotch and contemplated the butler. “Working for Stark, you must have a lot of experience dealing with dames. Do you mind if I ask you for a little advice?”

Jarvis’ eyebrows rose almost comically. “I feel I must remind you, Chief Thompson, that I have been most happily and faithfully married to Ana for nearly five years, and-”

“Keep your pants on, Jarvis, that’s not the kind of advice I’m looking for.” Jack chuckled at the flustered expression on the butler’s face. “I need this one dame’s help with something at work, but she’s not exactly my biggest fan at the moment; how do I get her to help me without pissing her off even more?”

“Well, I may not know all the facts of this situation, Chief Thompson, but the first thing I suggest you do is refrain from calling this young lady a ‘dame.’” Giving Jack a reproachful look, Jarvis walked across the sitting room lowered himself into an armchair across from him. “And with that in mind, I would ask her politely for her help while simultaneously pointing out that she’s the only person on the face of the earth who can possibly help you. Now, I observed during our dealings with Mr. Stark’s stolen inventions last year and the Zero Matter business several weeks back that you fancy yourself a hardened detective. I also observed that you have a quick temper and foul disposition whenever you’re slighted or wronged.” Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Jarvis merely held up his hand as he continued. “If you really require this young lady’s assistance, then the only piece of advice I can truly give you is to be anything but your usual, ah, charming self.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You done insulting me, Jarvis, or you got a few more jabs saved up for emergencies?”

A coy smile played on Jarvis’ lips as he stood. “Working for Mr. Stark has taught me the importance of stockpiling ammunition; I believe the same could be said for witticisms. If you excuse me, I’ll be off to bed now, Ana will be missing her glass of milk.” With a tiny inclination of his head, Jarvis walked out of the room, but not before calling out over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t underestimate Miss (Y/L/N) if I were you, Chief Thompson, she’s as fierce as she is intelligent.”

Listening to the butler’s retreating footsteps, Jack couldn’t help but smirk at Jarvis’ words; when he was released from the hospital, Jack was extended an invitation from Howard Stark to stay at his Los Angeles mansion with the Jarvises and seeing no other option, he’d reluctantly accepted the offer. But the unusual couple had inexplicably grown on him; Jarvis was full of stories about his adventures as Stark’s butler and Ana cooked with the skill of a world-renowned chef. Things could’ve been a lot worse, Jack thought to himself, I could be shacking up with Sousa and his god-awful snoring.

But Jarvis had been correct about one thing: if Jack wanted to move forward with his investigation, he needed to try and win the SSR’s top codebreaker over to his side, even if that meant changing his entire attitude towards her and her profession.

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

“This better work, Thompson.” Jack muttered to himself before entering Lou’s Diner; the restaurant was moderately empty, save for a handful of occupied booths, and Jack was pleased to spot the back of Agent (Y/L/N)’s head near the end of the diner. Squaring his shoulders, Jack made his way over to her booth and spoke as he lowered himself into the seat across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent (Y/L/N), but Sousa was yakkin’ my ear off back there. So, what’s good here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Jack kept his seat and pleasant mood. “I’m here on assignment, Chief Thompson, so why don’t you go take a long walk off a short pier?”

Jack nodded in understanding, ignoring her snarky jab and the swell of irritation that followed. “Your informant’s name is Jonathan Grant Williams, right?” (Y/N) blinked in surprise. “You see, my cousin’s name is Jonathan, my middle name is Grant and Williams was the name of my commanding officer in the Navy; I guess you’ve never read my file, huh?” He grabbed a menu off the table and began flicking through it; try as he might, he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying pissing off the codebreaker. “I haven’t had a good corned beef sandwich since before the war. The ham and cheese sounds good, too…”

“So, you lured me here under false pretenses. That’s interesting.” Jack was a little relieved to see that she appeared calm, but that feeling quickly dissipated when he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol’s hammer being pulled back. “I’ll give you one minute to explain yourself, Flyboy, so you’d better start talking.”

Goddammit, Jarvis was right about her, Jack thought before quickly launching into an explanation. “You know all about the whole Zero Matter situation, right? Well, I kept that fake file Vernon Masters gave me to discredit Peggy and hid a copy of it at the SSR before I prepared to leave L.A.; lucky I did, too, ‘cause when I was shot, my would-be killer stole the original file from my suitcase and left me on the floor of that hotel room to die.”

The fingers of her free hand began to impatiently drum against the top of the table. “Thirty seconds, Flyboy…”

“That file’s somehow connected to my shooting.” He insisted. “Someone knew I had it and didn’t want me investigating it, so they tried to have me killed. I wanna find out who’s behind all this, but I need you and your codebreaking skills to decode parts of the file for me.” Jack pulled the file in question out of his briefcase and placed it on the table before sliding it over to her, along with a small black light. “Here it is, if you don’t believe me.”

With a look of skepticism, (Y/N) put on her reading glasses, opened the file and began scanning its contents, using the black light to illuminate the redacted words and sentences; he was relieved to see that the longer she read, the less angered she appeared to be.

“Hey, Specs, you weren’t really gonna shoot me just now, were you?” The codebreaker didn’t answer, too engrossed by the file she was examining, and he exhaled loudly in obvious exasperation. “Well, that’s two women now who’ve threatened to shoot me this year…”

“Oh, really? I can’t imagine why; you have such a charming personality, after all.” She mumbled sarcastically under her breath. “Relax, the gun wasn’t even loaded. Whoever wrote these codes…they must be a genius.” Her eyes met his, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ve worked with some of the most highly skilled coders and codebreakers in Europe, but I’ve never seen anything like these before.”

Jack’s frown deepened. “But you can crack ‘em, right?”

“It’ll take time, of course, but I think I could.” She sighed and furrowed her brow as her eyes continued to scan the file. “These war crimes, though…Peggy could never have done these things to another person. Torture, dismemberment, mass execution of civilians…it’s deplorable. Besides, we were working alongside the Howling Commandos during the summer of ‘44 and we were nowhere near where these incidents occurred.”

He only half-listened to her words, far too excited that his investigation was finally taking off. His elation quickly turned to confusion when she stared back up at him with a horror-struck expression. “What? What is it?”

(Y/N) pointed at the top of the file. “This file’s about an ‘M. Carter.’”

“Yeah, pretty sure I already said this is a fake file about Marge. You know, Specs, you really need to work on your listening skills-”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me, Thompson?” She glanced around the diner and lowered her voice. “In 1940, Peggy’s older brother was reported missing in action and to this day, they’ve never recovered his body. His name…his name was Michael. Michael Carter. If this file is as real as you say it is, then Peggy’s brother not only survived the war but committed war crimes against Allied soldiers and innocent civilians for over five years.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Son of a bitch.”

His secret investigation had suddenly become even more complex than he could’ve possibly imagined.

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

A/N: Wow, what a twist! Thank you so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Five

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #edwin jarvis #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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crackinglamb · 3 years

Text

Here you go, @pikapeppa. 💕

Qunari Street Food is the working title of a oneshot to be included in Til It Squeaks. Set a couple years after TSM ends, it's about Carly and Iron Bull realizing that Earth food and Qunari food aren't so different. It's only half written at this point, one of those 'I'll get back to it sooner or later' kind of things.

(Name and gender of the Dread Pup are redacted for spoiler reasons, since that hasn't been posted yet.)

---

She flexed her ceramic hand and marveled once again at the magic possible in Skyhold now. The leather covering was utterly seamless, molded over the prosthetic hand as closely as skin, and just as flexible. It even nearly matched her real skin tone, but then again, what did she expect? Little halla, indeed, she snorted to herself as she measured out some of the yeast into the bowl. She added water and a healthy handful of sugar and stirred it around with her favorite wooden spoon.

And how strange was that? She had a favorite wooden spoon. Misyl would be beaming when she found out.

She was grabbing the large crock where the flour was kept when the kitchen door slammed open and two bodies came through it. One was large and horned, and the other was...giggling.

“Gentlemen,” Carly said loudly, breaking the pair apart with something very nearly like guilt on their faces. “My kitchen is not the appropriate place for your antics,” she added with mock severity. “You should know better, Iron Bull.”

She expected a teasing glint in his eye or something equally as naughty. She was unprepared for the way he suddenly stood very straight, hands behind his back. He looked for all the world like a child that had just been caught stealing sweets. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yes, ma'am.”

If anything her eyebrows shot higher on her face. And then Dorian began to laugh. He laughed so hard he doubled over, holding himself balanced with a grip on Bull's belt. He was wheezing when he stood up again, wiping his eyes and fixing his hair. “Oh, amatus, you should see your face.”

Bull seemed to remember himself and finally cracked a grin. “Motherhood...uh...suits you, Boss.”

“Is that what that was?” She shrugged and tossed him a grin of her own. “Good to know I've apparently mastered the Mother Voice. I would never have guessed considering how [redacted] ignores it.”

“Where is my darling [redacted], anyway?” Dorian asked.

“With Solas for a couple hours. I fully expect they're napping somewhere cozy, surrounded by spirits.”

Bull made a face, but didn't say anything. It was remarkable how much he'd changed in just a few years in that regard. Or maybe he just felt it was rude to comment on the number of free spirits roaming the keep now that the Veil no longer existed here and he was more of a guest than an inhabitant. Then he noticed the bowl in front of her as she measured flour into it.

“What are you making, Boss?”

“Pizza.”

“What, pray tell, is pizza? More insane inter-dimensional food?” Dorian asked sardonically.

“You have never complained before.”

“All right, that's...fair.”

“And since you're both here, you've just been conscripted. Bull, I need the heavy baking sheets and Dorian I need the dark oil in the stoneware jar.”

She laughed lightly to herself as the pair rushed to do her bidding. Apparently some things didn't change even though she hadn't been their leader in years. She poured the oil Dorian brought her with a free hand, measuring more by sight than anything remotely like actual calculation and set the jug down on the counter while she stirred her sticky mess into a smooth batter. A pinch of salt, more flour and the mass turned shaggy and ready for her hands in it. Bull put the heavy sheets down where she could reach them and began to stoke the fire in the oven.

“How hot?” he asked.

“Hot. 450 degrees.”

“As if he knows what that means,” Dorian muttered, but Bull just nodded and added more wood while he opened the vents a little wider.

“Good temperature for baking flat bread.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Dorian sputtered.

“Ben-Hassrath.” Bull grinned broadly and took up a position behind Dorian to watch Carly knead the dough lightly. She covered the bowl with a damp towel to rise and faced the pair. Bull tilted his head. “Reminds me a bit of the stuff we used to get in the Seheron markets. I wonder if I still remember how to make it...”

“Go for it, Bull, we've got plenty of supplies.”

