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yousaydisco · 2 months ago

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NOT A DISCO FIC AT ALL (cleaning out the drafts 2)

7 months ago before I got into DE at all, I started writing a marvel fic and didn't finish that either.

Stucky, 5k words, pre-serum Steve, Modern AU

After spending hours applying to even the most demeaning, soul-breaking, bad-paying jobs he could find, Steve sits there refreshing his email. Nothing. Hit refresh. Nothing. Worry about rent. Regret college major. Hit refresh. Nothing.

A red (1) suddenly appeared. He made sure to not get his hopes up before clicking.

But he’s only human. As he read the email his mind wandered, hovering over numerous possibilities. His pulse quickened in excitement. He looked over his closet of an apartment. Glazed over the water damage on the ceiling, the pipes that rattle if he uses water, the stove with one working burner.

Fuck it, he thought. And accepted the offer.

—------

“Welcome, Campers!” An unnaturally perky boy greeted them once they walked from the parking lot to the camp’s entrance. He was wearing cargo shorts, a yellow T-shirt brandishing the camp’s logo and name, and holding a clipboard like a professional. His sandy blonde hair was cut short.

“We’re not the campers.” The girl standing next to Steve said, her voice dripping in malice. He glanced over and saw bright red hair and dark-as-sin eyeliner. When their eyes met she smirked and he looked back.

“I’m just practicing.” The perkiness dropped and now it was all business. “Now: I’m head counselor Coulson. We only have one week before the campers actually get here. As prospective counselors, you’re in charge of setting everything up. Line up and I’ll assign you your cabin and working area.”

Like ducklings, the adults lined up single file and started moving toward the mother duck. Or, er, the one in charge. Steve felt a tap on his shoulder.

“What are you in for?” The red-haired girl asked with a smirk. Was she always chewing gum or did she start after Coulson started talking?

“The money.” He said, partially confused.

She nodded. Shrugged. Of course, yeah, the money.

“Are you here for another reason?”

“Court-ordered community service.” She said. Steve did not know her enough to tell if her smirk signified it was sarcasm or if it was true and she was going ‘what are ya gonna do?’.

Maybe we should back up a bit.

Camp Pinely has been a source of joy and summer fun for generations of children and that includes Steve way back in 1996. He went for several years and it was so much more than just a place where he was childish and free, it was the first time he felt like he wasn’t being held back by his health and body. It was a place that, even a decade later, he always thought back to. And in his worst moments, he fantasized about reliving those moments, yearning for the easy childhood and sick of the tedious adult life.

The email that was sent to him was clearly not official. It was professionally written, but unlike a lot of companies who are reaching out for employment, it was obvious that this wasn’t written by some bot or a copy-and-pasted format. It was sent by someone whose name he didn’t recognize, a Nick F., but they recalled some very specific moments of Steve attending the camp. Said he heard it from the previous camp director, Erskine. Steve remembers him - a gentle man with a German accent that only got stern when a big prank went very wrong, only then did he raise his voice. Not even out of anger but strictly out of worry. A practical and easy-going guy. Sucks that he isn’t around anymore.

The email went on to say that with the change of overhead, as the new camp director, he specifically wants a batch of counselors that already have an attachment of the camp. Said something about there being a special factor in a counselor who was previously a camper.

He also said something about there being a weekly stipend, a place to live for the summer, free food, and if it goes well a repeat job for next summer.

When Steve got close to Coulson it felt like he was struck by a bolt of lightning. “Oh, hey! Phil, right?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He said. It was clipped, business-like, but not necessarily cold or closed off. “Rogers. . . you’re in Staff Cabin 2, and you’re in charge of the arts and crafts station.” He handed Steve a camp T-shirt in X-Small, a map of the campsite, and a first-aid kit.

“Weren’t you a camper here in the 90s?” He knew he was holding up the line now so he tried to make it quick. “I’m pretty sure we

Phil looked up from the clipboard and a spark of recognition flares in his eyes. “Oh yeah, Rogers!” He looks like he has something to say but then he looks behind him and he must see the scary redhead smirking again and he looks back. “We’ll catch up later, alright?”

Steve nods and starts walking to Staff Cabin 2. He wasn’t the first one to get checked in but apparently, he was the first one to get assigned to this cabin since no one else was there. It was remarkably a lot like the cabins that he stayed in as a kid, except they seem to have decided that counselors are too old for bunk beds. As soon as you walk in there’s the living/sleeping space with several cots pushed against the walls. On the left wall is the gigantic walk-in closet that they are expected to share (no hangers provided, though). Inside is a floor-length mirror. If you keep walking straight as you enter the cabin you’ll find yourself in the attached bathrooms. Two toilets, two sinks, and two showers closed off with curtains. There are six beds in here, but if he ends up rooming with a bunch of shower hogs he could sneak off to a different staff cabin, probably.

Steve changes into the camp T-shirt. It is a very pale, sunflower yellow, with a forest of green pine trees in the center along with the camp name. It’s clearly a brand new shirt but the design would have you think it’s been through the wash several times. Designed imperfections. It was the perfect size for him, still a little roomy, even. When he examined his pale complexion in the mirror he was comforted by the knowledge that he has the opportunity this summer to gain a natural tan. Not look so. . . ghostly.

“Everyone hold on to your undies I am - “ A voice blasted from the living area of the cabin. “The first one here. Awesome.”

Steve popped out from the closet. “Sorry to bust your bubble.”

The guy that just arrived looked to be younger than Steve - maybe 20, 21 or so. He had a naturally stern face that was canceled out by his jovial, energetic body and facial language. He was only slightly taller than Steve, who stood at 5’5”.

“Another short king!” He exclaimed and bounded his way towards Steve. “Changing in the closet when you’re already alone? Jeez, I thought I had body issues. I’m Tony.”

Steve gets the impression that this guy often comes off as prickly and inappropriate when he introduces himself, but there is a natural openness that leaves Steve feeling that he’s just trying his best. “Steve.” He held out his hand to greet him, mostly out of habit. His mom may have raised him a bit old-fashioned, but it’s never bad to be polite.

“Nice to meet ya, Steve.” Tony looked at his outstretched hand like it confused him, and Steve almost pulled it back but Tony grabbed it. Except not in the traditional way, he pulled it closer to his chest and did a figuration that was attempting to be cool, hip, and trendy. Steve tried his best to follow. After that, Tony tossed his duffel bag on one of the beds with too much force before plopping his entire body on that bed with it, causing the metal bars to squeak and briefly lift off the ground. “I got a question for you, Steve. Are you perhaps part vampire? Or an avid fan of the Twilight series? I’m not judging but I want to know if you’re going to try and get some of this sweet, sweet blood while I’m dreaming of honeybunnies.”

“Honeybunnies?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“You know, girls.” He stretches out on the twin bed, getting. You would think by looking at him that it was 10 at night, not right before lunch. “I’m not secretly some internet furry. Not that kind of degenerate. Unless you are, then it's not degenerate at all.”

Steve nodded, even though nothing was made any clearer. In fact he was left even more confused. “I think bunking with you will be very interesting.”

It wasn’t long before more boys filed into the cabin and started picking their cots. Steve made sure to pick one near Tony, partly because he thought it would be more interesting and partly because he was sure that Tony could accidentally and seriously upset someone else, and this way it will preemptively smooth over some bumps.

He quickly figures out that this cabin is for the second half of the alphabet - Tony’s last name turns out to be Stark. And all boys, so it must be split so there’s two staff cabins for the boys and two for the girls.

As more and more come in to claim cots, talk to each other, start changing out there in the open, Steve starts to feel like he’s drowning in the testosterone. Maybe coming here was a mistake. He didn’t consider at all that he will have to be closeted the entire summer, surrounded by several athletic men around his age. Doing physical activities, sleeping in tight quarters, and there’s a lake so he has to think of many excuses to not be caught there swimming. He tries to relax - things are better than when he was a child - and he goes outside for a fresh breath of air.

He sits on the steps and looks out to the cabin directly ahead, labeled Staff Cabin One. Immediately his plan to catch his breath fails because in the doorway stood someone he hadn’t seen in a decade. Since the last year he ever attended the camp.

To make it worse, he grew up so well. He’s practically an adonis now, except with brown hair. But he is lean, well-fit, with his hair in a stylish quiff that fell just above his eyes. From his memory Steve recalled the color perfectly - chocolate brown, with specks even darker sprinkled throughout. He was wearing jeans slightly too tight so it showed off his figure, with his shirt tucked in to further enhance the shape of his waist.

Steve didn’t mean to openly ogle him for so long. Eventually, Bucky turned to catch his eye. He froze, immediately recognizing Steve. He was mid-laugh, but now his face was dropped and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

Well, shit. He has been caught. If he gets up and walks somewhere, or goes back inside, it would be obvious that he was staring obsessively. Panicking, he let his eyes slide to the other people around. Staying casual.

Eventually, Bucky turns back around and Steve takes this as his opportunity to go to the mess hall.

—------

It’s summer, 1998. Steve is fifteen years old. This is his third year in a row attending Camp Pinely. He didn’t know it at the time, but it was his final year.

There was one week left of the summer. He had had a blast - he went canoeing, beat his record of eating 7 smores before getting sick, and made a ton of new friends. One friend in particular he was very happy to have made.

One friend in particular he was alone with inside the boathouse, near the lake shore. Children were not supposed to be in there, only adults, because there were tools and fishnets and it had a weird smell. But it was the only place for privacy and what they were doing needed to be done in private.

They were kissing. Steve’s first-ever kiss, and probably Bucky’s too but he never got a confirmation on it. He had had a crush on him all summer, and now they were there! Steve hadn’t even set this up - as if he would have had the guts to - Bucky slipped him a note during lunch to meet him inside. It all felt so romantic.

There was laughter outside. Steve didn’t pay it any mind because there were kids playing in the lake, with the watch of a few counselors to make sure they didn’t drown. He should have paid it some mind. The laughter got steadily closer to the shack until suddenly they were bathed in sunlight.

Before Steve could register they had been walked in on, Bucky shoved him as forcibly as he could. There was a split second where their eyes met and Bucky looked terrified before he turned to what turned out to be his friends and started making exaggerated gagging sounds. “He tricked me! Before I realized what was happening he closed the door and pounced on me!” Then he repeated a word that Steve would rather not recall.

They were all laughing at him. He tried to run free but they were closing him off, surrounding him. Treating him like a disgusting animal that had to be trained to know better. Before it got too bad - as in, violent and genuinely unsafe which sadly happens a lot of the time - one of the adult counselors finally noticed and yelled to break it up. Steve used that opportunity to break free and run away.

He didn’t have a planned destination, but he was crying. And running. And with his poor health and terrible lungs, he quickly had trouble breathing. He made it to the nurse’s station in time and Nurse Helen was there to help him.

This is also one of the few places on the campsite that had a phone they could use to call home. Sarah Rogers got a particularly distressing call from her weeping, hysterical son and raced there. Within two hours Steve was home early, planning to never return.

How did he forget? He must have blocked it off with true efficiency. It was hidden so well in the library of his mind that it didn’t even register as there.

What are the chances that he could avoid Bucky for the entire summer? It’s not like they’re campers anymore, they’re here to work. He remembers the arts and crafts section as only needing one, maybe two counselors at the most. If he put his head down and did his job then maybe he could put the past behind him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” a scratchy voice broke him out of his thoughts. Only now did he fully realize that he was sitting at a table in the mess hall, stabbing some tater tot casserole in front of him. He must have been on autopilot for the last ten minutes.

In front of him is the intimidating red-headed girl looking at him with a quirked eyebrow. And her smirk.

“Sorry,” who knows how long she was sitting there with a dinner partner not even registering he was on the same planet.

She shrugged like it made no difference to her that he wasn’t talking. Steve finally took a bite out of his lunch. Any sort of crunch it was supposed to have has been effectively destroyed by Steve’s mashing of it with a fork, but it is still cheesy and potato-y so it’s all good.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Steve asked, diverting away from her question.

“Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Natasha.” He doesn’t try to shake hands. “I’m Steve.”

They start talking. She doesn’t get any less intimidating but Steve does start to get comfortable around her, weirdly enough. They eventually start to talk about their assigned workstations. Steve learned that Natasha is his partner for the arts and crafts station.

“Do you have a background in the arts?” He was directly told in the email that he was offered this position due to his degree in graphic design.

“In a way.” She says. He has learned that Natasha is the type of person who eats her food completely in segments. Main portion first, vegetables next, then fruit, then her sweet treat at the end. Taking small sips throughout so that she finishes it with her last bite. “I got caught tagging in a public place, this is my court-ordered community service.”

Steve nods. “Alright.”

At the end of the meal he finally got to put a face and voice to Nick F., since he took the front of the room and started an announcement. He was an older man, the only actual grown adult in a sea of young adults trying to find their place in society, completely bald and an aura of Military Bred Sterness.

“Thank you all for coming.” His voice is booming and deep. He did not have to do a fake cough or ask for anyone’s attention. As soon as he starts talking everyone quiets down and turns their heads. “I am Nick Fury, you may recognize me as the one who offered you the job not that long ago. This summer is a unique opportunity for us all, as it is my first year as the camp administrator and you alls first year as counselors. If you need anything, please report to my right-hand man Phil Coulson.” The professional man from earlier raised his hand and waved at everyone, smiling. “He will let me know if I need to be involved. There is a large amount of trust you all have been gifted. Do not let me down.” The vibe of the entire mess hall turned anxiously icy. Nick left without another word. Slowly but surely the chatter started to come back.

“Do you know that guy?” Natasha asked him.

“As well as anyone here does,” Steve said. He was confused about how he gave off the impression that he was particularly close to Fury.

“No, that guy.” Natasha pointed behind Steve’s left shoulder. He turned and saw that Bucky was staring holes into the back of his head with huge, sad puppy dog eyes. A spark of anger flared up inside him. Where does he get off to stare at him so sad? When he was directly the cause of one of the worst moments of Steve’s life? Second only to watching his mother wither away to illness as a stupid nineteen-year-old studying art and not something that could have helped him, like medicine.

He holds it in, however. Steve doesn’t so much as roll his eyes before turning back to Natasha. “I don’t think I do.” he was never a good liar and that is a statement he found easier to stand behind.

“He seems to know you.” Thankfully she saw something she found more interesting than picking at Steve’s drama so abruptly got up and left to talk to someone else. Sitting there alone felt like he was a sitting duck, or that there was something else he should be doing, so he tossed out his plate and left the mess hall as well.

Something he doesn’t get to know is that immediately after Natasha left, Bucky excused himself from his own table and started making his way over to him. If Steve had waited a few seconds more he would have been caught. But no, Steve had walked out of the mess hall leaving Bucky standing there, silently, slowly lowering his arm that he raised to tap Steve on the shoulder.

He might have enjoyed the feeling of schadenfreude. If he caught it.

Instead, Steve started walking around, slowly. Looking at everyone else milling around. People watch. Enjoy the environment.

The thing he noticed the most was just how empty this gigantic campsite felt with only a handful of the counselors. Maybe as they get to work it’ll feel more active, and definitely once the campers get here. But it’s a lot of blank space right now. He made his way back to his cabin.

On the steps of the cabin, sitting on the little porch area they were given, was Tony and another guy playing with a chemistry set. Where it came from, he couldn’t tell. But he could see a ton of white smoke from several yards away. Steve jogged to them.

“Are you making bombs?!” He gasped at them. Even though it was only a few yards he was already out of breath. He prays that a week is enough time to work up to anything better than appearing to be knocking on death’s door.

“Eddy!” Tony legitimately brightened up to see him.

“Who?!”

“You! Because you’re pale.” As if that explained anything. The other boy added something to the vial producing all the smoke and it turned from white to blue. Tony continued yapping. “Vampires are pale, and you’re a huge fan of Twilight it’s like the only thing I know about you. Someone in that movie is named Edward. Eddy is short for Edward, boom. That’s how a nickname is born.”

A lot was happening for Steve in this moment.

“Who are you?” Steve turns to the new guy.

“Bruce Banner.” In one hand he adjusts his glasses, the other he holds out to greet Steve. Finally, some good manners in this place. He takes is gladly.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve never actually seen Twilight.” He tells Bruce, who nods and shrugs. “What are you guys doing?”

Tony immediately launches into a monologue about science, chemical measurements, a bunch of words that Steve doesn’t process at all. The information he does gather: Bruce brought the chemistry set just because he’s that kind of guy, they both suffer a severe allergy to the outdoors that presents in a severe distaste of the smell (Steve may prefer the indoors slightly more than the average person but he doesn’t smell anything else but pine and dirt), and they were making something preferable to their sensitive proclivities.

By now they were gathering a crowd. Tony and Bruce looked at each other, smiled wickedly, and dropped the last component into their mixture and ran like Hell. Tony grabbed Steve’s arm to drag him to a safer distance right before their mixture exploded into a mini mushroom cloud and the whole area for miles smelled of vanilla and marshmallow fluff.

“I never should have doubted you.” Steve said to Tony, who grinned in pride. The two of them get cheers, whoops, and celebratory pats on the back from the people nearest to them.

“It’ll only last a couple of hours.” Bruce assures everyone.

The good vibes stay consistent until that night, the first campfire of the summer. It’s good for Steve to know that even the counselors take part in this tradition: having a campfire after the sun goes down, everyone having fire cooked food like hot dogs and smores. You’ll eat more smores at Camp Pinely than you’ll ever have in the rest of your life.

It’s great bonding. An opportunity to check-in. Memories are embedded in the traditions, traditions in the memories.

Steve sits on the same log as Tony and Bruce and somehow he finds himself in the middle. Tony talked enough that Steve rarely had to say anything, and Bruce almost never. Thankfully he’s a funny little guy, Steve found himself laughing quite often. On the log across from them, separated by the fire, sits Natasha, Phil, and another guy that Steve hasn’t met yet. He can assume that his last name appears earlier in the alphabet since he hadn’t seen him move into his cabin earlier.

He’s having a good time so it takes a while for him to notice Bucky is around him again. In fact, he doesn’t even notice until Bruce gets up to go to the bathroom and within seconds Bucky slides into his seat.

“That seat’s taken, buddy.” Tony said, thankfully, because Steve was flabbergasted into silence at the action. At the pure audacity of this guy.

“I’ll just be here for a minute.” Bucky said and shot Tony a charismatic, smoozing smile. A smile that Steve can bet gets him anything that he wants. Bucky turns back to Steve and drops the smile, instantly looking uncertain and anxious.

“Hey, I just - I’m James. I don’t know if you remember me.” He’s wiping his palms on his jeans.

‘Oh my god’ Steve thought. ‘He’s actually introducing himself to me?�� Maybe he was too good of an actor earlier, those times he didn’t meet his eyes must have really fooled him. Certainly, it would be easier for him if Steve admits he does remember, whatever plans Bucky has. He could make him squirm and say no, could see if doesn’t admit his past and sees it as wiping his hands free of it.

That’s not something his mom would want him to do.

“You go by ‘James’ now?” Steve questioned. He remembers little Bucky hating that name, wouldn’t even answer if you addressed him by it. If Steve didn’t recognize him by his looks then he absolutely wouldn’t have remembered him as ‘James’.

For a second he brightened up. Overjoyed that Steve remembered him. But then his face falters, he turns away, coughs. Being remembered for what he did is not a good thing.

“Could we talk? In private?”

There’s a lot of shit that Steve doesn’t want to do and that includes being alone with Bucky Barnes again. After what happened last time. It must have been written clearly on his face because Bucky tilts his head. “Please?” he is practically - no, Literally, begging.

By now Bruce has come back and he is standing there, silently. Wanting his seat back but not wanting to ask for it. Steve would like as few people as possible to be reminded of what happened back in ‘98.

“Fine.” Bucky sighs in relief and they both get up. Bruce gets his seat back.

Steve lets Bucky lead the way. Turns out to be back at the staff cabins. Bucky opens the door to walk in there but Steve planted his feet on the porch. “Here’s fine.”

Bucky relented and closed the door. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m not going to beat around the bush.” He’s wiping his hands on his jeans again. Were his hands always sopping wet or is he just nervous to the point of a literal panic attack right now?

Steve crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything. He gestures, get on with it.

“I think about that summer. A lot.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “And not just - not just what I did wrong. But all of it. It was a great summer. Before I fucked it up at the end. Not that hearing that is any help to you.”

“What happened to not beating around the bush?”

“You’re right. Fuck. I’m not good at this.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really fucking sorry.”

Steve nodded. “Is that it?” He made a move to leave. Bucky stepped in front of him, making a move to stop him, but not blocking off the exit. Steve could keep walking but he stops. He should hear him out, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

“I know it is too little too late. I know that I did something truly shitty. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’m fucking haunted by it, believe it or not.”

“Why not say something sooner?” Steve betrays himself to ask. He doesn’t even care that much about the answer but it was the first thing that came to his mind. And it exited his mouth almost immediately.

“I was scared. I couldn’t find you. I wanted to do it in person. I didn’t know how to say it. Take your pick.” He looked so sincerely and earnestly sad that, despite his best efforts, Steve melted a little bit. “The only reason I accepted the position here is on the off chance that you also got an offer. I swear to God.”

In the background, he saw the campfire being extinguished and everyone starting to stagger their way to bed. “I have to go.”

It was all he could manage to say.

Bucky didn’t try to stop him this time. Steve went to his cabin and straight to bed. He wished he could say he went to sleep, but his mind was racing with Recently Overturned Trauma and he was lucky if he got multiple hours of rest at all.

#so like i didnt a single word of anything in 2023 and this was my attempt to get back into fanfiction writing #i wasnt entirely inspired bc i didnt care for mavel anymore but i fell back on stucky as like. a reliable ship #and then DE was on sale for three dollars and it changed my entire life

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medicinemane · 1 year ago

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So I went to check my old email which I basically use as a burner at this point cause I needed a password reset for something, and I noticed a message from tumblr that I assume amounts to someone having sent them a report that I'm suicidal

Listen man, I'm not upset and it doesn't really do anything as far as I can tell, but what I'm telling you is that it's also worthless

They basically just linked me to hotlines, which I'll be blunt I'm not gonna contact because they really can't help me. Last time I went and I texted this suicide hotline... they meant well, but they just didn't have a single thing they could say or do to help and even missed the point enough that when they asked me about my support system and I said "I don't really have one", they were like "that's great, having a good support system is so good to have!"

Like those are just people on the other end, I've trained for a similar kind of hotline... you're just a person there to listen and try and connect someone to resources. They don't have access to the resources I'd need given my current situation, and a lot of this stuff is stuff that even actual professional therapists can only do so much to help with

The things that are going to improve my mental health are more or less all pretty concrete things. Things like getting my house into really good condition (it's not bad... but there's a lot of stuff that's either like lack of insulation that makes it hard to deal during the winter, or that's like needing to figure out and fix once and for all the basement getting water in it... and I can't rest easy till I have a permanent solution to it)

So what I'm saying boils down to, you mean well but you're not helping

You want to help? Try talking with my directly, but a lot of what's wrong with me is either stuff negative stuff that's gotten real deep down, or a lot more than that it's practical concrete issues like the fact that I've been living life for... well more than a decade at this point, in such a way where lockdowns weren't even something I noticed. So, profound isolation that was driving everyone else crazy but I'm just used to

I don't know... it scares you, you want to help, but I can tell you tumblr will never ever be helpful. Like that fucking koko bot they've partnered with for instance is a super fucking sketchy and scummy company

Also strong word of advice since I feel like there's some overlap here, straight up never call the cops on someone suicidal. You are 100% most likely to piss them off and even get them hurt

Find an actual person who can talk and stay with them, or talk with them and get them to go into some professional place to get help, but never ever call the cops on them cause that's just making life harder on them; and like I said I mention it because calling the cops on someone is coming from the same well meaning place that doesn't understand the situation

So... thanks for your concern, don't do that again, you're welcome to drop by and chat about whatever if you want

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mad-maximoff · 3 years ago

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Dragă

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: You come home from a mission and Wanda wants to help you unwind

Warnings: 18+ only, Language, wlw sex, oral, fingering, loses virginity

Word Count: 2,840

A/N: This is my first X Reader story so I apologize if I ramble or didn’t do so well

(All Romanian/Sokoivan words or sentences will be in italics)

“I don’t know how in the hell they got the drop on us Y/N. I thought we had ‘em surrounded!” Clint stepped off the Quinn jet as you were in front of him.

“Why are you beating on this dead horse Clint? What? You wanna go back and ask the arms dealers how they got the drop or should I send a friendly email?” You had Kate Bishop laughing for the first time as she tagged along beside you. She didn’t warm up to you quite yet due to you being friends with Natasha’s sister Yelena Belova. You were happy though you made her smile. You weren’t so alone if you had a friend your age on the team.

“Oh, that was funny Kate? You were slipping your punches waiting for Y/N to tag in. I watched for the skyline!” All three of you guys got into the brand new compound for all the rest of the avengers.

“Take off your shoes guys! I just mopped the floors.” You take off your shoes seeing Wanda in the kitchen stirring a pot on the burner. You inhaled smelling all the exotic spices you smelt, your senses were in love.

“Whatcha making Wand? It smells yummy.” You darted over beside Wanda’s side seeing a red sauce-looking soup. She looked over her shoulder looking into your eyes. They sparkled matching her olive completion.

“I’m making Paprikash. Real paprikash that isn’t store-bought. That shit is terrible. Here taste.” She stirred around the sauce with a spoon lifting it to your mouth. Her hand is underneath so none will spill. You extend over opening your mouth. She moved the spoon closer lightly letting the bottom touch your tongue.

“Wow! That’s good Wanda. I can’t wait for dinner now.” You turned around going into the fridge for a bottle of water seeing there was none you grabbed a glass running the tab.

