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goldentournesol · 4 years ago

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Be Careful What You Wish For

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer gets exactly what he wished for, but it isn’t necessarily for the best.

Length: 5k

A/N: this is based off of maybe one of the best requests i have ever received, thank you so much anon, your request really got my creative juices going! also i combined this request with another one, too <3 (angst, just straight up, with happy ending tho)

masterlist

The sun was shining against the glass windows of the car. The sunset was so beautiful with its melting and merging colors, Y/N wished it lasted longer so she could watch it. It’d been feeling like beautiful moments were few and far between lately.

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy, but she’d never expected to drift this far from Spencer. She couldn’t exactly place the moment at which the descent of their relationship began, if she was being honest. One day, they’d be happy, smiling, full of love and life. And then the next, waves of darkness and despair would appear. They weren’t even the kinds of waves that would disappear with the shining sun. No, they were there to stay and fuel the storm that continues to rage on.

Today was one of those days. To be fair, the whole team was struggling, but Spencer had taken Morgan’s departure a little harder than everyone else. It was understandable, of course. Derek was a staple in Spencer’s life for so long. However, for a man who’s seen and been through so many losses, he sure was terrible at dealing with them. Spencer’s tendency to keep things bottled up had definitely been affecting the overall health of their relationship. In fact, it has been the root of a lot of their arguments lately. Y/N just wanted him to let her in, let her help him and she was willing to wait however long it takes. Spencer on the other hand grew more and more snappy, irritable, and private with each passing day.

When they were at work, they tried their best to avoid each other so as to not get on each other’s nerves. Their fights usually didn’t turn into screaming matches, but they both had a track record of saying things they don’t mean. Hurtful things. Turns out profilers are fantastic at rubbing salt into open wounds.

Ever since they began dating, Spencer took the subway less, opting for car rides with Y/N. Sometimes she’d drop him off, other times they’d spend the rest of the day at each other’s houses. She enjoyed driving him around, at first he was never too picky with the music she played, but later on, his music began to overtake hers. It never bothered her, in fact, she took it as a sign of him being vulnerable and sharing parts of himself.

The days where car rides once filled with joyous singing and laughter were coming to a shocking halt. The silence nowadays was almost always louder than the music they used to play. Even small talk felt like too much of a burden sometimes.

“Should I just drop you off at your place? Or do you wanna come over to mine? I still have some of that lasagna you liked in the fridge.” She asked softly as they slowed down into traffic. Rush hour in DC was never fun.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have whatever’s at my place.” Spencer was being curt with his responses. Thus, the warning signs began flashing in her head.

“Are you sure? We can even pick something up from that one grocery store on our way home, something that goes well with the lasagna. I don’t mind cooking today.” She offered, hoping he wouldn’t shut her out like he usually did.

He shook his head, keeping his voice eerily level and his gaze was set on the road in front of him, “I just really wanna be home, Y/N.”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A short silence ensued as traffic began to thin out. Cars that were stuck bumper to bumper were beginning to move.

“Is this about Derek leaving?” She asked tentatively. He sighed and pursed his lips in response so she continued, “You know he said he was always a phone call away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Spencer said shortly, gazing out the window.

“You never want to talk about anything.” She said defeatedly, the car beginning to move freely on the road.

“Yeah, well maybe that’s true. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” Spencer spat, clearly growing impatient.

“Fine, don’t talk to me then. But talk to someone, anyone! Hell, talk to Derek himself. Tell him you hate him for leaving or whatever you’re feeling, but don’t take out your anger and unresolved feelings out on me, okay? I don’t deserve that! Everyday I try to get you to talk to me, but it seems like with every little step I take forward, you take two steps back. And it’s exhausting. It is fucking exhausting, Spencer.” She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask for you to be my personal therapist. If I wanted to see a therapist, I would have gone to see one!” Spencer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Spencer, in a relationship, we’re supposed to confide in one another. It’s supposed to be comforting. I don’t want to be your therapist, I just want you to talk to me!” She unconsciously began to press on the pedal, perhaps in an attempt to reach a destination quicker. He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Relationship? You call this a relationship? We can barely stand to be in the same room together, Y/N.”

“And that’s why we talk it out. No relationship is ever perfect! You should know that, Spencer!” She shrieked, gripping the steering wheel in frustration.

“That’s not true. What I had with Maeve was perfect until it was ruined.” He uttered.

“Maeve?!” She squealed incredulously, “Really?! What you had with Maeve was perfect?! Spencer, what you had wasn’t real like us! You spoke to her over the phone once a week! You wrote to her in letters, where you have time to-to think and to respond! It isn’t like real life, it isn’t like you and me! What we have is real! I-I’ve lived with you, I’ve seen you torn to pieces, I’ve seen you laugh until you cry. That’s the you I fell in love with, not some fantasy I created of you over the phone!” She spoke but the words were garbled between incoming sobs that she was frantically wiping the remnants of off her cheeks. The same sobs she’d tried so hard to suppress. She was barely aware of the words that came out of her mouth.

“If what I had with Maeve wasn’t real, then why do I wish she were the one here with me instead of you?!” Spencer defended, unaware of how sharp his words were or how deeply they’d wounded her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, taking her already blurry vision off of the road in front of her to face him, “What?” She whispered brokenhearted, but the utterance was immediately swallowed by the unmistakable, earsplitting sound of metal clashing violently against metal. They had no choice but to succumb to the inundating darkness that rapidly overtook them both.

***

Spencer woke with a violent start and sat up in his own bed. He sighed in relief when he realized it was just a dream and it was morning again. Turning his head to look at the left side of the bed where she usually slept, he expected to find her there and was taken by surprise when she wasn’t. He rubbed at his face and eyes vigorously before hearing some clattering in the kitchen. With long strides he saw a blurry figure in the kitchen making coffee and walked towards it.

He sighed in relief, “Hey, there you are. I just had the worst dream.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck in his half-asleep state.

“Hey, good morning, lovebug.” She smiled and turned around to hug him tightly.

Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

He’d heard that voice before. He pulled back from the hug and was met by…

It wasn’t Y/N. It was Maeve.

Spencer could barely control his expression as complete bone-stilling shock washed over his entire being, “M-Maeve?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, a kind smile resting upon her features. If Spencer wasn’t so shocked, he’d probably have laughed at the absurd truth of that statement. Maeve brought her hand up to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

He didn’t even have time to be confused before he jerked back quickly at the touch of her hand, “I-uh, uh...I’m not feeling too g-good. Um...what’s happening?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again, almost like they’d be polished and he’d see more clearly. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Right in front of him. There was no light emitting from behind her, she was totally opaque. It was eerily real.

Her face was full of color and life and she was dressed in one of his cardigans over her own set of matching pajamas. She was moving and...alive. And speaking to him. What is happening right now?

“But y-you’re...how are you here right now? Am I still dreaming? Am I...Maeve, am I dead?” Spencer shook his head in an attempt to wake back up.

She began to laugh and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and so he did, still staring up at her in disbelief, “No, baby, you’re very much alive. You’re probably just still confused from whatever nightmare you had. Here, have some water.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, confused. Um, what day is it?” Spencer began to pat on his chest to make sure he was solid and alive.

She looked at him curiously at his strange behavior, “It’s April 5th, 2016.”

April 5th? Derek left the BAU near the end of March. A light bulb went off in his head.

The BAU!

They’d have all the answers. He shot up from his seat immediately, “I uh, have to get to work.” Spencer rushed to his bedroom to get dressed.

As he’s dressing, he spots a picture frame on his bedside table. He knows the picture by heart, it was of him and Y/N in the pumpkin patch last year. He’d had his arms tightly wound around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek. The leaves were the most colorful they’d ever been. He picked it up and almost dropped it immediately like it had burned his skin. It was the same picture.

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen. In her place was Maeve.

No, no, no. This isn’t right.

Spencer began to panic as he buttoned up his shirt, he threw on his cardigan and practically flew out the door. In the distance, he could hear Maeve in the background calling out for him to drink his coffee before leaving.

The train ride to work was truly a test of his patience. He couldn’t keep his knee still and checked his watch religiously. After the train stopped, was the first one off and ran as fast as his poor feet could take him. He stopped running when he got to the FBI Headquarters as to not alarm anyone, but raced to the sixth floor anyway.

As he opened the glass doors he searched frantically for any familiar face, “Garcia!” He yelled as he spotted her bright yellow clad figure across the bullpen. He pushed through tired agents and messy desks to get to her. Everything else was the same, the office was just as he remembered it.

“Good morning, boy wonder! How are you today?” She smiled graciously, holding a few files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked impatiently. She pulled her brows together.

“Do you mean Y/N...Y/L/N?” She asked slowly, as if trying to recall her name.

“Yes, of course I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Who else would I be talking about?” Spencer asked, once again losing more of his patience.

“No, I haven’t seen her, to be honest. I don’t see much of the White-Collar Crime division up here unless Hotch asks for them. Why do you need Y/N? Is she okay?” Garcia casually answered, as if her answer hadn’t turned his world--this world--whatever the hell he was experiencing upside down.

“White-Collar crime? No, that can’t be right.” Spencer muttered to himself as his brain raced a million miles a second.

“Reid, is everything alright? Is there a possible case? Should I tell Hotch?” Garcia asked, but Spencer was barely listening.

He was on his way back to the elevators again, leaving an extremely confused Penelope in his wake. He raced down to the fourth floor, to the White-Collar crime division. As the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanned the crowded floor for her.

“Dr. Reid! It’s nice to see you down here. What can I do for you?” An agent, Agent Seymour, he’s met perhaps once before asked him.

“Hi, yes, I’m um..looking for one of your agents. Agent Y/L/N.” Spencer stuttered, it was weird saying her name so formally. But he had to see it with his own eyes.

“Yes, of course, right this way. I think she just came in.” The agent led him to a desk in the middle of the bullpen and left him, saying that she was probably getting coffee and should be back an second. Spencer looked over her desk and compared it with how her desk at the BAU looked like. Gone were the trinkets and books he’d given her. Gone was the candle she never lit, but kept anyway because she said it smelled like him. It was like staring at a stranger’s desk, so desolate, so...un-special.

“Jeremy, stop. I almost spilled my coffee!” She giggled from behind him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere. He turned to see her and his lungs filled with relief as he spotted her familiar face across the bullpen. There she was, in all her glory. Looking as beautiful as ever. His Y/N. But the relief was ripped away all too suddenly as he watched on. She had her coffee in one hand and the other was swatting a very sheepish looking Jeremy, he assumed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just missed you.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips.

She blushed immediately and shied away, “Jeremy, we’re in the office!” She giggled again and pulled away from him, glancing around the office as if to check if anyone saw the moment of affection. Spencer’s blood boiled before he realized.

She looked so happy.

So much happier than she ever looked when she was with him. His heart sank to his feet and he felt like he was incapable of lifting it back up to its rightful place in his chest. He wondered if this was the universe’s cruel, cruel way of letting him know just how shitty of a boyfriend he’s really been. Fire of envy festered in the place where his heart used to reside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, resentment, or guilt.

It all felt so strange. It felt like there was suddenly way too much pressure in his head. Before he could begin to compute the events unfolding before him, he realized she had spotted him at her desk and was now making her way across the bullpen, separating from her Jeremy. Before he could freak out, she was speaking to him. And all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and the faint memory of how they felt pushing against his.

“Dr. Reid! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?” She asked politely, but Spencer could tell that she was immeasurably confused by his presence, “Does Agent Hotchner need something from the White Collar crimes archives?”

Spencer panicked, “Yes! Um, he does...and um he asked me to ask you s-specifically. That’s why I’m here, heh.” He stammered like the nervous wreck he was and wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his pockets.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Just tell me the number of the file and I’ll get it for you.” She smiled slightly, setting her cup of coffee down on her desk. At least her coffee order was still the same as it was.

She disappeared for a few moments after he gave her a random sequence of numbers. Spencer wasn’t even sure how his legs were still capable of holding himself up. When she came back and he got a whiff of her perfume, his body completely stilled. He knows that scent like the back of his hand, he’d given it to her for their first anniversary. The fresh scent nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He’d accepted the file and scurried back to the sixth floor without another word, once again leaving a confused woman in his wake.

Spencer collapsed at his desk and rubbed his head like it would somehow fix this. Whatever this was. Everyone around him operated so normally and went about their day while he was seconds away from losing his mind.

Was he having a schizophrenic scare? Did his symptoms bleed into his 30’s even though they weren’t supposed to? What was this alternate universe where he’d lost the one good thing he’s ever known? How was he supposed to get back? Did he want to go back? What would happen if he did? Would it be fair for Y/N to stick with him when he knew she would be so much happier with someone else? Would he try harder for her? Would he stop shutting her out? Would the woman he loved so dearly ever love him back?

He must not have ever been deserving of her love and the universe was punishing him in the worst way possible. To have her be within arm’s reach but to never be able to hold her.

Once upon a time, he would have given up anything and everything to be with Maeve, but that was before Y/N. Before she gave him a new life, one he wanted to live. One where waking up wasn’t such a task. One where seeing her smile at him was enough to make him forget about all his worries. But now Y/N looked at him with barely a sliver of recognition. There was no affection or adoration behind those eyes and maybe he deserved that.

But how was this universe expecting him to go on like everything is fine? Like he hadn’t just lost the love of his life? No one else in this warped version of Spencer’s reality was feeling as dejected as Spencer was.

“Reid, are you feeling alright?” The voice of none other than Aaron Hotchner brought him out of his stupor. Spencer had unknowingly been sobbing into his hands for the past few minutes. Hotch was taken aback at the extent of Spencer’s disheveled state.

“H-Hotch, I need to go home. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his things and ran out the building before he realized he had nowhere to go. Home wasn’t his home anymore. He couldn’t exactly go back and see his dead girlfriend wandering around his apartment. He couldn’t be at work where Y/N was, so blissfully unaware of the crisis Spencer was in the middle of.

He wandered the streets of DC aimlessly as he tried to reorganize the events in his head and somehow make sense of them. Just a few days ago, he and Y/N had been holding one another on his couch. Sure, they’d been in a rut recently, but they still loved each other. At least that’s what he thought.

He walked and walked, miles on end, keeping his gaze on his feet as he tried to piece bits together. An IQ of 187 and he had absolutely no idea how whatever was happening to him happened. Even the multiple universes theory didn’t have his back. If he was ‘here’, where has ‘here’s’ Spencer gone?

His feet had taken him to the local park, where he and Y/N used to sit under the stars. He found himself reminiscing the times they were together. He saw himself and Y/N in every couple that passed him by. Exhausted, Spencer took a seat on a patch of grass. He buried his face into his hands and tried to relieve himself of the headache he’d developed.

“Hey, mister! Watch out!!” He heard a child yell way too loudly.

Groaning at the volume, he looked up to see the vague shape of a spinning baseball increasing in size as it moved closer….closer. Spencer had no time to react before he was knocked out cold by the baseball.

***

The first thing she’d heard was the incessant beeping of...something next to her. After that, she’d heard faint chatter. The voices sounded familiar but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She whimpered in pain which caught the attention of everyone in the room. The chatter ceased.

“Y/N? Honey, it’s Pen, can you hear me?” A voice called. She fought to open her eyes.

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It was like they were glued shut. Why did everything hurt? What is that smell?

She made a small noise of agreement to the voice that called, but could not coordinate herself enough to speak or open her eyes.

“Y/N, darling, you’re in the hospital, okay? You were in a car accident.” She spoke softly.

But the words weren’t soft at all. Her words had opened up a Pandora’s box of previously suppressed memories. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe as she tried to remember the last moments before the fog. She remembered seeing him so angry, eyes so wild. Who is he? So...so close. She whimpered in pain as she fought the fog away.

Blood.

So much blood.

Pain.

So much pain.

The others watched as she began to writhe against the hospital bed in discomfort. Her eyes snapped open the second she saw his face in her mind, frantically searching the room for him.

Spencer.

“Sp-Sp--” She began, but couldn’t formulate the rest of the word. Exhausted and defeated by the lack of his presence, she lay back on the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Spencer’s...Spencer’s fine, alright? You can’t see him right now, but you will be able to.” Those words were the last thing she heard before she slipped off into a silent slumber.

Hours later, she awoke again. But this time with enough strength to open her eyes immediately. Her limbs felt like they weighed tons, she could barely lift a finger. The room was empty besides a single chair with a blurry figure seated in it.

“Spencer?” She uttered almost inaudibly and the figure moved.

“Hey there. Sorry, I’m not Spencer.” The figure moved closer and she recognized the blonde sheen.

“JJ.” Y/N croaked with relief, happy to see a friend. JJ promptly gave her some water in a cup and adjusted the bed so that she would be able to swallow it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking the cup from Y/N’s trembling hands.

Y/N shook her head imperceptibly, “Is...Spence--is he?” Y/N barely got to finish her thought before the tears settled in.

“No, gosh, no. He’s alive. Thankfully, you both made it out alive.” JJ said with relief, leaning her elbows against the side of her bed. Y/N felt her breathing get easier as she learned of the news. She blinked hard, trying to control the tears, but they just flowed out.

“It’s my fault, JJ.” she paused to take a deep breath and JJ took one of her hands in hers, “I was the one driving. I should have been more careful. I-I was so mad.” She sobbed, the tears escaping.

“Hey, no, it’s alright now. Okay, you’ve both made it out alive, that’s what’s important.” JJ rubbed Y/N’s knuckles.

“W-where is he? I need to see him.” Y/N attempted to sit up but winced from the sharp pain in her side.

“Um..yeah, about that. You can’t really get up yet. You’ve got three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion.” JJ delivered the news and Y/N’s tears seemed to flow even harder.

Before she could respond, Hotch, Penelope, and a nurse walked into the room, “Oh, sunshine! It’s so good to see you awake!” Penelope squealed and kissed her wet cheek gently before wiping away her tears. The nurse checked all her vitals and gave her some extra information before she left. Y/N forced a smile and sat back, but something in the room felt heavy.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you guys telling me?” Y/N frowned, staring at her friends. She saw them all exchange a look and Hotch being the most straightforward man she knows decided to deliver the news.

“It’s Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer’s brain has swelled significantly and doctors don’t know when he’ll wake. It’s already been almost 42 hours since the accident.” Hotch frowned, watching Y/N’s expression turn from a hopeful one into one of the most unbearable expressions of grief.

“Wh--what, what does that mean? Does that mean he’s--is he ever going to wake up?” She began to panic, her heart rate audibly increasing. She squeezed JJ’s hand as hard as she could.

“We can’t be sure yet, the swelling has to go down before doctors can make any claims. It’s still too early to say he’s in a coma, which is a good sign. He’s also been showing steady signs of improvement.” Hotch said and Y/N covered her face to shield herself away from the embarrassment of openly sobbing.

JJ and Penelope both looked at the bruised and broken girl on the bed with tears brimming their eyes, unsure of what to do.

“I have to see him. Please. Please, JJ.” Y/N sobbed, pleading at the woman beside her. JJ looked towards Hotch for guidance.

“I’ll speak with the Doctor and see what I can do.” Hotch nodded once and left the room. Aaron Hotchner was simply a man you couldn’t say no to. Thankfully, this extended to doctors as well. The next time someone came in, they entered with a wheelchair. After many screams and with the help of three nurses and a doctor, they managed to get Y/N into the wheelchair. They rolled her off into Spencer’s room where he lay motionless on a bed just like hers. The sight of him so frail with so many tubes going in and out of his orifices should have overwhelmed her, but she was just so happy to see him breathing. Once again she could barely control her tears as she weakly gripped at the hand that was closest to her. She pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to the back of his hand and pleaded for him to wake.

The sight was overwhelming, even for Hotch. It was difficult to see their two youngest agents fight for their lives.

And for the next two days, this is how it went. Y/N would wake from her slumber, request to see Spencer and would not leave his side unless her Doctor absolutely required her to. She didn’t care about what he’d said to her before the crash, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just wanted him here. She wanted to hear his voice again. What a luxury that was.

Slowly, Spencer began improving. He’d begin to open his eyes but shut them immediately afterwards. He’d make noises, even though they were very garbled, they were very welcome. Y/N would read to him, she’d have any one of their friends bring over his favorite books and she’d pass the time reading to him. It was difficult at first, but she’d improved too.

On the fifth day, he was awake and fully conscious before she even got to his room.

He heard his teammates speaking around him again and what a relief it had been to wake in a hospital bed rather than his own bed. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as they updated him of what happened in the recent days.

It wasn’t real.

None of it was.

Maeve wasn’t there, Y/N was his, no one else’s.

He’d been sure of it when they’d rolled her into his room and near his bed, eyes lit with hope surrounded by healing scrapes and bruises.

“Spence? Spencer!” She exclaimed, “Oh thank God you’re awake.” She whispered trying her hardest to lean towards him on the bed.

Spencer fought to raise his arm to touch her arm, “Y/N? A-are you really here?” He whispered back.

“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m never leaving you.” She sobbed, leaning her face into his awaiting palm. Spencer’s chest filled with immense relief as his thumbs caught her fallen tears.

“Y/N, wait--Y/N, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry about what I said. I remember. I didn’t mean it. You’re the one for me. Life is perfect with you.” Spencer frowned as tears of his own raced down his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “It’s okay, I don’t care about that anymore. I could have lost you. I-if I had lost you, I would have lost myself Spencer. I love you so much. I love you so much.” She repeated as she kissed the palm of his hand.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

How could he have ever wished to live without this? Without her?

The universe had taught him his lesson and boy was he glad he had learned it.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #mgg #CM

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

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Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena #fluff

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writerpeach · 5 years ago

Text

Club Mimosa - [Ch. 6] Dangerous

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

There was a lot to love about Tokyo’s winter season.

Barren trees swayed after being kissed by frost after the season’s first snowfall, making the entire city more beautiful as ever. The ground beneath your feet looked pristine as a thin soft white sheet blanketed the streets.

Tokyo looked and felt like an entirely new city during winter.

Perhaps your favorite part was the reduced crowds. Taking a subway to anywhere within city limits no longer felt like you were fighting for air to breathe with a hundred different strangers.

You loved the way the cool crisp air felt on your skin every time you left your apartment and the way you could visibly see your breath lingering in the air.

Winter was your favorite season, you anticipated it more each year since you could take public transportation and easily enjoyed it without worrying. Cold temperatures were your companion, and you welcomed the season with open arms.

The season also marked your third year living in Japan.

Culture shock became less of a shock and something you grew accustomed to. There was hardly any food you couldn’t eat without trouble. You had tried all sorts of delicacies that would have been seen as “weird” back in the west, and while you didn’t enjoy them all you never regretted experiencing them all.

Your favorite thing about Tokyo outside of its attractive women, delicious food, and incredible culture was the club that had become your second home. Club Mimosa was your favorite place to spend both your free time and money. Your name was known throughout the establishment from flirty hostesses to managers, to the sexy ladies behind the bar serving stiff drinks.

But there was still one person that hadn’t managed to meet you yet.

Minatozaki Sana.

Momo painted a vivid picture of her, but you hadn’t seen her in the club. You didn’t know what she looked like, what she acted like, you knew nothing but what Momo had described.

You got updates sent from Momo every couple of days, letting you know how things were progressing. Slowly, it seemed, which wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t easy, even with years of experience under her belt there were a plethora of things unaccounted for, hostesses to train, management to find, equipment to gather. Even with a small team helping her there was a lot to do. Momo was going to be staying in Kyoto for quite a while it seemed.

Japan was a relatively small country comparatively, but even on a one-way trip on a bullet train, you were looking at over two hours, which was hard to justify even to see such a beautiful woman as Momo. You kept in contact over the phone and video chat, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss those late nights with her, screaming each other’s names so loud you were afraid the neighbors were going to knock at her door.

That’s where Club Mimosa came in.

You had needs. Everyone had needs, and if those needs were talking to gorgeous women in expensive tight dresses for hours on end, well then, those needs were easily satisfied.

Those needs were harder without Momo there, sitting inches away from you, close enough to smell her perfume while she sipped on her drink and munched on whatever meat was on the menu.

You had spent time away from the club, feeling the distance away from Momo more than you thought you would. But if you trusted anyone to offer a suitable replacement it would be one Hirai Momo.

It all felt familiar to you as you stepped off the subway and walked into the snow-covered streets of Tokyo, feeling less smothered by the crowds thankfully. You could see the bright lights a mile away as if it’s neon lights were calling for you personally.

You entered the club and the first thing you noticed was everything seemed louder. You were surrounded by familiar faces and sounds and an atmosphere that could only be described as alive.

“Welcome back to Club Mimosa, sir!”

You didn’t know how you felt about being a regular in a place where you were liable to spend way too much money in one night, but there were worse problems to have.

“Do you have anyone specific you'd like to request? Or would you like us to find someone for you, sir?”

You hesitated before making your choice of words carefully.

“I’d like to request Minatozaki Sana,” you said. The manager looked at you like you’d just summoned something unstoppable.

“I”m sorry, sir, but she is no longer an active-”

“It’s fine, I’ve been expecting him.”

You didn’t know where the voice came from, but her words were like honey slowly dripping out of a bottle, every syllable full of seduction.

Stepping out of the shadows was the owner of said voice, a stunning young woman who took your breath away at first sight. Her hair was blonde, her legs were long, and her curves were deadly. Minatozaki Sana was an absolutely perfect woman. Her dress was tighter and shorter than anything Momo ever wore, as if she wanted to show her up now that she wasn’t here.

Momo saying she had a body to die for was putting it lightly and didn't do her justice.

“About time you showed up,” she giggled, placing her hands on her hips. “Momo has told me a lot about you.”

“Hopefully not too much, Miss Minatozaki,” you replied.

“Oh, you can just call me Sana, I’m sure Momo has her secrets. A woman never tells everything. Now, where should we take you? A normal booth won’t do, and you’ve already defiled - I mean visited our VIP booth…”

It was hard to find a response to that as your cheeks reddened.

“Yuki-chan!” Sana called over.

“Yes, Minatozaki-San?”

“Are the karaoke rooms occupied?”

“No, they haven’t been used all day. They were just freshened up this morning.”

“Perfect, thank you, Yuki-chan. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

When Sana asked you to follow her you didn't dare refuse, as she led you down a separate hallway you'd never seen before, her fill hips swaying with every step.

"After you," Sana said as she held the door open, leading you into one of the few rooms in the place you hadn't been in before.

Red couches lined the walls of the large karaoke room, spacious enough to accommodate several people. The focus of the room was the big mounted screen centered between two dark marble tables, large speakers, colorful lighting filled the room.

"Usually these rooms are used for multiple clients wanting more than one hostess, but I'll have you all to myself in here," Sana said flirtatiously, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"So, what does Momo's favorite client like to drink?" Sana asked as she sat down to your right, flashing a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Favorite?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, she hasn’t specifically said that, but I could see it in the way she talks about you,” Sana replied, biting the tip of her finger.

“And what does Momo say about me?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady to reveal her secrets,” Sana teased, scooting closer to your body.

“But she does say you’re cute and charming, and that you have a nice body. I can certainly vouch for the first two, but the third, I’m not quite sure yet.”

There was a lot you could tell just from a person’s smile, and Sana’s smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. You could tell Sana wasn’t like the other hostesses, as cliche as that might be to say. While she had an immeasurable amount of sex appeal, there was an equal amount of cuteness mixed in that swirled together to create one incredible package of a woman.

“I think I’m okay with water for now,” you told Sana nonchalantly. This was your first meeting and you didn’t want to overdo it, surprised at how comfortable you felt around her already, not a hint of nerves.

“Water it is,” she replied as she got up and fetched two bottles of water out of a nearby glass cooler that you had somehow completely missed.

“Oh. I could have just gotten it myself,” you said with a hint of embarrassment.

Sana sat back down and shook her head as she handed you a bottle, grasping the other in her small hands.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” Sana said as she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, carefully letting water pour out without letting the bottle touch her lips. Even drinking water Sana looked incredibly sexy, although you sensed she was doing this on purpose.

The one thing you quickly realized about Sana was her vast experience. While Momo had confidence in her veins, she had her rare moments of awkwardness or when she suddenly turned nervous and stumbled over her words after something had been said.

But Sana, you could tell she had been doing this for more than just a few years. While you’d become a regular at the club, you felt at times you needed to pick your words carefully during a conversation, while Sana’s words flowed out of her lips automatically.

“So, Sana. Since you know a lot about me, tell me about yourself,” you said after a moment's pause. You were still so awkward with meeting new women, but you didn’t want this to come off as an interview. Sana could sense your own awkwardness, but her gaze calmed you down.

“Hm, where to start,” Sana said, running a hand through her silky golden locks.

“This is my sixth year as a hostess here. Although I’m not really a hostess anymore, I mostly train new girls and help run the place,” Sana said, keeping her gaze towards you.

“Sounds like you’ve put in a lot of work.”

“I have. We had a rough patch this year, but we made it through. I’ve been here since the beginning when we only had two hostesses besides me. Back then we struggled to get five customers a week, barely making enough money to keep the lights on. I ate a lot of ramen that first year.”

“And now look at this place. You’re the most popular club in Tokyo, and you’re opening a second location. You must be swimming in money.”

Sana smiled shyly. “I have Momo to thank for that. She volunteered to help run it, at least until everything is running smoothly. I miss her.”

“I do too,” you said, the words came out of your mouth before you had realized what you were saying.

“She told me you recruited her to come here?” you asked.

“That’s right. We met at university. We had different majors but ended up seeing each other almost every day. She needed extra money for tuition and I was already working here at the time, so I suggested she join me and put in a good word.”

“The rest is history as they say.”

“It is. God, she was so shy back then, she could barely look a man in the eyes. She spilled a drink her first shift and she was so clumsy for the first month. She almost quit the first week, but I convinced her to stay. And now she’s the most popular and requested girl.”

“That’s quite a success story.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less out of our Momo.”

Sharing glances with Sana you fumbled for words to say to break the awkward silence.

“Just talk to me like you’ve talked to Momo,” she said, and you abruptly felt her hand rubbing your thigh as she maintained eye contact.

“I don’t bite,” Sana said with a grin on her lips. “Unless you want me to.”

You didn’t know if you felt more at ease or more nervous, but her smile convinced you it was the former.

“I’ve instructed everyone to leave us alone unless called for,” she said, her smile turning into a smirk.

“Momo left you all to myself to play with, and I don’t want any interruptions.”

“Play with?” you repeated.

“Yes,” she replied with a flirtatious giggle, running her delicate fingers through strands of her hair again. Sana’s ways of flirting were about as subtle as a trainwreck, but you didn’t mind her methods.

“You know, for a karaoke room we’re not doing much singing,” you said, changing the subject.

“You’re absolutely right,” Sana said, leaning forward to grab the heavy book on the table, flipping through it.

“What do you want to sing?” Sana asked.

“Me? I’m not much of a singer, you should choose,” you said, deflecting the choice. You were terrified by the thought of sharing a stage with a beautiful woman, you didn’t dare display your terrible lack of singing prowess.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what to pick,” Sana said, flipping through several pages at a time.

“Then just sing your favorite song,” you replied. Sana paused, thinking about what she wanted for a moment.

“I don’t really have a favorite song,” she said, shaking her head as you furrowed an eyebrow.

“Everyone has a favorite song. Maybe something you’ve heard here a lot?”

“I hear a lot of songs here. There was this really cute song that I always sang during the first year I started here…” Sana said as she tilted her head, fingers fumbling through pages.

“Ah, here it is!” Sana said with excitement, her eyes widening as she keyed in numbers into the giant remote. The monitor in front lit up in response, flashing a white screen as the song started playing on the giant display. Sana stood with both hands on the mic, anticipating the start of the music.

The first notes were cheerful and bright as Sana sang along to every note of the bubblegum pop song, still remembering every lyric as if the song were personally her own. You had recognized the song, perhaps heard it during your time in the country in a mall or on tv. It was the perfect karaoke song, catchy and fun, and easy to sing.

Her duality here was something else. She even seemed to know all the choreography, all though it was rather simple. Her arms and legs moved in time with the rhythm and you were amazed at her still being able to dance without missing a step with such high heels on. With such full movements, singing such a cute song while wearing a tight dress that was designated to arouse was such a striking contrast.

Sana was most enthusiastic during the chorus.

“Fly so high, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, baaaby,” Sana sang along happily, a smile etched across her face as she used exaggerated movements and mimicked what she saw on the screen.

The song winded down and faded out completely, as the score tallied towards the end. After several seconds of anticipation, numbers spun and spun until displaying her final score an impressively high 98.

"Wow, you're amazing,“ you said as Sana bowed and sat back down, taking another swig of water as she handed you the microphone.

"I may have had a little training before I became a hostess. It wasn’t working out so I decided to apply here instead.”

She turned her attention towards you, mic still in hand.

“Your turn!”

Your expression betrayed your thoughts as you politely refused it, staring at it as if the object were suddenly lit on fire.

“You’re going to have to put a lot of alcohol in me if I’m going to start singing, Sana,” you said.

Sana pouted in response. ”Well then, I guess we better order a case,” she said. “But I won’t make you sing if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you, Sana.”

“Instead, I will ask you embarrassing personal questions,” she said, suddenly surprising you.

“Oh. That’s fair, I guess,” you replied, not exactly sure at what she was going to ask, but you figured it was a nice trade.

Sana didn’t waste any time wanting to get to the good stuff.

“When was the last time you and Momo…?” Sana asked, her voice trailed off deliberately as her eyebrow raised.

“Went on a date? A week before she left,” you confidently said.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Sana frowned.

“I don’t? What possibly could you mean then?” you teased.

“When’s the last time you know... You bent her over, pulled her hair, and made her scream?” Sana said, abruptly getting straight to the point.

She clearly wasn’t going to pull any punches. You took another sip from your water before attempting to answer.

“You really just expect me to kiss and tell just like that?”

“I do. I can't help that I'm nosy, " Sana giggled.

"Well, Momo never asked me to pull her hair, but the last time she and I got…intimate was the morning she left for Kyoto. In the shower."

"The shower, huh?" Sana repeated. “Some girls don’t like to admit they like their hair being pulled, but I think we all secretly love it.”

"I'm gonna need something alcoholic now," you said, embarrassed at your reveal.

"Coming right up," Sana said as she headed the intercom by the exit door.

"Send up the priciest bottle in the place!"

"Right away, Minatozaki-san!"

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” Sana said before you could voice any concern as she sat back down beside you.

"I always figured Momo was the vanilla type of girl," Sana said.

"Vanilla is still a good flavor.”

"There's nothing at all wrong with vanilla. But sometimes you want something a bit tastier."

There was a quick knock at the door, Sana voicing her approval to enter. The door swung open and a waiter walked in carrying a tray with several items, sitting everything down on the table and putting it in a bucket of ice.

"Please enjoy," the man said, bowing and leaving as quickly as he entered.

“Oh, we will,” Sana said as she opened the bottle. Putting a few ice cubes in each glass she filled them partway, handing you one as your glasses clinked.

"It’s been a while since I had a drink," you said, staring at the mysterious dark-colored liquid, swirling it around.

"Sip it, don’t down it.”

“Bottoms up,” you responded, putting the glass to your lips as you took your first taste. It wasn’t too strong, a mixture of sweet and sour, and a taste you quickly grew accustomed to.

“Well? How is it?” Sana asked, waiting for your review.

“It’s good. I was expecting it to be stronger by the way it looked.”

“We can’t get too carried away on our first meeting.”

“It’s really good.”

“Glad you like. Now, time for more questions!” Sana said, full of enthusiasm.