#ask #wip list of shame #qunari street food #solavellan #adoribull #upcoming oneshot

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themanip · 3 years

Text

alternate routes

SYNOPSIS — how do you go throughout life? well, you find someone you like. get to know them. start dating. break up a few times, get back together. get married. have some kids. die old. typical. fucking in a back room of an awards show, not once, but twice as complete strangers, was definitely not how most relationships start out.

PAIRING — taehyung x metzi (oc) WARNINGS — descriptions of cheating, fliphones, mentions of getting laid, really bad intros tbh, the introvert line being introverts, and girls who are rlly bad at timing, an asshole named ryan, cursing WORD COUNT — just over 3.1k AUTHOR’S NOTE — hi! i am so fucking bad at writing the first chapter or two, i promise if you can bear the beginning of this story, it gets better. i have two and a half chapters written so far but i am writing super often! once a few more chapters get published i will create a masterlist. please enjoy and if you have any comments or recs don’t hesitate to let me know!! :)))

𝟏: 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐄

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖 ⇥ The universe known to man is a labyrinth—an irregular maze, a passage that cannot be routed—and to understand that took more than an average mind. The matter was far too complicated than any obsolete man to comprehend on a whim. Millenia passed before galaxies were formed, planets were created, all unbeknownst to the stars bursting just miles apart.

From early amphibians, to the ice age, to cavemen, evolution has made great strides in every species. Humans in the past were variants called homosapiens, and most likely came from chimpanzees. Great strides like this were something to be proud of, you'd think.

When Metzi Ludovic realized that birds can fly with natural evolution, while humans had to industrialize it (thanks to the Wright brothers) she was pretty distraught. As an imaginative and critical eight-year old, fifteen years later, not much had changed. Currently, she was pondering over the fact that humans are one of the few species with opposable thumbs.

Majority of animals had not yet evolutionized to create opposable thumbs. While frantic over this, she also imagined her beautiful Pomeranian, with thumbs popping out of his paws. Her thoughts were quickly subdued, thanks to her coherent thoughts making an appearance. As cool as it would be, all other animals would devour humans if they gained that ability.

Is that the only reason humans are all mighty? They can industrialize and aim properly due to their adaptations, so that they somehow became top of the food chain?

Thankfully, she was redacted from her thoughts as her manager, Emmy, let out a distressed sigh. "Wren, we cannot change your outfit again. You look beautiful," At this point, looking at Wren, she knew that she would look good. Somehow, she couldn't convince herself.

"Wren, we can switch. I don't hate green, so you can take blue if you want it. I really don't mind," Metzi smiled softly, and she knew it was the right thing to offer as Wren's face lit up, a few tears being wiped away. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just do me a favor and loosen the ties on that, please. I have had way too many tacos yesterday to fit into it with the strings that tight," a small laugh left her mouth, and as she laid on the comfortable sofa. It was plush, but somehow offered no lumbar support. Who the hell makes a couch so soft, yet so unbearable for convenience of naps?

Selfish, she thought.

This dressing room was beautiful, so you'd think they'd have enough funds to make a decent couch. She could enjoy the aesthetics of the room, anyways. A luxurious baby pink covered the walls, and was bordered by pristine white. Plush gray carpet was under her feet, and was stain free. With Malorie in here, that probably wouldn't last long.

She was over by the double mirrors, applying powder over her face. She was so beautiful, Metzi couldn't fathom why she insisted on so much makeup. The same could be said about herself, so she kept her somewhat inner misogynistic comments at bay. She was pretty quiet, but something was off. She wasn't usually this quiet, so Metzi shot her a text.

She was very personal, and barely talked about what bothered her. Occasionally, Metzi would get her to open up, which she could physically see the relief on her face as she broke down. A brief, but to the point was written out on Metzi's phone.

you don't seem okay. wanna talk about it? Read 2:33 PM

The three dots popped up, and Metzi's attention was quickly brought to Vida, who sat down next to her, letting out a sigh. "How much longer until Olive gets here? I'm so close to taking a nap," Vida quickly put her hair into a makeshift ponytail, and leaned back, closing her eyes.

"It's only two, so I imagine not for a good hour or so, a nap sounds kind of nice," Wren commented, stood in the other corner of the room, with Emmy helped her undo the straps of her outfit. Her green silk top complimented her skin perfectly, but Metzi knew it was too late to convince her.

"Well, I'm out, wake me up when she gets here," Vida quickly blurts, and her head is now comfortably laying on the arm of the sofa. "I'll get up, I have to go to the bathroom anyways," Metzi commented, sighing before getting up.

Silence followed, and the blonde decided to take a look at her phone. A text was sent back on Malorie's behalf, and she widened her eyes momentarily. Standing still, she turned back to look at her. A face of guilt was evident, and she tried her best to hold her breath.

i have something to tell you, i'm not supposed to. i just feel so bad knowing while you don't i really shouldn't have said anything forget it

meet me in the bathroom

Read 2:37PM

Metzi's mind was in a whirlwind, and she couldn't think of anything she'd be referring to. Of course, it was useless, because clearly she wasn't meant to know about it. She hurried out of the room, the last thing she heard was Wren complaining once more about her outfit.

The hallways were empty, mostly because they'd came so early, and Metzi took her time reaching the bathroom. It was communal, so she really hoped that nobody else was here yet. The awards were meant to start in a few hours, and considering they had three faces to paint with makeup, early was a necessity.

"I hope you won't be mad at me," A small, timid voice aired behind her. The blonde turned around, and clutched her phone in fear. "I'm not, please tell me what's going on,"

As Malorie opened her phone, Metzi tapped her foot anxiously.

God, she really had to piss.

The brunette looked up at her, and showed her a photo.

"What is that?"

"That, was Ryan. On Saturday."

Ryan was her boyfriend of six years. An anxious cramping formed in her stomach at the mixture of his name and the tone of Malorie's voice. The photo she was now staring at made her want to vomit. Her stomach was now doing somersaults.

In the photo, it was indeed Ryan, in Metzi's own bed, with a mop of curly red hair under him. Most was covered by the sheets, but it was enough to come to the correct conclusion. He was clearly enjoying it too, judging by his face. Upon further inspection, she noticed something odd.

Grabbing the phone out of Malorie's hand, she zoomed in. On her nightstand, where a picture of the two usually sat, was now face down. While he fucked another woman in her bed, he turned her face down.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she took a deep breath in.

What happened Saturday? She was home mostly all day, so when did he have time to do this?

"What—how did you get this?"

"I came to give you your present, and I heard something. Y'know since you gave me keys? I figured it was okay to come in, and your bedroom door was open. I knew Ryan would try to make me the liar, so I took a picture. He told me that if I told you," Malorie pursed her lips, "well he threatened to do something pretty fucked up."

"Holy fuck," Metzi whispered, "I just—I had no fucking clue. This entire time, and who knows how long he's been fucking her?"

One lonesome tear fell down her cheek. In anger or sadness, Malorie didn't know.

Opening her phone, she opened Ryan's contact. "Hey," Malorie whispered, her voice now soft. "If he tells you anything about me, promise you won't believe him?"

"Of course, you come first. Always."

She debated on whether or not to call him, but instead opted on a text.

I hope you enjoyed fucking merida, we're done. get your things out of my house by tomorrow. delete my number.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and a smile adorned her face. Her bladder problems now the least of her concerns, she started back for the dressing room. Emmy now sat at the vanity, on her phone, and Vida and Wren were basically cuddling.

Surprised at the sudden intrustion, all eyes landed on the pair standing in the doorway.

"Ryan cheated on me, so now we're all single." Metzi gave nobody the chance to respond, as if anyone could think of what to say, and took a deep breath in.

"I haven't been fucked in months, and now I know why. So, I'm gonna get laid tonight, feel free to join me."

All seven of them had their faces beat to perfection, their outfits tailored and steamed of any wrinkles. They looked absolutely impeccable, as if the world around them kissed their feet. Hell, some reporters actually acted like that.

The members of BTS were now known worldwide, and it seemed that they were sought after by nearly everyone. Each member was so unique—so captivating in every aspect. Personalities somehow intertwine perfectly, yet polar opposites sometimes.

Proud but humble men, they basked in the warmth of positive attention. All eyes were on them for now, and they proudly understood it. As they walked on the red carpet of the music event, Yoongi and Jungkook both hated what they would be forced to do in mere minutes. As self-declared introverts, social interactions were about to start, and they honestly would rather sit in the corner and get this over with.

They would meet a few smaller artists, an occasional household name, (which they would fawn over for the rest of the night) and then be on their way. It would probably be in a few news articles, and some artists would insist on pictures, and they would be spread around within minutes. It was the same routine, and almost every time they would speak as little as possible, save for Namjoon, and would discuss it later. Hollywood was English dominated, and they despised it.

"Right now we only have to meet one group, and then we're okay for a few hours," Namjoon spoke quietly and quickly, and they piled off of the red carpet into a building. The hallways were scary, dark and empty, but a light above them quickly lit up.

To their surprise, the hallway was beautiful. The walls were an navy blue, white accents on top and bottom. Numerous gold paintings and records lined the walls, and it seemed to go on forever.

"Who is it we're supposed to be meeting? This hallway is a bit sketchy," Jimin perked up, and Namjoon chuckled. "WB,"

"Who is that?"

"I can't remember what their name stands for, but they sing that one song," Namjoon goes on to hum the tune to a familiar song that got pretty big, and all of the members start singing along. Of course, the lyrics are completely off and the tune is absolutely horrid, but they all recognize it vaguely.

All numbly following Namjoon, he was taking rough instructions from their manager to get there. This was not how it usually happened, but he had said something urgent came up. He had told Namjoon how to get there, and he knew that they were smart enough to make it without breaking a couple ligaments.

"Group? I thought it was one singer," Jin commented, and Taehyung nodded in agreement. "I would have never thought it was more than one. Are they American?"

"I guess we're going to find out," he snickered, and they all stopped at the corner. The door was slightly creaked open, and soft laughter could be heard. It was feminine, soft. It sounded like pure happiness was inside that door.

To double check, Namjoon eyed the sign on the door.

A large, black WB was written so even the partially blind could read. It was odd, the only dressing room out of probably at least a hundred, was all the way back, alone. They had no time to question it before Jin took a few strides forward, and boasted his English abilites.

"Come on-uh, guys."

The rest of them burst into laughter, and Namjoon quickly followed suit, knowing Jin would not be the prime candidate for introductions. He would simply utter a few English words, turn to Namjoon for help, and in panic, make a really bad play on words in Korean.

Timidly, Namjoon's knuckles rapped on the already-open door, accidentally pushing it further open a bit. "Come in!"

They were met with three girls stuffing their faces with chocolate cake, and another laying on the floor, fiddling with a.. flip-phone?

