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honeesucker · 2 years ago

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Prelude -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 2,263

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not Proofread.

Next Part

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t a fundamentally nervous person. Sure, even as a Pro Hero in the public spotlight under constant scrutiny and dissection by media outlets and fans alike he experienced a normal amount of anxious awareness, but he wasn’t nervous – not like he is now, with his right leg jumping up and down rapidly, rubber-bottom boot creating a soft squeak that filled up the sterile room of the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. It had been just over a month since the incident that gave him nightmares and left him with such severe hearing damage that he was currently unable to perform even basic hero duties for his agency – which is why he is sat where he is now, waiting. Hoping the next steps are what could get him back out into the city on normal duty than having his medical leave extended.

He was losing his mind being left to himself and his thoughts each day, being told by doctors he needed to be still, and take is easy, and he was only losing his patience each subsequent doctor’s appointment that left him no closer to returning to Pro Hero work.

“Tch,” the blonde ground his teeth as the indignant noise stuck in his throat; he swallowed it down with a harsh gulp. His ears were ringing when the two doctors walked in, eyes unfocused as the room and people in front of him blurred in and out of clarity, everything around him sounded like it was underwater, and he hated it.

“Mr. Bakugo,” the doctor continued, Katsuki refocusing his attention on the man’s words, annoyed and thinking that Mr. Bakugo is my old man, not me... “we have some support specialists working with the latest auditory data set we took from you and they are getting closer to having a solution to get your hearing back to where it was before, and keep it there – even possibly making it better if all goes to plan.”

“In the meantime, it is recommended you follow the strict guidelines for allowing your body to heal itself naturally,” the other spoke. “You need to make sure you’re not exceeding the maximum limit for minimal exertion we’ve placed on your physical activity, so you have a better chance of getting back to your pre-incident status.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki sighed out, tired of hearing this same speech each visit. “Don’t overdo it, give my damn body time to heal – I got it.” The two doctors observed Katsuki with cautious eyes, but simply nodded their acceptance of his understanding. It was as good as it was going to get with him.

“Another suggestion,” one of the two added. “We have provided you with an email detailing a program we’d like you to consider – your colleague Red Riot actually participates and could be a good resource for you if you have any questions about it.”

“Please take a look when you have a moment and consider this a strong suggestion for helping you progress further in your treatment,” Katsuki eyed the two, irritated at the vagueness of the conversation, but swallowed down his disagreement and simply nodded.

“Yeah sure,” his chair slid back with a jarring scrape as he stood, moving toward the door to leave, “I’ll read your damn email, but I want progress updates from the support nerds.” He didn’t wait to hear their reply as he pushed through the door and hurried down the hall. He hated hospitals, hated the itch of memory in the back of his mind at the sterilized smell that gave him goosebumps and had him picking up the pace to rush out the side exit before heading to the sidewalk to wait for his friend to come get him after he shot him a text that he was all wrapped up. Another annoying outcome from the accident and the resulting toll on his body – he couldn’t drive himself as it was deemed too unsafe for him.

Bullshit.

“Hey Bakubro!” Katsuki’s eyes snapped toward the boisterous voice, seeing his red-headed friend waving his arm out the passenger window of his car. Katsuki ripped the door open and sunk into the passenger seat, Kirishima avoided asking how this appointment went the second he saw Katsuki’s demeanor. The two men drove in silence on the way to Katsuki’s apartment when the silence was cut.

“Doctors mentioned an email they sent me about this program,” Katsuki tested the water, being unsure what the program his doctors suggested he partake in he wasn’t sure if it was good to bring up with Kirishima at this moment. “They mentioned you’ve taken part in it before... Was curious what it’s all about,” Katsuki wouldn’t add the unspoken because I trust your opinion, but he knew Kirishima knew him and his nuances better than anyone since they’ve been side by side since UA.

“Program...?” Kirishima wracked his brain for a few minutes until it clicked.

The Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program.

A program that matches people with hybrids who have been rescued from inhumane circumstances with a person who needs support in their healing journey, and who is believed will benefit from focusing more on rehabilitating another which has been shown to have equally beneficial results with the healing person themselves. Kirishima had first taken part in the program after he was put on medical leave due to a villain fight that nearly left him dead – his body and his mind took almost a full year to heal, and he nearly gave up entirely. On Pro Hero work, on himself... on life. His doctors had mentioned the program and Kirishima wasn’t sure at first – how would he be able to provide a good home to someone who needed stability and support when he could barely pull himself out of bed? He got matched with a wolf hybrid, TetsuTetsu, who had been rescued from an underground fighting ring, having to kill other hybrids just to be able to get locked in a cage alive for another day. TetsuTetsu was surprisingly positive and open for someone who had gone through what he did, but he still had issues – Kirishima slowly helped break him of his more undesirable reactivity and in return TetsuTetsu gave Kirishima a reason to get up every day, make food, go for walks... talk about things that weighed on him, and before he knew it, he was making strides rebuilding his strength with his new training partner. Kirishima still had TetsuTetsu living with him, and Katsuki had met him several times now, but Kirishima never divulged how their relationship came to be – just alluded to him adopting a hybrid in need.

“Yeah! If it’s the one I’m thinking about it’s a pretty great program,” Kirishima finally spoke. “It’s a rehabilitation program for hybrids who were rescued from bad situations. They place them with a person who they feel would benefit from having something to care for while working on their own journey too.”

“Tch,” Katsuki snorted out, “sounds like a pain in the ass waste of time.”

“It’s how I adopted TetsuTetsu,” Kirishima stated out loud for the first time to his friend. Katsuki noted the stiff body language from his friend, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. “When I was out on leave for that year after...” Kirishima couldn’t finish the thought, the memory still a sore spot. “I was out on leave, and it got bad dude. I really came close to just giving up.” Katsuki had seen his friend in a lot of lights, weak and strong – but Kirishima never revealed what happened after that incident that left him injured when he was on leave for that year. Never thought for a second his life came so close to not having that shitty red hair and sharky smile in it, never thought he’d ever have that brotherhood bond ripped from him. Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat the size of a boulder.

“That bad, huh?” Kirishima just flashed a half-smile, watching his friend shift uncomfortably in the seat.

“Yeah,” Kirishima sighed, “it got pretty bad. I was against the idea at first, not thinking I could take care of someone when I couldn’t do it myself but it’s amazing how your mind overrides itself to keep going for someone else... and having TetsuTetsu around really helped me get back on track to be back where I am now.”

Katsuki had been chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed into a concentrated death stare before he noticed that they were parked in front of his apartment building. “I do like that annoying rockhead,” Katsuki finally said. Kirishima just laughed and gave a gentle punch to his friend’s shoulder.

“Just think about it dude,” Kirishima smiled, seeing the cogs turning in Bakugo’s head. “They provide a link to the rescue sight so you can see some of the hybrids they have in their facility right now – and look into next steps if you end up going that route...” Bakugo had stepped out of the car listening to his friends, and before shutting the door with a quick Later, dude Kirishima added - “it’s worth it Bakugo.”

Slam.

Kirishima just laughed, watching Bakugo enter his building before pulling away to head back home. Intending to text Bakugo later to see where his head is at and see if he wants to talk more in depth about the program.

Bakugo made his way up to his apartment – opening the door and stepping into the genkan to slip out of his boots and into his bright crimson and black Red Riot house slippers – a joke gift from his friend but functional enough that Bakugo didn’t mind replacing his old ones with them. He’d never outwardly admit it but he had a love for sentimentality even when it made him uncomfortable, and Kirishima always had such a shit eating grin on his face when he came over to Bakugo’s house and saw them still being used.

Bakugo’s apartment was wide open, a minimalistic space with deep chocolate colored wood laminate flooring and a traditional shoji style wall, some actual shoji, and some just styled in a more traditional way with wallpaper and wood accents. The whole living room wall facing out toward Musutafu was made up of large windows that lead to a fairly decently sized balcony with a bonfire and patio set, and down a short hallway was the spare room that currently housed his office where he could complete some more of the menial work from home, and a pull-out couch for guests. His bedroom was an equally large, open space but housed a King-sized bed with plush comforters and pillows, a wall dedicated to All Might memorabilia he collected since he was a child and was connected to a luxury bathroom with a deep tub and natural rock wall shower that doubled as a steam room.

Bakugo took his time getting showered, changed into loungewear and set to work through some of his most recent light work assignments, and finally his emails where one caught his eye immediately.

Musutafu Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program, LLC <[email protected]>

To: Bakugo, Katsuki <[email protected]>

Tue, Nov 8 at 10:26 AM

Hello Katsuki Bakugo,

Congratulations! You have been extended a conditional offer of consideration for adoption as a part of the Hybrid Rehabilitation Program per a request from your medical team at the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. Please note that this adoption offer is contingent upon the completion of the necessary online paperwork and tasks, as well as your attendance to the required hybrid informational seminars prior to the adoption process. Additionally, your offer may be contingent on screening results (e.g., background check, reference check), as applicable for the adoption.

In advance of you coming to the facility, please follow the link below to complete required paperwork and tasks as stated above. You will also be redirected to our facilities availability calendar to choose a day to come in and tour the facility, speak with staff and begin the introduction process at your convenience.

Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact the facility and ask to speak to the Managing Director.

Best regards,

The M.H.R.F.P. Team

Bakugo stared at his computer screen for the longest time before deciding to click on the hyperlink that led him to the rescue facilities website. He was on autopilot as he filled out all of the personal information, required questions (both information-gathering and personal) and even wrote in his concerns in a concise manner in a provided box for additional comments before hitting submit and staring as the screen buffered with a loading wheel until it finally read ‘Thank you! A member of our staff will be contacting you shortly to confirm your appointment date!’ He didn’t know why he easily accepted this opportunity despite his growing hesitation, again unsure that he could or should be seeking to take care of something else when he could barely manage to care about himself beyond pushing himself into getting back to his normal Hero work... but a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him this was something worth checking out.

“Hell, if shitty Broomhead can do this program then so can I,” he finally said, shutting his laptop and heading toward his bedroom to sleep.

Underneath the plush covers, in the darkness of his room, Bakugo drifted off into a dream of what awaited him upon meeting a hybrid.

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woodsteingirl · 3 years ago

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chapter two is out here! or read below the cut!

Dean turned the key to unlock the door. they all stepped inside, still in their moment of Revelation. the silence was eventually broken by jack saying, “why’s it empty?”

“It’s ‘cause our furniture isn’t here yet,” Cas explained. Dean tacked on that it would be arriving sometime today. In the meantime, before the stuff arrived, Dean took the time to explain what exactly this endeavor meant for everyone. He had applied online for a mechanic job the week prior, they had only gotten back to him to tell him he got the job the day before. Dean was still reeling from everything happening so fast. it’s like everything hed wanted for so many years was finally coming to fruition, and it was an adjustment.

Cas had signed both Jack and Claire up for school. Jack was going into first grade and Claire into her senior year of high school. Obviously, Claire was older than that, but she could pass as younger just for a little while, while everything was sorted out. Plus she could gather valuable intel that way. The hard part would be getting her to agree to this plan. Jack, on the other hand, was completely thrilled about starting school. He couldn’t wait to be able to have friends his own age. Cas didn’t have much to do throughout the day, but with the other stay-at-home parents in the neighborhood, he was sure he could find some way to help out.

Snapping out of his daydream, Dean took the time to explain how everything would go in the next month or so. “I got a job at the repair shop down the road, Cas will stay here and look after everything, Jack will go to school like we planned, and Claire, we sort of set you up in school again.”

“Wow, you guys are really on a kick of making life decisions without asking me arent you!”

“Claire, it was the best option at the time, we needed the intel from kids that age, and its not like Dean or I could just walk in and ask,” Cas explained.

There was no doubt about it, she reacted as expected. Even though shed only been out of school for a year or so, she’d never enjoyed it when she was involved, so the thought of going back made her sick to her stomach. Since there was really no where to stomp off too, as the entire house was empty, she settled for sitting on the floor behind the kitchen island to process. Some ten minutes later Dean came and sat down on the floor next to her.

“Look, I get it. Nothing can be perfect for us, but sometimes you just gotta tough it out and it’ll be better than you think.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾

(This is a flashback to the action point just so everyone knows whats happening)

It was a normal Tuesday evening. The couple was eating dinner just as normal. Quiet conversation, and unspoken glances were commonplace for them, so the feeling over eerie silence was nothing new, and neither thought anything of it. They didn’t even hear the sound of the door open. Did the door even open?

The husband reached across the table for the salt, his wife screamed in horror when she caught sight of the tall hooded figure above him. The town was small and she shouldve known who it was at first sight, but unfortunately, when youre about to be stabbed, those things dont come as easy. She reached across the table for her phone to call 911, but she didnt make it before the figure had stabbed her husband and was moving on to her. Those were the last thoughts she had before being found in a pool of her own blood the next morning.

The neighbor had heard them and called the cops. News spread like the blight, and everyone was taken in for questioning, so far, no motive or prime suspects had been declared. It had been a month since, and the police presence was now slim to none, even though almost no progress had been made into the actual investigation. That’s just how it is when you have to solve a murer case with nothing to go on but a dead couple and a town of suburbanites.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾

(this is bak in normal time just fyi)

After about half an hour of just trying to process what was happening, Claire was ready to go back to join the rest of her family in putting their furniture together. Cas was sitting on the floor in front of what looked like it could be a table, if you positioned it correctly.

“You need some help?” She asked.

“Yes, if it isnt too much to ask, I could use an extra hand,” he gestured to the manual, “it says you need two people here anyway.”

Claire sat down next to cas and took the manual from his hands, “what step are you even on? None of the pictures look like whatever you’ve managed to create.”

Upstairs, Dean was trying to show Jack how to use an impact driver, “look, I know youre only like what? Five? But its never too early to learn how to use a set of tools.” He handed the tool over to Jack, it looked wildly disproportionate in his hands but that’s not what mattered, what mattered was the fact that he was having a bonding moment with his son, a positive one too. He was bridging the gap of what he missed in his childhood, and giving Jack what he had wanted.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾

The next day was spent almost exclusively on introductions. First they went over and greeted their new neighbors on each side, Tracey and Paul Wayne on their right, and Peter and Vicky David on their left. It seemed to them that neither of them had much of a clue as to what was going on regarding the murder, seeing as that was not mentioned even in passing. However it could be basic politeness and not wanting to scare your new neighbors away. Both couples were in their mid-fiftes and greeted them kindly. The Waynes had a wooden statue of an eagle with some pro-America quote on it, and that was one of the most memorable things about them. The other memorable thing was their brigh red Volkswagon Beetle in the driveway. Dean silently noted a love of older cars as something to connect over in case he ever needed to get closer to them. The Davids had 6 small dogs, and that was their defining trait, they seemed like the people to have “I love my shitzu” stickers plastered all over their car, but they seemed like fine enough people.

The next thing on the agenda was when someone rang their doorbell. It was a woman about their age, who had come to their door both to introduce herself, and to inform them of a house party happening later that night. The woman introduced herself as Hester Stewart from two houses down. Both Dean and Cas were glad to see that there was someone their age who didn’t have a strange amount of pets, or questionable taste in outdoor decor. They made introductions of their own, Claire and Jack even briefly appeared to say hello. They asked her for more information about the party, and she explained that it was being put on by the HOA president to distract from all that was happening, “I guess she figured one shindig would make everyone forget about the murder that happened a few houses down from her house.” She gestured down the road and to the right, apparently in the direction of the woman’s house, “Also she did ask me to invite you, I’m not just asking you to show up without anyone’s permission,” she clarified.

After that they thanked her and went on with their day. “Do you think we should attend the party later today?” Cas asked. Not looking up from the loveseat he was putting together

“I think I was planning on it, it’d be a good way to get out and meet people, not to mention gather details on what’s happening around here without looking suspicious,” Dean replied, flipping the page in the manual.

Cas agreed. Usually events like this weren’t his thing, but he could suck it up for an hour or two if it meant gathering intel. He made a mental note to prepare for more events like this one, and pushed it to the back of his mind. He found himself having to do that more often since becoming human. His angel brain could process more information than any human by hundreds, but downsizing the amount of space in his brain was an adjustment, and he found himself having to push things of the back of his mind more often.

Claire had been eavesdropping from the top of the staircase for the past exchange. Truth be told, she was almost excited to ‘meet the new neighbors’ in such a domestic fashion. She had just gotten off the phone with Kaia, she was showing her the layout of the house, as well as updating her on the situation she had gotten herself into. “They really put you back in high school?” Kaia had asked, thinking about how if anyone had done that to her, she’d’ve put up a lot more of a fight.

