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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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Negotiations

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet with Andy to discuss the terms of your potential contract. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, negotiations, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Work felt like the longest shift even though it was only a few hours. You saw the customers through a different set of eyes as you served them. You wondered how many of them struggled like you or what they would do if someone like Andy entered their lives. If you came to an agreement with him on everything, you weren't sure if you'd ever step foot in the diner again after you quit. Not because you were embarrassed.

It was merely time to look forward.

And look my best.

You turned to the side when you checked your reflection. Estelle had way too much fun picking out an outfit for you. After carefully searching and sneakily looking at the price tag so she didn’t splurge, you opted for a sleeveless, blazer style dress. Nothing over the top or too fancy. You still wanted to look like you while looking professional.

Though she insisted it was your birthday gift, along with the surprisingly comfortable black heels, you planned to pay her back. Whether from the money Andy gave you or once you got your paycheck months from now at your new job. If she refused, you’d tell her the only gift you needed was her support and she gave that to you. Like she knew you were thinking about it, she messaged you.

“Good luck! I know you look hot! Knock his socks and pants off! He better give you everything you deserve!”

You had to smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s his office. His pants are staying on.”

“You say that now, but he’s the boss. You’ll change your tune once he has his hands on you.”

Laughing as you tucked your phone away, you couldn’t completely disagree with her. Andy robbed you of your breath whenever you saw him and it surprised you that you could maintain logical thinking when he was close by. You had to maintain that rational headspace today. He was a man used to people telling him what he wanted to hear. As an ex-lawyer and businessman, he could sway things in his favor if you weren’t careful.

Considering what he was offering you, it didn’t once feel like he was taking advantage of your misfortunes.

You stopped yourself from messaging Andy that you were on your way. He was a busy man with more important stuff to deal with than a check-in from you. It would be one of the topics of discussion shortly anyhow. Would he want to know where you are at all times or would he be content with the occasional message?

How much control will he want over me? How much do I want to give him?

Thanking and paying the cab driver as you arrived at the building, you didn't feel as out of your element the way you did at the restaurant. The office setting was familiar. It was bittersweet going inside though for something that wasn't work or an interview. Maybe this was better.

You held your head high as if it was.

I can do this.

You handed your bag over for the security officer to check while he verified your identification. Satisfied once he double checked your name and ID, he handed you a guest badge and allowed you to go to the elevators. It comforted you that Andy and his employees were safe when they went into his building. You wondered how often you'd be here or if he'd keep you away from his office outside of functions.

You avoided looking at anyone as you got into the elevator, though you felt the eyes of a couple of men sweep over your body. It didn’t matter what they thought. Andy was the only one you wanted to look good for. As you passed by each floor, the more you worried about breaking into a sweat. You shifted back and forth until the door opened.

One step closer.

It took you a second to move your feet forward and turn down the hall. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the door at the end of it was large and daunting. It was like entering the lion’s den, but you weren't afraid. Even if you did pause again before you turned the handle and walked in.

An older woman, Irene according to the nameplate on her desk, sat outside of a set of double doors, giving you a kind smile as she looked up from her keyboard. You didn't let her appearance fool you. Anyone who worked for someone as powerful as Andy likely had thick skin and a "take no crap" attitude.

"How may I help you?"

"Hi. I'm here to see Andy Barber," you replied, giving her your name and inwardly wincing. Of course, she knew you were there to see him. Why else would you be there?

"Yes, Mr. Barber is expecting you," she smiled, pressing the intercom on her desk. "Mr. Barber, your 4pm is here."

"Send her in, please."

It isn't fair that he sounds sexy through a speaker box.

"May I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," you smiled, following her as she opened the double doors.

This is it.

The office was just as you imagined, the walls lined with a mixture of art and accolades. A small table and chairs sat on one side with a couch on the other. It was elegant, but the man behind the desk drew your attention. Sunlight filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows behind Andy, casting a halo around him as he stood up. A symbol of power and authority in his black suit with the skyline behind him, you found it difficult to take your next breath.

He looks like he was born to be in charge.

"It's good to see you again," Andy smiled, walking around the desk and gesturing to the table. "Why don't we sit over here? Did Irene offer you a drink?"

"Of course, I did, Mr. Barber. And before you remind me, I know to hold your calls," she chastised him, which only made him chuckle before she smiled at you. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

I knew it. Take no crap.

"Thank you," you said, giggling as you walked to the table. "I like her."

"I do, too. She keeps me on my toes," he said as he pulled out the chair for you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful," you replied, setting your bag beside you. It was nice that he asked. "How are you?"

"My day was just fine," he said, taking a seat. He had a notepad waiting there, similar to yours.

"That's good."

He gave you a half smile and you debated whether or not to continue with small talk. "Nervous?"

“A little bit,” you said, refusing to lie to him. It wouldn’t start things off on the right foot if you did. “I didn’t have ‘Sugar Daddy Negotiations’ on my BINGO card this year.”

He chuckled, the sound beautiful in the large space. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either," he joked. "And you don’t look nervous.”

“It actually does,” you smiled. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks growing warmer the longer he gazed at you. While you wanted that to be his reaction, it was somehow unexpected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, by the way.”

“And I wasn’t taking the bait. I’m telling you what I see.”

“Thank you. This was a birthday gift from Estelle,” you said, smoothing out the dress even though you were sitting. Why you felt the need to tell him, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a beautiful dress, but I was talking about your smile,” he said, his lip tugging in a small smile of his own before he cleared his throat. “As much as I’d like to sit here and continue to shower you with praise, maybe we should save that for another time.”

Your throat went dry at the implication, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. “Of course."

"Today is about figuring out our terms and setting expectations. I plan to take notes as we go along, if you don't mind."

"That's fine because I plan to do the same," you explained as you took out your notepad. "I’ve made a list of things I believe we should discuss and agree on before moving forward."

“You’re prepared,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And getting down to business like last time."

“I do what I can,” you said, glancing at the first item on your list. “First thing is the length of our contract. You mentioned Mr. Huffman’s merger could take a few months, but there’s no definitive timeframe. My proposal is six months or when the job becomes available, whichever comes sooner.”

He considered your words carefully. “I spoke with Scott again and a merger like this may take a minimum of six months due to the range of variables. I propose a year or when the job becomes available. It hopefully won’t take that long, but I’d feel more comfortable if we have more time as opposed to less.”

A year was a long time, but you understood his perspective. “Why don’t we meet in the middle? Nine months.”

“Nine months, but if the merger is still pending at that time, we can revisit the contract and extend it if needed,” he proposed.

“Agreed,” you said, jotting down your notes on your pad while he did the same. “My job. You said I would need to quit and I’d be unable to take another position while under contract. I have no objections to that, but I won’t flat-out quit the diner. I’ll put in my two week notice. If they tell me not to come back, that’s on them.”

“I think that’s the respectable thing to do,” he said, nodding to your pad. “I don’t know where living arrangements are on your list, but I’d like to discuss that next.”

You wanted to discuss your free time since you wouldn't have a job any longer, but you would circle back to that. “Okay. You said over lunch that you’re not comfortable with me staying in my current place.”

“I did and I stand by that. I understand that my building doesn’t guarantee complete safety over yours because anything could happen anywhere at any time, but knowing you’re close by would help put me at ease. I have a loft ready to go and you can treat it as your own place. If something isn’t to your liking, we can change it within reason.”

“Within reason?”

Andy smirked slightly. “I can’t exactly take a sledgehammer to the wall if you want to make the space bigger,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up an image. “But it’s a nice place. Feel free to swipe through it.”

The photos were beautiful and the living room alone looked larger than your entire apartment. “Is spending time at your place an expectation?” you asked.

“I’d like it if you did for an occasional dinner, but I understand if you'd rather not. I'd also like to meet you once a month outside of contractual obligations to talk.”

Sounds like a date. Is it though?

“I agree to the loft, the occasional dinner, and meeting with you once a month," you agreed. It wasn't overwhelming or demanding. You'd still have a sense of independence. "But I’d like to keep my current apartment. If I take this job in the upcoming months, I can't expect you to cover the loft anymore and I doubt I could afford it even with a decent salary. I’ll need a place to go back to until I find something better.”

"I own it," he said. He wasn't bragging in your mind. He was stating a fact.

"I doubt I could afford your rent then. I keep my apartment."

“Done,” he said after a moment. You were glad he agreed. Your apartment was still yours. “Which is a good segway into expenses. As a reminder, I plan to cover the rent for your current apartment, along with any bills associated with it such as cable or internet. If you prefer to shut those off during the contract, we can. I’ll also cover your cell phone, insurance, credit card bills, student loans, any debt you pay on a monthly basis. Oh, and groceries.”

Tears filled your eyes as he opened his mouth to continue. The more you tried to compose yourself, the more your face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You hadn't expected to get emotional, but actually hearing him say he’d cover your monthly bills and help you stay on top of everything was unreal. You'd sleep better at night knowing you had nothing to worry about.

I probably look ridiculous.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, handing you his handkerchief so you could dab your eyes.

“I’m just,” you stopped to take a breath. It was okay to be vulnerable. That was part of communicating. “I’ve carried this stress on my shoulders and knowing that you’re going to take some of that weight away is… I’m never going to be able to repay you for that or thank you enough.”

“I don’t expect a monetary repayment nor would I want that. I told you, honey. You're an honest and kind person. Your company is going to be more than enough.”

He sounds too good to be true.

“You say that now, but you'll grow tired of me,” you teased, holding out your hand to give him the handkerchief. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and refused to take it back. “Keep it. And considering I offered a year for this, I know I won't grow tired of your company,” he said, a bit of concern in his eyes as you sniffled. “Are you okay to continue? We can take a break.”

“I'm fine,” you promised, straightening up and feeling lighter, like the weight was already gone. “We were discussing expenses.”

“Yes,” he smiled, gesturing to your outfit. “I plan to take you shopping so you can have a few outfits, jewelry, shoes, make-up, and whatever else you need ready for the planned upcoming events, as well as some dressed down outfits so you’re comfortable when we travel and to spruce up your wardrobe if you’d like.”

Careful. You’re going to spoil me.

“I’m also going to deposit two thousand dollars into your account each month for your leisure,” he added, writing it on his pad as if that was the final say in the matter.

“Two thousand dollars?!” you nearly shouted. You weren’t trying to sound hysterical, but you failed. “I’m sorry, but who spends that much on clothes each month?!”

Andy looked like he was trying not to laugh at the incredulous look on your face. “You don’t have to spend it on clothes. It’s for you to use as you wish.”

“But you’re already buying me a whole new wardrobe AND covering all of my bills and expenses for nine months. I’m assuming you're covering travel expenses, too?”

“I will,” he confirmed.

“Then there’s no reason why I’d need that much money,” you said with a shake of your head. Estelle would probably tease you for not agreeing, but it was too much. “I can’t possibly need more than five hundred a month.”

“One thousand,” he said firmly as you narrowed your eyes. “Humor me, honey. Please?”

You tapped your pen against the pad as you thought it over. You really didn’t see a reason for that much, but you could put any leftover funds each month into savings. It would be good to pay Estelle back.

Plus, how could you argue when Andy gave you a sweet smile?

“Fine. One thousand each month,” you said, ignoring the look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Okay. We’ve discussed the length of the contract, my job, living arrangements, expenses, which includes traveling. How about traveling itself?”

“Is your passport current?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Good. Some of the traveling will require us to go out of the country and you’ll need it handy. We’ll need to coordinate our schedules so you can block off dates in your calendar. We’ll most likely share a suite for any non-local events, but I’m not going to make you share a bed with me. You have my word.”

You nodded as you wrote that down. It was a bit of a surprise that he didn’t expect you to sleep with him. “Thank you, Andy,” you said, pointing at him with your pen. “But I’m planning to tell Estelle about every function, big or small, so she knows where I am. I won’t budge on that.”

“You’re allowed to give her the details. You said you trust her and that she can be discreet.”

You could never picture Andy as a creep, but the confirmation that he wouldn't force you to sleep with him and that Estelle would know what's going on helped you relax. "If I'm not working or going to functions with you, what am I doing with the rest of my time?" you asked.

Does he expect me to be at his beck and call?

"I'm glad you asked. It's your time to do what you want. Relax, hang out with friends, pamper yourself. Minus the days you'll have blocked out in your calendar, the time is yours," he explained, lightly twirling his pen in his hand. The motion momentarily distracted you. "I only ask if you plan to leave the city to tell me, that way I know you're unavailable if anything last minute comes up."

You weren't sure what you were going to do with that extra time. While a nine month long vacation sounded nice, you didn't want it to be all leisure. You needed somewhat of a routine. Maybe you could take some self development courses to prepare for going back to the office.

"That's fair. I don't have any plans to leave the city, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do," you said, hoping you weren't missing anything as you looked over what you had written down. "What if I’m sick or there’s an emergency and I can't be with you?”

“Then you won’t go," he said as a matter of fact. "I’d never ask you to choose between this arrangement and your well-being or family. Depending on the situation, I could miss it to help you.”

That was unexpected. Andy shouldn't have to put you ahead of any of his obligations. The offer though, even if it never came to fruition, warmed your insides. "That's kind of you, Andy," you said softly before you cleared your throat. “The last topic I have written down is sex.”

“No,” he said, something unreadable in his eyes at the suggestion. “Sex is not on the table because I’m not going to pay you for that.”

“Oh,” you said, quickly scratching it off your list. It was admirable on his part, but also slightly disappointing. Clearly you misread some of the signals. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, placing his hand over yours before you could pull it away. “If I sounded harsh, I’m sorry. I understand sex is an expectation for some arrangements, but it isn’t for me and I would never want you to feel pressured to be physical with me. I also have no judgments against anyone who pays for sex. My preference regarding intimacy is for it to happen organically.”

“I appreciate the explanation,” you said. This was a business transaction to him. That much was clear. But knowing his reasoning behind it did help. “As far as being affectionate at functions, what’s your take on that? Or going on dates?”

“I may have my arm around you or keep you close to my side, but nothing more if you’re uncomfortable with that. If you are, please tell me and I’ll stop immediately,” he answered before a moment of silence stretched on. "You're asking if we're going to go on dates?"

"You mentioned meeting once a month. Is that a date?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "It's a chance for us to meet up and talk. I don't want to demand a title for those moments. That isn't fair to you."

It wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer. Maybe after his divorce and not knowing if people genuinely wanted to connect with him, he wasn't interested in the dating scene. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair with a hum. “You deviated from the sex discussion quickly.”

“You said it wasn’t on the table,” you reminded him. You weren't about to make a fool of yourself by pushing.

“I said I wasn’t going to pay you for sex. I never said sex wasn’t on the table at all,” he pointed out. You jumped to the conclusion that he didn't want it because it wouldn't be part of the contract. “Any discussion we have regarding that, I’d prefer not to be in a contract form.”

“So if it does happen, we’ll work through it together naturally?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

His gaze softened considerably. “Yes, we would. And I’d hope you’d trust me enough to know I’d treat you well and take care of you.”

"I do," you said.

"But sex and a relationship aren't expectations of our agreement or outside of it," he said, taking his hand away from yours. "I want to make that clear."

Andy driving the point home was what you needed, as saddening as it was. At the end of the day, it was a contract. He was paying you for your company. Surely he didn't want anything else. "Thank you for reiterating that. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that I missed?"

His expression remained neutral, but you imagined it disappointed him that you shifted the conversation back to business. Wishful thinking on your part. "Yeah. The only other thing I wanted to discuss is the possibility of you having a driver."

"A driver?" you asked. Wasn't that a bit much? "I don't mind taking cabs or Ubers."

"I understand that, but I'd prefer if you had a driver. If you have to meet me for an event and I can't escort you myself, they will know exactly where to go. You also won't have to pay for someone to drive you around if you want to go anywhere."

"But you're paying them," you said.

"My job is to cover your expenses," he shrugged, leaning his head back and reaching up to loosen his tie. You stared for far too long. "Told you I want to take care of you, honey."

You shifted in your seat, hoping he didn't take any notice. "I want to pick the driver," you said, a little more breathy than before.

That poor driver is likely going to be bored for the next three quarters of a year being my chauffeur.

"From a selection of my choosing. They're all trustworthy."

"I'm giving Estelle the details of that, too," you said.

"I expect nothing less," he smiled, catching your eye. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of," you said.

He tapped the notepad with his pen. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up, but I won't ask you to sign it for a week. This will give you time to back out if you need to and it will also give you a few days to contact me should you think of anything else."

"One week," you whispered. Could you wait that long? What if you did think of something else?

"Until then," he said, standing to walk back to his desk. He came back with a letter sized envelope. "So you know I'm serious."

Your eyebrows shot up when you opened the envelope. It was a cashier's check for two thousand dollars made out to you. He had it ready for you. "Andy, this-"

"I know we agreed on one thousand, but I was set on two thousand before we talked it over. Even if you decide not to move forward with this, I want you to take it."

Afraid you might cry again, you set the check down and stood up to hug him. He stiffened in your hold and you wondered if you overstepped before he exhaled and wrapped his arms around your back. You thanked him already with your words, so you wanted to do it again with a hug. The way he held you in return, it felt like was saying "you're welcome".

And that you weren't alone.

"I wish we could have that dinner tonight," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. You shivered before you reluctantly pulled away. "Unfortunately, I have to get drinks with a few executives."

"That sounds terrible," you teased, drawing a chuckle out of him. "I should get going then."

"It is terrible," he agreed, making sure you had the check and your other things as he led you to the door. "I'll see you back here in a week at the same time."

"And I'll hopefully speak to you before then," you said, not wanting to sound clingy.

But the smile he gave you was a sign of hope. "I'd like that."

This is going to be the longest week ever.

I don't need to wait a week. I'm signing on the dotted line! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 4 months ago

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The Rift - Chapter One

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Unrequited crushes, yearning, questionable science

Summary: Two weeks after the Rift appears, Marcus Pike and the Art Crimes team have been inundated by black market artifacts, and Marcus is more than happy to use this as an excuse to get closer to the curator who is helping them identify the items. Meanwhile, the perpetrators enlist a supervillain to cause a blackout around the Rift in order to steal even more. Hopefully that doesn't cause anything bad to happen!

A/N: We're building toward something big! One thing that I am doing in this fic, for my sanity and for yours, is identify the POV character whenever it changes. I don't usually do this, preferring to rely on narrative, but when three of your characters share the same name, this gets complicated.

Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter>>

(Pike)

Marcus Pike takes the steps to the National Gallery of Art two at a time. At the top, he catches his reflection in one of the large font windows and pauses to attempt to flatten his windswept hair before dashing through the revolving doors. He flashes a smile–and his badge–at the security guard, who recognizes him and nods. Rather than funnel through the ticketing counter with the rest of the guests, Marcus instead ducks through a door labeled ‘MUSEUM STAFF ONLY,’ hops down the stairs–three at a time, this time–and opens another door to the curation department, making a beeline for the now-familiar office.