Jin grimaced at the reminder, glad it wasn't pink.

All eyes awkwardly met at the realization, and two of the three muffling down cake choked a bit. "Emmy, I thought you said 5:30?" Malorie was the one to ask, but none of the boys knew that.

"It is 5:30,"

The cake was swallowed within seconds, the flip-phone was now laying on the table, untouched. Four girls scrambled up simultaneously, and watched as the rest of the men piled in. An awkward stout of silence followed, and this so called Emmy, rose and met the boys first.

She had a firm grip, and introduced herself as their manager. The situation was humorous to say the least, these girls who could pass off as teenagers, were standing in single file in shame. The first was a beautiful girl with a large afro, and she kept a tight smile. She did not know who they were, nor did she really care. She introduced herself as Wren.

Next, was a taller woman, who seemed a hint older, with large winged eyeliner. She was Vida. Jin's first instinct was that she reminded him of him, she was definitely the oldest. Then, a smaller girl with a thick smile and soft curls was next. Soft hands, gentle grip. Her name was Malorie.

The last, was a young woman with blonde hair. Realistically, she didn't have any defining features besides her hair, she was the average American-looking girl. She introduced herself as Metzi, and to their surprise, bowed.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," Emmy let out a soft chuckle, and Namjoon nodded tightly. "Are you performing tonight?" It was Malorie who had asked, a soft question. "Yes, actually,"

"I heard you are as well," Namjoon replied, hoping to end the small talk quickly. "Yes we are! I'm surprised you've heard of us, I mean we're not huge."

She wasn't lying, but they definitely weren't small, either. Sixth biggest girlgroup of all time by album sales just behind TLC. Thirtieth on the most followed Spotify artist. Their debut album was certified Gold in six countries. Humble was the key to success, though.

"I'm not sure how big they are in the States, but aren't they pretty well known in Korea?" Yoongi spoke, but of course he wasn't talking to the girls, he was talking to his bandmates. He also spoke in Korean, which is why he nearly had a heart attack when a very feminine voice responded in Korean as well.

"We're big in Korea? I knew we were pretty well known in Japan, but I never really knew about that," It was the blonde one, Metzi. All seven members were in shock, the way she spoke it so effortlessly. If she didn't look the way she did, she could pass off as Native Korean by language alone.

"I know South Korea is very conservative and insistent upon how they operate things, and we're probably the farthest thing from it. I just was under the impression that we didn't fit the mold to do well there," Metzi continued talking, and Wren, Vida and Malorie had absolutely no clue what was going on or being discussed.

Had this been in Spanish, all the girls could have participated. Metzi just insisted on learning Korean, though.

They didn't seem too bothered, though, instead more humored.

"She's been waiting to use that one, huh?" Vida whispered, laughing lightly. "You're not wrong, Korea is known to be very conservative, however, that doesn't mean you have to fit stereotypes to break Korea or any other Asian country for that matter," Namjoon spoke in English this time, and finally the other three girls got a whiff of the conversation.

"We are the farthest thing from ideal boy-groups in America, and we broke it for the most part. Obviously a lot of it is due to our fan base, but point still stands." Seokjin broke in, the conversation now half Korean, half English.

"Good to know," Metzi said softly, a grin on her face.

"How did you learn Korean?" Taehyung spoke up in curiousity, and crinkled his eyes. "I started learning a few years ago before we kind of blew up, and when we visited Korea a few times, I just picked it up a bit. Still a lot I don't know, but I can speak pretty fluently now."

Taehyung nodded in understanding, silently applauding her ability to simply pick up on a language. He doesn't think he will ever gain fluency in English, no matter how hard he'd try. It was a lot harder than he imagined it to be.

"I'm gonna be honest, from media portrayals you guys are made out to be asshats, but you seem pretty down to Earth. Nice to know the fame doesn't get to your head, you know?"

Now it was Wren speaking, and a few snickers sounded from Jungkook and Jimin's mouth. "Asshat," Jimin repeated softly, and they broke into more laughter.

"We appreciate that, thank you. Ignore them," Hoseok spoke this time, a large smile adorning his face. "We will watch your performance tonight, and cheer you on."

"Ditto," Metzi responded in English this time, and Hobi's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Same to you," she clarified in Korean, and he nodded.

They said their goodbyes, and Metzi told all the girls to bow. Namjoon and Vida had a brief talk, and it was no time before BTS and WB were now separate, discussing the events that had just taken place.

The talk of the night was the mysterious blonde girl who spoke fluent Korean.

taglist: @princessoftheroad <3

#kth #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung x oc #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts x oc #perrie edwards #little mix #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #park jimin

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

She [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.

Note: Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. Was it time?

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer.

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes.

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued.

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more.

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror.

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. He had sold his soul for what? It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers.

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him.

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: ‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’. He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing.

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions.

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is my city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

Bitch! He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated.

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return.

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore. Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down.

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away.

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. Would she already be gone? He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all.

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that.

But what was he doing? Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. What would he do from here? Follow her home and what? He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to.

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. Well, if that’s what she wanted.

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty.

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter.

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do? He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #fic #au #mcu #marvel #series #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic

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snelbz · 4 years

Text

Lovely {6}

@tacmc x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty collaboration

A/N: Hello, you beautiful people. That’s right, it’s back. We love to see y’all’s reactions to our stories so please reblog and comment and let us know what you think! Enjoy!

FIND PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

SHELBY’S ASK BOX // SHELBY’S MASTERLIST

TARA’S ASK BOX // TARA’S MASTERLIST

Azriel opened his eyes, enjoying the comfort of his bed. He assumed it was fairly early, considering only the faintest stream of sunlight had peeked through the curtains, and Asher wasn’t crying to be released from the confines of his crib yet. Until then, he would lay and relax.

There was a shift on the other side of the mattress and Azriel cursed himself, silently, for waking her; but, when he rolled onto his side, Elain was still fast asleep.

Her hair had come undone at some point in the night, and the brown curls were sprawled out across Azriel’s dark gray sheets. Her plump, pink lips were parted, her breathing even. His comforter laid just below her breasts, and it took a hefty amount of self control not to reach out and brush his fingers over her peeked nipples.

The night before had been incredible. They’d made love twice, and every other second was spent in drunk kisses and soft giggles. He took his time exploring her, and she with him, and he’d never experienced anything so wondrous and enthralling.

He was falling in love with her, and the thought was terrifying. It was one thing to like someone, to even like them a lot, but now he was falling, head over heels, at full speed. He had never fallen in love before, not like this.

He came with way more baggage than most men his age, and that was just the messy custody battle with Ianthe. He was dreading the conversation they’d have when she asked about his parents.

Draeven was not his father’s last name. No, he’d taken his mother’s maiden name as his own when the bastard was officially sentenced to prison. His name had never been formally released, always redacted in every story and news segment, so very few knew the truth, the notoriety of his childhood. He didn’t want to see the look of pity in her eyes when she found out.

He rolled over, pressing soft kisses to Elain’s shoulder, and just as she was starting to stir-.

A cry came from the baby monitor.

“Thanks, little dude,” Azriel groaned quietly as he pulled his discarded boxer-briefs on from the night before and hurried across the hall. Asher was sitting up in his crib, eyes wide as he gazed around the room. “Good morning,” he cooed, lifting his son from his crib and carrying him to the changing table. “We have a guest this morning, so we can’t be screaming this early, yeah?” Asher just chewed on the pacifier Azriel had popped in his mouth and stared up at his father while he put a fresh diaper on him. Azriel pressed a kiss to his belly and said, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

A cute onesie was a necessity and after getting Asher as adorable as possible, Azriel carried him back to his bedroom. Where he found the bed empty.

He glanced towards the bathroom, seeing the light was off and it was empty. Then he heard a noise from down in the kitchen. He crept down the stairs and found Elain in front of his coffee maker, his shirt skimming her thigh. He could tell she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

On quiet feet, Azriel stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She jumped as she spun around, and for a second Azriel thought that she might curse him for scaring her, but her eyes were on Asher’s. She took the giggling baby into her arms and said, in a perfect, high-pitched voice, “Good morning.”

Asher clapped his hands together, his toothless grin wide as Elain set him in his highchair. Azriel was already mixing his cereal together, which was a good thing, because Asher was obviously hangry. His angry little voice filled the air as he banged on his highchair tray.

“I know, I’m coming,” Azriel promised, grabbing a little spoon from the drawer and pulling a chair up in front of the highchair. After putting a bib around Asher’s neck, he was chowing down.

Before he could even ask, Elain had set a cup of coffee down in front of him. Azriel smiled as he put Asher’s spoon up to his little lips. Most of the cereal trailed down his chin.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, looking at Elain, who had sat on the opposite side of the table. “It’s going to be a coffee day. Someone kept me up all night.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she sipped from her mug. “Pretty sure it was the other way around.”

Azriel’s grin widened. “Fair enough, I’ll take the blame.”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip, and Azriel was just about to say something when Asher blew a raspberry and Azriel got splattered with cereal, all over his face and his chest.

He slowly set down the bowl and the spoon before looking at his giggling infant and saying, “Thank you. Thank you, so much.”

Elain’s hands were covering her mouth as she laughed. “Go clean yourself, I’ll take over.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh at Asher’s joy, and as he stood up, he kissed Elain, softly, before she took her place in his chair and started to feed Asher.

Azriel had only just made it to the sink when there was a knock on the door. He blinked, then looked to the clock above the stove. It was only just after seven.

He wiped off his face, but when the knock came again, he was hurrying toward the door. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were hanging over the back of the couch, Azriel opened the door, and stilled.

Ianthe was there, in her jogging attire - which didn’t amount to much. When she saw Azriel, bare-chested and hair still a mess, a wide, feline grin spread across her lips. “Well, good morning, baby daddy.”

He gaped and finally said, “What are- Ianthe, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my baby. Where is he?” She tried to peek around him into the house, but he angled the door where only his entryway could be seen.

“It’s seven in the morning. On a Saturday.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, becoming a veritable wall blocking her view.

“Well, we have plans this morning and I have to get him ready,” she said, taking another step up his porch stairs.

Before he could say anything, Asher’s happy giggle could be heard echoing through the house. And then Elain’s voice was floating towards him. “That’s not very nice, Asher. You can’t spit your breakfast on daddy and on me. No, you can’t. No, sir.”

Azriel had tensed and when he turned back to Ianthe, she had an eyebrow raised and her eyes were like ice. “Who’s that, daddy?”

“None of your concern,” Azriel said back, his voice calm. “And I have him until tonight. I’ll drop him off at six, like we agreed on.”