“I can’t wait,” you said half sarcastically.

“You don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“What’s your favorite part of a woman?”

"Uhh," you quickly hesitated, sinking back into the couch before you could think of what to say, letting more alcohol into your system as you took another drink.

“Let me change up the question,” Sana said, getting off the couch as she hopped up onto the table in front, crossing her legs and leaned back, resting both hands behind her.

“What’s your favorite part of me?”

You were caught off guard as Sana practically presented herself to you like an art display. You tried to keep eye contact, not wanting your eyes to roam her perfect tight body as much as you liked to.

“It’s okay to look. It'd be rude if you didn’t,” Sana said, lips curling into that same sensual expression. You let out a deep breath as you respectfully looked at Sana’s body, taking a gander at her smooth milky skin, eyes wandering every curve of her deadly body.

“I don’t have nice big tits like Momo does,“ she said, a slight frown forming on her lips. “But I think I do pretty well in other departments.”

Sana uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, trying her best to bring out your arousal and you swear you caught a glimpse of something. It wasn’t going to take much. She was now the center of attention in the room, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were her prey, and she was a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

“You’re dangerous, Sana,” you blurted out. She reacted immediately with that familiar smile.

“That’s not the first time I’ve been called that,” she said, adjusting the straps of her heel. “I never get tired of hearing it.”

Sana was closer to you than you realized, and you felt the temperature of the room heating up. You had spent plenty of time with hostesses at the same club, but something about Sana brought out something in you, something you couldn't understand. A mixture of nerves, excitement, and fear, like the first time you had asked a girl out.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sana said, biting on the tip of her finger seductively as she straightened her posture.

“You’ll have to repeat it. I forgot it already,” you lied.

Sana knew you didn’t. “Tell me...what your favorite part of me is. What your favorite part of my body is,” she said, every word crystal clear as she stared into your eyes.

Honestly, how she expected you to answer her with just one thing was beyond you. You went for the classic, yet cliche response.

“I like your eyes.”

Sana was so taken aback by such a cheesy answer it took her a moment to find the words to respond.

“My eyes, huh?” she said, a chuckle alongside her answer. “That’s funny, because ever since I hopped up here you’ve looked at every part of my body but my eyes.”

Caught in the act. Who could you blame you though? You were being seduced expertly by a blonde vixen, you couldn’t have been expected to spend every second gazing at those brown beauties when the rest of her body was so delicious.

“I don’t mind though,” Sana said. “You’re paying to spend time with me, I’m not going to stop you from undressing me with your eyes.”

“Although I’d prefer it if you used your hands,” she said, biting her lip.

You nearly choked. Maybe dangerous was too generous of a word to describe her. But sometimes the rush of something or someone dangerous was worth the risk.

“You don't have to tell me, I’m pretty sure I can figure it out already,” she said, beaming with confidence.

“Oh, do you?” you asked, trying to call her bluff.

“I do,” Sana said, giving you one more deadly look, letting you see the color in her beautiful round eyes. In an instant, Sana’s legs parted and she spread them invitingly wide, leaving you with the perfect view between her thighs. Even better was the lack of any underwear underneath her tight dress, exposing her pink pussy that sucked the life out of you momentarily and left you breathless.

You tried to keep it together, even though you both knew Sana had the upper hand. Nothing could divert your gaze from in between her creamy naked thighs and the beautiful pink flesh of her gorgeous pussy, dripping with arousal from her actions already.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

“Maybe,” Sana said, still as playful as ever.

“Is that allowed, Miss Minatozaki?” you asked, falling back on formality.

“Of course it’s allowed. I help run this place, who’s going to stop me?” Sana replied nonchalantly. “As I said, it’s my job to take care of you.”

The room definitely grew infinitely hotter as Sana leaned forward, her legs still spread, and rested her hands on the inside of her inner thighs.

“You know, you’ve had a couple of drinks tonight,” Sana said. “But you must be starving. And what kind of hostess would I bet if I didn’t offer you anything to eat?”

If that wasn’t enough of an invitation, Sana hiked her dress up and spread her legs as wide as they could go.

“I am feeling pretty hungry,” you said, your mouth salivating at the pink flesh in between Sana’s spread thighs. “Aren’t there cameras here?” you asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes, for your safety and mine. But I turned them off after I ordered our drinks,” Sana said, flashing a cheeky smile.

“You think of everything don’t you?”

“It’s my job to. Now, how about you bring that cute face over here and taste me.”

You didn’t need Sana to say another word as you scooted off the couch, resting on the edge of it, and tried to get comfortable.

Sana had already done most of the work for you, keeping her legs kept open as you touched her bare skin for the first time, feeling how smooth and soft it was as you ran your hands up her creamy thighs. Looking up for approval, Sana gave it immediately as you planted several kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs, earning a soft delicate moan for the first time.

Her breath hitched as you licked long stripes up her sensitive bare thighs, ending with wet kisses, looking up to see the reaction on Sana’s face and finding nothing but satisfaction.

“Are you going to tease me?” Sana asked.

“That depends. Do you like being teased, Sana?” you replied.

“I love being teased, but not here. You can tease me later when my hands are wrapped in your bedsheets. I’m warmed up enough,” Sana said, running a finger through her pink wet slit as held up her finger in the air, demonstrating her slick glistening in the light.

You were a bit disappointed. Part of you wanted to test Sana, to see how much she could take, to drive her absolutely crazy the same way you did Momo. But Sana was wired differently. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t scared to take the lead. Plus, you were about still in public, it was best not to dawdle.

That didn’t stop you from kissing Sana’s thighs one more time before you brought your mouth to her pretty pussy, licking against her wet slit in one slow long stroke. Sana moaned, a sound that was as pretty as it was needy as you repeated it, licking up and down her pussy several times as you had your first taste of Sana.

Sana tasted utterly delicious. If you had to describe her taste, it was a mixture of sweet with just a hint of tanginess to it, not unlike the expensive drink you had both indulged in. There was no doubt Sana tasted much better.

You wanted more of her taste as your tongue explored Sana’s silky wet folds, gathering up her nectar into your lips and ran your tongue aimlessly.

“That feels so good,” Sana moaned, running her fingers through the strands of your hair as your tongue roamed in between her thighs, wandering around her wet hole as if it wanted to get lost in her sensitive warm flesh.

You wanted more of Sana’s intoxicating taste, you wanted to taste as much of this sultry woman as you possibly could. Looking up at her satisfied expression, you licked through her cunt and latched your lips onto her clit, earning a mixture of whimpers and moans and the added pleasure of her warm thighs wrapping around your head, like a snake coiled around its victim and you were more than happy to be Sana’s prey.

It didn’t take long to turn Sana into what you wanted, a pretty squirming mess unable to control her movements on the karaoke room’s table. Her hips bucked as she tried to ride your face and you were thankful that the room you had chosen to devour her in was already designed to be soundproof.

“Mmm, fuck, that tongue is amazing,” Sana said as you felt both hands frantically pulling your hair harshly as you slurped on her swollen clit, trying to draw out more of her tasty juices.

The more you ate Sana up the louder she got, voicing her satisfaction. The louder she got the harder her thighs squeezed around your head, rubbing the sides of your face with her soft smooth skin. Her nectar quickly spread all over your lips and chin, coating your face with her essence.

“D-don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” Sana cried out as you pushed her past her limits already, alternating between sucking and licking around her sensitive clit, and kept your eyes on her the entire time, watching her become an absolute writhing mess.

You could barely breathe but it didn’t become a concern, all you wanted at that moment was hearing Sana’s pleasure. You’d prefer being suffocated by her pussy and her aroma, patiently waiting for those three words that meant you had done everything right.

“I-I’m gonna cum!”

Perfect. With warmth surrounding your head and wetness spreading all over your face, you gave everything you had and feasted on Sana’s pussy, moving your tongue and lips together to obtain what Sana desperately needed.

The moment came quickly as Sana hit her peak. The competing sounds of your lips slurping around her clit and her loud erotic moans filled the small room as her juices bathed your face, the wetness already there intensifying. Her thighs violently trembled and her toes curled, her back arching as she held on to your head for dear life, hips bucking wildly and you did what you could to keep her centered on the table as she came all over you.

Sana was a beautiful mess during the entirety of her orgasm, and you loved watching every second of the pleasure that grew too much for her. Sana showered you in her sweet juices and you were happy to receive every drop. You kept the pressure on her clit until Sana couldn’t take anymore and pushed your face off her as you were able to breathe freely, wondering if it was worth the trade-off to not being smothered by her heavenly thighs.

You stared into the round glazed-over eyes of the gorgeous woman you had just pleasured to completion, gasping and breathing heavily and cleaned up her thighs of her stained juices, wanting to dive right back.

“Wow,” Sana said between heavy drawn-out breaths. “Momo was right, you really do know how to please a woman.”

“I do my best,” you responded, wiping the juices off your lips and chin and making a show out of licking your fingers clean.

“It helps when you taste as good as you do,” you said, causing the full pale cheeks of Sana’s face to blush.

The redness of her cheeks gradually faded, replaced by a mischievous smile as you waited for her next step was. It came right away as Sana lifted herself from on top of the table her backside was resting on. With the quickness of a cat, she climbed onto your lap and wrapped her hands around the back of your neck, focusing her seductive eyes on your own.

"Your hostess wants to know what else I can do for you," Sana said, with a hunger for more. You felt weak as your face was almost close enough to rest against her own, the tension in the air the only thing separating you.

“I think my hostess should do whatever she feels like doing,” you replied, Sana’s eyes beaming at your response.

“Leave everything to me, sir,” Sana giggled, falling back into her role, eyes laced with lust and desire. Her head lifted up, seeing the expression on your eyes as her hands fiddled with your shirt, slowing unbuttoning the first few buttons.

She kept constant eye contact and Sana seemed to enjoy slowly undressing you, tilting her head to the side and leaned in close, lips finding your own and crashing against them in a deep warm embrace as she loosened up more buttons until your shirt was completely undone.

The kiss was brief but you both longed for more as Sana pulled your shirt open, admiring your bare chest, and traced it with one finger, planting her lips just below the middle of your collarbone and leaving her lipstick stained on your skin.

She cupped the side of your face and you felt her lips on you again, soft as silk as her tongue found its way into your mouth, needing no invitation as you wrapped your hands around her slim waist, desperate to pull her your bodies closer.

You were rewarded with one more kiss before she dismounted your lap, slowly lowering herself on the room’s black and white patterned carpet as she got on her knees as if she had done this many times before.

Sana didn’t say much as she unbuckled your belt, letting her actions do all the talking as she unzipped your pants and tugged them down to your ankles. Her warm hands caressed up and down your thighs, sending blood flowing to all the right places. It didn’t take long for a bulge to form through your boxers, arousing Sana equally as she rubbed it through the fabric of your underwear, tracing the outline of your shaft.

Sana sought out the rest of your naked body, quickly stripping your underwear off and leaving you with nothing left but the shirt on your back. Sana gasped at your newly exposed throbbing cock, eyes lit up with hunger as she licked her lips to let you know she liked what she saw.

“So, this is what Momo has been hiding from me,“ Sana said, spreading your legs wide as she wrapped her slim fingers around your hard cock and gripping tightly, applying firm pressure and slowly pumping you.

“It’s all for me now, ” she said as her tongue ran along your rigid shaft, sending shockwaves of pleasure as she painted up and down your cock from base to tip. Sana swirled her wet tongue around your sensitive head, lapping up your leaking slit and kissed your tip, cleaning it off.

Sana couldn’t take her eyes off your cock, spitting on it repeatedly and jerking you off in her small delicate hand, the pleasure rising already in your body.

"I should get more comfortable," she said, giving your shaft just a few more pumps before standing upright. She knew your eyes were drawn to her as she slipped each black strap down each shoulder, wiggling out of it as it fell to the ground, leaving a black lace bra the only thing preventing you from seeing every inch of her beautiful body.

She paused her work on your cock, letting your eyes roam her tight body and you did so happily. Her legs went on for days, her body tight and slim in all the right places. You had already seen her beautiful pussy and explored it with your mouth, but you wanted to feel her all over, and wanted to make her gasp just at your touch.

You focused on her tight stomach, her abs weren’t as defined as Momo but you’d still eat off of them. Then there were Sana’s breasts, pushed up nicely, and wanting to escape from their constraints. Momo clearly had the size advantage, but Sana’s tits were shaped nicely, big enough to get your hands on.

“Help me out?” Sana asked, interrupting your scan of her body as she turned around, facing away from you as she presented to you her almost bare back and most importantly her plump round ass that looked delicious and so utterly squeezable.

You regretfully remained patient as your hands grasped the thin fabric that made up Sana’s bra, undoing the clasp and helped her out of it, running your hands through her soft skin and wondering how such a beautiful creature existed. Sana quickly spun around on her heels, lifting her arms over her head and letting you see her newly exposed breasts in all their glory. Your jaw dropped at them, the perfect combination of round and milky mounds, looking soft as possible.

Staring was all you had time to do as Sana got back to her favorite position on her knees, grabbing your shaft. One more kiss on your tip and Sana parted her lips with your cock, wrapping her mouth around the first few inches. Her lips were impossibly soft and warm and you moaned loudly as Sana began sucking your cock, moving up and down and applying pressure, hollowing her squishy cheeks.

You found yourself unable to speak as Sana’s head bobbed up and down, trying to process the pleasure you were receiving.

“It feels so good,” you moaned as Sana upped her pace, lips sliding up and down your shaft as her tongue played with your underside, swirling around it at the same time.

“Good. I hope I’m taking good care of you.”

“You are, Sana. Fuck, you really are.”

Sana smiled and continued her assault on your cock, slurping away as her lips went deeper, keeping her eyes on you the entire time. Her hands rested on your thighs, digging her nails in as her head bobbed faster, slurping on your cock and leaving it covered in drool and warmth. You loved the feeling of her sucking you off, as she went even deeper towards your base you melted even more.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back in response, savoring the feeling of her lips swallowing up your cock, slurping loudly as her lips traveled back and forth, slobbering all over your shaft.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that.”

Sana got progressively messier and louder in response, and you opened your eyes almost involuntarily as you felt your cock hit the back of the throat, not gagging her even a little. Her lips rested at your base for several seconds before slowly retreating, fondling your balls as she took you in and out of her warm wet mouth with ease, rapidly bobbing her head more as you moaned in delight.

Sana loved nothing more than working her magic in between your legs, and you didn’t think there was a better feeling in the world as she gave the wettest loudest blowjob, but you knew the best was still to come. Sana’s messy slurps as she feasted on your cock was music to your ears, and you couldn’t help audibly sharing your satisfaction every time you felt the back of her throat.

“Don’t cum yet,” Sana teased, stroking your cock furiously as she sucked on your balls tenderly, latching on and slurping just as loudly. She released them only after they were equally given attention and covered in warm saliva, knowing what you wanted next.

“It’s time for the best part,” Sana said as she climbed back on your lap again, her thighs pressed on either side of your own as they wrapped around your hips. She took your hard cock into her hand again, stroking slowly and teased herself with it, running it through her very wet folds, the warmth radiating from it driving you insane already.

Sana found a comfortable position as she nudged your wet tip against her pussy, lining it with her soaked entrance up perfectly, the anticipation killing you both already.

“Ready?” Sana asked, and you gave a silent nod in response, although you weren’t sure if anything would be able to prepare you for what you were about to experience.

It took a few final seconds of teasing before Sana lowered her hips and sank down onto your cock, entering her for the first time as you both moaned in tandem at the initial penetration.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” Sana gasped, trying to work her hips back and forth, grinding and stretching herself out little by little. Her tightness was overwhelming, the wetness and heat smothering your cock like nothing else. You watched between her thighs as the tip of your cock disappeared and reappeared, the mixture of her saliva and juices from her pussy helping guiding you deeper into her hole.

“That never gets old,” Sana said, and you were inclined to agree. The feeling of entering a woman for the first time was one of your favorite things, and if that woman happened to be an insanely sexy hostess named Minatozaki Sana you loved it even more.

Sana took it slow at first, something that you were surprised by but you knew that wasn’t going to last if the way she gave head was something to go by.

You could tell by the greedy look on her face that she needed more as she lifted her body almost entirely off your cock, leaving just your sensitive tip drenched with her fluids inside.

Seconds passed as you both braced yourselves for what was next as Sana used all the force in her hips and slammed herself down on your cock, impaling herself to the hilt and moaning needily.

“Oh f-fuck,” she cried out, and you waited for any adjustment she needed as she held onto your shoulders, eyes half-lidded with pleasure already.

Taking a deep breath Sana began moving slowly, lifting her hips up as her warm walls hugged your cock. You held onto her slender waist, watching the erotic expression on her face as she began bouncing on your cock.

"You feel so big inside me. You're so fucking hard," Sana moaned as she stretched her tight slick walls out. Her tightness drove you crazy as she took you in and out of her body, establishing a rhythm.

You were content at the moment to let Sana do all the work, watching her eyes full of lust as she was expertly grinding on your cock, moaning loudly as her head tilted back.

"You feel so good, Sana," you said breathlessly, exploring her body with your hands.

"You do too. You feel so incredible inside me, I love your cock stretching me out," she said as the look on her face continued to be full of wanton need. Sana had seemingly all the experience with riding a cock, and she was proudly going to demonstrate it, grinding those powerful hips with purpose as her beautiful tits bounced up and down.

“I really wanna ride you harder,” Sana said, even though there was no need to ask for permission as she ran a hand through her messy hair as she bounced and bounced, covering your shaft in her nectar.

“Then ride me harder,” you replied, giving her ass a simultaneous slap on each cheek that echoed throughout the karaoke room. “Ride me as hard as you can, Sana.”

She bit her lip in response, flashing a devilish smirk as if preparing you for what you had just unleashed. Sana took a few moments to let you relax, letting you get ready for the calm before the storm was about to take place.

“Ride that fucking cock,” you taunted, making sure she wasn’t about to hold back. You felt her small hands around both sides of your neck as her hips began gyrating wildly back and forth, desperately trying to feel all of your hard cock inside her tight pussy.

Your hands roamed her lower back before finding her soft ass cheeks and squeezed them both, giving repeated smacks against the warm flesh, adding an extra oomph to the loud erotic moans already escaping from Sana’s devilish lips. Sana continued upping her pace little by little, bouncing her tight frame on your cock as you were hypnotized by her movements,

“I’m so fucking wet,” Sana said, her juices dripping down her thighs and leaking onto your body as she rode you balls deep confirming her every word.

You wanted Sana to be even wetter if such a thing were possible. You wanted her to lose yourself in the pleasure she was finding, as if riding your cock wasn’t enough for her, and it most certainly wasn’t.

Momentarily, you left your hands from the warmth of Sana’s tight ass and ran them up her back, pushing her body forward to grant you easier access to her delicious bouncing breasts. Sana was too focused on the hard cock impaling her tight cunt as you turned your attention elsewhere, teasing her hard pink nipples with your tongue, swirling around them as you latched and sucked harshly on her tits.

“F-fuck yes baby, suck on those tits,” Sana demanded, not that you needed any further instructions. You squeezed her sizable breasts, sucking on each of her rosy nipples with equal attention, biting and licking them one after another.

“That feels so good. You like my tits?”

“I love them. I love your body so much, Sana,” you said as you continued to hungrily close your lips around her swollen nipples, applying a firm but gentle pressure.

The harder Sana rode you the more sweat began accumulating on your bodies, which you responded to by licking between her cleavage. You wanted to lick her entire body clean, nuzzling your face in between her tits as your tongue ran across every surface you could find.

Sana lifted her arms up and put her hands behind her head as if she suddenly read your mind, and you licked the sweat off from her neck before diving down and licked her armpits, desperate to taste every inch of her naked body.

“You’re so fucking delicious, Sana. I wanna taste you all night.”

“I won’t stop you,” Sana said in response, continuing to harshly slam herself on your cock, driving herself crazy with the hard shaft between her legs constantly spearing her constricting wet walls.

You sat there in awe of the situation, savoring the way Sana’s dripping hot flesh wrapped around your cock while her thighs loudly smacked against your own as your bodies were drowned in a sea of pleasure.

“I-I’m about to cum again!” Sana said, finding the right words more difficult by the moment, her walls clenching more and more letting you know that her limits were once again being breached.

“Cum for me, Sana,” you said, grabbing two handfuls of her perfect ass, squeezing harshly. Sana paid no attention to your words, only focusing on using your cock for her pleasure, wildly riding you without any other thoughts as she took you inside her at full speed and riding you as hard as she possibly could.

Her arms snaked around the back of your neck again, locking her wrists together as she demanded her maximum amount of euphoria, chasing another climax greedily before you even had your first.

“I’m going to cum!”

Sana’s pretty voice echoed throughout the room as her walls pulsated around your shaft, squeezing the life out of your cock almost painfully so before releasing you in waves. She moaned desperately into your ears as she came on your cock, juices flowing like a river as her body shook uncontrollably and her movements were no longer her own as she turned to jelly and slowly rode out her orgasm to completion.

Her high went on for several moments and time lost all meaning for Sana as the aftershocks of her explosive climax took over. She held onto your body as she slowly came down, barely able to open her eyes as her hips rolled ever so slowly to ride everything out.

“H-holy shit,” Sana said, recovering her senses gradually as she attempted to make eye contact.

“I came so hard. I can still feel it,” she weakly said.

“I can tell. I’m really glad this room is soundproof,” you teased. Sana looked up with glazed over eyes, showing appreciation for her satisfaction as she brought her lips and pressed them against yours, passionately but softly kissing you.

“I want to taste myself on your cock,” Sana said, dropping such a filthy set of words so casually.

The lustful expression on Sana’s features never faded as she slowly slid herself off your lap and dropped to her knees, taking your drenched shaft between her soft lips again and took you inside her mouth again, slowly sucking her messy wet juices clean.

“You’re right, I am delicious,” she giggled, once again her cute and wild sides contrasting each other was the theme of the night.

“You must be close, how do you want me? Where do you want to fuck me?” Sana asked, stroking your cock as she kissed your thighs.

So many options. You looked around the small private area, weighing each one. There were a lot of easily accessible surfaces in this room. The couch was comfortable, but you’d spent plenty of time on it already. You stood up without another word as Sana regretfully removed your cock from her small warm mouth, and helped her to her feet, letting her be the one who was in anticipation this time.

You circled around Sana’s body, scanning her curves and eyeing every inch of her milky bare skin. Not wanting to waste any time, you pulled her towards the side of the karaoke’s marble table, spinning her body around so she was facing away from you and gasped at your suddenness.

Viewing her beautiful backside you grabbed Sana’s shoulders and bent her forward until she was at an angle that you liked, the upper portion of her body pressed against the table and her breasts mashed against its surface.

"Don't fuck me like you fucked Momo," Sana said, her words twisting your face in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

Sana paused as she looked over her shoulder. “It means you don’t have to be gentle with me. I’m not a delicate flower that bruises easily.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sana.”

She paused before answering. “Sometimes a girl likes being hurt,” Sana said, flashing a cheeky smile.

For the first time of the night, you were speechless.

“Be as rough as you want with me. It’s just us, and I want you to make me feel every inch of that amazing cock. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Well, you certainly weren’t going to as you gave her bent over body a quick lookover, focusing on her perfect round ass displayed for your eyes only, giving both of her supple cheeks a quick peek and stealing another taste of her delicious pussy.

In the meantime, Sana grabbed the karaoke remote off the table, pushing a few buttons on it as the television once again sprang to life.

“Random mode. Felt like adding a little bit of atmosphere,” Sana said.

Even though the place was supposedly soundproof, the added bit of noise to cover up the sounds your bodies were about to make was most welcome.

You ran your hands over all the warm soft skin you could find, spreading Sana's legs wide. You couldn’t wait to feel her warmth again before grasping a hip and lining your cock with her entrance, running your tip through her silky wet folds.

"Fuck me now," Sana demanded, pushing her hips against you to hurry things up. Her wetness nudged against your cock as you embraced yourself for the warmth your cock was about to enter again. You wanted her just as bad as she wanted you as you used your hips and slid inside the slippery tight walls of Sana’s pussy, filling her to the very hilt and earning a loud needy moan from her lips.

Warmth and wetness hugged your cock everywhere and you looked forward and caught Sana’s needy eyes, knowing no adjustment was necessary from her.

You held onto her hips and started moving, fucking Sana from behind with a slow deliberate pace as those tight wet lower lips wrapped around your cock gripped hard, keeping you inside the comfort of her body.

“You can do better than that,” Sana said, the disappointment obvious in her voice. You took her words as a challenge, squeezing her hips tighter as you picked up speed, sliding in and out of her wet hole with ease with the aid of her messy juices lubricating your cock.

You picked up the pace quickly, your hips moving faster and faster with each thrust as those delicious silky lips squeezed and squeezed your cock, letting you know your shaft wasn’t going anywhere. Sana’s moans grew more satisfied the faster you went, but she still needed more, and she wasn’t going to be content until you gave her everything she wanted.

“Harder. Fuck me harder!” she demanded, pushing her body against your hips again. You held on to her warm body and gave deeper thrusts, using more energy and starting smacking your body against her ass cheeks, causing her flesh to jiggle.

“There you go, was that so hard?” Sana taunted, demanding you give her even more.

Soon the sounds of your skin slapping against each other began filling the room, as you filled Sana to the hilt with each thrust, her wetness spreading over every inch of your needy shaft. Her walls squeezed every time you entered her, keeping a tight grip on your cock as you pistoned your hips and found a perfect rhythm.

“That’s it, fucking pound me. Make me take all of that big hard cock!”

You went even harder, encouraged by Sana’s loud lustful moans as you slammed into her pussy, causing a layer of thin sweat to form over your bodies again. You remembered her words from earlier as you ran your hands all over her sweaty back, collecting a handful of her blonde hair and tangling your fingers in it, forming a loose makeshift ponytail and yanked on it gently as you felt her walls clench in response.

“Fuck yes, you’re so deep! Keep fucking me just like this!”

You yanked back more carefully, pulling her torso upright off of the room’s table as she looked straight ahead into the screen in front, as if she were looking into a mirror. You had gone this far already, so you decided you should up the ante even more, giving her ass a smack.

“Mmm yes, slap my ass, baby!”

You responded by giving another slap to her soft supple cheek, followed by another on the opposite side.

“Harder,” Sana said. You gave two more slaps, adding more impact as her flesh rippled each time.

“I said harder. This isn’t the time for you to hold back. Slap my fucking ass like you mean it.”

You certainly weren't going to disappoint her for a second time. As you drilled into her tight hole you gave her delicious ass repeated slaps, each one harder than the previous one, making sure to not hit the same part twice. You slapped Sana’s tight ass again and again, the crack of your palm against her bare skin echoing as you gave in to her desires, turning her cheeks a visible shade of red and each smack against her bottom made her tight walls clench in approval.

While your fingers were entangled with the strands of Sana’s hair you pulled even harder and made sure you kept your pace steady as you fucked her from behind.

Hearing her gasps and moans of delight filled your ears as your cock plunged in and out of her warm wet hole, each time you withdrew the juices covering your shaft glistening in the room lighting.

“Is this what you wanted?” you growled at Sana as you drove your cock as deep as possible, her tightness smothering your cock with each entrance into her warmth.

“Y-yes! Don’t stop fucking me!” Sana said as her voice cracked, her whimpering moans escaped alongside her words as you gave into your needy urges. You make sure you didn’t stop your movements, pounding into her tight cunt as roughly as possible and fucked Sana as hard as your body allowed you to, the music blaring from the screen doing little if anything to dampen your combined moans.

Your hands found their way back to her perfect hips, saving your energy for the most powerful thrusts you continued to give Sana, returning the favor and using her pussy just like she used your cock earlier, caring little for much other than your own selfish pleasure.

“Are you going to cum soon, baby?” Sana asked, sensing your need for your own desperate release. You were surprised you had somehow lasted this long inside this impossibly hot woman. The juices collected on every inch of your shaft grew by the second, and the knot in your stomach tightened more and more with every deep thrust into her tight wanton body.

With the way Sana looked back at you, there wasn’t any way you couldn’t survive any longer, her needy eyes wanting your climax as much as you did.

“I-I am. I’m so close, Sana,” you blurted out to her delight, flashing a lustful smile in your direction.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. I want you to cum. I need you to cum inside me. You’ll do that for me won’t you?”

“O-of course,” you replied, finding the air in the room harder to take in.

“Fuck me hard, and don’t you dare stop until you fill me.”

You’d never forget the erotic look of Sana’s desires as she made eye contact one final time. You kept your eyes on her bent over body, sweat dripping down her lower back as you pounded her pussy and plunged your hard cock deep into the warmth of her tight cunt, chasing the only thing that mattered to the two of you.

“Cum inside me. Please cum inside me, “ Sana pleaded with her words, and you had nothing left, eager to give in to her, to give her everything she wanted. All you could take was a handful more of thrusts, smacking your hot flesh against her own as you felt yourself being thrown over the point of no return.

There were no more words shared as you grunted loudly, moaning Sana’s name on your lips as you squeezed her hips so hard you didn’t even have time to worry about bruising her.

Your shaft violently throbbed inside her tight walls as you erupted inside her. You filled Sana to the brim with your warmth and coated her insides with your huge load, groaning with every spurt of thick semen that shot deep into her womb as your balls were drained deep inside her.

Sighing a sense of relief, your bodies stayed connected as your orgasm slowly ran its course. Sana’s tight pussy milked every single drop from you and you rested inside her while you recovered, struggling to catch your breath as you panted and gasped as you felt the most satisfied you had been in quite some time.

You didn’t remember how long you were inside Sana after you came. It might have been a few seconds, or half an hour as you regrettably withdrew an inch at a time from her warmth, leaving her body with a loud pop. As soon as she was empty your thick load slowly leaked out of her, dripping down her thighs and making a mess below.

“That was amazing,” Sana said, equally out of breath as she gingerly turned around, gripping your spent cock one more time and stroking slowly, making sure not a drop was wasted as she licked her fingers clean.

“You’re amazing, Sana.”

“Not bad for just a replacement, huh?” Sana said, cutely giggling.

“I think I might have to request you again. You really take good care of your clients.”

“Thank you. But you know you don’t have to come to the club to see me,” Sana said.

“Is that so?”

“Of course. I’m not really a hostess anymore. I don’t have quotas and I certainly don’t need the extra money. “

“I'll take you up on that offer then.”

“You’re certainly welcome to spend time and money here, but you’ve done so enough, so your wallet deserves a break. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll take you somewhere with some real privacy?” Sana smirked.

“And where might that be?” you asked.

“You’ll see. Somewhere where you’ll be able to see just how loud I can get.”

#club mimosa #twice smut #sana smut #twice #sana #male reader #reader insert #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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atinydise · 5 years ago

Text

Ateez leaving their s/o for their exes

❦ Genre: Angst (yes it’s the mood these days! 😈)

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 4k4.

❦ Background music: BlackPink - Lovesick Girls (Kdrama OST Version)

HONGJOONG

Once again, Hongjoong's voicemail asked you to leave a message. This week, he has been really busy. You couldn't see him at all. You tried to come to the studio, but he wasn't there, so you just gave up and waited for him to come. He didn't. For almost 2 weeks, you didn't receive a call or a text. The only way to see that everything was good for him, was his post on Ateez' social media. You were curious to know if he missed you, even a bit.

While you were scrolling on your Instagram Feed as a boring Friday night, you heard your entrance door opening. Your heart made a jump in your chest, he was finally free enough to come. "Hongjoong?" You asked, not moving a bit from the couch. In a short time, he appeared at the door frame. And honestly, you hated the look he had on his face. It was a mix of sadness and coldness. Something you never saw before. "Oh wow, are you okay? Because you look terrible." "Just tired." He replied, sitting on the seat, next to you but not really close as usual. "Do you want to go to sleep now? The bed is ready in any case-" "Y/N, I came here to break up with you."

A long and awkward silence settled in the room. Your brain wasn't processing the actual situation. It was so sudden. "Wait." You stopped him to say something else. "You can't come here after 2 whole weeks without talking to me, and just say 'let's break up'." "Y/N this is really not easy to do... can you please be more considering?" he sighed, running his hands through his blue hair. "Considerate? You don't even give me a reason. So, no, I won't be more considering." You said angrily. "It's just that I saw Jin at the bakery 1 month ago." He started. "We talked for 30 minutes or something and just with this short chat... I miss her. Like I can't stop thinking about her." You scoffed, not believing that he could do this to you. You stood up from the couch and went to the hallway to open the entrance door. "Where are you going?" He asked. "I'm staying there, but you... Get out." "Y/N, I don't want to-" "Hongjoong, get out. I can't even see you anymore." You stomped, pointing at the hallway. "You ghosted me for 2 weeks, not even asking me if I was okay or even alive. You should have told me that you were doubting about our relationship. But you decided to be selfish and to-" your voice crackhead. You knew sobs would come in a matter of time. "To ignore my feelings." Hongjoong was staring at you. He felt really ashamed of himself. "So, leave now. Please." You were practically begging him to go out of your apartment and obviously of your life. Hongjoong nodded and grabbed his jacket back. He stopped one last time in front of you. "I'm so sorry Y/N." He tried to grab your arm, but you stepped back, disgusted. You just pointed at the corridor once again and waited for him to leave. When he stepped out and that you closed the door, you couldn't hold your tears anymore. They stormed one by one on your face. You fell on your knees, your hand still holding the knob. For a second you freaked out because you couldn’t feel air going in your lung because of the emotion surrounding you. But it was not the worse pain today. You couldn't believe he chose her.

SEONGHWA

You were cooking for your boyfriend. He had a stressful week and you wanted him to relax a bit. Even with his ethic schedule, Seonghwa managed to spend some time with you. The only thing strange thing is that he was physically there but mentally, he was totally absent. It's like he wasn't listening to you anymore or that you needed to repeat every time the same question. "He might really be stressed," you concluded. So, as a good and kind girlfriend, you prepared him a good dish made with love.

The moment you heard the bell rings, you rushed to the door. "Hello beautiful soul," you greeted him. "Hi Y/N," he smiled at you. His smile was a bit sad, but you didn't mind, he was tired for sure. "I cooked a really good meal for you!" You said, entering back in the kitchen. He was following you, his big coat still covering his body. "Are you cold here?" You giggled, "I can turn on the heater if you-" "Y/N, can we talk a bit?" He asked, pointing at the table in the middle of the kitchen. "Sure." You sat down on the chair in front of him, glancing at your lasagna in the oven at the same time. "What's happening?" "You know how I hate lying to you or even hide something." He held your hand on the table. You just nodded, waiting for him to continue his speech. But you secretly enjoyed the warmness of his hands. "So, I will be frank." "You are making me anxious." You said, raising a brow. "I met my ex-girlfriend at the mall last week." He started. "I was about to ditch her, but a part of me wanted to talk to her." You puffed at his face, "you have really bad acting skills babe. I can't believe you." "I'm totally serious Y/N. I still have feelings for her." He finally said. "I'm not believing you." "I was distant a bit these days and I think you noticed it. I was constantly thinking about her." More and more Seonghwa was confessing his love for someone else, more he felt your hands removing the grip on his. "I don't think I stopped loving her honestly. I'm really sorry." You were speechless. You never thought that your night would end so badly. "Y/N, I really tried to convince myself that you were the one and only. But I just can't. I can't lie to myself. And I don't want to hurt you with a one-sided love. You deserve way more than that." He explained, trying to find the right way to make you understand the situation without hurting you. "I wish I didn't see her again, so we wouldn't be in this situ-" "I think I need some time alone," you said before going to the bedroom. Seonghwa was really tormented, he hated seeing you this way, but none of you will stay happy in this relationship, knowing that his heart was somewhere else.