“I’ve got another one for you,” he announces breathlessly, forgetting to knock.

The occupant startles, sending a novelty coffee mug full of pens and highlighters scattering across the floor.

“Marcus,” you hiss, pressing one hand over your pounding heart. “Oh my God, you can’t keep doing that!”

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “I, uh, guess I got a little excited.”

“Two thousand year-old artifacts will do that to a man, I guess.” You take in his heaving chest, askew tie, and mussed hair. “Did you… run here?”

Marcus feels heat flush to his cheeks, and he grins sheepishly. Oh, if only he could say that it’s

not just the startlingly well-preserved bronze comb now sitting in the evidence locker right next to the carefully cataloged Roman coins, ceramic glazed urn, ceremonial dagger, and a scroll of papyrus, all in pristine condition. No, it’s not just the flood of bizarre artifacts suddenly entering the black market that has Marcus’s heart pumping with excitement.

It’s the far-too-cute-for-her-own-good Museum Curator at the National Gallery of Art that has been indispensable in these cases, identifying and verifying the authenticity of each new artifact recovered by him and his team.

“Like you said, ancient artifacts really get the blood flowing,” Marcus grins, daring to chance a wink in your direction. “I dunno if you can really call them ‘artifacts,’ though. Or even ‘ancient.’ Weird times we’re in, right now.”

His thoughts drift to the Rift again–common knowledge, not just in DC but throughout the entire globe now, still less than a month into its existence. Heavily guarded, of course, and entrance is strictly prohibited. Hell, even loitering in the vicinity of the Rift earned Marcus a stern telling-off that even his FBI credentials couldn’t override. He couldn’t get the sight of it out of his mind, though. It was as though the empty space around the Rift simply… broke. Like the universe as he knew it was, and then suddenly was not in the space of around ten feet wide. He tried to look through the hole, through the bit that ‘was not,’ but it was like looking through warped glass. The air itself bent and swirled, and through it he swore he could hear the sound of hooves on cobblestone, snippets of language he had read his fair share of in graduate school but had never heard spoken aloud.

“So you uh… want me to come take a look?” you ask, sounding almost shy.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“I’m not running, though, so don’t even try.”

Marcus laughs joyfully. He can’t seem to stop smiling whenever he’s lucky enough to be in your presence, and of late, that means he’s smiling a lot.

“Walking sounds perfect,” he agrees. “Plus, that was enough cardio for me for the whole week, I think.”

You grin back, and Marcus wonders if you can feel the electricity that seems to descend whenever the two of you banter, or if it’s only him that’s affected. Sounds about right, he muses ruefully to himself. You old sap. Still, the silence stretches out just a beat too long, and it sends his imagination whirling. Coffee dates, long walks through the city, cozy drinks on his sofa oh shit how do you even ask someone out in the age of Tinder–

“Lead the way, Agent,” you smirk, and Marcus feels himself melt.

You click your tongue thoughtfully as you examine the comb. “Bronze, Imperial, I’m gonna guess somewhere around… 500 BCE?”

Marcus whistles through his teeth, impressed. “How do you know that?”

You pick up one of the coins. “Numismatics. Anyone with a working knowledge of Roman history can place one of these babies within a few decades or so.” You flip it over, revealing the stark profile of the Emperor. “This was around the height of his rule and he died in 504 BCE. Knowing that, the coins are from around 510-ish, so everything else that comes out of the Rift, well…”

“You think all of it’s from around the same time,” Marcus offers.

You shrug. “They’re all coming from the same hole in space and time.”

“What I don’t understand,” Marcus mumbles, more to himself than to you, “is how the hell people are getting in and out of the damn thing, it’s so heavily guarded.”

“I’ll say,” you comment wistfully. “They’ve got that whole perimeter set up now, you can’t go within a quarter of a mile. Wish I could see it… I mean, talk about a curator’s dream, right?”

“It’s incredible,” he says softly.

“Wait. You’ve seen it? How?”

Marcus smiles and holds out his hands, feeling slightly guilty. “Managed to hoodwink a few people with my credentials, but I barely got within eyesight before I was politely asked to leave.”

“By politely, I’m assuming you mean ‘with an assault rifle.’”

“Maybe a little.”

“Okay, now I’m pissed at you. And don’t flash those big brown puppy dog eyes at me,” you snap, right as Marcus begins to do exactly that. “Throwing your FBI Agent weight around, and you couldn’t even bring along your consultant.”

“Oh yeah, because I really wanted to put you at the end of some Heroic bigwig’s assault rifle as well,” Marcus laughs. “It was stupid, I let curiosity get the better of me. What can I say?”

“You can say you’re sorry by buying me a coffee. Not the swill they’ve got here, a proper latte. And while I drink it nice and slow-like, you have to tell me everything.”

Marcus can’t think of a single better way to spend the rest of his afternoon.

Electricity crackled at his fingertips. Even if the paycheck hadn’t been enough to convince him, the ultimate test of his powers was enough for him to agree to something so petty as theft. For that’s what it was, when you took away all the other factors. The Rift was simply a complication. A variable.

A challenge.

Giving things power had always been his strong suit. Taking it away was another thing entirely, like flexing an unfamiliar muscle, or wiggling your ears. His biggest undertaking before now had been to shut down electricity to one wing of a building, but a whole city block?

Intriguing.

Lurking in the shadows, at a safe distance from any of the Heroics security, the man known only as Voltage flared his nostrils, drawing the electricity back up into his body, and then… he pulled. Extracting the electrons from the world around him, his fingers flexed and strained as the current flowed backward, like forcing a waterfall to run in reverse. All the lights within a four block radius from the Rift–from cars, streetlights, personal flashlights, mobile phones, and screens–cracked and popped ominously before shattering and bathing the entire area in darkness.

(Pike)

Not two miles away, the fluorescent light above Marcus Pike flickers, the unpleasant sound of electricity causing the hairs to rise on the back of his neck. Pulling a face, he rubs at the sore muscle with one hand, sits back in the uncomfortable metal chairs of the evidence room, and yawns loudly.

“What I find interesting is that there doesn’t seem to be any residue on any of the items,” his partner remarks, seemingly ignoring the yawn.

“What kind of residue?” Marcus asks, curious.

“I dunno, like… time residue?”

The Agent laughs good-naturedly. “Time residue, huh? What the hell is that?”

“Haven’t you ever seen any SciFi movies?”

Marcus shoots the other Agent a skeptical look. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t a movie.”

“Exactly. So we have no idea what kind of thing we’re dealing with. I mean, come on. Black hole guns? Holes in space-time? And you’re drawing the line at residue?”

Marcus laughs again, shutting his laptop with a sigh. “Jesus, I had no idea how late it had gotten. Let’s take a break and start again in the morning, yeah?”

“D’you think anything else has come out of the Rift?” his partner suddenly asks.

“Other than the artifacts they’re smuggling? Dunno,” Marcus answers. “They’ve got that place locked down pretty tight. I’ve been wondering how the hell they’ve been getting this stuff out of there,” he remarks, repeating what he had said to you earlier that day.

“If a bunch of coins are able to get out, it’s only a matter of time before… other stuff does, too.”

Marcus pauses, one hand reaching toward the door. The statement troubles him more than he cares to admit.

“Above my pay grade,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t land. “Those Heroics guys have to have a handle on things.”

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #marcus acacius #the mentalist #we can be heroes #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

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simmerandwrite · 11 months ago

Text

Sink Into Me - 08 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Wordcount: 8.3k

Warnings: canon level violence (guns, physical fighting), allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), some angst

Notes: HI I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. life, ya know? but enjoy this little treat, please. and.. uhm.. sorry.

---

“We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

You took in a hard breath and scanned the man - he had a permanent smug look to him, something that made you feel unsettled. The tag around his neck with his badge indicated his name was Grant Ward, NYPD detective.

“Give me back my phone,” you said, slowly emptying your lungs in an attempt to stay calm. “Now.”

Ward shook his head, grinning. “Not yet. C’mon, let’s chat.” He slipped your phone inside his jacket pocket and grabbed your elbow, urging you to step further across the sidewalk in front of a closed down shop. “I got your info from Hammond’s file. You were a witness on a little vehicular assault case a while back, right?”

Nothing about this felt proper or to procedure. But you wanted it to end as quickly as possible, so you nodded.

“What I need to know is why Steve Rogers asked you to lie on your witness report and identify the wrong person.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice cracked as you tried to piece together what he was saying. “I didn’t lie about anything. Shouldn’t - shouldn’t Officer Hammond be following up with me - if there was an issue?”

“I’ve reopened the investigation.” Ward leaned against the building, glancing up and down the street casually as he spoke. “Your intentional misidentification put someone innocent in jail. How do you sleep at night?”

“I didn’t lie,” you repeated, swallowing hard. Hercules paced at your feet.

“You’re lying right now. Rogers told you who to point out in that police lineup, didn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in this man’s face but given he was technically a person of the law, you resisted. Instead, you pursed your lips and opted to stay quiet. Shouldn’t you have a lawyer or something to represent you? God, why weren’t you into legal dramas instead of reality tv?

“Here’s what it looks like. Rogers asks you to help him out and in turn, you get a fancy new apartment. Isn’t that right?” Ward took a step forward and pointed past you, towards the rest of the block. “How else can you afford a luxury apartment working your little 9-5 gig? I verified your record of employment and something just doesn’t add up.”

Before you had a chance to reply to his asinine claim, he was reaching for his buzzing phone. “This is Ward.” You tried to listen to the other end of the call, but couldn’t make out the voice.

He looked back at you, eyes roving up and down as he carried on with his phone conversation. “You’re kidding. That was all true? Wow. Okay. Yeah, I’m with her. Sure.” He raised his free hand and suddenly a nearby SUV was pulling up. “Heading there now.”

Your stomach twisted when Ward turned back to you.

“Let’s go.” He tipped his head towards the vehicle, where the driver had gotten out to open the back door. “We’ve gotta move this chat elsewhere.”

Your eyes blew open, head shaking. “Absolutely not. Give me my phone and —“

Ward stepped towards you again, grabbing your hand that was holding onto Hercules' leash. “If you don’t get in that car willingly, you’ll have a dead dog on your hands. Is that what you want?” He flashed you a smile. “Let’s. Fucking. Go.”

“Storm coming tonight..”

Steve looked up from his plate of pasta, watching his mom across the table as she put down her cutlery. Sarah rubbed her hands together, tired with the weight of time and the pressure of weather changes that seemed to grow worse with each passing season.

“I can feel it in these old joints,” Sarah continued, leaning back in her chair before glancing to the window above her kitchen sink.

“Ma,” Steve finally replied, quietly returning his own fork to the side of his plate. “Why don’t you skip the rest of this monologue about the weather and tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Steve tried to have dinner with his mother at least once a week, if time permitted. The last few months had been a bit chaotic for him though, mostly his own doing of course. And Sarah hadn’t pressed when he canceled. But, something about her tone and strange casual conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. In fact, he could read his mother really well and she was upset, maybe even mad at him. If there was one thing Steve hated, it was when his mother was upset with him.

He liked to nip it in the bud as quickly as he could.

Sarah sighed, slowly crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed down her son. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you about who I ran into at the hospital a few weekends ago.”

“You gonna give me a clue?” Steve smirked, taking a long pause to enjoy a sip from his wine glass. “Who?”

When your name left his mother’s lips, Steve felt his chest tighten. He had very quickly and casually explained to her that you and he had called things off, respectfully asking Sarah not to press him for details. Surprisingly, she hadn’t asked any follow up questions, though Steve knew she hadn’t been feeling positive about the news. In fact, he had assumed his mom would have had a much more passionate reaction. And maybe it was still coming.

He took a deep breath. “Oh. And.. how is she?” Would it be possible for this conversation to only last one more sentence? Would he be able to get out of it without his mother making him feel any worse?

When Steve met his mom’s gaze again, he knew that question wasn’t what he should have asked. He was starting to think maybe saying nothing would have been best.

“How is she?” Sarah repeated, letting out a hard laugh. “Steven.”

“Ma, listen, what happened between us is..” He hesitated. Complicated was not the word he wanted to use, but what else could he say? “I had to cut things off. She’s safer this way.”

There. His heart was torn off his sleeve and slapped onto his plate.

“Steve,” Sarah was softer this time, releasing the anger from her shoulders as she reached across the table for his hand. “You’re not being fair. To yourself. How are you supposed to live this way? Don’t you want a family in the future? Or a break from.. everything?”

Steve squeezed her hand but didn’t respond. Sarah waited another moment for him to say something, then stood and carried her plate to the sink.

Without turning back around, she continued. “I told her about Hamilton House.”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair again and shaking his head. “Ma..”

“Why didn’t you just talk to her? She would have understood.”

“You barely made it out of that fire alive!” Steve pushed back from the table and met his mother at the sink, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I can barely live with myself as is, but if something happened to her too, I’d..”

“Honey,” Sarah’s voice was even quieter now as she pivoted to look at him. She reached her hand up to cradle his face. “You need to stop blaming yourself, please.”

How could he ever do that? The scars were still quite obvious on many parts of his mother’s body -

“Steve.” Sarah took in another deep breath. “I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. And so is she.” There was your name again, coming off of Sarah’s tongue like it just warmed her soul. “She’s good for you.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” A painful laugh gurgled up in Steve’s throat. “I made pretty sure she’ll never talk to me again, unfortunately.”

“Steven.” This time the soft edge had left Sarah’s tone. The disappointment was back. “Don’t tell me you pushed that girl away on purpose.”

“I’m a grown man who can take care of himself,” Steve repeated back to her, stepping away from the sink and turning to grab his coat. “I’ve gotta go, Ma. Thanks for dinner.”

Sarah grabbed his wrist, eyes bright with words she wouldn’t say. Instead, she shook her head and sighed quietly. “At least take a container of pasta for Bucky.”

---

The further the vehicle traveled beyond your neighbourhood, the further your stomach sank. You did your best to listen to the conversations happening between Ward and his driver, but nothing seemed clear.

Where were you going? Were you in trouble? You hadn’t lied to the police - you knew better than that. But how could you prove that when clearly they had another story created? Was this about Steve? You weren’t even talking to him. What the hell was going on?

The only thing saving you from a breakdown was Hercules resting his head on your lap. Gently you scratched behind his ears, doing your best to reassure your dog as he did the same for you.

You were going to be okay. There had to be a positive solution to this mess.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed down in an industrial area you weren’t familiar with. In the growing darkness of the night, everything kind of looked the same - rows of large warehouse style buildings, some in much worse shape than the others. As you approached one of the buildings, a garage door opened up to allow you access.

“Let’s go,” Ward barked out as the car stopped, quickly sliding through his door and throwing the one closest to you open. He reached for your nearest wrist. “But first..”

Handcuffs. What you could only assume were police-grade handcuffs joined your wrists together, despite your protests. Ward was choosing every opportunity to remind you he had a gun, so when he told you to head towards the staircase leading out of the parking area, all you could do was comply.

The driver, some other nameless brute listening to Ward’s every word, held on to Hercules’ leash and followed behind. The panic within you stirred.

The building had clearly once been a thriving warehouse or multi-level business hub. Now, it was reduced to whatever criminal activity these men were tied up in. Every second window was boarded up or leaking in cold air through broken shards, with the evidence of previous occupants littering the floors. Old desks, chairs, appliances laid strewn about.

Ward guided you across the second floor, leading towards the far side of the room. You could hear other voices as you approached. He yanked the door open and pressed against your back for you to enter ahead of him.

You stumbled past the threshold, lifting your head up to look around the room. It felt out of place, given the state of the building. This room remained intact from days before, the remnants of an executive office with a large boardroom table sitting opposite the broken windows. A man you didn’t recognize was seated behind an oversized mahogany table, a burning cigar hanging off his lips. Behind him, a disheveled blond wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket stood scrolling through his phone.

That man you did recognize – you were certain he had been one of the men who had broken into your apartment. You could feel the familiar wave of panic come over you again.

Sitting in a pair of chairs in front of the desk were another two men – one dressed in a long overcoat over his suit, with perfectly coiffed hair. The other donned more casual clothes, well worn with a scowl across his face, strong and silent. You thought perhaps you recognized them, too. You might have seen them at Shield or maybe they had worked with Steve?

“This is her?” The man with the cigar asked, rising from his seat. The other two seated men had turned their heads to look in your direction, then stood the same.

Ward laughed, returning his gun to his jacket, and reaching a hand to grip your neck. He urged you closer to the desk.

“Russo – you’re sure?” The same man asked again, shooting a glance at one of the other two men. Ah, nice suit, nice hair - Russo. He had interrupted you and Steve, that day at his office.

“Yep. I know, doesn’t make sense to me either,” Russo replied with a dry laugh, stepping away from the desk and waiting to the side with the other man, Mr. Strong and Silent.

“Walker, you’re on dog duty,” Ward added after. He snapped his fingers and the guy scrolling on his phone was at attention, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hercules’ leash from the driver.

Hercules whimpered at the back of the room.

You tried to look towards your confused pup, but Ward’s hands landed on your shoulders. He pushed down to encourage you to sit in one of the vacant seats at the desk.

Finally, the man with the cigar looked at you. A tight smirk curled up on his face as he said your name out loud. “Well, nice to finally meet you. I’m Brock. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

You sat still, hands resting on your lap. You resisted replying with some snappy commentary and instead dug your fingernails into your palms. Maybe you needed to comply, but God, what was the point of all this?

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” you said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I told him-” you jerked your head at Ward, “-everything I said to Officer Hammond was true. Steve didn’t ask me to lie about anything and I’m sorry if someone you know ended up in jail but I had to tell the truth.”

Brock raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, I don’t give a shit about any of that. We’ve gotta fix this and you’re going to help.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

“You’re going to meet with Hammond and tell him you lied about-”

You shook your head. “I didn’t lie.”

Brock abandoned his cigar and slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t interrupt me, darling.” He took a breath and started again. “You’re going to meet with Hammond tomorrow morning and set things straight, alright?”

“And if I don’t?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you asked your question.

Brock leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You’re really asking that? Damn. Well, if you don’t - you’re never going to see your dog again, for starters.”

Your face fell and you shuffled in the chair again, turning to look back towards Hercules. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“What do you think, Walker? The mutt would be good for the pit, huh? They could use some fresh meat for the next fight.”

You gasped as Hercules pulled at his leash, trying to walk to you. Walker held the leash tight.

“P-please. Don’t. He doesn’t deserve that, he’s just..” Your voice shook as you turned and looked back at Brock. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Hammond.” You just had to agree and get out of here. Once you were home, you could call the police station and tell them the truth and and and–

“Hammond is expecting you first thing tomorrow morning at the station.” Ward was looking down at your phone, tapping away at the screen. Great, he was just sending messages on your behalf. You hated that. Clearly you were not getting your phone back. Fuck, how were you going to get out of this?