“Thank you detka. How was the mission? You look sore.” Wanda looked concerned like you were a wounded animal. She always gave you this look because you weren’t like all the rest of her teammates. They were either enhanced with powerful capabilities or trained to be soldiers/spies. You were just a civilian who admired the Avengers since you were young. Finally getting this shot, proving your worth to be on such missions.

“That I am. My shoulder blades a bugging me again. They keep clicking every time I lift.” You stand next to Wanda again grazing your shoulder against hers lifting your arms over your head. She smelt sweet like vanilla or sugar cookies. It heightened your senses tremendously. You saw Wanda's hand lower the burner putting down the spoon.

“Here. Let me try and help Kotenok.” You loved the way her voice would fluctuate. How her accent would click on and off at any given time. You found Wanda’s sokovian accent very sexy wanting her to say something else.

“You don’t half to Wand. I think it’ll be fine by tomorrow.” You flinched feeling Wanda’s fingers along the top of your shoulders. She chuckled moving closer to you muttering something under her breath. “Come on unzipping your suit Y/N. I promise I won’t hurt you.” Her hands were across your chest. She whispered, “I’ll make your pain go away..” You got nervous thinking someone would turn a corner in a blind eye. You stepped away from Wanda looking at her. Her eyes were burning bright red. The mist was getting bigger dancing around her fingertips.

“I-I can’t..no! I mean..it’ll be fine. I’m gonna take a shower and lay down…yeah.” You idiot! You thought! Why must you always be so nervous and clammy around Wanda? You’ve always had a crush on her since you two met a year ago. Why can’t you just come out and say it you fool!

You trotted down the long hallway connecting all of the bedrooms. Not everyone slept in the compound. Some had their own homes with their families. Some just crashed here until their mission was completed. Wanda’s room was across from yours. Hers was done pretty. All of her posters and bedding matched. As yours was bare. No posters, no pictures. Simple bedding that came with this room and some of your clothes in a garbage bag.

You unzipped your suit slowly pulling it from your back. As you looked in the mirror, you see your back black and purple. Your spine ached to see a huge cut down the middle.

“Fuck!” You sharply inhale touching your spine.

You turned on a light watching as your body moved beside the mirror. Your black bra was too big for you and it seemed the matching panties were too tight. You were all out of place. You heard footsteps down the hallway creeping to a halt to your doorframe.

Wanda leaned in the door frame, she looked rather pissed or worried. You couldn't quite tell for sure. She raised her eyebrows pointedly. Her hand glowed in front of her pointing her index finger to your bed. “Sit. Now.” Wanda got out of the door frame holding your shoulders directing you to the queen-sized mattress. "Don't worry about me, Wanda. I'm completely fine. Just a few scratches that's all!" You nervously laughed feeling her mist grow around feeling the warmth becomes hot. "No. It's not fine. Your back has so many bruises it's creating a map of Africa! Do you think this is fine!? You could have internal bleeding or god knows worse!! Why in the hell didn't go see Helen Cho? She could've stopped before it got worse!" She forcefully pushed you onto the bed tracing her fingers across your spine, every little touch of her fingertips let out a stinging sensation. You wince to yourself trying not to let Wanda catch on. She knew though, you can't hide from her when she has her hands on you. She can feel everything.

"This might take a while for me but I think I can calm you down." Wanda slowly traced higher intertwining her fingers with your bra unclasping it. "We don't need this right now. It'll only get in the way.." You felt your bra becoming loose catching it quickly cupping yourself. "You don't have to do that Wand, I promise I'll let Cho take a good look at me in the morning, but right now I just wanna crawl into bed.." You slightly backed away crawling closer to your pillows. As you looked down at your white bedding you notice, you not gonna get out of this one once you saw Wanda's red mist cover you entirely. "Now, where do you think you're going? Huh, detka?" Wanda straddled your lower back lightly rubbing your shoulders, letting your bra straps fall off your shoulders hitting your elbows. You were laying on your stomach feeling Wanda's thighs clench against your hips. Her hand tucked underneath your stomach latching on to one of your cups throwing your bra onto the floor.

You were about to say something as you felt this wave come over you. All of the pain in your spine was easing away. Wanda's fingertips danced around our skin, her mist intertwining her fingers leaving marks of light on your back.

"You starting to feel better, dragă?" Her body bent down whispering in your ear, her breath was hot feeling her lips graze the top of your ear. You let a tiny moan burring your face down not letting her hear you. "Uh-huh-..." You let out another moan louder. Wanda softly laughed trailing her hands down your back gripping your sides tightly.

With force, her hands tightened more forcefully flipping you onto your back. You quickly covered your boobs with your arms crossing your hands around your neck. "What y/n? Why are you getting so shy?" Wanda caressed her hand on your stomach running up pulling your arms away from your boobs, letting them bounce free. Her hands were so soft. She was still hovering over you with her thighs clenched around your hips. Her fiery orange hair was on her face. You wanted to fix it so bad but it looked so sexy too. Wanda bent down softly kissing your neck. Leaving a straight line down to your stomach. "Ești atât de frumoasă..." She groaned kissing you lower till she got to the hem of your panties. "Huh?.." You looked down wondering what she said since you didn't learn sokovian yet but you knew she said something hot. She grinned looking up at you, her eyes started to glow red. Her cheeks warmed getting a rosy pink. "Haha, you're cute y/n." You were shivering, not because you were cold. You knew what was going to happen but you were nervous. You were new to this, this was your first time. You didn't want Wanda to find out but you couldn't play it off or fake it. You knew you couldn't think about it either, she'd read your mind. You looked down giving a somewhat awkward smile. You saw Wanda's facial expression change, you fucked up thinking about it now. She knows. You tried to hide your face because your expressions speak louder than any word you can say. You felt intensely red across your face.

"You ready fetiță?" Wanda did her signature held tilt raising an eyebrow with a stupid little grin. You couldn't decide if you wanted to tell her how you felt or if you wanted to bite the bullet and go through with it, but how can you say no to this gorgeous woman straddling your pelvis.

You tried to let out a single word but all that came out was a soft moan flowing out of your lips. You finally felt your vocal cords buzz getting enough courage to say something.

"Y-yes Wanda..." Your lips moved to create a slight smile. All of your pain has gone away. All you felt was pure. At this moment.

Wanda's grin turned into a tiny bite on her lip looking down your hips, pulling the hem of your panties down. She stood over you hovering on her knees throwing your panties to the foot of the bed. She turned her head behind her flicking her hand to shut and lock the door with the lights dimming. All of the light you saw was the red light coming from Wanda's hand until she snapped her fingers seeing some of the light of your new candles. Wanda began to lift her black dress over her head wearing nothing underneath except for her black thigh-high socks. She was probably planning all of this you thought. "You wanna know what I said earlier y/n?" She flipped her hair behind her bending down giving little pecks on your neck up to your chin. You were genuinely curious but you were too flustered to think of any form of a sentence. You shook your head letting out a noise. You tried to say yes but it came out as a low moan. Her lips met yours so softly touching even though when they touched it came as a rough surprise. Wanda's lips were soft compared to yours. Yours had a cut on the top from your mission, though it didn't hurt no more it still made you a little insecure. Wanda let go kissing your cheek feeling her breath on your ear.

"I said you're so beautiful, love." She whispered lower her hand down to your hot opening. Her soft finger circled your pulsating clit. You clenched your jaw looking down between Wanda and yourself.

"You are so fucking wet detka.." Wanda's one hand was circling your center while the other was fixing her hair from falling in front of her face. Your moans became loud when you felt one of her fingers slip inside your core. "O-oh my god..W-wand!" You whimpered tripping on your tongue. Wanda grinned loving how she was making you act. She never saw you this way. Frankly, you never saw yourself act this way also. "Awe babydoll, do you like that?" Wanda's naked body shifted around your stomach. You felt her arousal on your skin. When you realized she was grinding on you, you immediately gripped Wanda's hips pushing her down thrusting herself more. Wanda let out a little groan scrunching her nose.

"You're so hot Wanda..my god." Your head tilted back feeling you slowly creeping up to an orgasm, your first every orgasm by another person. Wanda knew it too. You felt your walls starting to tighten, ready to close. She giggled shaking her head.

"Oh no, no kotenok." She pulled out her finger sticking to her ring finger. You bucked her hips wanting her to continue to feel her inside you again. "P-p-please Wanda! Let me cum."

"No dragă. Not like this." She got up moving her body down sitting on her knees. You looked down seeing the beautiful sparkly wet spot she left on your stomach. Her hands clenched the inside of your thighs prying them wide open. You saw her having some troubles with her hair getting in the way, so you twisted your fingers through her hair keeping it up. You knew what was coming next, your entire body shook in excitement. She looked up into your eyes. She was glowing, literally. Her eyes changed from green to dark red.

"You ready dragă?" She bent down. You gasped, you couldn't believe this was happening. Her tongue moved ever so slightly all along your folds. You shifted your thighs moving onto Wanda's shoulders. "Awe fuck!" Your nails dug into her scalp, she groaned into you. "Mmm, fuck you taste so good y/n!!" Her tongue finally went into you. The feeling made you jolt, you tugged at her hair. She loved it. Her arms wrapped around your thighs letting her nails drag along your skin; leaving sharp reddened marks. It stung the first time she did that until the pain turned into pure pleasure almost begging her to dig her nails into your skin. You moaned again, your back arched moving your hips around. Wanda pressed her face deeper into you feeling her mouth closer moving all over you.

"Oh my god, Wanda! Go faster!! P-p-please.." You were hot and flustered. You couldn't think nor did you want to at this moment. All you wanted to think was Wanda and her only. All you see from her was her orange roots on top of her head. Wanda paid more attention to your clit, lightly swaying her tongue across not pushing too hard just yet. Your hands were still intertwined in Wanda's hair, caressing the side of her ears.

"Ar fi bine să vii pentru mine" Wanda muttered against you. Your body twitched against her mouth.

"Uh-huh.." You didn't speak sokoivan, you kicked yourself in the ass that you didn't learn earlier so you can understand what the hell she said. All you did was agree hoping she was saying good things.

"You gonna cum for me kotenok?" Wanda looked into your eyes, her eyes sparkled emerald. It was her diamond eyes that made you whimper. Your teeth caught on to your lip biting down. "Yes, Wanda!" You tried to control your breathing even though Wanda's finger glided your sensitive folds, you let out a moan completely losing control of your breathing. "Are you all mine? Huh?" Wanda laid her head slightly on your thigh circling her finger around your clit. Make your thigh twitch.

"Yes..yes Wanda. I am all yours." You stroked her head lightly, massaging your thumbs on her temples. "Good girl y/n." Wanda went down finish off licking your middle. That little break made your sensitivity stronger. That rush rode on for short time and you felt your first climax coming around the corner. Wanda knew it too, her eyes lit up again. Except a red mist surrounded you. Your entire back sat up by the mist prompting yourself with your hands leaving from her hair.

As you sat up you felt your climax coming fairly quick. "Awe fuck! Wanda! I'm cumming! Fuck!!" Your face was a deep red looking down at Wanda turning into a bright rosy pink. "Than cum than detka.." Wanda went nuts on your clit again making your moans turn into a scream.

Your orgasm hit you hard. It washed over you making your entire body vibrate. Wanda sat up stroking your thigh. You fell back onto the mattress feeling the cold sheets along your spine. "How was that y/n? Do you feel better?" Wanda got up crawling up to meet your gaze. She laid her body down onto yours wrapping her arms around your neck. You lifted your twitchy arms around Wanda's torso. Trying once again to control that breathing.

"That was fucking amazing Wand. I do feel better. Thank you." You turned kissing her cheek.

"Not bad for your first time huh?" She giggled stroking your hair. You cocked your head staring into your eyes, turning a bright red.

"Wait! How in the hell did you know?"

#wanda maximoff x reader #lesbian #wlw fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff

394 notes · View notes

neesieiumz · 4 years ago

Text

6 Months {Izuku Midoriya x Reader}

(Pro-hero!Izuku Midoriya x Former Pro-hero!Reader)

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

L E A V E.

Summary: You were done. Done with everything. So what do you do? You move on. What's new? What's old? And who makes an even bigger space in your heart?

A/n: So this isn't based on another song, well technically it's still based on Sorry, but it's more like a part two to sorry than it being it's own separate part, you feel me? I know it took longer than expected, but there were so many paths I wanted to take and I didnt feel like rushing it. I really wanted to focus on flashbacks for this final part, your decision to leave the pro-hero scene, when Izuku and Melissa started to see each other... etc... I always made a gateway... in case I wanted to continue you and someone else's romance if I ever felt like it... So enjoy!

Support me on Kofi! Commissions are open!

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: Implied NFSW, but no deed is actually done, light drinking, (all in good fun)

___

Falling into your mother’s arms, you spilled everything from last night and this morning. On how you eavesdropped on his conversation, the confrontations from both this morning and at the brunch. Your father wasn’t home, left earlier this morning for his job. Both you and your brother moved out not too long after high school, him going on to college to become an engineer, and you moving into an apartment with Mina and Jirou while you worked for the same hero agency. Your mother was your closest confidant, she was the only one who could come to mind to tell her about what happened. She just held you, rocking you as you cried, cried about your broken marriage, and seeing the girl your husband abandoned you for. You cried about how both she, your dad, and your brother were right. How you should have never listened to him about giving up everything you worked so hard for. She held you in her loving arms, whispering sweet things in your ear.

“I should have listened to you,” you sobbed, holding one of the throw pillows close to you as you sat up on your couch, leaving her hold on you.

Your dress was bunched up to your knees so you pulled the wrinkled material out from under you as you shifted around on your mother’s leather couch. She pulled you into one last hug, the warm embrace making silent tears fall down your face. Your mom pushed the braids falling out of your now-loose bun from your tear-stricken face. Continuing to caress your face slowly, her slightly rough hands provided a familiar comfort from your childhood.

“This is not your fault, you can not blame yourself for his infidelity, nor can you blame yourself for sticking by your husband’s side and decisions. You did what you thought was right and absolutely no one can give you shit for believing in your marriage.” Her soft voice provides extra comfort to you.

“WHAT?!?”

You were in your family home, six years ago. You still had a couple of bandages around your face and arms. Recently, you just completed physical therapy, nearly regaining full control over your limbs. The fight you had was brutal, nearly leveled the entire city. However, you came out successful from it, even if it put you out of commission for over a year. However, since you’ve woken up, you and Izuku have been having intense conversations about the two of you and your futures together, which led you to the decision you’ve made today.

“YOU’RE RETIRING?!?!” Your brother yelled, standing up swiftly out of his chair.

You took a deep breath, keeping your head down as you nodded your head. It was just you, your parents, and your brother here, Izuku currently being in the top 25 heroes, had a lot of work to do so he could join you as you broke the news to them.

“Izuku and I have been talking and seeing how fast he’s going in the Hero Charts. This incident caused us to do some major thinking. The two of us worrying about each other on the job isn’t healthy. Having two heroes in a relationship, especially two who are going as high in the ranks as us as quickly as we are. Considering how there are a lot more people expecting Izuku to go higher since he’s All Might’s prodigy. So, I’ll be retiring and helping Izuku with his career from the sidelines.”

You let out another deep breath as you finished your monologue, your fingers twitching in your lap. You knew this was a decision your family wasn’t going to agree with, after all, it’s not like you don’t have your legacy to meet up with. Your mother, before Miruko, was the highest-ranked female pro hero in all of Japan. You had her legacy to go after since your brother decided to go into the family business with pro-hero gear.

“You can’t be serious!! After everything, you’ve worked for?!?! You’re just gonna give it up BECAUSE IZUKU SAID SO?!”

Your brother was the most pissed, after all, it was always both you and his plan that the two of you would live up to our parent’s legacy. He would become the best support gear inventor and you would become the best pro hero. So saying this puts a damper on the dreams you both had.

“You had one bad fight with a villain, but the doctors said you’re going to be cleared right?” You nodded your head at his question, “so why? Why would you need to retire after that one fight?!”

“Izuku proposed.”

Gasps of shock flew from heri mouths, you smiled sadly as you pulled your hand from under the other, revealing the small, silver ring with the pure cut diamond sitting perfectly in the middle of it.

“He’s the love of my life, and he’s the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with… to have kids with. We both understand how difficult this job is, and we both know how much I wanted to become a pro hero, but since he’s my endgame… something had to give. And so I did.”

Next was your father, having raised you since you were 3 years old. He saw how much you looked up to your mother, and to your grandmother as well. You come from a line from female pro heroes, and it was always your dream to continue that. He’s always supported you throughout the years, remembering all the times the two of you would work in his workshop on new hero gear, both with your brother and without as well.

“Y/n, don’t you think you’re rushing into this decision? This is everything you’ve been working for, and you’re gonna throw it away?”

“I know your concerns but this is for the best for me and him. I know being a pro hero was what I wanted, but…” you trailed off, looking away from your trembling hands.

Your mother, who was sitting beside you, could only stare at your trembling hands. Almost reminds her of the time she told her mother who she was marrying. How nervous she was, not because she was putting her career on the back burner, but because of what happened the last time she decided to pursue a romantic relationship with someone. She got you out of it, but it was still a painful journey. She took a deep breath, before shifting herself to where you were. She placed her hand on top of your own, making you look down at them before slowly turning your head to look at her.

“Are you happy?”

The question caught everyone off guard, their heads turning towards your mother. You slowly nodded your head, smiling at all the memories you’ve made with Izuku. When you first met as a transfer student, your first date and everything else.

“Yeah Mom, I’m happy.”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward as you shook the memory out of your head.

Meanwhile, your mom tried to lighten the mood, “Well, let’s hope your father doesn’t get to him… you know he doesn’t play about you… or your brother either.”

“He won’t be able to land a hit on him unless Izuku lets him.”

“Well, he better let him then!”

You laughed out loud at that, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. You could feel your mom get off the couch, leaning up as she headed to the dining table. Looking through the papers stacked on the wooden table, she pulled out a business card before walking back to where you were still seated on the couch. Your mom sat back down in her original seat, before handing you the same card of laminated cardboard paper.

Renai Miya, divorce attorney at law.

“Renai is a good friend of mine, she gave me that in case anyone I knew was getting advice soon. I’m sure she didn’t expect my daughter but I’m sure she’ll be able to help you out.”

You looked over at your mother, who just gave you another knowing smile. She just rubbed at your shoulders in comfort as you pulled out your phone.

---

Izuku was sitting at his office, ignoring the texts from both Shoto and Katsuki. After the argument and confrontation from this morning, he decided to stay in the office today and complete some overdue paperwork. Typing away on his computer, his mind began to shift from the email he was sent to the hero commission to the argument that happened between him, Kacchan, and Shoto.

“I’m sorry, YOUR WIFE JUST TRIED TO KILL YOU! We don’t know what would have happened if we hadn't come when we did!” Katsuki yelled, throwing his jacket off of his body.

“Izuku, this is a serious matter. We need to know what happened,” Shoto explained next, kneeling in front of Izuku’s crouching figure.

Izuku just shook his head, diving his head into the insides of his elbows. Shoto and Katsuki looked at each other, the concern shining in their eyes. They looked back at their trembling friend, who was now starting to rock back and forth while whispering “I fucked up.” over and over again.

“Izuku,” Katsuki started tentatively, “what did you do?”

Izuku stopped trembling and his rocking ceased as he raised his head slowly, locking eyes with his childhood friend. Katsuki’s leg began moving up and down in anticipation, waiting for him to say something.

“I don’t want to report this, trust me. So just pretend you never saw that.” That was all he said before standing up, pushing past them.

Izuku shook his head, focusing back on his emails. He sent the long paragraph he was typing, after making sure there were grammatical or spelling errors. He then leaned back against his office chair, throwing his head back. A gross, yet very familiar feeling was arising from his stomach, it was slimy, it was painful, it was guilt. He felt guilty, remembering how his wife looked at him at breakfast and right before she left. How the look in her eyes felt more painful than other villains could ever inflict on him.

Closing his eyes, his mind slowly drifted to a memory, a memory from three months ago.

It was dark, and Izuku was tired, so very tired from the shift he worked. However, he needed to do this. He needed to end whatever the hell he and Melissa had. The way they were conversing over private messages was getting too much. In a week would be his wedding Anniversary, and how his wife, Y/n, surprised him, reminded him about what he and Melissa had.

And how wrong it was.

He wore a black, sleeveless turtleneck, paired with a dark coat along with dark jeans. He had fake glasses on his face and his curly was positioned to cover his face so people wouldn’t recognize him. He kept his head forward as he approached the apartment complex Melissa mentioned she was moving into. After living on I-island for all of her life, she wanted a change of pace, especially since what happened with her father way back when. So she got a job as a top hero support inventor at the company where Izuku got his extra gear from. Since it’s also where Hatsume worked as well. He opened the door and walked into the lobby. He looked around the expensive-looking area, seeing the receptionist, and only one other person sitting on the complementary couch talking on the phone. He walked to the receptionist, who greeted him with a smile.

“Are you here to see someone?”

He nodded and gave his fake name, the one he told Melissa he’d be using, along with the apartment number that she gave him. The receptionist simply smiled before typing in her computer, before reaching over to the phone and pressing a couple of the buttons. Izuku could hear someone pick up, a muffled voice through the phone.

“Yes, Ms. Shield, A Iseada L/n is here to see you.”

Izuku took a deep breath, hearing the fake name he gave along with his wife’s maiden name. The receptionist gave off acknowledging hums to the person on the phone, who Izuku knew was Melissa. He rocked himself against his heels, feeling his fingers twitch around in his pockets.

“Alright, I’ll send him right up!” She ended the call, placing the phone back in its holder.

She then smiled at Izuku before pointing at the elevators behind him, “you can use an elevator. Ms. Shield lives on the fifth floor.”

Izuku nodded and thanked her before turning around to the elevators. He picked on towards the left and stepped inside of it, waiting for it to close before choosing the button that said “five.” The doors closed as generic elevator music played throughout the rising mechanical box. Izuku sighed, pulling off the fake glasses, before pushing his curls out of his face.

Third floor…

Fourth floor…

The elevator dinged as the door opened, revealing the fifth floor. Izuku stepped out of the elevator, using the signs on the walls to find his way to Melissa’s apartment. Walking past all the other doors, of the patrons of the apartment, who were currently sleeping to the world. Unaware that their number one hero was sneaking past them, claiming to be ending an illicit relationship.” Seeing the apartment number up ahead, Izuu could feel his heart beat faster. Taking another deep breath, he stopped right in front of the pitch-black door. Swallowing his spit, he closed his eyes before knocking on the door a couple of times. Almost immediately after he knocked, the door opened, causing Izuku’s eyes to shoot open, jumping back a little as Melissa stepped into the doorframe. Izuku was about to speak when his eyes drifted down to what she was wearing. It was a simple white t-shirt, ending right at her upper thigh. Izuku licked his dry lips, before looking back up at Melissa’s face who was giving him a knowing smile, that looked smug as well.

“Izuku,” her usually peachy tone came out a little subtle, silky and sultry, “I’m so happy to see you after so long. Come in.”

Izuku simply nodded as Messlia stepped to the side, allowing him to enter her expensive apartment, which could be classified as a penthouse. Izuku looked around, his eyes landing on all the decorations around her living room. He walked toward her wall, where she hung pictures. There were pictures of Melissa with her dad, her mom, All Might, and a couple of her friends from I-island. He continued looking around, before his eyes landing on a picture of the two of them, back when he was a first-year.

“You were so short back then,” Izuku heard Melissa say, as she came to stand next to him.

Izuku just nodded, continuing to look at the frames. He was enveloped in the nostalgia he was facing when he didn’t even notice Melissa coming up behind him. He only noticed her when he felt a hand coming up around his waist. He froze, his heart pounding away in his ears. She then stood right behind him, before pressing up against his back next, her hands now circling his waist.

“Melissa…” he started, feeling her fingers mess with his zipper and belt under his overcoat jacket.

God, was she wearing anything under that shirt? He could feel her breasts, her hardened nipples pressing against his back. He took another deep breath, licking his lips before moving his hands to where her own was and prying them off his belt, just as she was beginning to unbuckle it.

“Melissa, we can’t do this. I’m married. Happily married at that. I can’t keep doing this to her.”

Melissa only hummed, moving her body from behind his own, stepping in front of him. She was wet, her long wavy dripping down her face and body. The water from her wet hair dripped onto her shirt, her white, very thin shirt. Izuku’s breath hitched as he slowly glanced down her body, her nipples visibly being shown through the fabric.

“Yet, you can’t keep your eyes off me Izuku.” Hands grabbed at his jacket, pulling him closer to her.

Izuku gasped as Melissa brought her hand, cupping his face before bringing it down. Izuku gasped once again as he felt lips upon his own, feeling her other hand reach inside his jacket to pull him closer by the waist. Izuku was about to push her away, he needed to push her away. God, he was married for fucks sake, to someone who loved him dearly. But her lips, they felt so good to him. Glossed from the shower she took, they tasted of mint and strawberries. Izuku, taking a deep breath, went to push off his jacket, never letting go of the kiss. Mellissa, smirking into the kiss, helped him out of the jacket before squealing as Izuku scooped her up before slamming her on the wall.

“This is a one-time thing,” he mumbled against her lips, using his hips to hold her up against the wall as he took off his shirt next.

“Yeah…” Mellissa said with a skeptical tone, feeling his hands go under her wet shirt next.

“A one-time thing…”

Izuku groaned, throwing the papers in his hands across his desk. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself out of his desk. He stood up from out of his chair, walking over to the wall which was replaced with windows, looking down upon the city of Mustafa. He could hear the faint sounds of cars driving and honking, he could see the civilians, everyone he protects. Looking across the street, he could see a cafe. It was one that he frequents since it’s so close. The door opened, and it revealed a couple. A laughing couple. The man was holding a medium-sized bag, with the logo of the cafe plastered across the bag. He was wearing a dark brown suede jacket that was buttoned shut. The woman was wearing a matching jacket, wearing as a dress, her curly hair pulled up in a bun. She held their coffees as they walked along the sidewalk. Izuku smiled sadly, before looking over to the couch in his office.

