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theagstd · 5 months ago

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One Night Stand

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter Three ; wc | 6.5k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

"Okay now this is so fucking amazing! he really decided to choose me of all, this was unbelievable but- also what the heck?" You speak to yourself, walking side by side in your living room while you bite your nails and look at the damn email that you received.

Congratulations on Your New Role as Graphic Designer

Dear Ms Lee Y/L/N,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to extend my heartfelt congratulations on being selected for the Graphic Designer position at Jeon Industries.

We are thrilled to welcome someone of your talent to our team. Your portfolio speaks volumes about your ability to bring fresh and innovative ideas to our projects. We are confident that your expertise will significantly contribute to the success of our design team and elevate the visual appeal of our brand.

As you prepare to embark on this new journey with us, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions or if there's anything you need to facilitate a smooth transition. We believe that your unique perspective and skills will be invaluable to our ongoing projects, and we look forward to seeing the positive impact you will undoubtedly make.

Once again, congratulations on this well-deserved achievement. We are excited to have you on board and are confident that you will thrive in your role as a key member of our creative team. If there are any preliminary tasks or preparations required before your start date, please let us know, and we'll be happy to assist

Best regards,

Lee Y/L/N

Graphic designer

Jeon industries

See, the mail looks inviting, warm, exciting, and a mix of emotions rush inside your system. It's happiness as well as nervousness and anxiety. Like you're unsure of this yet. It doesn't sound very accepting yet, especially after you've seen the CEO himself. "they really did not have any choice?" You ask yourself and sit on the couch. As you give it thought, it also sounds funny. Remembering your now CEO, Mr. Jeon. You think that he probably has had many nightstands in his life.

It isn't surprising, as he's like every other man who has his needs, besides he's also good-looking and very rich. chuckling, you mentally slap yourself at the though of him fucking other women. "Sounds so fun!" You tell out loud, planning to hook up with someone sooner again. But with work now, you don't think you'll find the time especially after the phone call you received by an unknown number that was from Jeon Industries,

informing you that they need you present tomorrow to sign the contract and immediately begin work as the recruitment process had taken way too much longer than planned and the new project coming up needs you to be a part of the innovations too. That definitely scares you, thinking about how you're gonna work tomorrow and it being your first day sounds so hectic but now you've got nothing to care about except the job. You've finally been recruited after working at multiple cafés for a small salary. saying goodbye to the few friends you made at the cafe wasn't too bad considering how the friendship lasted for just about 3 months. you changed jobs a number of time so it wasn't a big deal neither was it too sad.

But working your passion, graphic designing is all that you've been wanting, and when the opportunity grabs your hand, all you've got to do is hold it back and tighten it to your palms. Leaving your phone on the couch you moved to your bedroom, grabbing the outfit that you're gonna wear tomorrow so you could iron it with no creases since you must look presentable on your first day.

You're gonna meet the other employees, see everyone there so you must look amazing too. Considering how elegantly the women looked when you first entered the Jeon building for your interview they walk around with files in their hands, their identification card around their necks and their heels clicking on the tiles, carrying them confidently.

You picked out a black turtleneck and wide leg pants that were grey to match with your top. It was classy and simple enough for your 8 hour shift. Dinner was down too, you weren't very good at cooking even though your mother passed down her old recipes to you in her cookbook that's probably somewhere inside a drawer, dusty and torn papers. You're not the cleanest person you know and you are also not one to treasure stuff, the cook book was your moms precious item but it's hidden under tools and you're the least bothered about it. So you stuck to eating food from the convenience stores down the street as it's open 24/7. It's one of the best parts about Korea, having stores open every hour and having a wide range of food to choose from.

It's amazing and there's always something new to try, it's fresh too and keeps you healthy or that's what you think. You missed out on it while you were at college because even though you were born in Daegu and your parents are from Daegu and Ilsan, you three moved to Canada at a very young age due to most of your family migrating there and also for financial purposes since your dad worked there for years and basically lived in Canada all his life even after marriage until he decided to move his family there so he wouldn't have to transfer money and was also welcomed home to his wife's and daughter's presence.

Preparing for bed, you picked up your favourite book 'shatter me' that you've been hooked on the past few days, it's a better way to fall asleep than viewing social media at night. The words blurred a bit while you read, until your eyes completely shut so you placed your book at the night stand and turned to hug your plushy so you could sleep well.

You are glad that the loud sound of your alarm broke your sleep and hurried you to dress up. you're glad that your apartment has a close distance to the building you are now working at. It's just a few kilometers and that allows you to be calm. When you stepped into the building, you were guided by the staff member to the CEO's cabin. You take a deep breath before you step inside the room to see the man seated on his chair, in his tailored black coat that was put around his chair leaving him with his shirt and inner waist coat. He was typing into his mac book and when you walked in, his eyes flicked to your figure then back to his screen.

The man who guided you here, whispers over to you to take a seat and pay attention to Mr. Jeon's words. Jungkook looks at you when you've finally settled on the chair, he pushes his mac book down and looks at you with his dark hooded eyes that look empty. Before his eyes could meet yours, he saw the fumbling of your fingers, that portrayed your nervousness to him even though your face showed no sign of anxiousness. He looks into your eyes as yours bore to him. One thing he now knows is that alcohol does shit to people but he doesn't think it affects you much because even though your breath reeked of champagne and your movements assured him that you're so fucking drunk, he can still see the same person seated in front of him. Only a bit more contained and disciplined and who speaks with respect.

"How have you been, Ms Lee?" He questioned you with an intimidating voice, he now places his arms on the table as his palms join together while he glares at you. His stares do make you flush but you avoid thinking about it so the effect doesn't show itself on your face. "Very well, Mr Jeon, how have you been?" You replied to him, keeping up an affirm tone, to hide back your anxiousness that slowly creeps up in between seconds. "Likewise." He responded confidently while his fingers drummed on his table that definitely didn't go unnoticed by you, his slim fingers looked gorgeous and were so beautifully molded.

The man tossed a file in front of you after questioning your wellbeing. "Read this carefully, and sign it if you agree on the terms and conditions and are fully aware of the employment contract." nodding at his words, you open up the document and progress to read each page not missing out on a single word. You don't want to make any mistakes so you go slow and steady with this, as it's the first step.

You signed the papers when you found everything okay, it was all fine and you agreed on all rules and information listed. "If you have any questions, proceed to ask Mr. Jung. He will give you a tour around here. You may leave." He muttered as he got back to his work, opening his mac and typing what he left incomplete. His tone was not something you were a huge fan of, it was arrogant, you could see it but he was also so full of attitude and full of himself. He spoke a handful of words and they were already too painful for your ears. You stood from your chair, bowed at the man before leaving the room.

You left out a loud exhale and walked out of the room. Mr Jung, the man with parted hair, full suit and a long face stood beside you after you walked out, he chuckled when he heard you sigh. "We all feel that when we meet Mr. Jeon. Let me give you a tour of the building" He guided you to the elevator, taking to you on level 31, just one floor below Mr Jeon's office. As the elevator opened up, you could see how well focused and quiet this department was. You walked along with Mr Jung, and he led you to your area.

"So this is the most important department, the graphic designing department, since our company Jeon Industries prioritizes our employees needs and wants, we have a very comfortable and convenient area for you, as you're the graphic director. There's some important features you must know. Before that, let me introduce myself. I'm Jung Hoseok, the manager of this department, you can call me Hoseok."

He reached his hand out to you, which you gladly shook with a smile on your face. The man had a beautiful smile that expressed his kindness and softness in his voice. "So, as you are aware, Jeon Industries specialises in advertising and selling of brands, brands that we own, as well as supporting the biggest companies out there. How does graphic designing work out? Well, we do adverts for the biggest and the best companies in a variety of industries, makeup industry, fashion industry, and even the food industry. And to mention Mr Jeon also has his own brand of clothing. Hence, this falls quite heavy on the graphic director, you."

Hoseok said, this made you exhale a quick breath, which you soon covered with a smile when you hear the man speak about his serious business. "It's not too bad, you'll do it. And The campaigns that you've obviously seen on TV, social media of Dior makeup, Kylie cosmetics, Balenciaga, Calvin Klein, Celine, Gucci, Louis Vuttion, Veneta Bottega and more were done by us, thus increasing their sales like shooo."

He gestured with his hands, showing the increase of sales and exaggerating it. "We've been doing well in the business world and have very high recognition for our amazing advertising team and creativity, so you've got to work a bit harder. We've got a project in two days and that's the reason why I'm explaining things fast and detailed. You must be prepared for anything and please don't hesitate to ask anything from me.

Treat me as your friend." He placed his hand on his chest and bowed. You already liked this man a lot. "So I will leave yo -" "Well, well, look, who's here?" A raspy honey-like voice spoke, you turned around to face it, and there you saw a beautiful man walking towards you with his palms inside his pants pocket. His beauty was out of this world, his expressive eyes that looked into your soul, and his walk? He doesn't walk, he models.

You noticed how Hoseok was sighing deeply when he saw the arrival of this man, he scratched his forehead and looked away, without meeting your curious eyes. "So this is our new graphic director? Ms. Lee Y/n! The one who replaced me in this position with zero work experience." You frown when you hear the words that come out of his mouth. Replaced him? Was he supposed to be taking this job? "Jimin, there's no need to -"

"Ah, ah, there is a need to let her know the damage she's done." The man pushed his silky blonde hair back and smirked. you noticed how plump his lips are, looking at you with a fake smile. "I was supposed to be the creative director, but you, Ms. No work experience replaced me! So you'll have to pay for it. You've got to survive in this job before you fly high." He speaks, gritting his words from his teeth before he walks away, knocking Hoseok with his shoulder. You looked over at Mr Jung, who clicks his tongue and heaves a sigh. You needed an explanation, if that man is gonna bully you at work for something you hadn't done and have no idea about, then you're gonna have to let the CEO know about this, you're not here to tolerate shit.

"Mr Park didn't-" "What did he mean by I replaced his position?" You asked, curious as to why the man was blaming you with hatred. "Since all the applicants weren't to the standard, Mr Jeon acknowledged Mr. Park and considered handing over the position to Jimin but that was not promised, the shortlist of applicants were not up to mark until you turned up so Mr Jeon decided to fill the vacancy with you."

"Why did Mr Jeon not give the position to Jimin? Hasn't he been working here before?" Hoseok looked at the ground, contemplating if he should go into more detail with this, but he decided it would be best if you know what the problem is since it concerns you.

"You see filling the vacancy with internal recruitment is a good idea, Jimin is well aware of how things work but filling the vacancy from external recruitment brings new ideas to the business and that's exactly what Jeon Industries needs you know-" Hoseok spoke, obviously hiding something because his eyes looked everywhere except yours which was quite obvious since he spoke to you making eye contact before. "Is there anything more?" He bit his lower lip, caught.

Is he really an open book with his expressions, he thought. "Well- Mr Jeon does not like Jimin very much, it's due to Jimin's behavior towards work but anyways I'm gonna let you look around your work space, remember if you need me I'm just by the corner of the right corridor."

Hoseok said, and you nodded, thanking him and letting him continue his work. You walked inside your corner, taking a seat on the office chair,looking around your personal office. You've now got a desktop, a laptop, and an ipad of your own to work with. There's some files and papers lying around and expensive stationery too, but overall what you liked the best was the privacy that you obtained here, your own working space.

"Wow, this is very different from a cafe." you speak to yourself and laughed quietly about it, Sighing, you leaned back on the chair and closed your eyes. You finally got a job that can show your abilities. Applying the years of hard work is gonna pay off now, and that makes you feel so happy.

waking up at 7 in the morning is difficult considering how you usually work part-time at the cafe so you had your own shifts but full time working is new to you, though it's exciting it is also nerve-wrecking to wake up so early and it's still your second day at work.

You didn't have much to do today, but you were informed to be prepared for a meeting tomorrow that will test your abilities. It's a meeting with Han Paris, and he's said to be the largest alcohol manufacturer and wants to advertise his latest alcohol flavor to the market. No lie but you're definitely feeling anxious about it but nevertheless you were ready to take up the challenge to showcase the best idea out of all now that you've got the position, you must show justice to it and not disappoint the CEO himself. When you got home, you finally felt relieved, like a burden was removed from your shoulders.

You've been living off with a pretty okay number of won that you earned from the café that you worked part time in. Finally, you're earning a salary that serves the right amount to live off with. To pay your rent, your monthly rations, and even have a very fair percentage to save or get yourself anything you want. Getting into your pj's, you prepared dinner for yourself, just a light salad, nothing too heavy, because Hoseok treated you with an evening snack as a welcome gift from him . That was a very sweet act. You didn't have to think about tomorrow's breakfast because the cafeteria is always open and the food tastes amazing!

You decided to check out some of the advertisements done by Jeon Industries just to get an idea of what they've been doing for years. So you pulled out your work laptop, Hoseok said you could take it home for any preparations, so this was the opportunity to use it. Everything was already saved in the folders. What blew your mind was that each ad campaign was very different from one another. That makes you think how innovative the ideas of the designers are, and that also scares you because tomorrow you will be seated with them and they'll be your competitors, though you all aim to just get the deal for Mr. Jeon.

You've got to present your idea and hear them out but it's not that easy, you want yours to stand out because it's not just about the idea, it's also a test that Mr Jeon has put you to, Hoseok mentioned that if Mr Jeon says you to be prepared he means it. Everything should be perfect, as he's a perfectionist, you can't afford to make a mistake. You're gonna work hard to achieve it. Moreover, it's his reputation and money that's at stake. Anyone would want it to be perfect. Once you've grasped the amazing and unique ideas of the past campaigns, you decided to research Han Paris and his business.

Since apparently, the latest wine has never been in the market before, the target audience is adults that drink and if that's not enough the prices of the wine are premium, that explains enough to you. You really took time to read every detail mentioned in the document that was sent by Hoseok, and then you took some time to think. The alcohol flavour is not just any berry, It's a vanilla mulberry flavour. When you think of berries, you remember the beautiful nature, but also, you remember how you grew up with your grandmother, spending your holidays with her at her lovely cottage where she planted a variety of vegetables and fruits. You smiled, remembering those tiny moments in life. You looked at the bottle and the packaging of the wine, it's very classy and expensive. Nevertheless, you decided to stick to your own vision of creativity. Maybe something new and out of the box could make it? We don't know unless we try.

You did a little presentation, wrote down details and points regarding it, and prepared yourself for what's coming tomorrow.

it's meeting day and you're nervous, your face shows and your fumbling with the fingers give it away too. but you're so glad that Hoseok was there by your side to give your company so you don't feel alone. for the betterment of your meeting, Hoseok advised you about how things work here during meetings. He'd also give you more closure to the CEO's working attitudes. How Mr Jeon, has direct communication, he'd give feedback only when he wants to, if he doesn't. Don't expect. Decisions made by the CEO are tough and final, he prioritizes the efficiency for his business and has high standards that he expects his employees to achieve and exceed, as a matter of fact, Mr Jeon has limited social interactions and he avoids making conversations to anyone in the building. "He may also raise his tone, if he's unsatisfied with your job, so don't freak out." Hoseok says at which you roll your eyes. Of course, he's got the money. And the right to do so.

Lucky for you, you haven't seen much of him after signing the contract, but since he'll be here for the meeting, you wont lie that you feel slightly more than just nervous now, knowing more about him. Its funny how he was a totally different human when he fucked you.

At 2 p.m., you walked into the board room along with a handful of other staff members that included Jimin. You took your seat, and Jimin sat in front of you. You didn't miss how his eyes looked right through you or how his eyebrows moved a lot while he smirks. He looked confident, very confident that his idea will be selected, and it's only making you feel anxious but you keep your face as blank as an empty canvas so no one sees what you feel inside. In about 10 minutes, the CEO of Paris Aliénor, Han Paris and three of his staff members walked inside. Everyone in the room stood to greet him. The man had minimal facial action, that means he had no smile. But he did have his chin raised, like he belongs here and holds superiority.