“Now,” Brock leaned onto his elbows on the desk, returning his cigar to his mouth for a long drag. “Let’s talk about Rogers.”

You gulped.

“I need every little dirty secret you’ve got,” Brock said with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s go. Talk.”

“I don’t..” You faltered, glancing around the room quickly. Russo was watching you carefully while his partner seemed to be preoccupied with his feet, his eyes were drawn down. “I don’t know what you think I might know.. Steve and I.. We.. He broke up with me a while ago.”

A laugh escaped Brock. “I heard that wasn’t the case.”

Russo stepped forward. “Rogers took you home from Shield a few weekends ago, did he not? Drove you right back into your apartment then even walked you to the door?”

You stilled. Why did these men know about that? Were they following you? Or Steve? How did they know where you lived?

“I don’t know anything, I swear. Even when we were..” You closed your eyes. “We didn’t talk about business.”

“You know, I don’t believe you.” Brock let out a frustrated huff and tapped his cigar ash to the floor. “Let’s start easy, alright? Rogers has a ledger, the Bible for all his transactions. Where does he keep it?”

You shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing a ledger or–”

“Bullshit.” It was Russo jumping in now. “You were fucking him for months. Christ, give us something.”

If you shifted your head back and forth in a shake anymore, you were going to give yourself whiplash. “I-I don’t, really.” You didn’t like how they were both crowding in on you, guns visible on their hips as their voices escalated. “Steve didn’t tell me things - he.. I didn’t..”

“Where does he keep his safe? What buildings did he take you to?” Brock continued on, reciting any thought or question that seemed to jump into his head. “I need to know which Senator is really in his pocket. And what he promised to Rhodes.”

You repeated yourself again and again and again as they bombarded you. “I don’t know, I don’t know! He would never tell me those things.”

“Think harder then.” Brock stood up in a fury, circling the desk to plant himself in front of you. “I need something fucking useful.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think of something, anything to stop this. Everything you retained about Steve wouldn’t be what they wanted - that he was an old soul, a gentleman who kept your best interests at heart. Who loved old musicals and his mother. Who cared deeply about things but had hurt you deeply, too. None of that would have been helpful so what the fuck were you supposed to do?

“I..” You let out a breath. Would it be worth it to lie?

“If you say ‘you don’t know’ one more goddamn time..” Brock leaned forward, closing in the space between you and reaching for your jaw. He held it between his fingers, keeping you in his grasp waiting for an answer.

When you didn’t respond, Brock growled and reached for his cigar, flipping it in his fingers and bringing the burning end closer and closer to your exposed neck. You could feel the heat before it even touched your skin and all you could do was scream in anticipation.

“I don’t– please! Please don’t-” You pressed yourself into the chair, trying to get as far away from him as possible. But, the burning sensation never came.

“Hey–” This was a new voice. The Strong and Silent man lingering near Russo had rushed between you and Brock, shoving him away before the cigar made contact with your skin. “You said you weren’t going to hurt her.”

Brock pushed him back. “This has nothing to do with you, Castle. Back the fuck off.”

Castle didn’t move - acting as a barricade between you and Brock. They stood at a standstill, and eventually Brock let out a long dramatic sigh. “Ward.” He snapped his fingers again and Ward came forward. Once again, a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Take her up to the roof.”

---

“Do we not fucking knock anymore?” Steve called out as Bucky burst into his office, dragging Peter by the collar as he did.

Steve’s patience had run thin following dinner with his mother. She had managed to stir everything else up again, the feelings Steve was desperately trying to eliminate from his heart. Yet, they hadn’t dulled over time like he wanted. They remained steady, as steady as the beat of his heart.

“She’s good for you.”

On top of that, they had managed to clear out most of the out of territory drug dealers creeping into Brooklyn. But it hadn’t really stopped. The drugs still found their way in, and the problems were escalating moreso. Angry clients, aggravated partners, a particularly frustrated future Mayor who needed Steve’s compliance and trusted network underground for insight.

The last thing Steve wanted to deal with now was another issue. But when Steve saw the panicked look in Bucky’s eyes as he grabbed Peter’s shirt, Steve paused.

“Show him.” Bucky urged Peter forward, eyes wide in a panic. “Now.”

Steve stood from his chair slowly, meeting the young man in the middle of his office. “What’s going on? Is this about Beck again?”

“No, sir. No. It’s uh..” Peter’s hand was shaking as he gripped his cellphone, tapping on the screen before he glanced between Bucky and Steve again. “I keep an eye on social media - mostly just to see what’s happening, who’s hanging out where. My friend Ned he..” Peter shook his head. “Whatever. No one knows it’s me who watches their stuff. So. I was clicking through John Walker’s Instagram stories - that guy is an idiot, by the way. Always trying to bait women to find him at clubs or wherever. And..”

Peter tapped through something on his screen then turned it toward Steve. “Mr. Barnes said he recognized the dog in the background of this video..”

Steve snatched the phone and pressed play on the screen recording. John Walker was in the middle of the frame, filming himself with the front camera as he talked about which bar he’d be showing up at later. But none of that mattered to Steve. What did matter was the dog tied up in the background, pulling at his lead as he started to bark.

“Christ. Sorry about the mutt. Dealing with something for work..”

Steve raised his eyes from the screen, eyebrows furrowed. “When was this posted?”

Peter swallowed before he replied. “About 20 minutes ago.”

Bucky turned to Steve. “Is that..?”

All Steve could do was growl, shoving the phone back at Peter. “Send that to me. Right now.” Steve reached for his own phone, heading out the door of his office towards the primary club facilities. Bucky was at his feet, asking what he could do to help.

“Buck, call Kate. I need a timestamp for when Hercules was picked up.”

Bucky nodded and tore off, phone to his ear.

Steve called Clint directly. “Barton, I need your help.”

---

Kate confirmed you had picked up Hercules just before they closed. She didn’t notice anything concerning, aside from your general demeanor seeming quiet.

Clint reviewed security footage outside your apartment building entrance, back door and lobby. No sign of you. It’s possible you had picked up your dog then gone elsewhere, but Steve wasn’t convinced.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Steve paced his office again and again, waiting desperately for some information. Peter and Thor had stolen off to a few well known bars to see if they could track down Walker or any of his friends.

Clint had gone to your building to troll the neighborhood and seek out any additional video footage that might help.

Steve called Vision to see if he could connect with Wanda to get some information about where you might be, without leading to anything especially suspicious.

Steve needed to know where you were and if you were okay. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew you were safe - until he saw you himself.

This was the fucking risk, wasn’t it? Letting you in. People were going to use your relationship against him. It was staring him right in the face all along. Fuck, how could he live with himself if you got hurt?

Steve let out a fit of rage that had been brewing within him. He grabbed the rocks glass off his desk, still half full of melting ice, and sent it flying into the back of his door.

God fucking damnit. He didn’t like any of this. With no news from Vision and Wanda, his mind was going to bad places.

Steve stalked across the broken glass and threw his door open, grabbing his coat as he left. He found Bucky downstairs at the bar, phone in hand as Natasha leaned beside him.

“Please tell me someone has some fucking news to share,” Steve growled out as he approached. He didn’t even have to ask Natasha to pour him a drink, as it quickly appeared on the bar.

“No Walker sightings yet,” Bucky said as he glanced at his phone. As he turned the screen, a new message appeared.

The text didn’t contain any information or words, just a simple location pin. Bucky tapped on it, revealing an address on the outskirts of Brooklyn.

“Who sent that?” Steve asked, eyeing over Bucky’s shoulder as he drained his glass.

“No clue. I don’t know the number.” Bucky replied quietly. “No message either. Just a thumbs up emoji. But the timing is suspect.”

Steve shook his head. What did he have to lose? “Let’s go. Have Sam meet us there.”

---

You should have worn more layers, warmer clothes. Not that you anticipated being abducted on your way home. But you trusted the warm fall morning and now all you had was regret. A thin sweater barely kept you covered and the looming thunder overhead meant the threat of rain was very real.

Ward had dragged you up the barren staircases to the roof, where he had then removed one of your handcuffs only to attach it to some external pipe system that hugged the outside wall of the building. You could sit on the dirty cold roof or stand and try to peer down, but nothing else. You were stuck.

When you tried to plead with Ward for your escape, he only smirked then offered an alternative.

“Tell you what - if you get on your knees for me, I’ll remove the handcuffs altogether.”

As an answer to that proposal, you spit in his face. He really didn’t like that - which left you pushed to the ground and cuffed with no coverage from wind or impending rain. God fucking damnit.

Once Ward disappeared through the door again, you yelled for help. If it made any lick of difference, you had no idea. There was another building very close by, yelling distance at least. But it looked abandoned just the same. On the other side of the roof, it looked like an emergency staircase existed.

Not like you’d be able to escape. You seemed very stuck.

Were they going to leave you out there all night? Was this some scare tactic? What did they want from you - a detailed breakdown of everything you knew about Steve? You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. Despite the ricochet of emotions you had been through with Steve, you still felt.. something to him. Be it loyalty or kindness or whatever, you couldn’t throw him under the bus.

Steve was a good person. You saw that in him often. But these men? You weren’t so sure.

What if they left you until you had to meet with Hammond? Ten hours in the cold and rain. You could survive that, maybe. Maybe.

Thunder rumbled above you. Rain started to fall.

Fuck. Maybe not.

In an attempt to make yourself as small as possible, you sat against the side wall and wrapped your free arm around yourself. It didn’t do much to protect you from the rain, but it helped retain what little body heat you still had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the rain before you heard the access door burst open. You looked up and braced yourself, but felt almost relieved to see it wasn’t Ward again.

It was Castle.

He hesitated when he saw you, then quickly hurried in your direction.

You closed your eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry - I don’t have anything to share about Steve - I can’t remember if there was—”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not here about that.” Castle crouched down in front of you. “I can’t let you go but let me help, alright?” He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a Swiss Army knife. “I’ll get out of these cuffs at least.”

You braced yourself as he gently touched your wrist, using his tool to work through the lock mechanism. “Thank you.. uhm, Mr. Castle?”

He chuckled, barely. “Frank.”

You nodded, grateful as he freed your hand and left the cuffs dangling. “Thank you, Frank.”

“Over there,” Frank turned his head and pointed to the middle of the roof, where a small maintenance structure stood. It had a sloping roof that could provide more coverage. “Go. You’ll be covered at least.”

Frank got to his feet and offered you his hand. Once you were standing, he shrugged off his own heavy coat and handed it to you.

“Frank,” you clutched the coat and met his gaze, eyes blurring from the rain. “Can you just.. make sure my dog is okay? Hercules? He’s a lover, not a fighter. But he’s all I have and- and..”

Frank gave you a curt nod. “Go.” He motioned back to the small shed and you nodded too.

You had no idea why Frank was helping you. But you decided it had to be a good sign, right?

---

Steve had no idea what he was walking into. He had done this before – going in blind to certain situations was the nature of his entire job. It wasn’t always possible to anticipate who he would run into, if the person he trusted would deliver, if weapons were involved. But given his state of mind and the all-consuming worry he had about your wellbeing; he didn’t really care what he was faced with.

He just needed to figure out where you were and ensure you were safe.

The location that had been sent to Bucky was outside of Brooklyn, just barely. Along an industrial neighbourhood, where plenty of abandoned factories and distribution centers lived, the coordinates lead them to a nondescript building.

Steve and Bucky climbed out of the car, strapped with more than enough guns and ammunition to fight their way through whatever and whoever they were about to face. As they approached, Sam jogged into view, too.

“Thor couldn’t find Walker anywhere,” Sam provided as an update once they were waiting outside. “But Peter’s little tech friend managed to track a location for some recent postings to this general area..”

“Sounds like a likely place to look,” Bucky concluded, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Steve.

Steve took in a deep breath, eyebrows narrowed as he gazed at the doors ahead of him. Raising his hands, he tugged at the collar of his coat and smoothed it out before nodding. He was ready to deal with this.

“If she’s anywhere in here, her safety is priority, you understand?” Steve glanced from Bucky back to Sam, waiting for their own nod of understanding. “If anyone put her in danger, they’re going to pay. But not at her expense.”

Bucky pressed his knuckles into his metal palm, a coy smirk raising on his lips. “Here’s hoping I get to fuck up Walker’s face again.”

Sam took the lead and yanked the dilapidated entry door open, busting open the lock mechanism with little effort. The main level they entered on was mainly being used for vehicle parking and what looked like some storage. A staircase led up to the next level.

Steve carried on - striding to the top of the staircase and heading through the doors. The entire building was in bad shape but this wasn’t their first rodeo.

Someone was hiding out somewhere. And when he found them, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Sam - call everyone to be standby, including Thor and his brother. Get Barton to scope out next door, too. Lots of windows for coverage, the rooftop. Remind him about the Bullseye protocol.” Steve ran a hand through his hair then glanced to his right, motioning to the far door with Bucky. “You’re with me.”

In a few long strides, Steve reached the door and waited. Then, he raised a hand and knocked against it. Bucky stood behind his left shoulder.

Someone on the other side of the door was yelling, then eventually they heard heavy stomping as someone approached. When the door opened, Steve didn’t hesitate - he leaped forward and reached for the collar of whoever it was.

Steve growled. Grant Ward.

“Oh Jesus fucking–” Ward yelped out, trying to pull away from Steve’s grasp as Steve backed him into the room. “Take it fucking easy, Rogers. What the fuck are you–”

“Where is she?” Steve’s voice boomed, holding Ward in his grip as he glanced around the room. It was a fairly sparse leftover office, but sitting at the end of the large boardroom table was Billy Russo, Frank Castle and Brock Rumlow himself. A few other nameless thugs waited behind them, guns at the ready. “Where IS SHE?”

Steve threw Ward to the ground, reaching for his gun as the men at the table stood up and drew their own weapons, too. Bucky followed in behind Steve and kicked Ward down when he tried to get back on his feet.

“Stay down,” Bucky said to Ward.

Rumlow moved from his spot slowly, waving his gun around and placing it down on the table as he walked towards Steve. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t respond, darting his eyes from Rumlow back to Russo and Castle at the table. Russo looked away, suddenly preoccupied with anything else but Steve. Castle, though, also put his gun away.

“Rumlow.” Steve growled out your name this time. “Where. Is. She?”

Brock smirked. “Who? Oh.. yes. Sure. We just met. As far as I know, you two aren’t together anymore. What’s the concern?”

“If you fucking touched her-” Steve raised his hand again, gun pointing directly at Rumlow as they stood apart. “Tell me where she is.”

“Me and Russo have been talking. I think the three of us could be working together better. If you haven’t been picking off my dealers one by one, the pot could be a lot sweeter.”

“You and your drugs aren’t worthy of Brooklyn.” Steve stepped forward. “Tell me.”

“You know, I didn’t want us to meet like this.” Rumlow brought his hands up, in a faux act of surrender then slowly moved one of them forward to encourage Steve to put his weapon down. “In fact, I went through a lot of trouble to keep your pretty face away from here.”

“Not much trouble, it seems. And it sounds like you have a mole,” Steve shot back, sparing a quick glance back around the room. Russo looked away again but Steve met Castle’s eyes for a beat, then turned back to Rumlow. “Loyalty is rare around these parts.”

“Speaking of loyalty - your girl.” Rumlow stepped back and let out a long breath.

Steve matched him and stepped forward, raising his gun up once more. “If you laid one fucking hand on her–”

“I’ll tell you where she is after we chat, alright? I need a promise from you - to share the territory.”

Steve huffed, lips pursed as he scanned Rumlow’s face. “Tell me where she is.” Steve could hear Bucky shuffling behind him, metal fist clenched, growing just as impatient as Steve was.

“Nah.” Rumlow shrugged, glancing around the room. “If you won’t negotiate, my lips are sealed. I still need her, gotta clear something up with the cops. Then, I don’t know. I guess she’s nice enough on the eyes, bit thicker than what I usually go for but maybe I’ll get her to warm my bed for a–”

Steve wasn’t an idiot. Rumlow was baiting him. And god fucking damnit it worked. Steve surged ahead, letting out another growl of rage as he attacked Rumlow with his fists.

On the other side of the room, Ward slid over to kick against Bucky’s knee - angering Bucky all the same. Sam rushed in to join them at the first sound of chaos. It wasn’t quite contained and really, it didn’t come as a surprise that everyone in the room was more than prepared for a fight. Rumlow’s extra lackeys seemed more than charged enough for the action. Bucky easily took care of Ward on his own, as Sam darted between helping Steve with Rumlow and the others as Russo tried to keep his distance.

“Where is she?” Steve had Rumlow on the ground, pummeling his fists into Rumlow’s jaw. He didn’t get a response, as the sound of gunshots sounded out, ending with shards of glass flying across the floor. In a brief moment of hesitation after, Steve took in the rest of the room.

Russo had slipped out. Castle too.

“Sam!” Steve stood quickly, keeping his foot against Rumlow’s neck.

Sam hurried over and tagged in as Steve rushed through the door to follow where the other two had gone. Running towards the staircase, he looked upwards and could hear the distinct sound of hurrying feet and the slamming of a metal door.

He bounded up the stairs towards the roof.

---

The rain continued to fall, although it had at least slowed down to a cool drizzle. It didn’t mean much since you were already soaking wet, though the coat from Castle had helped. It hadn’t really fit you but the extra layer kept you marginally more comfortable, despite the fatigue and hunger setting in. Was anyone else going to check on you? Would Castle come back to help?

Did.. did Steve know what was going on? Although - how would he even find out? Fuck, you kept going over everything again and again and again. The steps you took today, the conversation you had with Sarah a few weeks ago, Steve’s last words to you at your apartment…

You wish things had gone differently. Maybe in a different life or timeline, it might have all worked out.

Gunshots.

You could hear gunshots from somewhere nearby. Downstairs in the building, maybe. Truthfully, at least up on the roof, you were away from the reality of this situation - that these people had guns and clearly weren’t afraid to use them. Up there, in the rain, you could ignore all of that.

But no, here was the glaring reminder. A few more shots sounded out then it seemed to stop. You tried to keep ignoring it, laying your back flat against the wall of the structure until you heard the door open again. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look until you heard someone barking out your name. This time the voice belonged to Russo.

A set of footsteps tracked further onto the roof, but you held your safe position. Russo finally appeared ahead of you, a scowl etched on his face. “I thought Ward tied you up. Whatever, let’s go.” He grabbed your closest wrist, urging you away from your hiding space. You tried to yank yourself away.

“Please, I don’t want to-”

“Bill - come on, can’t we just drop all this?” Frank came into your eyeline next, looking you over quickly then back towards the door. “Rogers isn’t dumb, he’ll follow us up here anyway.”

