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crescenthistory · 22 days ago

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Haunt Me, Then

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Synopsis: The Hunger Games AU; After your best friend miraculously won his games, you were never to see him again – until your last Reaping as an eligible citizen ends catastrophically for you and another one of your friends.

Words: 6.1k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, us of y/n, Hunger Games typical warnings, grief, implied loss, heavy hurt/comfort, talk of death and poverty, Capitol Citizen!Bellatrix Lestrange, same for barty sorry, angst, some fluff, childhood best friends (to lovers), physical affection, unwanted physical touches, creepy Capitol behaviour, heavy disassociation, strategically used characters, background bsf!marylene, implied that sirius got the finnick odair treatment, nb! it's a thg au but not thg canon compliant (aka i make the rules here)

A/N: this is sooooo exciting to me. your district is only implied (district 7) in this one and there are a lot of purposefully unresolved threads 🌝 there's more to come, if you want it. and yes – the title is from the wuthering heights quote "you said i killed you – haunt me, then"

You hated Reaping day for more reasons than most.

While no person, whether they are of eligible age or not, enjoyed being in that town square annually, watching the Capitol representatives clown away on stage as your heart and ears thundered with anticipatory fear, you were left with the biting pain of the past, present and future all at the same time.

Stood in a sea of people, feeling both as if you were drowning and had a spotlight shining on you, you feared for yourself. You writhed beneath the thought of how many times your name had gone into that bowl in an attempt at keeping your loved ones safe, you winced at the knowledge that it would be just the perfect karmic timing for you to have everything taken from you this one last time.

Clutching onto Mary’s trembling fingers with one hand and Marlene’s little sister Mabel with the other, you feared for your loved ones. Your makeshift found family now consisted of the McKinnons, the McDonalds, the Pettigrews and you – and you could not bear the thought of how many of you were jammed into the plaza today. Marlene and her older siblings had aged out, but you, Mary and Peter were still in for your last year. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of how many years Mabel and the McKinnon and Pettigrew boys had left. Children. They were all just children – the very reason why you all kept consistently placing your own name in over and over again, to keep them safe. While you could never decide if you trusted the legitimacy of the arrangement that you could covertly buy someone’s immunity by placing your name in more times, you also could never help but try each year.

Thus far, it had worked. Mabel had at least never been picked.

But then again, you knew of at least one person who was picked despite their supposed immunity. Odd how the guilt always forced your hand regardless; the risk was worth the potential reward.

You could feel her breaths grow shuddering beside you, but could not bring yourself to look down at her. You just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shoved away the doomsday feelings brewing within your chest.

You felt guilty for even fearing for yourself, because you knew well how out of everyone, your name was in there probably the least amount of times. Apart from buying the immunity of one of your friends’ siblings, you had never needed to buy anything with tickets of your name. You had been financially looked out for to a much larger degree than most could dream, and not had your hand forced. At first, the help came through the direct acts of kindness from your best friend, and then later, you would somehow just always find exactly what you needed. Whenever the Capitol increased ridiculous taxes that felt as if they were specifically designed to wring you dry, there would be a freshly opened position for you to apply for, a wad of cash found in one of the boxes you looked through, even a charity basket by your door that you would always pass on to the rowdy McKinnon home.

Part of you could hear his whispered promise to you whenever these blessings seemingly fell into your lap, but you always pushed it down. It couldn’t be.

“I will always take care of you, princess”.

Above all else, being in the town square tore up your heart because you could only ever think of him. Of Sirius.

Of that day 5 years ago, when you had just started breathing normally after they called some girl’s name you did not know in the Reaping, only for your lungs to be ripped from you permanently at the sound of the reaped boy.

The second “Regulus Black” boomed through the scratching speakers, your heart was shattered into a million pieces, because it was immediately followed up by: “I volunteer.”

When your head whipped to the side to witness your best friend in the whole world march towards his inevitable death, you had found his sad grey eyes already fixed on you through the massive sea of bodies. You have no recollection of the sounds after that, but you know you were crying, trashing even, in the firm grip of Marlene as she forced you into a bear hug to stop you from trying to be a human shield for the one person you could not stomach losing. The sight of Sirius kissing Regulus’ head and squeezing Peter's arm before taking to the stage, shoulders squared and jaw lifted, already looking every bit like a child warrior was burned into your retinas.

It took years before it was not the first image you saw whenever you closed your eyes. It still sometimes was.

That day, you had been certain your best friend was lost. When they let his loved ones bid him a quick goodbye in a solitary room after the ceremony, you had stood to the back with your hiccuping sobs, allowing Regulus the space you knew he needed. Marlene and Mary passed through, so did Peter, until it was just you left.

His parents did not show up.

While Sirius had kept up the facade with the others, his face crumbled when it met yours in your momentary privacy – save the Peacekeepers by the door. You had been hugging your front to keep from falling apart, but the second he slumped back against the desk and opened his arms for you, you were wrapped up in them.

At just 13 and 14 you were each other’s worlds. Grown up as neighbors, surviving just about everything together.

And it was because he was just 14 that you had no belief he could survive the games – at that point, no 14 year old had, and no matter how strong Sirius Black was, it took more than strength to break through that harrowing cycle.

Sirius had let his first few tears slip and fall into your hair, holding onto you for dear life. You can’t remember what you said anymore, just the way he smelled, just the way he held you and the murmurs he whispered into your skin as he swayed you.

“I’m sorry, I had to. You’re wonderful. I love you. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

You hoped to the gods you had said it back.

Though you did not know that then, you had been correct. Your best friend was lost that day – but he survived his games.

It had been a torturous few months, forced to see him paraded around like a piece of meat only to suffer through one of the longest games anyone had seen. You had sworn you would not watch it, but could not resist taking a peek at a small screen you snuck into your bedroom, crying as you caressed his face that looked so void of the Sirius you knew. Sometimes he would find a nearby camera and stare into it as he fell asleep, almost as if he could actually see you, feel your touch. You hoped it comforted him; that thought had you returning to the screen almost every night. The only nights you didn’t were the ones where you and Regulus slept in the same bed to keep each other sane, tethered.

When you two eventually woke up to the news that he managed to outlast the final tribute overnight, you cried until you laughed only to laugh until you cried.

On the day of Sirius’ return, you had made everything ready; dusted his room, bought the ingredients for his favourite dessert, orchestrated for his parents to be elsewhere, planned what to say with Regulus, who was equally as teary. Except when the Capitol Carriage swept up by the entrance and you ran out to greet him, only Peacekeepers exited the carriage, forcing you to step back. The blinds were shut.

You stumbled, entirely bewildered by the situation, sharing deeply concerned looks with Regulus. You had tried shouting for Sirius, you had tried asking the Peacekeepers, but you were left with nothing but silence.

While you were dumbfounded, Regulus grew agitated. With months worth of guilt piling up, it was easy work for them to bubble over into anger; he pushed past the Peacekeepers to try and bang on the wall of the carriage, yanking on the locked door handle. His screams of Sirius' name were cut off in an instant when the Head Peacekeeper slammed the back of his rifle against Regulus' neck. He lurched, tried to regain his footing, before he crumbled to the ground.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, you dragged him off to the side and held him tight to your chest, as if that would protect him. With an unconscious Regulus in your lap, you were forced to watch them carry down all of Sirius’ belongings, packed haphazardly in bags, and shove them into the back of the carriage.

It drove off without you ever even catching a glimpse of Sirius.

The next time you saw him was a few days later, on a broadcasted interview where he announced his permanent move to the Capitol. Clad in shining black clothes that could have fed the entirety of Districts 11 and 12, he had taken on the persona of the Casanova of the Capitol, the goading gladiator, the wicked victor.

The day after that, Regulus disappeared without any warning or trace.

All you had was a seemingly private note slipped beneath your pillow that said “Don’t go looking” – you never told anyone about it. In the meantime, you were left completely and utterly alone.

Grief settled into your veins, and you did the only thing you could: you settled into routine. Sweet, hard-working routine to keep your storms at bay until you had made some sort of life for yourself. With one job as a wooden toy carver and another as a wood sculptures, not to mention the dinner rotation at the McKinnons and the Pettigrews, you kept busy. You could pretend to forget.

Until you couldn’t. Each year when you were forced into that town square, the memories haunted you viciously, cruelly – taunting you with how little you understood, how much time had passed. Beneath it all, there was a simmering of the one emotion you never could get rid of in the grief and confusion; love. It was the singular thing that powered all within you, ranging from the determination to the resentment. Oh, how you loathed how much you loved and missed your Black brothers.

You felt Mabel jump beside you at the crackle of the sound system, as the new Capitol representatives got ready to commence the Reaping. You shared a quick glance with Mary, acknowledging how the younger girl had to be your priority right now.

“It’s alright, Bel,” you whispered, shifting to hold her tighter against your side. “That sound means it’s almost over. Soon we’re done.”

Mary squeezed your own hand in return, almost as if to say take your own advice. You smiled meekly at her, and she rewarded you for your efforts by momentarily placing her forehead on your shoulder.

The younger girl just buried herself into you and you sighed to make yourself softer. It was her second Reaping, which meant it was far from her last. You understood her fear well, but still, you wanted to quell it.

The further the representatives got into their speeches, the longer the same old video droned on for, the more you disappeared from the current moment. It was hard to differentiate between past and present in these few heavy minutes, so you preferred to be in neither, to float up and out of your body. The only thing grounding you was your two friends pressed up against you, and that was all you needed. Nothing they could say up there was of any meaning to you.

Sirius never attended the Reapings the way some of the other victors did. They would line up at the front, on occasion even make speeches themselves, but never Sirius. He had yet to be a mentor, but you knew that victors were supposed to have a meeting of sorts before each game, where one of them was selected for the year. You often found yourself wondering where that meeting took place, if it was at the Capitol or nearby, if you unknowingly were standing just a couple hundred metres from him where he waited backstage or on the train.

A part of you hoped to never find out. A part of you hoped to never be near him again.

Most of you knew that was a poisonous lie.

These were thoughts you promptly pushed away. They did you no good – it had been made clear to you that you were not to think of the noble victor Sirius Black anymore.

The muscles in your back tensed more and more, shoulders hiking higher and higher the longer into the speeches the Capitol representatives got. Knowing that a name was soon to be pulled, yet you kept yourself disconnected.

Almost over, almost over.

The sudden outburst of sound and emotion around you – cries of relief, gasps of shock, whispered reactions– alerted you to the fact that a name had been called.

However, it was Mary’s loud sob and her face turning towards yours with nothing short of horror written over it that told you it was someone you knew.

One glance up into her grieving eyes told you that no, it was– it was you.

After so many years of just barely dodging it, you had been reaped. You were reaped. You were reaped. If your thoughts mere moments before had been a cloud, dragging you up above the crowd, they now became an anchor, cementing your feet to the ground.

“Mary…” you began, but were cut off by a static crackle.

“Y/N L/N? Come now love, don’t be scared.” The glee and excitement in the Capitol woman’s voice was nauseating, but it did kick you into action – and everyone else around you too, as the crowd seemed to separate to form a physical beacon on where the three of you stood, pressed together.

Your body moved on instinct; it was as if you were possessed by Sirius’ memory, pulling Mabel's crying form against you and kissing her head much like he had done with Regulus, squeezing Mary’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile much like he had done with Peter. Ignoring your heart and mind screaming through sobs and anger as you released yourself from both of their grips to walk down the metaphorical red carpet leading up towards the stage. Chin tilted up, face schooled into nothingness. Eyes burning at the lights that suddenly shone upon you, but yet fighting to keep from squinting. Forcing the tremble away from your fingers by balling them up into fists as you began to ascend the steps to the stage.

“There we are, darling,” the male Capitol representative, who you had yet to bother learning the name of, essentially cooed at you, reaching out a hand for you to take.

You walked past it and assumed the position to the right of them both, staring emptily into the air.

He chuckled in a low, menacingly lilting tone. “Okay, well, we can see what kind of tribute we just selected, can’t we, Bella?”

“We sure can, Barty,” the woman, Bella, replied with a gleaming smile. “As for her comrade in arms…” she trailed off for dramatic effect before dipping her fingers with their ridiculously long and sharp nails down into the pot.

From a distance, it was easier to distort the sounds of their voices. Now up close, you couldn’t help but hear every word passing between the two representatives, no matter how loud the screaming in your own head was.

No. No, no, no, no.

“... Peter Pettigrew!” Bella shouted cheerily, with a screeching joy that all but punctured your eardrums.

No.

You squeezed your eyes shut from the first syllable, fighting the shaking taking over your body. Heavily, your shoulders slumped and your face began to fall at the revelation, before you scrambled for any and every piece of strength in your body to square up once again and face the literal sound of the music.

Deep breaths.

In the corner of your eye, you saw him climb the stairs to stand beside you. For only a brief second, you dared glance over, only to see the pure terror written all over Peter’s face, only to immediately regret it and whip your face forward again. You knew in your heart that you were not making it out of these games – and unlike with Sirius, the feeling settled like wings on your shoulders instead of rocks. If you were honest, you knew Peter would likely not either, but you could at least fight for him, in the hope that he would.

The man Bella had called Barty came up behind you both and placed a strikingly cold hand on your shoulders, twisting you to face one another. It was custom to shake hands with your fellow tribute, but for the Capitol representatives to lay hands on you like this was certainly not. You fought back the urge to shake it off.

“Now if the tributes may shake hands,” Barty said with a wicked grin, speaking loudly enough for the microphone a metre away to pick up on it – thus too loudly. “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Peter’s hand was trembling with such force that he could barely move it away from his body. With a quick sideway glance at the cameras, you reached forward to grab it, steadying it even as you shook it. Peter could not meet your gaze, and not a single part of you could hold it against him; you merely squeezed his hand reassuringly. That had to be enough for now.

As soon as you let go, Bella closed the Reaping Ceremony with a flourish.

You kept your chin elevated and your gaze empty as you began to move, lest it meet any of your friends and family in the many separated crowds. You weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it up if your eyes locked with Mary’s parents, with Peter’s brothers he just had to leave. Instead, you walked behind the walls with a pin straight back and let the Peacekeepers lead you through the townhouse, room after room, keeping all your emotions balled up. You signed some papers in one room, received a bag with a uniform in another. Finally you walked into the very same room that broke your heart 5 years ago, where your friends and family were already waiting.

The goodbyes were a flurry. Nothing felt real.

You hugged every one of the McKinnon siblings goodbye and nodded weakly when they begged that you would come back home to them, unable to make false promises verbally. The eldest, your Marlene, was the only one who did not plead; she grabbed each side of your face with a determined look and forced you to meet her eyes. “You will come home, Y/N. You will. I am not giving you a choice, you are making it back to us. Do you hear me?”

Even her, you could only spare a nod. But you listened and held her gaze through every word she spoke to make up for it, which seemed to be enough for now. Her hug was even more crushing now than when she kept you from running after Sirius and getting gunned down during his Reaping.

Mary had been silently crying through it all. When she hugged you, your collar was instantly wettened, and you could not help but wonder if this was how it felt for Sirius when you cried into him. You hoped it wasn’t, even as you knew it was.

When every cheek was kissed and every I love you uttered, you sized them up with a resolved gaze. You let it drag carefully over them all, committing them to memory, one last time.

Marlene could see what you were doing. With minimal movement, she shook her head – not admonishingly, but the correction was clear nonetheless. You will come back. You gave her a tight-lipped smile, and gave them all a final nod before exiting, allowing Peter to enter for his own goodbyes.

You stopped to say something to him, to hug him or give any reaction, but he scurried past you before you could. Even as you kept walking, your heart was sinking.

There was only one Peacekeeper waiting for you in the hallway. “Where do I go now?” You hated how weak your voice sounded, but at least there were no cameras here to catch it this time.

“Mrs. Lestrange is waiting for you around the corner. She will take you to meet your mentor on the train.” Even in your shock, you were baffled by the extreme lack of emotion in his voice. It was almost like talking to a robot, except it had distinctly human eyes. You supposed that was something to get used to.

“Thank you,” you replied, unsure if that was a common custom with Peacekeepers.

You heard Bella before you saw her, she was excitedly recapping the entire Reaping process to Barty, as if it did not just end and he wasn’t there for the whole thing. He didn't seem to mind; he was twirling around himself, as if your metaphorical dead body was his favourite meadow to frolic through. Her clapping hands and screeching voice made you sick to your stomach, but her eyes might as well be cameras in the court of public opinion, so you picked your facade back up.

“I was told you would take me to the train.” You interrupted one of her tirades, and when her head snapped towards you, there was a second of blazing fire in her expression before she realised that it was you – a new plaything. The glee set back into her within a second.

“Oh, this was the part I was the most excited about.” She smacked a kiss to Barty's cheek before grabbing your elbow to drag you away with her. You had to clench your teeth not to rip it away from her – these Capitol people were handsy. “It’s about time for a reunion, don’t ya’ think?”

You weren’t sure what she was saying most of the time, though you rarely were with Capitol people. Yet the pinching feeling in your stomach did not recede to make space for confusion, nor did your shoulders lower even a fraction.

There was a special entrance to the train that you could access through the townhouse, so that you would not be too swamped by onlookers. Bella was explaining the whole ordeal to you somehow, but as the metallic train came into view through the windows, the blood rushing through your head got louder and louder, even more so than her pitchy voice.

With this entrance, you only had to walk a meter unsheltered in the transition between the townhouse and the train. Shortly after the first gust of wind hit you was it again shut away as you stepped onto the metallic floorboards.

“Where are we going?” You found yourself asking Bella, unsure if she had already answered this or even if she was in the middle of a sentence.

She looked at you as if you were dumb, but it did not lessen her unnerving smile even a fraction nor stop her quick strides through the many corridors of the train. “Well, to meet your loverboy, duh.”

You stopped in the middle of a step, staring at her incredulously, unsure if you heard her correctly. A frustrated groan escaped her when she had to stop too, looking at you as if you were quite tedious. You knew who she must be referring to, but you had no idea why she would. At least like that.

“Am I not to meet with my potential mentors?” You tried to force any emotion out of your sentence.

“You’re being so silly, did you know that?” Bella took your arm once more, jostling you along with her. “Your mentor has already been decided, stupid. He’s waiting just over there, come on.”

You stumbled slightly in your step from how forcefully she dragged you. You were unsure if she even knew that she was gripping you as hard as she was, or if there was some serious disconnect between her mind and body.

She only let you go in favour of ripping open a rather large oak door and releasing an unnecessarily loud “ta dah!”.

The back you were met with was one you would have recognised in every life.

He stood hunched over a table, hands splayed out so wide they were shaking, black curls hanging messily in his face, breathing ragged. At the sound of Bella’s entrance and you being ushered in, he whipped around.

It was Sirius. Of course it was. Your heart wanted to say it was your Sirius, but you could clearly see that he wasn’t.

Though he looked different than he had on the occasional glance you stole of him onscreen, he still didn’t look the way you remembered either. No longer was he the scrawny boy you grew up with, the one you messed around in fields with, the one you read books with, the one you cried with and slept beside and walked beside and lived beside. Before you stood a weathered man, sharp in his handsomeness, pointed in every one of his features, guarded by an army of layers yet wearing more emotions than suited him. He had a few tattoos creeping up the side of his neck, the onyx ink shining in contrast to his pale skin.

The one thing that remained the same was the utter heartbreak spelled out in his eyes. It was the same as when he saw you last, only perhaps worse.