"Where's Mr Jeon?" He questioned and the staff looked at each other's faces, including you. "Uh, Mr. Jeon will be-" "call him now. You -" he pointed at you with his index finger. "Call Mr Jeon right now. My time is precious." You looked at him and pointed your finger at yourself because you weren't certain if he gave the instruction to you, the staff seated beside you elbowed you and gestured you to do as he said as you nodded and stood from your chair to get Mr Jeon.

"Shit, why did he tell me?" You murmured to yourself while walking towards the CEO's cabin. "Fuck, Just knock, poke your head in, and tell him to come, that's it." You exhaled and then pushed the door open only for it to be fully opened by Mr Jeon himself. You stumbled a bit and then looked up at him, and he looked down at you. "Uh- Mr. Han asked for y- "I know, you may leave."

He spoke without glancing over you even once, the tone he uses to speak has a hint of arrogance. It was rude. You nodded your head and walked forward while he followed you. Jungkook looked at your back while you walked, that same back;

"Fuck- let me go! Horny." You speak as the man tried to put his dick back inside you but you're worn out and cant take anymore, its almost 3 am and you've both been fucking each other like animals. It seems like it wasn't just you that was desperate for sex, he was too. Much more than you. "Fuck- one more round." He whispers to your ear in his raspy voice but you pushed him away and stood from the bed that was wet from all that white slime.

"No, i don't think i could walk-" your feet wobbled a bit when you stood, you didn't walk until you balanced well. The man admired your naked back, he loved how you had the perfect proportions. He could not take his eyes off you. "Seems like your ex hadn't fucked you right." This made you chuckle. "He didn't." You picked up your dress and lingerie, hooking it before slipping into the black dress. "Quickie, i'll be fast-" "get your ass home!" You both bickered, he looked up at the ceiling and laughed quietly. "Zip it up for me."

He turns his gaze on you, sees your back out open. Smirking as he grows closer to you, the elbow helps him lift himself higher so he can zip the dress up, he did, slowly as he took the time to kiss. "Fuck! you're one fucking woman!" "Of course I am." He places his palm on your hair, gripping it and pulling you down to kiss your neck. "I'll mark you for the last time, darling. Then leave and don't ever come back."

He shook his head to forget what he did and all that he told you. He had to permanently delete it off his brain, god he was so done with this. He could sense the tension, but he didn't want to act obvious. You both walked into the board room, and everyone greeted each other before the meeting started. Everything was going okay until the staff were asked to present their ideas. Jimin started off first, and his idea was a classy club advertisement. Han Paris seemed to really like it because you noticed how he kept nodding his head while Jimin spoke the details out and explained his vision. Mr. Jeon had no expressions on his face, like a clear palette. No emotions.

"Thank you so much for your attention." He spoke before taking his seat. He looked at you with a smirk like as if he had already won, and that only made things more difficult for you. Jimin mouthed, 'I win' with his plump lips and you sighed in nervousness, Jungkook noticed the interaction between the two of you, glancing at Jimin then you and he understood immediately, this was Jimin's trick to always out on his opponent even if they both work for the same company. "Ms. Lee, anything prepared for us today?"

Jungkook spoke, and you soon looked at him and then nodded. You've always been confident. Just go for it, don't let anyone make you feel nervous, come on. You thought to yourself and stood from the chair, walking towards the center, you plugged the wire to the laptop and the screen showed everyone your presentation.

You cleared your throat and then spoke about your idea. Everyone had their eyes on you, and that somehow made you feel comfortable talking more about your idea as they seemed interested. "When I first read the description of the product, It immediately took me back to my old days where I would spend my vacation with my aunt and grandmother in the countryside. We had a beautiful mulberry tree, that is the main feature of you-" "can we move on to the other details."

Han Paris interrupted your speech, wanting you to skip the part of your opinion on alcohol. He found it unnecessary and a waste of time. "Uh, s-sure." although you were understanding, it somehow broke your confidence and your flow of speech. suddenly you don't know what exactly to say so you just conclude the speech as fast as you can, so you don't feel anymore anxious

"I think a 90s colourful theme of an advertisement would attract more adults to try out the new flavour, in my opinion, that brings us to an end, thank you for hearing me out." Everyone nodded and gave a slow round of applause while you walked towards your chair to take a seat. Jungkook looked at you from the corner of his eyes and sighed. "What do you think, Mr Jeon?"

Han Paris questioned him, and then Jungkook turned to face him with a fake smile. "I think all my employees' ideas are very unique in their own ways. It's best if you decide along with your team." Han contemplated a little, speaking to his secretary and a few other businessmen from his side, and then he nodded when everyone agreed to him.

"I find Park Jimin's idea suitable. I appreciate everyone's efforts, but I'm going with Park Jimin's." Jimin looked at you and scoffed in arrogance, his actions made you feel worse about yourself. Jungkook nodded and then spoke, "we will begin with the preparations of shooting the advertisement." He swiftly looked at you as you're the creative director now and have to engage in the entire creature process.

"That sounds good to me." Han spoke and then shook hands with Jungkook as they both stood from their seats and then Han walked out of the room, Jungkook fixed his tie in place and looked around the room, he could see how upset you looked behind that fake smile you put on. "Everyone did their best, and all ideas were great in their own way. Don't feel down because you weren't chosen today. There's always a next time."

He spoke still coldly, it's what he always says once a meeting is done. you appreciated his words that he said before he walked away, after everyone stood from their seats to pay respect. "Oh, Ms. Lee, maybe next time, mm?" Jimin spoke and chuckled as he left with the rest of the staff, leaving you alone. You're not being dramatic. You're just embarrassed, and that's obvious. In front of your boss? And stupid Park Jimin, who now has something to laugh and mock about. You stood from your seat and took your belongings as you walked towards your desk. As soon as you placed your stuff and sat on the chair, Hoseok ran towards you.

"Hey, I heard the meeting went well. How was it for you?" You looked up at him and gave him a soft smile that he didn't mirror because he could see that it was fake. "What's wrong?" You sighed deeply and said, "it was okay, Jimin's idea was chosen." Hoseok rolled his eyes. He knew Jimin was already too arrogant and proud of his idea. Now that his idea was chosen, he's surely gonna make it a huge deal. "You did your best, and this was your first meeting. Come on. Cheer up"

You nodded and then chuckled sarcastically under your breath as you whispered, "Han Paris literally embarrassed me in front of everyone." Hoseok squinted his eyes and looked at you with concern. "What did he do?" "He shut me when I gave my own opinion and a story about my family relating to his wine." Hoseok groaned loudly and then looked at you, "you know what, screw him. Let's go get you a treat." You frowned and looked up at him.

"Treat?" "In celebration of your first meeting in Jeon Industries. Come on!" He gave you a wide smile, his white smile and oh boy, does that smile look lovely. You nodded, standing from your seat. You followed him to the elevator to get to the cafeteria. Hoseok is the only one who's being nice to you so far. Everyone else seems to have not noticed your presence yet.

"Did you have your lunch?" "Uh not yet, but-" "I need two cheeseburgers, two sprites, and a blueberry cheesecake, please." He ordered lunch for you even though it was not necessary. Maybe you should treat him with lunch next time. In a few minutes, he walked towards the table with the food in his hands, giving you a wide smile as he handed over your share of the lunch.

"Thanks, Hoseok." "No mention." He said as you both took a bite of the oozing cheese burger. He then took out the little box from the brown paper bag and placed it in front of you, "Here's your treat, the best cheesecake in town for your first ever meeting here at Jeon Industries, congratulations! More to come." You began to laugh, and so did he, laughing out really loud.

Like really loud. "You didn't have to." You say, and he waved with his hand, gesturing to you that it's fine. "I wanted to do this, and we can also take it as the beginning of our friendship." "Sure." The both of you giggled and high five. Hoseok took this time to speak a little more about himself and he even mentioned that his family and friends called him 'Hobi,' so you decided to tease him with the name Hobi too, he shrugged and said he doesn't mind it.

You didn't want to speak a lot about yourself, but you're surely excited to hear more about him. Like this, the working day ended and you didn't really feel bad about the meeting after all, it's a part of learning and now you know you should limit your speech when it comes to your opinion, people like Han Paris just don't care.

You learnt quite a lot for the day, and when you thought this was gonna be the worst day, it turned out better than you imagined. Except meeting Park Jimin in the basement. You walked towards your car, humming to yourself in your own world. Jimin rested his back in your car with folded arms and a smirk on his face. He's the last person you wanted to see.

He's getting on your nerves now. "Well, Ms. Lee, I came here to congratulate you." 'How you embarrassed yourself!' He could clearly see the frustration in your eyes and frown lines. Deeply exhaling, you continued to walk to the driver's side, opening the door, but he closed it with his hand and leaned towards it. "Oh, come on."

"What do you want, Jimin?" You murmured exhaustedly, still holding onto your car door not meeting his eyes because you just want to go home and sleep, you laughed too much today, ate too much, Hoseok treated you with his hidden snacks and you spoke for hours. You need some rest to get charged for tomorrow, and Jimin is certainly not helping. He sniggered cockily, not making any eye contact he looked up at the other cars that were leaving the car park.

"What do I want? Mmm, I love that question- I want your position, and I can only get that once you're out of here." Lord, it's been just your second day, and the man here is trying his best to get you out of your job. Why? Like he's already been paid well. "Jimin, not today, please -" "nuh uh, you stay here."

He pouted his index finger at the ground, showing his dominance with them and how he made his eye contact, his eyes so dark that you couldn't even see any light in them. "Jimin, I'm not in a mood to argu-" "So hear me out!" He spoke louder, making you flinch. He smirked at it and chuckled evil, looking up at the cement wall.

"Oh, Ms. Lee, you don't know what I'll do for the position. I'll do anything and everything to get it. And I mean it." The words came out of his mouth, teeth gritting at each letter, and he was dead serious about it. He's trying to scare you, and it's working. You got into the car without any hesitation, you can't stand him any longer, he looked like he would kill you alive. You, now officially, are a closer step to hating Park Jimin to death.

Day two, and it was fucked up.

when you got back to your apartment you removed those heels, threw your bag on your couch and immediately walked to the washroom. You removed your makeup and took a nice warm shower, still hearing Jimin's words in your head. He surely is crazy, crazy for this position, but there's no way you're giving up on it.

you weren't just given this job from the sky. You worked your ass off with part-time messy jobs, and now, finally, you got a full-time job that shines your inner talent. Fuck Jimin. You had no energy to watch TV or eat. God, Hoseok can eat so much! He forced you to eat with him. But he's a lovely guy, made you feel welcomed and all. You drifted off to sleep, and damn was that a good sleep.

You felt motivated to work today, and indeed, the day was going well. Rosè, the receptionist greeted you warmly, and of course Park Jimin had to bless your day on the first floor of the building. You discreetly ran away. His presence can literally ruin a good going day. You pressed level 31, the elevator stopping at a few levels, and employees walked in, greeting you with a bow, and you did too.

The elevator stopped at level 17, the door opening only to make eye contact with the CEO himself. Jeon Jungkook. His eyes met yours, and he immediately looked down at the floor, walking inside. You both could feel the tension building up, and it was suffocating because that night's visions always manage to pop up when he's around.

He gets them, too.

The lift began to get full, and he had to make more space for the employees to enter. He unintentionally grew closer to you, his arm rubbing against yours, and he sighed. You gulped and clutched your bag tighter. You've got no reason to feel this way, but you're more afraid. Afraid that people will notice this because that's the worst scenario you could imagine. As the elevator stopped at 24, a few employees left, leaving you with Jungkook and a handful of people. "Lee y/n, right?" A man with glasses who didn't look older than 22 spoke, holding a stack of papers in his hands.

You nodded, and then his smile widened. "I heard about your idea from a few employees. Guess what? it reminded me of my parents, too. My dad loves mulberry, and when I heard about your nature idea, I was surprised they didn't choose you." His words made your heart warm. People really spoke about your idea? For real?

"Thank you, um - there's always a next time." The boy nodded, and you smiled, bowing when he left at level 27. You couldn't hide that smile that kept getting wider and wider. You had to bite on your lower lip to refrain yourself from giving that extremely huge white smile.

Jungkook looked at you from the corner of his eyes, he obviously had distanced himself from you, leaving a meter gap. Seeing you hiding your smile had him scoff. The door opened, and Hoseok passed by. You immediately ran to him, forgetting that your CEO is just standing there watching you.

"Hoseok! Guess what?! "Woah woah, what is it cheesecake?" He joked, and you hit his arm. "What the hell is-" "cheesecake?" Jungkook whispered under his breath as the elevator door closed and had him all confused. Since when did Mr Jung call people by nicknames?

next chapter ⇢

#ask #bts #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #btswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #wattpad #one night stand

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toxintouch · 22 days ago

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yk how in veres likes on his character sheet it says he like cooking (badly)…… WHY HAS NO ONE DONE A FIC ABOUT THAT YET‼️⁉️⁉️ THAT SHOULD NOTTT BE A WASTED OPPORTUNITY. i’m not even joking im ab to send this to so many people because i can’t let this go to waste 😞

Here u are anon! For the record, you are completely free to send this prompt around wherever you’d like! It was such a fun idea, I’d love to see more takes on it. ^^

Warnings: Vere talking Innuendos? Innuendos. So many, and I don’t guarantee that they are funny lol. Just a general silly vibe and imo: absolutely tooth rotting fluff.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅SOUS CHEF ‧₊˚♡₊˚

You find yourself wandering through Lowtown during the lunch hour, trying to decide what sounds like a good meal.

Your mouth waters at the scents being carried on the breeze, a plethora of pleasant aromas wafting out of the eateries nestled inside the Amaryllis District, so fragrant that you can smell them all the way down on the bustling streets of Lowtown as long as you stay downwind.

However, if there’s one nice thing about knowing Leander it's that you also know you don’t have to go that far (or spend that much) for a delicious lunch.

Near enough to the Wet Wick, there’s a series of side streets that make up an eclectic amalgamation of Lowtown and the Amaryllis District, and in it: a small and inconspicuous eatery. The menu changes often, though you aren’t sure if that’s out of innovation or necessity, but the food is always filling and reasonably priced.

You follow the winding streets, getting lost for a brief moment before correcting your course, traveling until you see colorful chipped girih tiles and wide, clean windows. You let yourself into the shop, the now familiar sound of hinges in need of an oiling welcoming you.

There’s an assortment of goods on display–jars of honey and spiced fruit and loaves of braided bread with seeds–all kept safely locked away beneath an enchanted pane of glass.

Looking around, though, you don’t see anyone selling said fantastic wares.

You call out, expecting the shop keep or her wife to come running but instead you hear…silence.

Followed by a loud metallic clatter.

You freeze, unsure what to do, what the threat is–if there’s even a threat?–but before you can make up your mind, you’re greeted by a most unexpected sight.

Vere comes out of the kitchen area, his hair swept into an artfully stunning up-do that reveals the long line of his neck and clavicle, blemished only by the heavy collar locked around his throat.

He’s wearing a weighty linen apron over his clothing, presumably to protect his outfit, though–his long gossamer sleeves are completely discordant with the notion, making you think that maybe the apron is more of an aesthetic choice.

“What’s this–? A mouse? In my kitchen?” Vere asks playfully as you continue to stare, dumbfounded. He wields a spatula in his hand like a weapon–swatching it into his off-hand like a riding crop with a decisive snap.

“Where is–?”

“–The shop keep? Wherever she pleases–the shop’s closed on Mondays.”

(You really don’t like the way he’s watching you… Or the way he keeps inching closer…)

You take a step backwards, your eyes never leaving his. “Oh,” you say, bandaged hands reaching blindly behind you. “I didn’t realize. The door was unlocked, so…” You trail off.

You find the doorknob at last. You attempt to turn it only to find that it won’t budge.

“Was it?”

Vere saunters up to you, tail swaying behind him. You manage to tear your eyes away from his predator stare to search for possible exits, though you know for a fact you won’t be fast enough. You look back and he’s already in your space, crowding you against the entryway.

