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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 19)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable’ victors.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

“Tell me about the stairs,” Dr. Aurelius says.

Y/N stares at him blankly, the stairs.

He waits a moment, tapping his pen to paper. “At the request of your husband, you will be issued a nightlock pill, to use in the event that you are captured.”

Y/N nods. One of the stipulations to Haymitch agreeing to her deployment, on this mission to rescue Peeta.

‘Show me you can reach it with your mouth.’ He tested the accessibility of her suit’s pill pocket, rigorously. ‘Show me you can still reach it with your hands behind your back.’

It isn’t something he wants her to use, but knowing that whatever Snow has planned for her would make Peeta’s captivity look like child’s play…

“By President Coin’s orders, I cannot release this… medication unless you are of sound mind.”

“You have reason to believe I’m not?” Y/N asks.

“One of your former guards told me you asked if anyone had ever jumped from the elevator.” Aurelius purses his lips.

“It was one time!” Y/N waves a hand, “and it was a joke.”

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“You would too.”

The therapist affords her a soft smile, “you may be right. Even still, you are my patient. I need to act in your best interest. So please, tell me what happened on the stairs.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “it’s kind of a blur. Everyone was pushing, yelling, especially after the upper levels were damaged and the rain started coming down.”

“How did you feel?”

“I felt…worried, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“About Haymitch, Madge and the kids. Worried about what was happening to Peeta. Worried about getting Katniss into the bunker.”

He jots this down.

“That was a normal response.” Y/N snaps.

“Very much so,” the doctor agrees, “not every note I make is a bad one.”

Y/N crosses her arms.

“Did you worry for yourself? Your own safety?”

You’re supposed to say yes.

“There is no right answer, Y/N.”

“There’s an answer that gets me to Peeta and one that doesn’t.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but I trust you not to lie.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I’m a good liar, I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen.”

“How do you feel about death? Is it something you long for, or run from?”

“If I die, my kids lose their mother, my husband loses his wife, my sister loses her sister. The list goes on. So it really doesn’t matter how I feel about death. All I know is that I cannot die.”

“Yet you think you could bite down on this pill?” He presents the dark purple capsule.

“As a last resort. If I have fought tooth and nail and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can’t get free? I could.” Y/N decides.

Dr. Aurelius nods, holding the nightlock out to her. “Best of luck.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch curses Katniss’ name, as he shuffles through the crawl space she’s gone to hide in, after refusing to make the propo saying thirteen survived Snow’s attack.

Have kids, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Though none of his biological children have forced him to squeeze in such a tight space, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

He plops down beside her with a sigh, “so this is the end, huh? I guess we’re just gonna hide down here forever.”

“I can’t be the mockingjay,” Katniss chokes out.

“Not the mockingjay,” Haymitch tosses a bit of hair away from her face, “just Katniss.”

She blinks at him, warily.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this pep talk stuff. That’s Y/N’s department.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Katniss understands.

“She spent the morning getting cleared by her shrink.”

“Cleared for what?”

“They’re going to rescue Peeta.” Haymitch tells her.

“What?”

“The dam went down in district five, took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defense, Beetee’s inside their system, reeking all kinds of havoc. The window is open to us, for how much longer? I don’t know, I guess until the Capitol can get the power back on.” Haymitch explains.

“And Coin?”

“I can never fully support that woman. But Plutarch got word that Peeta and the others are in the tribute center. With the power out, Coin sees this as an opportunity. She knows that Peeta is the Capitol’s weapon, the same way you’re ours. And as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she’s going to get him.”

“I have to go help them.” Katniss springs to life.

“Woah, hey,” Haymitch reaches out a hand to stop her. “What’re you just gonna jump out of the vent and go storm the Capitol? Besides it’s already underway. Six soldiers went in, volunteer only. Y/N, Gale, Boggs and three others.”

“You just let her go?” Katniss frowns.

Haymitch admits, “she’s not the type of person you ‘let’ do things. But you know how that is, sweetheart. Between the two of you,” he lets out a low whistle, “I’m exhausted.”

————————————————————————

Madge breaks her dinner roll in half. Splitting it between Everest and Arista, the same way she’s watched Y/N and Haymitch do since they got here. Making sure little bellies are full, before their own.

Pollux approaches, motioning to the seat across from Madge, at the metal mess hall table. He sets down his tray and pulls out his note pad, to jot a message down. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Madge greets him, “please, sit.”

“Hi, I’m Pollux. You’re Y/N’s sister, right?”

Madge nods.

“She keeps your picture in her pocket.” Pollux smiles. “And them.” He points to the oldest children.

Everest’s eyes scan the page. “Our mom told us about you. What happened to you in the Capitol…I’m really sorry.”

“Honey,” Madge runs a hand over his hair.

“Thank you, Everest. It’s nice to meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time, she is so proud.” Pollux turns the page quickly, for more room. “Arista and Daisy too, of course. Your mom loves you all very much.”

With that the children turn back to their meals.

Madge smiles, stabbing at her food with one hand, while patting the baby in the sling. The tray moves and Pollux holds out a hand to stabilize it. “Oh, thank you. It’s ok though, you eat.”

He draws the hand back, long enough to scribble, “I’d offer to hold the baby instead, but I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Madge laughs, “funny.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

Madge shrugs, as he grips the edge of her tray, loosely. Managing his own dinner just fine.

Cressida calls him away, after a while, for Finnick’s live propo, to help jam the Capitol’s airwaves.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, coming to you from district thirteen, alive and well. We survived an attack by the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.”

“Why is Finnick doing a propo?” Katniss wonders, watching the split screen of the control room. The large, right panel is an image of Finnick. Just outside the rubble, where they asked her to film earlier, the sun has set and the lights are trained on him. The left hand side is home to six smaller panels, with the soldier’s helmet cam footage.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Haymitch informs her.

“Beetee’s commandeered the system,” Coin says, proudly.

“They’re down to generator power, so there’s a more limited range of frequencies available to them. I’m filling them all up with Y/N and Finnick. It looks like they’re both live.” Beetee assures Katniss.

“Snow will think she’s still here?” That’s brilliant.

“Not many will see it, but those who do will assume they’re just propos.”

“What they don’t know is that these broadcasts are jamming their entire system with noise. Early defense warnings, internal communications, everything. As long as one or both of the broadcasts are going through, our team should be able to get in and out without being detected.” Beetee assures her.

“You can survive the arena, but the moment you leave, you’re a slave.” Finnick narrates. “President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

“Mockingjay one, you are twenty seconds from perimeter defense.”

“I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward, or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Finnick presses on, looking straight at camera.

“Ten seconds.” The hovercraft pilot begins counting down. “Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“Just because a victor is married doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

“Five, four, three…”

“The Capitol’s more generous patrons paid dearly to watch the wedding night, even more to witness the conception of the most beloved children in Panem.”

“Two, one.”

Katniss freezes, surely he doesn’t mean- it couldn’t be. The dress, that stupid dress they crammed her in. Why it upset Y/N so badly. Snow was taunting her.

“No response from perimeter defense, we’re inside Capitol airspace.”

“Yes,” Beetee rejoices.

Haymitch is watching the smaller screen, his jaw tense, doing his best to ignore the eyes that fall on him. Twisting his wedding band around and around. It doesn’t matter what secrets Finnick reveals, so long as he keeps jamming the signal. Keep Y/N safe.

“To make themselves feel better, patrons will offer presents of money or jewelry. But I found secrets to be a much more valuable form of payment.”

“Gear up,” Boggs orders the soldiers on the hovercraft. They are just seconds away from the tribute center. “Masks on.”

Their lenses are tinted for night vision, the red light inside makes Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

“Open the door.” Boggs says, his voice echoing through her headset. “Command, this is team leader, preparing to deploy gas. We will confirm once inside.”

“Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” Finnick is captivating, well spoken.

Katniss is hanging off every word.

“One word, poison.”

The timer for the gas grenadines finishes, on Bogg’s stop watch, “get ready to drop.”

Y/N secures her harness to the wire, giving it a firm tug. Descending through the open loading dock, releasing the wires as they reach ground.

“Clear.” Boggs, informs the team. “We’re inside, headed for target number one. Cell B forty-five, lower level two C.”

“So many deaths to well known adversaries, even allies who were deemed as threats.”

It’s dizzying, giving equal attention to Finnick’s message and the feed from inside the tribute center.

Haymitch is glued to that screen, her screen. Like he wants to reach through and bring her back with him.

Once Peeta’s holding cell is gassed, they are cleared to enter.

“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. To help cover the scent of sores, in his mouth, that will never heal.”

Poison, Katniss shakes her head to clear it. He’s still talking about poison.

Inside the room is a lab, full of jars, experiments. Cages. Medical equipment, some with blood still visible.

“What the fuck?” Y/N whispers, reaching out to try and make sense of it.

“Abernathy, on me.” Boggs warns, they need to stay focused.

“What is this place?” Gale asks, venturing deeper.

Their screens lights up, all of them at once. Too bright to see.

“Ahh.”

There is a collective hiss, from those in the tribute center. The power’s back on.

“Beetee?” Katniss has a hand flat against her belly, where the worry eats her alive.

“Ma’am, the Capitol air defense is rebooting. It’s coming back online.”

“They must be diverting power from another source, filtering transmissions. Another sixty seconds and we’ll be cut off.” Beetee scowls, typing furiously at the control panel.

“Get them outta there,” Haymitch demands.

“Madame President, should we call back the hovercraft?”

“Broadcast me,” Katniss decides, “if Snow’s watching this, maybe he’ll let the signal in, if he sees me. Put me on the air so he can see me.”

“Yes,” Plutarch snaps a finger. “Yes.”

“Put her on,” Coin agrees.

“Can we still do this?” Haymitch’s hands are shaking as he positions the camera in front of her. “Can we still get in?” Can we still save her?

“Yes, for the moment,” Beetee replies. “The line’s open, he will only see you.”

“Ok, Katniss,” Haymitch steps away. “Go.”

“President Snow.” Katniss says, “President Snow, it’s Katniss.”

The static continues to crackle. No more Finnick, no more footage from the tribute center. Just her.

“President Snow, can you hear me?” Katniss repeats, hoping for a miracle. “I need to speak with you, are you there? President Snow.”

“Miss Everdeen,” his voice is distorted for a moment, until the signal hones in. “What an honor. I don’t imagine you’re calling to thank me for the roses.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the games.” Katniss reminds him. “I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive. Let him go and I will stop being the mockingjay. I will disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You couldn’t run from this anymore than you could’ve run from the games.”

“Please, you’ve won.” Katniss says, “release Peeta and take me instead.”

Snow shakes his head with a smirk. “We are long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”

“Then tell me what to do, I’ve always kept my promises. Haven’t I?”

“You said you didn’t want a war, and that’s just what happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are, I know you can’t see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen, I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”

“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,” Katniss challenges. “Haven’t I at least done that?”

Snow takes great pleasure in what he’s about to say, it’s written all over his twisted features. “It’s the things we love most that destroy us. I want you to remember I said that.” He pauses. “Don’t you think I know Y/N and your friends are in the tribute center?”

Katniss feels the floor fall out from under her.

“Cut them off.” Snow says, turning away from the screen. It returns to the static hum of nothing.

They had comms back, but now Beetee’s lost them again.

“What happened?” Katniss sobs.

“Boggs, do you read me? Boggs, come in.”

“He knows they’re in there,” Katniss calls to Haymitch. “It’s a trap.”

“Katniss, calm down.” Haymitch whispers.

“We have to get ahold of them, tell them to get out. He knows.”

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch sighs.

“No, Haymitch.” Katniss crumbles, “he knew the whole time, he was taunting me! No, Haymitch-”

“No, no, we don’t know that.” Haymitch hushes her, because he has to be strong. He has to be steady, even with his world falling to pieces.

“Did I lose them all tonight? Did I lose them all?”

Haymitch pulls her into a hug. “Shhh,” he smooths down her dark waves, the same way he would his other daughters.

She holds fast, allowing him to comfort her. “Did I lose them?” The cry is muffled against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he sways them, gently.

“No, no.”

“Katniss,” Haymitch breathes, “listen to me. I need you to listen.”

She nods, unable to calm her erratic breathing.

“If Y/N died, I would feel it. I would feel it in my heart, if she was gone and I don’t. If she’s alive, Peeta is alive, Gale is alive. All we have to do is wait.”

————————————————————————

“Systems are back online.” The pilot informs them.

There’s nothing they can do. Communication with thirteen is shut down, no way to get through to Beetee. They’ll either shoot them out of the sky or they won’t. The only way out is through.

Y/N doesn’t mean to, but she holds her breath. Waiting until they clear Capitol airspace to resume a normal pattern.

Of the five other soldiers on this rescue mission, there is one medic. She begins tending Annie, Johanna and Peeta in turn. Starting IV fluids, as they are all dehydrated; unconscious from the gas.

Annie looks like herself, maybe a bit gaunt, but recognizable. Peeta is thin, so thin and covered in bruises. Johanna’s head has been shaved, cheeks hollow and ribs showing. Y/N tosses off her helmet, running both hands over her face.

“Soldier.” Boggs puts a hand to her shoulder. “You did good. We accomplished our goal. Now we can all go home.”

Y/N nods, blinking away tears.

“Take a breather, there’s a separate compartment through there,” he motions to the rear doors. “He’ll need you when he comes to.”

Peeta does not wake for some time, beginning to struggle at his bindings. No, he realizes, it’s not a binding that holds him. It’s a hand. Just one wrapped loosely around his.

It feels familiar, soft. Someone he knew once, it smells of artificial air. She is warm, the space around her is warm, gentle and kind. A second hand strokes his hair, the way he once wished his mother would.

His eyelids begin to flutter open, daring to reveal that he is conscious. If he’s wrong…if it’s not her and they’ve tricked him again, it will be his own fault.

“Peeta,” Y/N says, staring down at him.

He blinks up at her, in the too bright light. His breathing heavy as she tries to move away, to give him space, but he holds her. Squeezing her fingers.

“Peeta, do you know who I am?”

His throat is sore, voice hoarse, from screaming. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a hovercraft, on the way to district thirteen.”

Peeta studies her face. There was something…something is missing, something’s wrong. “What happened to the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him. “Keeping her siblings and Haymitch company.”

“You’re all ok?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, honey, we’re all ok. Now we focus on getting you healthy. Ok?”

He doesn’t flee from her touch, only the occasional flinch when he forgets where he is, until she reminds him that he is safe. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Y/N leaves him briefly, with the doctors, upon arrival in thirteen. She needs to find Haymitch, tell him she’s ok. And she is running, searching, colliding into him, with such force that they are both sent off balance.

Down to the floor, the dirty, cold floor. But no place has ever felt better. To hold him, for him to hold her and inhale the scent at the crook of his neck.

“Never again.” He pleads, massaging the back of her scalp, like he does when she’s falling asleep. “Never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” She nuzzles the delicate skin of his throat.

“Don’t make me live in a world where you don’t exist.”

‘All I know is that I cannot die.’

Part 20

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

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severalforraelee · 11 months

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The Girls Part 15: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Mario Renzi / Formula 1 / Getty Images

Word count: 3,167

Written by raelee / Posted Nov 3

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“That lady at table seven is being a downright bitch,” I mumble to Kylie while putting a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“What has gotten into you today?” She questions.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that the man at table two’s rude behavior is a defense mechanism for his micropenis. You’re never this negative, Y/N, what’s going on?”

I take a deep breath, mentally debating whether I want to tell her or not. But the urge to tell someone how I’m feeling outweighs my desire for privacy.

“Okay, you can’t tell anyone,” I begin.

She leans in closer at the words, an inquisitive look on her face.

“Charles and I sort of kissed this weekend.”

She gasps and I pause, thinking. “Well, kissed twice.”

She gasps louder this time, causing a nearby chef to look at us. I smile at him and he smiles back, returning to his current task.

“Tell me everything,” she grabs my hands in excitement.

“The first kiss was at the girls’ birthday party when we were cleaning up and it was totally an accident. And then the second kiss was in the hotel room after putting the girls to bed, and that one was on purpose,” I explain.

“And then?” She grins.

“And then what?”

“Are you guys dating now?”

“Uh… no? Yes? I don’t know,” I admit.

“How do you not know?”

“We didn’t exactly get the chance to talk about it.” She gives me a look and I immediately go into defense mode. “Lucy woke up crying as we were kissing, so I comforted her while Charles took a shower and then when he was done I was already asleep!”

“What about in the morning?” She asks.

“He had to go to Italy immediately and we had to catch our flight home,” I share, “And he’s been so busy at work he hasn’t been able to text me and I don’t want to text him first because I have no clue what’s going on. Plus, he’s much better at this emotion stuff than I am.”

I run a hand through my hair and Kylie’s face drops at the obvious stress that I’m feeling.

“I’m sure that he’s just busy,” she tries to reassure me.

“I know, I just don’t want it to be like when we slept together after he came back into our lives and it turned into a big argument,” I sigh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her eyes widen. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I grin, realizing that I never told Kylie about that. Truthfully, I didn’t tell anyone because I was so embarrassed and confused of how it all went down.

“It happened a while ago. Forget that I said anything.”

“Um, after admitting that you slept with your daughters’ father again? I will not forget that.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the tray of food that was just completed for my table before leaving the kitchen.

“Where are you going? I need to hear everything,” she calls after me.

“Thank you for staying late, Cheyenne,” I say to the young girl as I pull off my coat and hang it on the coat rack.

“Oh, it’s no problem, Y/N. By the way, this package came in the mail for you,” she points to the big cardboard box sitting on the kitchen table.

“Thank you. Have a nice night, text me when you get home.” She smiles, closing the door behind her and I lock it.

The scissors cut open the top of the cardboard box and I open the flaps, finding several items inside. I pull out a small, heart-shaped red box, opening it to find red roses neatly packed inside. A smile appears on my face as I set it off to the side, grabbing three, fuzzy red robes, my name, Ada’s name, and Lucy’s name embroidered on separate ones. Three chocolate bars are the next items to exit the box.

A small note is the last thing to come out of the box. I open it, immediately recognizing Charles’ handwriting.

Mon amour,

I’m sorry that we couldn’t talk about what happened before we both had to leave. I sent you some beautiful roses, chocolate, and robes so that you and the girls could pamper yourselves together. See you soon.

XO,

Charles

I clutch the note close to my chest, a smile pulling at my lips. He’s so sweet.

“Both Frozens?” Ada asks curiously as I load up the TV with the first Frozen movie.

I look at the clock, debating whether we have enough time tonight to watch both Frozen 1 and 2 and get the girls to bed at a decent enough hour where they won’t be cranky tomorrow.

“Let’s see what time it is when we’re done with the first movie,” I suggest. There’s the sound of the key in the front door and I look over, initially in worry then in excitement once I realize who it has to be.

It’s been a while since I’ve lived with another adult. I’m not used to having another person come and go whenever they want- but to be honest, I don’t really have to worry about that with Charles because he likes to spend as much time with the girls as possible and usually where they are, I am too.

“Why don’t you pick out your nail polish color, girls?” I say, pointing towards the box in front of them as I step closer to the front door.

The front door opens to reveal Charles, glasses on his face and a matching sweatsuit on his body. Once he looks up from his suitcase and closes the door, spotting me directly in front of him, his face breaks out into a smile.

“I didn’t know that you would be coming back so soon,” I admit to him, a smile of my own on my face.

“I couldn’t be away for a second longer.” He steps closer, leaving the suitcase behind and pulling me into an embrace. My arms raise up to press against his back as his hands slide down to my lower back, pushing against the plush fabric to press me as close to him as possible.

I step out of the hug, watching as he looks my figure up and down, swallowing at the sight of the red robe.

“What?” I ask, confused and nervous by his reaction.

I can’t tell if it’s a turned on swallow or a realization of a mistake swallow.

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that these robes were going to be so short,” he confesses, eyes stuck on my legs.

I smile slyly at the comment, turning around and walking back towards the living room. “Come say hi to the girls.”

“Daddy, I’m painting my nails pink,” Ada shoves the nail polish bottle in his face after jumping all over him.

“I’m doing blue,” Lucy shoves her bottle in his face now.

“What? No Ferrari red?” He teases, grabbing their little hands and placing kisses on the back of them.

“Sorry, daddy.” Ada gives him an apologetic look while Lucy just shrugs.

He laughs at that, taking the bottles from their hands and shaking them.

“Can you put your hands on the table for me? I’ll paint your nails,” he says.

I sit back on the couch, watching the scene silently. Charles paints Ada’s nails with the pink polish, then Lucy’s with the blue. He goes back to do another coat, the three chatting quietly while half-heartedly watching Frozen.

I can’t believe I ever doubted that this man would be a good father. It makes me embarrassed that I ever thought that way. Seeing him now, his gentleness with the girls, and the ability to do things that they like with them, matching their excitement, shows me that he was a man that was made to be a father.

No, he was made to be a dad. And a damn good one at that.

“Oh no, mommy,” Lucy looks over at me with wide eyes, then expectantly looking back at the screen.

Frozen has ended.

“Second movie? Please?” Ada begs.

I’m a sucker for my girls when they pout, which they already know, but with Charles joining in it’s hard to deny them much of anything.

“Yes, we can watch Frozen 2,” I agree, grabbing the remote to turn it on. Secretly, I’m excited to watch it as well, and I already know that with the busy day they’ve had at daycare they’re going to fall asleep soon anyways.

“It gives me time to do mommy’s nails,” Charles smiles at me, which I return. I slide onto the floor, selecting a red nail polish bottle out of the box and passing it to Charles.

“Ferrari red, for you.”

By the time he’s done painting my nails, the girls are asleep on the couch, slumped against one another.

“Sorry that you didn’t win the championship,” I apologize quietly as Olaf breaks into a song.

“That’s okay. I have everything that I need already.”

I give him a questioning look.

“All that I need are my girls.”

I can’t hold myself responsible for my actions after that. That is one of the sweetest- if not, the sweetest- things that I’ve ever heard in my life.

I launch myself around the table at him, straddling his hips with my legs as my hands grip his cheeks, pulling his lips to mine. His hands immediately attach to my lower back.

It’s a kiss filled with passion and anticipation, both of us waiting for the other to make a move since he showed up here a couple of hours ago. Now with the girls asleep, we show each other just how much we were missing one another, and express words that were left unspoken from last weekend.

At the sound of shuffling on the couch, I pull back, whipping my head around to make sure that the girls didn’t wake up. They didn’t, just adjusting their position.

I turn back to Charles, resting my forehead against his. His hands run up and down my back.

“You’re so sweet,” I whisper to him.

“Anything for you, mon amour.”

Charles and I sit on the bench in the park, watching as the girls use their buckets and shovels to build snow sculptures.

“Lucy, don’t throw snow at her, please,” Charles calls out to the toddler.

“Okay, daddy,” she calls back. When she thinks that neither of us are looking, she throws a little bit of snow at Ada again.

I can’t help but chuckle and Charles shakes his head, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“She is so your daughter,” I comment.

“My daughter? Lando’s told me quite a few stories about you as a child,” he nudges my shoulder.

“Hey,” I giggle, “So are you and Lando okay now?”

“Yeah, I would say our relationship is almost back to normal.” I see him swallow out of the corner of my eye, looking at me nervously. “Actually, I know one thing that would probably get us back to normal.”

“What’s that?”

“So don’t kill me,” he starts, “But how would you feel going to visit your family for Christmas this year? We can rent a house, we can just go for a couple of hours, whatever you’re comfortable with. But Lando was telling me just how much your family regrets treating you the way that they have and how they really want to see the girls-””Stop,” I interrupt him. “You’ll be there?”

“Of course, I won’t leave your side,” he nods in agreement.

“You’d ditch Christmas with your mom and your brothers to be with my dysfunctional family?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Yes,” he responds instantly, “I’d do that for you, the girls, and Lando.”

“Fine. But if I want to leave, we have to leave as soon as we can,” I warn.

“I’ll go by your rules, mon amour.” He raises my hand connected to his up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“Mommy, daddy, come play,” Lucy calls out.

Charles lets go of my hand, reaching down to pack the snow into a tight ball, throwing it lightly at Lucy. She squeals when it explodes on her.

“Snowball fight,” he announces, getting up to run over to the girls. I follow his lead, beaming at the squeals and laughter coming from my daughters as Charles and I play with them.

This is the moment that I’ve been dreaming about from the second that I found out that I was pregnant. Family time with just the four of us, playing together, laughing together, and just enjoying each other’s company. I’ve dreamed of just being able to spend time with all of us together, no tension or question marks getting in the way of our family bond.

And now I’m getting it.

Charles squeezes my hand as we stand on the front step of my parents’ house. My gaze remains focused on the white, wooden door, remembering all of the times I ran through it.

To the car of my boyfriend at the time. To the street to go on my daily jog. To the waiting arms of Lando, just returning from a race.

To never return.

“Anytime you want to leave,” he reassures me quietly.

I nod, taking a deep breath and knocking. There’s no going back now.

Flo opens the door, pausing with wide eyes when she sees me.

“Am I not invited?” I ask with a slightly joking tone.

“No, of course you are,” she stutters, taking a step to the side. “We just weren’t expecting you to knock. Please, come in.”

I take a step inside, my heart skipping a beat at her words. We just weren’t expecting you to knock.

“You remember Charles,” I awkwardly gesture towards the man standing next to me.

“Nice to see you again, Charles,” she pulls him into a hug, obviously distracted by the two toddlers standing behind his legs.

“And you remember our daughters, Ada and Lucy,” I introduce the two. I hold my hand out and Lucy steps out from behind her father’s legs, gripping my hand in her own. Shy little Ada remains behind Charles.

“Hi girls, I’m Aunty Flo. I haven’t seen you two in forever,” she coos. Lucy gives her a toothy smile while Ada sucks on her thumb.

It’s true. I haven’t been out to the house, and no one in the family besides Lando, has been out to visit me since the girls were three months old. That was over a year ago. Kids grow fast, but when they’re babies they seem to grow even faster. They went from newborns that you could cradle in your arms to toddlers that can run.

“Come on, everyone else is in the dining room.”

We follow her to the dining room.

“Now remember to just behave yourselves and be kind. It took a lot to convince her to come here, so don’t do anything to scare her off,” the familiar voice of my brother says before we enter the room.

At our entrance, everyone turns to look at us.

“Uh, hi,” I give an uncomfortable wave. Lucky for me, the girls break the tense atmosphere.

“Uncle Lando,” Lucy cheers, running towards one of her favorite people. At her sister’s words, Ada darts from behind Charles’ legs, joining Lucy in jumping on Lando.

“Present?” Ada asks with wide eyes. Lando’s trained them that everytime they see each other, they get a toy or a treat from him.

“Ada, don’t ask Uncle Lando for presents,” I scold.

“It’s okay, I got you girls these,” Lando grins, reaching past them to grab new stacking cups off of the table, handing a stack to each girl.

I roll my eyes. Typical Uncle Lando.

“They’re so big,” a familiar voice whispers. I turn to see my mom standing beside the dining room table, a shocked expression on her face as she watches the girls play.

“Hi darling,” another voice whispers in front of me. My dad pulls me into his arms, and it’s surprisingly not uncomfortable.

I thought since the last two or three years have been so full of tension and avoidance of one another, this would be a much more anxious and strained meeting. But I can’t help but melt into my dad’s arms. Maybe it’s from seeing the father-daughter relationship that Charles has with Ada and Lucy that makes me want to better my relationship with my own father.

I can’t forget everything that he’s said to me. But I can forgive and hope for improvement.

“Hi, Charles.” My dad pulls Charles into a hug next. The driver seems taken aback, but accepts the embrace.

My mom pulls me into a wordless hug. It’s not as comfortable as the one with my dad, I can still hear her shouting ‘whore’ at me in the back of my mind, but I still wrap my arms around her. I greet my siblings before taking a seat next to Lando, Charles sitting in the chair next to me.

“Hi Ada, hi Lucy,” my mom greets my daughters, reaching out to brush her finger along Lucy’s arm. Lucy doesn't react. “I’m your nana.”

Charles and I exchange glances at her word choice. We didn’t discuss how we want Ada and Lucy to refer to my family going into this, but we both know that we aren’t comfortable with my parents being referred to as nana and grandpa after the way they treated me and the girls when they were infants.

“Let’s just stick to Cisca for now, mom,” I state firmly.