Your heart jumped at Steve’s name. He was here, he was going to get you away from this.

Russo’s grip tightened on your wrist, though he turned to look at Frank. “The plan remains the same - we need her to talk to Hammond so Rogers can land some jail time. It’s the only way we can get ahead.”

Frank let out a noncommittal sigh. “Rumlow is a fuckin’ idiot. You don’t think his plan is to screw us over later too?”

“I don’t give a shit about that right now,” Russo growled, looking back towards you. “Let’s go.”

Frank hesitated again, but didn’t argue any further. You pleaded again as they took you to the far side of the roof, where the emergency fire escape stairs were. Russo let you go momentarily as he stalked over, peering down towards the stairs.

“They should hold up, I hope” he said with a shrug, motioning his head for you to go. “Ladies first.”

You shook your head, taking a step back and glancing towards the door instead. “No, I..” You turned on your heel.

A gunshot sounded out behind you, loud and piercing. You screamed, eyes wide as you turned back. Russo was scowling again, holding his gun high as he shot it upwards into the sky. He lowered it slowly, pointing it at you directly instead. If that wasn’t enough of a warning. “Down you go. Now.”

You glanced at Frank, who remained completely stoic as he looked between you and Russo.

Suddenly, the door flew open again. You all turned to look.

A wave of relief flooded through you - it was Steve. He called your name as he walked towards you, never breaking his eye contact with you. In an instant, all your worries and doubts and everything seemed to shatter as he looked at you with such gentleness and grace.

Russo let out a hard laugh, waving his gun for a brief moment before aiming it back at you. “No time for your cute reunion. Let us walk away, Rogers.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve didn’t even bother replying to Russo, though he did stop in his tracks when he realized Russo had a gun pointed at you. But, Steve carried on, repeating your name. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, jaw shaking as you nodded.

Steve softened, for a fraction of a second. You knew he could tell you weren’t being honest. But what were you supposed to do? You were a hostage, soaking wet on a roof, with a gun pointed in your direction - no, you were not okay.

You watched as Steve transformed again, soft eyes replaced by hard lines, a tight jaw. He finally broke your gaze and turned his attention to Russo and Castle. “Let her go and we’ll all walk away from this unscathed.”

A loud laugh escaped Russo. “Right. I don’t think so. We’re walking away from this with the leverage we need.”

You watched as Steve took in a deep breath, then reluctantly put his hands up. “What do you want, Russo? Money, territory, names? What? I’ll give you whatever you want - just put your gun down and let her go.”

“You think I’m an idiot?” Russo shook his head. “No, I’m not playing this game.”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” Steve continued, reaching his hand slowly for his gun. He raised it up then just as quickly tossed it behind himself. “Please, Bill. Just leave her out of this.”

“Billy..” Frank finally spoke up too. “Let’s call it, okay? Sounds like Rogers is willing to talk and–”

“No.” Russo took a step closer to you, gun firm in hand. “No, we’re going to–”

Before you realized what was happening, you weren’t even standing on your own two feet anymore. A flurry of noises rang out around you - screaming, gunshots, shouting. Someone had wrapped their arms around you – you fell towards the ground – you landed on.. Steve. It was Steve.

He had run towards you in the action, caging you in his arms as you both landed on the rooftop together. Safe. Alive. Steve shielded you with his own body from the noise and chaos happening around you. You didn’t know who had been shooting who, if anyone escaped or made it down the fire escape. All you knew is that you were safe, in Steve’s arms.

Steve was whispering out your name, again and again, like some sort of prayer on his lips. His words were wrapped in apologies, in cries for your safety, in hushed words that begged for reassurance. As everything else seemed to quiet down, he gently pushed himself up to peer down at you.

“Sweetheart, I’m so–”

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m okay.. I’m..c-cold.”

He shook his head and quickly shifted again, standing up and helping you back to your feet, too. He shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over you. Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it down the side of your face, wiping away stray droplets of water with his thumb. His palm was warm against your cheek, you could feel his whole heart pulsing as he held you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m–”

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice broke you both from the spell. Steve reluctantly looked away from you, pivoting slightly as he looked towards Bucky running in their direction. Across the roof, both Frank and Russo were on their knees, hands wrapped behind their backs. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around one of Russo’s biceps.

Wait, had someone shot him? It couldn’t have been Steve, he had put his gun down. Would Frank have..

Bucky leaned in slightly and mumbled into Steve’s ear, then they both looked across the roof towards the adjacent building. Bucky waved in that direction and Steve nodded, then they both turned back to you.

Before Steve could say anything else, you reached for his shirt. “Steve - you..we need to find Hercules. They said.. They..” You closed your eyes tight, head shaking as you tried to form your words. “They were going to take him somewhere to fight. I don’t know if..”

Bucky stood up tall again. He said your name firm, like a promise. “I’ll find him.”

As Bucky left, Steve wrapped his arms around you again - tighter this time. With one hand, he secured your back and the other cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t say anything and you couldn’t find any words either.

---

You were back at Steve’s apartment. You thought you’d never see those big windows overlooking Brooklyn ever again and yet, there you were. Safe.

Safe and warm, following a long shower in Steve’s guest bathroom. Stripping away your damp clothes and stealing away into the stream for longer than probably necessary had been a nice escape. Especially given that Steve had driven you back to his place in silence - though it wasn’t as awkward as before. It just felt like maybe there were things you both needed to say but couldn’t bring yourself to mention yet.

Before you had left the building earlier, Steve hadn’t let you leave his sight. Well, except for about ten minutes where Bucky hovered over you instead.

Steve brought you inside, back downstairs to that same boardroom and office space. But this time, you weren’t faced with bad guys with guns. Well, the bad guys remained but the guns were gone.

All four of them were bound and seated at a chair. Ward’s head was lolled to the side, Brock had a bloody face, Russo and Castle were mostly left without much damage. But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to last.

Steve squeezed your hand, gently turning you away from looking at them.

“Hey,” he said quietly, tipping your chin up with his thumb. “Can you tell me what happened? What they did?”

You swallowed hard, eyes wide for a moment as you considered his question. What was he going to do?

“Don’t overthink it, okay? Just tell me what you think I should know.”

You let out a breath then recounted everything. Ward ambushing you on the sidewalk, Brock threatening you, Russo joining in…

“But Frank he..” You finally spared a glance over your shoulder. Frank sat up straight in his chair, resigned to whatever fate awaited him. “He helped me. Tried to protect me, gave me his coat..”

Steve nodded, looking in Frank’s direction the same way. Steve called for Sam, then gave him another nod and Sam went to untie Frank from his chair.

It was only a few moments later that Bucky showed up with Hercules, who - thank god - looked unharmed, if a little worked up. You couldn’t help but start to cry as you broke away from Steve and rushed to your son.

But, It wasn’t lost on you how quickly Bucky led you away from the room with your dog. Or how the door shut behind you, leaving Steve and Sam in there with the rest of the men, the overlapping sounds and sounds of distress…

When you finally decided you had wasted enough water and regained all the proper feeling in your body, you shut off the water and let out a long sigh. Outside on the counter, folded neatly beside your warm towel, was some clothes you had left at Steve’s ages ago. Soft and clean layers to keep your temperature steady as you got ready for bed.

You supposed it was a choice you made - agreeing to go home with Steve instead of back to your own apartment. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep there - not tonight. And you knew Steve would insist on staying and keeping guard outside your door anyway. So it made more sense this way.

After you changed, you found Hercules waiting for you in the hallway. You could hear Steve in the living room, speaking quite passionately on his end of a phone call.

“Jim, this is the only deal I’m making. Proof of your dirty cop aside, I’m handing you Rumlow alive on a silver platter, even though I should have let him bleed out. So you have to do this for me. I don’t give a fuck about protocol..” There was a heavy pause. “Every instance of her name on any police report - gone. I don’t want her attached to any of it, do you understand? No trace of her. I don’t care - redact it or burn it. Get that done and I’ll deliver Rumlow to you in the morning. Understood?”

You knew you probably shouldn’t be listening, but it was your name he was mentioning.

“As for Russo, I’m dealing with that myself. But keep him on your radar. If you need another arrest to clench your win, you can have him once I’m done.”

You quietly slipped into the guest bedroom once you realized his call had ended. Once Hercules followed you in, you shut the door. Fuck. What happened now? Maybe you and Steve needed to talk about all of this - you definitely needed to talk about it.

You heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards the bedrooms and Steve stopped outside your door. You held your breath, wondering if he would say your name or knock. But - nothing. His phone buzzed again and he disappeared into his bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the door.

---

Mentally, Steve was exhausted.

Physically, his energy peaked in the midst of the action and hadn’t seemed to peter off yet.

You were safe, you were safe, you were safe.

Why couldn’t he calm down? You were one wall away, falling asleep. Safe. He got to you before anything critical happened. Christ, nothing should have happened in the first place.

Following his long frustrating phone call with Rhodes, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to say everything that was weighing down his heart - but your door was closed and he couldn’t even find it in himself to knock.

You were probably even angrier with him than before - given that this was all his fault. But that was fine with him. He could deal with your anger if that meant you had any feelings towards him left. Anger counted.

He rinsed off in the shower then pulled on a pair of pajama pants before falling into bed, not that he was tired. His brain was wired and maybe an allnighter was in his future.

Steve sent off a few last messages to Bucky and Sam, then discarded his phone on the nightstand. He leaned back against the headboard and–

There was a knock at his bedroom door. You were knocking. He swung his legs off the bed and hurried to open the door, just as you were about to push it open yourself.

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide. You just nodded again, crawling in and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

---

CHAPTER 07 - CHAPTER 09

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x you #mob boss steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #story: sink into me #simmerandcry #simmerandwrite

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crazyunsexycool · 9 months ago

Text

A love as sweet as honey

Prologue

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Sad Steve, Crying Steve, Lottie being cute, not much else

A/N: Here we go!! This is set in the My Little Love universe The rest of the story will be updated once My Little Love is completed so there aren't any spoilers. Timeline wise this prologue happens during chapter 30 of My little love and characters from that series will play a part in this one.

Series Masterlist

The tower loomed over the street. It glistened in the light of day, a beacon that called out to you. Everyone rushed around as you stared up at your new place of employment. With a deep breath you make your way into the building. It was odd to be in the middle of the city at the Avengers’ tower. The initial job offer mentioned working upstate at the compound. You had even started looking for a place closer to it. It didn’t matter either way to you as long as you had the job.

“Hello. It’s my first day and I was told to ask for Dr. Banner.” You told the receptionist that sat by the elevators.

“Name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

She types your name into the computer.

“I need to see an identification.” She smiled and held her hand out as you dug through your bag.

She grabs it to verify your information and adds something in the system. Then she grabs the phone and calls someone down.

“You can wait to the side someone will be right with you.” She says as she hands you back your ID. “Have a great day and welcome to Stark Industries.”

You mutter a thanks and move to the side of her desk. She was much too chipper for your taste but maybe that was why she worked as a receptionist. There are not a lot of people around the lobby but there are a few guards dressed in full on armor. You’d been to the lobby of the tower in the past and it hadn’t been this empty before. As you wait for whoever is coming you can’t help but anxiously fiddle with your pearl necklace. The elevator dings open and out comes a man in a black suit, slightly curly but short hair. His facial hair frames his smile as he comes up to you.

“Dr. Y/L/N correct?” He asks as he stops in front of you.

“Depends on who you are?” You eyed him suspiciously.

He chuckles. “I’m Happy Hogan, head of security. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll get you all set up with the proper clearance and work ID. Then I’ll take you up to the lab. If you are in fact Dr. Y/L/N.”

“Lead the way.”

“Excited for your first day?” He asked as you got into the elevator. Not really bothered by your standoffish attitude.

“Yup.”

He nods. “Many people apply for those lab jobs but very few get it and even less get to be Banner’s assistant. You should feel proud about it.”

You give a tight lipped smile. In reality you were ecstatic about this job because word around town was that this position as Bruce Banner’s assistant had been vacant for close to a year. It wasn’t necessarily the work itself but the famous scientist had specific requirements when it came to an assistant. You still didn’t know what they were but you assumed you had whatever it was Bruce Banner needed.

Happy leads you into an office where he proceeds to hand you a temporary badge with the right clearance. Then he takes your picture for your actual badge. He goes over a few general safety protocols and procedures. Finally after what feels like an eternity Happy takes you up another few floors up to where the labs are.

“Good luck.” Happy says as he knocks on the office door.

“Dr. Y/L/N it's great to see you again.” Bruce says once he’s opened the door. He waves to Happy as he’s walking down the hallway. “Please come in.”

You follow him in and take a seat across from him, only his sleek black desk separates you. The office itself is very clean, the walls are so white they almost hurt your eyes and there are barely any knick knacks or photographs lying around.

“I’m very excited to be working with you.” Bruce says and gives you a small smile.

“Me too. It’s an honor to be working with you. Still can’t believe I’m here.”

“Well believe it. Your work was very impressive and I’m sure we’ll do great things. Now before I show you your office and work space do you have any questions?”

“No, I think everything was covered at orientation. But, I get an office?” You perked up. The thought of having a space just for yourself was thrilling.

“Of course, everyone needs a quiet place to work. It’s attached to a much smaller lab if you have other things you’d like to work on. I insisted on it. I wouldn’t want to limit your own work just because you work with me. And Tony loves to fund new ideas so keep that in mind.”

You nodded along but were about to burst at the seams that you had such an opportunity. Clearing your throat you ask, “so if there was something I wanted to work on, do I have to ask for permission or present any preliminary research or documents before I can work on it?”

“Nothing so formal. As long as we know what you’re working on and we’d both like updates on your progress from time to time. Also if you need someone to look over anything or bounce your ideas off of please don’t hesitate to come to us. Other than that you’re free to work on whatever you want. Any possible equipment or materials are at your disposal. But it can’t interfere with our work.”

“Absolutely not.” You shake your head.

Bruce smiled, seeing the excitement in your eyes. He stands and waves you to follow him. First he shows you to your office where you drop off your bags. Then he lets you look around the small lab that was meant just for you. You roam around and marvel at how well equipped it is even if it’s small. Finally Bruce takes you to his lab and you can’t hide how impressed you are. You don’t hide your eagerness to explore either. It’s like letting a kid roam around freely in a candy shop or toy store.

Bruce doesn’t waste much more time. He quickly hands you an official lab coat with Stark Labs embroidered on it as well as your name. Then he shows you what you’ll be working on first. The two of you fall into a very comfortable rhythm for the next few hours.

“Banner.” His name is called from the doorway and you look up from your station to see none other than Natasha Romanoff standing there. “We have a lead and we leave now. He’ll be needed.”

He, as in the Hulk. You forgot that Bruce turned into the Hulk with how quiet he is. Bruce nods but sighs as he takes his white lab coat off and hangs it. Then he turns to you.

“I’m off now but I sent instructions to your email for what to do next and Friday can also help you if needed. Friday, please introduce yourself.”

“Hello, Dr. Y/L/N. My name is Friday and I am at your disposal.”

“Hello Friday.” You say. “A.I?” You ask Bruce and he nods.

“She has access to absolutely everything so you can ask her for anything. Of course if you don’t have clearance she won’t give you the information. Now about the mission. I may be gone the rest of the afternoon and evening so make sure you just head home at a reasonable hour. Friday will make sure to lock up the lab and help you set up your own codes to give you access. If I’m not back tomorrow just keep working on what you are now or work on one of your own projects.” He informs you. “I know it’s a lot but-“

“I’m your assistant, this is what I signed up for.” You reassure him and he nods. “Good luck on your mission.”

He nods again and says a quick goodbye before leaving. You look around the empty lab and just take a moment to appreciate that you were actually at your dream job. It was incredible. After everything that you went through to finish school with no support and the previous jobs you had where you weren’t valued you finally got to where you wanted to be. You smiled to yourself and asked Friday if she could play music. She asked what you wanted to listen to and you gave her the name of your favorite artist. Music started playing through the room and you got back to work.

For the next few days you followed the same schedule. You’d get to work at around 8:00 am, look at the instructions that Bruce had left for you on that first day and stopped when you felt like it was time to do so. Most nights you’d leave by 7:00 or 8:00 pm. It was easy to lose track of time when you were doing something you loved.

Bruce was finally back a week later. There was a defeated and tired look on his face when he greeted you that morning. You weren’t good with comforting people so you weren’t sure if asking if he was ok was the right thing to do. He didn’t give you much of an opportunity because he just dove into work and explained that he would need your help with some kind of testing in about half an hour.

Sure enough the half hour went by quickly. It was punctuated by the arrival of a little girl to the lab. She had stunning blue eyes and black hair that both framed her face beautifully and accentuated her rosy cheeks. Next to her was a boy with similar beautiful eyes and shoulder length black hair. You assume that they’re siblings. Behind them were four people. An older man, a young woman with red hair whom you thought was part of the Avengers, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark himself.

“Mowning Buce.” The little girl greeted as she bounded over to your boss. She smiled up at him while hugging a pink teddy bear.

“Good morning Charlotte. How are you this morning?”

“Am kay.”

“That’s good.”

The corners of your lips quirked up at the interaction. Kids were sweet, you liked kids more than you did adults. They never seem to have ulterior motives and were innocently but brutally honest most of the time.

You felt eyes on you as Charlotte continued to talk with Bruce. When you look over you see the boy with his brows furrowed, trying to decide if you’re a friend or foe. You give him a small smile and look back over to Bruce. This time you see Charlotte looking over at you.

“Hi.” She says as she gets closer to you. “Is Buce new fwiend?” She points at you.

“Yes?” You look up at Bruce for help and he just nods. “My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N. Is cute.” She approves of your name and you smile. “Am Wottie an is bubba an gwandpa an Wanda an Tony an Steebie.” She points at everyone she mentioned.

“Hello.” You give an awkward wave.

“Is Avenguh?”

“Me an Avenger? No. I just work here in the lab.”

“Can be fwiend?.”

“Of course.” You nod and Charlotte smiles at you.

“Alright Charlotte are you ready?”

“Am weady Buce.” She moves back toward Bruce and takes his hand.

As everyone follows Bruce around you look in their direction only to find Steve Rogers looking your way now. He gives you a small grateful smile before walking away.

“Y/L/N, good to finally meet you in person.” Tony stands besides you. “Your work was really impressive, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“Thank you for the opportunity.” You say first as you go from looking at him to the small group at the end of the room. “She seems sweet. If you don’t mind me asking why is she here?”

“Lottie can see the future. Her brother Henry can turn invisible. We run some tests just to make sure they’re hitting their regular growth milestones and that there are no underlying conditions we should worry about.”

“Oh.” Now you were intrigued.

