#when you put it all together with outside information we’re getting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuderiahoney · 1 month

Text

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 3

hockey au part 3: a walk in near the park, a surprising team photo, and the semester comes to a close. 6.2k words

warnings: mentions of sports injury, mentions of bullying, alcohol, academic stress, final exams

Oscar has spent a lot of his life on the move. He moved to the US from Australia for high school at a pretty young age, just to try and play hockey. Looking back, it sounds crazy. What’s even crazier is that it actually worked. He’d play for club teams and in leagues and travel absolutely anywhere if it gave him time on the ice. And then he ended up on a college team and stayed put for two years, and honestly, it felt strange.

Over that time, he got good at putting things in boxes. Keeping life organized. Not so much in a sense of clutter and things having a place- his room is a mess, there’s laundry to be done, and his hockey locker is a disaster- but more so in his head. His friendships and relationships get categorized, information filed away, grouped together. Not by importance or value, but by… context. Hockey friends in one box. Family in another. People like coaches and managers and executives in a third. Moving somewhere new always shakes the boxes up.

By late November, though, Oscar’s feeling a little bit more comfortable in his own skin. He’s found his place in the team, he has weekly lunches with teammates, and he’s even made some friends outside of hockey. His old coach, Mark, says that’s a big piece of it. That it’s good to have something other than sport, just in case it all falls apart, or it doesn’t work out. People to fall back on who aren’t just there for hockey.

Oscar wants to say that his teammates would still be friends with him even if he stopped playing, for some reason, but the truth is that he’s been burned by other overly ambitious hockey kids way too often to truly believe it. That’s half the reason he’s on the Timberwolves now, why he left his old school and team behind. Things feel better here. Lando has an old friend who used to play hockey who still hangs around the house sometimes- Max, the other Max. (Oscar doesn’t call him that to his face.) So maybe Lando at least wouldn’t ditch him if he quit.

And then there’s you, too. Oscar’s not quite sure when you went from being an enigma he struggled to place into one of his carefully organized boxes in his head to, well, this.

You’re sitting across from him at the dining table in his house, one finger tracing the words in the textbook in front of you. You have a TimTam in your other hand-you seem to have developed a fondness for them, the same way that Oscar seems to have developed a fondness for you. The late afternoon sun is shining into the room through the sliding glass door and onto you. Oscar shakes his head to try to clear it.

As he does, you groan and drop your face into the textbook with a solid thud- he winces. “I hate physics.”

He holds back a laugh, because he knows you genuinely are frustrated. “Does slamming your face on the words help?”

You shrug. “Maybe, if I just sit here like this, the knowledge will seep into my brain.”

He hums. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Right, because you know everything,” you mumble. “Genius man.”

He rolls his eyes and pushes away from the table. “Come on. Time for a break.”

“I don’t need a break, I need to learn…” you sigh and turn your head, pressing your cheek to the book and looking at him with one eye. “What are we studying again?”

Oscar fixes you with a disapproving look and heads towards the front door. He knows you’ll follow. By the time he makes it to the entryway, you’re hot on his heels, watching curiously as he pulls his shoes on.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“We’re going on a walk,” he says. “Brain break.”

You shrug and nod, reaching for your own shoes as he pulls on a jacket. He tries not to laugh as you struggle to pull them on without untying them. You’re always stubborn like that, it seems. It’s almost painfully endearing. You stand up straight once you have the shoes on and look at him expectantly.

“Where’s your jacket?” He asks.

You shrug and shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. Or is it Charles’ hoodie? Oscar swears he’d seen him wearing it just yesterday.

“I didn’t wear one,” you say. Oscar raises his brows, and you roll your eyes. “There’s not even snow on the ground, Piastri.”

“It’s almost December, Bunny” he says flatly, and reaches for another one of his jackets hanging on the hook near the door.

He hands it to you, and stands there, waiting, until you grumble and pull it on. You wear the other guys’ clothing all the time, but he swears you look almost flustered at the offer. Huh. He’s trying desperately to pretend he’s not flustered over it, honestly. Something about you in his clothing makes him blush. He’d felt the same way about the hoodie you’d borrowed at the party.

“You’re just Australian,” you say, nudging your foot against his as if to usher him out the door. “You’re a baby about the cold.”

He doesn’t have much of a comeback to that, so he steps outside, and you follow right along with him. He walks down the steps and takes off down the sidewalk, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. You might be right- he’s a bit of a baby when it comes to cold temperatures- but his breath curls into mist in front of his face and yours does the same, so it really is chilly. The sun paints everything golden- the windows on the buildings, the dead leaves that still cling to a couple trees. Your elbow bumps against his as the two of you walk. He tries to ignore the spark that shoots up his spine at the feeling. You're chatting away about something, someone in one of your classes who’s been annoying you lately. He's found he likes to listen to you talk.

When he turns to take the path through the park next to the athletics building, you stop in your tracks. He turns back, figuring you’ve seen something, but you’re just staring into the park, and at the large building behind it. He frowns.

“Everything alright?” He asks, quietly.

You nod. “I just. D’you think maybe we could walk to that cafe near here? I could really go for a chai latte.”

He nods- a drink does sound good. “Yeah, sure. D’you wanna walk through the park on the way? Won’t be much of a detour.”

The park is nice. It’s one of Oscar’s favorite places on campus. There’s grass and trees and a path that winds around the university’s baseball and soccer fields. But you’re staring at it with a much different feeling, if the look on your face tells him anything.

You shake your head. “No, let’s just…”

You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you take off down the sidewalk, heading away from the park. He’s left to follow in your footsteps, suddenly feeling like he really knows nothing about you at all.

…..

When Oscar thinks of home, now, he thinks of this. Not Australia, or the house, or even his family, really. He thinks of a jersey, a stick in his hand, and the scrape of his skates against the ice. Hockey, for all its cheering fans and yelling opponents and background music, is a strangely quiet sport. Maybe he’s just gotten good at blocking out the noise.

They’re warming up on the ice. He has warm up traditions, now, something he hasn’t had with teammates in years- he and Lando slap each other on the shoulders, and he and George always skate a lap together. It’s not anything huge or elaborate, but it means he’s part of the team, and that’s enough.

Max skates up to him, just at the end of warmup. He nudges his shoulder against Oscar’s through the padding. “Good?”

Oscar had a rough week in practice. It was the kind that would’ve had him benched for a month on his last team. Seb’s been nothing but supportive- constructive criticism was offered, sure, but he’s still on the ice today, so he figures that’s a good sign. He nods and turns to Max. His eyes flicker up into the stands. He shouldn’t know this, but he does- your seat is above Max’s head from this angle, up in the second section, front row. You’re wearing a jersey, probably Lando’s number if he had to guess, and sharing popcorn with Alex’s girlfriend, Lily. He smiles.

“Yeah. Good.” He nods.

Max nods in return, then skates away. Oscar follows.

When he scores later, and ties the game one to one, he looks to the same spot in the stands. Lando hits him on the back, hard, a bit too enthusiastic. You’re standing in front of your seat, arms around Lily, yelling, and he grins. He can’t help it. The smile doesn’t drop from his face for the rest of the game. The rink, the ice, and his teammates may feel like home, but the way you cheer for him feels awfully close to it, too.

At the party afterwards, you pour two shots of tequila and hand one to him. He takes it with a smile, grimaces at the taste, and laughs when you cough. He pats you on the back sympathetically, and when you take his hand two seconds later and drag him towards the beer pong table, he follows happily.

…..

December creeps up on Oscar, and with it, so does final exam week. Suddenly, it’s just… there, bearing down on him. He’s not exactly nervous about most of his exams- he’s prepared well, and though he’d never say it out loud, he’s pretty good at testing. But no matter how well he studies or how much he’s paid attention in class, exams still aren’t exactly fun.

He sees you a lot in the week leading up to it. You’re often in the kitchen, eating snacks with Max, or in the living room, quizzing Charles on vocab, or in Lando’s room taking a nap between classes. You’re stressed. He can tell. He does his best to help in any way he can- when he goes to the store, he picks up your favorite snacks and leaves them on the counter. He helps you study for the physics exam. When he finds you asleep on the couch in his living room on Saturday night, he carefully lays a blanket over you and turns off the lamp. He hopes some of it helps, just a little bit.

The next afternoon, Oscar stands in the lobby of the athletic training building. He and Max had headed over for the afternoon to do a workout together, more to get their minds off exams than anything else. Now he’s in the lobby, waiting for his team captain, and he’s staring. Laser focused. He's making a whole lot of connections all at once. The wheels are turning in his brain, and he’s sure if anyone’s watching him, he looks crazy. He jumps when someone slaps a hand against his shoulder. It’s Max.

“Hey,” his team captain says, shaking him slightly. “You look lost.”

Oscar frowns and turns back to the photo in front of him. Women’s Soccer, a team photo, from what would’ve been his freshman year at his previous school. He’d been looking at the photos while he waited- the lobby is lined with them, and some of them are actually pretty funny. Some of the faces in this one are familiar, people he’s seen in the gym off and on. One, however, had caught his eye.

“Is that who I think it is?” He asks, pointing at the left side of the picture in the third row.

When he turns back to Max, his face has changed. The teasing look is gone, replaced by something solemn and hard set. Max nods and tugs at his shoulder.

“Wait,” Oscar says, trying to stay planted while Max tries to drag him away. “But she-“

Max crosses his arms over his chest and studies Oscar, brows furrowed. “I know. It’s not my story to tell, yeah?”

Oscar nods dumbly. Max nods in response. Then he nods his head towards the door, as if he’s directing Oscar to follow him. He does, because he’s not sure what else to do, and he’s not going to get any more information from the photo. He knows what he saw, anyways. You, standing there with the whole team, in uniform, your name listed below the photo with the rest of your teammates.

If there’s one thing the Timberwolves do better than hockey, it’s soccer. The women’s team has been national champions multiple times. A spot on that team isn’t something someone gives up willingly. But you’re not on the team, not anymore. When Lando asked if you wanted to go to the gym with them, you’d replied that you “wouldn’t be caught dead at the athletic training building.” And you’d avoided the athletic park like the plague.

Max turns to him as they walk out of the building, and the confusion must still be evident on his face, because Max swears under his breath in some other language. Oscar’s too lost in thought to even wonder what language it is, exactly.

“Look, just-“ Max pinches the bridge of his nose. “Trust me, she’ll talk about it when she wants to.”

“Okay,” Oscar nods. “But, like, is she… okay?”

Max gives him a sad smile. “Yeah.”

Oscar hears the silent part in his head. She is now.

They walk home together in near silence. Oscar doesn’t know what to say. He’s sure Max doesn’t, either. When they get to the house, Alex is coming down the front steps, the door still open behind him. Oscar sees your boots in the entryway, your coat hanging on the hook. Alex ruffles his hair as he walks past, and Oscar ducks before he turns to Max.

“Don’t tell her?” He asks, and Max looks sheepish, like that was the exact thing he was about to do. “I mean. If you think she needs to know I saw it, then… sure. But I don’t want her to feel pressured to talk to me about it.”

Max wrinkles his nose and nods. “Okay. For now.”

Oscar nods. They’re in agreement, then. He walks in through the front door and he can hear you and Lando in the kitchen, singing along to whatever song is playing from the speaker. It’s family dinner night. Oscar tries to put the thoughts of you in a soccer team portrait out of his head.

He sits next to you at dinner as you pick at your food. It’s one of your favorite meals, but your appetite seems low. It has him feeling concerned. Max, on your other side, nudges you. Oscar watches the two of you have a quiet conversation and wishes he knew what you were feeling. You finally take a couple bites, and he tries not to show how relieved he is about it.

One by one, everyone wanders off to study and get ready for the week ahead. You stay sitting at the table, though. Oscar clears some plates and comes back to find you, a couple TimTams in hand. You take them with a soft smile.

“You alright?” He asks, quietly.

You nod. “Stressed.”

Oscar nods. “Anything I can do to help?”

You twist your mouth. “Probably not. I should really just go home.”

You don’t make any moves to get up. He sighs and sits down next to you. You drum your fingers on the worn wooden tabletop and set the cookies down next to your plate. You’re chewing on your lower lip, and you close your eyes and let out a breath through your nose.

“It’s like… my brain just won’t stop going,” you say. “Like everything I’ve read is just tumbling around in there and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Objects in motion tend to stay in motion,” Oscar says, and you groan.

“Do not use physics metaphors on me right now,” you say, and when he starts laughing, you dissolve into giggles, too. “Gross.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, smiling sheepishly when you turn to look at him. “Why don’t I make some tea, and we can put it in travel mugs, and I’ll walk you home?”

A soft smile slips across your face. “That sounds really nice.”

He makes the tea exactly how both of you like it, pours it into the mugs, and ushers you towards the front door. You stop in the living room to say goodbye to Lando, who ruffles your hair, and Max, who holds onto your arm and says something to you, so quietly that you’re the only one who’ll hear it. Then Oscar heads outside, and you follow. It’s slightly dark, and chilly, but you’ve brought a jacket this time. You wrap both hands around the mug as you walk, a habit of yours that Oscar finds awfully endearing. The streetlights glow bright above your heads.

The walk is mostly silent. He reaches the entrance to the park, and on reflex again, he slows and turns to head down the path. You stop in your tracks and let out a pained little noise. Oscar’s stomach rolls. In the distance, the soccer field is lit up bright with floodlights. Something must’ve happened, to keep you from playing. You’d been good enough to be on the team. Something had changed. He turns and takes a step to continue down the sidewalk, but you stay planted there, staring. He pauses, holding his breath. It’s just the two of you, under the streetlamps, feet on the sidewalk.

“I used to play soccer,” you say, quietly, and his pulse jumps.

She’ll tell you when she’s ready. He hadn’t expected it to be so soon. He bites his lip and shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket. You’re still staring out over the park, so he turns to stare, too. He feels you lean your shoulder against his, like you’re looking for support, and he leans into it, just to show he’s there.

“I got signed to play as a senior in high school,” you explain. “And, not to brag, but I was really good. Went through summer training camp and made friends with my teammates and got here and… then I fell just the right way at practice, or the wrong way, I guess,” you say, grimacing. “Fucked up my knee. I had to have surgery, twice, and even then, they pretty much told me I was done. That it would never heal right.”

Oscar’s heart sinks. His chest feels tight. He thinks of you, on the couch in the living room when he woke up feeling off and asked you to go on a run, how you’d said you’d messed up your knee. He thinks of Max and the concerned way he always watches you climb the stairs in the stands at the rink. He thinks of you, younger, like the picture in the athletics building, on the field, in pain. He feels sick to his stomach.

“And my teammates… they didn’t know how to act, I think. They didn’t know how to help, so they just didn’t try. So, suddenly I was no longer a soccer player, and I was alone, and…” you sigh. Oscar turns to face you, and he thinks there are tears in your eyes. “And then I met Lando, and the rest of the team, and the rest is history. But… there are some things that still get to me. The field… it holds a lot of bad memories, you know? And when I’m stressed like this it all comes flooding back.”

He nods. You’re not looking at him, even as he watches a tear roll down your cheek. He wants to reach out and wipe it away, but he wonders if that would be a step too far. He pulls his hands from his pockets. You swipe a hand against your cheeks and clear the tears, and then let your own hands hang at your sides. He takes a steadying breath, steels himself, and links his fingers with yours- casually, lightly, gently holding on. You squeeze his hand in reply- a thank you, he thinks. He does the same in return.

“Did Max tell you why I left my old school?” He asks, quietly.

“No,” you answer, voice low and tentative. “Max doesn’t tell people stuff like that.”

He shrugs, though he supposes that makes sense- he’d refused to tell Oscar what had happened to you. Max seems loyal like that. Oscar rolls a pebble beneath his shoe and listens to your breathing to remind himself you’re still there. He wants you to know this. Wants to share. Wants you to know he understands, at least a little bit.

“I got scouted by them my senior year,” he starts, closing his eyes. Like this, he’s almost right back in it. “And I was really excited. And then I got there and… the guys on the team were awful. I didn’t get any playing time, and they’d all been friends since they were kids, and I felt like such an outsider.” He kicks the pebble down the path lightly. “By the time my sophomore year rolled around, I hated it. I hated hockey. I’d spent my whole life doing nothing but that but I dreaded every practice. I was…”

He huffs. Squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He can feel the hits from his own teammates at practice. Can feel that same empty, lonely feeling sitting at the end of the bench. He can taste the blood in his mouth when he tried to stand up for himself and the team captain shoved him and the coach did nothing.

“It was fucked,” he says. He hates the way his voice wobbles. “So I quit. I walked out. I was done with hockey. I couldn’t even go near the rink for months.”

“But you’re here now,” you say, quietly.

He nods sharply. “I had this old coach- his name’s Mark. Showed up on his doorstep and told him the whole thing. He and Seb used to be teammates. So he got me a tryout. I refused, at first. And then Seb sent Max to come talk to me.”

He remembers that, clear as day, too. Max, bright and smiling, at his dorm room door. He knew who Max was, he had looked up to him for years. Max had walked in, planted himself on the floor in the room, and hadn’t left until Oscar changed his mind.

“I spent the summer training back home. Found my love for it again,” he explains. “But it wasn’t easy. I think I’m still working on it, sometimes.”

You hum next to him. You squeeze his hand again. His breath hitches. Your skin is warm against his. It makes his chest ache. He hadn’t known who he was without his sport. He thinks maybe you know that feeling better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” he says into the night air. “And I know you must’ve heard it a billion times, and that I don’t really understand what it’s like to have it taken away like that. But…”

“But you get it,” you say, voice rough around the edges. “The lonely feeling.”

He nods and swallows against the lump in his throat. “And thank you. For making things less lonely here.”

“I’m sorry if I was too much,” you answer.

He just shakes his head. “I’m sorry I was so… stuck.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, before you squeeze his hand again. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

You knit your fingers with his, properly, and Oscar expects you to start down the sidewalk again. You don’t. Instead, your feet carry you down the path through the park. He understands now, that this place must hold awful memories. Reminders of what was supposed to be, what was taken away. You’re trusting him with this. It sits heavy on his shoulders.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask more questions. When you walk past the soccer field, he turns to sneak a glance at your face. There’s sadness in your eyes, but a smile on your lips. There’s a strength, there, too, that he finds starkly beautiful. You hold onto him tightly, and together, you make it through the park, all the way to your apartment.

He leaves you at the door with a quiet goodnight and a promise to see each other the next day for the regular study session. The exam is on Tuesday, so it’ll be his last excuse to spend time with you like that. He walks home in silence, through the park, and tries not to stare at the soccer goal. That night, he dreams of soccer fields and hockey rinks and you.

…..

When Oscar gets home just before your normal study time the next day, there’s music pouring out of the front door before he even opens it. It’s louder once he does. The house seems mostly empty, but someone is either having a very good or very bad day. He wavers in the doorway, wondering if he should call you. He’s still there when you walk in behind him, bumping into his shoulder. He turns to look at you, eyes wide. Yours are even wider.

“I don’t think we can study here,” he says, frowning.

You shake your head. “We can go to my place.”

So he packs up his things into his backpack, avoiding whatever is going on in Charles’ room that has him causing permanent damage to his eardrums. Then the two of you take off down the street, towards your apartment. He slows only slightly at the turn for the park, waiting to see what you’ll do. You turn down the path through the park and loop your arm in his. He looks away in the hopes that you don’t see the smile that creeps across his face.

Your apartment is, honestly, exactly how he’d always pictured it. It’s soft and cozy and colorful. There’s a well loved, overstuffed couch in the living room, a little table in the kitchen, and so much stuff on the walls. Music posters, photos blown up big, and… collages. Some in frames, some tacked up with tape, scattered across the place. Perfect mixtures of magazine cutouts and pieces of paper and he swears he even spots a dried flower on one.

“Wow,” he says, studying the one that hangs over the couch. “These are so cool.”

You’re in the kitchen, grabbing a snack, and you turn over your shoulder. “Oh. Thanks. I made a lot of them when I was injured. I had nothing better to do, yknow?”

He sees a chunk of an x-ray in the corner of the piece, and his heart twists. You walk up next to him, shoulder to shoulder. When he looks at you, you’re smiling softly. He likes that look on your face. He wants to keep it there, and suddenly he dreads studying physics because he knows how stressed you’re going to be.

“We’ll have to make some sometime,” you say, nudging your elbow against his. “There’s a billion hockey magazines in a closet at your house.”

“I don’t have an artistic bone in my body,” he says.

You laugh. “That’s the fun of collages. You don’t have to.”

He settles in on one end of the couch, and you settle into the other. The soft light of the lamp in the living room makes it feel warm, the same way your hand in his had felt the day before. He tries so, so hard to focus on physics. It’s just… he’s in your apartment, and you’re there, knees curled to your chest, brow furrowed in concentration, and… something about this feels so soft.

He clears his throat, opens his textbook, and flips to the review questions. “Alright. Ready?”

The two of you study for hours. Oscar doesn’t know when it happens, but at some point you move closer, so you can look off the same textbook. Physics terms and formulas and theories rattle around in his brain, all wrapped up with thoughts of you. The sun goes down, and the windows to the outside grow dark. He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay right here.

“My brain is full,” you mumble, between a yawn.

You drop your head against his shoulder, and his heart pounds in his chest. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, he knows it. You’re just tired, that’s all.

He nods in agreement. “Mine too. I can go home. We should get a good night’s sleep.”

You nod against his shoulder and then make no move to pull away. “In a minute,” you say. “Your arm is comfy.”

Butterflies- actual, real life butterflies, he swears it- swirl in his stomach. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s seen you fall asleep on Charles’ shoulder during movie nights, watched you curl up on Max’s bed and take a nap while everyone around you talked. He’s just another friend, another shoulder to lean on. This doesn’t mean anything, and besides, it shouldn’t mean anything, so why is his stomach swirling with butterflies, and why does his face feel hot?

When you finally pull away and help him pack up his things, he hopes you can’t tell how he’s feeling. You walk him to the door and wait for him to put on his shoes and jacket. It’s just so you can lock it behind him, he knows. But then you reach up and smooth the hair from his forehead and laugh, and his chest aches fiercely, and god, he could kiss you- not even really kiss you, just on the forehead or the cheek would do. He says goodnight instead and steps out into the hallway, then makes his feet carry him down the stairs and out to the sidewalk.

He walks past the soccer field and finds himself hoping that maybe you felt it too.

He gets up early the next morning and finds Max in the kitchen with coffee ready to go. He grabs two travel mugs- his, and yours. Max raises an eyebrow as he spreads cream cheese on a bagel. Oscar does the same in response.

“You were out late last night,” Max says, eyeing him.

He doesn’t bother asking how Max knows when he got back. He feels like it’s written plainly all over his face. He can feel the weight of you against his shoulder. Can feel your hand brushing his hair from his face. Can feel how much he wants to lean in. Max must see it.

“I was studying,” he says, carefully.

“With Bunny,” Max suggests, and Oscar nods. “But not here.”

“No, we got here and Charles was blasting music,” Oscar explains. “So we went to her place.”

“He failed an exam,” Max says, face scrunched up. “Well. He assumes he did. You know Charles.”

Oscar nods. Max is staring at him as he pours hot coffee into mugs. He’s not sure what the team captain is looking for, but he hopes he doesn’t find it.

“She told you,” he says, quietly, and Oscar looks up from the mugs, nearly spilling coffee all over.

He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Max nods and finally turns back to his bagel. “Good.”

That’s that, then. He puts the lids on the coffee, and Max sends him out the door with two bagels- one for him, one for you. He almost feels like he’s passed some sort of test when Max gives him a sharp nod as he turns to leave, but he’s not sure which test it would even be.

He finds you in the lobby before the exam, hands off the coffee and the bagel and tells you he knows you’re going to do well. You smile brightly at him, and he swears it lights up the whole building.

“We’ve got this,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “And if we don’t, we’ll retake it together.”

He nods in agreement. The two of you sit on a bench and eat your bagels and drink your coffee. Oscar wishes he could attribute the warmth in his belly to the drink, but he’s pretty sure it has more to do with the way you smile up at him and the weight of your shoulder against his. Either way, it sends him into the exam with a good feeling, and that’s really all he can ask for.

…..

Oscar finds himself feeling sad when the holiday break rolls around this year. It’s a weird feeling. For years, he’s looked forward to December for this reason. The exams are over, he gets time off from school, a chance to go home or have his family visit, and a break from everything. He realizes, as he’s staring up at the ceiling, listening to Lando lugging a suitcase around, that he’s going to miss his friends when they leave for the break. It’s been two years since the last time he called his teammates friends.

He drags himself out of bed and into the hallway, because if Lando’s leaving, he wants to say goodbye. And sure enough, there he is, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and taking an enormous suitcase down the stairs one step at a time. Oscar spots you on the ground floor, watching in amusement, and he waves at you.

“Morning, Oscar,” you call out. “Ready for the break?”

He scrubs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “Yeah.”

You raise your brows. “That was convincing,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your lips.

He bites back a laugh, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of having called him out. “It’ll be nice to see my family. Just weird to have everyone gone, yknow?”

Lando, who’s made it down three stairs, turns to look at him. “Aw, he’s gonna miss us!” He coos, and Oscar feels his face go red.

Before he can jump to his own defense or try to come up with something to tease Lando about, you speak up from the bottom of the steps.

“Yeah, and we’re gonna miss him, Lando,” you say, shaking your head. “Jesus. Oscar, would you just shove him and the giant suitcase down the steps?”

Oscar’s trying not to dwell on you saying you’ll miss him, too. It shouldn’t affect him nearly as much as it does right now. It makes his stomach twist. He keeps the smile plastered on his face and forces a laugh, and Lando glares at him as menacingly as Lando can glare at anyone. He brushes off the feeling and grabs the side handle of Lando’s suitcase, then helps him lug it down the stairs. Lando shoots him a smile to replace the glare as they get it to the bottom floor. Then he pats him on the shoulder and ruffles his hair. Oscar winces.