She opens her mouth, about to respond, before Oliver nudges her. He nods towards Ada and Lucy, as if to remind her that this is about improving the relationship with her and her granddaughters and her and me. And that starts with respecting my boundaries.

“Okay.”

“Thank you for having us over,” I tell my mom as we stand in the front entrance.

“Oh, anytime. It was great to see you two and the girls again,” she smiles between me and Charles. “I’ll go check on the girls, Cisca and Oliver will help bring them down.”

Charles and I wait for our daughters to be brought down from their naps, tired out from playing with their family members and new presents. I zip up my winter coat in the meantime and Charles finishes pulling on his shoes.

“Hey look, mistletoe,” he points up at the plant.

I giggle, leaning in to give him a peck on his lips.

“Come on, you have to give me more than that.”

A loud laugh escapes me, and I lean forward to give him a much more passionate, longer kiss.

“You know what would be the only thing that would make this Christmas better?” He murmurs against my lips.

“What?”

“If you became my girlfriend.”

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Charles.”

Story completed.

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction

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devilat-thedoor · 1 year

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What Is and What Should Never Be Ch. 1

A/N: The parts in this fic are going to be on the shorter side compared to my other one, but that allows me to get them out quicker. This first chapter is really just laying the foundation for the story. I hope you enjoy, babes! and as always, feedback is appreciated🤍 P.S. This is all fictional, straight from my imagination. Please don't take it too seriously💖

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut(none yet, but for future reference), Mentions of alcoholism/addiction, Mentions of death. Reader Discretion Advised.

So if you wake up with the sunrise and all your dreams are still as new // And happiness is what you need so bad, well girl, the answer lies with you

“Bell, are we really doing this?” Your grin was beaming as you twisted the key in the ignition, hearing the engine rumble. You rolled the windows down, letting the late March wind breeze through the car.

Your best friend, Bellamy, turned to you from her spot in the passenger seat, “I mean, unless you want to carry all of our stuff back into that shithole…” She jutted her thumb out the window, towards the shabby apartment building that, up until 15 minutes ago, you had called home. “Then we are absolutely doing this!” You laughed, pulling away from the curb as she hung half of her body out the car to shout a goodbye to your hometown. “We’re fucking out of here! See you later, Phil!” Bellamy had her middle fingers in the air as the wind swept through her jet black hair.

Reaching over, you grabbed her shirt to yank her back in the window, “Bellamy, the groundhog can’t hear you!” Your hand went back to the steering wheel as she settled back into her seat and kicked her feet up on the dashboard. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’re not gonna fall asleep on me 20 minutes into the drive.”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a lazy smile, “Fall asleep on you, sweet pea? Never.” She grabbed the aux cord, plugging it into her phone. “Why did we decide to drive again? We could’ve left everything to the moving company and just booked a flight… This is gonna take for-ev-er.” She flicked her sunglasses down over her eyes with a whine.

“Bell, how often are we gonna get to road trip across the country? Think of all the places we’ll get to see!” You tried to sound as positive as you could but, truth be told, you weren’t very excited about the drive either. The speakers came to life when she finally decided on a playlist, opening with House of the Rising Sun by The Animals. “Once we’re on I-80, the drive will go so fast, babe.”

She dropped her feet back to the floor, turning to face you again, “Whatever you say, Y/N.” Digging into the grocery bag full of snacks below her, she grabbed a pack of gummy bears and ripped them open, “God, I just can’t wait to be out of here and in the sun… And our new apartment?” Bellamy curled her legs up into her seat, turning to face you, “Are you okay with me taking the Master bedroom? I really want the en suite bathroom.”

You glanced over to see her pouting her lip at you, “You can have whatever room you want.” Looking back to the road, you turned the music down a bit, “If you told me I had to sleep in a tent on the balcony, I would do it.” It sounded like a joke, but you were partially serious.

“You know you’d be sharing my bed if there was no other place for you, Y/N.” She gave you a pointed look and slouched back into her seat. “We would just need a kind of ‘sock on the door’ signal, yanno?”

Craning your neck to look behind you, you slowly merged onto the interstate, “When has a signal ever worked before, Bellamy?” It was early enough in the morning that traffic was mostly clear, allowing you to set the cruise control to an even 70mph. “Remember Seth? The guy I met at sophomore year IUPatty’s? I left the shamrock beads on the doorknob and that didn’t stop you from barging into the dorm!”

She held her hands up, “In my defense, there were beads scattered through the hallway. How was I supposed to know you put them there intentionally?” Her shoulders raised in a shrug as she remembered back, “And I saved you! Your fake moans weren’t even believable, you weren’t getting off!”

You broke out into a cackle, “Oh my god, Bell! Fuck, you’re actually right.” She stuck her tongue out at you, “He was so hot, but had no rhythm at all… it was just anticlimactic. No pun intended.” You were both in a fit of laughter when your friend popped up in her seat.

“Babe, turn it up!” Bellamy yelled over the wind whipping through the windows as Rocky Mountain Way by Joe Walsh began playing. “It’s our song!”

You reached for the volume dial with a grin, cranking it up as you both started singing along. “…Out to pasture, think it’s safe to say, time to open fiiiire…” You held your closed fist to your mouth, using it as a makeshift microphone, “And we don’t need the ladies crying cause the story’s sad…”

Holding your invisible microphone out to your friend, she sang the next few lines into it “‘Cause the rocky mountain way is better than the way we had…” The two of you went back and forth, singing loudly through your giggling. You listened as Bellamy vocalized the entire solo at the end of the song, finishing with a deep inhale to catch her breath.

The next song came on as you both settled down and you just drove in a comfortable silence for a while. You stopped for food and gas while passing through Toledo and continued on, only stopping again once you were right outside of Chicago. “I’m sick of driving, Bellamy. It’s your turn.” You whined at her as you pulled the car into a gas station.

“I’ve got maybe five or six hours in me.” She pushed her door open, grabbing her wallet from her bag to head into the gas station, “I do not want to be in the car anymore, so let’s plan on stopping in Des Moines… If traffic stays clear, we should make it by at least eleven. Midnight at the latest.” You followed her into the convenience store, listening to her lay out the plans. “When we get back in the car, look for a motel or something cheap we can stay in for tonight and then we’ll get back on the road early tomorrow.”

You both headed to the restroom to relieve yourselves before grabbing a few energy drinks and bottles of water and paying for your gas. “Sounds good, babe.” After filling the tank, you climbed into the passenger seat while your friend got behind the wheel and began browsing for a place to rest.

“Hey, Bell…” You’d been back on the road for another two hours, going back between music and podcasts, when you turned to her.

She glanced at you with a soft smile, “Yes, sweet pea?”

You were toying with your fingers in your lap, “I haven’t actually said it yet, but thank you.” She gave you a questioning look, prompting you to elaborate, “For bringing me along with you… to San Francisco. I will never be able to make this up to you.” You wanted to make sure she knew how genuinely grateful you were. All you’ve dreamed of, since you were 15, was getting out of your hometown and escaping the living hell that was your life. You thought that the day you turned 18, you’d pack up and leave to head for the west coast, get as far away as you could to avoid the chance of ending up like your mother. But after graduation and without money, your only option to get out of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania was going to college. Bellamy made you apply to IUP with her and when you both got in, it seemed like things wouldn’t be so bad anymore. Even though the university was only about 40 minutes from your hometown, it was far enough away that you didn’t have to deal with the stress of living with your parents anymore. Your dad was always amazing. He taught you everything you knew, from how to cook to how to change your own brakes and oil. All he ever wanted was to make sure you were capable of taking care of yourself when the time came for you to be on your own and that time came a lot sooner than either of you could have anticipated.

It was your junior year in college and you were so close to getting your Bachelor’s in Anthropology. Your classes kept you busy enough that you didn’t have time for partying or getting into trouble. All of your focus went into your school work in the hopes that once you finished, you would find a great job in doing something you loved and make enough money to go wherever you wanted. But the perfect bubble you’d put yourself in popped that November when you went home for Thanksgiving break.

Your mother’s alcohol addiction wasn’t anything new to you. You would come home from middle school to find her passed out on the sofa, empty bottle littering the coffee table. Some nights she would come into your room to crawl in bed with you, crying that she wanted to be better and that she was going to try to stop drinking. You would let her hold you and cry until your dad would come in and gently walk her back to their bedroom. The smell of her vodka soaked breath is something that would surely stick with you for the rest of your life. Dad would try his hardest to hide how bad her problem really was, but you knew. It started to get worse when you got into high school. She would get drunk and belligerent, screaming and breaking things. You’d gotten accustomed to staying at Bellamy’s. Her father and yours were best friends and that’s how you and Bell ended up as close as you were. On the nights your mother was particularly bad, Bell’s dad, Mr. Cole, would get a call from your dad and within minutes, you would be climbing into the backseat of his car with your best friend to stay with her family for a couple of nights. You begged your dad to leave her, to just let her drink herself rotten and move you and him some place far away where she couldn’t affect you anymore, but he refused. Always telling you that she needed the both of you to get her through it, that she didn’t have the strength to stop drinking on her own. Part of you knew that he didn’t even believe that himself, but you looked up to him more than anybody and trusted that he knew what was best. Still, you couldn’t stand to live in the same house as her, so when you got accepted to the same college as Bellamy, it was like life was finally giving you a break.

Then that Thanksgiving day came crashing down and everything else went with it. You and Bellamy made the short drive home the day before and you dropped her off at her house before heading to yours. Your dad was at the door, waiting to greet you as you pulled in and he rushed out to wrap you in a bear hug and help you with your belongings. You were dreading the kind of state you would find your mom in, but to your surprise, she seemed sober and completely normal. She pulled you into an embrace and you could still smell the faint hint of liquor on her, but her behavior had you fooled into thinking it was just your imagination. You were having a good time, helping her prep the apple pie so it would be ready to bake for the holiday while listening to music. She asked you how your classes were going and she seemed genuinely interested as you explained your course load to her. It was a welcome change to how conversations normally went with her.

As the day dwindled to early evening, you started to see a change in her. She was getting sloppy and she stumbled through the house and you noticed her eyes starting to droop, but it wasn’t until she started throwing a fit about not having enough wine for the guests that you’d be having over for Thanksgiving that you realized she must have been sneaking drinks throughout the night. You watched as your dad tried to reason with her and calm her down, but she just kept yelling, throwing things around the kitchen until he finally gave in and offered to drive her to the store so they could pick up a few more bottles. You pleaded with him to stay, trying to convince him that he was only enabling her addiction by catering to her temper tantrums, but he brushed you off, wrapping you in hi arms and placing a firm kiss to the top of your head before grabbing his jacket and ushering your mother out the door. You didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time you would ever hug your father. After they started the drive into town, in a drunken fit of anger, your mom would lash out and begin hitting your dad, causing him to run off of the road and into the woods. He was pronounced DOA by the first responders and she would walk away from it without a scratch. Nobody knew that it was her fault, but after his funeral, when she was already half a bottle deep, she confessed it to you. You left her alone that night and never looked back and she ended up moving south to live with family. You couldn’t forgive her and if you never saw her another day in your life, it would still be too soon.

The depression you fell into forced you to drop out of college. You moved back to your hometown and got a job at the local diner, Punxsy Phil’s, to pay rent. Bellamy moved back with you and spent her last year and half commuting to school before graduating with her Bachelor’s in Computer Science. Now, two years later at 26, Bell was offered a job at a tech company. They were based out of Silicon Valley but they wanted her to head a team in their San Francisco office. When they offered to pay for her housing for a year until she got her footing, she sweet talked them into a two bedroom apartment and asked you to go with her. Of course you jumped at the opportunity and now here you were, driving across the country to start your new life and it was all thanks to your best and oldest friend.

“Y/N, I wouldn’t have even thought about taking this job if there wasn’t a chance that you could come with me.” She reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly, “I know how hard the past few years have been, but we’re starting a new chapter and it’s us, babe. It’s always been you and me.” A grin formed on her face as she put her hand back on the steering wheel, “We’re gonna fucking rule San Fransisco like Christina and Courtney in The Sweetest Thing.” She paused before adding, “But promise me you won’t fall in love with a guy you just met overnight!”

You leaned over the center console, hugging her tightly and planting a giant peck on her cheek, “I fucking love you, Bell.” You were both laughing as she pushed you away.

“I love you more, sweet pea.”

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

It was early Sunday morning when you finally pulled into the parking lot or your new apartment building in the Mission Bay neighborhood. It stood maybe six stories high and each apartment had its own balcony. You and Bellamy were on the third floor, number 308, and she held the keys in her fist as you both stepped out of the car. The excitement couldn’t be contained as you made it up the elevator and she unlocked the door, pushing through it to see your new home in person for the first time. Stepping into the apartment, you both rushed around, exploring the living space. It was quaint and small, but it was perfect for the two of you. You each had your own bathroom and the bedrooms were a decent size. The sliding door that led out to the balcony caught your attention at the same time as her and you were running to slide it open and see the view of the city. “Bell, is this even real?” You gazed out in awe, seeing all the buildings and businesses that surrounded. You couldn’t wait to see what it looked like at nighttime with the city lights. Just as your friend went to answer you, there was a knock on the apartment door that was left wide open and you turned to see the movers standing there. You both looked at one another with large smiles, “Let’s turn this place into home, B.”

“I think it’ll look better against that wall.” Bellamy placed her hand on the man’s arm, pointing to the opposite side of the living room. “Could you just move it one more time?” You bit your lips together, trying to stifle a laugh as she batted her lashes at him. The movers made it to your new home right after you had and your best friend was quick to put them to work. You stood back, allowing her to give directions with flirty giggles, directing the men where to put everything.

Finding it best to stay out of her way, you decided to occupy yourself with something else, “Hey, hun!” You called across the room to Bellamy, “I’m gonna start unpacking the kitchen.” She gave you a thumbs up without breaking concentration on the movers. Walking into the tiny kitchen, you pulled open the first box you saw to reveal all of your plates and bowls, wrapped in old newspapers. You decided on a cabinet and began stacking the dishes, one by one, discarding the papers into the empty box as you went. Next was the cups and mugs then tupperware and pots and pans. After a little over an hour, you had the kitchen completely unpacked with everything in its rightful place.

As you stood in the middle of the space breaking down all of the boxes, your friend came through the doorway, “Everything is officially moved in.” You watched as she padded to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water. She shook a bottle in the air, silently asking if you wanted one, and tossed it after you gave a nod, “And, courtesy of those three very sweet men, the living room is already assembled.” Bellamy gave a proud smile as she cracked open her bottle. “We just have to fill the bookshelf and hang some art on the walls or something.” She shrugged, taking a large gulp of water.

You took a few chugs of your own and checked the time on your phone, pausing the music that was playing. “It’s only 1 o’clock, we’re making pretty good time. You wanna go find lunch somewhere?” Bellamy’s phone began ringing as she nodded her head and you watched her walk back into the living to retrieve it. After a minute you left the kitchen as well, going into your bedroom to find a change of clothes in the mountain of boxes. The apartment already came with beds and bedroom furniture and you dug through one box, pulling out the new sheets and comforter that you’d purchased and tossed them on the mattress.

“Soooo…” Bellamy startled you as she popped her head in the door frame, “Don’t hate me…” She gave an apologetic look.

You dropped the clothes you were holding to the bed and let out a sigh, “We’re not getting lunch, are we?”

She came into the room, cupping your face with a pout, “I’m sorry, Y/N! Please don’t be mad.” You pulled out of her hold, rolling your eyes, “That was my new boss that just called and he wants me to go down to headquarters to meet everyone.”

You weren’t mad, you knew how important this job was to her, “It’s fine, Bell. Take my keys, they’re on the kitchen counter.” You pointed out the door.

A high pitched squeal left her mouth and she wrapped you in an incredibly tight hug, “I’ll make this up to you, I swear!” She went to her own bedroom to change clothes and you decided you would still go out and get food, but you would also take the time to look at who may be hiring in the area. You pulled on a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a black baby tee that read ‘farm fresh peaches’ with two of the bright fruits printed over the chest. Once satisfied with your outfit, you dug through your laptop case to pull out a copy of your resumé and a separate sheet of paper with a solid list of references, and tucked them into your bag just as Bellamy came back to your doorway, “I love you and I’ll be back soon!”

“Leave me your keys, Bell!” You called as she disappeared back out into the apartment, “I’m gonna go explore the neighborhood a little bit and you’ll have my keys, so leave yours for me.” She nodded, digging her key ring from her purse and dropping them on the counter.

Ten minutes later, you were locking up and riding the elevator to the ground floor. You stepped out on the street, looking left and right to decide which direction you wanted to go in. Opting for the left, you started on your journey, unsure of where you might end up, with a goal of finding lunch in mind. You’d lost count of how many blocks you walked when you landed on Market Street. The entire length of it was lined with stores and bars and restaurants, it was unlike anything you’d see back home. Sure, Pittsburgh was a great city to visit, but it didn’t compare to this in your eyes. You scoped out a few different food spots as you walked along the sidewalk, Some with potential to eat at, others with potential for work, but you continued on, lost in the bustle of everything going on around you until something caught your eye. A bright, neon open sign shined bright in a storefront window and illuminated the ‘Now Hiring’ sign to its right. It was a piece of paper that looked like someone just scribbled the note on with thick, black sharpie, and taped it to the window as a joke. Your gaze traveled up to the hanging sign above the door, Highway Tunes Records, before dropping back to the windows and seeing the art and posters adorning the walls inside. Your eyes fell upon a psychedelic poster, made up of colorful and abstract swirls that came together to unmistakably make Jimi Hendrix. An audible gasp escaped and you found yourself pulling the door open and shuffling inside the store and straight over to the poster. You were entranced as you stared up at it, unable to tear your eyes away until a voice stole your attention.

“You a Hendrix fan?” Turning to find whoever the voice came from, you were met with a gleaming set of teeth, stretched into a mesmerizing grin, with the tiniest gap between the front two.

You returned his smile, murmuring a response once you realized you’d been staring at him, “Uh… Yeah. He was my dad’s favorite musician.” You glanced back up at the framed poster as he replied.

He was standing incredibly close, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, “Well, he is great… So!” His exclamation made you jump and he laughed, “Sorry, it’s been a slow day and you’re probably our fifth customer since opening at noon.” You looked down at your phone to check the time, 2:49pm, and gave him a sympathetic smile. You knew how boring a slow day at work could be. “Anyways… What brings you into HIghway Tunes? Looking for a specific album?”

“Actually, that is what brought me in here.” You pointed up to the Jimi poster, “It felt like it was calling me in.” You shook your head, aware of how weird that sounded, but before you could try to reword it, the man was already talking.

“Oh. Well, unfortunately, I can’t sell you that specific piece.” He let out a huff, turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. Your brow furrowed as you watched him go and he turned around, gesturing for you to follow him, “That one is part of Jake’s personal collection.” He started after you fell into step behind him, “He’d kill me if I sold it and then he’d hunt you down and kill you too… But these…” He stopped in front of a giant bin, filled with rolled up posters, and flipped open the binder above it, “These are all on the market.”

You watched as he thumbed the pages, looking over the inventory of music posters. You couldn’t help but stare at him. Full lips, bordered by a tasteful bit of facial hair. A wild mess of curls that covered his forehead and ears, only leaving the small, silver hoops piercing his lobes to stick out. He had a constant smile on his face and you almost didn’t want to open your mouth out of fear that it would go away, “I’m not… really looking to buy anything.” You watched the grin falter, but he quickly recovered it, “I’m sorry. I just don’t have the spare money right now to spend on things that aren’t necessities.” You scrunched your nose with a shrug.

He turned to face you, looking you up and down as if he was sizing you up, “You’re not from around here.” Suddenly feeling self conscious, you crossed your arms over your chest, looking away from him, “Hey, no. I didn’t mean any offense… Just that the only people who come in here are either regulars or tourists and you’re certainly not a regular.”

“How do you know I’m not a regular?” You gave him a pointed look as you pursed your lips. “Maybe you just always miss me when I come in?”

“Naah. Nobody comes in here without me or Jakey seeing them and I would not forget you.” He slapped his palm over his face whilst shaking his head, “Sorry, that… That sounded creepy. I just meant… never mind.” A bright blush started to overtake his cheeks.

He was so charming and handsome, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from your mouth and if Bellamy were there, she’d accuse you of flirting. “Okay, I did just move here, but tell you what… As soon as I get a job, I promise to become a regular.” You flashed him a sweet smile before turning around and heading for the door, “Don’t forget my face.”

“Woah, wait!” He called after you and you stopped to face him again, a questioning lift to your brows, as he jogged the short distance across the store, “You need a job? We’re hiring.” He sounded desperate as he continued, “The pay is good, I swear. You’ll get great hours and everyone here is chill!”

You looked around at the shop, really taking in the eccentric environment. His smile alone was enticing you to say yes and you couldn’t fight against it, “So… is this an official interview?” You joked and saw his shoulders visibly relax.

He looked around the store as though he was searching for something, “Actually, let me find Jake. We might be able to interview you right now.” He went in the opposite direction from you, giving you no time to decline before heading for the checkout counter, but he stopped, “I’m Josh, by the way!” He yelled from where he stood

You called out to him, still planted by the front door, “I’m Y/N!” His smile seemed to grow brighter as he repeated your name back to you.

Just as he was about to push through the door behind the counter, it flung open to reveal another man behind it, “What’s with all the fucking yelling?” From where you stood, it looked like he was gritting his teeth at Josh. His hair was long, landing past his shoulders, and he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. He peered over Josh’s shoulder to get a look at you and you saw his lips moving before the curly headed boy turned and waved you towards them.

You swallowed your nerves and began shuffling towards them. Your eyes drifted to the ceiling to see it plastered with vinyls, all painted over with intricate and colorful artwork. As you stepped up to the counter, your eyes fell on the men, “This place is a lot like Trax.” They both gave you strange looks, prompting you to clarify, “The record store from Pretty In Pink? With Molly Ringwald?” The confusion didn’t leave their faces as you stared at them, “Seriously? That’s like, my favorite movie. It’s an iconic John Hughes masterpiece! The scene when Duckie sings Otis Redding?” You continued to gush despite how clueless they clearly were.

Josh’s face lit up into a grin as he listened to you, but the other guy remained stoic, almost like he was bored, “Well it’s a good thing you don’t need to know movies to work in a music store.” You couldn’t help the look of shock on your face at his pompous tone.

But you were never one to let a man make you feel small, “No, you’re right, but… if I’m not mistaken, there’s an entire shelf over there,” You pointed to your left with a cocky smile, “that is loaded with movie soundtracks… And if you ask me, music and film go hand and hand.” Looking back at him, you gave an innocent shrug, “But you’re the boss, so who am I to argue?” He was taken aback by your quip but you could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a smirk on his lips as he eyed you. You directed your attention back to Josh, “Maybe I’m not a good fit… but I hope you find someone who will be.” You were about to turn and leave, but he stopped you.

“No, don’t leave!” He slapped the other man’s arm, “Jake, don’t be a jackass. We need the help and I think she’ll be great.” He was practically pleading.

“Ahh, you’re Jake…” You finally connected the dots, “The same Jake that would hunt me down and kill me if I made off with that Hendrix poster over there?” You nodded towards the frame that hung on the wall. “So maybe you don’t know classic movies, but you clearly have good taste in music.” It was an attempt at flattery and it seemed to work because he finally cracked a genuine smile.

His eyes flashed to the poster and came back to you, “What’s your favorite Jimi album? Song?” He was trying to quiz you as if he didn’t believe you were really a fan of the musician. “Answer carefully, peach.”

Your gaze dropped to your shirt before you narrowed your eyes at him, “Axis: Bold As Love by the Experience and Red House… Specifically the Woodstock live recording.” You raised your eyebrow, waiting for a snide remark, “And I have a name…” You almost forgot that Josh was standing beside him until he cleared his throat.

He clapped his hands together with a laugh, “See, Jakey. You can’t tell me she wouldn’t fit in perfectly.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, “Why is Red House your favorite song?” The question made you smile.

“It’s all very bluesy. The guitar riff and solo, his lyrics… The first time my dad played that song, I was completely enthralled.” You were speaking genuinely and judging by the way he was nodding, he knew it.

He turned to Josh, silently communicating to him with a look. You watched them, trying to decipher what was being discussed, but as you studied their expressions, you noticed how similar they looked. Josh’s eyes locked with yours and he answered your question before you could ask it, “Yeah, we’re twins, Y/N.” He chuckled softly, “It’s always the first thing people ask…” You mumbled an apology, casting your eyes to the floor, “Nothing to be sorry for. But good news! You’re hired!”

“What?” You looked at him in shock, “I- But- Don’t you have to…ask more questions?” How did they decide that with just a series of facial expressions to one another? “Do you need references or… I don’t know, it’s never been this easy to get a job, there’s gotta be a catch…”

Jake disappeared through the door behind him for a moment and reemerged holding a t-shirt, “The catch is, you gotta be here bright and early tomorrow to start training.” He tossed the tee at you and slid a piece of paper over the counter, “Take this home, fill it out, and bring it back with you. I’ll see you here at 9am, peach.” He turned around, going back through the door and closing it behind him.

“I promise, he’s not as unpleasant as he makes himself seem.” Josh came around the corner to stand beside you and pulled the paper from the counter, “We’ll start your wages at $20.25 per hour. I just need you to fill out this application with all your basic information. Yanno, name, number, address, social. Then we’ll be able to get you on payroll asap.” He handed you the page with his bright grin that you were growing to really enjoy.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You stuffed the t-shirt and application into your tote bag, “So he’s training me tomorrow?” The distaste was evident in the way you forced a frown, “Are you gonna be around to soften that blow?” You were begging the universe for a yes, but wound up disappointed.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Mondays are my days off…” He gave an apologetic smile, “Jake’s actually really cool, Y/N. And I’ll make sure he goes easy on you.” As if he could sense the anxiety radiating from you, he offered a compromise, “Alright, I have some shit to get done tomorrow, but I’ll stop in around lunch to see how everything’s going. Okay?” He flashed that damn smile and you were sold.

“Thank you, Josh.” Your phone began to ring in your back pocket and you pulled it out, muttering a sorry to him as you answered it, “Hey, Bell.” You listened to her speak for a few moments, “No, I haven’t… I’m fucking starving, though. You wanna come pick me up?...Uhhh, I’m not sure, it’s a record store on Market Street…Yeah, I’ll just drop a pin… Perfect. Love you too, babe.” You hung up, sending her your location, and stuffed the phone back into your pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“Was that your boyfriend?” The question caught you off guard, but the apprehension on his face threw you off even more.

You shook your head, partially to answer his question, but also to clear your mind enough to form a response, “Umm. No. No, that was Bell- Bellamy.” You paused before elaborating further, “She’s my best friend. We moved down here together…”

He let out a breath that you didn’t realize he was holding in, “Oh! Cool.” The silence stretched between you and you weren’t sure if he felt as awkward as you did.

Your phone dinged, saving you from the tension, and you pulled it back out to see a text from your friend, “She’s here, so I’m gonna go…” You pointed towards the door before slowly turning away from him. Just as you reached the door, you looked back to see him watching you and tried to conceal the blush creeping onto your cheeks, “Any quick food recommendations? We haven’t eaten yet today… Oh! Preferably cheap?”

“If you’re looking for something close, Super Duper Burgers is great. Definitely check their seasonal menu.” He ran his fingers over his mustache, drawing your attention to his lips, “If you're willing to go a little further up the Market, Taqueria Cancun has some solid, authentic Mexican tacos. There’s a ton of sushi joints.”

“How about pizza? I’m kind of craving a greasy slice.” You knew Bellamy was waiting for you, but for some reason, you didn’t want to leave.

“Ahh, a girl after my own heart.” Josh pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds, “Slice House. Hands down, best pizza. You gotta try the Drunken Italian.” He pinched his fingers together, giving an exaggerated chef’s kiss, “The vodka sauce is fucking revolutionary.” You held eye contact for longer than you cared to admit, but then the corner of his lip curled into a smirk, “You better get going, your friend is waiting.”

“Yeah, I guess I should… See you tomorrow?” He nodded his head, forcing his curls to sway as he waved goodbye. “Bye, Josh.” You pushed through the door and found Bellamy waiting in your car at the curb.