“You’ll see her around here a lot. They live here, and their parents are on the team.” He gives you their names. “You seem to have the approval of our little social butterfly over there. She likes to roam around so don’t be surprised if she pops in for a visit.” Tony chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me when I say that you’d know if she didn’t like you.”

You nod as you watch Bruce pick her up and set her down on an exam table. Tony excuses himself and joins the group. Moments later Bruce asks for your assistance. You’re mesmerized by the readings as it seems that Charlotte is having a vision.

You definitely loved your job.

You had just walked back into your office from a small break when you heard it. Someone was in your lab. If it were Bruce or even Tony, you’d be ok with it. But someone else poking around your things annoyed you beyond belief. The doors that connected your office to the lab slid open as you went to see who it was. There was a man with his back to you. His shoulders shaked lightly and you could hear some sniffling. You took a step back with the intention of leaving him alone but he turned his head to look over his shoulder. The moment he heard you he looked in your direction and he composed himself.

“I’m sorry. I thought this place was empty.” He says and turns around completely.

Steve Rogers was standing in your lab, crying. He didn’t seem the type to cry at all but even less to do so in a semi public place. You stand there awkwardly as you think about what to tell him but he beats you to it.

“I’m Steve. You must be Banner’s new assistant right?”

“Yeah, Y/N.”

“Sorry for this,” Steve looks sheepish at the fact that he had been caught by a stranger. “It’s been a couple of tough weeks. One of my best friends is missing. Her family is devastated.”

“You must be too.”

Steve nods, his eyes suddenly glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry. Is that what the missions are about? Dr. Banner has been pulled for a few of them.”

Steve nods again.

“I’m sure you’ll find her soon.” You murmur.

“I hope so.”

There was an awkward silence between the two of you. All you wanted to do was get back to your office. It was right behind you all you had to do was take one step back. It’s not like you were really good at comforting people.

“Steebie.” You could hear Charlotte walking through the hallway.

“I should go get her. It was nice to meet you.”

The sliding door behind Steve opens and in walks the charming little girl you met a few weeks earlier.

“There’s my best girl. C’mon.” Steve picks her up, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh hi.” Charlotte says when she sees you. “Is new fwiend, Steebie.”

“You’re just making friends all over the place, sweetheart. Can you say bye to Ms. Y/N.”

“Bye bye Ms. Y/N.”

“Bye Charlotte.”

Steve gives you a tight lipped smile and a small nod and starts to walk out. The little girl in his arms waves and smiles as the doors start to close.

You walk back into your office and blow out a breath. In all honesty that interaction wouldn’t be the weirdest thing you’ll ever witness while being employed by Stark Industries.

It would also be the first of many interactions that you would have with the blond haired, blue eyed super soldier.

Permanent taglist

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10

@nalny5

@Sturchling

@angywritesstuff

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions

@almosttoopizza

@littleseasiren

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

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@kandis-mom

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@braveclementine

Series taglist

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@nekoannie-chan

@5upersoldiers1xt

@buckystevelove

@pumpkin-babydoll

@haruvalentine4321

@rebeccapineapple

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#A love as sweet as honey series #Steve Rogers x reader #dad!Steve Rogers x mom!reader #Captain America #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers angst #Steve Rogers smut #girl dad!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fic #Steve Rogers series #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you

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charmedhypno · 3 months ago

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Charmed! 2025 Covid Policy Update

Charmed! 2025 Covid-19 Policy

Charmed! is committed to hosting the safest event we possibly can as the world continues to navigate the COVID-19 pandemic. In light of this, the Convention Committee (“ConCom”) will continue to require up to date Covid vaccinations as well as masking for our attendees, staff, and volunteers at Charmed! 2025.

In addition, hand sanitizer stations will be available throughout Convention Space (“Con Space”) and our Dungeon Monitors (“DMs”) will be extremely proactive in reminding people to clean their equipment - if you need help please ask and it will be provided!

Please read the following policies carefully! They contain several important dates and deadlines – ignorance of these policies will not result in any exemptions.

Vaccination Policy

The newest Covid-19 vaccine update has been evaluated and released for use in the United States to people aged 6 months and older for Fall 2024. People can get the vaccination if it has been at least 2 months since their last vaccination for Covid-19. People who have not previously been vaccinated for Covid-19 are considered “up to date” with their vaccinations after receiving this single dose.

This vaccine update is free under most insurance plans in the United States (including Medicaid and Medicare), but is no longer offered for free by the United States government.

Free vaccinations may be available on a state-by-state basis; so check whether or not your state has a free adult vaccination program if you require a free option. People based in the United States can search for their local Health Department here: https://www.naccho.org/membership/lhd-directory

People who have been diagnosed with Covid-19 may wait 3 months before getting the updated vaccine.

In order to attend Charmed! 2025 in-person you must be up to date with your Covid vaccination: a person who is “up to date” with their vaccinations beginning September, 2024 is a person who has received the latest updated vaccine, released in September, 2024.

Vaccinations typically take around two weeks to reach full efficacy; therefore for the purposes of Charmed! 2025 vaccinations will be considered valid if they are received by or before Monday, January 6th, 2025.

In-person attendees of Charmed! 2025 will be required to show proof of “up to date” vaccination received in good time – that is, they must show proof that they have received the Fall 2024 vaccine update by or before January 6th, 2025. Proof may be in the form of one of the following: official paper vaccine card, electronic vaccine card, photocopy or digital representation of official vaccine card, website listing your name/vaccination date, dated email for an applicable vaccination appointment, a photograph of some part of the vaccination process (eg. the vial of serum), or other applicable media. If you are unsure that your form of proof will be valid, please contact us before arriving at the event. Proof of vaccination will be verified at badge pick-up.

You can contact us using one of the following ways: Email us at: [email protected] Contact us through Charmed! social media: Twitter: https://twitter.com/CharmedHypno Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/groups/121240?sp=1 Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/charmedhypno Bluesky: https://charmedhypnocon.bsky.social/ Discord: DM @Noelle - I have answers!

People who are unable to get the updated Covid-19 vaccine for a three month period ending with the final day of Charmed! 2025 (January 26th, 2025) due to a previous Covid-19 infection will be considered “up to date” for the purposes of in-person attendance. Please contact ConCom if you become Covid-positive within this window.

IMPORTANT: if you have a Covid-19 infection that results in you being able to get the updated vaccine within the two week time period before Charmed! 2025 begins – that is, January 8th through January 22nd – you will not be considered “up to date” with your vaccination and will be ineligible to attend Charmed! 2025 in person.

PLEASE NOTE: the three month waiting period is a CDC recommendation and it may be possible for people to get the updated vaccine within that time period.

In-person attendees at Charmed! 2025 will be required to show proof of a negative Covid-19 test taken within 48 hours of badge pick-up, (over-the-counter test is okay), in picture form in order to pick up their badge. Please do not bring a physical test with you to badge pick up - a picture on your phone is sufficient.

Mask Policy

In-person attendees at Charmed! 2025 will be required to wear well-fitting, high quality masks, such as N95s, KN95s, and FFP2s (or equivalent) at all times while in official convention space. This includes both the private convention area and Con Suite, as well as semi-public areas such as registration and the hallway outside of the upstairs classrooms.

If you are unable to acquire an N95 or similar mask, then pleated surgical masks are acceptable as a last resort.

Examples of unacceptable masks include: bandanas, gaiters, and scarfs.

Presenters and demo-bottoms may choose to remain unmasked only while actively presenting.

There are no mask exceptions for evening social events and dungeon play.

Masks may be raised, but not removed, in order to sip water and/or eat small snacks in Convention Space as needed.

A small number of masks may be available via Convention Operations for people who need them; however, we cannot guarantee this so please do your best to procure your own.

Testing Policy

In 2024, we did not require that attendees test daily but did highly recommend that they do so. For 2025, we are again highly recommending that people test daily before entering convention space. Over the counter tests are excellent at detecting a viral load in someone who is contagious, and are currently the best way for people to determine if they need to isolate themselves.

Convention Operations may have a small number of tests available for people who need them; please do not count on this and do your best to procure your own.

Policy Exemptions

Residents of countries that do not offer updated Covid-19 vaccines to the general population may be considered exempt from the requirement to be up-to-date by United States standards as long as they have received and can show confirmation that they received the primary course of vaccinations; that is, the original shot plus the two follow up shots.

We ask that people in non-U.S. countries who are eligible to receive updated vaccines continue to do so.

Attendees who are offered exemptions to the 2025 Covid-19 policy will be required to test daily while in attendance in person at Charmed! 2025 and to send verification of their negative test result to a member of ConCom before they are allowed entrance into official con space.

Failure to follow this policy may result in that person’s badge being pulled and them no longer being able to attend Charmed! 2025 in person.

We will continue to assess the status of attendees with possible medical exemptions on a case by case basis. If you are affected by this policy, please contact us as soon as you can via email at [email protected] or dm Noelle_8033 on Discord.

There are no exemptions to the masking policy.

Covid Infections & Isolation Policy

Attendees, including all staff members, volunteers, presenters, etc, will be required to report and self-isolate if they test positive for Covid-19 while attending Charmed! 2025.

For the purposes of Charmed! 2025, an attendee who is “self-isolating” will remain in their private room as much as possible and will not enter any shared hotel spaces with convention members, including but not limited to: official Convention Spaces (areas past our security check points), shared convention spaces (eg. the badge pick up area, the hallway outside of upstairs classrooms), and the Charmed! 2025 Consuite (the enclosed room outside of regular Con space that is across from the public fireplace seating area.)

ConCom reserves the right to expand this list during the Convention in order to accommodate the number of in-person attendees present at Charmed! 2025.

Out of an abundance of caution, an initial positive test result will be taken as confirmation of infection, regardless of subsequent testing.

**The identity of anyone that contracts Covid-19 while at Charmed! 2025 will be kept anonymous unless otherwise unavoidable, unless that person wishes to share their identity.

Failure to report and self-isolate will result in the infected attendee’s badge being pulled and potentially a ban from Charmed! in the future.**

Reporting & Contact Tracing Policy

Anyone becoming positive for Covid-19 while attending Charmed! 2025 will be required to report and self-isolate. They will need to identify to ConCom classes/areas where they have been, including private spaces, and ConCom will inform the attendee population that they may have been exposed to Covid-19.

**The identity of anyone that contracts Covid-19 while at Charmed! 2025 will be kept anonymous unless otherwise unavoidable, unless that person wishes to share their identity.

Failure to report and self-isolate will result in the infected attendee’s badge being pulled and potentially a ban from Charmed! in the future.**

Charmed! 2025 is committed to providing as safe an environment as possible for our attendees. This may mean that our vaccination/mask requirements are stronger/stricter than those of other events or organizations. We understand that this can be frustrating, and we appreciate your adherence to these policies that are for the benefit of every attendee at Charmed! 2025.

#Charmed!2025 #Charmed!2025 Covid Policy #10Charmed25

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myconetted · 1 year ago

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bah. i have a lot of nostalgia and warm fuzzies about tumblr as a social media platform. i mean, it's where i met my freaking husband. that's why i defend it a lot. but it's also not just that. i really do think tumblr is one of the last Big social media companies to actually put its users first.

which is why it makes me really sad to see people hooting and hollering for joy about photomatt saying the 3-year(?) experiment is over. they put the resources in, did a ton of frontend (and likely backend!) renovations, explored a bunch of different angles for growing the userbase and monetization strategies that don't optimize ad revenue or cater to adfluencer culture.

it was a huge bet and it didn't pan out.

the userbase really doesn't give them enough credit for this. i don't know if you've noticed, but there's a distinct lack of

detailed post analytics with audience demographic breakdowns, view counts, conversion metrics. tumblr blaze gives you the teeniest, tiniest taste of this

ads targeted to your age, race, gender, hobbies, ... it really looks like tumblr lets them target by coarse location and not much else

verified users, not even governments or non-profits. neil gaiman and cory doctorow post here just like any other shmuck. no special badge or display name

revenue share for content creators. there's tipping and posts+, but those are all about users choosing to pay rather than being funded by ads

automattic/tumblr really didn't take easy outs. that doesn't happen unless the user-first values are an integral part of the company's culture. i really truly respect tumblr staff that have been around since yahoo days. you guys didn't sell out. you probably went through a lot of shit, fighting top-down edicts from new owners trying to cash in on all the eyeballs here, and pretty much removed them when changing hands. i remember what that damn oath ad network privacy menu looked like.

so yeah this is just one more sign in a row that's like "TUMBLR IS NOT A FINANCIALLY SUCCESSFUL PLATFORM", and one of those signs might be at the end of the line. all i can do is hang tight, throw a few bucks at it, and enjoy the ride.

#my:poast #tumblr

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

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May I request a platonic Hop x reader where the reader comforts him after losing to and being insulted by Bede?

When Hop ran off to challenge Bede in the Wilds Area after the latter insulted you both, you thought he could handle that snobby psychic-type user easily.

For you, taking down his team was like a walk in the park. None of his Pokémon stood a chance against you! So you didn't think there was anything to worry about as you continued onto Hammerlocke, wanting to get your hard-earned badges verified.

Along the way, you've battled some of the stronger wild Pokémon, rounding up a few to add to your team for the next gym challenges. Of course there were a few who were a bit too strong for you to capture at the moment, so you moved on quickly so you didn't get hurt.

But after getting approved by the agent, you were just about to climb the steps when Bede approached...with Hop nowhere to be found.

Much to your dismay, your best friend was defeated in their battle, and he just rubbed his victory in your face, convinced that Hop will withdraw from the challenge for sure. Apparently a few visitors have captured footage of their fight...which must've been a blow to the latter's self-esteem for sure.

Your blood was boiling, especially when Bede mocked Wooloo, claiming it's only a matter of time before it was abandoned.

Sure, he might've been endorsed by the chairman himself..but that's no excuse for his attitude and poor sportsmanship! He had no right talking to another human being like that!

You would've fought him right there and then...but decided not to give into anger as he smugly moved onto Hammerlocke. Instead, you opted to search for Hop, texting him several times to see if he was okay.

Unfortunately, there was no response from him, which was worrying. Although you've both grown in strength since first coming here, the Wild Area was still quite dangerous if he winded up in the wrong place.

After some backtracking, you finally found him trying to take on a very strong-looking Steelix, sending his Wooloo against the iron beast. But despite the obvious disadvantages of a normal type against steel, he kept pushing it to fight back.

Its attacks barely made it flinch.

Steelix chuffed at your friend's attempts to battle it, as though it pitied the little sheep for being forced to fight, before it summoned a sandstorm that blinded the two.

When Wooloo's attack missed because of the weather change, it bared a merciless smile and prepared an Iron Tail attack-

When all of the sudden a plush Clefairy doll was tossed into its field of vision, momentarily distracting it.

Through the blinding sand, Hop realized it was you who intervened, but before he could say anything, you rushed into the storm to grab his wrist.

"C'mon! It's too strong for either of us!!" You didn't wait for his response as you quickly yanked him out of the fight.

You knew he was reckless like his brother...but not to this degree. There's no way he'd act like this under normal circumstances.

Together you ran from the Steelix as the sandstorm subsided, and it growled as it noticed Wooloo fleeing as well, before returning underground.

Once you were both in one of the calmer areas, you let go of Hop's wrist, turning to frown at him. "What were you thinking?!" You huffed. "You're lucky I had a Poké Doll or else-!!"

However, your annoyance was quick to evaporate when you saw the tears welling up in his golden eyes.

Only then did you feel your heart sink with guilt.

"...s-sorry, I was just..trying to get stronger." He was struggling to keep himself together. But it was failing as he slumped against one of the trees, sliding down and covering his face with his hands. "P-Please don't tell Leon.."

He never wanted to be seen like this, especially not by his rival and best friend. Yet here you were, saving him and somehow knowing exactly what to do...while all he knew how to do was get hurt.

"No, I'm sorry for yelling, Hop. I promise I won't tell him." Kneeling down, you sighed softly, watching Wooloo attempt to comfort its trainer. "Listen..whatever Bede said isn't worth your tears. He just thinks he's better than everyone else."

"I-I know, but...it still hurt." He peeked at you through his fingers, sniffling. "The things he said to me...a-and Wooloo...they just stung, mate. And ya know what else? He....he thinks the gym leaders only gave me their badges out of pity."

"...what?! I'm gonna-!!!" You grew livid, but soon calmed down as you remembered getting angry would only make him feel worse. "I-I mean..that's stupid. You won those fair and square because it shows how strong you've grown."

"...you think so?"

"I know so." With a small smile on your face, you gently petted Wooloo. "And Wooloo does, too. Soon enough, he'll regret saying those awful things. We'll show him. Right?"

"Baaa!!" The little sheep nodded in agreement.

Hop just sat there in silence, wiping his tears away as doubt continued to fog up his mind. But when you opened your arms up to him, he accepted your hug, holding onto you tightly.

He never meant to become this depressed so early in the journey; he knew he'd be facing tough losses and not-so-polite trainers.

Though Bede's words just dug into him like a Cacturne's thorn..and he wondered if some of them were true.

But to know you didn't leave him behind was relieving, despite his worries about holding you back from getting all the gym badges. Nevertheless...he's grateful you looked for him and had his back no matter what.

"Next time, I'll have one of my ghost Pokémon hit him with a Max Phantasm." You lightly threatened.

That managed to get Hop to laugh a little, as you felt him relax in your arms. "...yeah, that oughta show him." Then he sighed, eventually letting go after a few moments longer. "I'm sorry again, [y/n]...and Wooloo..for pushing you into that fight."

The sheep nodded in understanding, returning to its pokeball at his request.

"I think..I'll focus on training my Pokémon and rearrange my team before I tackle the next gym." He leaned against the tree, eyes lingering on the pokeball with guilt. "If I'm ever gonna surpass Leon..I-I need to take my time. Form bonds..develop strategies...that's how he got to where he is today."

Then he looked to you, smiling tiredly. "Of course, you probably don't have to worry about all of that, [y/n]. You should really head onto Hammer-"

"Nah, I think..we should set up a camp here and just chill out for a little while." You suggested, standing up and offering your hand to him. "I'll cook up some delicious curry for our Pokémon. I found a killer recipe my team is addicted to."

"That sounds good, but...are you sure about-?"

"Yes."

"....alright! No need to tell me twice, mate!" That familiar sparkle in his eye returned as he grasped your hand, practically jumping to his feet as you helped him up. "That reminds me...I'm short on berries so...I'm gonna go shake that tree over there!"

Before you could see which tree he was pointing to, he took off into the tall grass that surrounded it, having his energy back. All you could do was chase after him, knowing he's gonna trip over a wild Pokémon or two.

"Hop, wait!! I have repels!!"