“Bye, Piastri,” he says, grinning. “Have a good break.”

He pulls the giant suitcase towards the front door. You stay standing there, even as Lando steps outside and sighs at the sight of the front steps. Oscar steps off the staircase and lands near you, arms swinging at his sides.

“You’re staying here all break, right?” You ask.

He nods. “My family will be here Monday, though.”

“Nice,” you say, smiling wide. “Well. I bought more TimTams and Vegemite, so they should feel right at home.”

Warmth bubbles up in Oscar’s chest. “Thanks.”

You nod. The two of you stand there for a few seconds, and he wonders if you’re holding your breath, too. You shift back and forth on your feet, and then before he knows it, you’re against his chest, arms around him. He barely has time to hug you back before you pull away, and that’s the only bad part about it. He would hold you forever, if he could, he thinks. And honestly, that’s terrifying.

You pull away, and he hopes you don’t notice how red his cheeks are. “Bye, Oscar,” you say, almost shyly.

“Bye, Bunny,” he says back.

Lando calls your name from the front door, and you scurry off. He sighs. He swears he can still smell your shampoo, and then hates himself for knowing what your shampoo even smells like. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and turns back towards the stairs, ready to head back to his room, crawl back into bed, and go back to sleep. He jumps in shock when he finds Alex and George standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing.

“That was interesting, wasn’t it, Alex,” George says.

“Quite interesting, I’d say,” Alex nods, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Oscar rolls his eyes and takes the stairs two at a time. “You guys are creepy.”

They both just laugh as Oscar pushes past them and into his room. He shuts the door behind him, flops down onto the bed face first, and closes his eyes. Outside, he hears Logan’s car start up- the guy really needs to get the thing fixed, it’s loud as hell, but at least it still runs. He closes his eyes and reminds himself that it’ll only be a few weeks until you’re back in town. Then he wonders when having you around became so important to him. He rolls over, buries his face in the pillow, and goes to sleep.

notes: a lil osc pov!! thank you for reading! check out the winter break blurb, or find part 4 here!

tags: to be added or removed just let me know!! crossed out names were unable to be tagged- if it’s yours, shoot me a message!

main taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @verstoppenheimer @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @coolmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @avg-golden-retriever @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofswordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom

505 notes · View notes

syrupgirl · 1 year

Note

Sorry if you have done this before but maybe you could do a neteyam x reader and he is introducing you to his family ?

Love ur work btw

a/n: I did change this a lil so I hope it’s still ok, so reader knows the Sully’s vaguely and has only been known as a friend to Neteyam but now he is introducing reader as his potential mate. Also thank you for your compliments :p <3

(sum more notes at the end <3)

reader uses she/her prns and her body stays un-described

Mate material -Neteyam

“Is this really necessary, Neteyam,” You whined, sulking behind him. “They already know who I am, I feel like I’m meeting them again.”

He smiled and continued to wade his way toward the shore.

“Well, you are in a way. They will be seeing you in a different light now.” This man. He has some cheek.

Water whipped around your ankles as you ran after him. Taking Neteyam’s hand in yours, you spun him around and tugged on his arm repeatedly.

“Do we have to tell them? Why can’t they…Just figure it out on their own?.” You felt like child now, complaining over something so simple, but that’s how being with Neteyam made you feel; all fuzzy and floaty on the inside. Things were simple and easy when you were with him.

He finally stopped waking and took his arm out of your hand, replacing it with his hand.

“I understand if you are nervous, they can be,” he paused as if to take a moment to find the words. “intimidating when they want to be.” It came out as a laugh.

You snorted, “Your mother in particular.”

“She loves you!”

“She likes me as your friend, she might not as a mate!”

Neteyam sighed and pulled you closer; he could tell this was really bothering you.

“It’s not like there has been some, huge, drastic change. We’re still us, just…A more together version of us.”

A reluctant smile bloomed on your lips. “You sound stupid.”

“Ah.” You giggled as he pushed you away in mock offence.

“I take back what I said, you should be terrified.”

“Neteyam!”

Eclipse had come and the Sully family were gathered in their Marui, happily feasting on their dinner.

All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and chewing of food, until Lo’ak took it upon himself to break that silence.

“So, big bro, what happened with yn today?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on the eldest Sully. A small smirk jumped onto Kiri’s lips and she quickly went to cover it with her hand and Tuk looked genuinely worried for your health. Lo’ak had a shit eating grin on his face; he knew what he was doing.

Neteyam gulped, disguising it was swallowing a mouthful of his dinner. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw you two getting awfully close in the water.” Neytiri looked as if she had finally checked into the conversation, putting down her meal and looking to her sons.

“I just thought maybe, she might have been hurt?”

Like a hunter watches their prey, his family set their gaze on him, silently hungering for more information.

In an effort to appear cool headed, Neteyam shrugged. “She was fine, not hurt.” He looked to his brother and shot him a look, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh no, just curious.” It looked like Lo’ak would leave it now and Neteyam internally sighed in relief.

“How is yn, Neteyam? Haven’t seen her in a while.” Jake asked. Oh well, the questioning wasn’t over.

“I think they are onto us.”

You let those words sit in the air they were spoken into.

Neteyam’s arm tightened around you and you turned more into his chest. The pool of water around you wrinkled gently with your movements.

The two of you had stashed yourselves away in a lone terrace, not unlike the ones that bordered the lagoon outside the village, but this one was a secret place for you both. Where you could be with each other without worrying about prying eyes or annoying brothers.

Finally, you answered him, “What makes you say that?”

Neteyam sat up more, causing you to be partially shoved off of him.

“Lo’ak started asking me these annoying questions while we were eating dinner last night!” He looked like he was a getting really upset; brows furrowed, arms waving wildly, voice raising.

You frowned and caught one of his flailing hands. “What kind of questions?”

“Just stupid ones! Like, why we are spending so much time together and why we were getting so close to each other yesterday in the wate-”

“Be calm, Neteyam. Slow down.” You brought his hand to your chest. “Breath, deep breaths.”

Neteyam stopped his ranting and sighed out a long breath. As best as he could, he copied your breathing.

“Now, explain to me why this bothers you so much?”

He is still for a moment, looking a little embarrassed. “He’s putting his nose where it doesn’t belong, it is just not his business.”

You snort at that, “Are we not about to announce our relationship to your family? Honestly, it’s not a surprise that one of them found out before.”

Neteyam sighed again. He turned to face you and gently took your face into his hands, looking between your eyes.

“I want it to be on our terms, not because of Lo’ak’s prying.”

“I understand that,” you hummed. Your hand covered one of Neteyam’s on your face and you leaned into it. “Sounds like we need to act on our plans a little faster.”

A kiss was planted on your forehead and you smiled giddily.

“I don’t want to push you, I know you are a bit nervous.” He mumbled into your hairline.

Your free hand found his face and brought him back to where you could look him in the eyes. Your thumb glided back and forth along his cheekbone and his eyes drifted closed.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

It really felt like you could not handle it.

The sun was high in the sky, beating down onto your skin. On a day like this, you would usually be bobbing up and down in the waves, happily soaking up the rays, but on this occasion all it was doing to you was elevating your already rapidly growing panic.

You and Neteyam sat on the woven walkways not to far from his marui. Today was the day where you would finally announce your relationship to his family. A monumental occasion really; the eldest son of Toruk Makto and former leader of the Omatikaya, had found himself a partner, a mate, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You had met the Sully family many times before, you regularly spent time with Lo’ak and Kiri, even spending time with little Tuk. But now, you were seeing them on such different circumstances, they might as well have been strangers.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Neteyam had offered, an effort to quell your growing nerves, unfortunately this just spurred into motion all the thoughts of things that could happen; ranging from awkward silences to Jake and Neytiri chasing you out of their marui for trying to take their firstborn away from them. Extremely unlikely and just downright stupid, but you were just grasping at straws for anything that could go wrong.

“Why can’t- why can’t you just tell them while I am far, far away?” Neteyam laughed heartily at that but you were deadly serious.

“Oh yes, I can see it now,” Neteyam gasped between giggles, “hey mom, hey dad, you know yn? yeah I want her to be my mate. Where is she? Anywhere you aren’t.” His laughed picked up at his own joke and you groaned, hitting his chest with your balled fist.

“I love your family, Neteyam. I really, really want this to go well!”

“And it will! We’ve had this same conversation over and over, i don’t know how else I can reassure you.” He reached his arm around your waist and dragged you closer to him. “Would you like me to tell you in english? I know a little.”

Neteyam said something you didn’t understand. The language sounded so silly you couldn’t help but cover your mouth to hide your giggles.

“Should we get going? They should all be home now.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Neteya- oh, and yn?” Jake paused. “How are you, yn?”

The entire Sully clan, excluding Neteyam, were all seated around the cooking fire inside the marui. Jake and Neytiri parked up close to each other: Jake prepping fish for cooking and Neytiri wrapped then placed it above the fire in front of them.

Kiri and Tuk sat next to their mother. The older girl attempted to teach the youngest how to repair a torn Ilu saddle.

Lo’ak lay next to his father, apparently completely uninterested in whatever was happening around him, until the two of you entered together, after which he sat up looking infinitely intrigued.

Tucking your arms behind your back, you squeezed your hands together and mustered up a smile.

“I am well, thank you, Toruk Makto.”

Jake continued to de-bone the creature he was holding before speaking to you again, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

You glanced to Neteyam, the nervousness you had buried starting to resurface again. He took a deep breath and reached behind you, taking your hand tightly in his.

Neytiri, who hadn’t looked entirely phased by your presence, suddenly perked up. Her eyes fell onto your intertwined fingers and then back to your face. It felt as if your heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Actually, sir, there’s…something I want to tell you.” Neteyam’s voice had an uncharacteristic nervousness to it and you could feel the smallest shake in the hand that held yours.

The whole family froze, each with sightly different looks on their faces. Lo’ak looked like he was on the verge of hysterical laughter, Kiri had her own little smile while Tuk was ready to hang off of your every word.

“What is it, Neteyam?” Neytiri asked. She stood and Jake followed suit.

The grip on your hand tightened before Neteyam spoke, “Yn and I, we wish to be mated. Before Eywa.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the family before you reacted. Lo’ak, who had been quietly munching on his dinner, suddenly started to choke and thumped his fist against his chest in attempts to dislodge the obstruction.

Tuk and Kiri had the same reaction, shouting “What?!” at the same time. Tuk visibly more excited about the news, while Kiri looked like this was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

“My son, you are not yet a man.” Neytiri urged, slowly pacing towards her eldest.

“I have passed two of the three rites of passage of our clan! And now that we live amongst the reef people, I can complete the three by passing one of theirs!” The two of you had anticipated these concerns and had done your research on the matter. Since the Sully’s no longer lived among their own, the three tasks Neteyam had to complete to be welcomed into the Omaticaya as a man were no longer possible. It seemed only fitting that he finish of these tasks by overcoming the Metkayina’s last rite of passage that their men had to accomplish.

“Taking a mate is a serious thing, son.” Jake was now face to face with Neteyam. He had a stony look on his face. “I know you’re friends with yn, evidently a bit more than that, but this will be the person you spend the rest of your life with.”

Coming up beside her son, Neytiri put a hand on his shoulder. “Your father is right, Neteyam. These decisions cannot be rushed.”

By Eywa, you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Neteyam noticed your embarrassment and doubled down. “I know that, we know that! We have been talking about this for a long time and we’ve thought of everything.”

His father narrowed his eyes, he still didn’t look convinced, so you decided oh well, you already ready feel like you were in over your head, what’s a little more?

“If I may,” All eyes turned to you, “your son is the most caring, most passionate, and most mature man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is infinitely understanding and loves with all he has. I cannot speak on his behalf, but I trust in the decision I have made to have Neteyam as my mate.” Your words continued to get smaller and smaller as your felt their stares bore into you.

Silence filled the space, broken up by the soft sound of crashing waves and the chittering of stray Ilu.

Neytiri spoke first.

“This is truly what you want, my son?” The mother laced her hands with the sons free one.

“More than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life.”

A look was shared between Jake and Neytiri and their children stared on.

“Neteyam,” Jake sighed, “I give you my blessing to pursue your remaining rites of passage by the Metkayina.” His hand reached up and latched onto the back of Neteyam’s head, bringing it closer to his own.

“My son, I see you.”

Your partner’s lip quivers and his brows told upward, it is clear he is using everything in him not to cry.

“And you, yn.” Jake turned to you, bringing his hand up to his brow and then back down again. “I see you.”

You repeated his gesture and sniffed, emotions running very high. “I see you, Toruk Makto.”

Jake smiled. “No need for the formalities, not now that we’re family.”

The rest of that night was filled with light and laughter. With songs and delicious food. You couldn’t think of a better way to be welcomed into this beautiful family.

Your heart had never felt so full.

a/n: so we only know 2 of the Omaticaya’s rites of passage and judging from how Neteyam has a banshee, it’s safe to assume he had begun the process of becoming a man in the clan. I don’t know if he had done his dream hunt so i just said he had🤷‍♀️yeah this took so long because I did a chunk of words every few days💀 anyways until next time, bye :p

5K notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

A Family at Your Side

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!paramedic!fem!Buckley!reader

Summary: You, Evan Buckley's sister, are a paramedic with the 118. When you're called to a fire, it quickly becomes a crime scene when someone opens fire on you. Your boyfriend Tim Bradford and your fire station family have to work together to save you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, injuries (r is shot), depiction of arson/shooting, lots of teasing. [While r is Evan's sister, I don't put anything specific in here past some teasing, so it could be viewed as adoptive or some other relationship dynamic!]

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: I've only seen a few episodes of 911 (season 1), so I hope my characterization of them isn't completely terrible. I really like this dynamic though; it's so fun and complex!!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“There’s no escape,” you whisper under your breath, desperately wishing for some relief.

“Oh, c’mon, we’re not that bad,” Buck replies, knocking his fist against your shoulder. “We’re better than the cop.”

“In every way!” Hen adds, smiling at you. “Why you started dating him is one of the two things I will never understand about you.”

“What’s the other?” you ask.

“How you-“ she turns to point to Buck as she continues, “and him are related. He can’t shut up and you can’t make eye contact.”

“I got all the good genes,” Buck explains, smiling.

“Yet none of the smarts,” Hen argues, pressing her lips together as she tilts her head.

“Or looks,” Nash calls from his place in the kitchen. “Now if you’re done bothering her, can someone set the table?”

You stand to help, and Nash points a spatula at you as he says, “Not you. You do it all the time. Make your brother do something for once.”

“She has no power over me!” Buck yells dramatically. “I have leverage. Like that time she-“

Chimney hits the back of his head, telling him to stop, as your chin drops to your chest. The alarm goes off before you can wonder which embarrassing story he was planning to use, and as you rush to the ambulance with Hen, you’re glad Chimney stopped him. Their attention was bad enough without him divulging your personal information.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is a suspected arson, meets the MO of a few previous fires. We need that fire out before the police get here so they can get in,” Nash announces.

“Anyone inside?” Hen asks.

As Nash answers, someone screams in pain, and you look at Nash. He hesitates before nodding, and you grab your bag before running into the clear side of the duplex.

“Los Angeles Fire and Rescue,” you call. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yes! I need help!” a man yells from the back of the dwelling.

Rushing through, you radio to the rest of the 118 that you’re looking for an injured resident.

“We can’t get the fire under control,” Buck answers, his voice tight. “You need to get out of there.”

“I see him. Keep trying, Buck. Sir, are you injured?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers shakily. “I smelled the smoke and- and I have asthma, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, and I was scared to leave.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, sir. I’m a paramedic, so I’m going to get you out of here and then we’ll make sure your airways are clear. Do you understand?”

He nods but refuses when you gesture for him to stand.

“It’s on fire!” he argues.

“Sir, we have a clear track to the front door, but the fire will spread with the Santa Anas blowing outside, so we need to go now,” you explain.

Something crashes outside, and you pull the man to his feet.

“Get out of there! If I don’t see you in ten seconds, I’m coming in after you,” Buck radios.

“We’re coming, Buck,” you answer, pulling the man along.

More sirens become audible as you reach the door, the fire much closer to the front of the building. Several police cars approach, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The man stops, and you turn toward him quickly.

“Sir, we’re almost there,” you remind him, pointing to the ambulance.

“He’s still out here!”

“Who?” you ask, your voice quieting again as the adrenaline wears off.

“The man who set the fire!”

You freeze, a sudden cold rush contrasting the heat from the fire.

“Where is he?”

“I- I don’t know.”

A shot rings through the air, and you drop to the small porch, pulling the man behind the railing beside you. The fire is moving toward you, but with no idea of where that shot came from, you can’t move and risk your life and this man’s.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Everybody down!” Nash yells, ducking behind the truck.

“7-Adam-19, shots fired at my location. LAFD 118 and LAPD in need of backup, dispatch air support for possible sniper,” Tim calls, kneeling behind his shop before rushing to the fire truck.

“She’s still up there,” Buck calls, squatting behind the ambulance with Hen.

“Who?”

Buck and Nash look at each other and then Tim, and he immediately knows they’re talking about you.

“Backup is on the way, but we can’t do anything yet,” Tim explains.

“Bradford, the fire is spreading, we can’t stop it with this wind!” Nash adds.

“Or a sniper taking shots at us!” Buck yells. He drops his head to his radio to ask, “Sis, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“Bradford and Thorsen are here, they called for backup but we can’t do anything until-“

Another shot cuts him off, and you move back against the railing.

“Talk to me!” Buck yells into his receiver.

“I’m okay, Buck,” you reply quietly. “Our- uh- our guy passed out after working himself up, so…”

“He’s not our primary concern right now,” Buck responds.

“Careful,” you warn, your voice nearly inaudible.

“No, I happen to agree,” Nash adds to the conversation.

Tim pulls Chimney’s radio from his chest to say, “I do too. You take care of you, and we’ll worry about him when we can get up there.”

The radio stays quiet, and Tim looks around the end of the truck. He can’t see you, but knowing you’re out of sight and safe makes him feel better.

“Uh, Tim?” Aaron asks. “Eyes on our shooter.”

Tim turns quickly, looking up. He sees the end of the rifle, and when it lowers suddenly, he doesn’t think before yelling at you.

“Stay down!” he screams.

You drop lower, your face to the concrete as the shooter releases several rounds, making a line of bullet holes across the front of the duplex. The fire is moving slowly, but it’s still closing in on your hiding place.

The cold feeling hasn’t gone away, and as you look at the unconscious man at your side, you can only hope to make it out alive.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where is your backup?” Buck asks Tim, leaning forward to look past Hen.

“Still a minute out. Aaron and I are going to go through that building, find a way to the roof,” Tim answers.

“Be careful. We all care about the woman stuck back there,” Nash reminds him.

Aaron and Tim nod before moving between the shop and the fire truck, rushing to the main entrance and entering quietly.

“Go left, I’ll go right,” Tim whispers.

As they move up the stairs, Tim hears their backup and the airship approaching. He hopes that the shooter doesn’t do anything stupid when he sees the police and gestures for Aaron to go faster.

“LAPD, put the weapon down!” an officer demands over the speaker of the airship.

“Thorsen, go!” Tim yells, kicking the door open to walk onto the roof.

The man turns the rifle up, shooting toward the helicopter before it moves. Aaron and Tim approach from different sides, and when the gun suddenly drops and the man begins emptying his ammunition toward you, Tim doesn’t hesitate to shoot.

“7-Adam-19, suspect is down,” Aaron radios. “Tim, go get her.”

Nodding, Tim stands, rushing down the stairs and out into the road. The fire has worsened, and the 118 is still in place.

Evan sees Tim and clenches his jaw, stepping toward Tim to yell, “This is your fault! It’s all on you!”

Tim’s brows furrow, looking to Nash for more information.

“She’s, uh- she’s not responding to the radio calls, and we can’t get up there until we get part of the fire out, enough to get through with our gear,” Nash explains.

“You should have brought enough backup to begin with or gone up there sooner!” Buck continues.

“You think I don’t know that?” Tim snaps. “But she was already stuck when I got here, so work on getting to her and getting her safe, and then you can get mad at me!”

“And if it’s too late?” Buck demands, his chest heaving in anger.

Tim looks away, and Buck moves forward quickly, causing Nash and Chimney to lunge forward and hold him back.

“I’ll kill you if we’re too late!”

“Buck!” Tim yells, walking to him. “I know this is my fault and if she doesn’t make it, her blood is on my hands. I’m sorry, I really am, but there is nothing I can do now except keep people back so you can get this fire out and find out if- and make sure she is okay.”

Buck relaxes slightly, pushing Chimney and Nash off of him.

“Let’s get her out!” Nash calls, directing everyone to their positions.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you groans as you tug him further against the wall. You’re caged in against the fire, and you dropped your radio, watching it burn as you kept your head down.

When water sprays onto your face, a steady stream coming from the street, you force a smile, hoping to get out, get warm, and hug your brother and Tim for as long as you can before they make you shy away from them. You love them for it, you remember, reminding yourself to think happy thoughts.

“Where’s the ambulance?” the man slurs before coughing.

“Just a minute, sir, keep your head down and breathe.”

The fire is driven back by two hoses, and when several feet are clear on the side of the railing, people begin yelling.

“Sis! Can you hear me?” Buck asks loudly, appearing in his turnout gear a moment later.

“Get him to the ambulance,” you reply, standing shakily as he pulls the man over his shoulder.

You walk into the small yard, looking for Tim. The persistent cold feeling is just beginning to concern you, and when you grow dizzy and stop in the yard, you realize that something is wrong. Raising your hands to press against your stomach, you begin to run through a mental list of potential injuries.

“Hey, hey, gorgeous, c’mon, we got to get back,” Tim calls as he jogs to your side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, ducking away from his hands on your face.

“Good,” Tim replies, laying his hand on your upper back and directing you to the curb.

“You got lucky,” Buck grumbles, joining your other side across from Tim.

“We all did our jobs, Buck, she’s safe, just leave it,” Tim says lowly.

“No thanks to you!” Buck responds, stepping forward.

You recognize the look in his eyes, an anger he seems to reserve for you. Without thinking, you move a hand from your navel and push it against Buck’s chest to stop him. He and Tim look at your bloody hand before yelling your name as you tip back.

Buck catches you, lowering you onto the grass as he rips your shirt open.

“Hen!” he screams, a pained, guttural sound that draws the attention of the entire 118.

Hen sees you on the ground, unconscious between Buck and Tim, and rushes to you, her bag thrown over her shoulder.

“GSW,” she decides quickly, looking at your stomach, a mess of tattered fabric and blood. “Roll her over, carefully.”

Tim keeps his hands on your side, helping Buck tip you onto one side as Hen runs her hand down your spine.

“No exit wound, we need to go. Now.”

Leaning back, Tim gives Buck room to lift you, running to the ambulance as fast as possible.

“Are you coming?” he yells, raising his arms as he looks at Tim.

“Go!” Nash, Chimney, Aaron, and newly arrived Nolan yell.

Tim nods, rushing into the ambulance and sitting as it lurches into motion.

“I didn’t mean it,” Buck says, looking at you while he speaks to Tim. “It’s not your fault, but I can’t- I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t. We won’t,” Tim promises.

Hen works quickly, muttering under her breath about needing your help.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you open your eyes, you first notice the unmistakable feeling of someone looking at you and touching your side, a gentle touch as fingers drag up and down your skin.

“Is he okay?” you ask, blinking against the harsh light above you.

“The man from the duplex?” Buck asks. “Yeah, he’s fine. Had an asthma attack and then a few panic attacks, but he’s good. You- you got shot and didn’t tell anyone.”

Tipping your head down, you’re surprised he’s standing at the end of your bed. This means the fingers on your exposed side belong to…

“Tim,” you whisper, glancing at him.

“You scared us, baby,” he replies softly, spreading his warm hand over your skin.

He smiles when your muscles tense beneath him, but it quickly disappears when you groan in pain.

“I didn’t mean not to tell you,” you say quietly, pinching the blanket between your fingers. “I didn’t know I got shot.”

“That’s kinda- that’s pretty epic, really,” Buck says, laying his hand on your foot. “Makes a good party story.”

“I don’t go to parties,” you grumble.

“I mean for me,” he replies happily.

“Are you two fighting?” you ask, looking between them.

“No,” they answer together, both squeezing you reassuringly.

“We were scared and upset, didn’t have anywhere else to take it out,” Buck explains with a shrug. “He’s just lucky you stopped me from hitting him. I would’ve removed him from active duty for six weeks minimum.”

“You wish,” Tim scoffs.

“Stop,” you say, chuckling when they look shocked at your bold demand. “Please.”

“You were in surgery for a long time,” Tim tells you. “How’s your pain?”

“It’s fine, manageable. I mean, I can feel it now, but it’s not too bad.”

You glance down, your brows furrowing as you realize why you could feel Tim’s skin directly on yours.

“Wondering where your hospital gown is?” Tim asks, a smile you know all too well on his face. “I put in a special request.”

“Gross. That’s my sister,” Buck interjects. When you look at him with wide eyes, he sighs and fills you in: “They couldn’t get to your stomach well enough with one on. If you want to cover up, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, gently tugging the band of your sports bra down.

“More than okay,” Tim says, quiet enough that Buck can’t hear.

You look away quickly, and Buck makes a ‘tsk’ sound.

“The shooter is in custody,” Tim says, giving you a break from his ‘abuse.’

“Will I have to testify or anything?” you whisper.

“No,” Tim and Buck answer together.

Buck pulls his phone from his pocket, nodding before shaking your ankle, his hand still resting on you.

“I have to go, we’ve got a call, but when we’re done, everyone wants to come by,” he says.

You nod. “Be careful. I love you.”

“Love you, sis!”

Looking at Tim’s chest rather than his face, he takes the chance to tease you. “Maybe you should get a shirt before your team gets here.”

“Get out,” you mumble. “Or give me yours.”