(He smells really good, actually. Like leather and spice and the subtle cling of perfume and incense. And beneath that, something–earthy–animalistic, but in a way that’s intoxicating as opposed to unpleasant.)

“I was just about to make myself a snack–how nice that a snack came to me.”

“Stop playing around.” You try to steel yourself and inject the perfect amount of scolding into your voice while combating his heated stare. “I know you’re just fucking with me to try and get a reaction; you and I both know you’re not going to eat me.”

If he was, he would have done it by now. Sometime within the weeks you’ve known him. …Probably.

Unless he just likes to play with his food.

“I didn’t realize you knew me so well,” he says, looking amused. “Perhaps I didn’t plan to, but now I simply can’t resist. You look so absolutely delectable, how could I possibly contain myself?”

You don’t get the chance to reply. Vere’s countenance changes suddenly–you watch his ears flatten a second before you hear the screaming whistle of a teapot. His ears twitch in annoyance at the sound, his perfectly sculpted face showing a sour sneer. He gives you a sideways glance, calculating.

“Then again. I find myself in need of a sous chef. Congratulations on your promotion. Come along now.” He hooks a finger into your cloak and pulls you easily into the kitchen. (To be fair, you don’t struggle. Anyone would want to see where this is going, right?)

He releases you once you’ve crossed over the threshold, waving his fingers uncaringly towards a second apron affixed to a hook on the wall as he beelines to remove a glass teapot from the stove and stifle the noise. He moves quickly as you watch, casually throwing aside the spatula in his hand in favor of an ornate silver teaspoon. He measures a vibrantly colored tea into the inlaid steeping container of the equally ornate teapot and takes a pleased inhale as the tea’s fragrance blooms, humming as he flips over a delicate hourglass to keep track of the steeping time.

There’s silence for a moment–

Him watching the teapot and you watching him.

“Well?” He asks, without looking up. You’ve seen this look before, you think – this pensive, almost lonesome look that makes your heart ache against all better judgment. “Staying or going?”

He grins when you put on the apron. You search his face for some sincerity, but he’s all sharp teeth and tall ears, covering any glimpses of deeper emotion with a sheen of smugness. He circles you once you have the apron on, taking in the image.

“Mm, don’t you just look adorable. Very domesticated.”

You’re pretty sure that the word he’s looking for is domestic. But of course, he knows what he said and he meant to say it. You decide that he’s probably betting on your correction, already armed with a witty retort. You smooth the apron down while pointedly looking away, deciding that you won’t give him the satisfaction. You hear him chuckle.

Since you’re avoiding looking at Vere, you look around the kitchen for the first time.

It’s a spacious workspace–moreso than the storefront, even. There’s a large iron stove unlike anything you’ve ever seen, covered with magical runes and dials, with a large hearth built into the belly of it. A plethora of pots and pans have been placed on the burners, left to sizzle and pop in the red hot heat.

Oil is singing from the heated, shallow basins but you don’t see anything cooking inside.

There’s a slab of meat diced into neat squares and a heaping bowl of lumpy batter set to the side of the stove top.

“What are you making?” You ask, trying to make sense of the scene.

“Panko crusted fish filet. And there’s a pasta in the oven. For dessert, I was thinking–” he gives you a sly look, one that makes your ears feel warm, “hmm, well. I just had a much better idea in regards to dessert.” He makes a show of licking his fangs, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual.

You think you tied your apron too tight; your airway is feeling a little constricted. It seems to be getting worse the longer you watch.

You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away. More ingredients, most partially prepared, and a host of dirtied pots and pans greet you. You turn your back to him as you explore, fully engrossed in all of the views that the mess of a kitchen has to offer. You’re almost afraid to ask: “So, what am I here to help with?”

“Oh?” You don’t hear Vere come up next to you, but you feel him brushing up against you. “Does my darling sous chef require…instruction? A guiding hand, so to speak?” You freeze, feeling his breath against your ear, shivers running down your spine at his light and teasing chuckle.

But then he’s breezing past you, making a wide dramatic gesture toward the large tome perched surreptitiously on the counter. “Lucky for you, I’ve a recipe.” His tail wags swishes elegantly behind him as he beams with pride.

His tail knocks the whisk out of the mystery batter beside the fish filet but he takes no notice.

Vere hops gracefully up onto the counter, reaching for the batter. He does an impressive twist in order to grab hold of another whisk and you take the time to appreciate that. Then, with Vere occupied and seemingly ignoring you, you take a look at the recipe book.

The text is old and withered with the occasional dash of sprawling spidery script painting the margins. (Said writing is utterly illegible–you’re actually not sure if it’s in a language you can read, though if you squint you think you can see something that looks like the word ‘cake’.) The page it’s opened to is ripped in half, rendering precious steps of the recipe lost to time. You spot a mysterious bite mark piercing through the corner of the leather cover.

And can’t stop yourself from surreptitiously glancing over at Vere. He’s moved on from the batter (which looks as lumpy as it did a minute ago) and is now eating skewers of raw fish with his nails.

“You’re not supposed to eat while you cook,” you say, the time worn words out of your mouth before you can examine your personal stance on them.

“Says who? Some limp dick? No shame in indulging, pet.”

“You’re not even gonna have anything left to cook,” you warn.

“Hum, sounds like my sous chef should get to work covering them in batter instead of just standing there before I eat them all.”

You roll your eyes, but follow through with instructions. The space is unfamiliar and your movements are slow and unsure with Vere looming over you from his perch on high, watching.

One of the pans of oil gives an ominous pop. “Hmm, sounds like it’s hot enough,” says Vere. “Move over.”

“Is that safe?”

“For me,” Vere says simply. “And it’s faster. Now stand further back or you'll get splattered–and not in the fun way.” Idly, he tosses a batter covered filet into the shallow pan. The resulting hiss makes you both cringe.

As if on queue, the hourglass for the tea gives a gentle chime, lighting up with a golden glow. (You’re beginning to wonder how this humble shop can afford all these magical items, but then again this is the city of secrets. You’re probably better off not knowing.) Vere’s ears perk up, pleased. He tosses the remaining fillets in the pan without a fuss, setting lids on top of each to contain the oil, acting as if doing so is going to stop any potential disaster.

Main course forgotten, he moves on to digging something out from inside one of the many cupboards. “Be a dear and cut this for me, will you?” He hands you a delicate peach before heading to the tea pot, stirring the contents and adding what must be a priceless amount of honey.

The peach in your hand is overripe but still vibrant–amazing, as you haven’t seen fresh fruit at all since you came to Eridia. Your mouth waters anew as you remember what led you here in the first place–your quest for a meal–and you’re almost tempted to take a bite, follow Vere’s advice and sink your teeth in.

“My, my. I’m almost jealous. I thought you only looked at me like that.”

Vere shushes the denial from your lips, bossing you around regarding how he wants the peach sliced before shooing you out of his way and finishing his remaining tea preparations,with the look of an artist at work. The tea is a warm oolong color, made only more alluring once the infusion of peach is complete.

It’s refreshing, too, once Vere serves it to you over ice.

You can almost ignore the great plumes of smoke coming from the oven.

Vere cooks how others might enjoy a leisurely stroll.

Which is to say, he seems to be having fun, but you’re not convinced he intends on really going anywhere. Still, there’s a rhythm to it–a dance, though he leads you in expected loops and turns, changes the tune at a moment's notice. He’ll get bored of the task at hand and find some new spice to peruse, demand you taste test an ingredient or give your opinion on a dizzying new flavor he’s concocted.

(He manages to convince you to sample a bit of cucumber soup from the cold box. You retch, proclaiming it salty, downing another glass of delicious peach oolong–

“I can still taste it in the back of my throat…!”–and he cackles wildly.)

Thick locks of hair are falling out of his up-do by the time he’s satisfied, framing his face and bringing your attention, again to the inviting line of his clavicle. He tosses his loose hair over his shoulder, preening.

The recipe book is basically ruined, and the pasta is null and void, but some of the fillets look mildly edible. The artful garnish is beautiful, at least. The kale and orange slices really bring out the crispy burnt bits. Vere seems to enjoy plating the food a great deal, humming and rearranging and circling the display until he deems it arranged to perfection.

He’s elegant when he takes a bite, biting down with a crunch. His tail goes very still for a moment, then shivers microscopically as he chews. He swallows in a manner that you can only describe as dignified, dabbing his lips with a napkin. You wait in anticipation, but Vere says nothing for a long time. Then, he quietly takes the old recipe book and throws it away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t insist on you trying it too.

You end up snacking on some of the pre-made goods, drinking the remaining tea and lounging at one of the shop’s cozy little tables. The mood is light and easy, and the view is magnificent. Outside, there’s nothing but trash littered streets and urchins, but inside…the afternoon glow coming from the window illuminates Vere like a sunset, painting him in dazzling shades of gold and red and bronze.

Vere hums, peering at you pointedly through his sooty lashes. “So, dessert?”

You can’t imagine the look that comes across your face–whatever it is, it makes Vere laugh.

“What are you giving me that look for? My intentions are pure.” His voice is a masterclass in syrupy false-innocence. “As clean as Leander’s bed sheets after–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence and give me any mental images,” you beg. “I have to sleep there tonight, I’d rather not know.”

“Ignorance is bliss.” Vere agrees, closing his eyes and appearing to bask in the sun for a moment. His face does something that you don’t quite catch–some hidden expression–but then, he’s smiling easily. He must really be relaxed if he can still smile seconds after thinking about Leander. You’re still admiring him when the shadows against the walls flicker, and suddenly he isn’t sitting next to you any more.

Instead, he’s returning from the kitchen, a tray in hand.

He sets it down in front of you, revealing an assortment of strawberries and an ornate silver porringer of what appears to be melted chocolate. Vere sets it down on the table, plucking the small dessert spoon from the chocolate once he’s seated across from you again.

“Occasionally, life does offer up something sweet to savor–only for those willing to go out and take it.” His tongue darts out to lick the chocolate off the spoon in his hand. He maintains eye contact as his tongue laves across the basin and–embarrassingly–you think you get a little lightheaded from the intensity with which your blood rushes to your face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you that he know exactly where your mind has gone.

Setting the spoon down, Vere instead picks up a bare strawberry, leaning in closer to press it gently to your mouth.

The chocolate is overly bitter–a little burnt, perhaps, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you’re tasting the remnants of it on Vere’s lips.

(Before leaving, you plop a few coins down on the counter as payment. You brought enough to cover your food…but definitely not enough to cover the mess in the kitchen. There’s really nothing you can do about that.

You hope you don’t get blacklisted. You’d like to come back next Monday.)

Hope you enjoyed if you made it this far! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#Hmm! I think they should become cooking buddies I say; I think they should make this a weekly thing #which is my way of saying ‘my bad if this was too much time spent on the set up etc and not enough on the cooking oops ahaha’#this is not how u make panko btw this is some amalgamation of panko and tempura batter don’t ask #The owner & her wife know that Vere does this btw there is a whole thing happening behind the scenes #the number of grease fires Vere has started. Is not zero.#SLICE OF LIFE IS SO HARD TO WRITE FOR ME ATM OMG??#but I hope it was a fun time #i now crave…angst lmao #touchstarved game fanfic #vere x mc #vere x reader #toxintouch: {pick} prompt {your poison}#i feel so caught up on writing now wow time to SLEEP #no good title for this one i will keep thinking?? i;ll just name it whatever in the morning lol #not that ppl need my permission to share prompts #we are all living in the same fandom biome we must share our resources to thrive #i messed around with the formatting a little :) i think it is kinda cute #toxintouch writing

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valkyrieromanoff · 22 days ago

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☠️COSTUME DILEMMA: TBB Crosshair x you (day 24 of 31)

synopsis: You always organize couples' Halloween costumes, but this year you decided to innovate, and Crosshair is still unsure about it.

warning: none, just fluffy

a/n: Hello there, apparently my lack of creativity is giving me a beating, anyway, I hope you like it.

Since Crosshair had arrived in Pabu and started dating you, Halloween had become an amusing tradition. Every year, you insisted on matching costumes—something about the island's fun customs. He always complained dramatically, just to tease you, but in the end, he would give in. The costumes had been basic—ghosts, pirates, bounty hunters—nothing too ridiculous.

But this year was different. It seemed that your sensible ideas had vanished into thin air. You stood before him, holding two giant sandwich-shaped costumes, complete with paint to represent peanut butter and jam. Crosshair’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbled, looking at the costumes with clear judgment.

“I’m not! It’s just something funny for this year.” You pouted playfully. “Please, love, it’ll be cool.”

Crosshair crossed his arms, sitting on the edge of the bed with a look of complete boredom. “No.”

“Please?” you begged softly, crawling up beside him and sliding an arm around his neck.

“No.” He tried to remain stern, staring ahead and avoiding your eyes, but the softness in your tone was weakening his resolve.

“Cross, I’d be so happy if you did this for me…” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Are you trying to manipulate me, Cyar'ika?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, still feigning annoyance.

“No…” You sighed, realizing you needed a new strategy. You shifted closer, kissing along his jawline. “You know I love you, right?”

His lips twitched, trying not to smile. “Uh-huh,” he muttered, fighting back a sigh when your lips trailed down his neck, your teeth grazing his skin just enough to send shivers down his spine.

“Wouldn’t we look adorable in a couple's costume?” you whispered against his skin, your kisses teasing and persistent.

Crosshair’s breath hitched, but he held on to his resistance. “You’ll need to try harder than that if you want me to agree to this,” he challenged, his voice lower than before.

Smiling, you climbed into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck, your lips close to his ear. “I have the perfect plan for that, love.”

* * *

At the party, Crosshair reluctantly shuffled in, the giant peanut butter slice strapped to him while you, wearing the matching strawberry jam costume, bounced along cheerfully at his side.

“Nice look, Cross!” Hunter teased from across the room, smirking at his younger brother. “Didn’t think I’d see the day…”

“Well, well, well,” Wrecker chimed in with a booming laugh, pulling Crosshair into an exaggerated hug. “The galaxy’s deadliest sharpshooter, dressed as a sandwich!”

Crosshair growled lowly under his breath, eyes narrowing as he endured Wrecker’s embrace. His brothers weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

Tech adjusted his goggles, inspecting Crosshair’s costume with a bemused expression. “I must say, this is quite an unexpected sartorial choice for you.”

Echo joined in, shaking his head with a grin. “Never thought I’d see Cross in something this sweet.”

Crosshair exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He let them mock him, knowing there was no escaping it. After all, he’d agreed to this ridiculous costume for you.

* * *

Later, back at home, Crosshair stretched, pulling the sandwich costume off with a sigh of relief. You giggled as you unstrapped yours too, tossing it aside. He glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll have to get some payback for this,” he said, his voice low but with a teasing edge.

You moved closer, slipping your arms around his waist. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm.” His voice dropped further as he leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I think you owe me for making me dress like that.”

You smiled up at him. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, won’t I?”

Crosshair smirked, pulling you closer. “Yes, you will. But not here… we’ll settle this later.”

With a soft laugh, you kissed his cheek, knowing that despite all his teasing and complaints, he’d do it all over again—for you.

#tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair

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scribbleseas · 1 year ago

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Beyond the Walls, Chapter 2: Mother Nature

Description: It's the year 850.

You are a renowned scientist who narrowly saved the world from impending famine and malnourishment with a myriad of agricultural advancements after Wall Maria fell, surrendering acres of farmland to titans. However, your innovations are not quite enough to be a permanent solution, given that their yield rate is nowhere near ideal. Many are still starving, costs for bread and vegetables are still high, and refugee rations remain low

Convinced that the only sustainable answers can come from the natural world outside the walls, you implore Survey Corps Commander Erwin Smith to allow you to join his company’s ranks for their next expedition. His only condition? You must be trained in omni-directional mobility gear under Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, Captain Levi Ackerman, to qualify for the expedition as a soldier. Despite having no demonstrated prowess outside your trusty greenhouse, you willingly accept Erwin’s terms, desperate to prove your hypothesis. However, during your time with the Captain, you soon learn that there is more to the stoic and strong soldier that meets the eye, and instead, you have much more in common that you would have guessed. Not even you, a certified genius in the horticulture field, could predict the blossoming romance between you.

