#but yeah let's continue calling her bloody because she was half spanish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it. you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though. After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all? Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared). He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did. Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered. The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed. You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him. You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him. Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around. You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention. If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers. With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk. Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter. “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded. By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous. Idiotic. A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you. “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged. “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing? “Thank you. I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense. But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?” His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious. “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him. He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression. His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore. “I’m here, aren’t I? Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that? I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me. It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm. “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium. Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course. And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar. “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time. You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there. Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen. And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds. You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit. All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything. The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex. As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd. Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway. It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted. “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were. But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck. “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear. “Can you do that for me? Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped. “I can take it! Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head. “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on? Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers. You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you. Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly. You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point. "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly. He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air. He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive. The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed. He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss. Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him. Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing. His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately. "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.” It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear. You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly. "Oh, you like that idea, hm? You want to be full of my come? Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast. You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated. As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade. Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks. No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair. It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks. If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry. I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed. He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye. “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss. And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again. He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss. Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss? But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class? Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it? And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios. You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him. And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now. The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class. As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options. There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself. Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable. Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned. "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk. Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was. “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed. “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice. You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly. “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed. “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly. "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours. And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed. "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again. "A man can only take so much. I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked. "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist. Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod. It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag. “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened. Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded. “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.” He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips. “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs. “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair. He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit. Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way. I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed. "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear. "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me. Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut

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mr-and-mr-diaz · 3 years ago

Note

I just. I just thought about Eddie holding baby Jee-Yun? And singing to her while she clutches at his finger with her tiny meaty baby hand??

Maybe Buck freaked out a little because she was being fussy and wouldn't settle, and its probably nothing but hey, who better to call than Eddie, who conveniently has the day off and cuts off Buck's panicked rambling with a soothing;

"Its okay, Buck. Give me ten minutes, okay? You're doing great. She's probably just restless."

Eddie gets there and sends Buck off to cook dinner or shower or take a nap, scooping Jee-Yun out of her travel crib and making sure she's changed, warm, fed and content. And its been so long since Christopher was this tiny, but holding Jee-Yun makes him think back to that tiny, wriggly little bundle in his arms for the first time, back before it all went to shit.

Eddie pacing slowly around the lower loft, singing quietly, tickling her little chin, grinning when she giggles and gurgles at him. And he can see so much of Maddie and Chimney in her already. She's got Maddie's eyes and Chimney's lopsided grin.

(And for a little crack, maybe Buck catches this scene and is so overwhelmed he just blurts out; "put a baby in me!" And Eddie is like; "... What?" 👁👄👁 Which cues a hilariously awkward but heartfelt confession of feelings on both sides.)

Hey hey! So I like I told you I started this a while ago and then got SEVERE AND DEBILITATING writers block, and it sat waiting for new life. And then 5x03 happened, so Hello, new life! I hope you love it!

With You, My Life, I Will Get Married

Warning: mild spoilers for 9-1-1 season 5 episode 3.

Chimney was out searching for Maddie.

After shifts, on weekends, whenever he had a second, he was either spending time with Jee or out searching for her mom.

In times when he was on the search everyone at the 118 was making time to watch Jee Yun. Mrs. Lee was doing what she could, but couldn't always be available, and when that happened, Jee would spend some time at Bobby and Athena's or by Hen and Karen. And when they had too much going on, or when either of the uncles felt like they weren't getting enough time with their beautiful niece, she would spend time at her Uncle Buck's or Uncle Albert's.

Uncle Buck got lucky this time.

Eight hours in and everything had gone wrong. Buck shoulders were damp with spit-up, baby drool, and snot and all Jee seemed capable of doing was crying, crying, crying.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what I did wrong, and, and now--just, Jee, please, it's okay, I'm here--!"

She continued to yell and Buck got more and more panicked. "Your Uncle Albert's gonna be here in like 5 minutes, Jee, okay? And then, maybe, maybe he's better with you? And will make you happy, and then--Oh God, what have I done wrong--"

A knocking at the door sent him back on his feet, swaying toward the loft entrance. It opened before he could get there, however, and he stopped where he was, a furious Jee Yun screaming in his ears as Eddie Diaz, not Albert Han, walked in.

"You look like you're having fun." Eddie's eyebrow was raised and his mouth quirked in a teasing smile.

"Eddie...?" Buck's momentary shock was interrupted as Jee let out another wail. "Um, sorry, this isn't the best time at the moment, but Albert--"

"--has a date tonight and sent me as his relief." Eddie reached out and plucked Jee Yun from Buck's arms. "And you have a date with your shower and a few hours' sleep."

"I--no, it's okay, I know you just got off shift--"

"Buck." Eddie shifted Jee to one arm, and the other rested on Buck's chest, over his pattering heartbeat. He met Buck's eyes, his own calm despite the bundle of adorable chaos still screaming bloody murder into his shoulder. "Go shower."

"...Yeah, okay."

***

She truly was one of the cutest babies, even when she was liable to wake up the neighborhood with her noise, Eddie thought with a smile as he re-seated her over one shoulder and began to firmly but gently tap her back.

"Your Tio Eddie is going to assume this is a gas issue, okay, chiquita? Christopher used to have this all the time, and he would scream and cry." Eddie huffed ruefully. "I was useless at it then, but Shannon showed me what to do." He kept tapping at her back. "Good set of lungs means a healthy baby, good job, Jee. Now, let's see if we can't get this gas out of you so you can calm down and you and your Tio Buck can get some sleep, okay?"

Eddie started circling the room, the sun beginning to set as he heard he shower turn on.

"There you go, see? Your Buck is going to get all showered since you drooled all over him, and then you both can get some sleep, how's that sound?"

He was answered with a burp far louder than Jee's small body should be capable of making. Then a sweet gurgling sound as she nestled her chin into his shoulder.

"There, feel better, mi princesa?" Eddie whispered against her soft, downy hair. "When I was small and got upset, and my parents got annoyed with my sulking, they'd send me to Abuela. And she would sit me down on her lap, just like this," he sat down on Buck's couch, and settled Jee Yun against his broad chest, rubbing her small back with a large warm hand. "And she would hug me until I forgot what I was so upset about. All I could think about was the smell of her perfume and how much I wanted to be like her one day.

"Then Pepa would come out and yell at both of us that it's about damn time we came into the house, dinner doesn't make itself." Eddie laughed at the memory. Jee made a small discontented noise and Eddie stood up again, walking toward the kitchen, where he saw the half-formed works of bottle making on the counter. "Shhh, princesa, Tio Eddie's gonna make you a bottle." With Jee over his shoulder, sounding more and more on the edge of hunger-panic, Eddie quickly assembled a bottle then leaned back against the kitchen island and cradled Jee Yun in his arms, pressing the nipple to her mouth, which she accepted gratefully.

"Better, yeah? Where was I...? Oh." Eddie smiled. "Once we were inside, Pepa, Abuela and I would make arroz con leche. Abuella would wash the rice, Pepa would be tutting the whole time about too much sugar, but she would always wink at me and add just a bit more before the cinnamon." Eddie couldn't help the smile that stole over his face as he remembered Abuela's warm kitchen in her El Paso ranch house before she and Pepa relocated to LA. In winter, the windows would fog over from the heat of whatever was on the stove. When she left, a lot of Eddie's heart left with her.

"They used to sing me the song too, you know?" Jee gurgled around her dinner and Eddie smiled again. "Well, I wasn't planning to sing it, but you drive a hard bargain." Eddie's poked Jee's soft cheek with a finger and began to sing.

Arroz con leche se quiere casar con una viudita de la capital, que sepa tejer, que sepa bordar, que ponga la aguja en su campanal.

(English translation: Rice with milk (rice pudding) Wishes to get married With a little widow from the capital. Who knows how to weave (or knit), Who knows how to embroider, Who puts the church steeple in the bell tower.)

***

Eddie was no American Idol contestant, but his voice was soothing and good. Strong. Listening to him sing from his seat on the stairs, Buck almost felt like he was where Jee currently snuggled, right against Eddie's chest, as his bass voice sung the gentle Spanish lyrics, harmonized by the occasional happy noise from Jee Yun.

Yo soy la viudita la hija del rey. Me quiero casar y no sé con quien. Contigo sí, contigo no, Contigo mi vida me casaré yo.

(English translation: I am the widow The daughter of the king, I want to get married and I don’t know with whom. With you, yes. With you, no. With you, my life, I will get married.)

Buck's head knocked lightly against the banister, body relaxing. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just the softest sweatpants he owned with a towel draped over his shoulders to catch water from the mess of wet curls on his head.

Eddie's so hard on himself all the time. I don't get it. He's such a good dad.

Dazedly, Buck's eyes fixed on Eddie's mouth as he repeated the verses again. Then Eddie sighed.

"Afterward Pepa would ask me who I want to marry and Abuela would laugh at me, and I'd always complain--" Jee gurgled again. "Like that, yes. But honestly, it was nice... Even though between you and me, Pepa can't sing very well at all." Eddie's lips quirked again in a smile. "Kind of like your Uncle Buck."

Buck startled at his name and looked up at Eddie's eyes. They twinkled back at him in the dying last light of the day, Eddie's golden skin lit by the last rays of the sun. Buck felt his face heat with a blush, knew there was nothing to do about it.

"Sorry, I should've--"

"Feel better after your shower?"

Buck sighed and smiled. "Yeah. World's better." He stood, stretching out his long legs as he descended the stairs. It was full dark now, but Buck didn't feel like turning on a light. "I can take her now."

"Nope." Eddie met him midway, hand on Buck's shoulder turning him around. "You're both getting some sleep now." One hand on Buck's shoulder, the other holding a drowsy Jee Yun, Eddie guided him back up the stairs, and pressed Buck down until he was sitting on his bed.

"Eddie, are you sure--"

"Shhh." Eddie deposited Jee into Buck's arms, then sat down behind him. "You can hold her for now." Eddie's hands skimmed up Buck's warm back then pulled the towel off Buck's shoulders, laying it on top of Buck's head, where a corner flopped over his eyes.

"Eddie?"

"Hold still, Buck."

Eddie's strong hands curled into the towel and Buck's hair, rubbing vigorously to get it dry. "Seriously, anyone who has ever seen your hair at work would marvel at how different it looks before you comb and gel all the life out of it." He rubbed vigorously, and Buck felt himself relaxing back against Eddie's chest. Tomorrow, he might look back at this and feel embarrassed. He might have to apologize. Tomorrow, he would go back to hiding how much he felt for the man who was drying his hair, still absent-mindedly humming the Arroz con leche tune under his breath. But for now, Eddie was too near and too warm and too... Eddie. And Buck found that he couldn't deny himself Eddie right now.

Buck cleared his throat and made himself focus on their conversation. "I used to wear my hair naturally, but people said it looked floppy. Made me look like a puppy."

"People are stupid sometimes, Buck. You know this." Eddie's thumb traced the shell of Buck's ear. "And if you think slicking back your hair makes you look less like a puppy, you really shouldn't be bothering." He snickered as Buck tried to shoulder his chest and Jee made a noise of complaint.

"So I just look like a puppy all the time, huh?"

The towel dropped. Eddie's arms came around, holding onto Buck and Jee Yun both. "I think you're a beautiful man, Buck."

The air in Buck's chest hiccupped out of his mouth. His heart picked up speed as the places where Eddie's hands rested on his stomach seemed to heat from within. "Y... Eddie?"

"Shhh. Sleep now. Jee's asleep, but who knows for how long." Eddie's voice was gruff, embarrassed. "I'll just--"

"Stay?" It came out too high, too soft. Buck cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, if it isn't any trouble, and--"

"I can stay." Eddie's arms tightened around Buck again and he pulled him backwards until Buck could lay out flat on his back, before pressing Buck's head down on his pillow. Then Eddie pulled Jee from Buck's arms and sat back against the headrest, legs folded together, Buck's niece cuddled again against his chest. "Sleep now."

"Okay." There was so much Buck wanted to know. To say. It all got stopped in his throat as fear tamped it all down to squirm in his chest.

"Eddie?" The word found its way out.

"Hm?"

"...Nothing."

A sigh. Then, "Come here."

Buck didn't hesitate, moving his head off the pillow and onto Eddie's lap. Eddie's spare hand found its way back into his curls and tugged lightly before stroking through them, gently, so gently.

"Sleep now."

"Okay. But," Buck's jaw cracked around a large yawn. "Before... you have to know..."

"Hm?"

"You are... so beautiful... Eddie Diaz."

Buck felt Eddie's hand tighten in his hair again, before releasing, fingers wandering down to trace his eyebrows, his nose, his lips.

"Sleep, querido."

As Buck's eyes slipped closed, and awareness almost dropped away, he swore he could feel lips press lightly right above his eye, on his birth mark.

"Contigo mi vida me casaré yo."