Laughter rang out inside the office, the sun had already gone down a long time ago and the night shift heroes were all out patrolling, leaving Izuku, a couple of sidekicks, and a couple of more janitors. It was your anniversary, but unfortunately, a string of villain attacks happened today. This pulled Deku out of his day off and kept him away. So, you decided to surprise me with dinner at his office. You cooked shrimp alfredo, packing it in pretty containers, before stopping by a couple of stores, buying a fancy cake that said “Happy Anniversary.” The last thing you bought was some expensive alcohol, a bottle of wine and champagne just in case. She then dressed up, a dark green silk dress paired with a matching coat and heeled shoes. She brought a few decorations before carrying all of that, using your clouds. Izuku smiled once he walked into the office with everything, abandoning his work and helped you set up the table.

The two of you enjoyed dinner together, talking about your day, specifically on how Izuku was swamped with back-to-back villain attacks. To the point where he was the same police officer twice in two different scenes. After dinner, the two of you move to the couch, still holding your wine glasses now filled with champagne.

“I have a gift for you,” Izuku mentioned, pushing himself up off the couch before going behind his desk, going through the drawers.

You giggled, shifting around the couch to get a little more comfortable, your jacket long discarded. Izuku hissed out a “here it is!”, before pulling out a neatly wrapped box, closing the drawer with his foot. You took another sip of your bubbly alcohol as Izuku skipped over to you with the box in hand.

“Here you go, darling!”

You smiled, placing your glass on the small lamp table to the right of you before sitting up and taking the box from your husband. He smiled at you as he sat beside you, seeing you begging to open up the carefully placed wrapping paper. Once all the wrapping paper was removed from the box, you gasped, seeing the logo on the box. BVLGARI. A smile slowly appeared on your face as you untied the golden silk ribbon. Slowly lifting the top of the box, you pulled out of the pure white tissue paper. This revealed one of the most beautiful necklaces and earrings you’ve ever seen. It was an emerald necklace, it had two emeralds, and also was decorated with mini diamonds along the border, and considering the brand, you knew it was real. The earrings were dangly and matched the way the smaller emerald looked on the necklace.

“Izuku… it’s beautiful…”

He smiled, taking the box out of your hands before taking the necklace out of the box. He whispered at you to turn around. Following his instructions, you swept your goddess braids to the side as he placed the necklace around your neck, the cool feeling of the metal tingly against your warm skin. Izuku then connected the chain, letting the necklace fall against your nape before leaning over your shoulder and placing a light kiss on top of her almost-bare shoulder. You shuddered, leaning into his touch as his hands moved from your shoulders, trailing down your body to rest them on your hips. You let out a moan, feeling him give your neck a nip, reaching up to grab him by his messy curls. You smirked, before sighing into the neck kisses he was leaving on your neck.

“You smell,” he inhaled slowly, “really fucking good.”

Giggling at his words, you placed your own hands on top of his own before turning around. You lifted yourself off the chair. Izuku lifted an eyebrow as you placed your hands behind your back.

“I have a gift for you too, it’s not a material gift but…” you trialed off as you reached up the straps of your dress, before beginning to slowly pull them down, revealing the thin straps of your expensive lingerie.

Izuku’s eyes sparkled as your dress trailed down your body, revealing the expensive material cut and crafted to fit your body perfectly. The way the emerald green clashed perfectly with your deeper skin. Your manicured hands trailed down your body as your dress pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the sinful lingerie and the heels to match. Izuku licked his bottom lip as you slowly walked over to him, dragging your heels with each step. Lifting yourself, you slowly placed yourself on his lap, feeling Izuku’s hands immediately attach themselves to your hips. He gave you a sly smile, looking up at you.

“And you look so amazing,” he gave your body another glance, making you smirk and lean back, using your arms and hands to steady you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck before diving into a kiss. His lips tasted of mint and strawberries, it was a new taste but one you didn’t mind. Deepening the kiss, you gasped as you felt Izuku’s hard on all the way through his pants.

“I love you so much, Izuku Midoriya.”

A moment of silence went by.

“I love you too, Y/n Midoriya.”

Izuku took a deep breath and was about to open the next one when his phone, his personal one, started ringing. He reached in the drawer and pulled it out and looked at the screen. Sweetheart was calling, a picture of you and Izuku at your wedding anniversary plastered across the screen. Izuku was less blacked up back then, and you still had a crutch from your physical therapy from your incident. But god did you both look so beautiful and happy. Izuku was wearing his suit from the wedding but without the jacket and a couple of buttons unfastened. You, however, changed out of your wedding dress into a white velvet dress that was strapless and came with these long gloves in the similar fabric that you only wore for official pictures. Izuku was carrying you bridal style along with the rest of you and his family and his closest friends.

Izuku simply smiled sadly, before answering the call.

“Y/n?”

He heard nothing at first, nothing but the phone static so he called out your name again. This time he heard someone take a deep, trembling breath as if they had been crying for a long time.

“Izuku.” Your voice was scratchy, and hoars too. Izuku could feel his heartbreak and drop to his ass all at the same time. He did that.

God he was supposed to be a hero, save people and never let them down.

Now he may have just ruined his marriage.

“Y/n.” He said again, “how- how are you?”

“I’ve called a divorce lawyer.”

Oh. Straight to the bullet.

“We can’t- we can’t talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about? You did this to me. You did this to us. Now face the fucking consequences of your actions.” Your voice was scratchy, the rasp appearing with each word you say.

“I know what I did.”

“And yet, you still did it.”

Izuku took a deep breath, leaning back into his chair. He looked up at the ceiling of his office, looking at the dazzling, overhanging chandelier in the middle of it.

“So there’s nothing I can say or do to convince you to stay?”

“You can have the house, as long as you pay me alimony for the next two-three years, for a reasonable price of course.”

You completely ignored his question, going straight into what was going to happen next. Izuku took another deep breath, this time leaning against his hand as he placed his elbow, pointed up, against his desk.

“So this is it?”

“This is it, Izuku. I told myself I would never lessen myself for a man, and I already broke that when I quit my job. I’m not gonna keep doing that to myself.”

“I-I love you.”

You gave off an airy chuckle as if you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. And with that you ended the call, those being one of the last words you’ll be saying to him until the meetings between the two of you and your divorce lawyers.

---

“Y/n?” A muffled voice called out, pulling you out of your sleep along with knocks on your door

You pushed yourself off the bed, throwing the hotel blankets off your body. It was late at night, you went back home after your impromptu visit with your mother. You packed up what you could in one go before stuffing it in your car. You couldn’t see Izuku after that, so you tried your best to remove any trace of yourself from that house. You were just about to fall asleep, the tv playing a random 90s show for background noise. Digging through one of your suitcases, you found a robe to wrap around your body before moving towards the door.

You summoned lightning in one hand as you checked who was at the door. Seeing red-and-white hair, along with a bright blue eye and a dull grey eye, you took a deep sigh of relief before slowly opening the door. Standing there, wearing a raincoat and holding a closed umbrella was Shoto Todoroki. His hair that grew since high school was pulled back in a ponytail as he looked down upon with concerned eyes.

“Y/n…”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as he said your name. You then opened them back up before giving him a sad smile.

“Shoto… can I help you?” You leaned against the doorway, placing a hand in your waist.

“I heard from Izuku, the two of you are getting a divorce?”

You leaned into the hallway, looking to see if anyone saw him before pulling him into your hotel room. You closed the door and locked it behind you immediately before turning on the light. Shoto looked around the luxury rented room, seeing all of your suitcases and other items stacked up against a wall. Feeling your hands tremble, you sat on your bed, folding your hands underneath themselves.

“How did-“ your voice came out raspy and dry, so you cleared your throat before speaking again.

“How did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

Shoto simply smiled, “being the #3 hero has its perks. I figured you didn’t want a lot of people crowding around you so I said I’d talk to you.”

Hearing that, you lifted your head swiftly, “people already know about the divorce?”

Shot shrugged off his raincoat, revealing the long sleeve black turtleneck he was wearing. He placed his umbrella in a random corner before going to sit beside you on the bed.

“After what happened this morning, Izuku only told us that you’re leaving him… and wouldn’t tell us why. We called everyone, Uraraka, Iida, Kirishima, we even called his mom and All Might… all he said was that his marriage was over. No reason as to why…”

You let out a slight chuckle, your shoulders jumping slightly at the irony of the situation.

“So the only person you could come to was me, right?”

Shoto simply nodded his head, shifting his body closer to you.

“Y/n… I know you… you aren’t this rash person. You wouldn’t come to this decision on a whim. I thought you and Izuku were okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you spoke, “I thought we were okay too… Shoto I… he…”

Your body shuddered and shook as sobs flew out of your mouth. As tears fell, you covered your face and turned away from Shoto, hunching over yourself. That’s when you feel hands, one warm and the other cold, pull at you, grabbing at your waist before pulling you into a warm body. Shoto’s comforting hands and his placing you on the fireside of his body allowed him to let it all out once again. He didn’t say a word, only letting out soft shushes in your ear as you continued to cry.

You could hear nothing else other than the air conditioning and your cries echo throughout your room. It felt like an eternity before you slowly started to quiet down. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself out of Shoto’s hold before getting up to get a water bottle. Shoto, his eyes still shining with concern, said nothing as you twisted the cap open and drank half the bottle.

As the pudding of your head slowly went away, you placed the bottle on the desk before sitting back on the bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry my eyes out all over you,” you apologized, grabbing one of the pillows to hold closer to your body.

Shoto shook his head, waving off your concerns, “it’s okay, it’s black anyways.”

You just nodded your head and looked away.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Why are you and Izuku getting a divorce?”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing with everything you’ve been through… the day you met Izuku, the day you asked him out for the first time, the day he asked to be your girlfriend, the day he proposed… the day you two got married… everything.

“Izuku… he cheated on me…”

It was silent after that, the buzz of the air conditioning and the beeps of the cars below the two of you filling the tense air.

“He… he what?”

You bit your bottom lip as you spoke again, “he cheated on me, with Mellissa, you remember her right? Melissa Shield? All Might’s “niece”?”

Shoto nodded his head, shifting his body to face forward as he leaned forward, using his hands to steady himself. He lifted his head to the ceiling as he fully processed your words.

“Oh… oh wow… I never thought that he would do that.”

You scoffed, flopping back into the bed, “well me neither, and yet… here we are.”

You started to laugh, laugh at this situation, laugh at here you are now. God, everything was so fucked, wasn’t it? Feeling the bed shift, you could feel Shoto lay down on the bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you before pulling you into him once again, this time leaving you on his right side so you could cool down. The feeling left sighing, leaning into his touch even more.

“Izuku is an absolute idiot, and I’m glad that you’re leaving him at the first sight of disrespect.”

Coming from Todoroki and his background, those meant a lot to you. You smiled before lifting your head to look at him.

“Thanks, Shoto, that means a lot.”

He smiled, before slowly removing his hands from your waist.

“I should let you sleep, I just wanted to come to check up on you.” He bent over to grab at his umbrella before turning around to grab his raincoat.

Sniffling, you nodded your head, wiping away your tears before getting up to see him off, “thanks for coming to check up on me… even though the way you found me was a little creepy.”

—-

You officially divorced three months after that day, Izuku tried to hold out as long as he could but soon enough even the number one hero couldn't hold out that long. The number of times you had to tell him you weren't going to come back to him was astounding, his stubbornness knew no bounds. You allowed Izuku to keep the house and he was to pay you a hefty amount of alimony along with the money he was to pay you for spousal distress.

When news came out that the number one hero and his wife would be divorcing, the media went into a frenzy. Even bigger than the one about your wedding. You had to rely on your family to help you out until the news and paparazzi left you alone. It was even worse on Deku, being the top hero and not even able to save his marriage? Talk about a blow to his reputation, it almost cost him the #1 spot. If it wasn't for the Incident at the Kasona Mall, where a villain decided to blow up a mall, where he saved over 50 people in one swoop, Bakugo would have finally been able to claim that #1 spot.

Speaking of pro-heroes.

H/n is back on the scene! Officially signing with The Todoroki Agency!!

You were a pro-hero again, stepping back into the spotlight after over six years. After not much deliberation, and encouragement from friends alike, you decided to come out of retirement once more. You had to retake the licensing process and test of course, but you passed with ease. Being a hero was almost like riding a bike, it was ingrained within you. After The Hero Commission reinstated you, you got so many offers. From Fatgum to LeMillion, and Gang Orca. However, you already promised a certain person that you would join up with him.

“You sure you want me Shoto?” You were sitting in his penthouse, visiting him after he got hurt in the Incident at Kasona mall.

The two of you had gotten closer ever since that day he found you in your hotel room. He helped you get back on your feet, helped you pick out a new house to live in, (since you left the house to Izuku), and helped you study to retake the test. He nodded, shifting his position on his couch. The movement however, caused him to wince as he had to move his arm, which slung into a cast. You immediately got up and helped him move into a more comfortable position without straining himself. He thanked you for the help as you sat back down, grabbing your glass of wine.

“Yeah, you were an amazing hero when you were active years ago. I know this is a decision I’ll lose no sleep over.”

You chuckled, sipping on the wine he put out for the two of you. He smiled softly at you, his intense stare causing your body to heat up slightly, or that could be from the alcohol, you honestly didn't know. You licked your lips, shifting your legs to help lessen that heated throb between your thighs.

“Alright, I guess I’m joining your agency.”

You grew out of your old outfit, so with the help of Hatsume and other designers, you got a whole new outfit. Instead of the original leotard/bodysuit you had when you were younger, along with the thigh boots, it all connected into all one large jumpsuit. It was black with purple accents adorning all across the outfit along with a brand new cape. You turned around, summoning clouds to lift you as you twirled around. Hatsume, the designer who made your new hero costume, Hokkaido, and Mina, who you also told about the true reason you and Izuku got divorced, all smiled as you felt out your new outfit.

“Well?” Mina asked, smiling as you landed on your feet.

You turned around, trailing your hands down your body, feeling the aft fabric and metal accents clash together on your body before smiling at yourself in the mirror.

“I love it.”

Your office was on the same floor as Shoto’s, him constantly relying on your knowledge and wisdom on other matters. The two of you were the leaders in the recent missions the two of you had taken together. This whole process was a lot like riding a bike, coming back easily. You had missed this, you had missed this so much, and you could tell the world and missed you too.

The media accepted your return with open arms, jumping right back to the top 20s. You were a very powerful hero after all.

After three months of coming back, making it six months since your divorce, your parents decided to throw a party for you. To celebrate you coming back, and ranking high on the Billboard Chart in so little time. You tried to get yourself out of it but they took no excuses. So you decided to make the most of it, you felt like a whole new woman. Placing your braids in a bun, you wore a strapless black velvet dress with matching long-sleeved gloves. You slipped on some ankle-strap, black stilettos, and pearl jewelry set to complete the look. The party was small but it was filled with life, all of your old classmates and even your old co-workers from your old agency even came. Mina, Jirou, Tsu, and even Yaomomo, as busy as she is, came. Kirishima even got Bakugou to come. Everyone was so excited to see you come out of retirement and take to the streets again. Some did try to pry into your broken relationship with Izuku, but you just ignored them and told them to enjoy themselves at the party.

“Y/n.”

You turned around to see Shoto standing there with two champagne flutes in his hands. You smiled and walked up to him, hands extended out for a hug. He wrapped his arms around the best he could with the two drinks in his hands. You giggled at his struggle as he tried to step back without spilling the drinks.

“I see your hands are full, Boss.” You winked as you took one of the flutes of champagne out of his hands.

He just chuckled as you guys cheered, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. As the sweet liquid hit your tongue, your eyes trailed down his body at the suit he was wearing. All black suit with the jacket, with a white dress shirt, red tie and tailored to perfection. You licked your lips as he breathed in, seeing his chest press up against the white fabric. Clearing your throat, you pulled your eyes away from his chest as you looked up at him finishing his drink. You smiled at him and he returned it as he placed the glasses on an empty table.

“You seem so much happier.” You heard Shoto comment behind you.

You turned to face him and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Shoto walked up to you, the proximity between you two making your heart pound this a little faster. He leaned down, using his right hand to make you look in his eyes.

“When you first announced your retirement, and when I saw you after that… I do not doubt that you were happy but…” he trailed, his grip on your chin tightening slightly.

“But… but what?” You let out a whisper, feeling his thumb softly move against your skin.

“There was still this sadness in your eyes, that I could never pinpoint but now… I can’t see it at all.” He let go of you after that, taking a couple of steps back.

You took another deep breath, pressing a hand against your chest to feel your beating heart.

Smiling at Shoto, “thank you, that means a lot.”

The two of you continued to drink together, whether it be champagne or something stronger. The more the drinks came around you two, the two of you drank, and the more you two drank, the more handsy the two of you got. Shoto’s arms never left your waist and would find themselves trailing lower and lower down your body. You would find ways and excuses to slowly caress his face or his chest. The two of you would just get closer and closer. Luckily, most everyone around was drunk so even if they did notice, it was unlikely that they would notice. Soon enough, people began to leave, wishing you the best of luck and congratulations.

Then it was just the two of you. Shoto, despite being as drunk as you are, helped carry you to your bed upstairs. As he laid you in the bed, you reached out to him, pulling him down onto you and your bed. You giggled as he flopped on his back, allowing you to quickly straddle him.

“Y/n,” he giggled, he was more emotional, happy drunk, “Y/n why are you doing?”

You smiled, licking and biting at your lips as your hands trailed down his body. Feeling at his chest, before trailing down his abs, your hands and fingers going ever ripple and ridge on his body before landing right in the top of his pelvic area, feeling his hard-on poke out through his slacks. You hissed slowly as you began to rock into him, your dress riding up with every movement you made. Your movements caused him to whisper curses under his breath, his hips buck as he grabbed onto your waist tightly. You gripped at his shoulders as he guided you up and down his waist, his touch leaving your skin electrified, the opposite temperatures causing trembles throughout your body. You then leaned down to plant light kisses against his neck

“You’re so fucking handsome,” you whispered against his skin, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt.

He just smirked before flipping you on your back, using his knee to spread your legs.

——

It was a week after the party and you had just gotten back from your shift of patrol. It was early in the morning, say almost 4 am, and you were ready to go home and get some sleep. Saying goodbye to your sidekick, you walked towards your office to get some final papers before going home. As you opened the door, you could feel dull light entering your vision. So you turned and followed where it was coming from only to find yourself right outside of Shoto’s door. That’s where you could hear the argument.

“Izuku I—”

“NO— I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU, YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY EX-WIFE!”

“I think you’re the last person to be concerned about what she does now!”

“You’re one of my closest friends, I’ve known you the longest! And you just stab me in the back like this!?”

“I think that you should leave Izuku before I make you. What Y/n and I have, it’s none of your business.”

You could hear a slam, and hear something break before hearing heavy stomps echo throughout the room. You hoped it didn’t come to them full-on fighting, you knew Shoto could handle himself against, however, when Izuku was mad, Lord did he get mad. You hope you won't have to face him again, after all this time.

“I don’t want to hear a word you have to say!! I should have known, you’ve ALWAYS been chasing after her! Since our time at U.A!

You tilted your head at that, confused at what he meant. Shoto has been chasing after you since high school? You thought that Shoto always had a thing for Yaomomo, despite her and Jirou getting engaged recently. It was because of that, you believed Shoto had shifted his focus onto you…

“So what? I thought I left her in good hands, out of all my friends, you were the ONLY one that I thought could give her a good life. I thought you could love her and only be with her! Now I see that I couldn’t even trust you with that! So you don’t get to decide how she spends her time and who she spends it with! Not after what you did to her!”

It went quiet after that, but you could still see the heavy breathing out of both of them. You bit your lip, heart pounding as you grasped at the wall, staring to hear to see if they speak under their breath.

“What… what are you talking about?”

“She told me… she told me what you did... How you cheated on her with Melissa. Don’t give me that look, I’m not gonna tell anyone. She asked me not to, it’ll do no one any good if it got all. They’ll just hound her for months for this.”

You could feel your body begin to rock back and forth, you could feel the tension rising all the way from the place where you would stand.

“So I say again, you have no right to have any say about what she does in her own time. Even when she was married to you, she was never yours! She’s her own woman, and after being suffocated by you, she deserves to do whatever she wants. I’ll be here, no matter what, and I’ll stick by her because that’s what people who truly love someone do!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, you could feel tears swell in your waterline. Taking a deep breath, you stood up slowly, brushing off any dirt or dust collected on your lap before walking towards the door. You gave a knock on the door, before slowly turning the doorknob to reveal a trashed office. Plants turning upside down, smaller tables flipped around, and books spread all across the floor. Your eyes then landed on the two of them, standing behind the bigger office desk. Izuku was holding Shoto by his shirt, and the two of them had intense looks on their faces. You took another deep breath, seeing the way Izuku looks after so long. He grew out his beard, despite him hating it so much. His already scruffy, curly hair grew even more unruly. His eyes turned towards you, the shock after seeing you so long causing him to lose his grip on Shoto.

“Y/n…”

You closed your eyes and rolled your neck before closing the door behind you.

“Shoto is correct, what I do with my time is absolutely none of your business Izuku. We’re done, we’ve been done for six months. If I’m going, to be honest, we’ve been done for a year… since you had an affair with Melissa for six months as well,” you stated, slowly walking up towards the two of them.

“So what I do with him, what I do with anyone… is no longer your business. Now get out!”

Izuku stood there, shocked at your words, slowly turning his body to face you.

“Y/n I…” You made a motion with your hands, quieting him.

“Izuku Midoriya, get out now!”

He jumped back, before turning back to Shoto, giving him one last glare before walking past you towards the door. You kept your back towards him, and the door as well, as he opened it before walking out, shutting it behind him. With that, you then turned to the last man standing in the room. You gave him a soft smile, slowly shaking your head as you amble across to him. You placed your hands on his biceps as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He smiled down at you, before leaning in for a soft kiss. You chuckled and smiled into the kiss, tightening your grip on his arms. You could feel the grip you had on you tighten with every second of the kiss. Once you let go, you slowly reached up to caress the side of his face with the scar with your hand.

“You look stressed… is it because of your day? Or because of the walking trash that just walked out?”

He chuckled softly at your words, shaking his head. You smiled as you walked towards his desk, moving some of the papers off before sitting on top of his desk. Shoto gave you an up and down glance, before walking towards you and standing in between your legs.

“So… why was Izuku here?” You asked him, rubbing at his shoulders and arms.

Shoto took a deep breath before leaning forward and laying his head on top of your shoulders.

“He came up here, accusing me of different things. I never found out he found out that the two of us were seeing each other… I was more focused on other things…”

Izuku was always so stubborn, that could be a good or bad thing depending on who side you were on. You sighed, nodding your head as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Let’s go to your place? I’m really tired and I honestly just want to get as much sleep as I can.”

You could feel Shoto smile into your shoulder, before nodding. You were about to push him off of you, so you could both get what you need and walk out together, a sudden force whooshed you off your feet, arms grabbing at you and carrying you in a bridal position.

“Shoto!” You squealed, holding on to his shoulders.

He just softly chuckled once more, as he carried you out of the office, nothing but smiles on the two of you’s faces.

___

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crashdevlin · 4 years ago

Text

Jump The Shark

Author’s Note: This is part nineteen of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: When John gets a call from the youngest son he never got to meet, Y/n goes with him to find out what happened to the one-night stand John had back in 1990.

Pairing: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader

Word count: 3597

Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, mentions of physical violence, mentions of mindfuckery, mentions of ferality, pining, did I mention angst?

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

You hadn't said anything. Not from the moment you and John found the truck. You climbed up into the cab and changed into jeans, a black and green plaid flannel and a pair of hiking boots. You dropped your suit skirt and blouse out the window going 80 down the interstate, and then you closed your eyes and listened to the Rolling Stones.

You had to open your eyes when your memories started attacking you.

Dean had been so sure that you were the one he wanted, the one he was looking for...but that was Dean Smith and Y/n Colt. That was a Stanford MBA and a former Miss Teen USA runner-up. The idea that he wanted to mark you was particularly hurtful and you were kinda glad you made him wait because you weren't sure if it would have reset like the first mark Sam gave you and the last thing you wanted was for Dean to be tethered to you when he could barely stand to be around you.

He only wanted you because he was someone else. He was someone else, but his soul was still stuck on you. You both felt that pull because you were connected but he didn't want you. Smith liked Colt, but Winchester would never love Y/l/n.

John just drove. It was obvious he had no destination in mind, he just pointed the truck West and drove. Part of you wished that he would go back to Mississippi but you knew that your semi-normal was gone...and it was better. You were a hunter and so were your alphas. No normal for you.

"It hit her hard, Sammy," you heard John whispering as he drove when you woke up a few hours into Missouri. "She hasn’t been that close with your brother in years and the fact that it was all fake is killing her."

A pang of sadness hit you as your brain called forth what John was talking about. The haze of sleep had taken the memory, but now it was clear why your heart felt like so many broken pieces shoved into a box in your chest.

"Yeah, we know that but he won't say it and she probably wouldn't be able to hear it now anyway." John sighed as Sam spoke through the phone. "Son, I don't know what we can do other than what we always do. If you need help, just call, but she definitely doesn't need to be around your brother for a while. All right. Keep me updated," John said before setting his phone on the dashboard. "I know you’re awake, 'mega. Can't fool me."

"Wasn't trying to fool you. Just letting you finish your conversation," you responded, sitting up and stretching as best as you could in the truck cab. "What'd Sam want?"

"Tell me that the whole deal in Cincinnati was the Angels fucking with us. Specifically fucking with Dean. They wanted to prove to him that he was always supposed to be a Hunter or something."