She pulled her purse from the passenger seat as you slid in and handed your phone off with the directions to the pizza place, “Why am I not surprised that you already managed to find a music store?” She shifted the car into drive, hitting the blinker to pull out.

“Bell, I literally just walked in there and they hired me. I start tomorrow.” You almost didn’t believe the words that poured out of your mouth. “It was the weirdest thing… I walked by and there was this Jimi Hendrix poster, and you remember how much my dad loved Jimi?” She nodded, waiting for you to continue, “When I saw it, it just drew me in. I don’t know how to explain it. But I was standing there and this guy came up to me, Josh, and-.”

“Mhmm…” Bellamy cut you off with a knowing smirk, “Josh, huh?”

You scoffed at her, “No. Don’t start, it’s not even like that.” You didn’t defend any further, just proceeded with your story, “Anyways… He offered me a job and he and his brother interviewed me right on the spot. I start tomorrow morning and get this, Twenty dollars an hour, Bell.”

She gawked at you, eyes wide, “Twenty? That’s over the minimum wage here. Did you suck his dick to get it?” She laughed at her own joke as you lightly hit her arm.

“You’re an asshole, yanno?” You sat back in your seat, laughing with her. “He is pretty cute, I can’t lie… He just seems like a really fun person and he’s always smiling. Like the brightest smile you’d ever see... But his brother, Jake, was sort of insufferable.” You were chewing on your lip as she glanced at you.

“Insufferable how?” She turned to you fully as the car stopped at a red light.

You thought back to the short exchange you’d had with him, “He was arrogant as hell, for starters.” Her eyes went back to the road as she let off the brake and you continued, “He didn’t even bother to learn my name, just kept calling me ‘peach.’ You wouldn’t even know they were twins if they didn’t look identical.” You stared out the window, looking at the buildings to find Slice House.

Bellamy spotted the restaurant at the same time you did, swinging the car into the first available spot she could find, “Twins? Oh, you’re fucking joking, Y/N. We haven’t even lived here a full day!” She cut the engine as she glared at you, “How old are they?”

“I don’t know? Our age, maybe a little older… Why does it matter?” You were toying with your fingers, something you did when you were nervous. “Don’t give me that damn look, Bellamy! It’s just a job. You’re not gonna find some hidden context in this.” Pushing the car door open, you stepped out to end the conversation.

She was popping out of her side right after you, “Okay, babe. Whatever you say…” You knew she had more to say but she dropped the topic for the time being as you both walked into the restaurant.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

You stood right outside of the door, looking at your reflection in the glass to straighten your shirt out. It was 8:48am and you were trying to work up the courage to go in, mentally preparing yourself to be trained by Jake. You were too focused on your reflection to see that he was coming across the store. The door pushed open and you jumped back with a yelp, “Did you plan on coming in for your shift or were you gonna spend another 15 minutes fixing your shirt?” He was holding the door, waiting for you to go inside.

You moved past him, rolling your eyes, “You know, you just make the atmosphere so inviting. How could I not want to be here?” You bit your tongue, aware of how much attitude you’d just given the man who is technically your boss. “Sorry, I-.” You turned back to face him but he was already breezing by you.

“You’re kind of a fucking brat…” You followed behind him, ready to argue his claim, but he was already moving on as though he’d said nothing at all, “Here. We got a long morning ahead of us and you’re gonna need to keep up with me.” He grabbed a cup from beside the register, handing it to you, and pointed to the door behind him, “There’s cream and sugar in the office if you need it, don’t take forever.” Taking the hot coffee without a word, you stepped around him to go into the office. When you came back, he was leaning against the counter, chin propped on his fist, “You fill that paper out, peach?”

Digging into your tote, you pulled the paper out and slapped it down in front of him, “That’s not my name, it’s-.”

“Y/N. I know” His lips curled into a conceited smirk and, had he not been walking away, you might have slapped it right off of his face, “Peach feels more fitting.” He waved his hand, beckoning you to follow him.

You fell into step as he walked towards the front of the store, “You saw fruit on my shirt and ran with it. Very original idea, can’t believe I didn’t think of it.” The look he had when he whipped around to face you made you clamp your mouth shut, but you couldn’t help the tingle you felt through your body at his response.

Jake was glaring at you with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place, “You’ve got a mouth on you.” He was pointing a finger at you, “and I can think of a few different ways to shut it.” Your jaw practically hit the floor as you stared at him and he flashed a devilish smile, knowing that he’d left you speechless. He turned away again, leading you to a display near the front door, “Pay attention.” You nodded silently as he started mapping things out for you, “This rack is all new release vinyls. We change most of them out weekly, depending on what kind of album drops there are.” He started walking towards the middle of the store, walking between the rows of shelves, “Everything is sorted by genre first and then alphabetical order.” You listened intently as he sped through the rundown, “We keep bargain bins down here.” He pulled open a cabinet door below one of the tables, revealing crates full of vinyls with torn and worn sleeves, “These are all used and donated, we sell them for $3 a piece or we do 10 for $10. It’s hit or miss, some work, some don’t.” Closing the cabinet, he moved to a different part of the store. You trailed quietly alongside him, soaking up all of the information he was spewing. After about 20 minutes, he’d looped you both back to the front, “Let’s see if you’ve kept up…” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting to see if you’d maintained any of the knowledge.

“Okay…” You took a deep breath, “Here we have new releases. They get updated weekly, unless there aren’t any good drops.” You continued throughout the space, pouring everything he’d given you back out to him, until you made it to the checkout counter, “Limited Edition vinyls are kept behind the counter, the new inventory delivery comes every Friday morning at 8am sharp, and I think that’s everything…?”

Jake was nodding his head, surprisingly impressed, “Not bad, peach.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, “We got a half hour before we open at 11.” He plucked your application from the counter where you’d left it, “I’m gonna get through some paperwork. You can-” He was cut off by the sound of footsteps coming from the back of the store. “Liv? I thought we wouldn’t see you until summer?” He greeted the short, blonde girl.

She had a stereotypical valley girl accent, “Finished my semester early, figured you guys needed me more than UCLA.” She gave him a smile that looked like she wanted to devour him. Her eyes flashed to you dismissively before flying back to Jake, “You here by yourself? I can clock in and help out.”

You shifted on your feet, feeling out of place, and Jake took notice, “Not alone today, I have peach, here, to help out.” He nodded towards you.

“Peach?” She finally took the time to really look you over, “Were your parents hippies or something?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, not sure how to respond, “Uhh. No, that’s not… My name is Y/N.” You reach out for a handshake, out of respect, but she just stared at your extended hand.

“Cool. I’m Olivia.” And just like that, she directed her attention back to Jake, “Can you fit me on the schedule this week?” She pushed her bottom lip out, looking like a toddler begging for candy, “I know you guys miss me.”

He shook his head with a faint smile, “I’ll talk to Josh.” He left it at that, turning to you, “Take that box and start putting the shit where it goes.” He pointed at the box on the floor.

“Aye aye, captain.” You saluted him with a smile and picked the box up.

A chuckle escaped his mouth and until that moment, you thought he was incapable of feeling joy, “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.” He started to walk around the counter, “I’ll let you know about the schedule, Liv.” He slipped through the door and closed it behind him, leaving you with the girl.

To avoid conversation, you gripped the box in your arms and lifted it to counter to begin sorting through it. Pulling out a stack of vinyls, you carried them through the store, fitting them into their rightful places. You hadn’t realized Olivia was following you until her low, grating voice creeped into your ears, “So…How did you get a job here?” She was watching you carefully, almost like she was waiting for you to make a mistake, “Jake is suuuper picky about who he hires.”

You looked at the last vinyl in the stack you were carrying, “Uhm, I just came in here yesterday to look at something and Josh offered me the job.” Moving through the tables, you went to the Country section and tucked the album away, “Jake gave me a shirt and told me to be here at 9am, so here I am.”

She was standing so close to you that you almost ran into her as you turned around to retrieve more from the box, “Here you are…” She sounded annoyed, but you ignored it as you pushed past her.

You went about your business for the next several minutes, finishing the task that Jake had given you, as she lingered through the store, watching you work while she pretended to browse the music. You pulled the empty box from the counter, ready to ask your boss what he wanted you to do next, when the bell on the front door chimed. You turned around to see a man come in and go straight to the New Release rack. He perused for a few moments before moving to the tables to search through the records. You expected Jake to emerge from the office, but he never did. After a few minutes of the guy looking entirely lost in his search, you took a deep breath and made your way over to him. Your eyes flicked to Olivia to see her staring at you, a cocky grin on her face. “Hi, can I help you find something, hun?” You put on your best customer service smile as he turned to face you.

“Actually yeah…” He looked like he was maybe in his early twenties and he seemed nervous, “I’m looking for something for my dad. He just bought himself a record player, but he doesn’t have any records for it.” He gave a shrug, “I don’t really know where to start here.”

This wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, “Okay, do you know what kind of music he likes? Any specific artist or band?” You waited patiently for him to answer.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen a few times, and held it up to show you, “This is a band right? I think he likes them.” It was a picture of a man, probably his father, wearing a Led Zeppelin tour t-shirt.

Your eyes went back to his face, giving him another sweet grin, “Yeah. Zeppelin’s a great band. Your dad has great taste.” You moved around him to walk him over to the appropriate shelves, “We should have a ton of their stuff… Do you want anything specific?” You had a feeling that he wouldn’t know what to choose.

“I- Well, what would you recommend?” He stood by while you flicked through the selection, “Which one is the best?”

“That’s a tricky question.” You pulled a few vinyls from the display, holding them up one by one, “So, Zep one is a safe choice. It’s their first studio album, really opened up the door for them, plus it’s got a couple really great blues covers.” You slid that one to the back of your stack to reveal the next, “ Two is also good. You get Whole Lotta Love, Ramble On, Heartbreaker.” He was nodding as you pulled your final option forward, “This one is my personal favorite.” You held up the album, showing him the cover with the peeling paint and the old man carrying a bundle of sticks, “I kind of skipped over three, but Zoso…This is their fourth studio album, and arguably the best.” You handed it to the boy to examine, “Going to California is probably my favorite song of all time. But it’s also got Stairway to Heaven and When the Levee Breaks. Black Dog. If your dad is a Led Zeppelin fan, then he’ll definitely appreciate this.”

“You know what, I’ll take this one and the first one you showed me.” You handed him the first album before turning to put the remaining one back on the shelf. He was smiling wide as he took it from you, “So are you like a music expert or something?”

You giggled at his question, “I wouldn’t say expert… Just really appreciative of what’s good.” You were staring at his light blue eyes, almost entranced in them when Jake barked your name from the counter. You jumped, whipping around to look at him with wide eyes. He held his hand up, waving for you to go to him, “Gimme one minute.” You called out to him and went to turn back to the man in front of you, but Jake’s voice rang out louder.

“No. Right now, Y/N.” He was leaning his hands on the countertop, glaring in your direction, but his eyes weren’t on you.

You muttered an apology to the blue-eyed boy, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.” You shuffled across the store, embarrassed at how he’d just spoken to you in front of your first customer, but also pissed at how he treated you like you were an insolent child. You stood in front of him, whisper-yelling to avoid further embarrassment, “What the hell, Jake? What did I do?” You looked around, realizing that Olivia was gone.

“You’re here to work, not flirt.” There was an edge to his tone that you couldn’t fully decipher.

“What?” You stared at him in shock, “I wasn’t- I was making a sale! Yanno? What you hired me to do…” Was this conversation even real?

He stepped out from behind the counter, “Go wait in the office, I’ll finish your sale.” You moved to try and stop him but his voice was dangerously low, stopping you in your tracks, “Office, Y/N. I’ll carry you in there myself if I have to.” He turned on his heel, walking towards the customer without another word, and you found yourself obeying his command to wait in the office.

Pushing through the door, you looked around the small space before closing it and dropping into a chair. You were highly considering just quitting as soon as he came in, but at the same time, you didn’t want to. Everything was so confusing… Why did he accuse you of flirting when he wasn’t even there? And why did the possibility of you flirting make him so mad? You sunk further into your seat, pondering your own questions, but the one you needed an answer for most; Why did you so easily bend to his will? You were pulled from your thoughts by the door opening.

“Good to know you’re capable of obeying orders, peach…”

🤍Taglist🤍

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ieatedsammy @twistedmelodies @dropdeadalyx31 @ageofbajabule @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @ignite-my-fire @becinabubblegvf @literal-dead-leaf @sanguinebats @myleftsock @laneygvf @writingcold @sinarainbows @lipstickitty @giraffehippy

#jake kiszka #josh kiszka #gvf twin series #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic #josh kiskza smut #gvf fic #Spotify

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treyisms · 1 year

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dating joe “coop” cooper mini hcs (f!reader):

(slight references to mature content)

- constantly stealing his plaid pants, especially in the morning (because they’re super comfy and they’re always slightly warm in a sweet way that lets you know coop is there <3)

- walking around the house in said plaid pants & a lil shirt, because last time you walked around in just coop’s t-shirt, remer nearly choked on his cereal and squeak tried to give him the heimlich which just resulted in remer falling backwards on squeak… and it was just… a lot

- coop loves butterfly kisses (batting his eyelashes against yours) because it’s such an intimate, but innocent way of showing love

- he sleeps flat on his tummy with absolutely no pillow so you are consistently squished underneath of him when you two sleep :’)

- he calls you so many lil nicknames esp “baby” & “honey”, and if you return the favor (HEAVY on calling him “baby”) he gets so red and does that lil nose scrunch ifykyk

- mf has the dreamiest eyes ever, so he’s constantly giving you heart eyes & announcing to the entire room, regardless of who is there “you know, you’re a really pretty girl y/n”

- it’s gotten to the point that when coop goes out to the bar after a game with his buddies, he’s just whining “man i just miss my girlfriend, ‘m gonna head home soon guys” for like 15 minutes straight until remer screams at him to leave already

- you are sitting in his lap CONSTANTLY, but there’s nothing he loves more than sitting in yours

- if you have long nails, he absolutely loves when you scratch them slightly down his back or the base of his head while he sits in your lap

- “that’s nice honey” with his eyes all closed and mouth slightly parted all happily :(((

- when he’s practicing his single shots, you stand in front of him with his chest to your back because he’s just absolutely obsessed with your body warmth (and other things)

- LOVES to look down his nose at you (not in the mean way, in a way that he loves feeling big and strong <3)

- squeeze his biceps it makes him feel so floaty & confident

- he def starts to throw out remer’s 3 in 1 shower products after you switch up his entire routine, but naturally remer is defensive

- “DUDE! my girlfriend said this shit is terrible for your skin stop using it” “but it’s 3 in fucking 1, that means it’s more soap dude! i’m getting cleaner that way dumbass!!”

- you usually don’t even have to break up their fights, it’s often followed by one of them stomping off, then the other for about 10 minutes or so, and then a sweet lil reunion between them

- because at his core coop is incredibly sweet & really loves to feel connected to the people he values

- chronic hand holder— like constantly kissing them, holding and squeezing them, playing with your fingers or rings, you name it.

- “you must really like holding my hand coop” “i just like you a lot.. that’s all” :)

- overall, he just absolutely adores you and calls you his “favorite lil cheerleader” :’)

#i hope this is okay :’)#if it’s not i’m sorry & i promise i’ll get better!#this was so fun joe cooper im love you #quite self indulgent #trey parker #trey parker x reader #joe cooper #joe cooper x reader #baseketball #matt stone x reader #doug remer x reader #matt stone #s writes <3

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anki-of-beleriand · 2 years

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Bad Liar ch. 2

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Past Shuri/Female!Reader

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: This chapter was a little hard to write because I want to do an introduction to the situation each one of them is living. But I hope you guys like it, right now Wanda is going through a very difficult time, and Reader is as well though her best defense is to be a little bitchy to hot strangers because it is a nice protective mechanism. It seems everytime Reader meets with Wanda she can't be nice but...well, we will see.

Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any grammar, spelling or funny mistake. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 2 - New lives

Your eyes were still closed.

You could hear the muffled sound of music coming from the first floor, and the sound of America doing a mess on the kitchen. The light from the sun sneaking inside your room through the blinds until the soft hues of yellow light touched your face. Mornings had become harder ever since you lost your parents, the weight of responsibility settled right in as soon as you regained consciousness and your life choices started dancing right in front of you until you decided to stand up.

A heavy sigh left your lips, the mobile resting on your table was flashing with the couple of messages you were receiving already.

“Fuck.” The curse left your lips with a rusty tone, your hand grabbing the phone to see who wrote to you during the night and most of the morning.

After seeing at least four of them, you knew it would be one of those days.

With another sigh, you sat up ready to start the day.

“Fuck all of this.” You mumbled again before turning around and going to the bathroom.

*****

The taste of coffee on your lips was everything you needed to improve your morning.

That, and watching America danced around the kitchen while sorting the breakfast and her lunch for that school day. The both of you were completely different, yet you two were just the same; you father had married a young woman he met just after your mother died in a car accident. At first you were not so sure with the relationship, you were still a child and your mom was just gone and this woman was nothing like her.

Then, America was born, and you forgot everything about her not being your mom.

If America was your little Sister, then Elena could be her mother.

“So, I see that Carol texted you,” America started in a teasing tone, her eyes taking a good glance at you before going back to the pan on the counter, “are you two going out again?”

“You read the message Carol sent, you mean.” You replied rolling your eyes, America shrugged not really caring about the semantics in the conversation.

“I’m your little sister, and you’re not very good with passwords, I can do what I want.”

“You sounded like Loki.” You replied grimacing a little, America turned around arching a single eyebrow at you.

“You’re so not going to go out of this conversation.” America crossed her arms waiting, for a moment you played with the idea of just not saying anything at all, but America would not drop it and she would find out eventually.

“I am seeing her tonight.” You gave in, shrugging. “She has this thing back at the base and wants me there with her.”

“So, you two guys…” America made a gesture with her hands, you snorted shrugging again.

“No idea.” You played with the fruit on your plate furrowing your brows. “I’m not sure if I want to, you know?”

America softened at your confession, your last serious relationship had been Shuri and that didn't end well. Then you found yourself in several affairs that only bring distractions to your life but not real satisfaction, America glanced at the house that used to be the Romanoff household then she turned her attention back at you.

The last year and a half had not been easy, but whereas America had distracted herself with school and friends you had to take the mantle of big sister and heir to the small fortune left by your parents. She knew you had been under a lot of pressure and, any day now, you would explode under it.

Perhaps, going out with Carol Danvers was what you needed it, even though America herself was not so sure about the blond-haired woman.

"I think you deserve to have some fun, and go out for the time being before you decide to settle for something serious." America leaned against the counter offering you a rare smile, you smiled back at her shrugging again.

“We will see, little sister, we will see."

America winced throwing a towel at you, “don’t call me that. Aren’t you late for work?”

“Aren’t you late for school?” You replied back turning your wrist to see the hour.

“Nah, it’s still earlier, and I’m waiting for Kate.”

You nodded standing up and drinking the last of your coffee, the atmosphere change for a moment and you had to wonder if perhaps you were missing something. There was dust of pink on America’s checks, but otherwise nothing seemed amiss.

“Today I have a meeting about dad’s will, and the succession process.” You said softly, this was something you already discussed with America but the subject was still sore for the both of you. “I think we will need to talk about everything, but how about we do it during lunch tomorrow?”

America swallowed her questions; she nodded offering you a weak smile.

“So, you gonna be late today?” She asked and this time around you caught the tone she used.

“No parties, and certainly no sex in the house, is that understood?”

America almost fell down, her face this time around was completely red with her mouth hanging open. You couldn’t help the laugh leaving your lips at her expression, she was looking flustered and indignant.

“I’m not going to have sex!” America almost yelled, and soon she covered her mouth while glaring at you. “What’s wrong with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? You’re going to have the house for yourself and you’re not going to bring Kate…”

“She is a friend!!”

The way America turned red, and how was tapping on the table told you otherwise. You arched your brow, though decided against any further comment seeing as whatever was happening between Kate and America had not been consolidate. Yet.

“Of course, your friend.” You pressed your lips together holding back your laughter, America pressed a hand on her face trying to hide away her embarrassment.

The vibration from your phone broke the moment, you made a face glancing at the name gleaming through the screen. America leaned in, her brows coming together in a familiar gesture that reminded you of Elena. Your face softened grabbing the phone and putting it away, your arms wrapping around the teen before placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Tony is just…being Tony, and I bet this was actually Pepper messaging me from his phone since I didn’t answer her message of this morning.” You stepped aside grabbing your car keys. “Please, be careful and write me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be good, I won’t make any parties and…I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

You chuckled shaking your head, if America did half the things you did at her age you would be in great trouble.

The morning was cold, but the sun was just sneaking around the heavy clouds gliding right above the suburbs. The music started inside your car, your mind already on the million things you would need to face once you get to the Stark Tower; a lot of things had to be sorted out and you knew the conversation you had pending with America needed to happen on that very weekend.

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed the garage door of the house next door opening, and the red car coming out of the garage with a ruckus happening right in the back seat. But as fate might had wanted it, you were just as distracted as the other woman and, by the time you both realized was happening it was late.

The sound of metal hitting metal was quite evident, your eyes opened wide and you stopped just on time before the hit could be worse than it already was.

“Fuck, what the hell?”

The sound had been an exageration of what actually happened. The woman in the red car had hit the metal bin right sepparating your driveway to the one from your neighbour. In all reality, the hit had been worse for her that had a scratch on the back of her car whereas you almost ran the metal bin with yours.

Still, this only meant another delay and the fact that now you had an idiot for a neighbour. You made a face rolling your eyes when you caught the sound of a door closing and footsteps apporaching.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Last night, the woman had been a vision, and an afterthought. You never dreamt of meeting her again, and after being an asshole with her and what she needed it you wished you would never see her again.

Yet, her she was.

This time around she looked different.

Her suit was professional looking, and the light makeup with her hairstyle made her look beautiful. There was still a trace of something in her eyes, a lack of light and heavy bags under her eyes but otherwise she was looking so much different to the mess of a woman you had seen the night before.

The worry in her features soon changed to one of annoyance, and this time around her green eyes gleamed with animosity when they too recognized you.

“You!” She spat with old anger she held from your last encounter, you raised an eyebrow and the annoyance you felt at the moment rose inside your chest making you draw a smile that Wanda found equally annoying to the one you wore the night before.

“Damn, you decided to take revenge for the yogurt yesterday?” You let out a half smile, your phone at the ready taking the pictures. “Do you know this is my part of the street, so in theory is your fault?”

“Excuse me?” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she stood there for a moment trying to gather her courage after the impact. "What the hell is your malfunction?"

She was still trembling, the cries from the twins resounding in her head and the bad night sleep taking its toll on her. You opened your mouth to speak when your phone started ringing, this time around Pepper was the one calling.

“Look, as interesting as this could turn out to be, I have cameras and everything to proof you fucked up.” You said walking backwards to your car. “Let’s not make a big deal of this, afterall I did not suffer any damage...but I can always point you over to a good driving instructor so this won't happen again? I would hate for next time you hitting my car in the safety of our driveways."

You glanced at your phone, then at your watch and without looking back to a dumbstruck Wanda you waved good-bye.

"Have a good day, Lady!"

Wanda was still trembling when you drove down the street, your mouth opening and closing while discussing with someone over the phone. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, her trembling hand resting on the side of the car while she repeated the same mantra inside her head over and over again.

It wasn’t him; it wasn’t him…it wasn’t him. He doesn’t know you’re here.

The muffled sound of crying made her stirred into action, opening the door she accommodated herself to calm down Billy while Tommy grabbed his favorite blanket closer to his chest. The tears were rolling down her face, she whispered sweet things to Billy while offering a shaky smile until the boy sniffed grabbing Wanda’s hand in his.

Wanda knew she would be late that day, her morning had not been better than her night but at least this time around there was no one around to scream at her, to drag her back into the house for her stupidity and her distracted nature. The car could survive, and she would certainly send the other woman to hell for being a complete asshole but for now the important thing was that she and the kids were safe.

What were the odds that the same stupid woman from the day before was the same one living next door?

Wanda shook her head making sure Billy and Tommy were fine, before going to the front and making her way to the school. That day, her new life would start and she wouldn’t let anyone, specially someone as incredible stupid as the woman next door to mess with her humour, or the new life she was trying to build.

*****

The nursery was filled with children form the faculty, as well as some of the younger siblings of the students going to the Elementary and the High School right next door. The institution was actually one of the few prestigious schools in the country, it had been built for the students with great minds but probably without the resources to afford the best education the country could offer. It had been stablished in the early 50´s and the school board was led by one of the most important women in the educational system in the country.

Natasha Romanoff wrapped her arms tightly around Wanda, the young woman dropped her shoulders and allowed the comfort this gesture brough to her soul. They had met almost a year ago, the last time Wanda had been at the hospital with a broken arm and a knife wound; that day Natasha had offered a way out and Wanda had taken it without any hesitation.

“How are you doing? How was the trip? The house, was of your liking?”

Natasha was beautiful, with a light makeup and red lips matching her hair many confused her beauty for stupidity or even for her being an easy piece of ass. On the contrary, Natasha was a shark amongst a world govern by men, her inner circle was made of great men and women that had been trying to build a better society in the midst of politics and difficulties. She was smart, and assertive with great ideas as how the things at school should be done and her side job had been of great help to women and men around the country that suffered the horrors of violence in their households.

Wanda offered a shaky smile, her eyes dancing around the small room before they settled on the twins.

“It has been…hard.” She replied in a soft voice, “last night I couldn’t help but look at the clock on the wall and…”

Natasha softened nodding; her hand placed on the woman’s arm before she too went to look at the twins that were playing together in a corner.

“It takes time, Wanda, don’t rush yourself.” Natasha then nodded at the twins. “They will get there, and you too.”

“Thank you for everything, the house was…it was amazing.” She then made a face, she wasn’t sure if she should mention the fact her neighbour was a bitch, Natasha noticed her expression and squeezed her arm softly.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing just…I have an encounter with this woman, she was a total bitch and…I think that’s the only bad thing that happen to me since getting here, you know?”

Natasha chuckled shaking her head, “well, I’m glad that’s the only bad thing so far, bitchy people are all around the world you just have to ignore them.”

Wanda shrugged nodding, she hesitated for a moment before following Natasha out of the nursery and down a long hall connecting to the main building.

“You will be with the seniors class, they are…special.” Natasha hesitated for a moment before laughing at Wanda’s expression. “Special as in they are in advanced levels but on different fields, not as in troublemakers.”

Wanda made a face shaking her head apologetically, “I didn’t mean…I mean, all children deserve a fair treatment, and being difficult is just part of their grow process or…”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, every single student in this place is a troublemaker.” Natasha commented, her lips never loosen up the smile adorning her features. “I think that’s the best part of this job.”

Natasha made a brief description of the building and the students, Wanda was listening attentively admiring everything around her. The students would come in greeting Natasha and herself before running down the halls or screaming or laughing, Wanda couldn’t help the smile adorning her features at the familiarity of it all. She remembered still the day she graduated from University and went right ahead to look for a job, weeks after having married Vis; her life had been amazing up until Vis stated he didn’t like her going out so much and always being late or working at home and much less being around so many kids and their parents.

Wanda’s dream of being a teacher soon came crashing down after a school meeting, it had been innocent enough but that day Wanda learned the true nature of her husband and weeks later she quit.

“This is amazing.” Wanda finally commented with a smile, Natasha nodded signalling the black door down the hall. “This will be your classroom, I know your specialty was English and Spanish, but I also know you have some knowledge of Cultural Studies and literature, that’s what I want you to do with them.”

Wanda nodded enthusiastically, she had received the lesson plan for the semester and the study plan for the whole year. These kids were really high advanced in everything they did and her classes would be a way to help them develop critical thinking and argumentation skills during debates; at least that was what Wanda would like to teach them.

“No one knows about your past, Wanda.” Natasha finally said opening the door and handing the key to Wanda, she walked towards the desk were she had organized the files the young woman would need. “You are here with your maiden name, and with a nice backstory, remember that.”

“I will, Natasha. I don’t know…I really don’t know how to thank you for everything you have done for me.” Wanda finally stated turning to the woman, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I will do my best, I…thank you.”

“Don’t need to thank me, Wanda.” Natasha offered another hug to the woman. “That’s what we’re here for, remember that part of the process is talking about it and you have a meeting with Hope tomorrow.”