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teddy06writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Day In The Life

requesred by this genius anon: “Aight imma hit you with a good one: Literally everything as platonic, but a day in the life of reader in high school with the minor gang (too my, tubbo, ranboo) and all the faculty at the school are dreamsmp members”

Platonic! Minors gang (tommy, tubbo, ranboo and purpled) x reader

trigger warnings: none

premise: a day in the life of a student at the DSMP public high school

{with all the shit that goes on the smp there's no way it could be anything but a public school}

{also if I do things slightly off or something its cause my high school is weird, we only have four blocks a day, but I think most have seven, so we’re going with that}

{also the dream/george thing, is based on two of the sciences teachers at my school being suspected of having an affiar}

{Full teacher list:

English: Mr. NotFound

Drama: Mr. Soot

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

Gym: Coach Sapnap and Coach Punz

Home ec: Miss Nihachu

Music: Mr. Quackity

Chemistry: Mr. Halo}

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

Home room: Mr. Callahan

You sighed, trudging toward the school entrance, god it was way to early for this.

The halls were already crowded with people heading to there home rooms, and Mr. Minecraft, the principal, was standing outside the admin offices, greeting everyone with a smile.

“Good morning, (y/n).”

“Good morning Mr. Minecraft.” You grumbled as you passed.

You hurried through the foyer and up the stairs, toward Mr. Callahan’s room.

“Hey!” Tubbo called, hurrying down the hallway, “(y/n)!”

“Hey Tubbo.” you yawned.

He fell into step with you, “You think Callahan will actually show today?”

The one good thing about your home room teacher is that none of the kids ever seemed to have seen him. It meant that some days, while other home rooms had lectures of bullying or something, your class got to hang out for 30 minutes.

“I don’t think he even exists.” Purpled said, falling in on your other side.

“He definitely doesn’t.” You agreed.

History: Mr. Blade

“Hey (y/n)!” Ranboo called from his seat at the front of the room as you came in.

He was lucky enough to have moved homerooms and ended up getting the same room as his first block.

“Hello Ranboo.” you sighed, sitting down in your seat next to him.

Tommy came in and plopped down behind you, “Well you sound like shit.”

“No swearing in my classroom, Tommy.” Mr. Blade chided, hardly looking up from the book on his desk.

You turned to look at Tommy, “It’s too early for this.”

“You say that everyday!” He laughed.

“Yeah! Cause this class starts at 7:45 in the god damn morning!” You half exclaimed.

“Bloody hell you’d think you’d get used to it-”

“Tommy, what did I say about swearing?” Mr. Blade cut Tommy off.

“But you didn’t yell at (y/n)!” Tommy yelled, “That’s not fair Tech!”

Me. Blade glared at his brother, “Do you want me to send you down to Phil’s office Tommy?”

“I didn’t even do anything!”

After a moment under Mr. Blades glare, Tommy sighed, “Please don’t send me down to Phil.”

The teacher didn’t respond, instead standing up and moving to stand in front of the board, queuing up the intro slides for the day, “All right everyone, settle down. Today in our ‘tour of the ancient world’ or whatever, we’re going to start our mini unit on Greece.”

Statistics/Math: Mr. Was Taken

After a class that ended mostly in a rant about the myth of Heracles, you said goodbye to Ranboo and Tommy and met up with Purpled to head to math.

Mr. Wastaken was already passing out the notes when you two got there, sliding into your seats at the back of the classroom just as the bell rang.

“You’re late.” He chided, dropping the papers onto your desk, then Purpleds.

“Purp needed to refill his water bottle.” You explained.

“Seriously?” Mr. Wastaken questioned, “Dude, it’s second block, why the hell was your water already empty?”

Purpled shrugged, “P.E?”

“Ehh, wrong, Sapnap doesn’t have you till sixth period.”

“Stairs... are murder man.” He fumbled.

You nodded, “First floor to the fourth floor is tough Mr. Wastaken.”

Rolling his eyes, the teacher moved back to the front of the room, “Alright, last nights homework was a bit of a flop so we’ll be more review for the quiz tomorrow.”

You groaned internally, pulling out your pencil.

Purpled nodded, “I fuckin hate review days.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Mr. WasTaken half yelled.

Chemistry: Mr. Halo

After Math you and Purpled headed down to the science hall to meet back up with Tubbo to head to Chem.

“Welcome back everybody!” Mr. Halo greeted cheerily, “Good to see smiling faces for chemistry!”

How he managed to stay so upbeat, no one would ever know.

You sat down at your lab table with Tubbo, “You think we actually make it to doing the lab today before he starts talking about Mr. Skeppy again?”

“Oh no chance.”

You chuckled, pulling out your notebook as Mr. Halo pulled up the opening review before the lab.

Twenty minutes later found you elbow deep in the lab, quite literally.

“It was supposed to just be a small scale elephants toothpaste!” Mr. Halo cried.

Purpled grinned, “You should’ve taken my wildcard factor into account sir.”

You laughed, wiping the foam off your apron (thank god for lab aprons), “That was brilliant!”

A few minutes earlier, Tubbo had helped him do out the math to scale up the experiment by 20%, and you had willingly given up your own materials to help.

Now most of the classroom was covered in the foam, and Purpled and the girl who had been unfortunate enough to be partnered with him were knee deep in it.

“I sent the video to the groupchat.” Tubbo whispered.

“Good.” You chuckled again.

Mr. Halo groaned, “You three start cleaning this up, Elizabeth, dear, why don’t you join a different group.”

“I volunteer to switch with her!” Drista yelled, “they look like fun!”

Mr. Halo sighed, “No- no absolutely not- I can’t deal with you added to the mix.”

Drista pouted, the rest of the class went back to there work, and you, Tubbo and Purpled began to clean up the foam.

Drama: Mr. Soot

As Purpled left for his history class, you and tubbo headed twoard the music/performing arts suit, where you met up with Ranboo.

“Tommy said he wished he could’ve been there to see the foam.” Ranboo reported as Tubbo peeled off into the band room, and you both continued on to the green room.

“Hello, Hello, Hello!” Mr. Soot greeted in an aussie accent (you know the one).

“Oh god please say were not doing accents today.” Ranboo muttered.

Mr. Soot laughed, “Nah, we’re going to do some more rounds of improv.”

“Oh thank god.” You said as you moved to take a seat at one of the side tables.

“That would have been hell.” Ranboo agreed.

More people poured into the room, take seats all around as Mr. Soot began to dig through on of the closets.

As the bell rang he let out a triumphant cheer, turning around and brandishing a very large bowl of paper slips, “I found the prompts!”

“Oh dear lord.” Ranboo muttered.

“Mr. Soot can we please do like, anything else?” You asked, “Like scenes, or hell I’d even take monologues, you know we’re all shit at improv!”

The teacher sighed, “I suppose we could do something else. I guess we can begin our next topic, you’re all going to be assigned scenes and given time to practice them, we’ll present on Friday!”

The entire class breathed a sigh of relief that you had managed to change his mind.

~~ English: Mr. NotFound

After a very chaotic lunch full of Tubbo retelling a bunch of jokes Mr. Quackity had told during music, you trudged off to the one class that didn’t have any of your main group of friends in.

The one good thing about having Mr. NotFound as a teacher was that he had no clue what he was doing.

More often then not you would be left to do essays or read the required books, and then watch the movies that went along with them.

And, just your luck, your English block happened to take place during Mr. Wastaken’s prep period.

“Right, everyone, today’s a work day, finish up anything you need to for this class, or another, and I’ll put on a movie.” Mr. NotFound said as soon as everyone was seated.

Ten minutes into the movie the teacher had left, and you pulled up the group chat.

(y/n): Mr. NotFound has yet again suspiciously left during class.

Purp: sus

Purp: just went by WasTaken’s room

Purp: he’s not there

BooBoy: I saw him down in the science hall ten minutes ago

BeEs: Science hall is oposite to English isn’t it

(y/n): yeah it is

BooBoy: very sus

Purp: I swear their having an affair

BeEs: defintly a lesbian

BeEs: *leassion

BeEs: lesion

BeEs: le-a-zon

BeEs: you know what I mean!

BooBoy: take your time Tubbo

You chuckled quietly, putting your phone down to look back up at the movie on the screen.

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

“AYYYY kids!”

You groaned as your Spanish teacher burst into the room.

“What is with this guy?” Tommy muttered.

“ayy man not cool.” Mr. Dream said.

“Mr. Dream your ten minutes late!” Someone pointed out.

“SHut up man. And I told you just call me Mexican Dream!” The teacher said.

You frowned, “That doesn’t make sense, theres no way your first name is ‘mexican’.”

“Well its not,” He explained, “But its cause I’m the Mexican version of that math teacher!”

“Why couldn’t I have taken French like Boo and Purp?” Tommy asked the ceiling quietly.

~~ Home ec: Miss Nihachu

The last block of the day was always the best, but not just because school would be over soon.

There were three main reasons why everyone agreed it was the best.

1. Miss Nihachu was the nicest teacher in school

2. baking was done often, and everyone always got to take some home

3. it was the one class you, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled all had together.

Soon your found yourself crowded into one of the tiny kitchen areas with all your friends, as Miss Nihachu gave instructions.

“Now, if you make a mess you will be cleaning it up! I’m looking at your kitchen a!” She said, half threateningly.

Ranboo pushed away from the group, “I’m not with them I swear!”

Miss Nihachu rolled her eyes playfully, “Sure your not.”

Surprisingly, a mess was not fully made.

Somehow between Tommy wanting to taste the cookie dough at every step from butter to flour, Tubbo trying to add as many chocolate chips as he could, and Purpled all but refusing to move from where he was sitting on the counter, you and Ranboo managed to get the cookies into the oven with no real disasters.

As you wiped down the empty counter space you sighed, “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Yeah.” Tubbo agreed.

Tommy only nodded, still eating the large glob of cookie dough he’d stolen.

Ten minutes before the bell rang and when everyone was supposed to be finishing cleaning up you sniffed the air suspiciously, “Why do I smell burning?”

Tubbo took a deep breath, “I smell it too.”

“Oh yeah, something is definitly burning.” Ranboo agreed.

You whirled to face Purpled, who was absently scrolling through his phone, “Purp you did set a timer right?”

#mcyt x reader #platonic!mcyt x reader #minors gang #teddy06 writes #teddy06

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rpd-rookie · 5 years ago

Text

He Shouldn’t Have Done That (PART 2) - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Ever wondered what happened after your terrible fight with Leon in part 1. Well here is your answer.

Author’s Note: After receiving some messages telling me to write a sequel for "He Shouldn't Have Done That", there it is. But I must warn you, the angst is strong with this one. So get ready to cry! Oh, and I must warn you, that this chapter revolves around the theme of religion in addition to the theme of alcoholism and it also contain strong sexual terms. So if you're not okay with that, please don't read.

Tags: Angst / Alcohol Abuse; Alcoholism / Anxiety / Depression / Language / Explicit Sexual Content / Religion / Death and mourning.

When Leon was a kid, his mother would take him to church every Sunday, dressed in his Sunday best, which was a fancy white shirt and a pair of trousers he was only allowed to wear on Sunday. Needless to say, he hated Sundays. But his mother was such a good Christian, always wearing a silver cross around her neck, always having a Bible under her pillow. She’s the one who had told him to believe. She had told him to believe in God, in Jesus and Mary, in the Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. She had told him to believe there was someone up there watching over him, judging him, someone capable of punishing him if he would ever misbehave, sin. Someone powerful, so powerful he could decide his destiny, his fate, his life, his death, and even his beyond. Someone who would accompany him to an heavenly residence after death, that sweet oh so beautiful paradise. Yes, that’s what his mother had told him. And he had listened and followed her teachings to the letter, maybe even longer that he could remember. He had done it because nothing could bring his mother more happiness than him behaving like the sweet choirboy from the suburbs, and that’s all he wanted back then, make his mother happy. But with all the horrors he had seen, Leon Scott Kennedy could not believe in any god anymore. He had buried all his belief, all his teachings - much to his sweet mother’s regrets - in the ashes of Raccoon City a long time ago. And with time, he even wondered if he had ever really believed in the first place.

“That city changed me, in more ways that I can think of. It turned me into the man I am today and sometimes I wonder who I would have become if I had just stayed home on that day instead of driving right into the hellish nightmare that was expecting me there. Possibly, some city cop whose worst worry would have been to know if there was enough paper in the printer. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad, who knows? After all, that dude would have never become the mess I am today, that’s for sure. That dude would have never found comfort in alcohol. He would have never cast God away in favour of something able to help him reach some ephemeral paradise, something that just needed a glass to be worshipped, something that preferred cheers to amen. No, that dude would have had a nice quiet life in the suburbs with a lovely wife, two beautiful kids and a dog. And like my mother, he would have taken his charming perfect family to Church on Sunday. Would it have been better for me? For us? Maybe, cause surely, he wouldn’t have done the same mistakes I did”

7 weeks ago - D.S.O Headquarters – Washington DC

You couldn’t help but focus on the fancy pen relentlessly tapping against the glass table. Sitting at the end of the table, perfectly still, his old face appearing somewhat more rigid than usual, the President looked very impatient. And his annoyance was for once more than justified. Leon was terribly late, and by ‘terribly’ you meant ‘almost fifty minutes late’ to be more precise. But the real problem was that he usually was never late. On the contrary, Leon was always the first person to arrive at morning meetings, most of the time carrying cups of coffee for each D.S.O agents including a special one for you: a large black coffee with extra foam on top and a small heart drawn next to your name on the cup, perfect to make you smile like an idiot - Your heart ached as you thought about it and realised there would be no more hearts drawn on your coffee cup now.