"And we just got pulled along for the ride? That was nice of them." You rolled your eyes and reached down for your purse, pulling out a travel mouthwash. "So, what, everything's dandy now?" you asked as you took a drink of the mint liquid, swished it around in your mouth and swallowed.

"You know, you're supposed to spit that out, right?"

"Only quitters spit," you said automatically. You ran your hand across your face as you dropped the bottle to the floorboard. Dirty jokes Dean told you as a teen were not what you needed to get out of your funk. “I’ve put worse things in my body.”

“Girl, we...we’ll get through this.”

“Not like we have a lot of options, right?” You licked your lips and shook your head. “I’m fine, John. I slept. I’m better. I’m fine.”

“When are you gonna learn that it’s useless to lie to me?” John asked.

“I’m sure it’ll sink in eventually,” you responded, chuckling. “I promise...I’m going to be fine.”

“I know you will,” John said, reaching over to pat your knee.

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

A few weeks passed and you were getting better at putting it behind you. The might’ve-beens dragged up by the Angels in Cincinnati were slowly being pushed back into the recesses of your mind and you were feeling better. Sam emailed John to tell him about some jerk in Ohio writing books about the boys’ lives, someone Castiel revealed to be a Prophet of the Lord who was writing The Winchester Gospels. There were books about the boys’ lives, their actions, their innermost thoughts, just hanging out on bookshelves around the world. You wondered if you were in any of the stories, the gospels.

John’s secondary cell phone went off as you pulled the truck into the parking lot of a coffee shop and he frowned as he looked down at the screen before he answered, “Hello?” A beat of time as you parked the truck and turned to him. “He’s not available. Can I help you?” He had a severe look on his face and you shook your head at him, confused by his reaction to the call. “What’d you say your name was? Milligan...and, uh, what are you callin’ John for?”

He made a fist and hammered it into his forehead. “Right, well, uh, I hate to have to tell you this over the phone but John is dead. He died in 2001.” Your eyes went wide and John put a finger up to quiet you before you could even start to question. “If you need help, then I can meet with you, kid. I’m, uh, John Winchester’s son, Dean. Windom, Minnesota. Cousin Oliver Café. We’ll be there tomorrow at 8am. See ya then, kid.”

“What the fuck, John?!” you exclaimed when he ended the call.

“Fuck.” He scratches his fingernails across his forehead and sighs as he sets the phone on the dash. “I recognized the area code, knew it was Missouri, thought it might have something to do with...with this case I had around January 1990. Anybody I interacted with back then, they would’ve known me before I got hit with that hex. So, that’s why I answered the phone like that and I’m glad I did because...because the kid on the other end of the phone is…” He trailed off and you gave him a pointed look.

“The kid on the other end of the phone is what?”

“My youngest son, Adam.”

Your eyes went wide, confusion and anger filling your body. “Your what?”

“I told you...I told you that I had one dalliance before you after Mary died, remember? When I was on that ghoul hunt and I went into rut and I-I was almost feral and I had one night where I couldn’t fuckin’ control myself and-”

“You knocked her up with pups?” you whispered. For some reason, it hurt a lot more than it should, especially considering you were only seven years old at the time.

“Only one. Adam.” He shook his head at himself. “She never told me. I didn’t know anything about it until 2001...and by then…by the time Adam called the first time, I was a young man again. I couldn’t show up looking like a twenty-five year old and start a relationship with the boy. So I just never called him back, kinda put him on the back burner. I figured I’d go see him when we found the witch and fixed me but I never found the witch and-”

“So, why’s he calling again now?” you asked, trying to be understanding. It wasn’t John’s fault. He should have told you. He should have told his other sons, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

“His mom, Kate, is missing.”

“And he called you because?” you asked.

“Because the cops aren’t worried and his mom told him to try to get a hold of me if anything weird ever happened. She knew about the hunting.”

“So, your plan is to...pretend to be your oldest son and go meet your youngest son for the first time and try to find his missing mother...who most probably is just normal-missing, not supernatural-missing?” you asked, cautious of your tone.

“I can drop you somewhere if you don’t wanna participate in this, girl,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“No,” you responded vehemently. “You don’t get to leave me behind, Winchester. Not ever again, remember?”

“Okay, then I’m gonna need you to back me on this and you’re going to have to call me ‘Dean’.”

You nodded. “I can do that.” You weren’t sure you wanted to, but you’d do it for him.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

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

John was nervous. You could smell it in his scent. You leaned into his shoulder as you sat in the booth, trying to calm him with your own scent. You kept your head on his shoulder as he switched a glass of water out with a glass of holy water and set a trio of silverware on the opposite side of the table. “Just in case.”

“You really think-”

“I looked into him, ya know? Kid did real good without me in his life,” John said suddenly. “He’s real and he’s smart and he never had anything to do with this life. I’m scared it bled onto him anyway.”

You sighed and leaned up to press a kiss to his temple as the door opened and a tall, thin young man walked into the diner. He looked like a mix of Sam and Dean. “That’s him,” you whispered, recognizing him from the Facebook profile.

John, or rather ‘Dean’, stood and waved at the boy.

“Dean?” Adam asked, walking over. John nodded. The boy laughed. “Wow, you look just like the picture my mom had of-of John. You’re almost the spitting image of him.” He let out a scoff as he sat down, his eyes moving to you. “Who’s this?”

“My omega,” John said, a bit defensively.

“Y/n,” you said, offering your hand to him.

Adam took it with a smile. “Wow.”

You felt a cringe move through your body and you looked down. “What?”

“I just…” Adam cleared his throat. “There’s not a lot of omegas in Windom and none are as pretty as you.”

Another Winchester flirting with you was sending all sorts of bad signals through your body. You softly tugged your hand back and sat back down as Adam settled into the opposite side of the booth and picked up the water. You held your breath when he took a drink but the water went down easy so you relaxed a bit.

But not much.

He smelled wrong. John was lavender and orange and ylang ylang, Dean was lavender and honeysuckle and anise, Sam was vanilla and coffee and undercurrents of honeysuckle when he was in rut. Adam smelled like dirt.

Not grass and forest and mossy logs, dirt. Just dirt. He didn’t even have a secondary scent to him, no undercurrent or complementary smell. Just dirt.

There should have been some part of him that smelled like a Winchester, even if he wasn’t the same makeup of a Winchester as the ones you knew. He shouldn’t smell like that.

Adam didn’t seem to notice your musing or your deep breaths to try and find something else in his scent. He went off on a tangent as he ate his breakfast about how John and Kate met in the emergency room at the hospital room where she works and he went into rut after he got hurt and Adam tried to get a hold of John when he was a kid and John just never picked up the phone and he’s glad that ‘Dean’ answered the phone this time.

“At least I know why he didn’t answer when I was calling before. So, uh, what happened to John?”

“Heart attack,” John responded. “It was sudden.”

“Right, guess that makes sense. Heart disease is the number one killer of men his age in the US,” Adam said.

Your eyes focused on the silverware in the man’s fists. Not a shifter either then. But this was something. This was not a Winchester.

“Well, after we get done eating, why don’t you take us to the house and we’ll see if we can’t find something to tell us where your mom got to,” John offered.

“Thanks, Dean,” Adam said with a smile.

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

"He didn't react to silver or holy water," John argued as he followed Adam's car down the road.

"So? There's plenty of things that can alter people's perception of them that don't react to silver or holy water! Rakshasas, sirens, djinns, ghouls, do I need to go on?" you argued back. "He smells like dirt, John. That is not-"

"Maybe that's just-"

"What'd his mother smell like?" you interrupted.

"Passion fruit...and something else I can't remember."

"Not dirt. He shouldn't smell like that. He's not your son."

John sighed and scratched at his chin. "You might be right. He should smell more like one of us. He doesn't even smell like an alpha, honestly, but...if he's not Adam, then where the hell is Adam? And where's Kate? And why the fuck would whatever he is try to get me out here?"

"I don't know."

"Me either. For now, let's focus on finding Kate and we'll go from there." You held in a groan and focused out the windshield. "I know, 'mega. I'm just...I got this feeling...I lost my opportunity to be a part of this boy's life because of that witch."

"And that’s terrible, John...but you wouldn't have me if it wasn't for that witch so…"

“I’m not sayin’ I regret it, sweetheart, I just...wish I could have...met him once before I went after that bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your thumbnail. “Sometimes I wish things were different, too.”

“You wish I never came over when you were going into that first heat,” he guessed.

You swallowed, but you didn’t answer. The truth was, you had thought through a lot of different wishes and butterfly-effect ripples of how it would change everything. If John didn’t show up, you wouldn’t be a hunter. If Dean hadn’t pushed you to let Sam take you when those apple-pie assholes put you in heat, you would have just been Dean’s. If you never sold your soul for Dean, you might have been able to move on, find another alpha...a non-Winchester.

“I don't think I'd be myself if you hadn't shown up,” you answered eventually. “I'd have stayed stuck at Bobby's, never ended up with an alpha let alone two, and I would be dying from never getting a knot in a few years' time...it’s better you did.”

"I'm...glad I did, Y/n. I like the woman you are, the strong and beautiful omega you are.”

You smiled and your cheeks heated up at the praise. “Let’s just get this done, huh?”

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

You weren’t exactly happy that you were the one who had to crawl through the vents but Adam said, and John fucking agreed, that you were smallest and therefor the best choice. When you found the blood and pieces of skull and blond hair, you were happy to be small enough to pull your phone out of your pocket and text the news to John so he could break the news before you crawled back out.

“Call the cops. We gotta get out of here, though,” John said as he offered you a hand to help you up out of the vent.

“Wait, but-” Adam started to argue.

“We don’t mix with cops,” you responded, before stomping away from them, roughly brushing dust off of your jeans and shirt. “Come on, J-Dean. Let’s get out of here.”

“You don’t mix with-” Adam started to argue, but you pushed past him and stomped out to John’s truck.

“There was no surprise in his scent. There was no anger or sadness. I’ve lost both parents, John, there should have been-”

“Maybe he’s numb or-”

“Maybe he’s made of dirt or something!” you snapped. “That is not-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, ‘mega.”

You shook your head. “Yeah. Yet. You know what, John? I’m gonna go ahead and look into things that could be pretending to be your illegitimate pup.”

You barely looked at him as you got out of the truck and headed inside to start researching. When Adam showed up to find out what was going on with his missing mother and you and ‘Dean’ leaving before the cops showed up and “what the hell?!” John decided to explain about hunting as simply as he could. He didn’t explain who he really was, though. And then John decided to take Adam to explore other options of finding Kate.

It was a couple hours later that you came across a mention in an online lore forum that said ghouls, while normally scavengers who feast on dead flesh, could actually eat living specimens and have been shown to greatly enjoy fresh human meat and blood...and just like feasting on the dead, the ghoul can take the visage of their victim and their memories.

“Didn’t John say that’s what he was after when he was here before?” you whispered to yourself as you picked up your cell phone and dialed John’s number. It rang through until it went to voicemail. You called again. It went to voicemail again.

Panic fell over you. Your alpha was in trouble. Your alpha was in trouble and you had no idea where he was.

“Fuck!” You were almost shaking as you stood up and looked around aimlessly. What could you do? Another string of expletives fell from your mouth before you forced yourself to focus. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Your soul was connected to him. You needed to find him.

It only took a flash. A flash of the dining room at Kate’s house, John tied to the table had you grabbing the keys to John’s truck and rushing for your alpha. You pushed that truck as fast as it would go to get it to the house on the outskirts of Windom. The truck tires screeched as you slid to a stop in the front yard. You grabbed your shotgun from the rack in the truck bed and ran into the house.

John was tied to the table, ‘Adam’ and ‘Kate’ standing over him as he bled from his wrists. “Y/n,” he groaned. “They’re ghouls!”

“I know!” you snapped, aiming at Adam’s head and shooting. Parts of his head exploded onto the wall behind him and Kate shrieked before running at you. You moved to pump the shotgun for a second shot, but Kate grabbed you and tossed you into the wall like you were nothing.

“Y/n!”

“I’m fine, John!” you shouted, rolling onto your hands and knees.

“John?” Kate spat out, her tone dripping with poison.

“Forgot to mention before you started draining me,” John groaned. “I’m the one who killed your daddy, sweetheart.”

“Witches are better than plastic surgery, bitch,” you said, sweeping the woman’s leg with your foot. She fell to the floor and you jumped up, grabbing the shotgun and shooting her in the head, too. You licked your lips and panted as you limped over to the table and pulled out a knife, getting him loose from his binds. “You okay?” you asked, grabbing a rag and ripping it in half, wrapping each half around his wounds.

“Yeah. You...you got here in time.” He sat up, his legs hanging off the table as you secured the wraps around his wrists. “How’d you know?”

“I figured out ghouls could eat fresh and then I couldn’t get you on the phone and...I…” You licked your lips. “I knew where to find you.”

“How?” he pressed.

“How’d you know what motel room I was cutting Sam’s mark off of me?” you asked in answer.

“You felt it?” he asked and you nodded. He reached out, barely wincing at the pull on his wrist, and pulled you in for a soft, sad kiss. “They were siblings, kids of the ghoul I took down last time I was in Windom. They called to get revenge for me killing their dad.” He looked away. “Killed Kate and Adam to get revenge first. I was hoping I wasn’t right about my life bleeding on his.”

“It’s not your fault, John,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I know. Shoulda stuck around to see if the thing left behind little monsters for me to kill, but...I went into rut...and then I had to get back to the boys.”

“John...it’s really not on you.”

“He’s dead because of me.”

“He was alive because of you,” you insisted. “He had nineteen years before these things...he had nineteen years because of you. Please, don’t let this get to you.” You chuckled, ruefully. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be barely floating in an ocean of shit. You’re supposed to be my life raft.”

He smiled and nodded. “I am. I am your life raft, darlin’. Just...a little blood-deprived right now. I’ll perk up after a glass of O.J. and some protein. Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

You nodded and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, helping him off of the table and walking him out to the truck.

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

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala @supernaturalenchanted @blueaura @quxxnxfhxll

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#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!john #omega!reader #john x reader

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atlafan · 5 years ago

Text

Take it Slow - Part Fifty-Five

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut and Fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Your alarm goes off at four the next morning. Harry groans like you’ve never heard him before.

“Why are you up so bloody early?”

“I’m going to the gym before work.” You whisper. “Go back to sleep.” You change and pack up everything you’ll need.

“Why?”

“Too dark in the evenings right now, I have zero motivation after work. I’ll be back before I go to work.”

You ran three miles. You have no idea why, but you did. You lifted some weights, and then got back to your apartment by 6:30 to shower. Harry was still in bed when you got back. He rolled over and saw you. You strip yourself of your clothes and he thought you looked like a runway model with the way you were strutting around.

“Right, so I’ll be showerin’ with ya.” He says getting up. You turn to grin at him.

“We have to be super quick.” You fix your hair into a bun so it won’t get wet. “Niall and I are going to carpool today, and he leaves super early.”

“Well, enough talkin’ then, let’s go.”

You turn the water on and wait for it to heat up. You stand under the warm water to wash the sweat away. Harry gets on his knees and pulls you towards him. You giggle, and then gasp when you feel his mouth on your clit. Your hands rake through his hair. He moves one of your legs over his shoulder so he can lick your center easier.

“Ugh, Harry.” Your head rolls back. “Feels so good.”

He dips a finger up inside you while his mouth focuses on your clit again. He curls it up inside you making the “come here” motion, and you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last.

“Harry, shit, don’t stop.”

You feel him smirk while he flicks his tongue faster on you. It’s when his second finger slips inside that you lose it. You gasp loudly, and practically scream while your stomach coils. One of your hands grasps at the tile on the shower wall. Your release comes and he continues to pump in and out of you while you ride it out. He stands up as you catch your breath. You lean your forehead on his chest.

“Shit.”

He lifts you up quickly and puts your back flush with the wall. You wrap your legs around him and he thrusts up into you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Always so reactive in the mornin’.” He smirks. He starts moving in and out. He grabs one of your hands with his and laces your fingers together.

“I love you so much.” You kiss him while he fucks up in to you.

“I love you too.” He says into your ear. “Love this tight little cunt too.” You moan at his words.

“Keep going.” You breathe out. He could feel you pulsing against him.

“Feels so good wrapped around me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, s’like it was made just f’me.” You tighten around him.

“Fuck, Harry.” You start panting while he moves in and out of you faster. “I wanna come at the same time, can we do that?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Harry, it’s gonna, I’m, oh god!”

His come shoots up inside you as you release around his cock. He stays pressed against you for a moment before pulling out, and setting you down. He kisses you before stepping into the water to rinse off. You give his bum a little pinch as you step into the water.

“Oi!”

“I love that ass.” You giggle.

You get dressed quick and throw some makeup on. It was already 7:15. You made a quick smoothie and kissed Harry before heading out the door. Niall had just pulled his car up.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning.” You smile big at him. You certainly didn’t seem the way Harry had described. But it was a new day after all.

“You seem perky.”

“I went to the gym really early, I feel so energized.”

“That’s good. Wish I could do that, I get every last drop of sleep I can possibly get. Plus, Sarah usually gives me a good work out.”

“Don’t be gross.” You nudge him.

“As if Harry doesn’t give you a parting gift in the morning.”

“Oh he does, did this morning in fact, but that’s none of your business.” You smirk.

“Mhm, yeah.”

You and Niall stop for coffee and head to the office. You liked carpooling already. It was nice to have that time together in the morning. You decided to switch off every other day. You get to your desk and get through some lingering emails. Harry texts you a kissy face and it makes your heart flutter.

Harry gets to work around nine. Isaac says good morning like he usually does.

“Harry! We missed you last week.”

“Thanks, wish I could say the same.” He smiles along with his joke.

“Very funny.”

“Actually, I would have much preferred you had come with us. We coulda had a lot of fun.” Isaac blushes as Harry walks into his office.

His coffee was already waiting for him. He sighs with relief. He logs onto his computer and loads up some of the pictures he started editing. He gets them onto a flash drive and walks down to Mykenzie’s office. He taps on the outside of the door.

“Hey.” He says to her.

“Hi.” She says looking over at him.

“Got the pictures from last week for yeh.”

“Thanks, you can just leave that on Julia’s desk.”

“You’re not even gonna look ‘em over?” He pouts.

“Why do I need to? She’s the one writing the pieces.”

“You’re gonna look her shit over though right?”

“Yeah, when she’s done. I’m working on something else right now.”

“Alright then.” He turns on his heel and leaves her office. She hated when he’d pout like that. It was too cute. He walks over to Julia’s desk where her eyes are glued to her computer screen. “Hey, here are the pictures from last week.” He places it on her desk.

“Thanks.” Her cheeks heat up looking at him.

“Ya good?”

“Mhm.”

“Thanks for the coffee.” He winks at her and walks away.

You were too busy jamming out to your Glee cast playlist playing loudly in your ears to notice Harry standing in your door way around lunch time. He got a kick out of you bobbing your head around, mouthing the words that he knew you desperately wished you could be belting out. He makes a coughing noise, and you look up at him.

“Oh! Hi, sweetie.” You pause your music and get up.

“It okay I came by?”

“Course! Wanna eat with Niall too? He missed me all week.” Harry goes to speak but you’re already walking down the hall to Niall’s office. “Hey, come to my office for lunch, Harry’s here too.”

“Sounds good!” You come back and get your lunch out of your lunch box.

“What?”

“Nothin’…” He sits down in one of the chairs by your desk. Niall comes in and sits next to him.

“Hey mate.”

“Hey. How was car poolin’?”

“Good! We’re going to do it every day.” You say sitting down.

“It’s a nice way to start to day off.” Niall says.

“Agreed.” You smile at him. “How’s work today, babe?”

“Good, everyone really liked my pictures.”

“That’s great! They were beautiful. Niall, Harry got to dive under water.”

“Ohh, he likes doin’ that.”

“Shut up.” He nudges him. You roll your eyes at the inside joke. “Hey, Niall, you ever notice how much Y/N rolls her eyes?” They both smirk.

“Oh, all the time. She should have an award for it.”

“I really don’t even notice I’m doing it!”

“The best is when I catch you doin’ it in a bad meeting, I have all I can do to not start laughin’.”

“Good to know I can be so entertaining.” You stick out tongue out at him and he sticks his back at at you.

“You both wanna come over tonight to watch The Bachelor?”

“Or you could come to our place! Is that okay Harry?” He nods yes.

“Perfect. Sarah can’t come over tonight, and I hate watchin’ it alone.”

“I cannot believe you like watching it.”

“It’s addicting as fuck! Y/N actually got me into it. When she first started here she was talkin’ about the Bachelorette like all the time.”

“Mhm, so I started Niall off with Bachelor in Paradise that summer.”

“It was wild.”

“Jesus, you two are a married couple.” Harry chuckles.

“We’d be one of the couple’s from the fifties that have the twin beds instead of like a normal bed.” You joke.

“Yes! That’s exactly how I’d picture it.” He laughs.

Niall leaves you and Harry to hang out alone around 12:30. He closes the door behind him, and you move to sit in Harry’s lap.

“Hi.” You nuzzle your nose to his.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

“Hard not to be when you gave me an earth shattering orgasm this morning.” You blush as you say it.

“Earth shatterin’ huh?”

“Didn’t you hear me scream? Jesus, I’m still thinking about it. You have magic fingers. Actually, you have magic everything.” You giggle and lean down to kiss him.

“Would love to do that for ya again, now.” You stand up immediately.

“I already told you I’m not going to fuck you in my office.”

“Can we make out then?”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sit on the edge of your desk and he stands between your legs. Your hands stay on his hips while he kisses you.

Harry left your office with swollen lips and a fresh hickey on his collar bone. Isaac smirked at him as he came back up to the studio. Harry grabs a mint from the top of his desk.

“What’s that face for?” He asks him.

“Nothing, I just think it’s cute that you have this like high school romance with your girlfriend.”

“High school romance?” Harry scoffs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone ready to pounce like you, you’re a like a teenager going through puberty.”

“Come off it. Can’t help that I’m with the most gorgeous girl in the world. Need to her to kiss me any chance I can get.” He shrugs.

“It’s nice seeing you so in love, H. It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Harry shakes his head and goes into his office. He was genuinely over the moon happy.

Niall drives you home at the end of the day, and says he’ll be over around 7:30. You get home before Harry, so you decide to start dinner. You get your music going and start a pot of water on the burner. You were thinking egg noodles with mushrooms and peas. Harry comes home to the smell of your cooking and sits down at the island in the kitchen.

“Hi sweetie.” You say to him. “Dinner’s just about ready.” You kiss him on the cheek. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Good, no complaints for once. How was yours?”

“Pretty good. Had a few meetings. I hate afternoon meetings, people are exhausting after lunch.” You plate up the foot for the two of you and sit next to him.

“Mm, this is delicious, thank you.”

“I made enough to have leftovers for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. What time is Niall comin’?”

“7:30.”

“Perfect, plenty of time for a shag.”

“Harry.”

“C’mon, let’s go. Need t’save time for a cuddle and all that.”

“Okay, can we just clean up first?”

He practically throws the plates in the dishwasher, and yanks you into the bedroom. Your legs were over his shoulders before you knew it. Your back arching upwards several times. This man truly knew how to fuck a woman right, there was no doubt about that. When you were both done you laid their facing each other, legs tangled up in each other. Light pillow talk, giggles, and stolen kisses.

Around 7:15 you both get up and throw on some sweats. You decide on wearing Harry’s clothes. He notices you’re not wearing a bra.

“Hey, could you put somethin’ on under that?”

“It’s a sweat shirt, you can’t even tell.”

“Yes you can.”

“That’s because you’re looking. He won’t be.”

“Y/N.”

“Harry, I don’t know how else to say this, but Niall has seen me without a bra on several times. It’s really not a big deal. It’s not like I’m wearing a tight little white shirt. I’m wearing one of your sweatshirts. I’ll even keep my arms crossed. See?” You hear the buzzer go off. “I’m gonna let him up. Could you make some popcorn?”

“Mhm.”

“Hey!” You say to Niall as he comes in. He had his glasses on and was also clad in sweats. Harry comes out of the kitchen. “Look, he’s got his glasses on, full relaxation mode for the Irish lad.”

“Shut up, I was done with contacts for the day.”

“Want a glass of wine?”

“Wouldn’t be the bachelor if we didn’t.”

“Perfect! Go sit, I’ll get it.”

Harry felt like he was intruding on a date or something. He sits next to Niall on the couch and puts the popcorn on the coffee table. You come over with three wine glasses and pour it for them both, and yourself.

“Harry, could I please sit in the middle?” He shuffles over. “Thank you.”

The show starts and Harry is already bored. He really felt like a third wheel while you and Niall made comments to each other.

“He’s lettin’ her come back?!” Niall shouts.

“I thought we were free! I’m gonna say it, Peter’s a stupid bitch.”

“You’re right, and you should say it.”

“He literally just wants to bone, I don’t know why he wanted to do this.”

“Probably for that exact reason. Just wait for the fantasy suites.”

“What in the fuck are fantasy suites?”

“When he gets to the final three women, they each get an overnight date with him.” You explain.

“But only if the girl accepts.”

“And it’s no cameras. So the couple can talk all night without the producers meddling, or they can fuck.”

“And there’s no cameras at all?”

“Mhm, it’s like the most crucial date.”

Harry found himself getting more invested with the show. It reminded him of one his novels. You felt your eyes start to get droopy. You had been up really early, and the wine was making you sleepy. Your head falls on Niall’s shoulder. He looks down at you and chuckles. Harry’s jaw tenses. Niall nudges his shoulder up to wake you.

“Hm? Sorry, dozed off for a second.” Harry hooks his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “Ya good?” You ask looking up at him.

“Yup.” Niall shakes his head, but keeps his attention on the TV.