YUNHO

"Oh, I didn't know you like black mushrooms! Hyena loved it too!" Giggled Yunho. You put down the pack of mushrooms you had in your hand. "Finally… I think I don't need it this week." "Hyena was indecisive too," he tickled your chin playfully. You smiled at him but inside of you, your whole soul was boiling. It's been almost a week that Yunho was non-stop talking, praising or even comparing you to his ex-girlfriend, Hyena. They dated for almost 2 years before you. Okay, it was one of his most important relationships, but why does he need to talk about her all the time? Everything started when they met at the supermarket. You saw the scene with your own eyes. You spotted the little sparkles in your boyfriend’s eyes when he was talking to her. You never thought she would be a danger since they broke up on bad terms. Seems like that you were wrong. She was a good threat for your couple. "What else do you need?" He asked, looking at the list. "I think I'm done for today to be honest." You replied, annoyed. "Really? Hyena is so stressed when she goes to the supermarket. She's like thinking she won't find anything anymore." He added. You turned around, to face him. "Can you stop talking about her?" Yunho blinked at you, looking like a puppy. "What do you mean?" "Hyena. You are nonstop talking about her! Hyena this, Hyena that!" "Ah really? I'm sorry, I didn't notice..." he apologized, biting his lip. "You kidding right? From the morning to the night, you have only her name in your mouth." "I'll stop talking about her, sorry." You were about to go back to your course list, but something was wrong. You faced your boyfriend again. "Why are you thinking about her so much? Do you miss being with her?" You asked, praying for him to say no. "I-I, no, of course no." He stuttered. "It's just because we saw her last week." "A part of me wants to believe the lie you just said." He bit his lip once again. He was definitely anxious. "Do you miss her? Yes or no?" You resumed, simply asking him to choose an answer. "This is complicated," he started. "I don't know." You scoffed, annoyed by this answer. You were usually comprehensive, but today it wasn't the case. You wanted to know if you were the only idiot since the beginning of this relationship. "This is not complicated Yunho. I think that you are in love with her." "I wouldn't say that, this is too strong." "Then tell me that you won't talk to her anymore and that I'm the only one you love." The long silence who settled between both of you was the best and shorter answer you could have. "I knew it." You whispered. "Y/N, it's just that we spent so many good memories together. I can't forget her like that." "I heard enough." You said, almost throwing back all of your vegetables in his arms. "Y/N wait, don't go." "I don't want to see you anymore. You obviously used me to forget your ex, but you failed." You said, before turning back again, but for the last time.

YEOSANG

You were in the subway, waiting for the train to stop at the right station. You needed to look at the board more than usual because your mind was somewhere else. You couldn't stop thinking of your boyfriend and his ex. He was meeting his ex-girlfriend every day for a whole week now. They needed to work together. They were the daily MC of a new idol program. At first, it didn't bother you. Yeosang was professional and they weren't even talking backstage. Until she starts to engage the conversation with him. When you went there to just say hi, you noticed a strong alchemy between these two. Useless to say that you didn't like it at all. Today, you went there with him again. You wanted to see their whole interactions. You were the first one to be there. Only a few staff were present to prepare the set. The first thing your boyfriend asked was "is Kira there?" He didn't even greet the staff. "No, she will be a little bit late today." "You want to see her so bad huh?" you asked. "Oh, come on don't start." He rolled his eyes. "Don't start what?" You asked, even if you knew exactly what he meant. "Your jealousy and stuff like that. We don't have enough time to argue right now." He said, before going to the hair stylist. "Well, that was cold." You muttered to yourself. You sat on the couch on the corner of the room. You were patiently waiting for Kira to arrive. You were about to fall asleep when, she entered, her hands full of chicken packs. "Yeosaaang! I got a surprise for you!" She yelled. "Oh, you scared me idiot!" He giggled at her. "Hello," you greeted her. "Oh hi, you are?" She smiled at you. "Yeosang's g-" "Friend! She's my friend." He cut you straight. You looked at him, completely horrified. Why was he lying on something so important? "Oh, nice to meet you," she handed her hand to you. You didn't care about her, you wanted to know why he acted this way. "Why did you tell her that I was your friend?" you asked Yeosang. "Y/N, it's not the moment." "I don't care if it's not the moment!" you replied back. "I'm your girlfriend. If you are ashamed of me then whatever I did, I'm sorry!" "Your girlfriend? I thought you were single Yeo." Added Kira. Your heart clenched, he literally told that he was single. "You told her that you were single?" Your voice cracked. "You are the worst person I know." "I wanted to tell you I swear. I would never do something like this." "Please give me a favor and erase me from your life. Because I'll do it." You said harshly before leaving, bumping into Kira which caused the packs of chicken to fall. You were sorry for not being polite enough, but the heartache you got right now was completely insane.

SAN

Your relationship with San was completely disastrous these days. He was barely talking to you and was completely out of mind. When you asked him what was going on, he was denying everything. Just saying that he was tired or even exhausted. You even asked his closest friend Wooyoung, but he couldn't help you. After a few days, you just gave up. You tried to cheer him as many times as you could, but it went worse day by day. When he was talking to you, he always had this sad smile on his face. You couldn't see this warm and kind presence in him anymore.

Tonight, you stayed at the dorm for the night. You had a movie night with the boys, and everything seemed pretty fine. San was laughing and talking like usual. He was just still a little bit distant with you, but it wasn't a matter anymore. At the end of the movie, everyone went to sleep. Only you and San were remaining in the living-room. "Should we go to sleep?" you yawned. "You can go if you want. I'll stay here for a bit." "You are not tired?" "Not really." "Then I will stay awake a bit too," you smiled at him. Touched by your actions, he smiled back at you. But you notice this sad look on his eyes again. "San," you called him quietly, "come and sit here." You patted the seat next to you. He nodded and executed. You didn't try to touch him in any kind of way, he seemed really tense. "What about you tell me what is going on babe?" You nicely asked. "What do you mean? Everything is fine." "I know you well, so I can spot when you're lying or not." You declared to dissuade him. Your boyfriend didn't reply. He simply stared at his feet. "Tell me." You insisted softly. "I won't judge you." "I think you will," he added. "I won't. Come on... I don't like seeing you like this." He hesitated again. But, seeing your face so worried about him made his heart clench. "Okay... It took at least a few weeks for me to consider the situation and try to find a solution." He glanced at you, looking if your attention was still on him. "I saw my ex-girlfriend 1 month ago." He gulped. "I know it's not a good thing at all. It was a coincidence. She was behind me at the queue." "And what's the matter?" You asked. San struggled to find his words. He knew that it would be hard no matter what he says. The whole situation was a torture for him. He kept this secret for so long that he was overwhelmed by it. "Babe, why are you crying?" you asked, terribly worried now. You tried to comfort him with a hug, but he moved back. "San, I just wanted to-" "I'm in love with her Y/N." He said, looking right at your eyes. He hated himself for doing this to you. The look on your face made his heart break in a dozen of pieces. "W-What do you mean by you love her?" You stuttered. "I can't stop thinking about her. I want to be with her again. No matter how hard I'm convinced you are my soulmate." He sobbed, wiping his tears. "San..." "I'm really sorry. I want to erase her from my mind, but I can't." He held your hands, keeping them on his cheek. "I don't want to lose you." "I need to go." You claimed, grabbing your shoes as fast as possible to leave the dorm. San tried to hold you back, but a part of him just convinced him to let you go. He wasn't sure about his final feelings for his ex-girlfriend. But he couldn't stay cold and distant with you.

MINGI

Yesterday, you talked about going to the amusement park together and he was so excited about this that you couldn't help but to buy 2 tickets the same night. Lucky for you, he had a whole day off. That's why you were surprised when he declined your offer. You didn't tell him that you bought tickets, it was supposed to be a surprise. And you were sure that today, your boyfriend and you, will have a really good day.

It didn't last long since you got to the dorm. You exited the taxi as fast as possible, your tickets right in your hand. You were holding them like if they would disappear. "Yes sure, I'll be glad to go there with you." You heard your boyfriend's voice in the hallway. You didn't focus too much on what he just said because you were glancing too much at the girl figure in front of him. He was smiling so much that it could hurt his jaw. "Mingi?" You called him with a quiet and shy voice. He stopped looking at this girl and focused on you. The smile on his face faded a little bit. But too much for your liking. "What are you doing here Y/N?" He asked, walking towards you. You shyly showed him the tickets for the amusement park that you were tightly holding since you hopped off the taxi. "You were so happy yesterday when he talked about that so I thought it would be a good idea to go today." You smiled at him. "Let's talk a second, please." He grabbed you by the shoulders to bring you in the staircase. "What's going on? And who's she?" "I can't come with you today. I'm sorry but Hyejin needs me for something." You raised a brow, "Hyejin? Like Hyejin, your ex-girlfriend?" He simply nodded, not daring to say 'yes' out loud. "You are seeing each other again? I mean it looks like you planned your day." "We saw each other last week and it was already planned." He said, biting his lip because he knows you will be upset. "Ah. So, you see each other a lot?" you asked. "These times yes, but strictly as a friend." "As a friend? Are you sure?" He was avoiding your stare. Since their first meeting after their break-up, he couldn't stop thinking about her. "Should I take this long silence for a no?" "I'm not sure." He finally replied. "Not sure?" you looked right at his eyes. "How is it possible to not be sure?" "I love you. But I love her too." His words felt like a ton of hammers hitting you right in your chest. Never you thought that these little words would be so painful. "How do you know you love her?" "I-I don't know, I just want to see-" "No wait. How do you know you loved me?" "Y/N, I love you. You should know that of course." "Then you should have been loving me and only me." You claimed, your mouth shaking a bit. "It's complicated..." he sighed. "It's not Mingi! You broke up with her because she cheated on you. Do you hear me? She cheated on you!" You talked enough louder for her to hear you. "I know that." "Are you really considering going back with someone who broke your heart?" You asked, completely disgusted. "She changed, she told-" "I can't." You cut him straight, bumping into him so you could exit this creepy staircase and stop seeing his face. Just before opening the entrance door, you saw her. With this arrogant smile on her face. You wanted to insult her, to punch her on this cold floor and yell that Mingi didn't deserve someone like her. But you just walked out and jumped in the first taxi. You were so disoriented that you couldn't even breathe anymore. The taxi driver didn’t have enough time to ask you where you were going, that you busted in tears on the back seat.

WOOYOUNG

“Hi guys”, you greeted the boys. “Hello Y/N,” said San, waving at you. “If you are looking for your boy, he’s choking at the cafeteria.” “What is he doing here? I thought he wanted to keep his diet.” “We don’t know but he seems pretty confused these days.” Added Yunho. “Alright... I go check on him.” You said, leaving the backstage room. As fast as you could remember, you went straight to the cafeteria. Exactly as the guys said, Wooyoung was there. He was bent over the balcony, his gaze lost on the city under him. His back was facing you, but you could feel a strange aura coming out from him. You opened the door slowly and joined him. “I think you are going to hurt yourself if you jump this high.” Wooyoung giggled lightly. “Even if my body is going to crush away, that wouldn’t be the painful thing right now.” “That’s not ready a mindset you should have before going up on stage.” You stated. “What’s going on?” Your boyfriend sighed once again. He was still looking right at the crown under the balcony. “Do you think you are going to forgive me?” “For what?” “For falling in love with someone else.” You looked straight at him. You could easily say when your boyfriend is joking but now, you saw that it wasn’t the case at all. “Are you...?” “Serious? Yeah. Sadly I am.” He ran his hands through his black hair. “I’ve met Soojin backstage and my dumb heart fell for her again.” Even if you were disappointed and sad about this unexpected confession, you couldn’t be mad at him. “It’s okay. We can’t control our feelings.” You tried to comfort him. “You are not mad at me?” You shook your head, “it’s better that you told me before doing stupid or regret it for the rest of your life. Right?” “You are so... perfect! Why I am so stupid!” He punched his forehead. You held his hand before he could hurt himself. “Don’t. Feel. Mad.” “If only I could turn off a button to erase these feelings about her!” “Maybe it’s just because you saw her...” Before Wooyoung could explain, Seonghwa interrupted both of you. “Lovebirds stop flirting! Wooyoung we need to go.” You were not lovebirds anymore. “I’m coming!” He yelled back. “Let’s go.” “I think it’s better if I don’t come with you.” “Y/N...” “Don’t worry about me! I’m a strong and grown girl!” You flexed your arm. “I really need to go but I don’t think I’m done with you.” He patted your back. You nodded enthusiastically just to make him leave. No way, he could be here to see the “strong and grown girl” busting in tears.

JONGHO

You had a day off today and decided to spend it by your own since Jongho was too busy to hang out with you. Despite the disappointment, you didn’t give up and motivated yourself to enjoy a solo shopping day. You bought everything you found cute. Your only thought was to wear it for your boyfriend. All the compliments he told about your look since the first day you met, gave you a big head.

When you claimed that you were done for today (or better to say when you receive a message from your bank account asking you if your credit card was stolen), you went back home. On the way, you heard your boyfriend’s laugh not far away from you. Even if you thought that it was impossible, you followed your instincts and turned around. You were absolutely right; he was there at the terrasse of this cafe. Laughing with this girl who was smiling widely at him. Instinctively, you hid behind the nearest bus stop. A bunch of people were looking at you weirdly, but your attention was right on the scene in front of you. This girl’s face was familiar to you. “Is she a staff member?” You whispered. Instinctively, you took your phone off your bag and texted Jongho. [“Where are you?”] [“Practice room. Busy.”] “Sure...” you grunted. He was lying to you and seemed to be perfectly fine with it. Before sending him another text, you kept listening to their conversation. You didn’t know what to expect from Jongho. He seemed so different. So fake. Exactly how the boys described him when this girl is around. [“Hope you are having fun because Sienna looks like she is.”] Sienna. His ex. You saw an old photo of both of them on Jongho social media before you started to date. When the boy read your message, you saw his facial expression being confused. [“Where are you? I can explain.”] You didn’t want to confront him by message. You got out of your hiding place and walked just in front of the table. “Hello lovebirds.” You greeted them sarcastically. “Y/N...” “Who is she?” “I’m Y/N. His current girlfriend.” You replied before he could. “But I don’t think I will stay it for long because I heard your conversation. Seems like he really wants to go back with you. Congratulations.” You clapped arrogantly. Jongho stood up, gripping your wrist, “Y/N stop. We will talk about that.” “I don’t want to talk about it with you. Wait.” You paused, pointing at him. “I don’t want to talk with you anymore.” “Y/N.” “If I didn’t cross the street randomly, I would never hear you saying that you missed to be with her and that you never stopped to love her.” “I can explain.” He repeated. Angrily, you grabbed the lemonade glass on the table and poured it on Jongho. “Too late for your miserable explanations Choi Jongho.” You throw the glass on the floor right between both of you and left them there. People would probably think that you did it to be dramatic, but no it was only to show Jongho how you felt. Broken inside.

#ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez scenario #ateez reaction #ateez angst #ateez x you #ateez x atiny #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez kpop #ateez sad #ateez reader insert #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez writing

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

For the meet Ugly- 13 with Danbrey?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The bus is not as fun as she remembers.

When Aubrey was a little kid, her mom would use the bus to take her to the museum or the movies or, on the best days, the magic store. Yes, the Little’s had a nice car, but her mom believed that not only was the bus better for the environment, it was a way to remember that there was nothing scary about being around people who come from all sorts of circumstances (Aubrey later learned this was due to her mom once being at a PTA meeting where hands were rung over children using public transportation being exposed to “unsavory” people).

“The world is full of all kinds of people, firebug. That’s not something to be scared of.”

She wipes her eye surreptitiously under the West Virginia sun. You’d think she’d have learned not to think about mom in public by now.

The bus line she’s using for her tour is inexplicably crowded; half these towns are on their way to being ghosts but somehow she’s always fighting for a seat. She doesn’t like her chances for this leg of the ride, since she got distracted reading about the history of Doc Martens and ended up towards the back of the line.

By some luck, there’s one seat left as she squeezes onto the bus, using her body to keep people from elbowing the fabric carrier containing Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD. But in the time she takes to turn to sit, someone else slips into the spot, so fast it’s almost inhuman.

“Um, excuse me, but this was my seat.” She turns to confront the thief and finds herself looking at a young woman about her age, with honey-blonde hair and hazel eyes which, were she not tired and grumpy, Aubrey would have lots of compliments for.

“No, it wasn’t. I got here first. You’ll just have to stand.”

“That’d be fine if it were just me.” The bus pulls away from the curb, “but it’s bad for Dr. Harris Bonkers to be suspended for too long.” She adjusts the bunny bag, hoping his big brown eyes and wiggly nose will make her case for her.

“Awww” the blonde coos, booping him through the mesh, “don’t worry little guy, you aren’t going too far. You’ll be fine if your person stands for a little bit.”

“It’s not a little bit, it’s twelve hour trip to my next stop!”

A smile full of understated charm and triumph, “It’s thirteen to mine.”

“Aw beans.”

“......are you going to get out of my lap at any point?”

“No” Aubrey turns her head to look out the window, “this is a good seat, even if there’s someone in it. I’m staying.”

It’s not her finest moment, to be sure. But she’s tired and heartsick so she is staying in this seat, damn it. The other woman grumbles something and slumps back against the black seat.

They hit the next stop, but not enough people get off, so she stays in her mystery lady’s lap. Her seat(mate) pulls a baggie of granola from the pocket of her definitely-not-cute-at-all overalls and crunches it louder than necessary by her ear.

“Uh, your rabbit is trying to get out.”

Aubrey glances down to see the mesh front straining as Dr. Harris Bonkers attempts to reach the granola.

“Don’t beg, young man, it’s rude.”

“Can he have a piece?” She holds up a dried strawberry.

“Um, sure.” Aubrey watches as she unzips the top of the carrier and let’s the rabbit nibble the treat from her hand. Aubrey’s a little jealous.

They don’t say anything to each other, but the rabbit gets two more treats before they reach the next stop. The person who’s spent the whole trip asleep in the window seat next to them jerks awake and hurries off the bus. Aubrey scoots into it before anyone can dare challenge her.

They’ve just turned onto the highway when she says, “Thanks. For, um, for sharing your granola.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I’m, um, I’m sorry for sitting on you.”

“Yeah that wasn’t great, but if someone was going to sit on me I’m glad it’s the cutest passenger on the bus.” She points at Dr. Harris Bonkers, but keeps her eyes on Aubrey.

“We’re both kinda tired. We had a show late last night and we’re nervous for the one tomorrow.”

“Show?”

“I’m a magician and he’s my assistant. I’m known as the Lady Flame” she snaps and finger-guns, setting off a flashpaper, “but you can call me Aubrey.”

“Ma’am, no smoking on the bus!”

“Sorry!” She calls to the driver.

“I’m Dani” the blond boops Dr. Harris Bonkers again, “whose this guy?”

“Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD.”

“Nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Are, um, are you just traveling for fun?” She unzips the carrier enough for them both to pet him.

“Not really. I was running an, uh, an errand. I’ll be glad to get back to Kepler.” She fiddles with something in her pocket, “could I see more of your act?”

“I think that might get me thrown off the bus.”

“Don’t you have pictures?” Dani smiles.

“Oh duh, right, here, I even got someone to take some videos.” She scooches closer, Dani closing the remaining distance to rest their shoulders together. As they move through the videos, Dani is noticeably excited, even claps a few times. When Aubrey’s battery dies, they say “fuck” in sync.

“...want to play ‘I Spy?”

“Hell yeah.”

The next three hours pass in a flash, the two of them laughing and trading stories, all the while both cuddling closer to the window (to better play the game, of course).

They reach a travel hub, the driver informing everyone that they’ll leave in an hour on the dot. The two of them select a Dennys, since in Aubrey’s experience they tend to ignore her bringing in an eighteen pound rabbit.

She charges her phone while they eat, Dani getting corned beef hash, (“not as good as the one my friend makes back home”) while Aubrey has pancakes. She gets a little syrup on her cheek and nearly asks Dani to clean it off for her. With her tongue.

It’s dark when they get back to their seats, but the driver keeps the A.C cranked to the point that Aubrey is shivering. Dani pulls a shawl from her backpack, draping it around them both like a blanket as the trees become nothing more than vague shapes in the dark.

They talk about Aubrey’s tattoos, about the garden Dani has back home (“lots of veggies, you’d like that, wouldn’t you buddy?”). Last night starts catching up with Aubrey, yawns threatening to steal her attention from the way the light catches in Dani’s hair.

“Wanna see more videos?” That’s low energy flirtation, right?

“Of course.”

As she opens the videos, she hits an older album and an image of her and her mom fills the screen. She freezes, like the highbeams of the past are barrelling towards her and all she can do is watch.

“Aubrey?” Dani touches her cheek.

“Um, sorry.” She shoves the phone in the pocket of her jacket, “I, my, my mom died a little while ago. That was her. Um. I guess that was obvious. Sorry.”

Dani’s fingers find hers, interlacing them gently, “I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I...I get it. My family is, well I made some choices that mean I’ll never get to see them again. I, the reason I went on this trip was because I heard one of my brothers might have, uh, done the same thing. He hadn’t.” She sighs, “I don’t even know if they’re all still alive.”

“That sucks. This all. Fucking. Sucks.”

Dani nods, rests their heads together, “You know what doesn’t suck? Meeting you.”

“Pfffft” Aubrey smiles through her tears, hoping the joking noise will hide her blush.

Dani cups her cheeks, “I’m serious. Getting to know you feels like, like rounding a corner and seeing your house after years away. I, this is going to sound silly but please tell me you’re stopping in Kepler for a show?”

“I’m not but I, um, I guess I could still stop off there? If you really wanted me to.” Something about Dani’s smile, the warmth in her eyes, soothes her grief to sleep for now.

“I do, fireblossom, so much.”

Aubrey blushes, “Think you might be my first fan; no one else ever requests a show.”

Dani kisses her cheek, “I might even request one in private.”

“I could get into that” she yawns, “damn it, I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna keep flirting with you, cutie pie.”

Dani shifts their luggage, scoots sideways and guides Aubrey’s head down into her lap, “Get some rest, Aubrey. Just being able to look at you is enough for me.”

“Awww” Aubrey nestles against her stomach, “you’re so cute...just a...cutie...pie...zzz”

The last thing she feels is a kiss on the forehead and Dani tucking the shawl around her.

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

Aubrey does not want to get off this bus; Dani is cuddled up next to her, telling her about what kind of flowers she’d grow her, when he stops come up.

“Whelp….this is me.”

Dani helps her off the bus, passing her the carrier containing a sleeping Dr. Harris Bonkers. Then she smirks, “is your balance pretty good.”

“Yeah? Wh-mmphhoh” She holds tight as Dani nearly knocks her off her feet in a kiss. She tastes like the strawberry poptart they split for breakfast and is not making it any easier to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come see me in Kepler?’ Dani murmurs against her lips.

“Promise.”

A kiss on the nose, then a longer one on the mouth that makes Aubrey feel like she’s going to go up flashpaper. Then Dani is gone, off towards Kepler. A town Aubrey has no knowledge of and no idea how to navigate. And she didn’t get Dani’s last name.

“Fuck.” She says to the rabbit.

The rabbit simply snuffles in reply.

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

A few hours after her most catastrophic show to date and getting a gun pointed at her, Aubrey walks into Amnesty Lodge and finds a certain face, haloed with golden hair, waiting for her by the fireplace.

#Aubrey little/dani #danbrey #TAZ Amnesty #meet ugly

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winterrose527 · 4 years ago

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Prompt: Person A backs into Person B’s car.

Truly adored this one. Here you go, my love!

****

He was really starting to hate King’s Landing.

It wasn’t that he’d ever liked it. Even when they’d come to the capital for their eighth grade class trip, he and Jon couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to live here.

And now, he did.

Well he didn’t want to but he did live here. He had for about two months. His family company was expanding and as the heir apparent he was in charge of opening the new office, a soft launch for his future as its leader.

With that in mind, he’d gone with very little argument. It wasn’t that there weren’t good reasons. It had given him a convenient excuse to get out of a relationship that had run its course without hurting anyone’s feelings, he was getting to build a team from the ground up, and he’d even gotten a pretty great apartment close to the beach.

Not that he could go anytime other than at night because it was too hot. And even with the salt air it still smelled like garbage.

None of that was anything compared to the people. This city was like a magnet for selfish, aspirational, people with non-existent moral compasses. And not only that, but there were a lot of them.

Which led to his least favorite thing about King’s Landing: the traffic.

It felt like he lost hours of his day to traffic. He would have taken the subway, but the line that would have taken directly from his doorstep to his office (the exact reason he’d chosen the apartment) was under emergency construction, because of course it was.

The light was green and yet the car in front of him wasn’t moving. He looked and saw that the driver was – is she plucking her eyebrows?

King’s Landing had turned him into something he hated. Robb Stark was officially a honker now.

“MOVE!” he yelled, even though his windows were up as he lay on his horn.

As though he was inconveniencing her, she made a big show of stopping what she was doing and started to drive. He went to place his foot on the gas and -bam.

“What the fuck?” he asked the general world.

A gold – yes gold – convertible had just backed up into his SUV.

He got out of the car, ready to let this person bear the brunt of every bit of frustration he’d been feeling for the past two months.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked as soon as his door closed, it was getting closer as they came around his car, “I am so sorry!”

“Yeah well –“ he started and then stopped. “I…uh… are you okay?”

It wasn’t exactly what he had planned on saying but he also hadn’t planned on the person who hit him being the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

She shook her head, slender fingers brushing back naturally golden hair (after two months here he could spot the difference), “I’m fine, I am just so embarrassed. And sorry. Is your car damaged?”

“Um, I don’t know,” he admitted, realizing he should have been thinking about that rather than wondering how her legs could seemingly go on for miles though she would hardly make it up to his shoulder. He started walking towards her and she turned and lead him around his car. And then bent over. “Looks good to me.”

“Thank the gods,” she said with a hand to her chest, straightening up and peering over at him, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded, “It was just a little love tap.” Her eyes widened and he blushed, “What a stupid fucking thing to say, huh?”

She laughed, “Original, though.” Then held out her hand, “I’m Myrcella Baratheon.”

He shook her small one, and introduced himself, “Robb Stark. Can I ask you something?” She nodded, her hand still in hers, “What is a girl like you doing with a car like this?”

This girl was all class. Her structured white shorts and silk button down, fresh face, pale nails as opposed to the garish red pointed ones so many women down here wore.

The car was decidedly not.

“It’s not mine,” she told him and his stomach clenched, wondering if it belonged to a boyfriend that was clearly in no way good enough for her. “It’s my older brother’s. He’s… the actual worst.” He opened his mouth and she smiled, taking her hand up and holding it up in front of her, “The worst. Look at his license plate.”

He glanced at it and saw that it read KING JOFF.

He laughed, “It hurts.”

“Hey Robb, I know I just rear ended you and all, but can I show you something?” she asked.

Anything he might of said. Instead he just nodded.

She turned and walked down the length of the car and he followed her and then she pointed at the rearview mirror.

“Do I need to see a neurologist or is that not a mirror?” she asked.

He leaned over and his jaw dropped, “That is not a mirror… I think it’s some sort of…mosaic? And definitely not legal. You could have taken out the whole city with this thing.”

“Thank the gods, I thought I was going crazy, it’s just that my car is in the shop-,” he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes and smiled, self-deprecatingly, “For a standard tune up. I should have known there would be a catch when he offered to let me borrow this one.”

“Yeah I don’t recommend you drive this thing,” he told her, then asked stupidly, “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

He watched as a blush rose on her cheeks and she demurred, “That’s alright. I can’t inconvenience you anymore than I already have. Thank you, though.”

He nodded, because he did have a meeting he was supposed to be at in about ten minutes.

“Well… could I maybe have your number?” he asked.

She nodded immediately, “Yes, of course, I won’t be on his insurance so please just get a quote and send me whatever it is. I’ll make it right.”

“Oh,” he shook his head, realizing that while that was the normal reason to have asked the woman who just rear ended you for her number it was absolutely not something that had even occurred to him. “No that was actually my way of asking you out.”

A smile landed on her face so quickly that it brought one to his own.

“You’re asking me out?” she asked.

“Trying to,” he agreed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking something over and asked, “And what if this was my car?”

“Um,” he laughed as he thought about it, “Well I’d still ask you out. I would just never ever agree to drive anywhere with you in it.”

She giggled, and then informed him in a stage-whisper, “I drive a hybrid.”

“Family dinners must be interesting,” he teased.

“Oh you have no idea,” she smiled.

“I’d like to,” he told her.

She grinned again and then knocked a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses off of her head and onto her nose, “You know, you’re a lot smoother than the last guy I rear ended.” He opened his mouth and she told him, “Kidding.Do you have your phone?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She typed her number in and then handed the phone back to him.

“Are you going to be alright getting this back in there?” he asked, gesturing to what looked to be a private garage.

She nodded, “Thankfully he didn’t cover the windshield in crystals.”

He chuckled, “No because that would be tacky. Well get home safe, Myrcella Baratheon. I’ll call you soon.”

She gave him a heart stopping grin and then opened her door and eased into the driver’s seat. He went around his car and got back in, easing back into traffic.

Thankfully it was fairly light the rest of the way so he was only a little bit late for his meeting.

It was a busy day, some final interviews that people had wanted him to take part in, some calls with his Dad and Jon up north. So it wasn’t until later, as he walked the beach still in his suit, his shoes off and the sand beneath his feet, that he had a chance to call her.

He scrolled through to M, but Mom was the last entry.

“Was it Marcella?” he asked the sea.

He scrolled up just to be sure, but the only Marcella in his phone was a girl he’d met on a vacation in the Summer Isles. He deleted the contact because he hadn’t spoken to her in a full five years.

No girl had ever not given him her number before. He knew that it happened, it just hadn’t ever happened to him. There weren’t many that he asked for, and only when he felt something that seemed reciprocated. And though they’d only had a limited conversation, it seemed like they had.

She’d been so sweet and sorry and cute, pointing out her brother-

He scrolled up to the Ks and would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy sighing in relief when he saw King Joff waiting for him.

Without hesitating he pressed call and listened as it rang once, twice.

“Hello?” a soft voice asked.

“I’m uh, looking to speak to the king,” he greeted her.

Her giggle filled his ear, “Don’t even mention him I am in SUCH trouble. How are you Robb Stark?”

“I’m better now that I found your number, two scares in one day? Is this what it’s going to be like with you?” he asked.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she informed him, “Want to find out?”

***

Two months later…

“And of course,” he sighed as he slowed down behind a bright yellow SUV.

“I would think you’d be used to the traffic by now and besides,” Myrcella noted at his side, “I would have thought you’d be fine being late for dinner with my family.”

“Your mother already hates me enough,” he pointed out, “I can’t afford to be late on top of being northern, being a man, being unrelated to you, being sexually attracted to you, being liberal, being alive…”

The light had turned green and yet the cars in front of him hadn’t moved. He went to go honk his horn but Myrcella grabbed his hand before he could.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hello,” he returned.

“Do you know what’s nice about traffic?” she asked. He raised his brow and she smiled, “I get to do this.”

With that she leaned in and kissed his lips softly. He kissed her back less so, his fingers carding into her hair as she opened her mouth to his.

Cars had started honking all around him, but in that moment he didn’t care.

He was really starting to love King’s Landing.

#fanfiction #modern au #robbcella

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astromechs · 4 years ago

Text

keep whatever it is (that's compelling you on)

HERE IT IS, my matrix resurrections spec fic, completed and in under the wire before the trailer! i think i'm ready to quit fussing over this, and i'm really excited to get it out into the world!

also here on ao3!

01.

Every single morning, Thomas A. Anderson is jolted awake at approximately 8:15 AM by the shrill of the same alarm, shovels in the same shitty cereal before stumbling into one of the same five shitty suits that he has to remember to get dry-cleaned, takes the same seat on the subway on the way to work — where he sits in the same chair for eight hours straight with minimal breaks, staring at his computer screen (or, more often, out into nothing) until it’s time to take the same subway back to his shitty apartment, order from the same rotation of shitty takeout, and find some mindless, banal distraction while he ignores texts that don’t even matter anyway before he falls asleep to eventually wake up and do it all over again.

It’s nothing special — just the average life of an average mid-grade programmer at the average tech conglomerate. Comfortable, sure, and a dream many would kill to achieve; he knows this, knows this every time he passes the poor old woman who’s feeding pigeons in her ratty coat from the battered metal bench on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. He slips her whatever spare change he has on him — a $20 bill, on the days he’s lucky, but often less than that — and, without fail, she always accepts, with a warm smile and kind eyes that seem to stare right into his soul, seeing the deepest parts of it.

Like she knows him. And that’s what’s weird.

He tries not to put too much thought into it, because, honestly, he tries not to put too much thought into anything at all; he’s found that to be the most effective way to navigate the machine that systematically runs his rhythmic, mundane life.

But even so, there are things that he knows he can’t shake.

One afternoon in late February, when the cut of the wind had not remotely suggested that spring would just be a month away, he’d passed the woman on the bench as always, but he could’ve sworn that the whole flock of pigeons scattered on the sidewalk at her feet had frozen for a split second. Like they’d been… glitching. In a blink, everything had returned to normal, and he’d spent about three days (and three sleepless nights) trying to convince himself he’d been seeing things, that he’d just been spending too much time actually working on his assigned program for once and that maybe he should take some of his accumulated vacation days? And the following week, he had, but….

No time off to try to clear his head would ever change the fact that this hadn’t been an isolated incident.

Because sometimes — he swears he sees pieces of code fall through his field of vision; a blink and then they’re gone, but it happens too often not to be a pattern, and no matter how much he might want to for the sake of his own sanity, he can’t just brush that aside. Sometimes, flashes come to his mind like barely-remembered dreams, in idle moments and just on the edge of the line that separates sleep from waking consciousness, so real that he knows they’re memories. Dark tunnels that haven’t seen the sun for centuries. Cold, so cold that no amount of warmth, human or otherwise, can really combat. Running, desperately bounding up the fire escape to the third floor of a rundown motel, three men in sunglasses and perfectly-tailored suits in close pursuit, his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he can barely hear the phone ring from Room 303, the place he has to get to, because everything depends on it. A barrage of bullets in his chest, one right after the other, back slumping against the wall as his heart gives out, vision fading to grey and then to black, but a voice, reaching through it all to call him, tether him….

Neo.

There are things that he knows he can’t shake, and sometimes, he thinks he had another life. Another name.

Another purpose.

He’s haunted by the ghost of it.

It’s the second of April — at least, that’s what the screen of his phone tells him, because otherwise he wouldn’t know, or care to know. A Friday, and all the faceless commuters are packed like sardines into this subway car, headed home for weekends that are sure to be as inconsequential as his own. Today, he has to stand holding the rail for the ride home; a woman trying to juggle both a baby and two bags of groceries had just barely managed to stumble onto the train before the doors had closed, and he’d sprung up, more than glad to give up his seat to someone in greater need.

She tries to thank him, profusely and repeatedly, but with where he’s standing, he would have to twist to keep facing her, so, with a nod and the barest hint of a smile, he turns away to spend the trip the way he always does: in solitude.

The route back to the station just down the block from his apartment building is never smooth, by any stretch of the imagination, but today, it’s bumpier than usual; the train car jerks and jostles, until, eventually, it sends him colliding into back of the passenger standing next to him.