“Whoa! You get shot once and become a whole new person.”

“Wasn’t worth it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Tim replies, taking your hand. “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything to keep it from happening.”

“’S not your fault.”

Turning your attention back to the blanket, Tim asks, “You get this shy with your patients?”

“No. But they’re not as pushy.”

“Hey,” Tim calls, using his hand to gently turn your chin toward him. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I love you, too. Thanks for being here through all of it.”

“Try to get rid of me.”

“I do. You never listen.”

Tim laughs, loud and happy, and you smile, turning your face into his arm where it holds your hand, glad he’s at your side, and you have a whole team, a family, to be with you through everything.

#tim bradford x reader #shy!reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #evan buckley #the rookie #911 abc #team shy!#fem!reader #requests

418 notes · View notes

sturniozo · 5 months

Text

Savage Love

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

Summary: After a night out with her friends, Y/n wakes up in a hotel bed with a handsome stranger with no memory of the night before. Pieceing together what she can, she finds the man she woke up with wasn’t just some stranger, but the most powerful man in New York.

A/N: I’m basing all of my mafia knowledge on watching the god father when I was six and that one episode of community with the chicken fingers. Other than that I have no clue how mafia works so this might not be as good as you hope but hey I tried. Tell me if you want me to continue this though! I had fun writing it!

Masterlist

I never go out with my friends and I felt bad about it for a long time. But today, Emma convinced me to go dancing with her at a club in New York. I’ve been in the city many times, as I live just outside of it, in a small apartment above a bookshop. But the city of New York still terrifies me, especially at night. There’s a rumor of a secret organization that controls just about everything in the city, and if you cross the man at the top then you’re done for.

Of course, these are just rumors and haven’t actually been proven. I have nothing to fear, right?

Now I’m sitting in front of Emma’s vanity mirror getting ready as she does my hair.

“Oh you should totally wear it down! Curl it a bit, let it hang over your shoulders. You might hook up tonight, you never know.” Emma teases as she messes with my hair. I finish curling my lashes and then turn to her.

“I don’t think I’ll hook up at all. I’m just not the type.” I shrug and stand up, switching places with Emma as she sits in front of her vanity mirror to do her own makeup.

“Well, I am the type.” She says as she starts with contour. I walk into the bathroom and plug in the curling iron to heat it up.

“You can hook up with any guy you want.” I say to Emma. “Just make sure he wraps it. I don’t want to be an aunt so soon.” I laugh.

Emma and I have been best friends since fourth grade. She’s my polar opposite, although we have the same dreams. We’re both journalists writing for a small newspaper outlet right outside of New York.

Emma’s the type to do things we’re doing now almost every day. She always tells me about all the big parties and exclusive events and venues she’s attended. She’s talk to, and slept with, many of the biggest people in multiple industries to get information for her articles.

I take a different approach. My stories come from the smaller people. The homeless and the struggling. I try to bring attention to the lower class of America.

I bet you can guess whose stories get published. Hence why I live in a small apartment above a bookshop, and Emma has a penthouse.

“God, I know. I can’t handle having a baby now. I’m only 20 for Pete’s sake!” Emma laughs and sets down her makeup brush. She turns to me and says “But I need to sleep with someone big and important tonight. I’m dying here, I haven had a story published in almost two weeks!”

I sigh. Two weeks is nothing. Try five months. I’m basically just a consultant at this point.

Emma turns back to the mirror to finish her makeup. I check the curling iron and it’s nice and hot, so I begin to curl the ends of my hair. Just a little curly at the edge.

Emma gets up from the mirror and starts shutting off lights and electronics around her penthouse. I unplug the curling iron and walk into the front room to put on my shoes and grab my purse. Emma shut off the last light and we walk out of the penthouse. She locks the door and we get into the elevator, going down to the front desk.

Emma has an Uber waiting for us. The great thing about Emma is, no matter how much more she has than me, she always gives and never asks for any in return. It’s always been this way. She’s the sweetest friend I’ve ever had. She’s also the most ruthless journalist I’ve ever met.

We get into the Uber and the driver starts for the city. It’s a long drive, one that me and Emma use to our advantage and try to find out who’s the most important person attending the party.

“Oh my god!” Emma says after a long silence of us just looking at our phones.

“What is it, who will be there?” I ask frantically.

“Matt Sturniolo!”

I look at her, confused. “Who’s that?”

“Who’s that? WHO’S THAT? Matt Sturniolo is only the most powerful guy in New York!”

“That can’t be true, how come I’ve never heard of him?”

“Because you focus on who can help the lower class. He can’t help them, it’s not in his power.”

“Then he doesn’t have much power.”

“Oh, he has power. He has all the power. It’s his rumor that he’s the one who controls all the important somebody’s in New York. I gotta make it my mission to sleep with him. God, I bet he’s good in bed.” She says to herself.

I let out a laugh. “What story do you plan together by sleeping with him?”

“I want to know if the rumor is true, duh!” She laughs and lightly hits my shoulder.

We arrive at the venue. It’s large and the music is blaring. We step out of the car and I lean to Emma and say loudly so she can hear me over the music “The most powerful man in New York is gonna be here?” I laugh. “This doesn’t look like a scene you’d catch someone so important in.”

“Trust me, he’ll be here. Steph said so, and she’s always right!” Emma says back. She takes my hand and drags me through the line, showing the bouncer a VIP pass for both her and I. They let us in and Emma immediately drags me to the bar.

“Two vodka martinis!” She says to the bartender. The bartender nods and begins our drinks. I turn around to look at all the people dancing. Men in half dressed suits grinding on women in the shortest dresses. This is what Emma does every day? I understand the appeal, but the loud music and the flashing lights just aren’t for me.

We get our drinks and Emma takes me to a table to sit down at. “So what do we do now?” I ask.

“We mingle!” She shouts and raises her hands in the air.

The rest of the night that I can still remember was filled with drinking and Emma talking to numerous people, always asking about the guy who’s name I can no longer remember due to my copious consumption of alcohol. The last thing I remember was talking to a tall, handsome, dark haired man with beautiful light blue eyes.

I awake with a pounding headache. I raise my head from my pillow and slowly open my eyes, groaning from the pain. I look around and realize, this is not my bedroom. This is not Emma’s bedroom. I have no clue where I am. I scan the room and my eyes fall on a strange man sitting on the couch. I gasp and he looks up at me.

“Good, you’re awake. I was wondering if I’d have to drop you at the emergency room.” He laughs to himself.

I sit up fully in the bed. “Who are you? Where am I?” I ask frantically.

“My names Matt, and-“ I stop him

“Oh my god.”

“It’s fine just-“

“Oh god what happened?”

“Nothing, I-“

“I was drunk!”

“I know, that’s why I-“

“Tell me I didn’t. We didn’t.”

“Would you let me fucking speak?” He yells. “I didn’t fucking touch you, okay? You were dancing on a table and your friend had gone home with some guy so I got you a hotel room. You could barely stand and you just passed out on the bed.” He finishes with a huff.

I stare up at him in shock. “So we didn’t”

“No. We didn’t.” He pauses. “But we could.” He says with a smirk.

A blush appears on my cheeks and my breath shakes “What?” I ask

“Well you’re an attractive girl, I wouldn’t mind it.” He laughs. “But I have a meeting in an hour, so it’ll have to be another time. Want my number while you think about it?” He asks and before I can answer he hands me a card. “I got an Uber waiting for you whenever you’re ready to go home, it’s already paid for. Just do whatever you need to before you leave.” He says, clearly insisting I shower and eat. “And tell the driver where you need to go. Don’t forget to call, doll face.” He says before leaving and closing the door behind him.

I look down at the card he had handed me.

‘Matt Sturniolo.’ With an address and phone number.

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover (the one who came up with the idea for Mafia!Matt) @sturniolobessed

328 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 28 days

Text

The Happiest Day

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I can't believe @polyacotarweek is almost over. I know I'm late for celebration but I wanted to make sure I got out what I wnated to say. I wrote this one because I've never really liked my birthday but in the last few years I've started to enjoy celebrating. I didn't have anyone I liked celebrating with (minus my immediate fam) until college. When people really love you and want to celebrate with you that's what makes the day special in my opinion.

Warnings: none

Another year another century started for you. Today marks your 400th year and Cauldron did you not want to celebrate. Not that you didn’t like your birthday. Quite the opposite actually. You love having a day where you get to do all the things you love. But when it’s just you.

At some point in your youth your family started celebrating multiple birthdays together. The day no longer felt special. When you were old enough you started doing your own thing.

Having a calm afternoon to yourself, treating yourself to nice things just felt right. Of course that semi-stopped when you met your mates. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel always made you feel special and your birthday was no exception.

Stretching and rolling around the soft sheets you reach out for your mates only to be met with their cold pillows. Your fingers brushed over a note against Rhys’s spot. Your name was written in his elegant handwriting on the outside. Opening the parchment it read, Happy Birthday darling! We’re sorry we aren’t there to kiss you and hold you on our favorite day but you will see why later. We love you very much y/n. Enjoy breakfast in bed.

Putting the note down on the bedside table a tray appeared. A small vase with Evening Primrose sat in the corner. Chocolate croissants, fruit, toast, and bacon were laid out on beautiful blue and white plates.

You decided to enjoy breakfast, choosing not to dwell on the giant party your mates are putting together for you.

��

Mor knew exactly where to find her cousin this morning. Entering the grand ballroom of the House of Wind Mor weaved between fae carrying large flower arrangements and party decor. She shook her head, blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders.

Rifling through the stack of papers in her hand she picks out the one Rhys needs to sign. Looking around the room Mor spots Rhys in the middle with the party planner. He was pointing animatedly as Cass and Az lifted the heavy stuff for the decorators. Mor cleared her throat once she was behind her cousin making him slightly jump.

Once he faced her, Mor gave Rhys a shit eating grin. “Excuse us, I just need the High Lord a moment.” The party planner gave a bow of her head, scurrying off to go perfect something else. “Cousin,” Rhys sighed, “what can I do for you, I am very busy.” Mor hands him the papers and a pen for his signature. As Rhys read through them Mor looked around the ballroom, truly taking in the lengths the males will go to celebrate you.

Mor’s brows furrowed as she thought back to your last wine night. If she recalled correctly you hated celebrating your birthday with a huge party. “Here,” Rhys shoved the papers back into her arms. Rhys began to walk to the banquet table and Mor followed. “Does y/n like these parties? All seems a bit, ya know…much.”

Rhys stops dead in his tracks slowly turning to face his cousin again. “Of course she likes the parties. Why would you ask that?” Mor’s eyes go wide along with that stupid smile she’s still wearing. “Oh, you have no clue do you.”

Cass and Az have now joined the conversation. Confused looks pull at their features which are bringing Mor so much joy. The males look at each other, having a silent conversation. “Mother above you three are thick in the head.” Cassian waves his hands urging Mor to tell them. To stop teasing them with this secret information she’s holding over their heads.

“She doesn’t like big parties. Have you ever wondered where she goes during the day on her birthday? Why has she only asked for a party with the family?” Their faces drop as the realization hits them like a ton of bricks. “Excuse me,” Rhys murmurs, quickly turning on his heel to tell the party planner to stop everything. Mor let out a triumphant hum, leaving the other two glued to the floor.

—

On your way to the kitchen you found the house oddly quiet. Usually you could hear the hustle and bustle from the ballroom. People hurrying through the kitchen and foyer, cooking and setting up decorations for the party Rhys insists on throwing you every year. But nothing. Odd for eleven in the morning.

Normally you take the day to yourself to mentally prepare for the large party in the evening. You never liked big events or being the center of attention. It was never fun to be used by your people as a reason to climb a social ladder or gorg themselves on food and alcohol Rhys provided.

Not that you would ever tell your mates this but you have shed a few tears after putting on your gown. Eventually you pull yourself together. Putting on a smile to look ready to celebrate.

Shyly poking your head in the kitchen you find it empty. Your brow furrows as you place the breakfast tray in the sink. “Rhys,” you reach out to him in your mind. “Yes, darling.” His voice a purr in your head. “Where is everyone?” “We’re waiting for you in the living room.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You smirked, something told you your mates are up to something.

You found them in various states of excited and nervous. Cassian was pacing while Rhys and Azriel sit in large arm chairs conversing quietly. Clearing your throat the three perk up, smiles plastered on their lips. Cassian made it to you first, pulling you into a bone crushing hug, “Happy birthday, sweet pea.” He pulls away from you to kiss all over your face leaving you giggling.

Azriel pulled you to his chest next then into a searing kiss. “Happy birthday, princess. How was your breakfast?” “Delicious.”

Rhys held your hands, resting his forehead against yours, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “You look like you want to ask something, darling.” You exhale a little. Not wanting to seem greedy but you needed to know. “No, I was just expecting the house to seem…busier.”

Rhys hummed, “Yes, you have Mor to thank for that.” Your cheeks turn red from the shame of your friend speaking up for you. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel asked softly. Letting out a sigh you look down to avoid eye contact. “You seemed so happy having the party and I didn’t want to upset you.” After a few long moments of silence you feel Cassian’s hands gently grip your chin, tilting your head to look at them. Frowns replacing their smiles.

“You could never upset us y/n.” Smiling at them you feel happy tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mates pull you into a group hug, sending pulses of love down the bond. Letting go Cass ruffles your hair. "No more tears today." He says.

"We have the whole day planned," Rhys starts, "we're going to go to all your favorite shops and then have a nice relaxing night in. Az will cook dinner and we can do whatever you want." Your face lights up at the thought of having your mates with you, doing your favorite things on your day is all you've wanted.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #poly!batboys #poly!batboys x reader #poly!batboys x you #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d5

352 notes · View notes

whatthetumblfck · 9 months

Text

I Was Born Ready

Summary: You're kidnapped on a mission gone wrong and it only gets worse. You eventually escape, but will Bucky and the team see you the same way?

Word Count: 6517

Warnings: swearing, some injuries, angst, whump

Content: Bucky x reader, Y/N, Avengers, whump, kidnapping. All of my fics are self-indulgent.

Please don't claim my work as your own, but feel free to reblog.

You wiped the sweat from your brow. As far as you could tell, it had been 5, maybe 6, days since you were taken. You knew what HYDRA were doing. They were trying to break you. You adjusted your legs and shifted your weight in the dark, cramped space. For the last several hours, you had been locked in some sort of box, just big enough to crouch or sit with crossed legs. It was hot as hell and you’d been sweating profusely, wondering how much longer you would last before passing out from dehydration or dying from heat stroke. But you tried not to worry about it. They will come for you soon. He will come for you. You just need to hang on a little while longer.

A few more hours had passed, and the heat was suffocating. What little strength you had left was dwindling. You rested your head against the wall of the enclosure and closed your eyes, fighting the nauseating dizziness that threatened to overcome you. The rattling of chains caught your attention. It seemed like the sound was getting closer. It was then you realized you had drifted- asleep? Unconscious? You weren’t sure, but you fought like hell to focus your attention on what was happening right outside your tiny prison. Suddenly, there was a sharp creak of metal and cool light flooded the box. You squinted your eyes, desperate to see what was going on.

“Get up!” a harsh voice demanded.

Your body shook as you tried to stand, but it was no use. You were too weak and dehydrated.

“GET UP!” they shouted angrily, as if that would provide the strength needed to undo the last several hours of torture.

Instead, your body gave up completely and you slumped inside the box. The next thing you registered was the sensation of a cool breeze on your face and the tops of your feet scraping along concrete as they dragged you by your arms back to your cell.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“The fuck you mean it’s abandoned?” you whispered.

“I mean, I’m not picking up any heat signatures inside the building,” Sam clarified, adjusting Redwing’s controls just to be sure.

Bucky lowered his chin, smiling to himself. He knew you were always looking forward to a fight.

“All right, until we clear it, we’re going to proceed with caution,” Steve began, “Y/N and Bucky, you’re going to enter the south side of the building. Sam and I will cover the north entrance. Position Redwing on the east to detect movement from the access road. Once it’s clear, we set the charges and evacuate.”

You stole a sideways glance at Bucky and tried to hide your excited smile. You loved working with Bucky; you consider him to be your best friend. You felt like there might even be more there too. But you never pushed him. If being friends was all he wanted, then you would be happy with that. Bucky was mostly quiet and reserved, but sometimes he would open up to you, tell you about his life before the war. Sometimes, but very rarely, he would reveal the horrors HYDRA inflicted upon him. You couldn’t respond; only listen in sickened contempt. Your hatred for them became personal because of what they put him through, but you also began to piece together how they operate, their torture methods, and their twisted thought processes. You filed away this information little by little, to use against them and one day, take them down. It became your personal mission, why you were so eager to take on HYDRA related missions, and so disappointed when they turned out to be flops.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an elbow gently nudging your arm. “You ready?” Bucky said as your eyes met his.

“I was born ready,” you replied, smugly.

Bucky smiled at your enthusiasm, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was tired of fighting, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch HYDRA burn to the ground. Having you fight beside him, though, was a double-edged sword. He enjoyed your company more than he let on, but he also worried for your safety. He always asked Steve to pair you two together as much as possible on missions (so he could keep an eye on you), and he always received a knowing look in return. You were one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, but you could also be impulsive. Most of the time, you managed to compensate for this flaw and come out on top in the fight, but there have been quite a few close calls. Too close for Bucky’s comfort, even if you insisted you had everything under control.

“After you then,” Bucky said, gesturing to the south entrance.

“Such a gentleman,” you flirted, even though your tone was a bit condescending. You didn’t miss the fact that Bucky liked to keep an eye on you. It was obvious, the way he stuck by your side for every mission. It was sweet, but completely unnecessary.

Entering the building was uneventful. As you looked around, you took note of all the dust and debris, the result of what must have been years of no use. Maybe Sam was right, it must be abandoned. What a waste of time. You continued your sweep, clearing each derelict room.

“Second and third floors are clear,” Sam’s voice sounded in your comm.

“Well, aren’t you an over-achiever?” you responded mockingly.

“Y/N, Buck. What’s your status?” Steve asked, attempting to maintain professionalism on the mission. Captain Steve didn’t know how to have fun. Killjoy.

“First floor is clear, heading to the basement now,” Bucky reported, shooting you a ‘behave yourself’ look. You stuck your tongue out at him and ran for the stairwell.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Come on! There’s nothing here. Let’s clear this moldy-ass basement so we can blow it up and get home. I’m starving!” you announced.

Bucky caught up with you and roughly grabbed your elbow to pull you back.

“We need to be careful. This is HYDRA we’re dealing with. You need to take this seriously.”

You ripped your arm from his grasp, offended he would be so rough with you. “This isn’t HYDRA. This isn’t anything. There’s literally nothing here.”

Bucky schooled his expression. He didn’t want to be angry with you, but your recklessness could put everyone in danger. He let out a frustrated sigh, putting his hands on your shoulders and lowering his head to look into your eyes.

“Will you please be more careful? For me?”

You were momentarily stunned by the soft cadence of his voice. But quickly regathered your thoughts.

“Bucky, I am being careful. You need to lighten up.” You shrugged out of his grasp and turned back to the stairwell.

What is with everyone today? The super-soldiers are being super-serious. Even Sam seems like a stick in the mud, definitely not his usual, talkative self. Did you do something to offend them? You thought about the events of the last few days and couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary. Definitely nothing that would explain what everyone’s problem is.

You glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky a few paces behind you as you descended the last of the stairs and reached the basement.

“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but this looks even more abandoned than the first floor,” you said giving Bucky a pointed look.

“Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.” Bucky gently brushed past you to take the lead, advancing down the corridor. He had an uneasy feeling he just couldn’t shake.

“Suspicious?” you remarked sarcastically. “This whole mission is suspicious. What are we fighting here? The cobwebs? The ridiculous amount of dust?” You pushed past Bucky to take the lead again, but when you glanced back, you realized he had stopped. He was looking at you with wide eyes; his expression, one you didn’t recognize.

“What? What is it?” you asked, concern growing in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re right. Nothing about this is right. There’s too much dust. Our source indicated there was activity here less than a year ago. It shouldn’t look like this.”

You looked around nervously. “Maybe the source was wrong.”

“Not likely…”

Unexpected static in the comms made you jump. You could hear Steve’s voice, but it kept breaking up and you couldn’t understand what he was saying until you made something out very clearly that made your blood run cold.

Pull back……’s a trap…--t out…ABORT!

Your eyes locked with Bucky’s. You froze. He was standing about 10 feet from you when you both registered a rapid clicking noise, like a sped-up clock.

“RUN!!” You heard him yell just before the explosion.

The wall behind you erupted, sending you several yards through the air until you collided with the ground. You could feel the heat and unbearable pressure on your back as you lay prone in the ruins. Dust swirled around you. After several moments of trying to remember how to breathe again and process what the hell had just happened, you remembered that Bucky was with you. You glanced over in his direction, but all you could see was a literal wall of rubble, fire, and smoke. You struggled to focus your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were forming. Damn, that hurt.

Distantly, you could hear someone calling your name.

“Buck--,” your voice was cut off by a coughing fit as the dust invaded your lungs. “Bucky…” you tried again.

“Y/N?” he sounded closer. You could hear movement, crumbling concrete. “Are you hurt?”

It was at this point, you realized you should probably take a moment to figure out the damage.

“Y/N??” his voice sounded more concerned, more urgent. You weren’t sure how long you had taken to respond.

“Uhh…I….I think I’m okay……I can’t move. I think…ahh…there’s something on my back,” you choked out.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’re coming to get you. Just..hang on, okay? Hang on.”

Hearing this made you relax. Getting blown up was exhausting. You were certain you were going to hear about this later. About how you should have listened to Bucky, been more careful, taken the mission more seriously. You closed your eyes, trying to reserve your strength. You would need it to climb out of this burning hole in the ground.

After a few minutes, you felt the pressure on your back lessen. That was fast. You opened your eyes and tried to focus on Bucky’s face, but then you heard his voice from behind the burning wall of concrete. Confused, you concentrated your attention on the blurry figure standing before you. HYDRA. You gathered all your strength, trying to fight, but you couldn’t get a single hit in before a blow to your face rendered you unconscious.

Bucky heard footsteps and scraping rocks on the other side of the barrier. He had finally managed to make a dent in the rubble just large enough to see through. To see you being dragged away by HYDRA.

“NOOOO!” Bucky frantically slammed his metal fist into the rubble, trying to break through, but it was no use. He couldn’t get to you in time. He watched as you disappeared into the dust and smoke.

You were freezing. Another week had passed, maybe two. You weren’t sure. It was the same thing. Over and over. Freezing to the point you couldn’t move or think. Then they would throw you in the box again until you passed out from the heat. You didn’t even know what they wanted. They didn’t ask you anything, barely said three words to you. Wouldn’t answer any of your questions. How the hell did they expect to get information out of you if they didn’t fucking ask you anything? Idiots. You’d be glad to give them as much false information as you could muster.

You were frustrated. Frustrated with this pointless torture and frustrated that no one had broken you out of this shithole yet. What was taking so long?

The next day was new. This time a man in a lab coat came into your cell. Based on the history of everything you have come to know about HYDRA, the lab coat is not a good sign. He peered down at you where you sat against the cold, concrete wall.

“She’s ready,” he practically drooled with excitement. Disgusting.

Two oversized goons entered your cell and brought you to your feet as another ganglier looking goon wheeled in a stretcher. Your stomach dropped. Not good. This is not good. You tried not to let anxiety and fear get the best of you. You’ve endured the heat, the cold, the physical pain and the repulsive goop they fed you, but this was new, and you had no idea what they had planned.

“No. No no no. What are you doing?” You kicked and fought weakly as they strapped you down. You were unable to move.

Lab coat leaned in close to your face. You could smell the wicked stench rolling out of his mouth.

He simply answered, “Phase two.”

……..

“What do you want? You’ve been torturing me for weeks and haven’t asked me a damn thing! Do you even know how this works? No? Must have missed that day in torture 101.”

The lab coat stopped what he was doing and turned to face you. Amusement and almost pity plastered on his face.

“My dear. I haven’t been torturing you. I’ve been preparing you.”

…………

The first injection must have been a sedative and, for that, you were thankful. Your vision became blurry and all your muscles relaxed at once. You could’ve almost fallen asleep. Until the second injection. At first, it was cold, like ice running through your veins. Starting in your arm and flowing through your chest before settling in the rest of your limbs. It was enough to make you shiver and shake uncontrollably. With the last injection came the unbearable heat. It spread through you like wildfire, burning through the sedative and blistering your nerves. It coursed through your body, the agonizing flames filling your skull, threatening to split it open. It was too much. Unbearable. You thrashed your arms and legs beneath the restraints, screaming until you went hoarse. Nothing you did relieved the pain, the burning. You were left alone in your misery, knowing nothing but the searing pain in your head, threatening to end your life. You hoped it would.

Then, it stopped. You thought maybe death had finally taken you and you felt sadness, for Bucky. For the team. But you were back in your cell. This couldn’t be death. Death isn’t this cruel.

You rolled on your side and slowly sat upright, fighting off the dizziness. You felt horrible, like you should be dead, but at least the pain had subsided. You experimentally staggered to the door of your cell and peered through the slot. It was eerily silent. Still, you waited to see if anyone approached. They almost always did when you awoke to send you for another round of torture…or wait. What did he say? They were preparing you..for what? The injections, ice and fire, the pain, all came flooding back to you. What did they do? Your breaths came faster. You had to get out of there. Fear and panic were in control now. You pushed and pulled at the door feverishly, and to your surprise, the door opened. Worried this was another trap, you stepped back, but no one came. What the fuck?

You left your cell and made your way down the hallway, searching for the exit or at the very least, a weapon. The building was completely cleaned out. They left you there, their experiment. Did they think you were dead? Or just a failure? You didn’t feel any different. Those HYDRA morons must have been bigger fucking idiots than you gave them credit for. Still, you weren’t going to stick around. When you finally made it out of the building, you realized you actually recognized the area. You weren’t that far from the compound. It made you sick to think you were only 10 or so miles from home this whole time, and still, they couldn’t find you. HYDRA could have practically walked up and rang the front doorbell, and the team would have had no idea.