“They really put me back in high school,” she had replied. Maybe deep down she did want to sort of have the closure she missed in her high school years. She missed Kaia a large amount for only not seeing her face to face for a little less than a week, but she had learned from all she’d lost, that she just had to let herself feel her feelings.

They all gathered in the empty living room shortly after. Cas explained the whole plan to Jack and her. Jack was thrilled to be getting out of the house, and getting to see new people. He’d always been a social person, even before becoming a child, but that certainly amplified his social need. This was part of the reason Dean and Cas wanted to get out of the bunker in the first place. Now that they were actually in a position for him to make friends his age, they were certainly going to make that a priority. Dean had noticed that there were more than a few kids Jack’s age in his walk around the neighborhood earlier that day.

The hours before the gathering came faster than expected. Everyone was in a rush to change into nicer clothes and make themselves not look like they’d been putting together furniture all day. (they had, but it was the act of making themselves presentable that matters in this case.) After all, weren’t first impressions the most important? Dean hadn’t really taken account the need for nice clothes this early on in his endevour, so the nicest things he had were a button down and his spare pair of jeans. Not that anyone else was much better off. Claire was wearing a skirt with a jean jacket and combat boots, Jack didn’t change at all seeing as he didn’t see the need, and who were they to argue. Cas was probably the most normal looking of them all, with his blue suit jacket paired with some jeans.

#pspspsps you want to reblog my fic #dean winchester #castiel #claire novak #spn fanfiction #spn #supernatural #jack kline

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years ago

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Secret Love Part 19 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Was hoping to come home to Cale having poured a me a glass of wine ready to celebrate my externship (and me surviving the longest day of my week)....sadly that’s just not reality and this is the only Cale I’ve got so...it’ll just have to do I suppose.

Warnings: moderate angst, internet trolls.