Is your commitment to saving humanity enough for you to endure extensive training under the scrutinizing Captain? Or will it be your unexpected feelings for him that ultimately distract you from your original experiment?

Content Warnings: Violence, gore, death, swearing, eventual kissing, eventual smut, human-eating titans, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder

Author’s Note: Hi Everyone! This was sooooo overdue. That being said, though, please let me know how you feel about this one! Believe it or not, this is only my third time writing Captain Levi. I really hope he’s in character for you all. I’m probably going to try to post the next chapter of Straight Laced next, but since I started the Fall Semester at my university, I can’t give you a date estimate. Shit happens, unfortunately.

Another announcement, I know I said I was going to post a poll about my next Ciel story, but I actually the next one myself lol. But on the bright side, I know you’ll all like it.

Thank you so so much for reading and staying patient with my terrible date estimates. (I know I originally said September 3rd for this one…)

Well, as always, Happy Reading!

- Dan

“I can’t even begin to tell you how jazzed I was when Erwin said you’d be joining us,” Section Commander Hange Zoë’s grin was nothing but radiant, alight with hope. Their hand rested on your forearm amicably as you walked through the Survey Corps’ Headquarters.

You and Hange were correspondents long before you started your first aeroponics prototype, about a decade ago. Hange was your colleague, watching your hypothesis about landless planting develop with rapt fascination. You studied together up until the moment they decided to join the Survey Corps and focus their scientific genius on understanding titans. Meanwhile, you decided to continue your studies, pursuing a certification as a medic and a focus on agronomy, the study and practice of soil and crop management.

Even with the distance between your respective research, you kept well in touch. It was Hange’s frantic encouragement that inspired you to make your direct appeal to Erwin Smith. They referred to the Commander as a visionary before you ever had.

Hange had met you at the main entrance and insisted that they were your tour guide for the day. At the same time, a team of cadets started to move your belongings, deaf to your protests. While most of your belongings were equipment for the greenhouse and your experiments, rather than personal items, there were still a great deal of heavy boxes that needed moving. You felt sorry for the cadets tasked with the activity— especially in this heat— but Hange seemed to think little of it, telling you to let the young kids get their energy out.

They said it as if the two of you were approaching your fifties, rather than your thirties.

The corner of your lips pulled upwards in an answering half-smile. “I know. I’ve missed you,” you admitted, taking in the expansive halls. The headquarters was an old regal castle in the countryside, the hallways lined with large windows that allowed the summer sun to stream in. Despite the antiquated architecture, the premises seemed to be extremely well taken care of, there was no hint of dust, nor one blade of unruly grass. In fact, it was so picturesque, that you suspected that no onlooker would think to assume it was a military headquarters and instead, assume it was a wealthy residence.

“Well, Y/n, as did I. That’s why I made sure Erwin made me your tour guide,” Hange exclaimed. “There are a few places I want to show you, some people I want you to meet…come this way!”

You walked with Hange obediently, content with following them around the base. The tour started with your private quarters (the cadets left all of your boxes on the floor next to your bed), continued to the base’s training areas, Hange’s office, your new greenhouse, and ended with the mess hall. As you walked, you shared greeting nods with soldiers who passed you around the base. Few people stopped to exchange words with you, sensing that you and Hange were in the middle of touring. Erwin likely debriefed his forces prior to your arrival, anyway.

The mess hall was abuzz with soldiers in decently high spirits, much to your surprise. There was a monotone chatter around the room as soldiers ate their breakfast.

The Survey Corps served their meals cafeteria-style, the lines at the far side of the room long as everyone waited for their lightly salted oatmeal and a singular slice of bread. As you suspected, there wasn’t a piece of fruit or a vegetable in sight because the military insisted its men sacrificed their diets alongside their lives. While you doubted you could produce enough vegetation to give everyone a nutritional boost in such little time, some change was better than no change. The tables of soldiers you passed continued to track your movements with evident curiosity, sizing you up— wondering whether or not you were as great as your reputation imagined you were.

“Levi Squad, Miche, Moblit, this is my dear friend Y/n Y/l/n,” Hange announced proudly, stopping at a long table towards the far side of the mess hall— the furthest away from the line of hungry scouts. Populating the table were a number of men and one woman, each regarding you with varying levels of interest.

“Y/n, this is the Levi Squad,” Hange gestured to the group of six soldiers— the Levi Squad consisted of soldiers Petra Ral, Oluo Bozado, Eld Gin, and Gunther Shultz. Miche Zacharius and Moblit Berner were also distinguished Survey Corps members; Miche was one of Hange’s fellow section commanders and Moblit was their research assistant. You were never one to enter a situation unprepared, so you took the liberty of reading through the Survey Corps’ major players. “Levi Squad: meet Y/n!”

“I’m Petra. It’s great to meet you,” Petra spoke first, quickly rising from her seat to give your hand a professional shake. “We’ve been reading about some of your work…not that we understand the technicalities of it, but…” she laughed, “for curiosity's sake, we try. We could never do what you do.”

I’m not sure I know how I do what I do, either, you wanted to admit. Your pride forced you to swallow the words down like a dry cracker.

“The pleasure’s mine,” you responded, reciprocating the shake and the same greeting with Gunther and Eld.

“You both can sit next to me,” Petra offered, shifting to the end of the bench. Hange took the seat directly next to Petra. You took a seat between the section commander and the tall soldier you knew to be Miche.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll do what you all--” you started, cutting yourself off with a start as Miche took a long inhale, sniffing near the side of your neck. You hummed curiously, but he made no attempt to explain himself. Instead, Miche nodded to himself and turned his attention back to his breakfast. The questioning look you sent to Hange went mostly ignored. They seemed more interested in the thin bread portion on Petra’s plate, suggesting Miche’s sniffing habit was an idiosyncrasy of his that was to be expected.

Oluo shook his head, unimpressed with your comment. He took a long drink out of a teacup, making no effort to shake your hand and introduce himself properly. “I, for one, have no idea why the Commander thinks you can become a soldier in only two months or less. You’ll be titan chow mere minutes after we—“

“That won’t happen because she’ll be riding with us,” Petra interjected pointedly before turning her attention back to you, her smile apologetic. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s the Captain,” she rolled her amber eyes, cuing you into her joke.

“Speaking of Levi… where is he?” Hange asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject from your potential demise to the whereabouts of the absent Captain. Their ponderous expression suggested that Levi was rarely late to anything. From what little information you were about to glean about him— his superhuman battle prowess, neatly groomed appearance, and stern expression to match — you imagined that the man was also quite punctual.

“Running late from his tea pick up,” Gunther answered, causing the group to share identical looks of worry and frustration. (Save for Oluo, he merely tutted and shook his head dismissively.)

“You know what that means,” Eld said, his thin lips pulling into a grim expression.

Sensing your confusion, Hange started to answer. “It means they don’t have his— oh no,” Hange fell silent at the sight of the Captain quickly making his way towards the table. Despite being a handful of inches shorter than most of the soldiers around him, all standing scouts parted out of his way, eyes diverting from his stoic gaze. The way they scurried out of the way reminded you of anxious prey.

“We should tread carefully, you guys,” Petra suggested, “he’s empty handed.” She sent a warning look towards Oluo, who merely shook his head in response, his hazel eyes rolling. They acted like a married couple— an intimacy that only came from fighting at one another’s sides for years. It was strangely heartwarming that they were able to stay with one another for so long.

“Morning, Levi!” Hange cheered, standing to greet him properly. They clapped him on the back, only to remove their hand in response to his continued silence and pointed glare. “Guess who’s sitting with us today?” they asked rhetorically, “Doctor Y/l/n! She just came this morning.”

You rose from your seat, unsure of how to proceed. Levi didn’t seem particularly interested in introducing himself to you. Instead, he regarded you, likely hypothesizing whether or not you could handle two months of intensive training under him and come out of it with maneuvering reliable enough to save your life. He was calculating any semblance of a chance you had at staying alive and carrying out your research.

“You can call me Y/n,” you decided, extending your hand to him with a tentative smile. Levi made no attempt to return the expression, much less take you. Instead, he regarded the remnants of dirt on your palm, left behind after you took a soil sample from the front of the base upon your arrival— and hesitated. None of the soldiers seemed to mind, given that it was such a minimal shadow left from the soil.

In fact, you doubted they noticed at all.

You made a quick attempt to run your palm over your light green skirts, the linen material light enough for you to remain cool in the hot summer. You chuckled apologetically, “I took a sample from your soil here. To see if it needs any additional nutrients before I use it for my vertical trestles,” you explained, doubting he would understand what you were referring to. Your vertical trestles were long stands with dozens of small engravings to house plants. The beauty of your aeroponics system was that it could grow plants without needing a constant supply of water. All they needed was nutrient-dense soil, sprays of (nutrient-dense, of course) water every few days, and consistent sunlight.

“It’s fine,” the Captain replied, his grave tone insinuating that it was anything but. Still, his calloused hand wrapped around yours, his palm surprisingly cold. His grip was firm and sure. “Given your line of work, you’re bound to drag filth around with you, Mother Nature.”

The derisive nickname caused your back to stiffen as your hand fell back to your side. You frowned, unsure of whether or not he was teasing you with it. But there was no sign of mockery in his face— only mild frustration and inconvenience.

“Training is at noon. Don’t keep me waiting,” Levi ordered, turning swiftly on the heel of his boot to make his leave. He ignored Petra’s dismayed calls, asking where he was going and why he was skipping the meal.

Hange noticed your expression as you reclaimed your seat. “It’s nothing personal. He’s always that grumpy.”

“Especially after that tea store under-watered the flowers again. The ones they need to make his black tea,” Petra sighed. You cringed, thinking about the type of lunacy that would drive someone to over-water camellia sinensis twice.

“And I need to train with him later?” You asked, now mildly concerned for your well-being along with that plant. Commander Erwin said Levi was their best soldier, Humanity’s Strongest. But he didn’t specify whether or not Levi was their best teacher. Was there truly no one else to take on that burden? Someone nicer?

“You might think we’d have someone a bit more…patient, but no,” Petra said as if she read your mind. “All of us,” she nodded to the rest of the group with her chin, her red hair bobbing at the gesture, “need to be focused on Eren while Hange works with him. The other section commanders have to prepare our new cadets. That leaves, well, the Captain, as the most qualified to show you the ropes,” the more Petra explained Erwin’s decision, the tighter the knot in your stomach felt. All of Levi’s elite squad had to make sure Eren’s titan didn’t go berserk and ravage the military branch while their leader helped you, a full-time scientist, master notoriously complex equipment.

“But you can do it!” Hange cheered. “If anyone I know can become a member of the scouts in exactly six weeks, it’s you!”

It was true. If Levi was Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, and the Eren Yeager kid was Humanity’s Last Hope, you were one of Humanity’s only obstacles standing between it and famine, which was just as dire. There was no reason to defeat the titans if most of the population was going to be malnourished and on the brink of starvation-caused extinction. Not to mention, it was too ironic: the titans are defeated only for their former prey to go extinct due to lack of food.

You couldn’t watch that happen when you were so sure it was preventable.

. . .

You had a doctorate in agronomy, a degree in horticulture, and a certification in medical care. And even after those years of hard schooling, long essays, and seemingly endless research projects, you still managed to suffer the worst of equipment malfunctions at the worst possible timing.

But to be fair, who invented this gear?

The idea of omni-directional mobility gear was to make humans as swiftly airborne as possible, giving them the ability to evade a titan’s jaws and provide lethal proximity to their vulnerable napes in milliseconds. However, human facilities were much more delicate than a titan’s— it didn’t take a doctor like you to understand that. To endure high-speed movement and mid-air contortion, the stress would need to be evenly distributed across the body at all times. That was why limp leather straps were dangling from various parts of your legs and torso while you desperately tried to buckle them in their rightful places.

Hange demonstrated the process for you about three times before they left to work with the titan shifter, swearing that you would at least survive the first session with Levi. Now you were standing alone, using one of the many benches to the slide of the big green field where new scouts stretched with their section commanders, as leverage while you tried to buckle the gas exhaust around your lower back.

Several starstruck scouts attempted to ask you if you needed a hand, but your pride refused. You were an academic. You were having issues with…leather straps. Not only that, you couldn’t, in good conscience, let teenagers help you buckle your uniform.

“Do you honestly think your equipment is going to hold you up like that, Mother Nature?” The Captain’s harsh voice asked, causing you to sheepishly turn to look at him, your cheeks reddening. Thankfully, they were already rather flushed from the heat.

“I don’t understand how you all put this on so quickly,” you explained, gesturing to the pieces of uniform that you managed to construct. “It’s like a puzzle…” you mumbled before your face lit up with relief.

“Oh--- there it is.” The buckle slipped through one of the adjustment holes, letting you pull the equipment around your abdomen snuggly. While you weren’t quite sure if this was the proper adjustment, you couldn’t help but nurse your satisfaction while you could. The compressed gas from the exhaust powered the wiring mechanism that worked like a grappling hook: the anchors on the edges of the wires were supposed to dig into any possible service and maintain your weight.

“The section commander was supposed to show you,” Captain Levi said.

“They had to run. Time-sensitive experiment with Eren. Something about sleep deprivation’s impact on titan shifting… It’s really fine, I know how important it is to be meticulous with your experiments’ timing. Maintaining consistent variables and all…” you were rambling. You cringed at yourself— your lack of social competence. But in all fairness, you spent most of your formative years in a laboratory, or your nose buried so deep within the pages of a book, that you could distinguish your textbooks from scent alone. Nothing— out of your vast libraries of literary knowledge— covered how to speak to a soldier of unimaginable strength (and with impossibly azure eyes to match.) It was no wonder the hottest part of a flame was its innermost blue.

“Sounds like Hange,” Levi said noncommittally, but he didn’t seem angry. That told you he was more than accustomed to the scientist’s effervescent (and extremely capricious) nature. It suggested he expected it, at this point. Anyone close to Hange knew to expect some turbulence, at some point. You were relieved Hange managed to find someone in the Survey Corps to grow close to. They deserved it, and it seemed Levi could use Hange’s enigmatic scheming in his life.

“Can you please just…” you looked at the equipment meaningfully. You managed to complete all of the straps that were a bit too personal to ask of him, but there were a few that ran behind your back and attached to said buckles that you couldn’t figure out how to stabilize without a mirror.

“I’m required to double check your equipment -- whether or not you proved incompetent with putting it on. You’re still a newbie, Plant Lady,” Levi said, already fixing the strap that fastened your gas exhaust-- the one you just fixed!

You huffed, dismayed by both your apparent failure and the new nickname. “I was growing attached to Mother Nature,” you smarted.

“Just give me your right gearbox, and we might just manage to start training on time,” Levi ignored your quip.

. . .

You were a puppet suspended in mid-air, only you weren’t lifeless, and somewhat in control of your facilities.

Every muscle in your body pleaded for help as you remained motionless, yet suspended in the air. Apparently, this was the first physical test the military put its cadets through. If you couldn’t strike a near-natural balance with the omni-directional mobility gear, then you were cut— sent to the fields to help with the harvest. Apparently, it would work the same for you. If you couldn’t exhibit the necessary physical prowess on your first day, what was the sense in the Survey Corps investing its time and resources into you?

You could feel sweat rolling down your neck, tracing an uncomfortable line down your back as you trembled with effort. You weren’t even wearing the full equipment. While Levi initially showed you how to put the whole ensemble together, you didn’t need all of it for your first day of training. All you currently were wearing was the various leather straps around your legs and feet, and the main belt around your waist that would have connected your gas exhaust and both gearboxes. According to your reading, those gearboxes held extra blades and gas canisters. Attached to those gearboxes were wooden handles that connected to the blades and anchors soldiers plunged into structures in order to move.

Your arms wanted to reach out and grab something, anything, to hold onto, but there was nothing in proximity. There were only two long bars that supported you on either side as if you were a swing.