It was cold outside and you were dressed only in a thin gown. You walked for hours, determined to make it home. You had no way of contacting anyone. You were surrounded by a few trees and fields of nothing. The final yards leading up to the compound were grueling. You were exhausted. Your feet bled and your legs shook with the effort.

It was early evening, you guessed, when you painfully stumbled into the common room, where Steve, Bucky and Sam all sat, attention focused on various maps and blueprints laid out before them. Steve saw you first, eyes staring and mouth hanging open. It would have been humorous had you not just been through hell and back. Bucky stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Steve’s expression and turned his head to see what Steve was staring at.

“Y/N??” Bucky couldn’t believe it. His eyes ran over your battered form, watching your whole body shake with fatigue.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.

But this was all you could handle. You were suddenly dizzy, the room had started to spin and you dropped to your knees as Bucky ran towards you.

“Oh God! Call Dr. Cho!” Bucky ordered, but Sam was already on it.

You collapsed into Bucky’s arms and saw Steve running toward you. Bucky’s alarmed face was the last thing you saw before your eyes involuntarily closed.

When you awoke the next day, you were alone in the med bay. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to force out the lingering headache. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and were about to remove your IV when Bucky walked into your room.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said as he approached you cautiously. “How are you feeling?”

“Um..really..hungover,” you cracked a smile trying to break the tension. “How long was I out?”

Bucky looked at his watch before responding, “About 23 hours.”

“Oh shit. New record.”

Bucky looked nervous. “We looked everywhere..”

“Not everywhere,” you retorted, sounding more bitter than you intended.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Well…that makes two of us.” Your eyes stayed trained on the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You spent weeks dreaming about seeing him again, and now you couldn’t even look at him. Why? Were you that angry that they couldn’t find you? They were obviously looking.

Bucky sensed that maybe this wasn’t the best time to broach the subject, so he changed it.

“So..uh…they want to do a debriefing on what happened as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”

You faltered. You didn’t want to talk about it, relive it. Especially so soon. But you’d rather get it over with so you can move on with your life. Put the whole ordeal behind you.

You looked down at the IV in your arm before ripping it out, the blood beginning to trickle down to your palm.

“Doll—what are you doing?” Bucky lunged toward you, grabbing gauze off the bedside table to apply pressure to the site.

You grabbed the gauze and took over applying pressure.

“I’m about to change my clothes,” you began glancing around the room before finding some in a bag below the bed, “so unless you want to see me naked, you can turn around.”

Bucky paused, mouth opening slightly before regaining his composure and turning to face away from you. You caught him off guard, which is honestly, something you’ve never seen happen.

You were a little disappointed. Maybe you’d been reading him wrong, and he doesn’t see you that way. Or maybe he’s just being a gentleman. This isn’t exactly the best time to explore your feelings for one another. Still, it stung.

………………………..

You sat at the table, nervously glancing at all the faces in the room. Fury, Tony, Steve, and Sam all had their eyes on you. Everyone except Bucky. He stood in the corner, holding his gaze to the floor. He looked more nervous than you felt. Weird.

They asked their usual questions, and you answered as best you could. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to go into extensive detail. You trusted these men with your life, but it was starting to feel less like a debriefing and more like an interrogation.

“…and you’re sure that’s all you remember?” Fury asked again.

You looked around the room again, each set of eyes seeming frustrated. Expecting more information than what you’ve provided for the last 2 hours. This was exhausting. A familiar headache was building behind your eyes, and you were beyond done with this.

When you didn’t answer right away, Tony asked another question. “They just let you walk away?” You could hear the blatant skepticism.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Tears were starting to fill your eyes. Damnit! This is not how you thought this would go, but you were feeling pressured, overwhelmed. “They tortured me! For weeks! The same damn thing. Over and over and over again! And I don’t know---maybe they thought I was DEAD!” You choked on a sob; tears streaming down your face now.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bucky interjected, seemingly ending the questioning.

You quickly stood from your seat and rushed out of the room.

They all exchanged glances and Bucky lingered there silently for a moment before following you.

When he reached your room in the compound, he knocked, but you didn’t answer.

“Doll. It’s me. Can I come in?”

Again, you didn’t answer. He could hear your quiet cries. He tried the handle, but you had locked the door.

“Can you unlock the door, please?”

“Go away, Bucky,” you said, softly. You didn’t need to yell. You knew he could hear you.

“Come on. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” With that, he could hear you moving towards the door.

You angrily flung the door open, surprising Bucky and forcing him to take a step back. Your hair was disheveled, eyes red and still wet with tears.

“Do I look fucking okay to you!?!?” Bucky looked into your eyes, not knowing what to say.

“HYDRA imprisoned me, practically in our own fucking backyard and still no one came for me!”

“Y/N, I swear to you, we never stopped looking—”

“And as soon as I fight my way back here, you all grill me for information, like it was my fucking idea to get captured?”

“Doll, no one thinks this was—”

“I waited for—aagh—” the pain in your head suddenly flared. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the skin between them. Your discomfort was evident.

“Hey, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s worried eyes searched your face for answers.

You tried to recover, to push the pain aside.

“I waited for you—AAGH” the pain peaked. The same blistering heat threatening to end you, keeled you over.

With your shaking hands on your knees, you could feel Bucky move to your side. His arms wrapped around your waist to support you.

“Doll, what’s going on? Answer me. Please!”

But you couldn’t answer him. You were back on that stretcher. A prisoner, again. All you knew was the burning pain. Maybe this time, it would spare you the torment and claim your life.

“SOMEBODY HELP! I NEED HELP!” Bucky’s voice sounded far away.

The fire swirled in your skull and bile burned the back of your throat. You lurched forward, fell to your knees, and vomited on the floor. Everything was suddenly black, then nothing.

You awoke once more, alone, in the med bay. Well, not completely alone. You could hear talking, whispers. Just outside your door.

There’s something she’s not telling me. But I’m not going to try to force answers out of her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I’m just going to be her friend. That’s what she really needs right now.

Just a friend? You felt the blanket of disappointment weigh on you again. You were pulled from your thoughts when Bucky opened the door.

You kept your eyes on him as he carefully entered the room.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Huh?”

“Who were you talking to just now?” You tried not to sound like you were accusing him, but you didn’t like being talked about behind your back.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Bucky shook his head, seeming to be genuinely confused.

Great. Now Bucky was lying to you. Some friend he’s trying to be. Even with him literally by your side, you were suddenly feeling very alone. No one trusted you. They think you’re hiding something. Truth be told, you are hiding something. You never told them about the injections, how the torture was actually “preparations”. You even left out the creepy lab guy coat because you were afraid. Afraid if they found out what really happened, that you were an experiment, they wouldn’t look at you the same way. You were afraid you would lose their hard-earned respect, your place on the team. You couldn’t risk it.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The pain? Passing out?” Bucky pressed, becoming serious. This felt like an interrogation again.

“Oh…it was just a headache,” you offered. Were you honestly expecting them not to ask?

“That’s bullshit. What happened to you? What did they do?” He seemed desperate and angry and you were becoming more and more guarded.

“I thought you weren’t going to force answers out of me.” You threw his words back in his face.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“What did you say just now?”

You were out of patience and just wanted to be alone. “Nothing. Please leave.”

Bucky stared at you, disbelieving, before turning his back on you and walking out the door.

A single tear slipped down your cheek. What the hell happened? Everything was fine. You were on a mission, business as usual, and then you were captured and tortured. You miraculously make it back home and suddenly, everyone is against you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Why is everyone acting like you’re at fault? Your thoughts are becoming louder in your head, circling frantically and building tension. You clench your teeth, trying to hold in a scream, but you can feel an energy building inside you. You pull your knees to your chest, struggling to contain it. Your clenched fists pound at your temples. You don’t know what’s happening; you feel out of control, about to spill over. Explode.

Suddenly, you lose control, letting out an ear-piercing scream, releasing a force you had never felt before. All at once, glass bottles and cabinets shatter, the reinforced windows in your room crack. Furniture is thrown chaotically. Everything is broken, in a frightening disarray, and you’re left sitting in the ruins of what once felt like a safe place.

You tried to catch your breath, eyes darting around the room, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

Oh, God. Oh, God. What did HYDRA do to you? What have you done? You needed to get out of there. Now. You jump to your feet, grab your clothes, and run. You shove past S.H.I.E.L.D. employees in the hallways, their thoughts intruding and overlapping with your own. It took you a moment to realize what it was, what you were doing: unintentionally hearing their thoughts. You have to get away, get out. It’s too loud. You’re still running when you hear more familiar voices, but these aren’t in your head.

You can hear Bucky, Steve and Sam talking about what they found at the base where you were kept. Empty syringes. Medical equipment. Partially encrypted files describing some kind of experiment. They know—how could they not? Have they known this whole time?

“I don’t know what they did to her. She won’t tell me, but…she’s different.” Bucky spoke quietly.

Different? Is that how he saw you now? Is that why he’d been acting so strangely since you got back?

“Look man,” Sam reasoned, “she’s been through a lot. It would be weird if she wasn’t acting differently.”

“Still, if they did do whatever this experiment is on her, we don’t know what the outcome is…If she’s still herself, or even on our side,” Steve added.

Your heart dropped. You already felt like they didn’t trust you, which was bad enough, but now they’re against you? You waited for Bucky to defend you. He knows you better than anyone, but his silence spoke volumes. You thought Bucky, of all people, would understand what you’d been through. That you would never turn on them. You really were all alone in this. You felt the fear and uncertainty pouring out of the room.

Then, an unfamiliar voice on the intercom startled you.

Code Gray- Med Room 4. Code Gray- Med Room 4.

Shit. That was your room. Then the alarm started blaring and you ran. When did you become the enemy? How did this happen? You’re not part of HYDRA. You’re the victim. You managed to get out of the compound without anyone else seeing you. But you had no idea where to go from there.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam rushed to your med room. They stood there in disbelief, taking in the scene. It looks like a bomb went off.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“We’re not sure, sir. We, uh, heard a scream and when we got here, the room was empty,” a nurse answered.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked, growing impatient.

“We don’t know, I’m sorry,” the nurse responded before quicky leaving the room.

Steve and Sam exchanged looks. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair.

“Buck….”

“No.”

“We need to consider all the facts, here.”

“No, Steve! She wouldn’t do this. She’s not HYDRA.”

“Dude, she was missing for weeks and then just waltzed through the front door? That doesn’t seem odd to you?” Sam added.

“She didn’t waltz, Sam. She could barely walk, then she collapsed,” Bucky defended.

“So you think they just let her go? When the hell has HYDRA ever just let anybody go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Her story isn’t adding up, Buck.”

“They did something to her, she’s different. I just don’t know why she’d hiding it.”

“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling us?” Steve questioned.

“I think….whatever they did to her, worked. I thought it was a coincidence, at first, but then…this,” he motioned around the room. “I think she could hear what I was thinking earlier, and I think this is part of whatever she’s going through. I think she’s enhanced.”

They all looked around the room, letting Bucky’s theory sink it.

Steve broke the silence. “We need to find her before she hurts someone.”

You were walking against the cold wind and found yourself back at the shithole. You weren’t sure what you were doing there. Looking for answers, maybe? Waiting for them to find you? Like they were supposed to do. Before the injections, before they turned on you, before you lost control. What did they think of you now? You’re certain they must think you’re HYDRA. Fear and despair surged through you, and you started to lose control again. Objects that surrounded you started to rattle and lift into the air, crashing into walls.

You saw movement from the corner of your eye, emotions flaring even further. They had found you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting the front of your sweatshirt. You had already lost everything. They may as well take you now and put you in whatever floating prison they have. They marked you as guilty the moment you walked back into the compound.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Bucky approached you slowly, motioning to Steve and Sam to hang back.

You slowly turned to face him. Finally seeing his face broke you, and you started to cry harder. The cot beside you rattled along with desks and shelves, lifting off the floor, quaking violently, erratically. Bucky held up his hands, gesturing to you that he meant you no harm. And you wanted nothing more than to believe him, to melt into his arms.

As your emotions ran wild with fear and anguish, the chaos around you swelled. You shook your head trying to empty it of the intrusive whispers. You were ready to surrender. You just wanted all this to be over, but when you looked past Bucky to see Steve and Sam in their full Avenger gear, a realization hit you. They were here to fight you. Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor. You felt the energy inside you intensifying again. The building began to tremble.

“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! You’re going to be okay. We’re here to take you home.” Bucky tried to reason.

“No. NO! You’re here to hurt me. You don’t trust me, think I’m HYDRA!”

“That’s not true. We’re your friends. We want to help you,” Bucky insisted.

“Help me? That’s why you brought Captain America and Falcon with you?!”

You were angry now. If they wanted to take you, it would have to be by force. That’s what they wanted. You looked back over at Bucky and noticed the light reflecting off the tears that gathered in his eyes. You felt like you were about to detonate.

“Sweetheart, please,” Bucky pleaded with you; His hand stretched out towards you, beckoning you to take it.

The building shook even more violently with the release of your emotions. Once again, objects cracked and shattered all around you, but this time, the entire building threatened to come down on top of all of you.

“I can’t. I can’t control it….” You looked to Bucky, desperate for all this to end.

As dust and debris rained from the ceiling, you heard the order.

TAKE HER! NOW!

You whipped your head to the side, catching sight of Redwing; you hadn’t noticed it there before, but it was too late. Two darts struck your neck, delivering a powerful sedative. You swayed on your feet for only a moment before going down hard. All the objects flying around the room, uncontrollably, crashed to the ground at once. The building stood still once again. Whatever they hit you with was strong. You couldn’t move, but yet, you weren’t completely unconscious. You could faintly hear distorted commotion around you and your eyes felt heavy.

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Bucky kneeled at your side to brush your hair from your face, wiping your tears in the process.

“I’m sorry, Buck. We had to. You heard her. She couldn’t control it.”

Bucky gently picked you up and held you close to his chest. You could tell he was walking, but your vision was starting to blur even more. Then you felt his breath on your ear as he whispered that you would be okay. You were safe now. They were going to fix this. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the darkness.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, Bucky.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Well, I can’t leave. That is the definition of prisoner, right?”

“Bruce thinks he’s close to a cure. He just needs a little more time.”

“You’ve been saying that for 3 weeks.”

Bucky offered you a half-hearted smile, but it was tainted with regret.

You were beginning to doubt their ability to fix you. Where would they even begin? You were just the result of another fucked-up half-assed HYDRA experiment. They couldn’t cure you any more than they could cure Bucky or Steve of being super-soldiers. You know it. They know it. You just wish they’d stop blowing smoke up your ass.

Just then, Bruce appeared behind the reinforced glass doors, pressing his palm to the scanner to gain access to your room.

He approached your bed with the same half-hearted smile Bucky imparted.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling today?” Bruce began, like he always did when starting his examinations.

“Fine. Normal. How’s the cure coming along?”

He hesitated for a moment, ignoring your question before continuing with his own.

“Any more headaches?”

“No. Not really.”

“Good, good. That’s good.” More hesitation.

“Just spit it out, Bruce.”

“Well, uh..” he fiddled with his clipboard, pretending to review his findings. “We did some genetic profiling and it looks like the experiment has altered your DNA in ways we’ve never seen before. Your brain scans are phenomenal.”

“That’s not exactly comforting….” You knew where this was going, even though you didn’t completely understand the science of it all.

“What does that mean?” Bucky leaned forward in his seat, prompting Dr. Banner to elaborate.

“Well, I’m afraid it means we can’t cure you.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair; the atmosphere in the room deflated. He didn’t even look at you. You knew this was coming but hearing it out loud and seeing Bucky’s dejected reaction only solidified your fears. There is no hope.

Dr. Banner continued, “The good news is that you seem to be adapting and stabilizing well.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You didn’t want to hear anything else. You weren’t even listening. All you can think about is how you’re no longer an Avenger and how Bucky won’t even look at you now. You lost him; your best friend, maybe more. Where do you go from here?

“I just have a few more questions for you,” Dr. Banner began again, “Are you still able to hear the thoughts of others?”

“Yes. But I can mostly block it out. It’s gotten easier.”

Dr. Banner smiled. “And there haven’t been any more incidents….” He held up his pen. “Can you move this towards you, please?”

You looked up from your lap and focused on the pen, gently floating it above the bed until it reached your grasp.

“Amazing…”

You wished Dr. Banner would be a little less enthusiastic. Your life, as you know it, is over and you’re not in the mood for this.

“Okay. I’m releasing you from my care.”

“Wait. What? When?” You stared at him in awe. Is he joking?

“Right now.” He gathered his notes and left the room, door unlocked.

You felt Bucky grasp your hand. His smile was bright as he waited for your thoughts to catch up.

“Come on. We have a mission,” he coaxed.

“I-I don’t understand,” you hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted---I didn’t think anyone trusted me.”

“Sweetheart, we do trust you…and I’ll always want you. No matter what.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “We found the shitbags that took you…you ready to kick some ass?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement and determination. “I was born ready.”

#whump #avengers #bucky barnes #reader whump #bucky x y/n #female reader #reader insert #avenger reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #winter soldier #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x reader #kidnapping tw #experimentation #falcon

637 notes · View notes

certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 months

Note

Can you write a fic where Ethan doesn’t want to be a Ghostface so he tells reader the truth and they warn the rest of the group then run away together

ethan hasn’t killed anyone (cause that would defeat the purpose of him not wanting to be gf) but this is after quinn and anika’s death. only convenient time for this conversation to take place. also i didn't add running away cause i feel it wouldn't make sense for reader to leave their friends behind durning all this, so maybe anon if you really want that i could possible do a follow up to them having a happy life.

gn!reader masterlist

“i- i have something to tell you.” ethan whispered in your ear, drawing your attention away from your anxious friends. you were gonna prompt him to tell you, but when you say the worry on his face you excused the both of you.

sliding into the bathroom with ethan on your heels, you sat on the edge of the tub while ethan leaned his weight against the door. “what’s wrong?” noting how ethan kept his eye to his feet, hands twisting below his stomach.

“what i’m about to tell you… just know i was forced to be apart of because of my family. things would have been worse if i- i just hope you can forgive me.” ethan finally looked up and at you. eyes soft and face open, waiting for something.

you shifted a little, worried whatever he says crosses your morals. “okay… but only if you actually tell me what it is.”

“okay,” he took a deep breath then said, “my family is ghostface.”

you froze, “i’m sorry, what?” keeping your voice composed, miraculously.

“my- my dad, sister and i. we’re related to richie, the guy sam killed in woodsboro last year. my dad is detective bailey and my sister is-“ “quinn.” putting those two pieces together.

you waved your hands around for a moment, “wait, so quinn didn’t die yesterday? only anika? then who was ghostface? were- were you the one who-“ “no! no, i wasn’t. it- it was my dad.”

ethan took two steps closer in his rush to correct you and you couldn’t hide the faint flinch it produced, but you saw his face fall. ethan noticed that you’ve become afraid of him. “my- my dad wanted it to be me, but i was enjoying my night and didn’t want to leave.”

that caused your heart to stutter, in the good developing a fat crush on a boy kind of way. you and ethan were having a study date at a diner two blocks from campus, and it seemed sweet when he phrased it that way but then your mind started turning.

“wait, was i just an alibi? if you went through with it, i would have defended a murder to my friends. what the fuck, ethan?” standing to your feet, face getting warm with heat. heart thumping at this alternate outcome.

"i know, i know. yes. you were designed to be my alibi, but I never fully wanted to be a part of all this, i only joined at first cause my whole family was a wreck after my brother died. my hands are free of blood but my conscious is pooling with guilt, that's why i'm telling you this so then we can then warn the others. i trust you the most out of everyone."

ethan took a step closer and instead of flinching or moving back, you stood your ground keeping a keen eye on him. "you swear you've had no part in anything so far? cause i can't trust or defend you if there is a drop of blood on your hands." staring up at him with pleading, hopeful eyes.

with this new information you didn't want to mistake him for a nerdy, shy good guy. but the ethan you know is the shy (flushing whenever chad tried to wingman him to you or any girl), a little nerdy (whiling to go into film debates with mindy when she was in a trusting mood) and he was genuinely a good, sweet guy. he'd always walk you home when it was dark outside, he'd buy you food or drinks whenever you're together for hours, and he'd always uplift you; complimenting you from your accomplishments to how you looked that day. that's the ethan landry you've gotten to know the past six months, you don't want to lose him.

his whiskey-brown eyes danced around, pinballing over the place. his tongue peeking out to wet his plush pink lips, your eyes followed the action. you felt his hand bump into your own, looking down to see him linking your pinkies together.

"i swear i have done no harm to anyone. when everything started to feel real i knew this wasn't the healthy decision, it's not worth losing everything i've gained. this group is more of a family to me and- and i don't want to lose you because of a revenge fantasy." brows pinching and eyes changing to a doe expression.

“what- what are you… what about your actual family? would they kill you or disown you? doesn’t- doesn’t that bother you in anyway?” watching how ethan’s face didn’t change, just a simple shrug in response.

“it doesn’t matter. nothing matters but this, so no it doesn’t bother me… completely.” bringing his free hand to your cheek, cupping your apple and rubbing at the growing dark circles. ethan leaned his head closer, “i mean it when i don’t want to lose you. i want to get the opportunity to build a future with you, get our degrees, take you out on dates and so much further down the line.”

“i’d- i’d like that too…” trailing off as you both leaned in and locked lips. hand reaching out to grasp onto the hem of ethan’s shirt, pinkies curling tighter, with ethan treating you like a fine piece of china. if this weren’t such a dire situation you would happily indulge further, but you kept it short and sweet before being the first to lean away.

“run away with me,” ethan sighed against your wet lips. your eyes fluttered open to see his dream stare. “can- can we do that?”

“after.” silently agreeing to flee with ethan, “but after all this. we can’t leave our friends behind and you’ll help us have the upper hand.” making a move to the bathroom door.

you pulled ethan behind you and brought the both of you back to the living room. all eyes turned to you and ethan, having been gone for almost ten minutes now.

“were you two making out? seriously? now?” mindy complained with an eye roll. you deadpanned her with a simple, “yes and, ethan has something to share will all of you.” stoned eyes melting into honey as you urged him on, “you can do this.” giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

#erin's blurb request #ethan landry x you #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x gn!reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry scream 6 #jack champion scream 6

152 notes · View notes

reidslovely · 10 months

Text

She’s Having My Baby (Maybe) Pt. 2

Content Warnings: Mention of pregnancy..duh, throwing up, overall pretty fluffy

Pairing: Frat! Peter Parker

You ask and I deliver. The pregnancy tests are back and they are....

Please instead of liking/hearting this post leave a reblog and/or comment

Everything around Peter began to blur slightly as the words fell out of his mouth and the vomit crept back up your throat. You stared at him, tears starting to fall down your cheeks as you swallowed roughly.

“Positive? You..you’re sure.”

“All three…positive.” He confirms looking in the sink and back at you, his hands placed firmly on the sink. “Oh baby, oh baby no don’t cry.”

He’s rushing over to you hands taking your cheeks in both hands, fingertips brushing tears off your cheeks. “Shh..talk to me. Look at me bashful please.” Peter’s touch could always settle you. It was some weird phenomenon that you both discovered a week into sleeping together.

“Where’s ya head hmp? Are these happy or sad tears?”

“Happy…scared. But, happy.” You manage your words out. His ears tingled hearing your heartbeat going back and forth between patterns. “Oh my god what if it comes out with eight legs and four eyes.”

Peter held back a laugh at the pure panic of the thought and nodded. Going through his mental scripts of possible responses before shaking his head.

“I have nothing to say that could possibly make you feel better about that possibility.”

“Oh god.” Peter hugged you tightly, knowing the possibility was slim to none. “I got you.” He was swaying in spot smiling to himself kissing your temple. “We gotta tell May.”

To say the days that passed in a weird blur was an understatement, most of your time was spent with Peter. Getting lunch, making doctors appointments, him walking you to and from class. Peter was the most clingy you’d ever seen him. You thought your hormones were only supposed to bother you but it was like Peter’s own senses and sensitivity increased by twenty percent. Which you saw in full when telling May the good news.

“You guys both have class today. What are you two doing here?”

May asked putting her bag down as she came in still dressed in her scrubs. Peter smiled, letting go of your hand patting the spot next to him for May to sit. “What’s going on? I’m nervous”

“We just had something to tell you and we both wanted to be here to do it.”

May’s brow furrowed, her hand searching your hand for a ring before clapping her hand over her mouth. You smiled nudging Peter letting him know the time is now.

“We’re gonna have a baby..she’s pregnant.” Peter says after your encouragement. Tears rolling down his cheeks, it was the first time he had said it out loud. Peter wiped his eyes trying to laugh it off breathing out a small ‘fuck’

“I’m gonna be a grandma.” May says her lips are quivering. “I should be mad..I gave you the safe sex talk but I can't because I’m gonna be a grandma.” May’s voice cracked with joy pulling her nephew..her son into a bone crushing hug. Peter’s joyful sobs could be heard in the hug. You laughed with your hand resting on your stomach.

“How far along are you?” May asked to move over to you holding you in a hug. “That's a Peter question, he did the math to the exact.” You laughed leaning your head on May’s shoulder.

“Three weeks and five days almost a month” Peter smiles sitting on the other side of you.

You and May laughed at the three of you sitting in a hug.

The frat brothers were starting to catch on that something was off. Harry especially. He’d passed Peter's room multiple times, the two of you laughing, your shirt pushed up over your stomach Peter’s attention clung to it like he was waiting for something to happen. He’d been pestering Miles, Peter’s freshie, to see if he had spilled any information to him. But he hadn’t, which lead to Harry cornering Peter himself.