He’s just about to stammer out some automatic, awkward apology, but then —

Blue eyes meet his, clear, crisp blue, and a jolt strikes him right to the core.

He thinks — no, he knows, he knows — he’s seen these eyes.

Neo. In the darkest corners of his mind, the voice whispers again.

Time freezes, glitches, around him, around him and this stranger with familiar blue eyes. He sees the light leave them, and then come right back. He sees warmth, what something is telling him had once been the only thing able to keep the cold of the real away; that warmth spreads through now, to the tips of him, and he has a sense, one he doesn’t entirely understand, that something has just clicked into place.

Behind sunglasses, another pair of eyes watches them from across the car.

“You all right?” Neo.

He sees brows knit in concern, and for the first time, he pays attention to the face that the eyes belong to. Probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in… more than one life, he’d have to guess, is now in front of him; he isn’t so detached and disconnected that he doesn’t notice that. Her short dark hair is cut into a severe bob, and she’s dressed in black from head to toe — from her coat and gloves, to her boots. It suits her, somehow.

After a beat, he finally remembers to speak. “Yeah. I — sorry.” The subway jerks to a halt; he glances up, and adds quickly, after clearing his throat, “This is… my stop. Excuse me. Sorry.”

Pushing past her, pushing past everyone in his way, he disembarks to the station, and when his feet touch solid pavement, he takes off at a sprint. Up the stairs (third floor… Room 303….), down the sidewalk (agents, just behind… he can beat them, if he just runs faster than he ever has…), not stopping until the mundane certainty of his shitty apartment building is within his sights.

Just before he makes it safely inside, he catches a glimpse of the old woman on the bench watching him, her smile wider than he’s ever seen it. Maybe, even, almost inhumanly wide.

10.

Her name is Natalie.

That’s what he learns about a week later, when he bumps into her again in front of the grocery store on the corner down from the subway station, the one he always chooses out of convenience. Quite literally; he’s distracted, disconnected, and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s collided with another body, contents of the two bags under his arms spilling out onto the sidewalk. His apologies are hurried and stammered, but her hands are gentle as she moves to help, brushing his more than once. Her smile is soft when their eyes meet.

Over the next several months, he learns a lot of other things, too.

He learns that she takes her coffee with cream and no sugar, and that she always leaves the barista a generous tip. He learns that she’s a genius with tech, better than him and his two computer science degrees and half-cushy corporate job could ever hope to be, and has his whole apartment practically rewired in an hour one day. He learns that if he’s quiet and still, her black cat has no qualms with being his friend. He learns that her lips curve up in just a certain way and her eyes crinkle when she’s just about to laugh.

And he learns that kissing her feels like coming home, as familiar and peaceful as it is new and strange. He learns that with her, coming together, becoming one with another person, is like nothing else.

For the first time in what he can remember, he knows what it feels like to be alive.

(Only it isn’t… is it? The first time. Somehow, just like he knows that he sees the same person walk past him twice, like he knows that those glitches start happening on a near-daily basis, like he knows that the old woman on the bench is smiling at him more broadly than ever….

Their lives have collided, and given each other meaning, purpose, before.)

11.

In his dreams, he sees a city entirely built from light. Spires touch the sky like fireworks, blindingly bright, and with every step, flames ripple out from his feet, making the next one all too clear.

Inevitable.

This is where his path had always led.

In his dreams, he can’t see her face. He can only hear struggling gasps for breath, and a voice that only grows shakier. He can only feel the metal that pierces her stomach, the blood that pools on her shirt. The faint heartbeat he can do nothing to restart.

Inevitable.

(You were right, Smith. You are always right.)

He wakes with a start, drenched in a cold sweat (as cold as their last kiss), gasping for breath. Next to him on the bed, Natalie stirs and shifts closer; when he reaches out a tentative hand, lets his fingers graze over her stomach, she’s warm.

His eyes scrunch tightly shut. Code falls behind his lids like the rain that patters against the windows outside.

100.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary on this day in early fall. A breeze rustles the trees as they walk hand in hand through the park, and provides the first hint that cooler weather is on the way. Children’s laughter from the nearby playground fills the air. Dogs chase each other on the grass. Natalie sips her coffee, cream with no sugar; they enjoy the contented silence that falls between them, only punctuated by her soft smile.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary — except for everything that is.

They meet each other’s eyes, her blue to his brown, and in an instant, everything changes.

It’s hard to tell who sees it first, but — the flash of recognition envelops both of them. Vague memories, the ones that have floated over him like a constant cloud, just out of reach, are in his hands, in his brain, in his heart. He’d had another life once, another name. And it’d been —

“Neo.”

She whispers it on an awed breath, tears forming in her eyes. The coffee cup slips from her grasp, long since forgotten; she lifts that hand to his face, fingers tracing the rise of his cheekbone.

Tears swim in his vision, too, tears and strands of code, falling. Falling. Nothing makes sense and yet everything makes sense, no more so than when the name falls out of his mouth, the last piece of a particularly jumbled puzzle: “Trinity.”

But a thousand words he doesn’t know how to say don’t even begin to get a chance to form. He feels the eyes watching them more than he sees them; both hands drop to his sides, and he tenses, ready to fight.

He’s barely aware that the old woman who’s usually on the bench near his apartment building approaches on the sidewalk. She looks between them, nods, and:

“They’re coming, kiddo,” she tells him, voice severe, with none of her usual warmth, as she grips his arm. “You need to run.”

101.

At sunset, a man in a white suit, tall and imposing, joins the old woman on a park bench near the playground, but says nothing; from all appearances, it looks as though he barely acknowledges her at all. They remain, just like this, as people filter out one by one under the steadily darkening sky, returning to their lives.

They always remain through every iteration, the Mother and Father of the Matrix.

Preoccupied with purpose and the inefficiency of wasting time, as is his programming, the Father is the first to break the silence.

"I informed you it was a dangerous game.”

The Oracle says nothing in response.

She merely smiles.

#neo x trinity #the matrix #the matrix resurrections #neo #trinity #* fic #song title is from cascades by metric #which for some reason just feels like a ship song for them #anyway i'm so hyped for tomorrow!

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taeken-my-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Revenant Chapter 3

Summary: You’d always been told that when you died that you’d walk into the light towards Heaven. Only problem is, you died and the light never showed up. Now you’re attached to a handsome but grumpy and sleep deprived medical student and neither one of you knows what to do to get you to finally cross over.

Rating: PG15

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, Ghost!au, MedicalStudent!Namjoon

Word Count: 5433

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse and one seizure in future chapters.

The rest of Namjoon’s shift, you spent in a daze. He worked shadowing his nurse, Sasha, quietly and efficiently, occasionally sending you worried glances.

His concern was sweet, but made you feel a little annoyed all the same. You didn’t like feeling so out of control, like a damsel in distress waiting for someone else to solve her problems for her. The good news was that you weren’t dead…the bad news was pretty much everything else.

Where was your family? Were you truly alone there in that bed? Did no one claim you or did they not know? You’d heard of comas before, of course you had, but your knowledge on them was limited. It seemed like people were either in short comas, a rare extended coma for years at a time…or they eventually died.

You wondered, not for the first time, what you had left behind when you’d suddenly…well, you couldn’t explain what you were experiencing currently. Perhaps the “between” of life and death. Regardless, you wondered if anyone was missing you; if anyone even noticed you were gone. If you slipped away, perhaps no one would even notice. Or, and maybe worse, perhaps you’d wake up and find that there was no one there waiting for you.

Maybe Namjoon would stick around. Maybe Jimin would actually be excited to see what you look like. It was all speculation and it really wasn’t getting you anywhere except for a reality you weren’t sure existed for you anymore…but somehow, it made you feel a little better.

. .

The subway ride home was silent. All seats taken, both you and Namjoon stood by the doors. His hand wrapped around the leather strap above his head and you leaned against metal bars as the train lurched to a start. Being with him was almost like being alive; the familiarity of the screeching wheels across the tracks almost bringing back memories. That tickling familiarity of something you can’t quite remember but is scratching right at the surface. It was nice.

You took time to study the passengers in the same car as you. All tired from a long day of work; the air was stuffy with the heat of their exhaustion. Namjoon himself leaned into his arm; eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he stared blankly through the glass of the windows. His fatigue was palpable and you found yourself wishing you could reach out to him. To rub the weariness from his eyes.

You followed after him quietly at his exit, moving towards the direction of his apartment. The crowds thinned the further you got from the station until it was just the two of you walking along the sidewalk under the hanging leaves of maple.

The evening had cooled into pleasant warmth by the time you’d reached Namjoon’s apartment building. You almost regretted having to go inside when it felt so nice out, but you coveted the company of the one person who could see you so you followed him through the lobby and into the elevator.

Jimin arrived home not long after Namjoon had finished his shower. He watched his friend shuffle around the room looking cozy and warm in flannel bottoms and a long white t-shirt, drying his hair with a towel. You watched as Jimin surveyed the room curiously, eyebrows creasing at the silence.

You sat at the loveseat by the window, staring out into the quickly darkening evening, deep hues of crimson electrifying the sky one more time before the dark finally silenced it. “Is Y/N not here anymore?” Jimin asked his friend.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Namjoon’s eyes shifted to you before he mumbled an explanation to his friend. You didn’t need to be close enough to hear; you knew he was telling him about today.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jimin asked loudly, eyes bouncing around the room as though he might find you. “Where is she?”

Namjoon looked towards you, nodding in your direction and Jimin’s eyes shifted your way. Once again, you found yourself wishing you weren’t invisible. “That’s good isn’t it, Y/N? You’re not dead, just in a coma!”

Namjoon groaned softly, shaking his head. “It’s never “just” a coma, Jimin. Be a little more sensitive; I’m sure it was shocking for her to see.”

Jimin muttered a soft apology and you sighed. Namjoon looked back at you. “It’s not even that, it’s just…no one was there with me. What if I died and no one cared? Or…what if I woke up and no one cared?”

“I would care!” Namjoon said and Jimin startled at his volume. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me. You wouldn’t be alone.”

“Me too!” Jimin said, nodding enthusiastically. “That made sense with what she said, right?” He whispered to his friend who nodded and you smiled.

“Thanks.” You mumbled before standing, making your way over to where they stood. Jimin’s eyes were still trained on the window and you grinned, looking over at Namjoon. “What are you guys having for dinner tonight?”

“She wants to know what we’re gonna eat tonight.” Namjoon said.

“Oh!” Jimin said with a hum, “I was thinking steak and potatoes.”

“You don’t have to shout.” Namjoon chuckled as you flinched away from his volume. “She’s standing right in front of us.”

Jimin smiled bashfully, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you? I know it’s hard having a conversation because Jimin can’t see or hear me…but I’d like to have the company right now.” You said softly, looking between the two.

Namjoon nodded, “of course you can join. Jimin, you want me to take potatoes?” Jimin nodded, patting his friend on the arm before heading to the fridge, pulling out a package of thawed steaks as Namjoon made his way to the pantry, pulling out a bag of potatoes and throwing some into the sink to wash.

“Jin should be home in an hour so if we time this right, we could be getting finished right when he gets back.” Jimin said, clattering around under the hob in search of a decent pan.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate a warm dinner.” Namjoon hummed and you moved to stand beside him.

“Who’s Jin?”

“He’s our other roommate,” Namjoon said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “He graduated college last year; works in investment. He’s been on a business trip the last 5 days and his flight is actually probably landing right about now.”

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, leaning your back against the counter beside him. His eyelashes were surprisingly long; long enough to make any woman jealous. His cheeks dimpled as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing softly. He flipped the water on, scrubbing the potatoes one by one as he answered.

“Actually, we’ve all been friends since elementary school. Jimin and Jin are cousins and when my family moved to the same neighborhood as Jimin’s, we just kind of met organically.”

“I wish I could tell you about my own life.” You bemoaned, “But unfortunately I don’t remember really anything.”

“Someday.” He said, turning to you with a smile, cheek dimpling in once more and your heart fluttered wild. “Someday you can tell us all about your life.”

You stood chatting with them for the next hour while they cooked, wishing you could help. As it was, everything seemed to be going straight through your hands these days. When you’d first arrived in this in between place, you’d almost been able to move things. Everything had felt a little more solid, a little more concrete, but now it seemed like the world was becoming like the wispy memories of a dream.

Jimin was just pulling the tray of roasted vegetables from the oven, when keys in the front door alerted you to the arrival of the final roommate. You moved towards it, enjoying for once the ability your “in between” gave you to be a creeper unseen. Aside from Namjoon, of course.

The front door swung open revealing an extremely handsome man in a dark blue business suit, ebony hair pushed back and away from his face. “Is there a website where you find all these good-looking roommates?” You quipped lightly, “Hotguy.com? Maybe I can search for a boyfriend on there if I wake up.”

Namjoon gave you a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention to his roommate with a loud greeting. It seemed that you would be going back to invisible now that Jin was home. You didn’t really mind, though; you understood. Having to explain to Jimin had been trying enough, he didn’t need to risk another person thinking he was crazy for your sake.

“My bro’s!” Jin shouted loudly, leaving his suitcase by the door and coming in to give hugs. “Steak? You guys are the best! I’m starving.”

“Yeah, grab a plate and load up. Everything is ready.” Jimin said, sending Namjoon a look.

Jin filled his plate with steak, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables before sitting heavily at the table and taking the knife and fork Namjoon handed to him with a thank you. “How was your trip?” Namjoon asked, coming to sit down beside him with his own plate. He’d made a well in the middle of his potatoes, filling them so full of gravy that it had gone spilling over the rest of his plate.

It looked delicious and you pouted sadly at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to have a bite. “Trip was good,” Jin said, cutting off a huge chunk of sirloin and shoving it in his mouth. “Different way of life out there, man. Everyone’s just really slowed down, taking things one moment at a time. And the women…I’ve never seen so many gorgeous women in my life. I spent most nights lounging out on the beach, taking in the view.”

“I heard they’ve got a great club scene.” Jimin said excitedly, scooping potatoes up with his spoon and sending his cousin a look.

“Definitely, though I only went out one night. Too many early mornings to make clubbing on weeknights reasonable.”

“Old man.” Jimin scoffed playfully. Jin smacked him hard and Namjoon chuckled.

“Ya, have some respect.” Jin scolded and you watched enviously as he polished off the last of his steak, moving on to the pile of potatoes. “You won’t be in your early 20’s forever. Besides, I’m only three years older than you!”

“Did you bring me something back, mom?” Jimin teased. Jin scowled then sniffed, shaking some hair out of his eyes.

“I might have brought you something.” He mumbled begrudgingly and Jimin tore from his seat to grab his cousin’s suitcase and drag it into the kitchen. “Hey! The wheels are dirty!” Jin complained, but Jimin paid him no mind.

Tearing the zipper down, he laid the hard-shell suitcase on its side, opening to an explosion of clothes and a couple gift bags rumpled in the center. “Which one’s mine?” He asked greedily. Jin pointed to the small blue bag, reaching over to grab the green one next to it and handing it to Namjoon.

“This is for you,” he said bashfully, “they’re nothing big, just little trinkets from a beach side hut I was passing one night. Reminded me of you guys.”

Jimin tore into the wrapping in his own bag, pulling out a puka shell necklace before shouting out an excited exclamation of appreciation. Namjoon was much more composed as he opened his own. He pulled a small wooden turtle keychain from the packaging, examining it carefully.

It was beautiful and intricate, made from rich koa wood and looking like it had been hand whittled with a pocket knife. As Jin began to explain his conversation with the owner of the small hut, you decided that it probably was hand made.

You moved closer to Namjoon, examining the workmanship over his shoulder. “Thanks, hyung.” Namjoon said, smiling at his friend. “If I ever get to go anywhere, I’ll make sure to bring something back for you.”

Jin waved him off, pulling the empty plates from the table and running the water in the sink as it turned from cold to warm before plugging the drain and squirting globs of soap. He slid the plates into the water to let them soak. “I don’t expect anything from you guys; besides, I’ve already got a great job, decent pay, a nice apartment, and an incredibly handsome face, it’s my duty to treat you guys as a thank you to the universe for truly giving me it all.”

Jimin scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes as he fiddled with the clasp of his new necklace. “Talk louder, hyung, they can’t hear how obnoxious you are in Antartica and the whole world truly deserves to know.”

“I just gave you a really nice gift!” Jin complained loudly to their laughter, but you could see the smile in the corner of his lips and the glint of humor in his eyes. “And zip my suitcase back up, you slob. You dropped my Ralph Lauren shirt on floor!”

Jimin laughed, leaning over and shoving everything back into Jin’s suitcase with little to no care before zipping it back up and sitting it back on its wheels.

“I think I’m gonna get ready for bed.” Namjoon said, standing and stretching his arms over his head. A sliver of skin came into view, in between the flannel of his pajama bottoms and the soft cotton of his t-shirt and you found yourself suddenly thirsty. “Didn’t get much sleep last night and I’ve got another early morning tomorrow.”

He exchanged goodbyes with his roommates before sending you a final soft smile, retreating to his bedroom and closing the door.

. .

Seeing your body again in the morning light was as strange as it was the day before, though you were more prepared this time. You moved back towards the top of your bed, watching as your chest rose and fell. Namjoon stood on the other side, stethoscope attached to his ears and lingering over where your heart was.

You could almost feel the chill of the metal as it glided across your chest, searching for whatever he needed to fill in notes on his clip board. You reached towards yourself, fingers gliding across wisps of your hair. “Namjoon,” you whispered, and he looked up at you. “I can feel my hair. It’s faint…but I can feel it.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly, “maybe being beside your body is a good thing. Maybe it will help you to wake up.”

You were about to say something more when conversation from the hallway distracted you and a group of people suddenly entered the room. An older woman, perhaps in her 50’s, a man not so much older with an athletic build and thinning hair, two younger men, not much older than yourself, and a young girl, clinging to the dress of the woman.

Namjoon looked from you to them, but your vision suddenly tunneled as the little girl ran towards your bed. You followed her with your eyes, as she rushed out to hold your hand, tear stained face pinched as she cried out a soft, “mommy!”

“Mommy?” You murmured as all the noise of the room ceased and like the whistle of a kettle, loud and screeching in your brain, all memory came flooding back. Your parents, your brothers, your abusive ex-boyfriend- your daughter. “Cora.” You exhaled, watching as she clung to your hand, holding it up to her little face.

You remembered it all. The bat he’d brought with him, the anger, the excuses, the pain of a beating you’d thought for sure would kill you. You reached up to touch the side of your face, finding tears in place of blood as you watched the rest of your family greet Namjoon.

He explained to them briefly how you were doing this morning, chancing glances over at you, but your gaze had returned to that of the little girl standing beside your bed. Your daughter. How could you have ever forgotten her? The spitting image of you, you once again thanked the heavens she hadn’t inherited anything from her father but his height.

She was tall for a four-year-old, usually lively, and happy. Tear-stained cheeks were whiplash for you and you longed to reach for her and hold her in your arms. When you’d first found out you were pregnant with her, it was a hugely bitter pill to swallow.

She wasn’t unwanted, but the permanent connection to her emotionally and physically abusive father left you feeling like a sinking ship. You’d felt overwhelmed by the decisions you faced, especially daunting due to your young age. The situation was terrifying, but you were not one to depend on others and you immediately rose to the challenge.

It was difficult at first. No, it was still difficult…but she was worth it. You only regretted that the time it took to make money to keep the two of you afloat was time you were unable to spend with her. You felt cheated as you looked down at her; of all the time you could have spent with her up until this moment that was all now gone.

Things could have been different, if you had waited, if you’d been patient enough to find a man worthy of being her father. Someone responsible and loving. Like Namjoon. You looked over at him as he stood by the door. He nodded at you before stepping from the room and you appreciated him now more than ever. You needed this time to be with your family, even if they couldn’t see you.

“Oh, my darling.” You heard your mother say from the other side of the bed and you turned to face her as she leaned down, dropping a kiss onto your forehead. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be here yesterday, but we’ve got good news! As you know, Tim was arrested and we’re moving forward with the charges. We had to talk to our lawyer yesterday and that’s why we couldn’t be here. They found the weapon, though. He won’t get away with this. He won’t.”

The tremble in her voice broke your heart. You wanted to tell her that it was all ok, that you were there and could hear her…but of course it wasn’t all ok, you weren’t even sure you’d ever wake up, though you felt a lot more hopeful today. You had something to live for; people who loved you and wanted you back with them. You weren’t alone like you’d feared.

“It’s good to see you here, Y/N.” Your brother, Luke, murmured, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs and you could feel the tingles of pressure. It made you want to cry from joy. That had to be a good sign, it just had to be! “For a while there you really scared us…we weren’t sure…well, we just didn’t know what would happen. You being here is good, though. This is a move in the right direction.”

“When will mommy wake up?” Cora sighed and you turned to look down at her. She was clinging to the limp hand at your side, pressing it up against her cheek and your heart hurt.

“Come here, lovey.” Your mom said, waving her over and Cora let go of your hand with a pout, making her way to her grandmother’s lap and allowing herself to be coddled.

You were so grateful to have such a good family. If you were to die, you knew Cora would be taken care of, that she would be OK. That thought gave you a lot of peace and you sat down on the edge of your hospital bed to hear them all talk.

It was strange to not be able to contribute to their conversation, but you were glad to at least be hearing and seeing them. You could say your piece later, when you woke up. Luke told you all about his girlfriend, how he was thinking about proposing soon, but he wanted you to be awake first. You wished you could tell him to just do it! They’d been dating for five years now and Emma was like a sister to you.

Your other brother, Ethan, told you he’d recently broken up with his girlfriend. You didn’t mind that so much since she’d been a prima-donna and you knew your whole family agreed. He smiled when he said it so you had the feeling he wasn’t really hurting from the change of relationship. Your dad was thinking of retiring. Then again, he’d said this once a year for the last three years, so you weren’t so sure about his follow through on this one either.

You sat with them until they had to go. Cora was complaining of hunger and your mom looked like she needed a nap. You followed them to the door and walked with them as they made their way to the elevator. You knew if you went any further, you may not be able to get back to your body, so you watched as your family stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the 1st floor. It felt strange to wonder if you’d see them again. The doors closed slowly and you kept your eyes trained on your daughter until the very last second when the polished steel shielded her entirely from view.

You wandered the halls after that, looking casually for Namjoon, but mostly enjoying the solitude. You had a lot to think about at the moment and didn’t mind so much being alone. You were kept company by the whirl of the air conditioning and chatter of nearby doctors and nurses.

There was something appealing about being here. To watch people helping other people, people like you, through difficult times in their life. You could only imagine it was fulfilling. Difficult, but really made you feel like you were doing something good. It was probably too late to go to college now, but maybe you could do something like this if you ever woke up.

Your mom always liked to say, “now’s not the time for never.” As a child, it made absolutely no sense to you, but as an adult you could appreciate the sentiment. There was always another day to try something new. You weren’t sure what that would be yet, but it gave you another thing to look forward to for when you woke up.

When Namjoon’s day was over, you followed him back towards home, welcoming the air conditioning of his apartment. Jimin nor Jin were home yet, so you moved towards the living room to sit down. “How you feeling?” Namjoon asked gently from his place on the other side of the kitchen island.

You looked over at him, his perfectly styled hair still in place. He was wearing glasses now, pushed right up against his face and he looked tired from the long day. “I’m alright.” You murmured. “Actually, I’m better than alright. I’m good; great even. I remember everything, my family, my daughter, my beating, unfortunately. But remembering is good; it gives me something to fight for.”

“So that was your daughter?” Namjoon asked, coming to sit down beside you.

You nodded, pulling your feet up underneath you on the couch. “Yeah, she’s four. She was, of course, a surprise. It’s unfortunate that her father is who he is, but I’ve never regretted her. She’s always been a blessing.”

“What’s her name?”

“Cora.” You smiled and Namjoon’s head tilted in interest, grin peeling his mouth upwards.

“Didn’t you think you had a cat named Cora?” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” you laughed, tugging at the end of your shirt. “Turns out it was my kid.”

“Do you mind if…can I ask about what happened? Why he did…what he did?” Namjoon asked carefully.

You paused a moment to think; to remember the details of the last few years. “Tim…he’s always been present in Cora’s life, mostly at least, but the last few years he was becoming more irresponsible, a little more unhinged. We haven’t been together for years, since I was pregnant, and so she was with me a majority of the time. Recently she started telling me about things he was doing while she was there that made me feel concerned.”

“I started dating him when I was going through a rebellion phase. I felt like my parents were too restrictive and he represented everything they opposed so I was drawn to him. Stupid, yeah, but I was 17. Anyway, when I got pregnant and decided to keep the baby, I just realized that everything he was doing was not the right environment for a child so we broke up. Problem is, even when Cora came along, he kept doing those things and it got worse every year.”

“So, a few months ago I started seeking full custody and we got in a big fight about it. He said I was wrong to try and take his kid away from him and I told him if he cleaned up his act, I wouldn’t have to do it. Of course, I want Cora to have her dad in her life, but he’s a mess. Anyway, he didn’t like that, so early one morning when I’d gotten off work and he knew Cora was with my parents, he came by to “talk.” We both know how that ended up. I guess he thought that if I were dead, there’d be no custody battle.”

Namjoon’s expression was hard to read as he stared down at the carpet, absorbing the information. His body language was anything but. Shoulders bunched stiff and hands squeezed white in his lap, he looked up at you with a scowl. “He deserves to get what he gave.” He muttered angrily and you smiled, reaching out to touch his hands.

“I imagine he’ll get a taste of his own medicine when he goes to prison.” You soothed.

Namjoon stared down at your hand on his as though entranced and you began to wonder if the sensation was too strange to handle. Extracting your hand, you moved away slowly, but he reached forward as though to grab it back. “I could feel your hand more this time. It was still…different, but it felt like it had more presence.” He said in amazement.

“That’s got to be a good sign, right?” You smiled.

“I would think so. I mean, there’s not documented cases like ours, though perhaps they’ve happened before. I can’t imagine many people will admit it out loud. But having a strong grasp of your senses seems positive!”

You hummed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “So, tell me about yourself, Namjoon. What’s your life been like? All I really know about you is that you’re studying to become a doctor and you think Eunae is the bee’s knees.”

“What are you, 80?” He flushed, running a hand through his hair and dislodging the gel holding it. “I just think she’s pretty, but we don’t really know each other. We talk sometimes in the hallways, but honestly, I think she might be into Hoseok.”

“Oh?” You asked at his shrug, “why do you think that?”

“He’s just so nice, girls really dig him. He’s completely oblivious, but I’ve seen the way she looks at him.”

“Do you think he’d be interested in her?” You asked carefully, watching his expression, but he was guarded in this moment.

He shrugged again. “Maybe. She’s nice and pretty and fairly outgoing. He likes that type of girl, but he’s also a loyal friend and he’d never make a move if he thought I wouldn’t like it…I don’t think I’d mind, though.”

“You wouldn’t mind him making a move?”

“Not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s still pretty and nice, but I don’t know, over the last few days my interest in her specifically has just kind of…waned.”

“Well, I guess that can be good.” You said with a smile, “I never liked being hung up on someone if it wasn’t going to move forward. Not to say you guys couldn’t move forward!”

He chuckled, waving off the comment. “I know what you mean. Besides, I tend to like the girl I could never have.”

You frowned, watching as he stood and moved back to the kitchen. “I think you could totally go on a date with her, if you asked. You’re handsome, smart, and nice. What’s not to like?”

“Thanks.” He flushed, pulling some juice from the fridge and going to grab a cup. “I’m not talking about Eunae, though. I just mean in general…I tend to like the girl that’s…untouchable.”

“On purpose?” You asked, bewildered and Namjoon laughed at your expression.

“No, of course not on purpose!” He huffed, sliding the bottle of juice back in the fridge and grabbing his cup. He made his way back to the couch, sitting back with a sigh. “It just ends up happening that way.”

“Well, what about your family?” You asked, turning to face him.

“Would I date them?” He smirked and you scoffed, smacking your hand against his shoulder.

“Ew, no! Just tell me about them, you weirdo.”

He laughed, eyeing your hand again as it settled in your lap before he resumed talking. “My parents live a few hours north, enjoying being empty nesters, I think. My little sister is in her second year of college and loving life. Studying criminology. I’ve got one amazing dog that is the true love of my life, and on weekends I like to do crossword puzzles on my phone.”

“Really?” You asked as he sipped at his juice.

“Yeah, really.” He chuckled. “It keeps my mind active.”

You sighed, comically loud, before turning to smile at him. “Well, I guess you are just as big a nerd as I thought.”

“Hey!” Namjoon scolded loudly and you laughed. The room returned to silence once more as you stared out the windows as the sky darkened. Namjoon finished his juice and placed it on the coffee table before he spoke again. “What do you think you’ll do when you wake up?

“When, huh?”

“Seems like a good chance of it, all things considered.”

You nodded with a smile. “I hope so. I suppose the first thing I’ll want to do is cuddle my baby. After that, I don’t know. Depends when I can get out of the hospital bed.” You thought for a moment about what you’d really like to do before something occurred to you. “Actually, what I’d really like to do is get a new job. I have two jobs right now that take the majority of my time and I don’t get to see Cora as much as I would like.”

“That’s my priority. After that…well…maybe I’d want to start dating again.”

Namjoon looked at you in surprise. “Oh? Do you have someone in mind?”

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I have someone in mind that I’d like to go on a date with, sure, but no point in getting hopes up about it now. I’ll wait until I wake up and go from there.”

“It’s Jimin, isn’t it?” He said it teasingly, but something in his expression was pinched and it didn’t look so much like he liked the thought of that.

You scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You didn’t really want to play a guessing game about it; weren’t ready to admit it was him you were talking about. “How about I tell you when I wake up?”

“Fair enough.” Namjoon replied, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “I’m gonna hold you to it, though.”

“Sure.” You smiled.

Just then Jin and Jimin came banging through the front door, arms full as they made their way into the kitchen. “We brought the goods!” Jin hollered loudly as Jimin went back to close the front door.

“Chicken and beer. Come get some, Joon.”

You spent the rest of the evening huddled in the living room with them as they snacked on fried chicken and drank themselves to giggles. You wondered, not for the first time, why you couldn’t have met them before. Why you couldn’t have gotten to know them as someone real and tangible? Not some strange in between being. Why you couldn’t have been around Namjoon sooner. After all, when it really came down to it, he was now half the reason you wanted to wake up.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and thank you for being patient. I’ve been home sick for the last two days so I was able to finish this chapter finally. Please let me know what you think, it means the world to me!

Next (finale)

#btsbookclub #namjoon scenario #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts rm x you #bts rm x reader #rm scenario #rm angst #rm fluff

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starlightsearches · 5 years ago

Note

Could you write a modern au, Armitage Hux x Reader oneshot in which Hux is a well respected CEO in the center of Manhattan and the reader is just a barista at a local coffee shop that’s right across from Hux’s building. On an off day Hux is forced to take the bus. He recognizes the reader because he’s gotten coffee from her shop before and decides to start a conversation. He ends up taking the bus more often just to see the reader and she ends up questioning him why. Sorry if that’s so specific.

Sunshine

This is definitely not too specific, and I’m OBSESSED with this concept! Thank you for this request. I have this for you, hope you like it!

This was partially inspired by @amadwomanrambles wonderful CEO! Hux headcanons that you can find here. I also posted my own hcs earlier today about him (here), and I’m such a slut for this au I’ll probably post more!

Requests are closed ✨

CEO! Hux x Barista! Reader Modern AU

Warnings: Pretty much just language! Enjoy 😊

When the interviewer from Forbes Magazine asked Armitage Hux—CEO of First Order Enterprises and one of the youngest millionaires currently residing in New York City—what the secret to his success was, he had a ready response: strict adherence to an optimized routine. Unlike most of the nonsense he was required to prattle on about in those interviews, this was something that he actually believed.

He started each day the same way: wake to an alarm at 5 AM, exercise, shower, breakfast and the news. After that he’d dress for work, check his email, and then wait for his driver to pick him up from his apartment and take him to the office building in Midtown. He’d arrive at work at 6:15 sharp, and he’d stay there until the sun set each evening. It was a good routine. A safe routine. And he wasn’t about to break it for just anything.

Today he didn’t have a choice. His driver called him at 5:30. She was sick. She could call someone else, but they’d be late. Hux told her not to bother; he’d find another way to work. He didn’t mention the queasiness that piqued in his stomach at the mention of another driver. They’d probably try to talk to him, and he’d have to think of something to say. Hux could handle a boardroom, he could handle a press-conference, he could even handle a fundraiser with sufficient preparation. But one-on-one interaction? With a stranger? He avoided it as often as he could.

But then how to get to work? He wouldn’t take a cab, for the same reasons he didn’t want another driver, in addition to the fact that most were terribly dirty. He never took the subway if he could help it. Hux stares down at the streets below, watches as New York City begins to wake. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a bus stop, only a short distance from the front door of his building. It’s better than walking.

Hux finishes the rest of his morning routine, but there’s little pleasure in it now that he’s been forced to alter it, and his displeasure only deepens after he checks the bus schedule; he’s missed the first one, which means he’ll be late. At least he knows that his coffee won’t be waiting for him, since it’s a Wednesday.

Heat rises in his cheeks whenever Hux thinks about his favorite part of his morning routine. Every day but Wednesday, he gets to spend the last minutes before he walks into work at Pleasant Distraction Coffee, a little shop across the street from the FOE building, and every day but Wednesday, he starts his mornings with you—your smile, the brush of your fingers as you hand him his drink. You always have it ready for him when he walks in the door, and he thinks that you, too, have an appreciation for routine, for order. Not that he can say, for sure. He’s never really talked to you, after all, but he believes that the gesture speaks volumes.

The air is cool and brisk outside his apartment, and he arrives at the bus stop with five minutes to spare. The sun is just starting to rise, the rays of light reflecting off of the windows of his building, and he thinks that New York City looks better when it’s bathed in the golden glow of the morning. It’s almost pleasant enough to make him forget his earlier frustrations, and he’s starting to feel invigorated instead of annoyed, like the day is full of unexplored possibilities. Like maybe he should take the bus more often. He immediately regrets that thought when the bus actually pulls up, coughing a thick cloud of exhaust fumes in his face before it stops. He boards and pays, and then freezes in the middle of the aisle. It’s you.

“Find a seat,” the bus driver calls back loudly, and a few people glare at him as he sits down, but you don’t notice the commotion, mouthing along to the music playing in your headphones, oblivious to the world. You look different out of your uniform, but Hux thinks he’d know you anywhere and he falls into a seat, watching to make sure he’s right.

No, it’s definitely you. Your expression betrays an intense level of focus as you lean in closer to the book you’re reading before you scribble in the margins and then flip to the next page. He never gets to see you like this: looking so awake, so alive. It’s always been hard for him to take his eyes off of you, but now . . .

He should talk to you. He should talk to you because if he doesn’t, and you see him, you would think that he had chosen to ignore you, and he didn’t want that. That is, if you recognized him at all. Would you recognize him? You saw him every morning, but it was always while you were working, and it wasn’t like your interactions with him were particularly unique. You probably handed hundreds of people their coffee everyday. But you did remember his order; that had to count for something. And he’d really like a chance to say more to you than just “good morning.”

The bus stops again, and Hux gathers the courage to move to the closest empty seat. Your eyes stay on your book, your pen resting on your bottom lip. Hux takes in a deep breath before tapping you on the shoulder, and to his horror, you jump, ripping your headphones from your ears and turning to face him.