You tried to keep your gaze ahead of you, knowing that looking at the distance between your boot soles and the grass was too far for your liking. In fact, the thought of your elevation caused you to shudder, causing your body to sway. You weren’t proud of it, but you couldn’t suppress your worried shriek as your gaze slipped unintentionally downwards.

“Easy there. The more you panic, the less control you have. Put the most power into your core so your back straightens,” Levi watched you, observing your quivering body— in part from the physical strain that came with holding your back straight and core strong, but equally, your fear.

“Like…this?” You managed through gritted teeth. You blinked rapidly to try to keep the drops of sweat that cascaded from your hairline and past your eyebrows away from your eyes. “What if I-I….can’t do this any longer?” you asked, trying to come up with an estimate of how long you were balancing. Seven minutes? Eight minutes? The Idle Suspension Exercise was a minimum of ten straight minutes of steady balancing, excluding any time you spent thrashing.

“Oh, you can just stop and---” the female scout to your side started to answer, only for the Captain to silence her with a single glance. Levi tasked her with turning the lever that hoisted you up and back down. “Nevermind,” she chuckled awkwardly, looking down at her muddy uniform boots.

“Why did you tell Erwin you’d master this gear in two months when you knew you had basic stamina issues?” He asked flatly. There was a dichotomy between the Captain's blunt way of speaking and the way he regarded you closely-- curious to see if you could hold yourself up for a short while longer, or if you’d collapse. The tersely restrained energy in his physique suggested he was ready to spring into action if he so much as suspected the latter was about to occur. “Seems irresponsible, for a doctor.”

“I don’t have-- basic-- stamina--- issues!” You managed through labored breaths. He was essentially superhuman. He had no right to insinuate you had basic stamina issues when he’s had somewhere near a decade and a half to develop his skills in the Survey Corps. Compared to your single day, or half hour, of training rather. “And I’m not irresponsible!”

“I’ve seen first-day cadets perform better,” Levi’s arms crossed in front of his chest, his body relaxing. “Are you sure you gave this decision all of the thought it required, Mother Nature?”

“What?” Your head tilted indignantly, your eyes widening to immediately question the Captain’s words. Was he making fun of you? Questioning your sense of rational thinking?

If you weren’t previously motivated to finish the exercise before, now you were deadset.

“Not everyone has what it takes to be a soldier,” Levi explained, unwithering against your enraged scowl.

“Some people are just more suited tending to flowers in a greenhouse than a battlefield. But I would say your attempt is…commendable,” he said. “Start letting her down, Sam,” Levi instructed the redheaded scout.

Your blood boiled, and it was from more than just the sun beating down on you.

“Don’t you dare, Sam!” You demanded with an intensity you normally reserved for those goading you like the Captain, but you couldn’t control your tone during such immense physical and emotional stress. “I will finish this!” Now you had to.

Sam’s eyebrows drew together as she hummed uncertainty, trying to decide whether she should obey the Captain when you were so clearly invested in beating the challenge. Her hand sat on the lever’s handle, unmoving. So she was going to listen to you.

She sent a resolute nod to you.

You’d dealt with numerous characters like Levi Ackerman. Stingy and sexist government officials and nobles who doubted your projects could produce anything of real scientific value…soldiers who didn’t want their wounds stitched up by someone they assumed was incompetent, based on the way you looked. Infuriated nobles who would threaten your life for making produce and food items more accessible when they’d been making fortunes by price gouging them.

“Let me finish this, Captain,” you snapped, “I can do it!”

“You already did,” Levi responded, taking a quick look at his watch. “You just passed twelve minutes. Let her down, now.”

Before you could process what was happening, Sam obeyed, turning the lever around to set you back down on the ground. The second the bottoms of your boots reached the ground, your legs buckled, threatening to fully give into your weight. If you didn’t reach for the stand to your side, you probably would’ve fallen to the ground.

“You…did that…on purpose…didn’t you…” you panted to catch your breath once again, surprised you could string a coherent sentence together. You used the back of your hand to wipe sweat from your hairline and the rest of your face. You cringed at the pool of sweat that transferred from your skin, still hesitant to believe that you truly managed to go over the minimum requirement.

Because of Levi’s strategically-placed hostility.

“Maybe,” Levi replied, something akin to reluctant respect on his face. “You’re dismissed for the day. “Meet me back here, same time tomorrow.”

“You’ll tell Commander Erwin I passed?” you asked hopefully, looking for your due praise--- even though it was obvious Levi wasn’t the type to commend his soldiers for a job well done.

“It’s my responsibility to update the Commander as I see fit, Mother Nature.”

. . .

“Do you have black tea in stock?” You asked the young girl working the counter at the bakery closest to the Survey Corps’ Headquarters. Even if it was the closest, it was still quite a ways on horseback-- about a half hour back into town.

The girl blushed. “Um, no. We don’t. Our…newest hire…under-watered the plant,” she explained tentatively, her smile sheepish enough to suggest that she was the mentioned culprit.

“It happens. Do you still have the plant?” you asked.

“Yes, we do…?” she replied, unsure as to why you were asking for it. Her smile seemed a bit terse, irritated that you were looking for a plant that they were likely about to compost.

“Can I buy it?” While over-watering typically caused a plant to wilt and rot, effectively killing it. However, under-watering was fixable in most cases. Especially if it was the summer sun--- while camelia flowers tended to prefer sunnier spots, they also required ample water to keep them nourished. It wasn’t unheard of for an amateur to be scared of overwatering the flowers.

“I think it’s about to die, so you can’t really use it for tea or anything,” she warned, expecting you to change your mind.

“Just name your price,” you smiled patiently, but you were sure it didn’t reach your eyes because of your impatience. But in a matter of mere minutes, you were walking to the public stable where you left your horse, Juniper, and you were on your way back to Headquarters to start your first official project as an Honorary Scout.

. . .

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marcelllyn · 7 months ago

Text

Unexpected proposal

I think I'm obsessed with Dean Winchester and I don't blame myself for that, because he's so… Maybe this will become a fanfic with more chapters, depending on my mood. Language: English (is not my first language). Synopsis: Colette is an old friend of Dean who is going through an identity crisis. When meeting Dean again at a diner, he ends up making an unexpected proposal. Warnings: Nothing but cute. Nasty review.

I was sitting there in a diner that smelled like old grease, drinking the worst coffee of my life. A cup of coffee and soggy toast with sour jam. Observing the people passing by on the street, every time a person in a suit or dressed in a work uniform passed by, my chest sank. Everything seemed so far from reality, as if I were a leftover piece of the puzzle of life. And let's face it, living off his father's inheritance wasn't going to be a good thing forever.

I needed a job, even though being a waitress, a store attendant, a dishwasher was getting repetitive, I wasn't able to keep a job, and I also couldn't finish any of the three colleges I started, money wasted.

Focused on the street, taking small sips of coffee, the world seemed to slow down when a black Impala parked in front of the diner. My memory wandered to simpler times.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, remembering the memory of driving an old friend's Impala, the way his face looked disappointed when I scratched a little on his car. How could I fall madly in love with someone that day.

I opened my eyes, took another sip of that greasy coffee, -How must he be today? -I thought. I imagine that Sam, one of my few friends from school, must be going to college, now his brother, the feeling that even if he wanted to he would never be able to leave that life. Life I've always been interested in, ever since I met Sam eating alone in the cafeteria when he was twelve and invited him to my house for cookies almost every day after school.

When he and his brother disappeared after spending two months in the city, I remember being devastated and crying for a few weeks before I got over that I would never see them again. Well, I saw them again five years later when I moved away.

I woke up from my trance of memories when the entrance bell rang. My eyes widened when I saw him, majestically well, adjusting his leather jacket, running his hand through his blond hair. I could feel my jaw wanting to drop, his beauty was always jaw-dropping, it's no wonder my sister already had it. My stomach knotted, maybe from the coffee, maybe from the spoiled jam.

Dean leaned against the counter, I wish I could go over there and maybe say hi, but at least I know if he remembers me, and even if he did, what would he talk about? My life hasn't changed much since the last time we saw each other. The only big change was that I was now more like some kind of current nomad.

I stared at the cup, I felt embarrassed that I didn't have anything innovative to say.

—I can not believe. — That charming and mocking voice took over me.

I pictured Dean, smiling like a fool.

— Colette Schmidt!, or rather, Lety! — He leaned on the table. — I could recognize you from a thousand meters away, with that huge nose.

I snorted and motioned for him to sit in the yellow armchair in front of me, and he did so. I could hug him, but I knew he was never a fan of hugs or touching in general.

I narrowed my eyes, taking in every point of her beauty.

— He's older. — I commented.

— And that's the first thing you say to an old friend? - He laughed. — I'm still at my peak.

— And when haven't you been? — My smile was big, he could make me smile like an idiot just by looking at me. — Where have you been?

— Around— His vague answer left me unsatisfied, I lightly kicked his calf under the table. — I was walking around with Baby, no big deal, you know.

— Is Sam with you?

— I'm going to see him at college, can you believe he's really going to college? — He said with a slight frown.

— Sam was always smart, you'd imagine. — I took a sip. — Hunting?

He wrinkled his nose and said:

— Do I need to answer? — He said with a harsh tone.

I shook my head.

— What is the name of the college?

—Stanford University. — He measured me with his gaze. — Did you let your hair grow?

— And I stopped straightening. — I could have run my hand through my curls if my hand hadn't been so greasy.

— It was very beautiful. What are you working with?

I swallowed hard, I shouldn't be ashamed to expose my situation to Dean, I mean, he could never judge, after all, he's not in a position to do so. But I was afraid he would look at me with disappointment, the same way he looked at me when he was teaching me how to drive and I scratched Baby by accident, that look was fatal.

— I'm not doing anything at the moment.

Dean groaned in pleasure when the waitress placed his plate of waffles and some fruit on the table.

— And why aren't you working? — He put a piece of strawberry in his mouth.

— I don't find anything that interests me, everything seems futile. Something common people do, you know? — I provoked.

— Have you ever tried being a stripper? — He smiled with his mouth full.

I let out a satisfying laugh, one that I had been holding back for a long time.

— You know that I wouldn't even be able to do it if I wanted to, you've already seen me dancing.

— As your prom date, I say that you, in addition to being the first person who made me wear a suit, were the first person who also managed to make me end up in the hospital for stepping on my foot.

— Imagine doing a twirl on a stick? — As soon as he said it, Dean started looking at the ceiling with a satisfied look on his face.

— And what lingerie would you be wearing, in detail? — His eyes closed tightly as he bit his lower lip.

I took the opportunity to grab a strawberry from his plate.

— A pair of Scooby-Doo panties, a bra with images of severed heads.

He glared at me.

— Ruined the costume, even though the Scooby-Doo panties weren't the worst thing. — He stuffed a forkful of waffles inside. —But the way you are, it's quite possible that you'll hit some innocent person in the face with your heel.

I tried to get another strawberry and Dean looked at me like a rabid dog and patted my hand three times. We were silent for a few minutes, his eyes narrowed. The silence began to become uncomfortable as he chewed like a hungry child.

— It's strange, seeing you like this, meeting you again after five years. — He commented.

— Yes, it's thinking that in the past, well, it's… Never mind. — He shook his head, shaking off his thoughts.

He knew where he wanted to go, but that whole thing should stay in the past.

— I haven't changed much other than my hair and some tattoos.

— That's not exactly what I meant. — His eyes widened. — Calm down, did you say tattoos?

— I made some. — I lifted the sleeve of my blouse. Showing a small tattoo of the Metálica band logo. — It's a little cheesy, but I really like the band.

His face turned white as if a ghost had just walked past me, which would be harmful if it weren't for Dean Winchester.

— Who are you and what did you do with the real Collete? — He held my arm gently. — You hated Metálica!

I smiled like a fool again. His hand wasn't exactly soft, but it was definitely a good session.

— I was very strange.

I let him finish eating, the closer he got to finishing, the more an emptiness began to appear in my stomach, a feeling of abandonment. I would rather never see him again if he were to leave on the same day, on the same morning. At least the last time, Dean knocked on my door at one o'clock in the morning with Sam to say goodbye. The second game was the one that hurt the most, after all they had stayed by my side for a whole year, but apparently their father had decided to leave the city in a hurry. He wiped his mouth on his napkin once he was done.

— Anyway, where are we going now?

My gaze lit up.

— What?

— Take a drive, talk until we get tired of talking.

He gets up, leaving an insulting tip, and we leave that disgusting diner.

♡

Dean then did something unimaginable, he opened the car door so I could get in.

— This is new. — I mocked.

— Don't get used to it.

I got in the car, it felt like time had stopped. Dean sat down on the bench and started the car.

— Where do you want to go?

— I have no idea. — I looked at the back seats. — Is that a pair of panties?

— I swear it's not mine. — He grabbed my face and turned it forward. — I didn't know I would have visitors today.

— Didn't you have time to hide the panties that your lovers leave as souvenirs? — I scoffed.

—exactly! — He put a tape on the radio.

— Wow, do you know it's the 2000s?

— Shut up. — Your hand covers my mouth. — I want to see where you live.

I looked at him suspiciously, he was always a mystery, he was never very open, but there are things that never change.

—Dean. — He said suspiciously.

— Don't be like that. — He pouted. — I just want to see your house, without ulterior motives.

I nodded.

♡

I guided him to my house, a small apartment in an area that looked like Batman would be murdered if he stepped foot in that place.

—No judgement. — I covered his eyes while I opened the door. — And take off your shoes.

— This hallway smells of so many things. — He mocked.

I opened the door and the smell of lavender entered my nostrils like a perfume bomb.

— Everything is so tidy. — He threw himself on the sofa. — A living room with a view of Gotham, a kitchen and a bedroom.

— I don't need much. I don't even spend that much time here anyway.

Dean got up walking down the small hallway, ignored the bathroom and went directly to my room.

— Cute room. — Throw yourself on the bed.

— Dean, those dirty clothes on my bed! — I mumbled, laying down next to him.

— Your bed is more uncomfortable than the seat in my car.

— The sofa is more comfortable, I admit.

He pulls me to him, I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

— Ready for a question bomb?

—Ever…

— Is the rent up to date?

— Yes.

— Falling in love? Or a very close friend?

— No. — That was sad, all my friends were going away or dying.

— You don't have a job and nothing keeping you here, why don't you just leave?

—And where would I go?

— You could go with me to Sam's college and then see if he likes anything there.

I sat up in bed, blinking repeatedly quickly.

— You are crazy.

— I thought you already knew. — Laughed. — Seriously, your company would be good and I hate seeing how unhappy you look.

— Dean, it's been almost five years since we've seen each other and now you're asking me to give up everything I have to go traveling with you?

— You only live once, and, in fact, we could go without seeing each other for ten years and still, when we saw each other, it would be the same as the last time.

— But this is crazy. — I sat on the bed. — You're a hunter, and I have a life, an apartment.

— Lety, you have an apartment, but not a life, that's survival. — He snorted. — You know, fate, even if I don't believe it, may have made me go to that diner that smells of old grease just to meet you again.

— That was the biggest nonsense you've ever said to me.

— I know. — He murmured. - Accept my invitation?

— Promise not to hunt on the way?

— Only in case of emergency. — He sat down on the bed. — Speaking of hunting, do you still remember some of the things I taught you?

— Of course, it’s impossible to forget. — My body shivers with the memories. — I remember everything you ever taught me. — I murmured. — I need some time to think about your proposal.

— It just won't take long, I'm starting to get worried about Baby.

Jumping out of bed, he started rummaging through my closet.

— Where are there towels here?

— Third drawer.

He opened the third drawer, and looked at me with a mischievous smile.

— Stop looking at my panties!

While Dean took a shower, my mind worked on the possibility of going with Dean, but my rational side begged me to continue my mediocre life. How I wanted to say yes, but leaving all my comfort to go to another city and then being aimless seemed crazy.

The noise of the shower stopped, Dean appeared in front of me without a shirt, focused on putting on the belt of his jeans. My mind seemed to be stopping, his tattoo showed on my chest, I remembered that I have one like it on my chest. Through his pure influence.