“You guys okay? You’re acting weird.” Harry asked Pete one night outside of a party. He had noticed how you hadn’t had a single drink and how Peter had his arm placed around your waist territorially.

Peter took a long drag of the cigarette passing it back to Harry. His lips fought the smile but his joy betrayed him. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“I hate you, fucking tell me,” Harry whined holding his hands out dramatically to his friend. You stood in the doorway laughing, walking towards Peter. “Just tell him Pete, he’s a uncle he has to be prepared.”

“What?” Harry stated looking between the two of you confused before his eyes widening. “I fucking knew it..”

“No you didn’t” Peter laughs as he and his best friend trade a hug. Harry engulfed you in a hug, picking you up slightly in the hug. “Easy, don't jar the baby.”

“You guys are having a baby?”

Miles yelled out as he walked out the back patio. Peter laughed and tilted his head back over his shoulder. “Come on, join the celebration.”

“You know now that he knows the whole frat is going to find out by the morning.”Harry teases the freshie leaning his arm on Miles' shoulder who awkwardly laughs.

“I know..” Peter laughed, his hand resting on your waist, thumb stroking your hip.

“You worried about a…”

“Superhuman pregnancy? Absolutely I’m not sure how we are gonna play it off. I’m waiting to hear the heartbeat any day now.”

“You guys have been hooking up forever I’m sure you can pass her off as further along.”

You nodded, resting your head against Peter’s shoulder closing your eyes as he practically held you up. “I’m gonna get these two to bed and I’ll be back down.” Peter says putting his beer down and turning you around.

As Peter helped you change and got you into bed you smiled peppering his face with kisses any chance you could. “Pregnancy has made you so clingy, bashful.” Peter teases laying next to you hand rubbing small circles on your stomach.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You laugh laying on his other arm turning to look at him. You open your mouth to talk but Peter shushes you, hand from your stomach clapping over your mouth. “I hear it” He says excitedly. “I can hear it, it's small but…it’s there.”

“The heartbeat?” You ask as he presses his ear to your stomach. You felt jealous that Peter could hear it, this one moment you cursed that you weren’t bitten by a radioactive spider as a teenager. You’d have to wait a couple weeks till your next appointment before you could hear it.

“I need you to tell me if you’re a boy or girl.”

“They can’t hear you yet!”

“She has a heartbeat at only three weeks who's to say she doesn’t have ears by now.” Peter says kissing you and your stomach excitedly. “I gotta go tell Harry and Miles.” He says flinging himself out of bed and running out of the room.

It took a month before the whole frat and your friends found out. Miles did his best to keep it in for as long as he could but he and Harry had gone in together on the first baby present and instead of getting it shipped to May’s like they had planned Miles kept the delivery address as the frat house and when the baby carrier showed up on the doorstep he had outed the secret to Joey and James, who then proceeded to tell the other brothers. The word spread around your friend group so fast that you and Peter couldn’t even stop it before getting greeted with hugs and congratulations. M.J. and Betty calling you immediately to verify the information.

Which made walking into the common room of frat and everyone sitting around less awkward coming back from your doctor's appointment. “This is not a baby shower.” James says, putting his hands out. “But we wouldn't do something nice for our friends and our newest little brother.”

“Or sister.” Harry says. Peter smiled looking at you, his face pressing into your hair. Tears were already building in your eyes as you tried to blink them away.

“So come sit, the chair is for bashful.” Harry laughs standing up. “Sorry Parker you're standing.”

Your hand rubbed over your bump already poking out a bit. You were big for about two months along and everyone couldn’t help but to comment on it but it wasn’t too big of an issue for people to be speculating.

“What is this?”

“Some necessities. You got a stroller.” James says pointing to the black stroller. “We tested it in store made sure it was safe.” You laughed and looked at Peter imagining what these ten or more frat boys looked like in the baby sections of the store testing a stroller.

“But open this one first.” Harry pleads, placing a small bag in your lap.

You furrowed your brow and reached in the bag pulling out a dark red onesie with the Theta Tau letters on it and all your friends' names scribbled on to the onesie with a message. “Oh my god.”

“I fucking love this.” Peter says placing it on your bump. “Oh she’s so wearing this home from the hospital.” You smiled at how Peter always referred to the baby as she, he wanted a daughter so bad. You think back on him referring to himself as a girl dad when you first told him about the possibility and your heart swells.

“I don’t even want her to wear it, I just wanna frame it cause it's so precious.”

“Oh she's so wearing this to game days, parties, everything.” Peter laughed, folding the onesie and putting it in the bag.

“Let's open the rest of these, yeah? We spent most of our monthly money in the baby section if the boards ask if it was for a social event.” James whispers, pushing the next book towards you.

You stood in Peter’s room at the frat house looking at the massive bump as you stood in a pink dres as Peter labeled a few boxes that needed to be moved back to May’s. “I’m huge.” You sigh turning to Peter with a pout.

“No you’re pregnant and don’t forget you're so sexy.” Peter says standing up kissing your cheek, his hands resting on the bump rubbing slowly. “Get me all types of worked up looking at ya’.”

“You’re right. I’m still hot.” You smiled leaning against him to kiss him. “She is going crazy today.”

“I know I hear her moving around in there.” He says pushing a few boxes against the wall.

“Stop, no you can’t.” You say hand on your stomach as you start to walk down the stairs. Peter fixing the buttons on the pink button up.

“I absolutely can. She’s got a real future as a swimmer.”

You couldn’t help but cackle, grabbing his arm walking down the steps towards the party. You hear your friends filming the ‘Hi I’m so and so and I think your gender is…’ and you laugh at some of their statements. “Are your parents gonna FaceTime during the reveal?” Peter asks, sitting you down on his lap in a pink lawn chair. You nod holding his hand on your bump resting your head against his.

“And these are your parents.” Miles says panning the camera over to them.

“And we think you’re a girl.” You smile. “But Miles already knows and he’s been so good that I couldn’t even get it out of him.” You hummed, and Peter nodded knowing how hard you tried.

Mingling while nearly eight months pregnant is extremely hard. Your feet hurt, you’re tired, and all you really wanna do is sit down in comfy clothes and watch TV. But being with your people and Peter helped. Everyone was so sweet and they weren’t always trying to have their hands on you. May was supportive keeping you hydrated and entertained when you weren’t feeling up to walking around and talking.

“He is so excited..you both are.” May laughs looking around. “It’s nice to see everyone coming together for you guys. I was worried Peter would never have this type of connection with people..I’m glad I met you.” May takes your hand squeezing.

“May I’m hormonal, you're gonna make me cry.” You say fanning your face. You kissed her hand and hugged her.

“Okay everybody, time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” Harry announces standing on the table getting everyone's attention.

“If Miles and I could have mommy and daddy over here please behind the chemistry table thank you very much.” He says jumping down resting his arm on M.J.’s shoulder.

Peter took your hand walking you behind the chemistry table smiling at the set up in front of him clapping his hands excitedly. “So Peter and our girl here are going to mix these three combinations. Two will turn green and one will turn pink or blue to show the gender.” Miles explains. Peter puts on his safety goggles and helps you with your glasses smiling.

“You’re loving this aren’t you?”

“Absolutely I am.” He whispers, kissing your head as you both work together mixing the (Non-harmful) chemicals to get reactions.

After mixing you two stepped back taking your glasses off watching the mixtures bubble and foam the first two turning green and the last one taking its time. Foaming over into a light pink color settling into a dark pink liquid.

“It’s a girl! I knew it..I fuckin’ knew it.” Peter yells, hugging you with excitement evident in his tone. You knew he’d be excited no matter what but this was a whole new level. You jump up and down hugging each other. May and your main group of friends flooding you both with hugs. You knew your baby was coming into an amazing and supportive family.

The spring semester had ended and you and Peter moved back into May’s attic which Peter had worked hard to turn into a bedroom and half nursery. It looked beautiful but Peter had also turned his old bedroom into a full nursery after May insisted it would be best for when the baby was a little bigger and she could help out. He was so excited and anxiously awaiting that anyday know his little girl could be here. You didn’t lift a finger: Peter made dinner, carried you up the stairs to bed at night, basically bathed you..everything you needed done Peter did for you.

Which is why him working late with Octavious tonight was stressful and anxiety filling for you. May had came home earlier but she was sound asleep in her recliner, and you’d really hate to bother her for a drink and snack. In the dark light of the living room you stood up, trying to gain your balance. Waddling into the kitchen you grabbed a green tea from the fridge and a small bag of chips from the bowl.

“Oh fuck.” You gasped breathlessly, a shooting pain in your lower left side. You grabbed the counter and took a deep breath and started timing it in your head. You started your walk back to the living room before water gushed out from between your legs. “May..May!” You whisper yelled looking at her already sitting up.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, sit here.”

She says watching your panicked face sitting you down she rushed to the hall bathroom grabbing a towel dropping it over the puddle. Already having the house phone between her shoulder holding your hand.

Hair on the back of Peter’s neck stood up and he was bolting for the door yelling out apologies to Otto before his phone even rang. He was about a block down from the lab trying to get a lab when May called.

“I know I know I’m on my way.” He says. “It’s the…spider sense that alerted me. They’ve been so heightened lately I don’t know how I can feel it so far away.” He stomps his foot in frustration running down an alleyway looking for a good spot to start swinging.

“It’s called fatherly intuition Peter, sometimes you just know. Not everything is Spider-Man related.” May says rubbing your hand breathing with you.

“Her go bag is in the hall closet. I'm three minutes out, maybe four.” He yells from a rooftop hanging up and starting to head that way.

“I’m not letting him swing me to the hospital.” You say softly laying your head back.

May laughs “I’m calling Dr. Alvarez everything is fine. I’m gonna put your bag in the car and we’ll be there in no time.”

You weren’t sure if everything was moving at 2x speed but it felt like Peter was there in no time. Carrying you to the car and sitting in the backseat with you. “She’s coming.” He says excitedly kissing your temple. “Of course she’d pick today.” He laughs nervously.

“She’s already giving you a hard time.” You joked looking at him grabbing his hand as another contraction started.

“Just like you.”

Six hours later you sat exhausted in the hospital bed holding your newborn daughter, Peter crouched over you head against your sweaty head. “Oh look at her.”

“She’s already got your face.” You laugh. “I think I can’t really tell. All babies look the same sometimes.”

Peter laughed, kissing your cheek, nodding. “They really do but she's got my nose and lips for sure. She’s got your hair.”

“I love her.” You say kissing her head. “And I love you Parker.”

“I love you bashful.” Peter says kissing your lips quickly, before leaning down and kissing the little girl's head, her legs kicking in response. You smiled, handing her off to Peter watching him rock her slowly resting her on his chest. You fixed your hospital gown and thanked whatever made you walk into that frat party two years ago.

This came out waaaay longer than I expected it too but once I got started I couldn’t stop. Hope this is what you guys wanted, it’s not proof read at all because I was so excited to post it.

Taglist: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @a-lumos-in-the-nox @moonyslove78 @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

407 notes · View notes

kirislovelygf · 4 months

Text

haunted pt. 1 (ronal x metkayina fem! reader)

content: you and ronal have been married for about 14 years and have lived with the metkayina happily ever since you left the forest. now imagine your surprise when your ex appears out of nowhere with the man she cheated on you with and the family they built together.

content also: ronal x reader, a bit of neytiri x reader, flirting, arguing, secrets, fluff, angst, and uhmmm ronal being the best wife

wrd count: 3.2k

a/n: this might be a two-three parter but i saw this idea floating around here somewhere and thought i’d make my own version without tonowari being part of it bc why. (can you tell i hate men)

꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

it was a perfect morning so far. ronal and i were at home, i was taking care of her. the kids were out and about.

tonowari was somewhere, i didn’t really care.

the sun was out and we were happy. until the outsiders came.

i was sitting in our shared marui, styling ronal’s hair while she sat in front of me. i hummed to myself while gently combing through her wavy hair.

“i have to train some of the children today. on the ilu.” i informed her.

“how fun.” she muttered.

i slapped her shoulder. “children respond easier when you don’t yell at them, my love.”

“if you don’t yell, they don’t listen. look at ao’nung.” she said, gesturing to her son playing in the water with his best friend.

one of them tackled the other info the water and was keeping them under the surface.

“that’s strange. when i ask him to do things, he does it the first time i say.” i said.

“yes, with you. i feel like i repeat myself 10 times everyday just to get that boy to listen.” she sighed out. i laughed slightly.

“he’s a teenager. he will grow out of that disobedience phase soon.” i put a finishing charm on the back of her head and then reached for the shell that ronal put on her forehead everyday.

i handed it to her to put on and i looked through my things for a mirror.

once i found it, i held it up to her face so she could look at her reflection. she held it and she started to touch her cheeks.

where her wrinkles were, her birthmarks. any sign of aging she could find.

“i’m getting old, my love.” she sighed out, putting the mirror down. she stands up and turns to help me up as well.

“no, you’re just growing wiser.” i smiled. she laughed and put my arms around her neck.

she hugged my waist closer to her body and kissed me. she pulled away and examined my face.

“you’re not getting any younger either, you know.” she muttered.

“wow. all you know is how to insult, don’t you?”

“i thought it was funny.”

“no.”

“i’m sorry! you know i love you.”

“no, too late.” i tried to get myself off her, but she pulled me back into her embrace. she held my face up to hers and kissed me again.

i laughed against her lips and pulled away when a horn began to sound in the distance.

i turned my head to see the opening of our marui. na’vi we’re running past, diving into the water, rushing all into one direction.

“what’s happening..” i muttered to myself. ronal and i walked toward the tarp that covered the entrance and i pulled it to the side.

i asked one of the villagers why everyone was running.

“apparently other na’vi have landed on the beach.” he said simply.

i looked at ronal all excited to greet the newcomers. but she looked.. worried. and unpleasant.

“let’s go meet them. maybe they’re nice.” i shrugged.

“hmph.” she huffed. she walked past me and onto the woven pathways.

we walked together to the growing cluster of green villagers gathering on the beach.

tonowari, ronal’s ex-husband, had already approached them and was greeting them.

my heart raced when i saw ikrans. my ikran passed away from old age years ago and i hadn’t seen one since then.

“ronal, they’re from the forest! i wonder if they’re omaticaya like me. maybe we’re from the same clan.” i smiled excitedly, grabbing her hand.

“even if they are, they’re still outsiders.” she mumbled.

“ronal. please.” i sighed.

she rolled her eyes. i tugged on her hand to make her look at me.

“i was an outsider too. and you accepted me into the clan.” i said.

she stared with more sympathy. “that’s different.”

“how? you didn’t know me when i arrived. i could’ve been a threat. but you took the time to get to know me, and ended up loving me and who i am.” i said. her gaze softened as i spoke to her.

“please be kind to them, whoever they are. for me.” i nodded.

she stared and kept quiet for a moment. i just kept a smile on my face until she gave in.

“fine.”

i smiled and kissed her cheek. excitedly, i guided her by the hand through the group until we were at tonowari’s side.

in front of me was a na’vi man with long locs, a strong build, and a tired face and a woman beside him with a slim build and the same fatigue.

something about her looked familiar.

her face was mature, like mine.

she looked at me and her eyes struck something in my memory. the way she eyed me curiously, the way her entire family eyed me curiously.

“you.. you’re omaticaya?” the man asked me.

“yes! you come all the way from the forest to here?” i asked. i was astonished that this whole family came here in one piece.

i looked at the wife again and her gaze changed from curiosity to fear.

“y/n.” she spoke.

i tilted my head when she said my name. then i remembered.

i remembered the heartache and the anger i felt when i left home. all of it caused by them. my smile faded away as i spoke her name.

“neytiri..”

she sighed out. i look up at the man. the man who took her from me. he changes so much. he was bigger, stronger.

“jake sully.” i said.

“yeah, uh..” he looked at his wife and she was looking down at the sand, one hand attached to her small daughter.

her family was beautiful. two sons and two daughters. neytiri aged so gracefully. she looked happy. but right now..

“you can’t even look at me?” i said to her.

she said nothing.

ronal put her hand on my shoulder and i looked at her.

she asked if i was alright. i gave her a simple nod, excused myself, and walked away from the group.

i hadn’t seen neytiri in 14 years. i almost forgot what she looked like. she was regal now.

i stepped into the marui and started pacing the floor.

why in the world would she come here? why did she, of all the people in that clan, have to be here?

and oh course, she had to bring that stupid sky person with her. as if her leaving me for him wasn’t enough.

someone walked into the marui, bringing me out of my thoughts. tsireya looked worried and walked toward me.

“mama, what happened? i thought you would be excited for these people, they’re just like you.” she said.

“i’m sorry, tsireya. uhm..”

“what is it?” she asked kindly.

“i know these people. and i’m just a little shocked, i haven’t seen them since i left the forest maybe 14 or 15 years ago. but don't worry about me, i’ll be fine.” i explained.

“are you sure? because mother’s hissing at them.” she said.

“i’m sure she is. don’t worry, i bet your father is going to let them stay anyway.” i chuckled.

tsireya sighed out and i plastered a smile on my face so she wouldn’t worry.

“i’m okay.” i chuckled. i hugged her tightly. she looks up at me and i tuck a few stray strands of hair back into place.

“my little flower. always worried.” i muttered. i held her face in my hands before kissing her forehead.

“my father’s making us teach their children.” she said. i pulled away and held her hands in mine.

“oh, fun! how did ao’nung react?”

“he tried to argue and now he’s being

forced.” she laughed softly.

“aw, poor boy. well, at least you’ll make some new friends.” i said to her.

ronal pulled the tarp aside and walked inside.

“tsireya, go find your brother. i need to speak to mama.” she said kindly.

tsireya nodded and walked out without another word. she let the tarp down and walked toward me.

“what happened? you were so excited a moment ago and then you ran off.” she said.

“i’m sorry, ronal. i shouldn’t have left the way i did.” i sighed.

“is there something i should know about this family? i already know they’re half-demon. whatever you have to tell me can’t be worse than that.” she continued.

“well, i knew them. the mother and the father.” i said.

i never told her the full story of why i left the forest. it hurt to even think about it, so i always gave her the brunt of it whenever she asked.

i always said “i was in a relationship, it ended badly, and i left for a fresh start.” i never gave names or specifics.

“i would have suspected you did. you come from the same clan. that woman, neytiri, knew your name. and you knew hers.” she continued.

“she’s my ex girlfriend. except, she wasn’t a very good one. and it took me by surprise to see her here. i never thought i’d see her again.” i said to her.

ronal sighs softly. she picks up my hand and holds it.

“i wish you would tell me what was so bad about the forest that made you leave. i hate when you leave me in the dark like this.” she said.

i still didn’t want to tell her. i didn’t know how she’d react. ronal is a passionate woman. and her emotions can be a lot.

especially when she’s angry.

“i’m sorry, my love.” i pulled her close and hugged her.

i pull back and hold her hands. “you’ll have to tell me sooner or later. tonowari let them stay.”

“stay for how long…?” i asked.

she winced and hummed, hesitating to give me an answer.

“ronal.” i laughed out.

“well… they’re not leaving any time soon.” she shrugged.

“ugh, i’m going to kill that idiot.” i huffed, letting her hands go. i covered my face and groaned as she chuckled lightly.

“tonowari was being nice.”

“he’s always been too nice.” i grumbled.

i removed the hands from my face and sighed.

“oh right, i need to go. the kids with the ilu, uhm..”

“go. it’s fine. we’ll discuss this later, alright?” she smiled.

i smiled back and gave her a hug before tonowari walked in.

he held his arms out, looking all confused. “what happened?”

“ugghh.” i groaned loudly before walking past him.

“what-“

“don’t speak to me. big-headed idiot.” i grumbled, holding my hand up to his face.

i did what i needed to do for the afternoon and made my way home in the evening as the sun started to go away for the night.

i walked past the marui that neytiri and her family were in. the tarp was pulled to the side so i imagine someone in there saw me walk by.

i confirmed this when i heard her voice call for me.

i looked back and saw her, one foot inside the hut and the other stepped outside.

i sighed out. i knew i’d have to face her sooner or later. i just didn’t think it’d be the day she got here.

“hi, neytiri.” i muttered.

she smiled weakly. she stepped out and pulled the tarp down, walking a bit closer. “i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“i could say the same.” i said as i crossed my arms.

“i know. so this is where you ran off to all those years ago.”

“mhm. thankfully, ronal didn’t threaten me when i arrived.” i said.

“oh.. you heard about that.”

“yes, i did. i also heard that tonowari let your family stay. i didn’t hear for how long though.”

her small smile faded away slightly. “oh.. well the forest isn’t safe for my family. i think we’re staying here for a long time. forever, even.” she winced.

i nodded. i kept my cool, but trust me, i was fuming.

“look, i know what you must think of me after what i did. but i felt really awful for how i treated you, and i still do. the fact that i couldn’t ask for your forgiveness had haunted me these past 14 years.”

“yeah. you hurt me terribly and i just couldn’t stand to be around either of you.” i shrugged.

“i get it.”

i glanced at the open window inside her hut and saw her children inside.

her son was holding her youngest daughter in his lap, both of them smiling and laughing.

“my kids asked about you. they were surprised to see another omaticaya here. of all places.” she said.

the young daughter spotted me and gave me a shy wave. the son said something to her making her look up at him before they both stood and walked away.

“you have a beautiful family.” i smiled.

“thank you.” she muttered.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t give you that.”

she raised her head to look up at me. she was confused and took a step toward me.

“oh, y/n-“

“that’s what you always wanted right? a family. obviously you couldn’t have that being with me.”

“that’s not why i left.” she said loudly. she looked like she said it louder than she should have and glanced at the window of he hit to see if she had caught anyone’s attention.

i just glared at her. i know i didn’t tell my family what happened but the reason she hadn’t told her was because she knew what she did was wrong.

“i didn’t mean to fall in love with him.” she said in a more hushed tone.

“what kind of excuse is that, neytiri?” i laughed out.

“i know how it sounds. i know i lied to you about jake and how i felt about him. and i’m so sorry.” she reached for my hand but i took it away.

“you didn’t just lie. you tried to convince me you two weren’t in love. told me i was crazy and jealous and how you couldn’t possibly love a dreamwalker.”

she sighed out and glanced at the hut.

“what? you don’t want your kids to find out you’re a liar-“ she grew terrified and grabbed my head, one hand holding it in place and the other covering my mouth.

“and a cheater!” i yelled into her palm.

“stopstopstop! please, i’m sorry. please don’t say it so loud.” she hissed.

i glared up at her. she removed her hand and winced.

“i’m really sorry.”

“oh you’re really sorry?”

“are you going to behave this way the entire time i’m here?” she snapped.

i shrugged. she sighed out and looked at her hut. “you’re still the same.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“you’re sassy and argumentative.. and getting on my nerves.” she snapped.

i laughed at how irritated she was getting.

“i’m going inside. will i have to see you tomorrow for training?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“no.”

she sighed out.

“you’ll see my wife, though. have fun with that.” i smiled.

i left her there before she could respond to me.

the next day comes and everyone splits off to train with the new family.

tsireya and ao’nung were out by the ilu pen with neytiri’s children, tonowari and a few of his friends were training jake sully.

and ronal was getting ready to go with neytiri.

“are you sure you will be okay by yourself?” she asked me as she looked in a mirror, fixing her headpiece.

“i’ll be okay. i have friends besides you and wari.” i chuckled.

“that’s funny.” she said with a blank stare.

“i’d honestly rather have you help her than me.” she said as she stood up.

“why? we would just bicker and get nothing done. all neytiri likes to do is argue.” i grumbled.

“i know, but it’s awkward for us. your ex girlfriend being trained by her ex’s new wife. it’s just too much.” she groaned. i laughed.

“i know this must be so hard for you.” i dragged on dramatically.

“stay strong for me, my love. you’ll get through this.” i kissed the tip of her nose, making her deadly stare fade into a laugh.

“if you need me, i’ll be on the other side of the island.” i walked past her and left the marui, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

i had to walk past the sully hut to get to where i was going and i just did my hair, so i couldn’t dive in the water to just swim there.

i sighed out and walked past really quickly, trying my best not to look inside.

i turned a corner and a little girl was staring up at me and standing in my path.

“oh!” i muttered. it’s neytiri’s youngest daughter. wow, she looks exactly like neytiri when she was that age.

“hi, little one. are you lost?” i asked.

“oh… no. i’m not.” she answered.

“uhm.. okay.” i nodded. i hesitantly walked past her but her stare never let up. i start walking away when she calls for me. “wait!”

“yes?” i looked back at her.

she starts nervously fidgeting with her hands.

“are you.. omaticaya?” she asks.

i smiled softly. “yes, i am.”

“really?! i knew it! i told my mom but she didn’t believe me!” she exclaimed.

“aw, well.. now you know.” i shrugged.

“i’m tuk! how long have you been here?” she continued.

“uh.. hi, tuk. i’ve been here a long time.”

“wow.. dk you like it here? i like it here a lot, but i miss home. do you miss home?” she spoke super quickly and it made me laugh.

“uhm.. yes i love it here. and i miss home sometimes, but it’s okay.” i told her.

“you’re very pretty.” she smiled.

“aw thank you! so are you, little one.” i said, putting a bright smile on her face.

“tuk? tuk!” her mother called. i grew horrified but quickly changed my face when i remembered her daughter was standing in front of me.

“your mother’s looking for you.” i said.

and just in perfect time, neytiri turned the corner to find her daughter and i. her eyes grew wide before looking down at tuk.

“tuk, come.” she held her hand out.

“okay..” tuk takes her moms hand but looks back at me.

“bye.. uhm, what was your name?” she asks.

“oh..” i glanced up at neytiri who avoided my eye contact like the plague.

“it’s y/n. i’ll see you both around.” i bowed my head slightly before quickly walking away.

“don’t look back, don’t look back, just keep walking,-“ i muttered quickly as i sped up.

-neytiri’s pov-

“tuk, come.” i said to her.

i watched y/n nervously and tried to get tuk away as quickly as i could but i know she can’t help her curiosity.