“I know, I will be there.” Wanda then leaned back chewing on her lip with uncertainty, Natasha furrowed her brow tilting her head.

“What is it?”

“The twins, I mean…I can’t take them with me but…”

Natasha nodded understanding what Wanda meant, she pointed with her head to the classroom chuckling.

“You have at least twenty teens in this place, you can ask one of them to babysit for you.” Natasha shook her head before Wanda could reply. “You will need a babysitter either way, you can ask around and if you’re still unsure, come over later on and I will help you with that.”

Once Natasha left, Wanda was left alone in the classroom.

This place was like nothing she had seen before, the desks and the walls, the windows and the general decoration was relaxing and actually quite homey. Wanda sat on her desk, the laptop resting there had her name already and the password ended up being her employee ID. She started looking around the different files, the names of her students and what each one of them had been doing up until that point. Natasha was not kidding when she said all of them were gifted in some way.

It wasn’t only about Academy, most of them were either good at sports or arts, some of them were pretty good at politics and science. The good and the bad was included in the files, and Wanda realized that even if everything was looking pretty and organise there were internal problems that sometimes affected the overall performance.

Wanda learned that one of her students was a loner, not a single friend and with absent parents. Another one lost her parents in a car accident and her big sister ended up taken care of her. One of the kids was living with his uncles, and another one found recently he was adopted with a real father that almost killed him when he went to confront him.

Wanda jumped on her chair when the door of the classroom open and a group of girls came right in, all of them talking loudly until they realized the room was not empty.

“Oh, sorry I…we didn’t know there was someone in here already…” America hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide open observing the woman sitting at the professor’s desk.

“Oh, please!” Wanda stood up smiling tentatively at the group. “Come on in, we’re about to start.”

“What’s the delay, Chavez? Move it!” Yelena went right in pushing through the group until she stopped dead on her tracks, scowling openly at the woman standing in the room. “Who the hell are you?”

“Yelena!” Kate and America exclaimed at the same time, Wanda opened her eyes surprised, she took a breath trying to calm down her beating heart.

“I’m Wanda Maximoff, the new teacher.”

______________________________________________________________

Rain had started falling again.

This time around, it was a mild drizzle with low temperatures and strong winds. Wanda sighed looking at the time on her watch walking down the halls leading to the nursery. Even with the bad weather, and with the tiredness of the day, Wanda couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. She was back in the classroom, and she had enjoyed the class itself too much. Her students were smart, they would participate in every activity she proposed and in general the different classes she had given that day had been a success.

It was as if she was recovering a small part of her life she lost all those years ago.

With her body almost giving up, she turned around the corner noticing at that moment the loud conversation at the other end of the hall.

Loki crossed his arms glaring at the five year old boy that was glaring at him equally annoyed, America and Kate both hid their smiles behind their hands while Yelena and Kamala were just waiting exasperated.

“Now!” Loki barked to which the boy shook his head stomping his feet on the ground.

“No!”

Inside the room, Billy and Tommy were watching wide eye the scene, their eyes lit up as soon as they saw the familiar form of their mother coming to the room.

“MOM!” The group jumped at the exclamation; Wanda softened slightly kneeling down to receive the hugs from the twins.

“Professor Maximoff.” America turned slightly, softening under the scene. “Oh, we didn’t know you have children. Hey there, guys.”

America knelt down offering a half smile to the twins, the two boys glanced at her then back at Wanda that was smiling tiredly at everyone.

“Yes, they are Billy.” She said pointing to the boy wearing the green shirt. “And Tommy. Children, these are my students, America, Kate, Yelena, Kamala and Loki.”

Yelena crossed her arms, though she was impressed by the memory of the new teacher. Kate and Kamala did the same as America kneeling down to greet at the twins while Loki and the blond-haired kid were still in a glaring contest.

“Hi.” Tommy mumbled snuggling closer to Wanda, the young woman glanced at Loki then at the kid.

“Are you guys okay? You need any help?” She asked tentatively, America chuckled standing up while shaking her head.

“Nah, this is…like their bonding time, happens every time.”

“Balder refuses to use his jacket, Loki refuses to get him out of here without the jacket.” Continued Kate shrugging.

“And then, Loki would blackmail the kid, and everyone is happy.” Finished Yelena eyeing the woman in front of her.

Wanda lifted her eyebrows half amused and half confused by this, she glanced at Tommy and Billy both of them looking in disapproval.

“I see, guys go for your jackets, we’re leaving.” Wanda watched as Tommy grabbed Billy’s hand dragging him back inside the room.

“They’re so cute, Professor.” Kate offered shyly.

“Thank you, they can be a handful, though.” Wanda replied softening slightly. “Double the trouble, but quite worth it.”

America was about to speak when Loki huffed lifting his arms in defeat.

“Fine! One ice cream and one chocolate bar, nothing else.”

Balder smirked nodding stretching his little hand to him, before running back to the nursery. Loki shook his eyes glaring at everyone lifting a single finger.

“Not a word.” Loki straightened up directing his usual charming smile to the older woman. “Professor Maximoff, glad to see you around, I hope you have a wonderful day?”

Wanda opened her eyes slightly, her lips curling slightly at the over politeness from Loki.

“I did, thank you, Loki.”

America rolled her eyes, and Wanda realized this was really something that happened on a daily basis. She watched as her children came back in, for a brief moment she hesitated with her eyes dancing around the room then back to the twins.

“Mom, we’re ready!”

“I’m hungry.”

Wanda leaned in putting some strands of hair out of Billy’s face, “I know baby, we’re going home and making your favourite today.”

Billy’s eyes lit up nodding enthusiastically, Wanda straightened up ready to say good-bye when something else pushed inside her mind.

“Well, I think this is it for today,” she smiled at the teens grabbing the twins on each hand, she hesitated for a moment before speaking again, “I hope you kids have a great rest of the afternoon and a nice weekend.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I wish the same for you.” Loki replied bowing his head, Kamala hit him on his arm shaking her head exasperate.

“Stop the theatrics.” Kamala turned to the older woman waving slightly. “Bye, Professor, happy weekend.”

“I didn’t know she had children.” Yelena finally said once she was sure Wanda was out of earshot. “Actually, we don’t know much about her, don’t you think?”

Kamala shrugged writing over her phone, “so what? She deserves her privacy, and I think her class was pretty cool.”

“I’m not talking about that, I know it was cool.” Yelena scoffed crossing her arms. “I just…Natasha has been quite mysterious about this new teacher, and now that we met her well…she didn’t say much about herself when she introduced to us.”

“Don’t tell me you’re suspecting her of something, Yelena.” Kate shook her head bumping into the other woman. “I thought she was nice, and quite smart.”

“And beautiful.” Loki chimed in, his eyes glassing over dreamily. “Did you see her eyes? Her hair? Her face?”

America nodded standing beside Loki, Kate shot her a quick glance rolling her eyes.

“I have to agree with Loki, Professor Maximoff is quite beautiful”

“She is hot, I agree.” Yelena made a face when Kamala and Kate glanced at her. “I’m Ace not an idiot, I can say she is hot without wanting to jump her bones…I’m not like these two.”

America and Loki made a face quite offended.

“I don’t want to jump her bones!” America defended herself. “I just think she is hot!”

“I wouldn’t say know, she doesn’t look that old, but she has children, ergo she is married.” Loki replied shrugging.

“That and Sylvie probably kills him if she finds out.” Kamala mumbled chuckling, Loki flushed ready to reply until Balder grabbed his hand putting on him.

“Are we ready, Loki?”

“Let us not discuss this anymore.” Loki glared at Kamala who was about to reply with a teasing smile on her lips. “I don’t have more money to blackmail the brat over here.”

“I’m not a braaat!”

The discussion went on between Loki and Balder, America stood right beside Kate making sure Yelena dragged Kamala down the hall with the arguing from the brothers filling up the emptiness in the building. Kate turned to America, her smile growing big when she noticed the other woman looking at her with some nervousness noticeable in her posture.

“What is it?”

“Oh, no, I just…” America hesitated for a moment, she had the whole speech prepare until her eyes fell on a small lump on the ground. “What’s that?”

Kate sighed rolling her eyes, she turned to see America standing up with what look like a blue blanket with cars and football balls on it.

“I think that’s a blanket,” Kate said chuckling while looking around the place then back at America. “Do you think this belongs to one of the kids from Professor Maximoff?”

America shrugged turning around before grabbing Kate’s hand, “come, let’s see if she is still in the parking lot.”

Kate flushed nodding, her hand closing tightly around America’s one.

Wanda massaged the bridge of her nose, Tommy was complaining and she just noticed his favourite blanket was not with them. She was trying to think of a solution, she couldn’t go back to the building without putting the children out of the baby seats the rain was starting to fall harder and faster, and she was already soaking wet from the effort of putting them protectively in the car.

Thunder broke into the sky, Billy opened his eyes with tears forming in his eyes. Wanda was about to say something when her name being called made her look back. She could see America and Kate coming over, one of them holding a familiar sight.

“Oh, God, you found it!” The relief was quite evident in her face, America stood there breathing hard passing over the blanket with a smile.

“I think this is yours.”

“You don’t know how much I love you right now.” Wanda exclaimed going back in to hand the item over to Tommy.

America blushed lightly smiling sheepishly at her new teacher, Wanda was a mess at the moment but she smiled tiredly at both teens.

“Thank you, really, Tommy…he can’t sleep without that.” Wanda then opened her eyes wide looking around then pointing at her car. “Do you guys need a ride? You can’t go around with this weather…”

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry, Professor, we just thought we bring you this and then…we…go back…”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind, and it’s the least I can do…” Wanda started but Kate shook her head smiling politely at her.

“Don’t worry, Professor, really, my car is down the other parking lot.”

America furrowed her brows, then she too nodded at Wanda who smile at them.

“Okay, then, go. This rain could be bad for you guys.”

Before Kate and America could walk away, Wanda straightened up loosing her nervousness and her inadequacy with the situation itself.

“Kate! America!” the teens stopped turning around with questioning glances on their faces. “By any chance, do you know anyone interested in a babysitter job?”

America blinked a couple of times at the question, she could see the question in Wanda’s eyes as well as the small hint of desperation in her green eyes. Without thinking too much, America nodded with her lips curled into a smile.

“I am.”

Kate opened her eyes for a moment before frowning slightly, Wanda’s expression lit up and relief was quite evident in her eyes.

“You do, really?”

“Yeah, sure, when do you need me to help?” America said letting go of Kate’s hand for a moment before putting her phone out.

“Oh, well, if it is not too short notice, tomorrow at around 2pm?”

Kate crossed her arms looking everywhere but at America or their new teacher, she tried to scare her thoughts away. She tried to convince herself this was America being America and always ready to help everyone; but she couldn’t help but remember the conversation they held in the nursery.

She is hot.

So what? Professor Maximoff was off limits, right? First, she was a teacher, and second you was an adult, probably the same age as America’s sister so…Anyway, why did it bother Kate so much? It wasn’t as if America and her…as if anything was happening…

“Hey, Kate, you okay?” Kate jumped shocked, America was standing in front of her with a creased of her brows.

“yeah, you…” Kate shook her head noticing they were alone in the parking lot, under the rain of mid-afternoon. “You ready?”

“Yeah, Professor Maximoff said she will text me later for the details.” America said smiling. “You know? I just thought, she needed help and…”

“Right, and America Chavez jumped right into the rescue. As always.” Kate huffed stepping back and giving her back to the young woman. “Never mind the woman is hot as hell, right?”

“What? What are you talking about?” America was confused, Kate shot her a glare before shaking her head.

“Never mind, come Loki and the others must be waiting for us.”

Kate walked away without looking back at America, and America felt something was amiss with the sudden change of attitude from Kate but, for her life, that she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

On her car, driving down the streets through the rain and the babbling from the twins Wanda smiled in relief. She had solved the problem for the babysitter, and her appointment with Hope Pym could take place without any issue.

Finally, it seemed as if the world was smiling at her, and her life was going back to what it should have been.

The incident of that morning completely forgotten.

______________________________________________________________

#Wanda/Female!Reader #fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wandaxreader #reader #female reader #personal #MCU AU #wanda maximoff x f!reader

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morimakesfanart · 6 months

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Sindria's Prophet #38

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*CW -cults+ mentioned; child abuse mentioned; suicide attempts implied

~POV Mori~

While I was sick, the magicians developing alchemy magic were able to make a wider range of materials by doing something closer to assisted chemistry; they started transmuting rubber from the milky saps of some plants -like the rubber gloves from my medical scrolls. It was inspiring! With the power of success and dopamine I finalized my printing press schematics in only 2 days.

These accomplishments were later brought up at the morning Assembly, not by the people making them, but by Ja'far and the accountants of the White Capricorn Tower. "Even before becoming the official Prophet of Sindria, Mori has help our magicians, engineers and doctors make leaps and bounds of progress in their fields. Many countries of the Alliance have agreed to help fund these projects and have already preordered scrolls of the information. *However,*" he held up a document, "due to all of the extra people and resources needed we are already over budget for the year! And so we request that the Prophet not invent anything new for the rest of this quarter and the next. This way we will have time to start finalizing what we already have for production and can start receiving a return on these investments."

Yamuraiha jumped to my defense. "The work Mori has been doing in the Black Libra Tower has been revolutionary! How can you say you don't have a budget for life changing-"

"I am not denying their contributions! We simply can't afford this rate of advancements!"

I raised a hand to get their attention. "If there's no budget, then there's no budget. However, I can't just sit around and do nothing for 5 months."

There was a bit of a back and forth, and eventually it was agreed that I would continue helping in the Black Libra Tower, but any future schematics would be placed on hold and judged for priority by the researchers and accountants. And so I went to working as an encyclopedia in the mornings, and would work on Fate scrolls after lunch.

---

The Great Bell rang, and thanks to the power of hyperfixation, none of us could tell what time it was. Not long after, I noticed a familiar shift in the waves that gave me the answer. Knowing who was coming gave me another boost to get a little more done.

Menachem greeted him when he arrived. "Ah- good morning, your Majesty."

Sinbad's laugh made my heart race. "Yes. Good morning." For the past week, King Sinbad had came in person every other day for updates even though it would be covered in the next morning's Assembly. The violet haired man walked over to where I was sitting, while showing me the world's most charming smile. "Mori. How are you doing?"

'Excited. Happy. Nervous. Embarrassed. Confused. Self-conscious.' He hadn't said anything directly flirty since I was sick. And yet, it was noticeably harder to refute the Magicians' claims. Sinbad had said at the Announcement that he didn't want to play at flirting with me, and wanted to become someone I could trust. He certainly didn't trigger my lactose intolerance anymore. 'He said he wanted to move me to the Purple Leo Tower.'

I fought back the urge to hide. "I'm fine." The room definitely felt hotter than it did a minute ago. I re-explained what I had gone over with the magicians. Sinbad nodded along and asked questions at all the right times. He also remembered the things I had said previous days. He made me feel validated and respected every time he stopped by. It was becoming increasingly bad for my heart.

There was a suspicious amount of people meandering nearby. Most were watching us out of the corners of their eyes. At least the magicians didn't comment as much as the first time they saw the pink Rukh around us. Although, it was getting easier to judge when they were looking at the Rukh even without those comments.

The King smiled, and I cursed his ability to charm me without flirting. He used a hand to point at the scroll from over my shoulder. He was much closer than I realized; I would only need to lean over a little to make contact. Just like how he had stopped overtly flirting, he hadn't touched me either. He knew I needed space, and I was grateful for that, but it also illustrated for me just how used to his skinship I had become.

I couldn't do this anymore. It hurt too much. I was projecting my past onto someone who might actually reciprocate my feelings. What I was feeling might not have anything to do with the present or him as a person. I could just be recognizing my past in him and repeating those patterns while hoping for a different ending. But the patterns include the endings, and if I wasn't self-aware enough I'd force those endings out of fear of being caught unaware. Even if Sinbad actually liked me now, the attention he showed me would dry up eventually, right? I require closed relationships so eventually he'll come to resent me for limiting his options. We aren't compatible. The waves rose slightly and I couldn't ignore the thought that this was fanfiction, so anything was possible.

"Excuse me, Mx. Prophet?" A voice called for me from the entrance to the library.

'OH THANK GOD' I was saved! "Yes??" I looked in the direction of the voice and called back. "Do you need something?" My face was finally starting to cool down. At least now I could stop thinking about how easy it would be to touch Sinbad. 'Remember who he is in 5 years.'

The worker appeared from around a line of bookshelves. He froze at the site of the man next to me for a moment before giving the message. "There's a- There's a blacksmith looking for you."

'A blacksmith?' "THE SCISSORS!" I was out of my seat in a flash. My brain shifted gears quickly after passing through the doorway into the hall.

The blacksmith that made the scissors during my first week in Sindria understood how important of a development this was and came to talk to the designer, me, shortly after seeing who I was at the Announcement. If he was here to see me again, he must have finished some prototypes for different types of scissors! The thing that made the evolution from shears to scissors so important was the addition of the hinge to the tool. There was no time to worry about Sinbad right now! There was history happening!

---

~POV Sinbad~

Sinbad had figured out that Mori wasn't the type to leave in the middle of work, even when she was putty in his hands. So, what was so important that she was willing to leave while in the middle of talking with her King about said work? They wouldn't have been interrupted if Mori had her own office. Sinbad crossed his arms as he watched them leave. At least she looked excited for whatever this was about.

Menachem came back over, as if he hadn't just been enjoying the show from behind a potted plant. "You know, your Majesty, I didn't think it was the case at first, but now I'd be willing to bet money that the Lady Prophet has blue Rukh." He stroked his beard as he talked. "You're going to have to be more direct if you want her attention." The old man laughed.

Sinbad sighed a laugh back and shook his head, but didn't answer.

There was a superstition that you could tell a lot about a person's personality from what type of Rukh they had. People with Type 2-Blue Rukh were said to get lost in their personal interests, and struggle to recognize romantic advances. That first part definitely sounded like his Beautiful Prophet, but Sinbad wasn't sure about the second. Mori was ignoring his signals on purpose. It would take a while to convince them he was worth the risk.

((In one of the Magi extras Yunan describes these Rukh based personality types with canon characters as examples. It's not stated as common knowledge. I wanted to add it because it reminded me of the way people talk about astrology signs sometimes :3 Btw, according to the manga's personality quiz, I normally get Rukh type 7 -the same a Sin. Sometimes I get Type-2, 8, or. 4))

When Sinbad turned the corner, Mori was already out of sight. Not a problem; the waves would lead him. The King found them on the first floor talking with a burly old man that was a known blacksmith.

Mori had two fingers in rings with blades attached. "This pair is really close to the ones I first commissioned. Thanks again for those. I've been able to cut my bangs without worrying about accidently shaving my eyebrows with a knife."

Sinbad walked up to them. "How would someone even do that?"

Mori turned to him with a knowing smile. Her cheeks turned a little pink when they made eye contact. "I didn't think it was possible until I saw it happen in one of my visions. He had to go without sleep for several days, and often cuts the left side of his bangs too short." Sinbad unconsciously brushed his bangs at the mention of a habit he knew he had. "He was lucky that he knew a magician that was able to regrow it." She wasn't talking about him, right?

"Hello, your Majesty," the blacksmith greeted King Sinbad before explaining: he had originally wanted to make a deal with the designer to make and sell scissors, but after finding out that person was the Prophet he wasn't sure if that was acceptable -the information from the Prophet's visions were the property of the King. The two had been working on a pitch together which Mori immediately got into since Sinbad was clearly available.

The King examined one of the pairs of scissors during the explanation. He could see how this allowed a higher level of finesse then shears or a knife for certain tasks. This would be a profitable and widespread product even if Mori's visions weren't right. Still, those eyes full of expectations just made him want to tease her. "You know Mori, I remember you agreeing to withhold on inventing things for the time being."

"Ah- Well..." Her surprise was cute. "I actually reinvented scissors before I made that agreement!"

He smiled down at her. "I'm not sure if that will be enough to convince Ja'far and the others."

Mori froze as she calculated her next strategy. The waves did not give Sinbad enough warning before she made her way over to him and placed her hands on his forearm. "You'll help me then," her fingers made his skin tingle, "right? My King?" Sinbad couldn't look away from the eyes glittering up at him.

How long had he been holding back only for Mori to touch him first? He'd relent even if she hadn't invented them beforehand; the production wasn't coming from the Palace budget anyway. "Of course." Sinbad smiled down at his Beautiful Prophet. He sheathed the scissors he was holding and turned to the blacksmith. "I brought Mori to Sindria so they could help all of my citizens thrive."

The conversation wrapped up quickly after that. And through the whole thing, the King couldn't stop thinking about the hands holding onto him so affectionately. Without looking, Sinbad put his free hand over one of Mori's to keep it on his arm a little longer. But it didn't stop her from pulling away after the blacksmith left.

The person pulling at his heart started to head back towards the stairs to return to the library. He wasn't ready to part ways yet, but there was also no reason he could think of to follow them back. "Mori. Would you tell me more over lunch?" He had been trying to keep their time together to a minimum for Mori's benefit, but if they were reaching out to him then it should be fine to take the next step, right?

The waves moved between them, and Mori looked back his way. "Oh. Um..."

"These inventions from your visions are so interesting. And we could discuss some potential future inventions."

Their smile was nervous but not forced. "Yeah. Okay."

Sinbad offered his arm to them like he did in the past when they walked together, but Mori declined even though she had just been clinging onto him so sweetly. They walked side by side, but the distance between them felt larger than before. She made his heart race and then dropped it when she got her way. It made him think of their first dinner together. She claimed she was seducing him just like he seduced others to get his way. He really had no idea how it felt to be on the receiving end until now.

---

~POV Mori~

Multiple scrolls laid out on the table in my room drying. I had reached the slave arc in copying down Fate. After drawing the first pic of Sinbad fighting little Masrur in the Coliseum, I couldn't bring myself to draw again until I reached Ja'far punching Sinbad when he was freed. I laid on the floor between the pools of light from the windows to cool down my ruminating.

Seeing Sinbad go through it and directly acknowledge how horrible it is and eventually go numb... There was an eerie beauty in it -like a memento mori. 'I'm disgusting.'

((CW until marked))

The Slave Arc is my favorite arc in the Adventures manga -not because of what happens, but because of how it affected me. When my mom was hospitalized, and then died, she could no longer stop me from seeking therapy. When I explained my home life and childhood to my personal therapist, I was told that it sounded like the stories of children raised in cults and manipulated to become slaves for the leaders. Even though it was a comparison I made when I was young, I thought it had to be inflated hyperbole until I read how Maader indoctrinated Sinbad and the slave children. I was never put in a collar, but I related way too much. It got me to look up actual cults and victim stories. The abuse I grew up in was the same level of high control.

My mom almost died having my sibling and it changed her. By the time I turned 10 I couldn't deny there was something wrong with how my parents treated us. The one thing saving us from complete brain washing was that they couldn't afford to home school us. I tried to ask outside adults for help, but my mom was too well known in the community and I didn't emote properly. So when I read the scene where Sinbad convinces the children to rebel, I cried. I didn't care that he was manipulating them from his perspective; he validated the pain they were hiding, and gave them agency long before I got it. Yes, many of the slave children died in the rebellion, but many also lived to finally be free. When the cruel refuse to stop nothing can change until someone dies. Many have risked their lives for that reason.

Just like them, I knew nothing would change in my life unless someone died. The conversation Sinbad has with himself after he remembers his life's purpose was very similar to the one I had with myself from 12-14 years old -especially after how my parents normalized suicide. I realized it wasn't worth the risk to fight back , but also I chose to stay living anyway at the last second so I could continue to protect Lyly from our parents; and when they were a little older, Lyly chose to live to support me too. 'You can't protect anyone if you're dead.' No one was coming to save us so we had to learn to survive and protect ourselves. ((Yes, the thing Mori said to Alibaba in ch6 was this mantra I made for myself))

Our mother was already working herself to an early grave when I was child. She was rapidly aging from stress. I knew we had a strong chance of outliving her as long as we were able to hold on. Still, I wish she would have changed before she was on her deathbed. Her last words were an apology to Lyly. Things greatly improved after our mom died in 2016. Knowing how things were going for the other me, gave me peace of mind. Both versions were healing. I didn't feel as guilty for wanting to stay in this world anymore.

((End of CW))

I needed breaks because, just like being reminded of my own past, Sinbad wasn't just a character to me anymore. It felt wrong to draw any scene where he was shackled. Even if I never showed him this scroll, I didn't want to immortalize it. There were a few panels I had always wanted to redraw because they helped me process my own experience, but now that I was in this world I couldn't do it. If I ever drew them for the catharsis, I'd have to burn them afterwards. Each time I reached the plot points for one of those panels I had to step away and go through the same cycle of thoughts before I returned to the table and continued writing without drawing again.

"Ugh~" Who would have guessed that writing would help me process and get the ruminating out of my system? Me, actually, because this is always how I process things. I had separate scrolls for my ruminations so they wouldn't get in the way of the Fate scrolls, and because I kept writing in a circle. At least each time the rants got shorter. I'd already written this or that, and continuing to write the same thing gets frustrating to the point that I am forced to move forward. Like all types of mourning, it will always be there, but it can't hold me down forever unless I let it.

I couldn't stop the waves of disgust I had for myself. When I had originally read this arc, it carved Sinbad into my heart. It made me think, 'This person would understand me.' But I wasn't projecting my experience onto a character anymore; I was projecting it onto a real person who went through far worse than I ever did. I pressed my palms into my eyes. Ruminating was far easier than addressing this. I had to strip away all of my projections so I could see him clearly. And not just the Sinbad I read about, but the one who talked to me regularly and called me '(his) Beautiful Prophet.' Sinbad said he wanted to find a new path, but what would it even look like? What would it take for me to recognize it?

((I forgot to draw the curtains again...I really don't want to fix it though, so please pretend there are curtains framing the window.))

The sound of fluttering drew my attention. I had left my windows open on purpose in case Sinbird decided to stop by, but I also didn't think I would cycle this hard. I removed my hands from my eyes and looked up to see the possessed bird in one of the windows watching me.

"Hi, Sin. I'm okay. Just doing a big think, and that's easier from the floor."

The bird flew from the window to perch on one of the chairs at the table.

"I've been working on Fate scrolls. I want to get a few more done before I pass them off to you. I know this room probably isn't the most secure-"

'The vent scroll!' I sat up with a jolt and stumbled my way to the table after getting up too quickly. Sinbird flapped his wings in surprise when I yanked the vent scroll off the table. "This one is personal." I started rolling it up. "I don't mind talking about my past or feelings if you ask, but I'd rather you didn't read my unfiltered thoughts."

The bird watched me. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

I walked across the room, and put the tied scroll within the growing pile filling one of my bedside dressers. "It would be nice if I had somewhere to store these. This room isn't exactly designed for me to be using it as an office."

Wings flapped behind me and the bird landed on my shoulder as I turned to see what he was up to. He gave a small trill and I had the feeling he was proud of himself for something.

"We're both lucky that bird doesn't have talons, you know?" I was definitely going to need perches for him, and to start wearing a shoulder cloth that I wouldn't have to worry about getting pulls. As the bird watched me innocently another thought struck me, 'I probably shouldn't ask for a cat if I'm going to be visited by a bird frequently.'

((Hey, so you know how I said I was all better when I posted the last chapter? Apparently I was in the incubation period of COVID. It's out of my system now, but brain fog from long covid is kicking my ass. I had a bad fall last month because of it and got scraped up a bunch (including a little road rash). It's been 3 weeks and there's just the faintest remains of a scab left :D Just in time for my birthday (today) too! Here's hoping that my bad luck era is over!

Also, I am in a Magi server on discord. https://discord.gg/R5yzce4e I'm there all the time (and an admin). We talk about Magi, OCs, and fanfiction a lot))

#magi prophet fanfic #magi sinbad #sinbad x oc #magi fanart #sinbadxoc #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi fanfiction

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urfavnegronerd · 1 year

Text

stars in the sky- phora + jhene aiko

trope: fluff, s/o mick for the idea in my ask box smooches

sum slight

warnings: grammarly hates me, reader has trouble sleeping bc i said so (i’ve had so much trouble falling asleep idk why), no use of pronouns but use of mama, ma, n mami, idk how much i like it but im outa slump so yay, lmk if i missed anything

published: august 15, 2023

song lyrics are italicized

w/c: 1.3k ish

reader is black-coded like always

stay in the state of the greatest bliss

Miles’ room was dark. Well, dark-ish. He tried though, pulling the curtains all the way shut, turning off the light in his room and the hallway, but the afternoon sun still gently weaved its way through the fibers of his curtains.