You discreetly glimpsed at your watch again, worried and imagining the worse. What if something happened to Leon? What if he drank too much again and fainted at home? Or worse, what if he had a car accident? After all, last time you heard him on your voicemail he sounded devastated and drunker than ever. “I am sure Agent Kennedy must be stuck in traffic, Mr President.” Ingrid Hunnigan dared say in his defence. “Then why isn’t he answering his bloody phone?” The President slammed the pen against the table and let out an angry growl. Hunnigan mumbled, trying to find something to say but the President cut her off before she could even pronounce a word. “Let’s start without him.” “Of course, Mr President.” She stood up and handed out a case file to each agent sitting at the table. When she got to you, she whispered, “Where is Leon?” You briefly looked at her and shook your head. She certainly didn’t know Leon and you had broken up. After all, it had only been a couple of days. “I don’t know.” You mouthed, trying to keep the nascent tears in your eyes. She probably noticed how sad and worried sick you were since she pressed her hand on your shoulder before taking her place back next to the President to explain the content of the documents on the table. “An informer from the BSAA has recently sent us information concerning a possible …”

All of a sudden, the door of the meeting room opened widely, interrupting Hunnigan in her explanations. Leon had finally arrived. Seeing him instantly took a weight off your mind and you sighed, definitely relieved. But the relief was short. “Sorry, I’m late.” His voice sounded off and rather somnolent. Hand still on the doorknob he looked at all of the persons around the table with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, seems like everyone is here. Must be a pretty damn important meeting then.” Oh no. Not now. Not here. Leon. “Agent Kennedy. Thank you for finally honouring us with your presence.” The president declared with a cutting tone that cast a new chill in the meeting room. “You’re welcome” Leon replied, definitely too drowsy to get the sarcasm. You almost gasped, refusing to believe it was actually happening, and watched Leon stagger towards his usual seat next to Hunnigan. She silently gave him a file and discreetly poured him a glass of water to help him sober up a little since she had noticed – just like everyone else in this room – that your ex-boyfriend was mighty drunk. Then, she resumed her monologue, ignoring Leon’s grimace as he drank his water contrary to the President, who was glaring at him, and you, who were staring at his face, completely eating up by guilt and sorrow. Were you the one responsible for this? You thought that leaving him would probably help him realise his alcoholism not fall deeper in it.

Despite the huge level of alcohol running in his blood, Leon was astonishingly listening to the reunion with the biggest care. Actually, he was paying so much attention that when Ingrid Hunnigan pronounced his name and the words “Los Illuminados” in the same sentence he almost hit the roof. “This again? Seriously?” He cut her off, surprising everyone. “You want me to deal with that Spanish bullshit again? Is that what you’re going to say, Hunnigan? Like I haven’t done enough, already.” Ingrid suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, shocked by Leon’s sudden anger towards her. He had never talked to her like that. That was not in his nature. “Leon, please just let her finish before...” You whispered to calm him down, hoping he would cooperate. “Excuse me. You’re talking to me? You? Really.” He sneered, clearly angry. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. After all, you haven’t been answering my calls since you dumped me.” You wanted to reply. But you knew that it would only aggravate the situation and make Leon angrier than he already was and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene or cause him more trouble.

“Is this a joke, Agent Kennedy?” The President growled and glared, definitely irritated by Leon’s behaviour. “No. The joke was your election, sir!” Oh God! Tell me he didn’t say that. There was a sudden heavy silence. Everyone exchanged some aghast quick looks as the President was staring at Leon, his face reddened by anger, ready to burst. “Get out of here, Agent Kennedy. You are furloughed.” But Leon didn’t move and, with an air of defiance, simply replied “Whom are you going to send on your suicide mission if you kick me out? I’m the only one who can do the job here and you fucking know it.” “Out! Out! Get out of here! I’ve had enough of you!” The President shouted, menacingly pointing his finger at Leon who remained still without batting an eyelid. “Leave this building now, Kennedy!” You decided to get up and grabbed Leon’s arm to lead him out. “Come on, Leon. You’re drunk. Let’s get you out to sober up a bit.” You said with an incredible calm but he refused to follow you “Of course I’m drunk. What else can I be? You left me. My job fucked me up. And I’m working with selfish assholes who clearly don’t care about that and want me to continue this fucking job till the day I die. So yeah, what else can I be if not drunk?”

“Gosh, if only I had known back then what the consequences of my actions would be, I would have never said those things or behaved like this. But regrets don’t matter. They don’t matter because it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t have done that, I know that there’s no turning back. I know that you will never come back. And I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you because the only person to blame here is me. And I don’t expect your forgiveness either. I know I don’t deserve it and how could you forgive me when even I can’t forgive myself? No, I expect nothing for you.”

3 weeks ago – In a bar somewhere in New York

He didn’t know her name and he was quite sure he hadn’t even asked before locking himself with her in the toilet. And truth to be told, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t need to know her name to take his pants down and he didn’t even need to hear a single word coming from a pretty mouth either. Actually, all he wanted that mouth of hers to do was to keep sucking him off right now. Yes, that’s all he wanted. Hand in her black hair, his head against the dirty wall, he was feeling dizzy with pleasure … and alcohol, especially alcohol. A routine he had grown even fonder of since he had been furloughed. “Yeah, right, suck that cock, you dirty slut.” How many glasses had he had since he entered that bar? Six? Eight? Meh, better not thinking about it right now. “That’s it.”

His cell phone suddenly vibrated on the floor, the blue light of the screen catching his weak attention. He managed to read “Hunnigan” and sighed. “What the hell does she want?” He mumbled, annoyed. “What did you say?” The girl asked but he chose not to answer and instead shove his cock back in her mouth. But the phone kept on buzzing on the grimy tiles and Leon couldn’t take his mind or his eyes off it, his professionalism getting the better of his drunken self. “Fuck” He cursed as he bent to grab the device, pushing the girl away from him, making her lose her balance and fall on her rear. “Better be important, Hunnigan.” He immediately said, annoyance tinting his drunken voice. “Leon.” Her voice was strangled and trembling. It didn’t take a genius to get she had been crying. And Leon knew that if Hunnigan was crying then something terrible had certainly happened. “Give me a second, Hunnigan.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and pushed the door of the toilet, leaving his brief conquest high and dry on the floor. “Where are you going?” She squealed but he didn’t listen. He got out of the bar to find a quiet place, phone still against his ear, listening to his partner sniff on the other side of the line. “Alright. What’s going on? Do you need anything?” He was worried. Maybe something had happened to her. “No” She said, her voice shuddering even more than before. “Where are you? Are you alone?” She asked. “Yeah. I’m outside a bar, in New York. Why?” He dared ask, impatient yet apprehensive to know what was actually going on. “Sit” He frowned and froze. That didn’t sound good. Nothing is ever good when someone tells you to sit down. “Hunnigan.” “ Y/N is dead.”

It was as if someone heavy and massive had instantly dropped on him, as if something had punched his stomach and crushed his chest in a single move, preventing him from breathing, preventing his heart from beating, preventing all his members from moving. That was not possible. This couldn’t be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare or a perhaps hallucination cast by alcohol. But as soon as Leon heard Hunnigan saying his name again, he knew this was too real for this to be the mere fruit of his imagination or his subconscious. “How?” It was the only word that he managed to say, feeling too numb to make a complete sentence right now. “Leon that wasn’t your fault.” “How?” He insisted. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to know why you would never come back to him, why he would never see you again, kiss you again. But foremost, he needed to know who was the son of a bitch responsible for it. “ In a mission in Spain.”

His phone immediately fell to the humid ground, breaking in a thousand pieces just like Leon’s whole body. His knees bent under the sudden weight of pain, anger and guilt and soon he collapsed to the sidewalk, completely appalled, tears flooding his blue eyes.

He had done this. It was his fault. All his fault.

Disoriented and panting, he started looking all around him for something, anything that could help him get out of this hell. But there was nothing and he was alone. He would forever be alone now.

He had killed you. You were dead because of him.

Leon screamed, face reddened by rage, angry tears flowing down his face. His fists hit the ground repeatedly, hard, so hard, his knuckles started bleeding. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even see it. He couldn’t feel that pain either. The only pain he could feel right now was the one from his heart being torn out from his chest, a pain that would ultimately leave an emptiness he would never be able to fill ever again. But he wanted to feel pain. He wanted to feel that precise pain, finding it a fitting punishment for everything he had done that had lead to this moment, that had led to your death.

Was it God punishing him? Was his mother right all along? Was He making him pay for what the pain he had brought you, for all the mistakes he had done, for choosing to worship a fucking bottle of whisky instead of Him? Was it his plan all along?

“IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED?” Leon shouted on his knees, looking at the menacing stormy sky.

He bent over the sidewalk, head in his arms, sobbing and sniffing loudly, moaning your name, begging you to come back. “Please don’t leave me here.” But just like God, when Leon was a little boy praying with his mother at the Sunday mass, you didn’t answer. “I’m sorry.” He had never wanted this to happen to you. He had never wanted your life to end like this. All he had ever wanted for you was your happiness even if it meant a long and beautiful life without him. Because if a bottle of whisky smashed against the wall had made him realise one thing is that you deserved to find the person that could love you better than him, a person to worship you just as his mother worshipped God and he worshipped his liquor. Because you were the only thing worth worshipping in this goddamn world, the only thing he would gladly believe in. Because, if religion was meant to bring comfort, if God was truly there to watch over him, judge him and punish him as his mother had told him then you were his God all along. After all, who if not you brought him the comfort when he needed it? Who if not you watched over him when he was in a very bad way? Who if not you judged him when he needed to be judged and no one dared to do it? Who if not you can make him fall on his knees like a pilgrim and wish for a paradise just to have the hope he would one day see you again?

He stayed on that sidewalk for at least an hour on that night, still and quiet, completely empty, feeling the rain pour on him, until two policemen sent by Hunnigan went to look for him. “Are you okay, sir?” No, no he was not. And he wasn’t even sure he would be okay ever again. But he eventually got better.

“ I haven’t had a single drink in three weeks. Hunnigan says that I should feel proud but I don’t. Because look what I needed to quit.”

Leon looked at the flowered marble tomb at his feet, staring at your name with an intense sadness and melancholy he would never be able to get rid of. He had taken him a while to come here, refusing to step a foot in this cemetery even for you funeral because that would be admitting your death and he couldn’t do that. But that he was here, he couldn’t help but acknowledge how cathartic talking to you was.

“ I’m leaving for Spain tomorrow. President’s order. I guess that despite being a complete asshole he is not very resentful. I have no idea what’s expecting me there but I promise you, I’ll find whoever is responsible your death and I’ll make them pay. They will learn they shouldn’t have done that.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #fanfic #resident evil #resident evil vendetta

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saladejin · 5 years ago

Text

Call An Uber? | 04

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Implied mental health struggles, anxiety and slight panic attack

Word Count: 2.9k

< masterpost >

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Another three days passing brought forth another fresh steaming pile of emotions.

I was due to start my job at Bighit in the following week, and had been dropping in to meet with Bang PD and the staff regularly since the initial signing of the documents. Its only purpose was just for me to get to know everyone, since I would start off in the company playing a major role, and for me to get comfortable in the environment. PD-nim knew I was not used to working for such large and renowned companies, and I was so happy he had taken that into consideration.

Another meet-and-greet done today, and I was trembling.

I didn’t know why it had all suddenly decided to drop on me now, but my only solace was the splash of vivid crimson sitting out in the otherwise monochrome carpark of the building. I yanked open the car door with shaking fingers and all but fell into the familiar leather seat, my breathing uneven from the tightening within my chest.

Don’t get me wrong at all, the company was absolutely amazing, and so were all the staff and their immediate hospitality. Bang PD was like a second father to me already, and I’d even had him ruffle my hair once today after he’d somehow managed to laugh at one of my jokes. His assistant, which I now knew as Chang Soojin, or just Soojin-unni as she had told me to use, was becoming a reliable colleague and friend pretty quickly too. I had met many members of the staff, including the co-ordi noonas, managers, stylists etc. Even a group of interpreters who specialised in specific languages.

Hence why they employed me so quickly, I’d thought to myself after finding out they only knew English and Korean.

There was that one Spanish interpreter, who had been absent on the ‘fateful day’, but he was now doing fine and had profusely apologised to me afterwards. I felt bad for the guy, as I probably seemed like a warning replacement if anything of disarray was to happen again.

Bighit can be bloody scary, damn.

My breathing had evened slightly, but stress was still causing my head to become a mess of jagged scribbles. So much had changed in my life recently, and even if it had an overall positive effect, my mind was still left reeling. This was the kind of sudden responsibility that made me want to revisit my childhood days, to let go of being an adult and to be surrounded by nothing but carefree bliss.

A light rapping on my car passenger window tore me from my strangling thoughts. I gasped, squinting my eyes to glimpse at the darkly clothed figure before sighing. The person had thoroughly frightened me, and I wasn’t very happy about it. They crouched down to look in, and when they saw I was making no move to stop them, they pulled open the passenger door hesitantly.

“Is this Uber operating?” Yoongi softly asked.