“Plans changed,” she snapped. “Now get my baby away from the whore or I’ll go in there and grab him myself.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stepped out onto the porch and shut the door quietly behind him. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” she asked, intrigued. “What will you do, Az? As of right now, you have to do what I say, legally, and I’m telling you to get your pretty little ass inside, grab my son, and bring him to me so we’re not late.”

Azriel didn’t move.

Ianthe took a step toward him. “Or it’ll be awhile before I let you have him again. Understand?”

Azriel crossed his arms. “I don’t like threats.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I have the power, and you’ve already pissed me off by letting my son around that skank. As you’ve said, it’s seven on a Saturday morning. Now, why would a woman be in your kitchen so early?”

“Oh, fuck off. How many men have you been with this week alone, Ianthe?” The words came out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He pressed on before she could bite back. “Nothing in our agreement stipulated that I wasn’t allowed to be in a relationship.”

“Consider it added now,” she said, a wicked smile on her face, pulling her phone from her leggings, the gods knew where there was room. She typed out a quick text message and Azriel stared at her, in absolute shock.

He breathed, “You vindictive bitch.”

She smiled up at him again and was about to say something else that was meant to wound him, but he gripped her wrist with far too much gentleness considering the conversation, and turned it over.

Because that crazed look in her eye, it wasn’t only delight at fucking him over once again. There was a reason she was so chipper at seven on a Saturday morning.

The words were deathly soft. “Are you using again?”

Her arm was jerked from his grip before he could react. “Get your hands off of me. That’s none of your fucking concern.”

Azriel chuckled, humorlessly, as he shook his head. “You’re not taking him. You’re on a high, and you’re not taking him.”

“Don’t fu-.”

“You didn’t even drive here,” Azriel began, exasperated, his hands shaking from the pure anger radiating throughout his body. He looked behind her to find the street nearly empty, her car nowhere in sight. “What was your plan? Jog him on your hip back to your parents house? Fuck, Ianthe-.”

“Give me Asher.”

“No,” Azriel said, firmly. “I’ll drop him off, at your parents, at six tonight, so that I know he’s safe. And that was our agreement.” He’d have a talk with them, too, Ianthe’s parents.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Asher go with Ianthe. Not if she was back on drugs, not again. He would fight it, and if he lost his parenting rights in the process…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think that way, wouldn’t let his mind wander to the horrid, unfair possibilities. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

Then again. As a child, himself, the world was that cruel.

Ianthe hadn’t said another word. She stared at Azriel, venom igniting those teal eyes.

“Go home, Ianthe,” Azriel warned.

There was a small list of things he had expected her to do in response, but spitting in his face wasn’t one of them. His body tensed as her saliva smacked him in the face, right between his eyes. But then she was walking back down the porch steps, all while saying, “You made a big mistake, Azriel.”

He didn’t move, not until she was down the street, jogging around the corner.

Azriel stepped back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen sink. He took a paper towel off of the holder and wiped Ianthe’s spit off of his face. When he turned around, he froze.

Elain was sitting in the same chair, still in his t-shirt, and Asher was asleep in her arms. She was watching Azriel, though, her eyes full of concern.

All he said was, “Did you give him his bottle?”

She nodded. “Burped him, too.”

His smile was tired, but he said, “Thank you.” He sighed and let his head fall. “Elain, there’s something I have to do today, but I don’t think I can do it alone.” He swallowed hard. He’d never once taken anyone with him to meet with Helion, nor had he ever wanted to. But today, he needed someone there to steady him, to keep him grounded.

Because he’d never been so angry in his entire life. He’d seen red and couldn’t allow himself to do so, but the fact that Ianthe had actually intended to take their child while she was…

Elain stood, cradling his son as if he were the most precious gift, and walked to him. She took his hand in her free one. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

___

Rhysand had given Feyre a cup of coffee, but she couldn’t drink it. All she could think about was Tamlin, still lying on her couch. All through the night, it was all she could think about. No, she and Rhys hadn’t had sex, and every time they got a little too hot and heavy, she pushed him away and looked toward the doorway of her bedroom, thinking that Tamlin would be standing right there.

But he hadn’t moved, all night, and now that morning had come, she wanted him out of her fucking house.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Rhysand asked, for the tenth time since they’d rolled out of her bed.

Feyre didn’t answer. She had told Rhys no so far, thinking that if Rhysand was to wake him up, there would be an instant fist fight, and that was no way to start a Saturday morning. So, instead, although she was unsure how it was any better, Feyre went to the cabinet by the sink and opened it up, retrieving a glass. After filling it up with water, she walked to the back of the couch and dumped it on Tamlin’s face.

With a shuddering gasp, Tamlin was sitting up and looking around. “What the fuck?”

“Time to go,” Feyre said, setting the glass down on the side table, with a little more force than necessary. He flinched at the sound, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it.

He groaned as he leaned forward, water dripping from his hair.

She sighed and said, “Come on, Tam, I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say a word. He just stood and turned to leave, but when his eyes fell on Rhysand, he froze. “You always have to win.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, but he remained silent. Feyre stared at the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps walk through the foyer, and out the front door.

For a moment, the small townhouse remained silent, but then Feyre looked up to meet his gaze. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know, Feyre-.”

“Bullshit!” she yelled, exasperated. She was annoyed, angry, and sleep-deprived. She didn’t have the time or patience to be dancing around the subject any longer. “I have to know what happened between you two, Rhys. I like you, I really do, a lot, but I can’t deal with secrets, not anymore.”

His lips snapped shut, and for a moment, she thought that he would tell her he didn’t want to, that he wasn’t in the mood, yet again, but then he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

As if she wasn’t expecting it, which she truly wasn’t, her body stilled. Then, before he could change his mind, she was slowly sitting in the chair next to him at the kitchen table. She didn’t push him, didn’t rush him, only sat perfectly still, her anger turning into nerves. The possibilities of what he was about to say had her stomach churning.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve known Tamlin pretty much my whole life. We went to the same elementary school, played on the same teams, and we were… we used to be friends.”

Shit. Feyre had known there was history, but she didn’t know it went that far back.

Rhys continued, “I don’t exactly remember when we had our falling out, but Tamlin’s dad was always pushing to be better, by using me as an example. He’d talk to my dad at work, find out how I was doing in my classes, and then he’d go home and berate Tam about how much better of a son I was.”

Tam. The familiarity of the nickname made Feyre’s heart hurt.

“In short, somewhere in middle school, he started to hate me, and I understood it,” Rhysand continued, shrugging. “His dad was an asshole, and he had to have someone else to blame it on. Considering I was a part of the equation, it made sense that it was me.”

There was something sad, something regretful in Rhysand’s eye, but Feyre didn’t question it. She remained quiet, and she listened.

“Anyway, middle school went by and then high school began,” Rhysand went on, staring at his intertwined hands. “We didn’t talk much, only when we had to. We’d drifted into our own groups of friends, found our own places where we belonged, even though we still played on all the same sport teams yet. Anyway, that’s just kind of how it was between us, at least for a while. Things were tense, but they were never bad, you know?” He didn’t wait for Feyre to answer before he went on. At this point, it was like he was talking mostly to himself. “Our junior year, my parents were out one night, coming home with my little sister from a dance recital. They got in an accident, and none of them made it out alive. My parents died instantly, having gotten hit head on. And my sister, who was only thirteen at the time, was in a coma for two days before they made me make the decision to pull her off of life support.”

His voice had become a deadly quiet, and Feyre couldn’t breathe. Rhysand wasn’t looking at her, he was still staring at his hands. His eyes had lined with silver, those tears nearly about to fall, but he only cleared his throat.

“It, uh,” he started, then shook his head, sending those tears that had held themselves in down his tanned cheeks. “It was Tamlin’s dad that had hit them. He was drunk, behind the wheel, and swerved in his lane, going way too fast, hitting my parents and my sister.”

Every thought in Feyre’s mind faded away. She had never met Tamlin’s dad, and Tamlin wouldn’t talk about it, only told her that his dad was gone. She didn’t understand, not yet, but as Rhysand went on, all the pieces came together.

“He hated me after that, blamed the fact that his dad was in prison for life on me,” Rhysand said, a humorless laugh loud in the quiet of the townhouse. “And I hated him for that. I hated him for blaming that shit on me, just because he needed someone to blame it on.”

Feyre stood, rounding her table and taking his hands in hers. She knelt in front of him.

“Rhys, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled at her, it was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to ask, I just… It’s a part of my life that’s still painful to open up. I’m glad Rayn doesn’t remember any of it, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss our parents everyday.”

Feyre’s phone rang from the kitchen counter, and she glanced at it, but Rhysand said, “Go ahead, baby.”

She hurried to catch her phone before it was sent to voicemail, but when she saw her father’s name on the screen, she hesitated.

With a sigh, she answered, “Hello?”

“Feyre? Hi.” Isaac sounded far too cheery for such an hour. “Busy today?”

Feyre looked over at Rhysand, who was watching her with furrowed brows. “I’m...not sure. What’s up?”

“I was going to meet your sister for lunch. Was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Feyre blinked. “Which sister?”

Isaac laughed quietly into the phone. “Nesta. Elain says she’s busy.”

Of course, I’d be the last one you call.

“I don’t know, dad, I-.”

“Come on,” Isaac begged, and the sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back in town. Hell, I haven't seen you in six months. It’s just lunch. To catch up.”

Feyre leaned back against the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip as Rhysand continued to watch her, intently.

“Okay,” Feyre breathed. “Fine. What time?”

“Nesta told me she’d be at the diner at noon, will that work for you?”

She nodded, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see her. “Sure, dad, I’ll see you then.”

Isaac sighed, “Thank you, Feyre, dear.”

She cringed. She hated it when he called her Feyre, dear. It felt so...formal. “You’re welcome, bye.”

As soon as she hung up, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cabinets, which gently banged with a soft thud! Feyre groaned. The last thing she wanted to do, especially after a night of little to no sleep, was go sit through a forty five minute cold shoulder contest between her father and eldest sister.

But then she smelled jasmine and nightshade and citrus, and she felt fingers skimming up the outside of her thigh. Rhys breathed, right by her ear, “Don’t tell me I took the day off of work for no reason.”

Feyre tilted her head down until her eyes met his. He lifted her up onto the counter, stepping in the space in between her legs. She let her arms drape around his neck and said, “I’m afraid so. I have to meet my dad and sister for lunch.”

“What time?” He asked, leaning down and pressing kisses to her jaw.

His fingers dug into her bare thigh, her shorts having ridden up. She said, “I’m meeting them at noon.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “We’ve got about five hours, don’t we?”

Feyre groaned. “It’s that early? Why aren’t we in bed?”

Rhysand leaned back and met her gaze. “Are you inviting me back to bed?”