“What’s the point of this, Miles?”

“To get you to try and sleep,”

“It's four in the afternoon,”

“Naptime,”

“What?”

“Just try, mama, okay?”

You’d never been a good sleeper and usually stayed awake while Miles fell asleep in your arms, that was how it usually went. Even more so when he came to your window late at night after his Prowler duties, those visits mainly consisted of cleaning any wounds or scratches, on occasion giving him stitches, helping him change, and kissing the top of his head when he inevitably dozed off on your chest. You were usually up then anyway, it was a fun addition to your nighttime routine. Miles had only begun to worry about your sleeping patterns when you fell asleep at 9 am while you were over his, watching a telenovela with Mrs. Morales. Gently nudging you awake after the telenovela marathon at about 1 that afternoon, he fell into the pattern of observing your moods. Most of which during the day consisted of you constantly being tired, and yawning, but somehow always getting school work done that assisted in your straight A’s. At first, he assumed that it was just you putting too much pressure on yourself to perform, but when he realized these patterns continued well into school breaks, he started to worry.

He had started to realize that every time he came to your window after his Prowler work, you were up anyway, reading, writing, drawing, or pretty much any activity you could get your hands on. Again, at first, he thought this was endearing, and went as far as getting puzzles for you after he had interrupted the puzzle on the floor when he gently knocked on your window. And so a much-needed conversation ensued the morning after.

“Ma, I’m worried about you,”

“For why Miles?” You turn your attention away from the mirror where you’re laying your baby hair down.

“Ian never seen you sleep,”

“So?”

“Do you sleep?”

“Yeah, I just have some trouble with it is all,”

“I don’t make you sleepy?”

“You make me feel safe, comfortable, relaxed, and loved, but no Miles, you don’t make me sleepy,”

He huffed, falling back onto your duvet.

“What's wrong papá?”

“I’m worried about you,”

“Sueñito, you don’t need to be worried about me,”

“You fall asleep when most people would be awake starting their days, almost always during the first and second period, mama, that's not normal,”

“Maybe I’m just sleepy in general,” You were beginning to get defensive then, why did he care if you were tired usually?

He sighed then, rubbing his eyes and urging himself out of your bed. He didn’t want to fight with you, he never wanted to fight with you, so he had just decided to leave it alone then. However, the very same conversation was repeated about two weeks later. The two of you were walking home, as school had gotten out early that day, and you had slowly begun to slump onto Miles’ shoulder, yawning and rubbing your eyes.

“Ma?” There was a twinge of concern in his voice, it was barely even noon, is it normal to be this tired? “You okay?”

“‘m just tired,” You yawn, still clawing at your eyes.

“It’s 11:45,”

“So?”

“Mama,” he knew you were just being stubborn, but he also knew you didn’t want to admit that you had a problem sleeping. You didn’t like to ask for help, you tried to get things right on your own, and you usually did. “Be honest.”

“Fine,” you forced out, shame tugging at your cheeks, and Miles knew exactly what you meant by that

“Thank you,”

And so, the two of you were here, in this moment.

“Please? Just try for me,”

You huff plopping onto his mattress.

“Now what?”

“We wait,”

“Oh, joy,”

whenever i’m in your atmosphere

The two of you had been lying, in the dark, for about an hour and a half. Naturally, the sun was slowly beginning to set, hence dimming the light in his room.

At this point, you were fighting sleep. It’s not like you didn’t feel exhausted all the fucking time, it’s that you had this mental block in your head. It’s like when you’re so tired but you can’t manage to fall asleep, like someone is forcing your eyes open. It’s hell, and it frustrates you, makes you want to scream and cry and essentially just throw a tantrum. Not that you’d ever admit it, but you feel so powerless, so out of control. A sigh mixed with anger, frustration, and disappointment breezes through your lips as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“Uh uh ma, don’t do that,” he whispers, gently pushing your hands away from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working,” you whine. “I turn seventeen in a year and I can’t even sleep right,”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not that serious,”

“I’m so tired, Miles,” you mumble, tears poking at your eyes.

“Amor, I know it’s frustrating, okay? I know how much you love to be in control and I get that, but this is so bad for you,”

“I know,”

“So can we try? Just one more time?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you want like, some kind of noise?”

“Can you just talk?”

“Yeah. I can do that,”

And he does. He talks about anything and everything, all while staring at you, your body pressed against him, your face angled upwards at him. Your full lips slightly parted in a little ‘o’ as your big brown eyes ogle up at him. To a lot of people, everything he’s saying would seem pretty mundane, but the way his voice soothes you is something different. His voice is calm, cool, and collected, his nuyo accent ever so prominent.

You’re not sure just how much time passes until you slowly begin to get groggy, your eyes heavy. Miles, obviously, takes notice and brings his voice down to a whisper.

“Dad woulda been so happy I met you, ma,”

Your movements are thick as syrup, you nod, trying to open your eyes more so he knows that he has your full attention.

“No no no, don’t do that,” he whispers, running a hand over your eyes, forcing them to droop lazily once again.

“Jus wan’ you to know ‘m listening” you slur, languidly clutching his wrist. The point of this action? You didn’t know, but you held onto him anyway.

“You’re always listening, Ian gotta worry bout that.” He mumbles, softly stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His hands are calloused and rough, but they’re always soft and gentle, making sure to love every curve of you. As your eyes begin to wilt close, he delicately traces your cupid bow, in response to which your lightly freckle-kissed nose scrunches, your brows tightly knitting themselves together. With a quiet laugh, he gently runs his fingers over your eyebrows, desperately trying to relax your face, to which you hum tiredly in response.

“Kiss?”

“Mmmm,” you groan, fatigue finally catching up to you, in affirmation. Taking the hint, he kisses you- your cheeks, chin, jaw, everywhere– peppering light butterfly kisses all over your face. Gently, you sigh and fully close your eyes, your head relaxing into the pillow. Smiling, he brushes gentle kisses onto both of your eyelids and then your nose. Cradling your head into his chest he kisses the bonnet covering your hair, inhaling the scent of hair product and oil, the scent of you, something he adored in a way that words couldn’t describe.

“Sleep, princesa.”

i’m so glad that i got you, you’re my dream come true <3

a/n: everyone say thank u mick @lunarfleur

taglist: @hiimayee @masaidabest @lunarfleur @zo3ez @miguellover6969 @[email protected] (idk if this person is on tumblr or not but hey!) @nagi3seastorm @kombuuuu

reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

p.s. taglist form in my masterlist as well as my spam lmao

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 9 months

Text

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x5 Good Form

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 745

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian touched his lips softly, almost reverently, as he sat alone in the forest. She’d kissed him. She’d actually kissed him. Killian reached for his flask, needing the familiar burn of the rum on his tongue to prove to himself that he was awake and was not, in fact, in the throws of a delicious dream.

He’d flirted with her, smiling his teasing smile and playfully touching his lips as he suggested a way she might thank him for his service toward her father, but he’d never expected her to take him up on his suggestion.

Not that he was complaining. That kiss had been…. He blew out a long sigh. Even for a man so normally silver tongued as he was, there were no words.

It was more than the kiss itself–that had been steamy, passionate, blissful, of course–but it was more than that. It was….it was what the kiss revealed.

He loved her. He was in love with her. She’d snuck under his defenses as stealthily as any pirate could have, and without his knowledge, she’d taken possession of his heart.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, if he were being honest. He’d never been one to bestow his love lightly, but when he did, there was no going back. He’d spent two-hundred bloody (often literally) years in Neverland because of love for Milah, for heaven’s sake. The thought of moving on from her, of bestowing his heart on another and giving her the power to crush it as thoroughly as Milah’s death had done…

He took another long swallow.

Well, there was nothing for it now. It had happened. He’d fallen in love again.

As he continued to sit and ruminate on the events of the day, it occurred to him that while the revelation of his love was momentous, it was by no means the only noteworthy thing that had happened that day.

This place, Neverland, had a truly ghastly effect on its inhabitants. It had a way of bringing one's worst fears, one's greatest insecurities, one's biggest regrets to mind. This place was depression in physical form. He’d survived his last stint here with the aid of one thing and one thing only–his revenge. That goal, that singular purpose had allowed him to keep his wits about him.

This time around….well, the fact that he’d allowed the Crocodile on his ship, formed a tentative truce with him, proved that he had given up on that revenge. Without that singular focus to ruminate upon, he’d spent the hours on this island this go around reminded of his sins, his faults, the fact that he was a villain whom the heroes tolerated only.

Hadn’t David said it himself this morning? “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you. How could she? You’re nothing but a pirate.”

Though he’d tried to keep the mocking grin on his face, it had stung, and for the first time, Killian realized how very much he wanted to change his life, become the kind of man Emma’s father–a man who was so much like his own hero, Liam–would approved of.

But at that moment, the gloom of Neverland had descended, and he’d come to realize he’d never be that man; he’d never overcome his past. He’d never reach a higher status than “the pirate with which we’ve formed a temporary but begrudging alliance”.

And so it had continued throughout the day. David had taken pains to make his disdain and dislike known and felt, taking small verbal digs at him, even as he attempted to save his life.

So it was that the second most astounding event of the day–second only to the kiss–had happened. When they’d returned to camp after achieving their ends at the top of Dead Man’s Peak, David had not only given him credit, but had toasted him, had bestowed on him the look of approval and gratitude Killian had never dared hope to receive from him.

It had embarrassed him a bit, having the entire company of heroes and Regina (he still wasn’t sure where upon the hero-villain spectrum she truly belonged) raise a flask to him, but the warmth it engendered had been as potent as his rum.

For the first time, he could see a way forward. Maybe he didn’t have to be forever defined by his past villainous deeds. Perhaps….perhaps there was a path to redemption available for him after all.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#season 3 rewatch drabbles #cs fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #my fanfiction #3x5 good form #killian jones #captain swan #captain charming

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thatswhatsushesaid · 16 days

Text

tagged (kinda) by @mingguangsword!

i lost my first draft of this post 😭 let's try again.

1. why did you choose your url? because i am weak for puns, and because i am actually su she. weepy yet defensive lestat de lioncourt at the end of s2 voice, i am him, he is me.

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. a whole whack of them:

@dailyayao which is just daily screenshots and scans of jin guangyao from all versions of the mdzs canon

@yaozongzhupressoffice my neglected satire blog where i answer asks and reblog stuff in-character as yao-zongzhu. occasionally will make references to his entirely heterosexual feelings for his very good friend ouyang-zongzhu in the tags.

@itwasabeautifulwebbing my minthara baenre from baldur's gate 3 simping blog lol. it's also turning into a catch-all for various video game nonsense, tho i'm definitely not as active there as i am here.

@fakerashid same deal as above, just for armand from amc's interview with the vampire.

3. how long have you been on tumblr? i first joined back in 2011 with a different username back in the migration of the dragon age fandom from livejournal to tumblr, and have been kicking around in some form or another ever since.

4. do you have a queue tag? sure do! 'moling queue' because, as i said, i'm weak for puns.

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? originally this blog had a different username, and i started it with the intention of cross-posting very serious horror fiction thinkpieces from a wordpress site. obviously i stopped doing that and have been enjoying myself a lot more here since i stopped taking myself so seriously lmao.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? i don't understand the question, that's literally me, su-zongzhu. (please god recognize this is a joke)

7. why did you choose your header? i just think jgy and sms look very powerful and dapper together in that scene. 😌

8. what’s your post with the most notes? some unfortunate ides of march shitpost that broke containment within an hour, i have it muted and hope to never think about it again.

9. how many mutuals do you have? no idea. lots? lots and lots?

10. how many followers do you have? 1271 as of this morning.

11. how many people do you follow? apparently 400 on the nose

12. have you ever made a shitpost? absolutely not, i don't have a sense of humour or believe in laughter.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? every time my attention wanders pretty much lmfao (despondent)

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? never!!!! 😬

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts? i ignore them.

16. do you like tag games? yes!

17. do you like ask games? "i love them, but i don't like chain asks" <- same hat

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? "probably ray" <- oh no oh dear 😬 i think if i qualify as tumblr famous (doubt.jpeg) then probably a bunch of my mutuals are, too.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? i am boring and married so no.

20. what is the last song you listened to? this performance of the famous "flowing water" composition for the guqin.

21. what are you currently watching? nirvana in fire, and it's consumed my soul. mei changsu 👀...... /clenches my fist

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? "savory"! <- correct!!!

23. what is your current relationship status? "literally on my way to break up with someone T_T i'll be single in a few hours!!!" <- omg fennel!!??? um, as i said above, i'm married! no plans to divorce mr. sushesaid, he surprised me with flowers and takeout from my favourite indian restaurant yesterday because i was having a rough day.

24. what is your current obsession? jin guangyao. it's still jin guangyao. it's probably going to be jin guangyao this time next year too.

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

it's not an album, but basically all of the ensemble and solo performances by zi de guqin studio on youtube.

return to cookie mountain, tv on the radio

the wellermen's album of shanties and other arranged covers

the hades 2 videogame soundtrack

the baldur's gate 3 videogame soundtrack

the chain, fleetwood mac

all of the lyrical ballads from the kentucky route zero videogame soundtrack (are u noticing a pattern, because i am)

the haven videogame soundtrack

the assassin's creed valhalla videogame soundtrack

tagging: @ratheralark @holy--milk @carnivorous-horses-lover @sunriseverse @watertightvines @frodo-of-the-nine-fingers @confusion-and-more @occasionalinanity @varethinsilico @thepurplewombat @peacocksdance and anyone else who puts eyes on this thing and feels moved to complete it.

#tag memes #ray.txt #my original answers were so much funnier 😔 sigh

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buckyscrystalqueen · 5 months

Text

Winter Wolf: Part 16

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst

Word Count: 5,180

A/N: Finally got the muse to finish this story! YAY!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Defense would like to call it’s first witness- Tony Stark.” Mike said first thing in the morning on day three, after spending the first two completely annihilating every witness the prosecution had in only a matter of minutes each. The jury all exchanged glances since you were on trial for killing Howard and Maria, and they were a little confused as to why Tony would be the one defending you. You did everything you could to control your smile as the bailiff brought in a TV from the back, because you knew if Tony had anything to do with that, the courtroom was in for a wild ride.

“Mr. Stark.” Mike said as he picked up his massive brief case and set it on the table.

“Mr. Young.”

“I’m just going to jump right in here and address the elephant in the room. You are here as a witness on behalf of my client, correct?”

“That is correct.” Tony said with a nod as he leaned back in his chair and got comfortable.

“But... my client is being charged with the murder of your parents, Howard and Maria.”

“Yea. The Wolf definitely did it.”

“And you know that for a fact?” Mike asked, making the smile fall slightly from your face.

“Oh, absolutely, I have proof.” Tony confirmed as he sat up and tapped his glasses.

“Defense exhibit 9.” Mike said as Tony commandeered the court’s TV. You looked down at your hands and took a deep breath because you didn’t want to watch the video, but you looked up when the ‘Good Night Moon’ song started playing instead.

“Wait, that’s the wrong one.” He said with a glance over at you since his mistake was intentional. “Technology can be so tricky. Here it is.” He sat back in his spot and looked directly at you with a reassuring smile as the security video from the night of December 16th, 1991. You knew no one else in the room could hear it but you, but you teared up gratefully as the very, very subtle melody of Ana’s song played underneath the video for you, and you alone. As the jury gasped and cringed away, Tony simply kept your eyes on his for your own sanity, and slowly nodded his head, telling you that everything was going to be OK.

“Now that must have been excruciating to watch the first time.” Mike asked when the video went black, and Tony nodded as he looked over at him. “What was your reaction to it?”

“I’m not proud of it today, but I punched her. Then I kicked her out of my house and I may have even mentally plotted her demise for a minute.”

“But then you brought her home.” Mike said as he pulled a massive file of of his bag and set it on the table. “In fact, you even sought out, and purchased her late husband’s plantation and are currently financing the reconstruction and refurbishment of said property, isn’t that right? Defense 10.” Mike said as he passed out copies of Green Pebble Hill’s current deed, and receipts for the money Tony had put into so far.

“It’s a beautiful plantation, and the house will be even more so.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Why would you do something so generous for someone that murdered your parents?”

“Because I did my research.” Tony said simply which made Mike turn around with an award winning smile that made you realize that this moment was the one he had been waiting for for weeks.

“Defense exhibits eleven through four hundred and sixteen.” He said as he pulled out an actually bound book with tabs sticking out of the side. “I only have one physical copy, Your Honor, but I do have a quick notes type slide show available for the jury.”

“I’ll allow it.” She said as she took the book, while Everett simply sat back in his chair, completely defeated, despite not even being close to the end of the trial.

“Now Mr. Stark...” Mike said as he put his hard drive into the TV and grabbed the remote off the stand. “Where did you start this research and why?”

“I started it to find answers.” Tony stated as he rocked himself back and forth in the chair. “And I started with the HYDRA files Natasha Romanoff leaked in 2014.”

“And what did you find?”

“I found the mother load.” Tony said as Mike pulled up the first page. “I found HYDRA’s notes dating all the way back to 1931 regarding ‘Project X’ and subsequently, the ‘Winter Wolf’.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“It was an experiment meant for finding one specific mutant to turn them in to an assassin for HYDRA’s use.”

“Can you tell us more?”

“Oh, can I ever.” Tony said as he sat up like an excited kid on Christmas. “‘Project X’ required a mutant with any type of powers that was capable of withstanding having the metal, adamantium bonded to their skeleton.”

“And with all your research on those notes, what kind of mutant where they needing specifically?” Mike asked as he flipped to the next slide and slowly walked back over to the table so that the jury would be forced to see your reaction to this line of questioning.

“They needed someone that is incapable of dying that can also self heal.”

“And why’s that?” Mike asked, setting Tony up for the land slide.

“Because adamantium must be kept at 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit to stay in a liquid form so that it can be sent through dozens of tiny needles straight into the mutant’s body into their bones. Brutal stuff.” The room gasped as the heat from that day radiated throughout your body for a brief moment.

“What did you find next?”

“Well once they found that mutant, they had to figure out what she was capable of before she could be converted. Can she regenerate limbs? Which she obviously can’t.” He said as he gestured to you while Mike flipped his slide. “How quickly can she self heal from gun shots, stab wounds, deep lacerations, and such. Is she able to fight, and if not, can it be taught. And was it even possible to brainwash someone that could self heal at all? Within a few months, they found out the answers to all of those questions. And it wasn’t just HYDRA running these tests... it started with members of the United States government.” Tony went on for over an hour explaining every single thing he found in English in your file that detailed what you had gone through in the decades that HYDRA held you captive. And once he had finished, and without having to even ask when he was done, you knew exactly who Mike was calling to the stand next.

“Now, Ms. Romanoff.” Mike said once your ex was sworn in. “You not only did research with Mr. Stark to differentiate Dr. Barnes from the Winter Wolf, but you also knew her personally in multiple capacities, isn’t that right?”

“That is correct.” Not said as she forced herself to keep her eyes on your lawyer so she wouldn’t cross anymore lines with you even though you were looking down at the table.

“Can you tell the court of your personal encounters with Dr. Barnes?”

“She was brought into the Red Room where I was trained to be an assassin to assist in combat skills... and she was also my lover.” You both looked up at each other at the same time, as a murmur raced through the jurors box, which Mike completely ignored.

“And I know it will be hard... but can you tell the court what consequences being her lover lead to?” Simultaneously, you both turned away from the other and you quickly started screaming ‘Good Night, Moon’ in your head while Natasha described in detail your relationship in Russia. You were eternally grateful that even the Wolf blocked out the details of the hours of torture she had to sit through as a consequence, but it still didn’t stop your mind from reliving them all over again all the same.

“I’m deeply sorry that you both had to go through that.” Mike breathed as he slowly walked over to the table and purposely bumped it the way Tony had previously instructed to jar you from your thoughts before the Wolf took control. He glanced down at you to make sure you were OK for a moment, before looking back up at Nat to continue. “So let’s move on to the research. As we learned from Mr. Stark, half of it was in Russian, and since you speak the language fluently, you were the one that translated. What did you learn?”

“The major thing I found was the detailed plans of every single hit the Winter Wolf had, down to the most minute detail that the agents of HYRDA had prepared so their assassin could complete her missions properly.“ Mike nodded his head as he hit ‘play’ on the remote so that all of those documents would flip through in the background.

“So as far as you saw, not a single one of these assassinations were chosen, thought out, or prepared by Dr. Barnes or the Winter Wolf herself?”

“Not a single one.”

“And you have gotten to know Dr. Barnes personally, not just when she was out of cryogenic sleep, training you in the Red Room, but after the fact when she moved into the Stark tower in 2016. In your honest opinion, do you believe that the woman in this room, the woman far away from HYDRA’s control, the wife, and mother we see before us is capable of committing these murders if it hadn’t been for HYDRA’s control?” Natasha shook her head and looked over at you with barely a hint of tears in her eyes, but also a tight lipped smile that spoke volumes.

“No. (Y/N) is one of the kindest, most gentle people I know. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Especially after everything she has gone though in her lifetime.”

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. That is all I have.” She nodded her head and kept eye contact for a minute longer, before forcing her self to look at Everett as he got up in a vain attempt to destroy her character before lunch.

——

The next three days were much of the same for you- sheer torture. You were forced to listen to Steve go on and on about the woman he knew before and after HYDRA’s kidnapping. You had to sit through Bruce’s explanation of living with “the other guy” and his struggles and triumphs. You had to listen to Bucky and Wanda both gush about what an amazing woman, wife, and mother you had become… but it didn’t stop your mind from wandering to all the torment you were going to have to relive once it was your turn to take the stand.

The weekend was rough, seeing you jump at the littlest things. The only thing keeping you calm was Ana, who was officially able to talk your ear off with her collection of a few dozen words- ‘Ana' being her favorite. Everything was ‘Ana ball’, ‘Ana toy’, or ‘Ana mama’, which made you smile more than you believed possible. But Monday still drew nearer and your fate was believed to be set in stone no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise.

“You need to go to Wakanda.” You told Bucky on a regular basis over the course of the two day weekend, but he stubbornly refused to listen to you.

“You are going to be cleared of all charges, don’t worry.” He’d say as he’d chase after your daughter around the suite.

“You still need to go to Wakanda.”

——

“The defense calls Dr. (Y/N) Barnes.” You couldn’t stop yourself from fiddling with the material of your dress as you were sworn in and seated in the stand, but you looked up at the crowd of Avengers that were able to sit and support you since they all had testified on your behalf already. You knew, once again, that no one could hear it, but the sound of ‘Good Night, Moon’ was unmistakable to you. Like a dog whistle to a dog. Tony met your eyes and nodded as he let it play on repeat, while Mike leaned against the table in front of you, settling in for a long day.

“Good morning, Dr. Barnes.”

“Good morning.”

“Shall we just jump right in?” You nodded and whispered yes as years of abuse slammed into the forefront of your mind, even making the Wolf cringe in response. “Let’s start with an easy one. Did the Wolf kill all the people you are being charged with?”

“Yes.” You whispered, before clearing your throat, nodding, and repeating yourself loud enough for the room to hear. “Yes, she did.”

“And were you forced to be the Wolf by HYDRA?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Is she here today?” He asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“She is.”

“And can we meet her?” You startled the slightest bit as the Wolf laughed in your mind, and you admittedly shook your head.

“No. No one will meet her ever again.”

“Very good.” He said as he stood up straight and turned the TV in the room back on, so that the jury could see the documents about the Winter Wolf once more. “Now, Dr. Barnes. Let’s get into the harder stuff.” With a heavy sigh, you nodded your head and folded your hands in your lap, painfully gripping your fingers together so tight they might have broke, if that were at all possible. “How did you find yourself under HYDRA’s rule?” You cringed at the memory of Little Stevie and your discussion and looked up at the man in question.

“Why not put someone on the front line that can’t die, right, Stevie?” You asked, which made him nod his head and smile softly at you. With another sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair and started talking.

Once the floodgates opened, it was impossible for you to stop them. You spilled every single thing HYDRA did to you, and the Wolf even helped supply things that you didn’t even remember before that moment. It was almost like she was working with you to fight against HYDRA’s rule over the pair of you. Mike asked carefully placed questions, guiding you through your life story, but for the most part, he let you describe years of torture, killings, and abuse you faced at the hands of monsters. You could see the stunned faces of the jury out of the corner of your eye, but you stayed focused straight a head, on the cellphone in Tony’s lap, that was playing ‘Good Night, Moon’ over, and over, and over again. It was your life line to sanity, because the memories that were pouring out of your mouth were threatening to drag you under and let the Wolf out at any moment.

“Let’s take a break for lunch.” The judge said after you had given explicit details of killing your sixth target.

“You doing OK?” Bucky asked as you sat back down at the defense table, but you shook your head and looked directly at Tony.

“Don’t stop playing that song.”

“Never.” He replied as he turned the song up a click so you could hear it over the rumble of voices in the court room. With a nod and a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes and sat back in your chair, just listening and quieting the voices in your head.

——

Three days. It took three days to officially document the 97 kills the Winter Wolf was responsible for. Your tears for their deaths had long since dried up and you were emotionally numb. The only thread of your sanity you held onto was because of Ana’s song that Tony hadn’t stopped playing for you for a moment in those three days. But your life was about to get so much worse.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Barnes.” Everett Ross said in a smarmy tone as he moved to stand in between you and your view of the Avengers.

“Mr. Ross.” You replied shortly with a nod.

“So over the past three days, you admitted to killing 97 people in your existence on this Earth.”

“Forced.” You responded, which made him bristle.

“You killed 97 people, didn’t you, Dr. Barnes?” He repeated with a glance at the jury.

“I was forced to kill 97 people, yes.” You said simply, trying to get under his skin the way he was.

“How can we know for sure that you were forced to do so?” You wanted to stay quiet so bad, but after he repeated the question, you let your proverbial claws fly.

“Sir, I was beaten, cut, tortured, burned, shot, electrocuted, and abused at the hands of monsters far greater than you for decades. I assure you, I was forced.”

“And how do we know that you won’t and haven’t killed since the supposed last kill you did quote “for HYDRA”?”

“Because I am not that person anymore.”

“And how do we know that?!” He demanded loudly. Anger boiled in your veins but before you could react, Bucky said ‘Anastasia’ under his breath just loud enough that you could hear him. You met his eyes for only a moment as Ross shifted his weight on his feet, and you took a deep breath to respond.

“Sir, I have been alive for almost two hundred years. I celebrated my one hundredth and seventy seventh birthday this year. I am an Avenger, a wife, and a mother. I am not a killer. I have nightmares…”

“Objection, answer the question.” Ross tried to interrupt, but you simply continued.

“…of those people I was forced to kill almost nightly. I wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming…”

“Objection, answer the quest…”

“I am answering your question!” You screamed as you stood up from the chair and glared at him. “You are the one not listening. I am not a killer. I made an oath to do no harm when I became a doctor in the early 1900’s. I made an unofficial oath to protect the people of this world from all enemies, foreign and domestic when I became an Avenger. If I really wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t have done those things. I would have used the skills HYDRA beat into me to avoid detection like I did when I was under HYDRA’s thumb and kept on killing after HYDRA’s fall. I was a ghost, Mr. Ross. I am CHOOSING to not live that life anymore. And at this point in my existence, it is my choice to make.” Ross looked a little too stunned for words and you could see the jury shaking beside you as you sat back down in your chair. You went to adjust your shirt for something to do with your hands, but finally noticed that your claws had come out in your anger. You retracted them quickly and flushed hard as a smile stretched across Everett’s face.

“No further questions.” He said, cryptically as he walked over and took a seat. You groaned to yourself and covered your face with your hands for a moment before getting up to go back to the defense table.

“It’s alright.” Mike said softly as he reached out to take your hand to give it a gentle squeeze, but you quickly pulled away from him to cover your red face again. The judge called for a recess until the next day for closing arguments, and you shook your head as tears welled in your eyes.

“They have to convict me now.” You breathed as you stood up to go back to your jail cell hotel room for the night.