I was still irritated that my precious alone-time had been ruined, after going through quite a bit of anxiety about my life in general, but I couldn’t bring myself to refuse the impassive man at the moment. After even more thought, I concluded that having someone to talk to would in fact help me the most right now. When I nodded slowly, sighing again in an attempt to regather myself, he lowered his head in gentle understanding.

“Uh, if it’s a really bad time I-”

“No, Yoongi. Wait is it even okay to not use honorifics? Should I call you oppa?” I shook my head, my voice steadily gaining life again from how croaky it sounded before. I hadn’t cried, but I was definitely on the verge before he’d made his appearance.

Yoongi settled into the passenger seat holding a lidded coffee cup. He was dressed in dark but flowy clothing, and I questioned his sanity briefly considering how hot it was outside. It was mid-afternoon at the moment, but we both didn’t seem to have schedules planned.

“Even though I’m not against it, I feel like dropping the honorifics would work better for you. I won’t get offended,” he hummed, sipping his coffee. I noticed how tired his eyes were under the cap he wore, and instantly felt bad for being annoyed with him before. He adorned a black mask too, but it was sitting under his chin to make talking and drinking easier.

“Did you also want coffee? I could offer to get you one.”

His sudden question caused me to blink in confusion. Then I realised I had been eyeing the cup in his pale hands quite intensely. His dark eyes were blank and his pale blue-white hair was slightly roughened from the breeze outside. Trying not to fawn over him, I broke out into a strained chuckle while my hands came up to slap my cheeks in embarrassment.

“No no no, I wasn’t…Ah I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on at the moment.” I decided to let the cat out of the bag with another sigh. He may as well know what was going on behind my outwardly apparent emotions. I didn’t even know how I was meant to hold a decent conversation when my insides were such a nervous wreck. I knew I would build myself up again eventually, but he just happened to catch me at a vulnerable time.

“Yeah, I could tell,” he started. “I followed you out because I saw you running out here shaking like a leaf. I guess it sounds kind of creepy when put like that.” He shrugged, eyeing the dashboard of my car while I just tried to take in his quiet observation.

“No, actually I appreciate it. You haven’t even met me yet…ugh why am I doing everything backwards right now?” I rested my head onto the steering wheel, positively exasperated. Yoongi and I had never even held a conversation before, but here I was acting like a total idiot and making him worry about my mental health.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all I hear about these days.” He sighs with a groan, letting his head roll back to rest against the leather headrest. My own curiosity was tickled.

“Really? Let me guess, ‘the crazy Uber chick who somehow managed to get herself involved with shit that didn’t concern her’?”

He laughed silently at that, the gummy smile melting my bundling insides into a puddle – and suddenly everything was alright.

I didn’t have to have everything in my life figured out right now, I just had to make the most of my time with these amazingly driven individuals who had undoubtedly captured my heart. Alongside this job which was actually my passion to begin with.

I didn’t even know how I hadn’t freaked out over the fact that the Min Yoongi, worldwide famous producer and rapper, was sitting in my car. He was sitting in the same seat the Park Jimin had sat in about a week and a half ago. I needed to shut down my brain before it began to burn a hole into the back of my skull from overworking.

“That would be funny, but no, definitely not. I just wish the young ones would let me sleep, but they’ve been excited. I swear I’ve already met you ten times at this point.”

I snort in amusement, absolutely loving how blunt he was about the whole situation. Too many people, since I had arrived in the country, were overbearingly polite and careful with their words. I was not used to it at all, and it made the ‘foreign’ experience all the more jarring. Yoongi probably understood this to an extent, so I was grateful he tried his best to be more casual right away.

“Look, can I start driving? I just need to clear my head a bit. Maybe I can introduce myself properly.” I exhaled loudly, my nerves significantly calmed since chatting a little. Even though I felt terrible at the thought, I couldn’t help but be grateful that it was Yoongi who had paid me a surprise visit instead of one of the others. His presence was somewhat reserved and I had trouble reading the guy half the time, but his company was the type I needed instead of something loud and overwhelming.

“Sure, I did kind of barge in so you can continue with whatever you were doing.”

You mean almost having a mental breakdown?

“But I do want to actually meet you, because if I have to hear your name around the dorm one more fucking time without knowing who you are, I may just snap.”

I laughed loudly, his grunt-worthy words causing amusement to roil around in my chest. I figured I would question him about exactly what was said a bit later. For now, I just needed to relax and ease my worries, and driving was my channel for exactly that. I started reversing out of the carpark with silence finally befalling the car, grateful to finally leave behind the line of black company vans surrounding me. I found it ominous if I was completely honest. Engulfed by the view of several identical black vans was a little unsettling when the only car I was used to was Red.

When did I even decide to name my car? It’s such a boring name too.

“Well, I can start by saying my name is (L/n) (Y/n). (Y/n) is fine, and you already known I don’t care for honorifics. I’m from (Y/c), and I landed a job at Bighit Entertainment by letting two of your band members hitch a ride. Ultimately escaping their foreseeable deaths.” My dramatic tone increased the longer I spoke, and I could see the corners of Yoongi’s lips turning up gradually.

“That sounds about right. Jiminie told me you were a big fan, but it turns out you are really collected when you see us. I appreciate your efforts, but feel free to let it out if you need.” He tilted his head with a smirk, his ‘Genius Suga’ persona surfacing within the span of two whole seconds. I just bit my lip to contain another amused giggle.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m not one to freak out after the initial shock. Most of my extra-ness is of the internal type, I’m afraid.”

He shook his head in mock disappointment, eventually flashing me that endearing expression where his lips stretched across his whole face. I covered my cheeks with one hand to stop my bubbling amusement from erupting.

“Stop please, or I’ll crash!”

He simply sipped his coffee, smirking again at my reaction. I knew I hadn’t actually doused his ego, but his antics still aided in lifting my spirits higher and higher. As I tried to figure out where I wanted to drive, Yoongi pulled out a small notepad full of scrawled notes and scribbled out lines.

“Well, you already know who I am, that much I can guess. Now that we’ve met, I can tell those kids to shut up and do something useful,” he continued. Even though his tone was full of complaint, I knew he loved every single one of those boys wholeheartedly.

“Where are they now?” I asked through a smile, glancing down as the rapper flicked through his notepad to the page he had last used. “Practicing more, at least I know Jiminie, Jin-hyung and Jungkook-ah are. We’ve got a big concert and a comeback soon, so everyone is riled up.”

“Yeah, that seems like a packed schedule for at least a few months. I’m really excited for what you guys have in store though, it seems too unreal that I actually get to see everything behind the scenes for the first time in my life,” I sighed out in awe, thinking about a possible new album and new content. How could I even go about it normally when everything was different? Wait, was I going to get a discounted album? I surely hoped so.

Yoongi looked at me carefully before making a few notes in his notepad, his fingers working the pen deftly through long and hardened experience. His ripped black jeans were tighter than I initially thought they were, but my attention only went there because he was tapping his foot rhythmically as he wrote.

“Lyrics?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow in his direction and diverting my attention. I drove towards the outskirts of Seoul, hoping to find somewhere quiet and peaceful to settle for a bit. The time had essentially flown by, but I was sure the sky wouldn’t darken just yet.

“Yeah, just the usual. I help write a lot of songs, and lyrics always just flood into my brain at the most random times, you know?” he murmured, flicking backwards to another page and filling in another empty space.

The realisation that I was driving somewhere random and unknown hit me suddenly, and I briefly wondered if taking Yoongi with me would end up costing me my job all too soon. I was quickly reminded of a similar occurrence with two maknaes, one that caused the managers and Namjoon to lose their absolute marbles.

“Um, I was gonna drive randomly around the area, but I just realised that your managers would skin me alive if they knew I took you with me. Does anyone know you’re with me?”

Yoongi looked up, his eyes, which were once laser-focused on his lyrics, now scoured into my own and I gulped suddenly. His long, dark eyelashes were always beautiful, but they were even more mesmerising in person and this close. They contrasted so nicely against his milky skin that I almost lost focus on the road again.

I may just crash and kill someone one of these days. Customer or not.

“I texted a few people,” was all he said before returning to his notepad, and I shrugged indifferently. He was an adult, and he could make his own decisions. I just hoped I didn’t cop any roastings for it later on.

“Would I be able to show you something?” he then asked.

I glanced sideways, catching him picking at his nails with his teeth apprehensively. It seemed he was stuck on something to do with a lyric, but I didn’t know how I could possibly lend a hand. His lyrics were always so impactful and flowed so nicely. How could I form my own opinion when everything I’d heard from him so far was nothing less than beautiful?

“Yeah? Did you need another perspective?” I probed, willing my feelings of disbelief down into the depths of my subconscious.

“Well, I’m trying to tie together my verse in one of the new songs, and I almost have it. I want someone fresh to have a look.” He held out the pad and I pulled over onto the side of the smaller road. We were now definitely nearing the more ‘picturesque’ side of Seoul anyway, and the city fell away behind us as my eyes scanned over Yoongi’s handwriting. The last line struck a chord deeply within me.

“This is real you, and this is real me” – which one is “you”? Which one is “me”?

“Wow, this really hits hard,” I breathe, reading over the snippets of the verse he had written again to fully absorb what was going on. The whole thing was emotional, and raw. I could imagine his voice rapping hard to form these thoughts, the angry and hurt emotions seeping in.

“I can feel the struggle through the lyrics. It’s like you’ve been through a false love that you threw yourself into after believing it was true...a betrayal of sorts, I guess?” I met his eyes again and grew a little confused when a chuckle of irony fell from him. It must have been some joke I didn’t understand.

“I’m glad you feel so much from it.” He blinked. “I’m actually going to try a different technique with this track, so expect some changes from my usual style.”

He then smiled again, taking the notepad before I could catch any glimpses of the other notes. I couldn’t contain a soft huff of annoyance. “You’re not just gonna tell me?”

He deadpanned before parting his lips to respond. “Just because you work for Bighit doesn’t mean you get every special privilege.” I almost reeled at the thought of bothering him with my question, but he only smiled again while tucking his notepad away.

“Plus, you’re a fan, so my goal is to keep it a secret for as long as possible.”

“Mean,” I grunted, pulling out onto the road again so I could start to head home. The sky was darkening, and I knew there were only so many boundaries I could push before I crossed the line. Yoongi seemed to know this too, but he avoided addressing the subject for some reason.

“Where do you want to be dropped? I’ll have you know I’ve been charging you handsomely for this Uber service,” I muttered, still pretending to be pissed off at him for hiding information.

“I’ll buy you a coffee next time, I promise.”

tagged: @l4life, @joyful-jimin

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thecasperanfamily · 4 years ago

Note

can we hear the story of lin's first piercing please?

A/N: Lin is about 16 here. Hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure you want me to do this?”

“For the last time, Jules, I’m positive,” Lin asserted, ignoring the nervous clench in his stomach as the needle in Julia’s hand flashed dangerously. “You said you know how to do it.”

“I do.....Sort of. I mean, my Tia Dolores showed me how once--she does this often at her work. I just...maybe it would be better if you went to someone else? A-and your parents, do they know you’re doing this?”

“Mom and Dad said I can get piercings, but I either gotta pay for ‘em myself or wait until my birthday.” Lin rattled off the list of requirements in such a way that made Julia suspect he had been told those things many times already. “...Bu-u-ut if you do it for me, then I don’t have to pay for it, and I can save my birthday for something else.”

“I don’t remember saying I wouldn’t charge you,” Julia remarked coyly, holding the needle in the open flame of the candle on her windowsill.

“I should at least get a Best Friend’s Discount,” Lin replied. In spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t help swallowing nervously as Julia slipped on a pair of latex gloves and picked up a marker from her bedside table.

“Where do you want it?” she asked, brushing his hair out of the way and tilting his head up so the light hit his ear directly.

“Everybody does the lobe thing these days,” he observed. “What if we put it on top? Like what you have?” Julia gave him a mildly horrified look.

“You want...? Lin, that is going to hurt like...” She scrambled to find an appropriate English idiom, before abandoning the search with a frustrated huff. “...I cannot find the word for it, but trust me, it is going to hurt!”

“I’m not a baby, Jules. I know what I want, and I can handle it.” He surreptitiously reached over and adjusted his inhibitor cuff as he spoke, setting it to completely siphon all of his magic.

“Are you sure?” she asked again. Lin gave her an exasperated look. “Fine, fine. But you must not jump when the needle goes in. Understand? If you move while the needle is still in, it will tear your ear.”

“...Okay,” Lin gulped. Julia grabbed his chin and looked him dead in the eye.

“Swear to me. You will not move.”

“I got it, I got it! I’ll hold still.” He hooked his legs around the stool beneath him and braced his hands on his knees. Julia took a deep breath, marked the spot on the top of his ear, then took up the needle and a cotton ball. She placed the cotton behind his ear and lined up the needle. She hesitated for a moment, then pulled back and grabbed a leather belt out of her dresser.

“Bite down on this,” she ordered, shoving it in Lin’s hands.

“Oh, come on, Jules, really? I’m not that--” He stopped short at the look Julia sent him and obediently slipped the folded leather between his teeth.

“Okay,” Julia breathed, lining up the needle once more. “On the count of three, ready? Uno...Dos...Tres!”