Feyre grinned, tilting her head as she pretended to think on it. “If you carry me there.”

Rhysand didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted her off the counter and slowly carried her up the stairs, his lips never parting from her skin. Feyre closed her eyes and dwelled in his touch, in the way the touch of his lips set her on fire.

Rhysand carried her back into her bedroom, where they’d spent their night tangled in each other’s arms, and dropped her on her mattress.

They kissed for a little while, but due to her night full of worry and anger, Rhysand didn’t pressure her for anything at all. Instead, he pulled her back into his arms and rubbed her back until she fell soundly, peacefully asleep.

_____

Lunch had been horrible, just as Nesta had expected it to be. Nothing too eventful happened, but it was horribly awkward. She got a free meal out of it, she supposed, so that was a plus; but, she was grateful that it would be another six months before her father asked her out to lunch again.

There had always been that pattern.

Nonetheless, it was over and done with and the day was still fairly young, which meant she got to spend it at Cassian’s.

His apartment was on the other side of town from the diner she had met her dad at, and by the time she had gotten there through the busy city, she had nearly lost her mind. She hoped Cassian had wine, and that he didn’t judge her too much for starting to drink so early in the day.

He’d given her a key, just in case he was asleep when she arrived back, as he’d claimed that the previous nights’ activities had completely exhausted him. He’d even said that without a nap, he’d have no energy to please his girlfriend all night again. She’d rolled her eyes and kissed him goodbye, before smacking him in the face with the pillow she’d been sleeping on.

True to his word, when Nesta called Cassian when she was about five minutes away, he hadn’t answered. She laughed quietly, debating on the ways she could wake him up. She parked and let herself into his apartment, careful not to let the door slam. But Cassian wasn’t sleeping.

A gentle melody floated through the apartment from down the hall. Nesta froze in the doorway as the music grew louder, and slipped off her shoes and put down her purse before quietly tip-toeing down the hall. He was in his office, across from his bedroom, facing the wall where a small, wooden piano sat. It was old, but finely tuned. He said it had belonged to his grandmother who was a music teacher for young students back in the day.

He constantly thought about getting a new one, but he’d always said there was something about the piano that made him love to play even more.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew by the way his head was tossed back that his eyes were closed. He wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair tied up at the back of his head. He obviously hadn’t heard her come in, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment she’d caught him in.

As his fingers danced gracefully across the keys, Nesta leaned against the doorway and watched.

She closed her eyes, listening as the melody flowed around her. It made her heart want to dance, when so many things these days didn’t. Her soul felt like it could breathe and as she listened, she imagined the dance she would craft to his songs, the stories they could tell together.

Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying until she sniffled quietly and Cassian’s hands slowed and stopped on the ivory keys.

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see her standing there, and hesitated when he saw she was crying. “What’s wrong? How long have you been standing there?”

He was up on his feet and walking toward her when she answered, “Long enough to get emotional, apparently. You play beautifully.”

His eyes softened as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her, softly. “You used the key.”

She nodded, her forehead falling into his chest.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “You should keep it.”

Nesta kept her head pressed into his chest as she stilled and said, “It’s… Cass, are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon?”

He shrugged and she finally looked up at him. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If that means giving you a key so you can come see me, so be it.”

Nesta could feel her walls rising, could feel every instinct she had telling her to run, that it was too soon, that she couldn’t get attached. But regardless of all of that, regardless of the pit in her stomach, she nodded and said, “Okay.”

He could tense the tension in her body as he ran her hands down her arms. “You don’t have to always use it,” he followed. “Just when I’m lost in my music, or sleeping.” She chuckled and then he added, “Or, you know, when you miss me.”

She pushed back from his chest and lifted a brow. “And what makes you think that I ever miss you?”

He pulled her back toward him by her waist as he grinned. “Oh, you miss me. Judging by all the noises you were making last night-.”

She pushed him in the chest, trying to suppress her laughter as she did so.

#lovely 6 #lovely tacmc toab #toab tacmc collab #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty #elriel #nessian #feysand

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unstoppableforcce · 4 years

Text

dark side

—CHAPTER ONE: trust

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

prologue | next part | masterlist

a/n: I’m kinda in love with where I have this heading, I knocked this part out in like two hours and surprised myself so I hope y’all enjoy!! thanks for the incredible feedback!!

It was just a handshake, right? It was nothing he hadn’t done a thousand times before but...

But all he could think about was how your hands felt cradled in a desperate grip around his neck as he thrusted up into you no less than seven hours before. And as he took your hand as professionally as he could, all he could feel were the callouses that lined your skin which he had been so quick to ignore last night.

The palm of your hand was curved to the hilt of a pistol, not unlike his. The tips hardened against the back of his hand, just as he was sure his were rough against the back of his own. And it was just a handshake but his mind was nowhere near where it needed to be for something as simple as a handshake.

He could see it in your eyes too, but both of you kept your mouths shut as a Stechner lingered alongside you, and when you released his hand, Stechner laid a protective arm over your shoulders.

The same shoulders he buried his face into as he lost himself in your body—

“She’s one of my new transfers, in just after Escobar was killed.” Stechner continued to introduce, as if there was nothing between the two of you. He gave your name as if Javi hadn’t read it off your badge just hours ago, standing nearly naked in your kitchen.

Stechner was building off a clean slate and the two of you just kept your mouths shut as to why he couldn’t be more wrong.

No, he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, he played along. “Right, welcome to Colombia.”

“Thanks.” The English sounded wrong on your tongue when he had only heard you speak Spanish in the bar. It had sounded like such a natural accent, he didn’t even second guess it...

Spy. You were a spy, or at the very least, a CIA agent. He had to keep reminding himself otherwise he swore he was verging on losing himself in you the same way he did last night.

Thankfully, Stechner had other ideas.

“Do you know what this meeting is about?” He asked, gesturing to the closed door to the Ambassador’s office over his shoulder but Peña shook his head.

“My office just told me it was urgent.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw something shift in Stechner’s disposition. It was smugness rising back to his features, a look only a man such as himself could muster so casually. “Do you?”

He let out a hearty chuckle which did little to comfort Javi where he stood across from him, “yeah.”

Before he could ask what the hell that meant, the secretary off to the side stood and grabbed the door to gesture them in, and he was left to follow behind you and your perfect figure hidden beneath a professional pantsuit, mind filled with things that were far from professional yet again.

“Take a seat, Agents,” the Ambassador began with and Javi followed right behind you, taking a seat in the chair beside you as Stechner stood over your shoulder still. “Thank you for coming in so early.”

Javi passed on a half-hearted nod, glancing to the side to find you offering something similar, but his gut told him something was wrong.

Stechner was naturally smug, sure, but this was different.

The position of DEA attaché was certainly new to him still, but meeting with the CIA station chief, the agent he happened to have slept with the night before, and the ambassador? Something was going on. He had trusted his gut for this long, he let it save his life out on the streets, he couldn’t ignore it now.

But he also wasn’t sure there was anything else he could do to stop what he was sure was coming.

All he could do was sit up straight and wait for it to hit him square in the face. And when Stechner opened his mouth again, he was sure it was coming quick.

“The Ambassador and I have been talking about ways to improve interagency cooperation...” he began, stalking around the chair you sat in to rest himself against the front side of the lavish desk the Ambassador was sat behind. “And we have a pretty simple solution to ensure things go differently this time around down here.”

Javi glanced to you then back to the two men in front of him, still waiting for the final blow.

“We’re going to place a CIA agent on your team, Peña.” The ambassador quickly filled in the silence Stechner left in his hesitation.

“This one,” Stechner laughed slightly, gesturing to you and practically forcing his stare back your way.

“Excuse me?” The two of you said in unison, your voice layered in equal levels of shock to his.

“We feel it will smooth things out around here. The DEA and the CIA are going to have to work together this time around, Cali needs to be done differently.”

Differently? Javi understood different better than anyone in this room did, but this was different, this was putting a security camera on his team and calling it cooperation. If it was cooperation, it wouldn’t be forced onto him. If it was cooperation, you wouldn’t be a spy...

You wouldn’t be you...

He had to swallow a breath, keep himself from shouting out the first exclamation to come to mind and form a real response, “I don’t need CIA assistance.”

“You sure about that?” Stechner pulled the newspaper from his folder.

Two of his agents in Cali, being called out so plainly on the front page of the paper. There was no way there wouldn’t be consequences for that... Stechner really meant it when he saw his operation last night was going to amount to nothing.

This was all his doing.

The look on the ambassador’s face was all he needed to know he had no chance to argue his way out of it, yet Stechner still felt the need to voice his side of the story, “she is uniquely trained in surveillance and intelligence gathering, I’m sure you’ll find her a valuable asset to your team.”

He opened his mouth to shoot back a quick response, but you were faster.

“I have active assignments—“ clearly this was as much of a shock and disappointment to you. He didn’t know why he took solace in that, he just knew that he did.

“We’ll work all that out.”

“I’m not a liaison—“

“We’re not saying you are... we just would like to use your talents in a different area.” There wasn’t a single word out of Stechner’s mouth that didn’t sound slimy...

“I—“ Javi tried this time, but it was the Ambassador who cut him off.

“This is already decided. And it’ll be for the best.”

For the best? Javi could think of about a thousands ways that this benefited the CIA and their absurd agenda over actual crime fighting... this ‘deal’ of Stechner’s was going to let The Godfather’s of Cali walk away free, with all the money in the world. This wasn’t the best, this wasn’t even justice. This was sticking a spy on his team and using you to further their agenda.

Why was he still surprised by this kind of thing? He’d been in the game long enough, and he still hated when the true colors of the system burned through.

He was no saint, far from it, but he knew better than to let shit like this slide.

He also knew the last place to have a fit of anger was in the office of the Ambassador.

“Right.” He nodded, getting to his feet and giving a final nod to the room before leaving. Unfortunately, you and Stechner were right on his heels.

“Peña.” You called you get him to stop halfway down the hall and clench his eyes shut before turning back towards you. It was the first time you had even said his name...

He wanted to shout, at you, in general... but in the middle of the embassy? In front of Stechner? He bit his tongue and turned back to face you. “Yeah?”

He saw Stechner whisper something to you before peeling off and suddenly it was just the two of you left in the hall, and that was an audience he could work with.

“Did you know?”

Your face fell to your feet with some emotion coursing through you. He initially figured it was shame, or guilt, like you knew the whole time what this was coming to, but as your stare lifted back up, he saw it was anger. The same anger he felt coursing through his veins.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific...”

“Did you know when I fucked you last night that you were going to be spying on me today?” He switched to Spanish as the words flowed from his lips and he didn’t even know why, he just couldn’t help himself. Speaking to you in English still felt weird and yet, by now, he had spoken to you more in this building than he had in the whole of last night.