“okay.. bye, uh.. what was your name?” she asked y/n.

shit.

y/n glanced at me and i tried so hard not to look at her.

she told tuk her name before leaving and we walked back to our marui.

“mama, you should be friends with y/n. you will enjoy having someone like us here.” she said sweetly.

she smiled back at me before jumping back into the marui. i sighed out.

“i think you’re right, tuk.” i smiled at her.

i looked up at the sky before muttering. “i’m sorry for lying to her. i’ll tell her when she’s older.” i prayed.

eywa might strike me with lightning.

꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

#writing blog #atwow fluff #avatar the way of water #atwow x reader #writers #avatar #atwow angst #ronal atwow #ronal avatar the way of water #wlw writing #neytiri atwow

131 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 8 months

Note

I been binging your cowboy AU and is pure gold. And I was thinking about maybe for some reason Duck and Price finding themselves in the same country and the army using the first aid to help the team. Like Price's heart beating so fast (this is before the family reveal jsjs). Keeping it profesional n front of the collegues but once the curtain is closed you two just holding eachothers

This is something I think about all the time actually. When I first thought of Duck doing red cross/doctors without borders aid stuff I thought it would be funny if she ended up in Price’s camp helping soldiers and civilians. Nerve wracking for both of them, but especially Price who has to see his wife in an active combat zone.

I think they've both briefly talked about how it's good they don't work together because it means the likelihood of Goose losing both her parents is lower. They didn't really think they'd ever cross paths on the job.

You step off the helo into blinding sunlight and raise a hand to shield your eyes. The rest of your colleagues are busy unloading equipment and supplies as you scan the surrounding area. It’s grim. Disaster sites usually are. Burned buildings, rubble, scared civilians; you recognize the fatigues that you see, British boots on sandy ground. You sigh. Your fellow supervisor comes to stand by you, clipboard in hand.

“Should be a camp around here somewhere,” They grumble, you turn to check the progress of unloading supplies. Already a crowd is starting to form, one you wish you could do more to help. You hate seeing people suffer, it’s one of the reasons you became a doctor.

“It’ll be outside of town,” You inform them.

“Forgot,” They flip through their paperwork, voice sarcastic, “You’re a military wife.”

There’s no love lost there, everyone has their own opinion on it. Your opinion is wishing your husband would stop putting himself in harm's way, but you could never ask him to stop doing what he- well you hesitate to say loves, what calls to him.

“I’ll handle it,” You snatch the clipboard from your colleague, “you can focus on medical while I let the army know we’re here.”

“Better you than me.” They mutter. You don’t bother letting their pouting get to you. At least when you yell at petty officers they listen. You have plenty of practice.

You’re quickly pointed to the commanding officer’s tent when you do find the military encampment. Everyone recognizes the red cross on your arm band, the set of your shoulders, you can already smell the medical requests that’ll be hitting your desk. You follow the sergeant assigned to you and duck under the tent flap he holds up for you. You stop dead staring at your husband. Price is hunched over a map laden table, his head jerked up to check who was intruding. His mouth twitches, eyes barely moving from you.

“Red Cross is here,” The sergeant breaks the silence.

“I can see that,” Price pushes off the table, rolling his shoulders back to stand at his full height. You swallow, try to quiet the rapid heartbeat in your chest. You can’t both be here. “When did you get in?” Your husband asks, all professionalism.

“A little more than an hour ago,” You tell him, your mind still reeling, spinning out worst case scenarios, “I thought you might have a decent idea of where needs the most aid.”

“How much time do you have?” He says with a small smile, a joke that isn’t a joke.

“We’re just getting unloaded and set up now, I’d have more time if you could spare a few men,” You glance at the sergeant. Price nods, waves the man off.

“Sergeant Shaw and his team would be glad to help.”

Sergeant Shaw salutes and disappears, leaving you alone in the tent with your husband. You all but rush to the table, he barely moves.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss.

“Me?” He leans his hands on the table, “What are you doing here?”

“There was an earthquake,” You remind him, you’re sure he felt it. His face drops, eyes solemn as they hold yours.

“Wasn’t an earthquake,” He tells you quietly.

“What?” You breathe. You don’t want to think about what that implies. His eyes say it all, the clear and present threat that hangs over this region. The sword of Damocles that now hangs over both of your heads.

“How long are you here?” His expression hurts to look at. Everything in you aching to touch him. You can’t, not while you’re both working.

“Three months until the next shift arrives, I was going to volunteer to stay on.” You’re rethinking it now, but it isn’t as if you could run back to your team and force them to evacuate, not without tipping everyone off.

“You’re leaving at shift change,” Price tells you, without room for argument. You press your lips into a thin line, holding back your complaints.

“If they need doctors-”

“They’ll find them somewhere else,” He cuts you off. You’ve both operated this long on the understanding that your work is unpredictable, it’s carried you through deployments for years. Now, staring down your husband in his element, in your element, you don’t know how you ever managed it.

“John,” He winces when you say his name, “What are you doing out here?” Your voice trembles a little, you lay your hand near his on the table. His fingers spread against the maps, lace between yours. Quiet, intimate, less than you want but more than you should be getting.

“You’ll sleep better not knowing,” His eyes stare down at the table, head hung in exhaustion.

“How are you sleeping?” You ask quietly, as both his doctor and his wife. Price shakes his head with a sigh.

“I’m not.” Your being here won’t help that.

“Stop by for a check-up when you have a moment,” You murmur, reaching to cup his cheek with concern. He looks pale, his eyes dark, overworked. He hums, presses against your gentle hold, a man starved for comfort out here.

Three months is a long time to be in longing distance with your husband. Somehow it’s easier when you’re on different continents. Seeing him and knowing you can’t touch him will be the death of you. He’s right though, you can’t stay here. You’ve lived every deployment wondering if Price will come home, you can’t sit around and wait for him when the danger is so closeby. You can’t help him either. You know the danger of just touching him with so many eyes looking for chinks in his armor.

“I’m saving my exhaustion for when we get home, when I can kiss you properly,” He tells you softly. You drop your hand before either of you can follow that line any further.

Price has never known fear quite like seeing you around camp. His heart races, his mouth dries, he can’t focus on anything but how fragile you are. You’re not even- You’d hate to hear him thinking that, but it’s true. You’re a civilian in an active war zone, treating soldiers like it doesn’t kill him every time he catches a glimpse of you. His nerves are fried, overthinking every glance, every brushing touch, every word he speaks to you. Is it professional enough? Distant enough? Does anyone know?

So many years on deployment, happy knowing you were safe and sound at home with the kid but missing you terribly. Now here you were, dangerously close to the action, anything but safe, and he still misses you. Three months, he has to cover you for three months. Has to make sure nothing gets through the defenses that have been set up.

He’s always fought with your safety in mind, but now the danger is so much closer. If something happens to you, to either of you, it’s on him. If one of you can’t come home, God forbid if neither of you can go home…

You smile at the soldier you’re treating, sunshine in the middle of his camp. It doesn’t help that you��re the prettiest thing half these idiots have seen in months. The amount of red cheeks and overenthusiastic smiles you’ve inspired could almost be called a plague. Not that Price doesn’t get it, but if one of these fucks tries to lay a hand on you it’ll be a court martial for him and them.

That’s a quick way home, he supposes. Though not as painless as he’d like.

“Captain Price,” You jostle him from his glowering, your pen tapping against a medical chart.

“Doctor,” He greets, thankful you still use your maiden name in these situations.

“When I said everyone was getting a physical I meant everyone, commanding officers included, and yet I haven’t seen your name on the list.” You smile at him so sweetly. He nods shortly.

“Didn’t see the need for one,” He still doesn’t. He feels fine, and being alone in a room with you just makes him feel worse.

“Oh, you didn’t?” You tilt your head, “Did your medical officer already give you one?”

“No.”

“Got it, you’re a doctor and you did the exam yourself,” Sarcasm drips from your lips. He loves it when you get like this. One more word and he won’t care who sees him grab you.

“Are doctors allowed to do that?” He feels a smile tug at his lips.

“You know, now that I think about it, they’re not,” You scrunch your nose, brows drawn down as you pretend to think, “So then, how do you figure you don’t need one? Not a doctor, not signed off by a doctor…”

“You think you’re cute,” He likes the sparkle in your eyes, the mischief you only get into with him.

“I think I’m married,” You tell him, pretending to be offended.

“Happily?” He asks, you nod, “Lucky man.”

“If you’re going to flirt the whole time I’ll find a different doctor to do your physical,” You warn him.

“I won’t say another word,” Price promises.

And he doesn’t, but he does kiss you as soon as you’re in the privacy of the medical tent. His fingers tight in your hair, tipping your head back so he can waste no time sliding his lips against yours. God he missed you. You smell like heat, like the sun on your skin, taste like filtered water and whatever rations the Red Cross is feeding you, but it’s you. Your soft entreating lips, just on the edge of chapped from the dry desert wind, that press so eagerly to his. You’re so still, both of you trying to get your fill of the other without losing what little ability you have to jump away from each other.

Which you do at the crunch of boots outside the tent. Price coughs, watching you smooth down your hair and check down your chart as another officer pulls the tent flap to the side. Price moves to speak to them quietly, giving short orders he makes sure you don’t hear. When he turns back to you, you’re all business. Ever the diligent doctor.

“Any aches, pains, etcetera?” You ask, he shakes his head. You look at him more critically.

“I’m really alright, Momma,” He offers you a tight smile, you sigh and sign something on his form.

“You know it’ll be worse if you lie to me,” You inform him, setting your chart down and gesturing for him to strip for the exam.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Three months pass like a rainy day. Terribly. Soldiers are some of the worst patients you swear. If they aren’t lying to you about one thing they’re whining about another. They disappear for weeks and reappear with injuries you don’t want to think about past treating. You’re supposed to be working disaster relief but it’s not like you or your superiors can say no to the army. You do your best not to look for your husband through all of this. The few small stolen moments together that you’ve gotten do nothing to abate the worry you hold when he’s gone. It’s worse being here, you always knew it would be.

You shade your eyes from the dust the helo kicks up as it lands. Your relief shift finally arriving a day late. You suppose you can’t blame them for the delay, things have been rocky here to say the least. You bark orders and direct the rest of your team to help with getting people settled and supplies catalogued. This’ll take the better part of the day, just long enough for the helicopter to get refueled before it carts the rest of you to the airstrip.

One of your juniors keeps track of the crates being unloaded while you ensure there are enough doctors to go around. You know Price told you they’d find ways to cover for you, but you can’t help feeling the pull to help. A weight drops off your chest when you count an extra two doctors than was initially planned. Someone must’ve mentioned how much you were covering the military and put in for extra medical staff.

Speaking of the military, and your husband more specifically, you’d hoped he would find a way to see you off. Maybe not in a personal capacity, but professionally. You’ve been the main point of contact for his team since you landed, he could at least spare you a good-bye.

You spot him by his swagger alone, the distinctly masculine movement of his hips, the way the crowd parts for him without so much as a word. He looks good in his tac gear. Supervising his men, you’re sure. You smile at him, glance around for somewhere private that you could get a proper good-bye. Not much privacy out here you’ve learned. Not that he seems to care, stopping in front of you with a grin.

“Not putting in for an extension I hope,” He raises a brow. You shake your head.

“No, I’m happy to be heading home. Don’t think I can stomach patching you boys up again,” You sigh, honest with your husband even when you shouldn’t be. You know it hurts him, his eyes softening for you.

“We’ll miss you, you’re probably the best doctor that’s run through here.” You roll your eyes, flatterer.

“Maybe I should stay then,” you tease. His smile widens.

“Not a chance, go home, I’m sure your husband’s worried about you,” More honesty where there shouldn’t be any. You know he’s worried, and despite your desire to stay you’re willing to compromise this for him. Your heart clenches tight staring up at him. You desperately want to kiss your husband, want him to wrap his arms around you and promise he’ll come home safe.

Price looks over your head into the open helo. “Looks like you could still use some help unloading,” He nods.

You glance into the cavernous darkness, you’re sure everything’s been unloaded. That’s not the point. You smile.

“Shouldn’t take more than the two of us.”

In the back corner of the helo, far out of the light, your husband presses against you and gives you a proper good-bye, kissing you through the tightness in your throat. You tighten your arms around his shoulders, eyes closed as he nearly lifts you to keep you pressed against his chest. The warmth of him is as solid as the metal at your back, sturdy as he’s ever been. You know the risk he’s taking by kissing you where someone could see, but you really can’t bring yourself to care. The thought of leaving him makes you hold on all the tighter.

“I love you,” He murmurs, pulling back to kiss your cheeks, your nose, over each eyelid, delicate pressure wherever he can. You can’t imagine what this must’ve been like for him. Having you so close to combat must have been torture. You know he has nightmares about it even without this fuel on the fire.

“I love you,” You agree, letting him catch your lips for another slow kiss. Indulgent and exploratory, just like coming home after months away. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging you for more that you can’t give him. This has to be enough, has to carry you through however long he’s away. When he finally lets you go you can hardly stop the sandy feeling pushing against your eyes.

“Be safe,” You tell him, trying your hardest not to cry like it's his first deployment, “for me, please be safe.” Price sighs, kisses you soft and chaste a final time.

“Give Goose my love,” He tells you. He can’t promise you safety, you should know better than to ask for it. He grabs whatever he can think of and walks down the back plank of the helo, back into the blinding sun. The best good-bye you could’ve hoped for is never enough to tie you over until he’s home again.

#cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #oc: duck #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x oc #john price mw2 #captain price x oc #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #cowboy!price #cowboy!141

222 notes · View notes

and-claudia · 1 year

Text

Against All Odds (Joel Miller x Fem! Reader) Prologue pt.1

Warnings: Cannon Typical graphicness, no Joel in this part, this one is also in 3rd person (that will change in later parts)

Word Count: 1143

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that's not your jam, I'm sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won't actually be in it for a bit

(Once I have my TLOU masterlist i will link it here)

Taglist sign-up form

September 26th 2003

Giggles filled the air as Yn ran around the backyard with her older brothers. There were six plus her ranging from 18 to 5 with little Yn being the youngest. Scott was the oldest. He was supposed to be in his first year of college down in Austin at the University of Texas, but he decided to take a gap year to help out with his younger siblings. Their parents tried to insist that he go, that this wasn’t his responsibility but he chose to stay. Roy was a grade A student, a Junior at their local high school. His twin, Zeak, was the quarterback of their high school football team. Everyone was excited to go to the Friday night games this fall, even little Yn. She may not understand the game, or why she gets drug all over North Texas every other Friday night, but she knew she was cheering on her brother and that was all she cared about. Chris was a sophomore, he found his passion in the automotive shop at school. He could take apart just about any car and put it right back together again. Marc was a freshman, he was still trying to decide what he wanted to do with his life, which was reasonable for someone his age. He had a knack for math though and could be found most weeknights helping his two younger siblings with their homework, even if one of them was just beginning addition. Alan was the youngest of the boys, and was originally thought to be the youngest of the family. He had a wild imagination and loved to tell stories to his younger sister. Which brings us to the youngest of the bunch, Yn. She was a wild little girl. Her mother had always wanted a baby girl, but was so grateful and completely over the moon with her boys. After Alan she wasn’t expecting any more babies, so when she fell pregnant again and they found it was a girl she was excited. She tried to get Yn to be a girly girl but with six older brothers, it was tough.

All seven of them were outside today. It was a beautiful day on September 26th, 2003. The feelings of Autumn were finally just starting to inch their way into North Texas with a light breeze that tickled Yn’s arms when she chased after her brothers.

“Let’s go grab the fishin’ poles and go down the creek! I bet there will be tons of fish!” Roy hollered getting everyone to stop.

All the boys agreed and so he and Scott went off to find all the poles.

“Alan! That’s not fair!” Yn whined.

“Why not bug?” He asked, using her nickname.

“Pa said I can’t go down there! Says the water gonna swipe me away!” She pouted, crossing her arms.

“Hey, let's go ask him. Maybe since we’re all going, and the waters lower he’ll let you go. Come on, let's go ask.” He suggested.

Yn thought for a moment and nodded before dashing towards the house. She threw open the back screen door and almost smack dab into her father who was just about to start making supper.

“Whoa, killer where’s the fire?” He asked, grabbing her by her shoulders to stop her.

“Can- I- go to- creek- with them?” She asked between deep breaths.

Her father thought for a moment and looked to Alan for more information.

“We’re getting the fishing poles to head down there for a bit. Figured since we’re all going, and the water is low, maybe she can go this time. She’s never been down there before.” He explained.

“The drought did dry up that creek some… I guess. You mind your brothers though. And you better not get a speck of mud on the dress, or Ma is going to be mad at you.” He said.

The little girl nodded vigorously. Then she and her brother ran back out and they all began the trek down to the creek. The seven of them spent the afternoon and early evening playing hide and seek, splashing in the water, climbing trees, fishing and just having fun.

As the sun set they headed back for the house. Once they got there they all washed up and then ate dinner. Yn took her bath and was off to sleep not too soon after.

Not even 2 hours later, Yn was jolted awake.

“Come on, I got you shoes already, some clothes. Grab Teddy come on, we gotta go now!” Her oldest brother Scott was yelling at her.

Yn was drowsy from just waking up and couldn’t understand what was being said. Scott saw this and just opted to scoop her up, grab her teddy bear, and ran out of the house with her as fast as he could. When he got to the stairs he slowed down and peered around the corner. She was occupied for the moment so he took that as his chance to run. He ran down the stairs and out the door, straight to the minivan his dad was already waiting for him in. He got in the backseat with Yn, who was now crying in fear in his arms. The streets were chaos, even in their small town of Canton, Texas.

Yn was in shock. What had she just seen in their living room? It looked like Ma. But surely it wasn’t right? Ma was in the front seat where she always is.

Yn looked to the front seat and was confused to see Chris there instead and Zeak in the seat beside them.

“Where’s Ma?” She asked.

“She’ll meet up with us later. Her and the rest of your brothers, don’t worry.” Pa said, though his voice sounded sad.

‘Maybe he’s just sleepy?’ Yn thought to herself, it was the middle of the night after all.

Her mind drifted back to the figure in the living room. It was hovering over something… no not something… someone. She would recognize Alan’s bleached hair anywhere… and beside him… she knew that it was Roy and Marc. She wasn’t sure how but she just knew. And despite what her father had said, despite her age, she knew that Ma and her brothers wouldn’t be meeting back up with them.

Deep down she knew that what she had seen was her Ma, well what used to be her Ma biting Alan, killing him. And she knew that she had already done the same to Roy and Marc. If it wasn’t for Scott she probably would’ve been one of the next ones to meet that same fate.

Yn knew that something had happened and it would change a lot, but no one was prepared for the hell that had just been unleashed on the world, nor if they would even survive it.

Joel Fic Taglist:

@sexyvixen7@joelmillerslays@elliaze@strawbab

@little-lovely-darling

@swimmjacket@watercolorskyy@mserynlarsen@sebby-staan@beelanie@jellybeanxc

@fan-g0rl

#joel tlou #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader angst #the last of us #joel the last of us #hbo the last of us #hbo tlou #joel miller hbo #joel miller fanfiction

317 notes · View notes

colormepurplex2 · 3 months

Text

Did It Hurt? | Sweet Kiss of Hellfire

↳ FallenAngel!Taehyung x LostSoul!f.Reader ⤜ Fallen Angel AU, Strangers to Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 12,706 ⚠️ Struggle with faith and beliefs, on-screen violence, allusion to murder, references to death & dying, kissing, hesitant sexual exploration, guilt over sexual desires, v. sex, creampie, damnation

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

Taehyung

To say Taehyung is nervous would be a gross understatement as he walks a few feet behind you. It’s not even the idea of being welcomed into your personal bubble that has his knees knocking with every other step. It’s more the idea that, for some reason, he feels like he wants, no, needs to impress you. As if you somehow find him lacking, you’ll slip between his fingers no matter how hard he tries to hang on—and it’s not even about putting you on a path for redemption, not wholly, at least.

This is what he’s been waiting a hundred years for—his moment of being pulled back into the good graces of his Heavenly Brothers. Yet that’s the furthest thing from his mind right now as he watches your hips sway with your every step. He’s nervous because he wants you to like him. He wants a reminder of what it feels like not to be alone…maybe even more than he wants his wings back.

The further you lead Taehyung from the park, the more he realizes you’re heading toward the same place you went this morning: Ryan’s apartment. If he were a lesser man—fallen angel, really—he’d probably try to coax you into taking him to your place instead. But he doesn’t want to send you running for the hills when it already seems like he’s walking a knife’s edge with whether or not you trust him.

“The place we’re going isn’t too much further. I hope you don’t mind me including my friend. He’s kind of been my tabkeeper on everything. Plus, I still don’t know if I trust you completely or not,” you inform him, confirming his suspicions.

“That’s okay. The more information, the better.” Taehyung has to remember this isn’t just about you, no matter his thoughts from just minutes ago, but that he has a stake in this being successful, too.

So if that means suffering through mister-perfect-body-and-face-Ryan, then, by Grace, he supposes he’ll endure. Though, perhaps he can find a way to get some more one-on-one time with you just to solidify that connection he knows he needs to secure for this to work out for him in the end.

The familiar highrise comes into view as Taehyung rounds the corner after you. He watches as you breeze your way through the entrance, waving at the porter with a smile, and move on autopilot in the elevator. In a matter of minutes, Taehyung finds himself standing outside Ryan's swanky apartment with you.

It’s a nondescript door painted a plain green color. There is no welcome mat or other decoration. The only indicator that someone might occupy the space within is the small brass-colored ‘Weller P.I.” placard sitting above the 12 of the apartment number.

You knock on the door, lacing and unlacing your fingers together in front of you in an inpatient manner.

“Ging, is that you? I wasn’t expecting—” The door swings open, revealing Ryan standing there in all his blond, mossy-eyed glory, grey sweats slung low on his hips and shirtless. Even to Taehyung, Ryan looks delectable, which couldn’t rankle him more. “Who’s your friend?” Ryan asks, his brows knitting together in confusion. He leans his body against the doorframe, muscles bulging as he crosses his arms over his lean chest.

“Don’t start with that alpha male posturing. We don’t have time for it. If you want to challenge Taehyung to a dick-measuring contest, do it when I’m not around,” you huff, pushing by Ryan and stomping into his apartment.

“Taehyung?” Ryan's eyes widen, and his arms drop. “As in The Taehyung? Kim?”

“Seems you know who I am, yet I have no clue as to who you might be,” Taehyung offers, not at all feeling contrite over being a bit big-headed or intentional with his words.

Taehyung catches your eye over Ryan’s shoulder, and you roll your eyes, biting your bottom lip in what Taehyung hopes is a way to stifle your laughter at his choice of words.

Ryan frowns. “You didn’t tell him about me?” he asks you over his shoulder. It’s kind of cute, the way he’s pouting. However, that only lasts for a moment before he turns back toward Taehyung and straightens his shoulders, standing to his full height as if he could try to tower over Taehyung somehow. Yet, he only comes eye to eye with him, making Taehyung smile smugly. “I’m Ryan. Ginger’s best friend.”

“Only friend,” you call out as if that’s an important distinction. Taehyung likes to think it’s your way of saying that if you had more than one friend, you wouldn’t consider Ryan your best one.

That makes Ryan a bit red in the face, but he doesn’t comment further; he just steps back and gestures for Taehyung to come in. “Well, Ryan, only friend to Ginger; hopefully, we can all work together to make her life a little better, yeah?”

“You’re going to help?” Ryan asks, all pretenses dropping in the light of that revelation.

“That’s the plan. I know Lorren Bianchi, and I’ve promised our friend here that I might have an easier, perhaps more fulfilling, way to take him down. One that most likely won’t have a jail-time potential at the end of it.”

“Most likely?”

Taehyung gives Ryan a withering look, one he never would have dreamed of giving someone before he came to this desolate place known as the mortal realm. One hundred years can really take a toll, Divine being or not. He straightens, chest subconsciously puffing out. “Not everything is foolproof, pretty boy. Surely even you know that.”

“That alpha posturing and dick-measuring thing I mentioned? You don’t get to do it either,” you snark, waggling a finger at Taehyung from where you’re pulling beers from the fridge on the other side of the kitchen. “Even if it were entertaining to see you both strut around naked.” Then under your breath, “It would be the highlight of the last few years, I’d bet, but still not the time.” You clearly don’t mean for Taehyung or Ryan to hear you, yet your words might as well be an intimate caress against Taehyung’s ears.

Shaking himself away from the intrusive thoughts that come with your little secret fantasy, Taehyung gives you his attention. “Right, of course. Shall we?”

Ryan sighs but nods in concession. “Let’s hear this plan of yours.” He moves to the table where you’re settling with beers in hand. “Thanks,” he says, accepting one of the proffered bottles.

Taehyung sits at the table across from you and Ryan. He takes the beer you grabbed for him between his hands and considers the amber-colored glass before taking a sip. The bitter notes of the brew spark on his tongue, fading to a caramel finish as he swallows.

“Well,” Taehyung begins, taking another sip before laying it all out there for them.

🤍🤍🤍

You and Ryan take turns asking questions, clarifying details, and offering alternatives to a few of Taehyung’s ideas. But, ultimately, in the end, you have to begrudgingly admit it’s a perfect plan. It is far better than your pitiful blackmail and con artistry could accomplish in years.

Though, all your hard work isn’t for nothing. It’s agreed that you’re going to use all the juicy evidence you’ve gathered over the last two years on Bianchi against him. He’s going to be his own downfall, his own fatal stroke. And all you have to do is dress up one last time, play the part, and let all the pieces fall into place.

That might be easier said than done, though. You’re on board with not outright killing Bianchi. But your desire for blood hasn’t lessened in the last two years, to say the least. You want him to bleed, even if it’s just a little. Ryan and Taehyung have both assured you that once Bianchi is taken into FBI custody, he’ll bleed plenty. That’s not to say the FBI is going to make him bleed, but being in federal lockup and in the prison system, he has plenty of enemies.