*****

“Douxie!”

The single, distressed cry of a small wood nymph jolted Douxie awake as effectively as a nearby gunshot. He flailed for a moment, blinded by the book that had been covering his face, before tumbling off the sofa with a yelp. He scrambled to his feet just in time to catch Nari, who had tripped over his shoes when she came running into the living room.

“What, what?! What’s happening?” Douxie demanded somewhat blearily, holding Nari out at arm’s length and instinctively searching her for injury.

“It is Lin! I do not know what has happened, but I felt his soul cry out just now. He is frightened and in pain!” By now, Zoe and Archie had appeared on the scene, the former with her wand still between her teeth and a half-finished gadget clutched in her hands.

“Skateboarding accident, most likely,” Archie suggested.

“No, I can tell when he is injured by something like that,” Nari fretted. “His aura shows pain, but it never trembles with such fear like this.”

“...Oh, fuzzbuckets,” Douxie muttered, summoning his vambrace from where he had left it on the coffee table and slipping it over his wrist.

“I thought he was with Julia!” Zoe burst out, her wand now back in her hand where it belonged.

“Yeah, that’s where he’s supposed to be!” Douxie agreed, tugging one of his high tops onto his foot with one hand while the other pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Lin. “But since when has that ever mattered to--Lin? Lin, where are you?!”

***** If there was a worse time to get a phone call from his parents, Lin couldn’t fathom it. He was trying to muffle his screams into one of Julia’s pillows as she frantically dabbed at his new piercing with rubbing alcohol, crooning what Lin assumed were comforting words in rapid Spanish, but he was too preoccupied with the apparent fire she had set to his ear to translate.

“BLOODY FUZZBUCKETS!” he screeched, voice still muffled by the pillow. “GODS DAMMIT ALL TO--” His string of expletives was cut off by the sound of his phone going off, clattering against the surface of Julia’s nightstand where he had left it. He emerged from the pillow and stared at it in horror, feeling his heart jump into his throat as he saw a photo of his father staring back at him tauntingly. “Oh sh--wait, what are you doing?!” Julia had picked up his phone and was trying to hand it to him.

“You have to answer it!” she insisted, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What am I supposed to tell him?!” Lin argued.

“Anything is better than letting it hang up and having him come looking for you himself!” she reminded him sternly.

“Touche...” Lin grumbled, taking the phone from her and accepting the call.

“Lin? Lin, where are you?!” Douxie didn’t even give him a chance to say hello first.

“With Julia,” Lin squeaked, tears smarting at the corners of his eyes as his left ear continued to burn.

“With Julia, where? Nari said she could feel something was wrong. What’s happening?”

“I’m at her house. Nothing’s happen--” He emitted a very high-pitched yelp as Julia chose that unfortunate moment to obsessively pour more alcohol on his wound.

“MERLIN SAMUEL!” Zoe’s voice thundered into the phone this time. “WHERE ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“I’matJulia’shousesheknowshowtopierceearssoIwentaheadandgotonedon’tworryI’mfine!”

Why is my name so scary when she says it like that? And how the frick does she always get me to tell the truth so fast? Lin wondered, not for the first time, as silence fell between them.

“You’re safe?” Zoe demanded, voice a touch calmer this time.

“Yeah.”

“And Julia’s not hurt?” He winced at this. He wanted to be offended by the notion, but he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that if he had not thought to adjust his cuff as he had, his friend could have been seriously injured.

“No. I had my cuff set to max. She’s fine.”

“Why in the name of sanity would you get your ears pierced without warning us?!” Douxie’s voice this time, and it sounded as tight and strained as it always did these days.

“You said I could as long as I paid for it!” Lin countered, his cuff humming all the louder as defensiveness boiled up inside him.

“I didn’t say you could do it without...!” Douxie trailed off and heaved a frustrated sigh. Lin could easily picture the way he was probably pinching the bridge of his nose right now. “...If you’re going to do something like that, you have to tell us,” he continued, sounding more tired than angry now. “You scared your Aunt Nari....And me.”

“Sorry, Aunt Nari,” was all Lin said. There was an uncomfortable pause. Julia had stopped fussing over his ear, and now she stood with her hand on his shoulder, listening to the conversation play out. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and he felt the defensiveness churning in his stomach boil away entirely. “...Sorry, Dad,” he added softly.

“...How about we finish this later?” Zoe suggested. “When we’re not all keyed up like this. I want you home no later than seven, Lin. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

“Okay.” She paused for a moment. “...We love you, Lin.”

“...I know,” he sighed. “I’ll see you later.” He ended the call and leaned forward until his elbows rest against his legs, phone still in hand.

“It looks good,” Julia said after a while, handing him a mirror so he could see her handiwork. “You want to do the other one?”

“Not today, thanks,” Lin decided, feeling strangely hollow at the sight of his newly pierced ear, with its silver stud gleaming in the warm yellow light of Julia’s bedroom.

“...Was your father mad?” she asked tentatively.

“Not really. He doesn’t usually get mad so much as just...tired. Which is almost worse, somehow, but it is what it is. Still, I technically didn’t break any rules, so they can’t ground me for that long.” He straightened up and flashed her a smile. “I think it was worth it either way though. It looks great, Jules. How much do I owe you?”

“Fifty-five dollars. And yes, that’s including the Best Friend Discount.”

“Okay, nevermind. Not worth it.”

(Please don’t ask me how this thing got written in a single night while my other WIPs have been languishing for literal months, because I do not know. Regardless, thank you so much for the ask, Non! 🥴✨)

#tales of arcadia #toa #the casperan family #douxie #toa zoe #toa archie #nari #lin casperan #niki answers #ficlet

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akariitsuki42 · 4 years ago

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Spirit Saga

Ch19

Chapter 18

After my conversation with Talon, I haven't called him father yet, he needs to earn the title, mother, she deserves to be called that. Same with Onyx, he remains being called brother, not big brother or little brother. Turns out we happened to be twins, but he was born first and was waiting for me, something held me back 3 years later.

I was told that Onyx did not start aging until I was born, aside from all that, I went back to only see Jimmy, "I guess Zacky is still upset at you for giving yourself away." "He has every right to be," he sighed. I can tell that something is wrong, "What's wrong, Jimmy?" "Before I came here, I was attacked by no ordinary Hollow," he said, "When were you going to tell me the 3 Menos Classes?" "When the time was right," I said, "Unfortunately, you ran into one, right?" "Ran into? I was attacked by one, Akari," said Jimmy, raising his voice.

I looked around to make sure that no one is listening to our conversation, "Alright, the 3 classifications of Menos, are Hollows that gained Soul Reaper like powers if they removed their mask, they are called Arrancars." "So, what are you wai- oh, you are telling me already," he said, snapping out of his little rant. I continued, "3rd class Arrancars are the lowest level, 2nd class Arrancars are the medium level, and the 1st class Arrancars are the most highest level. The 3rd class Arrancars are called Menos Grande or Gillian, the 2nd class are called Adjuchas, and the final class are the ones you need to steer clear and be on high alert when you see one."

"What are they called?" asked Jimmy. I looked at him, "Vasto Lorde." "I'm assuming that you will translate all the names in English, that would be great and helpful for me to understand," said Jimmy, "Can you kindly please do that for a newbie like me?" "Menos Grande means Lowest Great Hollow, Adjuchas means Intermediate Great Hollow, and Vasto Lorde means Highest Great Hollow," I told him. Then he asked, "Are most Hollows bad as you say? Because you did tell me that you and your other friends, including me, are Half-Hollows." "There are some Hollows that are good at heart, but like I said, it depends on who did good or bad in their lives when they were alive," I said.

He caught on quick, he was lucky that he was saved by me from becoming a mindless Hollow, so I asked, "So, what about this Arrancar that you were attacked by? What did they look like?" "I don't know I didn't get a good look at them," he said, "But, their hair was the color of the Urban Legend of Bloody Mary." "Oh crap, what did she say to you?" I asked, knowing on who it was.

"She said, watch my back," he said, "I never been so terrified of my life." "That happens to be the Mirror Elemental, she must've thought that you were stalking me," I said, knowing that is the case. I know that it was because that eerie feeling was gone, Jimmy was relieved that he felt safe with me.

"Now that's over, anymore questions?" I asked. Jimmy asked, "Do you have forms?" "Yes, I do, but this is not the place to be showing my Hollow forms," I said, "We can only have 2 release forms." "I see, is it possible to only stick with only one?" he asked. I nodded, "I know this sucks for you but you need to say the release call in Spanish." "Damn it!!" he yelled, "I guess I better start learning that language." "You don't have to, just the release call," I said, "Everything else you do not need to do." "But I feel like I have to," he said, pouting.

Synyster Gates comes our way, noticing that something serious is being discussed, Jimmy asked, "So, about these things, what do I do if I see the ones I need to steer clear from?" "Contact me, immediately, don't engage a conversation with it, just try to find a place to hide and contact me, I'll deal with it," I said, "You are not fully trained yet, you are getting there though. You just need to find a perfect fighting techinque and stance."

"Stance?" asked Jimmy, confused on the word. I clarifing, "Fighting position." "Oh, I gotcha," he said, "Do I remain myself or be someone else?" "Do whatever," I said, "I only be aggressive if it's a tough battle and might need to use all the powers to win." "Ah, so everybody is different on the battlefield, correct?" he asked. I nodded, "Just don't be another person that goes in head first, because that can really mess up your chances of surviving the battle."

He got that memo down, "Okay, no rushing in the battle hoping to win, got it." "Don't be stupid on the battlefield," I said, "It might ruin your chances as well." "Well, I did play stupid with Ember Rose and somehow I got away with it," he said, "I guess I did that so I don't wind up dead again." "You won't because the power I gave you, it prevents you from dying, you can only regenerate through a certain transformation like I did," I said.

While we were having a serious conversation about the things that I have not revealed yet, Gates said, "Hey, M Shadows is coming to see you 2, better get ready because he might have you play some songs." "We'll be ready," I said, "We are in the middle of something that does not concern you." "Whoa, hey now, let's not get hostile, I'm just letting you know on what is going to happen," said Gates.

I knew he left because it got quiet, then I asked, "Who else did you see?" "A giant griffin or something flying past me, but it was attacking something else other than me," he said, "Then a lady with horns on the sides of her head, looking like she was made out of lava. She almost attacked me, but that giant griffin and Ember Rose protected me." "Did they tell you to run while you still can?" I asked.

He nodded, "That's when Ember told me to watch my back." "I think she's telling you to be on your guard at all costs, you are lucky that you were saved by the 2," I said, "That one was a Vasto Lorde." "Oh, shit, yep, I am very lucky," he said, relieved and surprised on what I told him.

"We might need to get ready for what Matt has ready for us," I said, "I'll explain more later about the Hollows and your training will resume once the tour is over." "Good idea," he said, "For the sake of being in the spotlight, I decided to lay low for what is about to happen since now I'm an Elemental." "Good idea," I said, sighing.

Then we were led outside, Jimmy had his hood up again, I'm trying to make sure it was safe for myself to reveal him here in front of all their fans. Then I heard a husky voice saying, "Be brave." I looked around, no one was near my ear, then I felt a tap, it was Jimmy, he nodded.

I sighed softly, hoping everything will turn out fine, but something doesn't feel right, Rev looks up, "Akari, slowly look up." I look at who he sees, I see a lady wearing Egyptian style clothing, I hear Rev say, "Look at the necklace that she is wearing." I see a Sphinx necklace, "She was that so called Griffin, it was the most famous landmark and the mythical creature from Egypt, it's called the Sphinx."

That got his attention, "I was protected by an Adjuchas?" "Yes, like I said, there are good hearted Hollows, I'm one of them, along with many others," I said to him, "Don't be too scared if you run into a great friend like me and others. Just, watch out for my father, Talon GrimEarth, he has yet to earn the title of being called a father." "Then why name him that anyway?" he asked.

"It's a way for me to let him know that there is a hope for him to earn that title," I said, "He has to do more than what he does now to earn it." "I see, so who do you see as a father figure?" Jimmy asked. My eyes were watery when he asked that, "He goes by the name of Jushiro Ukitake, he made sure that I had everything I needed."

Then Jimmy got a closer look at her, "She, she has your eye color." "My eye color is not green," I said, "Wait, she can change her eye colors?" "Apparently," he said, "Although, it is very dark here." "Yeah, I think it's suppose to be Sandy Brown," I tell him, "That is how she turns into the Giant Sphinx." "Oh, I see now," he said, "Why is she here?" "I guess she is just making sure you are in safe hands," I guessed.

Jimmy asked, "Have you met her?" "That lady? No, I do not know on who that is," I tell him, "I only know that you might met another Elemental." "I think you may be right about that," he said, "Because she's gone." "Meaning that I'm right, you are safe with me," I said to Jimmy.

"Are you 2 done talking over there?" asked M Shadows. Jimmy saw me rolling my eyes, "Easy on that, try to be civil and nice." "I have been nice to him!" I shouted, "He's been nothing but mean and giving me a hard time ever since I've been here! He even said that I would not make it out into the world, following my dreams!"