“No.”

“Did you know who I was?” Was this what being used felt like? What the hell was this anger bubbling within him?

“You think I’m an idiot?” That was a yes. And it felt terrible. “What? Just because you left when you found out who I was—“

He wasn’t going to have this fight with you in the hall of the embassy, he had to draw the line somewhere. He didn’t even let you finish, he just turned his back and kept walking back to his office. Leaving you stood in the hall with your hands propped on your hips and a familiar sentiment falling from your lips, “fuck.”

The worst part was how impressive you were.

Stechner had been kind enough to leave your personnel file in his office by the time he stormed back to his desk, and while he watched a desk in his bullpen be cleared out for you, he read all he could through the bars of redaction. And you were impressive.

If you weren’t CIA, he might’ve actually wanted you on his team. (If you weren’t CIA, maybe he’d admit he had some of the best sex of his life last night)

He really hadn’t ever been played like this. At least when he was being played by dirty cops or the higher ups, he knew it was coming, this was new since he had gotten back, being played so out in the open.

He had to send two good agents back, the Colombians pulled their visas. And he got you in their place. All for this goddamn surrender—

“Can I come in?”

Slamming your file shut, he glanced up to find you leaned so gently against his doorframe. But he couldn’t give you a verbal answer just yet, all he could manage was a brief nod.

“I’m as displeased with this assignment as you are, trust me.” You said so casually as you entered and settled into the seat across from him, but the majority of your sentence went over his head.

Trust you? Yeah right—

“I’m supposed to be doing real work here, and instead I’m assigned you? I get to play babysitter so Stechner can get what he wants?” At least you were honest. “No offense but you’re not what I want to be doing here.”

His mind was nowhere near professional territory as the words flowed to his ears.

“Last night—“

“I wasn’t there for you, I didn’t know about any of this, and I’m sorry.” Was it that easy? Was he just supposed to believe that.

Scanning your face up and down once, he was afraid that he actually did.

“So, What do we do?” He sighed, itching at his brow and aching for a cigarette.

“Let me make it right?

You were definitely new to Colombia. That just wasn’t something that happened here. For an agent with a record as substantial as what he read, he just didn’t understand your offer and his face clearly cemented itself in that confusion.

“I can only tell Stechner what I hear, so don’t let me hear anything you don’t want me to.” You followed up quickly, “you want me to leave a room, just tell me...”

“You would do that, you’d disobey your boss and order from the ambassador for me?”

You scoffed at that, quickly putting him back in his place. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, “so why?”

“Like I said, you aren’t why I was transferred here.” It seemed so simple coming from your lips, he imagined you could explain rocket science like that and he’d understand just by following the plush of your lips. The lips that he couldn’t breathe without last night... “I have real assignments and maybe once Stechner realizes this isn’t working, I can get back to it.”

“Real assignments?” You gave a plain nod. “If not Cali, then what?”

Another scoff tore through you, “there’s more to Colombia than drugs and communists.”

And he believed you. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that that was the beginning and end of everything.

Most of your file was classified, redacted beyond readable and he believed you.

As he shook your hand one last time and watched you leave his office for the new desk they had cleared out for you, he couldn’t help but mutter a final, “fuck.”

There was no way this was that simple. There was no way you were that simple.

—

->tags: (let me know if I missed you or you want to be tagged!)

@the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @ms-dont-care @leo-moon

#javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #i guess im going all in with this plot now #im glad yall liked the prologue so much!!#keep the feedback coming

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infinitefandomimagines · 4 years

Text

I Can’t Lose You - Poe Dameron x Reader

WARNINGS: RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS, MENTIONS OF DEATH, MENTIONS OF TORTURE, ANGST, BLOOD, YELLING

REQUEST: @lookinsidemyhead could I maybe ask for a Star Wars imagine? Like a poexfem!reader Maybe like instead of chewie being captured it was the reader and when they rescue her she’s a little out it from the torture in the interrogation room. angst with happy ending bc they escape

A poe dameron tros x reader where reader gets captured with chewy and poe rescues her, lots of angsty poe after losing reader because he thinks she's dead, then fluff when they reunite

The only thing that could pull the team's stunned gazes from the fiery explosion of the First Order ship was Poe's horrifying scream. The way your name ripped through his throat made Finn's heart stop and his blood run cold.

Poe took no caution in his efforts to make his way down from the rocky structure their getaway ship stood perched on, slipping and nearly falling more than once.

His heels kicked up sand as he sprinted towards the wrecked ship and Rey, who still stood frozen as the realization of what she'd just done dawned on her. Finn had to stop Poe from running straight to her, he'd never hurt Rey, but after what just happened he definitely wasn't thinking straight.

Finn wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him back and restricting his movement as he struggled to get free.

"What did you do?" Poe yelled at Rey, the high pitched crack in his voice was enough to send daggers through anyone listening's heart. Poe never stopped struggling to break free from Finn's grasp, and it was getting to the point where he just might succeed.

"Chewie I need some help down here!" Finn called up to the Wookie. There was no way he could get Poe to the ship himself, not when he was like this.

"Poe we need to go!" Finn yelled as he tried to pull Poe towards the ship, knowing if they stayed any longer your life wouldn't be the only fatality.

"No! No, I can't leave her!"

"She's gone, Poe. There's nothing we can-"

Finn stopped short as Poe finally broke free from his grasp. However, he didn't get very far, Chewie had made it down just in time to grab him.

"Chewie!" Finn yelled out, "Get him to the ship we need to get out of here! Rey come on!" Poe tried to fight his way out again, but the Wookie was too strong, forcibly pulling him back to the ship. He didn't stop fighting until Chewie released him once the ship had taken off with everyone safely inside.

There was a heavy tension in the air, nobody knew what to say. It's like they were just waiting for Poe to lash out like he usually did when he was upset, but he didn't. The burst of yelling and cursing the team was anxiously waiting for never came. Instead, he simply collapsed onto a storage box and with his head in his hands, he sobbed.

Finn watched his best friend, one who usually stood so strong and fiery, completely fall apart. Rey's heart ached in a way she didn't know it could, the thought that she'd caused this haunting her mind.

BB-8 slowly rolled over to Poe, letting out a series of confused beeps. "She's gone, buddy," Poe said in a broken voice. The small droid let out a high pitched whine mixed with sad beeps.

"This can't be for nothing," Finn finally spoke up, his voice soft as he struggled to speak through his own tears. "We can't let her die for nothing."

"She had the dagger with her, and without that. . ." Rey's voice was grim.

"So true, the inscription lives only in my memory now," C-3PO spoke up. All heads turned towards the droid. "Hang on, the inscription from the dagger is in your memory?" Finn asked.

"Yes master Finn, but the translation from a forbidden language cannot be retrieved, that is short of a complete redactive memory bypass. It is an extremely dangerous procedure usually performed by criminals."

"Alright, how do we do that?" Finn asked as if there was no question as to what the next step was.

"I know a black market droidsmith," Poe finally spoke up, his eyes glazed over and red. "He's on Kijimi." Poe didn't like the idea of going to Kijimi, but he didn't like the idea of you dying for nothing more.

"For Y/N," Finn said, giving Poe's shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah, for Y/N," Poe repeated, the sound of your name leaving a sad and bitter taste in his mouth.

Kijimi went just about how Poe thought it would. They had a rocky start, but in the end, they were able to retrieve the inscription from C-3PO's memory.

The droid's eyes glowed an ominous red as it recited the location to the Wayfinder.

"The Endor system? Where the last war ended?" Finn asked. No one had the opportunity to answer him as the entire building started shaking. Everyone shared concerned looks, but it was Rey who was the first to run outside to see what was causing the commotion.

"Ren's destroyer," she announced, looking up at the large, menacing ship. "He's here?" Finn asked, looking up at her. But Rey didn't answer, it seemed as though her entire body had gone stiff. "Y/N. . ." She spoke softly, but loud enough for Finn and Poe to hear.

"What about her?" Poe asked bitterly, your name sending a dagger through his heart.

"She's alive, she's on that ship," Rey turned around to face her friends.

"What?" Poe whispered, his voice cracking slightly. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but this time the tears weren't ones of sorrow. He felt a small glimmer of hope bubble up inside of him. He no longer slouched, his back straightening up and shoulders rolling back, Rey's words bringing a new light to his eyes.

"How is that possible?" Finn questioned.

"She must have been on a different transport," Rey spoke, her words still laced with disbelief.

"We have to go get her," Poe said eagerly, grabbing his things and looking around at the group. Everyone nodded in agreement, all except C-3PO, who sat confused, his only thought being to introduce himself.

"Yeah, that's gonna be a problem," Poe muttered, a little annoyed at their situation, but not even C-3PO's lost memory could damage his spirits. His head already fantasizing about seeing you again, creating multiple scenarios in his head.

Once everyone was ready, they rushed from Zorii's hideout, the girl following them just to be sure they made it to their ship.

"Thank you," Poe rushed out to Zorii once they'd reached their ship. He didn't plan on waiting for a response, but a grip on his forearm stopped him dead in his tracks. "Poe-" Zorii spoke up, only to be cut short.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, but you can come with us," He offered. Though his feelings for his past relationship were gone, he still cared about Zorii as a friend and leaving her behind just felt wrong. But Zorii shook her head, "I can't," she answered sadly, "But take this, it'll grant you passage to Ren's ship."

Poe stared at the shiny medallion, "I can't, it's yours-"

"Anyone two eyes and half a brain can see how much you care about this girl, it's worth more to you than it is to me."

Poe paused before lifting his hands and gently taking the medallion from Zorii, "Thank you," he breathed out, wrapping Zorii in a tight embrace. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Zorii chuckled a bit as she returned the hug before lightly pushing Poe towards his ship, "Now go, save your girl and win the war."

Poe nodded, mumbling one more 'thank you' before boarding the ship with the others.

Getting inside Ren's destroyer had been easier than anticipated, especially with the held of the medallion. However, searching the maze of a ship deemed a difficult task. It seemed as though with each hall they turned down there were more and more stormtroopers.

The next corner they turned no one had their blasters at the ready. Rey quickly jumped in front of Finn and Poe, waving her hand in front of the stormtroopers, "It is okay that we are here," she rushed out.

"It is okay that you're here," one of the troopers repeated.

"You're relieved that we're here."

"Oh thank God you're here," The trooper's shoulders relaxed and he lowered his blaster to his side, as did the other.

"Does she do that to us?" Poe asked, a little confused as to what exactly just happened. Rey just ignored him, instead, she asked the troopers for where you were being held, which they gladly provided.

It was a mad dash to the room you were in, the name of the room being "Interrogation room #6" worrying him.