When it ends the three of you are exhausted. You and Harry say goodnight to Niall, and you both shuffle into the bedroom, and into the bathroom to do your nightly routines. You take the sweat pants and sweatshirt off and get into bed. You couldn’t wait for Harry to wrap his arms around your soft skin. You sigh with relief when he does.

“That was fun tonight.”

“Yeah, s’not the worst show I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s very addicting.”

“Clearly.” He yawns.

“Love you baby.” You kiss his cheek.

“Love you too, goodnight.”

You were sort of embarrassed when you went to see Dr. Mara. You had called her office last week and told them you were too sick to come in.

“Hi, Y/N, are you feeling better?” She says to you as you sit down.

“I wasn’t really sick last week.”

“Oh?”

“I just didn’t feel like coming in and talking.”

“Well, that’s alright. Do you feel like you don’t need weekly appointments anymore?”

“No.” You sigh. “I definitely still need weekly appointments. I’ve been sort of depressed, and I’ve been trying to repress all of it.”

“What are you depressed about?”

“I don’t know…could be my seasonal thing. Harry and I have had sex from behind a couple times and I’ve had some bad flashes. I kept it to myself, but I told him about it…so I’m a little better. I was just feeling really low for some reason. I don’t know if it was because I was keeping something like that to myself, so I was just making it worse?”

“Why do you think you kept it to yourself?”

“Because I didn’t want him to worry, or treat me differently. I could tell he was really enjoying it, which made me enjoy it too…”

“You don’t have to put yourself through anything just because you know he wants it a certain way.”

“I know that, and he’s said the same thing to me.”

“So why try to force it?”

“Because I just want to be able to do things!”

“And you will, but not if you force yourself before you’re ready. I mean look at you, you look depressed.”

“I’m feeling better.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I’ve been sleeping just fine, getting up early, going to the gym.”

“Are you fatigued?”

“A little.” You sigh. “I’m going to Aruba in April…Harry and I got into a fight about it.”

“Why? Isn’t that a family trip?”

“Yeah, he was upset because he had just gotten back from a work thing in Florida, and he felt like I wanted to get away from him by bringing up my own trip. He really missed me. I missed him too, but he like really missed me.” You pause for a moment as she nods along. “He felt really bad for leaving because we were supposed to have the week off together to move. I told him it was no big deal, it really wasn’t. I honestly didn’t care, it was out of my control.”

“You usually like being the one in control.”

“On a person to person basis, yeah. But something like this, a bigger picture thing, like there’s literally nothing either of us could do, so it was whatever.” You shrug. “I don’t think he handles being out of control very well. I think once there’s a plan in place he gets really upset when it changes drastically.”

“Do you think that’s why he was upset when you brought up Aruba?”

“I think his family is supposed to come here for Easter, and he hasn’t truly accepted that I won’t be around for it. I don’t think he fully understands the relationship I have with my Nannie, even though he’s seen me absolutely sob over her…I hate it when we fight. We fight over the stupidest fucking things. We were in a restaurant over the weekend and he threw my fucking degree in communication in my face! Can you believe that?! And then when we got home he put on this big show of making it known he was going to sleep on the sofa. Good! I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him not to. An hour later he comes back in and starts yelling at me. So we talk some shit through. I mean, he drives me crazy sometimes. I know I’m not the easiest person sometimes, but Jesus neither is he.”

“Do you want to break up with him?”

“What?! God, no. I love him too much. The thought’s never even crossed my mind.” You sigh. “We had sex after our fight, it was good, but I got really emotional. It wasn’t like we had made love, it was almost angrier than that. Like a hate fuck or something. Only I was in control the entire time, all of it was coming from me.”

“Maybe you hadn’t resolved everything like you thought you had when you talked.”

“But I don’t want to have angry sex with him. Sure, a little rough is okay, but not angry. That shit doesn’t solve anything. It sure as hell didn’t make me feel better after.” You cross your arms and look away. “The next day I didn’t get out of bed until nearly one in the afternoon. I knew he was worried. I went to take a shower and he told me he needed to go to Niall’s for something. I know he went there to talk about me, why else would he have slipped out like that?”

“What do you think they would have talked about?”

“Why I was acting the way I was, I’m sure. I don’t like that it feels like I’m not allowed to not be okay. I can’t be okay all the time. Besides that, Sarah was with them and she texted me.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Incredibly annoyed, but she told me what they talked about…I chose to just let it go.”

“What did they talk about?”

“Every depressive episode I’ve ever had. It was like a fucking team of doctors or some shit.”

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this before, but do you think you’d like to try going on some kind of medication? We could start you on a very low dosage-“

“No…that’s like a last resort. That stuff just fucks with your mood.”

“There are some side effects sure, but-“

“I said no.” You both look at each other for a moment. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. So you know Harry went over there to get some information on you, and you chose not to freak out about it. Very different from a couple months ago.”

“I honestly just didn’t have the strength or energy to fight with him again. Now he knows these things about me. Awesome, I really don’t care.”

“But you do care. You look pissed.”

“Of course I’m pissed! How would you feel if three people who were really close to you had a conference to talk about every time you’ve ever been sad? It’s embarrassing. You think I like getting like that? I’d say it’s the only thing about living with someone I don’t like. They can see every time you’re vulnerable.” You groan. “And I lied to Niall last week. I told him I came to see you, and Harry had to have told him I lied.”

“Are you going to talk to him about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of a moot point now…but now who knows if either will believe me when I come here.”

“Niall’s opinion of you really matters, doesn’t it?”

“We love each other, I don’t want him looking at me differently because I fibbed one time.”

“How does Harry feel about the way you and Niall love each other?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes he cares and sometimes he doesn’t. He gets jealous really easily. But he’s just a clingy, needy, guy.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not at all…until it starts some shit. I think it’s cute he wants me all to himself. God, you don’t think we’re toxic do you?”

“No…but you two need some boundaries set. He shouldn’t get upset with you because you’re going on a trip with your family. But you’re not off the hook either. I know how you can be. You need to cut him some slack once in a while too. He’s not a mind reader, remember?”

“But I’m not one either.”

“Exactly. So, instead of biting each other’s heads off, just try communicating more clearly. If you notice him act a certain way, don’t just call him out on it. Take a step back and think about why he may be acting that way, and go at it from another angle. I know you do that work, bring it home with you.”

As you drove home from your appointment, you knew she was right. She was always right. The doorman greets you as you go inside, and you check your little mailbox just in case Harry hadn’t. You say hello to the desk attendant, Michael, as you head up to the elevator. You had gotten to know Michael well during the week of moving.

You key into your place. Harry was up in the loft working. You go right for the kitchen since you were starving. You take out the leftovers from last night, put some in a bowl, and heat it up. Harry comes into the kitchen to greet you.

“Barely heard ya come in.” He kisses you on the cheek. “How was it?”

“Annoying.” You say under your breath.

“Hm?”

“Good, it was good. Actually, it exhausted me.” Your mood had soured. “I just wanna chill out and watch Chopped.” The microwave goes off and you take your food out.

“Why was it exhausting?”

“Um…I told her about what happened over the weekend.” You say taking a bite of food.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Would you, um, like some time to yourself?” You smile at him.

“That would be kind of nice, actually.”

“Alright, I’ll just be upstairs.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

After you eat, you change into some of Harry’s sweats, and plop down on the sofa. You turn the TV on so you can watch Chopped. After the two episodes, and some time to yourself, you looked up towards the loft. You get up from the sofa and climb the spiral staircase. Harry had his headphones in and he was playing a video game. He pauses it when he sees you. You crawl right into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck. He wraps his arms around you as well and rubs your back.

“My sweet girl.” He coos.

“Miss you.” You nuzzle into him more. “Can we go cuddle in bed?”

“Mhm.”

You stand to get off him, and you both go down the stairs. You both go through your routines and get into bed.

“Harry, can I just lay on you for a bit?”

“Course, love.”

You shift and lay completely on top of him. Head resting on his chest, and legs on either side of his. His hands move up under your shirt just to rub your back. You sigh happily.

“So soft.” He coos. You smile against his chest.

“Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you more than anything, I hope you know that.”

“I do. I love you too.” He holds you a little tighter to him.

You fell asleep on top of him. He didn’t mind. He actually really liked when you were needy for a change. You were his sweet little angel.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fic #fluff #smut.#I LOVE MY SOFT CHILDREN OKAY?#hope you liked it!#come hang out in my ask box

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 3

Title: Safe and Warm

Warnings: brief mention of child sexual abuse. Very brief.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

“You should have gotten these looked at BEFORE you came home.”

She sits on his stomach; knee on either side of his body and a bottle of peroxide, package of cotton balls, a pair of tweezers, and a tube of healing ointment rest on his chest. With all of the kids finally settled for the night and the house tidied and every last plate, cup and piece of silverware in the dishwasher, it’s finally their turn to relax. A quick soak in the hot tub while sipping drinks; one last glass of wine for her and a coffee for him. Still damp bodies clad in bathrobes as they sat on the couch; eating ice cream straight out of the carton while relaxing in front of the heat and ambiance given off by the gas fireplace. All conversation steering clear away from anything job related. Talking instead about Christmas and all the things that still need to be done; present wrapping, last minute gift grabbing, decorating. The kids also have jam packed ‘to do’ lists; skating, seeing the tree at Rockefeller, sledding, visiting Santa and the reindeer at Central Park. Christmas Day is spent with just the nine of them; the kids playing with their gifts and spending time outside, a traditional dinner that they’ve become quite the professionals at preparing together. The following day they’ll travel into Queens and spend the day with Ovi and Riya and their little family; two ‘grandkids’ that will be loved upon and spoiled senseless. New Years is usually spent quietly at home; takeout and alcoholic beverages and entertaining the kids with board games. This year plans have changed; Ovi’s wedding at The James New York in Soho.

As exciting as the latter is and as much as he does enjoy his time in New York City -the happiness and excitement evident on his wife and children’s faces more than enough to erase any of his own discomfort- it will be nice to get home. Back to their slice of paradise; the sun and the sand and the privacy and the feeling of security that comes with owning so much land. They’ll have a second Christmas; an informal get together with friends with a cookout on the beach and a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange. Work will be put on the back burner; no calls or emails from clients returned until the kids go back to school, the bookstore in good hands under the supervision of the two college students Esme had hired a year ago. Business has been good; exceeding even her wildest dreams and expectations. Already a well loved staple in Cooktown; customers loving the wide array of books and magazines, the outdoor courtyard and the comfortable couches and chairs allotted for those simply there to relax. Reading their purchases or the kindles set up for free use and indulging in the variety of cold and hot drinks and baked goods. The treats are mostly prepared by Tanner who has become quite the little chef and baker; finding his ‘place’ in the kitchen and never happier than when he’s creating some kind of dish or dessert from scratch. He’s also in charge of biweekly book reviews; picking a title to read and then preparing a well written report to go along with it. He’s become quite the local celebrity because of it; fan mail arriving on the daily from kids all over town and those who may have visited during family travels.

If anyone had told Tyler thirteen years ago that he’d even still be alive, let alone living THIS life, he would have told them they were insane. Laughing off the notion at ever being a husband and a father again; too much of a mess and certainly way too much of a liability for anyone to ever take a chance on. It’s weird how quick things can change. How one chance meeting with someone as equally broken and damaged as you can change the entire course of your future. Looking at you in ways that no one has ever has; willing to take on the enormous amounts of baggage and seeing past all your faults and your rough spots and jagged edges and giving you a future you never imagined even in your wildest dreams.

“There wasn’t a reason to get them looked after. They’re just scratches; branches getting a hold of me when I was in the bush.”

“Some of them are pretty deep. And I know you tried when you were in the shower, but there’s stuff stuck in some of them. Dirt or wood or something. Aren’t they sore?”

“They’re SCRATCHES. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“They’re a mess is what they are.” She picks up the tweezers; eyes narrowing as she leans over him and plucks pieces of debris out of one of the wounds. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t things supposed to go down in the city?”

“They did. In Laos.”

“I thought it was going to be the same in Cambodia. You let me read what Anil sent you. I’m pretty sure things were supposed to happen in Phnom Penh? How’d you end up going from there into the jungle?”

“There was a change of plans.”

She smirks. “Obviously.”

“You know how it is, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“I’d say nine times out of ten, they don’t. Seriously though, your face is a wreck. You should have gotten this all cleaned up hours ago. BEFORE you got on a plane home. What if they get infected? You don’t know what’s in that jungle. They could have some crazy poisonous plant life or something. What if you got into something like THAT?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d know something like that by now. What are you so squeamish about? You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Now THAT’S an understatement. Have you ever thought I just don’t like seeing you banged up and scratched up? Have you ever thought maybe I’ve had just about enough of all of that? Can’t I nurse you back to health from something else for a change? Like...I don’t know...the man flu?”

“You always complain when I get sick. That I’m too needy.”

“I have never once said you’re too needy. I have, however, complained about how whiny you get. How you come down with a head cold and act like you’re dying. How do you go through the things you have and survive what you’ve survived, and think a cold will be the cause of your demise?”

“Hey, those colds get pretty bad.”

“Worse than…” Pausing, she sits straight up and drops the tweezers onto the bed, then soaks a cotton ball with peroxide. “...you know what? I’m not even going to finish that sentence because that will only bring bad juju. Talking about all of that? Revisiting it? Nothing good will come of that. And we need good juju, don’t you think?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Who? Me? No. Maybe. Just a little. Is a whole bottle of wine for oneself considered drunk?”

“For normal people, yeah. For you…”

“Look, I had a rough day. In fact, it’s been a brutal FOUR days. And right now? Well right now, I should be getting laid. Or at the very least, have my husband going down on me. And what I’m doing? Playing nursemaid. And not in a fun, sexy way either. Not the kind of playing nursemaid that comes with little outfits and orgasms.”

He grins. “You ARE drunk.”

“I’m just saying, I had other plans for this evening and picking pieces of the Cambodian jungle out of your face wasn’t part of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm...hmmm…”

“And I’d rather be doing other stuff too, but…”

“But the shit hit the fan and everything got fucked up and you ended up doing God knows what, doing God knows where. I’m not even going to ask how it went. I think I’m scared to hear the answer. It was obviously a dumpster fire if you went from the capital city of Cambodia to the bowels of hell.”

“There were a couple...snags.”

She returns to the task of investigating and cleaning the various scratches that mar his face and neck. “Anil let on everything went great.”

“Probably just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Was there something for me to worry about?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been involved in way worse things. It was pretty straight forward. Two easy hits.”

“First one went okay?”

“Exactly the way it should have.”

“Second one?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“You don’t want me asking?”

“I don’t care if you ask. You just said you weren’t going to because you were afraid of what you might hear.”

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?”

“Esme, seriously? Do you want to know or not? It wasn’t THAT bad. I’m here, aren’t I? In one piece?”

She nods.

“It honestly wasn't that big of a disaster. Things got a little fucked up. The second one didn’t go the way it should have. I had to make some decisions; change some shit around. The Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I had to find out where he was and I had to figure out how to make things work.”

“Well good thing it WAS you that Anil asked. Because it probably would have been a lot worse. At least you know what you’re doing; you can think on your feet and stay calm and focused. A change like that? That would have thrown other people off. They probably wouldn’t have been able to get the second guy. They would have been too frazzled. That kind of change would have totally thrown them off.”

“Are you speaking highly of me, wife?”

“I am. I tend to speak very highly of you. All the time. To everyone. Even when I’m picking pieces of Cambodia out of your face.” She grabs the tweezers and unceremoniously inserts the tips into a large scratch at the side of his left eye; yanking out a piece of wood. “And it’s a nice face, by the way. So I don’t particularly like you coming home all messed up.”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“I will give you that.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; his hands resting on her thighs as she continues to work at disinfecting and cleaning the scratches and her fingertips rub wound aftercare ointment into his skin. And he admires her as she does so. That steely look of determination on her face; lips set in a thin line and her eyes slightly narrowed and her hands steady yet gentle. And she looks so beautiful in that moment; in the mixture of moonlight and the glow given off by the bedside lamps. Hair pushed into a messy ‘up sweep’; held together by various clips -colourful and unicorn themed, ‘borrowed’ from Addie’s room- and bobby pins. Her face freshly cleaned and scrubbed; bearing the lingering scent of the grapefruit and pomegranate body wash she’d fallen in love with months ago. Clad in what she considers pyjamas; a faded and slightly tattered plaid button down shirt he’d worn during their Colorado days that is enormous on her tiny frame.

It’s been just over twelve years. Since he’d first laid eyes on her; standing on his front porch in The Kimberley in her little denim shorts and that yellow tank top that clung to her like a second skin. He’d known right away that he was in trouble; feeling things he hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time when she so much glanced in his direction and offered a small, almost nervous smile. And it would take him nearly ten years to admit what she’d probably known not long after their initial meeting: that his heart was hers from the very first day.

“You’re beautiful.” He says now, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Are YOU drunk?”

“I haven’t drank in five years. I’m truthful.”

“Maybe your eyesight is worse than you think,” she teases, and dabs a peroxide dampened cotton ball against the scratches on his forehead.

“Or maybe you just hate compliments. Even twelve years into things.”

“You know I don’t handle compliments well. Even now. I know that doesn’t make sense, considering we HAVE been together that long and you’re the master of compliments and sweet talk, but that’s just who I am. It’s just me.”

“I will break you yet.”

“You’ve been trying for over a decade. Same way you’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

“Come on, at least give me THAT. At least admit THAT was successful.”

“Fine…” she leans down to peck his lips. “I’ll let you have your small victories. You’re still going out tomorrow? With Tanner?”

He nods. “It’s our thing.”

“He’s so excited. He’s been talking about it non stop since we got here. Apparently he’s been writing a lot. He’s got A LOT to show you.”

“Yeah, he told me. Something about crazy dreams he’s been having. He’s so fucking smart, Me. Way smarter than I am. He’s got your brain pan for sure.”

“He is far more intelligent than I ever was at that age. His brain is just...I don’t know. It’s beautiful and it’s brilliant. And it’s kind of scary at the same time. I mean, he’s only ten. And look where he’s at. Not even a special school is a big enough challenge for him. He is so far ahead of all of those kids. What happens when he’s too far ahead? When that place doesn’t have what he needs anymore? Then what? He’s already reading at a high school senior level. And his math? His science? You’ve seen his marks. They’ve got him doing things that fourteen and fifteen year olds are learning. And he’s passing it all with flying colours. Soon they’re not going to have what he needs. What then?”

“We find somewhere else.”

“Where? There’s nothing where we are. And we’re not moving. We just aren’t. We’ve put way too much into that house and that land. And we love it too much. So do the kids. We can’t upset their lives like that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find something. Someone. There’s always a way, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“When I told you that I wasn’t expecting to have a genius child on my hands. And I know it sounds like I’m bitching. That it sounds like I’m not proud of him.”

“It doesn’t sound like that, Me. At all.”

“Because I am. Proud of him. He’s insanely smart and he’s beautiful and he’s just this incredible little being that I don’t feel I even deserve. But I’m scared. For him. Because he isn’t like everyone else. He never has been. And I know we should celebrate that and celebrate who he is and nurture it and encourage it. But it fucking terrifies me. Someone like Tanner out in the real world. Because he’s NOT like us. Or his brothers and sisters. Or ninety five percent of society. He’s sensitive and he’s kind and he has this huge heart. And I’m scared what’s going to happen to him. Just for being who he is.”

“He’s ten, Me. We have years before we have to worry about anything like that. It’s going to be a long time before he’s out of the house. He’s smart as hell, but you’re right; he’s not like everyone else. Maturity wise? He’s a lot younger. He’s not ten in a lot of ways. He’s going to be with us for a bit. Longer than the rest of them.”

“I just don't want him hating who he is. I don’t want him growing up and hating himself. He’s already told you that. About how he doesn’t like his brain and how it works. How he doesn’t like being different.”

“That’s mostly when he’s pissed that he can’t do the things that TJ does. Or because he’s so much smaller. He has his moments; where he wishes he was like his brother. Didn’t you have moments like that growing up? Wishing you could be someone different?”

“Of course. We all do. I’m sure you did.”

“Fuck, practically every damn day. He’s going to be fine, Me. He’s just a little boy. And he’ll be a little boy in some ways for longer. It is what it is. He’ll be okay. So will we.”

“You are so much better at this than I am,” Esme laments, and tends to screwing the cap onto the peroxide and moving all of the supplies and tools to the mattress. “You’re so much better with him. You have been since the very beginning. Who was the strong one when we got the diagnosis? Who was the one that DIDN’T go into a severe depression and the seven stages of grief? I mean, we suspected it and I STILL had a hard time. I’m his mother. And I struggled then and I’m struggling now. What kind of parent does that? FEELS that?”

“One that loves their kid more than life itself. Who worries about them and is scared for them because they know how fucking cruel the world can be.”

“You’ve just been so much better than I have. You’ve handled it better. Me? I’m just a mess. And not a hot one either.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Just because you’re having a hard time with this doesn’t mean you’re a shitty parent. Just means you love him.”

“I do. Love him. He’s my Nugget. And I hate that he struggles. That he doubts himself. That he shit talks himself sometimes.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets THAT from.”

Smirking, she picks up the tweezers and points them at him. “Don’t make me stick these in your eye.”

“I’m just saying…” he plucks the instrument from her hand and tosses it onto the bedside table, then reaches up to push loose strands of her away from her face. “...he does get some things from you. And you do like to shit talk yourself.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For the last twelve years?”

“So I’m a slow learner. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Why are you like this?”

His calloused palms rest on the sides of her face; thumbs brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. “Like what?”

“So good to me. Why are you like that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Me. Might have to do with the fact that you’re my wife and the mother of my children. My SEVEN children. And maybe...just maybe...it has something to do with the fact that I’m wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“Still? Even after twelve years?”

“Even MORE after twelve years. More and more every day, actually.”

“God I love you,” she declares, then stretches out along his body and buries her face in the favourite place of hers; the warm nook between neck and shoulder. “I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he wraps both arms around her slender body. “Ditto.”

She laughs at his response; placing a kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear and then pushes her fingers through his hair. It’s longer now. Often messy and often unruly; sides and back no longer shaved right down to the skin. She claims it’s her second favourite look of his; liking the fact that there’s something to ‘grab onto’ during more intimate moments.

He feels the tickle or her lashes as her eyes flicker closed, followed by the long, content sigh that she releases. And for several long minutes they lay in silence, one of his hands moving up to comb through her hair, the other slipping under the hem of her shirt; knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine.

“Me?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled against the side of his neck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I really DO like snuggling with you and all that. But right now? Right now I’m really horny and I really want to fuck.”

Laughing, she playfully tugs on his hair and pulls back to look at him. “Husband, you’re nothing if not brutally honest.”

“Wanna have sex?”

Grinning, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “Actually,” she says. “I do.”

****

They lay in a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and sweaty limbs; listening to the wind that rattles the windows and the soft patter of ice pellets and snow against the glass. Both on their sides with her back tucked into his front; her nails lightly and repeatedly skimming along the forearm that rests just under her breasts. His breath is warm against the nape of her neck and she enjoys the different sensations against her skin; the juxtaposition of soft, moist lips and the roughness of his beard. He wears it much shorter now; neatly trimmed and groomed and a far cry from the ‘lumberjack days’ when they’d lived in Colorado. Back when his body was thicker; extra weight around the middle and his muscles more bulky. He’s much more defined now. Tall and lean and athletic; broad shoulders and wide back, a sharp cut to his waist and beautifully detailed abs.

Forty seven years old and he’s in the best shape he’s ever been; a near mirror image of what he’d looked like at thirty five when they’d first met. She remembers that day well. Glancing up from where she’d crouched down on the porch to shower attention on his dog and finding those blue eyes riveted on her; intense and electric and filled with both curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. He wasn’t used to company, and certainly didn’t seem to like the idea of a complete stranger being brought straight to his doorstep.

Nik had told her just the bare minimum; ex special forces, a host of personal baggage and addiction issues, intense and withdrawn at his best. But word travels when you’re in the ‘circle’; the job a relatively tight knit considering the amount of people caught up in it and the number of countries that are serviced. She’d heard the stories; tales of fearlessness and brutality and exceptional skills. And while she’d thought Nik’s idea was ridiculous and that it would never work, she’d been intrigued as well; wanting to put a face to the name and to all the rumours and the whispers she’d been subjected to. Other than his towering height and those muscles that strained under the sleeves of his shirt and the host of tattoos and scars, he hadn’t been that intimidating; offering just a brief twitch of the lips in lieu of a smile, his hand engulfing hers when he quickly and willing shook it in greeting. There was something welcoming about him despite the lack of conversation; opening up a little as soon as Nik stepped outside and offering her a drink. Those eyes ever so slightly sparkling and a small smirk on his lips when she’d downed the glass of scotch; making a comment about being surprised a ‘wee thing like her’ could handle her liquor so well and then pouring her another. Even chuckling a little when she’d commented on his place of residence; modest and simple, a chicken probably a far better roommate than any human she’d ever shared living quarters with.

Things had actually started during the two day stay just outside of Dhaka; a high end hotel that Nik had procured for final team meetings and strategy sessions. Meeting up -by sheer chance and not by plan- at the establishment's bar; sharing both a table out on the patio and pitcher of beer and tray full of tequila shots. There’d also been a kiss. Or, as close to a kiss as you could get. When he’d walked her back to her room and they’d stood in the hallway; slightly inebriated and suddenly somewhat anxious and nervous around each other. Dinner had been casual and comfortable. He’d smiled and even laughed and teased her about being a total enigma; so small and delicate looking despite her time in the Corps and having such a reputation for being tenacious and no nonsense. They had shared stories of growing up in Colorado and Australia and he’d been relatively talkative; either encouraged by her own openness and chattiness or the mixture of the booze he’d consumed and the meds he’d taken. Yet suddenly they were both at a loss for words and things seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and she’d stuttered and stammered while asking him if he’d like to join her inside and then furiously blushing when he’d exactly accepted.