Word Count: 2,443

~~~~~

You were in the middle of a house showing when your phone started buzzing incessantly. Not wanting to seem unprofessional, you ignored it as you talked with your clients about the features of the house before sending them to explore on their own for a few minutes.

Checking your phone you saw that you had missed three calls from Laura. There was no reason for her to be calling you repeatedly unless something was wrong and you quickly called her back, your heart pounding.

“Hey mom I’m in the middle of a showing, what’s up?”

“Have you heard from Cale today?” She asked.

“Not since first thing this morning…” You replied, anxiety growing. “Mom what’s going on?”

“Cale’s not answering his phone. We don’t know where he’s at.” You could hear Gary in the background as the two of them rambled back and forth. “Y/N...there are some pretty nasty rumors online about him…”

Your heart plummeted to the ground and your stomach twisted violently.

“Send me screenshots?” You pleaded. After just a minute or two, images flooded your phone that made you want to physically vomit.

Guess even a Calder trophy winner can be a deadbeat dad.

He’s on vacation while she’s waitressing...classy move there Cale.

Guess he’s not so perfect after all is he? #quinnshouldhavewonthecalder

Hearing the footsteps of your clients, you pocketed your phone attempting to mask all of the emotions rushing through your mind. After chatting with them about the house, you moved to leave and though you had planned to take them to see two more, your heart just wasn’t in it. Explaining that a family emergency had just popped up, you promised them you would reschedule as soon as possible before sliding into your car.

Your attempt to get ahold of Cale went straight to voicemail and you groaned just wishing he would pick up. Opening first instagram and then twitter you realized just what had started it all. The avs had posted a summer update about Cale with a few pictures from Iceland that he must have sent their pr department. The top reply on twitter linked an instagram post from Sara’s page where she was obviously pregnant and wearing a waitressing uniform. Her vague status read ‘working for that dough since my baby daddy is useless’ You’d barely looked at all and you were already furious and devastated, you couldn’t even imagine how Cale was feeling.

Driving home, you called your favorite coworker pleading with her to take what appointments of yours today she could before calling the rest to reschedule. With your work commitments being taken care of, your plan was to go home and change before trying to find Cale. The moment you pulled in your driveway, however, you felt your heart settle because that was definitely Cale’s car. Dialing Laura’s number again you shut your car door quietly, not sure what state you’d find Cale in on the other side of your front door.

“Hey mom...his car is here. I don’t know what I’m about to find but you know I’ll do everything I can…” Laura insisted that you could call right back if there was anything you needed and after hanging up with her, you slipped your key into the lock, pushing your way inside.

The house was quiet and after toeing off your shoes, you padded down the hall in search of your boyfriend. The sight that met you as you reached your bedroom door broke your heart. Cale was curled up on your bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Crawling in beside him, not caring if your dress got rumpled, you pulled his head to your chest, cradling his large frame as best you could.

“I’m here...I got you.” You whispered, one hand scratching gently over his scalp while the other ran up and down his back. Though Cale buried his head against you, he didn’t react otherwise and you felt his tears gathering against your skin. “What can I do Cale?” You whispered eventually, hating the helpless feeling this situation had left you with.

The silence of Cale’s response made you swallow hard. You wanted to scream from the rooftops about how people were making false assumptions, how Cale was the victim in this not his ex, how even if they were right it was none of their fucking business in the first place. But you knew it would only make things worse. The only real option was to let things die down on their own. You knew the truth, Cale’s family knew the truth, your family knew the truth, Cale’s teammates knew the truth. What anyone else thought really didn’t matter but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

When Cale finally cried himself to sleep in your arms, you continued to hold him for a few minutes before you finally pulled yourself from bed. Changing clothes, you grabbed your phone and stepped out to the kitchen for a glass of water, dialing Laura again as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“How is he?” She asked immediately.

“He’s asleep now. Finally cried himself out.” You mumbled. “He hasn’t said a word mom. It’s obvious he’s devastated, but I don’t know what to do. How do I fix this?”

“You can’t.” She admitted sadly. “Just be there for him. That’s all you can do. It may not feel like much but I’m sure he appreciates it. I appreciate it. I’m glad he’s not alone. That if he didn’t feel comfortable coming home that he felt comfortable enough to go to your home. He’s safe and you can get through this together, we can all get through this together.”

“Why do people have to be so mean?” You vented, just frustrated with all of it.

“I can’t answer that. But don’t let this rock your relationship, that would only be giving these people what they want.” She insisted.

“I’m not going anywhere mom. Cale is stuck with me.” Your words made Laura laugh and you sighed softly.

“I’m sure he’s so upset about that.” She teased. “My son is absolutely gone for you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“I don’t know mom…” You grinned shaking your head. “Makes me wonder what else he got away with that you don’t know about.” You joked.

“Not funny Y/N.” She lightly chastised. Taking another sip of water you heard the buzz of a phone that wasn’t yours and you followed the sound, finding Cale’s phone with his keys at the front entry.

“Hey mom...I’m gonna let you go. I don’t want to leave Cale alone too long even if he’s sleeping.” You said, tucking your phone against your ear as you flipped Cale’s over seeing strings of notifications flash across the screen.

“Sounds good dear. Love you. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do...love you too mom.”

You didn’t want to invade Cale’s privacy too much but even a quick glance at his phone told you that his teammates were worried about him. Unlocking his phone with the code you’d memorized just a few days into vacation, you opened his group chat and started typing a message.

Hey guys, it’s Y/N...I haven’t read more than the 1 or 2 messages that flashed across the notifications screen because I don’t want to overstep. Just thought you guys should know that Cale really isn’t in a mindset to look at his phone. He’s not ignoring you...I’m sure he’ll get back to you guys soon...he just needs some time to process. If you have any urgent concerns my cell number is (587) 122- 3456.

Before you could talk yourself out of the message, questioning if even that was too intrusive, you pressed send, dropping Cale’s phone back with his car keys. It didn’t take more than a minute for your phone to ring and though you hesitated, answering revealed the voice of Gabe Landeskog.

“Y/N? This is Gabe.” He greeted.

“Hey Gabe.” You whispered, moving over toward the couch so that you were a little bit farther away from the open bedroom door.

“How is he?” The question made you sigh, your head falling back against the couch.

“Not so good.” You admitted. “He’s asleep right now...hopefully his dreams provide him some peace.”

“And how are you?” He followed up, not bothering to comment on Cale’s status any further.

“Heartbroken. Angry. Helpless. Take your pick.” You groaned. “There’s nothing I can do but be here and it’s frustrating.”

“Being there is probably more significant than you realize Y/N. Cale is a very private person and if he trusts you that’s not nothing.” As Gabe spoke you realized that even though you’d told your parents about your relationship, Cale must not have told anyone else yet.

“I know it’s not. I just…I want to fix it. And I know I can’t. I know we just have to wait and let this die out. But in the meantime I have to watch this tear him apart. It’s hard.” Gabe hummed in acknowledgement, a slightly uncomfortable silence filling the air for a moment before he spoke again.

“All the guys have his back...your back if you guys need anything. I’ll try and get them to back off a little so he’s not overwhelmed when he’s ready to talk. And I’m sure Cale will appreciate you reaching out to us on his behalf. I know the guys are relieved to know he’s being taken care of.”

“Thanks.” You breathed, still thrown by everything that had happened today.

“Well I’ll let you go. And Y/N... I’ll have Mel add your number to the Better Halves chat...glad you guys figured it out.” Gabe was just a little too intuitive and you shook your head as you ended the call.

Cale was still asleep when you crawled back into bed beside him, your hands rubbing soothingly along his skin again. With your brain focused on what you could possibly do to make things better, you missed Cale starting to stir, his blue eyes droopy as he peered over at you.

“I’m sorry…” The sound of his voice made you jump and when you looked over at him, you saw the distraught expression remained on his face. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” As he spoke he shifted to sit up, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Moving alongside him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body back against yours.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Cale. You did nothing wrong. This is not on you. This is on the idiots who think they know what they’re talking about when they don’t even have the most basic of their facts straight.” Cale flinched just slightly, but you felt it, your heart picking up speed.

“I still caused you pain. I’m not supposed to do that.” Something told you that the next words to come out of your mouth were possibly the most important words spoken in your relationship...more important than ‘I love you’ had been.

“Cale Douglas Makar…” You declared, refusing to let him get up from the bed as you shuffled to stand in front of him. “You listen to me and you listen to me well. You are not the cause of my pain. I hurt because you hurt. The people that hurt you are the ones that hurt me...not you.” Forcing Cale’s cheeks up to look at you, you brushed your thumbs along his jaw.

“Never apologize for ‘dragging me into’ something. We are partners, we are equals. You cannot carry the emotional burden of this relationship alone. And lately you’ve been doing more work in that regard than you should. So DO NOT apologize. It’s my turn to carry the weight. Let me. Let me support you like you’ve supported me. Let me care for you like you care for me. Maybe I can’t physically carry you out of a lava tube...but I can lift you up emotionally, mentally...I can give you the strength to get through this. You are not alone. You have me. And I’m strong enough to handle this even though it upsets me. Use me. Please. Don’t push me away because you think you have to protect me and handle this on your own.”

Cale’s tears dripped along your fingertips and you leaned forward pulling his body into yours.

“We’re gonna get through this Cale...it’ll all blow over. And when it does it’ll just prove to the rest of the world what we already know. That you’re incredible. And we’re unshakable. So whatever you need. I’m here. All you have to do is say the word.”

“I love you.” Cale’s words were muffled by your clothing, but you heard him loud and clear.

“I love you too. Always will.” You assured him, nails scraping against his scalp again. Staying like that until his breathing steadied, you dipped down to kiss him gently but deeply.

“C’mon...let’s order a bunch of junk food, put some stupid comedy on tv and just relax.” You directed. “Though you should probably call mom first. She’s a little concerned and I know hearing your voice would make a big difference.”

When he nodded, you stepped back, though you didn’t make it far before Cale was wrapped around you again. If he needed to be a koala tonight, you were perfectly okay with that.

“Do you wanna use my phone so you don’t have to look at yours?” You asked softly. “I did jump into your team group chat to tell the boys to back off a little so you shouldn’t have as many notifications but you can use mine if you aren’t ready to deal with any of that.”

Cale didn’t seem at all fazed that you had used his phone but he willingly accepted yours, calling his mom. You’d placed an order for food on your laptop while they talked and upon the end of that conversation, you settled in on the couch for the night, only moving for food or drinks. As another episode of the sitcom Cale had picked ended, you looked down at him snoring softly, his head on your chest.

Today had been exhausting...this week had been exhausting, but you’d dealt with it together and now Cale knew that he didn’t have to bear the weight of the world by himself. You were bound to have bad days every now and then, but together you could get through so much more than either of you could separately.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #cavalanche #038

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sunflowersseemhappy · 4 years ago

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Do you have any headcanons for main 6 set in modern times? What kind of job would they have, what music would they like or whatever else? I love your headcanons, they're always so detailed and on point 💖

I really loved doing this, only reason it took so long is because I definitely over thought a lot of this. Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy the headcanons, I definitely want to do more of this! SO when I have the time I definitely will and I actually have a rough plan of what the story and the background for the six and MC’s would be.

The “Event” mentioned references the plague but when and if I get to it that will all be explained.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED but here is my Masterlist in the meantime!

Asra

You’ll usually find Asra in one of two places, the shop or the local cafe/bakery, living the slow city life.

Asra loves to people watch and more importantly he loves photography, he’s always taking pictures, a lot of them are of MC.

His bedroom wall is plastered with his photography and he sells a lot of them as a side gig on etsy.

He has a great blog too.

But his main focus is the shop, tucked away on a quiet corner street it feels faintly magical. Asra does tarot, sells candles, crystals and other trinkets, as well as herbal remedies that Julian admits work quite well.

In this AU Asra grew up in foster care, so when he finally found his home in the shop he never thought about living anywhere else.

It’s stayed that way for years, sharing a two bedroom flat above the shop with MC, its cluttered at times, filled with secondhand belongings but Asra loves having his own space and own things.

And he so loves taking his little holidays out of the city, bringing back more trinkets that bring good luck and fortune.

Asra always wears sneakers or trainers on his feet, mainly because all he does is walk in the city.

Although he does have a painted van for the shop deliveries; he and MC spent a week painting a swirling pattern on its sides.

His wardrobe is all tees with faded logos and cotton pants but on the rare occasion he decides to dress up Asra has an impossibly colourful blouse and faded jeans he loves to wear.

And there are so many hats! Vesuvia is sunny but he has more hats than he needs, although it's nice to have one for any occasion.

Also has crocs, they are an abomination of pink.

Asra’s phone of choice is an old samsung, he keeps meaning to update it but he’s a bit scared the photos on it will get lost.

Asra and technology don’t always mix well, for some reason...

Even in this universe Asra wouldn’t be Asra if he didn’t have Faust, a mischievous lavender python who always seems to escape her vivarium and ends up in Asra’s camera bag.

When Asra picked her out at the pets store he was told he was the only person she had ever not bitten or squeezed. Asra believes in fate, so he took her back home with him and the two are inseparable.

Asra oh so loves music, and just about any kind of tune can be found on his mp3 however he soon found his favourite to be the chillhop tunes the cafe played everyday. They really relax him.

The biggest Disney fan when he was younger, Asra then slowly decided Dreamworks were better but his favourite movies are those from Studio Ghibli. Asra simply adores the art, the music and the stories.

As mentioned Asra loves photography but he also quickly discovered watercolour paint and he doesn’t claim to be good at it but he does love making little pieces of art for birthdays and Christmas.

Speaking of which Christmas is his favourite holiday.

Asra also dabbles in growing orchids, he's too successful and there are so many he and MC don’t know what to do with them!

Asra’s favourite hobby aside from photography is rollerblading. He’s pretty good at it, cruising through the streets and along the dockside of the city (he definitely dragged MC into trying it out).

Asra never really thought he’d be one to get a tattoo but after getting Faust he changed his mind, since then he has a gorgeous complicated tattoo of the little snake on his shoulder blade.

It was only after “The Event” that Asra got another one; MC’s favourite flower on his hip bone.

Nadia

Nadia Santrivia, she’s beautiful, generous and married one of the richest men in the city, for the most part she’s alright with that.

Although Nadia hasn’t always lived in Vesuvia she’s tuned into the city around her so well, she’s in her element and thriving.

Work doesn’t end, if there was ever a beginning to start with. It's one thing after another; approving designs, attending fancy dinners, opening a charity fundraiser. Life is busy for the CEO of Vesuvia Industries.

Nadia’s happy to run Lucio’s business, because she knows she can do good with it but she can get lonely. Thankfully she has several friends who she can rely on to cheer her on...

The most important thing is that she can be herself, her own person, being last in line for her parent’s business and overshadowed by several sisters Nadia needed an escape.

Vesuvia provided the opportunity.

Nadia’s apartment is sat above the clouds in the skyscraper of Vesuvia Industries, much the same as the other universe home and work go hand in hand when it comes to Nadia.

She’s not materialistic, her apartment is clean and open and perfect for yoga and other purposes that require open space. It's very new and high tech, the coffee machine is her favourite thing though.

The views of the sunrise over the bay are gorgeous.

Ashamed to admit she has tons of shoes.

It’s usually required of Nadia to have the suits and dresses befitting a woman of her status, so when the sun goes down or she has a day off Nadia looks like an entirely different person.

She’s no less stylish, but her airy blouse’s, ripped denim jeans, subtle leather jacket and ankle boots give her a whole different persona, and man does it make her look good on her motorcycle.

Yes a motorcycle, Nadia owns one. It comes out of her garage only once a month but when it does she turns heads.

The rest of the time Naida is pretty eco-friendly with an electric car the business made just for her in a deep shade of purple.

As the CEO of the company Nadia is expected to have the latest iPhone model, her phone is always ringing and if she weren’t so patient she’d probably hurl it off the skyscraper roof.

Nadia always wanted a pet but she could never figure out what kind, and one dropped into her lap literally. Turns out she’s an owl person, although Nadia would never consider Chandra a pet more a companion.

A skyscraper is no place for a semi-wild owl but Nadia is happy enough to make the trip to the stables outside of Vesuvia to see Chandra and give her toys. Such a change from the small owlet Nadia raised.

When it comes to music Nadia is very picky, she spent her childhood listening to her sister’s choice of music and certain songs just put her in a bad mood, except for jazz.

That music preference surprised her but as soon as she discovered Lucio didn’t like it she was hooked. She thought about learning the saxophone (not to annoy Lucio or anything, no definitely not...)

Nadia’s not a big movie watcher, although she is a big fan of disaster movies when the mood strikes (it's nice to think about more chaotic things happening than signing a stack of papers), mainly she only has time to watch tv shows.

Her favourite is the Walking Dead but MC has caught her watching ‘how its made’ shows too. Of course being an avid inventor Nadia would be enthralled by seeing how her car or coffee machine is put together.

Speaking of inventing, although Nadia always wanted to make it her job she’s only ever gotten to approve the inventions her company makes.

It's not entirely what she wanted but thankfully she has just enough time to squeeze in working on her little projects. Ones she hopes will help others one day.

Nadia’s found it super important in the big city to keep herself safe, between her hobbies of yoga, kung fu and fencing she’s a pretty formidable opponent. It’s saved her life more than she’ll ever admit.

Her other hobbies, to list a few are horse riding, polo, piano, swimming, wine tasting, and playing those arcade grabber machines (she has about 50 teddy bears and MC has about the same amount). Most of those hobbies began in her childhood.

Nadia likes to pretend she is above getting a tattoo but anyone who knows her well enough will reveal she has a owl shadow tattoo on her inner heel.

Julian

Poor Julian is the definition of a struggling city batchelor, and he certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Still the most well traveled of the group Julian spent his formative years abroad in the army as a field medic (where he met Lucio), now though he’s a lean mean crime fighting machine!

Well he’s a forensics doctor for the Vesuvia PD, but it still counts as being a crime fighter! He’s never really lost that dramatic flair that's for sure.

He’s been a bit of everything; medic and doctor, waiter, translator, actor, sailor, troublemaker and a fugitive (but that’s a story for another day).

But Vesuvia truly is his real home, a place he’s always come back to and where he’s made friends and family, enemies, lovers, and memories.

Sure he lives in the ‘bad part’ of town as Asra calls it, but Julian feels at home enough that it doesn’t bother him, that and he’s got Mazelinka to handle the riff raff.

The two of them share a two-storey house that sits next to his favourite bar, a bit too convenient for Maz’s liking. Despite that the place is cozy and old, all wood flooring and furniture that's been around longer than Julian’s lifetime, it’s filled with the scent of cooking and coffee and other than the box tv and Julian’s phone there's almost no modern technology.

Julian’s room has faded photos of his friends, and postcards from places he’s been too and a few posters of his favourite plays, as well as rough sketches tacked to the corkboard his desk is littered with papers and he even has an old school microscope.