“Holy shit, you scared me—wait a second, I know you!” Your expression transforms from anger and surprise to one of recognition, and your face lights up when you give him a smile. It’s a genuine smile—not a customer-service smile, like he normally gets. A sunshine smile. Hux has to remind himself to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says when he finally regains the ability to speak, “but I thought I recognized you and I wanted to say hello.” He trails off awkwardly; this was a terrible idea. He had nothing to say to you, but he had to admit that he liked being this close, liked being able to see the way your lashes brush against your cheeks when you look down, pausing the tinny music he can hear coming from your headphones.

“Well, hello,” you say, smiling again. Hux turns his gaze to the ceiling, begging his brain to come up with something to say. Luckily, you carry on the conversation for him, “I’ve never seen you on the bus before. Car trouble?”

“Something like that,” it’s not technically a lie, and he isn’t exactly eager to get into the details of his morning. What would you think of him if you knew he had a personal chauffeur while you were forced to take the bus?

“Hmmm, that sucks. If you need a mechanic, I know a guy.” You pull a slip of paper out of the back cover of your book and nestle it between the pages, closing it and resting it in your lap. Hux takes this as a good sign—you want to keep talking to him.

“It’s being taken care of,” he says, and then, hoping to change the subject, “what’s your stop?”

“Oh, I’m headed to NYU,” you say, nudging your backpack on the floor with the toe of your shoe.

“You’re a student?” He should have guessed, but the information surprises him. You seemed older than most of the students he sometimes saw running around campus when he went to give guest lectures in the business school every semester.

“No, I just like going to the library on my days off,” you say in explanation, like you already knew what he was thinking, “It’s quiet there and my roommates are loud, so . . . ” The bus jolts to a stop again, and you’re almost thrown into him, until you brace yourself against his shoulder. Your hand lingers just for a moment before you move it back your lap once again, mumbling a quick apology. Hux changes his mind again, he should definitely take the bus more often.

“This is an early start for a day off,” he says, and you laugh.

“Yeah, it is. I guess all the time I spend serving coffee has kind of ruined my ability to sleep in,” you say, and then with some hesitation, “you work for First Order Enterprises, right?”

“How did you know that?” God, he hopes you don’t read the tabloids. He’s only minor fodder for the parasites who write them—there are many bigger names in New York than his—but the articles aren’t exactly flattering, and he’d hate for you to have a negative opinion of him before he even had a chance to get to know you.

“Well, I do see you walk into the building every day,” you say in explanation, and he relaxes, safe for now. Maybe it’s a trick of the light as it floods through the greying bus window, but he thinks you might be blushing, and it’s thrilling. Talking to you is surprisingly easy, even when he’s so often distracted by the quirk of your lips, the way your tongue sometimes peaks out of the corner of your mouth when you’re trying to think of something to say. Hux takes a chance to look out the window and, to his dismay, he can see the FOE building in the distance. His time with you is almost up.

“I think my stop is next,” he says, and your mouth folds into a small frown. He moves to stand, getting ready to disembark, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” you say, and he hesitates, although he can tell by the streets passing by that the bus will be stopping any moment now, “I don’t know your name.” Hux winces. Of course he should tell you his name, he knows yours after all; you wear a name tag when you’re working and he had made a point to read it. You don’t release him, expectant.

“I go by Hux,” he says, finally giving in, and you squint your eyes at him in confusion.

“There’s no way that’s your name,” you say, your fingers dancing over the sleeve of his suit jacket sending sparks up through his arm. It wakes him up better than caffeine ever has; he feels like he could run a marathon if you just kept touching him.

“I go by my last name, actually,” he explains, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for more, “my first name is . . . unique.”

“Well, now I have to know.” Your eyes light up and you smirk, tightening your grip as he feels the bus roll to a stop. He looks to the doors, waiting for them to open, but you tug on the hem of his sleeve to bring his attention back to you, “It’ll drive me crazy if you don’t tell me.” God, you’re pretty when you want something. Hux has a feeling that you don’t hear the word no often, and you certainly won’t hear it from him.

“It’s Armitage,” he finally concedes, and you throw your hands to your mouth, but they can’t keep the squeal from escaping. He gives you a pained look and you lower them, adopting an air of mock solemnity.

“That is unique,” you say, clearing your throat to cover up your giggle, “what does it mean?”

“Mean?” The bus finally stops, and he stands, waiting for the bus driver to open the doors.

“Come on, a name like that has to mean something.” Your finger runs over the skin of his wrist, and he has to lean close to hear you over the sound of the passengers getting on, a few of them shuffling irately past him to find seats. He should leave now, before the bus driver starts up again again, but not without giving you what you asked.

“It means,” he says quietly, “that my father was an asshole.”

You pause only for a moment, and then the sound of your laughter fills the whole bus, a hearty, full laugh that’s like gold in his veins. A few people glare at the two of you, but Hux doesn’t mind the attention. God, that’s a lovely sound. He’d like to wake up to a sound like that. Your hand falls from his arm, and he straightens, heading to the door, but he looks back before disembarking.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Armitage.” You leave him with one last smile as he steps down onto the street. He stays on the curb for a moment, watching as the bus turns the corner, disappearing from view. For the first time in a long time, Hux thinks he has a reason to break his routine.

It doesn’t take long for you to figure him out; certainly not as long as he’d like. It’s the third morning that he sees you waiting for him, a morning that’s overcast and cloudy, but you smile at him when he walks through the doors and it makes everything seem brighter. You move your bag from the seat next to you and put away your book as he joins you—a new routine in its own right. It’s nice to see you in the mornings when he gets his coffee, but he’s been looking forward to Wednesday mornings the most, likes that he can just be with you for a little while.

“So I met a friend of yours yesterday,” you say in greeting as he sits, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Hux doesn’t have many friends, and he had plenty of enemies who might try something devious. “Your driver—I think she said her name was Phasma? She came in for coffee after parking your car.” You’ve got a great poker face, but Hux thinks he can see the hint of a smile at the corners of your lips as you wait for an explanation. His face falls; he had hoped for a little more time to get to know you, and now he has to tell you the truth, even if it might drive you away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he turns away from you, trying to hide his disappointment. Getting coffee in the morning would be much too awkward if this conversation did not go well.

“When were you going to tell me?” You speak seriously, but everything about you is tinged with an infectious sort of humor, and it gives him a fragile sort of hope.

“I was actually hoping that I wouldn’t have to,” he responds, and you sit, waiting, staring him down with impenetrable eyes, “I just . . . wanted to get to know you.” You do smile then, a small, incredulous smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Well, since we’re being honest, I have something that I should tell you,” you don’t look at him as you speak, instead you rummage around in your backpack, pulling out your book again and flipping through the pages. He braces himself, waiting for the worst. Were you about to tell him that you had a boyfriend? Or that you weren’t interested? He looks out the window; his stop is close, but not close enough if he has to deal with the mortification of your rejection.

“I wasn’t planning on going to the library today,” you begin, pulling a slip of paper out of the back cover of your book, “I just came because I knew you’d be here.” You finally meet his eyes, your expression shy, embarrassed. Hux can scarcely believe it.

“Are you saying . . .” he doesn’t dare finish his sentence, but waits as you reach over, tucking the slip of paper into his waiting hands.

“Here,” you say, folding his fingers around it, and the slip crinkles against his fingers before he looks at it, raising it to eye level so he can better read the numbers you’ve written.

“What’s this?” He knows what it is, obviously, but he has to make sure that you’re on the same page. He’d like to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“It’s my phone number. Call me sometime.” He can’t think of a single thing to say, not when it feels like rays of pure light are bursting out of his chest, but he tucks the little paper into his jacket pocket, staring at you like an idiot. You smile back, openly. Even as you’re smiling, he can’t wait for the next one; he’s never seen happiness so at home on someone’s face before.

The bus rolls to a stop, and he’s pulled out of his reverie, standing so that he can disembark. He pats his pocket to make sure that the little paper is tucked securely away before turning to face you, “I’ll call you, tonight if that’s alright?” and you nod in response, looking almost as eager as he feels. He’ll call you tonight, and he’ll see you tomorrow morning, and hopefully every day after that, because he never wants to go another day without seeing you smile.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux #general hux #general hux au #armitage hux au #modern au #my writing #requests #livy1391

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yaimlight · 4 years ago

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For The Sake Of Writing

A/N: I am struggling with this, with writing in general right now. Can’t find the drive, the desire to do so and I have tried, many a time but nothing comes out, the page stays blank. So I put it all away and decided to write something else, something completely different and unrelated to anything else but even this has been difficult, like pulling teeth to get the words on the page. I have no idea what this but I feel at least a little accomplished that I managed to get it out. I didn’t know what to do with it once finished but I thought I would share it with you guys. It’s not part of a fandom or anything, it’s just me and whatever came out and though I may not be 100% with it I still hope that maybe you will enjoy it.

Love is not the morel of the story. It is not a fix all or a balm to sooth deep wounds and it is definitely not an excuse for any wrongs done. It doesn’t ride in on a white horse and save the day, making everything perfect and happy and all sunshine and rainbows. It doesn’t make a bad person suddenly good and nor does it render all wrong doing excusable.

Love is the biggest lie the world was ever sold. All it ever brings is pain and suffering and people welcome it with open arms and eager smiles.

Idiots the lot of them.

Though you supposed you shouldn’t knock it, people’s misplaced desire for love was what kept you in a job. Well, sort of. You were what came after, when hearts were broken, people’s pried bruised and their reputations damaged. Funny how that was normally the one that hurt the most. People claimed that love was everything yet it was their reputation and wealth they cared more about. When push comes to shove they always picked the material things in life, dressing it up as something other than greed, like that made their actions better, excusable.

Sighing you focused your attention back on the room across the street. The blinds were wide open, the two people as clear as day as you adjusted the scope. You would think they would be a little better at hiding this kind of shit, considering the illicitness of it all but their idocity made your job easier. They looked so happy, the women smiling as she pulled the mans shirt off him, the two of them making quick work of stripping the other down to their underwear and trading passionate kisses and teasing touches.

Objectively the man was attractive with broad shoulders and rippling muscles, his skin perfectly smooth and tanned. It was clear to see he took care of himself, hours spent at the gym as well as in front of the mirror. You knew the type an you would bet money on him being a narcissist, more concerned with himself than the people he was pissing off along the way. He was young though, to caught up in the fact he had caught the eye of someone hot and rich. To young to think about the consequences of his actions. He was probably so fucking smug, landing a women at least a decade older than him that still looked like a model and had enough money not to even notice when hundreds of dollars started to disappear from her account, squirrelled away for a rainy day. Her husband on the other hand had noticed almost straight away and it hadn’t taken long to find out where it was going.

The women fell back on to the bed, the man crawling after her until he hovered over her. You could see the two of them smiling at each other, staring into each other’s eyes like they could see the whole universe there. He leant down, pressing his body against hers as they went back to kissing. Her hands sunk into his black hair, her wedding ring glinting in the light.

You readjusted your aim, lining up the shot as you focused on her ring finger. You breathed in, your finger pressing down and you breath out.

The glass cracked, her eyes going wide as the man slumped lifeless on top of her. A second passed, a beat of a heart. Just a moment where she lead there blood splattered and missing a finger, not understanding what had happened before everything settled and she started to scream. Frantically she shoved the dead body off of her before falling to the floor and scrambled away to a corner, screaming the whole time.

Huffing out in amusement you stepped away from the window and dropped down onto you knees next to your bag. You made quick work of taking your gun apart, placing every bit back into the correct slot without really having to look. Clipping the case shut you slung it over your shoulder, rising to your feet and heading towards the door without a backwards glance. The job was done, there was nothing left for you here now.

You took the stairs, slipping on your sunglasses and cap before shoving your gloved hands into you pockets. It was still sunny enough you could get away with it though dusk was starting to settle in but you would be far enough away by the time your attire started to become suspicious. For now you would blend in with the crowd, be able to slip away unnoticed and unremarkable amongst the other occupants of the building coming and going.

You took the train, skipping the nearest subway station and heading to the next one along, going in the completely wrong direction and changing lines twice, paying in cash and keeping your head down. You lost the glasses after half an hour, the hat an hour latter when you finally got on the right line and sank into one of the ratty sets with a sigh, your gun case safely between you legs. You didn’t worry about closing your eyes and tilting your head back, counting stops in your head and knowing that if someone tried anything you had a switch blade in your jacket pocket with their name on it. You must just give off that air of danger though because no one comes near you, not even taking the empty seats on either side of you but that was fine. It’s how you liked it.

It was dark when you finally got off the subway, hands still shoved into your pockets as you kept your head down and navigated the still busy streets. It didn’t take long for your destination to come into view, the glitzy looking hotel standing out amongst the boring and monochrome buildings next to it. You slipped round the back, smiling and exchanging greetings with the people you passed and slipped into character like you did every other night you came to your other job.

The building was alive, the hustle and bustle of activity having you weaving around people as you made your way through the busy corridors until you could slip into the locker room. It was just as busy in there, people getting ready for their shifts and seemingly being as loud as they possibly could. You let the sound was over you, blocking it out until it was almost like static in the background and focusing instead on the steady beat of your heart as you headed towards the back corner of the room. You stuffed your case in your locker, the black box fitting perfectly inside before pulling out your change of clothes and hanging the garment bag up on the door. It wasn’t idea but it wasn’t the first time you had brought a weapon here and you doubted it would be your last. You did try not to mix jobs, mix lives but on days like this it was unavoidable, you just hadn’t had the time to go home first.

Toeing off your shoes, you quickly stripped down to your underwear, folding your clothes nicely and placing them on to the small shelf, your shoes just fitting at the bottom of the locker next to your case. “Cutting it close tonight Harland,” a teasing voice came from behind and you scoffed, not even bothering to look as you pulled on the white blouse, deft fingers making quick work of the buttons. “You know I like to live dangerously,” you smirked, finally glancing over your shoulder to look at the women leant against the row of lockers next to yours.

Rosie huffed, rolling her eyes at you but her smile still stayed in place on her to red lips. She looked pristine in her black pencil skirt and white blouse, the cut low enough to just show of a hint of cleavage but not enough to be overtly suggestive. Her auburn hair was pulled up into a bun, her emerald bright eyes rimmed in perfectly applied eyeliner and her pale skin looking like porcelain. She looked the picture perfect representation of professionalism, what with her head held high and oozing confidence. Shame it was just a front, the woman was addicted to amphetamines and a borderline alcoholic who was just teetering on the edge of a full blown breakdown but at least she was normally fun to be around.

Turning back to your task you quickly rolled your stockings on, having barely snapped them into place before you were pulling on your own black pencil skirt, slipping on your black kitten heels at the same time and tucking your blouse in. The two of you chatter away about pointless shit as you finish getting ready, platting your hair and doing your makeup whilst Rosie tells you about her boyfriend and how much of a dick he is being about her work hours. You hum along but don’t really comment on the state of her most likely doomed relationship. You’ve had that conversation before and it hadn’t gone well. Lucky for her you had been willing to stick around and take her to the hospital instead of letting he choke on her own vomit. You had thought about it though.

She doesn’t seem to either notice or care that you don’t really participate in the conversation and as you take the lift up to the lobby you contemplate telling her that her precious boyfriend was screwing around with her sister just to get her to shut up but the headache it would bring you outweighed the satisfaction you would get at seeing the shock and hurt on her face. It wasn’t that you wanted to hurt her you just couldn’t stand the constant insistence that she loved the scumbag and their relationship was perfect. It made you want to smack her head against the nearest hard surface until she finally understood how stupid she was or passed out. Whatever one came first.

The lift doors dinged as they opened, Rosie finally falling silent as you both slipped into your rolls. You were on the clock now and it wouldn’t do to be caught gossiping about personal matters by the famous and affluent that frequented the hotel. No instead the two of you would smile and listen, taking in every little detail. You did it because information helped in your other line of work and you had even got wind of a contact or two from guests who didn’t seem to know the meaning of a private conversation. Rosie did it just for the gossip.

It didn’t take long to change over shifts, the list of requests and awaiting check ins surprisingly small. It meant a slow and easy night, only really having to deal with any calls that came from the demanding guests up above and that was fine. It was why you worked the night shifts anyway. You hardly had to interact with people face on and the mindless and repetitive activities brought you a kind of peace that you didn’t really get anywhere else. It‘s why you had stayed, originally getting the job to do recon on the rooms for a job but long after the women had been found dead and the body moved you found yourself reluctant to move on. So you hadn’t. You had an understanding with the owner anyway, having deposed of his abusive farther or him. As long as you didn’t kill anyone else in his hotel he didn’t care what you did and that suited you just fine.

As midnight crept closer a calm fell over the hotel. Most of the guests were sleeping now and those that weren’t were either still at the rooftop bar or would be out partying till the early hours. There had been no calls for the last hour, no idiots stumbling into the lobby and being loud and rude drunks that you wished you could stab in the face when they broke your serenity. Rosie had abandoned you as well, allegedly in search of coffee but you highly doubted that. Most likely she had slipped off to go make eyes at one of the bartenders in the lounge and score a shot of something. The point was that you were blissfully alone, with nothing but silence and admin to keep you company and it was perfect.

It didn’t last long.

The sound of the city beyond flooded the lobby as the doors were open, the warm night air spilling in and interfering with the air conditioning. As quickly as it had all come though it was gone, instead replaced by the steady thump of shoes hitting the tiled floor. Lamenting the loss of your solitude you kept you eyes on your screen, finishing up your notes on room 308 and the new spattering of complaints about its occupants. You didn’t look up as the person got closer, didn’t even acknowledge them when they came to a stop in front of the desk, highly unprofessional but you were technically busy. Surprisingly though they stood there in silence, patiently awaiting you to finish what you were doing. Shocking considering most would be huffing by now or impatiently ringing the bell, even hurling abuse at you.

It was odd, unusual and you weren’t sure how to deal with it so as you submitted the form you plastered a smile on and started the expected greeting as you looked up. “Welcome to the Hotel Astoria. How can I help you...” the words died on your lips, your smile falling as dread filled you. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not ever. You had been having such a good day as well.

Your fingers twitched towards the letter opener as you stared straight ahead, trying to work out how best to get rid of the man before you without it being noticed. Eyes like the summer sky stared back at you, endless and bright and almost impossible to pull your attention from but you managed it, letting your eyes slowly drag across the rest of him.

He had gotten older, now in his early thirties instead of his twenties but he still looked just as good. He was tall, with broad shoulders and well defined arm muscles that were straining at the sleeves of his black shirt. His skin was golden, sun kissed and oh so very tempting. His jaw was sharp, a light covering of stubble that gave him a rugged handsomeness apposed to the boyish charm you had known. He still had the same ridiculous haircut though, his blonde hair parted to the side with one side longer than the other, his fringe hanging just over his right eye and looking soft despite the amount of product he had probably used. He looked good, annoyingly so considering the time of night but despite all that it was his smile that held your attention, his lips twisted in a cocky smirk that left you wanting to punch him in the face. God you hated him.

Huffing in laughter Johnathon leant forward, resting his arms on the counter and tipping his head to he side slightly. Your fingers tightened around the letter opener, body tensing as you got ready to attack. “I see I still leave you speechless,” he teased, smirk getting wider and sounding oh so smug. You blinked, his words jogging you out of your stupor and you narrowed your eyes at him, lifting your head up higher to look down your nose at him. “Hardly, I was just trying to decide on the best way to dispose of your body.” You let the letter opener go, instead crossing your arms over your chest and schooling your features, trying not to give away how much you were panicking. He was an idiot, not a threat, not in that way at least.

“You always say the sweetest things,” he winked, exuding confidence as he flipped his fringe out of his eye. You had liked that about him once but now it had your jaw clenching and your fingers twitching with the desire to grab a fistful of his hair and smash his face into the marble countertop. “If you think that’s sweet wait until I tell you about how I’m going to stuff your body in the trash compactor,” you said, voice sickeningly sweet and a smile on your lips.

The idiot actually laughed at that, the sound rich and deep and you didn’t even know you had missed that sound until heard it once more. Huffing you shoved that thought down, trying to drown it under the anger you were currently feeling. He shouldn’t be here, couldn’t be here and yet he stood before you without a care in the world, acting as if this was all some big joke when in reality it was so much worse. “As charming as always. Going to finish it all of with a kiss,” he waggled an eyebrow at you, smirk getting impossibly wider and something inside you snapped.

You moved quickly, one hand darting down to grab the letter opener as the other shot out to grab at the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. His hands slapped down on the counter, his eyes going wide as you leant forwards and pressed the edge of the blade against the delicate skin of his throat. “You have five seconds to explain to me what the hell you are doing here before I shove this through your carotid and watch you choke on your own blood,” you hissed, pressing the blade harder against his throat and watching the way it bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes had gotten darker, his lips parted slightly and breathing deeply, a slight flush to his cheeks. You knew that look and it had no reason to be present in this situation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed angrily, jerking away from him like he had burned you, dropping the letter opener on the counter with a clatter as you moved. He had the decency to look embarrassed if only slightly as he coughed nervously and stood up straighter, eyes darting around the room and rubbing at the back of his neck. He licked at his lips, your eyes tracking the movement before you even knew they were doing it. He let out a deep breath, “in my defence I didn’t know...” What ever he was going to say was cut off though as both of your attentions were pulled to the doors.

The doors opened once more, a warm breeze filling the space as a women stepped inside. She was stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and legs that seemed to go forever and a figure most women would be envious of. She looked like a model, like she had stepped right of the pages of some glossy magazine. “Fuck,” Johnathon mumbled and you tore you eyes away from the women working her way towards the desk to raise an eyebrow at him. He was finally starting to look worried but you didn’t think it was in regards to yourself.

“Sorry darling but you know how Cynthia is, I couldn’t just ignore her call,” she smiled, slipping up to Johnathon’s side and wrapping her arm through his before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. Something twisted in your gut, dark and ugly as you watched them pull apart, the women beaming at Johnathon whilst he offered he a soft smile. You didn’t like it, whatever the feeling was you would have been quiet happy never to experience it again.

“So we good?” she asked, that ridiculously bright smile still on her lips. “Hum?” Johnathon hummed, looking at the other women in confusion and you had to fight the urge to snap out no, nothing was good. They needed to leave, he needed to leave. The two of you had had a deal and him being here was like throwing your kindness back in your face and spitting on it. The blonde tipped her head slightly towards you and he turned to you with a frown. You could practically see it when he realised what she had meant, his eyes widening and lips forming into a small ‘o’. “Oh, yeah, right,” he rushed out, laughing nervously as he turned to look at you.

You already knew what was coming, that heavy feeling of dread back again as you silently begged him not to do it. To say there was a mistake and take his arm candy and just leave before things got bad but you knew he wouldn’t, could see it in his eyes as his looked at you with genuine apology. “Johnathon Harland, checking in,” he mumbled, offering you a small smile and not for the first time this night you had to push down the urge to punch him.

Love was rotten, a twisted ugly thing and all it ever did was make every situation go from bad to worse. It made smart people make mistakes, act stupid and irresponsible when normally they were so calm and collected. Love ruined everything, made people weak, soft and once that set in you could never undo it. It set in like rot, leaving you crumbling into dust. In the end you were better off without it, were stronger for never knowing what it felt like to have that connection with another. It would save everyone a lot of pain, a lot of suffering and maybe the world would be better for it.

You really should have killed him when you were supposed to.

#writing problems #i hate this #my art is trash #lack of motivation #send help #writer's block #not fanfic #just me #original work

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dontasktheradiodemon · 5 years ago

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Chat Log, Sept 28-ish - New York

Remember when Valera, Sir P, and Alastor went to a Broadway show? Sure you do, here’s the link. Anyway after that they hung out in New York. Like a bunch of frigging tourists, doing normal tourist things. Seeing Time Square. Checking out a local club. Singing musical numbers in the subway. Normal tourist things.

Valera

Wheeling Pentious out of the theatre is a simple matter, especially when he's too busy being.. Well. Probably horny, judging by his face, to kick up a fuss. With record, beau, and a murderous demon in tow, Valera exits the building, and the three of them are left blinking in the afternoon sun over 1960s New York City. Where to even begin?

Sir Pentious

The fresh(?) air hitting his face was definitely helping already. Sir Pentious is no longer biting his glove, having sat back in his seat, squinting up at the skyscrapers. Hmm. What to do with themselves now. He clears his throat, looking to the Radio Demon, "WERE YOU GOING TO TAKE US TO ONE OF YOUR HOT SPOTS, ALASTOR?"

Alastor

Give him a moment. It's been almost a century since he's been to New York City. About forty years from this particular New York City's temporal perspective, but for HIM, almost a century. The moment he steps outside, he's completely distracted by the street and buildings outside the theater, looking up and up. He'd forgotten what blue skies look like. "... What?"

Valera

Valera cocks her head, looking mAlastor up and down. Oh. "Nothing, dear fellow. Take a second, breathe in the air, the sights, the sounds. Let your memories come back. We've got all the time in the world to see the sights." She comes around to crouch in front of Pentious, fussing over his blanket as a cover for squeezing his hands. Plus a little forehead smooch, to distract him.

Sir Pentious

Oh, that was true, wasn't it. He had gotten so distracted with his red facedness that he'd somehow forgotten about the blue sky. That's why everything looked wrong to him. It was like Pentagram City was no longer bathed in blood red hues. It hurt his eyes, too. Still, seeing the Radio demon look so... well. Pentious couldn't think of a word to describe it. Soft and gentle words did not suit Alastor, not at all. The victorian gentleman's eyes squeeze shut at the forehead smooch, and his attention is brought solely on Valera once more. Well, he can give her actual eye contact now and... he risks a little smile, brow creased. "Hello," he whispers.

Alastor

No, such words don't suit him, but for a split second they're almost fitting. But he shakes himself out of it quickly. He's playing host to these two right now, he can't get distracted! He spins to face the two of them. "I just need a moment to orient myself! Can't see a street sign, there's so many theaters around I'm not even sure which one we've just come out of—do you happen to know which way Times Square is from here?"

Valera

She offers Pentious a soft smile in turn, smoothing the hand not holding his over his cheek. So pale, so fair. She could almost see the individual veins under his skin. He looked... Delicate? Delicate, like this. "Hello, dearest." A last bump, nose to nose, and she rights herself to turn to Alastor. "If we go southwest we can reach it in five, my good man! Hang a right and just go straight down 52nd!"

Sir Pentious

He breathes her in--how could he not? That would have to carry him through the rest of the evening, but Pentious is looking much more relaxed now. He's got a very bright smile on his face as he looks up at the two of them. Hmmm! These buildings were very tall, taller than they would have been when he would have been alive back in the late 80s. Not that he was in America, but still! Ever higher, theyd be able to reach a passing blimp!

Alastor

"52nd! Why, not far at all!" He slides his Record That Has Been Officially Autographed "Best Wishes To Alastor From Louis Armstrong" into another dimension, summons up his microphone cane—and if any passersby see these minor magics, that's THEIR problem—and points the way. "What sad excuses for tourists would we be if we didn't start off with Times Square? Onward!"

Valera

They could never live with themselves if they were stuck with the label of sad tourists, now could they? No, never them! If they're going to see the sights, they're going to do it well! Valera tucks their own record into the pocket attached to Pentious' wheelchair, moves behind, and trots after Alastor with Pentious in tow. Sure, he COULD push himself, but this is the perfect angle to dip down and give his hat a little smooch from. You can't take that from her.

Sir Pentious

He's not going to complain, he'd rather it be her behind him than Alastor. Pentious was trying to adjust to not having eyes all over himself, although if that counts as one of his abilities, he wonders if he could just grow eyes. Hmm. Pentious is marveling at the sheer size of the buildings, and the various machines driving around. Look at that! Getting excited over cars like some kind of TOURIST. "LOOK AT THAT ONE," he's gesturing at what appears to be a classic Dodge. Seats two, has space in the back, and top down! What a bright red. Pentious' eyes are SHINING. "I COULD MAKE MULTIPLE IMPROVEMENTS UPON IT!"

Alastor

They barely hit Broadway before Alastor recognizes his surroundings. If his heart was still beating, it would be trying to thump its way out of his chest. Sure, a few buildings replaced, billboards and signs trying to cover up the familiar facades, all the clothing and cars updated, yes—but he knows exactly where he is. It's hardly changed at all. He could walk from here to his old apartment with his eyes closed. And, in the process, run into a thousand people and get hit by a dozen taxis, but whatever. "Oh, I'm sure you could!" He drops back to walk alongside Sir Pentious and Valera—they're going to be walking in a straight line for several blocks, he doesn't need to lead the way—and claps a hand on Sir Pentious's shoulder. "I've always loved your cars, you know." It does not occur to him to stop and wonder whether this Sir Pentious also designed cars postmortem the way his own did.

Valera

Valera can appreciate the look of a classic car, even if her first few experiences with the four wheeled machines of anxiety-torture were, in a word, terrifying. Nicer from a distance, suffice to say. Seeing Pentious so excited was a surprise. Pleasant, but a surprise. Then Alastor, too! It was impossible to be anything but sunny with both her guests in such high spirits. All three of them, grinning away like fools as they stroll along. What a sight they must be. And come to think of it.. "When were cars invented?" More musing aloud than a true question, but she voices it anyway.

Sir Pentious

There's a hand on his shoulder, and Pentious looks up, closing his eyes as he puffs his chest out. "OHO, YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT! YES, I DIDN'T KEEP AT IT AFTER A CERTAIN POINT, BUT THE TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCES IN HELL WERE EVEN WORSE THAN IN THE LIVING WORLD. I FIGURED BETTER TRANSPORTATION WAS A NECESSITY. A DESIRE TO IMPROVE MODES OF TRANSPORTATION WAS HOW I GOT INTO THE WHOLE AIRSHIP IDEA, YOU KNOW. IT WAS ONLY FITTING THAT I'D BE DOING IT AGAIN IN HELL." He's still beaming with pride, "I WAS APPROACHED BY THE MAGNE FAMILY, ACTUALLY. IN LETTERS, MIND, BUT APPARENTLY MY ENTRY INTO HELL, WITH THE EXPLOSIONS AND FIRE AND FLYING AROUND, THAT CAUGHT THEIR ATTENTION AND THEY WANTED ME TO BUILD SOME THINGS AROUND.... IMPROVE UPON THE GENERAL ARCHITECTURE OF THE PLACE! EVERYTHING WAS RUBBISH. I INITIALLY THOUGHT TO SAY NO, BUT HE WAS LUCIFER. HA! IF ONLY MY MOTHER HAD SEEN THAT, SHE WOULD HAVE DISOWNED ME AND HAD ME COMMITTED, HAD I NOT BEEN DEAD ALREADY." He's really just excitedly yammering on. It's like listening to one's exceptionally English grandmother talk about meeting the Queen. He pauses, to tap the side of his head, "INVENTED? OH, RIGHT, RIGHT. WELL, IN THE LATE 80s, MY LOVE. BUT PEOPLE WERE ALREADY THINKING ABOUT MAKING SOMETHING LIKE THAT FOR A WHILE, EVER SINCE THE STEAM LOCOMOTIVE'S SUCCESS, IT, IT REALLY DIDN'T TAKE LONG AT ALL. THOUGH TO ME, THAT WAS EASY. IF I'D TOLD YOU THAT I'D DESIGNED THE FIRST CAR, YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE ME, SO I'LL LEAVE IT UP TO YOU!"

Alastor

Alastor nods along as he listens, unconsciously tilting his cane in Sir Pentious's direction as though he's presenting a microphone toward an interviewee. He's heard most of this explanation before, years and years ago—but the details vary slightly, just enough to be intriguing. What he wouldn't give for two biographies of Sir Pentious from two different universes, laid out side-by-side for him to compare them. "Approached by the Magne family?! Now, there's an honor! As infamous as I am, even I've never been contacted by the royal family. I had to go and introduce myself to the princess." Alastor actually wouldn't have guessed the late eighties. "I don't think I knew a single person who owned a car until I was well into my teens. They were luxuries before then."

Valera

Valera hums, focusing on rolling Pentious through the crowds more than the actual conversation at hand. Still what she does pick up at least SOUNDS impressive. Lucifer was part of the Mange family. So... Charlie Magne. Oh, that's funny. Right. Plus being approached by the king of hell to improve the infrastructure of an entire kingdom, plus allegedly inventing the modern deathtrap that is a car. That's also impressive, yes. "I don't see why I wouldn't, you've certainly got the technical know-how to build any car you please. In fact, knowing they were built while you were alive, I'd be surprised if you didn't at least have some prototypes in the works before you died!" Mwah, another dip down to reach over one side and peck his cheek. Good work, Penny.

Sir Pentious

Oh he's being praised from both sides, he's going to bask in this for quite some time. "I NEVER FORMALLY DROVE ONE AROUND TOWN UNTIL AFTER I'D DIED. IT WAS MORE REASONABLE TO STAY OUT IN THE COUNTRYSIDE, UNLESS I WERE GOING TO MAKE A STATEMENT IN MY VESSEL."

Alastor

"Of course! You figured out how to get a steamer out of the ocean and into the SKY—who am I to question it if you say you got a train off its tracks too?" The praise train won't stop chugging. "I mainly rode them out in the countryside, too. Having them in cities just seems..." He gestures at the cars clogging Broadway and preventing each other from getting anywhere.

Valera

She coughs, a bit embarrassed. "I don't have much experience with cars, personally. Mostly riding in them and being incredibly confused about why I had to sit in the little fast noisy box instead of teleporting like a civilized being. Nevermind that most species aren't capable of such luxuries. Cars certainly look sleek though, and they're really not that bad. I prefer the convertibles though." Luckily, or unluckily, she can't do the full air quotes around Little Fast Noisy Box. But she shrugs, and it's close enough.

Sir Pentious

"IF THEY'RE BUILT WRONG, THEN THEY ARE BASICALLY LIKE DRIVING AROUND IN A COFFIN! JUST WAITING TO CATCH FIRE!" He even points out a car when he says that, "BUT YES, COULDN'T REALLY SIT IN ONE NOW. MY BODY IS A LITTLE LONG FOR THAT. I COULD MAKE A CAR THAT FITS MY NEEDS, BUT I DO NOT NEED ONE. I PREFER THE AIR."

Alastor

"Unfortunately, around our neighborhood, most civilized beings don't know how to teleport! It's a pity, you'd think they'd make that a requirement. Alastor glances Sir Pentious up and down. "You don't look too long now, we could go for a joyride before we go home. Know how to hot wire a car?" He's 100% not joking. Oh, they've made it to Times Square. Alastor's got to stop dead for a moment, just staring around at all the buildings. "Would you look at that." He's got that look on his face again. "It's exactly how I remember it." Minus the billboards etc., of course.

Valera

"I do. But I'm more familiar with modern cars. I doubt the design has changed too much though." Oh good, Alastor's distracted again. That gives Val time to drape herself over the back of Pentious' chair, propping her chin on top of his head in a lazy sort of hug. Maybe get a little hair stroking in there as she watches Alastor take in the scenery. He certainly did seem attached to this city, maybe she should offer him the same Deal she did his alternate someday..

Sir Pentious

Hey, hot wiring a vehicle does sound fun! Excellent with his wheelchair predicament, not so much. Pentious smiles up at his beloved, removing his hat to give her a bit more room for the moment. "CAREFUL YOU DO NOT CRUMPLE MY ACCESSORY, MY LADY."

Alastor

Okay, all right. He's had his moment. He's basked in the confusing glory that is somehow, impossibly, being back in NYC. Back to being a good host. He whirls back to Sir Pentious and Valera. "So! My old stomping grounds were in Harlem; if you want jazz, that's the place for it. We can take a taxi, take the subway—or hoof it, if we want to be elegant." He winks. "But I never have been an elegant man."