Then he looks at me, "He believes in you, he does that to get to your head." "Why has he been harsh on me?" I asked. Jimmy almost answered when M Shadows stomped his way over to us, pulled me away, which surprised Jimmy to no end. Then M Shadows turned to Jimmy, "You, up where the drums are!"

Jimmy just shook his head, came over and gently pulled me away, changed his voice, saying, "I don't know what is going on but this is not going to happen if this goes on." This is when he turns his voice to all to hear, he raises his voice, "So, stop being a douche to this young lady, she has done nothing wrong the entire time she has been here! Or I might have no choice but to give myself away for who I really am."

"Do it! It's not like you are a fake posing as our old drummer," said Gates. I could tell that hurt Jimmy, he looked at me, I nodded telling him to reveal himself now by using the drums. He went to Brooks, Brooks bolted because Rev told him to move or he will make him move, then M Shadows told him to do the whole drum tracks of the Second Heartbeat, Chapter Four, and Unholy Confessions.

Jimmy pulled off his crazy drummer skills, he still has his style, I went to him, he looks at me, I helped him take his hoodie off, his hair was in his face which was great because he took his shirt off, well, almost, I had to stop him.

He understood, I brushed his hair away from his face, then we both heard gasps everywhere, we looked at everyone else, EVERY SPOTLIGHT was on us, I looked at Gates, I swear I started to see tears forming. I felt daggers at me, I looked at M Shadows, he was the source, he was glaring at me.

He's angry with me, Zacky was smiling, Johnny was mixed with emotions. All I had to do was look at Jimmy, he picked me up and ran off with me, knowing that I was going to get yelled at by M Shadows later. Is he protecting me in return? We ran out of the entire building, he got out my phone since he doesn't have his own, contacted the one who is known to this land.

I saw a red, white, and blue beautiful muscle car, out came William Hurricane, he escorted me in the passenger side, Jimmy took the back side, "Her home now!" "On it," Hurricane said. He immediately started to drive away, I thanked Jimmy for calling Hurricane, Jimmy said, "Hey, no problem, it's my time to protect you from what is about to come later."

#Elemental Defenders #Spirit Saga #Speed Arc

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icecubelotr44 · 6 years ago

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Clear and Present Danger (3/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,250 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER THREE: Reasonable Suspicion

Killian’s ears were still ringing from the blow the woman had landed across his jaw. His lungs had only just started working again and he was sure that there would be bruises to hide from Liam in the morning. To say that she’d taken him by surprise was an understatement. He watched her carefully, the glint of the sun on the metal in her hand enough to keep him on edge.

“Gold… murdered someone,” Emma repeated, playing idly with the blade. It wasn’t a question, but Killian nodded reluctantly anyway.

“I… I can’t prove it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his frustration at that before he continued. “Yet. The bloody crocodile was in the station when it happened and everything I’ve turned up is dead ends. But I know he was responsible. I know he killed her. And if you’re here to investigate him, then-”

“How do you know that I’m investigating him?” she asked, and he could hear the suspicion dripping off every word.

Killian shrugged. “You weren’t doing much to hide it. And there’s not much else going on in the office other than Gold’s hubris, lass. Not that would draw IA’s attention, anyway. But I meant what I said, you can’t trust Isaac. He’s so far into Gold’s pocket that I’m pretty sure they’re wearing the same pants.”

The woman nodded. “I figured that out for myself, thanks.”

“Oh, you’re a tough lass.” Killian was thrilled to see her finally fold up the knife and stuff it into a pocket. “May I have the pleasure of your name now, Miss...?”

“Detective Swan,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Emma.”

Killian took her hand and, ignoring the widening of her eyes in surprise, pulled it up to kiss her knuckles in a show of exaggerated chivalry.

“Pleased to meet you, Swan,” he said over her knuckles, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “I think we’re going to make quite the team.”

She scoffed. “Who said I was going to work with you?”

“The way I see it, we’re looking for the same thing. We can either keep working separately, or” - he shrugged again, still refusing to let go of her hand - “we can pool our resources. Put Gold and whoever’s making it so easy for him to sit pretty in that office behind bars.”

Emma smiled sweetly, drawing a grin from him that he couldn’t help, before she struck, twisting his grip around until she had him shoved face first against the brick.

“Bloody-”

“Let’s get one thing straight, buddy,” she interrupted his cursing. “Your charm might work on someone else, but not me. You give me what you have on Gold and maybe… maybe I’ll think about keeping you in the loop. But I’m not going to just trust you because you say so. For all I know, you’re just as far into Gold’s pocket as your buddy Isaac.”

“I’d never be caught dead working with him,” Killian muttered against the wall, chagrined to realize that she had him completely incapacitated. “We’re on the same side, luv.”

“Not your love. You can call me Detective.” She released him as quickly as she’d restrained him, stepping back and glaring before he could even turn around. She was strong, she was guarded, and she was dangerous. But she wanted Gold behind bars and he’d worked with less in the past.

“Detective,” he allowed with a nod, “I think we can help each other. And you could use someone on the inside, yeah?”

He could see her mulling it over, the indecision written on her face as clearly as words on a page. There was something about her, despite the knife she’d pulled on him. He knew her job wasn’t easy, knew that the majority of their colleagues would rather vilify her than praise her for taking an impossible job and making it hers. But there was more than that hiding in the depths of her eyes. A deeper hurt that resonated with him. She had the look of someone who’d been thrown away like garbage and it made Killian all the more grateful to remember that Liam had always been there for him.

Even if he was going to take the long way home to avoid the Spanish Inquisition and resultant mollycoddling that was going to come the second Liam saw the bruise forming on his chin.

Her eyes narrowed, searching him, and Killian waited for her to make a decision.

He smiled in triumph a moment before she sighed. “I don’t like working with partners, Jones.”

Killian waited. She was going to let him help, he just had to be patient and not push it.

“But you’re right” - it sounded as if it cost her something to admit that - “that it wouldn’t hurt to have a set of eyes and ears that your coworkers wouldn’t expect. We do this my way, got it?”

“Of course, Swan. You’re in charge.” Killian held out his hand to shake hers again.

She glanced at it. “I’m not going to kiss your knuckles, you know.”

His answering grin was so wide that his cheeks hurt., but Emma didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones. Watch your back, all right?”

“I’ve got plenty of people in my corner who will do that for me, lass. Keep your eyes up, yeah?”

Killian thought he heard her mutter, “Must be nice,” before she disappeared around the corner. He nodded to himself, turning back to the main road and heading towards the subway station. There was a kernel of hope that hadn’t been there before, a tendril of possibility that Killian wanted to grab onto with both hands and tug. He wasn’t the only one anymore, the only one who saw Gold as more than just an untouchable and necessary evil. Still, they’d have to tread lightly. Gold wouldn’t hesitate to take them down to keep himself safe.

“Jones?” Locksley called, pulling Killian out of his thoughts. “What are you doing down here, mate? Get lost?”

Killian knew he was joking - mostly - but he could hear the worry in his tone. “Aye mate, thought I parked the Benz down here.” He managed to keep a straight face long enough for Robin’s hand to twitch towards the phone on his belt.

“Bugger off!” Robin spat when the grin on Killian’s face gave away the joke.

Killian sobered immediately at Locksley’s tone. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, moving out of the alley to catch up with his partner.

Robin glared at him before walking towards the subway station. “We were all worried, you know. You woke up in the ER and you didn’t know Liam.”

What?

Killian whipped his head around to catch Robin’s eye and he grabbed his partner’s arm when Locksley wouldn’t even look at him.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Robin grumbled.

Some of Liam’s hovering over the past few weeks started to make more sense. His brother could give the fiercest mama bear a run for her money on a good day, so Killian hadn’t thought too much about it. He couldn’t have named the emotion half-hidden in Liam’s eyes every time he’d fussed over Killian, not then. But he also didn’t remember much between seeing Hades in the alley and waking up to Liam’s mother henning in the hospital room he’d suffered through forty-eight hours of observation with ill disguised grace.

Maybe not so much on the ‘disguised’ end of the spectrum.

“I don’t remember that,” he muttered when Robin’s concerned stare went on too long.

His partner nodded. “We figured as much. And Liam said not to say anything when you woke up again and everything had seemed to settle.”

“Of course he did,” Killian mumbled under his breath amidst a sigh.

Fear. That was what Liam had been trying in vain to suppress. Killian had scared him again. While he remembered only a knock to the head, Liam had been forced to wait for him to wake up, not knowing if he’d remember his own brother when he did.

There had been plenty of scares in their careers - they were both police officers, after all - and injuries were par for the course. Both he and Liam had spent their share of sleepless nights at their brother’s bedside and the fear that came with that was all-encompassing, but mostly fleeting. It had to be, or they’d never get back out on the streets.

But Killian remembered when Liam had woken up shaking and couldn’t stop - not quite seizing, but close enough to send a tendril of pure terror coursing through him. He remembered how close he had stayed those first few weeks as the neurotoxin settled in Liam’s bloodstream and allowed him to resume most of his daily activities. He remembered that fear. That was what Liam had been dealing with over the last couple weeks as Killian recovered. The unknown quantity.

Didn’t mean that Killian wasn’t going to find a way to exact revenge for the super glue, though. It wouldn’t do to let Liam - and by extension, David - think they could get away with nonsense like that just because they were ‘older and wiser’ as it were.

He and Robin parted ways at the corner, the bustle of the city at rush hour serving to make the headache that Swan had exacerbated even worse. It would be sheer luck if Liam didn’t take one look at him and blow a gasket. He recalled a scene in one of the Harry Potter movies where Harry had been locked in his bedroom - it didn’t take too much of an imagination to picture Liam trying the same tactic.

Swan occupied his thoughts on the ride home, their two brief interactions playing on a loop as he pondered over her - who was she really? What made her tick? Why had she chosen to go into Internal Affairs? She was clearly tough enough to be on the streets and he didn’t think that outside perceptions of her would have swayed her away from a beat patrol before moving up the ranks.

What does she have on Gold?

Killian hadn’t been this intrigued by a woman since the day he’d first set eyes on Milah. He’d been sitting alone in Finnegan’s Tavern, a bottle of Sam Adams forgotten on the table in front of him and his brother off in another corner of the bar getting them something to eat. She’d been stunning to look at, sitting by herself as well and nursing a glass of wine as sharp eyes darted around the room. Her curls falling loose over her back, the lost look in her eyes, all of it intrigued him and he wanted to know more.

It hadn’t taken long for Killian to forget that Liam was even there with him; he’d approached her and been regretfully turned down that evening, but she hadn’t left his thoughts. Who was she and why did she look so sad?

Every minute with her was a gift - and Gold had torn it from his grasping fingers. She’d been Killian’s for a few precious-

“What the bloody hell happened?” The voice broke through his musings.

Killian sighed audibly. As expected, he’d barely managed to get the door open before Liam had pounced on him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if only in deference to the headache, and waited for the inevitable inspection.

“You’re supposed to be on deskwork!” Liam stomped through the kitchen, reaching out to turn Killian’s head closer to the light. Killian hadn’t seen the bruise yet, but he could feel it - blood pooling hot and pulsing just under the skin of his jaw, a stark reminder of what it was to be on Emma Swan’s bad side. Liam poked at the bruise, drawing a hushed grunt of pain and - if possible - the frown on his brother’s face deepened to new levels.

Mindful of what Robin had let slip, Killian tolerated the inspection as patiently as he could manage, for as long as he could manage. It didn’t take too long before he was batting Liam’s prodding fingers away anyway. “It’s fine, brother. I spent the entire bloody day sitting at my desk twiddling my thumbs like a good boy, all right?”

The smirk on Liam’s face flashed for only an instant before it was hidden behind a mask, but Killian didn’t miss it. He glared and pointedly didn’t mention the super glue nor the fact that he likely still smelled like nail polish remover. He just wanted a shower and some ibuprofen and something to drink.

“So how’d you get the bruise then?” Liam asked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to poke and prod at it some more.

Killian moved safely out of reach before he snarked back. “I was attacked by a Swan on my way home. It took us awhile to come to an understanding.”

Liam just blinked. Killian waited just long enough to see the confusion start to turn to concern before he cracked a smile, waving his brother off and rooting through the fridge for a drink. The shower would have to wait until Liam was satisfied, but at least he could get rid of the cottony feeling in his mouth.

“Killian!”

He sighed. “Relax, brother. I’m fine. There’s an IA officer looking into Gold. She and I… we didn’t get off on the right foot, so when I went to try again…” he trailed off, waving over his jaw.

Liam snickered, a look on his face that left Killian’s ears red. “I assume you put things right, little brother?”

“Younger, Liam,” he whined, cringing a little at how petulant he sounded. It wasn’t a new argument and, truth be told, it wasn’t one Killian ever expected to win. He didn’t even mind too much when Liam didn’t acknowledge the ‘correct’ moniker as he moved to pull dinner out of the oven. It would be all too easy to make a remark about him becoming a good housewife and Killian patted himself on the back for not giving in to the temptation.

It was a close call, but he’d plan something better in retaliation for his desk.