In the mess of his room only Julian can find the thing that he’s looking for, he calls it an ‘organized mess’ when in reality it’s really just a mess.

Unfortunately this extends to his clothing choices too, Julian is terrible at laundry so there is no end to the stains on his mellow patterned tees and jeans, the only smart thing about his wardrobe are his boots and oxfords.

Quite true to form his black trench coat is a constant companion. He usually dresses like he’s in a black and white movie or like a scruffy doctor when he’s in his lab coat.

Still has an eye patch, his depth perception when crossing roads is not great... there are a lot of hospital bills.

Also the reason he doesn’t drive unless he can help it, Julian doesn’t own a car but he’s prone to borrowing one if he needs it (usually from Asra).

Julian is very much the guy on the subway who falls asleep on your shoulder because it's the only place his mind isn’t working overtime.

MC thinks it’s very cute.

Julian’s not really too fussed about his phone of choice, Samsung, Apple, so long as he can make calls and do google searches on symptoms of a flu he’s good. No matter how hard he tries his screen is always cracked.

People often point out the raven following Julian around, he’s not too sure if its the same one but Julian knows its his own fault feeding the scrawny thing when it landed on his window pane. Now it won’t leave him alone, Julian took to calling it Malak and he’s quite fond of the bird even if it likes to cackle for food outside his window at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Maz has threatened to cook Malak on more than one occasion.

Music is one of the few things that helps Julian focus, he’s not usually super into any particular artist or album but his main love is music from musicals and movie soundtracks, if he’s able to do so he’ll sing along.

Lead forensic doctor Valdemar finds it highly unprofessional when they are conducting autopsies.

Almost has no time to watch movies or tv but if you strapped Julian to a chair and put on Brooklyn 99 or any kind of superhero movie he might enjoy it just a little bit...

Honestly though those things are just background noise for him, Julian will put on the tv to keep himself occupied while he’s doing reports. But he loves comedy movies and shows, they might tear him away from his laptop just long enough that he gets a few good laughs.

However if Mazlinka gets the old camcorder out he’s all over watching old home videos of him and Portia and his old hound dog, he’s just so nostalgic sometimes.

Thinks learning counts as a hobby, Julian habitually grabs any book he can to read through so youtube is a miracle in his eyes. Free content, that he can listen to and learn from as well as visually see? Yes please.

Julian learned to play the fiddle when he was younger, for a time as a teen he even went street performing to earn money for Portia’s obsession with bracelet making. He doesn’t play it much anymore but he’ll give MC a tune anyday.

He’s also very invested in cocktail mixing, only thing he mixes is Salty Bitters, he’ll argue any day that the Salty Bitter counts as a cocktail.

Also very invested in his self sustaining bio-tank at work, the other officers are growing concerned about the leeches Julian likes to keep in it. They’re planning an intervention.

The only tattoo Julian had was one forcibly given during “The Event”, his ‘murderers mark’ on his hand. He’s really ashamed of it because it reminds him of the part he had in the disaster that befell Vesuvia.

Muriel

He definitely suits the other universe more, it's even harder to get away from people in this modern world.

But the start remains the same, he was lost and his only friend was Asra for a long time, until Lucio came along and tricked him into doing unspeakable things as a ‘bodyguard’ until he escaped.

People are unavoidable and Muriel keeps to himself during his job as a keeper for a local animal sanctuary, raising and re-releasing wildlife with other volunteers, he practically runs the place.

But the volunteers know not to bother him especially when he goes back to his house on the hill, to take care of his chickens before he vanishes like usual into his house.

No one knows much about him, and he prefers it like that.

Muriel’s home is simple and honestly built for one, there’s only one chair, only one pillow on the bed, only one set of cutlery, only one of everything. It leaks on occasion and always needs fixing, he’ll forgo sleep to fix things.

Who needs more than four hours of sleep anyway?

A lot of Muriel’s belongings are from garage sales, or picked up off the side of the road, not a lot of money goes toward his comfort Muriel prefers that the animals in the sanctuary have comfortable beds and good food.

Muriel’s clothes? He wears them till they die, an usually when he picks them up from a garage sale they’re already pretty close.

For that reason Muriel doesn’t have a specific choice of clothing, he owns jumpers, tees, denim jackets, flannels and whatever jeans and pants fit. He has one pair of khaki coloured boots that are surprisingly well maintained and usually wears a beanie or cattleman hat to hide his face.

Old pick up, old pick up, old pick up! Owns an old pick up truck he fixed up, it breaks down regularly and only plays radio but Inanna enjoys riding in the back. Muriel likes driving a lot on those country roads.

All that’s to be said about Muriel and his phone is this; he owns a nokia and has no intention of getting a smartphone. Ever.

His hands are a bit big for it though, he’s called MC and Julian accidently so many times... and he only usually text’s, so that's awkward.

Inanna is Muriel’s constant companion, and when they’re in the city man do the two of them turn heads. Inanna is a wolfdog in this universe and she definitely looks more wolf than dog.

But she really is a big sweetheart, Muriel raised her from a puppy after she was rejected and placed in a shelter, he knew a wolf dog would need some special attention to grow into a perfect companion rather than a dangerous animal.

Anyone can look at Muriel and instantly think he’s one of those people who would play country music, for the most part that’s true. He does play the guitar and can sing okay, he does like country but his real love of music comes from indie artists.

He can’t really explain it but the music gives him a sense of carelessness and hope he’s never known.

Doesn’t really watch tv or movies, Muriel is almost always too busy for that but he’s found it the strangest thing, Inanna likes watching tv...

After that he got drawn in by the documentaries about animals, he didn’t really realize that people did shows about the habitats and behaviours of animals but he finds himself entranced by it when he passes by.

He soon relented and sits on the floor with his arm draped over Inanna as they watch documentaries about wolves in Alaska.

With the amount of animals Muriel raises anyone would call it a job, Muriel however would argue it's a hobby for him. Sure waking up every hour in the night to feed raccoon babies isn’t ideal but it's never been anything short of joyous to watch them go back to the wild.

Muriel's other hobby centres around his guitar and learning songs to play to himself and maybe a certain person *cough* MC *cough*.

He’s also an avid baker, none of his meals are ready made. Leading on from that he forages for mushrooms, and herbs rather than buys them.

Muriel doesn’t have a tattoo, only his scars.

He thought about getting some but he doesn’t trust someone to touch him that way and also he’s not a big fan of needles.

Probably a good thing otherwise Inanna and all his chickens names would be on his arm.

Portia

Absolutely suits the modern life in this universe, Portia somehow finds the time to do everything, the bustling worker or the relaxed dreamer.

She’s almost everywhere in the city, doing everything at once; working at Vesuvia Industries, grabbing the sweetest iced tea at the cafe, exploring the corruption of downtown streets.

Portia is obsessed with knowing every inch of the city, and what goes on inside it because it's a very strange city with a stranger history.

Portia is a great and helpful assistant to Nadia, but she’s also hiding a lot including her identity as Pasha Devorak the reporter for Vesuvian Times.

She has as many curious secrets as the city.

Portia previously lived in a small studio flat however since working for Nadia she has been lucky enough to afford to rent out a small cottage outside the city. She loves it so much and other than being in an AU not much has changed between the two cottages.

It’s shielded by so many grand trees and a vivacious garden that it feels like her own little world, the inside of the cottage is filled with hand knitted blankets, painted glass figurines and the warm smell of baked goods.

Sometimes its a bigger place than Portia can manage by herself but she likes taking to fixing things as they come along, she definitely is a fan of the saying “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!”

Her clothing choices are just so cute and by no means is she afraid of showing off her cottage core style; jumpers, skirts, vest tops, crop tops and patterned blouses look really good on her. Of course the garden requires the heavy duty stuff, sweatpants, a tattered tee and the old hoodie that refuses to die.

She’s not to much into heels even though she’s short, Portia prefers pumps and loafers because “comfort over beauty!” (although she would be pretty cute with or without).

Nadia finds Portia’s headstrong and optimism very amusing and definitely takes a few life lessons from Portia.

Who needs to drive? Portia doesn’t, she loves taking the bus or the train wherever she goes. That way she can bop her head to her tunes while watching the landscape go by, in a beautiful intricate place like Vesuvia it's important to take it all in.

That and everyone can agree that Portia behind the wheel of a vehicle is a disaster, she just gets so distracted.

Nadia has offered Portia a new phone many times but Portia is plenty happy enough with her older gen 6 iphone (because if she got a new one she’d have to get wireless headphones!) Also she’d feel bad for Siri.

Unfortunately Pepi the cat came from terrible circumstances, certain circumstances where Portia jumped of a bridge after witnessing someone chuck a mewling bag into the river.

But Portia is so thankful for her amazing kitten, the two of them protect each other. Though Pepi’s idea of protecting Portia is making sure the birds don’t feed from the feeder outside and meowing at the fridge when it’s too loud.

Portia’s music taste is disarming to those who don’t know her well, she is a huge fan of rock, any rock music just so long as it’s good and a classic (ACDC, Queen, etc...) she likes to think she is a connoisseur of rock.

Julian can not put into words how much he abhorred it when his little sister would blast that music to drown out his.

Portia will either watch every movie or show when it comes out or will binge watch a show or movie after forgetting it existed. There is no inbetween, but she loves media, consumes it even.

Detective shows and spy movies are her favourite but she’ll enjoy just about anything unless it's a musical she was forced to watch one too many times because of Julian.

Portia has so many hobbies, one would say too many but she digresses.

Of course gardening is at the top of her list, moreso because the garden always needs doing but she gets a great sense of pride growing her own food and Pepi loves chasing the spiders that hide in the strawberries.

Portia is also a very avid blogger, there is a lot of conspiracy theories on there but with a following of half the city it seems pretty popular.

In her downtime Portia is loves to relax with her favourite soft drink and beat V3suviaC0unt#1 ass on her games console, she finds the shrieking of her enemy to be great fun.Portia’s love of games however soon transpired to collecting action figures of her favourite game characters.

She is very protective of them.

Like Muriel, Portia also doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s not that she’s afraid of needles but she just hasn’t found a reasonably good design to get yet.

Lucio

Lucio is definitely the one out of the six who was made for the modern world, sure being a Count is cool and all but in this world he can have both power and freedom and not have to sit in every meeting called.

He’s never once taken anything seriously, Lucio’s power has been built on the backs of others without him ever having to raise a finger.

It’s happened everywhere he goes, in the army he sacrificed the good of his teammates to rise in the ranks, he forced the Asra’s parents to make him the best prosthetic arm in history, he codled up to an old dying man to get his business and when he found out that wasn’t for him Lucio pawned it off to his wife and rolled onto the next devious plan.

Lucio’s been an army man, a CEO, a crime lord and the cause of “The Event” but maybe one day he’ll rise above those defining moments and be greater (but that is a story for another day).

Of course Lucio did live with Nadia for a time, but when he made her CEO Lucio took to calling his mansion home, Nadia wasn’t a fan of the creepy vibe it gave off which is just as well because Lucio hosts a lot of unsavoury characters...

True to form each room in that place has only the most expensive belongings, every bed is king size and the garage is filled with gas guzzling monstrosities of cars. It’s not cluttered by any means, but it's gaudy and shows off his wealth.

The only place things seem normal is the kitchen, Lucio doesn’t spend much time in there but on the wall sits a board of old memories when he got along with the others, they didn’t always find him unbearable.

Lucio’s torn it down and put it up so many times already he can never make up his mind if he wants to keep it.

Only thing Lucio ever liked about running a company were the expensive suits he was told he had to wear at least that was a great improvement on his fashion sense. Of course he’s not always wearing suits sometimes he’ll just wear a dress shirt with one too many buttons undone and a pair of white chinos and trainers.

Sunglasses are a must, that, and a lint roller. The dogs shed a lot...

As mentioned before Lucio has a lot of very pricey cars, he is the product of what would happen in Portia was given a car, he’d get distracted and crash it into the back of another vehicle.

He’s lucky anyone will insure him and that he has so many cars.

Lucio tried to be different to the ‘normies’ by getting his company to make a phone suitable to his taste. A phone that had two charging ports (to charge it twice as fast) and a waterproof casing (that kept it a bit too dry and hot so it spontaneously combusted in his pocket).

Lucio now has the latest iPhone instead.

Owns a lot of pets, the exotic eels, macaques, cockatoo, etc... The same as he does in the normal universe, none of which are particularly nice and well behaved. He prefers his fur babies Mercedes and Melinchor.

They were two dogs he saw fighting in dog fights and he was in love instantly buying them and bringing them to live with him, chaos follows those two like a bad odour.

Lucio decided that to be the cool rich guy he needed to like cool music, for the longest time he spent his time listening to hip hop no one really ever notices that Lucio in fact hates hip hop, he much prefers pop music.

It's a secret he will take to his grave but MC has definitely heard him singing to Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ in the shower.

Lucio is the biggest movie buff in Vesuvia, he’s definitely offended when no one invites him to premieres, which is why he’s done all he can to get into movies (with little avail). And he will watch anything and enjoy it, he is usually one of those people who don’t realize the book exists when such a movie is out.

But do you know what his favourite kind of movies are?

Romantic-comedies, or just anything that's classed as romance. Date nights with Lucio are pretty good but he cries a lot, poor guy.

Just don’t get started with Lucio and hobbies, if he’s tried something once he’ll make out he knows everything about it and even if he hasn’t tried it he’ll pretend he has. He’s forever speaking out of his a** but no one dares call him out on it.

That being said Lucio really doesn’t have the capability to commit to a hobby, unless parties count? They don’t? They should!

Although one could say maybe planning parties does count...

Tattoos? Lucio has a few; his army number on the back of his neck, a sword piercing a heart on his chest and the twin silhouettes of the dogs running on the heel of his foot.

#the arcana #asra #nadia #julian #muriel #portia #lucio #modern #au #alternative #universe #the arcana asra #the arcana nadia #the arcana julian #the arcana muriel #the arcana portia #the arcana lucio

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chronolxtry · 4 years ago

Text

hello tungle dot hell,

my name is stanley, and im a minor.

i come to relay information about my situation.

> i made my official departure from my abusive home yesterday.

> my brother (former abuser as well, he was removed from the home years prior to this event. he is now an adult) proceeded to prove my point by berating me through text, saying how i don’t know shit, my mother isnt abusive and im a liar. he said ill end up in a program just like he did, but honestly. im willing to take that risk, im different than him, and i actually have a brain beyond my skull. i can find my way if thats the case, if a program is shelter, ill take that shelter. too bad hes throughly influenced by my mother and her ways. so no older brother, like ever.

> i am currently crashing at my friend’s apartment in hopes dcf will pick me up before the three day window is up, my friend’s father only gave me three days here. which is understandable, finances are very limited.

> i called a hotline for shelter, and i wasnt able to get any help because im still a minor for the next six months, and because of legalities of that—including parental consent if i remember right. i may be wrong though, i just remember that they said they were unable to assist me because im a minor.

> my mother isnt calling the police on me in order to return me, thankfully. so im glad im not being actively hunted by the police. in my message to her i told her that her efforts were futile in that regard, so i guess she gave in.

> because of how much my mother has done for (or possibly manipulated, but im not entirely sure) the family, any extended family is unfortunately unavailable. i won’t be surprised if i end up with text messages from other family members of harassment. im prepared for this. however if someone in the family does step forward, and has the courage to face away like i did and help me, i WILL let yall know.

>my father is COMPLETELY out of the equation. he is a long time alcoholic and hard drug abuser, and he refuses to recognize that i am not a woman. he refuses to respect me, and has not paid any/has paid little child support (i think he owes 10k, or around there?)—as well as abandoning my brother and i.

> i will be calling another local youth center today. (will reblog with an update)

> my mother offered to move out in the meantime to give me shelter, but returning to the household in my opinion would not be beneficial. i don’t want to fall into her guilt traps and the like. but honestly, if it comes down to it, it might very well be my last resort.

> i have one last trick up my sleeve. i have a friend in another city that said he could maybe convince his roommate if i could seek refuge with them for an indeterminate amount of time. but, this is very much not set in stone, and im aware. (update: now it seems that hes unable? i dont know.)

so. thats whats happening.

very sorry for the long post but this is super super important.

advice, resources (i live in eastern connecticut, usa if location is needed for such things), anything youre able to help with is very much appreciated.

please reblog instead of liking, so people know about my current status. this post and its reblogs are your source of updates on the situation at hand.

tumblr decided to shadowban me i think, or whatever, because im unable to send or receive messages on here. so, you are able to reach me privately via dms on instagram, user kuro.ginga

thank you in advance,

signed, user kuro.ginga

#tw abuse #abusive home #signal boost #help #uhh yeah this is a predicament and im so sorry to post about it #but #just to let you know

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swynlake-rp · 3 years ago

Photo

“Our family name is broken, and I’m gonna fix it!”

FULL NAME: Pacifica Northwest BASED ON: Pacifica Northwest (Gravity Falls) FACE CLAIM: Dove Cameron PRONOUNS: She/her BIRTHDAY: November 1, 1999 CURRENT STATUS: Closed

Character Information || cw: controlling parents ||

There are people born into the lap of luxury. After that, there is Pacifica Northwest. Initially famous for their entrepreneurial spirit in founding the Magick-friendly town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, they went on to make their fortune through careful deals with the local First Nations tribes, investing in banks, founding some of the country’s most famous businesses, and pushing the scientific community forward. No matter who are you, you have something created by the Northwests in your house. And everything about their lives is designed to demonstrate their wealth, power, and prestige.

From the moment of her birth, Pacifica was raised with that story and that knowledge to bolster her. She had private tutors in every subject from math to fashion to sports to the arts so that no matter what she was trying to do, she would be the best at it. Before long, Pacifica’s name was almost as well-known as her parents. Pageant queen, golf champion, fashion icon, and a straight A student on top of it, she was the It girl that everyone wanted to be. Plus, she was famously generous with the people she considered friends, so that people constantly fought for the position, if only so they could experience a little of the fabulous wealth and luxury she lived inside. When it came to the public eye, Pacifica’s life was perfect. Who wouldn’t want to be her?

Behind closed doors, there was a different story. Keeping up that level of excellence wasn’t easy. Every step of Pacifica’s life was chosen for her when she was younger, from the kinds of extracurricular activities she was involved in to the clothes that she would wear as soon as she stepped out of the house. As they continually explained to her, until she could be sure to make the correct decision, they would make all of them so she wouldn’t embarrass herself. Any hints of defiance were swiftly suppressed. Before long, she had learned to stop giving even those hints. It was pointless anyway.

As she got older, she started to see more cracks in her family’s façade. After all, she’d been told even as a child that if there was the slightest hint things weren’t going to go her way, the smart person cheated to ensure it did. There were stories that didn’t match her own memories. And then there were the record books that her parents refused to let her see, telling her that she would find out more when she officially joined the family business. But since she couldn’t change any of it, she didn’t spend more time thinking about it. Instead, she focused on herself.