No, it was decidedly worse. When the stormy greys landed on your face, flitting about so rapidly that you were unsure how he could even see, lips parting ever so slightly, whatever tormented him settled in deeper. He looked inconsolable.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. As if he didn’t know what to say, as if there were no words.

His attention was abruptly shifted over to Bella when she clapped her hands together in mirth. “Isn’t this exciting!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between you. “Aren’t you going to hug in greeting? Aren’t you going to ki–”

“Bellatrix.” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, all of his pain schooled away in favour of a burning fire when he faced her. His voice was so much deeper than you remembered, so much hoarser. “Get lost. This is a meeting between mentor and tribute.”

“Oh, this is hardly a meeting or classified in any way, Siri. Just–”

He cut her off once more. “I won’t tell you again.” He eyed her with a severe glare. “Leave us. Now.”

It looked like Bellatrix wanted to fight him on it, but after looking between you three more times, she evidently decided she had gotten enough out of this endeavour. “You’re too serious, Black,” she said with a giggle. “Don’t bite her face off, you dog, she needs it for the interviews.”

She seemed to all but float out of the room, but closed the door behind her with a loud bang. You kept your head craned sideways, eyes burning a hole through the door where she left, leering.

The silence in the room felt more deafening than the volume of the plaza had. You had no idea what to say – this was nothing like what you could have imagined.

You and Sirius, alone in a room. Something you had craved more than words could explain, but that you now backed away from with every fibre of your being.

“Princess.” Sirius breathed the word out like he had been choking on it. Before you had the time to turn your head fully back towards him, he had swept you up into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N,” he whispered into your neck, almost reverently.

A minute ago you were walking down the hallways with an awful stranger, and now you were embraced by someone who, despite everything, was painfully known to you. It did not compute in your mind, everything was whirring and screeching, and unlike what he once could, Sirius did not quiet the noises.

He almost did, though. Just almost. With his arms around your back, fingers splaying around your ribs, with your nose shoved against his neck as he cradled you, his scent taking over your senses, you could almost fall into it. Could almost fall into him. Your Sirius.

He smelled the same.

You reared backwards out of his touch, back hitting the wall as you stumbled. Your eyes felt wide, almost like a cornered animal, your lips parted as you stared at him. You realised you were breathing heavily. If he was startled by you ripping away from him, his face didn’t show it.

Studying his face now gave you a wave of deja vu so strong, it almost made you dizzy. There was no way you could communicate anything effectively at the minute.

“Sirius, what the fuck?!”

You hadn’t meant for your voice to be so loud, but not even that drew a reaction from him. Kicking yourself off the wall, you walked past him – leaving a large amount of space between you – dragging your fingers through your hair as you did so. You began a sentence multiple times, but no coherent word came out. “Why are you here? What just happened?” you ended up whispering, feeling pathetic at how close to a whimper it was. “Who–” You stopped. That was a sentence you did not have it in you to complete.

Who are you?

When you turned around to face him, you found that he had followed after you, keeping a respectable distance but still within arm’s reach, as if he couldn’t allow you to get further than that. For the first time since you stepped into the town square, tears began to fight to well in your eyes. Sirius didn’t look away from them.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, insistent and imploring. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” You choked out, wrapping your arms around your stomach, not much unlike you had during his Reaping. Sirius’ gaze flitted down to your arms before moving back up, and it was as if you could see the memory playing across his irises.

He heaved a deep breath before rubbing his hands up and down his own face. When he lowered them, he gave you a look of defeat.

“I– let’s start over again,” he said then. He gave you a rueful smile. “Hi, princess.”

You looked at him, uncertain of whether you should start crying or laughing. You settled on a scowl in between. “I’m not sure you get to call me that anymore.” You looked away from his face as you said it, unwilling to see his reaction. “But sure. Hi, Sirius.”

When you dared a glance at him, he had his lips pressed together and a look of remorse in his eyes. You hated that you could still read him like this, for more than one reason.

“I was roughhoused onto the train last night. Told that I was to be the mentor of these games, whether I’d like to or not, no more information.” He said, as if that explained anything.

You couldn’t help the bite in your reply. “Am I meant to feel sorry for you? I was just given a death sentence. And now I have to face my ex best friend who I haven't seen in five years. This is some awful joke.”

This time you didn’t avert your gaze, the simmer within you for once bursting into a flame, however short-lived, and you got to witness how his face jerked backwards as if you had slapped him. In some way, you kind of had.

Your anger was not mirrored in his expression, but a form of determination took over his face as he spoke. “You weren’t. You weren’t.”

“What?” you asked dumbly, yet uncaring of sounding it.

Sirius stepped towards you, gingerly taking your hands into his own. His touch burned, the new awkwardness of the gesture burned. “You weren’t given a death sentence. I wasn’t and you weren’t. I bloody swear to you, Y/N, you will make it through these games.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from his touch, but you managed to at least not lean into it. There was a dangerous gloss coated over his grey eyes when you met them with your own, and for a second you got lost in them. Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?”

Sirius let out a humourless laugh and suddenly brought you back into a hug, as if he just couldn’t help himself. Your hands were trapped between you in an embrace with one of his, but he rested his forehead against your temple and seemingly breathed you in.

“I am so, so sorry you have to ask that, princess. I’m so sorry, but I had to go.”

You shivered in his hold. These were words that you dreamed of – but had they not been nightmares? You shook your head but made no other move to remove yourself.

"It's been five years, you know? I'm not sure we even know each other at this point."

Sirius' answer was immediate. "I know you." He pressed his forehead firmer against you. "I know you."

The emotion in his voice rendered you speechless.

He pulled backwards without releasing you from the embrace, leaning away just enough to catch your gaze with his. It felt like the floor was giving way beneath you. His hand on your back travelled up to your cheek. “I'm sorry for it all. Always. And I’m sorry for calling you princess when you just asked me not to,” he added with a hint of the sheepish smile you once loved.

You opened and closed your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded, and he just stared at you patiently. Warmly. Desperately.

“Sirius–”

You were cut off by the door swinging open once more, causing Sirius to physically spring away from you, suddenly putting multiple metres between you at the sign of new guests. You almost stumbled at the change in positions, and you saw his hand twitch when he cast a glance your way, as if it ached to steady you.

“Now that the lovers have had their private greeting, maybe it’s time to include the other tribute in your strategies, Siri? Or are we just going to let itty bitty Peter die at the cornucopia?”

Bellatrix’s high pitched voice pierced through your ears, and you felt a mountain of guilt fall on top of you when your eyes fell on Peter cowering behind her, his eyes flitting wildly between you and Sirius. In your whirlwind of emotion, you had almost forgotten that he was as doomed as you were.

One glance to your right showed you that Sirius had no idea Peter had been reaped too. His brows furrowed and his lips fell into a decidedly downturned frown. “What– no, Pete,” he breathed out, arms falling to his sides.

“Hi, Sirius,” Peter squeaked, seemingly uncertain about what their dynamic was now, but relieved at at least being acknowledged.

Sirius stepped forward and physically nudged Bellatrix to the side as he pulled Peter in for his own hug. The sight stung in a way you couldn't communicate.

Over Sirius’ back, Bellatrix was grinning at you wickedly.

“Seems like you three have a conundrum or two to work through for us, don’t you?” Barty said cheerily as he emerged from behind Peter, clapping his hands down on his shoulders and making the younger boy jump in fear.

Bellatrix laughed as if that was just the funniest joke, and all but skipped up to you to tug at your cheek while turning to look at Sirius’ face that became increasingly stony at the sight of Bellatrix’s hands on you.

“Don’t you, Siri?” she pushed, giggling in a nearly maniacal manner. “Luckily, the Capitol is still far off. Gives you just loads of time to catch up, yeah?”

454 notes · View notes

floralscented · 2 months ago

Text

LIVEWIRE — jj maybank x reader.

livewire (n) — an energetic or unpredictable person; a force of nature. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthat boy is a livewire; he'll ruin you, or die trying.

. . . or, jj's crashout — featuring you.

includes, SEXUAL CONTENT! MDNI. kinda pwp. crashout!jj. best friend!fem!reader. forced proximity. high stakes. dirty talk. jj is vocal. p in v. unprotected sex ( do not do this they r just so ridiculous & horny ). ( semi ) public. he has absolutely no pullout game but he's forgiven for it </3

NOTES. if the door logic doesn't make any sense realistically ... that's not my business. i'm not writing for realism i'm writing for the JJ GIRLS who want 2 fuck CRASHOUT JJ. also my apology for the quote in the tagline ik its too soon still but i joke 2 cope.

Red and blue littered the autumnal afternoon sky, sirens overshadowing the lyrical chirps of the birds, the scattered winds blowing red and orange leaves down the Kildare streets.

JJ Maybank is a fucking force to be reckoned with. In his wake, town hall’s alarms reared their deafening screeches, the aforementioned chilly winds blowing in handfuls of leaves to scatter the podiums and the foldout chairs. There’s a lone chair on its side in the middle of the well-kept grassy front courtyard. There’s glass burrowing itself in the dirt, reflecting the golden sun’s light at every which way when you turn your head.

The other pogues are screaming at him to go, to run, and he’s shocked for a moment. Stood like a deer in headlights at the actions that he took. Who knew how much one boy was capable? All of the destruction that two hands could elicit?

Oh, and what an empowering thought it is, too: realizing what you are capable of doing when you are pushed to the brink.

There’s that look in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and takes off into the wood, disappearing like a speck in the small bit of forestry separating town hall from the rest of the downtown area.

You know what that look means. This is merely the first in his rampage. Fire burns blue in the thin line of his irises, everything else overtaken by adrenaline and fucking rage.

“Someone has to—” Kie starts, and you realize that you’ve been staring straight ahead at the trees he vanished into, eyes locked on the exact path he took. “Someone has to go, go make sure he’s okay—”

Sarah’s eyes lock on yours. John B grimaces for a second, like he’s considering it, before he looks at you, too. Kie’s words, albeit vague, had never sounded so directed before. Pope—

Pope is getting tossed against the hood of a cop car, and suddenly, the pogues aren’t looking at you anymore. Their gazes break and shatter away from you like the shards of the window surrounding your feet.

Your heart is racing. You. Chase him down. And what did they expect you to do? To tell him that this wasn’t him, and to stop while he’s ahead, and to hold his hand and guide him back to safety away from the cops’ sirens and cars that had already broken away from the crowd to hunt for him?

No. This was JJ, and he wouldn’t stop while he was ahead, and he was going to take the cops on his tail like a challenge to keep going until he cracked — or they did.

You were the only one that ever understood him, really. That was why their eyes immediately shifted to you when the topic came up that someone had to find him, because even while they wanted to help, they would only drive him further away. Not you. Never you.

You’re turning on your heel and sprinting before anyone can realize what you’re doing. Not the screaming kooks, demanding lawyers and justice to the unlistening winds. Not the pogues, banging on the remaining cop cars to free him, free Pope, stop this fucking madness—

It’s like a thin line is painted on the ground between you and JJ. An invisible rope, loose but growing more taut the closer you follow on his tail.

You follow it. Follow that red string into the trees, letting it tug you along until you break out of the shadowy wood and onto main street.

A car alarm blares. Glass shards on the trunk of it, surrounding the asphalt around it. You slow to a stop to avoid catching any of those sharp, loose pieces in your shoes. Even now that the imaginary red line has faded, you can see traces of where he went in the path of destruction he made.

A shop’s window busted a few feet away from the car. A street pole sparking and buzzing lowly, electricity humming through the air like a siren’s song, tempting anyone it came across to touch it. Touch the livewire.

Just a few feet away, there he is. JJ has an outdoor seating chair in his two hands, and he’s seconds from tossing it through the glass window of the cafe it was in front of.

“JJ!” You shout, your voice faint beneath the sound of the car alarm, the sparking of the electrical fire, the hum of electricity buzzing all around you.

His head swivels to look back at you, and he looks fucking vicious. He looks like no matter what you say, he’s not going to stop. Not here. The electricity coming from the dented-in box on the street pole is feeding directly into his veins.

“Not supposed t’be here,” he calls back, and now that fury is directed at you. As if he ever could have stopped you from following the breadcrumbs he only ever left for you. “Can’t fuckin’ stop me.”

You crunch glass beneath your feet as you run toward him. It’s too late to do anything about the cafe window; its pieces spill onto the glossy wood floor, some splayed onto the sidewalk.

“Who said I’d try and stop you?” You ask him once you’re close enough. His hand runs through his mussed blonde hair, tugging the strands straight up.

His eyes flit to you, eyebrows raised behind the loose strands falling back down over them. “M’not letting you get into this shit, too,” he says just as sternly. “It’s my fuckin’ life I’m ruining.”

“Why?” you ask him, and it is a genuine question, even though you don’t think he’s going to answer. So you start to spit out your own theories. “Because of your dad? Because of what Luke did?”

His eyes drop to the ground, squinting like he’s looking for something through the shards surrounding his feet. The bat. The end of it sticks out in front of your shoes.

You bend down to grab it, holding the hitting end out toward him. His eyes are so dark when they glance at it, and then back up to you. His eyes were always oceanic, but now they seemed to be drowned out by the stormy black clouds that were his pupils.

JJ’s eyes linger on yours. He’s never really made an effort to read you before, more of a take it on the chin sort of guy when it came to how people were, and what they meant to him. But he studied you now, and it was almost unnerving, trying to guess what exactly he saw reflected back to him.

His fingers close around the hitting end of the bat in a tight grip, using it to pull you closer to him. He’s holding it out to the side, just so that it can’t go taut and rigid between the two of you, allowing you to be tugged closer than you would have been able to be.

His breaths come in furious pants, audible once you were close to him. He was a livewire. He was sparking, burning everything he touched, trying to take it all to the ground.

Destruction was always so pretty when it was at his hands. He did everything with purpose, whether it was for the good of who he cared about, or for his own grievances.

And this sort of destruction, the kind you saw his eyes fall into once you were close enough to share breaths? It was golden and fiery, and full of promise that would break the thin line between your friendship and something else.

You knew it in the same way that you knew how to follow that red, invisible line to him. Red because it was a bad idea, a waving red flag, telling you to stop, stop, stop. But it connected the both of you, regardless of its color; so how were you expected to?

“Feelin’ hungry?” JJ asks, voice low and almost sinful with the way that it rasped.

You don’t mean to balk, but you do. It wasn’t a question you expected him to ask, but the double meaning in it, the innuendo laced words, had you stifling on your own words. “For what?”

The bat slips from his grip, and it falls to hang loosely at your side. “We broke it, we buy it,” he says with a nod toward the shattered gap in the cafe’s window. “Or… not buy it.” His eyebrows bounce when he looks at you, and he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Did you think I was talkin’ about something else?”

Your face flushes. Then, you drop the bat to shove at his chest with both hands. “Shut up.”

“What, you feelin’ all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tryna get some fugitive dick before it’s tossed in the slammer?”

Your face is hot, the trail of heat from your reddened cheeks traveling like a river stream to your lower stomach. “Shut up, JJ,” you seethe, though it has none of the fire you wish it did. You didn’t know why; you had so much of it running through your blood then that it should have made you sound more fiery than you did.

“Uh huh,” JJ cackles, his hand lifting to the back of your shoulder, pushing you toward the broken window. Once you’re a few steps ahead of him, his hand claps on your ass. “Andele, andele! Cops on the horizon.”

It takes every bit of your willpower to not whirl around and smack him back. You don’t, because unfortunately for you, the sting only adds to your stomach becoming molten liquid, and for the other, more pressing matter, of the cops’ lights glowing red and blue at the very end of the street.

You duck into the hole in the glass, feet crunching down on pieces of glass and debris. He follows immediately after, though when he slips into the building, it’s more stumbling than anything graceful.

“Head t’the back,” he huffs, nodding toward the push-to-open door behind the front counter. “M’not gettin’ fucking caught before I fuck up that goddamn realtor’s house.”

Arguing with him is a bit useless. JJ’s never been one to listen to anyone when his mind is set on something. You knew this from the moment that you took off in his direction to find him. Still, you almost open your mouth to make the effort to stop him, so at least you could say you did try.

He cuts in front of you, stepping around the chair he tossed through the window, hopping over the countertop. He stops when he’s leaned against the door, holding it propped for you.

“I’d say ladies first, but someone’s takin’ their sweet ass time,” he prods, nodding in gesture to the kitchen.

You scoff, shaking your head, as you circle around the counter, shoving your shoulder into him when you duck underneath his arm. “Some of us aren’t so akin with vandalism.”

“Some of us,” JJ mocks, his fingers digging into your ribcage as he falls into step behind you, “need t’lighten the hell up.”

“I’m sorry, but are the cops not literally outside? End of the road?” It’s useless to humor him and his pestering, but it makes your heart beat a little bit faster, so who are you to make it easier for him and just go along with his ploys?

He tsks. “Semantics.” His head spins around as he takes in the room surrounding them; typical bakery style kitchen, mixers and cutting boards and ovens, sinks lined up on the back wall. There’s tall fridges and deep freezes on one side of the wall, and parallel to it was— “Aha, there we go.”

JJ cuts in front of you again, doing a little hop and a skip as he bumps his hip into this new door, tugging the handle down as he opens it. “Pantry, or whatever,” he scoffs, his face twisting up, “doesn’t matter to me what the hell it is. Gonna have to camp out in here, you and I.”

Of course you were. You’d signed up for this, getting involved in this round of his criminalistic habits, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have the right to be annoyed. Weren’t you lot chased by the police enough as is?

Still, you step into the pantry, the smell of chocolate chips and something else sugary hitting your nostrils the moment you’re inside. Boxes of ingredients line the shelves, including the ziploc bag of chocolate chips.

JJ’s snatching it up before you can even process it, diving his hand into it and popping the handful between his plush lips. “Told you. Break it, we bought it.”

Your eyes roll. Vandalism and theft. Probably a hefty sentence, nothing that either of you could afford with Poguelandia on the brink of destruction and your debts already piled high.

He zips the bag back up and tosses it back on the shelf. “Walkin’ around like you got a stick up your ass, sweetheart,” JJ muses, his fingers closing around your elbow. “Told y’to relax, didn’t I?”

“No,” you say slowly in response. “You told me to lighten the hell up.”

One side of his mouth quirks in a half smile, dimple gracing his cheek in the process. “Semantics,” he repeats, and he uses the grip he has on your arm to tug you back into his chest. “I could help you lighten the hell up.”

“I sincerely doubt it, JJ,” you huff, your expression as unimpressed as one’s could be. “You’re the entire reason—”

His mouth crashes against yours before you can finish that sentence. His mouth is as soft as it looks, the inner shell of his lips chapped. He tastes like weed, like the taste of it is so familiar in his mouth that it embedded itself into his taste.

You almost don’t kiss back. It’s one of those things that feels like a bad idea because it is. That pointless rule about no kissing on other pogues went out the window the moment Kie and Pope got their hands on each other, but it still felt wrong, to break one of the rules that cemented the glue that held this group together.

You kiss him back anyways. The moment that you start to respond to his advances, his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, pushing his way in. He starts walking the both of you backwards, deeper into the pantry, until your back hits the wall.

JJ’s hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him further in until his chest presses against yours.

His hands let go of you, the press of his body against yours on the wall and your legs tight around his waist keep you held up. His fingers close around the hem of your dress’s skirt, tugging it up.

Your eyes pop open, falling down to your exposed panties pressed against his denim jeans. When you glance back up at him, lips still lightly pressed to his, they’re blue again, and glimmery.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, stealing another kiss in the process. “Just… tryna get your mind off of—”

“The manhunt?” You finish for him, and he laughs breathlessly against your mouth.