She can still remember what it had felt like; when she’d drunkenly teetered and stumbled when attempting to unlock her door and his arm had curled around her waist to keep her on her feet. His body had been warm and solid against hers; breath hot and moist on the back of her neck. His eyes had been locked on hers when she turned to face him, heart hammering in her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even something so simple as a kiss. And it had been even longer since she’d wanted someone that badly; physically aching and desperate to feel his hands and his mouth on her.

But it had never happened. In a brief moment of clarity, he’d backed away. Doing nothing more than pushing her hair behind her ears before backing away.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said. “I can’t do this to you.”

They never spoke of that moment again. Not even when things had crossed that line in Dhaka. It’s been just over twelve years and neither have brought it up. It didn’t matter anymore; the awkwardness they’d felt, the glimmer of life that she’d seen in his eyes, the words that he’d uttered. Things had changed. Drastically. Marriage and children and a somewhat happily ever after.

His free arm slips between her and the mattress. Coming to rest along her collarbone; fingers splayed over the top of her right breast, thumb repeatedly brushing along the hollow of her throat. “You alright?”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his and moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “More than alright. You? You okay?”

“I’m good. Is that what you wanted? Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, actually. I continue to be impressed by you. Your track record for incredible sex is almost a hundred percent.”

He raises his head from his pillow. “Almost?”

“You keep forgetting about that time after Kyle’s bachelor party. When you were drunk. When you got off and I didn’t and then had the goddamn gall to pass out. On top of me. Your poor little wife that’s a foot shorter and at that time, over a hundred pounds lighter.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t made up for it? It’s been ten years since that. I haven’t made amends yet?”

“You’re getting there,” she teases, and then yelps and giggles when his teeth sink into her shoulder. “By the way, I think the neighbour knows you’re here.”

“You know what I’m surprised about? That the kids didn’t wake up.”

“Maybe they’ve gotten so used to it, they just sleep through it now.”

“Or maybe they’re hiding under their covers, totally traumatized.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so good at what you do. Maybe you shouldn’t be the king of multiple orgasms. Screaming ones at that.”

“You’d rather I didn’t get you off at all?”

“Don’t get carried away. We don’t need to go to THAT big of an extreme.”

“We can resort back to a pillow over the face. Or my hand over your mouth.”

“Remember that time in Dhaka? When the people in the next room complained to the manager about the noise? He was so embarrassed; when he came up to our room.”

“I do. And I remember the first time we went to Phuket. I never introduced myself to the people in the next suite, but they seemed to know my first name.”

“They were just jealous. I guess neither of them ever experienced really good sex. And speaking of which; we’re going to have to change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“You can sleep on that part. That’s YOUR wet spot. On YOUR side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who made it happen. You should be the one to clean up the mess.”

He grins against the nape of her neck. “It’s a good mess though.”

“A very good mess,” she says, and then rolls over to face him; pressing herself tightly against his chest and reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?” He skims her fingertips along the length of her spine; pausing to trace the tattoo that decorates the small of her back before moving back up again. “Didn’t it seem like I was alright? Did I seem like I wasn’t having fun?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. You’re different; during sex. When something is bothering you, you do things differently. Not in a BAD way. Just in a different way. You’re more aggressive. Rougher than usual.”

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. You never do. It was perfect. YOU were perfect. It was just...different. You were different. I’ve been with you for twelve years. It’s one of the signs I’ve come to recognize; one of the things that change when something is bugging you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re good.”

“Are you going to tell me? What’s going on? You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admits, and then presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling over onto his back.

“I think you should.” Esme slides closer to him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “I think it’s good for you; talking about things that bother you. We’ve learned over the last twelve years, right? That things are better...that WE’RE better...when you don’t keep shit inside.”

Sighing heavily, he runs both hands over his face; wincing at the discomfort in both back and shoulder when he puts his hands behind his head.

“Is that what is? Pain? Did you get hurt? Do you need more meds? Do you…?”

“No pain. Just some tightness. I don’t need any more meds. I’m fine.”

“Did you take them while you were gone? ALL of them?”

“Babe, I’ve been taking them for five years. I wouldn’t fuck it up now.”

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just worried about you. I know something is wrong and I know it’s better for you NOT to keep quiet about it. So tell me. Please. Do your wife a solid and talk to her.”

“Didn’t I just slip you a solid? Twice?”

She scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s nothing. Me. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, but this is something involving you and I worry about you. Don’t do this, okay? Let’s not get back into old habits. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t want it. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs once more, briefly closing his eyes.

“Is it the job?” Gentle fingertips trace the roman numeral tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. “ Did something go wrong? Other than a change in venue?”

“No. Other than that, things went fine.”

“But it IS about the job.”

Tyler nods.

“I’m not a mind reader, babe. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good. Something DID go wrong, didn’t it.”

“No. Nothing went wrong. It’s just...the people...the Marks.”

“They didn’t die or…?”

“Oh they died. You don’t survive a gunshot in the middle of the forehead.”

“So other than the chance of scenery, nothing went wrong and both Marks died but..”

“It’s who they were. Why they had to be killed. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I do. Because it’s bothering you and I don’t want you carrying that around. That’s never a good thing; you burying things. So yes. I want to hear it. You didn’t tell me much before you left; just that they were pieces of shit and they needed to be wiped out. Other than that…”

“They were the lowest of the low, Me. You can’t get lower than these guys. And I’ve dealt with some pretty huge pieces of shit. These guys? Worst I’ve ever gone against. By far.”

“Worse than Asif and Mahajan?”

“Considering how personal they made things and what they were going to do to my family, no one is worse than them. But if I take the personal stuff out of it, these guys are up there.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. I didn’t think anyone could come close to those two.”

“The guns and the drugs? That shit was bad enough. They destroyed a lot of lives; killed a lot of people. But the shit I found AFTER I got there? About these guys? About other things they were up to? It’s fucked, Me. It’s fucked and it’s sick and twisted and I don’t think you need to know about it.”

“Well I think I do. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. It’s better if you don’t. Just tell me. I have big shoulders. Well, maybe not LITERALLY. What did you hear? About them?”

“Babe…”

“Tyler, tell me. Don’t do this. Not if you have plans on getting laid the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I would. I’m not afraid to pull out the big guns. So either you tell me, or you suffer. Simple as that.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Tell me.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Please.”

“When I got there and talked to the guy who hired Anil, things got worse. The Marks were even bigger pieces of shit than I thought. They’d both been married a handful of times. And put each one of their wives in the hospital. More than twice. A couple of them even ended up dead. There was never any proof that these guys did it, but…”

“But it’s pretty obvious.”

Tyler nods. “And then I heard about the kids. Not just kids they didn’t know. But kids related to them. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Their OWN kids.”

“Just beaten on them or…?”

“No. Not just beating on them. That’s bad enough. But this?”

“Sexual stuff.”

“Yeah. Sexual stuff.”

“Wow..” she sighs heavily, a fingertip skimming along the chain he wears around his neck. “...that IS the lowest of the low.”

“It just hit home. HARD. Made me think of you and the kids. Made being away from home a lot more difficult. And it was difficult enough already.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to hear all of that. But for it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you that took care of them. Anyone else ran the risk of screwing shit up. At least when you do things, you finish them That’s a bright spot, right? That you DID get to be the one?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just fucked me up. Mentally. Made me think of our kids. I swear to God, Me. If anything like that ever happens to them...if I ever find out that someone has touched them like that? I will fucking lose it. I will snap and I will fuck them up. I will torture them in all the worst ways possible. The most painful ways I know how. And then I’ll kill them. With my bare hands. If anyone ever messes with my kids…”

“Don’t think about that, Tyler. Don’t torture yourself like that. I mean, I think about it too. From time to time. And how I’d go nuts and kill someone. But don’t dwell on it, okay? Because our kids are fine. They’re warm and they're safe in their beds. And they always will be safe as long as you’re around. You know I always say you make me feel safe and protected? Well you do the same for them. You always have. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? They love you and they trust you. And you’re an amazing daddy.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all I want. Them safe. YOU safe.”

“And we ARE. Safe. As long as we’re with you, we’re fine. We don’t worry about a damn thing when you’re around. So please…” Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and nuzzles the end of her nose against his ear. “...no more dwelling. You got it out; you talked about it. You don’t need to think about it anymore.”

Running his hand through her hair, he tangles his fingers in the dark tresses and gently pulls her head back; lips covering hers in a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm…” she murmurs into his mouth, then sighs happily when he pulls away. “...that was...nice.”

“That was very nice.”

“You think you have one more in you? I still have some expectations that need to be met.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good.” She throws her arms around his neck and rolls onto her back, kissing him hungrily as she pulls him down on top of her. Nails digging into his skin and her legs wrapping around his waist; ankles locking at the small of his back and a devilish grin playing on her lips when he pulls back to look at her. “Husband, you need to make love to me again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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kinghoranshit · 3 years ago

Text

Tell Me A Lie (NH) Ch 5

Word count: 1455

Warnings: kissing, softness

A yelp left me as I rolled off the couch, which was followed by a groan. I rubbed my forehead that had hit the leg of the coffee table and squinted at a curled up Niall.

We really fell asleep on the couch.

The TV held the “are you still watching” screen for who knows how long. I found the remote to turn the TV off, then I sighed as I looked at Niall. He was now stretching out, cracking his muscles, and yawned. As he sat up, he wiped his face before he looked up at me.

“Good rest,” he mumbled.

I laughed, it came out hoarse and I coughed in an attempt to clear my throat. “Yeah, definitely.”

He looked like he was about to ask if I was okay, but he stood instead. “Breakfast before or after we get ready?”

“That’s-”

“No, it’s not. You choose.” Niall shot me a look.

I vaguely rolled my eyes. “Uhm… How about after.”

He smiled. “Perfect.”

I grabbed my stuff before following him upstairs and he lowkey dropped me off. He tapped his hand on the trim as he awkwardly leaned against it. “Hey, what’re you planning to wear today?”

“Depends on the weather outlook I guess.” I shrugged. “Why?”

“I…” He coughed into his hand. “Thought we could match a little.”

I couldn’t help the laugh. “Adorable. Well, uhm, let me check the weather.” The screen lit up once I’d lifted it and unlocked it. The weather was supposed to be cooler today. I could get away with a sweatshirt look. I took out my vintage, navy golf sweatshirt, white tennis skirt, white crew socks, and tan sneakers.

“I think this is what I’m gonna wear.”

He smirked. “Okay, I think I’ve got something to match. See you in a bit.”

I nodded. “You too.”

Internally I cringed after he was gone. You too? What the fuck was that? I tried to not overthink it as I ran a shower and quickly cleaned up. I blow dried my hair before I pulled it up into a messy pony, then clipped my slight bangs back with two small pearl barrettes. I didn’t have the energy to try super hard on my makeup, so it was a simple concealer, light brown eyeshadow, and peachy tinted balm kind of day.

When I looked at the fit in the mirror, immediately all the negative thoughts ensued - the most present one being that I was frumpy. It was meant to be. I had to remind myself that, and even if it wasn’t, being frumpy isn’t a bad thing. Like most people, my style was inspired from photos on pinterest. I wouldn’t even pretend that my outfits were original if someone asked. But I did enjoy my clothes so that’s what mattered.

My mini backpack matched my sneakers, which were louder on the stairs than my barefoot feet. I cursed even though it was literally just Niall and I, and we were both awake. Whistling sounds from the kitchen and I swifted in to see Niall dancing in front of the stove.

I held back a laugh. “Breakfast and a show? I’m getting the five star experience around here.”

Niall wore one of his own golf crewnecks with white shorts and white Nikes. It was way more reminiscent of the days before they disbanded. Though his style hadn’t changed much since then. He looked… good.

He turned off the burner and shook his head. He plated scrambled eggs and avocado smeared on some sort of bread, then slid one of them to me. “Don’t worry, it’s dairy free.”

My heart fluttered. I nodded. “Thanks. Looks delicious.”

***

Niall and I walked down the main of Melrose, hand in hand. I tried to focus on Niall as we walked. Dirty looks seemed to project in my direction. Social media was easier to handle to be honest.

Despite how delicious breakfast was, my stomach rolled in itself with nausea. I found myself humming a small tune to distract myself.

“What’re you humming?”

I glanced at Niall, flushed, and stopped. “It’s nothing.”

“Let’s not play this game, Kelly. What is it?”

I sighed heavily. “It’s a… It’s a song from one of the story playlists.”

Niall brightened up. “What song?”

I cleared my throat. “Superhero by Lauv.”

“Oi! I love that song. It’s a bop.”

“Agreed… It’s not for the Stone Cold series. It’s an individual project.”

He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “No, I’m not sure if it’s something I’ll share with the public. It was originally a shits and giggles purge Tumblr fic, but then I decided to rewrite it as an episodic screenplay.”

“I can’t say it’s something I’d enjoy, but I’m sure there are a lot who would.” His phone buzzed so he pulled it out to check. His hand squeezed around mind and he slowly came to a halt.

His eyes gazed into mine. He rested one hand on my cheek and the other on my hip. I tried not to look or feel confused; it wasn’t working. I was still unaware when the hired paps were going to be nearby, but they must be now. I attempted to put on a show smile, taking a step closer, and rested my hands on his torso as we leaned in for a kiss.

His soft lips so carefully touched mine. His hand snaked to the back of my neck and the following kiss was much more passionate. Then they were gone.

I was stunned. That seemed way more than a friendly kiss. I didn’t have much time to process as Niall entwined our hands again and pulled us toward a store as the paps “swarmed” us. When we were in a more secluded area of the Gucci store, I tugged him to a stop.

“What was that second kiss?”

“I don’t really know… It needed to be believable.”

I snorted. “Well, that felt pretty damn real.”

Both of us fell silent, and he tapped his fingers on the display table. “It… Wasn’t. It was just for show. Did you want anything in here?”

I raised my eyebrows. There was definitely a better answer than what he gave me, yet it was a can of worms that didn’t need to be opened. I cleared my throat. “I can’t afford it.”

He lightly smirked. “Melrose is full of luxury stores. It’s on me. We could get something matching?”

“Nialler, that would be crazy.”

“Crazy fun, you mean.” His eyes sparkled as he bit his bottom lip. “Come on, let loose!”

I overlooked him a few more seconds, just to antagonize him. Finally, I sighed. “Fine. But not from here. No one would believe you bought something from Gucci, even for me… What about Versace or Burberry? They’ve got dope trousers and accessories.”

He shot me his look with one eyebrow cocked. He didn’t say a word.

I rolled my eyes. “You know I’m on pinterest a lot.”

“That… sounds ideal.” He reached his hand out for me to take. “Let’s do it.”

***

When we returned to Niall’s mansion with bags of belts, shirts, and trousers that evening, we covered news articles and social media. All used the few photos taken, the star being the second kiss and it looked very much… believable. Modest! sent praising emails for how well this first outing was. It was an odd appraisal.

“Hey, what if we went to a couple bars tonight?” Niall suggested.

“Will there be any dancing involved?”

“Nnnn- yeeesss,” Niall answered by gauging the emotion on my face.

I laughed under my breath. “I love a good club if you’re down. We can always save it for tomorrow night. Saturday might be better anyway.”

“It’s LA, Kelly. Every night is a good night to drink and dance. That life never dies here.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” I admitted, narrowing my eyes at him.

He pecked my cheek. “I’m Irish, of course it’s good. Leave in an hour or so?”

I hesitated. “I… How about tomorrow night? Today was a lot to be honest.”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah! Whatever you want. Any ideas for dinner?”

A small smile spread on my lips. “Tacos?”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied. “I’ll get it set up.”

“Thanks.”

I snuck upstairs to the guest bedroom and flopped down onto the bed. My body sunk into the jersey soft comforter and I let out a tired breath. Lazily, I scrolled through all my notifications, replying to all the text messages from my friends and parents. They all bought that Niall and I were legit. Obviously that’s good, but also it leaves a terrible taste in my mouth.

Next: Ch 6

[Masterlist]

#Niall Horan #Niall Horan fic #Niall Horan fanfiction #fic #romance #drama #comedy #Tell Me a Lie #NH #Ch 5

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angelofthequeers · 5 years ago

Text

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 30 | Chapter 32 | AO3 link

“It’s not funny!” Ladybug snaps. Chat Noir just continues to sag against the metal tip at the top of the Eiffel Tower and clutch at his sides. How can he not? The irony of this!

“It’s – it’s hilarious!” he chokes. “Rena and Carapace hate each other but they’re dating!”

“Alright, maybe the dramatic irony is a little funny,” Ladybug concedes after a moment. Yes! Score! “But they have to be able to work together, Chat! I’m planning on having them patrol together, so they can trust each other as partners like we do.”

“Oh, they already trust each other,” Chat Noir says with a devious little grin. He yowls when Ladybug reaches out and flicks his bell into his chin in response. “Hey! Hands off the bell!”

“Why do I put up with you?” Ladybug mumbles. Months ago, a comment like that might have hit Chat deep down, feeding into insecurities, adding to the dark voices telling him that he’s not enough. But between Ladybug’s grounding presence by his side and his friends and the hurricane that is Marinette, her comment just bounces right off and instead makes his grin wider.

“Because I’m irrepawceable,” he says. Ladybug rolls her eyes to high heaven.

“That one wasn’t even good enough to be mediocre,” she says. “If you need to stretch that far, just don’t make the pun.”

“I see how it is,” Chat Noir huffs and flops down to rest his head in Ladybug’s lap. She rolls her eyes again but still starts scratching behind his fake ears, and if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like it’s Marinette scratching him instead.

“How are things with Marinette?” Ladybug says after a moment. “You seem happier lately.”

Chat Noir sighs and purrs, because inviting him to talk about his girlfriend is pretty much the best way to put him straight on cloud nine. “She’s perfect, milady,” he says. “She’s always got cookies for me and cheese buns for Plagg, and she’s so smart and creative, and I could just sit and watch her design for hours because she gets so into it and her tongue does this little blep and just – aaaah, she’s an angel.”

“Always the romantic,” Ladybug says fondly, though there’s an odd little crack in her voice that Chat Noir can’t even begin to decipher. When she digs her fingers into his scalp, he doesn’t want to begin to decipher it.

“She’s even okay with me liking another person at the same time,” Chat Noir says. “So long as I’m open with her about my feelings. And I looked up polyamory the other day and…well, it said that you can’t just jump into a relationship with another person unless you and the first person can stand on your own.”

“That makes sense,” Ladybug says. “One relationship is enough effort. I think it’s a good idea that you and Marinette are focusing on yourselves for now.” She twirls a lock of hair around her fingers, and Chat Noir lets out a particularly loud purr at that. “I’m glad you’re happy, kitty cat. I don’t feel so bad now about telling you that, well…I’ve got a boyfriend.”

Chat Noir’s eyes fly open and he jolts upright. “Really? And you’re only telling me now? I clawght we were purrtners, mewlady.”

“We won’t be if you keep up those awful puns,” Ladybug deadpans. Then she sighs and squares her shoulders. “And…yeah. I can’t tell you who he is – identity reasons and all, since I’m dating him outside the mask – but…he’s so sweet. A little shit at times, yeah, but he’s really thoughtful and I secretly love his sense of humour. Not that he’d let me live it down if I told him that.”

“Aah, milady has her first boyfriend,” Chat Noir says and nudges her. “I hope he knows that he’ll have to answer to me if he hurts you.”

“Trust me, I think he’ll be more afraid of me than you,” Ladybug says. Chat Noir sniffs.

“Fine. Be like that. Even though you’re totally right and you’re scary when you’re pissed. I’d hate to be the guy who hurt Ladybug.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem at all,” Ladybug says with a knowing little smile. Is there an inside joke that he’s missing? “And it’s not like he knows I’m Ladybug. I’m dating him as civilian me, not superhero me.”

“I still stand by my statement,” Chat Noir says. “With or without the mask, only someone as deluded as Hawkmoth would mess with you.”

“Aww, isn’t this cute,” coos a voice. Chat Noir jerks in surprise as Rena Rouge leaps down from the very tip of the Tower and lands in a crouch, her mouth pulled in a teasing little smirk and her eyes glittering behind her orange and white mask.

“You know it’s rude to eavesdrop on private conversations, right?” Ladybug says, raising an eyebrow. Rena Rouge shrugs.

“Maybe you shouldn’t discuss it in the middle of Paris, then.”

“Who’s gonna be up here except annoying, eavesdropping foxes?” Chat Noir says. Rena Rouge rolls her eyes.

“Alright, touché. When’s Shellhead getting here?”

“Carapace is right here.” A dark green shape leaps up to the tiny platform from below, where he’d obviously been scaling the Tower. “No need to be such a bitch, dude.”

“Me, a bitch?” Rena Rouge snorts. “That’s rich.”

“Can we not?” Chat Noir says. “Just sit down and try to get along or Ladybug’ll make you wear the getting-along shirt.”

“Rena wasn’t flirting,” Ladybug says with twitching lips as Rena Rouge and Carapace obediently sit. “She’s just a superhero enthusiast. I’d think Carapace could appreciate that enthusiasm, judging by his friends, especially one in particular. And Carapace was just being loyal, and Rena should admire his dedication to his girlfriend. Done? Done. We’re a team, and I refuse to have you two at each other’s throats because of a misunderstanding.”

“Now, kiss and make up,” Chat Noir grins. Ladybug elbows him in response. Okay, okay, but how could he help that, knowing who Rena Rouge and Carapace are?

“I’d phrase it a different way,” Ladybug says. “Apologise, both of you. My god, when did I turn into the mum friend?”

“Sorry for being a dick,” Carapace finally says, crossing his arms.

“Sorry for getting all bitchy at you,” Rena Rouge says, scowling down at her feet. Ladybug smiles and claps her hands.

“See? All better!” she coos, rather like a preschool teacher. Chat Noir bites down on his lip to keep his laughter at that one way down. “Now, I had a good talk with Rena after the battle, and I think it would be a good idea to implement a rule about personal ties with akumas.”

Chat Noir immediately sees where this is going. “Agreed,” he says. “No fighting an akuma if it’s too personal.”

“But what if it’s a family member?” Rena Rouge says. “I realised about two minutes after Ladybug left me. If I have to sit that one out because it’s too personal, won’t Carapace figure out who I am? And the other way around?”

“Yeah, why did Faux News set Rena Rouge off like that?” Carapace says. Ladybug swears under her breath.

“How unladylike, milady,” Chat Noir grins. Ladybug once again elbows him. Okay, it would probably be a good idea to move himself away from elbowing reach, but that would involve sitting away from his lady, and then he won’t get that affection that he so desperately craves in his very soul.

Honestly, fuck Gabriel Agreste. It’s getting to that point, even if there’s still a twinge of have to be the dutiful son, he’ll be proud if I try hard enough lingering.

“That’s a good point,” Ladybug says.

“About the Faux News thing, it’s because he was plagiarising m – uh, the Ladyblogger,” Rena Rouge says. “And I hate it when people steal other people’s work, especially because Alya puts a shit tonne of work into that thing and she didn’t deserve that. Guess I just…got overly invested.”

There’s newfound respect in Carapace’s eyes as he stares at Rena Rouge, no doubt at her staunch defence of his girlfriend, who unknowingly happens to be her. Dear god, Chat Noir’s going to puke up rainbows in a minute.

“But I think I’ll be okay, Ladybug,” Rena Rouge says. “Dick News caught me by surprise. And if you guys can’t just step back when shit gets personal, it shouldn’t be fair to expect us to back off too.”

“Yeah, it’s called teamwork,” Carapace drawls. Rena Rouge flips him off and mutters something about turtle soup in its own shell.

“Productive team meeting,” Chat Noir grins before Carapace can clock Rena Rouge around the head with his shield. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Oh!” Rena Rouge jabs a finger at Carapace. “The group chat! Emails, guys, and Shellhead needs to shut his eyes because I have to detransform to get my phone.”

While Carapace dutifully slaps a hand over his goggles, Rena Rouge transforms back into Alya, and Trixx settles in Alya’s bag to munch on a berry, Ladybug fishes a strip of paper out of her yo-yo to hand over. Chat Noir rummages in one of his suit pockets until he finds his burner email address, and Carapace doesn’t even need to look at any kind of note to be able to rattle it off to Alya. Her tongue pokes out of her mouth as she works her magic, although it’s nowhere near as cute as when Marinette bleps, but everything about Marinette is so much cuter than anyone else, so there might just be a bit of bias there –

“– done!” Alya’s voice snaps Chat Noir out of his Marinette daze. “We can’t exactly test it up here, so it’ll have to wait till we’re home, but the invite links I emailed should work once you’ve made your accounts. If not…well, I’ll beat my phone till they do. Trixx, let’s pounce.”

Carapace doesn’t uncover his eyes until Rena Rouge tells him that it’s okay to do so, and there’s a glimmer of respect in her eyes at this action that hadn’t been present before. But she still looks like she wants to shove her flute through his throat, so all’s still right in the world. At least they should trust each other enough to be efficient teammates. Hopefully.

“So, like, any more heroes gonna be joining us?” Carapace says. “Or is it just gonna be us four?”

Chat Noir exchanges a look with Ladybug as they have one of their silent conversations, possible only because of the bond they’ve forged over the past year thanks to Hawkdouche. It’s probably not a good idea to mention the zodiacs; even if Hawkmoth has an inkling that they exist, there’s no sense in giving two newbies too much information. Especially since they’re probably not even going to give out any of the zodiacs unless they absolutely have to do so.

“There are five Miraculouses in your tier,” Ladybug finally says. “Fox, Bee, Turtle, Peacock, and Butterfly. The Peacock and Butterfly were lost ages ago, so they’re not viable. But yes, we’re keeping our eye out for a suitable Bee holder.”

Well, she’s not technically lying. The Peacock was lost ages ago, and it’s not a viable option because it’s still broken and because Gabriel will know that Adrien had been lying about the fake brooch.