Valera

Valera doesn't bother pulling away this time, setting her cheek down on all the new space Pentious has opened up for her. Mwah, a kiss for the top of his head. He's to blame, surely. The reference gets a snort, but then she thinks about the question. A frown, and she lifts a hand to brush through Pentious' hair. Comforting? Maybe self soothing. "Perhaps the subway? I don't know how many wheelchair accessible taxis are around here."

Sir Pentious

The reference definitely is caught and Pentious makes a face. "YES, I AM NOT VERY ELEGANT EITHER, AT LEAST NOT ENOUGH FOR A JAUNT." He pats his immobile legs, "HOW IS THE RAPID TRANSIT IN NEW YORK ANYWAY? I'M AFRAID I AM UNFAMILIAR, I KNOW HOW IT SHOULD FEEL IN THEORY."

Alastor

"I'm sure that for a taxi ride we could teleport your chariot away and back"—he obviously isn't terribly concerned with subtlety—"but the subway will probably be more convenient anyway." He gets on his toes, looking around for the nearest subway station—he feels so short—then points and leads the way. "Wonderfully efficient, except when it isn't. But that was almost a hundred—er—forty years ago! No doubt the basics are the same, at least..."

Valera

Ugh, more moving? Awful. She has to stop her ridiculous draping over Pentious like some overly affectionate feather boa and go back to actually responsibly pushing him around! A last peck for the road, and she extricates herself to grip the handles and follow after Alastor's spritely steps. Wasn't HE energetic? "Ah, the subway. Never been, but I assume we'll need..." A glance around, and she adjusts the purse she for sure had this whole time. "...Currency to purchase tickets? Where would one go for that?"

Sir Pentious

That energy wasn't new to Pentious, but it did seem like Alastor was solar powered after all. He can recognize a clear difference--he looks like a man mere seconds from bursting into song. People are passing by, it IS New York after all, and some looks are being cast Alastor and Pentious' way--Valera's, too. She's quite the looker! Sir Pentious readjusts his hat on his head, and he drags his fingertips against his lips as he watches the scenery pass ever so slowly, "THIS CITY IS SO BOISTEROUS--WE ARE LIKELY TO BE PACKED INTO THAT TRAIN LIKE SARDINES. NO OFFENSE, MY LOVE."

Alastor

"Getting up close and personal with other commuters' body odor is all part of the busy city experience!" If he wasn't busy navigating/narrating, he probably WOULD burst into song. Watch out for humming. "There should be a ticket window downstairs! I'm sure you can cover the fare, can't you? You covered the theater tickets quite handily—" He stops dead at the top of the stairs down to the subway. Emphasis on "stairs." "Hm." Well, he's completely ready to carry Sir Pentious down the stairs. The question is how to say so without sounding eager about it.

Valera

The sardine comment earns Pentious a snicker. She'd do move, but alas, they must move. "Oh, yes of course I can. Now, 'scuse me, dear. Need to get down there!" Alas, poor Alastor. He'd set a precedent with all his summonings and minor magics. Valera saw no issue with swerving around their tour give and making an invisible (to any normal human) ramp straight down the stairs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Who's going to complain if Pentious isn't getting jostled around? Perhaps she simply has superb upper arm strength!

Sir Pentious

Oh. Stairs. Hmm. He's about to make a comment, only to notice the ramp. Ah! How handy. Sir Pentious beams as he's not being bumped around like a sack of potatoes. "YOU KNOW, ALASTOR, IT'S REALLY RATHER ODD TO HEAR YOUR VOICE WITHOUT ALL THAT RADIO STATIC IN THE WAY! IT MAKES YOU KIND OF FADE INTO THE BACKGROUND?" And it's probably weird not hearing Pentious hiss every time he says an S, although apparently he just naturally drags out his S's. He might have done that in life.

Alastor

"Fade into the background! You insult me, Sir." Tone of joking faux offense aside, he is insulted. Him? Fade into the background? THE Radio Demon? Broadcaster extraordinaire, voice that can command the attention of a million pairs of ears at once? How would Sir Pentious like being told the Wright brothers did it better? He brushes off the insult. He's been resting on his laurels for decades, he knows that. Maybe he should work on his presentation some more. "You think that's weird, try listening to a snake suddenly start talking like a human." A ramp works too. Maybe Alastor doesn't get to carry Sir Pentious, but he DOES get to kick a bit of flat rubbish onto the ramp and see if he can stand on it and sled to the bottom. He can. He trips at the bottom.

Valera

"Boys, boys, you're both pretty." Valera will do nothing to save Alastor from his own hubris. But she WILL make sure Pentious gets to see his antics before she moves along to purchase tickets for the three of them. A miserable affair, but all that's left is to wait for their.. train? Subway? Ride? She hums. "Is there any meaningful difference between a train and a subway? Surely not, right?"

Sir Pentious

"OH, I CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT THAT SOUNDS LIKE!" Smooth. Pentious snorts against his glove, watching him trip--it was always fun to watch Alastor prance about. He's going to look over at Valera, reaching for her hand to pet it gently in his, "A QUICK TRIP FROM ONE AREA TO THE NEXT! ALTHOUGH, FROM THE SOUND OF IT..." He can hear a train leaving, probably they were going to catch the next one. How the station fills with noise! "FASTER."

Alastor

Alastor picks himself up, brushes himself off with great dignity, and answers without acknowledging his spill, "Sure, it's for when the rail-way is sub-terranean!" He trots after Valera and Sir Pentious. "Actually, maybe we don't need tickets." He'd just seen the turnstiles and had his memory jogged. "We also might be able to put our nickels in at the turnstile. That was a new feature when I moved here, don't know if they kept—twenty cents?!" He gapes at the price card on the turnstile asking for tokens; and then, turning toward the other two, repeats indignantly, "TWENTY cents?!" Better buy some tokens after all. Once they're through the turnstiles and Alastor has recovered from this fresh scandal, he notices a route map on the wall—oh good lord, they multiplied—and starts studying it for a route. He puts one finger on Times Square, one near his old apartment in Harlem, and—oh, all right, there's the old line he used to use, buried beneath all the others. "Now, hold on! There's a lot more lines now, we don't know if that's the right—" He squints at the sign on the train that just pulled up, squints at the map, and yells, "It's the right one!" He books it for the train, half-breathlessly humming "New York, New York" as he goes.

Valera

Pentious' pats are appreciated, but all too soon she's distracted once more by Alastor's frantic energy. Mostly the offended outburst at the, apparently, ludicrous pricing. She blinks, uncomprehending. "Twenty cents..?" Is that a lot for this era? Surely she can find enough change in her purse-- Oh he's off again. Dear gods, are subways always so terrifyingly hectic, or is this just a perk of being here with Alastor? Valera swears under her breath, grabs the wheelchair, and starts chasing Alastor down. Hopefully he's as confident as he sounds with his choices, otherwise it's the blind leading the blind here, and Pentious is stuck along for the ride.

Sir Pentious

Twenty cents!!!!!!! Though he had used a different currency, his father had been american and he had been educated in such things. That was a lot. Couldn't be to maintain the train, right? Likely, that was the reason given, but in actuality, taxing people based on quantity alone was just good business. Local Villain Here. He'd charge twenty cents if it were him. Actually, he'd probably charge an arm and a l--EEEEEEEGHHHHHHHHHH!!! Quite suddenly, he's being RUSHED along in his wheelchair, holding onto his hat while his eyes are wide as saucers!!! "ALASTOR, YOU BETTER NOT BE WRONG OR YOU'LL BE MEETING THE TRACKS SOONER THAN THE TRAIN!"

Alastor

"If I'm wrong, we'll have an adventure somewhere else in the city!" But he's probably right. There's a lot less wood in these subway cars. Pity, they used to look nicer. He takes a seat with enough room next to it for Sir Pentious's wheelchair, crosses an ankle over his knee, and hums cheerily.

Valera

It's tempting to take a seat as well, but Valera will stand. SOMEONE needs to keep Pentious from rolling around the whole trip, and she's not going to leave her beau to defend himself against the crowds. And oh, dear gods, she hadn't thought about the crowding. It's fine. A few minutes of unpleasantness will be well worth it. Backing into the aforementioned space with fiance in tow, she scoots his chair as close to Alastor as she can manage, already on the lookout for any unpleasant sorts. With a face like murder and a voice like she was discussing the weather, she begins combing her fingers through Pentious' hair once more. "Wow, sure are a lot of people around here. We aren't likely to run into trouble, are we?"

Sir Pentious

Okay, he's not as jostled anymore, and with Valera and Alastor here, he wants to assume he won't get trampled. Well. Can't be sure of that from Alastor. He'd probably encourage a stampede, knowing him. Sir Pentious rolls his neck some, frowning at the lack of flexibility he'd become so accustomed to. Feeling hands in his hair, the former-snake quickly turns to look at Valera, and his briefly tense expression softens. Time to look back at Alastor, "YES, ONE CAN ONLY IMAGINE. YOU ARE IN THE COMPANY OF TWO DEMONS, VALERA. IF TROUBLE DOESN'T COME TO US, WELL, IT'S LIKELY TO MANIFEST FROM OUR GENERAL VICINITY!"

Alastor

"Three of us together, this time of day? Surely nobody would try to bother us!" He smiles innocently and bats his eyelashes. "If we want trouble, we'll just have to start it ourselves." On the other hand, one of them a woman, one of them in a wheelchair, and one of them using a cane—and the latter two dressed like they'd come from a costume party. If anyone wants to cause trouble, they might be targeted. But if they were, whoever bothers them is in for a series of rude surprises. He starts humming again as the train rolls along, this time wordlessly singing under his breath, "Da da-di-da dah~" The musical number danger zone has been breached, they are near the point of no return.

Valera

Oh no... She knows that tune, turning to raise an eyebrow at the musical strawberry himself. Really, Alastor? Right now? In the middle of a subway ride? Well, then again. He'd surely missed Earth, and the city life, and... Ah, what the hell, not like anyone here could STOP them. She grins, snickers, and starts humming along as her fingers start twiddling to the beat. There's never a bad time for a musical number when nobody can beat you in a fight, now is there?

Sir Pentious

........... WAIT, WHAT'S HAPPENING. Sir Pentious looks alarmed, glancing between Valera and Alastor. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT IS THAT TUNE? I DO NOT RECALL IT FROM THE PRODUCTION!"

Alastor

"Oh, this tune won't be written for another decade or so! But you might be able to catch the chorus after a round or two." He's gotten too used to Hell, where the musically-inclined (and dangerous) can burst into song any time they want and nobody can do a thing about it but grumble and maybe laugh mockingly. Today, New York gets to experience true Hell on Earth: some tourist singing loudly on the train when you're just trying to get through your daily commute. Alastor stands, adjusts his monocle, winks at Valera—you know this one, right?—grabs a pole with one hand for support, and starts singing into his microphone cane: "Staaart spreading the news~" And he will keep singing until they reach their destination or one of the two people he actually knows tells him to stop.

Valera

Ah, could be worse. At least this subway car, Pentious included, gets to enjoy a LOVELY (allegedly) pair of voices on the trip over. Valera lets Alastor have his moment in the spotlight, harmonizing when appropriate and sticking to an acapella backing. So much harder to carry a tune without a band behind you, and she's perfectly happy to play the part. When they finally arrive at Harlem, she just. Wheels Pentious out like that was a perfectly normal thing they just did.

Sir Pentious

, Pentious can only stare at the two of them in abject horror. What are they doing!! Singing in public like this! It makes sense in a production, but this was real life! OH just... Hide his face...... Until they're off the train.....

Alastor

He's in the zone, he's having a good time. He doesn't even notice the horror he's causing until they reach their stop and he stops singing. As they get off, he wryly asks, "Too much?"

Valera

Valera snorts, rolling to a stop in an open area so she can pat her beau. "Oh don't worry my good fellow. Penny gets flustered over anything. Did you not enjoy our singing, love?"

Sir Pentious

He's so huffy, looking at the two of them with the reddest cheeks!!! "YOU TWO ARE INSANE. SINGING LIKE THAT IN PUBLIC! NO ONE ELSE CONSENTED TO BEING PART OF YOUR LUNACY." Says the Supervillain who Murders People.

Alastor

If he gets flustered that easily, that means they ought to be putting MORE effort into not flustering him, doesn't it? "Frankly, I don't care what any of those people consented to!" He gestures back at the subway car drawing away. "But VERY WELL! If you'd rather your regal reputation not be besmirched by your association with a couple of accompanying bards, then I'll simply have to resist the temptation in public." Alastor can sing any other time he wants. Like hell is he going to let a couple of musical numbers be a reason for Sir Pentious not to call on him to hang out again.

Valera

"Oh, Alastor! So considerate!" Valera titters, coming round the front of the wheelchair to look Pentious something akin to head on. Talking from behind him was getting weird! "If that is the bar you're setting, my love, so be it! But why is it alright to murder them, and not serenade them? Do you simply want us to... Reserve our voices for you alone?" A flutter of her lashes, first at Penny, and then at Stick. She's connected the dots. She's connected them. "Why darling, why didn't you say so? If I'd have only known!"

Sir Pentious

.............................. Sir Pentious is looking absolutely mortified.

"WHAT???? NO! THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AT ALL!!!" Do not LOOK at him!! He scowls, pointing at Valera, "YOU ARE TWISTING MY WORDS!!! YOU ARE SINGING A SONG I DO NOT EVEN KNOW!"

Alastor

Goodness, Valera, don't say things that make Alastor's dead heart jump into his throat, it just hurts when he has to swallow it back down. And it leaves a funny aftertaste. "Don't you worry, my friend—no songs but the ones our listener calls up to request! Otherwise, the station will be playing nothing but John Cage's 4'33"!" He pantomimes zipping his mouth. It feels kind of weird without being able to add a zipper sound effect.

Valera

"Alright, alright. Message received, dearest." Pointing at your fiance is rude, Pentious. But Val can forgive him, this time. By taking his accusatory gesture in her dainty little human hands and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Mwah. "Oh, 4'33"? I love that one! Though they keep copyright claiming and muting the audio on the websites I frequent. It's the damndest thing." A wink is thrown to Alastor, and she lifts herself up into a good stretch. "Alright, enough of our nonsense. Alastor, my dear fellow? Lets hunt down a jazz club for dearest Penny. Perhaps he'll enjoy a good trumpet more than our nonsensical crooning."

Sir Pentious

Oh SHIT she's kissing his hand again--well, fine whatever! He huffs. Pentious probably wouldn't have MINDED a musical number, but he is clearly the type to want a lot of ... warning. Or maybe to not be trapped in a wheelchair. Or maybe............. a slew of YEAH BUTs. You never know with this guy. (You do know. He's grumpy.) "I JUST WOULD PREFER SOME WARNING..."

Alastor

Alastor doesn't have the slightest idea what copyright claiming is, but he understands the concept of muted audio just fine. "I tried to watch a live performance, but I was so far back I couldn't even hear the song! What a disappointment." Asking for warning is quite a step down from asking for them to hold off on the musical numbers altogether, and Alastor doesn't trust this abrupt deescalation at all. Sir Pentious is probably proposing a compromise that will just inspire further irritation if Alastor actually goes along with it. Oh no. Alastor's playing it safe. "Don't you worry, I won't be subjecting you to any more musical embarrassments," Alastor reassures him. "Now! Most of the clubs I went to only operated at night, but that was back when booze was illegal! Let's see if we can't find one that's still open and has daylight hours!"

Valera

Or! Or he's had his ruffled scales smoothed by Valera's affections! She's good at that! But she doubts there'll be any more musical numbers anyway, it'd be rude to take over a jazz club for a number, and they already made an elegance joke on their commute. Another kiss to his knuckles, and she drops Penny's hand to go take up the handles of his chair again. You never know, with Alastor. He might start sprinting away again. "Oh? Are we going to have to go door to door then?"

Sir Pentious

Pentious leans back in his seat, looking around at the people passing by. "ILLEGAL! WHAT DID AMERICANS DO FOR FUN? OR TO DROWN THEIR SORROWS?"

Alastor

Sure, like Alastor hasn't seen enough lovestruck men to know how willing they are to say things they don't really mean when a lady they find pretty coos at them. The fact that Valera's here to smooth his ruffled scales is half the reason Alastor doesn't buy a word of the retraction. "Why, what do you think we did? We broke the law! Yessir, America drank more during Prohibition than it did before! We bribed the officials trying to crack down on bootlegging with whiskey! One story goes—at least, the way I heard it—that when a Mabelman came to Chicago to see how hard it was to find an establishment selling illegal alcohol, it took him twenty minutes! In Detroit, fifteen! In New Orleans—my beloved New Orleans—it took him five seconds! He got into a taxi, asked the driver if he knew where a man could get a drink, and the driver said 'right here' and pulled a bottle out from under his seat!" Door-to-door it is. While he waxes dramatic on the abysmal failure of America's dumbest amendment, he leads them down a street toward what had once been a hotbed of speakeasies where jazz played.

Valera

Ah, and there's Alastor, prattling on like the chatterbox he is. Valera doesn't even need to say a word, just humming at the interesting parts and rolling after the stoplight red radio host. Gods did he stand out, maybe she SHOULD have put him in a different outfit.. Ho hum.

Sir Pentious

The story gets Pentious grinning wide again--it's probably very weird seeing him without those sharp teeth of his. He slaps a hand down on one of the armrests as he laughs. "HAAAA HA HAHA!! OF COURSE IT WOULD BE THAT EASY!!! YOU CAN'T KEEP A MAN FROM HIS LIQUOR!!! THE MORE YOU HIDE SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE, THE MORE THEY WILL GO OUT OF THEIR WAY TO TAKE IT."

Alastor

"And trying to get it is just more fun that way." Like treats stuck inside toys as enrichment for a cat. It's weird seeing clearly-visible bars and clubs advertising their drinks freely. Alastor's used to it in Hell, but in this place, a place he remembers, it seems wrong. Several places advertise live jazz; he searches for one that's live right now,not in a few hours.

Valera

Venues, venues everywhere, and not a club to-- Oh, there's one with a few people coming out of it. And not JUST white people, at that. That's significant, for reasons Val doesn't quite remember off the top of her head, but she jerks to a halt anyway, giving the building a closer look. A flashy, lit up sign casting bright white light down onto the streets of Harlem. A strange little overhanging structure over the door. A.. Marquee? Yes, a marquee, advertising names she didn't recognize, declaring they were playing THAT NIGHT! People going in and out, lights on display... Surely it must be open? She moves closer, glancing over to see if Alastor's noticed the same thing she has.

Sir Pentious

Pentious doesn't really have anything to say, he's still watching people pass to and fro. People from all walks of life, it seemed.

Alastor

He certainly has noticed what she has, and he's delighted at the sight. "Well! Look who's still in business! I used to come here when I was alive!" The fact that not JUST white people were coming out of it was probably a contributing factor to that. "I even played here once or twice. You know—when they let the amateurs get on stage. Ha!" Tonight doesn't look like an amateur night—he doesn't recognize the names on the marquee either, but they certainly suggest the stage isn't free for casual jam sessions. Well, he doesn't think he's going to be performing any more today, anyway. He gestures grandly toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Valera

"Oh good! You're familiar with the establishment, then? Perfect! Hope nobody recognizes you, they'll be hounding you for your beauty secrets the whole time!" A snort, and she pushes through the doors to reveal.. Well now, wasn't this lovely? A standalone bar, well spaced tables with lovely linen cloths, an open space for dancing in front of the modest stage. Open, accessible, and not a stair in sight! With the music already crooning and the smell of food from the kitchens, it was hard not to feel right at home despite never having been here.

Sir Pentious

Oh, now this is a venue indeed. Sir Pentious tilts his head as they head inside... What an atmosphere! He smiles, relaxing a little more. "AH, THIS WILL DO NICELY." Food.... Yes, he was getting peckish but he's not sure what would be on the menu.

Alastor

"If I run into anybody I recognize, I'll claim to be Al Junior and ask who knew my dad. Hah!" He idly wonders if his duplicate had ever even visited here. They can figure food out once they're seated—although, once they are, Alastor almost immediately forgets about the menu to pay attention to the music.

Valera

If only they could all be so easily distracted from the siren song of food! Valera fixates on the menu the second they're seated, tapping a few options before she looks up at her guests. "If it wasn't obvious, dears, I'm paying. Get as much as you want of anything you want." SHE is going to get an appetizer and a drink. It's only the afternoon, but an old fashioned and a shrimp cocktail are calling her name.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious looks at the menu, and... He makes a face, as he usually does when he's met with something he doesn't like or understand. He brings the paper closer to try to read out these items.... But then he just sits back, dropping the menu itself and drumming his fingertips upon the table. "WELL SO FAR NOTHING SOUNDS APPETIZING. I'LL HAVE A POT OF TEA." Scowl. It might be better to let him see what he'd be getting, since he's barely got any idea about many of these, "THEY LIKELY WON'T PREPARE IT THE WAY I LIKE." Big Fussy!

Alastor

"Oh, you'll regret that." Alastor is not known to be considerate when other people are paying for him. The music sounds like what he hear in jazz clubs in the—let's see, he remembers being incredibly drunk—the 70s? That must be the lag between mortal world innovations and how long they take to reach Hell. He finally picks up the menu—oh, ooh, he's probably going to order half of this.

Valera

"MAKE me regret it, my dear! I dare you." She's making money out of pocket lint and wishes, deer boy. You can't break this bank with a big appetite. A pause, and she glances at her beau in his huffy glory. Oh, Penny's texture aversion, right.. A closer look at the menu, and she leans in to point a few of the softer choices out to him. "Maybe the gumbo? That should be soft enough.. Or the steak? I hear they've got nice steaks. And just ask them to make the tea a certain way! I'm sure they'll cooperate."

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious tends to expect others to disappoint him, but he'll try to be somewhat less pessimistic. He's having dinner with Alastor and Valera, after all. "THEN I'LL HAVE A GUMBO. SURPRISE ME." which probably just meant choose the type for him. "THE TEA SHOULD BE FINE, UNLESS AMERICANS DO NOT KNOW HOW TO BOIL WATER."

Alastor

"I'm never introducing you to iced tea." He taps the menu. "They've got sandwiches, too." Alastor isn't sure what Sir Pentious's issue with the food is—although now Alastor's heard the both of them mention that Sir Pentious is particular a few times—but Sir Pentious brought sandwiches to their indoor picnic, so that ought to work, right? "I think I'll get gumbo, too." He remembers being sorely disappointed the last time he tried it, but he wonders if forty years have changed that. "... And maybe the oxtail soup." To cover up the inevitable disappointment from the gumbo. And the filet mignon with mushrooms. And the live lobster, like hell is he passing up a chance to get fresh shellfish while he's in the mortal realm. And— He can take leftovers home, right?

Valera

"Who knows? As far as I'm aware, Americans are mostly known for throwing their tea into harbors, not preparing it." Perfect, here comes the waiter now. Valera orders their appetizers and drinks, then wave the poor human away before they hear anything they shouldn't. The last thing these three need is even more attention than the two demons are drawing with their looks alone. And now, while they wait for these brief minutes.. She leans back in her chair and sighs. This is nice, all things considered. Being able to relax to any degree around Alastor AND Pentious? Not something she'd expected to ever achieve.

Sir Pentious

ICED TEA??? He looks at Alastor with abject HORROR at the implication. The waiter coming and going was a fine moment of Sir Pentious just staring at people when they address him, rather than. Being casual about it. It was impolite to not face someone when speaking to them, his mother had explained, and apparently he'd gotten back at her for this by pointedly staring at anyone who spoke to him to the point of making them uncomfortable. HE WINS THE SOCIETAL ETIQUETTE CHALLENGE. HE IS THE VICTOR!!! Holy shit though, that was a LOT of food that Alastor ordered. Pentious can't help the grin that spreads on his face as he leans towards the deerman, "STORING FOR WINTER, ARE YOU?"

Alastor

"Sure, if I get through all this I'll need to hibernate for a month!" He also threw in a couple of sandwiches, a crab salad, an order of golden buck, and Roquefort cheese. When is he going to get this easy access to fresh mortal food next? "You're both welcome to steal off my feast, I plan to sample everything and take the rest home with me anyway."

Valera

Damn, she gives him a blank check and Alastor does his best to order everything on the menu. Guess he really doesn't like the food in hell! Valera stretches and leans back into the conversation, propping her elbows on the table to support her head. A lazy glance around to ensure nobody's looking too closely.. Good. A little attention was inevitable, but it would be a shame to play cleanup in such a nice establishment. A hum.. "Why thank you! But my goodness, if I'd known you were so desperate for proper food, poor dear, I'd have invited you to use my kitchens while you were over last."

Sir Pentious

Now there's an idea. Pentious thinks about the three of them in the kitchen and he can't help but snicker, "AND ALASTOR MIGHT HAVE COOKED ONE OF YOUR CITIZENS! NYA HA HA!" Very funny. He's started paying attention to the musicians now, turning to watch them with interest. The gentle crooning was pleasing.

Alastor

"I wouldn't say desperate! I would say incurable gluttonous and absolutely shameless about taking advantage of those who offer me kindness without putting boundaries on it!" The sweetest smile. "Plus, I'm fairly sure none of the money you're paying with is real." Now there's an idea. "Well, if you happen to have any citizens you wouldn't miss..."

Valera

"It's real enough!" A pause, assessing her statement, and she amends with a mutter of "It wont disadvantage the establishment any, at least. I'm not that heartless..". Cough. And how convenient, a subject change! She beams at the two of them, showing off those weird flat teeth humans have. "Oh, if you're interested in trying Veci, we have PLENTY of undesirables! Though I'd warn you that the different breeds give a wide variety of flavor profiles, so you'd have to plan accordingly."

Sir Pentious

Oh they are actually taking it seriously. He snickers at that!! "I DOUBT THAT KIND OF THING WOULD DISSUADE ALASssTOR. AS YOU CAN TELL FROM WHAT HE'S ORDERED, HE IS A BIT OF A FOODIE!!"

Alastor

"There's the understatement of the century." He leans toward Valera, arms crossed on the table. "Give me the menu! Fair warning, at times I'm a bit of a food snob. My tastes skew toward the upper class." Perhaps more honest to say that his tastes skew away from the lower class until he learns why, exactly, they were deemed "undesirable."

Valera

She blinks at Alastor, keeping a carefully neutral smile as she turns that over in her head. Was that a threat? No, that was silly. He wasn't stupid, he must believe status made a difference. And didn't it? Higher quality foods, higher quality meats. Yes, that makes sense. She clears her throat and nods, casting her mind back to what she recalled. Ahem. "Well! A coastal veci like myself has very tender, buttery flesh. Melts in your mouth, so they say. A more open ocean type like, say, my friend Istoph, has much firmer, strongly flavored meat. Very much the game of the Veci world. I'd avoid the deeper sea Veci, their meat tends to be..." She grimaces. "It tends to be either rubbery, or gelatinous. And they're scavengers, so they taste like the fermented meat they live off of."

Sir Pentious

This is a very weird conversation to be in the middle of. Sir Pentious is looking at Valera the entire time they're describing what the meat of her species is like. He has bitten into her before, he RECALLS the tender flesh. ............... Oh probably shouldn't think of that right now. "AND VERY POISONOUS, ALSO. THE LOT OF YOU, CORRECT?"

Alastor

And now Alastor is thinking of biting her, but for completely different reasons. Sounds delicious. "I'm sure you must have recipes to get around the poison issue!"

Valera

Valera reaches over, taking Pentious' hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "It's not uncommon for coastals to have some form of venom, but the flesh itself is safe. My toxins are the result of some clever genetic tampering." A proud little head waggle! "Oh, and yes. The toxins break down in heat, so fully cooking the flesh is enough. Or you can be immunized against them, like Penny was!"

Sir Pentious

He smiles, holding her hand in his and stroking over it with a gloved thumb. "DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT YOUR TAIL WAS TORN OFF AND DEVOURED BY SOMEONE BEFORE?"

Alastor

Alastor's eyebrows shoot up and he leans around to try to see Valera's tail before remembering that, in their disguises, she doesn't have one. "That's a fair amount of flesh to grow back!" Like a lizard.

Valera

"Hah! You remembered that? Yes it was, my love!" She snorts, pulling his hand up to kiss his gloved knuckles. Mwah. It's nice having things she mentioned so casually be remembered. Even if they're weird things. "Oh yes, my body repairs itself quickly. My tail was back to normal in an hour or two. Could have been faster, but I was burning energy helping him with meal prep."

Sir Pentious

They are Very Weird things but Sir Pentious is just that kind of guy. He's looking over at Alastor like do not try to Catch my Wife's Booty with Your Gaze, Sir.

Alastor

"An hour or two! With magic, I trust?" If it had been by devouring enough food to rebuild the missing flesh, she wouldn't have been worried about meal prep. Anything raw would do. It takes him a moment to notice Sir Pentious's Look. It takes him another moment to figure out what it's for. He decides to play dumb, props his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, and leans toward Sir Pentious. "Listen to me, jabbering away with the lady and ignoring the gentleman completely! My apologies!"

Valera

"Magic! Plus the energy reserves in my.." She gestures at her chest. "..Body fat." FINALLY their food arrives. Or as much of it as the waiters dare try to fit on the table. Drinks, dinner, and the cannibalistic conversation conveniently avoided around any human ears.

Sir Pentious

Penny's

looking at Alastor. About to say something when their food arrives! Finally. That's... A LOT, DEAR SATAN.

Alastor

Oh. Oh that really is a lot. What consequences hath his careless words wrought. For a moment he stares in horror at the covered table. Then he says chipperly, "Well, like I said! Feel free to taste anything you want!" He's gonna go for... ooh, what's first... how about the lobster.

Valera

So much for a low profile. She looks over the table... Then to the cart the waiters have parked near the table with the rest of their food. Then to Alastor, eyebrows raising as she whistles. "Goodness, my dear fellow. We'll have to use poor Pentious as a tray to get these leftovers out the door." She reaches over to pluck Pentious' gumbo out of the chaos and put it in front of him, then tries to puzzle out her own meal. Steaks, steaks, everywhere... Ah, there were two filet mignons, one of those must be hers. Come to mama, beautiful.

Sir Pentious

"MOST CERTAINLY NOT!" Do not stack food on him, he would hate it!!! But he looks over at Alastor with a squint as he begins tucking a handkerchief into his collar, like a bib. "YOUR STOMACH IS GOING TO BE DISTENDED BY THE TIME THIS IS OVER, ALASTOR."

Alastor

Alastor tugs at the front of his coat to test its give. "Not much room for that. Good thing I plan on taking most of it home!" The lobster passes muster. Time to try something else. Where's that rabbit? "Tell me what you think of the gumbo—I'm wary of it anywhere outside Louisiana, I want to know what to brace myself for."

Valera

She's going to stack food on him. She's going to stack SO much food on him. Or she'll just make the staff conveniently ignore the fact that their doggy bags are suddenly gone to some pocket dimension. But threatening to turn Pentious into a cart is funnier. "Mmrph." Sorry, her mouth is full of approximately half her meal.

Sir Pentious

NOOOOOO Oh. He looks over his gumbo, stirring the pieces of chicken and veggies around with a spoon... like a particularly thick stew. It smells good, anyway... some of the meat doesn't appear to be as squishy as he wants, so he shoves them aside, instead looking at the veggies. Big Fussy. "ARE YOU GOING TO ATTEMPT TO HAVE SOME OF MINE? YOU ARE NOT TO PUT YOUR SPOON IN MY SOUP!" Rabbit's a bit left of Pentious' gumbo. He's looking at Valera, "....QUITE A LADY! HAHA!"

Alastor

"I ordered my own, thank you." The fact that Sir Pentious is already pushing aside bits of food is a dangerous sign, but Alastor will reserve judgment until he sees him actually taste it. Oh, there it is. He snags his next dish, glances at Valera, and laughs. "I take it the filet mignon meets your approval!"

Valera

She gets her meal, she starts eating, and now! She's the center of attention! She swallows with a bit of struggle, clears her throat, and picks up her napkin to daintily dab her mouth clean. She's got manners, sometimes. Deep inhale.. "It's good! Though I'd prefer it rarer next time." And now SHE can stare at Pentious. Try your gumbo, Penny. The audience is waiting.

Sir Pentious

Oh no they are both looking at him. He hates this. Time to go on a face journey while filling his spoon up with broth. He brings the reddish brownish liquid to his lips, flicking his tongue against it. Yes. He is human. But he has spent the last one hundred and thirty two year as a snake. Leave him alone. Okay... the taste isn't atrocious. Sir Pentious sips it up, smacking his lips a little. Beer tasting tik tok. Aaaaaaand he finally speaks, "YOU KNOW, IT ISN'T BAD. THE BROTH ANYWAY, I COULD GET BEHIND. THOUGH I AM NOT YET CERTAIN ABOUT THE VEGETABLES OR THE MEAT."

Alastor

"Do you prefer your meat raw, by chance?" No judgment, it's a fine culinary choice. Look at Sir Pentious. Going about it like a connoisseur. A connoisseur who sticks his tongue into spoons before sipping. Alastor can tell exactlywhat he's doing, which makes it even funnier to see with a human tongue. "Sounds like a recommendation to me!" Now for that rabbit.

Valera

The spell is broken, the table can breathe a collective sigh of relief. Pentious can enjoy at least ONE thing at the table. Crisis averted! Val can return to her meal, taking much more respectable portions of steak now that she knows she's APPARENTLY got an audience watching. They wave for a second old fashioned, and tuck in. There, much better. Civilized fish.

Sir Pentious

Very civilized. Maybe Sir Pentious just likes watching you eat food, Valera. HE'S NOT WEIRD, YOU'RE WEIRD.He's going to try the vegetables now... They're much softer inside the brother, and they kind of melt in a buttery fashion. Hmm... Not bad. The chicken is next... It looks tough, and he's not excited about it. Scooping the meat into a spoon, he brings it to his mouth and bites down on the spoon. .... A frown... And he unbites, putting the chicken piece back into the bowl. "NO. NOT A FAN."

Alastor

From the corner of his eye, Alastor is watching Sir Pentious's slow analysis with fascination. Oh, he's going to be a challenge for Alastor to cook for, isn't he? Good—no one else ever holds Alastor to any standards, he's going to have to actually improve his work. His face falls as much as it can when Sir Pentious... spits out? a bit of chicken. Alastor tisks. "We should have known better than to trust gumbo in New York."

Valera

"Hang on, I can fix this." Without missing a beat, Valera reaches over the table with their fork, rapid fire skewering a few pieces of chicken to steal away from Pentious. Down the hatch, and look. Nobody has to deal with them anymore! Isn't she generous.

Sir Pentious

............................ He wonders how that must have looked to literally anyone else.

[

11:41 AM

]

AND THEN HE PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HIS BOWL, AND LOOKS SO OFFENDED.

Alastor

"Well, if you don't like the gumbo..." He gestures around at the table. And the cart. "There's a couple of sandwiches on the cart if you want to try those." He got the sandwiches for Sir Pentious, because Sir Pentious eats sandwiches. He really did order this feast with the intent to share it with the table.

Valera

Val's completely focused on their own meal, smug as can be. Mm, yes, the mushrooms are so soft and lovely, mmm. Pairs so nicely with this steak. Better eat a little faster before anyone gets any funny ideas.