Emma sunk into the steaming bath water with an audible sigh. She’d left the light off, several candles burning away merrily and filling the small room with soothing scents. There was a glass of wine on the bath caddy and a book lying face down that she only sort of intended to read. It didn’t take too long for the heat to seep into Emma’s muscles and she relaxed into a boneless heap in the water. However much she had intended to leave work at work, she couldn’t get that interaction with Jones out of her head. She had no reason to feel bad; he’d been sneaking up on her, she had plenty of experience with loyal cops showing her how they felt about her investigations, he’d been sneaking up on her.

And yet.

Killian Jones was far more than a pretty face. If he was telling her the truth, he’d been grievously wronged by Gold and could be a valuable asset in her investigation. The key was to get in and get out without getting attached. He was a tool in her arsenal, nothing more. His sarcastic quips and the over-the-top chivalry weren’t going to change anything - she was at the precinct to do a job and that was it.

Bringing someone like Gold to justice would more than make her career. It would make the other detectives start to take her seriously, a woman in a man’s world. She would love nothing more than to wipe the indulgent smirks off the faces of the men in her office. It might be nice to be able to peek out of the armor a little bit. Occasionally.

The water slowly cooled and her glass ran dry, but Emma still lingered in the half haze of sleep that she’d slipped into. It was simple here, in the sanctuary of her apartment, away from all the drama and the politics and the intrigue of her cases and her interoffice relationships. She didn’t have to hide behind the mask she’d crafted or question every interaction she had. Here, there was just her and the safety of her loneliness.

When the water was finally a few degrees too cold to be comfortable, Emma stood and wrapped herself in a towel. She tried not to bring her work home with her; it was hard enough to deal with it during work hours. But with the addition of Jones to her arsenal - and her constant thoughts, it seemed - she’d have to come up with a new plan of attack. Emma wasn’t used to having to consider another person on her side in her investigations. They’d tried to rope her into working with a partner before but it never stuck. They were too inept or she was too prickly, too stubborn, too set in her ways to listen to their ideas.

It was better if she worked alone, that was all there was to it.

Over the next few days, Emma did what Emma did best: she ignored Killian Jones completely. She had plenty of interviews to conduct and spent half of her time driving across the state to follow up with the men and women Gold had put behind bars as well as some he hadn’t. They all had precisely the same thing to say about him.

Absolutely nothing.

Emma didn’t need her ‘super power’ to tell that they were - to the very last man - terrified to speak out against Gold. Someone had gotten to them before her and had bought their silence. It left her irritable and exhausted, unwilling to play the game when Isaac cornered her in the bullpen to “see what she needed.”

She needed to punch someone in the face.

As it was, putting her fist across Isaac’s jaw probably wouldn’t do anything but get her suspended and put the investigation that much further behind. Instead, she plastered on a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough to pass muster and asked for another batch of files that had nothing to do with Gold or the charges against him, hoping that the little weasel would run back to his master and crow about her apparent ineptitude. She’d have to steer the investigation formally towards Gold at some point, but she needed something concrete to go on before then. All she had right now were allegations and rumors that were - so far - unfounded. Emma didn’t believe for a moment that the accusations listed in her file were false, but she needed to find some kind of evidence. Even the evidence from the investigation into Milah Gold was hazy at best and - as Jones had said - didn’t point to Gold’s involvement at all.

The case had, very pointedly in fact, implicated Killian Jones in her murder. Even if Emma hadn’t heard it in his voice the day she’d nearly knocked him out in that alley, she was no longer uncertain about how much Jones had loved Milah. It was written all over the interrogations, the track the evidence had taken, in every entry from the detective who’d investigated. Killian had been cleared quickly - which surprised Emma given Gold’s power - but the damage must have been done.

The problem was, it was all too clean. There was no way that the woman’s brake lines had been cut and no one had been spotted near her car in the police station’s parking garage. The video surveillance gave Emma - and anyone else who had investigated, namely K. Jones on a near-weekly schedule - a perfect view of Milah’s car. Emma watched as the woman got out of the vehicle and walked out of frame, then stared at nothing of note for the half hour she’d been gone, and finally saw her come back to her car and drive away.

All of it was too clean. Every case that Gold had closed, every murderer that he’d convicted, on paper they were all perfectly by the book. Every ‘i’ was dotted and every ‘t’ was crossed. On paper, there was no reason to suspect that he’d ever stepped a toe across the line. But all it took was one look at him to know that he was dirty. All it took was one readthrough of the case file that had been compiled to get the sick feeling in her stomach. Gold needed to be tried for his crimes and, hopefully, the evidence against him would be compelling enough that not even whoever was backing him would come out with their hands clean.

That was Emma’s job, and she looked forward to the end results. She did not, however, enjoy the monotony that came with trying to keep her investigation under wraps. She had Isaac pull Jones’s case files today, trying to get a glimpse into the lieutenant’s process in attempts to understand him better. The mole at her side grinned snidely when he’d commented that it was only a matter of time before Jones was investigated.

“His promotion was a little too convenient,” he crowed before elbowing her in the side in apparent camaraderie, “if you know what I mean.”

Emma stepped pointedly away and resisted the urge to roll her shoulder and stretch where he’d impacted her ribs. Instead, she smiled in feigned interest and cocked her head to the side. “Oh, really?” she asked, hoping Isaac would latch on to the ruse.

He did.

“Oh yes, I could tell you all about Lieutenant Jones and how he came to be in our humble department. Did you know that he was still on patrol just over a year ago?”

She hadn’t.

“Captain Gold requested that his promotion track be accelerated personally. I’ve never understood it, of course. Jones is nothing but a problem. The captain tolerates him, but if you ask me, there’s something fishy about it, because the two of them… well, to say they’re like cats and dogs would be insulting to those poor animals. And yet…” Isaac trailed off meaningfully, his eyes tracking across the bullpen to where Jones had just entered. Instead of finishing his statement, he just shrugged as if the lieutenant’s presence was answer enough.

It didn’t make any sense. From what she could tell, Jones was a Boy Scout. She wouldn’t be surprised to find an Eagle Scout award in his history. She’d known there was no way that he was being backed by Gold - even before she knew what she did about his history with the captain’s former wife. But the mysterious benefactor… Emma didn’t know anything about him. Yet. It was possible that Gold was just an unfortunate middle man, or that they were both trying to force Jones into a position where he couldn’t get free of them. It was possible, she supposed, that Jones was in on the whole thing and was playing her to get information.

Even as she thought it, the voice inside her head laughed at her. No, Jones wasn’t involved with Gold or his backer. If he was, then she would turn in her badge and gun and take up a job at the local Walmart. Emma wasn’t good at people, but she was good at reading them. It made her successful as a detective and horrible to play poker against, but she’d take the former over the latter any time. A cop who couldn’t trust her gut was a dead cop and Emma liked breathing too much not to hone that skill.

Emma focused on Isaac’s retreating back as he headed for the file room - now he was definitely working for Gold, and not in the official capacity. She’d do anything to have him far away from her and her investigation, if only for the drop in stress that would entail.

She almost missed the note on her desk, tucked away under the file marked K. Jones that she’d purposely left out. Who had been near her desk? And what did they want?

Atlantis Marina, 8pm tonight.

It’ll be worth it.

Emma supposed she’d have to go to the marina to find out. She wasn’t naive, but she wasn’t cautious by nature, either. She would, however, be there well before eight in order to get the lay of the land.

Emma worked for a few more hours, digging into Killian’s past just in case her gut was wrong. She finally dug past the insubordination claims that Gold seemed to file on a regular basis and burrowed deep enough into his file to find a redacted report of drunk and disorderly conduct that had never been closed or prosecuted. Further digging, however, revealed that the date of the report coincided with the date of Milah Gold’s funeral, so Emma put it out of her mind. If the man needed a little bit of liquid courage to say goodbye to a woman he clearly loved, then who was she to judge him?

Five o’clock came all too suddenly and Emma locked up the files she didn’t plan on taking home with her before signing out the ones she did. With evening traffic, it could take twenty minutes or it could take forever to get to the marina, and she wanted plenty of time to walk the perimeter and see if she could get an upper hand on whoever had left the note for her. At the very least, she wanted escape routes and a good vantage point of the entrance before whoever planned on meeting her showed up. Emma texted the address to Ruby and Dorothy in case she needed back up, but declined their offer to come down and stake out the place. She had a sneaking suspicion as to whose handwriting that had been, and didn’t think she’d need any of the precautions she was taking.

But Emma had been burned before.

The marina was well maintained. The lights in the parking area and along the docks provided very few shadows that someone could ambush her from and there were men and women in security uniforms patrolling the docks at random intervals. Emma found that she already had a reserved parking space in the guest lot, and the attendant there knew who she was - pointing out that the boat she was looking for was in its slip on B-dock.

The Jolly Roger.

Emma could see it from where she was standing on another dock - she wasn’t entirely sure which dock it was - sitting jauntily in the water and inviting her to come aboard. As if a boat could be jaunty and inviting. There were lights on in the… she thought it was called a cockpit but wouldn’t lay money down on it. But no one was aboard.

It wasn’t new by any means, but it was clearly well cared for. The hull gleamed in the lights and the name on the back was crisp-lettered and pristine. There were a few dings here and there along the hull and the railing, but the metal shined and the windows were streak-free. She had a feeling that whoever owned the boat would be put off by the small imperfections, but was clearly proud of his - or her - ownership.

“You can see her up close, if you like,” Jones’s voice whispered in her ear.

She whirled around, fists up and ready to defend herself. There was a moment of terrifying weightlessness as she stepped back, expecting her foot to impact solid wood and instead finding open air. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught in her throat even as she flailed and caught Killian’s outstretched hands. He pulled her close and Emma latched onto his shoulders, fingers tight in his leather jacket as she tried to convince herself that she was on solid ground again.

“Damnit, Jones!” she shouted in his face. He was terrifyingly close.

He shrugged, the muscles under her fingers bunching with the movement. She realized, a bit belatedly, that she still hadn’t let go of him. Nor he of her. Emma shoved him back, putting enough space in between them that her heart finally started to slow down. It rankled her a bit that he didn’t stumble, just swayed with the push and stood tall.

She glared at him. “I could have fallen in!”

Killian just smirked, something dangerous in his eyes. “That’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You wish, buddy.”

He finally stepped back, although Emma got the feeling he’d have stayed there if he thought he could get away with it. He clasped his hands behind his back, instead, and rocked back on his heels. “I meant what I said, though. You can see her up close, if you like.”

Emma just looked at him in askance.

“You… you did get my note, didn’t you?”

She pulled the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“I signed it,” he explained with a funny little grin, taking the note from her and smoothing it out against his leg. “See?”

Emma looked where he’d turned the paper over, the small caricature of a hook and a swan in the bottom corner. She’d seen the drawing, of course, but she still didn’t understand. She stared at him incredulously, before asking again, “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly sign my own name, could I?” Jones shrugged. “Not with your little shadow combing every piece of paper on your desk at all times. It’s all very cloak and dagger, you see, and who’s better at that than a pirate?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder to the nameplate on the back of Killian’s boat. “You had an unhealthy obsession with Peter Pan as a child, didn’t you?”

“Never liked the little demon,” he replied, matter of fact. “Always thought that Captain Hook was the hero of that fairy tale.”

“Even with the waxed moustache and the perm?”

Killian smirked. “You never read the book, did you? Captain Hook was devilishly handsome, after all. Like me,” he preened a little.

Emma just shook her head. He didn’t need the ego boost - clearly. “So what are we doing here, Jones?”

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention. You’ve been avoiding me, lass.” Killian shrugged. “I thought…”

“We can’t exactly be seen working together,” Emma defended her actions. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

She totally had.

One of Killian’s eyebrows raised pointedly. “You might find this a surprising attribute in a detective, Swan, but I’m actually quite perceptive and this” - he gestured between them - “this is avoiding me.”

Emma nodded in spite of herself. There was no use denying what was painfully obvious anyway. “So… what? You thought you’d lure me here with a mystery and…” she shrugged emphatically, waiting for an explanation.

The tips of Killian’s ears went a little bit pink. “One of the first things my brother taught me after I graduated the academy was to limit the amount of work I brought home with me. I know that with Isaac lurking about you’re probably trying to throw him off and that’s got to be exhausting. I thought that you… that we could use the Jolly as some kind of, I don’t know, an in between or something.”

Emma blinked.

Killian just shrugged. “I want to help, Swan. I need to help put him away. For Milah. For… for me. We can’t exactly advertise that we’re working together, I get that. But I can help you.”

There was a reason Emma didn’t work with a partner. She did her own thing, her own way, on her own terms. The only one who she risked being hurt was her and the only one who was responsible for the outcome of her cases was her. She had worked with someone else a time or two, but not since she’d moved to Internal Affairs; she found it just wasn’t worth it.

But maybe just this once, with a case this big and a willing pawn in Killian Jones, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The appeal of having someplace away from both prying eyes and her own sanctuary was strong. Part of Emma still balked - she was better off alone, history had shown her that time and time again - but she pushed past it for the sake of her case.

“All right, Jones, let’s see this boat of yours.”

It didn’t take them long to cover the entirety of the aft cabin in paperwork. Liam would have a fit if he decided to take her out for more than a brief afternoon, but seeing Gold’s demise come together piece by piece was worth the strife Killian knew he’d hear about. Emma had already cobbled together a timeline of Gold’s career, listing cases and complaints alike along with his promotions and the men and women he’d promoted himself.