“Ladybug and I are in the top tier,” Chat Noir says. “We’re the balance of the universe.” He shoots a grin at Ladybug, who just rolls her eyes.

“We should wrap this up,” Ladybug says. “I, uh…may have some important homework to do that’s due tomorrow.”

“Naughty, milady,” Chat Noir teases. “Leaving your homework to the last minute.”

“If you wanted me to shove you off the Tower, all you had to do was ask,” Ladybug says with a sweet smile. Rena Rouge snorts into her hand.

“As much as this Ladynoir banter is killing me, Ladybug’s got a point,” she says. “I have babysitting responsibilities. Ugh. Damn siblings, existing when I could be spending time with Ladybug.”

“Wow, that sounds like something my girlfriend would say,” Carapace snickers. Chat Noir rolls his eyes at Ladybug when Rena Rouge and Carapace aren’t looking, and Ladybug bites down on her lip to muffle her laughter.

“Check your emails!” is Rena Rouge’s parting comment as she pushes herself to her feet, then starts to bound down the Eiffel Tower. Carapace salutes at Ladybug and Chat Noir and follows her.

“Well,” Chat Noir says as he stands. “That was a fun little get-together. Allow a mangy alley cat to escort you home, milady?”

“Nice try,” Ladybug says, though she does let him help her up. “You won’t get my identity that easily.”

“Fine,” Chat Noir huffs. “I see how it is. You can walk home yourself, then.”

“Fine with me.” Ladybug boops him on the nose, then takes off swinging, calling over her shoulder, “Last one to the school’s a rotten akuma!”

“Hey!” Chat Noir whines and leaps after her. “No fair! You cheater!”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #alya cesaire #rena rouge #nino lahiffe #carapace #ladynoir #is that another love square i see

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something-tofightfor · 6 years ago

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He’s Not Here - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 4518

Rating: M. Mention of sex, language... but nothing too raunchy

Parts 1-12 + the interludes can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)!

Summary: The holidays are approaching, and Billy’s found something new to do for work - what does it mean for the two of you?

And we’re back.

** 13 months out from the events of DD S2 **

Tagging: If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

@banditthewriter @breanime @obscurilicious @padfootagain @madamrogersstorytelling @ooo-barff-ooo @agent-bossypants@suchatinyinfinity @chibiyanai @songtoyou @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @drinix @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @likethetailofacomet @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @shinebrightlikeafanbase @littlemermaidprobz @jovialyouthmusic @zaffrenotes @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso

“You realize,” he questioned you, blinking slowly. “You… do realize that as great as these past months have been that I’m still not out yet, right?” It was late November and you were shopping for Christmas gifts with Billy on a Saturday. The two of you had taken a break for lunch, settling into a booth in a deli that was only half full. Even though it was more convenient for you to shop in the city since it was close to your apartments, Billy had suggested driving out to Frank and Maria’s area since it would be less crowded and there were more ‘normal’ stores - ones that were more in line with your budgets. He’d been home for a little over four months, and the two of you had fallen into what could only be described as an easy rhythm as the days passed. He’d been turned down for Anvil nearly two months prior but Billy had bounced back, continuing to save money and try to figure out where all of the extra funding could come from while simultaneously reaching out to contacts for security experience and potential connections.

“Yeah, Billy.” I do. You sighed, shaking your head as Billy took a bite of his sandwich. “Have you… heard anything? Did you get orders?” Shaking his head no, Billy waited for you to continue. “Well then, what’s bringing that up going to do?” He smiled. “I just want to enjoy Christmas with you and…”

“Yeah. Well.” He cleared his throat, glancing around the room before looking back at you, his eyes serious. “I got a job.” Billy closed his eyes. “Well, the opportunity for a job anyway.” He reached out, taking your hand across the small table and moving his thumb over the back slowly. “It shouldn’t be a big deal, but they want me and Frankie and a few other people.” What? You stayed silent. “I gotta stay sharp, and the daily training is great, but I need to get my hands on a gun again, to…”

“What’s this job?” You were frowning at him, but couldn’t ignore the excited look in Billy’s eyes, the way his gaze had sharpened, the straight set of his shoulders. Lieutenant William Russo, reporting for duty.

“Frankie knows someone that knows a politician that’s going to be in New York in a week or so, and will need some private security.” He paused. “Armed security.” Oh. “So Frankie and I are going to do it. Maria’s on board, because it’s really good money and they want to take the kids to Disney in February, and I thought that maybe if this goes well, it’ll get my name out there and I can start making contacts for Anvil…” Billy trailed off, taking another deep breath. “I know it’s not about the money, but it’s going to help, and everything that I can save is worth it.” His eyes were bright and you knew that while he wasn’t asking your permission - Billy did what he wanted - knowing that you were on board would mean a great deal to him.

“I think it’s a good idea.” You smiled at him, pulling your hand away from his and picking up your drink. “But you’ve already agreed to do it, haven’t you?” Billy at least had the good grace to look sheepish, nodding his head in agreement. “Is it only one night?” His posture loosening, Billy spent the next fifteen minutes telling you about the job, about the client in vague details and about how simple it would be, even though it was for three days in total. He seemed more excited than he had about anything in a long time, and you felt yourself becoming intrigued. When he gets Anvil, this is how it’s going to be, too. “Is it dangerous?” Billy shrugged, finishing his lunch and leaning back in his chair, one hand moving in a vague gesture.

“Less dangerous than when I’m overseas, but more dangerous than going to work every day.” He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair - now long and slicked back. “I’ll be armed, I’ll be wearing protective gear, but it shouldn’t be bad, I’ll have Frankie watchin’ my six, and then I can afford to-” He cut himself off, a grin on his face. “We should keep goin’, though… I wanna get back to the city before it gets too late, and we still have a bunch of places to go.” What’s he need to afford? Anvil? Standing, you waited for Billy to put his coat back on, hand going to your shoulder as the two of you exited the restaurant and headed back to the sidewalk.

---

The following week, Billy said goodbye to you on Sunday evening, kissing you hard, his hands tangled in your hair. When he pulled away, you saw that even in your apartment’s overhead lighting, Billy looked different. His eyes were focused and he was carrying himself in a way that you’d only seen from him the first night he’d returned from Iraq. “I’ll talk to you on Wednesday night, OK?” You nodded, unwilling to loosen your grip on his shoulder, to tear your eyes away from his. “I’m gonna be fine, it’s just a few days, and Frankie’s gonna be there with me.” Yeah, I know. “It’s almost like you care about me, or somethin’” Billy leaned in, his breath against your ear and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to keep from letting him know just how true his words were. “I told you, I’ll be fine. I’m not even sniping, I’ll be right there up close with my knives.” You felt an involuntary shiver run through your body at the mention of Billy and his blades, knowing just how good he was with them, how much he relished getting to use them. I hope he doesn’t need to use them. “See you soon.” He pressed his lips to your cheek and then stood up straight, the back of one finger tracing down from your temple to your cheek before he turned away from you, pulling the door open and walking out.

After you locked the door, you watched through the peephole as he walked away, pausing near the elevator and then stepping out of sight. “Be safe, Russo. Love you.” You still hadn’t been able to say the words to Billy yet, but you told him at least once every day - safely inside your head or verbally after you’d hung the phone up or said goodbye to him. You didn’t need him to say it back; your feelings weren’t contingent on his, but at the same time, you didn’t want to risk saying them and having him not return the sentiment, so it was simply safer to keep them locked away, for your ears only until the time was right. Billy had opened up a great deal to you in the four months that he’d been home, and you were unwilling to risk the progress for something as asinine as a declaration of love - he was with you, not stepping out, not including you in a rotation with other women like he had at the beginning of your association - and that was enough.

Tuesday afternoon, you got a message from Billy, and though it was short, it made you smile as you sat at your desk at work, typing out emails. ‘Still intact. Hangin’ out with some CIA contacts. No big deal.’ You messaged back quickly, not knowing if he was going to be able to respond, telling him that you were glad he was OK, that it was good to hear from him. He sent back a picture in response, himself from the shoulders up, that signature Billy smirk on his face and a thumbs up with his other hand. He was wearing a suit, but you saw the top of a bulletproof vest at the very bottom of the picture, something you knew that he’d tried to keep out of the image. You froze, zooming in on it and all you wanted to do was call him, but you knew that you couldn’t, that it was better to just not say anything. One more day. One more day and he’s done and I won’t have to worry. Until next time.

Wednesday night, you were in the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Stirring the pot of potatoes that you were boiling, you turned the heat down and stepped over to answer it, a smile on your face. “Hey, kid.” Frank stood in your doorway, and at the look on his face - a stoic one that on anyone else you would have read as impassive but on Frank, it was as close to worry as you’d ever seen - you froze with the smile still on your lips. “You need to come with me.” Heart pounding in your chest, you looked back over your shoulder, eyes wide.

“I just gotta turn off the stove, I was cooking dinner for Billy and I, and - “

“Billy’s not comin’ to dinner, kid.” Frank’s voice was quiet, almost dangerous, and you looked back at him, noticing for the first time that his hands were stained with blood - as were the cuffs of his sweatshirt. “That’s why I’m here.” What?

You turned the stove off, sliding the pot from one burner to another cold one and then pulled your shoes on numbly. Frank stood next to the door, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes following you as you moved through the apartment, but he was silent. He hadn’t offered any other information and as you followed him out the front door, you reached out, touching his shoulder. “Frank, what… is he OK?” While waiting for the elevator, you watched Frank’s fingers flexing, saw the tic in his jaw. “Frank. Is Billy -”

“He got shot. I wasn’t paying attention and he got shot.” You felt yourself deflate, but Frank shook his head stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the garage. “First bullet went clean through, but he was bleedin’ pretty bad, and he’s at the hospital gettin’ it taken care of.” He’s OK. Though you were still concerned, hearing Frank speak so matter of factly about the injury helped in its own way. “I shoulda seen it, but we were sweeping a building before the last meeting, and there was someone, and…” He trailed off, shaking his head as you walked into the parking garage, following Frank toward the car. “We got the bastards, but not before Billy got hit.” As you buckled your seatbelt, you stared out the window.

“Who got him, Frank? Was it you?” At your question, Frank actually laughed, easing the car onto the road and turning in the direction of Metro General.

“I’ll let Billy tell you about that one, kid.” Neither of you spoke for the rest of the short drive, and Frank let you out before going to park the car, feet carrying you quickly into the hospital.

After asking at the reception desk for Billy’s room number, you nervously walked down the hallway toward it, pausing before stepping in. Billy wasn’t alone in the room. There was a nurse standing next to his bed with a tablet in her hands, fingers tapping quickly as she charted his information. You watched from the doorway as she smiled down at him and Billy stared up at her with a grin on his face, the one that disarmed even the strongest willed women. You knew it well, because you saw it at least ten times a day when you were with him. The fuck?

“William, please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” The nurse reached down with one hand, touching his shoulder and Billy’s eyes followed the movement, the grin getting wider as the nurse leaned down. “Anything, sir.” Billy coughed and you shifted, feeling an emotion that wasn’t quite rage building inside you. “It’s not every day that we get combat veterans like yourse-”

“I appreciate the offer, sweetheart… but I already got someone to take care of me.” Billy turned his head toward the doorway, his smile changing into a very different one - one that was reserved for you and you alone. “Hey you.” The nurse stood up straight and frowned, pushing past you and out the door of Billy’s room. “So Frankie came to get you?” Billy was still smiling and he patted the space on the bed next to him, inviting you in. “I lied to you.” You settled onto the mattress, left hand going to the side of his head as you leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

“You OK, Russo?” Though you were scared, seeing him had helped. He looked strong, looked healthy, looked alert, and most importantly he looked alive.

“You’re not gonna yell at me?” You shook your head, eyes on his face and Billy blew out a breath, slowly blinking. “I was expecting cryin’ and a rant about how it was stupid of me to…” You shrugged, and Billy moved his left hand onto your lap, fingers wrapping around the top of your thigh. “Damn.” He took a breath, ��but you noticed that it was a shallow one, and that he winced slightly as he let it out. “Well.” Billy cleared his throat. “Not much to tell, really… I got shot, and I shouldn’t have.” He spoke matter of factly, head lolling to the side. “First guy was hidden and we didn’t see him, but we shoulda’. I should have seen him.” Billy’s head moved back and forth. “First guy got me once below the vest, went clean through me before I could get to him. The second guy hit me in the vest, and Frankie took care of him for me. Woulda been different if we’d trained as a team for this, not just gone into it blind.”

“You got shot twice?” He nodded. “Jesus, Billy. Are you sure you’re OK?” He laughed but then winced, his right hand reaching over to press against his left side. “They give you anything for the pain?”

“Yeah, I mean they did the stitches with a local, but they gave me pain meds too, figured that since I gotta stay overnight, I’d be more comfortable that way. They didn’t have to put me under, because they said it didn’t hit anything vital, so...” Billy sighed. “I’ve been shot before, but the ribs hurt. I forgot how much it hurts to take impact in a vest that’s not standard military issue.” He stopped talking and you looked down at him as Billy’s eyes stared into the corner of the room. “I wasn’t scared, I was just mad.” Billy finally looked at you again, and there was no emotion in his eyes. “Didn’t even hurt when it happened, not til it was all over. I shoulda been ready. If I had Anvil up and running, I’d be in better shape. I would have been prepared. We would have had better gear, been a real team...”

“It’s only been a few months, Billy, you wouldn’t have had everything in order yet.” He huffed, teeth biting down on his lower lip.

“Yeah, but it woulda been better. I missed this feeling. I’ve only been home for four months, and it feels like forever, like too long.” Great, so he’d rather be there than here with me. “I need that feeling, you know? Need to feel like I’m helping, like I’m gonna do some good, like I have a reason to be fighting.” You nodded, trying to keep the anguish out of your eyes, keep your face straight. “I need to find a way to get Anvil, and this just… I don’t know what I can do right now, but I need to figure it out.” Billy’s eyes hardened as he brought his gaze back to you, the look in them steely. “I’m made to do this kind of shit, and even though the next tour is going to be my last one, I can’t just stop.”

Both of you were silent, the only noises in the room coming from the equipment that Billy was hooked up to as it beeped softly. His hand was still on your thigh, the other one laying across his stomach, fingers pressed against his side. You didn’t know what to say - when Billy was like this, you felt out of your depth, like he wasn’t the same person you’d gotten to know over the last twenty months. “I get it, Billy.” You finally spoke after collecting your thoughts. “It’s what you’re good at. The high pressure, high stakes situations. You don’t wanna die, but you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.” He frowned, a wrinkle appearing on his otherwise smooth forehead. “And you’d rather be doing it on your own terms than someone else’s.”

“I would.” Blinking, Billy shifted in the bed, removing his hand from your leg. “But I still don’t have a way to get there yet.” His expression changed again, changing from unreadable to sad to determined in the span of only a few seconds. “It’ll happen. Especially since we didn’t let anything happen to the client this time, despite me gettin’ shot” He finally smiled again, looking back at you and you felt immense relief that the blankness was gone, that he was back. “Get hazard pay, too.” Billy shifted again, pulling himself up so that he was half sitting, his upper back against the headboard. “Guess that’s one of the perks of all this, right?” He pushed the blankets down, pulling his hospital gown up and exposing a small bandage that sat low on the left side of his abdomen. “Got one on my back, too. That side’s gonna leave a nasty scar.”

You stared at his body for a few moments before tentatively reaching out to run your fingers over the bandage and then the bruise that had bloomed on his ribcage, which was already the size of a grapefruit. “I’m glad you’re ok, Billy.” Seeing his injuries had finally shown you the severity of the situation. He’d been shot at multiple times. He could have bled out, could have been shot somewhere else - somewhere much more vulnerable - could have not walked away from the situation. But he wasn’t. And he made it. “More scars, Russo?” He smiled at you, looking up from the bed as you raised an eyebrow. “That nurse seemed to be very interested in them.” Billy rolled his eyes, making a ‘what do you want me to do about it’ gesture with his hands and you laughed, leaning down to look into his eyes, a hand resting on the front of his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re relatively OK, Billy.”

He didn’t answer right away, but he looked at you without blinking, without averting his gaze. “Me too.” Billy sniffed, nodding. “Thanks for not freakin’ out on me.” I’ll freak out at home once I leave, not here. Not in front of you.

“It’s your life, Russo. You wanna live like this - put yourself in the position to get shot or stabbed or -”

“Wasn’t me that got stabbed.” Billy winked at you, a gleam in his eye. “I got that sonofoabitch without batting an eye, I didn’t even realize that I was bleeding until he was on the ground and Frankie was screamin’ at me.” Oh. He killed someone… he… “Hey.” He lifted his hand, thumb moving over your lips before the others curled beneath your jaw. He just killed someone with a knife that he held in that hand. “You OK with that? You know it’s gonna be a part of this sometimes, that…”

“Yes.” You swallowed, nodding your head. “I know you gotta… do what you need to do to survive.” You took a deep breath. “It’s gotten you this far, right?” He nodded, eyes widening, even as they darkened, his breathing quickening slightly. Am I really OK with this? Knowing that he’s going to… “Not gonna scare me off with this, Russo.” You leaned down, finally kissing him on the mouth and Billy’s hand slid around to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you back. I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s talking about this, but he’s so turned on right now, I… “Mmmm, Billy.” You pulled back, teeth catching on his lip as you shook your head. “Can’t get too carried away here, you’ve got a gaping hole in your side and you can barely move.”

He cleared his throat and hummed. “You can just climb on top, won’t have to move much that way.” Laughing, you playfully swatted at his chest, sitting up straight. “Nah, I know. I gotta be careful. Plenty of time for all that.” You talked for a few more minutes and then there was a knock on the door, both of you turning to look. Frank stood with his arms crossed, and you saw that he’d changed his clothes and washed his hands before coming to see his friend. You’d never seen Frank in military mode - not even during your video chats with Billy, but he was close now, eyes searching the room, shoulders straight and his feet planted in a stance that told you he meant business. “Hey, Frankie.”

You stood as Frank stepped into the room, and felt Billy’s hand slip away from you, watching as he pushed himself into a sitting position, locking his jaw against a wince. He’s trying to keep Frank from seeing how much pain he’s in. “I’ll let you guys talk. I’ll wait in the hallway.” Billy offered you a smile and Frank simply grunted, pulling a chair away from the wall and toward Billy’s bed. “When do you get released, Russo?” Billy pressed his lips together, closing his eyes briefly.

“Tomorrow. Probably after a doctor checks on me to make sure I didn’t tear my stitches and that I can move around on my own.” You nodded. “Can you… come get me?” He sounded so unsure of even asking you, so unwilling to make the request that you nearly gasped out loud, but managed to keep it quiet.

“Of course. Just call me in the morning and let me know when. I just have paperwork tomorrow so I’m basically free all day.” He smiled gratefully and you said goodbye to the two men before stepping to the door and settling into a chair down the hallway. Billy was going to be OK - this time - but he’d come dangerously close to losing his life on American soil, where he was supposed to be safe. Would he have been better off with Anvil? Would they have been better prepared? You thought about it, frowning as you leaned on your hand, elbow resting on the wooden chair arm. Probably. They would have been a team. With a sigh, you pulled your phone out, a faint smile on your lips as you read a text from Maria and another from your friend Erin.

Some time passed and then you heard Frank’s voice saying your name. He was speaking normally, but there was a new resolve in his voice as you stood, stepping over to him. “Billy told me to tell you he’d text you later if the meds didn’t knock him out.” Frank smiled, licking his lips as he shook his head. “He’s tough, you know?” I do. “Didn’t want anything too strong, because he didn’t wanna be out of it, but he’s in pain and I convinced him.” Frank stopped talking as his eyes moved past you and to a figure that had just entered the room. “Sir.” You looked over too, eyes falling on a tall, large man with white hair and a weathered face. “Major, glad you could make it. Bill’s just down the hall in 342.” The man nodded and Frank stepped forward, reaching a hand out to shake it. “He’ll be glad to see you.”

“And who is this, Castle? Where’s Maria?” The tone of the man’s voice wasn’t quite accusatory, but it was interested and Frank chuckled again, ducking his head before he answered.

“This is actually a girlfriend of Russo’s.” Frank introduced you and the older man’s eyes brightened as he looked you over, but it wasn’t with happiness, it was with amusement. Though you kept the smile on your face, there was something unsettling about the way the man looked at you as if he was assessing you and not being introduced to you. “This is Major Ray Schoonover. He’s… well, my mentor, and he’s been helpful for Bill for the last two deployments, too.” Ah. Figured he was military. Schoonover reached out to shake your hand, fingers gripping yours a little too tightly as he continued to eye you.

“Russo finally settling down?” There was an edge to his voice but you ignored it. You laughed, shaking your head as you pulled your hand away from his, eyes going back to Frank.

“I wouldn’t say that, no.” Frank shook his head, scoffing, but you continued. “We’re getting to know each other, though, and I…” You stopped speaking as you saw that Schoonover had already looked away from you, glancing down the hall toward Billy’s room. OK then.

“Well, Castle, since I’m here, I’ll go in and say hello and give Russo some shit and then be on my way.” Frank nodded, straightening up again and you gave a tiny nod as well, but the white-haired man didn’t even look in your direction again. “Good seeing you, Frank. Say hello to Maria and the kids.” He finally looked at you again and you saw in his eyes that you were already an afterthought; not important enough to verbally address a second time. Whatever. Schoonover cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away from you before striding down the hallway toward Billy’s door and away from you and Frank.

“He took me in when I joined, taught me how to be a Marine,” Frank explained as you headed toward the elevator. “Taught me to fight and to stand up and to lead.” As you stepped into the elevator, Frank shook his head. “Thought Bill could use some of the same right now.” Frank offered you a sad smile. “Schoonover’s a little… stiff, but he’s a good guy and a hell of a Marine, we’ve learned a lot from him.” You nodded, but still felt that there was something off about Schoonover - and about the way that he’d looked at you. “Bill’s been talking about makin’ contacts and Schoonover might just be able to help him with that, too. Figured I’d invite him here and see if I can give Bill a win after all this.” Oh. That makes sense, but… How can he… Billy’s in no shape to be... “Let’s get you home, kid. It’s been a long few days and I wanna see my kids.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and following Frank through the hallway and toward the parking garage, the sound of Christmas music filling your ears.

---

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quasisnipr1048 · 5 years ago

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Vector Marketing: Not Quite A Scam, But Might As Well Be One

So for reference, here are the players in this story:

Me, recent electrical engineering graduate in an intense job searching phase

My brother, J, who has never really bothered to do any job searching since graduating high school but recently has decided he needs to start being more responsible

VM Guy, who J calls "The Dad of the Group™", which is pretty fucking creepy imo. We'll also find out later he's kind of an asshole

This all takes place in my hometown, a small rural area in Texas about an hour away from a fairly big coastal city.

So my brother, J, isn't exactly known to take initiative when it comes to job hunting. He's done a few odd jobs here and there, but that was mainly thanks to family members and our parents, but those jobs never really lasted long. Anyway, I get a text one day from him while I was visiting my girlfriend that, surprise surprise, he got a job. I was pretty impressed, not gonna lie. At this point I had been applying for jobs as well, and that he beat me to the finish line, I thought, was a good sign. About an hour later, I get an odd text from a number I didn't recognize saying that J had referred me and asking if I would be interested in coming in for an interview. No details on the job or anything, just an interview. It piqued my interest, but the lack of info was suspicious to me, so I put it on the back burner and waited until I could ask J about it in person (since it was obviously his doing).

Turns out this was the best decision I had made during all this because I later came to find out this "company" J worked for was basically Red Flag Inc.

Anyway, I get home after a nice, long weekend with my girlfriend and J decides to start showing off all his “job tools”: A pretty expensive-ass set of knives and various kitchenware, a binder containing a catalog of said knives and kitchenware, and a nice bag to hold everything in. My initial thought was, oh nice, I guess he’s a salesman or something. He shows me a few things that he demonstrated in trying to sell these items: cutting a rope, cutting a penny (wtf) and a few other things that I don’t really remember at this point. Pretty impressive (we later got a cheese knife as a reward or something for his time there, and, I won’t lie, that is a good damn cheese knife. Also, I think I’m addicted to cheese). Then I ask him the ultimate question: “So, J, who is it you work for again?” “They are called Vector Marketing. They basically just sell all this stuff. Some people were saying they were a scam, but I don’t really think so.”

Oh fuck, J, what have you gotten yourself into this time.

If what he said about them wasn’t already a massive Red Flag™, the things I came to find out about vEcTOR mArKeTInG in the following 24 hours only made my suspicions about them even worse. I won’t detail all that shit here since there’s has been a billion different posts about them, but I’ll talk about the relevant ones. Basically, you sell that kitchenware to friends and family, and you make money off of what you sell. It isn’t a lot apparently, but you at least get some amount of cash off of just making a sales pitch if you don’t sell anything. This also means a lot of driving for someone like my brother who lives in a rural area; getting anywhere means a 30 min drive at the least. The problem I had with them here is they should be at least paying for a portion of your gas, but apparently VM has such a shitty business model that everything their salespeople have to pay for comes out of their pocket and not VM’s. On top of all this is this weird family-esque atmosphere they try to portray. On more than one occasion, J referred to his boss as The Dad of the Group™, which is fucking creepy and weird. If he had been working there for say a year or so, okay, maybe they just are really tight knit from working together for so long and that’s just how employees see this boss of theirs. But it had only been a few days. I honestly believe there’s some weird psychological manipulation in all that. But again, the kicker for me was the total lack of information. “Are you interested in an interview. J has referred you to our company.” If it were along the lines of

“Hey Quasi, we’re Company X. We specialize in the marketing of Product A and Service B. We are messaging you because one of our employees, J, has referred you to us and we would like to know if you want to learn more about our company. Blah blah ...”