After graduating high school, she and her parents took a gap year where they traveled the world by yacht and plane. Periodically, her father would disappear. But if she asked any questions, she was told it was ‘business’ which meant that it was the end of the discussion. In the meantime, Pacifica shopped, went sightseeing, and updated her social media accounts to demonstrate just how cultured and perfect her life was.

After that year, she started attending Stanford University in California. The attention on Pacifica never lessened and neither did the expectations. However, it was also the first time she was away from her parents’ direct influence. Quietly, she started to experiment with rebelling against their strict rules, sneaking out in disguise in order to try to do some of the things she had always wanted to but had never been allowed. It was also the first time she started to allow herself to imagine what life would be like if she made her own choice for her future instead of following the path her parents had laid out for her.

However, everything changed the moment the news hit the papers. It turned out that her parents had been pouring millions into different Anti-Magick groups and Anti-Magick lobbyists around the country. There was a massive public outcry and calls to boycott everything connected with the Northwest name. Even in the town of Gravity Falls, people started to push back against the Northwests which had never happened before.

In a public move to save their reputation, they pushed the blame for the donations onto several of their high-level employees to shift the blame. They also announced that in a gesture of good faith and as a mark of their trust and respect for the Magick community, they were transferring Pacifica to PrideU in Swynlake to finish out her education.

The newspapers announced this fact before they had bothered to tell Pacifica herself.

Suddenly, she was having to pack to fly across the world to act as public relations and damage control for her family. She was reminded that as a Northwest, she was expected to be the best person there and do whatever it could to protect their family name. And that she wasn’t welcome back until she had succeeded.

So here she was, ready to start her final year of University. In a brand new town. At a brand new school. Surrounded by brand new people. Who have every reason to distrust and hate her. But hey? She’s always loved a challenge. She’s going to take this town by storm until everyone knows the name Pacifica Northwest. And nothing is going to stand in her way.

✓ Obedient, intelligent, natural leader

✖ Spoiled, shallow, cliché rich girl

Character Suggestions

None

Current Relationships

None

Possible Relationships

click here!

Magical Abilities

None

#gravity falls #allc #femalech #nonmagicch #gravityfallsch #closedch #closedfemalech

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scullysexual · 4 years ago

Text

{untitled post col fic: 2}

Chapter 1 link here. Ao3 link here.

Still working on a title for this. So this has become a thing that looks like it’s going to be regularly updated. There’s no posting schedule rn, I’m just posting whenever. Currently I’m eager to write this so chances are it’ll be posted on random days.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface Let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

- - -

Chapter Two.

Sunlight streams down through the bars, across her face. She tries to block the light with an arm but it’s useless. The cement ground is hard and her other arm aches with laying on it all night.

It wasn’t the first time Scully had found herself in The Box and it wouldn’t be the last.

Scully stretches, her body just about fitting the length of the small room, and pushes herself to sit up. Morning has arrived and she won’t have to wait long for somebody to unlock the doors. She’s been in here before, she knows the drill.

In the meantime, she shakes her arm back to life and wonders when it will be time to move on from this place.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The red clone forcefully yanks her out of the van by the chain between her handcuffs. The metal cuts against her skin and Scully bites her tongue so as not to yell out. Once upon a time, she was putting the handcuffs on.

Having been stuck in darkness for what feels like forever, the sun is too bright and Scully finds herself having to squint.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” the red one tells her before pushing her into the line. She stumbles slightly but quickly regains her balance, throwing daggers towards the back of the clone’s head.

With her eyes adjusted, it doesn’t take Scully long to realise where she is. There’s a drop in her stomach as she stares up at her prison. They can build a new building but the fencing and grass have all relatively stayed the same. This was once the spot The White House sat.

She’s home. She’s walked past this street, this area, multiple times. Her apartment not too far away.

It becomes too much, to be standing here like she is, anxious and afraid of what to come but she will not cry, she won’t give them that.

There’s a thought to run. It was possible. Only her hands are cuffed together, her feet free. Adrenaline will make her run faster and she knows her way around this city probably better than the clones do.

But no. Her eyes catch the guards that stand around, their hands glued to their machine guns. She might be able to run fast but not faster than they can pull the trigger.

“Are these the new ones?”

A man’s voice cuts through her thoughts. Scully looks to the front to see a man with a long face and pointy chin, his hair a yellow colour of blonde. For the most part he looks human but Scully can see the slightly larger orbital cavity.

One of them. The colonists Mulder used to talk about, that she never believed existed- that nobody believed existed- standing before her.

“They are, sir,” the blue clone pipes up. “Most of them were found hiding in the Outskirts.”

The Colonist makes his way down the line, seeming to check each woman out. When he reaches Scully he stops and Scully doesn’t have the nerve to look him in the eye anymore.

“You were supposed to bring them to me unharmed,” the Colonist shouts, sounding furious.

“We had no option but to, sir,” the red one explains. With the Colonist looking away, Scully grins, he doesn’t sound so sure of himself now. “She forced us to.”

Her grin falls quickly when the Colonist turns back to her. His hand brushes against the bruise.

“We’ll get that looked at,” he says calmly and soothingly.

And maybe it was his hand touching her that had bile rising in her throat. Or maybe because she was scared and alone and feeling that fire slowly begin to fade out that makes her bat the Colonist’s hand away and cry out.

“Don’t touch me!”

She can almost hear everyone hold their breath. The Colonist’s grey eyes turn to cold ice. Out of nowhere something heavy collides with her ribs and abdomen. A cracked rib surely as Scully falls to the ground, her torso screaming in agony, those tears she promised she wouldn’t give them coming to her eyes as she splutters and coughs.

“And let that be a lesson to you all!” she hears the Colonist shout.

Scully stays laying on the ground, clutching her ribs, trying to calm herself. She’ll kill him, she thinks. She’ll kill them all.

“Take them inside,” the Colonist instructs. “Prepare them for the Initiation Ceremony.”

There’s a trample of feet moving. Scully knows she should get up, to follow them, but if they just left her here to die she wouldn’t fight it.

“What about this one?” one of the clones ask.

“Take her to the hospital.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Spirits were high. One of the girls was pregnant and that meant the community had a reason to celebrate.

Mulder learned quickly that being part of the Higher didn’t really mean much. He got a nice house and wasn’t a slave but the real power still resided with the colonists.

He was told they run the facilities that train the new slaves before they’re sold for auction next month. He had bought Chloe, of course. In a race against another potential buyer, Mulder had almost spent a year’s allowance on her for fear she would end up with the slimy bastard who’s reputation for owning most of the girls put on sale just so he could brutally mutilate and abuse those who didn’t give him results in the first month sent shivers down Mulder’s spine. He had won the girl and after two months with no results, it was lucky he had too.

A new month was approaching and a new auction along with it. Most of the girls auctioned off came from the facility but if a Higher grew tired of the slave they had, if she had given them a child and they wanted no more, she too would be in the mix. Every month for the past four months Mulder had gone to the auction in the hopes that maybe she would be there but it hadn’t been the case and he was beginning to lose hope she was even in California.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Motels and bars had become a rarity in the world now, however the odd one still stood, mainly to serve the Colonists or hybrids who might have to travel. They were dangerous for a simple human to visit, he and Scully would often avoid them for fear of capture but right now they were the best place to head if they wanted information.

Concealed by a hood, in a booth furthest to the corner, the few people occupying the bar pay him no attention. Skinner sits beside him, a beer in front of him, and when he takes a sip, his face contorts in disgust.

“Tastes like shit,” the man says, pushing the beer away.

“Keep drinking it anyway,” says Mulder. They didn’t want to draw suspicion to themselves after all.

The door to the bar opens and a weasel little man wanders in. He throws a nervous look to a man nearest the door- someone Mulder immediately recognised to be a Colonist- before his eyes dart around, landing on Mulder’s.

The little man makes a beeline for their booth, sitting himself down opposite Mulder.

“You’re Mulder, right?” the man asks.

Mulder refuses to clarify, asking, “What have you got?”

“I was told you were looking for someone called Scully.”

Mulder’s heart clenches in his chest. After all these years of searching is he really going to find what he’s looking for in one man.

“What do you know?” Skinner asks.

“Just that she gets auctioned a lot,” the man says. He keeps his voice low, his eyes constantly wandering over to the others in the bar. “That she’s trouble.”

Mulder fights to keep the grin from appearing on his face, he would expect no less from his Scully.

“Do you know where she is?”

With a clear glance towards the Colonist closest to the door, Mulder’s informant shifts forward.

“There are rumours she’s in California.”

Mulder bashes his fist on the table causing the drinks to spill and the man to jump in his seat.

“Rumours?!” Mulder shouts. A few people look their way before going back to their business. His voice quieter this time, Mulder asks, “All you can give me is rumours?”

The man is pale, scared and nervous.

“That’s- that’s all I know,” he splutters.

Clenching his jaw, Mulder sits back in his seat and shakes his head.

The door opens to enter a newcomer and the man’s face looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more,” the man says. He’s quickly standing from his seat. “Cali,” he says again as he backs away from the booth. “Go to Cali.”

Mulder was pissed. All these years and still no closer.

“I’m not following rumours,” he declares.

“You might not have a choice,” Skinner says, Mulder’s voice of reason since the disappearance of Scully. His sanity. “It’s been five years and this is the closest we’ve came. We have a location.”

Skinner was right. It may just be a rumour but it was the first utter of a location and rumours have some truth to them.

So Mulder nods, a new plan formulating in his mind. California his new destination.

“Cali,” he says agreeing. “We just have to get there.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The door is unlocked and Edie stands in the doorway. She’s younger than Scully yet her hybrid-status puts her much higher position than Scully will ever be. Not that Edie sees that. Babysitting future human sex slaves was never her end goal.

“Learnt your lesson?” Edie asks.

A question she asks every time Scully ends up in The Box and each time Scully nods. They both know full well that by next time, Scully will be back in this box.

“Pack up your stuff,” Edie says as Scully climbs out the room. “You’re leaving.”

Her month is up already, Scully thinks. She hadn’t been keeping track. Days and months didn’t work like they used too, Scully doesn’t even think they call it 2002 anymore.

But this was it, she was leaving the prison. Her face scarred and her clothes consisting a multiple grey dresses. She wonders who long of a life she has left before they realise her body cannot build babies.

#post col sad angsty fic #i write

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wolf-555-writer · 5 years ago

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Target On My Back Part 7

This one’s kinda long xd. Oops. Enjoy, enjoy.

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: After confessing your feelings, Natasha and you are now together. But will it last? Working as SHIELD Agents together seems to be going perfectly, but how about your personal life? The past still seems to haunt you in the nights, but will it only stay in your dreams? Can it all be fixed, or is it way too late for that?

Word Count: 5,523

Tossing and turning. Trying to escape. Trying to run away. Far, far away. A sharp inhale of air, followed by a contraction of all the muscles in your feverish body, you scare awake. Wrapped up in the sheets and the slightly oversized T-shirt sticking to your clammy back. A trembling sigh leaves your mouth, now slightly relaxing. You check your left and your eyes shift over a small picture frame on the wooden bedside table. It holds an old photo, one edge torn off and wrinkled, portraying two people in love - beyond a doubt - who both were stupidly unaware of that at the time. Eventually locking your sleepy eyes on the alarm clock next to the frame. The illuminated numbers read 3:41.

Great… Another restless night. Rubbing your sweat-stained face with your hands in desperation when a calm voice eases, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, just a stupid nightmare”, you answer the woman who was peacefully asleep beside you but woken up by some troubled movements. Or was it a memory? You wonder. Natasha sits upright in bed and runs a hand through her messy, red hair before gently placing it on your shoulder. “Was it about…”, she strokes your back softly, “you getting shot? Like the last time?”. She hesitates a bit with the question, knowing the tension it brings. “No it wasn’t”, you grunt, making it sound more resentful than anticipated. Now that your eyes have fully adjusted to the dark room, you’re able to see her upset expression clearly, without a doubt caused by your last comment.

“If it were possible I would take it all back, but I can’t, okay”. Meanwhile the redhead had let go of you, her warm touch replaced by a cold sensation. “I have to live with the choices I made. All the things I did”. Lying down on the mattress again, she has turned her back towards you and pulls on the sheets to cover herself completely. She keeps her secrets, especially about the time in the Red Room. It’s a difficult subject for her. No surprise, judging by the information SHIELD has on the KGB-owned Academy. But you’re hoping that one day she’ll let you in. Under her breath Natasha mutters, “It’s all easy for you”, which was meant to remain inside, but managed to slip out. Unfortunately, a little too loud.

You scoff. “What is that supposed to mean?”. With a quick roll - and heavy sigh - Natasha turns to face you. “Like I said, I have to live with my choices. With all the scars I can’t erase. All you have left are the physical ones. The only reminder. But with a clear, carefree mind, pretending like it never happened”.

“Pretending?! So you think it’s all rainbows and sunshine for me huh? No horrible things haunting my mind?”, you snap. She’s got a point there though. It’s not a contest, but if it was, she would be by far the winner. All the trauma she needs to cope with. And mostly on her own. You're not the only one who has restless nights.

“Okay, just- forget about it. Forget about what I said. I’m sorry”, you sigh tiredly and let your body plump down on the mattress next to the one you’re sharing this bed with. “I’m sorry, Nat”. Caressing your cheek with the back of her index finger as she whispers, “It’s okay”, causing a small smile to form at your features. A second attempt. “But, the bad dream. I think it was about... when I was younger. Like really young, when I was just a kid. I felt grief and-”, taking a deep breath in, “and anger. A lot of anger. A rage inside of me”.

I can clearly see that ‘rage’, Natasha thinks. Maybe a good thing she didn’t say that out loud. You look at Natasha, expecting an answer, a memory you don’t have anymore. But she turns away, deliberately breaking eye contact, and murmurs, “Just go back to sleep, it’s late”. “Are you kidding me?”. “It’s complicated”. “Complicated? Is that all?”. Oh no, here we go again…

“Well, what do you want me to say, huh? Recruited by the KGB when we were only innocent kids. Raised, trained and forced to kill in the Red Room, and after the mandatory graduation ceremony operatives at that same KGB, doing the most unspeakable things, no questions asked. Do you want to hear that?! Is that it?!”

You remain remarkably quiet, a bit blown away by Natasha’s sudden outburst of words, who in the meantime sat upright in bed again. “We’re both broken. You as much as I am. Don’t you dare deny that”. With that final statement she lays down, facing the wall and not you, tucking herself in tightly. This time there’s no turning around.

After a few minutes Natasha's breathing has become slower and more rhythmic, telling you she's asleep again. Twenty minutes of mindlessly staring at the white ceiling later, you climb out of bed and feel the coldness hit the bare skin on your legs. You really stepped out of line tonight. Did you just assume you both could pick up where you left off? Obviously forgetting about the trying-to-kill-each-other part for a moment... A splash of cold water hits your face, now in the bathroom you stare into the mirror at your own reflection, wide awake. “It’s complicated”, you mutter faintly and scoff. “No. We are complicated...”.

A true balance - that’s the key. It’s not a weakness. In fact, it even makes you a better SHIELD Agent. But you gotta admit, sometimes emotions and feelings can be damn difficult. Like right now.

“On my way back. All the intel acquired”, you report over the communication device in your ear. “Almost at the rendezvous point, Coulson”. After a not-so-well-rested night, and plenty of coffee, a new assignment for Agent Romanoff and you was waiting in the morning. With a strictly professional attitude you managed to get through the briefing. Or so you thought, because as always you were not that good at hiding your emotions. Keeping that so-called true balance is easier said than done. Fortunately, it was a pretty standard op, also where the two of you conveniently needed to go separate ways. Maybe we’re not meant to be, thinking back to last night's heated discussion still occupying your mind. Maybe it’s better if we’d go our separate ways, because, like Nat said, we’re both broken. Some things just can’t be fixed...

Too caught up in thoughts, you almost didn’t realize you reached the intersection. Agent Romanoff is not there yet. She’s probably right behind you, as she had to cover a greater distance to get here. After 15 minutes of waiting you’re certain she missed the agreed upon meeting place. However, she can take care of herself, so the question to wait for her or to continue the mission is easily answered. You carry on. And besides, you’ll see her at Headquarters for the debriefing anyway. Right?

“Agent (Y/L/N), how many minutes out till pickup?”, you receive in your earpiece. “Don’t wait up for me”, you inform calmly, though anyone could hear that you’re slightly out of breath.

“Excuse me? What do you think you're doing?”

“I took a small detour. Might be a little later”. Well aware you’re disobeying a direct order, but it’s not the first time. And above all, it’s for a specific reason. You would do it again in a heartbeat, because something doesn’t feel right. She should’ve given an update about her status. “I tried her comm, but I couldn’t reach her”, you explain. Whatever goes on in your personal life can’t affect you in the field. Both of you know how to be professionals during work. She knows that. You know that. And that’s why you’re worried. It stays silent on the other end, meaning they already knew her communication device is not working. You continue, “Coulson, could you give me her last known location”. Again, total silence. “I know you can hear me. I’m going after her either way, you can’t stop me. So if you could give me the location of Agent Romanoff it would save a lot of time and the faster I’ll be- no, we will be back”. You recalled Romanoff's route from the briefing this morning, but technically she could be anywhere. A sigh is heard through the static crackling, followed by a definitive answer, “... Okay. I couldn’t change your mind anyway. Before the comm went dark she was last seen near a parking garage, 0.5 kilometers south, in the direction you’re now heading”. “Thank you, sir”.

Your gut-feeling was right, because what you encounter on the ground level is nothing good. Nothing good at all. A rush of adrenaline is taking over all of your senses as you spot them. Bodies. Scattered around. Dead. Bullet holes in concrete pillars and in parked cars that their owners safely left behind, unknowing what would happen today. But no Natasha. You’re starting to regret that fight last night more and more. Out of instinct you grab your gun from the holster and proceed with caution, following the path of destruction. You know she can take care of herself, pretty good actually, but that doesn’t mean the situation hasn’t gotten you worried. “Coulson, something has happened here. I don’t know what, but I’m gonna find out”.

How did they find me? Natasha ponders while landing a brutal elbow on a guy’s temple who thought he could easily take her. That was his first mistake, the same all the others before him made. When the ex-spy turns around, leaving the knocked-out idiot behind her, a gun is pointed at her head. “Never turn your back on enemy, makes you easy target”, he mocks with a thick accent. Then a shot is fired. The guy with accent releases his finger from the trigger and leans forward, landing face-first on the cold cement. A dark red hole in the back of his head. Natasha looks up. Standing in the distance, behind a red station wagon she spots a familiar SHIELD Agent.

“I got your back Nat. Always”. She sends a loving smile your way and starts filling you in. “I got ambushed on my way to you and lost signal on my comm, my guess they’re jamming it, so I decided to take cover here. Not so exposed and easier to conceal myself than out there in the street”. “Copy that. I figured, ran into the same problem with my comm too. And good thinking. How many and who are-”