“Mm, m’not doing a great job at distracting you, then,” he teases, one of his hands letting go of your dress, the other fisting the fabric as he holds it up. The free hand’s fingers slide down, down, down, until their tips are pressed on the edge of your panties. So close he could probably feel the slickness leaking through the fabric.

“This all for me, baby?” he asks with that infuriating amusement curled around his words. “Or is it the danger of all this, too? Like bein’ an outlaw with little ol’ me?”

You aren’t even going to dignify him with an answer. Your bottom lip wedges itself between your teeth, your hands curling into fists against the fabric of his shirt.

His middle finger starts to rub slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your panties, his lips parted like he’s going to say something stupid about the whine that falls from your mouth—

When the sirens get so loud that it echoes around the small pantry. They don’t dissipate, either, which means…

“The door,” you choke out, nodding behind JJ to the pantry door. He’d shut it behind the both of you, but there’s a lock by the top of it, one of those chain link ones. “The lock—” You try to clarify, your brain a bit muddled.

JJ’s head turns to glance behind him, and you watch his eyes dance up to the chain, too. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Such a damn worrier.”

“I’m not—”

Always useless arguing with him. He cuts you off by gripping at your thighs again with his lithe fingers, lifting you off of the wall and tugging you into his chest.

You grab fistfuls of his shirt so you don’t fall backwards at the sudden movement, your lips curled into a scowl.

He doesn’t seem to notice. He holds you in his arms as he walks to the door, pressing your back against this one so he can remove one hand from your leg, and lifts it to chain the lock.

“Better?” he teases, and you’re about to scowl at him again when you watch the smile drop from his lips.

Just as suddenly as he’d yanked you from the wall, he’s dropping to the ground, your body falling right along with him, knees crashing into the hardwood floors as you land into straddling him. Your mouth opens to gasp, or swear, or gasp and swear, when his fingers close over your lips.

The cops. You hear them, then, the muffled voices and muddled words. Through the crack beneath the door behind JJ’s planted ass, you see their flashlights, too.

His eyes meet yours, and he nods once, his expression grim. You blink, and his eyes are again filled with that glimmering mischief that never, in his life, has meant something good.

And it was truly delinquent of him this time, as his hands drop to the button and fly of his jeans. Your mouth opens and closes in protest, because there’s no way he’s thinking that you two are going to fuck on some cafe’s pantry’s floor with cops right there—

“Oh, get that look offa your face,” he whispers, nosing your chin up and stealing a kiss when you’ve met his eyes again. “As long as you be quiet, what’s the big deal?”

“You have nothing but awful ideas in that head of yours,” you snap in a low whisper, through your gritted teeth. “I’m not having sex with you right now—”

JJ’s eyebrows raise. His eyes fall down to your slickened thighs, to the panties beneath the dress pooling his waist that he knows are wet with your arousal.

“Fuck you.” It’s so pathetic to say, such a weak argument, but it’s the only thing that you can even think right now. Your heart is pounding in your chest with adrenaline and need and the fact that you can feel his hard dick straining in his jeans against your pussy.

JJ tips his head in a nod, his lips still quirked. “Aye aye, captain.”

He undoes the restraints on his jeans, and his fingers disappear into the flyguard. Your eyes bounce between his face and his hands, his expression contorted in pure concentration that would be adorable if it wasn’t so seriously not. His tongue’s poking between his teeth, panting like an excited puppy, and you just want to—

“Hop on, baby,” he says triumphantly, and those stupid lips curl into an even more stupid grin. His hands pat his thighs to draw your attention downward.

Fuck.

Your eyes must darken at the sight of him, hard and leaking precum, because he starts cackling like there aren’t police on the other side of the door, trying to cuff him and throw him in the backseat of a police car. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy now, baby, I see how bad you want it.”

There are rare moments that JJ is right. Broken clocks right twice a day, or something like that. When he’s right, he’s always dead on, and it’s infuriating.

You glance up at the little window in the door, and for then, at least, it’s clear. No shining flashlights beaming into the pantry you’re both camping in…

You make bad decisions far less than JJ does. Still, like broken clocks, you both align sometimes.

Lifting your hips off of his lap, his hands grasp at the backs of your thighs, guiding you onto his waiting cock, slapping it lightly against your pussy a couple of times before he lines himself up and drags the swollen head of it down your folds beneath your panties. He doesn’t give any warning before he pushes himself into you, a hard thrust that brings him all the way to the hilt at once.

Your lips fall open in a sharp gasp, and just barely does his hand make it over your mouth before the moan falls out of your mouth. One hand over your mouth, the other on your ass, guiding you into moving.

“As much as I love that mouth of yours,” JJ groans into your ear, low and rough like the words are being pried out of his lungs and torn through his ribs, “gonna have to keep it down this time.”

He’s such a fucking hypocrite, though — the moment you adjust to the size of him filling you completely, stretching your inner walls to accommodate to him, and you start to move on your own? His head tips back against the door, guttural moans underneath his breath.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he manages, and you slam down on him again, his hand dragging your hips forward to grind your aching pussy against his pelvis in slow circles. “Oh, fuck, baby—”

“Shut up,” you muffle through his hand, even though it’s getting to you too, his palm stifling every gasp and breathy whimper before it leaves your parted lips.

His hand clasps tighter around your mouth, his heavy, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “You’re not the one in control here, baby.”

It’s easy to forget, with him stretching you out and being relatively gentle right now, that he’s higher than he’s ever been. Adrenaline turns people into carcasses of themselves; wearing them down to the bone, using every scrap of energy available.

His blown pupils are glimmering with it. He’s daring you with nothing but a look to see what happens when you keep running your mouth. His hand relents its hold on your mouth, and the other stills your hips as you stay suspended halfway down his cock.

The whine you let out is something you’ll deny later. The gravelly laugh he lets out is something that indicates he won’t let you.

JJ smears his hand across your mouth, taking the saliva from the corner of your lips and spreading it across them, your cheek, before his two fingers slide into your mouth. “Not so bossy now, are you, baby?” he asks under his breath, as he thrusts his fingers in and out, as he slams his hips up in that same relentless pace as them. “Not so bossy when I’m fucking that mouth and that pretty little pussy.”

His words burn from your lower stomach to up your spine, electric everywhere they reach. You can do nothing but take it, your hands on his shoulders for some sense of stability.

Each thrust has the tip of his cock against your cervix, has his fingers clawing along your tongue as he presses them down on it just enough to pry your jaw open.

“Lemme see that smile, sweetheart,” he murmurs, those two fingers spreading out into a V, forcing the corners of your lips up and into a wide grin. You sneer, and all that does is make him pound into you harder. “Don’t act so fuckin’ fussy, you’re gettin’ what you wanted, aren’t ya?”

His fingers press on your tongue again, and your lips close around them again. It’s a good distraction from the way you want to scream. Not like you’d ever put that thought in his head with his ego.

JJ slows his pace, but each thrust is just as hard, so deep in you that you can feel each of them, each minute detail; the thick head of his cock against your cervix, every inch that stretches you further with each of those thrusts, the obscene sound in the silent room of skin slapping against skin.

“Baby, m’not gonna last much longer,” JJ pants into your ear, his voice still as rough but with an air of desperation. “Not like this, not with how fuckin’ good you’re bein’ for me, nice and quiet while I fuck your juicy pussy— fuck, baby.”

He drags his fingers over your lips again, this time down, down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, your navel, until they’re planted right in the hot wetness of your folds. They find your clit and begin to rub the swollen nub, slow and gentle and completely at odds with the brutal fucking.

You’re good, though, even without his hand covering your mouth. Even with—

A flashlight beams through the glass window above the both of you. Your eyes glance up to see it, and JJ’s staring at the spotlight of gold in the center of the room, just inches from his extended legs.

It flicks left, right, and you see the glimmer in the eyes of the officer right there, face pressed to the glass, hear the doorknob jangle against the chained lock—

JJ doesn’t stop. His pace becomes quicker, more erratic, more desperate. Your jaw trembles with the effort to keep your parted lips from making any sound at all, the precipice so close that you’re terrified of whatever noise is going to come out of your mouth when you cum.

The beam from the light swings away, disappearing as the officer walks away, muffled words through the walls separating you and JJ from them.

It’s just in time, too, because you cum with a soft and breathless gasp, your walls pulsing around his cock, your head falling forward to bury into his collar. His moans begin to shudder in your ear, and you know that he, too, is cumming. Feel it seconds later, when your head starts to clear from the haze of ecstasy, as the warmth of his cum fills you, his cock twitching inside of you.

JJ lifts his fingers from between your legs and pops them into his mouth, the sound of him sucking the essence of you off of them making your legs tremble around him. “Like fuckin’ sin,” he whispers reverently.

He’s so pretty like this. All spent and molten, softening cock inside of you like an extension of you now. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing stray hairs off of your face in the process.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, just as reverently as before, voicing the same thoughts you’d been having about him.

“You’re so stupid,” you say in response, not capable of telling him how much you love him, feeling it to be the wrong time, too cheesy, another thing he’ll tease you about later.

It’s there, though, on the tip of your tongue. I love you. And you do, so much that it aches. This man that’d been your best friend since you could remember anything. This man who sacrificed everything constantly for everyone.

He wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything anymore, you wanna say. He could rest now, you wanted to say, too.

But it feels wrong. And there’s always another time to tell him when it doesn’t just seem like bliss-driven thoughts. There’s always another day.

notes, thoguht my grief was over but the ending made me cry for some reason that's how u know this death hit deep bc why am i crying over like four lines in a Smut pls

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #jj maybank x pogue!reader #dividers by cafekitsune #jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks #obx #outer banks one shot #obx one shot

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days ago

Text

because it's yours

for @steddielovemonth using the quote prompt: "If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'd love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it's yours." - Stephen King

rated t | 1250 words | no cw | tags: post-vecna, eddie munson lives, pre-relationship, injury recovery, first kiss, getting together

▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️

Eddie’s not allowed visitors in the hospital, at least according to Wayne and Hopper. It’s for his own safety, they say.

Steve knows that’s partially bullshit. He’s good at sensing bullshit. But he plays along anyway, convinces the kids to just visit Max and they’ll plan a welcome home party for Eddie when he’s released. It gets harder by the day, especially when all the news they hear is that Eddie is healing well and should be good to go home even sooner than they thought.

No one tells them when he’s released.

Steve only finds out because he walks by the room Eddie’s been in, and instead of the door being closed, it’s wide open. There’s unfamiliar voices coming from the room. It could be doctors or nurses, but something makes him pause and peek in the doorway.

It’s an older woman and what appears to be her adult children, all of them having a very serious conversation about how she needs to be more careful while gardening.

Steve leaves before he’s caught eavesdropping.

He considers stopping by Dustin’s, see if he’s heard the news. Maybe the kids found out first.

Who is Steve to Eddie really?

Just because they gave each other looks and flirted a little and Steve carried him out of the Upside Down and-

He swallows the hurt and decides to go straight to Wayne’s new trailer. It’s just outside of town, easy to get to even with the damage done by the cracks. He’s been there a few times to check on him, even helped him set up his cable.

When Wayne opens the door, Steve knows something is off.

He doesn’t invite him in. Instead, he steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him. He gives Steve an awkward smile instead of his usual warm, comforting one.

“Is he home?” Steve asks.

“He’s sleeping,” Wayne allows. “He’s still recovering.”

“Do the kids know he’s home?”

“Son, he-“

“Why is he hiding? Everyone’s worried and just wants to make sure he’s okay. No one would keep him from resting!” Steve hates that his voice pitches higher. His hands are shaking. He’s never spoken to an adult he respects like this. “We just wanna know he’s safe.”

“He is.” Wayne sighs. “I told that boy no one was gonna stay away for long. He insisted everyone would forget him. I said no. He didn’t listen.”

Steve’s eyes dart over to the window he knows goes to Eddie’s bedroom. He’d been the one to help set it up when Wayne moved in.

“Can I please see him? I’ll be quick. I won’t even tell the kids yet. I just need to see,” Steve begs. “Please, Wayne.”

Wayne wordlessly opens the door and gestures for Steve to come inside.

He leads him to Eddie’s room, reminding him with a look to be quiet and not wake him up. Steve gives an understanding nod and walks into the room.

There’s sunlight sneaking through the blackout curtains, just enough to light up the bed that Eddie’s already wide awake in. Steve can’t help the smile blooming on his face.

Eddie looks scared, though.

His eyes are wide, and he’s pulled himself to the farthest corner of the queen sized bed. His hair’s a mess, proof that he probably was asleep just before Steve got here.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve waves. He doesn’t come any closer to the bed. “I just wanted to get eyes on you. Feeling alright?”

Wayne’s standing in the doorway behind Steve, probably trying to determine if he needs to step in or ride this out. If Eddie asks, Steve will leave. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asks.

Steve watches the way his jaw moves around the words, how his mouth twists differently, like it’s taking more effort to talk. The scar going across his cheek, up into his temple, and down to his neck seems to be the cause of it. It’s still an angry red, stitches visible in some places where the bites must’ve been deeper.

He walks forward slowly. Eddie doesn’t stop him. Neither does Wayne.

The scar is big. It’ll always be big, though Steve has plenty of experience with scars and knows it’ll fade into a paler pink than it currently is. It’ll be a reminder, every day, of how he almost died. Eddie will have this memory every time he looks in the mirror, every time his own fingers brush against the ridged skin.

Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face that’s scarless.

Eddie gulps.

“Is this why you didn’t want anyone to visit?” He whispers.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his eyes closing and head tilting down is answer enough.

“Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie opens his eyes.

“Do you really think a scar could scare any of us away? After how we found you, a scar is the least of our worries. You don’t have to hide from us.”

Steve’s not sure if Wayne’s still standing in the doorway, too focused on the way Eddie’s holding his gaze now. He’s lost weight and he’s still pale, but he’s alive. He’s still beautiful.

Maybe even more now.

“You’re alive. Everyone just wants you alive.”

“I’m gonna look even weirder now,” Eddie rasps out. Steve wonders if there’s damage to his throat, something his voice may never recover from entirely.

“I dunno. I think it’s pretty badass. Since when do you care about looking weird, anyway?” Steve smirks. “The Eddie Munson I know would find a new ridiculous story to tell every time he’s asked about something this cool.”

“I was leaning towards making people believe I got in a fight with a dragon,” Eddie shrugs one shoulder. His cheeks are red, warm underneath Steve’s touch.

“And won.”

Eddie leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Of course I won. A knight in shining armor saved me.”

“You saved everyone else first. Don’t forget that part of the story,” Steve reminds him.

“A hero’s brave sacrifice…” Eddie mumbles. Steve chuckles. “Maybe true love’s kiss?”

“Isn’t that supposed to break a curse?” Steve whispers, suddenly nervous about all the times they flirted before. Flirting is harmless until it’s not.

“You’re right. In this case, it’s the curse of never kissing a nice guy.”

“And you think I can break that curse?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

It’s a little awkward at first, mostly because parts of Eddie’s jaw are still numb from nerve damage and moving in certain ways is difficult. But once Steve adjusts, and they both giggle against each others’ lips, it’s easy. They fit.

Eddie tries to deepen the kiss, but he is still healing, and he has to pull away when his stitches tug painfully.

“Your battle scars won’t matter to any of us. They damn sure don’t make you less beautiful to me. Everyone misses you,” Steve rubs his arm, the one with no visible bandages. “Can I at least bring Dustin over later? Let him see that you’re actually alive and the hospital and government haven’t been lying?”

“Is that what everyone thinks?”

“You have to remember we’ve been through this a lot. Hopper was dead until he wasn’t. Anything can be faked.”

“That’s reassuring,” Eddie groans. “Yeah. Bring everyone by tomorrow. I’ll even shower.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Do you need help?”

“With showering? I just might, big boy.”

The way Eddie smiles is different now, but Steve loves it all the same.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddielovemonth

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begrudging-fudanshi · 2 months ago

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The lack of authority figures in Wind Breaker feels under-discussed. Obviously, a lot of people talk about how there are no teachers or police, but it goes way farther than that. This story methodically goes out of its way to avoid making authority figures out of anyone.

No one over 18 seems to be able to fight. There's not one adult mentor for serious advice (like, say, "how do we save a kidnapping victim?" or "how do we stop a literal act of terrorism?"), and thus nobody to steer these kids onto "the right path". Seemingly adult characters keep turning out to be teens, keeping those kinds of mentor figures from entering the plot. Hell, the whole relationship between Bofurin and the adults that we do see in Makochi is carefully balanced to make them basically equals.

However, the most striking example by far is the way Umemiya and Bofurin actively eschew authority and the accumulation of power.

Take the Shishitoren arc: When offered control of Shishitoren, Umemiya is like, "lol, no," leaving Tomiyama and Togame to make amends with their team and sort things out. When Togame offers himself up for punishment (a word that Umemiya doesn't use), Umemiya defers to Sakura, who follows his example and tells Togame to, and I quote, "Change and become cooler than your lameass self! And don't do these stupid things again!" (Also noteworthy: Tomiyama and Togame's whole mistake was to act as authority figures and punish those they deemed weak.)

A few other examples:

Umemiya's whole leadership style and the fact that his main title seems to be "representative of Bofurin". Similarly, Bofurin is the name given to them by the townspeople, which shows how they've been willingly accepted rather than imposing their will.

Sakura's stated goal is to become the top of Bofurin, but he's not treated as a threat or disciplined for it. (Sugishita does attack him out of his personal affinity for Umemiya, but that's him acting on his own accord.)

Bofurin doesn't raid other teams preemptively to try to stop them. When they stop people who are causing havoc in town, they don't punish them, either. Once the bad guys give up, they're allowed to slink back from whence they came.

When Sakura becomes a grade captain, the focus is about learning to rely on his peers, not how to tell them what to do or keep them in line.

I have some more half-baked thoughts on what this means, but I'll save those for another time. Still, I think there's something more deliberate going on here than a lot of people think.

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.

Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.

Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.

Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?

The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤

And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.

He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!

Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.

And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-

And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"

Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?

Shoot us TWICE?

Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!

And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.

"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.

The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?

And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.

Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"

And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!

Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Ghost Reporters Au

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eunandonly · 2 months ago

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contemplating : love, friendships and theories of time

୨୧ ; fate is a strange concept, isn’t it? because park sunghoon was the last person you had expected to see in your philosophy lecture in uni

pairing! philosophymajor!sunghoon x philosophymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: wrong philosophy info, prob cringe EN-

🖇️ : philosophy major sunghoon SKDKDKSK. also, to the girly who asked for a uni fic for the science and maths girls, i hope you’re looking forward to my sunoo uni fic ~

you and sunghoon go WAYYYY back

he was your neighbour in that little picturesque town you both lived in, your mum's friend's annoying son who always seemed to be loitering around at your house

you thought your mum adopted him or smth bc why was he at your house more than his own?? — more under cut!!

you used to tease him about being homeless back in the days

but yk you two were best friends

but you and sunghoon kind of just drifted apart in high school after he moved during his freshman year at high school

you see his instagram posts sometimes, pictures of him out with his friends, jawline still jawlining

you sometimes even scroll down to his older posts where you are present in his photos, smiling next to him with a wide braces smile

but you never thought you would cross paths with park sunghoon again

that is, until university.

you walk into your first philosophy lecture and oh look there he is

park sunghoon sitting in one of the corners with his notebook looking like the exact definition of brooding intellectual

what is that guy doing here WHY IS HE HERE?

you two recognise each other instantly but there's this moment of awkwardness

like "oh, do you remember when we used to steal each other's snacks in 5th grade?"

except now he's all grown up, wearing wireframe glasses and quoting descartes during class discussions

you just try to focus on your lecture but you can't really forget about sunghoon being in your philosophy lecture

oh yeah, and he looks x100 hotter than you remember WHAT'S GOING ON

puberty hit him hard

after the lecture, you're about to pack your stuff and leave as soon as you can but he just strides up to you with his obnoxiously long legs

you always hated his stupid long legs you always had to run to catch up

you're certain he walked faster on purpose to leave you behind

ANYWAYS sunghoon just says long time no see in that smooth voice of his.

he's polite, maybe a bit shy, but there's a hint of a smile on his face and it's almost like the years of not seeing each other disappears

you two start hanging out more- grabbing coffee together before 8AM morning lectures designed to kill university students, studying together in the library

your mum is also really happy to hear that you've met sunghoon

you always knew she liked him better than you.

but you guys only get closer on a fateful thursday morning as you’re making your way to your morning lecture

because sunghoon is standing in the courtyard with a baby kitten in his arms whilst panicking

“y/n this cat keeps following me and she doesn’t have a mum.”

ofc you need to take it in SHE’S SO CUTE

you end up skipping lectures and spending the entire day with sunghoon to bring the cat to the vet and buy food

sunghoon wants to name the cat descartes but you veto that immediately

by the day is over, you have a kitten named mochi with sunghoon as a co-parent

now you’re seeing him all the time bc guess who has joint custody over mochi??

ok but spending time with sunghoon isn't as hard as you thought it would be

like yes he moved without a word and practically ghosted you in highschool

but it all feels really natural WHO CHEERED??

but between kitten playdates and philosophy study sessions stuff start feeling kinda different HMMM

which you didn’t think was possible btw sunghoon’s hobby is literally talking about existentialism and calligraphy

yeah and you knew him since he was five

ok but he looks really hot whilst talking about sartre NDJDKDKSKS

who knew you would start feeling all warm inside from sunghoon

not the 14 years old you in the past

but now everytime you touch in any way, you feel yourself flush pink

and you can’t ignore how sunghoon tries to act all nonchalant about it but his ears are turning red

how cute.

“you ever heard about hegel’s theory of love?”

“if you’re about to lecture me, i’m leaving.”

“no- listen, it’s about how love is this push and pull that makes you grow and stuff, and i don’t think i’m just studying it anymore. i think i’m feeling it, with you.”

ok that sounded a lot better in my head please don’t come for me

but yeah

aristotle believed everyone has a purpose they’re meant to fulfill. perhaps you didn’t know it back than, but losing touch with sunghoon and finding him again… it feels like you two were meant to meet in the future. perhaps it’s fate

✉️ : @icyy-hoon

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justwhisperingfantasies · 2 months ago

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You Belong With Me - One Shot

Characters: Reader (y/n) - Beau Arlen- Cassie Dewell - Jenny Hoyt - Denise Brisbane - Mo Poppernak - Tiffany (o.c)-Knox (o.c)-Pete (o.c) Mention of Cody Hoyt.

Warnings: Drinking, Language, Jealousy, Angst, Fluff, lmk if I missed any.

Summary: You're in love with your best friend, but he is with someone else. You try to move on when the new cute guy in town asks you on a date.

Word count: 4,042

Hope y'all enjoy it. 💜

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💜

If you would like to be added to my tag list click here

Reader's Pov

“I need a favor.” Cassie grimaced walking over to your desk.

“What now?” you playfully whined.

“I need you to go sweet talk your bestie about the getting a copy of the report.

“Cass, I don’t think he’ll be ok with that.” You took a drink of your coffee. “They sealed it.”

“Oh, come on it’s you. He’ll at least let you see it. I just need a couple dates.” You gave him an unamused look “Please.” You sighed and picked up your phone. “Thank you (y/n) I owe you one”

“Yea, yea, yea” you teased as you opened your contacts, you scrolled until you found his picture and tapped the call icon next to it. You put the phone up to your ear as it begins to ring.

“Hello Darlin’.” His gruffy voice stirred up the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hello, Sheriff Arlen.” You said in your best flirty voice. He chuckled. You returned to your normal voice. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s been alright. Checking up on paperwork. How’s yours?”

“Eh ok, I guess. I was just sitting here thinking and ya know what I realized?”

“What’s that?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I haven’t told my best friend was a handsome son of a bitch he is today."

He laughed. “What do you want?”

“Beau Arlen, I had offended you would accuse me of kissing ass to get something!”

He stayed silent for a second. “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you want.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I’ll be there in 15.”

“Oh lord. What are you getting me into now sweetheart?”

“See ya soon.”

As you walk up to the front doors of the sheriff’s station armored with a paper sack containing one of Beau’s favorite sandwiches from a local dinner, you pass Mo. He tipped his hat. “Mornin', little lady.” He said with a smile.

“Deputy.” You returned the smile with a nod.

“He’s in his office.” He told you as you grabbed the door handle.

“Thanks Pop!” you walked in and made your way back to his office, but he wasn’t there. You grin as an idea pops into your hand. You sit in his chair and clear a space. Careful not to mess up his organized chaos. Leaning back, you plop your boots on his desk and cross your ankles. When he opens the door ⁴ you lean back further and cross your arms behind your head.

He laughed. “Please make yourself at home.”

“Just trying to see how the other half lives.” You smiled at him. He laughed again. “Now I hope you don’t mind, but I did some paperwork organizing while I waited.”

He pressed his lips together and flared his nostrils. “Please tell me your kidding.”

Your grimaced “I thought I was helping.” You said as you sat up.

He rushed over to his paperwork and started looking through the piles. You inhaled through your nose as he leaned in front of you, taking in his intoxicating scent of blue vetiver, sandalwood and citrusy notes. He always smelled so good.

You started laughing. “Beau, I’m just messing with you. I know better than to mess with your system.” You put air quotes on the word system.

“Hey, my desk, my process.” He finally noticed the paper sack sitting on the empty side of his desk. “Is that?” he looked at you and pointed to the bag. You nodded. “Oh, you can have whatever you want.” He said as he unwrapped his sandwich.

You smiled. “Now remember you said that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get to it.” He said in between bites.

“I need a copy of the Goodwin report.” You gave him a big smile. He swallowed and his face went hard. “Or just the dates. Cassie has a theory, and she needs dates to confirm it.” you puckered your lips and stuck out your bottom one.” He stared at you, his face still hard as stone. “Please B.” You pleaded.

“Ya know you are putting me in a very difficult position sweetheart.”

“Nobody would know.” You turned on your puppy dog eyes.

He sighed “I can’t give you a hard copy, but I can give you dates...”

“That’s all I need.”

He leaned over you again onto his keyboard. “Look away.”

You rolled your eyes. “So paranoid.” You put your hands over your eyes. You can hear the lead on paper and he starts to hum. “Are you humming Elvis?”

“Yes. Ya know you never cease to amaze me. Not many people could recognize an Elvis song from a hum.” He stopped writing. “Alright.” He turned to face you and leaned against his desk. He held out the piece of paper but snatched it back as you reached for it. “Hold on there darlin’ he haven’t agreed on a price yet.”

Your jaw dropped. “Beaufort Arlen.” He rolled his eyes. That wasn’t his name and you knew it, but you could resist calling him that. His reaction was adorable. “You want me to offer you a bribe?”

“No, not a bribe. More like one hell of a good cook persuading her handsome sheriff friend with her famous chicken and dumplings” He winked at you.

“Fine, but I won’t have time tonight.” You bargained. “I’ll drop them off tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah. You’re date.” You nodded. “Maybe if you keep this one around you guys could double with me and Tiffany.” You rolled your eyes when he said her name, “Don’t be mean (y/n). She regrets what she did, and Things have been good lately.”

“Yeah, ok.” You stood up and he handed you the piece of paper. “Thanks for your help sheriff.” You head towards the door

He sighed. “Any time.”

Reader's Pov

“How did he smell today?” Denise asked you as you walked into the office.

You smiled and took a deep breath remembering his cologne. “Dreamy.” You sink down in the chair in front of her desk.

She smiled. “And tell me why you never asked him out again?”

“Never got the chance. Tiffany just keeps weaseling her way back in, but” you pointed your finger at her. “I am over Beau Arlen.” She raised her eyebrows. “I am Denise. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, He’s name is Knox.”

“Oh, the new guy! He so cute.”

“I know. Which is why I said yes when he asked me out.” You turned your head as you heard the bell that hung above the door. “Speaking of cute.”

Cassie smiled. “Did you get it?”

“I got the dates. He said he couldn’t make me a copy.” You held out the paper for her.

“That will work.” She took it. “Thank you.” she started walking to her desk.

“Welcome.” You called after her.

“Well, I should probably get back to work, got a big ol’ pile of nothing to get back to.

“Hon you’ve closed 3 cases in the last 2 weeks, I’d say it’s a good time for a break.” Denise advised.

“Or you could do some digging for me and give me something to do.” You said with a smile.

“I can try, maybe you should call Beau.” She smiled and you rolled your eyes.

You made your way back over to your desk. You turn your computer on as you sit down. Drumming your finger while you watch the loading screen you decide to text him. You take your phone out of your jacket pocket and open it to your existing conversation.

Y/N: Beaufort

You opened your email while you waited for a reply. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Your phone buzzed.

Beau: I’m all out of favors today darlin’

Y/N: Rude of you to assume I’m only texting you for a favor. I was actually gonna ask you if you needed help with anything.

Beau: Calm down. It was a joke. Not today. I’m still stuck at the office I have to get this paperwork done TODAY.

Y/N: Damnit. I need something to do.

Beau: Why don’t you go home early and get ready for this big date you have tonight.

Y/N: My big date isn’t until 7. Are you saying I need 5 hours to pretty myself up. 🤔

Beau: You roll out of bed beautiful, and you know it. Just think you deserve to pamper yourself every once in awhile

Y/N: Nice save.

You hit the send button and turn off your screen. “Cassie!” You yelled.

“Yea?” she yelled back.

“Please tell me you need help with something!”

“Actually yes.” You jumped out of your seat and rushed to her desk. “Are you that bored?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m freaking dying here.” She handed you the papers in her hand and started giving you the run down of the case she was working on.

“I’m right.” Cassie whispered as you finish reading the dates that were in Beau’s handwriting to her.

“You’re right.” You reassured her.

“Holy shit. I have to go talk to Jenny.” She pulled her coat on. “See you at the bar tonight.”

“Um probably not. ”

“I’m sorry I forgot, I hope I don’t see you tonight,” she winked at you. “Can we give this one a fighting chance though?”

“Hardy har, har.”

Beau’s Pov

He sat down at the bar and looked up at the clock. 8:55. She’d probably be getting rid of the loser and walking through the door any minute now. “Hey Pete.” He said as the bartender approached him on the other side of the bar.

“How’s it going sheriff?” Pete said as he sat on a beer and a shot glass in front of Beau.

“We may need a bigger glass.” He told Pete as he poured the whiskey.

“That bad huh?” Pete asked. Beau just shook his head. He downed the shot of whiskey.

“I don’t know Jenny. She seemed different about this one.” Cassie said as her and Jenny walked up to the bar. “Hey Beau.”

“Ladies” Beau said tipping his hat.

“You want some company?” Jenny said as she sat on the barstool beside him.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, geez don’t get too excited.” Cassie teased sitting on the other side of him

“What’s gotcha down?” Jenny asked as she got Pete’s attention. He brought over 2 more beers and 2 shot glasses for the girls. “

“Paperwork day, Jenny”

“Oh, that’s right.” Pete began pouring their shots and a second one for Beau. “Cheers” Jenny said holding the full shot glass up. Beau and Cassie repeated. The three of them took their shots and sat the glasses on the bar.

Beau looked up at the clock again, 9:00. Come on where was she?

“Pete, can we just get a bottle?” Jenny said grabbing her beer and her glass. Pete grabbed an unopened bottle of the same whiskey and handed it to her. “Thank you. Can you put it on my tab?” Pete nodded. “Grab your glasses and bottles.” She led them over to a high top by the dart board.

“You really wanna play darts?” Beau asked sitting his beer and glass on the table.

“Well not really, but it gets you away from that clock.”

“Touche.”

“Come on. We’ll make it fun. Every time someone gets a bullseye, we drink, every time someone misses the board, we drink.” Jenny persuaded.

“Every time someone throws a dart, we drink.” Cassie teased making Beau chuckle.

Jenny grabbed 3 darts of different colors, handing one color to Cassie and another to Beau. “Alright.” He gestured for her to go first.

They took turns throwing the darts on the board and he was actually having a decent time. After 3 shots he checked his phone. 9:30. What the hell.

“Well, I guess (y/n)’s date must be going well. 2 and a half hours. No calls, no texts, and she hasn’t shown up here yet.” Cassie said.

“Or she’s at home drinking alone.” Beau rebuttals

Jenny poured another round of shots. They clinked and downed them. “Beau, you’re up.”

As he was throwing his last dart, he heard Jenny let a whistle out. There she was finally. Beau threw his dart and turned around. His heart nearly exploded in his chest. She was wearing olive green western looking dress, low cut, very low cut. The lower hem dangle over her cowboy boots, His eyes traced up to her face, God she was just beautiful. Makeup done up all nice and her hair in curls under a cowboy hat that matched her boots. What he wouldn’t give to be the guy holding her hand right now. It should be him not this pretty country boy wannabe. Ugh he rolled his eyes. She smiled at them and mouthed the words oh my god as they made their way to the bar.

“Damn she looks good.” Jenny exclaimed.

“So does her date!” Cassie added as they sat down at their table. He purposely sat in the chair facing the opposite direction.

“He ain’t that good lookin’.” Beau sneered.

“Oh Beau. Don’t be jealous. You know we love you too.” Cassie teased.

His ears got hot as he heard her laugh. Clearly, she was interested in this guy. He huffed and poured himself a shot.

“Hey pretty lady!” Cassie said as (y/n) walked up to the table.

She smiled. “Hey guys. This is Knox.” She gestured towards him. “Knox. These are my best friends. Jenny,” Jenny put out her hand the Knox shook it. “Cassie.” They repeated. “And this is Beau.”

He put his hand out “Sheriff Beau Arlen. I’m sorry Knot was it” (y/n) glared at him.

Knox chuckled. “No sir, Knox” he emphasized the x on the end. “With a x”

“My bad.” Beau said with a smile.

“So, tell us Knox what do you do?” Jenny asked.

“I’m a veterinarian.” She raised her eyebrows at Cassie.

“Oh, are you going to work at Andy’s place?” Jenny asked

“Until I take it over.” Jenny and Cassie furrowed their eyebrows. “Andy is my dad. He is fixin’ to retire within the next year or so.”

Beau’s phone started to ring. “That’s probably Tiff.” He noticed (y/n)’s eye roll. “I should get going anyways. See you girls tomorrow. Box nice meeting you.” She shook her head. “Good night y’all.”

Reader's Pov

Today was your return to the office after taking a 3-day week. You and Knox made things official after 4 weeks of dating. He took you out to his family’s lake house for the weekend to celebrate. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

A big grin spread across Denise’s face when she looked up “How was he. I mean it? “

You chuckled. “It was good.” You turn to walk to your desk

“The weekend or the sex?” she asked.

“Both.” You said and started walking. She chuckled.

As you sat down your phone started ringing. You looked at the screen “Really?” you said out loud. It was Beau, you haven’t really seen or talked to him in about 2 or 3 weeks, only in passing. Wonder what he wants you thought to yourself.

“Beaufort. What’s wrong?”

“You busy today?”

“not sure I just got in.”

“ok well find out and let me know. I need you.”

“Ok. Let me talk to Cass and I’ll call you back.”

“Ok.” He hung up.

“Ok Beau.” You opened the door to find him pacing in his office. “what’s wrong?”

“Should I ask Tiffany to marry me?” He blurted out.

“Um excuse me?” You practically fell into the nearest chair as your legs went numb from shock.

“So, this morning as I was leaving Tiffany stopped me and told me 3 years is long enough to know whether I want to marry her or not.”

Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Well, what did you tell her?”

“I told her I couldn’t do this right now. I had to get to work. And if I was gonna ask her to marry me it was going to be on my terms. Not her forcing me into it.”

You know the question you had to ask, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want the answer. Your heart hastened as you though over what he would say. “ Do you want to marry her?” you couldn’t hid the quiver in your voice.

“I don’t know.”

You pulled on the bill of your baseball cap trying to hide the tears building in your eyes. “Do you love her?”

“ I’ve stuck by her through everything. The lying, the cheating.”

“That’s not what I asked B.” You began to blink rapidly trying everything that wasn’t too obvious to dry out your eyes.

“Why would I do all that if I didn’t.” He stopped mid step. “I think I should just do it. We’ve been together this long. And I’ll probably be with her for the rest of my life anyhow.”

“Well that’s a hell of a reason.” The words came out before you could stop them.

“Look I know you’re not here biggest fan, but I do care for her. It’s going to be hard to keep a friend that is mean to my fiancée don’t ya think.”

You shot up out of the chair. The nervousness and pain you felt turned into a white-hot rage. “Are you fucking kidding me right now Beau?!” Your hands begin to shake. You can’t hold back the things you’ve been dying to say for so long. “She cheated on you for 2 months. Several times. It’s not like it was a one-time mistake. God, I swear you’re as dumb as a box of rocks! I have absolutely no idea why you would stay with her. And if you really wanna marry someone that takes the greatest person on the face of this earth for granted, then be my freakin guest.” He just looked at you with a dumbfounded look on your face. Tears started coming back and you didn’t bother trying to stop them. “Beau you are my best friend, and I love you, but I can not and will not sit here and watch you throw your life away and marry her.” He opened his mouth; you continued not giving him a chance to argue. “I really don’t want to be this person, and I hate that I am saying this. but I can’t be your friend if you do this.” You walked out the door, not giving him the chance to tell you he was going through with it anyway. You heard him yell after you, but you couldn’t stop. You just wanted to get away from everything.

Beau’s Pov.

He sighed as he got back into his Defender. He pulled his phone out to call (y/n) for the 17th time, straight to voicemail. “Son of a bitch.” He yell as he hit the steering wheel. He scrolled in his contracts and hit the green icon. “Cassie.”

“What’s up Beau?”

“Please tell me you’ve from (y/n)”

“I thought she was with you.”

“Are you at the office?”

“Yea? What the hell happened Beau?”

“Ill tell you when I get there.”

Denise and Cassie jumped as Beau charged through the door. “You guys really haven’t seen or talked to her?” He asked.

“No. Tell us what happened!” Cassie demanded.

“Well, I called her and told her I needed her help. I was given an ultimatum this morning.” Cassie raised her eyebrows. He went over the fight with them. “And then she stormed out.”

“Oh, Beau. I can’t believe you don’t see it” Denise realized what she had said and put her hands over her mouth.

“See what?” he asked

“Never mind. I’ll make some coffee.” Denise walked away.

“Her phone is going straight to voicemail. She’s not at the bar, not at her house. I tried the dinner, a couple parks I know she likes, I tried the gazebo by the lake, I have looked literally everywhere, Cassie, I can’t find her.” He was anxious and jittery. They have had some fights in the past. The one they got into was when he took tiffany back was especially bad, but she was always waiting at the bar for him with a beer and a shot.