At some point, Rey ran off on her own, but when Finn tried to follow her Poe gripped his arm, "We need to find Y/N, Rey can handle herself." Chewie howled in agreement with Poe, and Finn knew better than to argue with his friends.

It didn't take long to reach the room you were being held in and even less to shoot the lock on the door and bust in. Poe winced as he entered the familiar room, the dark lighting and metal chair-like structure sending painful memories of his time spent being tortured by Kylo Ren. He didn't even want to imagine what you must have been through, though sadly he could.

Poe quickly shook all thoughts that plagued his mind, you were the only thing that mattered right now. Nothing else. He approached the chair slowly, scared that what he finds might not be what he hoped for.

His heart sank when he saw your unconscious form strapped down to the chair by restraints. A bruise had already formed on the left side of your face, just over your cheekbone. There was a bloody cut that stretched across your right temple which was beginning to form its own bruise, and a trail of blood trickled down and dripped onto your shirt from your nose. Your chest moved up and down slowly as you took in shallow breaths. Poe didn't even want to imagine what the parts of you he couldn't see looked like.

Poe gently placed his shaking hands on either side of your cheeks, cupping your face. The pad of his thumb lightly brushed over you bruise, examining it. "Y/N," he spoke softly, "Y/N, baby please wake up."

Your entire body suddenly tensed up as your struggled against your restraints, prompting Poe to quickly pull his hands away from you, terrified he hurt you.

"No, please. . ." You mumbled, not fully awake, your eyes screwed shut. "Please. . . Don't."

"We need to get her out of these restraints," Poe instructed, trying his best to hide the panic in his voice. Chewie let out a wail, pressing a red button on the wall adjacent to the chair. There was a hissing sound followed by a click as your restraints popped open.

You blinked your eyes a bit at the noise and sudden release of pressure on your wrists and ankles. A familiar face came into view as you blinked away the hazy glaze from your eyes.

"Poe?" You whispered, not quite sure if Kylo Ren was playing tricks on your mind again or not.

"It's me, baby, you're okay." He said, helping you out of the metal chair and pulling you into his arms. One arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head, your cheeks resting against his chest. You winced as he accidentally pressed against your bruised ribcage, but in all honesty, you didn't care. You were just relieved to be back in his arms, and Poe was more than happy to have you there.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled into your hair, "I shouldn't have let you go out there alone."

"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."

"Guys I really hate to break up the moment, but we gotta go!" Finn rushed out, earning a bellow of agreement from Chewie.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Poe said, pulling away from the embrace. "Can you walk?"

You nodded, however as soon as you took the first step forward your head started spinning and your vision blurred. You quickly reached out and gripped Poe's arm to stop yourself from losing balance. Poe instinctively caught you, holding up the majority of your weight.

"Chewie!" Poe called out, gesturing to you. The Wookie swiftly placed your arm around his waist, and wrapped a furry arm around your back and under your arm, holding you up.

Poe and Finn walked ahead of you, blasters at the ready, inspecting each hallway for hostiles. You limped behind them, Chewie helping you walk by holding you upright.

And after Poe being shot, all four of you nearly being executed, only to be saved by an unlikely ally, you made it to the Millennium Falcon.

Chewie gently set you down on the small cot in Poe's quarters while Finn rushed to the cockpit, trying his best to remember everything Poe had taught him about flying. Chewie soon joined him, helping him get the Falcon in the air so they could go find Rey.

Poe stayed with you in his quarters, sorting through a med pack to find supplies to bandage and clean your wounds. A soft groan escaped your throat as the ship took a sharp turn, harshly shaking the cot you were laying on, sending a wave of pain through your body.

Poe wet a cloth and started dabbing at the dried blood on your temple. You let out a hiss as the sudden contact stung. Poe slipped his free hand into yours, attempting to provide any form of comfort he could.

"What did they do to you?" Poe asked as he moved to clean the blood from under your nose. The question wasn't directed towards you, more of Poe just thinking out loud. However, his question still sent a chill up your spine as you began to replay the horrible things Kylo Ren and his minions did to get information out of you. You were able to refrain from giving them anything up until Kylo Ren used the force to crawl around in your mind. The pain was indescribable.

"Hey, it's okay," Poe comforted, stopping what he was doing. He'd noticed the grimace on your face and how you tensed up when he brought up his question. "You're safe, he can't hurt you."

You nodded weakly, waiting for the horrible thoughts to pass as Poe got back to work.

Poe worked quickly to clean and bandage your wounds, finishing up a matter of minutes. While he packed up the medical kit, you attempted to sit up, but the action proved to be a bit more painful than you anticipated. You inhaled sharply as a sharp pain exploded from your side, your hand instinctively flew to your bruised ribcage, holding it as if that would help the pain subside.

"Here, let me help," Poe said softly when he noticed your struggle. He placed a hand on your back and the other lightly grabbed your arm as he pulled you to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Your hand still clutched your side as you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the pain to dissipate.

The bed sank beside you as Poe took a seat beside you, his hand rubbing comforting circle in your back. You leaned into him, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"Do you want something for the pain," he asked, there was a bit of tension in his voice as he tried to hold back tears, he hated seeing you in so much pain. "No, it'll pass. I'm fine." And eventually, it did, leaving you relieved and a bit more cautious about how you moved.

You lifted your head from Poe's shoulder, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile graced his lips and his hand moved from your back to your neck, his thumb resting on your jaw. "I thought I'd lost you," he said in a shaky voice, tears threatening to spill. "And it made me realize you're the one thing I can't live without."

You wrapped your fingers around Poe's arm, just below his wrist, rubbing small circles in the back of his hand with the pad of your thumb.

"I can't lose you," his voice cracked as his eyes glazed over with tears.

"You won't, I promise," you confirmed.

Poe pulled you into him, gently pressing his lips to yours. His hand slid down from your neck to your waist, his other hand finding it's way to your hip. He pulled you into his lap, breaking the kiss to fully envelop you in a hug, careful not to touch your bruised side. One arm kept hold of your waist while the other crossed your back, his hand placed on your shoulder. Poe rested his head in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

You rested a hand on his back while the other held the back of his head. You lightly ran your fingers through his messy curls.

You let out a sigh of content, finally feeling at ease being in Poe's arms. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

TAG LIST

@gracielou0518 @booklove103

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

A Need So Great-Chapter 9

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,300

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva sat in the conference room, trying hard not to fidget. Javier and Steve were to her left, and there was a projector sitting behind the table. None of them knew why they were sitting there. None of them knew when the meeting would start. All that they were told was that they were supposed to be sitting in that room by nine am that day. No exceptions.

The air kicked on, filling the room with a dull drone. Eva grabbed her pen and held it in her palm, using her thumb to slide the cap up and down along the length of it. She wanted to get up and take a lap around the room to excise some of the nervous energy she felt.

Javier lit a cigarette, sinking down lower into his chair, looking annoyed, “How long’ve we been sitting here?”

Steve looked at his watch, “About twenty minutes.”

“Fuck me,” Javier groaned, rubbing his eye, “I got about a thousand pages of paperwork that need to get done and we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses.”

She had to agree. She’d gotten a little behind with reading through case files. Although she was used to redacted information, she wasn’t used to whole sections of them being completely missing. As she moved through the most recent information, that was occurring more and more often. She thought she’d gotten the mole over two months ago, but now… there had to be more than one.

The door opened and Vanessa walked in. Eva inhaled deeply, her grip on the pen tightening until she heard the plastic crack. Jaw clenched, she sat up and prepared herself for the inevitable. Unable to help it, she glanced at the two agents she’d worked with so closely, already mourning the friendship they’d started to develop. She wondered if Connie would be calling to cancel their work out tonight.

Blinking, she turned her attention to the woman who signed her paychecks.

“Hello, thank you for waiting. I’m Vanessa Arnold.”

A tall, stately woman, dressed in a crisp suit, Vanessa looked at them with a critical gaze. She addressed each of them in turn, welcoming them to the meeting. Eva’s eyes narrowed as Vanessa sorted the stack of files in front of her. She knew those files—well worn over the years, and slowly growing.

“I am here,” she announced, her expression business placid, “Because I’ve heard some disturbing information and I would like to give you the opportunity to address it.”

Next to her, Javier stubbed out his cigarette, “What kind of information?”

Vanessa smiled, it was not a nice smile, “It has been reported to the States that you are engaging in some inappropriate behavior.”

Javier and Steve looked at each other, a whole conversation passing between them that Eva wasn’t sure she could decipher. Steve, who was sitting next to her, put his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands. Javier stayed where he was, but she could feel the heat of the glare he leveled at Vanessa.

“Now, we deal with some very serious things, and sometimes that wears us down.” Standing, Vanessa circled the conference table, hand skimming over the chairs. “Sometimes, that leads us to forget our boundaries and the expectations of the DEA for its agents.”

Eva’s gaze followed Vanessa as she sauntered towards them, pace excruciatingly slow. She knew where this was going, had attended this meeting at least once in every location she’d been sent to, usually at about the six month mark. And yet, it still hurt. Vanessa knew how to make it hurt.

Javier cleared his throat, “With all due respect, Ms. Arnold, can you get to the point?”

There was that ugly smile again, “Absolutely. I’ve received reports that you and Agent Murphy are participating in social events with Mrs. Moore. Going out to bars, eating lunch together—Agent Murphy, your wife has been attending classes at the gym with Mrs. Moore, has she not?”

Steve’s mouth thinned, “She has. There aren’t many Americans in this country, least of all anyone who might be able to commiserate about life in close quarters with the DEA.”

Vanessa cast him a condescending look, “Still, it doesn’t exactly put you in a positive light, does it?”

Eva could feel the wheels of Steve’s mind turning as he processed what she’d said. He flicked his fingers out in a sharp motion before curling them into his palms, “I don’t understand. Eva is a contract consultant, paid by the DEA to work with us. How is associating with her outside of work a negative?”

Here we go.

Vanessa stepped back and flicked off the lights, then moved to the projector and turned it on, “Mrs. Moore is generally reticent to talk about it, but I feel its important for you to know who you are working with.”

The projector clicked and Eva’s mug shot flashed onto the wall opposite the group. She closed her eyes, working to control her breathing. She’d been released into police custody right out of the hospital. Her arm was still in a cast, her face heavily swollen and bruised. The picture was not flattering.

“Mrs. Moore was charged and convicted of the murder of her husband a few years prior to coming to work for us.”

Another click. Her husband’s picture, his professional photo, came up. Josh was impeccably groomed, smile wide and white, eyes clear and sparkling. She bit the inside of her cheek, stunned that she could still feel such hatred towards a person no longer living.

“This is Joshua Moore. A prominent doctor and businessman out of Louisiana. His practice was located just outside of New Orleans. He was most well known for donating large amounts to charities across the state.”