— Have you made up your mind?

— Why do you want to visit Sam?

— Family thing.

— What am I going to do when I get there?

— There will be things, believe me. Don't worry so much.

— What kind of things?

His face fell and he sighed deeply.

— I'm just worried about not having enough money.

— Your father gave you a lot of money, I imagine, you'll manage.

I sighed. I wanted to go with him, I really wanted to. I loved his presence, it would be nice to spend time with him and Sam again.

— I think that's it. — I shrugged. — I will, but no sleeping with women in the car. I will not sleep on the same bench where you fornicated.

— The car is mine. — He mocked. — No driving, no eating in the car.

— But what if you're sleepy?

— Then I'll stop so we can sleep.

I opened a smile, looking at her belly, I felt a tingling sensation. Get rid of this feeling as soon as possible.

— Help me pack my bag, I’m terrible at organization.

— Unfortunately, as I'm going to drive, I have to take a nap. So, when you're done, let me know and make sure Baby is okay every five minutes, okay?

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #sam and dean #sam winchester

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tracybirds · 1 year ago

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ack, I was determined to get this finished up tonight before sleeping even though I already missed the genderqueer and genderfluid day for @thunder-pride but no matter! I'm not doing a readthrough bc oof i need to be asleep so any typos I missed I will fix up tomorrow morning <;33

Brains is making some upgrades to the iR suits, both for trans Gordon but also a little bit for himself....I hope you enjoy <333

---

“Hey, Brains?”

“Y-yes, Gordon?”

The reply was automatic, Brains only half listening as he frowned and bent down over his workbench. Pieces of fabric and electronic parts were scattered in all directions, but his careful hands never hesitated as he worked on the newest upgrades to their suits.

“Do you think you could upgrade the hydrophonics system on Four?”

Brains looked up and blinked. If there was one constant across his career as an engineer, it was that interruptions always came at the moments that required the most delicacy.

They never seemed to occur during the more tedious moments of maintenance, or when he was merely adding final details that added nothing to the function. Always, always it was in a moment of inspiration, of innovation, of climatic concentration.

And if there was one constant across his time with the Tracy family, it was that the unexpected requests almost always were worth listening to.

He carefully lay the soldering iron aside and switched off the power.

“Why? Is it for someone’s research project, because I’ve told you before I’m not comfortable releasing data that could make the true scope of Thunderbird Four public.”

“No, no not that,” said Gordon, but his expression grew sheepish within seconds. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t thought about it fully yet, I just had the idea and I dunno, there’s just something inside me saying we’re gonna need it soon.”

Brains sighed. “Your squid sense?”

“Squid sense,” confirmed Gordon, hoisting himself up onto the bench in the little kitchenette opposite Brains. “Sound travels in water and greater sensitivity to the hydrophones, along with improved analysis systems, could help us pinpoint compromised structures much faster.”

“We’d need to develop a wider network to ensure we could triangulate the position,” murmured Brains, pulling up a holoscreen and beginning to type furiously. “Higher sensitivity means nothing if we can’t pinpoint the origin of anything we hear and the satellite array can’t penetrate deep enough. John, can you send me data for the current GDF ocean monitoring stations?”

“On it,” said John’s voice immediately. The family were well used to Brains’ sudden leaps in intuition and habit of requesting seemingly unrelated information without any preamble. “How high in classification do you need?”

“High enough to cover the oceans with a max radius around each station of 3000km.” Gordon’s face fell and Brains shook his head in response. “I’m not risking higher, International Rescue is already on shaky territory. Janus isn’t the only GDF operative who wants control over us and we mustn’t give them a reason to seize control.”

“You sound like Scott,” said Gordon, still pouting.

Brains hid a smile, torn between embarrassment and satisfaction.

“Done,” interrupted John, saving Brains from having to reply. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you John,” said Brains, nodding at him and running through the list. “Future project, I’ll let you know when it develops further. I suspect we’ll need a program.”

“Well, you have my number,” said John with a faint smile. “Gordon, you should rest while you can; there’s a storm system starting to intensify in the Northwest Pacific and we’ll need to be standing by if it makes landfall.”

“Sure thing, John,” said Gordon. “I’ve been practicing sleeping with my eyes open, getting real good at it now.”

Brains filed the proposal away, linking the compiled data and saving it into the folder containing all the suggested improvements that had been mentioned over the years. The folder for Thunderbird Four was at least twelve times bigger than the others, containing everything from more manoeuvrable propellers – “Brains, I’m sick of three-point-turning my way out of tight spots” – to the more impractical vacuum floor – “like the opposite of an air hockey table, it’ll be fantastic for cleaning up!” – and lots more besides. Gordon never seemed to mind that the vast majority of his ideas never came to fruition.

“What’re you working on now?” asked Gordon, peering down at the gear. “Increased frost tolerance? Electric self defence? Automatic Hood Destructor-nator?”

“Nothing so violent, I can assure you,” said Brains. “Sit down and do your ‘eyes open’ sleep while I finish this, then I’ll show you.”

“Right-o,” said Gordon with a smart salute and ridiculous grin. “Wake me up when you’re ready.”

Gordon didn’t sleep, but he didn’t talk either and left Brains to his work, fiddling with his holo-device and playing some sort of farming simulator. The hours ticked by and the circuitry inched closer to completion was every passing minute.

Finally, Brains lifted the suit, passing his hand carefully over the new display he’d added to the right breast.

Gordon seemed to know instinctively that he was done, or he’d been paying more attention than Brains had realised, because he jumped up at once.

“Oh cool!” he enthused, clapping Brains on the back. “What’s it for? You gave John lasers, do we all get that upgrade now?”

“No, this is something quite different,” said Brains quietly.

Gordon sobered immediately, taking in Brains’ serious look.

“Tell me more,” he said in the same gentle tone he used with the children he rescued.

Brains reached down to the wrist controls, and swiped to the new display containing personal information.

“I thought you might like to be able to make your pronouns more accessible. They’ll auto-translate according to region and languages heard by the radio receiver.”

He looked up, to see Gordon’s mouth moving without speaking, and flushed. “I’m sorry Gordon, I realise I may have overstepped. I’m sure you have more important things to worry about in the field, I just… know…”

Here Brains trailed off, his words somehow stuck in his throat.

“You just know what?” asked Gordon, his voice huskier than normal and to Brains’ horror he found his friend was fighting back tears.

“Oh my, I didn’t mean… that is I just thought that…” Flustered, Brains froze, halfway between stammering an apology and wishing very hard that the floor would open up and allow the earth to swallow him. He’d never wanted to put Gordon in such a position, and still he seemed lost for words.

Before he could make his excuses however, Gordon wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in tight for a hug. Brains squeaked, trying to escape and collect himself, but he soon realised that Gordon needed the contact and that the strange hiccupping noises were actually sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he said regretfully, wishing he’d never decided to make the addition a surprise, wishing he’d conducted his usual thorough process of consultation.

“Gordon laughed – a wet, warm chuckle against Brains’ neck – and pulled away. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “Happy tears, I promise. You’re right, getting misgendered mid mission’s not exactly forefront of my worries, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I hadn’t realised how much until you gave me a way to communicate it, that’s all.”

Brains smiled, still feeling awkward. He’d gotten used to Gordon’s wildly swinging emotions over the years, but he still found their intensity unsettling and he breathed deep and slow as he straightened his shirt.

“Yes, well, I’m glad to do it.”

“Really, Brains,” said Gordon earnestly. “Thank you. You always seem to know which problems need solving before we even realise there’s an issue. This means a lot.”

Now was his moment, Brains knew. He had a perfect opening, with the one person who would understand better than anyone, so why was his knees knocking together in sudden fear?

“I-I…” he began, then swallowed past the sudden ache in his throat. “I s-suppose, that is…”

Gordon grabbed his elbow and steered him towards the sofa.

“No rush,” he said. “But sit down, you look like you might throw up.”

Brains breathed in deep, running through steady counts again as he inhaled and exhaled.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about pronouns,” he finally said, his voice more a squeak than the steady calm he’d practiced in the mirror. “And how maybe… I mean…”

He wanted to say it so badly but the words wouldn’t form.

“Did you want us to use different pronouns for you?” asked Gordon, eyes wide. “We can do that, I mean no sweat, everyone did for me and I must have changed them a thousand times before I felt I knew myself well enough and even then sometimes ‘he’ doesn’t fit right, and you’ve all been really good about it, so I get it and you don’t have to worry and–”

“Gordon,” interrupted Brains. “P-please, let me speak.”

Gordon feel silent at once, his ears flushing red with embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to describe how I feel right now,” said Brains, looking at his hands. “Gender feels so far away here. Every day that passes, I feel more and more like myself and less and less like the son my family expected.”

“You don’t have to know,” said Gordon. “You can take your time, try things out. Maybe you’ll find you like being a guy best and that’ll be okay too. Nothing wrong with exploring a little.”

Brains nodded quickly.

“Yes, exactly,” he said. “I want to find out for myself, that’s what I mean.”

“Cool,” said Gordon with a lopsided grin. “I mean that’s so cool, Brains. Anything spring to mind?”

Here, he hesitated again, thinking carefully. He’d never been one to leap forward blindfolded, had always taken the path most carefully considered, but here all roads seemed to diverge into equal uncertainty.

He had Gordon though, who’d walked this road before, Gordon and the rest of his family, all cheering for Brains as he took the first step and the next and the next.

“I think I want to try agender,” he said. “Not worry about it, go with the flow. Try using they/them perhaps?”

“Go with the flow,” repeated Gordon , drawing out the vowel as he danced in his seat. “I like it.”

“Yeah,” said Brains, trying on their new perspective for the first time. “It is very new for me, isn’t it?”

Their facial expression changed at once.

“Oh help, I’m not a go with the flow person, what am I doing?”

“Relax,” said Gordon, cuffing their shoulder. “You don’t have to change yourself to use new pronouns. Nothing wrong with reflecting or being steady. It’s about finding who you are in the midst of the eddies, right?”

Brains exhaled and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve got this.”

#gordon tracy #brains #hiram hackenbacker #thunderbirds are go #thunderpride #sometimes i fic #featuring my fave headcanon of the fam just casually hang out with brains in his workshop just bc #and he loves them all so much #brains is part of the family and i cry T.T #like the tracys themselves aren't found family but they also def are for brains T.T #they found him and he found them and i just love <3333 #okay i'll stop being sappy and go to bed lol #goodnight <3 #edit: actually you know what i've forgotten to do: put in brains' stutter bc it's ussually my last step #so i can maintain some consistency with his voice #darn brains' stammer is important to meeee for reasonsss #i will have to edit tomorrow #to ot of it now #pretend for me please and thank you <3

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looye29 · 2 years ago

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Feel like you are living in a very safe haven and have absolutely nothing to worry about? Do you think you needn’t prepare for any eventualities and do not need a self-defense and survival program? THINK AGAIN! It is high time you realised that you’ve become complacent, and any unforeseen breakdown may befall at an unexpected time. How will you protect yourself then if you are not aware of any tactics? Quite a scary thought, isn’t it? Yes, though we do not want any such unfortunate situations to come up, it is better to be prepared, than be caught completely off guard. In many war-torn and trouble-ridden countries, people learn these self-defense skills and have a solution in place to protect themselves. If you always want to protect yourself and your family, then the Bulletproof Home defense program is a possible solution to your prayers. Created by Steve Walker, a US army veteran, the program brings to you innovative techniques to protect your family and home against all odds. What is Bulletproof Home Defence Program The program is a complete defense strategy guide that helps you to know what is required for rock-solid protection. It is a complete program in itself. Put clearly and concisely, you will learn what to do to be successful in your efforts. The author gives you an explanation of why a particular measure is needed and the meaning it bears in the process of defense. The ultimate aim of the book is to keep you well prepared to face any unpleasant situation. What You Get You will be getting an ebook that explains in detail what you should do in case of a medical emergency and with no doctors available in the vicinity. And if you are above 60 years of age, there is a separate defense guide. You will be taught how to prevent any break-ins or any other such disasters. The program teaches you what to do in case you are attacked by an unruly mob and if you do not have any sort of ammunition to keep them at bay. You will learn to gauge the situation with improved vision and hearing abilities so that you are not totally unprepared for any such sudden attacks. It is not just you who should learn self-defense tactics. Everyone in the family should be aware of such techniques and learn how to manage a calamity without disrupting your normal life. You will learn to control any such person’s thinking by using technology and to keep him away from attacking your family and possessions. The author comes up with a totally different view on having a safe room. He argues that these safe rooms often help you immensely in case of disasters in real life. The operational security is maintained, and even kids are taught to maintain the same. The book talks about strategies and notions. Even a lethal weapon cannot help you at times. You must learn training, discipline, coordination, and training equipment. You may not be able to completely overpower them but you will definitely be able to slow down the attack. You will learn to create time to react and prepare for a defense. The three chapters that the book has focused on are the very essential layers of defense. The first one talks about how to use traps to extend the time the attackers take to reach you. The second chapter teaches you about strengthening your entry points i.e., gates, windows, doors, and walls. The third chapter warns you to be always alert and be ready for the attack and have a hiding area and route to escape. As a means of self-defense, you should stock up basic weapons and if possible, rifles. You should never let yourself be gripped with fear when attacked. Your mental abilities need to be steady and alert. You need to create many layers to protect yourself. Traps and other obstacles will delay their attack. The second layer of protection will be strengthening your home. The third one will be to create a space where you can hide and also have an escape route. You should also know how to use defense equipment like guns, water strain, or scorching liquid and at what time to use them.

The program teaches you how to tune into happenings around you and get into a good teamwork mode to ensure everybody’s safety. It is also important to understand that the children at home should be taught to remain calm during the whole ordeal. Program Bonuses There are a few bonuses also that you will get: Crashproof: How to survive an economic collapse – This offers valid tips on surviving an economic collapse. The experiences of many people who have undergone such crises are narrated. Doctor in a Box – You will know what you need to have stock of at home to survive any health issues during a crisis and with no medical assistance available around. Boomers Guide to Prepping – This report teaches you how age can come to your rescue in the event of any problem. Unlimited Power – 5 cheap or free energy sources during a crisis. The report talks about how you need to have alternate sources of power in case there is a power outage during a crisis. After all, you need to keep yourself and your family comfortable at all times. Pros Knowledge gathered from affected persons, so very effective and on-the-ground narratives Simple language used Practical solutions that can be implemented by anyone Affordable investment As many as 3 purchase options 100% money-back guarantee in 60 days Very authentic program User-friendly Cons Not enough detailed instructions on how to face a physical crisis Not enough video material to substantiate. Visual demos would’ve been helpful. Final Verdict It is a good guide that has value for the amount you will be paying to get. The information and the instructions are given in simple language and so quite easy to follow. If you are not willing to take up a comprehensive course with multiple videos and other instructions, but are keen on something straightforward, then Bulletproof Home Defence program is ideal for you. Every program has a few defects and may not be completely practically possible. But still, Bulletproof Home Defence course is a risk-free option if you are keen on protecting yourself and your family. Ultimately, your prime aim in life is to safeguard your loved ones. So, my suggestion will be to go ahead and purchase the program. You will not regret it since you can have your money back if you are not satisfied. I would rate this with 4 stars - even though it has a few flaws, as it is a practical and implementable program.

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cursedvibes · 1 year ago

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I'm sure the lack of stakes has to do with Gojo. Gege seems to really struggle with writing him. I mean, there was barely any depth to a 13 chapter fight so far. They hit each other a whole lot, but they don't really connect except for a few thoughts about loneliness. Mentally they're barely affected by the other and in Gojo's case it's physical as well. Despite starting to lose his output, Black Flash was somehow enough to let him regrow a limb from scratch, shoot Red and Blue, create Purple and take the force of it without being majorly hurt (because his CE pool just happened to be that big...great).