You get the picture. I haven’t been to their website, but apparently it’s the same way: total information blackout with what little information there being very vague about what it is VM actually does. If I can’t make out what your company does based on your website, you need better PR and advertising. I shouldn’t have to learn about your company from Reddit and tumblr post asking if you are a scam or not.

So yeah, that message I got from them? Deleted. Didn’t even bother to ask my brother about it. I actually got another message from them a couple of days later asking if I was still interested. Haven’t heard back since, don’t intend on replying. I think I blocked the number, to be honest.

J, on the other hand, worked for them for all of 3 weeks I believe. He quit when Dad Boss™ started toying with him about meeting hours. Basically, Dad Boss™ set a group text to all his employees that a meeting was being held. J complied, as a good employee would, and drove 30 min (rural area, remember?) to get to the office only to find that no one was there. J would get another text then saying the meeting was pushed back a few hours, so he would wait around until the designated time, only to find the office empty again. This went on for a few days until I think J realized that Dad Boss™ didn’t want him as an employee anymore. One phone call from Dad Boss™ later and he was out. I don’t think he made much money from the job, and as far as I can tell he’s been trying to get a new job. Hopefully, the next one he gets is better.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t think vECtOr mARkETiNg is an outright scam. It does seem like it works for some people, but from the various threads and posts I’ve read those people are few and far in between. They might even be lying about their work there to try and lure more people in, but I have no proof of that and I’m only speculating. But for someone like my brother, high school graduate only with no job experience, that’s not a good way to enter the job market. And again, I’m no business major, but VM’s business model is definitely crap and highly suspicious the closer you look at it. But from what I could see, it simply sounds like shitty work for little pay and a massive waste of time.

TL;DR: If you see an advertisement for, an email from, or get a call or text asking if you are interested in Vector Marketing, don’t do it. If you see any sort of job ad that provides little to no information about said job or company hiring, don’t do it. I know how hard it is to get a job with no experience in this economy; I’m a graduate electrical engineer who has applied at least 30 times in the past two months and I’m only just now getting an interview. Job hunting nowadays is a lot of waiting and it can be discouraging. But trust me, it is better to bide you time by applying to legitimate places and waiting for interviews to come your way. Use Indeed, get a LinkedIn, go apply on the companies website, literally do anything other than take vague job offers. Your hard work and patience will pay off.

#vector marketing #job hunting #monday thoughts #long post

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mack3030 · 3 years ago

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Okay so let's talk about THIS because this is fucking hilarious. First things first, I'm fine taking criticism as LONG as the people doing it aren't doing it behind anon and are respectful and not insulting about it. (Or ya know, giving their criticism and then blocking me because they're afraid of what I might say to them...which is odd bceause if you want me to see your critcism so I can improve, why block me, but oh freaking well...) People like to make the excuse of using anons/burners to stay safe from being "attacked" but honestly, that doesn't check out. If you are a legit simmer/simblr and you have an issue, I'm totally fine talking it out with you, and explaining to you why I choose to do the things I do. And trust me, if any of my friends or mutuals needlessly attack you over you having an opinion, I'm happy to call them to task on that. However, I will not take the word of people who insult, or hide behind anons or burner accounts seriously, especially when they are mixing their "criticism" with insults and "facts" (read: lies) that don't add up. Which is primarily what's been going on here; especially in the case of Bucky, who got tons of anons doing absolutely shitty stuff hiding behind burner accounts. Also, if you don't want to pay attention to my "drama" [which y'all really think someone close to me HURTING themselves because of anon bullies drama, really? That's fucking sick of you.], there's an unfollow button...or you know, you could block me. Seems to me you are more wanting to make sure that people don't find out the truth. Which I and others have all been posting evidence of, which is: There is a cabal of loosely connected paywall creators who are not only circle-jerk advertising and collaborating with each other, but also sharing the personal information of suspected leakers from their patreons. This includes email addresses, patreon names, etc. These same creators are perfectly fine doctoring screenshots, lying about events that occured, victim blaming, turning themselves into the victim, deleting their own accounts temporarily to avoid drama, threatening legal action to silence victims, and ALSO also doxxing, contacting workplaces of people who they doxx, signing up people for porn emails, among doing other disgusting behaviors. Also, it is not outside the realm of possibility that certain creators are also creating/buying sock/shell accounts on tumblr to boost/promote their paid content, considering that over 20+ of the sock accounts that liked a certain post calling me a liar reblogged Pixelvibes, and that was some of the ONLY sims related content on those entire blogs [many of which also reblogged the EXACT same content from other artists/blogs]. [Evidence of that here]

And yeah, when people are threatening my friends, calling my fucking work, and being absolute assholes creating lies and legal threats, I'm gonna get fucking emotional. Any reasonable person would. But you know what, I've posted evidence each step of the way, so it's not just emotional laden drama. It's evidence of REAL people causing REAL pain to others. All this is is you guys trying to break me and it's not gonna work. Because my value is not found in what a bunch of lifeless trolls from simsecret think of me. :P Only reason I'm even replying to such useless material is to laugh at the fact that for a long time people thought that the owner of Simsecret and I were basically like joined at the hip and they were protecting me. Guess THAT theory is thrown out, hm? :P

Y'all who are literally so upset by what one person posts need to IDK...go touch some grass or something. Because literally it's not the end of of world... Oh, unless what I post is somehow threatening your precious income that you're making from shilling the community....

- Secrets Post #751, May 13th, 2022

#laughing my ass off

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redvsvblue · 7 years ago

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Two Halves Of My Rainbow (3/?)

This got out of control. More of that Jerevinwood FBI agent soulmate AU.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, AO3

Ryan’s startled awake when a crash floods his headphones – it’s two days after his discovery and too much coffee and not enough sleep and god, he hasn’t fallen asleep at his desk since grade school, get your shit together, Haywood. The backseat of his car’s been treating him pretty decently, though, and his back doesn’t ache as much as he expected.

He wipes the drool from his mouth and hurriedly clicks over to the webcam screen again to see Gavin and Jeremy hastily opening drawers and bags and – and packing, it looks like, stuffing clothes into duffles and oh that’s definitely a gun.

“What about T?” Gavin asks.

“We’ll have to tell him later,” Jeremy says, panic high in his voice. “Fuck, fuck, we’re not gonna make it out of here, god - ”

“Hey, hey,” Gavin says sharply, pausing to grab Jeremy’s shoulders. “We’ll get out, okay? You know the plan, right?”

Jeremy nods and pulls Gavin in for a quick hug, their panting loud in Ryan’s ears.

“We fucked up, though, Gav, the cops – ”

“It happens, we made a mistake, let’s just bloody go,” Gavin replies, turning to continue packing.

Ryan’s fingers fly over the keyboard as he brings up Austin news – nothing. Jack shit nothing and he turns to the police database, slips in through the metaphorical backdoor in that technically-illegal way he’s not supposed to do, and through that and scraps of Gavin’s and Jeremy’s conversation, he figures out they’ve been caught. The police know their address, know their faces, there’s already a warrant in play and they are fucked unless they get out of there.

Which is what they’re doing.

Ryan’s torn between staying quiet like he’s technically supposed to and reporting this like he really really should, should storm into Kelly’s office right now – no, no, it’s ten p.m., most of the office is gone already, he remembers – should storm into Kelly’s house and call the Austin PD and give them all the information he has, including –

“Car’s got enough gas, right?”

“Should do.”

“Should?”

“It’s a thousand mile journey, Jeremy, I planned it as best I could!”

“Did you? Or did you fuck it up like last time - ”

“Oh shut up, Jeremy, you know that wasn’t my fault.”

A pause.

“Shit. Shit. ‘M sorry, Gav, I didn’t mean it, I’m just – I’m sorry - ”

“It’s okay,” Gavin sighs. He sounds tired. “It’s okay, I understand, let’s just – let’s just go, okay?”

There’s a crack in his voice that makes Ryan’s heart ache.

“...how long’s the trip?”

“Just over a day if we take shifts.”

“Are we stopping on the way?” Jeremy asks. There’s a silence.

“We can rest once we’re in Los Santos,” Gavin says quietly. “I don’t want to chance it before - ”

“Okay. Okay, Gav, that’s fine, I just wanted to know.”

“...thanks.”

“I love you, yeah? I understand.”

Including the fact that Ryan knows they’re headed to Los Santos. To him. Fuck.

Ryan should definitely report this. Should compile the recording and write it up and email it to all his higher-ups. Make the necessary phone calls. Alert the PD to this. Get a tracker on Gavin and Jeremy, get tails on them. Find their trail and hunt them down. Arrest them. Or worse, if they resist.

And they would resist, that Ryan can safely guess. Jeremy’s not the type to go in silently, Gavin’s not the type to let Jeremy go in by himself.

Ryan tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to lose the newfound colour in his life if they – if they. If they don’t make it. He doesn’t want to go back to monochrome mornings and greyscale evenings.

That’s what he tells himself.

That’s his weak, weak excuse as he sits there. And watches. And does nothing. Pretends it’s because he wants to know when his tie matches his suit and when his phone’s flashing red.

The laptop is the last thing to get shut and packed away, and the last frame Ryan sees is of Jeremy’s panicked face.

Deleting the footage almost hurts.

The next 24 hours are the most nerve-wracking of Ryan’s life, tracking Jeremy’s invisible route to Los Santos and trying to figure out where they would be at any point after X hours of driving, after X number of possible rest stops, and he imagines them bickering about the radio and laughing about the other drivers.

He misses their voices.

It’s stupid, he knows, to miss the one-way voices of people he was merely assigned to watch, a permanent outsider to their bright, colourful lives, looking in on a vibrant fishbowl filled with all the shades of blueredpurplegreen that Ryan had been missing his whole life.

No one bothers him except for the worried glance Geoff casts his way.

Ryan just ducks his head and listens to the static.

Jeremy and Gavin are in Los Santos. They have to be, it’s been far more than a day, but when Ryan tracks the laptop again he find its coordinates in the Pacific Ocean.

So they’ve dumped the laptop. Unsurprising, really, but Ryan was holding onto a shred of hope that they wouldn’t.

Ryan’s damn near vibrating out of his skin where he is, just trapped at his desk and pretending he’s working when in reality he’s panicking. They’re here. They’re here and they’ll be another crime statistic added to the mile-long list and Ryan’ll probably be on the team to catch them if they’re bad enough – it’s been a while since Ryan’s been in the field, but he’ll still medically fit enough to be sent out.

Gavin and Jeremy are going to get themselves killed in Los Santos.

Ryan knows this with every fibre of his fucking being. It’s nothing like Austin, Los Santos. It’s skyscrapers and scenic sunsets and beaches and villas – and gritty alleyways and souped-up street races and cocaine deals in backstreet cafés and violent gang attacks in abandoned car parks. It’s nothing like the two-bit petty crime Gavin and Jeremy have been pulling in Austin.

Auto theft? Old news, barely even chased up anymore unless someone complains. Your fault for parking in the wrong spot.

Manslaughter? Just don’t piss off the wrong people.

And knowing Gavin and Jeremy, they’re going to piss off the wrong people.

Ryan doesn’t want to forget the colour of his eyes.

Ryan doesn’t want to unlearn the rainbow.

It feels strange, not driving to work at six-thirty on a Friday morning, feels stranger to still be in bed.

Not that Ryan’s slept much - overactive imagination, overthinking everything, but he pictures his empty desk and thinks determinedly that it’s going to stay empty.

He hasn’t formally resigned, but he’ll do something damn well close to it.

This time he kicks the covers off and doesn’t make the bed. Forgoes his boring array of suits and goes for the jeans and old T-shirt knocking around in the drawers, an old leather jacket an ex bought him. He frowns as he tugs at the shirt hem – he’s gotten softer around the middle in recent months, too much time at a desk and not enough in the field. Pushing those thoughts aside, he rakes a hand through his hair and looks at himself in the mirror. He’s imposing enough, he decides. And for once, the all-black isn’t from necessity, from not being able to match colours, it’s from choice.

It feels good. Freeing in a way that scares him a little.

Ryan tugs off the fake wedding ring and leaves it on the bedside table on his way out.

Ryan knows enough from being on the other side of the law to know the basics.

1. Leave no evidence.

2. Leave no evidence.

He pays for the mask with unmarked bills, gets himself a new pair of leather gloves while he’s at it. Fits the mask over his head and the gloves on his hands and feel something settle inside him, a sense of relief that at least he’s not as easily recognisable now.

It’s still too early to go poking around – barely even dusk, and after he’s spent all day securing burner phones and quietly erasing himself from the FIB database, he figures he deserves to grab a meal first.

He’s never had lunch at the pier, he thinks. It sounds like a good memory to make.

After dark is when Ryan starts the real work.

He should probably feel worse for just up and quitting his good, steady job, but all he feels is glad. Free of the government, free of Kelly, that itch in his palms and on the back of his neck finally allowed to break into action, into the aggression he can use to get his way.

He knows who to go to.

Ryan damn near kicks the door in on Diaz’s shitty little office, lodged between a laundromat and a Chinese takeaway place, to find it completely empty. He growls and glances around – no sign of any unusual disturbance, just as shabby as it’s always looked, simply no sign of Diaz anywhere.

Well. Ryan didn’t come all this way for nothing. He backs into into a corner and brandishes his gun, ready for whenever Diaz does return.

Only half an hour later, the door creaks open, and the moment it shuts behind Diaz, Ryan’s on him, yanking his arms behind his back and pressing him face-first into the wall, nudging his pistol against Diaz’s ribs in a threat as he kicks his legs open unsteadily wide.

“Jesus,” Diaz breathes, his cheek smushed into the door. Ryan growls and clamps his fingers tighter around Diaz’s wrists, grinding the bones together.

“Don’t scream,” Ryan warns. Diaz’s breath hitches and his head turns ever-so-slightly and -

“Ryan?” He asks. Ryan’s heart kicks up in his chest and when he doesn’t answer, Diaz’s head twists more.

“How did you know?” Ryan asks, knows that’s just giving himself away, but he has to know. Diaz laughs pleasantly.

“Oh dude, I remember you!” He says. “Shit man, why you cornerin’ me like this?”

A surge of guilt rises in Ryan and he lets Diaz’s wrists slip out of his grip, stepping back with a sheepish apology.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tucking the gun away again as Alfredo turns around, slumping against the door. “I – I didn’t know you’d remember me.”

Alfredo studies him for a moment and shrugs, patting him on the shoulder on his way to his desk.

“It’s okay,” he says easily, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. He frowns at Ryan and Ryan shoves his hands into his jacket pockets to hide his nerves. Fuck, he should’ve gotten body armour.

“You look different,” Alfredo notes. He winks. “I like it. Leather suits you.”

Ryan scoffs and Alfredo laughs, cocking his head a touch as he studies Ryan.

“So, what brings you here, Agent Haywood?” He asks. “I know it wasn’t just for my fashion opinion.”

“I need help,” Ryan says.

“Start from the beginning.”

Ryan swallows and looks off to the side, at the small pile of rifles nestled in the corner of Alfredo’s office.

“There isn’t one,” he says. “I just need a jumpstart.”

“A jumpstart? For what?”

“Let’s just say I’m not on the right side of the law anymore,” Ryan says carefully. “That’s all you need to know.”

“You want a reputation.”

“I want another life.”

Alfredo gives him a once-over, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“I think I know where to start.”

#ragehappy #jerevinwood #fanfic #mine #soulmate AU #my other #rainbow

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tatooedlaura-blog · 7 years ago

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The Madness of Punch

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs … Bacon … Stumbling … Trail Mix … Punch … Friday … Preparation … Uncle Mudler … Normal … Backseat … Mudler-sense … The FBI … Unthinkable … Patience … Elephant Jokes … Cooking … Rickety Tables … Mr. Skimmer … Bert and Ernie … Midnight Confessions … The Moon … Bright Sunshine … Graying Skies … Darkened Night … Possibilities … A Thing with You … Humming and Thrumming ... Warped Cosmology

@today-in-fic

____________

MRI taken, fish fed, email answered, thumbs twiddled, Mulder phoned, brain picked by aforementioned phone call, groceries shopped for and mother retrieved, they headed to the appointment.

An hour later, they settled in the car, quiet for a moment before Maggie spoke ...

amusement lacing every word that followed, “so, basically, you have polyps in your sinuses and vigorous sex will break the blood vessels in your nasal cavity?”

This was possibly worse than when she innocently asked her mother, after hearing Bill talking to one of his friends, what 69’ing was, “I should have left you in the car.”

“Oh, no, dear. Then I would have nothing to share at the card party Thursday.”

“Don’t make me make you walk home.”

Maggie moved her hand to Scully’s arm, squeezing it tightly, “honey, believe me when I say I am overjoyed to hear that the worse things you have are fatty growths and too much sex.” Moving on, she clicked her seatbelt, “now, do you think we have time for milkshakes before you need to leave for the airport?”

Key in ignition, dignity thrown out the window, Scully grinned the grin of someone with fatty growths and too much sex, “plenty of time.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder collapsed into guffawing giggles that left him gasping for air, “oh … good … God … shit, I can’t breathe … I would have given almost anything to have seen that.”

She shoved his feet over to make room so she could sit on the already creaking bed, “it was an experience but who really cares as long as that’s what it is. I’ll get the polyps taken care of when we get back and we’ll just have to have less vessel-breaking sex in the future.”

This sent him right back into laughter the likes of which finally had her putting her hand over his mouth, trying to get him to shut up given it was after 11pm local time and they were going to get thrown out of the dump that was ‘MeadowLodge Suits: Drive up, sleep in, get out’ if they didn’t quiet down. Yawning while she waited for him to calm, “by the way, I like that you didn’t even attempt to get two rooms, then lie about sharing.”

“Skinner isn’t an idiot. He’ll keep it quiet though and Dennis down in billing has been asking about us for years so he’ll shut up as well. Why waste money when we don’t have to?”

“Then why didn’t we stay at a better hotel with all this money we’re going to save?”

Mulder looked around the aesthetically unappealing mustard yellow décor, “what? You don’t like this?”

Moving to pull on pajamas, “just once, you’re going to let me book the hotel.” Once dressed, Mulder watching intently the whole 30 second process, she returned to the bed, “give me the five minute rundown, please.”

&&&&&&&&&

Case done by the following Monday afternoon, Skinner shipped them to Wyoming, mosquitoes the size of Scully eating her alive while they tramped the outskirts of Yellowstone, looking for a bank robber attempting to hide in the woods. At least this time, Mulder didn’t mention a nice trip to the forest.

As an aside, they traveled over the Old Faithful and shared a pizza in view of the geyser, Mulder, for what it was worth, snapping a picture of the top of the spout so he could show people how tall it was. Scully looked at him until he cracked, “what? I want to see just how many people give me that look before they either laugh me into oblivion or gently correct me in what they hope is the nicest voice possible.”

“You’re special, Mulder, you know that?”

Ringing his arm around her neck, he smiled as he kissed her temple, “just ‘cause I’ve got you.”

&&&&&&&&&

And suddenly it was the end of July, Skinner finally letting them home after varying degrees of cases and assholes and scary type fellows. Walking into Mulder’s apartment, he dropped their bags to the ground and turned to her, “it’s Thursday, Scully.”

“It is Thursday.”

“You know what Thursday is.”

“The day after Wednesday, last I checked.”

He could give her the Look like nobody’s business and she loved it, “I need some Punch.”

Shaking her head, she moved towards the bathroom, “call Mom and see when the festivities are happening.”

And he did and it was good.

In less than an hour, after a quick shower together and some general fooling around, which they had chosen not to do while on cases, they pulled up to Maggie’s, Mulder rushing up the walk and inside, leaving Scully behind to lock the car and be amused.

She found him breathing deeply the scent of homemade cooking and motherly love, grinning like the proverbial idiot. Maggie was already walking slowly towards the pair, boots gone, braces on, crutches present. Mulder hugged her the moment he could, Scully following soon after, “how are the ankles?”

Looking at her daughter, “it feels strange and I’m nervous without the boots but the end is in sight and that’s something.”

All moving into the kitchen, the ladies greeted them as if returning from a three-month long expedition, Betty going as far as declaring how much they’ve grown since they last saw them. Scully hugged her, “Mulder needs punch.”

With a grin, “we already have two glasses ready and places for you at the table.”

Mulder studied the seating arrangement, “why are we not next to each other?”

Janet, piping in as she shuffled Roswell cards courtesy of Mulder’s kitschy souvenir binge on vacation, “because, from what I recall, the punch makes her floppy and we need someone who can handle their liquor to catch her.” Pointing the deck at him, “that, my friend, is not you.”

He really couldn’t argue.

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully was asleep on the table by 9:18pm, head resting comfortably on the wood surface, the game happening around her, Lillian tucking her hair out of the way whenever it drifted across the playing area.

Mulder, on the other hand, somehow managed to hold total punch annihilation at bay even though total inebriation still occurred, his plan of one gulp of water for every two sips of punch failing miserably. His tongue was blue as midnight, which he continually shared roughly every 5 minutes and Betty, beside him, had to keep gently nudging his cards closer to his chest so the entire table, at least, couldn’t see them. When that round had finished, she turned to him, “Fox, would you like some more pie?”

With an enthusiastic nod, he moved to get it himself but Maggie held his arm while Betty retrieved the dessert. Thanking everyone at the table for their part in pie presentation, he took his first bite, waving his fork in Maggie’s direction, “she makes the best pies.”

Maggie caught the fork before it went in her eye, returning it and the attached hand to the table, “Janet made this one.”

“Then Janet makes the best pies, too.” Another bite later, “Scully doesn’t like pie. I don’t understand. I mean, she keeps trying pies but she just doesn’t like them. I’ve tried her with apple pie and cherry pie and peach pie and pumpkin pie and chocolate pie and I mean, my God, the amount of pie I’ve wasted on that woman is astounding. Peanut butter pie and blueberry pie and every time, she just takes a bite and looks like she’s gonna die and then slides it over to me to finish.” Turning towards Maggie again with the fork, “what did you do to her as a child? Did you force feed her rhubard pie or mincemeat or something? How could you raise a kid who doesn’t like pie?” Maggie tried to answer, defend her dessert choices for the past 34 years but never got past taking in a breath before he plowed ahead, re-addressing the table, Scully’s prone head and the air in general, “I love pie. Any kind of pie. My sister Sam used to make pretend pie and she always knew I’d eat it ‘cause she called it pie. She’d serve it up in her tea set, make me sit in that damn little chair and scoop up forkfuls of fake pie. At least she’d serve fake ice tea with it so that was something. She would line up her stuffed animals and dolls and just go down the line, feeding everybody pretend pie and pretend cookies and fake cake … once she made a pretend pot roast for us but then took it away ‘cause she said she’d accidently burned it and it tasted funny.” Taking a deeper swig of his Punch, “she stopped having her tea parties about a year before she disappeared but even on that last day, that afternoon, before we had the fight about the TV and before she floated in the air, she made a real pie for me … she made it with Oreos she’d smashed up and pressed into a pie pan and put frosting on as filling. She cut it and served it and brought me a glass of ice tea and told me she’d make me real pies from now on because she was going to be a chef and learn how to make all the pies for real so she’d always have something I’d like to eat.”

The table, right down the line, Maggie, Janet, Lillian, Betty, Ellie and Ruth, all had to fight various stages of sighs and sympathy, all wanting to hug Mulder tightly, all wanting to make the life of their Fox better.

He didn’t notice any of it, fork feeding himself another mouthful, “I think she would have been a good cook. She loved reading cookbooks. She’d get up on a stool when our mother was gone and study the buttons and dials on the stove, look inside the oven, make me come explain to her how the gas to the burners worked. She is irritating as hell sometimes but for a little sister, she’s not too bad.”

No one corrected his present tense usage for his long-gone sibling but Ellie quietly scooted his cup away as he continued, “I think that when Scully and I have a kid, I’ll buy her a tea set and explain the stove to her, feed her all kinds of pretend pie and see if maybe she wants to be a chef.” Aiming for the third time at an astonished Maggie, “you’ll have to teach her how to make meatloaf and pie and lasagna but,” swinging the fork around to Betty, “you will not be teaching her how to make the Punch. You will make the Punch and I will drink the Punch but even when she gets to be 40 or 80 years old, she will never be old enough to see the Punch.”

Looking around at the women, he grinned a blue-tooth smile, “why are we not playing? Did I win?” Glancing from the fork in his hand to the near empty plate in front of him, “I like pie.”

Twenty minutes later and after another piece of pie, sans diatribe, Mulder gave into annihilation, entire body dropping slowly against Betty, his last words being, “I should get Scully home to bed.”

Betty, supporting his dead weight admirably, gestured for assistance and soon, FoxNDana were both snoring peacefully on the table. Maggie took them both in, her glance sliding between, then to her cohorts, “how should we get them somewhere to sleep for the night?”

Studying the situation, Ellie suggested they start with Mulder. It took all of them to get him up, move him, pull down the sheets on the adjacent bedroom, lay him down, set an hopefully unnecessary wastebasket by the side of the mattress, be amused by his arm searching for Scully.

Returning to the kitchen, they expected to move Scully next but instead, found her sitting up in her chair, tears evident on her cheeks, the saddest look on her face they’d ever seen. Maggie held still on her crutches, “Dana?”

Scully sniffed hard, swiping her cheeks but not answering until Maggie asked when she’d woken up, if everything was okay, to which she finally responded, “I woke up when you asked him if he wanted pie.”

The ladies had a concrete-enough, vague notion of Scully’s personal life, complete with abduction, infertility and gunshot scars to collectively and quietly gather bags and shoes, calling hushed goodbyes while Scully sat there, guilt-laden at having chased away her mother’s friends with her insanity. Once the front door shut and Maggie returned to her, Scully waited for the inevitable, ‘what’s wrong’ but instead received a gently hand to her back and a quiet, “did you know he wanted to have a daughter with you?”

#msr #samantha #the truth behind the punch #diatribes about pie #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #My writing #Life part 2 series

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