The conversation is cut short, caused by the sound of metal colliding with metal. No time to talk. Both take a stealth position behind the red coloured vehicle and use hand gestures to make a strategic plan. At Natasha signalling ‘Go’ you both dash to a different side, Glock ready, and shoot until you’ve reached the next parked car.

You listen to their ongoing discussion as they’ve taken cover too. Who are these people? And what do they want? They appear to be talking in a foreign language. Could it be... Russian? You fire a couple of shots and take a quick peek. Your suspicion is confirmed when you identify one of their weapons. Definitely Russian-made.

3… 2… 1, now! Natasha jumps up and slides over the hood smoothly, kicking the approaching goon in the neck without breaking a sweat. You’ve also jumped up at the rear and deliver a precise hook on your attacker's nose, hearing it crack, and follow up with a powerful uppercut on the chin, launching him backwards. Simultaneously grabbing your own guns, Romanoff and you hit the others in sight until both mags are empty. Words such as 'get that traitor' and 'who’s the other one' are echoing through the large, concrete structure accompanied by multiple footsteps. Guess your Russian remained somewhere in your brain after all. Nice. But first things first, considering you're outnumbered judging by the amount of voices, you both have to get the hell out of here. Squatted and leaning against a blue sedan, out of sight for now, you slide in a new magazine when Romanoff says, “We’ve got to do something before they pin us down”. Several rounds pierce the metal of the sedan and the windows above the two of you explode into tiny glass splinters. As a reaction you lift your arm to protect the face and slam your eyes shut. “Totally agree with you, Nat”, you shout back over the loud gunfire. “Good. Cover me”.

“I got you”, you return and steady your gun to fire multiple rounds at a shiny new BMW where the attack originates from. Romanoff runs as fast as she can and you prevent her from getting shot. Although, you can’t prevent the weapons from being fired and bullets start to snap off the concrete. Luckily, she’s able to evade those meant for her and slides the last couple of meters over the rough floor to her desired spot. Lying on her side on the ground, now shielded by a bulky, black SUV, she observes the four targets along the underside of the vehicle, positive she can hit them. And she does. Eliminating every last one of them, till her final bullet.

It’s gone silent. All the lifeless bodies, not making a single sound anymore. Struck by at least one bullet, but most of them by more. In the meantime you jogged to Natasha and she asks, “I'm out of ammo, you got any?”. “Nope, this one’s empty too”. You make a small wave-motion with your Glock and suddenly spot movement in the corner of your eye. A gun, gripped by a short guy appears from behind a concrete pillar close to the shiny, now heavily damaged car where the others came from seconds ago. Patiently waiting for his perfect moment to strike. Unexpected. Both you and Natasha dive to the ground, desperately searching for cover, knowing damn well there isn’t any. Natasha is faster though, as always, but instead reaches for your ankle, followed by two short pops and a thud, resembling a body hitting the ground. “How did you know I carry a spare gun with me?”. She gives a brief glance. Your past. Have you become too predictable? Or predictable to just Natasha? Maybe that's why you two are such a good team. As long as she doesn’t betray you that is. She has done it before, turning her back on you. No, stop it. She won’t do that. Not again, I know her. Right?

“All clear?”, Natasha sort of asks, snapping you out of thought as she sweeps the surroundings with your spare gun. “Let’s not find out and get away from ‘this’ here”. With the coast clear for the moment, you both go searching for a vehicle - one without a flat tire - and decide to split up. Unfortunately, there are not many cars in the parking lot, so you go a level higher, but abruptly come to a halt.

“Wait! (Y/N), just-”. Natasha pauses. “What’s up?”. Is there something she wants to tell you? Something she should’ve told earlier?

“Be careful okay”. You look at her confused. Not what you expected. You can handle yourself too, she knows that. Then a smile forms. “You know I always look over my shoulder, right”. Yet your answer doesn’t seem to ease her mind. The expression she has, you've never seen before. The worry in her eyes, it’s as if she’s scared. For what? “Fine, I’ll be careful. But for you the same”. She gives a small nod but still doesn’t look convinced. “Let’s see who can score us a ride the fastest”, you challenge and sprint away.

The SHIELD Agent has found a possible getaway vehicle and smashes the window on the driver side to pieces. No car-alarm, that’s why she chose this one. Jump-starting the old pick-up truck that she is about to borrow and without making too much noise Natasha speeds away in your direction. Or so she thought. After searching for what seems to be the entire parking garage multiple times, there’s no sign of you. Only the engine sound of the truck can be heard, nothing else. No Russian-talking, no gunshots, no screams. Everybody is gone. And so are you.

I won't turn my back on you (Y/N). Not again. Never again, she pledges, clutching the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles have turned white. Already blaming herself for not warning you enough. She only wanted to protect you. Yet, this wouldn’t have happened if she had just told you the truth. Right?

Natasha closes the door behind her with a loud bang followed by a muffled grunt. Thinking back to the conversation that just went down, if it were to be called a conversation. A lot of shouting and wide arm gestures were involved. And anger. “Are you questioning my ability? Or my loyalty?”, is what she’d said to Director Fury. Yet getting the same response back as before. No. SHIELD won’t send a team, stand down Agent Romanoff. Another grunt manages to escape. “So we are all just expendable operatives to you?”, was her last comment before the Director showed her the door.

“So, that didn't go very well I guess?”, a voice eases. “You guessed right”. She marches away, almost so fast that Barton can’t keep up. “Talk to me Nat, who were those guys again?”. “Some people I knew”. “Ah, old buddies of yours”. “That's one way to describe them”. “Not so friendly, got it”, Clint states, barely able to follow Natasha’s pace. “I need to find Coulson”, she eventually speaks. She doesn’t care about losing her job. All she cares about is getting you back. Whatever it takes.

Something in his features tells Natasha that he already knows. “Is this what I think it is?”, he asks the former spy. “Unresolved family issues”, she answers the SHIELD Agent. Maybe it's a good thing (Y/N) can't remember, she reckons while listening to Barton’s astonishment. “Wait- family?”. “It's complicated”, Natasha responds curtly and turns to Coulson again. “You know there’s nothing I can do Romanoff”, he says. “If the Director won’t approve a rescue mission, then my hands are tied too”. Natasha is about to walk away, constructing what seems to be Plan E at the moment - hijacking a quinjet and hacking every possible camera, database or whatever needed to find your position - when Coulson’s words catch her attention and make her stop in her tracks.

“Off the record, I may have the location of Agent (Y/L/N)”. “What do you mean?”. “You have to understand, we had to take the necessary precautions because of your past”. Natasha finishes his explanation, because she understands what is implied here. “A tracker”. The silent nod of Agent Coulson confirms her statement. “Great. So we both got a tracker. Just great. I’m guessing somewhere underneath our skin, around our ear maybe. Undetectable. Am I close, Phil?”. The tone in her voice is close to blame. It cuts deep. It feels like betrayal. Loyal to SHIELD, but is SHIELD loyal to you? No time to dwell on that however. Maybe even give the guy a bit of credit, now she’s at least able to find you. “I care too, you know. Very much actually. Please, just- bring (Y/N) home, okay”, Coulson says with a low tone, feeling as if he failed to protect his own Agent. His responsibility. “Good luck, Agent Romanoff”.

“Count me in”, Barton offers as he managed to track Natasha’s sprint towards the elevator. “What?”. “Let's save (Y/N). I’m in”. “But I thought that you guys weren’t speaking, that you hate each-”. “Keep up Nat, we had some beers and what’s in the past is in the past”, Clint interjects. She stares at her friend for a moment, “...Okay”, and accepts. “Then let’s go”. The doors open and both get in. “We’ll get (Y/L/N) back”, Clint reassures as he places a hand on Natasha’s shoulder while waiting inside the elevator. “I just- I can’t lose…”. She doesn’t finish her sentence, preventing a trembling voice from being heard. “I know, Nat. Me too. But you do have a plan, right?”. “Of course I do. Plan H. Let’s pay my old pals an unexpected visit they won’t ever forget”.

Waking up. Disoriented. A sharp pain originates from the back of your neck when you try to lift your head up. Earpiece gone. Weapons gone. And hands zip-tied against the back of a firm, metal chair. Ankles secured too. Very, very tight. They’re thorough, you have to give them that. You carefully look around, a dimly lit, chilly, abandoned warehouse. The windows covering the high ceiling are barely providing any sunlight to pass through, coated by layers of filth. Seriously in need of a proper cleaning. Which basically applies to this entire grimy place. Long overdue. It’s better to just demolish the ghost property into a pile of useless bricks - with your abductors still in it. Well, one can wish. A cold shiver passes through your spine. Why not some central heated motel room of sorts? Guess that’s not how the KGB does things. Counting three grumpy, square-shouldered guards watching over you. Maybe more behind, you don’t know, they’re out of your field of vision. The eyes of the three in sight are burning right through you, definitely not thinking friendly thoughts. What do they want with me? Are they after SHIELD intel? Or do they want to settle an old score? Meaning, I’m dead.

Someone enters. An officer it seems, judging by the uniform. He appears overly confident. Full of himself. Someone who uses others to do the dirty work for him. Because he can. Though, he seems more than capable of committing horrible acts to a human being without even feeling a pinch of remorse. At the sight of him your heart starts beating faster, throbbing against your chest. A wave of pure rage flows over you. Why? Maybe it's his attitude that you don’t like, seeing that the other men are afraid of him. Or simply because he's the reason that you're here.

“Tying off loose ends? Shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble”, you mock, sitting straight up and squaring your shoulders, meanwhile trying to find a way to break free from those zip-ties that are eagerly digging into your skin. He laughs. “Kill you?”. With a small wave of his hand the now less crouchy, more anxious-looking guards lower their guns which were cravingly pointed at you this whole time. “That’s what you guys do with traitors right?”. He laughs again and a stern expression surfaces. “It hurts you’d ever think I would do such a thing to you”. To me? What the hell does that mean? You stop moving your arms. It seems as if he recognizes you, as the other men around also seem to. Not that strange considering you’ve been a KGB operative once, but you obviously don’t recognize them. Not even your own dad.

“I'm certain (Y/N) is still alive”. “How so?”. “You really want to know Barton?”, she requests over the loud mechanical humming, giving him a choice before there’s no turning back. A positive nod from Barton made Romanoff begin. As clear and concise as possible she explains her past, starting in the Red Room. “One day a new ‘recruit’ arrived, only a few years older than the rest of us girls. An outsider. Everybody would think twice before engaging. But I didn’t. We stuck together through it all, trying to survive, and became inseparable”. Clint notices the pain in her eyes. She continues and tells that after spending time together, you began to trust each other. You’d told her about the life before, because you, apart from the others, remembered. That your dad was a fierce man working for the KGB, probably the reason why everyone avoided you. Afraid of you, but especially for your dad. “I suspect that (Y/N)’s mother is the reason why she turned on the KGB later on, knowing all too well what the consequences were”. “Why?”, Barton asks, who until now hasn’t spoken a word and is listening attentively. “Well, the KGB officer didn’t deserve the-father-of-the-year award by a long shot. He was an abusive man. A monster. So one night they ran away, (Y/N) and her mom, who was a real angel in living form”. Natasha clearly has respect for the woman, yet she hadn’t had a chance to meet her. “But it didn’t last and he caught up to them. Taking (Y/N) to the Red Room Academy to fuel all the anger coiled up inside, to turn it into something they could exploit”. “Anger? What anger? You just told me (Y/N)’s mother raised her well, good conscience and everything”. “Because-”. Natasha pauses and swallows the lump that has formed in her throat. “Because the father shot her loving mom for taking his child away. Killed, in cold-blood, right in front of the poor kid”, she says as her voice cracks. “And now he learned that his lost child is somehow very much alive and well. So I doubt he’d kill (Y/N), who by the way doesn't have a clue”, she points out ashamed and thereby wrapping up the story. Clint probably has more questions, which Natasha won’t answer, not at this moment anyway. She looks outside through the small, square window. “Besides, it's me who they want to kill. At least, he wants that”. “Wh- And you're telling me this now?! The moment we're about to storm the place, just the two of us?!”, Barton shouts out. “Told you it was complicated”. Romanoff secures the harness she’s wearing and slides the door open. “It's time”.

The uncleaned glass ceiling breaks into a hundred pieces and scatters on the dirty ground below, finally letting the bright warm sunlight in. Eyes closed for protection, you hear the whirring of a helicopter. Something drops down through the roof, guns entering first, secured to a rope and accompanied by multiple shots. Well, that sure as hell is one way to make an entrance.

After mowing down the guards - of which there were apparently six of - she makes a perfect landing on the metal chair located in the middle of the room where you happen to be sitting on and unhooks the rope. Staring into a pair of green eyes you tease, “Took you long enough”. The redhead grins and moves even closer which sends a ripple of pure energy through you. “Sit still for me”, she whispers in your ear and cuts all the zip-ties with her knife in three, quick movements, freeing you. “Oh, for the record, I had it totally under control over here”, you confidently state while rubbing the red, painful skin on your wrists. “Is that your way of thanking me?”, she returns with raised eyebrows and rests her arms on your shoulders while you put yours around her waist firmly. “Nah, I actually had something else in mind”. “Hmm, that sounds more like it”. Both leaning forward, about to properly thank your rescuer, but seem to have forgotten you're not in complete privacy. “Care to do this some other time?”, Barton interrupts flatly, throwing a Glock your way as the two of you quickly got up from the chair - saving it for later. “Thanks for being here”, you say, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Don’t mention it. You would do the same for me”. He hands you something else. “This might come in handy too”, something he and Natasha already slipped on as an extra precaution, “you already got enough scars, no need for more”. “You know Barton, I heard ex-assassins dig scars”, you reply while connecting the velcro straps of the bulletproof vest he gave you to protect your torso. Natasha grins. “Real cute”, then replaces that mesmerizing grin for a serious expression.

“I won’t ever turn my back on you. Never again, you hear me”, Natasha voices just before the action’s about to start. You send her a quick hand kiss and silently mouth, I know, while aiming at the rusty doors that are about to open.

More KGB assholes start to flood the old warehouse space from two entrances thrown open with force, alerted by the sound of broken glass and gunshots. What they don’t know is that the SHIELD Agents have taken cover, hitting the handful by surprise. A shoot-out goes down until the first men are able to reach your hiding ground. Barton and you start to throw brutal punches while Romanoff uses her widow bites, jamming her charged fists into the attackers.

“I’ll go sweep the rest of the warehouse”, Barton states after picking up a rifle from someone who doesn’t need it anymore as the three of you are currently the only people not unconscious, or dead, in this part of the building. “I’ll join and take that way”, you state and grab a new weapon too, whereas Natasha answers, “I’ll find us a vehicle. Be sure to meet me this time okay”. You grin. “I’ll do my best, Nat”.

After searching half of the unconscious, or dead men on the ground, she’s about to hit the jackpot. A set of car-keys. But before she can get a hold of it, she hears a sound. She's not alone anymore. “Natalia, so nice of you to join”, someone says, “or should I say, Black Widow?”, accompanied by a set of footsteps becoming louder. Without turning around she speaks, “Yeah I wish it were under different circumstances, like you six feet under with me holding the shovel”. He laughs. “How thoughtful of you”. “Guess your men weren’t that thoughtful, they might have underestimated me”. Still her back turned towards the person speaking to her, continuing her search meticulously. “I know they underestimated you. Something I would never do, Natalia”. The sound of a gun close to her loading up for its next shot made her spin around. Car-keys in one hand, her Glock in the other.

Someone is pointing a weapon, but hesitates to pull the trigger. Like she also had, merely one time before. “Why aren’t you doing something?!”, you shout at the KGB officer in anger, a steady grip on the gun handle. He isn’t even defending himself. The three of you positioned in a triangle, you look at the man claiming to be your dad and then to the person you love who stares at you with worried eyes. “It’s okay (Y/N). You don’t have to do this”, Natasha eases, but it doesn’t calm you down. She sees the hatred burning in your dark, dilated pupils. It’s strange, you don’t know who this man is, or what he did, but he makes every fiber in your body scream. There's so much pent-up rage. And yet, nothing happens. The trigger isn’t moving. “So? What are you waiting for?! Do something!”, you shout again, noticing the gun quivering in your hands. He shakes his head. “You’d always let emotions get the best of you. It’s weak. But I wouldn't kill my own child, you know that”, he answers calmly, looking at you. “And what about the mother of your own child?”, Natasha says accusingly. “What? My… mom?”, you speak softly, even more confused, and meet Natasha's sorrowful eyes.

He laughs once more. The evilness in it makes Natasha shiver. “Love is for children. It's pathetic. And traitors…”, in a flash of a second he grabs his pistol, “we all know what happens to a traitor”, and aims. It's not a regular weapon. Not like the ones his men were using. He probably kept the best for himself. Selfish bastard. Regardless if you remember him or not, he isn't aiming at his own child. No. Following the barrel’s trajectory your eyes stop at the sight of another barrel. A Glock held by a beautiful redhead now less than two meters away. Oh shit...

Two shots are fired, and two people hit the cracked, cemented floor. It all happened so fast. One of them deserved it a long time ago. The KGB officer, your cruel father. Dead. And the other one… Meanwhile Barton made his way back, having cleared the whole building but freezes when he enters. With an open mouth he stares, speechless, and his eyes getting watery. It wouldn't have been a problem and led to this outcome if the now dead officer had used any of the other guns here present. Yet, the rounds from his pistol were not standard. These were able to pierce one’s body armor. Your body armor.

“Don't leave me. No... Not again. Not now. I just got you back…”, Natasha says hoarsely, fighting back tears and holding you in her arms. Her recently fired gun now next to her on the cold ground. A tear rolls down her cheek and she presses her soft lips on your forehead. After the delicate kiss she whispers,

“I love you. Till next time, (Y/N)...”

PART 8

Tags: @5aftermidnight, @ohfuckno

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dreamlover31 · 4 years ago

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Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 34

Sirens blared followed by flashing red and blue lights, two teams of EMTs sprung from adjoining ambulances, with gurneys on standby; the first team worked to stabilize Rafael while the other attempted to get Alexa onto the other across from him. She resisted one of the female EMTs, pleading with her that she wanted to be at his side, then from her peripheral vision; she spotted a dark four door vehicle pull up to the scene.

The driver side door opened and a woman dressed in a dark trench coat with black jeans and boots emerged, it took only mere seconds for Alexa to realize that it was Olivia, the headstrong lieutenant pushed through the crowd until she came upon a hysterical Alexa about to punch out the EMT, Liv flashed her badge and asked what the situation was.

“We got a call about a shooting at this location…”

“They shot Rafael…Olivia, they shot him,” Alexa shouted as tears rolled down her cheeks, suddenly, her face scrunched up when once again, a sharp pain ripped through her stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

“Her water broke, and she’s refusing to come with us”

Olivia nodded, “Ok, Alexa, you need to go with these people…you’re going into labor and you need immediate medical attention”

“I can’t leave him”

“He’ll be right behind you, I promise”

Alexa stared into Olivia’s eyes, the internal conflict communing inside was palpable through her dark brown orbs…What am I going to do, we would always tell each other that nothing can tear us apart…that no matter what, we’ll always be together…but as a parent, I have to put my child’s needs ahead of my own…and deep down, I know that’s would Rafael would have wanted, with a nod, the EMTs helped her on to the gurney and lifted it into the ambulance just as the rest of the squad was arriving.

Olivia took a moment to brief her team, she ordered Carisi and Rollins to collect witness statements while Fin coordinated with CSU, in the meantime, she would ride along with Alexa to the hospital, before they had a chance to voice their agreements, Olivia hopped inside the ambulance and sat next to Alexa as the doors closed behind them.

As soon as it drove off, the second EMT team carefully placed Rafael on the gurney and loaded him onto the second ambulance, when it left the crime scene, Fin and the others carried out Liv’s instructions.