Sir Pentious

Oh sandwiches. He does like sandwiches... generally. Sir Pentious lifts his nose, looking over at the cart before he gestures, "I WILL TAKE A SANDWICH." And he is going to eat vegetables and this broth, because it is tasty, even if the chicken was TERRIBLE!

Alastor

"Have at it!" There should be some kind of meat sandwich, he forgets which one he finally ordered, and a jelly and cream cheese one he ordered mainly out of morbid curiosity. Okay, he's tried the rabbit, time to switch out the plate for his own filet mignon, Valera's making him jealous. "You know, I've been so distracted by this feast here, I've hardly glanced at the stage! After we came all this way to hear the music." He's gonna. Try to focus on that.

Valera

He's done with the rabbit? Perfect timing, Val's just about done with her own meal, and Alastor DID say she was free to sample. A few slices of lagomorph shouldn't be missed. Music? Right, yeah. Music. She'll worry about that when her stomach is done threatening to start dissolving.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious smirks, "WELL WHAT WOULD YOU EXPECT? IT IS NOT AS THOUGH WE NORMALLY HAVE ACCESS TO FOOD FRESHLY PREPARED IN THE LIVING WORLD." He's going to take a bite of this meat sandwich... That's a happy Penny. He's going to delight in this soft bread.

Alastor

"True!" He pauses a moment to listen. Hmm. "If anything, I think the music in Hell is better. More time to practice, I suppose! Better music, worse food—not a trade off I would have expected, would you?" He's finally gonna try that filet mignon—oh, good God, this must be what they serve in Heaven.

Valera

She snickers into her food, moving on to the lobster now. She can't comment on the workings of hell, but she can appreciate a good meal on her own dime. Let the boys have their talk.

Sir Pentious

"I WAS THINKING SIMILARLY, ALTHOUGH, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE THIS PROBLEM IF WE WERE ATTENDING A FULL ORCHESTRA SHOW. TOUGH LUCK, ALASTOR." He grins, "STILL, IT ISN'T BAD. I FIND THE RAW, SOMEWHAT FLAWED STYLE OF PLAYING RATHER CHARMING. REMINDS YOU THEY ARE ONLY HUMAN, NYA HA!"

Alastor

Give him a moment. Give him a moment, he's gotta bask in the meat. Oh, that's superb. He makes a mental note to ask Valera to leave an exorbitant tip. "I think an orchestra that's been playing together for over a century, give or take a few exterminated cellists, is going to be able to show a thing or two to an orchestra whose members have only been playing their instruments for a few decades!" He glances at the stage. "But—you're right. Jazz is at its best when it's raw. Maybe we damned fools have gotten a little too refined in our playing."

Valera

Valera is picking away at the meals, humming idly but mostly ignoring the two.

Sir Pentious

IGNORING....

Sir Pentious sips more of the broth, then finishes off a sandwich before pouring himself some tea. "TOO TRUE. WE'VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO OUR UNLIVES. WHO COULD BLAME US? THE DEAD SHOULD NOT USUALLY RISE AGAIN."

Alastor

"And if they do rise, I'm given to understand the living expect we'd start eating their brains! Ha!" He pauses thoughtfully. "Actually, brain doesn't taste bad. Although it's got nothing on the filet mignon."

Valera

She waves the waiter over to take her empty plates and cups, then props her chin up on her hands. The music is nice. She'll just close her eyes for a second and listen..

Sir Pentious

Hopefully the waiter didn't hear that. Penny snickers, and sips the tea. Actually not bad. And then he's looking at Valera. ... He smiles, wide. She isn't looking at him, so he gets to admire them!

Alastor

Oh, Sir Pentious is distracted. They're both distracted. Alastor swallows down the urge to constantly be making sound so as not to distract them from their distraction. He'll watch the show and switch to trying his own bowl of gumbo. If it sucks, he can cleanse his palate with more of his steak.

Valera

It takes SEVERAL seconds before Valera realizes the two have fallen silent, brows furrowing before she cracks an eye open to make sure they aren't moments away from going for each other's throats. Does she need to step in? No, Alastor's eating, and Pentious is.. Watching her, it seems. She smiles and gives him a little wink, then blows a kiss. "Hey handsome."

Sir Pentious

Color reaches his cheeks, and he can't help the grin, avoiding eye contact now... One hand reaches for hers, and he squeezes it. Listening to decently played Jazz Music, sitting with his good friend, and the love of his unlife. And more food than they knew what to do with. Pentious feels.... Good.

Alastor

The gumbo isn't bad. It isn't great gumbo, but it's an okay soup. Maybe he should ask if Sir Pe—oh, he's having a moment. They're both having a moment, the two of them. Alastor will keep suppressing the urge to speak. BOY THAT SURE IS A BAND UP ON STAGE THAT ALASTOR IS LOOKING AT. RIGHT NOW. WITH HIS EYES.

Valera

Try not to break your neck, radio demon! Pentious' hand is squeezed back, and Val scoots her chair a bit closer with the excuse of messing with the blanket draped across his legs with her free hand. If she doesn't move away afterwards, well. She's just being cautious. What if it falls? "Enjoying yourselves, boys?"

Sir Pentious

C: He is very smiley. Sir Pentious turns around to look at Alastor, and then he closes his eyes, raising a declamatory finger. "ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, YES! I RATHER ENJOYED THIS EXCURSION."

Alastor

Oh thank god they're talking again. "Why, a show, a signature, another show, a feast fit for a king, and such fine company besides—I'm enjoying myself enormously! And will continue to do so for another few days at least!" Yeah he's hardly made a dent in the food. He's gonna have hella leftovers. If they're talking again he can ask the question he's been holding back. He leans toward Sir Pentious and elbows an edge on his wheelchair. "I'll trade you the vegetables out of my gumbo if you trade me the chicken out of yours." If the veggies were all of it that met Sir Pentious's tastes, Alastor was at least going to make sure he got a full serving of it.

Valera

"Glad to hear it, my dears! We'll have to arrange a second excursion at some point. Penny needs more broadway, and poor Alastor needs regular access to Earth food. Speaking of, how is that okra plant doing? Should I arrange for a replacement sometime soon, my fine fellow?" She snorts, eyeing the leftovers scattered around them. This had to be a week's worth of food for a single deer, right? Surely! But it's a fine compromise he offers. Hopefully Pentious wont be overly stubborn about it.

Sir Pentious

In terms of deals that Alastor could be offering him, this was by far the mildest compromise. Sir Pentious looks at him with his usual big eyes, raising a brow.... "OH THAT'S RIGHT, THE VEGETABLES THING. YES, GO AHEAD, ALASTOR." He slides his bowl over. Whatever remains of the chicken within!

Alastor

Vegetables thing? Did his duplicate have a vegetables thing? Well, whatever—he scoops out what's left of his veggies (farewell, dear okra) and claims the chicken. Speaking of dear okra—"The plant's doing marvelously so far!" So far. "I found a spot for it and that bell pepper plant I won under a nice sunny window in that ship embedded in the hotel, you know the one."

Valera

She DOES know the one, in fact. Even if she doesn't know how a boat wound up not only in hell, but somehow being used as part of the architecture for what seemed to be one of Lucifer's estates turned rehab facility? Hell was a STRANGE place. A puzzle for another day. Maybe Charlie would know. "Ah! Wonderful! Okra is such a hardy plant, if anything could survive in Hell it would be that little beastie. Maybe I'll bring you some other plant next time I visit? Sounds like you need some fresh tomatoes and you'll be set for a fine side."

Sir Pentious

Once the swap is finished, Sir Pentious slides his own bowl back towards himself and returns to eating. AH, this was MUCH better. He didn't eat all that much and seemed to be used to that fact. Hard to be overwhelmingly hungry when you already knew your texture issues would make it difficult to actually eat something. But he's smiling away as he consumes the veggie gumbo. He didn't think he'd like it, but the added flavor of the now removed chicken did good things for this.

Alastor

"You'd be surprised. It's harder than you'd think to find fresh okra in Hell! Probably some local blight that wipes them out, that would be the kind of thing Hell does." But tomatoes... it's easy enough to get jarred tomato sauce and canned tomato paste in Hell—albeit at exorbitant prices—but when was the last time he'd had simple, plain, fresh tomatoes? "Let's see if I've got a green thumb or two hidden under these gloves"—he wiggles his fingers—"before subjecting another poor plant to my tender mercies—but if the okra lasts long enough to give me a crop, tomatoes would be a fine addition to my little garden!"

Valera

She snorts, sudden visions of Alastor in overalls over his suit, wearing a straw hat with holes for his antlers invading her mind. Ah, and he would fertilize his bountiful crops with the corpses of his victims, and put a hoe head on his mic's staff. Behold his new show, Farm Talk Radio.. May the gods have mercy on her for these evil thoughts. AHEM. Back to reality, no farmer deer here, just a man with wiggly hands who hasn't managed to kill an Okra plant yet. "Of course! Now, do either of you want dessert, or should I flag down the waiter for our bill?"

Sir Pentious

"DESSERT? SHOULD YOU OFFER HIM MORE FOOD?" Pentious scoffed, still working on his soup. Dipp.... The sandwich.... IN THE SOUP. What a rebel. OH it's delicious.

Alastor

"He has a point. If I get any more plates, I'm going to have to start holding them in my lap!" He considers the offer anyway. The problem with ordering dessert is that, generally, you only get dessert foods. Anyway, he was pretty full. Surprise surprise. "I think I'm taken care of!"

Valera

"Alright, thank you Alastor." Valera raises a very pointed eyebrow at Pentious. Answer for yourself, fool. But he hadn't said yes, so she'll wave down the waiter.. and watch them put the bill in front of Pentious. Right, this is the sixties. She's just going to take that and pay, thanks.

Sir Pentious

He fucking gave it the STINK EYE like No fuckin waY. Still finishing off his soup... "I SUPPOSE AFTER THIS WE HEAD BACK?"

Alastor

Sir Pentious is over here reinventing the au jus sandwich, it's a wonder he registered the dessert question at all. "Tip them very well." Does Alastor want to see what the bill is? Probably not. "We could! Or you could put up with me while I drag you halfway around Manhattan seeing what's still standing! But you'd probably want to re-kill me by the end of that." He looks around, do they have doggy bags? Or is he going to have to slide this food into a pocket dimension as they are, plates and all? He wouldn't mind stealing the plates, but...

Valera

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe we'll have to make another day trip closer to your own time, Alastor! That sounds fun." Valera hums, looks at the food, looks at the pathetic little waxed paper bags covered in pictures of dogs the waiter gave her.. Then reaches into her purse and pulls out extremely not period accurate takeout boxes that CERTAINLY didn't fit in there to hand off to Alastor. "Here, dear. Don't worry, they won't see anything."

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious is just like. Looking, but mostly after he's done his soup (finally) he sits back and cleans up his face, pulling the handkerchief out and setting it down on the table. "HA HA HA HA!!! OH, WHAT AN ENJOYABLE LITTLE TRIP THIS HAS BEEN!"

Alastor

His own time. He isn't sure if he even wants that. A question for later. He takes the boxes and starts loading one up. "Is that a reassurance, or are you planning on creating a distraction across the room? Because if you weren't, I was ready to ignite something on the table by the stage." He beams at Sir Pentious. "We must do this again! And sooner rather than later!"

Valera

"I don't need to make a distraction, I just suggested to the population of this establishment that they care more about their own business at the current moment. The guests are enjoying their meals, and the waitstaff don't need to come tidy up here for another ten or so minutes." Valera raises an eyebrow at Alastor, slides her gaze from him to Pentious and back again, and smirks. "Perhaps next time we'll have to visit a museum, those are always good fun. I'd be interested in seeing one of the exhibits on Pentious for myself, and I'm sure at least one of you would be over the moon as well."

Sir Pentious

Pentious glances over at Valera, and his smile falters somewhat. Thinking about it... Would he be featured in a Museum? Of course, he must be in some history books, but... Why hadn't he heard so much about it when he was in Hell? Was it just because he mostly met a lot of Americans? "ER, YES. QUITE! I WOULD LIKE TO SEE SOMETHING LIKE THAT--THOUGH I IMAGINE THEY WOULD ATTEMPT TO PSYCHO-ANALYIZE ME OR SOMETHING. IT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING WATCHING THEM ATTEMPT TO CRACK MY GENIUS MIND!"

Alastor

“Oh, we can go laugh at everything they got wrong, then! You can look at the artifacts and we’ll read the plaques for you and tell you which ones are the most wrong.” Sir Pentious’s lack of enthusiasm has been noted; but Alastor’s too excited by the prospect of the trip to focus on that at the moment. He wants to see a Sir Pentious museum display and by god, he’s gonna. “It sounds like a spectacular trip! And I’ve been dying to find out how your history differs from my local version of you!”

Valera

"It's one thing to know the man himself, but quite another to see how the world at large remembers their villains." She reaches over to take Pentious' hand, giving it a squeeze. It's alright. "I did cheat a little, I'll admit. I've been to this reality at least once before, so I did some research to find the museums that had the BEST exhibits dedicated to my beau. I've already got one picked out for the three of us, schedules permitting."

Sir Pentious

He looks up at her, eyes wide. There are a great number of thoughts buzzing around in his head. Why didn't you tell me? being one of them, but... Would he want to be told? It was hard even for himself to predict his own reaction sometimes. Still, the fact that there are exhibits dedicated to him..... Sir Pentious turns back round, settling in his wheelchair and adjusting his blanket. "VERY GOOD THEN! WE WILL MAKE IT A TRIP. I WILL MAKE A POINT OF POINTING OUT ANY AND ALL INACCURACIES."

Alastor

“Who could ask for a better tour guide!” That’s the last of the leftovers loaded into boxes. Alastor glances around to make sure everyone still seems to be paying them no attention, then quietly opens up a neat little square-shaped portal on the table and drops the boxes through. “Depending on what’s in the museum, maybe we could steal back some of your possessions. You know, if there happens to be anything you want to retrieve.”

Valera

"Is it really stealing if they're going back to their rightful owner? I would think not!" The conveniences of demon magic are not to be underestimated. Food no longer crowding the table and plates stacked for the busboys, Valera stands, reaches into her purse, hesitates a moment, then drops a pair of twenty dollar bills on the table. Is that a generous enough tip? She has no idea. But it's more than twenty percent and that's what matters. Probably. Hopefully. Alastor will probably say something if it isn't. Maybe. Gods help her.

Sir Pentious

TWENTY DOLLARS---oh right, Penny is from the late 19th century. He clears his throat. Sometimes he forgets that money is ridiculous in one hundred years. Though he does chuckle, "NOW YOU ARE A TRUE NOBLEMAN, VALERA. YOU HANDLE YOUR MONEY LIKE YOU'VE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT!"

Alastor

“I would think not either! I doubt the museum will see it that way, but that’s their problem, isn’t it?” TWENTY DOLLARS—oh right, the money is imaginary and capitalism is made up. They’re going to be making some waiter’s night.

Valera

She looks at Pentious, glancing at the money on the table before clearing her throat and striking a dramatic pose, complete with fluttering lashes and her hands clasped together under her chin. "Money is like manure. It's not worth a thing unless it's spread around, encouraging young things to grow." Nice save.

Sir Pentious

Ohhh, he sees what you did there. Clap, clap, clap. "FROM THE GOODNESS OF YOUR HEARTS? NYA HA HA!"

Alastor

Alastor cracks up. It was a good reference! Applause from him too. “I did say we should tip generously!”

Valera

Oh thank the gods, they bought it. She takes a bow, then props her hands on her hips and squints down at the table in thought. Food was sorted, tip was sorted.. That was everything, right? A nod, and she retrieves her compact and begins reapplying her lipstick. She can't walk out of here looking like she ate or anything, goodness. "You did indeed, my dear fellow. Are you both ready to go, then?"

Sir Pentious

"YES, LET US BE OFF. I SHOULD LIKE TO RETURN TO MY TRUE FORM--IT IS A PAIN TO NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE AS EFFICIENTLY ON MY OWN. I SHOULD DESIGN A BETTER CHAIR FOR THE FUTURE ENDEAVORS."

Alastor

“And I’m missing my studio audience and sound effects department. The world’s entirely too quiet!” He says in the middle of a jazz performance. Quiet is relative. (It really is too quiet, though. For a moment, in the subway, he even lost the signals from New York’s radio stations. He’d forgotten the inside of his head could ever be so silent—and he can’t stand it.) Alastor gets to his feet, ready to go. “Let’s!”

Valera

Wonderful. Another tick off the checklist, then. Valera hops up, takes one last look around the club, and goes around to take the handles of Pentious' chair. "That sounds like a fantastic idea, love. If we really do plan on this being a regular occurrence, you're going to need a lot more freedom of movement." And with that, she pushes him towards the exit. It'll be a small matter to transport them back to her room as they walk through the doors, as seamless an exit as could be asked for.

#hissandvinegar #autokrates #chat log

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strawberrysoup · 5 years ago

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Let’s Review || Chapter 4

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

When she was younger, Penny could remember her mother blaming little problems around the house on trolls. She said they were little gremlin like creatures that crept around in the dark and sabotaged things just enough to be inconvenient. Whenever Penny forgot something stupid, or worse, something important, she blamed the trolls. Forgetting her purse? The trolls. Forgetting to turn off the lights when she left the apartment? The trolls. Forgetting to make a to-do list? Trolls, obviously.

The latter, of course, was the worst. Forgetting to do things was annoying, but forgetting to do them even though you’d thought about making a to-do list and then just didn’t? A nightmare. Fucking trolls.

Penny had left the apartment with all the necessities; shoes, purse, phone, keys. She had a plan in mind that started with an outrageously expensive coffee and ended with a haircut. She knew what her plan was, had everything she needed. And that’s why she blamed trolls for the way her morning went.

When she got in line to get her coffee, she dug into her purse only to find that her wallet wasn’t in it. Which was ridiculous, because her wallet was always in her purse. She never took it out at home. The only options were that A. Peter took it (a joke) or B. She had been pickpocketed on the subway. Her head dropped back on her shoulders and she groaned loudly, ignoring the looks from the hipsters surrounding her.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

Penny startled slightly and turned, not expecting a voice to come from quite so close behind her. The coffee shop was super busy, she shouldn’t have been so shocked that the patron behind her was so close, but it still startled her to nearly bump her nose on the man’s chest. She rocked back on her heel in surprise, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for the man reaching out and steadying her by the shoulders.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands were fucking huge. They covered her shoulders entirely and curled down towards her shoulder blades, his grip tight enough to keep her on her feet but not bruising.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m,” she gulped slightly and shook her head, “sorry, I’m fine, just a drama queen I guess.”

“Are you sure? You seemed bothered by something before I scared you.”

Penny gave a small shrug and sighed with a self-deprecating smile on her face, “I think I was pickpocketed on the subway, my wallet’s gone. Should’ve been paying more attention I guess.”

She needed to get back home and call the bank, her debit card and credit card were in that wallet. And her driver’s license too, which meant a trip to the DMV. Was it even worth it to get a new one at this point? She literally planned to be in jail (prison?) by the end of the week.

“That’s horrible,” the frown on the man’s face didn’t do anything to mar how stupidly beautiful he was, “let me buy your coffee.”

“What? Oh my God, no, you don’t have to do that!” Penny had forgotten that his hands were still on her shoulders until she lifted her arms to wave off his concern, accidentally bumping against his elbows.

“Please, I’d like to,” he moved his arms, only to grab her flailing hands for just a moment before letting them go and moving to stand at her side rather than behind her, “my boyfriend should be showing up any moment and he’d skin me if I didn’t pay for you.”

She momentarily considered that Fuck All the Good Ones Really Are Gay right before relief filled her. Ever since the incident with Brock, men showing any amount of interest in her gave her goosebumps. Having a boyfriend meant that this one at least couldn’t have any ulterior motives, he was literally just being a good person. A genuine smile crossed her face at the realization.

“I guess it would be in bad taste for me to say no then, I wouldn’t want your boyfriend to skin you alive.”

“Alive?” The blond beside her laughed, a bone achingly deep and attractive laugh, “I want to point out that you escalated that, I assumed I would be dead before he skinned me.”

“Why am I skinning you, alive or dead?”

The man who appeared was definitely on par with the Adonis she’d already been speaking to. Standing next to each other, it was like looking at the cover of Men’s Fitness. He was tall and tan and built like a fucking tank, his shoulders looked so broad she wondered how he fit through doorways. Both of them, actually, how did either of them fit through doorways with shoulders wider than most people’s arm spans? Okay, that was an exaggeration but Penny was just about floored by how freaking attractive they both were.

“For not offering to pay for her coffee after she got her wallet stolen,” the blond responded with a grin, leaning over slightly to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek.

“You get mugged, sweetheart?” The frown on the brunet’s face was a goddamn crime and Penny quickly shook her head.

“No, no! Just pickpocketed, I think. Probably on the subway, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve been. It’s really not a big deal, I didn’t have any cash on me and I’ll just have my cards cancelled,” she gave a shrug and moved forward with the line, trying to pretend she wasn’t actually super upset over having to deal with yet another heap of bullshit.

“Well, Stevie’s right anyway, I’d skin him for not buying you a coffee. Are you traumatized doll? I’ll make him spring for a scone too.” Did he just wink at her? Penny’s told her heart not to stutter like that, he had a boyfriend for fuck’s sake.

“I don’t think I’m traumatized,” Penny turned big, brown eyes on the blond and tilted her head down for effect, “but I might be a little shaken, like enough for a cake pop.”

She didn’t notice the way both of them gripped each other’s waists, as if having to hold each other up under the onslaught of her puppy dog eyes, or the way that the brunet pinched his boyfriend’s side to keep him from offering her the entire world on a platter if she asked for it.

“A cake pop it is, sweetheart,” Stevie (Steve, Penny she supposed she should probably call him) gave her a nearly blinding grin and she had to stop herself from taking a step back in awe, “What’ll you have to drink?”

“A vanilla latte? Please,” she cleared her throat slightly, “Steve, was it? And you are?”

“Call me Bucky,” the brunet held his hand out for her to take and she hesitated for only a second, reminding herself again that they were gay, gay, gay before she shook it, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“I’m Penny, thank you guys for being so kind,” they’d made it to the register and she stepped aside slightly so that Steve could center himself in front of the barista.

“Large black coffee, large white mocha, and a large vanilla latte please,” he ordered politely, before putting his arm around Penny’s shoulder and nudging her towards the dessert display, “Which cake pop did you want doll?”

Penny had to literally reign herself in under the weight of his arm, to not go stiff in fear or swoon at the feeling, “t-the, uhm, chocolate one, please.”

“And a chocolate cake pop,” Steve directed the barista with a smile.

“And a blueberry scone,” Bucky interrupted, jabbing his finger at the case, “And one of those giant chocolate chip cookies.”

The barista glanced at Steve for confirmation, who just nodded in response and held out a matte black credit card, “you two go sit, I’ll bring everything out once it’s done.”

“Ah finally, let’s ditch this punk, sweetheart,” Bucky snatched Penny’s hand and tugged her away from the line, heading for a table in the corner that was recently vacated.

She just barely heard Steve scoff before they got too far away, letting Bucky pull out her chair before sitting down. It vaguely registered in the back of her mind that this was the most bizarrely pleasant situation she’d ever been in. Considering the amount of shit she dealt with on a regular basis, it was a breath of fresh air. It was kind of a shame she hadn’t met the pair of them before she’d started actively planning how to get thrown in jail.

“I think Stevie made a mistake,” Bucky snorted, breaking her from her thoughts and drawing her attention to Steve, who was fumbling with three coffees and several pastries.

The squeaking noise she made upon standing to go help was not deliberate and actually kind of embarrassing. She was pretty sure Bucky laughed at it as she walked away, quickly stealing one of the coffees and two of the pastry bags from Steve’s hands.

“Thanks doll, nice to know one of you has some manners,” Steve shot his boyfriend a look as he and Penny sat down, winking at the brunet when she wasn’t looking.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so good looking or I wouldn’t put up with this kind of BS,” Bucky stated casually, reaching over to snatch his mocha from Steve’s grasp.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t reply to his boyfriend, “so, Penny, what do you do?”

The casual opening for conversation made Penny immediately uncomfortable and she shifted in her seat as he passed over her coffee and cake pop, “oh, lots of things. Barista, day care, that sort of stuff.”

“Day care, huh? You a kid person?” Bucky asked as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly as he burnt his tongue, “that shit’s hot, watch your tongue, doll.”

Penny shifted the cup between her hands carefully but avoided drinking any, “Kids are precious. Annoying as all Hell sometimes, but I do like working with them. I’m usually with the infants anyway, toddlers occasionally. At that age they’re just cute.”

“We never been around kids too much,” Bucky shoved almost half of the blueberry scone into his mouth in one go, mumbling something around the bite immediately after.

Steve rolled his eyes and reached across the table from his place next to Penny, pulling the scone away and replacing it with a napkin, “manners, jerk. I think he was saying we’ve only been around older kids.”

Bucky nodded in response, picking up the napkin to wipe his face before gesturing for the rest of the scone. Instead of giving it back, Steve pushed it in front of Penny before resting his arm over the back of her chair.

“Let Penny have some before you murder the rest of it, Buck,” the blond admonished, “have at, sweetheart.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t need any,” she shook her head and pushed the bag over to Bucky, “thank you though.”

“Nah doll, you eat the rest of this, I’m gonna hit this cookie.”

He repeated the process of sticking at least 50% of the cookie into his mouth in one go, chewing obnoxiously while Steve dropped his face into his hands in embarrassment.

“You’re a nightmare, I can’t believe I bring you out in public.”

Penny laughed happily at their exchange, enjoying the casual friendliness. She got so wrapped up in the whole experience that by the time she noticed the clock, two hours had gone by.

“Oh shit! I’ve got so much to do today and—crap, I’ve gotta go home so I can cancel my credit cards,” she slapped a hand against her forehead, finally remembering that she was busy today. A lot of planning went into getting put in jail for child neglect and she was dropping the ball.

“Here doll, you can borrow my phone to cancel your cards,” Steve started digging into his pocket but Penny waved him off.

“I have a phone, I just have to get on my computer to look up the numbers to call,” she stood up, shoving her hand into her purse to grab her phone, only to freeze.

Her fucking wallet was in her purse. A deep red blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck. It would’ve been one thing to have missed that her wallet was in her purse, but Steve had gone out of his way to pay for her coffee. Embarrassment coursed through her.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?” Bucky stood from his seat, hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he curled his shoulders down, making her feel engulfed by his presence.

“I,” she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, “I’m so embarrassed. I just found my wallet, it was in my purse, I swear I wasn’t trying to scam you— it wasn’t in there, I know it wasn’t but now it is and I—”

“Calm down, sweetheart, its alright,” she’d been drawn in to an all-encompassing hug before she really knew what was happening, pressed tightly to Bucky’s chest with his hand gently stroking the back of her head, “we don’t think you scammed us, it was an honest mistake. We’re just glad you didn’t get robbed, right Stevie?”

“Absolutely, doll, I’m glad you found it,” Steve had stood up as well and was standing just beside the pair, close enough that she could feel his body radiating heat, “don’t be embarrassed, things like that happen.”

Tears were welling in Penny’s eyes; how the fuck had she come across such nice, kind people at such a time in her life, “sorry, I don’t mean to be so emotional. Just having a rough go of things, I guess. Look, I really do need to get going. Thank you both so much for being so nice.”

“You don’t have to thank us for being nice,” the blond gave a small grin, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder from where she was still wrapped in Bucky’s arms, “How about we get your phone number before you leave? We’d love to have you over for dinner some time.”

Penny hesitated for a moment as they both reached for their phones; what was the point of giving them her contact information? Her days of freedom were shortly numbered, if they tried to call her they’d think she was ignoring them when she never answered. But still, what was the harm— she’d never see them again most likely. Even when she got out of jail she’d have a record of child abuse and who the fuck wanted to be friends with a child abuser?

She quickly punched her number into their phones and waited for each of them to call her cell so she’d have theirs, “well, it was great meeting you guys! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Are you going somewhere nearby?” Steve gave a wide smile as he stepped a bit closer, sweeping his arm between himself and Bucky, “we’d be happy to walk you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Penny shook her head, distracted enough by the phone in her hand and the text message she’d gotten from Peter at some point during their conversation that she didn’t notice the way Steve’s smile tightened, “I’m just going to the salon to get my hair done.”

“We’ll walk you doll,” Bucky’s grin was as charming as the rest of him and she tried not to swoon, “You can tell us who you’re so excited to hear from on the way.”

“Excited to hear from?” She frowned in confusion before the brunet gestured to her phone, “Oh! Just my little brother, he got a 100% on his chem test, highest grade in the class.”

“That’s wonderful, must be a real smart kid,” The expression on Steve’s face was soft and fond as he led them out the door, and Penny wondered if he was thinking of his own little sibling from the proud glint in his eye.

“Peter’s a genius, we always joke that when I was born I took all the chaos and left him all the IQ points,” she flipped her pay-as-you-go phone back open as she received another text from the kid in question, “although with how often he gets his ass beat at school maybe he did get a bit of chaos too. I should’ve taught him to fight but he’s scrawny and I always worried he’d break his wrist trying to punch someone.”

“He gets beat up a lot?” She didn’t look up from her phone, too busy replying to Peter to catch the furious expressions the boyfriends exchanged over her head as they continued down the street.

“Nerd on nerd violence is surprisingly common,” Penny pursed her lips and waved her hand flippantly, “and he doesn’t get beat up anymore. I paid this girl in his grade to beat up his main bully when they were in freshman year and then Peter became friends with her, so he doesn’t get messed with too much anymore. I guess Flash was just super pissed Peter got a better grade in chem this time around,” a careful shrug came as she opened a new text message, “MJ will take care of it. I can’t beat up minors anymore.”

“You paid a girl to beat a kid up?” There was a disapproving tone in Steve’s voice and Penny immediately stopped walking and texting, looking up at the blond with a scowl.

“If it laid hands on the kid they’d of slapped me with a lawsuit and taken Peter away. He was too small to fight for himself, so yea, I paid one of his classmates to beat the shit out of the boy who sent him home with a black eye and bruised ribs. And I’m not ashamed of it either, that little asshole deserved what he got,” she jabbed her finger at his chest and left it there forcefully, “If I could’ve beaten the shit out of that little punk for what he’d done, I would’ve in a heartbeat. MJ was my next best option. If you’ve got a problem with how I take care of my little brother, you can get fucked because I couldn’t care less what some stranger thinks of—”

“Hey, hey, doll,” Bucky quickly stepped in, cutting her off and gently taking her wrist to pull her hand away from Steve’s chest, “I’m sorry my man put his foot in it. He’s a dumbass, doesn’t think before he speaks and certainly doesn’t consider the impact of his words. Steve, apologize.”

Penny pulled her hand away from the brunet and lifted both in a placating gesture, “I’m not interested in an apology, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve really got to get going.”

“Wait!” Before she really knew what was happening, Steve had grabbed both her arms and stepped into her space, holding her tightly in place, “please wait, Penny, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she tried to pull her arms back but he held firm, keeping her far closer than she was comfortable with, “let go of me, please.”

“You take great care of your brother, Penny, I shouldn’t have judged how you decide to do that.”

Bucky came up right behind, boxing her in between the pair and put his arms on her shoulders when she tried to pull back again, “hey, calm down sweetheart, don’t get upset.”

“Get off me! Both of you!” A spark of panic was starting to shoot through her, voice rising as she yanked hard on her hands and bumped roughly back against Bucky, “Get the fuck off!”

“Hey, what’s going on over here?!” Penny’s head snapped to the left to see a little old lady barging her way through the crowd, garnering the attention of several other people on the way, “you let her go, right now!”

Bucky and Steve pulled away like they’d been burned, both with placating, placid looks on their faces. Penny didn’t stick around to see if they could talk their way out of the situation, taking off down the street in a dead run. They were so fucking charming, so handsome they could probably talk their way out of a paper bag. She continued straight passed the salon she’d planned to stop at and kept running until she couldn’t anymore. Her breath came in exhausting pants and she bent over, holding her chest.

What the fuck, how could such a pleasant morning go so badly so fast? Bucky and Steve had seemed so nice and then out of nowhere thought they could manhandle her however they pleased. She could still feel Steve’s hands circling her wrists, Bucky’s pressing down on her shoulders and her back against his chest. The sensation of being held down hadn’t just been terrifying but had brought back brutal memories of being assaulted.

Just like when she’d been attacked, fury pumped through her veins. Those assholes, those fucking assholes. Penny found herself heading down to the closest subway station and getting on the train towards home. Fuck the salon, fuck getting her nails done, all she wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s bed and hide under the covers. It was easy to forget about everything she had to do that day in the wake of her panic.

Peter was still texting her, she could feel her cell phone vibrating inside of her purse as she boarded the subway and sat down heavily. She’d been out of the apartment for hours, accomplished nothing, and was thoroughly exhausted. Her head dropped back against the window and she clenched her eyes shut. The blows just kept coming. What a nightmare.

#steve rogers x oc x bucky barnes #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!mcu #let's review #let's review chapter 4

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spacesnail3000 · 5 years ago

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Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 16: I Don’t Want Your Shitty Tuna Casserole

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: The ingredients for a dramatic funeral include unbreakable tension from your two ex-lovers, confronting your fears and past traumas by talking to your father's corpse, and a swiftly planned escape with your new best friend!

Word Count: 5,530

Warnings: Language, drinking, angst, sad Bucky :(

Masterlist / AO3

A/N: Hi everyone, I just want to say thank you for the response on the last chapter! All of your comments are amazing! Also I want to thank @Jessieray98 my beta reader, she is awesome! I hope to have the next chapter out before Christmas, hopefully!!!

The wake was tedious. As soon as they got to the funeral home, crowds of people lined up to offer their condolences. Y/N, dressed in a sweet little black dress with cap sleeves, opaque black tights, hair pulled back with shiny barrettes, was a perfect little doll to receive her father’s mourners.

She stood at the entrance of the small chapel. Pym & van Dyne Funeral Home was owned by Hank Pym and Janet van Dyne, two of the oldest associates of the mob. Y/N didn’t know exactly what they did for the mob, but she had to assume that dead bodies were involved.

The body in question, her own father’s, was at the front of the chapel, his casket surrounded by people. As she had expected, all of the attendees were part of the mob. Tony had parked her in the doorway of the chapel to receive them, to listen to the kindhearted words and sad cadence and see their sorry eyes looking back at her.

They all wanted him dead. She knew it. It made dealing with all this bullshit that much harder.

Their words grated on her mind.

I’m sorry for your loss.

How are you holding up?

Is there anything we can do for you?

And she had to perform to them just as well as they did. A sad little smile. Soft tone and feeble words. Wiping away a tear every now and then. Playing the part of the mob’s little doll. Their crown jewel, ignorant to her father’s horrific crimes and the circumstances of his death. Nobody to protect her anymore.

Her eyes were vacant and her smiles were fake. Anyone who really looked could see it. Not that her audience did.

The casket drew her attention again and again. She hadn’t gone up there yet—hadn’t seen him. She didn’t want to. Her stomach felt like it was going to eject itself from her body whenever she thought about it.

“Here, honey, we brought this tuna casserole,” one of the mob wives said, pressing a Pyrex dish into her hands. “I’ll need the bakeware back once you’re done, if you don’t mind.”

Y/N looked at the dish, covered with aluminum foil. She forced a smile. I don’t want your shitty tuna casserole. “Thank you, Jane. Thor.”

Thor placed an enormous hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. “Little one, if you need anything, we are here for you,” She drooped under the weight of his touch.