You’ve also pointed out that he might have a lot of friends, too. To which Ryan conceded that it was a valid concern but a risk that would need to be taken. There are some doubts, but you’re trying to have some faith in your friend and your new…partner? You’re still not sure what to make of Taehyung yet.

You add a fourth empty bottle to the others at the center of the table, making the number alarming high. Ryan’s beer stash is starting to look relatively meager after the four hours the three of you have spent drinking and planning.

“I think it’s about time I call it a night,” you announce, pushing back from the table. You stand on wobbly feet, the heels you’re wearing not helping at all.

Ryan shoots to his feet beside you. “I’ll go with you. You’re in no condition to walk by yourself this late at night.”

“Nonsense. You live here. There’s no reason for you to leave just to have to come right back,” Taehyung declares. “I can walk you home,” he tells you. “You don’t live far from me anyhow.”

That pout turns Ryan’s lips down again. “But I’m her best friend,” he argues.

“Only friend,” Taehyung corrects. “For now, at least.” He winks at you, giving you a charming smile.

“Taehyung can walk me home. It’s fine, Ry. You should get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Ging, really?” Ryan throws out a hand toward Taehyung. “You’re choosing him over me?” Ryan can be cute when he’s petulant, like a child. You’re surprised he’s not stamping his foot, too.

Blinking to clear your head a bit, you give Ryan a pat on the shoulder and what you hope is a warm smile. “It’s not about choosing him over you, Ry. It just makes more sense this way. Now, to bed, go. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Ryan reluctantly disappears into his bathroom to get ready for bed, but not before pulling you into a tight hug and glaring daggers at Taehyung’s back as he waits by the door. Perhaps you should have stopped the beers much sooner, though it does make you feel good to be fought over like this. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy some freedom in a really long time.

There’s something about Taehyung, despite being still somewhat of a stranger, that makes you lose your inhibitions. You feel a sense of ease around him, even though you know you shouldn’t. It’s odd, yet you find yourself longing for it all the more.

The air outside is thick with noise, typical of the city. Taehyung walks beside you in companionable silence that’s a balming contrast, his arm occasionally brushing yours. You feel lighter already, knowing that everything you’ve worked for over the last two years is about to come to a head.

There is one feeling, though, deep down inside that you weren’t expecting: worry. You’ve been focused on revenge and taking down Lorren Bianchi for so long that you’re unsure what happens next. Money isn’t an issue; you’d been saving for years before this, and Ryan supplements you as needed through his FBI contact. To say the least, you’ve been handsomely compensated for all of your work, legal or not.

So, you’re not sure what comes after. What will there be for you when no one is left to take down? You haven’t really given yourself the liberty to think about that…until now. It’s scary, so daunting that it makes your hands shake.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s voice breaks you out of your revere.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” The lie comes easy, a natural response to a question you’re asked far more than you’d like to be.

Taehyung clears his throat. You can hear the wet sound of his tongue swiping over his lips as he licks them. “You’re not being honest with me.”

The beer must be hindering your ability to be convincing. “I will be fine once we take Bianchi down.”

“Two more days. Monday night, everything will change.” There is an underlying hint of longing in the way Taehyung says those words. They’re clearly meant to comfort you, but you can tell he’s just as passionate about accomplishing it.

You’ve been trying to piece together that for several hours now. Sure, Taehyung has expressed the desire to see Bianchi ended, but he hasn’t honestly explained why or what his personal interest is in this whole plan.

“Why do you care so much about helping me?” you ask because, clearly, the beer has also removed your brain-to-mouth filter.

Taehyung slows to a stop, and that’s when you realize you’re standing outside your apartment. He must have directed you here because you don’t remember the walk at all. He fits his hands in his pockets and meets your eyes, the silence stretching long after your inquiry.

Finally, he says, “You could say that by helping you, I’m seeking my own sort of redemption. Delivering you from a path of destruction to one of absolution will allow me to remove some of my own personal shackles and make up for wrongs from my past.” You see his shoulders twitch, a slight grimace sliding over his face. It lasted only a moment, but it was there.

“Your back,” you whisper. “What you were punished for? You think helping me will make up for whatever you did to earn those scars, is that it?”

His eyes, once so full of fire and life, close over until he’s an unreadable mask. “Something like that,” he says. “Well, I’ll let you head up. Call me on Monday before noon. We can coordinate our arrival and plans then.”

Taehyung turns and only makes it a few feet down the sidewalk before you call out to him. “Wait, please. Umm, do you—do you want to come up, maybe?” Regret instantly burns down your throat, being so forward like that. It’s apparent he’s uncomfortable and is about to reject you.

You feel like such an id— "Okay.” His response takes you by surprise. Pleasantly, though. “Maybe for just a bit.”

The thought of sex is so far removed from why you asked. Though, now that the question has been put out there, you can only imagine that’s what he’s thinking you’re asking for.

“I just, uh, well—it’s not for sex or anything like that. I just don’t want to be alone right now.” There. Now you’ve made it clear and also made a bigger fool of yourself in the process. You’re not sure what’s going on with you. Fuck. You need to get inside before you say something else.

Taehyung follows you quietly, his eyes sparkling once again with that fire and life from before. Perhaps he finds your babbling amusing. Which, weirdly, makes you feel even giddier. This guy…is something else, like an alien or something, because no human being should have this kind of effect on someone else just by being near them.

For once, since moving in, you feel like your apartment could be better. You feel like Taehyung will undoubtedly think you’re some weirdo with no personality or love for life. Not that that isn’t far from the truth for the last two years, but there’s something about inviting someone into your space when it’s so utterly devoid of anything that’s genuinely you.

“Nice place,” Taehyung compliments as you let him in. He immediately toes off his shoes, something you don’t even do in your own space but now feel the need to.

Leaving your heels by the door, you flex your toes on the hardwood floor to encourage some feeling back into them. “Thanks, it’s nothing really special. Sorry it’s so boring.”

That charming smile is once again in place as Taehyung turns toward you. “Don’t discount yourself so much. You have a lot on your plate. I understand that this,” he gestures around your apartment, “is most likely not an accurate representation of who you are as a person.”

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to simply make me feel better about myself or actually flirt with me,” you mutter, half to yourself, half uncaring if he hears. “Um, would you like something to drink? A water, perhaps, to help cut off the buzz from all those beers? I know I sure could use some.”

You move into the kitchen, grab two glasses from the cabinet, and fill them with water from the filter pitcher in the fridge. Taehyung graciously accepts a glass, tips it up, and takes a sip.

“Funnily enough, I’m not all that buzzed. The water is still nice, though, thank you.”

There were at least seven empty bottles in the center of Ryan’s table that were put there by Taehyung. Either he actually is an alien, or he’s lying about being buzzed. Ryan’s beer preference isn’t known to have a low ABV.

“How is that even possible?” you ask, moving over to sit on the couch. The leather squeaks a bit, not used to being sat on. You bought it as a means to fill up some of the space, the same as the flat-screen TV that you haven’t turned on in…well, you can’t remember how long.

Taehyung swings around the end of the couch and settles at the other, turning with one knee bent onto the cushion beside him. “I told you, I’m not from here.”

“Extraterrestrial. I knew it.”

That makes Taehyung laugh. “More like celestial.”

“Celestial?” you question. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

Taehyung looks down at his cup of water, fingers flexing on the glass. “Not celestial as in space, but celestial as in divine…holy.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “You’re trying to tell me you’re what, an angel?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Taehyung asks. You continue to chuckle, but it tapers off as you realize Taehyung isn’t laughing or smiling with you. In fact, the look on his face is quite severe.

“You’re being serious?”

A pregnant pause settles between you, feeling stifling and thick. The tension snaps when Taehyung smiles and shrugs his shoulders, somehow melting the awkwardness. “Let’s pretend for a moment that I am being serious. Is that so hard to believe?”

You lick your lips, intent on telling him that you don’t believe in that kind of stuff and that angels, demons, heaven, and hell are just words to you. Yet, when you open your mouth to do just that, the words get clogged, and you find yourself genuinely thinking about it. There is so much evil in the world, evil that you’ve witnessed firsthand, that you could believe the devil or demons exist.

But, the other side of the coin? If there was such a thing as god or angels, then why aren’t there more miracles or good in the world? Why do innocent children die? Why do harmless women become victims, just another drop in the bucket of endless souls lost?

That’s a hard pill to swallow. Either there is no god, or god isn’t as all-loving as they make him seem. Maybe even god is actually the evil one. After all, what’s a more incredible deception and evil than making up some obtainable holy divinity if you just worship him when there’s only nothingness that awaits beyond life?

Before your thoughts can continue to spiral, you startle at realizing Taehyung’s sudden close proximity. He must have slid closer while you were mulling over your answer. His discarded water glass is set on the floor beside the couch, and he’s staring intently at you, his knee brushing your thigh.

“It’s not hard to believe, I don’t think.” Because it’s not, really. Maybe you wouldn’t call it the power of god or the malevolence of evil, but it’s not hard to think there might be something out there, even if you’re just humoring this odd man who makes you feel all fluttery and warm inside.

Taehyung drifts closer, and your body automatically angles toward him. You watch as his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back. “It feels good to be believed in,” he whispers, the ghost of his words puffing against your lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice breathless and airy.

He shakes his head slightly, a line forming between his brows. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to be this close to another being, to have someone express belief in me…it’s—” he sucks in a deep breath before jerking back from you, putting several inches between your body and his. “Forgive me. I don’t know what—”

“Don’t,” you urge, pressing your index finger against his lips and cutting off his apology. You’re not sure you can bear it if he makes whatever is happening between the two of you into something terrible.

Your lips replace your finger, the action one of panic but quickly morphs into desire. Taehyung’s mouth is hesitant, his lips tight lines under yours, at first. But, with a few plucks of your lips against his, he melts into it. You coax his lips to part with the tip of your tongue, luxuriating in the heady taste of him when he opens for you.

It feels good to get lost in someone just because you want to because you choose to do it for your own pleasure and not to advance a plot or plan. The glass of water in your hand slips, clattering to the floor beside the couch, surely spreading water across the hardwood. But you couldn’t care less. Taehyung is pliable under your touch, allowing you to angle his head and slide your fingers into his hair for leverage.

You’re not sure the last time you kissed someone like this, giving it your all and accepting all in return. Taehyung makes soft mewling noises as you gently bite his bottom lip before plunging your tongue back into his mouth. His hands land on your hips, fingers kneading gently.

You slide a hand from his hair down to his shoulder and further until it rests over his rapidly beating heart. His chest is firm under your palm, warm and comforting. When your hand starts to drop lower, Taehyung breaks the kiss and begins to move along your jaw to your throat.

His mouth is greedy as it dances over your pulse point and clavicle. You can feel his hot breath over your already heated skin, setting a fire that drips down your spine and settles between your thighs.

Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath through his nose when your hand makes it to his lap, his entire body going so rigid it’s alarming. His cock is so hard you can feel how it’s straining the zipper on his slacks. It lasts only a moment, the pulse of fear and panic you feel emanating from him before he’s practically crawling over the back of the couch to get away from you.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

Stumbling upright as he slides over the back of the couch, he stands there wide-eyed, staring at you. “I–I think it’s b-best for me to go. I’m sorry. You’re lovely, really. As cliche as it is, it really isn’t you. It’s me. I, uh,” he glances down at his crotch and the very evident bulge there, “this…I can’t. I’m sorry.”

It’s like his body is not his own as it moves with phantom actions he hasn’t done in decades. He folds his hands under his chin, his lips muttering a bit of the Lord’s Prayer before he brings a hand to his forehead, drops it to his sternum, and then crosses to his left shoulder before ending on his right.

He instantly feels disgusted with himself. Though, whether that’s for bending to the temptations of the flesh once more or with how much his past life is coming back to control him, he’s not sure.

The look on your face is like Michael’s sword all over again. He can feel the burn lancing across his back as he takes a few shaky steps backward toward the door. Slowly, you seem to pull yourself together and plaster a placating smile on your face.

“No, I should be the sorry one. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, not without asking first. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess that’s what I get for drinking so much.”

Only Taehyung knows it wasn’t the alcohol, and he doesn’t want you to be sorry for what you did. He wants to beg you to keep going, to call him a fool and come after him, take him to the ground, and ravage him. And he has to get out of here before he asks you to do just that.

“I’ll see you Monday?” Taehyung offers from by the door. He feels like an idiot running away like this, but he can’t ruin this now. Not when he’s so close, and the idea of throwing away one hundred years should be enough to make him keep going out the door.

You stand up from the couch, adjusting your dress along your hips. “Yep. I’ll call you.” Thankfully, Taehyung had the forethought to give you his number much earlier in the evening.

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams,” Taehyung says quietly before opening the door and stepping out. He barely catches your ‘goodbye’ in reply as the door closes.

Taehyung groans, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands in frustration. “Fucking fool,” he mutters to himself. “Way to almost ruin everything.”

However, as Taehyung walks home, he can’t help but lament how conflicted he feels. Sure, he knows this is the exact kind of situation that put him here in the first place, the whole reason he’s even getting close to you. Yet, deep down, he knows he’s always been a far more carnal creature than most of his kind.

He can remember, many, many centuries ago, long before his own fall, how close he was to his Brother Yaqum. There was also Sariel and Armaros, as close to him as he once thought Michael and Raquel were. Yaqum, Sariel, and Armaros were all a part of the big fall, cast out for their salacious couplings with human women. The very crime Taehyung almost just committed for a second time.

Taehyung’s apartment is cold when he gets home, just as desolate as his soul feels currently. He reluctantly takes a shower, silently pained by washing away the lingering tingle of your touch. There are only a few more hours before the sun rises, and Taehyung wants nothing more than to lie in his useless bed and replay what transpired on your couch over and over again, regretting having washed you away so soon.

In all the years Taehyung has been in his exile, never before has a human so completely turned his existence upside down like this. Perhaps he should take it as a good sign, indicating that he’s chosen correctly for redemption. However, there is a sadness that won’t go away. It’s ebbing in around his edges, fraying them and coloring them in shadowed tones.

Rolling over to face the window beside his bed, he watches as the early morning pinks and oranges begin to bleed through the blues and indigos of twilight. If everything goes according to plan, in just forty-eight hours, he could be watching a completely different sunrise, one from a Heavenly vantage point, a sight he has longed for for so long.

Watching the sunrise was one of his favorite things to do. Heaven is a unique place, both physical and ethereal, a limbo of existence. But the sunrise was always something of the material plane, a sight that transcended the barrier between the mortal realm and the Holy one. It’s also where Taehyung met her.

Taehyung hasn’t let himself think about Hana since that day in the Divine Chamber of Justice. But he can still remember her smile, the light in her eyes, and the way they crinkled and her body shook with laughter. Little did Taehyung realize that one moment watching the sunrise together would lead to countless stolen moments and smiles.

There is nothing anywhere that expressly states Angels are not to fraternize with their flock. Though, Taehyung supposes, after what happened during the Great War of Heaven, there probably didn’t need to be something written down. There shouldn’t have to be some ‘How To Be An Angel’ guidebook.

It wasn’t enough that Taehyung was cast into exile for his actions. They had to punish Hana as well. Though, she won’t remember it. That was her punishment, her memories removed and being placed in another Angel’s flock for care. She’ll never remember the moments they shared together, never remember Taehyung. He sometimes wishes they would have taken his memories, too.

Not able to take the painful reminiscing any longer, Taehyung turns his back on the sunrise, burying his face in a pillow, hoping for more pleasing thoughts. He thinks of you, so hungry and aggressive in your pursuit of discovering what was behind his trousers. The satin pillowcase is smooth against his cheeks as they heat with that thought. He never considered the possibility that he’d find himself revisiting these kinds of sordid thoughts and experiences during his exile. Yet, here he is, willing his erection to go away once again.

Thinking about Hana didn’t help. He just can’t help himself, though, now that the image of you—his goddess—is firmly in his mind. Taehyung can picture Hana naked and begging… lying beside you on a giant bed. Both so desperate for him. Taehyung clears his throat and shakes his head, dispelling the sin-filled fantasy.

He stays like that until Monday morning, flipping between lush fantasies and chastisement. Taehyung throws back the blankets and drags himself from the bed in hopes he can take his mind off all his uncertain and worrying thoughts. There are plenty of other things that could use his attention, like preparing for the gala tonight.

Waiting for your phone call is torture. Around eleven, Taehyung starts to think maybe he permanently ruined things with you Saturday night. But, you put him out of his misery just before noon. He answers on the first ring.

“Hello?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything at first.

Relief floods through him. “Hey, hi, hello. Sorry, I’m here.”

“Oh, did I call at a bad time?”

“No, no. You’re fine. Now is great. Tell me about what you’re thinking of wearing.”

There is some shuffling on the other end, the sound of fabric swishing over the line. “Crimson silk, off the shoulder, floor length.”

Taehyung swallows around the thick knot forming in his throat. “Send me a picture? Just for color clarification purposes,” he’s quick to add.

You laugh softly, the sound growing faint as he assumes you pull the phone away from your face. A moment later, his phone buzzes. Putting it on speaker, Taehyung clicks through to his messages, and a moment later, an image of you pops onto the screen. It suddenly feels far too warm in his apartment, and his suit pants far too tight.

The silk hugs your curves, a plunging neckline accented by the dainty necklace around your neck. You’re smiling in the bathroom mirror, the shot cut off at your hips, but Taehyung doesn’t think he needs to see the whole thing to get the perfect picture of how utterly divine you look right now—every inch his goddess in truth.

“How’s that?” your voice breaks through his admiration.

“Great, perfect. I think I have just the tie to match. The gala starts at three. Shall we meet there at a quarter til?”

Your sigh whistles through the line. “Yeah, that works.”

“Hey, everything is going to be okay. I promise. We’ve got it all worked out, and we’re going to bring Lorren Bianchi to his knees.”

You hum in agreement. “Ryan says he has a surprise for us but won’t tell me any details. But, he is going to meet us around back at three-thirty to drop off what we need and give an escape once the shit hits the fan. Are you certain you can’t get him a pass in, too?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. This was an argument that was hashed out Saturday night. “A surprise? I don’t like surprises. He better not screw any of this up. And not this late in the game, sorry. I only had an extra ticket already because I had submitted for a plus one, thinking I’d be bringing a business venture partner.” In reality, Taehyung could probably swing it where Ryan also got in with some sort of media pass. But, it’s an added risk that Taehyung isn’t sure is worth the trouble. As well as, the farther Ryan stays away from you, the better Taehyung will feel.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll see you then. Quarter til.”

“See you then.”

Even though there are still a few hours to go, Taehyung leaves immediately after changing his tie to one that matches the color of your dress, thinking it’s better to wait for you there than to spend any more time hanging around his apartment twiddling his thumbs.

It’s a relatively short walk, considering the amount of foot traffic crowding the sidewalk near the hub of downtown. Once there, though, time seems to drag to a standstill, minutes ticking by feeling like hours.

Taehyung rolls his shoulders as he lounges against the brick wall outside of the state building where the gala is being held. The burning itch seems to grow more persistent with every step he takes toward redemption. Thankfully, a beautiful distraction dripping in red comes along to take his mind off of it.

“Hello,” Taehyung greets you brightly as soon as you come into view from around the corner at promptly fifteen minutes until three.

You’re like a breath of fresh air in your crimson slip dress. The slit comes nearly to your hip on the right, the black pumps on your feet making it so the dress is just an inch from brushing the sidewalk. Your makeup is light, with a subtle smokiness around your eyes and a smear of gloss on your lips. Taehyung wonders if it’s flavored.

“Hi.”

“You look beautiful.” Taehyung watches as your eyes dip down and a faint smile traces your lips.

“Shall we?” you ask, flicking a hand toward where there are various bubbles of people gathered outside the doors to the building, all waiting for entrance.

Taehyung offers you his arm and delights at the feel of your hand settling into the curve of his elbow. It feels good to have you touching him, even in such an innocent manner. Almost too good, which is alarming, and Taehyung has a moment of weakness where he considers shaking your hand free and pretending he didn’t offer you his arm to begin with.

Pressing beyond the swell of confusing and contradicting thoughts, he turns his attention toward making it inside the gallery hall. The sooner he gets things rolling, the sooner he can put all this behind him and finally be whole again.

There is a small procession leading inside, photographers capturing snapshots of guests in front of a giant Bianchi Holdings backdrop just inside the atrium entrance. It rubs Taehyung the wrong way how there is so much money being flaunted here when just a few city blocks away there are homeless encampments. The rich really are a different breed of monster, all sharp fangs and poison.

“Did Ryan tell you any more about that surprise he has planned?” Taehyung asks, eyeing roving over the crowd for familiar faces.

Your hand flexes against his elbow. “I wish,” you murmur.

That’s concerning. Taehyung doesn’t like surprises. He’s still thinking about fitting his hands around Ryan’s neck and teaching him a lesson as the photographer snags a few photos, and you lead him inside.

The hall where the gala is being held is decorated in flashy opulence. Everything is gold. Shimmering fabrics cover the tables, and golden statues sit as center pieces along the drink bar. The chandelier hanging in the center of the banquet hall reflects the warm, yellow sunlight coming in from the large glass skylights overhead.

Just as Taehyung is steering you toward the drink table, he catches sight of Lorren Bianchi standing on the far side of the room, talking to none other than Roy Simmons. “Do you want to meet him?” Taehyung asks in a low whisper.

You stiffen by Taehyung’s side, your fingers digging into his arm, and he’s almost certain he can hear your molars grinding together. A few moments of silence pass, and Taehyung is about to say to forget it when you respond, “A drink first.”

With a whiskey in his hand and a flute of champagne in yours, Taehyung slowly ushers you across the room. He stops periodically, introducing you to other attendees, nameless cogs that are part of the big machine. Finally, Taehyung catches Bianchi’s eye, and with one flick of his Rolex-encircled wrist, he beckons you both over.

It’s no surprise that as soon as Bianchi’s attention is diverted from him, Roy Simmons slinks away into the shadows, eyes wide like he has seen a ghost when you come into view. It makes Taehyung want to laugh, but he bites his tongue instead.

Taehyung keeps half his focus on you, making sure you’re okay as you come face to face with the man who altered your entire world a few years ago, the man who has been your number one enemy since he stole the light from your life and the smile from your face.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, what a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t sure you were coming after I heard you canceled on Ms. Torshen.”

It takes tremendous effort for Taehyung not to grimace. It’s not such a bad thing, having canceled on his prospective business venture plus one. If things go according to plan, then Taehyung won’t even be needing that business prospect anyway.

Giving you a fond smile, Taehyung says, “Yes, well, as you can see, I’ve discovered something far more…alluring.”

He can see it, the irritation in your eyes at being referred to in such a manner, but it was discussed heavily on Saturday night that Taehyung might have to act a certain way at the gala if he was to make it believable that he’s as a typical guest.

Bianchi’s eyes sweep over you, devouring the plunging neckline and high slit of your dress. Taehyung has the sudden urge to gauge them out. Lorren Bianchi is a snake, complete with green-grey soulless eyes and too-red lips that part around a slick tongue as he licks them.

“Lorren Bianchi,” he introduces himself, offering you a be-ringed hand.

There is a mild tremble to your free hand as you slip it into his. He brings your hand up and brushes his lips over your knuckles. “Ginger. Ginger Weller.” It was agreed that tonight you would continue to be Ginger, one last performance.

“Weller? As in the old Weller Conglomerate?”

As insisted by Ryan, you nod. “Yes.”

You’d never taken on a last name for your persona, but Ryan has enough big ties to his name that it would be impressive in a place like this while not drawing too much attention. Ryan’s adoptive father retired and sold off the business for a hefty sum before filling Ryan’s bank account and running off with his mistress to Bali.

“Father?”

“Step,” you offer quickly. Taehyung can tell you’re panicking about it with this line of questioning, and now he wants all the more to throttle Ryan for this stupid idea.

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to get my donation in before I forget,” Taehyung says, interjecting into the conversation to try and steer it away from you. You’re only supposed to be his proverbial arm candy tonight, close enough to get the job done but far enough that you won’t get caught in the crossfire when things go south.

Bianchi, his gelled-back black hair glinting like a knife in the overhead light, claps Taehyung on the back. “See to it that you do. Ms. Weller, a pleasure.” He gives you an oily smile before turning and stalking away.

Taehyung sighs, steering you toward the other side of the room. “I’m going to strangle your only friend,” he mutters. “What a ridiculous idea. His surprise better be a good one, or I might just…” he trails off, shaking his head and not finishing his line of thinking. If Taehyung were to voice such dark thoughts aloud, he might just think the heat he felt along his neck was the kiss of Hellfire instead of annoyance.

“Give him a break. He was just trying to be helpful since you weren’t able to get him a pass in,” you grump beside Taehyung, but he can tell you’re not putting much effort into the chastisement, your thoughts clearly elsewhere.

It would seem suspicious if Taehyung didn’t actually stop by the donations table and at least put on the front that he’s donating. So he tugs you toward where the familiar face of Bianchi’s assistant is sitting at a table covered in a gold-crushed velvet tablecloth with a laptop in the center.

There have only been a few occasions where Taehyung has interacted with the young woman, but she doesn’t even look up from where she’s tapping away at the keys on the laptop when she says, “Mr. Kim, how much are you donating tonight? Will you be using the same method as last time?”

Taehyung clears his throat, garnering him a quick glance over the rim of her glasses. Giavona Bonetti is just as much of a snake as Bianchi is. She’s complicit in all of his devious ventures, her hands just as much covered in blood as his, except hers also gloat a tinge of green. Taehyung knows she’s tremendously jealous but also extremely greedy. Bianchi pays her for her discrepancy and infallible loyalty. When he goes down, her ship will sink, too.