“Just calm down. Give me a minute.” Cassie got up and walked to the kitchen. “What do you know Denise?”

“I shouldn’t had said anything.” She kept her back to Cassie. “It’s not my business.”

Cassie walked up to her and put her hand on Denise’s shoulder “Denise.”

“I thought it was pretty dang obvious, but I guess not. She’s in love with Beau. Has been since she’s known him. That’s why she never keeps a man around. She’s been hoping one day he would wake up and realize.”

Beau felt the air leave his lungs as he leaned on the kitchen doorframe. She was in love with him. This had to be a joke. What was so special about him? There’s no way someone like her could love him. “She’s in love with me?”

Cassie and Denise spun around. “Frick.” Denise said.

Cassie’s phone started to ring. “Hey (y/n).” His eyes shot to Cassie. She was nodding. “Alright. I understand. Take the day. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?” “If you need anything just call, ok?” ok.” Cassie hung up and walked to her desk. Beau followed. She started writing on a piece of paper.

“Are you going.”

“Go to the Strickland stables. Follow these directions.” She handed him the paper. “She’ll be there.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Trust me.” she shook the paper at him.

Reader’s pov.

You inhaled deeply looking out at the view as you sat on the wooden fence. You turned your head as you heard the swishing of the grass on jeans. “Cassie told you where I’d be huh?”

“She wrote me out directions.” He leaned on the fence beside you. “She told me you used to come here with your brother.”

“Yeah, Cody would bring me up here back in the day, when life got too stressful. When we were kids, he told me to throw my problems at the mountains and they would throw solutions back.” You said with a chuckled. The cold wind made the tear drop’s trails sting your skin.

“They give you anything good today?”

“Not really.”

“Can I try?”

You chuckled. “Sure.” He hopped over the fence and stood in front of you. After a minute or two he turned back to you with a big smile on his face. You hopped down. “What did they say?”.

He took a couple steps. He was close. “They told me to stop being such a chicken and do this. He pulled you into him, his hands cupping your face as he leaned in, the anticipation crackling in the air. Then, with a swift, decisive movement, he dipped you backwards, your heels lifted off the ground, his lips meeting yours in a fervent collision, as your bodies pressed tightly together, the world around you faded away.

He brought you back up and rested his forehead against yours. “Well. That was. Some. Damn. Good advice.” You said between heavy pants. He chuckled and kissed you again. You smiled with wide eyes as a thought popped into your head.

“What?”

"I just realized that I have several more ways to persuade you now."

his head lifted as he let out a laugh.

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#beau arlen #beau arlen fic #beau arlen x reader #big sky #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #fluff #angst #one shot #fluff and angst

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shmaptainwrites · 1 year ago

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James has a huge crush on his labmate, the only question is how long will it take him to ask her out? (Answer: it's longer than you think)

WARNINGS — cancer mentions, patient death from cancer, drugs, alcohol (don't be mistaken this fic is tooth-rotting fluff)

NOTE — Okay this fic has come up from my compulsory need to elaborate on anything Canadian so if you ever wanted to see James at McGill, this fic is most definitely for you! Also I guess it's indirectly mentioned that reader was raised in Quebec, but obviously doesn't have to be "Quebecois" for this to work

Pronounciation — Jian = Chyehn

James chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked up to the Stewart Biological Sciences Building on McGill campus. For some reason, it was so much more intimidating now that he was actually a student. During the tour he had his mother’s reassuring hand on his back, his father’s words of comfort that he would most definitely be accepted when he applied.

Now that he had made it, he had to prove he belonged, but it could have been worse. His friends at Harvard and the University of Toronto had told him so. He was getting the best of both worlds, a prestigious school and, hopefully, not as much pressure as the rest of them.

Without loitering any longer, he made his way inside and looked around to find the right lecture hall. It couldn’t possibly be that hard, could it?

After his first semester James had realized he’d made a few mistakes. One was living in a French speaking part of town without knowing a lick of the language, but that one was the easiest to deal with. The others were more in the realm of the amount of sleep he was getting and underestimating how much content the professors could shove down their throats in 14 weeks.

He was more than happy to return to New Jersey for the holiday break to rest and recuperate before going back to the winter wonderland hell that was Montreal, but this time he was confident he would be more prepared.

And for the most part, he was. He got enough sleep, partied responsibly (except Fridays, he partied hard then), always submitted his work on time and maintained his good GPA, making up for his poor fall semester. What he didn’t expect, however, was a distraction.

When you walked into the room James watched you curiously, he thought maybe he’d seen you somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Besides, you were much more interesting than watching his sample boil for another five minutes.

You came and took a seat next to him, taking out your safety goggles and lab notebook from your bag before shoving it under the table.

“You’re sample’s boiling over,” you said, but James didn’t register you were talking to him at first, still looking at you in a slightly dazed manner before you physically pointed to the beaker, making his eyes go wide as he frantically turned down the heat and removed it.

“It’s a wonder you passed the lab safely quiz,” you teased and James blushed.

“Good thing I don’t want to be a chemist.”

“Oh, and what do you want to be then?” you asked, preparing your own sample for boiling.

“A doctor,” he shared with a little more confidence.

“Any specialty in mind or just a doctor,” you said, doing air quotes over the word.

“I’ve been shadowing some of the researchers in the Life Sciences Research Complex and I think oncology might be a good fit for me.”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t have to boil cancer cells you should be fine,” you assured him.

“What about you?” he rolled on the balls of his feet as he continued his experiment. “Or are you all talk?”

“Pfft, you think I’d be here if I was all talk?” you asked. “No, I want to be a medical researcher.”

“Maybe you should do some shadowing in the LSRC then.”

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to my job there.”

“Your job?” James looked at your wish surprise. “Aren’t you like 18?”

“Almost,” you smiled.

“How did you manage to get a job there? They barely let undergraduates in the labs, let alone be responsible for anything.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” you assured him. “I just do cataloguing for now, but it's a good experience.”

“Still,” he raised his brows, “you must be like a prodigy or something.”

“Again, no,” you shook your head. “Just someone who goes after what she wants.”

There was a comfortable pause where you both took down your distillation set ups and began working on the filtration portion of the experiment.

“So what’s your name, anyways?” you asked, looking over at him. “Hey, look, clamp it this way,” you demonstrated and he followed your lead, seeing how much more stable the glassware was afterwards.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m James.”

You told him your name and continued your work again in silence.

Chemistry labs quickly became the favourite part of James’ week.

Ever since that lab, James began to see you in all his classes. On more than a few occasions, he’d had to steal notes from his friends on account of forgetting to pay attention. It became an easy thing to tease him about, so his friends began calling him heart-eyes, because who was he kidding, he had a crush.

“Get your head out of your ass, heart-eyes, I am not giving you my notes again,” his friend, Carlo, shoved his arm and whispered harshly as he could see him getting distracted.

“Sorry,” James shook his head and began scribbling down what he had missed, his eyes darting back and forth from the board and back to you.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Pierre asked him after class. “Don’t you talk all the time in the lab?”

“More like I stare at her and she says stuff to make it not awkward,” he cringed at his own actions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m with her I can’t string together a sentence, and– Jesus Christ you should have seen my face last week! Full on red, like I can’t even be subtle about it!”

“Yikes,” Jian grimaced.

“It’s bad, I know,” James assured.

“And this is why we call you heart-eyes,” Carlo patted James on the back.

“Yeah, say it a little louder, maybe she’ll hear you,” James said sarcastically.

“Who’ll hear you?” the group of boys heard a voice behind them and all their eyes went wide as they spun around and saw you.

“No one!” Jian was quick to answer in the least nonchalant way possible, making the rest of the group, especially James, stare daggers at him.

“It’s not no one,” Carlo attempted to save face. “Just… this girl back in uh New Jersey that James’ got the hots for,” he gained confidence with every word of the sentence before adorning a smug smile on his face and patting James yet again on the back.

“You’re afraid a girl in New Jersey will hear you?” you looked curiously at James but he just stared blankly at you. “So you call him heart-eyes?” you instead turned your attention to his friends and they nodded. “That’s cute, maybe I’ll call you that too.”

“Sure,” was all a red faced James could get out before you excused yourself to head over to work.

Pierre was trying very hard to keep a straight face while you walked away and James slapped both Carlo and Jian upside the head.

“What the hell was that! Could you not have been more obvious, Jian? And Carlo, a girl back in New Jersey? Now she thinks I’m pining for someone else!”

“On the plus side, maybe she’ll think all your blushing around her is a circulation issue,” Pierre shrugged.

“You guys are the worst,” James shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk along the path to one of the libraries.

“No, we just saved your ass,” Carlo caught up with him. “However terribly, but if we didn’t say anything you would have stared at her with your mouth open like a trout.”

“Carlo does have a point,” Jian agreed, “At least we bought you a little time to get your act together.”

James sighed, “You guys have too much faith in me.”

“You said that when I started to teach you French and you’ve come a long way with that,” Pierre said.

“Yeah, sure I went from saying nothing to being able to say Je m'appelle James et je ne parle pas français.”

“And what a handy sentence that is when you don’t speak French!” Pierre grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head.

“Okay, I’ll try and get my act together and ask her out…and learn more French.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlo patted his back. “Now let’s go get a drink and relax.”

“Maybe after we study for our physics midterm?” James nudged his friend and Jian nodded his head in agreement.

“Fine, I guess if we have to,” Carlo sighed.

“Not everyone is naturally good at kinematics, Carlo. Take pity on us mere mortals who have to study,” Pierre responded, eliciting a chuckle from his buddies.

James was quiet as he thought to himself. If he could get a B on this physics test, maybe there was hope for him getting his act together after all.

—

Summer break rolled around faster than James had expected. While Jian went back to Richmond, Pierre over to Quebec City, and Carlo to Chicago, James was left alone in Montreal, working to help pay his tuition for the next year. Being an international student was no joke.

He would have gone back to New Jersey, but the positions he applied to in Montreal paid more so it wasn’t a hard decision to make.

His parents would come visit him for some time in July, but for the most part he was alone.

On late nights, he’d make his way to the McDonald’s in the neighbourhood, not knowing enough French to go anywhere else nearby. At least there, most of them spoke enough English to take his order, and if not it was really easy to point to the menu.

“It’s already done?” he asked.

“Give us some credit, hein. We knew you were coming, we had it ready.”

James chuckled and handed him the money for the order, exchanging it for the bag which he took to a table and sat down.

As he was pulling out his fries from his bag he heard the chime of the door and looked up curiously to see who was coming at this time of night.

He stopped what he was doing when he recognized you, watching as you dug through your purse and spoke to the cashier in French. You both laughed about something James couldn’t quite catch and a little while later, after you had paid they handed you a bag and an ice cream cone when James heard you say something about ‘deux cuillères’ taking the utensils they gave you and turing straight towards James’ table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down.

“I thought you lived in New Jersey,” you said.

James was still stunned that you had noticed him and couldn’t find the words to speak.

“Hey, heart-eyes?” you waved your hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, distracting himself by pulling out his burger from his bag.

“So why aren’t you in Jersey?” you asked.

“Work. I got a job here, it paid better.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully while eating some of your fries. “And all your friends?”

“Back with their families, unfortunately for me,” he nodded. “W-What about you?”

“Oh, I live here,” you shrugged. “In this neighbourhood actually.”

“You live here?” he asked.

“That’s what I said,” you nodded.

“And so that’s how you know French?”

“Every kid in Quebec learns French, it’s kind of a non-negotiable,” you shared. “I gather that’s why you’re eating here.”

“Yeah, Pierre didn’t manage to teach me enough before he left,” he sighed and started to eat his meal.

“I could teach you if you want. I’m taking a little break this summer so I have some spare time,” you offered.

“Oh, I don’t want to-,”

“James, you’re gonna have a shitty summer if you don’t say yes.”

He couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice to communicate more with the people who lived around him.

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, I’m a terrible student.”

“I used to tutor one of my siblings, trust me it can’t be worse than that,” you laughed.

You chatted a little more, finishing your meals but not before you handed James a spoon.

“So this is cuillère then?” he asked. “I-I overheard you talking to Jean.”

“Yeah, your pronunciation isn’t bad either,” you nodded. “Here.”

You pushed the ice cream cone between you and began to eat it with the spoon. James had a bit of a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be one to refuse dessert so he began to share the ice cream cone with you.

“So, are you missing your girl in New Jersey?” you asked and James cursed internally, trying to come up with a lie to tell you.

“Um, no not really,” he shook his head. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyways.”

“Oh, so are your friends still calling you heart-eyes?”

He nodded his head, thinking it was better not to say anything in case he gave himself away.

“It’s good that you recognized you wouldn’t work out before you asked her out,” you said, “Couple guys wanted to go on dates with me this year, but just didn’t seem like the right fit. Plus, I don’t really think I’m looking for anything like that right now.”

James nodded his head again, silently eating the ice cream.

“Ever been in love, James?” you asked.

“That’s a really loaded question to ask someone you cornered in a McDonald’s at 11 P.M.”

You ignored his response and continued,

“I haven’t, it seems like such a big thing, how would you even know if it was love?”

James looked up at the ceiling, silently asking God to not let him say something stupid,

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first.”

“So you have been in love,” you confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I…I don’t know. Maybe I have.”

“That’s not a very straightforward answer.”

“Then maybe I haven’t. I feel like if it was love, you’d figure it out, eventually.”

You pursed your lips and nodded your head.

“I hope I get to fall in love,” you smiled softly to yourself. “Seems nice.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. “It does.”

—

A few years later…

“So how did it go?” Jian asked, as they sat around James’ small living room.

“It…could have been better,” James sucked in some air through his teeth, recalling a recent memory from earlier that afternoon.

“What the fuck James! You scared the shit out of me! I could have broken the hemocytometer, do you know how much that shit costs?!”

“Sorry!” James quickly apologized and dropped his books down on the nearest surface to help you clean up, making you look up again at him with disdain.

“In the BSC? Really? Now we have to resterilize and all the specimens I have in there are as good as compromised.”

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath, he was usually so much better in the lab, but the second he was with you he became a bumbling mess. “I-I’ll take care of the BSC, I’m so sorry.”

You sighed and removed your gloves, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’s not just boiling water we’re dealing with anymore, James,” you said a little more calmly than before. “You’ve gotta be more careful, okay? I’m not losing my job over this.”

James nodded his head and went to grab the things to sterilize the biological safety cabinet and grab the new specimen from the fridge. So much for trying to get a job at LSRC to impress you.

“I was not built to be a researcher,” James shook his head.

“I mean, it’s not that big of a screw up, you fixed it eventually, didn’t you?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah, but not until after a thorough amount of embarrassment.”

“I thought girls found clumsy guys endearing,” Carlo commented.

“Not when the girl is determined to become the leading medical researcher on the continent,” James sighed. “Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. From what I can see she hasn’t even changed her opinion on dating, she hasn’t been with anyone these past three years.”

“Do you hear that?” Carlo removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the ground. “You’ve been in love with her for three years and haven’t done anything about it.”

“Who said I was in love with her? And sure, maybe I haven’t made a move, but I learnt French!” James tried to defend himself, pointing to Pierre.

“That’s not as good of a comeback as you think it is,” Pierre shook his head.

“I know,” James hung his head low and sat on the couch between Pierre and Jian. “We’re gonna graduate in a year and she’s not gonna know I’m in love with her.”

“So you are in love with her?” Jian looked over at his friend sympathetically.

James leaned back and used the heels of his palms to cover his eyes.

“He’s gonna have a meltdown, don’t ask him that,” Pierre shook his head.

“God, I do love her!” he exclaimed like he was just finding it out for the first time himself.

“What did I say,” Pierre sighed.

“Can I make it stop?” James looked over at his friends who all shrugged. “I am so screwed.”

“This time, I think we agree with you,” Carlo took a sip of his drink. “Good luck, man.”

James squeezed his eyes shut, he would definitely need it.

—

The year passed to graduation and James was still sitting on his feelings. It was much too late now to say anything. You’d already been accepted to a graduate program through your work with the LSRC and James had passed his MCAT with flying colours and was on his way to medical school at Columbia.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Montreal, the city had grown on him during his time there and a part of him wished he could stay.

His friends were also ready for the next stages in their studies, all going to different places across the continent to get their other degrees, with, of course, the promise to stay in touch.

James didn’t know what the next little bit of his life had in store for him, but he hoped regardless of where he ended up, maybe he’d be able to make up for his missed opportunities.

The years of medical school, once started, passed faster than James expected them to, and by the end of it, much to his own surprise, he’d also gotten married.

You were almost all but forgotten in the back of his mind, but time continued to play its games.

Medical school turned into a specialization in oncology, and a divorce. Then residency and a marriage. Then a second divorce. Then another marriage and more recently a position at a hospital in his hometown, on the board and a well respected oncologist and a few new friends…and a third divorce.

“House, I’m not asking you to let them all sleep in your apartment, it’s just a dinner for one night, we’ll be out and about for the rest of the time that they’re here,” James sighed.

“Can’t you just cancel?” House asked. “Divorce seems like a pretty good reason to get out of a reunion.”

“See, the thing is, I’d rather not be miserable and see my friends instead, and they bought their tickets months ago. Please, House, I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

“A month,” House said.

“Two weeks,” James negotiated and House nodded, so they shook on it.

“Good, now that I’ve done you a favour, you can do me one,” House smiled, but the kind of smile that was conniving, like he had something up his sleeve all along.

“I paid you in chores for my favour, who says I owe you anything?”

“Unless you want me to call your friends and cancel for you, you’ll do it,” House continued to walk the hospital’s hallways hobbling with his cane.

“What is it?” James sighed, catching up with him.

“We have a patient and he doesn’t speak very good English, but he does speak French. You went to McGill didn’t you? Must have picked up some of the love language.”

“Unfortunately for me in this case, I did,” he nodded.

“Perfect, come with me now,” House motioned with his head to the patient’s room and James trailed behind him.

When he entered the room, House motioned for him to begin speaking. James hadn’t spoken a lot of French since his undergrad so he was definitely rusty, but he supposed it was better than nothing and began to explain that he would be helping with the translation.

“Erm, Bonjour, je suis Dr. Wilson, je vais aider Dr. House avec la traduction.”

The man looked at James strangely before saying.

“You’re an anglophone, but you speak French like you’re Quebecois.”

“I um did my undergraduate in Montreal, I learnt how to speak there,” James responded back in French.

“Hmm.”

James could tell this wasn’t going to be fun. Some of the French held quite a bit of hate towards Quebec, who knew why, but his accent definitely wasn’t going to help him in this situation.

House got James to ask some routine medical history questions and a few things about his symptoms all the while James had to filter out all the insults that were coming his way with regards to his “poor use of language” and “unintelligible accent”.

When he could finally leave the room, James let out a string of French curses under his breath, still thinking in the other language.

“House, why can’t you just get a proper translator?” he asked. “I’m terrible at this.”

“Cuddy said something about making a big purchase recently and being currently unable to do so, especially since you put that you speak French in your resume. Bet you’re regretting that one now.”

“Yeah,” James nodded his head. “Big time.”

They began to walk towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when James decided to inquire more about Cuddy’s big purchase.

“Oh, she said something about money this, medical research that,” House shook his head, “You know I stopped listening the second she wouldn’t give me what I wanted.”

“She hired a medical researcher,” James said aloud, chewing on the words, “I wonder who she-,”

His train of thought was cut off when he saw, near the elevator, a face he hadn’t seen since graduation day at McGill.