For the tax write off. And, to get the votes of the city councils.

Click. Their wedding picture. Eva felt bile rise in her throat. Fourteen years old, looking like a baby next to a twenty five year old who’d just started working for the local hospital. Her mother had picked out her dress—a frilly, lace encrusted thing that was a touch too long. She remembered how much her feet hurt from walking in the heels she needed to wear to keep the thing from dragging too much down the aisle. Standing at the altar had been excruciating enough that she’d stumbled over her vows.

“By all accounts, Mrs. Moore and her husband had a passionate relationship.”

Passionate is one way to put it.

In the beginning, she’d fought him when she thought he was being unfair. He’d scream, punch doors, throw things, eventually things devolved into physical beatings. It only took about a year for her to stop fighting and just do what he wanted. It was easier that way. Soon enough, he figured out how good she was at hiding things—money, product, herself—and he let her in on the family business.

Click. Their blood covered carpet with his outline marked in tape.

“One night, things got out of hand. Mr. Moore unfortunately lost his life at the hands of his wife.”

God, could she be a little less dramatic? Her voice had lowered down to a soft, sweet sound that grated on every nerve Eva had. She felt her mouth lift in a sneer before she could check the motion. Sniffing, she relaxed the muscles of her face, looking forward at the picture dispassionately.

Click. The trail of blood leading from the living room out the back door.

“When police arrived on the scene, Mr. Moore was found in the back yard, on fire. Autopsy reports state that he was set aflame post mortem. His cause of death was confirmed as blunt force trauma to the skull.”

Click. Her husband’s dead body, skin black and burned down to bone, laying atop a cart. Click. A close up of his face, half the skull missing. In bottom right corner, there was a little ‘R’ marked in what looked to be black permanent marker. This was the only new aspect of the photos. Every location. Every six months. Every photo. She’d seen them over and over and had them memorized. It didn’t seem possible that this little song and dance could still make her angry, but it did. She was tired of paying for a justifiable action she’d taken to save her own life.

Vanessa left the last photo up, moving to stand before them, one hand slipping into the pocket of her slacks. Eva kept her gaze steady, ready to take what would come next, the words that she’d heard for many years.

“Gentleman, you’re sitting next to a cold blooded murder, a person who took a life that was privileged and beat it to death with a fire extinguisher. Think about what kind of person could do that to someone they loved. This about who she would have to be to drag a dead body out of her house and set it on fire. Think about how associating with that kind of person reflects on you and your careers.”

The silence that followed was familiar and tense. Both men looking at Vanessa—Javier gently tapping his forefinger on the table, Steve with his head on his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed, but she kept smiling, “I’m going to let you keep thinking on that. Thank you for coming in. Have a nice day.”

And then she as striding out, her heels clicking on the tile. Eva watched her go, the door closing gently behind her. Eva just caught the face of that department head she’d nearly forgotten about as he approached Vanessa in the hall. She let the sneer form on her mouth, knowing that the rumor mill would start almost immediately.

The air in the room felt oppressive, the darkness only adding more pressure. Eva pushed a breath through her nose, scratching at the skin above her eyebrow as she tried to think of something to say.

Javier spoke for her, “What a load of bullshit.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. It was, indeed, a load of bullshit. She’d never had someone put it so succinctly so quickly following the presentation.

Steve leaned back in his seat, smashing the power button on the projector. It turned off with the groaning hiss of an air fan, leaving the room completely dark. Eva took the opportunity to swallow back the old feelings that had been drudged up in the last ten minutes. Ten minutes. That’s all it took for her to feel like shit again. She fucking hated Vanessa.

Javier stood up and flicked on the lights, returning to his seat and sitting heavily. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, offering the pack to Steve, who took it. Eva folded her hands over her chest and waited for someone to speak.

Steve tapped off ash into a faceted glass tray, “So that’s why you told us about it early on.”

“That’s why I told you about it early on,” Eva confirmed with a nod.

Javier blew out a lungful of smoke, “She do this often?”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Every time, with every team.”

He nodded, leaning his forearms on the table, “You notice she left your files.”

“Yep,” Eva bit out.

It was a perfect strategy. If she hadn’t been up front about her husband, it would be impossible for anyone to ignore the fact that the whole story, in black and white, was sitting right there.

Steve reached out and placed his hand next to her on the tabletop, “You want us to read through it.”

She shrugged, “You can, if you want. Its a nicely worded story. Not too flattering to me, of course.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, another private conversation passing between them. She kept her expression neutral, not wanting to sway them one way or another.

Steve threw the butt of his cigarette into the tray, “Connie and I are having a pool party next weekend. You want to come? Carrillo, too.”

Eva felt her jaw drop, didn’t bother to conceal her shock, “You want me to come to a party.”

“Yeah,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile, “Maybe you can convince Javi, here, to put on a swim suit.”

“I wear swim trunks,” Javier cut in with mock anger.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Only because Connie won’t let you come if you’re not wearing appropriate attire.” Then, to Eva, “You got a suit?”

She nodded, “I do.”

“Good, bring a bottle of booze, and you’re set.”

Eva sat there, staring at him, her mouth open. It was one thing for her to tell them what she’d done. It was another thing to come face to face with pictures of her husband’s mutilated body and react with, what? Nonchalance?

Steve leaned towards her, “Connie wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t gotten her out of that restaurant. I don’t give a shit what you did to that guy. What you did, here? That’s what counts.”

She looked between them. Javier wasn’t talking, but he nodded as Steve spoke, offering silent support. Eva felt her chest constrict with a soft affection for them both. The relief was a physical thing, exhaling with her next breath.

“Thank you.”

Steve shrugged, “Don’t mention it. Vodka—bring a bottle. Wear your suit.”

As it turned out, Connie did not cancel their work out that night. She met Eva outside the gym at their regular time, looking at her like a friend. Eva had to cough into her hand to hide the surprised little shriek that wanted to burst out of her when the woman came into view.

They spent the hour sweating and huffing through a one challenging set after another, the sound of the instructor’s voice coaching them through the movements. Afterwards, Eva slumped on the bench, tossing back water and toweling off her face.

“That was fun,” Connie commented from her spot next to her.

Eva sent her a sidelong glance, “Fun is not the word I would use.”

Fun was sitting at a bar, drinking and hollering at the band. Fun was watching a ball game or shopping for new clothes. What they had just done was hard work—muscle burning, lung searing, skin sizzling hard work. Still, Eva enjoyed it, needed the release of endorphins.

“You know, one of the things I look forward to when I get back to the states is flaunting my newly hot body when I see those skinny bitches at my high school reunion.”

Eva laughed, “You’ll be the talk of the party—look at those biceps.”

Connie flexed, smiling wide, “Gotta get me one of those strapless, backless dresses, just to show off.”

“Oh, Steve’ll love that.”

“He would,” Connie said with a coy little tilt of her shoulders. “He tell you about the party?”

Eva nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been tasked with bringing a bottle of vodka.”

“And wearing a suit,” Connie asserted, pointing at Eva.

“I have one, don’t worry.”

“I want everyone dressed for the occasion, no office wear allowed.”

“Ah, damn, I’ll have to leave my pencil skirt at home.”

Connie rolled her eyes, “I’m so glad I get to wear scrubs. My feet still hurt at the end of the day, but at least its not from wearing heels.”

Eva took another long swig, “Yeah, but you do have to be one your feet all day. At least I get to sit down.”

“Pros and cons.”

Eva nodded, “Agreed. Pros and cons.”

“So, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Carrillo? Steve says you’ve been seeing him.”

Eva set down the water bottle. She’d been wondering, herself, when Connie was going to bring it up. Despite their weekly gym excursions, she hadn’t pushed. Eva was grateful—she didn’t really know how she’d characterize her relationship with the man. They weren’t...like, boyfriend and girlfriend. At least, not how she’d known the concept back before she’d been married. Companions, maybe. Friends, definitely. Friends who slept together. Friends with benefits? That felt too trivializing.

“We’ve gone out a few times,” Eva edged, standing and motioning for Connie to follow.

They walked towards the bathrooms, the humidity spiking from the showers as they passed through the doors.

“And?”

Eva opened her locker and pulled out her gym back, rustling around for her change of clothes, “And...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Sighing, Eva stood up and looked at Connie, “I don’t. Not really. I’m only on assignment here for another six months or so. I like him. I like spending time with him. I don’t know where I am from there.”

Connie fixed her with a level look, “You don’t want to get into anything serious because you think you’re leaving in six months.”

Eva thought about it,“Yes.”

“But, you like him enough that you’re willing to go out with him even though it might end sooner rather than later.”

Eva thought again, “Yes.”

She gave a little bob of her head, “That’s fair. Steve says he’s pretty intense.”

Eva didn’t have to think about that one, “Yes.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Eva’s face scrunched, “You want me to say more?”

“Yes, for God’s sake!” Connie burst out, her hands flying in the air, “I want details.”

Eva laughed, “Let me get cleaned up and then we can talk details.”

Connie’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t think I’m going to forget. We’re going to the bar and you’re going to tell me everything.”

They did, indeed, go to the bar, although Eva didn’t really tell Connie everything. She talked about their dates, how he’d been polite and conscientious, how she felt when they kissed, and that she hadn’t yet spent the night at his place but she wanted to.

“You know, when I met him, I thought he was terrifying,” Connie commented as she sipped a gin and tonic.

Eva lifted a brow, “Why?”

Thinking for a moment, Connie settled on, “He was just so serious. Like, really, really serious.”

Eva could get that. The man could write a book on taking things seriously. Serious was in his blood. But, she’d seen him soft and sweet, too. She’d seen his dimples as he smiled. Seen his laugh. There was more to him than he showed to the world, more than a hard, scary man. It made her warm inside to think that she got to see that side of him.

“Shame that you don’t think it’ll last,” Connie said, a leading tone in her voice.

Eva brought her beer to her lips, “I have to go home sometime.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

The question caught Eva off guard. She realized that she didn’t exactly know. For a long time, Louisiana was home, and then Texas, and then a host of assignments. Now, it was Colombia. She’d been traveling for so long that she couldn’t root herself down anywhere. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. Her contract end date had been so far away for so long that Eva had never taken the time to work out what she would do afterward. Her record would be cleared, she would no longer be a felon. She would have years of work experience and a tidy little savings.

The possibilities were so numerous that Eva found herself unable to really settle on any one thing that she wanted—except, that wasn’t exactly true. Her heart, down deep, wanted what she might actually be able to have. A too serious, dimple-cheeked man who smelled like tobacco and vetiver.

Connie was looking at her, waiting for her answer. Eva just shrugged and ordered another round of drinks.

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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