“Fifty large, same method,” Taehyung says, earning a bewildered look from you. He shrugs, not sure what you expect from him in this situation, he’s trying to make it all look believable.

Giavona clicks a few things on the laptop, her eyes flicking to him once more before she gives him a saccharine smile that turns into a viper’s sneer when her eyes slide to you and says, “Done.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung murmurs, eager to get you away from the woman before she says something that would actually make him voice some very dark, choice words aloud.

“Friend of yours?” you ask, clearly amused now. Which, to Taehyung, is better than the anxiety he felt rolling off of you moments earlier.

Taehyung just gives you a pointed look that makes you laugh softly, mischief twinkling in your eyes. Taehyung decides he likes that look on you. Almost as much as he loves the dress you’re wearing, even if it is a bit distracting right now with how the fabric pulls tight every time your chest rises with your inhales.

“Come on, we should be able to make it out the back without drawing too much attention now.” Taehyung watches as the light slowly dims from your eyes, and your lips press into a thin line, bringing you back to why you’re here in the first place.

It’s easy to find a way out the back entrance. The hallways and rooms outside the banquet hall are mostly empty, with just a few service workers diligently running trays of drinks and refills on napkins. Their heads are down and ears closed, as is expected of them during events like this.

A blacked-out utility van is parked in the service alley near the dumpsters as Taehyung leads you outside. Ryan’s stoic face is barely visible through the driver's side window. He pops open the door and jumps out, complete in a full black outfit, as if he’s about to crawl through some air vents in a spy film. Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Ready to set the world on fire?” Ryan asks you, digging in his pants pocket, his easy boy smirk rubbing Taehyung the wrong way.

You finally let go of Taehyung for the first time since you took hold of him out front. He feels bereft and suddenly far too cold for the mild weather outside. Taehyung watches as you step toward Ryan and accept the thumb drive he holds up.

“It’s all here?”

“Everything.” Ryan nods, confirming.

Taehyung steps up beside you, eyes focusing on the small stick of plastic pinched between your thumb and forefinger. “What’s the surprise you have?” he asks Ryan without taking his eyes off the flash drive.

Ryan claps his hands, rubbing them together. “I was worried that the local PD might not make it here on time to arrest Bianchi before he could slip away into the shadows, so I let on with my FBI contact that something big would be going down tonight. I sent him a copy of everything on the flash drive, and he’s ready for the show to go down before he makes a move.”

Taehyung begrudgingly has to admit that’s a good idea, a pleasant surprise. Yet, he doesn’t want to give Ryan the satisfaction of saying so, so he just grunts in response. But you, you throw your arms around Ryan and give him a hug like one Taehyung wishes you would afford him.

It’s as endearing as it is irritating, watching you have a moment of vulnerability and tenderness with Ryan. Taehyung might not care for how close Ryan is to you, but he’s glad you’ll have someone to lean on and move on with once he’s gone. It’s not that long now. Taehyung can feel it; his redemption draws closer with every step he steers you away from the path of vengeance and toward one of justice instead.

The fact that he’ll get to one day watch over you, guard you through the rest of your life, is what keeps him moving forward. It’s what helps take the sting away from realizing he’ll have to let you, this goddess that brought him so much vigor and light in such a short amount of time after a hundred years of bleak desolation, go.

“Thanks, Ry,” you say, finally pulling away from the embrace. “Are you ready?” you ask, turning your big, bright eyes on Taehyung. You’re full of life once more, ready to take on the world—or, more so, take on Lorren Bianchi. Taehyung wonders what you must be thinking, knowing everything you worked so hard for the last two years is about to pay off. He can taste the adrenaline pumping just beneath your skin. The excitement twinged with mild dollops of trepidation like lemons and cream on the back of Taehyung’s tongue.

“Ready,” Taehyung affirms, offering you his arm once more.

🤍🤍🤍

You hope Taehyung can’t tell how nervous you are. The rush of blood in your ears and the pounding of your heart have become just background noise to you at this point. You can feel the electric tingle of adrenaline under your skin. It’s what’s keeping you going.

The flash drive is cupped under your fingers, resting in the crook of Taehyung’s elbow as he leads you back inside. Ryan has the back door of the van open, waiting to take you and Taehyung away once you’ve delivered the crushing blow, toppling Bianchi’s empire.

It wasn’t easy, agreeing to follow the path Taehyung offered you instead of pursuing your original desire just to murder the bastard. You want him to suffer, just as you’re certain Danika did. Yet, you were always struggling with the fact that death was less than he deserved. You just weren’t sure how else to go about giving him an eternity of misery.

All you have to do is fit this little piece of technology into the projector that’s set up in the media room and let it play out. Roy Simmons provided everything you asked him to. Which, if you’re being honest, surprised you.

You spent the entire day yesterday pouring over everything you’ve collected over the last two years, the stuff Simmons gave you included. It was horrific, digging through all the memories and the disgusting piles of evidence. But, in the end, you know it’s going to be worth it. The evidence is irrefutable. Ryan said with all the additional information he’s been feeding the FBI over the last two years, Bianchi is dead to rights.

The added bonus that Ryan’s FBI friend is hanging out somewhere in the crowd is comforting. That was something you weren’t sure about with Taehyung’s plan. There was no guarantee that releasing all this evidence and proof of Bianchi’s foul deeds would see him suffer the way Taehyung promised he would. Now, though, you can see it all playing out perfectly.

“The speeches will be starting soon,” Taehyung says, nodding toward the stage where you can see Bianchi’s assistant setting up. There is one of those giant fake checks sitting on a rack behind her, the amount box blank for now.

“Did you really give up fifty large tonight?”

Taehyung flashes you a smile as he leads you back through the main entrance of the banquet hall. The media room is accessed from the staircase in the central lobby of the state building.

“Worth it.” He shrugs. “As dangerous and depraved as Bianchi is, most of the money is actually going to be donated to The Children’s Fund. There are mediators here that will see to that as long as the FBI doesn’t put a freeze on the accounts…which, well, is possible. I guess I’ll just have to make another donation myself.”

A thoughtful yet dark expression crosses Taehyung’s face for a moment, but it’s gone before you can think more about it. He’s still, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to you, yet he feels like a lifelong friend already. There is just something enigmatic about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on but find yourself hungering for.

When you started your journey for revenge, you never thought you’d get a life beyond the final act. You were ready to go down swinging against Bianchi, ready to take that fall, knowing you did right by Danika for the mistake you made all those years ago. Yet now, you can almost taste the freedom that will come after—the life you hadn’t thought was possible.

You’re about to make a remark, something about the FBI tying up the donations, but it dies on the tip of your tongue as Taehyung stops in front of a closed door. The placard above the door reads ‘Media Station Ballroom 1 & 2’.

Trying the handle, it rattles in place. “Locked,” you state, suddenly feeling very stupid for not thinking ahead about this potential.

“Not to worry,” Taehyung assures you. He steps away from you, letting your other hand drop to your side, where you clutch your fingers around the flash drive. The sudden urge to wrap your hand back around Taehyung, to touch him in some way, overwhelms you and nearly takes you to your knees. But, you force the feeling down, steeling your shoulders and holding your place,

Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, Taehyung produces a small set of tools from inside the folds of leather. “A lock pick?” you ask. He’s just full of surprises.

“It comes in handy sometimes,” Taehyung says, giving you another one of those winning smiles. “Here we are.” There is a soft popping sound and then the door swings open, revealing the darkened interior. Whoever set up the audio for the event is long gone.

Taehyung reaches for your hand and you let him take it. The feel of his slender fingers cupping around yours is even better than holding onto his elbow. It feels right, like his hand was created to fit around yours perfectly. What you wouldn’t give to step into this room with him, close and lock the door behind you, and stay there forever. No more blackmailing, no more Bianchi, nothing else would matter.

Your brow pinches together as you snap out of the fleeting fantasy. It’s not possible to just close the curtains and fade into the background. You’re not even sure where these thoughts are coming from. Focusing back on the task at hand, you point out the large panel display on the far side of the small space.

“Do you want to stay and watch the show for a bit before we disappear?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. You’re scared to speak too loud, not for being overheard and caught, but because it feels like if you talk too loud, you’ll break the spell of what is about to happen.

Warm brown eyes, made to look more greenish with the blue glow from the electrical panel, meet yours, and the warmth you find there is comforting. For once, everything doesn’t feel so heavy anymore, like this is the true path you’re supposed to be on instead of the one from before Taehyung walked into your life.

“Maybe for just a little bit,” Taehyung says just before he helps guide your hand toward one of the USB ports on the control panel.

The flash drive slides in, clicking into place. There is a view window that spans the width of the room over the panel. It’s one-way glass that looks out over the banquet hall. From this far up, Lorren Bianchi looks like a gangster figurine from a kid’s toy set; almost harmless, but you know better. He’s accepting a mic from Giavona.

Audio filters in through a small monitoring display showing volume levels and mixer channels. The column for microphone one lights up green, the bars jumping as Bianchi’s voice reaches your ears.

“Thank you, everyone, for joining us at this year’s annual Bianchi Holdings Charity Gala. We are honored for each and every one of your donations. They will be going to a wonderful cause.” Applause fills the silence following his greeting. As it tapers off, Bianchi gestures with a hand to the blank projector screen behind him. “We have prepared a short presentation to highlight the goals we are setting this year, and so you can get a glimpse into what you may look forward to from your generous donations.”

Giavona points a slender remote at the small hub beneath the screen, and the whole thing illuminates with the beginnings of the presentation the marketing team under Bianchi put together. There is a murmur of appreciation as information scrolls across the screen, introducing the list of city-wide planned projects.

Little do these people know that Ryan spliced the presentation, one of the many things Simmons provided, so it initially appears to be just as it should be. Slowly, there are subtle changes: images that were once smiling and laughing children playing in the new Bianchi Park, to ones of emaciated children locked in cages.

You watch—poised beside Taehyung, his hand still firmly around yours—as realization bubbles through the gathered masses. You can’t hear the words he’s saying, but you can see Bianchi yelling at Giavona, his face red and his hands flying through the air as he gestures wildly at the screen.

Giavona holds up the remote, and you can see her thumb jamming away at the keys, to no avail. The program Ryan encrypted on the flash drive is designed to take over full control. The only way someone can shut down the now very incriminating presentation is with the passcode Ryan set himself, which even you and Taehyung don’t know.

The screen flashes, changing from the slide-show style to a shaky phone recording. This is the moment you were dreading the most, what you weren’t sure you could stomach seeing. Yet, you hesitate to turn away, feeling like you owe it to Danika to witness this.

Her face fills the screen, with dark bruises under her eyes and her hair hanging in greasy blond clumps around her face. Bianchi moves into the frame, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting it fall to the floor beside where Danika kneels. Her hands are in her lap, her chin angled down, a slight tremor rattling her shoulders.

You refused to watch this when Ryan was putting together the flash drive on Saturday as you worked together, compiling all the information you needed to take Bianchi down. He offered to let you watch it at your own pace to prepare yourself for eventually seeing it. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe you were trying to punish yourself, but you wanted to watch it at the same time as Taehyung, at the same time as everyone else in the gathering below. You wanted to feel that searing heat and pain of devastation, a reminder that even after everything, you’re still human inside.

Taehyung’s hand tightens around yours as you both watch on, bile slowly trying to work its way up your throat. Bianchi is trying to rip down the screen now, but even as the sheet ripples, you can plainly see him walk up behind her and strip his belt off. He’s talking to the person recording, but the audio isn’t clear, just the scratching sound of fabric.

You know Roy Simmons is the man behind the camera, his phone tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. When you caught wind that there was a video out there somewhere, being passed around the inner circle as a laugh, you knew that was your ticket. That was what you needed to put the last nail in Bianchi’s coffin. Roy Simmons was a fool looking for his own source of blackmail and just so happened to end up on your list because of it.

By this time, Bianchi has abandoned the screen, trying to make his way through the crowd towards an exit, but a group of men in black suits block his path. It plays out just how you imagined it in your head, Bianchi meeting his downfall as Danika struggles for breath on the screen, belt firmly wrapped around her throat.

You gasp, jerking around, unable to watch any longer. Taehyung gathers you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. “It’s over now,” he coos. “Shh, it’s okay.” You don’t realize you’re crying until now, heavy full-body sobs. “Come on.”

It doesn’t bother you, being swept up into Taehyung’s arms. If anything, you burrow further into his chest and cling to him as he carries you, bridal style, down the stairs and through a service hallway to one of the back entrances.

Lorren Bianchi isn’t the only one getting what’s coming to him today. The list you’ve been checking off for the last two years was sent to Ryan’s FBI friend, along with everything else you collected. There are easily two dozen people inside that will be leaving the building in restraints.

Police sirens are blaring in the distance, angry yells echoing from inside. But all you can seem to focus on is the warm body supporting yours. Everything is a blur. You don’t remember getting in the van or the drive to your apartment. You’re only vaguely aware of the semi-argument that Ryan and Taehyung have about who should take you up to your place, but it seems Taehyung wins out because minutes later, he’s settling you on your bed.

“Please don’t go,” you rasp when he steps towards the door.

Taehyung stops and slowly turns back to face you. “You should get some rest.”

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” you say. You’ve spent the last few years seeking solitude, worried that if you let someone get too close, you’d hurt them when you ultimately found yourself paying for your revenge—a price you’ve never thought twice about paying. Only now, that price tag is a bit different, things are different, thanks to the man standing there with his hands in his pockets and an unreadable expression on his angelic face.

He gives you a slow nod before moving back over to the bed and giving you a gentle nudge. “For a little bit.” Taehyung smiles, helping you move over so he can sit with his back against the headboard. He guides you back down and seems surprised when you rest your head in his lap, but he doesn’t insist you move.

It could be minutes or hours later, but there is no longer sunlight peeking around the heavy drapes covering your windows, and you feel thoroughly wrung out. Your emotions sit heavy on your chest, a constant pulse that waxes between numb and aching.

Taehyung has been silent. You’d think he had fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the way his thumb periodically traces soothing circles over your shoulder. Even though his presence is definitely what’s keeping you from falling apart right now, you need a distraction...a way to feel something other than that pulse sitting in the middle of your chest.

Maybe you’ll look back on this moment and chalk it up to a moment of weakness, but right now, you don’t care. You just need…something, anything. Taehyung startles as you move, pushing up onto your knees. “Taehyung,” you whisper his name like an evocation of prayer.

“What is it?” he asks, eyes searching your face.

“I need,” you begin, wringing your hands to try and keep them to yourself. It doesn’t work, your fingers capture in the lapels on his jacket. You use them as leverage to fit yourself into his lap, the slit of your dress parting over your right thigh to let you press your knees to either side of his hips. “Please.” You’re so close you can feel his accelerating breath puffing against your parted lips.

You watch as Taehyung’s throat works. His entire body is tense under yours, like he’s fighting against the urge to toss you aside and run away. Which, maybe, he is. Your thoughts flicker to how he reacted when you were touching him on the couch two nights ago, how quick he was to get away from you.

“I–I don’t…you haven’t even told me your real name,” he says, a line forming between his brows as he fists his hands into the duvet to either side of your knees.

A light laugh escapes you, and it feels good. “That’s easy,” you say, pressing yourself closer until your mouth is right beside his ear. You whisper your name before capturing his earlobe between your teeth and eliciting a moan from deep in his chest.

“Fitting for a goddess,” he murmurs. “But, I…there’s something…this isn’t—”

You lean back, smoothing your hands over his crumpled jacket, luxuriating in the feel of his lean chest under your palms as you do so. “Please, Taehyung. Make me feel something else, remind me that it was all worth it.”

Taehyung mutters something under his breath, sounding strangely prayerlike. He wraps his arms around you and anchors you against him. Conflicting emotions are dancing in his eyes, and he’s shaking his head, but his mouth meets yours in permission and acquiescence.

Opening to him comes easy, unbidden desires flaring to the surface to take over your lips and tongue. The dress slides smoothly over your head, leaving you completely bare to his gaze. Whether removed by your hands or his, clothes begin to disappear. You both pull and tear, fighting to remove all the barriers between your bodies.

You settle back on his lap, shuddering at the feel of his hard cock pressing along the slit of your pussy. Warmth kisses your skin wherever Taehyung touches. Deft fingers skate over every revealed inch, lingering to knead and savor. Heat envelopes your nipples, one after the other, as he wraps his lips around them and sucks.

“You’re so beautiful.” Taehyung emphasizes his words with vigorous sweeps of his hands over your ass and nipping bites down the valley between your breasts. “Heaven is Hell compared to you.”

You moan, enthralled by his words. Shifting your hips, you begin to rock against him, the head of his cock catching on your clit with every fervent motion. “I need you,” you gasp as he flexes his hips under you as you continue to move.

“I’ve, uh, it’s just that I haven’t—” Taehyung chokes out when you stick a hand between your thighs and grip the base of his cock, intent on sinking down onto his length.

It all makes sense now. Though, how Taehyung has managed to go his entire life remaining a virgin is a wild thought you’ll have to think on later. “Do you want to?” you ask, poised over him. You won’t do anything he doesn’t want to, no matter how much you might want it.

Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, a storm brewing in his eyes. You’re certain he’s about to turn you down—gently, of course—but when he opens his mouth, it’s a pleasant surprise, “Yes.” His mouth hangs open, tongue poking out over his bottom teeth as he works a hand down alongside yours, helping you fit him against your entrance. “I do,” he grunts as he slides into your tight confines.

The swell of him inside you is the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. He’s almost too big, stretching you full, but as you begin to rise and fall over him, it turns into nothing but a swirl of hedonistic euphoria.

His exhale becomes your inhale, the breath shared between you tastes of lust and desire in ways you’ve never felt before. You’ve heard good sex described as a godly experience, but you thought it was simply an exaggeration. But the way Taehyung makes you feel, the way his body moves with yours in perfect sync, seems to transcend all your previous experiences, a level worthy of epic stories and star-bound fantasies.

You move over him, undulating your hips in a way that has you both letting out soft moans. His cock is stroking so deep you’re certain he’s connecting with your soul, washing away all of your misgivings and sins with each stroke.

“I’m going to cum,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him in an effort to pull him in even deeper. Your fingers graze over the sharp ridges and bumps on his back, and his entire form shudders against you. The puckered skin is blazing, emanating a heat you’ve never felt before. Taehyung buries his face in your neck and groans, his fingers dimpling the flesh of your ass as he drags you up and down his cock even faster.

It feels like reaching the pinnacle of your existence, a frozen moment in time full of stilted breaths laced with ether as you both shatter in shared rapture. Taehyung cries out, the pulse of his cock accompanying a flood of warmth between your thighs. It builds, starting at your fingertips and toes and rippling inward, feeling like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your body contracts, clamping down around him as if it’s been starved of his essence, and the only way to satiate it is to take as much of him in as possible.

With every quiver of your body, you feel Taehyung’s cock throb in tandem. It’s overwhelming, the rush of adrenaline and dopamine makes your head fuzzy. Suddenly, you feel like you’re floating, arms and legs numb but weightless.

“My beautiful goddess,” Taehyung’s voice is faint like he’s talking to you from underwater or at the end of a long tunnel. You try desperately to hang on to that rough baritone whispering sweet words, but your consciousness narrows to a point before winking out, and darkness sweeps in.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

Staying isn’t a good idea. As much as it pains him to move, Taehyung knows he has to get out of here before he does something stupid like fuck you again. Squeezing his eyes shut to dispel the erotic images of you writhing in the throws of ecstasy above him, he gently untangles your body from his and retreats with his clothes into your living room.

He’s messed up. Again. Taehyung can feel the burn of gluttony and lust coating his skin. Skin that is still sticky from your sweat and cum. There is a distinct knot in his chest, a thrumming point of awareness that tells him despite his fuck up, he’s still succeeded in his mission. You’re on the right path. He’s brought you to absolution. Perhaps, if he could leave quickly enough, none of his brothers would have noticed his latest transgression.

Dressing quickly, Taehyung takes stock of everything else he feels. There is a very prominent burning ache where his wings once were, your touch still lingering on the scarred flesh. He hates to leave you like this, especially after what the both of you just shared, but it’s for the best. At least you’ll still retain your memories of him, and you have a bright future ahead of you, or else all this was for nothing.

Taehyung shoves his feet into the shoes he left by the door and then pulls it open. The hallway is empty, the elevator beckoning him on. The first step into the hallway is easy, but the second feels like he’s trudging through mud. He can’t even take a third.

“You just can’t seem to quit, can you?”

Fear lances through Taehyung as that voice registers to him. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in one hundred years. A flash of fiery light at the end of the hall reveals Gabriel in all his Divine and Angelic glory, a face like lightning and eyes that blaze with flaming power.

“Brother Gabriel,” Taehyung chokes on his brother’s name, shame thickening his tongue.

“I knew we were far too lax in your punishment, Taehyung. One hundred years and yet you still couldn’t keep it in your pants. You’re a disgrace,” Gabriel spits, eyes flashing with rage.

“Brother, please—” Taehyung tries.

“You are no brother of ours!” Gabriel cuts in, lashing a hand through the air.

With a sad look in his eyes, Raquel steps out from around Gabriel. Taehyung catches a glimpse of the Divine Chamber of Justice behind them. “You are no longer welcomed within our Sacred Groves or Holy Lands, Taehyung. Heaven casts you out. We, the Council of Grace and Purity, cast you out. May your soul rot for all eternity in the Fiery Pits of Hell for your sins and folly.”

In the next instant, Taehyung is falling, cartwheeling through a cloud of brimstone and smoke. He hits hard, the impact cratering the dry, pocked dirt beneath him. The air is so hot it sears his lungs with his first ragged breath. Something twitches under him. Agony blares through his body as he realizes his wings, once again where they should be, broke his fall.

Only now, they are not the snow white of before but a black so deep it seems to suck up the feeble light around him. They are splattered with red, crumpled feathers and shattered tips. They droop pitifully down his back and over the dusty ground as he sits up, fighting back the urge to scream from the pain.

Taehyung is whole once again, yet more broken than ever before. Despair rages through him, but not at his own loss but for the thought that maybe his brothers are now punishing you, too. It’s torture to think of them removing the memory of him from your mind. Taehyung lets out a heart-wrenching scream, the sound echoing far and wide in the emptiness around him.

“Peace, Brother.” The voice infiltrates his mind, cutting off his ragged scream.

“Who’s there?” Taehyung asks, voice raw with emotion.

The most beautiful creature materializes a few feet away. Lithe body, hair the color of bottled ink, and eyes darker than any pit. Dark wings flare out, casting dappled starlight over Taehyung that kisses his pain away.

“Your salvation.”

“Samael?” Taehyung whispers in awe as his once brother steps closer.

There is a coy smile on Samael’s face. “I’m surprised you recognize me, Brother. It’s been quite some time since I last saw your handsome face.”

“What are you doing here?”

Samael throws his head back in a full-body laugh. “Oh, dear sweet Taehyung, you get cast down into my realm and need to ask me why I’m here?”

Taehyung looks around, but there is nothing else here, just an endless stretch of the same gritty, ashy dirt. He slowly climbs to his feet, swaying only slightly as his body adjusts to the weight of his wings on his back once more.

“This is the 9th Circle?” he asks hesitantly.

“Holy Hells, no,” Samael chuckles, much more subdued this time. “This is Limbo, Purgatory, whatever you may want to call it. It’s an in-between place. A place where new souls come before I decide where they go. Those pompous white-fuzzed peacocks in Heaven think they get to choose where in Hell beings go, but they are sorely mistaken. No one makes that decision but those of us who rule this Hellspace.”

Taehyung swallows thickly, ready to accept his fate. “I’m ready. Send me to my fate, then, Brother.” It feels right, to bequeath Samael his proper title of Brother. He may not have seen Samael in that light for a long while, but Taehyung is part of this faction now…he’s as fallen as Samael and the others.

Samael claps his hands together, the stone-colored robes he’s wearing swish as he strides closer to Taehyung. “So eager to burn in Hell? All for some pussy. I always knew you were one of us, Brother. A breaker of the rules, someone crafted to go against the grain.”

“It’s not—it wasn’t,” Taehyung wants to protest what Samael is saying, but even he knows the truth and can’t bring himself to lie anymore. “It was worth it.” That truth sits better on his tongue. Because, even though he’s now facing an eternity of torment for it, seeing you smile and get lost in him will be the memory that sees him through to his end.

“Given the chance, would you do it all over again, just the same?” Samael asks, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Taehyung doesn’t have to think too hard about that. Sure, there are a few things he’d do differently, like sock Ryan in his perfect mouth for insisting you use his last name at the Gala for one, but everything with you? The only thing Taehyung would do is introduce himself to you sooner.

“More or less,” he finally says.

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Samael points a slender finger at Taehyung’s chest. “Your potential would be wasted in Hell. So, I have something else to offer you.”

Taehyung listens to Samael with rapt attention, his eyes growing wider and the hunger in his heart increasing with every word. It’s simple to accept the offer, Taehyung doesn’t hesitate. Moments later, deal signed, he finds himself standing back in front of your apartment door.

Creeping back into your place, Taehyung leaves a trail of his clothes as he makes his way back into your bedroom. He’s not sure how much actual time has passed, but you’re still soundly asleep, the sun nowhere to be seen outside your curtains.

It feels good to slide beneath the sheets. Even asleep, you reach for him, cuddling close with a contented sigh. Your memories haven’t been tampered with, Samael assured him of as much.

The phantom feel of his wings tickles along his spine. It’ll take some getting used to, having them back but shrouded the way they are. It’s part of Samael’s deal, keeping his wings. He’s now one of the Fallen, a guardian of the outcasts, the beloved beings that don’t always fit into the mold set forth by Heaven.

And the best part? He gets to keep you, too. Which, in the end, makes falling not hurt all that much. No, it doesn’t hurt at all.

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagines #taehyung fanfiction #bts taehyung #fallenangeltaehyung #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #bangtanwhq #btscreaturecoven

67 notes · View notes