“Not a chance in hell.” Mike stated, overconfidently, which only made you shake your head as you took Bucky’s hand.

“You need to go to Wakanda, now.” You tried again, but your husband shook his head.

“We aren’t there yet.” He claimed, but you and the Wolf did not agree one bit.

——

“How long does this usually take?” Steve asked as you sat in the court room on day 5 of jury deliberations.

“It can take anywhere from a few minutes, to as long as they need.” Mike said to you as he looked up from his phone to the group of you that were sitting around, waiting for the jury to come back with a verdict. “Days, weeks… eventually, if they can’t come to an agreement it may go to a mistrial.”

“Goddamn it…” You groaned as you sat back in your chair and covered your face with your hands. “Never should have gotten that angry.”

“You’re going to be alright, doll.” Bucky tried as he reached over the partition and squeezed your shoulder as the bailiff finally said the jury was ready. Your stomach dropped and you sat up in your chair as the judge told the bailiff to bring the jury in. Every moment felt like an eternity, but before you knew it, you were standing beside Mike as the jury foreman opened the paper in his hand.

“On the charges of murder of the first degree of Howard Stark, how do you find?”

“We, the jury, find the defendant… not guilty.” The air rushed out of your lungs and you instantly collapsed back in your seat as the judge called out the next murder case you were being charged with.

“Not guilty”

Over and over again, the jury called out a “not guilty” verdict and you couldn’t believe your ears. Tears poured down your face and relief filled your soul to the brim as your whole world rightened once again. When the last “not guilty” verdict was read, you turned in your spot and wrapped your husband in your arms and cried into his shoulder as he simply rubbed your back and whispered sweet reassurances in your ear. You didn’t hear the rest of anything that was said, other than that the case against you was dismissed. The second the gavel dropped, you were over the partition and practically dragging Bucky out of the room.

“Easy, doll.” Bucky laughed as he pulled back on your hand so you would slow down. You shook your head but paused just long enough to get your ankle monitor off.

“I need my daughter, and I need to get the hell out of here.”

“We’re going.” He promised as you adjusted your pants leg. “We can go anywhere you want to go, I promise.”

“I just want to go home.” You breathed with tears in your eyes as you stopped to search his face.