Quickly, unable to think of anything else to do, he ran into the administrative area and hid crouched down behind a photocopier.

House watched his friend curiously before walking over towards him and leaning against the copier asked him if he’d gone insane.

“No, I just, um, remembered I needed to copy some patient files,” he lied.

“You don’t have any with you,” House said.

“I faxed them from my office,” he lied again.

“I think I need to go get Foreman, clearly you’re having a neurological breakdown,” House said.

“Can you just stop making it obvious I’m here?!” James exclaimed in a whisper.

Unfortunately for him, as you were walking past, his harsh whisper made his location obvious, causing you to look down and see his familiar face.

“Oh my God, heart-eyes, is that you?” you asked with a smile and James pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. “What are you doing down there?”

James became speechless and suddenly he was an eighteen-year-old back in his chemistry lab.

“He’s checking to see if we need more toner,” House said, lying for his friend, but James knew that was all he would get out of him. “Well, that’s my cue to leave, you guys have fun.”

You reached down and offered James a hand, helping him back into a standing position.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” you commented. “Like since we were-,”

“22,” James filled in and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you bit your lip before asking him how he had been.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I’m assuming you’re the medical researcher Cuddy hired?”

“That would be correct,” you smiled.

“Why did you choose to work here? I thought you were some big hotshot in Canada?”

“I am a big hotshot, which is why I wanted to come to a teaching hospital. I thought maybe it would give more opportunities to teach other people what I know. It’s a win-win. I get to do what I want to and the hospital gets grant money from my research,” you explained. “It looks like you got where you wanted to be too, Mr. Oncologist.”

“Actually it’s Dr. Oncologist,” he joked and you laughed, making his cheeks go red after hearing the sound.

“I missed having you around, James. We should catch up sometime,” you suggested.

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. “I-I’d love that.”

You excused yourself, needing to go introduce yourself to a class of medical students, waving goodbye to James, leaving him stuck in his tracks for a few moments before he could gather his senses again and head downstairs for lunch.

—

“We could have rescheduled if this was too much, man,” Carlo watched James as he brought a large roast to the table for them to eat.

“See? What did I tell you,” House rolled his eyes and James gave him a disapproving stare.

“No, I wanted you guys to come, we’ve been planning this for months. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it,” he assured his friends. “Plus, we know how hard it is to nail down Pierre, I swear you are always travelling. Every time we talk you’re in a different country.”

“That’s the life of a parasitologist,” he shrugged and helped James by beginning to cut the roast.

“And Jian, how’s the wife and kids?”

“They’re good,” Jian smiled. “Mei started first grade in September. Becky and I are both up for promotions at the hospital, so I can’t really complain. Although I think Carlo can.”

“Seriously it’s not that big of a deal,” Carlo groaned, “Sure yeah, pharmaceuticals are more flashy than biophysics, but that doesn’t mean that my research wasn’t better.”

“Well if it was better why did William get the award?” James asked and Carlo just flipped him the bird.

“Didn’t we go to school with him?” Pierre asked.

“We did?” James raised a brow.

“Yeah, for a year, from Toronto, huge stoner. Hated being there and did literally no work, but still managed to get honours,” Jian explained.

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” House commented and James rolled his eyes.

Just as they continued to dish out dinner, House’s pager went off and he sighed, excusing himself from the table while practically threatening James to leave him some food.

When House left, James’ friends saw their opening and began their personal line of questioning.

“Hey, James, are you really okay?” Jian asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” James asked in return.

“You’re getting a divorce,” Pierre said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to not be okay.”

James shook his head,

“Yeah sure, it’s a shitty situation,” he admitted. “Did I imagine myself at this point in my life with three failed marriages? No, definitely not. Can I do anything to change it? Also no, and right now I really wouldn’t want to change it.”

“Can we ask what happened?” Carlo queried.

“She cheated on me, then left me,” James said simply.

“Forgive me,” Pierre said. “But you seemed a lot more upset when we talked over the phone last week. What changed?”

James looked down at his plate and cut into his roast, thinking about what Pierre had said. It was true, even earlier today he was sulking about, that was until he ran into you.

“I swear,” James started, “if you guys make a big deal about this I will murder you all,” he used his knife to point at all of them and they nodded, swearing their silence. “I’ve got heart-eyes again.”

“You met someone new?” Jian asked and Carlo shook his head.

“No, he re-met someone old. Tell me, did your hospital recently hire a medical researcher?”

James nodded his head and the table was about to erupt into a loud chorus of comments when James gave them a look and they all restrained themselves.

“James, I’m being dead serious when I say this, but you should have married her,” Pierre insisted. “I never saw you look at anyone else the way you looked at her.”

“Probably explains the three divorces then, doesn’t it? I was still in love with her the whole time,” James sighed. “It’s going to come up eventually, seems like a pretty big indicator that I’m not good at relationships.”

“Who knows, maybe she won’t care,” Jian offered.

“What was it like when you saw her again?” Carlo asked, looking for any opportunity to tease his friend.

“How do you think it was? I could barely talk, I was a nervous wreck, and blushing like crazy,” he shook his head at the thought of it. “I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I feel like a middle school girl every time I’m near her.”

“Who knows, maybe she still thinks you have circulation issues,” Jian shrugged and the table laughed.

“What I would give to stay here and watch this play out,” Carlo sighed and leaned back in his seat.

“Knowing James, you’d have to be here for ten years before he made a move on her,” Pierre raised a brow and James threw a piece of potato at him.

“If you ever do get the guts to ask her out, call us. We’ve made bets on this,” Carlo added.

“Real comforting, guys,” James ate a bite of the roast. “I thought this was supposed to be my pity party.”

“Not anymore,” Jian shook his head. “You’ve got heart-eyes.”

This time around, James thought maybe he didn’t mind the nickname as much as he used to.

—

“I would think they’d get you your own office at this point,” James commented as he entered his office, seeing you sitting at his desk, eating a pre-packed lunch.

“Beats me,” you shrugged and continued to eat.

“So you’ve decided that invading my office is your next best bet?”

“Oh hush,” you waved him off with your fork.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to come to a safe place after being verbally assaulted by House’s patient,” he sat on the opposite side of the desk and leaned back in the chair.

“Verbally assaulted?” you asked. “By a patient who isn’t even your own?”

“He doesn’t like the way I speak French,” James rolled his eyes. “I’m translating while they’re treating him since the department used all its money hiring you.”

“What can I say, hotshots cost a lot of money.”

“You know, you could do the translation, probably much better than I can,” he noted.

“I could, but you probably need the practice more than I do, chèri,” you scrunched your nose in a cute mocking way and James could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You still keeping up with that posse of yours?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, they all flew in to visit a few days ago, we’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “Do you…maybe want to join us?” he suggested.

“I don’t have plans, as long as they’re okay with it I’d love to come,” you smiled.

“Oh trust me, they will definitely be okay with it.”

—

Later that night, James was drinking deeply from his glass while he watched his friends stare blankly ahead at you. If he looked anything like they did all those times his words were caught in his throat, then he hoped to spontaneously combust right then and there.

“Heart-eyes, I thought you said they were okay with me coming?” you leaned over and whispered to him.

James put down his glass and nodded his head.

“They are okay with it, right?”

Snapping out of their daze, the three men nodded their heads and finally began professing assurances that everything was fine.

“It’s just… you said James invited you?” Jian asked with furrowed bows.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He mentioned you guys were in town and getting together tonight and asked me if I wanted to join.”

James bit down on his tongue trying not to say anything, but also gave his friends a look to shut up before they gave anything away. He knew what was running through their minds, they were wondering how the hell he’d gotten the guts to ask you to come, but there was one fundamental difference between tonight and any other time he could have possibly asked you. This wasn’t a date, therefore, there was no pressure.

“Maybe you could tell them what you’ve been up to since they last saw you?” James suggested.

“Oh, um, well, I got my master’s degree and doctorate at McGill, both for research in cancer biology-,”

“Cancer biology?” Pierre interrupted. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were interested in that.”

“I-I wasn’t initially,” you admitted. “Just after spending more time in the LSRC and a few other irrelevant things I decided it was the best fit for me to focus on.”

“You and heart-eyes make a pretty good pair then,” Carlo raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of his drink.

“I guess we do,” you chuckled. “As long as he leaves the research to me. We all know what he’s like in the lab.”

“I resent that,” James protested only before saying, “but I do deserve it.”

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t had a medical malpractice suit,” Pierre added.

You asked the boys about where their various careers had taken them and how they were each doing. The conversation stayed pretty normal until the topic changed to relationships, starting with Jian’s wife and family back in Vancouver and Pierre’s husband who was currently in Australia doing research on some massive insect.

“What about you Carlo?” you asked. “Anyone special in your life?”

“Nah,” he waved his hand.

“What about the mom of the kid who pet sits for you?” Jian asked.

“That kid charges me per animal, per size. If I were to date his mom he’d probably charge me for dating her too, and I don’t think I can afford his price,” he shook his head and the table laughed.

“James, you’ve been quiet,” you said. “Nothing to share?”

James nervously took a sip of his drink and looked over at his friends for help.

“James hasn’t had the best luck in love,” Pierre settled on.

“Oh, haven’t found anybody, that’s not a big deal,” you assured him. “I haven’t either.”

“Well,” Carlo said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not exactly that he hasn’t found anybody.”

“So there’s someone-?”

“I’m divorced,” James blurted. “Three times. Or soon to be three anyway.”

“Oh,” you paused and tried to think of the right thing to say, but for the moment settled on nothing while Pierre changed the subject.

After the visit was over, James offered to walk you to your car and you accepted. The walk started off in silence, but you decided to break it.

“You know, I hope you find the right person eventually,” you said. “It’s unfortunate things didn’t work out three times.”

“Yeah,” James nodded in agreement. “I-um, do you ever think about that conversation we had, in the McDonald’s by my apartment?”

“Sometimes I do,” you admitted.

“Looking back on that, I wonder if we ever really loved each other. If we did this probably wouldn’t have happened. We would have fixed things, worked on ourselves instead of just…giving up.”

“So I guess you still haven’t fallen in love yet?” you asked, but he stayed silent. “Whoever it is, I’m sure things will find a way to work out for you.”

“The moment may have passed on that,” he said with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at the ground.

“You never know, James. Sometimes life has a funny way of surprising you.”

—

James watched as his colleagues and a few of the students from the university left the lecture hall while he continued to sit in his seat, watching you walk up towards him.

“Don’t you have patients or something?” you asked. “You’re at all of my lectures.”

“Doesn’t it seem appropriate for an oncologist to attend a cancer biology lecture?” he asked as you sat down next to him.

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t taking notes though.”

James looked down at his empty hands and cursed a little internally.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I don’t mind the staring, it reminds me of school.”

“You noticed?” he asked.

“You weren’t very subtle,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, not one of my strong suits,” he blushed, embarrassed.

“Do you wanna go grab lunch before your break is over?” you asked and James nodded, standing up and offering you a hand to get out of your seat.

You went to the cafeteria, running into his friend House who managed to get his food paid for by James, yet again, before leaving to go back up to his office and work on another differential diagnosis with his employees.

“Did all the guys get back home safe after their trip?” you asked, digging into your food.

“Carlo and Jian are back home, Pierre went to go be with Ollie in Australia.”

“It must be hard not living near them.”

James sighed and nodded his head. “It’s a balance. When they’re being annoying, it’s great that they don’t live here and when they’re not, it sucks.”

“Spoken like a true friend,” you chuckled.

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from school? During any of your degrees?”

“Not really,” you shook your head. “After my undergrad I became so laser focused on my school I didn’t pay attention to relationships that much outside of my family. Starting to regret it a bit now.”

“Kind of hard to have a good conversation with cancer cells,” James said sarcastically and you shook your head. “Do you like it in New Jersey so far?”

“Not as much as back home,” you admitted, “but it is nice to have a friend here.”

“Yeah, Jersey is…an acquired taste,” he settled on, making you laugh, but your laughter was cut off by the sound of his pager, and he looked down to see what the message was before quickly standing up. “Sorry, I have to-,”

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I’ll pack up your food and bring it to your office.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and you waved goodbye as he ran off out of the cafeteria and to the oncology floor to go help one of his patients.

—

James didn’t find himself walking around the campus often, but when he did it was usually because he had to clear his head. With everything that was going on in his life, in addition to the circumstances of this case, he was taking it harder than normal.

He had left his coat in his office as the hot New Jersey sun was already beating down, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes following his feet as he took his steps forward.

He didn’t notice you sitting on a bench as he was passing by. Curious as to his state, you stood up and went to meet up with him.

“Hey James, are you okay?”

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts almost instantly. He stopped to look up at you, seeing the concern reflecting in your eyes.

He took his hands out of his pockets and motioned for you to walk with him.

“I lost a patient today,” he explained. “He was 11.”

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“In med school you learn pretty quickly if you don’t find a way to deal with what you face every day the result is never good,” he said and you noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, “but it was just too sunny outside. How could it be sunny on a day like this?”

You didn’t say anything initially, only intertwining your hand with his and giving it a light squeeze which he returned.

“You know, I think it’s probably okay, every once in a while, to let yourself mourn your patients. Just like everyone else. You have a uniquely difficult job, James, and no one would hold it against you if you need a minute to adjust.”

James stopped walking and you followed his lead, only to have him let go of your hand and pull you into a tight hug. You easily wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist.

“You’re a good doctor, James,” you mumbled. “I know, even if you don’t quite believe it right now, you did everything you could to help that young boy and make him more comfortable.”

You could feel him nod his head, clearly not trusting himself to say anything at the moment.

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew that you both had work to get back to. James had other patients he was responsible for and you had some work to do in one of the hospital labs.

So silently, hand in hand, you accompanied each other back to the hospital, grateful for each other’s company.

—

“I swear, if I stay there any longer I’m going to go mad,” James whispered to you under his breath as you walked along the halls of the hospital with him to help him run some tests for a few patients.

“What was it this time?” you asked, huddling in closer, waiting for him to spill the beans on why living with his best friend was becoming unbearable.

“He keeps pranking me,” he began to explain and you could see how frustrated he was just by his hand movements. “Last night he thought of the genius idea to put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping and-,” James stopped himself, realizing he’d divulged too much, just as your eyes went wide.

“Oh my God you didn’t wet the bed did you?” you asked in a chuckle and James quickly covered your mouth saying,

“Shh! The whole hospital doesn’t need to hear you!”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh, muffled by James’ hand over your mouth and his cheeks were a bright cherry red.

Eventually you pulled his hand away and said,

“You definitely need to get out of there. That’s criminal.”

“Exactly what I’m saying,” James agreed.

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” you suggested. “We can watch a movie or something together.”

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now,” he nodded his head. “What time?”

“Come over at eight, it’ll give me some time to get snacks and get ready.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he held out his hand and you took it shaking it firmly.

Later that evening while James was getting ready, House watched him curiously.

“I still don’t believe that you blowdry your hair,” he said loudly over the sound of the appliance.

“Believe it or not, I do,” James responded.

“It just seems so pointless, your hair is messy anyways,” he crossed his arms and James gave him a look.

“My hair looks fine, yours on the other hand could use a trim and about a billion other things,” James retorted.

“So, is this a date?” House asked, changing the topic.

“No, it’s not a date,” James shook his head. “It’s an opportunity for me to get away from your insanity.”

“Are you sure it’s not a date?” he asked.

“What makes you think it's a date?” he finally gave in and turned around to face his friend, turning off the blow dryer.

“Well if you asked her if you could come over, probably not a date, but if she offered…” he shrugged his shoulders.

James shook his head, he didn’t want to allow himself to believe it was true, because if it was, he’d probably overthink things and make a fool of himself.

“It’s not a date,” he reiterated and House stopped pressing, seeing as his friend would not be reasoned with.

James finished fixing his hair and grabbed his keys and a coat before stepping out of the door.

It didn’t take him long to drive to your house and when he knocked at the door he heard shuffling inside before the lock clicked and you opened it.

“Hey! You got the dress code memo,” you joked, pointing to his McGill sweater and then back at yours.

“I thought you might like a blast from the past,” he smiled and you invited him inside.

As he entered he noticed the array of pillows on the couch, blankets draped over arm chairs, and books piled on every surface possible. To top it off, the house was currently only lit by lamps allowing a warm orange hue to fall over the space. It made James’ shoulders relax and he could even feel his nervous heart rate slow.

“Do you like it?” you asked. “I am by no means an interior decorator, but I tried to make it feel cozy so it’s nice to come back to after long days at work.”

“I do like it,” James nodded. “A lot. It feels like a home.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for,” you smiled. “You’re the first guest I’ve had here, you know?”

“Really? No fancy dinner parties with the hospital board?”

“No, not yet,” you chuckled. “Unfortunately, this guy in the oncology department keeps taking up all my time.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch.

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind.”

After he took off his coat, you both sat down next to each other, James extending his hand along the back of the couch and you naturally sat right up next to him, leaning forward to grab the remote and turn on the movie.

“What did you pick?” James asked.

“Just some random horror movie,” you said. “I heard it’s really cheesy.”

“We’ll see about that,” James raised his brows and grabbed the popcorn from the table, putting it in between you both.

You pressed play once you were both settled and tossed the remote to the side of the couch, curling your legs up and waiting in anticipation for the movie to begin.

It didn’t take long for the horror plot to begin, jumping right into the satanic murders and supernatural deaths. Just as you had predicted, it was cheesy, but that didn’t stop you from being startled whenever something popped up unexpectedly on the screen.

Both of you were lulled into a false sense of security during what seemed like a quiet part of the movie, then, all of a sudden, the killer jumped into the frame with a loud change in the soundtrack, causing you to shriek and move towards James, also feeling him jump slightly from being startled.

You both looked up at each other and laughed at the ridiculousness of your collective fright.

“You’re supposed to be the calm one,” you elbowed him.

“I know it just-Jesus!” James found himself inadvertently closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you as if it would give him some protection from what was on the screen.

You laughed again and leaned closer into his side, patting his leg to assure him it was safe to open his eyes again.

“You must enjoy torturing me, that’s the only explanation for this,” James looked over at you and you shook your head.

“Come on, heart-eyes, you think that lowly of me?”

James couldn’t stop the smile that creeped past his lips, “No, of course not.”

“Good, that means I still have the upper hand,” you moved your head to look back at the TV, but not before James tickled you in retaliation for your words.

It took a moment, but you eventually surrendered and moved your focus back to the movie, still feeling a little warm from your laughter.

You grabbed some of the other candies and snacks from the table, holding a gummy bear up for James to try and he did without so much as a second thought.

“Still have a sweet tooth I see,” you offered him a different candy which he ate again and nodded.

“You don’t want to know how many cavities I’ve had.”

“Here,” you handed him a wrapped treat. “This one’s special from home.”

“Maple candies,” he smiled. “They don’t make ‘em like they do in Montreal.”

“They were your favourite, right?” you asked.

James looked over at you again curiously, “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” you shrugged. “Oh wait, look,” you pointed to the TV before grimacing and covering your eyes, but still peeking through your fingers. “Ew!”

James just smiled at you, finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss you, the thought bringing a warm sensation to his stomach.

He settled instead on doing what he’d been doing forever: staring at you with heart-eyes.

—

James tried to fight a yawn as he grabbed one of the many books on the shelves in his office, taking it to his couch and sitting down next to you.