Killian bristled when he saw his own name listed, the blue star next to his name signifying Gold’s personal involvement in the transfer. “Swan, just so you know, this wasn’t… I didn’t…” he trailed off, still looking at his name on the timeline and uncertain how to explain.

Emma slid another paper over the top of that one, this one listing unsolved cases that Gold had sent to the Cold Case division. “You can tell me in your own time,” she allowed with a small smile.

He nodded. Killian couldn’t deny that the promotion had been a bit of grabbing the tiger by the tail. He knew Gold had it out for him, would try his best to make Killian’s life miserable. But Liam and David had already been in Homicide before Milah’s death and Killian had longed for the chance to work beside his brother. Then he’d met Milah and thought that the price he would have to pay for falling for her was his dream of being partnered with Liam. After her murder, he’d stopped caring how he got to Liam’s side, he just knew he couldn’t do it anymore without his brother. Any of it. The transfer had seemed like the universe paying him back - a little - for stealing Milah from him. And then Liam had been injured because of him and now… well, now it was all about taking down Gold. Killian couldn’t deny that he didn’t really care what happened to his career after that.

Or to himself.

Maybe he should take Liam up on that offer to move to the private sector, after all.

“Are you even listening, Jones?” Emma’s annoyed question made him realize she’d been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

He shook his head apologetically, scratching behind one ear and attempting a smirk. He could feel how forced it was and the look on Emma’s face proved that she wasn’t buying it either. “Apologies, lass, I got a bit caught up in my head.”

“I said, it’s getting late and we should probably get out of here. Do we need to pack this up, or…” she looked at him in askance.

Killian shook his head. “No. No one but myself and my brother have keys to the cabins and I’ll let him know that this is all here.” He groaned internally at the idea of telling Liam about all this - the mess and what he was about to do next. Regardless of Liam’s opinion on the matter, however, he reached into his pocket and handed her a keychain with a pirate ship on it.

Emma stared at it for a moment.

“It’s not going to bite you, lass. I just thought that…” he shrugged. “Well, you need access to the cabin and I might not always be able to get you here. Smee is the parking attendant you met earlier; he knows to let you have the guest parking space whenever you’d like it and you’re on the list of approved guests with access to the boat. No one will bother you.”

She finally reached out and snagged the key, turning the little ship over in her hands. “It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Emma asked with a smirk that made the tips of Killian’s ears go hot.

“The appeal of Neverland as a child - an escape where time would stop and I could have all the time in the world to figure out how to get what I wanted - it was intoxicating. I guess it’s never really left me.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “Although I still think the bloody demon of that island would have made life miserable there.”

Emma laughed, finally putting the key in her pocket after further inspection. She followed him out onto the deck, but didn’t make a move to climb onto the dock again.

“And what did a young Killian Jones want that he couldn’t have?” she asked lightly, a glint of something in her eyes that Killian wanted to understand.

He shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance. That wasn’t a tale he was ready to get into yet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he deflected instead.

There was a look in Emma’s eyes that told Killian she might just understand what it was he and Liam had been searching for all those years - a home.

“Perhaps I would.”

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

#csbb #cs fic #captain swan fic #cs ff #ouat ff

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kami-cullen · 7 years ago

Text

Snowbaz One shot

So I did this, I have no idea why I love angsty things but here it is, it was supposed to be a little 500 words drabble, but ended up being a 2000 words one shot, this is my first Snowbaz fanfic, I haven't written fanfiction in YEARS (since my Twihard days), it is also my first attempt to write fanfition in english (I'm from Ecuador, and we speak Spanish here), so I hope it's understandable, this is not edited so there might me maaaany mistakes, so please don't be too hard on me, and enjoy :D

Word count: 2329

TW: Panic Attacks

Hurt/Comfort - Domestic Fluff

read it on ao3; http://archiveofourown.org/works/12424812

Baz:

It’s been three months since Simon found out that the Mage was his father, and I seem to be a little bit on edge even since, let me explain why, at the beginning Simon took the news surprisingly well, he didn’t cry o had a meltdown o anything like that, but after only three days of finding out, he had his first panic attack, he got so scared he made himself sick and he said he was sure he was having a heart attack, Bunce was out of town and so I panicked and started casting healing spells, turns out that those spells only work on wounds or in more, well, physical illnesses, so I ended up taking him to the Normals hospital and they explained us what was going on.

Simon talked about it with his therapist and she apparently told him that it was a normal reaction to that kind of situation, she gave him some info and tips to control them, but it has been really hard on him. I’m sure I couldn’t deal with that but Simon is strong, stronger than me.

The thing is, sometimes there’s a trigger sometimes it just happens, and I worry, I feel like I’m on edge all the time, waiting for a crisis to happen, we’ve been dating for over a year now and I guess we just take life as it comes, sometimes it's shitty but mostly it's a good life, a life I didn’t think I could ever have.

Today we had lunch together and now I’m walking to my university’s library to do a project with some of my classmates, I get there, get settled, and we start our homework, it’s been less than half an hour when the stupid song that Simon put as his ringtone starts to ring loudly. Did I mention I’ve been on edge for the last three months? So when the phone rings, I instantly worry.

“Simon. Is everything ok?” “N-no, can you come pick me up?, please” I can hear he is breathing really fast “What happened?! where are you?!” “Just a few blocks away, sitting on a bench, I kinda… panicked a little, but I’m not hurt or anything I just, I-I need you” I relax instantly and try to use a reassuring voice “Ok, I understand, breathe love, I’m on my way, I’ll be there in no time, don’t move” He let’s out a broken chuckle “I don’t think I could, even if I tried” he tries to joke, It breaks my heart a little.

I don’t even realize I’m running until I’m out of the building and into the streets again, I just left. My laptop, books, and notebooks forgotten, I run really fast, no caring a single fuck if anyone sees me running at vampire speed, I just have to get to him. I have only ran a couple blocks when I see him, he’s sitting on a bench hugging his knees and shaking like crazy, some people are passing by and they give him strange looks and I want to bite them all, I collect myself for a second before I approach him.

I sit next to him quietly, put my arm around his shoulders, and bring him close to me, he is sobbing, his eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks flushed and he is sweating and shaking, he looks so young we he's like this, It makes me want to keep him safe from this horrible world that wants to break my beautiful boy.

He lets go of his knees to hug me tight, I can feel his hands shaking on my back “hey love” I say softly putting my hand on his curls “it’s ok now, I’m right here, you’re ok” I let him cry a few more minutes because sometimes it seems to help, then I take one of his hands and put it on my chest, I discovered by the third panic attack that the ‘numbers technique’ that his therapist gave him doesn’t work on him, she told him to inhale counting to three, hold his breath counting from three to five and exhale counting from five to eleven.

He tried it a couple times but said he was to panicked to count, so instead whenever he has a panic attack I bring his hand to my chest and breath slowly, letting him feel the slow pase so he can match it with his on own breathing, the bloody therapist said that we should not use that a regular way to calm him down because I wouldn't always be able to be there when he has a crisis (damn her for being right)

After about fifteen minutes he stops crying and starts breathing a bit slower “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I ask softly, he hesitates but starts talking “I was just waiting for the bus and this… man, sat next to me, and he- he … looked just like him, like- like the Mage and, he looked directly at my eyes, it made feel so uncomfortable, I tried to ignored him but he kept looking at me and then there was just so many people around, it felt too crowded and I started to loose control so I tried to get back to the library to wait for you but I ended up sitting here out of breath and shaking, so yeah… I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have called you, I knew you had study group, this was no big deal” “Everything that happens to you is a big deal to me, I’m glad you called, my classmates will understand, besides I don’t care about them, I care about you” He just nods but I can tell he feels guilty, I hate that he feels that way about something he barely has control of “I’m done studying for today (I lie), but I left my stuff at the library. Do you want to wait for me while I go get it?” “No, I want to go with you, if that’s ok” He says shyly, like he thinks I’d be embarrassed to be seen with him in front of my classmates. He does look like a hot mess, all puffy red eyes and sweaty forehead but I don’t give a fuck, they can think whatever they want, I’ll take my boyfriend with me, I just gave him the chance to wait in case he didn’t want to be seen.

I take his hand and help him up after I wiped the tears out of his face and combed his bronce curls out of his forehead, he gives me a soft smile and that makes him look a little more like himself.

We make the walk in silence, and when we enter the library all my classmates are still there, Simon says a shy ‘hello’ and grips my hand tight, every eye is on us, and I don’t know if they look surprised by the fact that I have a boyfriend or because said boyfriend looks like a lost puppy right now, I don’t care if it’s the first one but I don’t want anyone looking at Simon like he is some kind of freak (only I can do that)

One of my classmates (Matt, I think) starts talking while I’m collecting all my stuff “Hey, I think I know you!, you always go to my mom’s bakery to buy scones and sweet drinks” Simon instantly smiles, sometimes when he is sad and clingy I tend to forget he is the social one in this relationship “Yeah, I’ve seen you there, the scones are for me and the extremely sweet beverages are usually for Baz, he drinks candy. I’m Simon by the way” “Todd” oh, so he’s not Matt then “How come Basilton has never introduced us to his boyfriend, whom by the way seems way more laid-back than him” “Because he’s cooler than me and will steal all my friends” I say half jokingly and grab his hand “Now we have to go, I’ll send you my part of the project later this evening, goodbye gentleman” They all wave at Simon as he says goodbye.

My flat is a lot closer than his, so we decide to walk there, Fiona is on some kind of vacation in America so Simon will stay the night.

When we get to my place he looks exhausted, he always ends up super tired after a panic attack, and I wonder if it’s like that for everybody

“Go take a nap, we can figure out dinner after you wake up, I’ll be working on some homework on the kitchen table” I lean in and kiss his temple, he looks at me with big blue eyes “can I borrow your grey sweatshirt?” Hi asks hopeful. I own one sweatshirt (with my university’s logo) and Simon adores it, it’s too big for him, the sleeves cover his hands entirely and he says it’s just really confortable but I think he likes it so much because it makes him feel somehow safe because it’s a little too big and because it’s mine (I was tempted to just give it to him but it smells like him after he wears it so I always get it back just so I can have his smell with me, I know, I’m disturbed) “Sure love” He smiles real big and gives me a kiss before running to my room.

After a few minutes I try to continue with the project I was supposed to do with my classmates but I keep hearing Simon trashing in bed, I tried to ignored it for like ten minutes but after eight years of being ultra aware of every single one of his moves it’s something I can’t exactly turn off, besides the vampire hearing doesn’t help, I know he his exhausted but seems unable to fall sleep.

I know he doesn’t want to annoy me asking me to keep him company, but not so secretly I love it when he needs me, it makes me feel safe, useful and loved, it is probably a bad codependent thing but I kind of like it, so I take my computer and go to my room, Simon lifts his head when he hears me, his curls are a mess and he looks extra adorable in my sweatshirt

“Do you mind if I finish my assignment here?” He shakes his head, and rolls to his side of the bed, I sit next to him and he comes close putting his arm around my torso. it takes him less than two minutes to fall asleep.

On the contrary it takes me about two hours to finish my assignment, so I just let Simon sleep next to me the whole time, he barely moves (I knew he was exhausted) and when I’m done, I lie down next to him and put my head in the space between his neck and shoulder and close my eyes for a few seconds. Sometimes it’s hard for me to accept how much I love him but I try to be there for him when he needs me and he knows that’s a my way to show him love instead of just saying it, that just works for us.

it’s almost eight pm, so I shake Simon awake, he gives me a lazy smile that I love and cuddles a little bit closer

“You look a lot better Si” “I feel a lot better, and kinda hungry!” I laugh out loud, because I don’t have to restrain myself, because he is adorable and because he never judges me “Can we order pizza and watch a movie?” “Sure, why don’t you call while I take a shower” “I have a better idea, why do we take a shower and then order pizza” I smile “Sounds like a plan to me”

A few hours later we’re curled up on the couch, Simon is once again wearing my sweatshirt and we are watching the second movie of the night, we are spooning so Simon’s back is against my chest and I have an arm over his stomach, his breathing is slow so is think hi’s fallen sleep but then he rolls on his side so he’s facing me

“Thank you” He says softly “what for?” “for everything, for a villain you turned out to be a softy” “oh, fuck off Snow” I say but it comes out somehow sweetly “But seriously, thank you for been there for me, and taking care of me, thank you for been my high when I’m low, and my rock when I’m scared. I love you Baz” I put my head on his chest just so he doesn’t see my eyes water “I love you too, Simon” I say in a low voice and I mean it.

Some times when I look back at all the horrible things that we had to go through I wish I could tell my younger self that even though there will always be battles to fight and problems to face, things will get better, I wish I could tell myself that I will feel loved, that I will feel safe, that someday I will cry because I feel so overwhelmed by love that I’m not gonna know what to do with myself, my younger self probably won’t believe me, but I think that’s one of the wonderful things about our future, that we don’t even know how got it’s going to get, as long as my future is with Simon, I’m ready for whatever life throws at us.

But right this second with him curled in my arms I feel full, content and complete, and I wouldn’t chance the past because it brought me to this moment, with be boy I love in my arms, and a story to write ahead of us, so I kiss Simon with the silent promise of a charmed life together.

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