#clanask #pokemon x reader #pokemon sword x reader #pokemon shield x reader #pokemon hop #pokemon hop x reader #hop x reader #hurt/comfort #platonic

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trekscribbles · 30 days ago

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The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Four

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Three bodies had been recovered from the destroyed LanCast building.

It took several hours to discover that much. Nate had insisted they leave the hotel as Eliot instructed, falling back on one of the contingency plans the two of them probably talked about when they were alone in the bar. Parker didn’t ask. She didn’t want to think about worst-case scenarios.

Once secured in a new hotel across town, Hardison had done whatever he usually did to get their information, and came up with a police report of the accident.

Three bodies. No identification. Awaiting coroner’s report.

They took the news in silence. They climbed into Lucille in silence, they drove to the morgue in silence, and they entered the cold building in silence. Hardison and Parker donned their FBI disguises, with Nate and Sophie wearing the appropriately stricken expressions of worried loved ones. It was late, but the badges got them in, and an assistant met them at the door and led them to the lab where the autopsies were being performed.

“Special Agent Thomas,” Hardison said, flashing his badge to the medical examiner. “This is Special Agent Hagen. We’re invistigating the incident at the LanCast building.”

The medical examiner, whose nametag identified her as “Dr. M. Morton”, glanced at Nate and Sophie. “We haven’t been able to identify the victims yet. Are you hoping to find someone? I can only speak with immediate family.”

“Our son,” Sophie said in an unsteady voice. “He may have been inside the building when it—when it…”

Nate put a hand on her arm, and Hardison cleared his throat to bring the doctor’s attention back to him.

“What can you tell us about the victims?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” She gestured at the three bodies, which her assistant had hastily covered in white cloths. “The remains were badly damaged by the fire. They were all male, all aged late-twenties to mid-thirties.”

“Anything else?” Parker asked, her stomach dropping. “Height? Clothes? Anything they may have had on them?”

“These two are around 6’2”, 6’3”. This one is shorter, maybe 5’7”.” Dr. Morton indicated the body in the middle and frowned when Sophie gave a little gasp of dismay. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Does that match the description of your son?”

Sophie nodded, pale-faced and trembling.

Dr. Morton gave her a sympathetic look and lifted an evidence bag from the tray at the body’s feet. “We found this on him,” she said, holding it out to Sophie. “Do you recognize it?”

They all leaned in, and Parker felt the heat leave her body in a rush.

Eliot’s necklace.

Sophie’s knees gave out. Nate caught her as she fell, but she sank to the ground with her face in her hands, shaking. “It’s him,” she sobbed, her voice muffled. “He’s ours. It’s Eliot.”

A strange, distant buzzing sound filled Parker’s ears, and for a moment, it was all she could hear. Hardison spoke beside her, and Sophie went on crying, but the words were lost to the static hum inside her head. The doctor asked them something, and Nate stared straight through her as if she didn’t exist. He wasn’t old enough to be Eliot’s dad, but suddenly he looked it.

They can’t handle it, said a cold, detached voice in her brain. They’re falling apart. Who’s going to hold them together?

Eliot. But Eliot was gone, and Eliot couldn’t be gone, and it didn’t matter whether he was gone or not, because he wasn’t here.

Parker was.

She blinked, and all the noise slammed back into her, and her brain caught up to what Dr. Morton was saying.

“—so sorry I have to ask, but it would help if we could get a DNA sample to verify his identity.”

“Yes,” Parker said. “A DNA sample. I’ll just—this is a shock for them. I’m going to take them out and give them a moment.”

Dr. Morton nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Parker glanced at Hardison, who was blinking at the body under the sheet, his eyes wide and wet. She put her hand on his shoulder to turn him away. “Sir,” she said to Nate. “Ma’am. Let’s go. We can talk outside.”

Nate looked at her, but there was a strange emptiness in his eyes that made her feel tiny and hopeless. “Sir,” she repeated. “Please come with me.”

“Sophie,” he murmured, breaking eye contact with Parker to crouch at Sophie’s side. “Come on, honey. Stand up.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” Sophie said, her voice thick and broken. “Please, he can’t stay here, not with these men. Please, can’t we—?”

Parker took Sophie’s elbow and pulled her gently to her feet, guiding her toward the door. Nate and Hardison followed, but Parker didn’t look back. She had to get them out.

Eliot would get them out.

She brought them to the van, and took the driver’s seat after getting them safely inside. Hardison was crying now, too, but Nate sat in absolute, unmoving silence. She drove to the hotel, parked, waited for someone to open the door.

No one did.

“We don’t know,” Hardison said after a few minutes. His face was dry, but his voice still sounded uneven. “He could have lost the necklace. It doesn’t prove anything.”

Sophie shook her head, but had to try twice before she could get her words out. “He would have called. He would have found us if he wasn’t…”

Dead. The word slammed itself against the inside of Parker’s skull, over and over again like a security alarm she hadn’t accounted for.

Dead, dead, dead.

Adapt to the situation, the voice in her head said. First things first. Take care of your team.

She opened her door. Hardison followed her, helping Sophie from the back, but Nate stayed where we was in the passenger seat. Parker moved around the van to open his door, but he didn’t look at her.

“Go inside,” she said, her voice low and steady. “We’re not done.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Lancaster knew about us,” she said. “He set a trap for Eliot and me. We have to finish this, or he’ll keep coming after us. After Hardison and Sophie.”

He looked up then, his eyes still hollow, his hands loose in his lap.

“This is what Eliot would do,” Parker said.

Nate lifted one hand and set it over his face. He took a breath, two, and exhaled so heavily that his shoulders shook.

“What would Eliot say if it was one of us?” he asked.

Parker shook her head. “It wouldn’t have been anyone else.”

“What does it say about me that I couldn’t stop this?” Nate asked, and Parker heard the unspoken again in the way his voice hitched at the end.

“I don’t know,” Parker whispered. “But we need you. Lancaster is going to try again, and we need you.”

Nate nodded, dropping his hand once more. He stood unsteadily and followed the others across the parking lot toward the door.

Parker watched them go, slipping her hand into her pocket to remove the evidence bag she’d taken when Dr. Morton's back was turned. She opened it, picked out the necklace, and clasped it around her neck, tucking the cold metal charm under her shirt so it laid flat against her skin.

Then she followed what was left of her team inside the hotel.

#leverage #the bushwhack job #fanfiction #leverage fanfic #my fic #don't worry. eliot's not dead. this is not an mc death

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fanfic-reading-challenge · 11 months ago

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2023 has come to an end!

Hi everyone, thanks to all who participated to whatever degree you wished! Special thanks to those of the Discord group who provided a sense of camaraderie to myself and others all year. We'll definitely be continuing that in the new year. (Link will go up in the 2024 intro post.) And another special thanks to @jandjsalmon for being my right hand lady.

This post is to give the participants their absolutely awesome badges created for us by @a-kinkajou. Seriously, they're awesome.

We didn't do a Google Form this year to 'verify' your level of participation. We've learned we can trust everyone over the years! So grab which badge(s) apply to you! (A higher tier can also claim the lower tier badges.)

Participation: At least 1 task completed

Regular Mode: 80 tasks completed

Hard Mode: 160 tasks completed

Extreme Mode: 240 tasks completed

...and a surprise badge for those who completed 100% of the tasks!

And here are the badges!!!

Congratulations to everyone!!!!!!

#2023 frc #2023 fic reading challlenge #reading challenge #awards #badges #fandom event

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chicago-pd-is-weird · 4 months ago

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Jay and Mouse (Platonic) Oneshot

Requested by @windshield91

TW: PTSD, angst, some gore/violence, mention of wanting to die at the end

(Based on one of the episodes of CPD - the one early on where Jay is kidnapped and beaten.)

“Send a lone officer, unarmed, with the box. That’s what he said,” Hank repeated to the unit with a sigh.

All of the officers in his unit volunteered, each raising their hands. He would've sent Erin, but since she had given her badge up, he had no choice. Standing among the detectives and officers in his unit was the next person Jay cared the most about. An old friend from the Rangers. When Hank made eye contact with Mouse, they had a silent exchange.

Hank looked up at the rest of his unit with a nod. "I want everyone to start making fake CI files."

Hank then walked into his office, Mouse quickly following and shutting the door. "You know you have to send me."

"And you know, technically, I can't." Hank sat down at his desk with a sigh.

"I will sign whatever waiver I have to, saying that this is my own will and that I accept the risks. Because if you don't let me go, I'm going to do it on my own. I was in the Rangers. I know how sting ops are done."

"I am not doubting you, Greg," Hank said softly. "I know you're the best person for this."

He was taken aback when Hank used his real name, but nodded quickly. "Then you know I have to go. I will sign anything you want."

Hank sighed again, debating it in his head. In the end, he didn't care how it happened - he needed to get Jay back. He looked up at Mouse, then nodded. "Alright, let me get some paperwork together. We'll work you as if you were a CI going for a sting."

Mouse waited eagerly beside the box, looking around. He could barely make out where the rest of them were hiding. He was nervous, but felt a little safer with the shank Al had given him. It wasn't much but it was sharp and wouldn't be detected by a metal detector.

When a second car came pulling up beside his, Mouse grabbed the box, which was fairly heavy and bulky. He looked at the men as they rolled down the window. “Put it in the back.” A man got out, scanning him for weapons, then opened the back door.

Mouse cocked an eyebrow, looking at them. “Where’s the hostage?”

The man closest to him shook his head. “Put the box in the back. You’ll get instructions on your guy after we verify the files.”

“I’m not doing that,” Mouse replied, shaking his head. “I need proof of life first.”

The man scoffed. “Fine. Get in.”

Mouse debated whether he should or not, but he was desperate to get his best friend back. Besides, this seemed like small potatoes compared to his time with the Rangers. After a moment of internal deliberation, Mouse got into the car with the box of files, riding to wherever they might’ve taken him, trusting that the team would follow or find him again, hopefully with Jay.

When they arrived at the house, more like mansion, they led Mouse inside. He looked around, scoping everything out, planning potential escape routes. He put the box on the boss man’s desk. “I’d like my guy now.”

The boss tsk’d his tongue, shaking his head. “Relax, have a little fun. Want to take a line? On the house.”

Mouse glanced down to the cocaine on the man’s desk, shaking his head. “I’m good. Where’s Jay? Or I will walk out of here with the box right now.”

The boss man nodded to one of his guys, who opened a door. Jay was pushed through and forced onto the couch, though Jay wasn’t quite strong enough to argue at the moment. Mouse’s eyes widened and he ran to him. “Jay, hey man, it’s me.”

Jay looked up at Mouse, confused. “Greg…?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on.” He helped Jay stand up, but they were stopped by some of the men.

“Not so fast,” the boss said, handing the box of files to another man, who took it away. “We’re going to verify those files before you leave here.”

A pit dropped into Mouse’s stomach. He knew those files were completely fake. Jay was forced back to the couch and Mouse was forced to sit as well, discreetly grabbing the shiv on his way, holding it in his hand so they couldn’t see it. He knew things were going to go south, fast.

“Greg…” Jay mumbled. “Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Greg replied, looking at Jay again. “How bad is it?”

Jay hummed, closing his eyes, then opening them again. “Six.”

“No danger zone then. We’re good.”

“Yeah, man… We’re good. Just like old times.”

“Yeah,” Mouse replied, letting out a breath as the man came back angrily.

“These guys are prisoners in different states! No way they’re CIs for Intelligence!”

The boss man stood, shaking his head. “Kill them both; make sure they suffer. Kill the tall one first and make the smaller one watch.”

“Now,” Greg said, Jay and him springing up from the grasp of the men. Jay tackled one of the men, Mouse tackling the other. He used his shank to stab him repeatedly in the abdomen, giving a final blow to the neck.

Meanwhile, Jay was doing his best, but was pushed off in his state. Mouse tackled the guy after Jay was pushed to the ground, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and abdomen as he pinned his arms down with his knees.

Jay coughed and regained himself just in time to see a gun being pointed at him. The boss man had gotten to him first. When Mouse got up and turned, he stopped cold, letting out a breath.

“Drop it,” the boss said.

Mouse dropped the shiv, breathing heavily as he looked at the boss. He must’ve looked like a lunatic, blood dripping from his hands. He got a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the man, but all he could see was his camouflage outfit, his helmet, and the blood of his brothers on him.

“Now, I’m going to kill you both, to make an example of you to your boss. It’s unfortunate he sent you with fake files. Otherwise, you’d be walking out of here with him, right now.”

Mouse didn’t say anything, breathing heavily. He could see the dark room. They’d been there before. He could see his brother in arms, Michael, beaten, on his knees, a gun to his head. He could see the man above them, the terrorist, holding the gun, just waiting to squeeze the trigger. He could see everything, just as it played out the first time.

But he wouldn’t let it happen again. Not to Jay. Not to his best friend. The one who helped him turn his life around. The one who he looked up to like an older brother. The strongest man he knew. Mouse, while the boss man was talking and taunting him, lunged forward, grabbing his arm. He pushed the gun up, higher, just as it went off. It missed Jay, and Mouse tackled him, wrestling for the gun. Then, he finally got it turned toward him. “I hope you rot in hell!” Mouse squeezed the trigger, the gun hitting the boss man’s heart. He was dead almost instantly.

Mouse got up, blood staining his clothes. He breathed heavily, stumbling with the gun over to the door, opening it. There stood the rest of the Intelligence team, long guns and pistols in hand. Mouse nodded. “He’s inside.” Then, he stumbled out, being caught by Hank, who took the gun from him.

“You okay? You hurt?” Hank asked, looking Mouse over as he tucked the bloody gun into his pants for the moment.

“No.” Then, Mouse continued past him, out to the front steps, easing himself down on the side, out of the way of the people coming in and out.

—

When Mouse was discharged from the ER, he went straight to Jay’s room. He was also being discharged. He walked in with a small knock on the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jay said, nodding to his friend. “I saw that look in your eyes in there.”

“Yeah,” Mouse said with a soft shrug.

“What did you see?”

Mouse sighed. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again. “Michael.”

Jay met his eyes, shaking his head. “That wasn’t your fault. It was an impossible situation with no backup.”

“Maybe if I’d had the balls to do what I did today, he’d still be alive. His wife would have a husband and his little girl would have a father.” Mouse couldn’t help but tear up, looking away from Jay.

“Greg, it wouldn’t have helped. The terrorists aren’t as cocky as these low-level scum. These guys are sad excuses for criminals. Most don’t have the balls to do what needs to be done. He was going to keep mocking you and taunting you.”

“I wasn’t even listening. I didn’t hear anything he said.” Mouse shrugged.

“Greg, the guy who murdered Michael wasn’t like that. He was going to shoot you, too.”

“I froze. It’s my fault. I saw Michael’s eyes as the bullet went through his skull, Jay. I saw the life leave him. His soul separate from his body.”

“That guy was a terrorist. He wasn’t like the guy today. If you had lunged forward, he would’ve shot you, then Michael, and you’d both be dead.”

Mouse shook his head, leaving the room without another word. Jay tried to follow, but was caught by Will on the way. Mouse left the hospital and walked down the streets of Chicago, hoping some stray bullet would end his pain right then and there.

#chicago pd #chicagopd #hank voight #sargent hank voight #sergeant hank voight #cpd #one chicago #jay halstead #detective jay halstead #mouse #greg gerwitz

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alexriderbingo · 3 months ago

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RULES

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A prompt bingo open to all Alex Rider writers and creators. Please read the rules below before signing up via the Google form, which will be released on September 14th. If you have any questions that aren’t answered by the info in this post, please get in touch with us via email or send an ask!

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This event runs from September 14th, 2024 until November 30th, 2024.

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Please specify in each chapter/fic what prompt you are filling as this is what we will use to verify your card is accurate at the end of the challenge.

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#alex rider bingo 2024 #rules #alex rider #alex rider tv #writing bingo

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skylermadness · 1 year ago

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Crystalline Conversion (Vandham TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: July 29, 2022)

Original Description:

Another story written based on a suggestion from my friend Nat! With today being the official release day of Xenoblade Chronicles 3, I wanted to write something to celebrate such an occasion. Especially in part because the Xenoblade series has been a favorite game series of mine for a little over half a year now. Picking a character to write TF for also wasn't that difficult. Vandham is probably my favorite character out of the entirety of the three games I have played so far (1, 2, and X), and that coupled with how much I liked this idea made writing a Vandham TF inevitable. Plus I feel like having the first written work of him have an intense, heavily descriptive story feels worthwhile for a guy like him. He's just a lovely character overall and I wish we could have gotten more of him. Cheers to Xenoblade Chronicles 3, and here's hoping Guernica has a better fate! This story is rated Mature for heavy mentions of a bulge.

Inventory duty has never been Maurice's expertise, which is a little weird since he's owned this store for literal months now. But having to deal with making sure everything is still in place, which is hard when your store has no organization system. Coupled with the fact this store replaces the objects he sells almost instantly makes trying to handle this specific duty rather lengthy. Then there's adding in that he has zero idea where most of this comes from, usually having left that part of the job to the store's co-owner, it all gives him a feeling of literally knowing nothing about what he's managing.

Nonetheless, it's still a part of his job, meaning he has to take time out of his week to assess store stock.

The hirsute bear of a man walks out from in between two shelf rows, cracking his back as he grumbles about the annoyance of looking around the lower shelves. He then pulls up his notebook and a pen, proceeding to slowly check off various names (many of which already had checks beside them) while listing things off to himself.

"A'ready tied scarf, Delbin; Police badge, the'ret'cally Chief Bogo; Small du'l swords, unknown owner, should probbly have Two check that out…"

He continues to stand there muttering to himself while verifying object placement and registration. It was all the same as last week, and the week before, and the week before… With his last sale only occurring a small while ago (a month, not like he starts counting days now), this part of the job is just slowly getting more monotonous. Perhaps he should consider rebranding to a cosplay shop-

Still talking to himself and writing, Maurice starts to walk between another row of shelves. He takes a couple uncaring steps forward, his focus not really on where he was going and what his feet were touching. However his focus is quickly broken once he feels his boot collide with something, followed by the sound of said something rolling across the floor. Lifting his head from the notebook, a brow raised in question, he closed the object and stared down at the ground.

"The hell 's this…"

It wasn't hard to find what his foot collided with. Mainly due to the dim, lifeless grey color of the item being a lot different than the deep brown of the wooden floors. But the item itself was a rather peculiar looking one…

Maurice stepped over to it and bent down to pick it up. It was obviously a rock or crystal of some kind, and a rather large one since it was the size of his hand. It was cleanly cut too since it was almost entirely smooth save for a few crevices, but those were obviously in there for design. The way it was cut was also fairly complex for something it's size; twelve facets, four pentagonal-shaped ones coming to an upward vertex with four also coming to a downward vertex. The sides didn't come to pointed vertices, those being replaced with diamond-shaped facets instead.