They moved on, and she looked back at the casserole.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

She looked up, blinking back tears—where did those come from? Fortunately, they immediately dried up when she caught sight of Bucky and Steve staring at her from across the room.

Once she had made her arrangement with Tony, she had hurriedly gotten ready while Steve and Tony had a shouting match in the living room.

“She’s not going to NYU—how the fuck are we supposed to protect her?”

“Maybe she can commute—”

“To Manhattan?” Steve scoffed. “Every fucking morning? Twice a day? Not a chance. You think she’s taking the subway at night—you’re out of your goddamn mind!”

“Then she’ll have to move to Manhattan, Steve! Jesus! I can’t make everything perfect!”

“This is absurd! This is a death wish for her!”

“No one seems to be after her—”

“Not yet!”

“I’ll have men watching her as security—”

Bucky interjected for the first time, calmer than the other two. “We’re better security for her than anyone, Tony. You know we are.”

“At this point, I’m not too sure about that,” Tony snarked. “My guys aren’t gonna beat her and take her innocence, that’s for sure!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with that!” Steve yelled. “We do not beat her—alright? I’ve hit her a few times when she deserved it—"

Tony cut him off. “I told you that you wouldn’t be able to handle her—and I was right. Wasn’t I?”

“No, you weren’t fucking right!”

“Maybe this is what’s best for her. To be on her own for a little while. Maybe it’ll make her appreciate the mob a little more.”

She hadn’t seen so much as heard the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen. “Steve,” Bucky sighed, exasperated. “Really?”

And then she heard Steve’s voice, strained and tight. “If she can find a way to pay for tuition, and if she can find suitable housing. Okay? If she can do that, then she can go to NYU.”

A long pause, and then Tony said, “That’s fair. You’ve got a deal.”

Steve snorted. “You really think she’s ever gonna be able to afford an apartment in Greenwich Village?”

Well, Y/N had scoffed at that and gotten right back to layering on mascara. Challenge accepted.

The car ride to the funeral home had been tense, and Steve had resolutely ignored her the entire way. Even Bucky hadn’t seemed very happy with her, but it was more in a kicked puppy kind of way that almost made her feel bad.

Until she remembered that he helped kill her father.

Once they got to the wake, the boys mingled with a few people and then disappeared with Sam and Natasha. She lost track of them after that.

Until now.

They stood by the refreshments table, each holding a few vanilla sandwich cookies and little plastic cups of pink lemonade. Whoever had provided the refreshments had not done well by her father—especially with all the money that she suspected this funeral home regularly laundered.

Steve was glaring at her, and Bucky was looking at her with an unreadable expression. Somehow sad and angry and something else—he was closing off, she could tell, upset by her choices.

Well, tough. She was 18 years old—she could make her own decisions. And she had decided that she wasn’t going to let delinquent men embedded in organized crime run her life anymore.

She turned away from their intense stares. Part of her was wary about what they were planning to do to her. What could they do, though? She had Tony on her side.

For the rest of the wake, she held onto that damn casserole. At least it prevented her from having to shake everyone’s hands or give them hugs as they greeted her.

Slowly, all the people filtered out. Steve and Bucky’s eyes still bore into her back, she could feel it, but soon, the chapel was almost empty.

Tony approached her. “Whatcha got there, kiddo?”

“Tuna casserole.”

His brow quirked. “Ah. Hmm. Why?”

She shrugged.

“Have you gone up to see him?”

“Nope.”

“You should.”

“Um. No thanks.”

“Here, I’ll take that.” He took hold of the Pyrex dish and pulled, but she wouldn’t let it go. “Hon. Give me the casserole.” A few more tugs and she finally relinquished it, only because she didn’t want tuna and cream of mushroom soup all over her dress.

Tony breathed out a sigh and motioned to the casket with the casserole. “Go.”

Looking around, she realized she was surrounded by men trying to strongarm her into doing things she didn’t want to do. Steve, Bucky, and Rhodes were all in the room for backup. All bigger and stronger than her, all probably packing guns in the waistbands of their slacks. Great.

She swallowed the taste of bile. “Fine.”

She approached the casket slowly, dragging her feet, her heart pounding harder with each step. It felt like she had swallowed a bowling ball.

A shuddering breath released from her lips when she got to the edge.

He looked almost the same. That was the most shocking part. It looked like he could be alive, if not a little sick, like he had the flu.

Veins jarringly blue underneath thin, waxy white skin. Deep bags underneath his eyes. The smell of antiseptic coming off his body—almost like vodka, if she stretched her imagination.

It made her sick, regardless.

She waited.

She didn’t know what to expect. She was almost waiting for him to open his eyes, look at her, say it was all fake. Maybe he faked his death. That would make sense—right? That’s something he could do as a mob leader, wasn’t it?

He stayed still. He wasn’t coming back.

It was foolish to think he would.

She took a deep breath. Was she supposed to speak to him? She wasn’t sure how this worked.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” she said. She reached out and touched his suit, his satin tie, perfectly knotted, the handkerchief in his pocket. “You’re not my father. I know that now. Great timing, right?” Her fingers trailed up and ran over his jaw. His skin was ice cold and she withdrew her hand quickly. “Well. I don’t know what I would say to you if you were alive. I’d ask why you did all this. And you would say some bullshit like you wanted to protect me. And that wouldn’t give me any real closure about why you’re a terrible man.”

She sniffed, wondering for a moment if she was being too crass for a funeral home. But when she looked back at Tony, he nodded at her, encouraging.

“I get really mad about it sometimes. I get really mad about a lot of things sometimes. But when I get mad, I know I would never hurt anyone like you did to me and Mom. You’ve done a lot of shit. And now I don’t know how to feel about it, or you, or anyone. And—I don’t know. That’s kind of fucked up.

“Can you even hear me now? Is this how this kind of thing works? Are you in Hell, like the Bible says? Or is that all fake?” She laughed, bitter. “What’s the point of any of this?”

Then she turned around and walked right out of the chapel.

The car ride to the church was somehow more awkward than the one to the funeral home.

“That wasn’t how I expected that to go,” Tony said when they stopped at a light.

“What did you expect me to say?” she asked, staring out the window. She was in the passenger seat. Steve and Bucky were in the back, and she could still feel them looking at her. “Did you want me to have a heart to heart with his dead body and forgive him for all his sins? I can’t do that. Only God can.”

Steve snorted, and she turned to scowl at him. He held her gaze, expression not angry now, but almost mocking. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Thankfully, they pulled up to the church seconds later, and Y/N shot out of the car and up the steps before he could say anything.

The church had always provided her a sense of calm. Peace, and tranquility—a constant in her life. Mass every Sunday, church choir, volunteer events on Saturday mornings, and the entire church community she had grown up with. It had always been a place where she could go for refuge, particularly when her father was dealing with business and Steve and Bucky weren’t available. It was her last resort, but a comforting one, nonetheless.

Now, as she stepped into the chapel, she felt conflicted. All of the events of the past week came flooding back into her mind—namely the premarital sex, which the nuns at her school along with her priest had always warned her against. She used to meet every week with the youth group at the church and talk about saving virginity for marriage—but now, that life seemed so far away. She wasn’t the same girl anymore.

Her parents were gone, her best friends were murderers, and incidentally, they had also taken her virginity—forcefully, at that.

As she sat in the front row next to Pepper, the hard wood of the pew dug into the flesh of her backside—another painful reminder of her depraved transgressions. It no longer stung like it had that night—for the past two days, it had been an incessant ache, a fresh bruise that wouldn’t heal. The flesh was colored black and purple with splotches of broken red, tender and swollen to the touch. Now, the dull ache thrummed on her flesh and down her thighs, and she sat straight, still, embracing the pain rather than flinching away from it.

It allowed her something to focus on throughout the sermon. The words that the priest spoke were meaningless to her now. She didn’t want to listen about how Heaven had gained a good soul, or how Obadiah would be missed, or how we must believe in the resurrection of Jesus, or that we may reunite with our loved ones in the afterlife. She knew the truth—that her father had sinned beyond redemption and if any of this was true, he would be in Hell.

Somehow, she managed to dissociate throughout the remainder of the sermon until she felt Pepper’s hand on her shoulder.

“Time for the Eucharist, honey,” she said gently. “Come on.”

She received the body and blood of Christ with a blank expression, chewing the dry wafer with a clenched jaw, barely tasting the wine as she sipped from the priest’s chalice. She didn’t see the pitying expressions the priest and the rest of the congregation gave her as she walked back to her seat. She didn’t realize how well she was acting the role of the grieving daughter.

Muscle memory guided her through the rest of the funeral, as she recited the prayers and rites by heart, the wooden kneeler of the pew digging sharp into the bones of her knees, before her feet led her behind the coffin as they brought it to the graveyard behind the church.

It was a beautiful day—sunny and bright, one of the last warm days before autumn. She focused on how the sun felt on her skin while they said the last prayers, the Rite of Committal, and then Tony was taking her hand, leading her to the grave after it was lowered into the ground.

Following his lead, she took a handful of dirt. Before sprinkling it onto her father’s coffin, she stopped, paused to think, to take one last look and commit the sight to memory.

And then the dirt slipped through her fingers, sifting down onto the wooden casket with a whisper.

She was tired. They were back at the Brooklyn house she grew up in for the memorial service, the imposing brownstone that contained nothing but bitter memories. Everything looked the same—and she had only been gone for two days, so she should have expected as much.

So she sought refuge in the kitchen, away from the crowd. There was so much food. Not just Jane’s tuna casserole, but baked ziti, devilled eggs, blueberry muffins, macaroni and cheese, tiny meatballs, two huge Edible Arrangements.

How could anyone eat? How was anybody hungry at a time like this?

She slumped down on the kitchen table, remembering when her life was normal, and her mother and father would come downstairs and eat breakfast with her, and then she would run off to school and she didn’t have to worry that her father was a mob boss.

Those days were long passed. She felt empty, knowing that her life would never be like that again. What was left for her now?

There was NYU, she reasoned—if Tony kept his promise, that is. But she needed a way to pay for it. Her biological father had left her money in his will—and from what she had seen, it would be enough to cover at least one year of college—she hoped.

And then she needed housing. That would be trickier.

As if God was listening to her, a saving grace walked into the kitchen at that exact moment.

Wanda’s eyes lit up when she saw Y/N and she rushed over to the kitchen table. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I didn’t get a chance to see you at the wake.” Wanda enveloped her in a hug, her warmth and her scent washing over her, vanilla and oranges. Then she pulled back, looking over Y/N’s gaunt face and tired eyes. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know how to feel.”

Wanda nodded. “That’s normal. You’re grieving.” She paused, and frowned. “Have you eaten?” The look on her face gave her away—Wanda always could see right through her. “I’ll make you something.”

Y/N focused on the sounds of Wanda moving through the kitchen, even while her thoughts raced through her mind. Should she room in the dorms? Or get an apartment? What could she afford? She had no idea about any of this stuff, so sheltered throughout her life that she had no frame of reference for the cost of rent or how to acquire housing in the first place.

“Here.” Before she realized how much time had passed, Wanda was placing a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl of baked ziti on the table in front of her. “Eat.”

“I’m not that hungry, Wanda—”

“You’ll be hungrier once you start eating.” The look on Wanda’s face left no room for arguments. They sat in silence as Y/N ate for the first time in days—and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She was ravenous, almost choking on the noodles with how fast she ate it. Grieving and crying all the time really did work up an appetite.

Once she was done, Wanda got her a second helping, and she went through that one slower, taking her time to savor the flavor. Finally, she felt up to talking. “This is really good.”

“Natasha made it.”

“Oh. How are things going with you two?”

“Good. I’m gonna miss her when classes start next week.”

Then a connection sparked in her brain—the missing connection, the one she had been looking for. Wanda was going to NYU! How could she have forgotten?

“Wanda!” she gasped.

Wanda looked startled, eyes scanning for anything wrong. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to NYU, right?”

“Yeah?”

Y/N clutched Wanda’s hands and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Tony said I could go to NYU! He’s letting me go—and I need your help!”

Wanda squealed, “Y/N! That’s so exciting—”

Y/N clamped her hand over Wanda’s mouth. “Shhh! We need to keep quiet about this!”

“Why?” Wanda’s voice was muffled behind her palm.

“Bucky and Steve don’t want me to go,” she explained, and a realization washed over Wanda’s face. “They said they would let me go if I could pay for it and if I could find housing. But I don’t think they expect me to be able to do it—so they’re not going to let me go if they can help it.”

Wanda nodded and Y/N’s hand slipped away from Wanda’ mouth. “They’ll probably do whatever they can to get in your way,” Wanda said, voice quiet.

“Exactly.”

“Listen—there’s student loans. It might be tough and you’ll be paying them off forever, but—”

“I have money,” Y/N cut her off. “A lot of it.”

Wanda grimaced. “I heard Natasha talking—the FBI is probably going to repossess all your dad’s money. We need a plan B.”

“I have a plan B,” Y/N insisted. Then she finished off the last few bites of ziti and stood. “Follow me.”

They slipped out of the kitchen through the back staircase and snuck upstairs to the hallway outside of her parent’s room. Y/N pulled the string for the attic and hoped that nobody heard the squeaking sound of the stairs pulling out, or their dull footsteps thudding as they climbed into the attic.

“There it is,” Y/N said, walking over to the stack of photos and papers. Everything was exactly like she had left it the other night before Steve had dragged her out of the attic by her hair. “Look at this,” she whispered, kneeling down, dust covering the knees of her tights.

“What is—” Wanda kneeled down beside her. “Holy shit! That’s a lot of zeros!”

“I know!”

“It’s yours?”

“It was left to me by my biological dad.”

“What? Your biological dad?” Wanda looked ready to launch into a thousand questions.

“I’ll explain later,” Y/N cut her off hurriedly. “My mom said the bank account is already in my name and I can do what I want with it now that I’m 18. And the FBI won’t be able to take it away.”

“How long have you known about this?”

“Three days.” Y/N could have laughed at the shocked expression Wanda wore, but she had other concerns. “I need help figuring out if this is enough to cover tuition—”

“Oh, it’s more than enough,” Wanda laughed. She pulled out her phone and went to the calculator app. “Let’s see… It’s just enough to cover tuition for four years.”

“That’s convenient.”

“But probably not enough to cover other expenses—rent and food and stuff.”

“Oh. Well I don’t even know where I’m living yet. Maybe I can find somewhere cheap.”

Wanda grinned, and Y/N was starting to really like the gleam in her eye. “I have just the place for you.”

It was surprisingly easy to sneak out of the house and walk the three blocks to the subway, jump on the F train and take it all the way to 2nd Avenue Station. Last time they came to Manhattan, Wanda had called an Uber, but this time, Wanda insisted on the subway.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to use public transportation if you’re gonna go to NYU,” she claimed as the train jostled through the underground tunnels towards Manhattan.

“Where are we even going?” Y/N asked, but Wanda only smirked.

“It’s a surprise!”

And it was quite a surprise when they got off and promptly walked five blocks east to a brick apartment building, not the newest or cleanest in the city, but not quite in disrepair either. Y/N was confused until Wanda pulled her up to the front entrance, took out a key from her pocket, and unlocked the front entrance.

“We’re all the way on the seventh floor!” Wanda said, “And the elevator doesn’t work!”

The seventh floor, as it turned out, was the top floor. Y/N barely registered this as they burst through the top stairwell into a dim hallway, clutching their sides.

“Aren’t you a pro-swimmer?” Wanda panted, “Shouldn’t you be used to cardio?”

Still breathing hard, she followed Wanda down the hallway. “I’ve been slacking all summer. I’ll be surprised if the NYU team still wants me.” The hallway was lined by exposed brick walls and shabby, pilled carpet that was once red but now matched the brown of the walls.

“You’re gonna love the place!” Wanda said, stopping in front of a door with a dull gold plaque reading 7C.

She unlocked the deadbolt and stepped inside the apartment. “So,” Wanda breathed, “This is the entrance! We have a kitchen and living room here.”

Calling it a kitchen and living room would be generous. It was an open space, crumbling brick walls, concrete floors, exposed pipes and beams in the ceiling. The kitchen was set along the wall to the right—a stove, fridge, sink, and one small area of counter space. A table was crammed up against the wall opposite, six mismatched wooden chairs around it. To the wall opposite the door was a sofa, the brown leather faded and worn. The space was so cramped, barely any room to walk around the furniture. A wrought iron support beam was placed awkwardly between the living room and kitchen, and next to the sofa there was a ladder leading up to a loft area.

“It’s not much,” Wanda said with a small smile. “We’re still looking for furniture and decorations.”

“You live here with other people?”

Wanda nodded, “Yeah, other girls who are going to NYU! I met them through my friend Kate Bishop—you remember her, right? You met her at that party in Tribeca, remember?”

Y/N vaguely recalled a girl with long black hair, bangs, telling her about her father’s publishing company in Manhattan. “Yeah, I think so. Who are the other girls?”

“There’s America and Kamala. They’re Kate’s friends—they’re really nice, you’ll like them a lot. We’ve actually been looking for a fifth roommate for a while now, so it’s really convenient that you need a place now.”

Wanda showed her the rest of the house—what little of it there was. There were four rooms and the loft. America had the biggest room—she was the one who had found the apartment in the first place. Kamala and Wanda both had the two other bedrooms, and Kate had chosen to make the loft her bedroom.

“It’s because the last bedroom—well—it’s kind of…” Wanda shrugged as they reached the end of the narrow hallway. “I’ll just show you.”

She opened the last door on the left, and led Y/N inside. To say it was small was an understatement. It was long and narrow, about the size of her walk-in closet in Brooklyn, barely any room for anything more than a bed. There wasn’t a closet or any lighting, but there was a window, and it barely let in enough natural light for the room.

“That window shares a fire escape with my room next door,” Wanda said. “This used to be a closet but when the owner was renovating, they turned it into a bedroom.”

A smirk played on Y/N’s lips. “The place is renovated?” She wouldn’t have guessed it from the stained concrete floors or the half-finished tiling in the bathroom or the exposed wires in the walls.

Wanda laughed. “Yeah, they didn’t get very far, clearly.” There was a pause as Y/N walked around the small bedroom. “What do you think?”

Their eyes met and she gave Wanda a wry grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll move in if you share some of your closet space with me.”

“It’s a deal!”

Before they left, Wanda helped Y/N figure out her expenses, showed her how to pay for her tuition online, and even helped her call the bank to get a debit card linked to the bank account.

“So, your money will cover all four years of tuition, and barely enough for rent, but you’ll have to get a job to pay utilities and food.”

“Lucky that this place is so cheap. I just don’t know how I’ll have time for a job.”

“Well, look around at some openings—there’s a ton right now since the semester is about to start. You’ll find something, I know it. I’ll help you apply for more scholarships, too.”

They grinned at each other. “Thanks for helping me with this, Wanda. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Wanda scoffed. “You’d probably be paying $4,000 for a one-bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village, that’s what.”

That sent them both into a fit of giggles, and when their laughter died down, they leaned against each other, sitting on the leather couch. “I don’t want to go back,” Y/N said.

“Well, we have to get your stuff and move it here.”

“Yeah… what are the logistics of that? How are we going to get any of my furniture here?”

Wanda shrugged. “We’ll take my car and fit as much stuff as we can into it. We’ll come back if we need to.”

And so it was settled, Y/N would move into the tiny fifth bedroom, and she would go to NYU, and she would finally be free of Steve and Bucky.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tony asked sternly when Wanda and Y/N arrived back at the house. They had been gone for about three hours by then, and most of the people have left, only a few upper members of the mob remaining—to include Bucky and Steve.

The boys had realized she was gone a few hours ago, and Steve had been chain smoking Parliaments while Bucky made his way through the entire tuna casserole, barely containing their rage and anxiety, respectively. By the time they returned, Steve was a few drinks in—at Tony’s insistence, who had been quite literally unable to deal with Steve’s uncontrolled anger suffocating everyone else in the room.

“I went to look at an apartment. I’m moving in with Wanda,” she answered simply before turning her back on him and heading upstairs. Wanda followed her, their hands full of flattened boxes for moving.

With her back turned, she didn’t see the way Bucky’s jaw dropped at the mention of her moving out, nor how Steve’s face began to turn maroon with pending rage.

As soon as they reached her bedroom, the pounding of footsteps up the stairs could be heard, and then Steve, Bucky, and Tony all crowded into her room, all different shades of shocked.

“You found an apartment?” Tony asked, disbelieving.

“Yep.”

“How the hell do you expect to pay for it? Or tuition, for that matter?” Steve demanded.

Y/N leveled him with a cool look. “My biological father left me money. It’s all in my name.” She walked up slowly to him until they were almost touching. “I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me. I’m not going to let you control my life anymore.”

She was surprised she was able to say it so calmly, unphased. Inside, she was shaking, a ball of nerves in her throat, pulse pounding in her neck.

It was silent then, and everyone waited for Steve to respond. His eyes narrowed at her, a sneer coming over his face. His hands clenched into fists and he moved to touch her, but he stopped himself with an incredible show of self-restraint. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, in and then out. “Is this really what you want?” he asked, every muscle stiff with tension.

“Yes,” she answered. “And I want you to leave me alone.”

His eyes opened, narrowing in on her, lips curling into a snarl. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”

She gulped and said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ll call the police.”

He laughed. “You think that’s really gonna make a difference, sweetheart? You think the NYPD can stop me?” His warm breath and the smell of whiskey hit her nose when he spoke. She cringed away for a moment before drawing herself back up to full size, not allowing him to intimidate her.

“It will if I tell them all about how you participated in my dad’s murder. Everything I heard you say, everything I know about it.”

“You don’t have any evidence.”

Tony interjected then, exasperation mixed with exhaustion written in his tone, all over his face. This entire week, with Stane’s arrest, his death, arranging his funeral and then dealing with the breakup of the Three Amigos—it had all worn on him, broken him down, and he had no strength left for it. He had sworn to Obadiah that he would protect his daughter, and the safest place for her was probably NYU, away from the mob, away from other gangs. Plus, she was so determined to go, what could he really do to stop her?

“Jesus Christ, Rogers—let it go. She’s going. It’s done. I really don’t want the police poking around us more than they have to. Leave her alone—and that’s an order. Got it?”

Steve glanced between Tony and the girl in front of him, before sending a scathing glare her way and finally, stepping back, turning away, and stomping downstairs. They heard the front door slam closed, and then she felt like she could breathe.

Bucky, who had been watching the entire exchange with a pained look on his face, stepped up to her. “You’re really doing this?”

“Yes.” She looked at him impassively, uncaring.

“You don’t—” But he didn’t know what to say. He was beginning to realize just how far they had pushed her. They had caused this—with their actions against both her and her father. And he had done nothing to stop Steve from hurting her, nor had he done enough to comfort her in the aftermath of her parents abandoning her.

This was who she was now. She wanted to be alone now, and he needed to let her.

He sighed, resigned to the fact that she hated him now, and that he could do nothing to change that fact. For the last time, he leaned forward, placed a tender kiss on her cheek, surprised that she didn’t push him away. When he pulled back, he thought he saw something in her eyes, but the flash of warmth was quickly replaced by her cold gaze once again. It felt like sandpaper when he swallowed, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop the tightening in his throat.

There was a hoarseness in his voice when he said, “Call me if you need anything, doll.”

And with that, he turned away and left, wondering if he would ever see her again.

152 notes · View notes

winterromanov · 6 years ago

Text

we will grow taller together - bucky x reader

PART ONE - THE GENTLE HUM OF EXISTENTIAL DREAD

parts: zero

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader

Extract: “No. No, what I’m saying is, he needs—they both need—someone. He needs someone to help look after Clover while they both get their lives back on track.” Steve pauses, looking you straight in the eyes. “Someone like you.”

Genre: romance, nanny x single father!AU

Taglist: @blindedbyyourgrace17 @verygraphicink @igotkatiepowers @welcome-to-my-studylife (taglist still open, reply/message to be tagged)

PART ONE

“Next please!”

The queue shuffles along until your face-to-face with yet another tired-looking college student, purple eye-bags visible underneath a pair of circular rimmed glasses. It’s fall dead week and if most of your customers are anything to go by, it certainly lives up to its name. Every single one of the tables spread out on the main floor of Vormir Coffee has been crammed with sleep-deprived teenagers and textbooks, meaning you and your colleagues have been swept off your feet with orders for caffeine products refills. You expect the rush to continue over the next few days as revision turns into actual mid-terms—as is tradition, you’ll be offering free chocolate muffins throughout the week by the door, because nothing heals the pain of a shitty Econ paper like chocolate muffins do.

Yet…as you look in the near-dead, distant eyes of your latest customer, you feel a pang of jealousy deep within your chest. While you’re pouring coffee into refillable mugs and forcing your best service smile (which is a difficult feat nine hours in to a ten hour shift) they’re reading and learning and absorbing.

You miss learning. God, you miss learning, even the terrible impossible chaos of one exam after another and deadlines piling up around you like sandbags. But being, y’know, poor, means there’s not much you can do about your grad school dreams, even if you do spend your free hours searching the internet for outlandish scholarships and funding schemes.

So. For now, it’s coffee. Potentially forever if you want to continue to eat and have electricity, which is just about all you can afford right now. And the occasional lipstick if you’re feeling particularly extravagant.

“What can I get you?” you ask the student, whose scruffy brown hair doesn’t look like it’s been washed in a few days. Oh well. Desperate times require desperate measures. At least you’re not his roommate. He grunts for an inevitable espresso and fishes round his wallet for some spare dollars while you get to work. Moments later you offer him the finished product and he drops the exact change into your hand, skulking away to a table without another word. Well, you’ll forgive a lack of manners during one of the most surreal weeks in the academic year.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

On the announcement of your name your glance flicks back to the remainders of the gradually quietening queue, and your face subconsciously breaks out into a grin when you finally see a customer that doesn’t look like a vacant zombie.

Steve Rogers grins back at you. He’s wearing a beanie over his blonde hair and a warm winter jacket—the temperature was freezing when you practically slid from the subway to work this morning and as the day slowly eclipses into evening, the temperature is falling back down with it. His cheeks are flushed from coming into the warm.

“Hey Steve!” you greet him cheerfully, because seeing an old friend is the perfect way to end a tiring shift. “How are you? How’s Natasha?”

Steve dips his head bashfully, like he always does when he’s asked about himself or his girlfriend. “We’re both great, thanks. What about you? It’s been a while.”

You gesture around you as an answer. Taking all the shifts you possibly can means you probably spend more time in Vormir than your own apartment. From what you can recall Steve has been back in the States for a few weeks after his most recent tour of Afghanistan; him or Natasha keep dropping you invites here and there, but you’ve been working or too dog-tired to accept them. It kind of makes you sad, as you watch your social circle shrink, but being an adult is the worst and staying alive is reasonably important to you.

“That bad, huh?” Steve asks sympathetically. You nod back, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“That bad. Always that bad, Rogers. I’m a slave to consumerism, but don’t let my boss know that.”

Steve laughs, leaning onto the counter. “I actually… (Y/N), when do you finish up here? Do you want get a drink? I’ve just got something I wanted to run by you.”

You narrow your eyes with curiosity. The clock that ticks mercilessly above the door reads six forty-two, so you’ve got less than twenty minutes left of your shift, and the look on Steve’s face is too intriguing to turn down just so you can rush home, open a bottle of cheap white wine and watch Stranger Things on Netflix. Even if you are up to the season three finale.

“I clock off at seven,” you reveal, but you nudge your head in the direction of the remaining customers who are starting to get annoyed at the hold-up. “Grab a seat. I actually have to do my job for a while longer and I’d rather not get fired because you’re distracting me.”

Steve holds his hands up in mock surrender and slowly backs away from the counter, allowing your next customer to slide into his position. You watch as he drops into a two-seater by the window, scrolling through his iPhone, a muted grin tugging at his lips.

Steve’s favourite bar is a short walk across town, the kind that is warm and dark and a little bit retro. You’ve been to Endgame before with him and Natasha, and you’d all split quarters so you could play ABBA songs on the Jukebox by the entrance. Right now it’s playing Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac, so it seems today’s patrons have taste.

You grab one of the more private booths through the back while he gets the drinks. You’ve not seen your phone since your lunch break so you take the spare seconds to scroll through your social media—less than an hour ago Natasha’s posted a photo to Instagram, both her and Steve making stupid faces in the living room of the apartment they share. It’s captioned who do I have to kill to make sure you’re not deployed again?

Your heart melts a little. Steve and Nat. Nat and Steve. Two people who have been together for longer than you’ve known them, and they just work so fucking well, two halves of the same coin and all that. Your thumb hovers over the like button for a moment before clicking it, because you’ve never had someone in your life like that. You’ve not found the other half of your coin.

Most days you’re too exhausted to really think about it. But sometimes…something will click in the back of your brain and it dawns on you like an avalanche that this might be your life forever. You’ll be serving coffee forever. You’ll be on your own forever.

Fortunately Steve slides into the seat opposite before you can go into a full-on existential crisis, but you sure as hell know that’s what will inevitably cross your mind when you’re stuck staring at the cracked ceiling of your apartment in bed tonight.

Steve’s smile is concerned as he pushes a desperado in your direction. “You look troubled.”

“When am I not?” you say with a shrug, taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol burns in your empty stomach. You haven’t eaten since lunch—maybe liquor isn’t the best idea, after all. “Anyway. As much as I love seeing you, Rogers, this isn’t just a friendly drop-by is it?”

Steve is drinking some generic American beer. He wipes his lip before speaking. “Yeah. Like I said. There was something I thought I’d run by you.”

“Ominous.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Are you going to spend the next half an hour or so pushing a pyramid scheme you swear isn’t a pyramid scheme? Because I really didn’t think that was your style.”

“No. Not a pyramid scheme.” He shakes his head in mild disbelief, probably wondering why he’s still friends with you. “It’s more…do you remember my friend? James?” When you look back blankly, he elaborates. “Bucky. Guy I used to go to school with. Dark hair. Lost his arm in Afghan about a decade ago…”

“Oh! Oh. Bucky Barnes. James Barnes.” You feel kind of bad that the arm was what made it click, but you do remember a quiet, well-mannered guy standing in the background of a few of Steve and/or Nat’s social events over the last few years. You’ve never been formally introduced but Steve talks about him every so often, just casual mentions in conversation, nothing detailed. They’d grown up together, trained together, but their career paths parted after Bucky’s car nicked an IED on the outskirts of Kabul. Truly horrifying. “Yeah. Sure. I remember him. What about him?”

Steve grimaces. “Well, it’s a bit…complex, to explain, so I’ll just go straight into it. About seven years ago he met a girl, she got pregnant, they had a daughter.”

“Oh! I never knew he had any kids.”

“Yeah. Clover. She’s six now. Way too smart for her age, really mischievous—doing crazy things like sending vegetables in the post to the grandparents she doesn’t like and reading fucking Frankenstein. Big Mary Shelley fan, to Buck’s sheer delight. Awesome kid.”

You smirk, not sure what any of this has to do with you, but little Clover sounds exactly how you were at her age. “She does sound pretty awesome.”

“But Connie, her mom…she passed away just over a year ago in a really awful car wreck.” Steve’s face falls into a look of heartbreak, empathetic as always. “Her and Bucky haven’t been together for years but they shared custody of Clove, Connie having her a lot of the time.”

You feel something shift in your chest, like shards of glass are pressing in between your ribs. Real loss stories have always been pretty hard for you to digest, regardless of who they belong to. You think about death a lot in, like, an abstract and unreachable kind of way. You think it gives you size, an awareness of your place in the world, the universe. But that’s your own death. You’re kind of comfortable with that one day you will cease to exist. It’s just the people that you care about you fear for. And everybody cares about somebody.

“God, that’s awful, Steve,” you murmur, eyes softening. “Is he looking after her on his own now?”

Steve nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. And he’s not doing too great, (Y/N). It’s not my place to go into details about what goes on in his head, but nobody gets over the trauma he went through and goes back to before. And the loss of Connie and suddenly becoming Clover’s only parent, and her trauma, as well as trying to hold down a full-time job…like Jesus, I’m surprised he can even get up in the morning. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

You ache for Steve’s oldest friend as is only natural, but you’re still at a loss as to where this involves you. You rest your chin in your hands, looking at Steve intently. “It sounds like he’s going through a tough time. I’m really sorry. But is this…any of my business? Because you can always confide in me about things that are on your mind, but this sounds really personal.”

“No. No, what I’m saying is, he needs—they both need—someone. He needs someone to help look after Clover while they both get their lives back on track.” Steve pauses, looking you straight in the eyes. “Someone like you.”

The laugh that erupts from your chest is involuntary, but Steve’s expression is still completely serious. Is he really suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? “What? You’re asking me to be a nanny?”

“I suppose you could call it that.” When you stare at him with disbelief, he rolls his shoulders. “(Y/N). Why is this such an eccentric idea? You hate your job. Buck has a spare room at his place which, no offense, is way nicer than your apartment. You’re great with kids, you’re funny, you’re smart…and you’ve already said you think Clover sounds like an awesome kid. You two would get on great.”

“That’s all irrelevant considering a, I’m not a nanny and have no experience looking after a child in that close and intense an environment. And b, Steve, this is an eccentric idea. Other than the scraps you’ve given me I know absolutely nothing about James, and what the hell does he know about me?” When Steve’s face looks a little guilty, you roll your eyes. “Oh my god. Steve. James hasn’t even said he wants a nanny has he? He doesn’t even know you’re asking me this.”

“This would be so good for him,” Steve half-pleads, puppy dog eyes engaged, “He’s fussy about strangers and Clover, but he knows you through me. He’ll trust my judgement.”

“Steve. You can’t just go making decisions like that! This is insane.”

(Steve has a habit of thinking he knows what’s best, for himself or other people, and rampaging down that path in the pursuit of a happy ending. Sometimes people don’t need his version of a happy ending.)

Steve eventually relents, relaxing back in his seat. He’s forgotten you’re not usually one for blindly going along with one of his Heroic Schemes, preferring a more idealistic approach. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll discuss it with him first. But I think you should come along when I do that.”

“Steve.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, but I think you should meet them both properly. You could be a good friend to him either way. It wouldn’t hurt, (Y/N). Maybe it would be good for you too.”

God, you’re way too done for this shit, your legs aching from a day of being constantly on your feet and dead inside from getting up at six this morning. Steve is not the kind of guy to give up on something he’s clearly passionate about in his quest for the greater good, and this point it is just easier to agree to his requests. Even though his idea is way too bizarre for anyone normal to actually accept.

Being a live-in nanny for a guy you barely know and his daughter, both of whom have just lost someone extremely significant in their lives? And him being totally unaware that his best friend is proposing a job he has no authority to give? Yeah, fuck that.

Steve is right about one thing, though. You do really, really hate your horrible job.

When you reluctantly nod, and Steve grins, you jab a finger in his direction. “Like you said. It means nothing. This is weird as hell, but you’re super annoying when you don’t get your own way, and I’m totally allowing you to receive all the backlash when it backfires.”

“I think I can deal with that.” He gestures at your empty bottle. “Want another drink?”

The alcohol has made your body a little lighter, but your stomach growls loudly in argument. Instead, you clamp your hands on the table. “No, but you can buy me a pizza. It’s the least you can do for me, weirdo.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, used to your directness. “Pizza it is, then.”

Okay, so maybe Steve Rogers is the most annoying person in the world, and maybe his aggressive selflessness in the hope of doing right for his friends will eventually be his downfall, but he’s usually a pretty nice guy. You sometimes forget that you’re lucky to have him.

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