“You don’t have to do this, James,” you told him. “You probably have to be back tomorrow morning, you should go home and rest.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “You look in here for that article I was telling you about and I’ll start proofreading.”

There were many papers and files strewn around the couch, you couldn’t remember when you first came in, but James never seemed to mind when you worked in his office instead of your own.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I feel like I brought a tornado in here.”

James looked up from your paper and nodded his head.

“Now hush and let me read.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, opening the medical journal he had handed you, flipping through the contents until you found the article title he had mentioned.

James had a pen in his hand, scribbling down annotations on the side, correcting a few typos and grammatical errors.

For the most part, he was able to follow along, but at one point, the words became so incoherent he tapped you to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“What does this say here?” he asked. “I-I don’t know if my eyes just stopped working, but what does stirring in sugar and eggs have to do with this trial treatment?”

“Oh my God,” you grabbed the paper and looked at it closer. “I must have accidentally copied some of my mom’s cookie recipe on here before changing documents. What in the world is going on with me?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in or some other things James couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he felt himself letting out a chuckle that grew a little longer, and longer until it was a full blown laugh.

It was an honest mistake, and arguably not that funny, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him of that in that moment, and instead, seeing the silliness of the situation, you joined in.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, you and James both leaning far back against the couch, he turned to you and apologized.

“I’m sorry, I should probably read this when I have a bit more sanity.”

“Don’t be,” you patted his leg. “I can always use a good laugh.”

With your heads still turned to face each other, you suggested to pause the work and resume it another time, to which James agreed.

You both continued to sit there in silence, looking over at each other and James caught a glimmer of something in your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure it was still there. It was a soft look, a little dazed, like you were happily daydreaming about something far off. It took him a moment to realize it, since he had been the one giving that look, he’d never really had a chance to see it for himself.

You had heart-eyes.

And more importantly, you had them while you were looking at James.

With a sudden boost of courage, fuelled by lowered inhibitions, he started by asking,

“Have I ever told you why my friends call me heart-eyes?”

You tilted your head a little, following his lead and sitting up straight.

“Wasn’t it because of that girl you had a crush on that was from here?”

James opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head.

“There was never a girl from Jersey,” he admitted.

“Why would they say it was a girl from Jersey if there was…” as you said the sentence you slowed down, the realization dawning on you.

“All the staring makes a bit more sense now?” he asked.

You blinked a few times, “I just thought you were really awkward,” you said.

“I was, but if the staring didn’t give it away the blushing really should have done it,” he chuckled.

“I thought you had a circulation issue!” you exclaimed and James burst out laughing, of course you did. “God, James, why didn’t you say anything?”

James shook his head, “I could barely string out a coherent sentence when I was around you. Makes it a little hard to say anything.”

“Makes me wish I had said something,” you said, feeling your own cheeks heat up at the admission.

“Y-You would’ve said something?”

Now it was James’ turn to be surprised.

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first. That’s what you said to me, but that eventually, if it was love, I’d know it.”

You reached out and held James’ hands in your own.

“I should have said something. I could have said something. We could have had so much more-,”

“James,” you whispered, interrupting him and he stopped. “Shut up and kiss me.”

James wasn’t going to waste another second, removing his hands from your to instead gently hold your face, bringing you closer to him so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since he was 18 years old.

The dim light of his desk lamp, the papers crumpled beneath and around you, the way you moved closer and slid into his lap, his hands now on your hips and your fingers snaking through his hair, it all melted into one and if you let yourselves imagine, just a bit, the lamp became a light in the library; the papers became unfinished homework assignments and lab write-ups, and you hadn’t missed a second of the time you could have spent together.

Your kisses soon turned slow and repetitive and neither of you wanted to pull away, living in the moment like it was your last.

“When…did you realize…you loved me?” you asked between kisses, moving away from his mouth, instead letting your lips find their way across his jaw and up to his temple.

“Our last year of school,” he paused your kisses so he could kiss you properly again. “Carlo said something and-,” he shook his head and sighed. “I realized I was going to leave without you ever knowing how I felt and even though eventually I thought maybe I’d stopped loving you and started to love other people…I just kept trying to fill that space that only you fit in.”

“First year of my master’s for me,” you rested your forehead against his. “Suddenly you weren’t there anymore and I really wished that wasn’t the case.”

He tilted his head up to meet you in another kiss that was far too easy to melt into. Neither of you had any complaints and you knew you’d never get tired looking into his heart-eyes.

@cuntyvicodin

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #dr wilson #dr wilson x you #dr wilson x reader #wilson x reader #house md #hate crimes md #greg house #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson/reader

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notlhecxzsa · 6 months ago

Text

Never Be So Polite You Forget Your Power - N.R

Summary: After many years, Natasha has never felt so powerless until a decision was made. There was no way out in sight, but Natasha being a woman of power, pride, and determination, a new door towards the future she yearns for opens. With multiple sinful plans and ruthless games, she knew she would win it. But, will she? When a piece of pawn in the game of her father will get her caught up in so many ways she did not expect will trap her.

Author's Note: Part 2 is out! Did I forget to mention that Natasha is beefy here? (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ I apologize immediately for the wrong grammars and wordings, I didn't have much time to proofread since School have started already. 4.6k words.

Warnings: Warnings: Arranged marriage, cursing, violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, deprivation of many things as a child, G!p Natasha

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

3rd Person's POV:

"Natasha Romanoff, once again outdone herself with her new multi-million project that has been the talk of the town in the business world..."

"Tony Stark, our favorite philanthropist praised and I quote; "She is deadly, really deadly, but if she's up for a collaboration with my company, my name's up in the building, Ms. Romanoff, I am in favor of anything with you...."

"In a world of men, she is the only woman who can dominate the world like this..."

"Multiple companies have been trying to engage with Romanoff's corporation, but still, our lady kept silent, standing tall -alone."

"...you know, sometimes it makes me think how hard it is to compete with someone like her. God, you haven't even started, you're already losing."

"Men and women, lining up for the nation's favorite redhead with such determination... who would be lucky?"

"You know, if that is a person, they would be dead by now." A voice with a thick russian accent echoed throughout the huge gym room. A mix of silver and black lacing the walls with so much sophistication, heavy metals lining up the matted ground.

Another groan left the redhead's lips, not from how hard her punch was sent on the punching bag, but from annoyance and a bubbling anger building up towards the new presence inside the room. "Not like you would care about the bodies lining up on your ground." The blonde woman added, her hand wiping an invisible dirt on one of the biggest dumbbells that was by her side.

"What do you want, Yelena?" With her teeth gritted, she asked harshly towards the younger woman. Unwrapping the protective cloth that she was wearing around her knuckles.

Beads of sweat rolling down her toned body, heart chest heaved with each breath she took before bending down to get her water bottle, quickly taking huge chugs out of it. Her buff and muscular arms flexed as she did so.

"Mama and Papa's upstairs..." The blonde started, trailing off as she hesitated to continue what she was saying, waiting for her older sister's reaction, knowing that the information alone could explain why she stepped foot inside the monstrous house of her sister.

"Hmmm, well, might as well tell them they could leave anytime." The redhead said nonchalantly, turning on her heels, walking past the blonde girl with her head held up high, her steps heavy on the floor.

"Natasha-" Yelena started, only to be cut off by her sister.

"You're wasting your time, Yelena." Natasha snapped, still looking ahead with Yelena following her hot on her heels.

"Papa has a new proposal." She said quickly as soon as the redhead stopped talking.

Natasha's steps faltered for a moment, but she never stopped walking. With a frown on her head, she stayed quiet until her eyes landed on her parents that were sitting on the expensive couches of her living room.

"Ahhh, Natalia, good to see you again, darling. You should get ready and change into something more presenta-" Her father started, which caused the bubbling annoyance inside her to fill up more. Without hesitation, she stopped him from talking much more, knowing where it will lead.

"No. You already know that I am not in favor in your plans or whatever it is that you badly want-" Now, tables have turned, she was cut off by her mother.

"Natasha, listen to your father first." Melina said, intervening, the atmosphere around them changing into a more tensed scenery.

"What? No! All of you know I will never do whatever it is that you want me to do. That privileged of yours to just order me around was already gone years ago. Dad." She said, an edge on her voice at the end, looking at her father as she sat calmly on one of the single sofa she has.

The other two women sat in silence, as a dark humourous chuckle filled the air. "You know, I can take it all, Natalia." Her father started, standing up as he marched around the room with so much dominance in his aura, turning around to stand infront of his family, with the beautiful view of the beach outside.

Her daughter really does a have a taste, that he can't ever deny.

"I hope you still do remember, half of your company, is under my name. I take it, you'll be free to watch it burn on the ground. All of this?..." Her father taunted, a smirk on his face that Natasha couldn't wait more to wipe out when she can finally be able to scream out the success of the plan she's been making and waiting for so long. "You wouldn't have done it, without me..." Oh what a lie.

Natasha's jaw clenched, knowing she can't do anything but let herself received all the things that was coming out of her father. Not yet. Natasha have been building up her company for god knows how long, with her own determination and knowledge.

Her father's company is even 1 step behind from hers. But, knowing if she fought him back now, all her plan would be nothing but a dream.

"I have a new proposal, Natalia. Imagine, what you can do and get, if you got it all? Hmm? Also, having someone to be with you... for you to control, to use, while also getting everything you've ever wanted." Natasha frowned, her father's presence now beside her.

What her father was saying was very different from what he wanted from her. For her to combine her company to their family's company, which is owned by her father. She won't ever let someone touch what's hers, not ever her own blood. Her possession is her pride, she'll bleed first before it can be taken away from her touch.

"What are you saying?" She muttered, her eyes boring into her father's with such coldness that the two other women felt a chill ran down their spine.

"I'll get to the point..." Alexie started, breathing out with a smile that even Natasha couldn't figure out what was behind it. "Y/L/N's clan... Remember?" A hint behind Natasha's eyes glimmered.

They were one of the most known family in the business world, also one of the powerful people underground. She knows that their family has a bond with them years ago, but, she was too little to know much. Too innocent.

"They have a daughter. A nuptial from the both of you can bring us so much more. Imagine, Natalia..." Her father came closer while she continued to stay silent, her gaze scold and her lips tight in a line. "Imagine what power we can hold... What we can dominate in both of our worlds, with a union between the both of our families... Natalia, we will be unstoppable." Her father stated, Natasha thought of one word. A madman.

"Why me?" She questioned. "Why not Yelena?" She continued, throwing a gaze towards her little sister.

A humourous chuckle once again left Alexei. "You are better that her, Natalia. You know that. You..." Alexei came more close, Natasha leaned back, her face full of disgust, but it seemed to go unnoticed by her father.

Caressing her cheek, not noticing how her other daughter's face was filled with sadness. "You are my creation. I built you. Out of all people, I know it's you who can bring such honor in our family." Alexei smiled widely, pulling away as he stood tall with pride while Natasha continued to gaze towards the nothingness.

"You have no choice, Natalia..." With that, she looked up, her frown almost deep as the ocean as her heart pounded.

"Every documents have been made. Plans are being done. The only thing that's left is a feastful dinner with our soon to be extended family."

Everything stopped, the world seemed to have also stopped from turning. She wanted to scream, to yell, to thrash, but she was stuck in her place.

She knew, once her father had set his mind on something, it is to be made. But, when he already made an action, it was a complete different story. Nothing could stop him, god, not even her at this moment.

She thought quickly and know that if she interfered, everything she had worked hard for will turn into dust. Even the plan she was making outside her father's knowledge will be nothing.

As soon as she snapped out of the dazed she was in, she realized that she was finally left alone. That was when everything she was feeling came out of the bottle she was holding her emotion into. She threw the tumbler she was holding towards the expensive painting in the living room, causing the protective glass to crash on the ground. After that, she swiped off the vases that was beautifully set up on the small table beside the couch she was sitting on.

Her chest now heaved with so much anger, her jaws stayed clenched as her fist balled up.

She'll make him pay. Not yet, but soon enough. He will be underneath the ground she was walking on.

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^

Natasha's POV:

"That's the 5th girl you've brought home in just 4 days, Nat. Are you trying to break a record or something? Damn." I winced at the loud booming voice of Maria, Clint chuckling beside her as they came inside my office.

"If you don't shut your mouth, I will throw this glass of water in both of your faces." I grumbled, putting my hand up on my spacious office table, closing my eyes as I sigh.

"You always ovulate so hard when you're stressed." Clint stated, before I heard a small thump and yelped from Clint.

I frowned, opening my eyes to see them both trying to hold their laughter. "The heck are you talking about?" Rolling my eyes, I sat up, stretching my aching body.

"Why don't you just get this all done, god, we all know you can finish your dad in just one slam." Maria said, fake exhaustion lacing through her voice while Clint took his gun and started cleaning it.

"Hmm, you know I can't." I muttered, having absolutely no energy to talk about this again.

"Do you? Or you just don't want to?" I frowned at the sudden tone of Clint.

"Can you guys just get out? Why are you both even here? Where's Bucky? I told him to get me painkillers." I said in annoyance, rubbing both of my hands on my face harshly, as if it would make the thumping pain on my head go away.

"Well, he said we would guide the girl out, guess after that he went to make 'Stevie' some breakfast." Clint said, Maria chuckled along with him and I rolled my eyes, already getting used to their antics and behaviors.

They've been with me for years already, they are close to what I can call home. They are the ones whom I trust the most, with everything I have.

"Oh, by the way, that girl- who is she again, Clint?" Maria started, and I looked at her with my brows still frowning.

"Mary?" Clint said, still focusing on his gun.

"No, no. Clara? No, something close to that. The one who called earlier!" Maria exaggerated.

"Ohhh, the girl who kept calling you because Nat gave your number instead of hers? It's Carol." He said nonchalantly and I rolled my eyes at the memory, putting my face in both of my hands again.

"Yeah, that one. She went here earlier wanting to talk to you, but Bucky said after she saw the girl walked out of her, she went away immediately. She even screamed at Bucky's face to tell you that you're an asshole." Maria stated, chuckling as she said the story.

I grumbled, not even remembering what that Carol looks like. Maybe one of those girl who wanted more of me.

"Bucky should've praised her." Clint side commented with a smirk on his face.

"I don't have time for those. Is there a news from the greatest father of all time?" I asked, leaning back on my soft office chair, crossing my arms as I look to the both of them.

I saw how they gaze at each other, signaling to tell whatever it is. I raised one of my eyebrows, indicating that I am waiting, and they know how much I hate to wait.

"Well- that was actually why we're here." Maria started before looking over at Clint once again.

"They're here." Clint blurted out which made me frown and falter for a moment.

"And they want you to come with them. It's time, Nat." I sat up straight, gripping both sides of my chair.

"What? He can't work that fast!?" I exclaimed, my frown deepening as I did so.

"You know Alexei, Nat. He probably pulled some strings just to get it done quickly." Maria shrugged.

God, I am surely not ready for that to happen so quickly. It hasn't been a month since the news was dropped on me like a truck from the sky.

But, maybe... This is a sign. As quickly this would come will be result for my plans to get started and done immediately.

"Get everything ready. If they want to do this now, well then I guess I have no choice but to finish this sooner."

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3rd Person's POV:

Natasha and her family sat at the luxurious table, along with Phoveus and Carmilla. As the elders chatted away about everything, mostly about business, Natasha and Yelena sat quietly, with Yelena eating whatever finger food she could reach as Natasha sat with a distant and cold look visible in her face. Looking like she would rather to be anywhere but here.

A hurried voice interrupted through the atmosphere around them, but Natasha never looked up, her eyes stayed glued to the platters that held foods that was probably cooked by one of the highest paid chef around the area. "Madam, Sir, your daughter is here." A familiar voice echoed throughout the large dining area.

"Ahhh, Y/n, come here, sweetheart." Again, Natasha didn't do anything, if anyone would throw her a glance, none of them would have the courage to talk to her or even approach her.

But, if they would only see what was going on inside the redhead's mind as it run miles and miles with her lower stomach doing flips upon hearing the unexpected name.

Y/n.

Looking up, her eyes immediately landed on the woman who she had a vague memory of, but know too well at the same time. Her breath caught up in her throat, making a lump to form that she can't seem to clear. With her heart thumping its way out of her chest, after finally putting a face on the name, she remembered one thing.

"Sweetheart, this is Alexei and Melina... remember them?" Y/n nodded, staying silent but gave off a small smile and a wave, not used to the attention she was receiving as one of the men pulled a chair for her to sit on.

Hiding her casted arms underneath the table, as she thought deeply what the occasion was all about, her eyes averting to Lucy through her lashes who stayed standing far behind the people that was infront of her. Gulping an invisible form that was sitting inside her throat she muttered a greeting. "Hi..."

Unaware of the weary eyes that was set on her figure that was glimmering with such familiarity.

There were a couple of conversations that went on, with Y/n not clearly understanding what is it all about, only sitting quietly, playing with her finger, silently hoping for this to be all over.

Upon looking up and gazing around her surroundings, her eyes stopped at a certain redhead, who she thought was looking at her for a mere moment. A small frown appeared around the creased in between her eyebrows, a small tug of string in her memory as she tries to remember where she might have met her, or if she even met her already before.

She doubted, barely having the chance to go out as a child. Barely having the chance to live her life.

Her eyes continues to graze along the beautiful woman that was sitting in front of her. She may look a little bit intimidating, but to Y/n, there was a familiarity in her heart, a familiarity that screams something good. Enough for her to feel some sort of comfort towards the redhead, some sort of a breath of a fresh air.

She was really pretty, Y/n thought. Especially her short hair that looked almost fake with how perfect it seemed to be.

Her gaze faltered for a moment, catching a glimpse of the set of green eyes landing on hers as more foods was being put on the table, as if the foods that was already on it was not enough for the people in the table.

Her eyes, of course, finally taking in every food that was presented in front of them. Her, oh so, familiar hungry eyes, once again, tug a string on Natasha's mind, her jaw clenching as the annoying and blurry memories came rushing in once again.

She looked like she would devour every food in the table as soon as she could eat. But, with her doe eyes that held such innocence, Natasha, now felt a tug, not on her mind, but in her heart.

A familiar tug that she had felt years ago when she looked into the same pair of eyes. Shaking her head and averting her attention, Natasha cleared her throat and composed herself, breathing through her nose as she tries to wash away the thoughts that was eating her up like a virus.

"Today..." Y/n looked up upon hearing the booming noice of her father's voice, holding up a glass of an expensive wine. "Today marks the start of unending victory and success to both of our family." She watched as the elders cheers, clinking of glasses could be heard, her eyes averting on the redhead and the blonde who only leaned their glasses towards where the others were meeting. She felt so out of place.

So, she took a hold of her glass, the one filled with what seemed like a fresh squeeze of orange juice, just how she likes it, holding it up. A blush on her face appeared, embarrassed on how she might have looked so stupid, immediately putting the glass down, her head did the same, finding the golden platter much more interesting.

Again, oblivious to the set of eyes that was burning holes through the side of her head. Fighting off a smirk that wants to be let out, Natasha cleared her throat again, listening to Phoveus ramble about the upcoming union that will be held for the both of them as they started to eat.

Upon looking at the man, her eyes once again averted to the younger woman who was sitting beside him. She saw how the girl's munching on the food suddenly faltered, looking up at her father confusedly, so much curiosity in her eyes but seems like there was no answer coming up.

Her eyes looked like they held no thoughts behind it, as she looked down, Natasha noticed one her arm that has a cast around it and frowned before her eyes averted to the young woman's face.