Now compare this to Yuuji's minor altercation with Sukuna after Megumi got possessed. Yuuji was fighting tooth and nail and throwing his own hate at Sukuna, who in turn also got unusually agitated by Yuuji's actions. With the help of Maki, Yuuji was actually able to corner him. Enough that Uraume had to intervene. It was dynamic and both parties had their head fully in the fight. Despite all this only taking a couple of chapters and not being the final battle between them, Yuuji loses a friend (possibly for good) because of something he blames himself for and he permanently lost part of his ear and his finger.

Gege can write good, engaging fights, we've seen it dozens of times before, but for some reason Gojo vs Sukuna feels like a boxing match like you said. Everything else gets put on hold while they try to find out who has the longest. As far as we know Gojo had no way to tell beforehand if his Purple wouldn't have killed Megumi('s body) and yet nobody seems concerned about that. Same with the merger and Kenjaku. The whole reason for the fight just gets pushed aside.

Hell, Kenjaku vs Yuki was more balanced than this with both of them having to resort to innovative strategies and losing something in the fight. Or remember the part where they just measured each other in the beginning and calculated their next steps? We had none of that with Gojo & Sukuna because they can just heal from everything anyway.

So Gojo is The Strongest now. Congrats. When was that ever a concern or important in jjk? I really hope something else happens next chapter and Sukuna pulls out something unexpected, otherwise it would all just feel so hollow. Not to mention that we need Gojo to somehow make room for everyone else to act. Megumi is kind of a tricky thing, since I don't know how they'll pull him out while Sukuna is still this strong, but otherwise there's nothing keeping Gojo from just moving on to Kenjaku and ending the series. I think it might be that Gege is just not good at writing or balancing overpowered characters. The way Gojo got sealed in Shibuya was good. His emotions got exploited and his strength rendered useless, but in a straight-up fight Gege seems to struggle.

How do you feel about Gojo growing back his arm in perfect condition and leaving this battle without any scars? 🎤

i was a hundred percent sure that he wouldn't kept his scars from when he got sliced and diced, so while that was disappointing at least it was expected, i knew not to hope for it. but gojo keeping his arm was even more disappointing. i was hoping completely regrowing his arm wasn't something gojo would be capable of doing because of the distinction between heian sorcerers and modern sorcerers, that maybe sorcerers from the past (and sukuna especially) are just better at RCT than gojo could ever be because of the ways jujutsu was practiced back then, or something.

it also adds on to the lack of stakes jjk has problems with recently. a lot of the sukuna vs gojo battle was "oh no! gojo's in trouble! SIKE" -> "oh no are things turning worse for gojo?? haha jk" rise and repeat and so forth. the stakes feel awfully superficial, one second the stake was there then the next it's just completely gone, gojo and sukuna continued to fight like nothing happened despite the brain damage among other things, and gojo regrowing his arm only adds to that already piling issue. continuing the fight with one arm would at least give gojo a bit of a handicap, and would make it more interesting, giving him some sense of urgency to get it over with and explode sukuna along with himself and the entire town in one fell swoop. but... no... gojo just did everything flawlessly and seemingly effortlessly. there's no intrigue or excitement. isn't regrowing an entire limb supposed to be hard? i get he's the strongest and all, but when he does everything so easily even after the brain damage and CT burnout... that title feels empty. if gege really wants him to keep both his arms, just have him casually pick up his severed arm after he beat sukuna up, then make him reattach it. it'd at least be cool <- guy who's biased

there's a reason gojo vs the curse family was one of the most memorable and iconic fights, both sides were struggling and hanging by a rope despite how much gojo overpowers the rest of them. both sides understand the stakes at hand and what would happen if they fail. their lives and the future depend on the outcome of that battle - or at least what it leads up to

gojo vs sukuna just feels like the finals of an illegal boxing championship

#I've seen people compare this fight to Meruem vs Netero (HxH) and all it does is point out the problems we have here #HxH had a proper fight of superpowers with stakes and emotional investment with both of them coming away heavily wounded/dead #we got nothing of that here #jjk leaks #jjk 235

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mochegato · 3 years ago

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Even the Losers

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Bruce watched Lucius, or more specifically his hands, with a well concealed hostility. If you didn’t truly know Bruce or weren’t well versed at reading suppressed emotions, you could believe it was just another artificially polite expression. But Lucius had known Bruce since he was a child and Marinette hadn’t spent years fighting an emotional terrorist for nothing. “I haven’t seen you all night and now I find you coopting this beautiful young lady’s time,” Bruce observed, his mouth tight.

Marinette eyed him apprehensively, subconsciously taking a half step back. Her whole body stiffening. Lucius took note of the change and moved slightly between the two of them and laughed politely. He wasn’t sure what caused the change in demeanor but he still wanted to try to cultivate a business relationship with the young lady. When they got the fabrics working, they would need a designer and she was not only clearly the perfect candidate for the position, they had already been considering her before everything she’d said during their dance.

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne. I assure you I was not avoiding you in favor of a prettier face,” he chuckled. “Although I’ve been informed elusiveness seems to be a quality I exude unintentionally.” He winked at Marinette who smiled weakly at the attempt.

Bruce chuckled with him, tight and short exhales, his eyes never softening. “I wouldn’t blame you at all. She certainly is lovely.”

Marinette’s chest hollowed out, all the breath in her evaporating out of her chest as though it had never been there. “Kind of you to say,” she rasped out just barely looking up to meet his eyes.

“Just saying the truth,” he assured her with more sincerity. His eyes finally managed to soften as he looked at her, but immediately hardened again when he returned his gaze to Lucius. “I’m sorry if Lucius has been keeping you captive. I know he likes to talk and it can be hard to get him to stop, especially when he’s taken a particular interest in something… or someone.” His eyes sharpened on Lucius as he spoke. Lucius only raised his eyebrow in response, leaning back slightly as if to see Bruce a bit better.

Marinette immediately straightened back up, her eyes hardening. All evidence of uncertainty and unease shattering as she did. She had been the one to approach M. Fox. She had been the one to coopt his time. She had been the one manipulating the situation. And now M. Wayne was going to try to twist this on M. Fox, who had been nothing but gracious and kind. “I was just discussing innovation and the application process with M. Fox,” Marinette responded coldly before Lucius could. “He was polite enough to entertain my questions. He has been quite polite and charming and professional.”

“Were you thinking of working for WE?” Bruce asks perking up slightly.

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Marinette scoffed out before she could stop herself. She immediately mentally face palmed. This wasn’t the time for this. Now was about Max, not her. The mission had been successful she wasn’t going to blow it now by letting M. Fox see her overreactions.

She let out a breath and looked back up with an overly wide smile. “As I mentioned to M. Fox, I’m not really interested in technology. I couldn’t imagine anything more boring than staring at numbers and code all day long,” she laughed in the way she’d seen Adrien laugh at events like this, an empty, meaningless laugh meant to indicate a lack of interest in the topic rather than actual entertainment, leaning toward Lucius as she said it, hoping to pull him into the conversation and rescue her from.

“It’s not my favorite part of the day either,” Lucius smiled graciously. “I imagine you would still be good at it,” he assured her, “but I can’t say I blame you. I would likely react the same if faced with bolts of fabric and thread.”

Marinette smiled politely, grateful to him for the reprieve. “Well that sounds interesting,” Bruce interjected. “Perhaps we can discuss what would interest you during a dance.” He motioned toward the dancefloor and held his hand out toward her.

Marinette glanced down at the hand, a weight settling in the pit of her stomach. If she gave in he’d have her for the duration of the song. One-on-one. No escape without creating a scene. Trapped by the same societal conventions she’d used against M. Fox. “Surely you must have more important guests to attend to,” she offered instead.

“I do not,” he assured her, sincerity radiating from his eyes.

Marinette opened her mouth to say yes, resigning herself to her fate when she felt a hand on her hip. “There you are M’lady. I lost you in the sea of people for a moment.” Adrien prompted her to turn slightly so he could look her in the eyes. “You okay?”

Her shoulders, she hadn’t even realized had worked their way up to almost touching her jaw, instantly relaxed. She gave him a relieved smile and squeezed his hand. “I’m good, Kitty. Thank you.”

“Is this your date?” Bruce inserted, eyeing him coldly, but held his hand out to him. “Bruce Wayne.”

Adrien gave him his practiced, social smile, perfect for galas with strangers and potentially hostile associates. “Nice to meet you, sir. This is a very nice gathering. Very kind of you to do this for the orphans,” his tone was bordering on openly hostile but keeping to the socially acceptable side of the border. Marinette choked at the statement. She hadn’t really thought about the intent of the gala since she’d made the plan. When she’d made it, the purpose hadn’t had any bearing. But now…

“Thank you. It is an important cause to my family and myself.” He missed the way Adrien squeezed Marinette tighter at his words. “You mentioned talking to Mr. Fox about innovation at Wayne Enterprises. Perhaps you would like a tour of the building. I can arrange one personally for you.”

Adrien pulled his lips into a tight, sickeningly artificial smile. “How very generous of you. Unfortunately, we won’t be in town that long. We are scheduled to leave town Tuesday.”

Bruce looked between the two, forcing his body to not stiffen at Adrien responding for Marinette. “Tell me about yourself, son,” Bruce smiled stiffly, noting that he had artfully left out his name, not that Bruce didn’t know it already, although the physical proximity to Marinette was unexpected.

It took almost all of Marinette’s experience as Ladybug to keep a poker face instead of letting her jaw drop in offense. “Why don’t you let these young people dance, Bruce,” Lucius interrupted, detecting Marinette’s increased discomfort. “After all, it’s cruel to make the young have to endure making conversation with the old guard like us.” He turned to Marinette and Adrien with a kind smile. “Make sure you don’t miss your opportunity to dance tonight.”

Marinette smiled at him gratefully. “Not at all, M. Fox. I found our conversation very fascinating. Thank you very much for sharing your time with me. It was much appreciated. But I will take you up on your advice.” She turned to Adrien and motioned to the dancefloor. “Shall we?”

“Always,” Adrien smiled. “Gentlemen.” He nodded to them and guided Marinette across the dancefloor, taking great care to escort her as far from them as he possibly could. He glanced around to make sure the men couldn’t see them and pulled Marinette into a comforting, all-encompassing hug. “How are you really?”

Marinette held him tightly and buried her head in his chest. “I’ll be okay. I just… Thank you for the save.” She laid her head on his chest as they swayed to the music. Her breath slowly shifted from shaky to more steady. She lost track of the number of songs that passed while she found her voice again. When she could breathe normally again, she stood straight and smiled at Adrien. “It worked.”

“It worked?” Adrien asked excitedly.

Marinette nodded and had to stop herself from doing an entirely inappropriate victory dance. “He wants to meet Max on Monday. Well, me too,” she cringed slightly, not looking forward to being involved beyond what she had done already. “But! But, he was floored by Max’s invention. Like completely floored! And knows about Rabler now. He did not look happy at all about the news.” Her grin widened as she remembered the encounter. “I think Max is really going to be taken care of. It went so well!” she squealed.

Adrien grinned back and hugged her. “We have to let Max know.”

Marinette nodded. “He’ll call us when he’s done. We just need to stay up until then.”

Adrien nodded. “Coffee it is then. Do you want to leave now or look around?” Marinette looked around quickly. By the time she looked back at Adrien, her eyes had lost their light. She looked exhausted suddenly, drained by the experience. Adrien gave her an understanding smile and squeeze. The mission was over. She didn’t need to be in mission mode anymore, or at least not high alert. She just had the meeting on Monday and she was done. Now she could stop blocking any potentially interfering emotions and actually let herself feel again. “Let’s get out of here and find a coffee shop then. We can take it back to the hotel and watch bad movies until Max calls.”

Marinette gave him a weak smile. “Maybe popcorn and candy and drinks instead,” she offered. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sooooo many drinks and ice cream.”

Adrien laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder to help guide her and comfort her at the same time. They wound through the crowd making their way to the exit and freedom, where Marinette could finally breathe freely. They had almost made it to the doors when they heard someone call Adrien’s name. Adrien looked around and cursed under his breath. “Hey again.”

“Leaving so soon?” Tim asked. He looked between the two with a concerned expression. It was awfully early in the night to leave already.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s a nice event but I think we’re ready to go home, take off the stuffy clothes, and drink,” he gave him a charming, conspiratorial smile. Nobody their age wanted to be here and they all knew it.

“Oh that sounds like a brilliant plan,” the blonde woman next to Tim grinned. “I wish we could do that. But we have to at least wait until the announcement. And we can’t drink. But it would help handle events like this.” She gave them a wide smile and held out her hand. “I’m Stephanie. Nice to meet you.”

Adrien smiled politely back. “Adrien. Hi.”

Marinette smiled civilly. “Marinette. Nice to meet you.”

Stephanie’s smile widened. “Oh Timmy, make sure to keep this one away from Bruce. Black hair, blue eyes, looks beautiful but haunted. He’ll adopt her in an instant.”

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes, drawing Stephanie’s attention to him, both of them missing the way Marinette and Adrien balked and Marinette’s entire body went rigid again. “Bruce’s breaking that habit with today’s announcement.”

Adrien paled slightly. This could go nowhere good, but it was like watching an akuma hit someone when you’re too far away to help. It was going to happen no matter what. The damage would be inestimable and all he could do was watch as it got worse and worse. “Oh?”

“Yeah, our new brother… or rather their new brother, I’m not officially adopted, just unofficially the favorite child,” Steph winked at them. Tim huffed playfully but didn’t contradict her. It was easier to just let it go. “Anyway, the new Wayne doesn’t have blue eyes. Does have black hair, is beautiful and looks haunted, so maybe it’s just the blue eyes that don’t matter so much anymore.”

“N…new brother?” Adrien stuttered, struggling to keep his voice even and polite. The normal reaction to such news would be interest and happiness. Well, they certainly had his interest. The happiness part though… He pulled Marinette tighter as he sent her a furtive look. She was doing an admirable job of masking her response but he knew her. He knew the signs. He knew her lips were a bit tighter than usual. He knew her jaw was clenched harder than was normal. He knew her breathing was harder than average. He knew he shouldn’t be able to feel her pulse from here.

“Yeah!” Stephanie enthused. “Duke.”

“We were supposed to wait for the announcement,” Tim chastised with no real heat behind his words. “But yes. That’s what this gala is really for. To officially announce the adoption of Duke Thomas. So, yet another ‘poor orphan’ joins the rest of us,” he joked. “I swear Bruce just can’t help himself. He sees a kid and instantly feels the need to protect and help.”

“So thoughtful,” Marinette rasped out, pretending like her entire chest wasn’t breaking apart and disintegrating in front of them. “You must all be so excited.”

Tim looked at her for a moment but before he could analyze her tone or body language, they heard someone tapping on a microphone. “That’s our cue,” Stephanie squealed. “Looks like you might make it for the announcement after all. It was nice to meet you if I don’t see you after.” Tim and Stephanie waved before making their way to the stage.

Once the two were gone, Marinette’s eyes bulged as Tim’s words reverberated in her head. This whole thing was to introduce a new child, another new child he took in, another addition to his family, another child he wanted and brought into his life instead of throwing them out. Her eyes darted among the family members as they all made their way up onto the stage. All standing behind the new member, smiling at him, hugging him, eyes shining in acceptance for him. One big happy family, not wanting for anything… or anyone.

Marinette didn’t realize she had stopped breathing until her body forced a deep gasping breath, knocking her out of her stupor. She tore her eyes away so violently, she stumbled back, or maybe it was just that her resilience had disappeared with the words. They should not be here. They… she should never have come. This was a stupid, terrible plan. She had no right to intrude. She had no right to be here… for this.

Her heart raced out of control. Her whole body started shaking. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe now? But suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room. Why wasn’t there air? There had been air before, hadn’t there been? She remembers being able to breathe earlier. She thinks. Maybe she made that up. Maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe since she stepped in the room.

She stumbled again and reached out for support, never doubting it would be there for her. Adrien responded instantly, bringing her into his chest and quickly guiding her out of the gala. He whispered comforting and reassuring words as they moved, throwing empty smiles at anyone who bothered looking their way, as though helping his drunk date home, nothing scandalous or even unusual, nothing to look twice at.