His gaze wandered around the shelves, the shopkeeper wondering if this had fallen off either of them. But all the shelves seemed to be filled with the usual objects. He then momentarily disregarded the crystal and placed it on the edge of one of the shelf rows. He moved his focus back to his notebook as he started to run through it again, quicker this time as he was looking for if the object was logged.

"Row four, row four, row four…" he was whispering to himself in an almost panicked state. "Ah! Row four, now les see here…"

His eyes scanned the list of assorted objects, trying to find any mention of 'strange crystal' anywhere, but it was quickly turning out to be fruitless as this row seemed to lack any objects such as that. Not unless he missed it in previous inventories, but that seemed… like a slim possibility actually. But that's beside the point.

Closing the notebook, sighing in disappointment as he does so, he picks up the crystal again and stares at it curiously. Turning it around in his hand, feeling out the facets and poking the points. "Pecular bugger, ain't'cha…"

It didn't even respond to that, which… interested him, to say the least.

Owning a magic object store tends to come with learning many things. For Maurice, one of these things was magic detection and object call/response. A lot of times objects would respond to comments towards them by dimly glowing, or sparkling or something. This doesn't always occur though, as Maurice has recently found less savory and more accursed and vile objects (objects that shouldn't be sold typically) tend not to respond.

But then comes detecting magic. Having been working here for some time, Maurice is usually able to tell the magical aura of something just by staring at it. Wizard intuitions and stuff. And everything in this store has a magic aura.

Everything but the crystal he was holding.

He continues to gawk at the lifeless object, trying to determine if his growing concerns were correct. "C'mon ya' weird thing, glow 'r somethin'."

But all the rock did was stay dark.

"Mmmm, maybe this shop can summ'n dead 'r useless objecs."

He was half expecting the crystal to react to being called useless, but it didn't. He didn't really want to think of it as useless, but considering the way it was (or well, wasn't) functioning, it was far from something he was able to feel comfortable selling.

Lowering the hand holding the crystal, he had to think of something to do. On one hand, potent magic could activate it, but he has no idea what this is or what that would do. That was the same reason he couldn't stick it in the so-called Shame Closet with all the vile relics either. He could maybe brew something up that'd completely disintegrate the thing…

…Or he could just throw it out.

There was some risk to it, but his reasoning hinged on the fact that this thing had no magic within it whatsoever. Even something dormant contains trace magic. So it would be a pretty fine resolution.

Leaving the shelves and heading to the front of his store, he disregards his notebook on the counter and heads outside, crystal still in hand.

The outside proves itself to be cold the moment he steps out, not really being the weather to just be wearing a polo shirt and ripped jeans. Nonetheless, he heads to the alleyway that parts the end of his store with that of another.

Besides a few stray puddles, the alleyway was a pretty clean one. Likely because the small family-owned restaurant that neighbored him didn't want rats or something. Although it seemed the dumpster that laid beside the wall of said restaurant was left open. A perfect opportunity to chuck the crystal in it and forget about this!

A silly thought did cross Maurice's mind though. Lifting his arm up and pulling it back, he had decided he would just throw it in there!

"God, what'm I thinkin'..."

Well, he's already committed to it.

"Grruhh-!" He growls out as he hurls the object.

It ends up hitting the side of the dumpster, pretty loudly, and clattering on the ground. And Maurice could've sworn he heard a cat run further into the alley at the sound of the incident.

"Aw heck. Nev'r been the mos' athletic," he says, slightly dejected. He shrugs it off though, deciding to leave the crystal on the ground and walk back to the store.

What's the worst that could happen with an impotent object like that anyway?

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

Even with a hoodie on, Nat found it to be pretty cold out here. The occasional gusts of wind did not help with that whatsoever.

He was hoping taking a detour through the city's shopping district was going to end up shortening his walk home. It was somewhat working, but it was still somewhat tiresome since the block he was on still happened to be the largest block of the entire district. It did come with being mildly quiet though, not many people being around and all.

He was roughly halfway down the block when his olfactory senses were assaulted by the smell of food, definitely thanks to the restaurant he was passing by. It was definitely doing its job at making him start feeling a little hungry, but not enough to really stop his walk home.

But once he passed by the restaurant, he found himself stopping. He had noticed a lengthy alleyway, but judging by what the other side looked like it looked to be a good place to try and cut his time through the block. Plus, thanks to the buildings in the way, he won't have to worry about the worsening cold that the wind doles out.

Nat sauntered into the alley, relieved that it was less cold than the outer block seemed to be. The smell here was a little worse for wear though, likely due to the open dumpster that he was beginning to approach. He attempted to step aside from it, but his foot ended up snagging onto something that was just barely wedged beneath the dumpster.

"SHIT-" was all he could yell out in reaction as he tripped over the object and fell onto the ground.

Hands already sore from preventing him from face planting, he groaned as he steadily got up. While relieved that he didn't fall into the dangerously close puddle that was just a few centimeters from where he was, he was also curious as to what his foot caught onto.

Curiosity turned to surprise once he turned around and looked at what was beneath the corner of the dumpster.

Well, beneath isn't correct. It was too large to fit under it, but it was close enough to the dumpster that it could be a hazard. But what was most interesting about it was… everything, actually.

Picking it up, Nat found that whatever this object was seemed to be a rock. Blackish grey in color, fairly large in his hand, extremely well cut, and being almost smooth on all facets. In all honesty it looked more like an extremely expensive gemstone, considering its size and cut.

"Woah, you're pretty cool looking…"

While not sure what type of rock it was, it definitely looked to be a pretty neat object. He did wonder why it was so close to a dumpster, and if someone was just trying to throw it away, but why would anyone want to discard such a nice (and again, expensive looking) crystal like this?

A thought then crossed his mind. "This would look great in my rock collection."

Perhaps its size and look would be a little out of place, but it was hard to deny how awesome the prospect of having this thing in his collection would be.

He attempted to shove it into the pocket of his hoodie, having some trouble fitting the rather large thing in there, but he was able to force it in there after a few seconds. It's rather large size was kind of proven by the fact that one of the facets' shapes could be seen pushing into the pocket's fabric. Plus there was the new weight added thanks to it, but it wasn't all that heavy.

Satisfied, Nat starts his walk back up again; excited to add this crystal to his collection once he gets home.

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

Click!

Light switch flicking on, the living room brightens as Nat fully enters it. He lets out a long, calm exhale, glad to finally be home. He takes a moment to consider what he wants to make for dinner, but his mind quickly segways once he remembers the rock he found. He was rather curious at how it'd compare to the rest of his collection.

With his collection being in his bedroom, Nat forgos going to the kitchen and decides to head upstairs to his bedroom.

Once there, he pulled the box containing his rock collection off from the one shelf he had in the room and placed the box down on his bed. Opening it revealed a menagerie of stones of assorted sizes, types, colorations, all collected over the course of multiple years.

But as he starts to look down at his hoodie, he sees that something is… glowing in there. Well, not just something. It was obviously the rock…

"What…?"

He plunges his hand into his pocket and grasps onto the rock, the cold glassy stone now feeling warm to the touch. It takes another few moments to wrestle the thing out of the pocket, but once he does he starts to inspect it.

The crystal is now a soft blue color, glowing warmly while releasing a soft humming noise.

He decided to cup it with both hands in order to hold it easier, continuously staring down at it in a worried curiosity.

"What kind of rock are you…" he whispers.

As if it were reacting to his question the crystal releases two flashes of light while starting to hover for just a second, which ends up startling Nat into dropping it.

"What the hell-"

Interrupted, the crystal tumbles to the ground and Nat takes a few steps back while blinking his eyes, having been momentarily blinded by the mysterious object. Once he was able to see again, he readjusted his glasses and looked down at the crystal in worry.

Everything was getting increasingly complicated to grasp- "Did… did it just…"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence, being cut off by another blast of intense, shining light that was practically spilling out of the crystal itself. Nat was quickly enveloped by the light, warmth filling his body momentarily as he started to feel something within him alter- like there was something more to this warmth than he was aware of.

"Wh-what…"

He barely had time to properly react, the man starting to feel an intense pressure wrack his entire body, with his back being the area experiencing the most of it.

"NNNGHRH-"

Breathing intensifying, he could feel his entire form begin to pulsate. The pressure that had rapidly built up within it squeezed at his bones, practically tugging at them as his body was being forced to lengthen and grow taller. His spine was quick to decompress, his legs working alongside it as they stretched out more. His arms were getting longer too to fit the new proportions.

Despite all of this he was only gaining a few inches of height, going from 5’7 to 6 feet in seconds. This merely resulted in his hoodie becoming a size smaller with the bottom reaching his waist while the sleeves revealed some wrist. Beneath it, his t-shirt began to show just a hint of stomach. The same applied to his pants, the legs inching a little further from his ankles as his changes steadily built up within him.

All while his body lengthened, it was at the same time beginning to gain bulk. Intense heat coursed throughout his entire form, a feeling almost akin to a heavy workout settling in his muscles. At the same time came an odd bubbling sensation in his torso and gut, which was steadily shifting into bloating.

"Hhhhoh… what's… happening…" he spoke out in between breaths. His breathing was quickening, and he could feel his heart beating up against his already pulsing chest. It was hard to focus on everything though, everything was constantly burning in him and it was overwhelming.

Muscles continuously ached; pulsating, enlarging, and slowly filling out his t-shirt while at the same time starting to make its way to tightening the man's hoodie.

The muscle growth was more exemplified in his arms. Pulsations we're coursing through the limbs, his hands constantly shifting size but always ending up larger than they once were. They constantly were packing on more meat, a heavy thickness filling them out while causing his fingers to enlarge and lengthen into thick sausages in comparison to what they were before. Then there were his palms, slowly hardening with a callous as each hand continued to stretch.

Happening concurrently was the changes in his arms. He was still in a constant sensation of burning. His arms begin to bulge, clear definition settling within them. The hoodie rode above his wrists slightly as his forearms were increasing with mass. It went upwards more with each passing minute of enlargement, riding onwards more and more, revealing his thickening lower arms. As it started to reach his elbow, the sleeves steadily and cleanly filled out, in due because his previously non-existent biceps were beginning to swell. Triceps were increased too, defining his arm even further.

Nat could only get a glimpse of his hand for a moment before another blast of light, pale blue this time, assaulted him. A sudden spasm coursed through his nerves as a result.

"GRRRAAGH-"

He clenched both hands into fists, his arm muscles tightening as his entire body underwent another rapid pulsation. His height increased yet again, forcing his shirt to rise further up his body making the top end of his jeans and his belt visible. Everything else was effectively following the same pattern too; sleeves going further up his forearms, pants getting high enough to reveal a small portion of the crus of the leg, and the t-shirt he wore rising to show a bit more of his gut.

His arms continued to bulk causing the tightness of his hoodie to increase more. Muscles constantly pulsated, his muscle mass getting more defined with each pulse. Noticeably ridges forming within the skin, a more visible sign of his newfound strength. The sleeves of his hoodie only got tighter as a result, moreso with his ballooning deltoids. His shoulders were following his arms, bulking out while stretching to become massive, broader.

Nat let out a deep, shuddered exhale, his legs buckling slightly as the magnitude of the changes were getting much. "Gghhoh, s…so… hot… so heavy…"

His breathing deepens more as his neck enters the beginning phases of its own internal changes, the diameter of it increasing more and slowly reaching the edges of the necks of his clothing. His voice was also beginning to crack, with hints of it already starting to grow deeper.

His deeper breathing was fuelling the bloating within his chest and abdomen with, at first, subtle changes. His chest started barreling outwards, his torso beginning to broaden, small cleavage forming as his pectorals first started to grow. His midsection quivers, a churning in his stomach commencing as the area begins to get slightly pudgy. This then progresses further, gradually swelling more each moment. And with each breath he took, everything slowly advanced. Everything rippling and churning, his pecs and gut on their way to becoming bulkier and heavier, less subtle. It all just made his hoodie even more discomforting to wear.

"Tight… aaaahhh…" was all he could say. He slowly lifted a large, heavy hand up to the zipper. His bulging deltoids made moving his shoulder around a hassle, the sleeves of his t-shirt already filling in while the sleeves of his hoodie were constricting movement. The next issue came with the size ratio between his meaty fingers and the small zipper, making catching it in between two fingers a problem. But once he was able to grasp it, he attempted to pull it down.

Unfortunately, trying to unzip his hoodie was a strenuous experience. He could only get it down roughly an inch and a half before it started having trouble, the metallic object being stopped by his increasingly large pectorals. His torso was still within its phase of growth with his pecs becoming thick slabs of muscle. He could swear an indentation of the cleavage was already subtly forming in the gray fabric of his hoodie, but he was more focused on getting the zipper down.

"C-come down!"

By some Architectural grace, the zipper did as he commanded and got beyond the cleavage. It was also beginning to slide down itself, his hulking torso forcing the zipper down further. For a moment it looked like it was going to get caught in his swelling belly, but it managed to reach the halfway point and got pushed down the rest of the way by his stomach.

He momentarily stopped as he saw what was going on with his abdomen. While he could feel the same strength and muscle beneath it, it was obviously shrouded beneath a developing gut. Fat was accumulating quickly in his belly, churning and bubbling around it forcing it to balloon and push the t-shirt he was wearing further upwards.

All of this forced the slider to escape the bottom stop, the two halves of his hoodie now drifting to his sides. He knew he had to take action fast if he wanted this thing off before it ripped.

Moving around was a laborious and slightly painful task for Nat. He attempted to shift his arms around, constantly taking steps in order to find a good spot in his room to stretch everything. He was constantly worried he'd end up ripping the thing, fighting against the fabric to pull his hands through. It took almost half a minute of wrestling around with the arm before he could successfully pull his hand into the hole and slide it out the sleeve.

Everything was getting hotter though. Hotter and heavier and harder and- "Uurgh, fuck-"

Breathing quickened more, beads of sweat materializing on his forehead. His hands weakened momentarily, just, everything was getting harder to handle. But he forced himself to go forward, and while clutching onto the other sleeve he was able to pull the other arm out a little more easily. Once that was over he heaved the hoodie onto the ground before being blinded by another flash of light from the crystal and forced to feel another overwhelming feeling.

"GGHHHRRAAHHHAH-"

This feeling was still intense, still hot, but now it felt… different. It felt like a sense of power surging through him.

Another set of inches piled onto him as he went through yet another growth spurt, the bones in his back and legs (along with the rest of his body) lengthening for a third time since this all began. His chest packed on more bulk, swelling cleanly into his t-shirt as the hem of it rose up his belly. The cleavage of his pectorals started to faintly etch into the orange cotton, meanwhile his delts enlarged to fill out the shoulders.

His belt was the next major thing to grow constricting, now under the pressure of his widening waist and constantly shifting girth. The belt tried it's best to hold everything in, his jeans doing the same as the zipper slowly was getting pushed down by an increasing mass within. The same could be applied to the rear of the pants, steadily filling out as each second passed.

Having already gained several inches, Nat now roughly around 6ft 4, his pants had started becoming too short for him. His legs soon begin trembling as bulk starts to fill them out. Thighs steadily swelling, the muscles in them hardening and widening them out. His calves were bulking up as well, thick, heavy, pushing his jeans up even more than they were now. The denim soon started digging into his skin as his muscles were thick enough to further etch themselves into the legwear. Bulging, rippling throughout them, slowly but surely becoming visible from beneath them.

A surge of energy hits his feet, forcing yet another wave of changes. His feet slowly began to stretch, toes curling as both feet grew a size larger, then another. His shoes were a bit cramped now, and his feet were still growing bigger and thicker. The toe caps were beginning to bulge with the indents of his toes while the rest of the footwear was looking like it was swollen. The straps that held them closed were undoing themselves under the force of his feet, slowly but surely losing the ability to contain them.

Another strap on each shoe snapped as Nat took another few disorientated steps backwards, bumping into a dresser and knocking over a few things on top of it. Sweat crept down his face and arms, heat still coursing through his muscles as he was still getting an instant workout. His shirt was still getting tighter by the second, he could even feel some air hit his shoulders as a few rips started forming in the sleeves. The neck continued to constrain, the hem continued to ride up his belly. It was getting hard to think. His mind was muddling, either under the heat or the confusion of it all.

"Aaa… aaaahhh- f-fuckin'... ain't feelin' to well…"

He swallowed a forming lump in his throat. Was his voice different? It seemed deeper and accented but he… he can't seem to tell anything anymore.

"Sso hot…"

He raised an arm to his forehead and wiped off some sweat. "I… I nneed to…" His eyes closed for a moment as he tried to come up with what he wanted to say. Everything was confusing, muddled, he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. There was an odd feeling of something… pressing, in his mind?

“Can’t… think straight…”

His voice was cracking some more. Although it seemed to be for a while, but then again it’s getting hard to remember that stuff. And did it sound… foreign? And if so, which parts? A lingering sense, a feeling of unfamiliarity with himself was settling in Nat, but his mind holds for just a bit longer.

Nat started to stumble around the room, steps heavy and shaky, towards the bed. His shoes continued to constrain, feet uncomfortable with each step forward. His pants strained against his legs, both limbs progressing in their own muscle gain. Walking itself was even strenuous, everything hot, tiresome, heavy and aching.

His belt was unable to take the weight anymore and the buckle cleanly snapped, the rest of the leather staining before scuffing and tearing. A heat was filling his groin, the region working its way in swelling itself. The zipper of his jeans were already pulled down, button struggling to hold it together, but the growth in size forced it to break. The groin region was bulging in size, slowly falling out his pants as his briefs attempted to hold his meaty package together.

The back of his pants were undergoing a similar challenge. A fatal attempt to hold in his thickening glutes while his legs moved. They were already filled out, but a growing crevice was getting visible with each step. His butt was expanding and pushing out the seat of the jean's further, forcing them tighter. Even with pressure alleviated around the waist thanks to the open zipper, wearing these pants wasn't going to last long. This became clear once the seat of his pants couldn't handle containing his ass anymore and started to split open, revealing more of his underwear.

The seams holding the denim together began splitting; a mixture of weight, leg movement, and sheer leg size finally pushing past their limitations. His thighs widened, quads and hamstrings bulging out in opposite directions and tearing his legwear apart at the sides. His knees were growing increasingly visible, holes emerging on that area of his jeans with each step. His calves forced the legs upwards more as muscle mass spilled out of them too. His legs were easily becoming the same muscularity as his arms: thick, heavy, massive, powerful.

Heat was still burning in them as they continued to swell and stretch, pulling apart his pants furthermore. Portions of them were already beyond what they got handle and were torn from the rest of the legwear, material now sloughing off his legs and showing more skin. The growing in his rear split the seat even more, aided by his wide hips to force the midline of the jeans to fully split apart and causing his bulge to descend slightly as a result. Eventually the muscle changes would halt, but what fragments of denim remained would cascade off his skin, slowly flowing down softly onto the ground. This revealed his legs to be wide, meaty, and muscular. With all the additional shifts and changes undergone, he'd also be settling at 6ft 8.