“Then home it is.”

~~~~~~~~~

Once you were home safe in Stark Tower, you couldn’t get the man’s face out of your head that pointed a gun at your daughter. So you did what any rational person would have done- you hunted him down.

Brett Miller was a single man, living in Maryland outside of DC with no family, no pets, no friends or even close neighbors- nothing that would lead you to believe that anyone would come looking for the Winter Wolf if you went through with what you wanted to. Bucky saw the feral look in your eyes when you were doing your research and surprisingly didn’t say anything to try to stop you. But someone did have something to say.

“The fuck are you doing here, Natasha?” You asked under your breath as you hid in the bushes behind Miller’s house at three in the morning.

“You’re not going in alone.” She whispered as she slid between two trees, dressed in her Black Widow outfit.

“Fuck off.” You grumbled as you stood up and silently crept toward the back door with a small duffle bag of things you would need on your shoulder. Your full Winter Wolf get up felt like a second skin and you let her take over your mind for a moment, but Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you back into the shadows.

“Let me help you.” She hissed, as you yanked your arm free of her grip.

“Go to hell.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m helping whether you like it or not.” She breathed as she walked past you to disable Miller’s security alarm and cameras. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and follow her. After a few moments she nodded her head and gestured you forward.

“I don’t need fucking back up.” You tried as you walked over and unlocked the back door, but your temporary partner simply shushed you. With another eye roll, you silently snuck into the house and headed upstairs where Miller was sleeping. He was only in a pair of boxers, sleeping spread eagle in the middle of his bed, and you quickly moved over and started tying him to the bed. Nat saw what you were doing and helped, making sure Brett didn’t escape once he woke up. His eyes bulged when you slapped him awake, and he instantly scrambled to get away when he saw you looming over his bed.

“You fucked up, Brett.” You said evenly through the mask that hid the lower part of your face. “You pointed a gun at my child. And no one points a gun at my child and lives to tell the tale.”

“P-p-please…” His words stopped abruptly when you pulled the knife strapped to your thigh out of the holster and held it up to his throat.

“P-p-p… man up. You know what you did.” You went to drag the blade across his throat to start his torture, but the Wolf froze just long enough for your senses to be slammed with the ‘Good Night, Moon’ song. You whipped around and looked at Natasha, who looked unapologetic as she held her phone up with the song playing softly.

“You don’t have to do this.” She said softly as she searched what she could see of your eyes through the goggles you had on. “Ana wouldn’t want this.”

“Take her name out of your fucking mouth.” You hissed back as you looked back down at your mark, who was looking between the pair of you with wide eyes.

“Don’t do this, (Y/N).” With a loud growl, you pulled the gun from your hip and pointed it at her, but that was the wrong move to make. In the split second you turned away, Natasha put a bullet in Brett Miller’s forehead for you. You froze and looked at her in complete shock, but she simply shrugged. “You are not the Winter Wolf any more. You are a mother, and a wife. You don’t need the blood on your hands or the nightmares of a kill anymore than you already have.”

“You had no right.”

“I know.” She said with a nod as she started untying Brett’s body from the bed. “But you deserve a life of happiness. Not one of violence. Go home to your family, (Y/N). I’ve got it from here.”

“Natasha…”

“I said go.” She repeated, which made you sigh and concede. You put your weapons away and packed the rope back up as she headed down stairs and severed the gas line behind the stove. The pair of you slipped out of the house and ran to your respective cars as the house blew up behind you. Your mind raced all the way back to the Tower, and you ignored the dozen calls you got from your temporary partner on the way. It wasn’t until you were home again, did you speak to anyone.

“How’d it go?” Bucky asked quietly as he sat on the bed, watching TV and just waiting for you to come home.

“Natasha killed him.”

“Say what now?” He asked as he looked over at you with his eyebrows raised. “Natasha went with you?”

“Natasha followed me to Miller’s.” You sighed as you started stripping out of your gear. “She took the kill shot when I hesitated.”

“Oh, baby…”

“I was gunna do it, you know.” You snapped angrily. “It was my kill to take.”

“And she didn’t want the blood on your hands.” Natasha said as she walked into your room, completely uninvited. You scowled as she stopped just in the door way and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can hate me all you want, my star, but I will always, always protect you. I will always love you and nothing you say or do will make me stop. But we both know that had you go through with that as Dr. (Y/N) Barnes and not the Winter Wolf, you never would have forgiven yourself for it. You never would have been able to look Ana in the face again without feeling guilty. I didn’t want that for you. So I took the shot. And I’d do it all over again to protect you. You are not the Winter Wolf anymore.” With a small nod, she turned on her heel and went to leave the room, but you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Thank you.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder at you with a small nod.

“You’re welcome.” With one more glance at Bucky, she turned back around and headed back to her room to go to bed after a long couple days of driving. You groaned loudly and went to run your fingers through your hair, but it was still braided down your back.

“Get it off.” You huffed as you looked down at your outfit and felt your stomach turn. “Bucky help me…”

“OK, OK.” He said as he leapt to his feet and helped you get your old uniform off. When you were standing in just your underwear, you burst into tears and collapsed into his arms.

“I couldn’t do it.” You sobbed as you let him lead you over to the bed. “I froze. I couldn’t do it.”

“It’s OK, doll. It’s all over. It’s OK.” He kept whispering the same sweet nothings over and over as you cried, until there wasn’t anymore tears to shed.

“She was right.” You whispered as you hid your face against his throat. “I’m not the Winter Wolf anymore.”

“I know.” He agreed as he ran his fingers up and down your bare back. “And that’s OK.” It took a moment or two for those words to really sink in before you sat up and looked at him with red, puffy eyes.

“I’m not the Winter Wolf anymore.” You repeated with a small smile and a shake of your head. “I’m just (Y/N). I’m a mother, a wife, and a good person. I’m not the Winter Wolf anymore.” He smiled and cupped your jaw in his hand with a nod of agreement.

“No, baby girl. You’re the love of my life. You are definitely not the Winter Wolf anymore.”

The End.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter wolf #winter wolf series

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pathfinderunlocked · 5 months

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Prinny - CR1 Demon

Prinny Rule Number 1! You must always include the word “Dood” in every line you say, dood!

Artwork is official art from Cross Edge, copyright Nippon Ichi.

Prinnies are the mascots of the Disgaea series and of Nippon Ichi. They’re among the lowest level demons. Worthless mortal souls with significant sins but no actual importance or aptitude may become prinnies in the afterlife, where they’re forced to work as horribly mistreated slaves for eons to pay off their karmic debt. Like most demons, they have no memory of their mortal lives beyond a vague sense of how evil and worthless they were.

A common trait of the prinnies is their upbeat attitude, lazy and unintelligent personalities, their signature pirouette spin, and frequent use of the word “dood” as an interjection in their sentences. Another memorable feature of theirs is the fact that they explode if thrown. As a result, they’re often used as cannon fodder - or, more accurately, cannon ammunition - by demonic forces.

A group of prinnies is likely to die in a massive chain reaction as they all explode.

They lack a few common demon abilities like telepathy and fire resistance, which is on purpose. See also the CR 11 prinny hero for higher level players.

Honestly, prinnies only attack with fire, not ice, in the Disgaea games, and have absolutely no penguin-themed abilities at all, so this interpretation is a bit loose. Which is true of a lot of my monster adaptations.

Prinny - CR 1

XP 400 CE Small outsider (aquatic, chaotic, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +1 Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception -2

DEFENSE

AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 11 (+1 Dex, +1 size) hp 17 (2d10+8) Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +1 DR 5/cold iron Weaknesses combustible feathers, explosive landing Immune electricity, poison Resist acid 10, cold 15

OFFENSE

Speed 20 ft., swim 60 ft. Melee slam +2 (1d8) or 2 machetes +0/+0 (1d4/19-20) and slam -3 (1d8) Ranged bomb +3 ranged touch (1d6+4 cold plus 5 splash (DC 15)) (20 ft. range increment) Special Attacks ice slick charge

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +2) 1/day—winter’s grasp, summon (level 1, 1 prinny 40%)

STATISTICS

Str 11, Dex 12, Con 18, Int 5, Wis 6, Cha 12 BAB +2; CMB +2; CMD 13 Feats Two Weapon Fighting Skills Escape Artist +14, Swim +16; Racial Modifiers +8 Escape Artist, +8 Swim Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Draconic SQ icewalking Gear machete x2

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Bomb (Su) Each morning, a prinny creates 1 bomb which, in the hands of the prinny, functions as a thrown splash weapon with a range increment of 20 feet. Bombs are considered weapons and can be selected using feats such as Point-Blank Shot and Weapon Focus. A bomb deals 1d6 cold damage, and a prinny adds its Constitution bonus to the damage (usually for a total of 1d6+4 cold damage). The bomb deals splash damage equal to its minimum damage (usually 5), DC 15 Reflex save negates. The save DC is Constitution-based.

In the hands of any other creature, a prinny’s bomb is useless. A prinny’s bomb becomes inert and useless 24 hours after being created.

Combustible Feathers (Ex) If a prinny takes fire damage, each of its feathers becomes a quick-burning fuse that explodes a moment later. The prinny is left naked as its feathers fly off, and the explosion causes 3d6 fire damage in a 5-ft. radius. A DC 9 Reflex save halves the damage. The prinny automatically fails the saving throw against this damage, and takes an additional 50% damage from the explosion. The save DC is Constitution-based and includes a -6 penalty.

Once a prinny explodes in this way, it temporarily loses its DR 5/cold iron, and it cannot explode again (via combustible feathers or explosive landing) until its feathers regrow. Its feathers regrow after 1 hour, causing its DR 5/cold iron to return.

Explosive Landing (Ex) If a prinny takes falling damage, it explodes on impact. The prinny is left naked as its feathers fly off, and the explosion causes 3d6 fire damage in a 5-ft. radius. A DC 9 Reflex save halves the damage. The prinny automatically fails the saving throw against this damage, and takes an additional 50% damage from the explosion. The save DC is Constitution-based and includes a -6 penalty.

Ice Slick Charge (Su) A prinny’s speed doubles when charging on land on a flat surface or downhill. When it performs a charge on land, a prinny leaves an ice trail as the ice slick spell on spaces it moves through and adjacent spaces.

When making a charge, a prinny can attempt to overrun the target of its charge as a free action, continuing in a straight line past its target to the limit of its movement if the overrun is successful. This overrun maneuver does not provoke attacks of opportunity. If the prinny succeeds on the overrun maneuver, its movement during the charge does not provoke attacks of opportunity from the target of its charge.

Icewalking (Ex) A prinny can walk without penalty over areas of ice and snow and does not need to make Acrobatics checks to run or charge on ice.

#d&d #pathfinder 1e #outsider #extraplanar #evil #chaotic #aquatic #demon #disgaea

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sesamestreep · 1 year

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there's something fiction about the way that reality's going

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: It's bad enough that Foggy has to spend his Saturday morning giving bad news to some overly-ambitious campaign manager. It's unforgivable that he turns out to be hot, of all things. [AKA - The West Wing AU] A/N: here's part 1 of that west wing au i've been talking about writing for months. I put copious notes (including a mild content warning for the 90s as a time period in general) on AO3, so I'd recommend reading there if you want more info. big thanks to @firstelevens for talking me off several ledges during the writing, editing, and posting processes for this fic!

“You know what’s sick, Karen?” Foggy asks, as he rounds the corner of her desk.

“Sick like bad, like the flu?” she asks, not looking away from her computer. “Or sick like good, like a skateboard trick?”

“Sick like disgusting and perverted.”

“Ooh, I am not sure I want to know.”

“Too bad,” he says, as he tosses his duffel bag into his office. It collides with a filing cabinet, but doesn’t knock anything over, which is pretty good from this distance. “I have reached a new level of depravity.”

“Congratulations?”

“Thank you. Ask me how.”

“Must I?”

“Yes.”

Karen sighs. “How did you reach a new level of depravity?”

“I found myself thinking, while flying with the President on Air Force One, ‘god, this sucks!’”

“That’s your new level of depravity?” she asks, unimpressed.

“Karen, I’m telling you I’m bored of flying on Air Force One! The President’s private plane is boring to me. The novelty—of Air Force One—is gone!”

“And that’s all?”

“‘That’s all’?! Karen, I—”

“I heard you the first twelve times," she says. "You’re a real sicko, Foggy, I get it.”

“This revelation means less to you than I anticipated,” Foggy says, idly fiddling with the things on her desk.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she says, filing something. “I kind of thought you picked up a new, exciting fetish while in Pakistan.”

“Unfortunately, no. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

“There’s always next time,” she replies. “Did you bring me back anything?”

“Also no. In my defense, you didn’t tell me you wanted a new, exciting fetish while I was there.”

“A good boss would know without having to be told.”

“Oh, no. They’ll take away my ‘world’s greatest boss’ mug for this!”

“You don’t have one of those,” she says, frowning.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Looks like we’ve both got some work to do,” she says, turning her attention back to her computer.

“Speaking of that, what are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Almost always, but in this case…”

Karen looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Foggy, you have a meeting.”

“I don’t schedule meetings for Saturday mornings,” he says. “And certainly not after I’ve been away in Islamabad with the President for three days and on a plane for 15 hours.”

“Yes, but this is Marci’s meeting,” Karen says. “The one you promised to cover for her, since her cousin had to move her bachelorette weekend up two weeks to—”

“This weekend. Fuck!” Foggy closes his eyes. “Oh, I should not have agreed to this! This was so stupid. I’m so jet lagged right now and I’ve been wearing the same suit for like two days.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Ew, why?”

“I packed in a hurry and I miscounted—you know what, forget it! I would still smell like airplane, regardless.”

She steps around her desk to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not even that—Good god! That is not what airplanes are supposed to smell like!”

Foggy sniffs his shirt and winces. He was kind of hoping he was just being dramatic. “Pakistan is a very populous country,” he says, weakly. “And we were in the capitol, so lots of people, in close quarters…”

“So, unless this guy has a sinus infection, he’s going to be able to smell you from down the hall.”

“Karen, please! I am begging you…”

“Do you have another suit?”

“Not one that smells better !” Foggy exclaims. “Do I have time to go out and buy a new suit?”

“Your meeting is in 30 minutes, and I’m guessing you still need to read the briefing packet Marci left you, so you know what this guy wants to talk about.”

“This is the guy from the Bryant campaign? Mitchell…something?”

“ Matthew Murdock, yes.”

“I know what he wants to talk about,” Foggy says, waving a hand at her.

“Oh, just read the damn packet!”

“I need to find something to wear that doesn’t smell like I walked here from Islamabad, okay?”

“I’ll ask around,” Karen replies. “You prep for the meeting.”

“You’re going to ask around ?”

“Yes."

“To see if someone in the building has a suit I can borrow?

“Foggy!”

“I feel like you’re vastly underestimating how weird of a request that is!”

“Not all men are as suspicious as you.”

“Most men are more suspicious than me, firstly,” he says. “And secondly, even if you found someone in this office to accept this absurd request—on a Saturday, no less!—suits are supposed to be tailored. I’m going to look weird in someone else’s suit!”

“What’s worse: looking weird in an ill-fitting suit or smelling weird in this one?”

“Maybe he will have a sinus infection,” Foggy muses.

“Yes, because praying for that is less weird than my plan,” Karen says, with an eye roll. “Wait, you have a gym bag!”

“In my office? Yeah…”

“And last week, that budget meeting got rescheduled and you couldn’t go to the gym after work because it was already closed when the meeting wrapped up!”

“Yes! Why are we excited about this?”

Karen’s practically bouncing on her feet. “Because if the bag is still here but you didn’t go to the gym, that means the clothes are clean!”

“You want me to meet with the manager for a congressional campaign in my gym clothes?” Foggy asks.

“Your clean gym clothes!”

“I can’t meet him in my gym clothes!”

“Why not?”

“It’s unprofessional!”

“It’s Saturday! You’re…laid back! You’re chillin’!”

Foggy shakes his head at her, because it’s extremely clear to him that she’s never said that word in another context before in her life. “Just chillin’ at the White House! Now there’s a TV show I’d watch!”

“ Foggy !”

“It could be like this President’s version of FDR’s fireside chats! You’re a genius, Karen!”

“I’m being helpful and you’re being such a dick about it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re right,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders in a conciliatory gesture. “And I appreciate it. But I can’t wear gym clothes to this meeting.”

“It wouldn’t be that weird! You could come up with an excuse—”

“No, I understand. It’s just—I barely look good in a suit. I can trick people into taking me seriously in a suit. If this guy sees me in basketball shorts, he’ll never take me seriously.”

“You look good in a suit, no qualifiers,” Karen says, firmly. “And honestly, it would probably be charming to him if you were in gym clothes. And lastly, you are the deputy chief of staff at the White House, Foggy. People take you seriously. You are serious.”

“That was wall-to-wall bald faced lies, but I do love you for it,” he says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “And if I’m being honest with you, I’m nervous about the optics of dressing casually for a meeting where I know I have to give someone bad news.”

Karen frowns. “What’s going on?”

“The campaign this guy is running, it’s Bryant’s campaign in the 21st district in New York State. It’s a district that, historically, a Republican always wins. From what I know, and what Marci’s told me, this guy wants more help from us, and more funding from the DNC, to get Bryant elected instead.”

“But we’re not going to do that?” Karen asks.

“No, we’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because Bryant sucks,” Foggy admits, with a small, mirthless laugh.

“Worse than the Republican who’s running?”

“He’s the incumbent and we know what to do with him, at least.”

“Still,” she interjects, frowning deeper, “it’s not…great…”

“It’s political maneuvering to be sure,” Foggy says, “but that’s the business we’re in, like it or not.”

“Yeah, so…”

“So, showing up to this meeting looking ready for an aerobics class and then telling this guy he’s up a creek and the DNC isn’t going to throw him a paddle might be a bad look. At least if my suit’s wrinkled and I smell bad, he can write it off as me being an overworked staffer.”

“Which, you are.”

“Exactly!”

“Yeah, okay. I get it,” Karen says, moving back to her desk.

“I have a few minutes?”

“Yeah, read the thing on your desk.”

“I don’t need to—”

“Marci wrote it so you could—”

“Marci’s secretary wrote it, and you know that.”

“And Marci’s secretary’s work has less value than Marci’s because…?”

“Ah, okay,” Foggy says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll read the thing.”

“Do you need coffee?”

“Desperately.”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll get you some, so you can read.”

“Thank you. And while you’re at it, see if Jeri’s secretary is in and ask—”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind them says, and they both startle.

“Hi, can I help you?” Karen asks, automatically and politely, as she turns to face the man.

“I hope so,” he says. “I’m looking for Karen Page.”

“Then I can definitely help you,” she replies, cheerfully. “That’s me.”

“Oh, excellent,” the man says, offering her his hand. “I’m Matt Murdock, from the Bryant campaign. I have a meeting with Mr. Nelson at 10.”

“You’re…from the Bryant campaign?” Karen asks, hesitantly.

Foggy knows how she feels. Absolutely nothing about this guy says ‘campaign manager’ except for the quality of his suit. He’s so glaringly handsome in a professional-athlete-who-also-gets-modeling-gigs kind of way that it takes Foggy a full minute to clock that he’s wearing sunglasses indoors (something a professional athlete/part-time model would do) and carrying a white cane. Bryant’s campaign manager is blind. That’s almost as unexpected as him being hot.

“Yes, I know. I’m a little bit early,” he says, either willfully or obliviously attributing Karen’s surprise to the wrong thing.

Karen recovers quickly, though. “Not to worry,” she says, finally taking his hand and giving it a polite shake. “We appreciate your punctuality.”

“Well, I appreciate that handshake,” Matt offers, charmingly. “Very commanding, very firm!”

Much to Foggy’s amusement and vague annoyance, Karen lets out a hopelessly charmed laugh at that. “Thank you, I—uh, I do my best.”

Foggy gives her a wide-eyed look, and she gives him a helpless and slightly embarrassed one back. He shakes his head before inclining it towards Matt, who either hasn’t noticed him or is avoiding acknowledging him, for whatever reason.

“Would you be so kind as to let your boss know I’m here?”

“That, uh, won’t be necessary,” she says. Karen never stammers. This is so funny. “He’s, um—well, he’s right here! Foggy, are you ready for Mr. Murdock?”

Foggy does his best to hide his smile. “Am I ever!” he says, gamely, and steps forward to shake his hand. “Franklin Nelson, at your service. Everyone calls me Foggy, so you should too!”

This, somehow, catches Matt off-guard, which given his otherwise smooth and unflappable exterior, is kind of impressive. He very clearly expected to wait to be seen, and possibly hoped to have more time to flirt with Foggy’s assistant, judging by the looks of things.

“Hello,” Matt says, stiff with awkwardness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Foggy replies. “Delighted to make your acquaintance! I am holding out my hand for you to shake, for the record.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry,” he says, as he hurries to take it.

There’s an awkward moment as he sort of guesstimates where Foggy’s hand is before making contact and Foggy’s left to wonder if he could have made that less weird somehow and feel slightly embarrassed that he doesn’t know the protocol for this situation. And he’s already feeling pretty embarrassed that he smells like a 15 hour flight in front of this very handsome stranger, who can probably smell him even more than the average person. Unless that stuff about depriving one sense making the others stronger is bullshit, which it might be. Foggy’s tempted to ask but that seems likely to make the situation more awkward still.

Matt’s palm is a little rough in places, which is kind of nice. Foggy’s is, he knows, not even a little bit rough. He’s got the smooth baby soft hands of someone who has always been an indoor kid and then grew up to be a lawyer. No calluses to speak of whatsoever. It makes him wonder where Matt, likely a lawyer himself, got his from. And now he’s been holding this hot guy’s hand for too long. Perfect.

“Well, why don’t you step into my office?” he asks, dropping it quickly.

“You’re sure? I know I got here before our appointment.”

“No trouble at all,” Foggy says, with more enthusiasm than he feels. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, yes,” Karen pipes up. “We have coffee, tea, soda, water—”

“I’m good,” Matt says, with another charming smile in her direction. Foggy’s still waiting for his. “Thank you, Karen.”

“Yes, thank you, Karen,” Foggy says brightly, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Actually, Foggy, could I borrow you for a second?”

“Absolutely.” To Matt, he says, “You can go right in and I’ll be with you shortly. There’s a chair in front of the desk, where…chairs normally are in an office.”

This, for whatever reason, makes Matt snort in amusement, which is somehow better than getting a smile out of him. “Yes, I think I can manage,” he replies, and moves towards Foggy’s office.

“Great. Be right there!” Once he’s gone, Foggy leans in close to Karen. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to point out that you should have listened to me and worn your gym clothes after all,” she says, flipping through a file on her desk disinterestedly.

“Yes, yes, I know. Karen Page the Wise, let her instincts never be doubted again,” Foggy says, miming genuflection.

“Do you still want a coffee?”

“I’ll grab it when I’m done. Hopefully, this won’t take long,” he says. He leans in even closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “By the way, is this guy a real campaign manager or is he just auditioning to play one on TV?”

“ Foggy ,” Karen exclaims, with an eye roll.

“I’m sorry, but he’s, like, stupid handsome!”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she sniffs, feigning disinterest.

“Uh huh,” Foggy says, unimpressed. “Well, he noticed your firm handshake, that’s for sure.”

“You really are more perverted than when you left, aren’t you?” Karen says, amused. “Now, get in there and disappoint that beautiful man.”

“Lucky for him, that is something I’m very good at.”

Karen snorts at that, and returns to her work. Foggy goes back to his office and is pleased to see that Matt has managed to find a seat.

“Sorry about that,” he announces, as he settles into the chair behind his desk. “We’re a little bit scattered this morning. I just got back from Islamabad about twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, I appreciate your time.”

“Don’t mention it. Listen, Michael…”

“Matthew,” he says, surely seeing through the power play but not pointing it out. “Matt, if it’s all the same.”

“Right, sorry. Hey, at least, I knew it was one of the gospels from the Bible, right?”

The unbothered, generically pleasant expression on his face doesn't falter as he says, evenly, “There is no gospel according to Michael in the Bible.”

“Maybe not in yours,” Foggy replies, hoping he covers his nerves well enough that Matt can’t hear anything in his voice. “There’s a Saint Michael, though, right?”

“Yes,” Matt says, cracking a barely-there smile. “He’s an archangel, too.”

“An angel and a saint? Sounds like a lot of work. What’s his deal?”

“His ‘deal’?”

“Yeah, like what’s he the saint of?”

“Oh, like his patronage?”

“Yes,” Foggy says, snapping his fingers. “Like is he the guy to pray to when I’ve got a hangnail or a flat tire?”

“No,” Matt laughs, shaking his head. “He’s considered the patron saint of police officers, the military, paramedics, the protector of the Jewish people and the Vatican, as well as Germany, the Ukraine, and Brussels.”

“Wow, can you do that for all the saints?”

“A good amount of them,” Matt replies. He shrugs before adding, “I went to Catholic school.”

“That must come in handy.”

“You’d really be surprised how little it comes up,” he says, drolly.

“Really?" Foggy asks. "Not even when you have a flat tire?”

“I would probably call AAA first, in that scenario. The saints tend to take their time.”

“Solid point.”

“Listen, Mr. Nelson—”

“God, please, like I said: call me ‘Foggy’. I’d do the classic ‘Mr. Nelson is my father’ bit but I’m pretty sure no one calls him that either.”

“‘Foggy?’ Really?” Matt repeats, incredulously.

“Yes, it’s—not important why. It’s just—it’s what everyone calls me.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning forward in his seat. “Foggy, then. As much as I appreciate the opportunity to show off the benefits of my Catholic upbringing and education, I didn’t come here to talk to you about the patronages of various saints.”

“Yes, I knew that, actually. I’m sorry. I was stalling.”

Matt slumps back in his seat at that. “You’re going to tell me you can’t help me.”

“Listen, if this had been my meeting from the start, I would have told you not to bother coming down.”

“In your colleague’s defense, she did tell me that.”

“Well, then, I’m surprised you did it anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you knew me better,” Matt replies, with so much confidence it borders on cocky. He gets five percent hotter in Foggy’s mental estimation from that alone.

He clears his throat. “Your candidate is running for a seat in New York’s 21st district. Democrats never win in the 21st. It’s simple math.”

“Yes, historically, this district goes red in elections, but that doesn’t mean, with the right democrat and proper funding from the DNC—”

“That’s true,” Foggy allows.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“You don’t have the right democrat.”

“I…what?”

“I’m saying, Bryant isn’t the democrat to flip the 21st.”

“According to whom?”

“According to me.”

“Is there anyone else I can talk to, then?” Matt asks, clearly keeping his patience on a very tight leash if the state of his jaw is any indication. Not that Foggy is admiring his jawline at a time like this.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Foggy, I came down here—”

“A waste of time, as promised, but hey, at least you made a new friend!”

“You and I are not friends.”

“I meant you and Karen," Foggy says, blithely, "but ouch.”

Matt's jaw somehow clenches even tighter. “I want to talk to someone who’s going to take me seriously!”

“You are talking to someone who’s taking you seriously,” he says, earnestly. “Trust me, Matt. It’s not you, it’s your candidate.”

“Well, that’s a new one,” he says, deflating.

“Bryant is a centrist—”

“It’s a Republican stronghold!” Matt exclaims. “Who else has a chance to flip the seat? Do you want to put a diehard socialist on the ballot instead and see how they do?”

“More than anything in the world, yes,” Foggy replies. “But this isn’t about what I want.”

“The incumbent is a right wing clown and he lends legitimacy to their rhetoric. I think the country would be better off with him out of a job. I’m sorry that the White House and the DNC disagree, but—”

“You’re right.”

“I’m right?!”

“You’re right,” Foggy says. “With an asterisk.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Just a tiny footnote, really. He is a right wing clown, and he should be voted out of office, but he’s also a boon to the DNC.”

“How exactly does that make sense?”

“Every time he opens his mouth, the DNC pulls a quote, puts it on a direct mail campaign, and raises tens of thousands of dollars off of their members’ outrage. As long as we keep him in front of a microphone, we can basically print money for ourselves.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “What a reassuring thing to hear from a representative of my government.”

Foggy laughs, unexpectedly, which just makes Matt glare in his general direction. “Technically, we are the only ones who should be printing money, but that’s beside the point.”

“Are we at least approaching the point sometime soon?”

“You’re familiar with the phrase ‘better the devil you know…’”

Matt sighs. “‘Than the devil you don’t’. Yes.”

“Bryant’s the devil we don’t know. Dashwood’s the one we do.”

“Bryant is a democrat, Foggy.”

“Barely, and I don’t want it to be my job for the next six and a half years to make sure he’s not going to be the swing vote on every measure we want to get passed through the House. And it will be my job, Matt.”

“Well, if you keep selling out viable democrats like this, I don’t think you can count on re-election as a matter of course like you just did, so let’s call it two and a half years to be safe.”

Foggy leans forward onto his forearms. “Sweetheart, you don’t have a viable democrat on your hands, and that’s the nicest way anyone in this building is going to put it, so let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

“Easy for you to say,” Matt replies, standing. Foggy mirrors him. “I appreciate the condescension, by the way. No one’s called me ‘sweetheart’ in a long time.”

“No trouble at all,” Foggy says. “Feel free to stop by anytime you need your ego stroked.”

Matt laughs, or really huffs, putting his hands on his hips. He’s either getting a second wind on this argument or they’re about to get into a fistfight. He might have made that last retort too flirty. Some guys, by which he does mean most straight guys, will really take any opportunity. Luckily, a knock at the door cuts their standoff short.

“Foggy, the President wants anybody who’s available in the Oval Office in five,” Marci says as she barrels in without waiting, before her eyes land on Matt. “Oh, sorry to interrupt.”

“Marci, this is Matt Murdock, from the Bryant campaign,” Foggy says, begrudgingly. “Matt, this is Marci Stahl, deputy communications director. I believe your original meeting was supposed to be with her.”

“Yes. Hi,” Matt says, cheerfully enough, but the set of his shoulders remains tense.

“Matt, so nice to meet you,” she trills, giving Foggy a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as they shake hands. Of course she immediately clocked how attractive he is. Sometimes he thinks that an unfortunate side effect of them dating and then staying friends for so long is that they basically have the same brain. “I’m so sorry for sticking you with Foggy here. There were some scheduling issues with my calendar.”

“Not to worry,” Matt says, tightly. “Foggy’s taken excellent care of me.”

Marci purses her lips in amusement. “Isn’t he just the best?” she says, grinning at Foggy sadistically. “If I had my way, I’d foist all my downer meetings on him, because he always handles people so gently. Not my strong suit, I’m afraid.”

Foggy rolls his eyes, but Matt beats him to the punch. “‘Downer meetings’?” he asks, deceptively pleasant.

“Yes, well, it’s a pity about Bryant, but you’re young, as I can now see. You’ll have other campaigns, ones you can actually win.”

“We haven’t technically lost this one yet.”

Marci gives Foggy a look, before shaking her head. “So true,” she says, giving Matt’s arm a squeeze. “Anyway! Safe travels! Foggy, like I said, five minutes.”

“I’m in the middle of a meeting,” he replies, annoyed.

“It’s the Cruz case.”

“That’s going to—”

“It came back 5-3 against,” she says, cutting him off with a significant look at Matt. “That’s why I canceled my trip. We’re all hands on deck.”

Foggy sighs, but only because it would be inappropriate to swear. “Okay.”

“Five minutes.”

“I said, ‘okay’.”

Marci nods and departs in her usual cloud of Chanel perfume and hyper competence, her heels clicking down the hallway until the sound fades completely. Foggy rubs his face, thinking miserably about how this is just the beginning of what will most likely be a very long, bad day. He’s going to need to send Karen to his apartment to get him some clothes. He’s going to need twelve coffees, ideally right now, but he’s got to deal with Matt first. When he looks over at him, he’s standing there, shell shocked.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, because he honestly is. “She’s—it’s not always like this.”

Matt seems to spring back into action like a spell has been lifted. “It’s fine,” he says, picking up his briefcase and his stick. “You have to get going.”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t say it’s not important, for my benefit. It sounds important.”

“I can walk you out,” Foggy says, coming around the desk towards him.

“I can manage on my own,” Matt says, not unkindly but not meekly either. The implication that he wants to end this interaction sooner rather than later is barely implied.

“Of course. It was, uh, lovely to meet you.”

“Sure,” he replies, not reciprocating the sentiment but extending his hand as they pause in front of Karen’s desk. Foggy takes it and gives him a firm handshake.

“Karen, could you—?"

“I’m fine,” Matt interrupts. “Thank you, though. Karen, a pleasure.”

“You too,” Karen offers. “The hallway behind you leads right to the exit. You’ll need to sign out with security.”

“Thank you,” he says, and departs without further fanfare.

“How’d he take it?” Karen asks Foggy, once he’s gone.

“Super well,” Foggy chirps. “In fact, we’re thinking this summer for the wedding.”

“That’s fast,” Karen says, barely hiding her smile.

“What can I say? When you know you know.” He sighs deeply. “Marci told you about the Supreme Court thing?”

“Yeah. You want me to go grab you a change of clothes from your place?”

“Yes, please. You need my keys?”

“I have your spare still,” Karen says, as she gets up and puts on her coat. “Need anything else while I’m out?”

“The world’s largest coffee, with as many espresso shots as the law allows.”

“Got it,” she replies with a nod. She’s already on her way out when he grabs her by the elbow to stop her.

“Am I, like, the world’s biggest asshole?” he asks, earnestly. “And be honest, because I feel like the world’s biggest asshole right now.”

“You’re not,” Karen says, immediately, squeezing his arm. “You’re the best person I know, but you’re jet lagged and overtired and stinky and now you have to spend the rest of your day talking about the death penalty. That would put anyone in a bad mood.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “Thanks.”

He lets her go, then, because they’ve all got work to do, but her words don’t reassure him like they usually would.

Foggy waits on the sidewalk out in front of St. Patrick’s the next morning with ten minutes to spare before the 10 AM mass gets out. He finds himself wishing he had cigarettes, which he only ever wants when he’s nervous and needs something to do with his hands. He’s complained about this before, unwisely, with his mother in earshot, which had led to her snapping at him to take up knitting if he needs something productive to do with his hands. The worst fight he can ever remember having with her was when she found cigarettes in his room when he was home from college once. What is it about being within spitting distance of a Catholic church that brings up all his repressed guilt like that?

He probably could have brought coffee, but he’s not sure if Matt declined yesterday to be polite or if he genuinely doesn’t drink it. Either way, Foggy couldn’t begin to guess how he’d take it, so it’s probably better to just skip it entirely. He doesn’t need to bribe him, and he doesn’t need anything to occupy his hands. He’s senior staff at the goddamn White House. He doesn’t need to be nervous.

Over his shoulder, he hears the sound of voices starting to drift over from the doors and of footsteps on the stairs. When he glances over, he sees crowds starting to form at the entrance. He remembers, suddenly, from a few christenings he was forced to attend for various cousins, how much people like to stand around and gab after mass and hopes that, by virtue of not being at his own church, Matt won’t be stuck talking to a bunch of old ladies for too long.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes later when he emerges from the crowd, easy to spot with his glasses and his stick, head down and separate. Foggy hesitates for a second, worried this will be an intolerable intrusion on something, well, sacred, but he did go out of his way to talk to him. It will be even less excusable if he doesn’t go through with it.

Matt’s head swivels in the correct direction when he hears his name called and Foggy would guess he’s good at identifying voices, both in general and in his line of work, where schmoozing and networking are so essential. Matt’s already at a disadvantage, not knowing people by sight, so he can only imagine he’s found a way to compensate for it. He’s guessing he knows who it is before Foggy even says, “on your right,” and approaches him.

“Foggy?” Matt asks, and he’s not sure if he’s guessing or just expressing surprise.

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out weirdly shy, because of course it does. Matt’s still dressed nicely, like he was yesterday, though he’s ditched the tie and thrown a sweater over his dress shirt instead. It’s like he knows about Foggy’s childhood crush on Mr. Rogers.

“Hi,” Matt says, with a laugh. “Did we—don’t tell me this is your church.”

“Yes, I moonlight as an organist at St. Patrick’s. Just for the tips, though.”

“I—what?”

“Sorry, I’m kidding. I don’t go to church here. I went to see you at your hotel, I was hoping to catch you before you checked out, and the receptionist said I’d just missed you and that you’d gone to church.”

“She told you where to find me?”

“No, I guessed. I mean, St. Patrick’s is the closest Catholic church—you mentioned Catholic school yesterday, so I figured it was the best bet—and of course, it’s, you know, historic and beautiful, with all that stained glass and the, um…”

Matt tips his head to the side, considering him as he fumbles for words. He looks amused, at least, and not deeply offended, which is probably a good sign. He also looks like he’s waiting for Foggy to admit defeat, which is never going to happen.

“The acoustics are probably also good,” he finishes, pathetically, and Matt laughs, not like he did yesterday, all guarded and cynical with disappointment. He laughs big and unrestrained and maybe even delighted. Foggy gets the sense that he’s a little surprised by it himself.

“Yes, the acoustics were wonderful,” he says, and his eyes are crinkling attractively at the corners.

“I’m an idiot,” Foggy says, in the direction of his shoes. He doesn’t need to hide a blush from Matt, he figures, but he does it anyway.

“No, that was…” Matt takes his time searching for the word, and Foggy’s heart races. He shakes his head, helplessly. “‘Acoustics.’ You're cute.”

“I…” Foggy has fully lost his train of thought. He tries to remember a single time he has said something coherent in his entire life and fails. His brain has shut down, possibly permanently and forever.

“Sorry, that came out wrong," Matt clarifies, after a moment's pause. "What I meant was, that was a cute thing to say.”

The part of Foggy that was wondering if it would be weird to ask a guy who just got out of church if he was, perhaps, a friend of Dorothy immediately withers and dies on the spot. That was the straightest point of clarification he’s ever witnessed in his life.

“Well,” Foggy says, remarkably normally after the emotional journey he just went on, “you don’t know this, since you can’t see, but you were right the first time. I am adorable.”

Matt, thankfully, laughs at that too. “I’ll defer to your expertise on the matter.”

“I appreciate that.”

“So, you were looking for me at my hotel?”

“Yes!”

“Can I ask why?”

“I—right. That is the sort of thing that requires explanation.”

“Yes, it is,” Matt says, patiently.

“I wanted to…apologize for yesterday,” Foggy says, letting the words flow out on an exhale. “You didn’t catch any of us on our best day, and while nothing I said to you was factually incorrect or inaccurate to our position, I feel like you weren’t treated with the respect you deserve and I really regret that. None of that is how we do things, and it’s not who we are. I hope, at my best, it’s not who I am, either.”

Matt doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. After a moment, he says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about it. I fully acknowledge that I ambushed you—at a church, of all places—so I’ll just…”

“I appreciate it,” Matt says, suddenly. “The apology, not the ambush. Although, I guess they’re sort of intertwined at this point…”

“Sure,” Foggy laughs.

“You really didn’t have to—”

“I felt bad. It was badly done, and I wanted to try to make it right.”

“Still, I’ve been in professional politics for almost a decade now, and I can count the number of heartfelt apologies I’ve received on one hand. It’s not the sort of thing everyone does.”

“Well, it’s a thing I do, when I’m wrong. And I was. I’m genuinely sorry.”

Matt acknowledges this with another tilt of his head. “You weren’t wrong about everything, unfortunately.”

Foggy frowns, trying to parse what this means. “I’m not sure I—oh my god! Matt!”

He winces. “Do not gloat!”

“I’m not!” Foggy practically shouts. “I won’t. I promise! But, if I’m understanding you correctly, you know?”

“About Bryant? Of course I do! I work for him!”

“That begs the question of why?”

“Why do I work for him?”

“Yes!”

“I’m not in politics just for the love of it, Foggy. I’m a professional political operative, I need the work!”

“Yeah, but Bryant?”

Matt makes a face at him. “Do you imagine there’s a seller’s market out there for blind campaign managers?”

“No, but—” Foggy pauses and really considers this. Matt keeps things upbeat, from what he can tell, brushing off references to his disability easily enough by all appearances, but it must actually be brutal out there for him. “No, you’re right. It’s got to be tough. Even for someone as good as you.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it to flatter you. Considering you’re working in a district that virtually always votes red, and you’ve got a dud for a candidate, your numbers are very impressive. I mean, unless you’re handing out headshots at campaign stops, I don’t understand how you’re doing it at all.”

“Headshots?” Matt asks. “Of me?”

“Okay, don’t you dare try some sort of aw, shucks routine with me. I know you know you’re handsome.”

Matt laughs, tucking his chin in a remarkably shy gesture from such a confident asshole. “That’s a good one, though. Headshots. I’ll have to write that down.”

“Maybe the 21st district will flip after all.”

“Okay, I know I’m not that handsome.”

Foggy wants to argue the point, but he’s also done enough embarrassing himself for one day and it’s not even noon yet. He’s got to stick to the matter at hand. “Listen, what I said yesterday—”

“Consider it forgotten. Really.”

“No, uh, what I said reflects the opinion and the decision of the White House, even if the delivery left something to be desired. But the administration, specifically the President, wanted me to be clear with you that, Bryant aside, if you ever found a viable candidate, we’d get interested in a hurry. We remain very impressed by your work, if not your candidate.”

Matt appears intrigued by this. “Did anyone happen to specify a better candidate by name?”

“Well, the suggestion was raised that you might fit the bill.”

“Raised by whom?”

“That I couldn’t say,” Foggy demurs, and Matt does that little head tilt again, so he mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key before he realizes Matt can’t see or appreciate it. It’s also a very dorky thing to do, so that might be for the best.

“You want me to run for office?” Matt asks, instead.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Foggy says, putting his hands up defensively. “Something to think about for the future.”

“The distant, distant future, maybe…”

Foggy shrugs. “Sure. Either way, you’ve made some friends in D.C. this time around. Your next campaign will be easier, I promise.”

“Well, I have to make it through this one first,” Matt says, grimly, running a hand over his jaw in distress. God, even distressed, he’s still ridiculously handsome.

“Hey, if all else fails, you can always pray to Saint Thomas More.”

Matt gives him a baffled look. “What?”

“You know,” Foggy says, putting his hands in his pockets, casually, “the patron saint of statesmen and politicians.”