Meanwhile, Alexa started to moan and groan in pain, her contractions were coming in strong but words of encouragement and comfort from Olivia flowed throughout as the emergency vehicle dodged traffic to get their distressed passenger to the top medical professionals in the city.

The ambulance pulled up in front of the double automatic doors of the emergency room at Mercy Hospital, the doors flew open, Liv stepped out first then let the EMTs haul Alexa out of the vehicle.

She immediately rejoined her and with their hands interlaced, followed them inside, the female EMT shouted to the on-call nurse that they had a woman in labor, within a matter of seconds; she leads them into a room where Alexa was hooked up to monitors and was notified that her OB was headed down.

The words of the young nurse had fallen on deaf ears, for the only thing that was a constant theme within her mind was the whereabouts and overall condition of the man who had made her believe that anything was possible, that gave her a reason to give love another chance and whom she had become devoted to…Rafael…my love…whatever happens…you’ve got to hold on, instantly, everyone except Olivia left the room; with eyes flooded with worry, Alexa faced Olivia and asked:

“What’s going on…where’s Rafael?”

“He’ll be here soon, I’m going to call Fin and find out what’s going on”

She reached into her right jacket pocket and pulled out her phone then began dialing, after two rings, Fin picked up.

“Hey, what have you got?”

“CSU picked up some shell casings along the curb and they found some tire treads in the same area”

“Alright, what did you get from the witnesses?”

“No one saw the shooting, but one guy said he saw a black Escalade drive off just right after it happened”

“Ok, see if there are any security or traffics cams that might have caught something…what about Barba?”

“Ambulance drove off right after you did, should be there any second”

“Ok, thanks Fin”

After she hung up, Olivia informed Alexa of the update from Fin, but it failed to relieve the ever-present burdening fear that overwhelmed her, suddenly, the door opened and a frantic Lucia came in.

Olivia stood before her and tried to calm the emotionally devastated woman, she repeated the information from her second in command, from there, they stood at opposite ends of Alexa’s bed.

Lucia smiled softly as she laced her fingers with Alexa’s, hours ticked by as they waited for the doctor to arrive, the nurse gave Alexa the epidural to alleviate the contractions, during this time, Olivia was glued to her phone; members of the squad gave frequent updates on the status of the investigation, then at that moment; Alexa’s doctor finally arrived.

“Alright, so are we ready to get this show on the road?”

“What’s going on with my fiancé? Is he going to be alright?”

“He’s in the OR, they’re taking really good care of him, but right now…we need to focus on delivering this baby”

Her face fell, as much as she wanted to relish in the thought that her precious little one was about to come into the world, it just didn’t feel right without Rafael, from that point on, everything went from zero to sixty; the doctor washed up and put on her scrubs and latex gloves.

With two other nurses on hand, Olivia and Lucia held up Alexa’s feet, the IV of Pitocin flowed through her system and progressed her labor. Another 10 minutes passed, the sounds of Alexa’s anguished cries mixed in with everyone else’s words of comfort and praise filled the small room.

“Alright, Alexa…you’re doing great, just keep pushing”

Her face shifted into one of agony as she bellowed, “Ahhhh…oh god!”

To Alexa’s left, Olivia was cooing, “You’re doing great sweetheart”

“Ok…the baby is crowning, got a nice head of dark hair”

“Ohhh…aarghh!”

Lucia consoled, “Oh, you are brave mamita”

It took one, two then three pushes until the room became silent except for soft cries emanating from below, collective gasps and smiling faces graced upon the tiny, squirming human being cradled in the doctor’s arms. She sat the little one on top of Alexa’s softened belly, with a cloth in hand, she wiped the placenta from the baby’s body, once the umbilical cord was cut; the doctor wrapped the baby in a blanket and brought her over to the table to perform the APGAR test.

When she finished documenting the baby’s measurements, she brought the pink little bundle of joy back to the bed and laid her on top of Alexa’s chest, as Olivia and Lucia looked at the new arrival with such joy, fresh tears slid down Alexa’s face, however, they were not the tears of joy of a new mother welcoming her child with open arms; the tears were for the welfare of her beloved Rafael. Unwanted thoughts of burying him at his funeral and raising their daughter alone invaded her subconscious, fight Rafael…fight with all your might, because there’s no way in hell that Nadia is going to grow up without her father.

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @karens-imagined-world @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @beccabarba @glimmerglittergirl @itsjustmyfantasyroom @madamsnape921

#rafael barba #raul esparza #love will find a way

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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17. A Song About Simon

Word Count: 4369. I don’t think that there’s any triggers in here besides the fact that Grace is still in the institution (which will be maybe another chapter or two, depending on how writing goes), and her and Hazel’s issues from previous chapters. I just want to announce here, like I’ve already told fandom familiars... I do not hold any of you to trying to read this story or any story that I may write. I do appreciate if someone reads, but I also understand that everything is not for everybody, I’m not for everybody, and my work isn’t either. At no time do I feel entitled to your reading and nobody should feel pressured to try to read anything that I write. I will love to hear from y’all and know that you enjoy reading, but if you can’t or don’t, that is your right, Folks. This is an ugly story with ugly content and hard topics, but even if it wasn’t, you still wouldn’t have to read, review, or reblog. I just want to make that clear for those of you in my space. Thanks for your time.

Whenever she first arrived, she was scared to get the help that she knew she needed. She always thought about how her parents had shot down the idea of it whenever her old driver was concerned. How they seemed to feel like it would mean that the work that they put into her as parents would be ruined if she needed mental help. Then, she would think about her 16th birthday, when her mother said that maybe he was right… the way it felt like her mother was saying that at that moment, she knew that Grace was a waste. “You’ll regret it…” her voice echoed in Grace’s mind. “If only someone had warned you…” The last day that she saw her.

Months had passed. Her parents didn’t even visit. Someone still controlled her social media. Because videos of her singing at the facility and captions insisting that she was getting the help she needed would show up. Grace didn’t know who was responsible for that, at the time, but all of the comments were disabled on all of her accounts. She didn’t want to imagine what people would have to say about her trying to recover.

Eventually, she warmed up to her doctor and the staff. She warmed up to her treatment, to the fact that she had to get better before anybody would let her go anywhere. Her goals became forgiving Simon, accepting responsibility for the things that she did and potentially reaching out to him to suggest that he try to get help as well. She knew that the first and last ones would be the hardest for her, so focusing more on self growth and accountability became her brand of help, at the moment. At least, she went through the motions.

Some days were better than others. Sometimes, she got onto the computer in the library and searched his name. He seemed like he was doing fine, in terminology, but he didn’t look great. That was a lie. He looked great. He was a little more muscular and his hair had grown out. He looked like maybe he had tattoos, though she couldn’t see what. But, he didn’t look happy. Good, she told herself. Even if she wondered in the back of her mind if that was an accurate observation, wishful thinking or unconditional love causing her to worry. Sometimes, she checked his social media pages to see what he was talking about.

She watched him receive badges, be crowned prom king, be valedictorian, travel to go to MIT… He really seemed like nothing was bothering him. He had thrown her to the wolves and just smoothly carried on… She would always be mad all over again, that he didn’t even care. It wasn’t even everything that he did to her! It was… but more importantly, it was the fact that he was able to do it and live like it was nothing to him.

But, that usually made for a very progressive therapy day, and a productive music session. She’d asked her caregiver about the posts on her social media. That was who she eventually found out was responsible for curating the content during her stay in here. “What about my rights?” Grace wondered. She had been creating a lot lately and whenever something got posted, she didn’t know the copyright status or anything legal pertaining to her very personal art!

“Your team takes care of all of the details like that. I basically just post and properly word updates about your healing process and progress. Your team decides which posts to make public or private. (I always post them privately, and sometimes someone comes in later to make things public).”

“It just doesn’t seem fair. I’m being my most authentic self, trying to be my best self and things that I use to get there are now being subjected to my mother and her team of handlers for me.”

“I can’t speak on feelings about it, but as of right now, you are still a minor and still in our care. That means that your welfare and decisions are decided by your parents, who are your legal guardians and us, who you’re a ward of. Whenever you turn 18, if you are mentally capable enough, you will be able to have more control over that type of thing.”

“I’m 18 pretty soon! But… mentally capable… I mean… I feel like I’m mentally capable enough to discuss my legal rights to my art, but I don’t know if I’m capable of like… rejoining society…”

“Well, whenever you do turn 18, we’ll talk about how you’re feeling and assess what you’re capable of. In the meantime, you can always tell me if there’s something that you just want to keep for you, and I promise, I won’t post it. But, your music and the fact that you’re creating in here is inspiring a lot of young people struggling with mental illness and it is warming people up to you since the scandal that led to you being here.”

“I… don’t care about those people right now. I just… want to heal and create.”

“Fair enough.”

Stingray Lyrics

You were burrowed in the sand.

I didn't know that you were there.

I reached out my hand,

only to connect with someone…

But you weren't prepared for my touch.

You didn't know that I would never hurt you.

I dug in a little too much,

And in your startled state you made me regret it.

Like a stingray, you were so cute.

Just living life, just doing you.

But I had to reach for something else, I HAD to have you for myself and it stung me.

Getting too close to you really stung me.

She scribbled the words down, humming the melody. She wasn’t sure if Simon was out there somewhere being bothered to even think about her, but if he was, she wanted him to have to see or hear things about himself.

There wasn’t sheet music in here, but she could use her notebook and sort of guess where the lines would be. She had requested sheet music weeks ago! She was trying to teach Hazel how to read music, too. They usually were able to spend time together twice a week. Technically, they weren’t assigned to the same areas, but one of the caretakers would always make an exception and help them to see each other, because they just seemed to be really good for each other. Neither of them had any other friends there.

They weren’t antisocial, but they just only really clicked with each other, and Hazel had not been thinking she was a turtle nearly as much since she met Grace, and Grace’s almost entire first year there had been monotonous and for the most part stagnant until she met Hazel. Hazel seemed to make her want to be better, want to move forward on something other than the pendulum of attacking herself and defending herself for things she did and didn’t do. Hazel helped her to really seem to grasp empathy.

They were stretching, silently, getting ready for the dance lessons that Grace would give her near the playground, during activity time. Grace was really quiet, with Hazel was singing to herself. Suddenly, she wondered, “Grace, did either of your parents sing to you when you were a child?”

Grace scoffed and shook her head, “No. Neither of my parents did any of the TV parent stuff. My dad was a lawyer, politician, and ambassador. My mom was a high paid performer turned model turned socialite, the daughter of someone just like my father. Most of their parenting was instilling a certain image on me, or having a nanny take me away if I didn’t quite fit the bill in time enough for guests or appearances.”

“What’s ‘appearances?’”

“It’s like when you have to go somewhere just to be seen. For my dad’s job, there were political or business meet and greets, sometimes charity functions, auctions and stuff like that, and at times it was simply an extremely elegant dinner party or some dignitary’s kid’s birthday event. My last birthday party was…” She frowned, thinking about how that night ended. The beginning of the end in her mind. She looked at the charm bracelet that she had managed to still never take off, despite everything.

“Was what?” Hazel wondered.

“Too much. It was too much. I’ve always lived pretty extravagantly, but I think whenever I leave here, I might like to get an isolated place and sort of just live there with maybe a pet or something. I’m never going to have guests over for dinner parties or house any ambassadors.”

“Can I come over?” Hazel wondered, timidly.

“Yes! Of course, if your parents let you…”

“I’m never gonna have parents.”

“Hazel!” Grace called. The younger girl just shrugged her shoulders. Grace sputtered air out of her lips and shrugged too. “Well, who needs them, anyway?”

Hazel threw her a look. “I do, Grace. I need them. I’m 6.”

Grace frowned. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. I have a really bad habit of saying whatever I think is gonna make people I care about feel better. It's one of the things that I need to work on. Of course you need parents. Every child needs parents… which is why I’ve gotta believe that you’ll get some! And whenever you do, they’ll hopefully let us be friends. We have a very big age gap, so I don’t know how comfortable they’ll be with you just coming over.” Hazel looked like she was thinking about something as she stared ahead, but she was still standing, so Grace figured she wasn’t a turtle right now. “Ready to learn our new hip hop routine?” Now, she blinked and looked at Grace with enthusiasm, nodding vigorously.

Making time to put together figures was hard, but Simon had all of his figures with him whenever he moved from his family house shortly after the clash with the void. The fame that he had risen to over his scandalous book deal and all of the allegations against it had gotten him a very comfortable situation. He was wealthy, in his own right, and schools that he might have needed Mr. Monroe to get into previously were no longer something to be dangled in front of his face. He actually missed the Monroes. Mrs. Monroe less than her husband, but both of them. They really weren’t as bad as she made them out to be. He believed that much. But… they belonged to her. He could have them on his side for a while, but not after all of this. He hated not having Mr. Monroe to bounce things off of. He’d sacrificed a mentor to get rid of the void.

He had tried not to pull them into it, but eventually, the narrative began that her parents were using him, as well. That he was something to taper their wild-child and as soon as he stood up for himself was financially cut off. Mr. Monroe had been very public about the fact that unfortunately, they knew nothing of their daughter’s extreme condition until she viciously attacked her mother. Simon would have paid money to see that cat-fight. Simon felt bad for them, having lost their daughter to the void, so he withdrew accusations of the crimes, though several of them couldn’t be taken back, as the victims wanted to sue personally. But, the Monroes fared fine, after all of the settlements or wins. Simon wondered whatever happened to the charm bracelet, but he pushed that from his mind.

He still carried the name The Apex, though many companies used that or had it in their name, so he couldn’t trademark it, but the general of his Apex was that if you were tagging The Apex, Simon Says was also there.

He took his book opportunity as his big chance to move forward with his other works. They didn’t sell as well, but he could say at 17 that he was a bestselling author for Free From Grace, and that by 18, he had published several books from throughout his adolescence and had a huge trilogy deal that he intended to have released by the time he was 20.

Senior year in high school was a blast. He was worshiped and kids who had only held allegiance to him via the void either came around or were fun to alienate as nulls. Shana rose to popularity and the two of them continued their banter, a little will they won’t they brewing, as far as he was concerned. She got rid of her weave and replaced them with braids for going natural. Apparently, she was going to be going to an HBCU and she wanted to finally wear her hair “the way it was intended,” when she got there. It made her look ever more like Grace to him, despite the fact that Grace had never worn braids, only locs, and the full out afro she had whenever she left.

Maybe he was just weakening again… missing her… “Hey, Shana - we should attend the prom together,” he said, as they sat across from each other at their desks in the newsroom.

She looked up at him with only her eyes, not lifting her head from her work, but he could still see the disdain in her eyebrows. “For what reason would I ever even consider something like that?”

He laughed and leaned back in his seat. “We’re the apex of the student body.” She groaned at the word that she was BEYOND sick of hearing. “You’re the most popular girl in school now, and while not my equal, the best of what we have. We both know that you and I will be class favorites and prom king and queen. Might as well make an entire thing out of it.”

She raised her head now and he was confused by her expression, because it was still clearly disdainful. “Simon. I don’t care if I was going to win a cash prize of a million dollars. I would never even so much as think about attending anything with you. Thanks for asking.” She shook her head in disbelief and continued working.

“Why not? Did you not hear the reasons this works out perfectly?”

“I heard the reasons that you think I’m a status symbol that for whatever reason would actually want to be seen with you. They weren’t reasons that I would overlook who you are as a person and how I feel about you as such to put on some sort of publicity show for a bunch of kids that I’m never going to see again, because if I ever come to a class reunion, it would be to see if Grace showed up and how she’s doing.”

“Nothing that you said makes any sense. Me as a person? I…”

“You’re a bad person,” she said. He laughed, then stopped. Oh, she’s serious? “Simon… I, along with the entire student body watched you destroy a girl that we knew you were once like this with.” She crossed her fingers. “We watched you lie on her, make her out to be worse than she was, and bring her so low that she’s in an institution!”

“You hated Grace, and now you’ve taken her place as the boss bitch.”

“Grace and I did not get along. We argued. We dissed each other. We competed. We hurt each other. We were mean and nasty to each other, and even I can see that what you did to her was fucked up.”

“You didn’t try to stop me.”

“That’s not my business. But what IS my business is the company I keep. It would never be somebody who would turn on even his day 1. Nobody even would have cared about you if it wasn’t for Grace and I still to this day think that you’re the one who shared that video of you two. Your lost and found again laptop story was always corny to me.”

“You seemed to get a kick out of it at the time.”

“Yeah, of humiliation! She got a kick out of it whenever my father was arrested for white collar crime! Fucking with each other was our dynamic! But you were supposed to be the girl’s friend, and you didn’t just fuck with her, you fucked her up. Everybody thinks it’s so funny? They’re only amused because they’re scared that you might fuck them up too. If you did it to her, there’s no telling what you’d do. You’ve got people thinking that the old rumors are true..” He furrowed his eyebrows and glared at her. The old rumors. That he killed his sister. They were true, but it was an accident. “In short, I don’t care about any of your reasons. You asked me to prom. I decline. End of discussion.”

“So… you don’t like me anymore because I stood up to Grace, something you did all of the time. We’re on the same side now!”

She stared at him and for a moment, he saw fear. That wasn’t something that Shana showed very much. She cleared her throat and wondered, “When… When did it ever cross your mind that I would EVER like you, Simon? You have been a jerk the entire time that I’ve known you. When Grace and I were rivals, you were disgusting to me. You’ve called me out of my name, tried to tear me down about my looks and my family. Where in the world would you ever get an idea that I could possibly like you, even as just a person that I know of?”

“Because of our banter…”

“Arguing.”

“All of the flirting…”

“Clearly happened in your mind, but did not happen in mine.”

“The way that you always blush whenever we talk! I know what it looks like when somebody your skin tone blushes. I knew Grace like the back of my hand.”

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing. I don’t like you. I have never liked you, and I have never BLUSHED when we talk. What you should know, as the young genius that everybody tries to make you out to be, because this is science related, biology, if you will… Is that what you’re describing as blushing, is actually heat rushing to one’s face. My heartbeat accelerates, I may even sweat a little as I get hot and my blood rushes. That’s not because I have a crush on you. It’s because you are one of the most infuriating people to have a conversation with. Because in addition to being a rude jackass, you are a delusional egotist. Every conversation I have with you makes me want to punch you in the face. And I know that if I do, they’ll toss my ass out of here and that will mess up me following my mother’s footsteps as a Spelman College Delta Sigma Theta! You, Simon Laurent have never been worth anything to me, certainly not my future. I’m sorry for Grace that she didn’t know that, but my parents raised me with the utmost love and confidence. I don’t need anybody like you to upgrade me, and I love myself too much to even entertain you as a friend. And my father, who you love to try to weaponize against me, after serving his time is still worth at least five times as much as yours…”