His shoes were next, unable to hold any longer as his blunt, thick toes pushed out of the toe cap of the cloth. The straps that once held the shoes closed were all undone. The bridge of his foot pushed through the tongue of the shoe and shredded the top apart. Ankles bulged out, the overall size of his feet finally decimating his footwear. And while chunks of cloth drifted off his feet, all that was left intact were the soles, left behind in two simple steps. Air hit his feet, both massive with thick toes, wide soles, and an overall huge and chunky look.

The hem of his t-shirt was over his belly at this point, stretched over his torso and filled to the brim with raw muscle. His thick tree trunk of a neck was pushing out the neck, a fissure slowly forming down the midline as a result of the strenuous task of holding everything in. Cleanly split holes were also budding across the fabric; more of his rippling pecs, massive delts, and broad back growing evermore visible by the second. The fabric stretches so thin over his massive arms, his bulging biceps, that it starts to tear and gradually succumb to the thickly-muscled limbs, steadily bursting up the shoulders. Soon, his shirt was expanded beyond what even itself could contain. Rips and gaps meshing together, more and more skin becoming visible, lines of fabric and string finally breaking against his hard muscles. Soon, bits of orange fabric fell off his body and onto the ground as well.

Spilling out of it all was his body. A large, massive gut that possessed strength behind its fat. Slabs for pectorals, meaty and somewhat soft looking. Huge hands with thick sausages for fingers, connected to muscular arms that clearly show off a lot of strength.

An X-shaped scar started to emerge between his eyes, the scar slowly making its way across his face as his mind hazes even further. The pressure in his mind continues to grow, like a feeling of something overpowering him mentally.

“Grrugh, c…can’t think straight-”

A pressure ached around his face as a new set of shifts rippled across it. His skull steadily growing in size; jawline crackling, sculpting out into something smooth and chiseled at first. His chin then bulges as it descends a little more with a crease fading into it. His skull structure starts to make its way into a blocky, rectangular shape; the softer features it once had smoothing out into a more rugged, mature look. Protrusions start to poke out the diagonals of his face; hard, rocky, pointed scales emerging from those areas.

His eyes shut again as he tries to fight whatever is in his head, attempts to resist whatever is going on and tries to collect himself. “This… feeling… bloody ‘ell-”

The scar grows larger as his face does. The tip of his nose blunts, the bridge of it widening while the nostrils flare larger. His ears begin to poke out the sides of his head a little more as their own tips elongate to a point, the soft cartilage stretching out and thinning while the insides grow slightly deeper as the result of their new shape. These changes result in his glasses hitching onto his face, frames unable to simply fall off as they are now locked into its widening form.

Foreign thoughts cascaded through Nat’s brain, things getting harder to focus on. Resisting growing more laborious. “N-No, I… m… must be hungover or somethin’-”

More changes wrack his face in its constant growth. Eyebrows getting thicker, hairs on them becoming a stony grey. The scales start to bubble up and down the sides of his face hardening then. His eyes get slightly smaller, a grayish-brown settling into the deep green of his irises while his vision steadily improves. It doesn't take long until the glasses he's wearing breaks apart, temples breaking apart at the hinge as the rim falls onto the ground.

Eyesight woozes a little, momentarily shifting from blurry to improving for a few seconds. “W-what is… fuck, must’ve had to much to drink at Vargel’s… makin’ my eyesight all weird-”

Impossibility was settling into him, the feeling of being ‘Nat’ more fleeting as a new entity took over. Everything foreign, everything faint. Conflicting thoughts and emotions beginning to arise.

The nape of his neck tickles slightly as his hair starts to steadily lengthen. Follicles getting longer, the brown coloration of them fading away into silver as each second passed. An odd mix of styles start to formulate on his scalp as his hair continues to grow. The top frontmost portions arise and comb themselves, messy hairs melding into a neat formation as they continue to extend. A thick, pomp-like style is what develops in that area; tall, rounded, dense, and clean.

Yellows and blues etch into the follicles of his sides, the remainder of the hair to the sides and back of his head slowly cascading downwards. Unlike the hair to his top, the hair to his back was messier. Although it maintained the same luscious thickness, ends were sticking out and curling upward, an unkempt mane of hair trickling down his neck and onto his back. Despite this, it looked nice, full, and somewhat fluffy.

Confused stumbling continued, him completely unaware that the crystal was rapidly pulsating again. Another flash of light spilled through the room, and the moment his peripherals caught onto it his head began to ache. Hands trembled as he pulled them to the sides of his head, gripping onto them as his mind truly started to twist in confusion.

His neck throbs, the inner workings of it finally beginning to solidify his constant vocal changes. The vocal cords shift; growing, strengthening, widening, all to cement a new voice as his own. Previously, all it's been doing is cracking his voice, deepening it, giving him a slight accent, conflicting between his own and a different one. But now…

"I… ahhh… c-can't… walk very… Uurgh…"

With a final crack, his voice hardens. Deep, gruff, and containing a very noticeable accent; Urayan of course (what was he thinking, it's… Aus… huh)... But that couldn't be his voice, could it?

"Should've gotten another… one of the mates- could've helped with… uugh, Architect-"

He squeezes his head harder, a headache now bulging in his forehead.

"Bloody- this ain't… grrrruhh…"

A crisis of identity starts to truly bud within his mind. His own name was growing foreign to him as he was having trouble determining who he was. The past few minutes became a blur, come to think of it everything was a blur. He was having trouble recalling memories of his own, rather remembering foreign memories that… that he could've sworn were not his own.

Vague recollections of pounding down one or two drinks at the tavern in Garfront (how does he know that name, and… he's never drunk alcohol, has he?)

Congratulating some of the other mercs on a job well done- especially since this was a rather big one! (mercenary work? No- that… can't…)

"Didn't think I… had that much to drink, gotta train some rookies today after all…"

A small thought questioning why he'd be training anyone crossed his mind, but at this point whatever was left of Nat is fading fast. More muddled memories of a long life settling into his mind, much of it even he didn't care to remember, especially that name- there's a reason he's gone with Vandham nowadays.

…Vandham…

"Can't… can't believe I got so drunk I… couldn't recall my name!"

That thought made him laugh a little, the haze slowly but surely subsiding. It did have some stuff to leave behind, replacing previous skills with new ones. He could recall how to wield quite a few weapons like the back of his hand! He's usually had a preference for the larger ones though-

There were also a couple fleeting thoughts. Some smaller stuff that had to be done himself that he should probably get to once he sobered up- mostly awkward paperwork regarding payments and other job requests. Not the most exciting parts, but it helped keep the mercs afloat.

"Gotta get yourself together, mate…"

A trail of destroyed articles of clothing was left in the man's wake, and all of his stumbling around brought him next to his bed. Still dazed and confused (and believing himself to be hungover), he took a seat upon it to rest. Unfortunately, the bed was instantly proving unable to hold his weight and a sudden cacophony of creaks and snaps rang through the bedroom. There was a sudden drop of a few inches shortly after, his belly and bulge jiggling slightly as that happened.

Massaging a side of his head, Vandham lets out a small laugh at that. "Heh, I'm… guessing this thing can't support a big mate like myself's weight, huh?"

The pain was already starting to die down, although heat was still coursing through his body a little. Sweat continued to edge its way down his body. There was even a slight throbbing sensation in his crotch area, likely a reaction to his undersized briefs he was wearing at the moment…

"Don' quite remember puttin' these on-"

Come to think of it, he was starting to realize he can't exactly remember where he was right now either.

He shifted around the mattress a little, a slight itching sensation now entering some of his body. A result of scars starting to etch their way onto it. Down his left pec, across the side of his upper left arm, a slash across his back, a cut on his neck. Old scars multiplying across his body, all signs of a new life engraving in him.

He flinched for a moment as another flash of light entered his vision, although now it was oddly familiar. "What the hel-"

He was cut off, his breath suddenly hitching momentarily as he felt a slight discomfort in his abdomen. Sizeable scar tissue formed; a large pool of collagen spilling across the midsection of his gut. It was deeper in coloration than the other scars, an indicator of it being recent, with a slight area started bubbling in the middle of the tissue.

The light shone brighter as a reaction to this, the crystal beginning to float above the ground. Light was spilling everywhere, flowing from the blue stone and enveloping everything. Blinding white only intensified, Vandham closing his eyes as that light encompassed the entire room and enveloped his form.

Then it all stopped…

Opening his eyes, he found the light was gone and the source… disappeared?

There was still a minor discomfort in his gut however. Vandham looked down at it to find a shard of a Core Crystal embedded in his abdomen, a large contracture scar stretching from where it was placed.

"Still tryin' to get used to ya; huh, mate?"

All the crystal did was pulsate. But then again, it always did that.

His eyes then caught onto a pair of glasses that were laying on the ground. Or well, fragmented remains.

"Huh," he leaned down, bed creaking some more, and reached a hand down to pick it up. He was a little bemused by the fact that the rim looked so small compared to the fingers that pinched it.

Holding it up to eye level, he raised a brow in curiosity. "Where'd these come from…"

Inspecting the glasses put his mind in a slight moment of questioning, trying to rationalize who they were (momentarily fighting himself thinking they were his despite their size). It was enough to distract him from what was occurring on the ground.

Small motes of light slowly arose from the shreds of clothing that were on the floor. The edges of each shred started to glow as something began settling amongst them all.

The remaining sole of the shoes curled into itself amongst the light, the tip rising while the division between the heel and the rest of the sole grew. The bits and pieces of cloth that once composed of the shoe then floated off the ground, slowly making their way towards the soles as they themselves underwent a menagerie of shifts.

What would end up being the top cap and upper heel merged back together, the cap itself curling upwards as well while the front sharpened to a point. The former tongue of the shoe enlarged, becoming less of a tongue and more of a covering of some sort. The same applied to various other aspects; the pull tab, the arch bandages, the padding, strap guard, all of them were meshing and melding into various layers of some kind of different footwear. The straps had even merged into two separate pseudo-belts, meanwhile another chunk of shreds enlarged and transformed into two-layered knee pads.

All of this ended up coming together into a pair of complexly made boots. Chunks of leather connecting, sewing and stitching together, a belt wrapping around the back of the heel while the knee pads were left discarded on the upwardly curved toe caps. Multiple shades of green then started to seep into what used to be plain black and white, the inner layers of these boots being darker while the outer shades were lighter. The knee pads also appeared to materialize a blue gem on the middle of each one, metal buckles hardening to the sides as the second pair of belts slink over to them.

Then came what happened to the remainder of his scraps of clothing. Denim and cotton all floating and twisting, more greens started to etch into those as well as they began to undergo similar drastic changes.

Instead of simply restitching and becoming the new forms equivalent of what they would've been, the remains all seemed to undergo their own thing. A few scraps were growing, shifting and squishing together as they became a pair of leather bracers. Another set twisted together, deepening to black and oozing outward into a pair of fingerless gloves.

Many shreds became plain and simplistic objects. Some lengthened out, metal forming on the ends as they became various sets of belts that'd go across the big man's body. There was one belt that was meant for the waist; hard denim becoming a leathery blue while oranges shifted tone to green, everything coming together into a lengthier belt with an oddly shaped buckle and shards of metal studded throughout it. Many remnants of clothing then bulked out into pouches of various sizes to adorn this new belt. And out of everything that came from the minor clothes shifts, there was a clump of remains that merged together into a large, hefty shoulder pauldron that looked to be more metallic than it was leather. Beside the pauldron bubbled an orange, rigid arm bracer.

The largest changes came with the scraps that fused into more complex objects. There came some that enlarged into rectangular metallic plates, interlocking side by side with each other until they could circle an entire body. Raising from those plates was a set of belts that would give this armor piece an odd overalls look when worn. A strip of a thin, small and blue material emerged and draped downwards from the outside of each plate.

What remained of the cotton and denim fragments floated and stitched with each other. Black was spreading across the article of clothing they were making, thick pillars of red appearing on the front of the legs and back of the legs. The new legwear was undergoing an increasingly large size change, getting bulkier and baggier for a few seconds before stopping.

Now littering the ground were multiple articles of clothing and armor, belts and pouches, two big boots and knee pads. The only thing that was off about them was the size: miniscule in comparison to the guy on the bed. Rather, they seemed to be the size of how they would fit his previous form. Small and thin, although maybe slightly larger than his body would have been.

This was quickly rectified, however, as another bout of glowing outlined the attire. Everything started to enlarge again, bigger and heavier, better equipped to handle a thicker guy. The shifts in size were quickly packing everything together, pushing everything around and moving things further than their previous locations. It was rapidly looking to become a mountain of metal and leather.

Vandham continued to eye the glasses for another few moments, thoughts still trying to grasp who exactly these were before, but was snapped out of it when he felt something press against his foot.

"Hm. Ah well, they look broken anyway." He then decides to crush them in the palm of his hand. Quick, easy, like they were nothing.

He disregards the shrapnel on the ground, then turns his head to see what was touching his foot, which was shown to be one of his boots.

Wait…

Vandham looked down at himself again. His hardened pecs, his massive gut, his rippling arms and legs. Then there was that massive bulge in his undergarments…

He scratched the side of his head. "Bloody hell am I doin' naked…"

Leaning sideways to pick up the boot, the sound of another snap echoed throughout the bedroom before his position fell downwards yet again. The front legs of the bed screeched for a moment as they pushed forward, the frame having split in half beneath his weight. The mattress remained intact, but he could hear the strain of its springs beneath his rear.

"Heh, I should probably get off this thing quick."

Trying to clothe himself was a little confusing. Partially because his mind was still having trouble between familiar and unfamiliar actions, but he easily found himself falling into the rhythm of things. Why wouldn't he, he's done this every day of his life!

The armor was always the most annoying part. Having to place it upright and step into it, then heaving it upwards by the straps before buckling everything. Moving it around to be comfortable. Then came slipping on the pauldron, strapping it onto his shoulder with a few of the belts and more shifting for comfortability.

Vandham shifted around the pile of clothing for a few moments in search of his arm bracer, but he ended up finding his pants. Big, baggy, black and red, perfect fit for him really. A part of him wished there was a pair of properly sized underwear in this pile, but the thought of seeing his bulge bobble around a bit gave a part of him a strange sense of… euphoria? Self-indulgence? …Arousal? Whatever.

Getting the pants on was easy, then he had to follow it up with the belt. Somehow his pouches also all got unfastened, and they were also surprisingly empty.

With his legwear on, he was able to locate the arm bracer along with the gloves and wrist bracers he wore. Putting those on were easy enough, leather tightly hugging his calloused wrists while more leather wrapped around his wrists. Then there were the belts that went around his wrists and arm.

The springs moaned as he took another seat on the mattress momentarily, shoving his feet into his boots and putting his knee pads over the already layered footwear and baggy pants. With some final adjustments, loosening any tight harnesses and tightening any too loose ones. His gaze was then brought to one last article of clothing on the ground.

A grey hoodie.

He got up from off the bed and walked over towards the oddly familiar object. Bending down and picking it up, he found that it was already pretty small for someone his size. And holding it out seemed to prove that by quite a bit. It looked to only be comparable to his torso and abdomen alone, and that was pushing it since it somehow seemed smaller than that.

There was a fleeting thought in his mind over the concept of wearing it. "Heheh, dunno what I'm thinking. I'm much too big to wear this!"

He crumpled the hoodie up and decided to turn it around and throw it onto the mattress. As he did so, his attention was drawn to another object. A small box that was slowly sliding down the mattress.

Curious, Vandham took a step forward and looked into the box. It appeared to be filled with assorted rocks of various shapes, sizes, and colors. But it didn't really seem to be the most interesting thing in this room, especially if it lacked any Core Crystals to find. Honestly, most of this room was growing rather disinteresting. He wasn't sure where he was or why he was here, and the nagging familiarity of the place was getting to be slightly annoying.

He started to piece together all the weirdness of the scenario. "The hell did I do last night…"

Vandham was pulled out of his thoughts by a low rumble escaping his belly. Smiling, he patted the armor over the spot (particularly where the crystal was embedded in him). "Guess you're gettin' hungry, ey mate? Definitely be good fer us to get somethin' if I drank somethin' that strong~"

The feeling of knowing this place did come in handy at least. He knew where the kitchen was, somehow. Getting there on the other hand…

This house was not built for someone of his proportions, to say the least. At least back in Garfront everything was accommodated to larger sizes (usually because Blade size can be fairly unpredictable), so residing in it was without inconvenience. Here though, the doorways were thinner than his width, and the first attempt to try and exit what he assumed to be the bedroom was more than slightly annoying. Trying to make himself as small as possible in order to fit past a door frame was not a fun experience, especially since his armor still made him seem a little thicker laterally. Having that press up against your body (especially when you're still getting used to a Crystal embedded in you) is uncomfortable, to say the least.

"With how much work this is already getting to be I'm hoping this place has some good Armu T-Bone Steak."

Escaping that eventually led to a small walkway that he could just barely fit through. The top of his hair also seemed to graze the ceiling. There was also the fact that his steps made the floorboards of these creak sometimes.

Going down the stairs was another uneasy trek. Railing forcing him to go sideways, feet too large to really fully fit on a step. The steps creaking rather loudly beneath his feet also did not make matters any better. Not even Uraya's cliffsides made him feel this uneasy. Luckily, he was able to get down fairly unscathed; save for that final step that seemed to just break as he got off.

With one final right turn he reached the doorway of what his mind told him was the kitchen. Getting through the doorway was just as much of a hassle as the last time, but it wasn't as hard since he knew how to handle this now… mostly.

Just as expected, everything in the kitchen was small in comparison to him, but really his focus was now on the fridge. Squeezing in the space between the fridge and a table (which really just his rear bumping into the table and pushing it back some); Vandham foregone pulling the handle (knowing it to be too miniscule for his hand) and just went with pulling the door open from the side. Considering his strength, doing so was a success.

Most of the food in here seemed to be random leftovers, assorted fruits, and various other foods that needed to be kept cold; all of which was in a clean three layer system.

That was disrupted rather quickly once Vandham shoved his hand in there and started rummaging around. Rummaging meaning knocking things around, trying to pull some things out but having trouble doing so when everything is diminutive in comparison to you, and accidentally squishing one or two fruits.

"Architect, this thing is small…"

Eventually, after about half a minute of messing up the fridge, Vandham was able to find something that would be of interest to him.

It looked to be a slab of meat wrapped in foil. Likely already cooked, just needed to get it heated up. Unfortunately, it literally fits in the palm of one hand, so he didn't expect it to do too much filling.

"Likely not Armu, but this'll do. This'll do…"

#character tf #human tf #transformation #muscle growth tf #tf

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