Matt’s smile of delight and comprehension is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, which is a sentiment Foggy would have dismissed as overly and unnecessarily poetic and saccharine probably twenty minutes ago. His words to Karen yesterday— when you know, you know— come back to haunt him and it is so unfair and yet completely expected that this would happen to him, of all people. He’s known this guy for probably thirty minutes total and still, he knows Matt is special. That this is the beginning of something, even though it probably isn’t going to be what he wishes it could be. This is, bizarrely, a talent of his. He knows when someone is going to be important to him, usually right from the start. He knew it with Marci. He knew it with Karen. He knows it now too.

Son of a bitch, he thinks. This might hurt.

“Where did you learn that?” Matt asks, his voice gone kind of breathless around his smile.

“Not to brag, but I have access to many things in my line of work,” he replies, trying to stay casual, despite the revelations, “including several volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica.”

“Fancy,” Matt says, with a laugh. “I appreciate the tip.”

“I couldn’t find the saint to pray to specifically for car trouble, but Saint Christopher or Saint Frances of Rome are the patron saints of drivers and Saint Catherine of Alexandria is the patron saint of mechanics, so any of them would do in a pinch. In case you were wondering.”

“Saint Christopher,” Matt replies, “is the patron saint of all travelers, actually.”

“Show-off!" Foggy exclaims. "You didn’t even have to look that up!”

“Every Catholic household has a medal or something for Saint Christopher kicking around,” he says, with a smile. “You didn’t stand a chance, I’m afraid to say.”

“What gave me away?”

“Oh, everything. I can spot a Protestant at fifty paces, especially the Christmas-and-Easter variety. It’s like the first thing they teach you in Catholic school.”

“Sure. I mean, what else are they going to do with all that time they’re not teaching you how to put condoms on bananas?”

Matt laughs another one of those big, unexpected laughs, almost staggering back with the force of it. “Yeah, abstinence only makes for very short lesson plans.”

“I’m guessing you all managed to figure out the basics anyway, just from the CDC data I’ve seen,” Foggy says, fully blushing all over with the pride of making Matt laugh and his own stupidity at bringing up Sex Ed in a moment like this. Sometimes he just truly cannot stop himself.

Before Matt can confirm or deny that he knows how to use a condom (seriously, what’s the matter with his brain?) Foggy rushes to add, “Also, thank you for giving me the credit of going to church on Easter. My mother will be pleased to know I’m fooling people into thinking I’m a nice young man, rather than being obvious with my true heathen nature.”

“You are a nice young man,” Matt says, softly, with the appearance of having sobered slightly. Maybe Foggy shouldn’t have called himself a heathen. Maybe he was being too obvious, the coded aspect of the code word too unfortunately crackable. Oh, well. “At least, I assume you’re young? I’m guessing, from the sound of your voice.”

“I am. I mean, I guess I am. Is 34 young?”

“For the deputy chief of staff for the White House?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised. “Yes! Are you serious?”

“Well, then.”

“You’re my age.”

“And?”

“You’re very successful.”

“I got lucky," Foggy says, with a shrug. "I was in the right place at the right time. That’s all.”

“Yes, because being in the right place at the right time is something to scoff at in our line of work,” Matt says, looking unimpressed. “And definitely completely negates the fact of you being good at your job.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that a fact, per se…”

“I’ll settle for it being my professional opinion, then, and people generally pay me good money for that kind of thing.”

“Well, I left my checkbook at home, unfortunately,” Foggy quips, and is rewarded with a sharp, almost shark-like smile from Matt. “All I can offer you is my gratitude. I mean, unless—?”

“Yes?” Matt asks, when he doesn’t immediately finish his thought.

“Well, you probably have to catch a flight or a train or something soon, right?”

He nods, brow furrowed. “Yeah, my train is out of Union Station at 1:30. Why?”

“Nothing, I—I’m sure you’ve got to—and I should, probably—”

“You should probably just say whatever it was you were initially going to ask me,” Matt says, head tipped, once again, with interest.

“Right,” Foggy laughs. This is so, so stupid. “I was going to say, if you had time, I could buy you a cup of coffee, to complete my apology for yesterday and to chip away at your consulting fee.”

Matt visibly hesitates, which, of course he does. Foggy made the world’s worst first impression and insulted him yesterday. He apologized for that, sure, but Matt’s still probably not pleased about the DNC’s decision and this wasted trip to D.C. to talk about it. One pleasant conversation doesn’t make them friends or anything.

“That's not necessary," he eventually replies, though not with a great deal of conviction, which is strange. With anyone else, Foggy would assume they wanted him to insist, but somehow he has trouble imagining that's the case here. "I'm sure you'd like to get back to your Sunday plans."

"My Sunday plans are this conversation and going into the office to debate the finer points of the death penalty. You have a pretty low opinion of yourself if you think your company ranks lower than that."

Matt seems to relax at that, oddly enough. “So," he says, with a self-deprecating smile, "this is probably the part where I should admit to an unhealthy amount of curiosity about where you’re at with the Cruz case.”

Of all the things he expected Matt to say, that certainly had not occurred to him, which means he blinks in surprise for what turns out to be a little too long.

“Sorry,” Matt says, mistaking Foggy’s pause for something it isn’t and wincing in apparent embarrassment, “I heard about it on the news. The Supreme Court’s decision, I mean, and I’ve been following the case for a while. When Marci mentioned it yesterday—I shouldn’t have said anything, but—”

“No, not at all,” Foggy says, hurriedly. “I’d honestly love to get your opinion.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, you just admitted to following the case, and you’re a lawyer by training, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so that, and you know the political landscape we’re situated in at the moment as well as anyone, running this campaign, dealing with the DNC. Even if you want to give me your opinion as a Catholic, I’ll take it. It’s…we’re basically taking all bets, at the moment, if that’s not insulting to admit.”

Matt laughs lightly. “Not insulting. I think on average there was a majority of flattering sentiments in there.”

“Good,” Foggy says, sighing in relief. “That’s how it was intended.”

“I take it the President hasn’t made a decision on whether to stay the execution or not?”

“No, that’s why I’m heading into the office on a Sunday. We’re all trying to figure out our options.”

“Well, I have thoughts.”

Foggy laughs this time. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“I will, however, defer to you on the subject of where to get coffee in this neighborhood,” Matt says.

“Oh, right. Well, actually, if we cross up here—”

Foggy steps forward to gesture in the direction he means before he remembers that it won’t do much good. At the same moment, Matt steps forward too, towards Foggy, and holds out a hand in what looks like a conciliatory gesture. Foggy pauses, waiting to hear his objection or question, and not thinking too hard about how close they are now.

“Could I—that is, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, as we walk, could I hold onto your arm?” Matt asks, and he doesn’t sound embarrassed so much as tired. Foggy gets the sense that he doesn’t like asking for help or relying on people very much. “It makes navigating the sidewalks and everything easier. If not—”

“That’s fine,” Foggy interrupts, feeling only slightly bad that he’s this eager to comply. He’s mostly doing it to be nice, but there is a small part of him that’s excited because a cute guy will be touching him, which feels sort of bad. “I mean, I’m happy to—”

“Thanks,” Matt replies with just a small quirk of his mouth. If he’s noticed Foggy’s eagerness, he’s not calling it out, which is kind of him.

“Do you…know where my arm is?” Foggy asks, like a moron, making Matt laugh.

“It’s, well, it’s in this general vicinity, right?” Matt’s middle finger ends up jabbing into Foggy’s stomach, which is ideal, of course. Now Matt knows he doesn’t have abs of steel, a thing he was definitely going to pretend to have until directly contradicted. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Foggy says, and just grabs Matt’s hand to get it over with. It’s not important or monumental in any way—they shook hands yesterday, so it’s not even the first time they’ve touched—but his pulse starts to race nonetheless. He places Matt’s hand on the crook of his elbow as quickly as he can without making it weird. Except that now he’s trying to remember the last time he held hands with someone and upon consideration, he thinks it’s been a while, which makes him sad to think about.

“That’s my elbow,” he says, stupidly, because anything else he could say at this moment would somehow be more embarrassing, which is impressive.

Matt laughs, just a little huff of amusement, but his eyes crinkle adorably again and that’s good enough. “I figured that out,” he says. “Thank you, though.”

“Right. Um, so as I was saying, if we cross the street here, I know a place only a few blocks away. Hopefully, it won’t be too busy on a Sunday morning for us to get a table.”

“Okay,” Matt says, nodding. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“Great,” Foggy says, but doesn’t move. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, not sure where this temporary immobility is coming from. “I, uh, I’ve never done this before.

“Gotten coffee?”

“No, uh, that I’ve done, actually, if you can believe it," Foggy says, with a laugh. "I’ve never led someone before? I just don’t want to make you trip or anything.”

“It’s just an extra precaution,” Matt explains, calmly. This is probably something he explains a lot, Foggy realizes with some amount of shame. “I can get around fine on my own, but especially someplace new, this helps.”

“Should I point out obstacles or something? Does that help at all?”

“You’re taking this very seriously,” Matt says with a smile that might be at his expense. In which case, Foggy thinks, it is fully worth it. It’s a good smile.

“Yeah, sorry, I just—”

“You can point things out, that’s fine, but I trust you won’t lead me into any open manholes or anything like that.”

“That’s a lot of trust, man,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs. “I mean, you’re talking to someone who loves some Looney Tunes shenanigans.”

“Well, then I guess if someone paints a wall to look like a train tunnel, we’re both in a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll try to be strong,” Foggy says, “and vigilant.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Foggy realizes this is probably the moment they need to actually start walking, otherwise they’re just two guys who have linked arms outside of a church. He moves hesitantly in the direction of the crosswalk, tugging Matt gently along with him, and it doesn’t feel anywhere near as awkward as he was expecting. It just feels nice.

“You see?” Matt asks, leaning against his arm. “It’s just like walking with a person!”

Foggy digs his elbow into Matt’s side in retaliation, which just makes him ping-pong away from him before bouncing back, already laughing. “Have all the fun you want,” Foggy says. “Just remember, your life is in my hands.”

“And how very capable they are,” Matt says, mildly, still grinning.

Foggy feels himself blush and he’s very thankful at this moment that Matt probably can’t tell. It’s the only advantage he has in this situation. Naturally, of course, he decides to cancel out that advantage immediately by saying something stupid.

“By the way, this is what I normally smell like,” he says, as they wait for the walk signal.

Matt raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh?” he says, while giving nothing away, like a total bastard.

“There’s a lot of good reasons not to take a meeting straight off of a fifteen hour flight, it turns out,” Foggy says, trying not to die of embarrassment. Maybe Matt hadn’t noticed. He thought he’d just been too polite to say anything. “I want it on the record that I, you know, shower regularly and wear deodorant and everything.”

“Noted,” Matt says with another cryptic smile. He might even inhale a little bit deeper, though Foggy might be imagining that.

“Fine, I might even smell a little better than normal. But that’s all you’ll get out of me!”

So what if he had put on cologne that he usually forgets to wear? It was a drop if it was anything. And he only did it because of what a clusterfuck yesterday had been. He’d felt he had something to prove to Matt after that conversation went so poorly.

Matt, of course, seems to be enjoying himself immensely. “I’m impressed,” he says, as they cross the street. “If you’re willing to go to these lengths for the likes of me, I can only imagine what you’d do for someone important.”

He doesn’t mean it like that, Foggy reasons. It wasn’t intended to make him sound like, well, a bit of a whore, but it lands like that, for whatever reason. Like he’d been strategically deployed by his superiors to smooth things over, to butter Matt up to avoid burning a bridge they might want to cross someday. But, as much as he’d love to slather him in butter right now, that is not the case and, unfortunately, it’s also not a way that Foggy’s allowed to think about this person.

“You’re important,” he says, after a moment’s pause. “We’re fucking democrats, Matt. Our whole thing is that we think everyone is important, right? And, even if you somehow weren’t, I’d still be here. Even if no one asked me to be.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Of course not,” Foggy says, more breezily than he feels. “But my point still stands. I know all this stuff with the DNC is discouraging, but don’t let it sour you on all this. You could very well be the future of the party.”

Matt laughs, nervously. “I don’t know about that.”

Foggy shrugs, which he trusts Matt can feel. “I’ve been told I have good instincts for this kind of thing.”

“Now that I can believe,” Matt says.

When Foggy turns to look at him, he finds Matt already regarding him with interest. He thinks again of his conviction from earlier that this is no irrelevant run-of-the-mill meeting—one of dozens he'll take this week, and hundreds he'll take this year—but rather the beginning of something important. He feels certain that this won't be the last he sees of Matt Murdock and wonders if the same thing is going through Matt's mind too as they walk together. If he's willing to be honest with himself, he can admit that's not just something he suspects will be true; it's something he hopes will be true too.

🏳️‍🌈 💖

#i don't enjoy formatting fic for tumblr but it's part of the posting process for me #in case some people prefer to read here #anyway please enjoy and happy pride to whatever these two got going on #daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock #karen page #matt x foggy #mattfoggy #ship names remain my mortal enemy when it comes to tagging #whatever yall call it...it's them....the BOYS #the west wing au #this is my first non-prompt fill fic in literally so long i've forgotten how i format this stuff normally #homelywenchsociety #that’s my writing tag! don’t worry about it!#series: a more perfect union

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myacals · 27 days

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what I eat in a week! ^_−☆

MONDAY

— breakfast: 🍓 strawberry n cream oatmeal (110)

☆ lunch: 🍳fried egg (w water) & 🍇grapes (131)

— dinner:🍟 happy meal (570)

☆ snack: 🪱 sour gummy worms (60)

total calories: 871 ☼

Those sour gummy worms were so good. I like to eat them in half’s and suck on them so they last longer.

TUESDAY

— breakfast: 🍓 strawberry n cream oatmeal (110)

☆ lunch: 🥚 two boiled eggs (155)

— dinner: 🧀 kraft mac n cheese cup (220)

🥚 two boiled eggs (155)

☆ snack: 3 pieces of gum (15), Gummy Bears (177)

total calories: 847 ☼

Good day! When I eat low cal meals throughout the day it really makes it easier. I feel good.

WEDNESDAY (metabolism day)

— breakfast: 🍑 peaches n cream oatmeal (110)

☆ lunch: 🥚 poached egg (77) salami (60)

3 gummy bears (33)

— dinner: 🍟 two happy meals (1,092)

total: 1,392 ☼

not too upset about today considering going by my calorie maintenance I am still in a deficit!

THURSDAY

— breakfast: 🥯 plain bagel w cream cheese (372)

☆ lunch: -

— dinner: 🌯 half of a chipotle burrito (545)

🥤 & a 7up (140)

total: 1,070 ☼

oops, I went over. but oh well I still am under my calorie maintenance so I’m not actively gaining weight. What I do regret is not sticking to my schedule and eating after I woke up in the middle of the night instead of just going back to bed. So my “breakfast” was at 1 in the morning. it’s unfortunate, but it’s not the end of the world. it wasn’t a binge so I think I’ll live lol.

I binged after this btw lol.

FRIDAY

— breakfast: -

☆ lunch: -

— dinner: 🥪chicken sandwich & 🥤soda (770)

I slept most of the day so I didn’t eat, but then i got high and wanted to eat everything I saw unfortunately. So there will be no total because I stopped counting lol. Let’s do better tomorrow. I miss my routine.

SATURDAY

— breakfast: -

☆ lunch: 🍳 fried egg & salami bites (144)

— dinner: 🍟 happy meal (570)

— family dinner: 🍔 hamburgers w tortillas (300)

🥤soda (168)

☆ snack: 🥒 pickle chips (0)

total: 1,192 ☼

was doing good until an unexpected family dinner unfortunately. But I’m okay. Also I had like 3 happy meals this week geez lol. With the family dinner I kinda estimated what I ate since I didn’t finish everything.

SUNDAY

— breakfast: -

☆ lunch: -

— dinner: 🍟 happy meal (570)

☆ snack: 🧁6 marshmallows (360???)

total: 900 ☼

Another happy meal…I know. I’m my defense I’m trying to collect all the hello kitty happy meal toys.

#bulim14 #thinspø #⭐️ve #ana omad #disordered eat1ng #ed d!et #restrictive diet #thinsperation #tw ana bløg #tw ana rant #wieiad

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hbyrde36 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 15!

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Whoever was at Steve’s front door was persistent. They rang the bell over and over again as he rushed around, shoving his legs into a pair of sweatpants so he wouldn’t have to greet whoever it was in his underwear. He wasn’t expecting anyone this morning. Robin hadn’t texted and Wayne wasn’t due to pick him up for hours.

He padded barefoot to the door and was so annoyed by the constant buzzing that the second he reached it he threw it open wide. He couldn’t have been more surprised to find Jane, the scary young girl from Henry Creel's house standing on his doorstep.

“What, uh, can I, um, do for you, Jane?” Steve stuttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She didn’t say a word in reply, just smiled and raised her hand palm-up in front of her face and made a little oh with her lips. Steve had a fraction of a second to notice the black powdery substance she was holding before she was suddenly blowing it right in his face.

Whatever that stuff was, whatever she had done to him, the effect was immediate. The world around Steve swam and he felt himself begin to fall. He waited for the pain to hit him but it never came, blackness overtook him before he ever hit the floor.

Steve came-to in a dark room with a dirt floor. It was cold enough to make him shiver and wish he had thought to throw on a t-shirt before answering his front door. In his defense he hadn’t expected to be abducted today. It smelled damp and musty and the word cellar came quickly to mind. He could feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was being watched, but he hadn’t turned his head yet to confirm who it was and so far had been careful to only open his eyes a crack. He kept his breath even as he took stock of himself.

He’d been knocked out plenty of times before, and in a few different ways, but the weird thing about this time was, he remembered everything and he felt…fine.

It was no different than waking up from a nap. Nothing hurt, and he wondered if he had ever even hit the ground or if Jane had floated him away once he passed out like she had done with the objects in Creel’s house. There was also no fuzziness to his thoughts like there usually was when he got hit too hard in the head. He had the hysterical thought that he wished more bad guys would use the stuff she had.

He finally opened his eyes and turned over. In the low light of a few candles he could see Jane sitting on top of a box no more than a few feet away.

No, not a box. A coffin.

Right, so it was still daylight outside. The question was, who was in the coffin? Henry didn’t seem to need to hide from the sun nor did Steve think a man like that would lower himself to rest in a place like this.

Only one way to find out.

Steve cleared his throat. “Who’s in the box?”

“Oh, so I see you’re done pretending to be asleep now.” Jane said.

Steve sat up, still a little amazed at how good he felt.

He decided to act dumb, though it was only partly an act because he really didn’t know what the hell was going on. “All this wasn’t necessary, I told Henry I would think about his offer and I meant it, but I haven’t decided yet. He promised me time, so what’s with the kidnapping routine?”

Jane grimaced at the mention of the ancient vampire’s name. “I am no longer on Henry’s side, although he does not know that yet. I don’t know if you’ve met my friend Angela.” She said, patting the box beneath her. “She’s promised to free me and my sister from him. We had a plan, but neither of us expected him to get his hands on a real live necromancer, so we had to improvise. When I met you yesterday at the house I knew I had to stop you from joining him.”

Okay. He didn’t really understand what she meant, or what made him so special, but he couldn't worry about that now. His top priority was to get the hell out of there before Angela woke. She was old and powerful and would likely rise before sunset. He didn’t know what time it was now, he didn’t know how long he’d been out of it, he just knew he needed to hurry.

He didn’t want to hurt Jane if he could avoid it. Maybe she could be reasoned with.

“I haven’t agreed to help him yet.” Steve repeated, glad that he was telling the truth and hoping the sincerity carried through in his voice. “What if I promise not to help him, will you let me go then?”

Jane sighed as if she suspected this conversation was coming, but wasn’t looking forward to it. “I’m sorry, but It’s more complicated than that now I'm afraid. We can’t have you helping your Master of the City either. Angela must kill him and rise to the position herself to have any hope of defeating Henry.”

Steve knew what was coming next. Jane would ask for his cooperation to put Angela in charge, which he was never going to do. He felt for Jane, in a way. If she really was doing all this to gain her and her sisters freedom, he could almost understand. Though, even the bad guys had families sometimes and he couldn’t afford to assume anything about this girl just because she loved her sister.

But, maybe he could try to convince her that Angela couldn’t be trusted.

“Jane, I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know much about your situation, but I have met Angela and I can assure she is not your friend. If Henry is bad, then she is worse. She…”

Jane cut him off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She is my friend! She promised!”

“Angela and her people have murdered innocents, Jane. Did you know that? Did she tell you what she did to them? Her and her friends attacked me and an older man, unprovoked. She almost killed us. And when we did manage to get the upper hand she was going to let us kill one of her friends. She didn’t care what happened to him.”

“You’re making that up. You're trying to trick me!” She shouted

"No honey, I swear I’m not. I also swear that if you let me go I will do everything in my power to help you and your sister. It’s part of my job, to help people who are in trouble with vampires. Please, just let me go before she wakes, we can both go. I’ll keep you safe.”

Jane threw her hands over her ears and screamed wordlessly, trying to drown out what he was saying. As she did, things began to explode all around them. Glass mason jars, tins of screws, and barrels full of liquid.

She hopped down off the coffin and stood glaring down at him with eyes simmering with fear and anger. “She warned me you would do this! She told me not to talk to you alone but you woke too early! She will be up soon and you will see. You will have to join us or die. There is no other choice. Anything else puts Kali at risk, so you better start preparing yourself for whatever fate you choose.”

Jane walked off to the other end of the space and sat down…on the bottom step. He hadn’t noticed it before but there were three short steps that led to a set of metal doors, only the barest hint of outdoor light visible around the edges. She had closed her eyes and seemed to be meditating.

Steve wracked his brain for what to do. He was pretty sure he could overpower the girl physically, but Jane was a witch and he didn’t know the limits of what she could do. He had his own power he could try to tap into, but if he did that she would probably sense it and he would lose any element of surprise.

There was one thing he could do. The one bit of magic he could do better than anyone else, it was as easy as breathing and required only the smallest amount of his power. He dug his fingers into the dirt floor and could sense the bodies that lay beneath it. He didn’t know if they were more of Angela's victims or if the house that stood above them had once belonged to a serial killer, but there were several sets of bones under this ground and one of them lay right under Jane’s feet.

He pushed his fingers further into the earth and called to the bones, releasing only the barest hint of his power. The zombie didn’t need to look good, it just needed to rise and do his bidding. In his mind he whispered to the dead man what he wanted him to do, along with an apology for using his earthly body this way.

The zombie was ready, itching to burst towards the surface but Steve held him fast, told him to wait, wait for just one more minute.

Steve got to his feet and slowly approached the girl, better to be as close to the doors as possible before he gave away his advantage.

Her eyes shot open at his movement. “What are you doing?” She asked, and she sounded appalled as if stunned he would move from his spot without permission. If she had really expected him to stay put maybe she should have tied him down. She wasn't very good at this. Maybe it was her first kidnapping.

“You looked upset, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lied.

She tilted her head staring at him with furrowed brows.

A few more steps and he’d be right in front of her, it was time. He let go of the metaphorical leash he was holding and instantly a bony hand broke through the packed dirt and grabbed on hard and fast to her ankle.

Jane cried out and tried to wrench her leg from its grip. Steve dodged around her, praying that the door wasn’t somehow locked from the outside. It wasn’t, but there was a chain wrapped around the pull handles secured with a padlock. It was old and rusted, Steve yanked on it but the links didn’t break. He scanned the room sure there would be something around to help him break through, and he was right. There was a shovel with a metal head leaning against the wall only a few feet away.

He lunged for it as he listened to Jane continue to struggle with his zombie. It had now completely escaped its shallow grave and had its arms locked around her waist. She was screaming in terror. He wondered why she wasn’t using her powers. Maybe all she had was telekinesis or maybe wrestling with an animated dead body that was nothing more than bones and bits of flesh was just frightening enough to make her forget about everything else.

He hit the chain with the head of the shovel as hard as he could. Three or four good whacks and the links snapped. He started to unwind the remaining length of chain from the door when the lid to Angelas coffin popped open with a crash. He’d hoped she would go for Jane first, to help free her from the zombie but of course she didn’t. She went right for Steve. He tossed the chain aside and quickly snapped the shovel handle in half over his leg. He may not have shoes or a shirt, but now he had two wooden stakes. It was better than nothing.

Angela grabbed Steve by the throat and slammed him into the steps, hissing in his face. His back hit the edge of one of the wooden planks and it hurt like a motherfucker but he managed to hold on to his only weapons. He jammed one of the bits of wood into her side, digging it in as deep as he could. It wasn’t a killing blow, but that wasn’t the goal here. He just needed to distract her long enough to get the doors open. The daylight would do the rest.

She reared back, shrieking in pain and yelling at Jane to help her. Steve scrambled backwards up the final step and rammed his shoulder into the center of the double doors pushing them open and sending sunlight cascading into his end of the cellar.

Angela shrieked again and threw herself further back into the shadows of the opposite end of the cellar.

Steve struggled to his feet, back aching and more than one splinter in the bottom of his foot, but he did it and ran out into the backyard of a small house. Autumn leaves crunched under his feet and the sound echoed behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to find Jane standing a few feet outside of the cellar watching his escape. He expected her to at least run after him, or worse, but she just stood there and shouted to him.

“The black powder is deadly.” It was enough to slow him down, to give him pause. He turned to face her from twenty feet away. “There is no antidote, but I know a spell that will heal you. Otherwise, you’ll die within hours. Stay, agree to bond with Angela and I’ll save your life.”

Steve wasn’t buying it, he felt fine. She was just trying to scare him into turning back. He was bathed in sunlight, Angela couldn’t get to him, and Jane seemed reluctant to leave her.

He wouldn’t fall for it. He turned his back on her and ran.

Steve had been walking on the side of the road for only about ten minutes when a car pulled up beside him. He’d started out running, and kept it up until he could no longer see the abandoned house and he was sure that Jane wasn’t going to give chase, but his feet were getting torn up in the process and eventually he’d been forced to slow down.

“You look like you could use a ride.” A familiar female voice called out to him through the open car window.

He stooped down to peer at the driver and sure enough, it was Nancy. He wasn’t in any position to refuse the help so he got in the car, albeit a little reluctantly.

What was she doing out here?

Wherever here was.

She looked him up and down before pulling the car back onto the road. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” She asked.

Apart from the pain in his back and his scratched up feet he was fine. Well that, and there was a tightness to his chest that was new, but that was probably from the running. “How did you know I was out here, Nance?”

“How do you know I wasn't just out for a drive and got lucky?”

He stared at her in silence, unblinking.

She glanced between him and the road a few times and let out a long breath.

“Fine. I saw the girl take you from your house. I followed you here. I swear I was going to come to the rescue, I just wanted to see what…”

“What the fuck Nance you followed me here? How did you see her take me, were you staking out my fucking house?”

“Yes! Alright? Yes, I've been watching you. I’m sorry. Look, I took the contract and I know you were hesitant to help me outright so I thought…”

“Stop!” Steve shouted. The whole thing was giving him a throbbing headache. “Just…stop talking and take me home.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to go home right now?”

She had a point.

He wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to him yet. He felt tired and a little foggy. It was probably the fading adrenaline. Oh well, whatever he decided to do would be none of her business after the stunt she’d just pulled.

“Just drive.” He said, turning to look out the window. They made the rest of the long drive in complete silence.

He slammed the passenger door of Nancy’s rent-a-car and stood in his front yard watching until she had driven out of sight. He knew he should get inside and pack and bag. Call Robin or Wayne to pick him up. He could easily stay with one of them for a few days until he figured out what to do. He was so tired though. He stumbled his way over to his front porch steps and sat down. He’d just rest for a minute, catch his breath, then he’d go inside and take care of things.

Distantly he heard the door to the house open behind him, and felt footsteps as someone walked across the porch. He tensed, not sure he was up to fighting anyone else off right now

“Steve?”

It was Robin. Relief flooded through him and he wanted so badly to turn and look at her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate and his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He tried to say her name but something caught in his throat and he began to cough uncontrollably. Something hot and sticky dribbled down his chin.

Robin came bounding around the side of him so she could see his face. She gasped and fell to her knees next to him. His vision blurred and he saw only red as she took his head in her hands. She was screaming his name and he wanted to respond to her, he really did but he was so tired. He couldn’t even sit up anymore. He slid sideways and landed in her lap. He closed his eyes and realized how quiet it had gotten. He couldn’t hear Robin anymore, just the rush of blood in his ears until he drifted away, and then that was gone too.

Steve woke up and had no idea where he was. It was becoming the theme of his life at this point and one he was desperate to stop. He was lying on his back in an unfamiliar king sized bed made up with black silk sheets and far too many pillows.

He stared at the ceiling and tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He wasn’t sure, but something about the ceiling and what he could see of the walls was familiar. He shook the feeling off and tried to concentrate. He remembered the doorbell ringing, and Jane standing on his doorstep. It all came rushing back, the cellar, Angela, Nancy, her dropping him off at home. Robin.

“Robin.” He tried to sit up, gasping her name.

Suddenly someone was at his side, supporting his back and stroking his hair.

“Hey, hey, hush. Take it easy, sweetheart. Robin’s just fine, she’s in the other room resting, it’s been a long night.”

Steve looked up and met Eddie’s deep brown eyes with his own. He looked nervous, scared even. He ran the vampire's words over again in his head. A long night? The last Steve knew was the middle of the day. What the hell happened?

He pushed away from the other man and tried to sit up on his own, happy to find that he could. In fact, the longer he was awake the better he felt, which he had a feeling should not have been the case.

Eddie scooted away from him too, widening the distance between them. Steve was pretty sure that was a first.

He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around himself to keep them from shaking.

“Why am I here, Eddie?”

“Robin brought you to me.”

Steve didn’t like the way he said her name like it was common to his tongue, like he knew her. He’d managed to shield Robin from this part of his life for so long, and now here she was in the thick of it. She knew of Eddie of course but Steve had never intended for them to meet. It was enough that he let her around Dustin. He was safe, but Eddie…

“Don’t look at me like that, Steve.”

“Like what?”

“As if I'd hurt her.”

Steve ignored the pain in the vampire’s voice and asked the next logical question.

“Why would she bring me…” He trailed off looking again at the familiar fixtures on the walls. He had been here before, but the room had looked a lot different then. Billy’s coffin room. Now it looked more like a very large master bedroom. There was even a bathroom built into one corner of the room now. ”Here?”

Eddie hesitated, eyes guarded. “You were dying, Steve. Do you not remember?”

He did then, it was all coming back to him in snippets. Sitting down on the front step because he’d gotten tired, coughing and watching blood droplets splatter the white concrete, Robin looking horrified as he collapsed into her, red seeping into his eyes as he passed out.

“I remember.” He muttered. He'd been so sure he was a goner but it had all happened so fast he hadn’t even had time to be afraid. Fear gripped him now though as he realized what may have been done to save his life.

“Eddie. How is it that I'm sitting here, now, alive?”

The vampire heaved a great sigh. Steve felt a prickling of pain in his wrist. He looked down and found it wrapped in gauze. He already knew the answer but he needed Eddie to say it.

To admit to what he’d done.

Again.

“I think you already know.” Eddie admitted, weakly.

“Say it.”

“The third mark.”

Steve shook his head, he almost couldn’t believe it though the evidence was right in front of him. “You bit me. You fucking fed from me.”

“I had to.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I saved your life.”

“You drank my blood while I was unconscious.”

“Yes. I did. And I'd do it again.”

Steve sucked in a breath ready to tear into Eddie for what he'd done, but then the door sprang open and Robin came tumbling into the room. She jumped right up onto the bed and threw her arms around him.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re alright! I really thought this was it, that I'd never see you again!” He hugged her back and settled for glaring at Eddie over her shoulder for now.

Robin sobbed into his chest as she began to ramble. “I’m sorry Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what had happened to you, and I was going to take you to the hospital but I thought, what if they got it wrong, what if it wasn’t a medical thing at all. I didn’t know what to do but I knew Eddie had saved you before so I thought… I'm sorry, Steve, I was just so scared and I didn't want to lose you.” She sniffled and her body shook as she ran out of words. Steve rocked them back and forth as he rubbed her back.

He wasn’t happy that she’d brought him here but he couldn't be mad at her when he was the one who almost died in her lap.

“It’s okay, Rob, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” He pulled back, smiling at her as he wiped the tears from her face. “Can you wait for me outside? I need to talk to Eddie alone. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Robin glanced nervously from him, to the vampire, and back again, looking like she wanted to say something but ultimately held her tongue. She nodded and left in a hurry, though he was sure she wouldn’t go too far.

Steve rounded on Eddie the second the door closed. “I can’t blame her for bringing me here, I know she couldn't stand to see me like that and would do anything to save me, but you KNEW how I felt about this! You knew I would have refused if I could have and still, you did it anyway!” He was shouting at the top of his lungs by the end of his speech, chest heaving.

Eddie remained calm in the face of his anger. It was infuriating.

“Is it not possible, Steve, for you to believe that maybe I also couldn’t stand to see you like that? That I couldn't stand the thought of losing you either?” The vampire said softly.

“Fuck you.” Steve spat. “Don't try to turn this into something it’s not. You want me because of what I can do for you, the power I can give you. You never gave a shit about me, if you did you would have respected my wishes.”

“Let you die, you mean? Steve, please listen to me, I..”

“No! Shut up, I don't want to hear any more. Just tell me what this means, what new fun surprises I have to look forward to and then I'm leaving.”

Eddie laid back against the sheets staring up at the ceiling as he answered. “More of the same. We’ll be able to speak to each other seamlessly mind-to-mind now when we’re close if we choose, and we’ll be able to share minds and bodies as we did with the snake with a greater ease as well. You are very hard to kill now. No poison, venom, or illness can touch you. You’ll still age, but much slower. You’ll be able to keep me out much more easily too, if you wish.”

“Well thank god for small blessings.” Steve hopped off the bed and walked straight for the door without looking back. He felt great, better than he had in days, physically at least.

“Wait,” Eddie said as he zipped to his side and tried to grab his arm.

Steve side-stepped him easily, moving quicker than he ever had in his life as he felt Eddie's presence move towards him as if in slow motion.

He opened the door and only then turned around to face the vampire one last time.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. I mean it.”

The ride home in Robin’s car was tense. He wasn’t mad at her, exactly, but he was mad, and she knew it. He was stoic as he told her about Jane and Angela. He then also had to tell her about his meeting with Henry Creel because her first question had been, who the fuck is Jane?

She didn’t say anything throughout, just listened, and when she did finally speak it wan’t about anything he had just told her.

“Steve, I know you're mad at Eddie, and that you hate him for what he did, what he’s done, but I think you should give him a break.”

“Rob, don’t.” He said, a note of warning in his voice.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Bullshit!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was his friend! She was supposed to be on his side!

"Steve, you didn’t see what I saw. The way he looked at you, how scared he was.”

“He drank my blood, Robin. That’s not my idea of love.”

“No, but maybe it is his.”

“I’m done talking about this. I hate him, I’ll never forgive him for this. I told him no, in no uncertain terms. He betrayed the small amount of trust that lived between us. I’m done.”

They pulled up to his house and Steve got out of the car quickly. Robin made like she would follow but he put his hand out to stop her, speaking through the open door.

“Listen, I said I wasn’t mad at you, and I meant that. I love you, but I need a little time to wallow, okay? I promise I won’t stay here. I'll call Wayne to come pick me up. I can stay with him for a few days at least. We have work later tonight anyway, and…”

“Work?! Steve, you can’t be serious! I’m sure your Dad is pissed you missed last night but-”

“This isn’t about him, Robin, not this time. I need something that’s mine, just mine. Something that is the same now as it was before Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess I can understand that. Be careful, and at least text me every few days so I know you're still alive.” She said.

He shook his head at her and smiled despite himself. He leaned back into the car and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “I will text you every day, every hour if it makes you feel better.”

She snorted. “You know, it actually would, but I won't hold you to that. I love you, Dingus”

“I love you too, Robs.”

Steve’s stomach was in knots.

He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing when he made the call, but now, sitting in the truck next to Wayne on their way to the office he was filled with dread. A sinking feeling deep in his gut.

He felt sick.

He felt guilty, and he was pissed off because it was bullshit. Eddie had betrayed him first, and the more he’d thought about it the angrier he’d become until finally, he’d decided.

He’d decided this was his best chance at getting his life back. At getting back to normal.

Henry could do it. He was more than strong enough to get rid of Eddie, and Angela, and then Steve could put this whole thing behind him. He worried for Dustin, but Owens and Henry both assured him that they would keep an eye on the kid and that none of the other vampires would be hurt, even those who might stand against them in Eddie’s defense.

Not that it would come to that, anyway. Steve had truly given Eddie up. He’d told them his daytime resting place and described the underground of the theater in stark detail, even going so far as to tell them about the route through the sewer though it was likely closed off now.

He’d told them about the new vampires, and how Eddie could now call werewolves to his aid. He told them anything and everything he could think of to make it as easy as possible, including the fact that he now bore Eddie’s third mark, unsure of how much new power that had granted the vampire.

Henry had expressed concern at the news. “Mr. Harrington, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you. With the third mark…you do realize you may die with him, don’t you? Are you sure you wish to go through with this?”

“I’m sure.” He’d said quickly. He was just grateful that this was all they wanted from him, for now. He'd given Eddie up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch.

Reluctantly, he’d also told them about Jane and her alliance with Angela, and hoped Henry would be merciful.

Wayne seemed to know he was struggling with something, and remained quiet as Steve’s thoughts continued to swirl.

Doubts were suddenly creeping in, and he wondered why something as powerful as the oldest living vampire had needed his help for this. Surely he could have taken Eddie from one of his businesses, they were public enough. Though, Henry had seemed to have a great respect for human life, so perhaps he was waiting until dawn to limit the number of innocent bystanders.

In addition to all the information Steve had shared, Henry also asked Steve to support him and his platform once he rose to power. He figured he was in it now, for better or for worse, and there was nothing he could do but agree.

Steve’s phone began to ring loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a blocked number and he almost didn’t answer it but in the end his curiosity, and Wayne’s glare at the noisy piece of technology, won out.

“Hello?”

“Necromancer?”

“Jane? What…”

“I’m sorry to call you like this.” She interrupted, speaking quickly before he could ask what she wanted. “I’m sorry about everything, Steve. You have no reason to trust me but I need you to listen to me now. It seems we have both made terrible mistakes and put out faith in the wrong people. I’m calling to see if you would be willing to help me fix the mess we’ve made?”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath as his heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“I overheard Henry and Owens talking. I know you gave your master up to them, and that you told them what I did.”

“Jane, I…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s not the first time I've been caught...misbehaving. I’ve been punished and managed to convince Henry that I'm remorseful. There’s more.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Henry and Angela are working together. They always have been. I didn’t know. I swear I didn't know. I thought Angela was my friend. I don’t know what has happened between you and your Eddie to make you hate him so, but you have to warn him. We have to find a way to stop this or a lot of innocent people are going to die.”

“What do you mean, what’s going to happen?

“He’s going to sneak in tomorrow morning to kill Eddie and take control of the city, which you already know. What he didn’t tell you is that when the sun sets he’s going to force every vampire in the city to attack humans, with orders for maximum bloodshed.”

Oh God.

How could he have gotten it so wrong?

“Tomorrow?” Steve gulped. “But that’s Halloween. The streets will be full of families, kids.”

“I think that’s the point.” She said softly.

Fuck.

“What do we do? What can we do?”

“Warn Eddie, move him, try and come up with a plan. Do whatever you can and I will do the same from this end of things. Henry thinks I'm on his side again for now which may give us the upper hand.”

“What about your sister?” Steve asked.

“I can’t condemn so many others to death to save the life of one.”

“My offer still stands Jane, if we survive this, I will help you get your sister back if I can.”

“I’m sorry I didn't trust you before, Necromancer.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly how she felt. “It’s okay, it can be hard to know who to trust sometimes. If anyone can understand that, I do. How do I reach you once I'm with Eddie?”

“I’ll find you when I can. Good luck.” She hung up before he could say the same.

Steve threw the phone to the floor and slammed his fist into the dashboard with a curse, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“What is it, son?” Wayne asked, his own face pinched with worry.

Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I fucked up, Wayne. I fucked up so bad and now people are going to die and it’s all my fault.”

Chapter 16

Thank you @penny00dreadful 😘

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