She saw how deep she was thinking, trailing her eyes on every food that was on her plate, trailing the designs that adorned it, as if it would give her the answer.

Wasn't she aware of what was happening? Natasha thought, only to be snapped out of her daze as she heard the sudden screech of the chair, and a soft voice, pardoning an excuse, muttering about going to the bathroom real quick.

"...she'll managed, don't worry. You won't ever hear a word from her, trust me." Her eyes landed on the disgusting smile that was present on Phoveus face.

"Would it be more easy if Y/n knows about this? I mean... this is a lot... to be honest. And... she's so young." Natasha frowned upon hearing what her mother had said, for the first time finally catching up on what they were talking about, her ears ringing as she caught what they were pertaining to.

"Nah... just trust me on this one. She would agree to everything we would say. I mean, if it weren't for us, she wouldn't be having a life like this..." Natasha's eyes caught a movement from behind Phoveus, a shift from one of the maids that looks like the head of something inside this manor. She saw the hardened gaze of the woman on the back of Phoveus's head, her jaw clenching like a steel. "If she does see eye to eye to what we attained her to be, she know exactly what would happen." A laugh that sounded almost like the devil came out of the man, her father following by, nodding his head unconsciously.

"You trained her well, Phov." Her father said which fueled to the news she just received.

Before anyone could utter a word, she sat up straight, blurting out words. "She doesn't know?" Natasha's cold voice echoed throughout the atmosphere, and it, alone, changed the tension around the room.

Melina shifted uncomfortably, Yelena's chewing faltered for a moment as all the eyes was set on hers. "God, how old even is she? You can't expect me to marry someone without their consent. Let alone marrying someone who has not come of age." She ranted, her voice in monotone as her cold and hardened eyes gaze around the people that was sat with her on the table.

"She's eighteen, Natasha." Carmilla said, an uncomfortable smile playing on her face as she tried to calm the growing tension inside the room.

"Her parents has the consent, you don't have to worry about that, Natalia." Her father added, causing her fist to balled up, her face finally showing a slight emotion.

"Everything is all set, all of you won't have anything to worry about. My daughter knows where her place is, and I'm sure, you guys won't want to back out from everything... right?" Phoveus taunted, her face getting serious before a laughter from Alexei filled the air.

"Of course, of course, now, why don't we just enjoy this lovely dinner." With that, the young woman entered the room, Natasha was left with so many unsaid words.

She wanted to protest and say her part freely, but the new presence inside the room somehow made her back up. Her tensed shoulder relaxed as she watched the girl sit back to where she was sitting earlier, her head down as she gripped the spoon with her one hand, her other hand stayed underneath the table, as a new flow of conversation as thrown in the middle of the dining table.

Swallowing the words, she stood up, excusing herself without any more explanation coming out of her mouth. Before anyone had the chance to say anything, she was met with the wind blowing through the large patio that gives her the best view of the backyard.

Putting both of her hands on the railing, she took a deep breath, stretching her neck from side to side to release that stress that was building up like waves.

It felt like there was something pinching her insides at the thought of you. You've grown so much, grown so different... yet still the same. Grown so beautiful, still like a porcelain doll. God, how could they treat you like that? Like a puppet, no reason to be heard or to be seen. She felt almost guilty, feeling so down about the arranged nuptial, but what about you? Who doesn't even know what tomorrow will bring.

Her fist clenched as her breathing became labor, seeing you again, it brought so many things to her. Things she didn't know she would feel... again. She may be too young before, but she was already being trained to be something more. She was not innocent or naive about what she was feeling.

My, she can't feel like this! She wouldn't get any benefit from feeling like this for you. It has been years, you might not even remember her. She's nothing to you and you are absolutely nothing to her. You were just a pawn in your parents game, and she wouldn't be like you. No, she would never be like you.

"...for you to control... to use." Her father's words rang inside her head. Her jaw clenched, thinking how dumb her father was, how ugly his personality is and how high his ego.

She's nothing like him. Nothing like anyone. She may be ruthless, cold, hardened by the years, but she would never, ever do something like that to someone so innocent... especially someone like Y/n.

Shaking her head to throw away her thoughts, she breathed in and out. She should stop thinking like this, she should not think like this. Not to anyone, especially not to someone who means nothing to her.

The creaking of the large doors made Natasha's ears perked up, following by the sound of footsteps she had learned after years of growing together. "Needed a breather?" The voice of her little sister rattled in her ears.

Natasha let out a rather harsh sigh, rolling her eyes as she stood up straight. "What do you want, Yelena?" Natasha asked, ignoring the question that was thrown at her.

"Hmm..." Yelena only replied with a hum, stepling forward to step beside her sister. Her big sister whom she looked up to while growing up. "Was it hard?" She added in the midst of silence, looking up at Natasha briefly before gazing at the scenery in front of them.

A confused frown appeared on Natasha's face, her eyes narrowing as she tries to figure out what she was referring to. Upon sensing her sister's hesitance in replying, she continued. "Learning to live your own life... fighting your demons..." There was a whole paused as Natasha waited while Yelena contemplated how to put her words together. "... finally having the chance to make up your own decisions and choices?" Words hang around the atmosphere.

Natasha may be looking at the vast space in front of her but her mind is elsewhere, so as Yelena's. She knew, they both knew how hard it was growing up, especially with their lifestyle and a father like Alexei. They weren't given a choice, just as how they weren't giver a choice while growing up. Natasha couldn't whisk out why Yelena is asking her that, they weren't used to this kind of conversation, something so personal... so vulnerable. But, she found herself building up words to tell.

Natasha's demeanor faltered for a moment, before she started speaking. "Everything is hard. It's all complicated. Nothing will seem right, especially while growing up..." Natasha started, slouching down to rest her elbows on the railings, gazing intently towards the green grass and trees that surrounded the backyard. "You could get lost... not knowing where you want to be-... who you want to be. It has been hard, it still is. What is worse... is not having your own choice. Not being able to control your own actions. Your own decisions." She let out a chuckle, maybe it was just the wine taking cover of her whole system, god has she been drinking that much? She's not a lightweight, that's for sure.

"You know... I'd rather-... I'd rather die than to live for someone else." There was a big blow of a wind. She received no reply from the shorter woman, as Yelena only gaze at nothing, her heart and mid in a raging storm.

For a moment, Natasha felt so weak, so vulnerable. Everything is coming at her, once again, she let someone control her, but then again, it is for the better, right? She was choking in her own words of wisdom, finding no way to recover but to spit it out.

The familiar sound of the glassy door opening reached their hearing once again, but this time, there was an unfamiliar footsteps. Yelena shifted to look behind them while Natasha only closed her eyes while taking a deep breath, god, she'd do anything just to get away from her.

"I'll-... I'll check on mom." Yelena muttered, excusing herself before walking pass the smaller woman with a small smile on her face appearing, something to exchange the welcoming smile of the girl.

"Na-... Natalia?"

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Author's Note: Gollyyyyy! Finally, I'm able to post this ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ Been sitting on my draft for too long, something came up earlier after I showered that concerns about my school ¯⁠\⁠_⁠ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ⁠_⁠/⁠¯ but, nowwww here it is! I am very very sleepy right now, so this is not proofread, I'm sorry, but I hope you guys enjoy! ಠ⁠ᴥ⁠ಠ

Tags: @transparentflapfarmsludge @dvrkhcld @esposadejoyhuerta @natsxwife @justspance @cheekysnake-blog @wandasreallover

#lhecxzsa #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader

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yourbasicqueerie · 1 month ago

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I just want to quickly give a lil shoutout to my beautiful and amazingly smart mutuals, if u follow me and like my gay shit then pleaaaase for the love of god consider following them and taking a look at their things! I adore every single one of y'all! Xx

@jubshead - I mean how could she NOT be in here! Mother slays everytime

@nyoclosmom - the one and only, their art is top tier and genuinely one of the funniest ppl ever. ALSO MY WIFE GUYS LOOK ITS MY WIFE I LOVE MY WIFE GO FOLLOW MY GORGOUES AND BEAYUTIFUL AND AMAIZNG WIFE I LOVE MY WIFE

@tremordusk - if u want to talk abt having the best incorrect quotes in this fandom they’re the person to do so.

@timeforaneclipse - characterization and storytelling to its finest!

@lalchimiedecupid - sooooo inherently poetic and for no reason at all other than for fun! My Arabic cousin ily

@endOr4 - BEST FUCKING GIF MAKER IVE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE LIFE

@acricketcannot - my lovely daughter in law who’s almost (if not) as crazy as I am.

@holyblanchett - SUCH a simp, and I mean this in the best fucking way possible!

@multixfan - Patti Lupone extraordinaire, also MAMA THE EDITS EAAATTTTT

@ariascoven - Brazilian pookie with the best teacher fics in town

@madamspellmans-met-tet - darling don’t u get stomach aches from eating every single time???? I need to know ur secret

@sapphicjew - the author of some of the best comments I’ve ever received.

@idkwhatever580 - creator of the besttt fake tweets on the AAA fandom, I cackle every single time.

@morgaynas - Brazilian pookie with unlimited musical theater knowledge.

@confuseuniverse - the original milf shipper, and so fucking funny too.

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@slut4alicewu - THE Alice blog who I have mistaken for an Alice RP account WAY too many times lmao.

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@gayestswiftie - mama u so live up to ur name on here! Fellow wife sharer too!

@aggieharkness - I've YET to make the cookies they so generously sent me the recipe of! Other than seemingly a great baker, such a great writer and person too.

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@polaris-likethestar - my beautiful and amazing daughter than can never do any wrong even tho she prefers her other mother.

@mandy-asimp - YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT LEGENDARY FICS WITH GREAT CARS IN THEM? YOUVE GOT UR GIRL!

@liliastriangle - couldn't end on a better note! The best commenter ever! I appreciate u sm doll 🫶🫶

Thank you everyone for making my day a lil better! Happy (vry late) Christmas to all whom celebrate and an early happy new years for all whom celebrate too!

#your basic queerie #Appreciate all of u loveliesssss

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spindle-girl · 10 days ago

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Alec predicted Piggot, but not Sophia

How the PRT treats Sophia is something that used to be debated a fair amount a few years back when I was on other forums. Both in the canon scenario and potential what ifs that Wildbow answered to an extent. I don't think it's too hard to piece together if you're going back and looking for any mention of Sophia/Shadow Stalker, but it is spaced out between a bunch of different arcs and some of what Wildbow said got misquoted so I wanted to compile it all into one go.

Lots of quotes with explanations below, so the short of it is:

Alec wanted Sophia to keep quiet about the extent he controlled her for and guessed how Piggot would react in order to scare Sophia from speaking up. She didn't, but Alec turned out to be right. Piggot dropped her, Shadow Stalker no longer being worth it to keep around, and to sell that, she ensured Sophia was sent to jail where before she would have stayed as a member of the Wards. The biggest change for that being that she was compromised by Regent.

We know from 9.1 that Director Piggot believes her role as Director is ensure parahumans are integrated with regular people:

“You likely know Director Armstrong in Boston, how he tends to prioritize research and understanding parahumans. I concern myself with more concrete affairs. Public relations, parahumans as a part of America.”

At the end of 10.x, Alec's interlude where he controls Sophia up to the very end, he nails this attitude Piggot has and uses it to put doubt in Sophia's mind to stop her from telling someone and getting help:

“Here’s the thousand dollar question,” he mused, as he began following the steps outlined in the video, putting the knot together, “Will your boss tell your mom what happened with me controlling you? If she keeps her mouth shut, well, this paints a pretty ugly picture, doesn’t it?” A tear rolled down his cheek. He scoffed a little, blinked the tears out of her eyes. “But if she does tell, if she lets mommy know, then shit hits the fan. It looks pretty fucking bad for her, and if word gets out, it’s as bad as it gets for public relations. Scary, dangerous parahumans. Not just lives at risk, but you could be controlled. Ooooh, scary. Nobody would ever be able to trust their coworkers or neighbors. It’s the kind of stuff they want to keep quiet.”

Then, he threatens Sophia to keep quiet about him controlling her up to this point, telling her to sell the lie he told the other Undersiders, that he was going to let her go after walking her across the city, in order to keep the heat off him and maybe so his teammates don't find out he lied:

“I can feel your emotions. I know I’ve convinced you. You leave town, and if you don’t want me paying a visit, wherever you wind up, you keep your mouth closed about tonight. They don’t need to know this was all my doing. Things get messy that way, yeah?”

However, in later talks with Piggot (14.4, 16.3) we find that Sophia did tell her about him controlling her to threaten her mother and later herself with the suicide fake-out. Alec got it wrong. She trusted Piggot with that info, presumably hoping Piggot would get her mother to believe her story about being body-jacked when Alec used her to threaten her and maybe so that they'd go after Alec more seriously:

“The power has range. I suspect the creator can stay miles away and still manage some control, but ventures closer for voyeuristic purposes or because it offers more control and faster response times.” “Much like Regent, hmm?” Tattletale paused. “So you know that.” From the tone of the conversation, I would have expected a ‘No, you just told me.‘, but Tattletale wouldn’t have done that. More likely that her power confirmed her thoughts. “Shadow Stalker debriefed us. What do we know about this woman who controls-”

~14.4

“I don’t think so,” Director Piggot replied, turning to level a glare at him. She looked almost feral, even as her voice was controlled. “See, I know you might try to kill me if these others weren’t around. But the others won’t let you. There’s Regent too: little to no compunctions, as we saw with Shadow Stalker.” Her eye darted to Tattletale, then to Grue, and finally to me. “Do they know the full story?” the Director asked. “No,” Tattletale replied. She sighed a little. “Tell us what?” I asked. “I’m interested, too,” Grue added. The Director only smiled.

~16.3

So Piggot knows, but Alec was right about her having to make a choice. Does Piggot tell Sophia's mother, letting her know that her child didn't really try and attack her, that her body was stolen and she couldn't do a thing but watch?

Nope!

“Because of what happened, because she was still reeling from the time she spent as your meat puppet, she attacked her mom, who called the authorities. They caught up just in time to catch her in her room, electrical cord around her neck. Cost Shadow Stalker her probation, meaning she got stuck in some parahuman detention center until she’s eighteen. And word is her mom doesn’t want her back when she’s finished the three-year sentence. Last straw and everything. Her life, put on hold, her family shattered. Maybe she was damaged like you said, but you took her captive and tormented her until she went off the deep end.”

~18.3

She takes the other route Alec laid out. She kept quiet and used the opportunity to get rid of a compromised, potentially PR-damaging tool. And I think that's the real reason why she got sent to juive, because we know from Weld in 10.3 that Piggot wanted to keep Sophia around before finding out she was compromised despite attacking Vista and that it was Weld pushing for something to be done:

“No. This is serious. You assaulted a team member. I’m not about to let that slide.” ... A few seconds passed before she finally asked, “What are you going to do?” “After these guys are securely in custody, we’re going to have words with the Director. She wants you on this team, for whatever reason, so I don’t expect your probation will be broken, but there’s going to be consequences.”

There is the matter of the text messages Alec sent to the school and the police that may have helped changed how Piggot reacted, but it's doubtful because why would either of those institutions care enough about a months-old bullying incident with the city in the state it was in to contact the PRT about it? Dragon didn't mention informing Piggot either when she found it in her interlude.

Also, Piggot already knows Sophia was bullying a fellow student at this point. Her "guardian" in 5.4 was sent by the PRT for the school meeting and Armsmaster talked about knowing the incident in 7.x, Miss Militia's interlude.

None of what Wildbow said out of text would counter this either:

It's hard to unseat a crook-turned-cape once they're on board, because then you run the risk that the public discovers you're bringing less than savory types on board. Besides, in the PRT's view, she was more or less playing ball. Getting therapy, using tranq darts, attending patrols (if alone), attending her track team, and going out to movies with her best friend. If something came up at school, it was generally seen as a bump in the road to recovery. This is why she was as pissed as she was over the meeting at the school where everything came up. It straight up overturned her act. In a calmer situation, if things hadn't gone shit-sideways, stuff would have gone through and things would have changed. Not enough, but they would have. If Taylor had pushed and pushed and pushed (or if Taylor had joined the team and made an issue of it), maybe something would have happened, but even then... what do you do? It goes back to the question of how problematic it is to get rid of troublesome recruits. Sophia stays on the team in an official capacity, makes appearances, but generally it's for show, and she isn't allowed to patrol anymore (at which point she gets restless and snaps, which the PRT may or may not anticipate, depending on what's on the table).

Had Leviathan not shown up in Brockton Bay, the PRT would eventually address the bullying issue brought up in 5.4, but their efforts wouldn't amount to much. It's contrasted with the scenario of her getting benched, where that would only happen if Taylor kept making an issue of it for the PRT or if she joined the team, giving Piggot another Ward to use. So if the text messages were relevant enough to fall under "If Taylor had pushed and pushed and pushed", Sophia would either get benched, or accounting for Regent being able to control her, just get sent to another team in another city. It would not be her getting sent to jail.

What's more, Piggot didn't just keep it from Sophia's family. None of the heroes, Wards or Protectorate, know about it either (15.x, 18.3). They're under the impression that Sophia had a breakdown after being let go and went home and threatened her mother before trying to kill herself.

“I’m tired of losing people,” Vista said. “We lost Gallant. Aegis too, and Velocity, Dauntless, Battery…” “Yeah. And Shadow Stalker,” Triumph offered. “She left,” Clockblocker said. “I’d still consider her a casualty,” Triumph said. “We might not have liked her, but she was one of us, and the enemy basically took her from us.”

~15.x

“Our focus right now is you. You, who drove Shadow Stalker into a corner, to the point where she flipped out on her mom and tried to hang herself with an electrical cord.”

~18.3

They also weren't aware of her using lethal ammunition, also shown in 18.3, so she wouldn't have been jailed for that either:

“She was a hero because the other choice was juvie,” I said. “In the months leading up to our kidnapping her, she was using real crossbow bolts. Shooting them at people, Grue included. If I remember right, she wasn’t supposed to have or be using any lethal ammo, on penalty of jail time.” “Do you have evidence?” Miss Militia asked. “Would it matter? Does it matter? Judging by what I saw, in my limited interaction with her, she was pretty psychotic. There’s no way you guys spent all that time with her without something crossing your radar. The night we took her, I baited her out and she tried to cut my throat.” “I understand where you’re coming from,” Miss Militia said, “But again, I have to ask for evidence. I can’t take you at your word, there’s procedures to be followed.”

Piggot knows it wasn't Sophia that attacked her mom, she is already aware of the bullying at school and a few more text messages wouldn't change that with the city in the state it's in, Weld is having to push Piggot to act on Sophia attacking Vista, and she doesn't know about the lethal ammo. She still sent her to jail.

None of the above mattered to Piggot in making that decision. What mattered was the bad PR. That word could get out if people thought Sophia had been hurt, rather than her doing the hurting. If word did get out, then civilians would see the PRT failing to capture Regent and it would hurt their authority. But by ensuring a parahuman who "snapped" was successfully sent to jail, it shows that the PRT is able to address any problems within it's purview. Becoming convict is another way to add doubt to Sophia's story and being stuck in jail would keep her from easily talking to others about it.

Sophia risked telling the truth about what happened to her, but she couldn't operate in Brockton Bay anymore. She was compromised. She was useless and potentially harmful to Piggot's goals, so Piggot got rid of her.

#parahumans #worm #worm spoilers #sophia hess #alec vasil #emily piggot

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