Simon threw over things from her desk and she jumped. His eyes went wide. He surprised himself with that outburst. Shana was moved for a moment, when she thought he was about to attack her, but when he didn’t, she got up. “Please pick up this mess, Simon. I will not mind reporting you for it.” She left the newsroom for a breather. Simon rushed to pick everything up before anybody else came in and wondered what happened, but a lot of Shana’s words cut him for a moment. She’s lying. Girls lie, he reminded himself as he picked things up from the floor. But, he wasn’t going to beg her to go out with him. She declined. Okay, whatever. He’d have been doing her a favor.

Sometimes, he thought about her words, though. Blushing because she was infuriated by him… That made sense after a while, especially when he conflated her with the void, who he knew never loved him. He and Shana were prom king and queen, but she declined dancing with him and said on the microphone, “We all know this is Grace Monroe’s sloppy seconds.” There was an uproar of laughter in his mind.

Actually, only a few people laughed. Some looked shocked and horrified that Shana would make fun of who they believed to be an abuse survivor. Shana shrugged her shoulders like Kanye and doubled down, “You all know good and well that Grace never harmed a split ended hair on this boy’s head! She was as obsessed with him as he was with her. You’re all wild to go along with that narrative. You would never believe all that mess about a white girl..” The dean snatched the microphone from her and gave her some warning that the other students couldn’t hear. Simon was livid. He waited for her outside.

“Shana,” he said. Shana yelped in fear whenever she saw him at her car, then reached into her clutch for a weapon. She didn’t have much, but she did have a nail file. Whenever he came near her, she stuck him in the neck with it and he groaned. She set off her car alarm trying to get inside of the car before deactivating it and Simon just smiled at her as she did. Shana was driving and crying and that was the last time that Simon saw her.

He was questioned about assaulting her in the parking lot, but informed them that he only wanted to talk to her about what she had said in front of everyone and that she actually assaulted him. Now… once, people might believe, and people might even have believed that Shana was entirely capable of it. But, most of the kids and staff knew that Shana was a mean girl, but never violent. The only physical exchanges she had were the ones with Grace Monroe and now Simon Laurent. She finished out the end of school how Grace had finished her junior year. Simon finished it out with people beginning to doubt some of his stories about Grace. But, that didn’t matter!

He hated that school, those rich kids, the system that worked for them but made him work for it. He was on his way to becoming better than all of that. He still wanted to make time for his art - writing, photography, creating figures and scenes… but he had gotten really into the robotics program whenever he was in engineering and decided that was what he was going to focus his education on. MIT was his first choice and he had been accepted by the end of junior year. He got his small living space as close as he could, since he prepared on spending the bulk of his time enrolled. He knew that he was destined for greatness.

But, sometimes, his social media would think he needed to see something, like today, when he opened a video of Grace, playing a piano at wherever the undisclosed facility she had been at was, singing something captioned as “Stingray,” and looking… beautiful. He watched it more times than he would ever admit.

He opened his own treasure chest and pulled out images of her, them… things that he had made and just didn’t have the strength to destroy when he purged the void. He picked up a photo from the pumpkin patch, when they were 14. She had her tongue stuck out at him and he was blushing. It was one of his favorite photos of them.

“You should take every photo of me, from now on!” She said, looking at her ones on her page that had gotten her the deal. “You always seem to make me look my absolute best in every photo you take of me. Like, you have a real eye for it.”

“I have an eye for you,” he corrected. “Two…” He blushed a lot. He hadn’t meant to say THAT.

“You’ve got eyes for me, Simon?” she teased, making him blush more and his heart rate speed up. And in the midst of him trying to collect himself, she grabbed on to him, pulled him into a hug and took another of her many selfies. She groaned, “I just can’t make any photos look as good as you can… but you’re adorable in this,” she said and showed it to him. “I’m putting this on my Christmas cards this year.”

She didn’t lie about that. He tossed it back into the box and picked up the torn out foreword that she had written for his fantasy novel. He went through the entire box before locking it back up and throwing it into the trunk of his car. One day, he was going to find the strength to throw it in a river or burn it, or something. It’s just that… she was his entire world… for half of his life…

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing,” he heard Shana’s voice say… or was it Grace’s voice? He was starting to forget it. Like… of course he knew what it sounded like, but his head couldn’t place it in the chorus of girls’ voices that haunted him: his sister, his mother, the void, Shana… Shana was interchangeable with the void. His brain kept trying to tie them together and perhaps that was why her words affected him. Or maybe it was because they sounded so true, when he knew that they couldn’t be. The Void betrayed him. He counterattacked. “Getting too close to you really stung me.” He heard her singing. Simon bit his lip, picked up his phone and took a deep breath before liking the Stingray post.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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sahbibabe · 4 years ago

Text

The Call

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

You finally work up the courage to take the job. With Sephiroth away for some time and your friends' lives on the line, there is nothing else you can do.

IT HAD BEEN A LONG time since you had worn your merc uniform, even longer since you could actually fill it out without worrying about the baggy chest and hip area. Woven from hard adamantine threads, stained black, and supported with stretchy latex that allowed you free movement, it made you quite the formidable sight; your calm colored wardrobe of harem pants, skirts, t-shirts and tank tops just didn't seem to fit you when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You had finally gotten up the courage to pry up your floorboards and take the darned thing out of its lockbox, after a few restless nights of contemplating the serious repercussions of going along with the Turk's request--or order, you should say. It wasn't as if you had a choice, either; you could accept it and rake in a hefty sum of gil that could make you a very wealthy woman, or you could sit back, reject it, and watch everyone you loved die. Rufus Shinra may be smarter than his father, but he was not above using the same dirty handed tricks to get what he wanted.

What you couldn't understand was why he had went through the trouble of digging you up out of retirement and sending his personal Turk squad to recruit you in the first place. There were plenty of other people who did the same thing you did, albeit they probably didn't have as high of a kill count, and ran as cheap as dirt. Then again, Rufus Shinra didn't do 'cheap'; he paid for results. Results that you, evidently, could give him.

Sephiroth had, for some reason, told you that he would not be in the area for quite some time after that encounter. Whether or not that meant he would be leaving Midgar as a whole was pretty vague; you couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the evil things Cloud always said he was up to. It didn't bother you, because in the end, it gave you time to work up the courage to dig out your suit and really think about what you would be doing for the next few months.

Killing Rufus' enemies. That was all you could come up with, how everything had been spun to you. He had a wealth of them, enough to have him effectively struck dead. No one believed for a second that he had nothing to do with his father's death; you didn't either, for that matter. No one that handsome and that confident stood at his own father's funeral and didn't shed a single tear without having a role to play.

All of this meant, in no short terms, you would be digging out your old merc contacts and being a mercenary full time once again. Your shop would have to be closed. You would be strictly in Shinra Central only, as close to Rufus Shinra as you could get, and working alongside his Turks to get your job done. You could only pray you didn't run into Cloud on your jobs, or you'd be in serious trouble.

You eyed the phone that Reno had sent you in the mail with suspicion. It sat on your nightstand, screen black, the Shinra logo plastered on the back for everyone to see. It had been outfitted with an industrial strength screen protector and case to withstand the jobs you would be doing. It only had one number in the contacts, labeled 'Mr. President', and if you wanted to accept this job, you'd be calling the man himself, not going through his goons to do it.

But before that, you had preparations to make. You hopped out of your suit and stowed it back in its box, sliding it under your bed and formulating an excuse. Your first plan was to tell everyone you were moving, but that wouldn't pan out; you would still have the building in your name, your personal items still all around the shop. Your second idea was that you were going to move to Sector Six as an entertainment teahouse, but you couldn't stomach that idea, and eventually settled on the real tear jerker: you had found a doctor in Sector Two who could treat your blindness permanently so your soulmate wouldn't have to constantly give you theirs. You would say that you had saved up enough money for the treatment and would be living there for a bit as you recovered.

In the meantime, you would allow Tifa to use it as a wayhouse for the little ones who tended to pop in every now and then to help out, or the abused women who needed a place to stay and have a proper bed. Your room would be off limits of course, your materia coming with you, but the rest was fair game, including the nice bathroom setup.

It was the best you could do as silent repayment for lying to them. You didn't want them to know about your past, even if they would say it was just that: the past. Unlike Cloud, you were stepping right back into it, far more easily than you liked to admit. The screams of your final victims seemed muted, dulled the more you silently slipped into the mind of a mercenary and no longer a citizen's.

So you made your excuse, refined it so that even you believed that was what you were doing, because it hurt you less. You couldn't stand the idea of saying it to their faces, so you wrote letters instead. You gave them to one of your kind neighbors, explaining the situation, and paid them heftily to deliver them on the day you left.

After that, it was as easy as sitting on your bed and making the call. Any other loose ends you would have Reno tie up for you, maybe Rude. But you couldn't let Rufus Shinra have the final word. It hadn't even been two weeks yet, not even six months, but if you wanted to do it before you chickened out, it had to be now.

You expected an assistant to pick up. Maybe even Reno or Rude. Instead, you were patched in to Rufus Shinra himself, sounding cool and calm.

His first remark to you was,"Reno said you would call before the deadline."

"I'm sure he did." You closed your eyes, silently slipping back into your mercenary habits. "Are there any details about my mission I should know beforehand?"

You had to fight to remain composed. This man could end your friends lives at the snap of a finger.

"Nothing that can't be given to you during an official briefing." He paused, considering. "Your files tell me that you're blind. Do I need to worry about your incompetence on that end?"

"No," you replied firmly. "I use my soulmate's to see. There will be no issues."

You'd just have to work around the thirty minute gaps. That was all.

"I see." You could hear him flip through pages, no doubt to the soulmate section. "You have no documented soulmate. I can assume you have no idea who they are?"

"Correct."

"Very well then." Rufus's tone of finality sent you for a loop. "You will begin a testing trial next week. You will visit Shinra Laboratories and submit yourself to a physical exam and what else they deem necessary in the next few days. Should you be unfit for the task, you will be conditioned until you are. Your ID will be updated to reflect your status immediately. Any other information will be delivered to you by Reno personally. Do you have any questions?"

You doubted he would answer them even if you did. "No, Mr. President."

"I'll see you next week."

Then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone for a few seconds before chunking it into your nightstand drawer.

Rufus Shinra had gotten the last word after all.

#final fantasy #final fantasy 7 remake #sephiroth x reader #soulmate au #soulmate

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otomescriptdoctor · 4 years ago

Text

Masking - Chapter 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939147/chapters/68519532 He’s agreed to let you monitor him in exchange for your later services. This is not how you saw this night folding. You wonder why he needs someone whom he believes to be a government spy. Parliament is about to recess before the snap election. Are his motivations political? You speculate with so little evidence. Better than thinking about how your heart rate is still racing from his unorthodox oathmaking.

“From now on, you’ll be acting with me.”

“Like you want me to come to work with you?”

Kei laughs. “Oh no, no, no. What are you talking about? I mean...You’ll be by my side 24/7.”

Isn't that awfully extreme? Shouldn’t have put it past him, though. He's been very thorough so far. His only blindspot being that he seized on the idea that you're a government agent and discarded all other possibilities. The usual fatal flaw of highly intelligent people. Your hindbrain chimes in.

Alpha wants to protect us. That's why he wants to be near.

Perish the thought. At least this means your job is much easier in a sense. You are supposed to be surveilling him, after all. The only trouble is, how do you report to the Boss? You turn your head upwards and notice the cameras. This is going to be tricky, to say the least.

Kei gathers the glasses, putting them casually back on the tray. He clearly doesn't trust having staff within his home either.

“It’s not as if you’re a prisoner, though. Feel free to make yourself at home here. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Kei brings the tray into the kitchen and starts washing the spoon and absinthe glasses.

You snort derisively, “Got it. How sweet of you.”

Alpha knows he has to take care of us. Why don't you trust Alpha?

Your Omega seems insistent on trusting him. You're torn. All your training is at odds with your instincts.

Kei replies cheerfully, “But of course! You’re my accomplice now. It’s only natural I treat you well.” He smiles, as if he wasn’t just licking green liquor off of your lips not five minutes ago. He continues, “Now then, if you work for the government, then you must be reporting to a superior.” He continues tidying away the drink accessories.

You nod.

“Report to your superior. Right here, right now. Contact your boss.” Kei doesn’t even look at you while making this request.

You’re not so certain about this part. What if Kei traced the call? Maybe you could bluff. It’s worth a shot. “My bosses could figure out you’re up to something. If I were you, I wouldn’t let me make a report from here.”

He finishes with his cleanup, and chuckles softly. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you don’t need to worry about me. Just contact your boss and make a status report. I’ll be fine.”

Once again, there is an illusion of having a choice, but you see he’s forced you into only one outcome. You turn the video off on your phone and run it through your VPN, to at least make it a little more difficult to trace your employers. If he’s going to do it, He should have to work for it. Turning the video off is a signal to your Boss that you’re in a situation where a target could see his face. Might as well put on a show, just a little razzle dazzle. You don’t intend to keep him long.

The boss’s voice plays through your phone’s speaker, “Heyyy Nagisa. How’s it going?”

This is a very casual greeting even for him, and he’s using your alias. You turning off the video portion is the standard operating procedure for reporting in a place where you’re probably on camera.

“I’m calling to report on the results of today’s assignment. Per Kei’s suggestion, I’m going to be working with him as his partner while he is in Japan. Evidently, he was pleased with the way I helped him entertain his guests for afternoon tea.”

“Excellent. Keep me updated on his every move. You’re doing alright, I presume?” Alright is one of your code words for if you need extraction or other help without blowing your cover to bits.

“Yep, everything’s great. Well, talk to you later.”

You hang up the call, keeping it brief enough that tracing it will be an exercise in futility. You didn’t exactly lie to the boss. Unless you count lies of omission. You feel a little sick for giving an incomplete status report. But what choice did you really have?

The Alpha smiles at you, pleased with your little performance. “Sounds like you’re going to have to keep him ‘up to date’ on my every move.”

You want to scowl at this man so badly. He is treating this like a game. You don’t have that luxury without any of your weapons. There’s an awkward silence while you stare at each other. “So what’s next?” you ask, impatient to break the silence. You’re feeling a little overtired from the back and forth, and would welcome a few moments in sweet oblivion. You lean back in the sofa and exhaustion starts closing your eyes.

“Come this way.” he pulls you up from the couch firmly, and leads you into another room.

It’s a beautifully appointed guest room. Ivory curtains frame the windows, but they’re a heavy velvet, so they would keep the room dark during the day if desired. The view of Tokyo is incredible up here, a sea of stars in the inky void of night. Every stick of furniture is a beautifully restored antique. Maybe from his family’s home? It’s almost nice except… there are cameras everywhere. That panics you, a little, and the adrenaline wakes you up.

“You’ve got quite the place here.,” you say, while motioning to the cameras.

“I have friends who are into some pretty...hm… shall we say sinister stuff.” His smile is chilling.

“What are you plotting?

“Me?” he scoffs. “You’re the one monitoring me. That’s on you to figure out, isn’t it?”

“Fair point.”

You might as well be in an actual cage. Ensnared. Ah. that’s how this feels. It’s hard to breathe around him, scent notwithstanding. You’ve been caught in his web, and for your part, eagerly awaiting his treacherous caress. So much for thinking you earned his trust earlier.

“Next, I’d like you to take off your clothes.”

You give him a blank stare, pointedly blinking. He can’t be serious. Kei pulls out a small briefcase from under the bed and slides it towards you. He steps back and leans against the wall, watching you.

“Remove everything you’re wearing -- everything you don’t need -- and put it in that briefcase. Don’t forget your jewelry and your phone.”

“I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who’d watch a woman change clothes.”

His laugh is sinister mischievous. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. But this is who I am.” He leans against the wall and pulls out his phone, starting to read.

“I thought you were supposed to be the darling of English High Society. A veritable prince.”

“Princes are still only men, after all.” Kei again makes eye contact with you. It’s not passion in his eyes, but it grips you nonetheless. Your instinct is to shrink from his gaze. Every sense says he’s right next to you though, that there is no escape. You search your alias’s notes for anything to center around. Ah yes, Nagisa was very flirtatious. Might as well make it a show, right?

You turn your back to him and unzip your dress and let it fall to the floor. He looks you over once, and hurriedly turns back to his phone.

Maybe he’s telling himself it was just to make sure you’re not carrying any weapons.

You could hear a fucking pin drop in this room. His scent intensifies, and you pick up a hint of confusion. It seems like the ice prince isn’t entirely unaffected, though he regains his poker face. He must be trying his best to look disinterested. You slowly peel off every layer, catching his occasional stolen glances.

Though you’d consider yourself to be in control at the moment, your pulse is racing due to his scent. You detect very strong, focused interest from him, only growing in intensity. Your breathing is a little shallower than usual. Is this what it’s like to be with an Alpha?

You place everything, stockings, garter belt, and jewelry into the briefcase. You only have your bra and slick soaked panties left. Unless..

“Are you going to make me remove my undergarments as well?”

Kei doesn’t look up from his phone again when he replies. “No, that’s fine. Making women strip under these circumstances isn’t really my thing.” He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. He approaches you and closes the briefcase, pulling away from you quickly and crossing to the door.

“I’ll have a change of clothes ready for you. In the meantime. You can use the dressing gown in the closet. Good night, sleep tight.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Though the room is still full of cameras, Kei leaving the room lets you exhale a breath you were holding.

He could have taken you forcefully like you’ve heard about other Alphas before.

He didn’t.

Another startling realization, up until this afternoon, he was distinctly Mr. Soejima. After he told you to call him Kei, it’s like a switch was flipped. Your curse, your biology betraying you still.

At least he didn’t know your bra still has a camera and recording device. Small blessings for repurposed areas of push-up bras. You can still do your work.

You have an unshakeable feeling that he’s definitely got something worth exposing to put you through the wringer like this.

---

You wake up. Right. He’s essentially got you on house arrest. You put on the ivory satin dressing gown. There’s a clothing box outside the door. You quickly pull the box inside and check the labels. He must have measured your confiscated dress to get your size. There’s some undergarments as well. There’s a note that falls out after you put away the clothes. It reads: Come down for breakfast in my office.

#voltage games #voltage romance games #voltage otome #masquerade kiss #kei soejima #fanfic #also on ao3

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