They missed the eyes searching the crowd for them and the quickly covered up frown at finding them missing.

Chapter 3

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger

#maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #bio!dad bruce #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - family/friends

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

Going Mining (Adrenaline Junkie Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, OOC sbi

Word count: 2,582

It had been about a year since you told your family about your tendencies. Since then, you quickly became efficient in the art of redstone wiring. The precious dust became your saving grace in a way, it was because of it that you stopped skydiving. Of course, you missed the feeling you got when you got close to the ground going at mach speed, but they were just intrusive thoughts at this point; you didn’t make any move to fulfill your desire. Redstone wiring took your mind off from it.

Lately, you spent most of your time in the basement where you set up your workshop to craft most of your supplies and write out blueprints. You were working on finding out a way to somehow launch TNT to make igniting it safer. You figured out that you could use a dispenser to plant the TNT, repeaters to prolong the time the TNT gets placed, a button to press to initiate the whole process, and use redstone dust to connect everything together. Now you have a working TNT launcher, but you have to find a block to use as a wall to protect the user from the shockwave of the explosion. You found out the hard way that the shockwave is enough to knock you back a few feet and give you small burns.

You reached over for more iron to make another repeater, but your hand came up empty. You furrowed your brows as your hand patted around the chest before finally looking over to look more closely. The chest was completely empty. You groaned in frustration, you could’ve sworn that you had more iron to work with. Looks like you had to go mining again. Sighing as you checked your redstone dust supplies, you supposed that you could look for more of that too.

Prying your goggles off from your eyes and placing them on your crafting table, you checked the time. It was almost sunset, which means it’s close to dinner time. You walked up the stairs and to the kitchen, where Philza was cooking dinner.

Sitting down at the dinner table, you greeted him. “Hey Dad, what’s for dinner tonight?”

“Steak and baked potatoes. How’s the TNT launcher coming up?”

“It’s coming along. At this point, I just need to figure out what block I could use as a wall to block the shockwave and how many repeaters I need.”

You remembered earlier today when you got the unexpected knockback in your backyard where you were building the launcher. Philza got used to the constant explosions, so he wasn’t phased when the explosion was louder than usual. He just thought you were using more TNT than usual, so he just resumed chopping wood. Soon after the explosion, he heard a thud and a groan coming from you. When he glanced in your direction, he saw you laying in the grass a few feet from the launcher. He chided you for not being careful with how much TNT you used, but he was proud of you for being so innovative. After giving you a health potion for your burns you got, he told you that you were done building for the day.

He hummed thoughtfully as he flipped a steak. “Have you thought about using obsidian? It’s pretty durable and it could withstand quite a bit of damage.”

You slapped a hand to your forehead. Why didn’t you think about using obsidian? Most TNT technicians used obsidian to shield them.

“...No, no I haven’t. You don’t suppose that we have any laying around?”

“I’m sorry hun, but we don’t. I could go mining for some though.”

“No that’s fine, I was actually going to find a cave tomorrow to restock on iron and redstone. I’m running low.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll lend you my diamond pickaxe. The iron pickaxe you have won’t mine through obsidian. Dinner’s almost done, can you go get your brothers?”

“On it!”

You ran up the stairs, hearing the strumming of a guitar growing louder as you approached Wilbur’s room. Knocking loud enough for him to hear over the guitar, the strumming stopped and he called out a “come in”.

Opening the door, you smiled at him. “Hey Wil. Dad wanted me to tell you dinner’s almost ready. That new song sounds great by the way.”

He put his precious guitar back into its case on his bed as he turned around and returned your smile.

“Thanks (y/n). Tell him that I’ll be down in a moment.”

Nodding, you closed his door and went across the hall to Techno’s room. Before you could knock, the door swung open to reveal your oldest brother.

“I heard you tell Wilbur dinner’s ready. I’ll see you there.”

You stepped aside to let him into the hall and started to walk to Tommy’s room. You swung open his door and chuckled lightly as he jumped.

“Hey gremlin. Dinner’s ready.”

“How come you knock on Wilbur’s and The Blade’s door but not mine? I could’ve been naked!”

“You do the same thing to me. Techno and Wil knock on my door, so I knock on theirs. Now, get down to the dining room before your food gets cold.”

He stood up to his full height and casually walked over to you. In the past year he has grown to be almost 8 inches taller than you and he didn’t show any signs of stopping any time soon. To your surprise, he shoved you to the side and sprinted out of his room.

“LAST ONE TO THE DINING ROOM HAS TO DO THE DISHES TONIGHT!”

“NOT FAIR, YOU GOT A HEAD START.”

You sprinted after him, but he was ahead of you by time you passed your other brother’s rooms. By the time you got to the top of the stairs, he was halfway down them. There was only one way you’d win. You hauled yourself over the railing of the stairs and jumped, extending your wings to slow your descent. You swiftly regained your footing and sprinted towards the kitchen with desperation. You weren’t going to do the dishes when it was Tommy’s turn; it was your night last night. You laughed in an early celebration when you neared the door to the dining room. There was no way Tommy could possibly-

You yelped as you felt your body being pulled back and a slight pain in your wings. Tommy must’ve grabbed your wings. Falling on your ass, you quickly reached to grab Tommy’s ankle to bring him down on the ground with you. He landed on his stomach with a thud as you pulled him back as hard as you could. You crawled towards the dining room door, only to feel Tommy grabbing your wings again to pull you back. Wincing as you felt some feathers being yanked out, you cursed your wings for growing to be almost larger than your body and easy to grab. You slid across the ground as Tommy pulled you back and tried to crawl into the dining room. You reached out with your other wing and started battering his head to disorient him. It worked as he stopped and you felt him trying to swat your wing away so he could see. Making haste, you crawled into the dining room.

“OI THAT’S NOT FAIR. YOU STARTED HITTING ME.”

“All’s fair in love and war, gremlin. Besides, you pulled my wings first, so you technically started it. I wasn’t about to do the dishes for you.”

“I don’t know why you are the one calling me gremlin, you’re short as hell.”

“Oi, 5’2 is average height! You all are just way too tall!”

Despite you and Tommy arguing, you both were giggling and smiling at each other. The rest of your family watched you two in amusement for a couple of minutes before Philza spoke up.

“Alright you two, dinner’s gonna get cold if you keep it up. Tommy, (y/n) won fair and square. You will also pick up the feathers you plucked out after dinner. (Y/n), don’t jump over the railing again. I understand that you can fly but still that’s dangerous.”

You both murmured “yes, Dad” before taking your seats at the table. As the dinner progressed, everyone had small side conversations about how their days were. Dinner went by faster than usual, probably because everyone was tired.

Tommy grumbled to himself as he picked up the feathers on the ground. Taking pity on him, you picked up everyone’s dishes and took them to the kitchen sink and filled it up with soapy water for Tommy. You washed and dried them by time he got done picking up your feathers. He was an annoying little gremlin, but he was your little annoying gremlin. You loved your little brother.

“...Thanks for helping me. You didn’t have to do the dishes.”

“It’s not a problem, Tommy. You already had to pick up my feathers. Er, sorry for hitting you with my wings, that probably hurt.”

He chuckled, rubbing his head. “It kinda hurt, but I deserved it for pulling out your feathers.”

You moved your wing in front of you to examine it. Only a few secondary feathers were missing, it was probably mostly your semiplume feathers he pulled out.

“You didn’t do too much damage, no worries. I’m going mining tomorrow, is there anything you need me to pick up?”

His eyes lit up. “If you find a diamond, give it to me. My jukebox broke today.”

“I gotchu. It’s getting pretty late, T. We should go to bed.”

You gestured for Tommy to follow as you started to walk back into the dining room and into the kitchen. You two made comfortable small talk as you walked back to your rooms for the night. After changing into your pajamas, you plopped onto your bed and buried yourself in your sheets. You struggled to cover your wings before giving up and leaving them to droop off the side of your bed. You really needed to ask Philza how he covered his wings, they were larger than yours so he probably had a little technique he uses.

Having wings kinda sucked sometimes. Besides not being able to cover them with a blanket easily, they didn’t fit on your bed if you wanted to stretch them out to their full length. When you were younger, your wings always fit on your bed and you would always keep them covered. But now with your wingspan being longer than your height, they were a pain to manage, especially at night. You always had to either sleep on your stomach or side and you couldn’t roll over without pulling a muscle in your wing. Because of this, it usually took you a little longer than most to fall asleep.

Your blissful slumber was interrupted by the light peeking in through your curtains. Sitting up, you stretched out your wings, smiling in satisfaction when you heard them crack. You stood up and grabbed your clothes for the day. Since you usually woke up a little earlier than your brothers, you always got first dibs on the shower after Philza. You yawned tiredly as you flicked on the water faucet and stepped into the shower. Now slightly more awake, you stepped out and started to preen your wings. Another downside to having wings is how high maintenance they are.

After taking care of the rest of your morning routine, you went down to the kitchen where Philza was sitting at the table drinking some coffee looking as dead inside as ever.

“Mornin’ Dad.”

He grunted in response. He was never a morning person, even after adopting four kids. You walked over to the chest where the food is kept and pulled out some eggs, bread, and beef. Usually, you made breakfast while Philza made dinner. You hummed a small tune as you flipped the eggs and turned over the beef sausages. One by one, your brothers joined Philza at the table and waited while you cooked.

You grabbed four plates and sets of silverware from the cabinets and put on an appropriate amount of food on each, placing them in front of your siblings and dad. You grabbed your own before joining them at the table.

“So, I’m going mining today. Is there anything you guys want me to get?”

They all chimed in with their needs. Philza wanted you to grab more iron and diamonds, Techno wanted some gold, Wilbur didn’t ask for anything, and you already knew what Tommy wanted. It sounded easy enough.

While the boys wrapped up breakfast, you excused yourself from the table and went back to your room to grab your satchel, pocket watch, iron pickaxe, and iron sword. Walking back downstairs, Philza gave you the supplies you would need today: a diamond pickaxe and a plethora of torches. “No staying out past sunset. Don’t mine down. Stay aware of your surroundings. If you see a mob, do not try to fight it, just try to run. If you get hurt, come straight home. If you get lost, follow the torches.”

“You worry about us too much.”

He sighed as he pulled you into a hug. “I just want you to be safe, hun.”

You smiled as you hugged him back and wrapped your wings around him. “I know, Dad. I’ll be safe, promise.”

“You better, or else you’re grounded,” he joked.

You chuckled as you pulled away and said goodbye to your brothers for the day. Heading out into the brisk morning, you took in a deep breath and smiled to yourself. You had a feeling that this mining trip was going to be bountiful. You spread your wings and took off into the sky.

Flying for a while, you spotted an opening in the ground. Grinning, you gradually landed before walking into the cave.

You spent hours mining precious ores, working your way deeper and deeper into the cave. You still had at least five hours before you had to start heading back to the house, so you thought going deeper wasn’t going to hurt anybody.

You hummed to yourself as you passed multiple stalagmites. This cave was seemingly never ending, you’d have to mark it on your map so you could come back to it. The mouth of the cave kept getting larger and larger until it melded into a huge, winding cavern. You’ve never been this deep before, so you were excited to explore. Being mindful of placing down torches, you explored the cavern before you came across a strange looking block you’ve never seen before.

It glowed a luminescent green as weird looking projections (tentacles maybe? Was this thing alive?) flailed about before they fell into a relaxed movement and stopped glowing. Reaching out to poke it, you cringed as it felt weirdly moist and it made a slight squelching noise. It flailed about again as it glowed. You saw movement in the corner of your eye and turned to see another one of the blocks doing the same thing. How weird.

Suddenly, the nearby lights started to flicker on and off, even your torches, as you heard a rhythmic thudding sound bounce off the walls of the cave. The thudding got louder and louder gradually as you frantically looked around for whatever it was and pulled out your sword. Hearing movement from behind you, you turned around only to freeze in fear.

What the fuck was that?

#sbi x reader #sibling reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #platonic #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing

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local-ground-apple · 4 years ago

Note

Are you doing requests right now? If so, then can you do headcannons of the dorm heads with a female s/o who is strong, smart, and resourceful but doesn’t like seeing them crying. Thank you

Here we go~!!

It’s been a while since I did headcanons, the rest of my inbox are purely one-shots

🥀 loves, adores, cherishes those traits of yours. He simply finds them admirable and commendable,

🥀 you stopped one-braincell duo too many times to count. You always come in the right moment to stop Adeuce from destroying Riddle’s perfect and peaceful day,

🥀 Ace calls you a “big-brain”, while you remarks that if he actually read and did his homework, he would be as smart as you,

🥀 you are always able to find your way out of painting roses. Always. You even constructed a rather complicated and intricate machine that would paint them for you,

🥀 You managed to snatch his heart, as well as make Riddle focus his attention solely on you with your strong will, intellect and resourcefulness. He finds those traits rather attractive,

🥀 he knows that he can rely on you and you are often entrusted with important tasks. You are crucial help especially while organising VDC. Whenever an unexpected problem arises, you always come up with a solution within few seconds, sparing everyone hearing Riddle’s rants,

🥀 You, as well as Riddle view crying as being weak, so you two never catch each other weeping or sobbing. No, no. You both understand why you wouldn’t want to be seen vulnerable and you respect that,

🦁 Ruggie thinks you’re a blessing and a gift sent from heavens as an act of pity towards him. You surely help him a lot and he will make sure to remind you about this,

🦁 at first, Leona didn’t even notice how resourceful you are. Whenever there’s a problem in Savanaclaw, you’re always able to find a solution (a good one, may I add) and stop the eventual chaos,

🦁 he takes advantage of your brilliant ideas, a lot

,,Could you find me a place where I can finally nap in peace?” “nO”

🦁 Jack and Ruggie are placing bets who is more resourceful and smart - you or Leona. You haven’t noticed since you two began competing for that title. Leona by trying to come up with new ways how to nap without anyone disturbing his beauty sleep and you by trying to think of better solutions than Leona’s,

,,Are they truly having a contest on who can nap smarter?” “It appears so”

🦁 you both cheat absolutely everywhere and whenever you have the opportunity. As once Jack stated - you both use your intelligence for unmoral purposes,

🦁 Leona sercetly admires how strong you are and how he had never caught you crying. He certainly views you as a strong, yet he reminds that it’s okay to cry and seek comfort in his arms,

🐙 Azul simply finds you endearing and is absolutely intrigued. Which may be considered a good and a bad thing in the same time,

🐙you often feel his inquisitive eyes trailing on your figure and you can’t brush off the feeling of being watched by Leech twins. You attracted the attention of this greedy octopus and it’s only natural that he wants to taste your intellect and challenge your resourcefulness,

🐙 your intellect and emotional strenght attracted him. Azul will do his best to get you to sign one of his intricate contracts,

🐙 he simply views this as a game or challenge. The battle between two smart individuals. He enjoys trying various strategies, seeing how quickly you can adapt to current misfortunes caused by no one other than him,

,,My, my, what a pity~! I’m deeply sorry for your current state, perhaps would you need a hand?” “Azul, I swear if you don’t stop those games of yours!”

🐙 Azul wants to test you. Check whether you can outsmart him or manage to avoid being dragged into a contract, He may not admit it directly, yet he would want to see you break down in tears in front of him, after dooming your existence with a mere signature,

🐙 oh, how delightful that sight would be!

🦂 Jamil doesn’t think you’re useless, which is an achievement of some sort. Resourcefulness is appreciated in Scarabia and you blend in well with the other students and they sometimes mistake you for one of them,

🦂 you are the only braincell in your relationship with Kalim and always save him from consequences of his bad decisions. Always. It’s either you or Jamil,

🦂 Jamil may not say it publicly, but he actually appreciates you. With you around Kalim (and your braincell), he can catch a breathe for a moment. He sometimes jokingly calls you Kalim’s babysitter and well, you can’t really deny it,

🦂 generally you’re a rather cute and well-paired couple. You’re the brain and Kalim is the heart and it works quite well! You both compliment each other,

🦂 Kalim adores hearing your smart remarks and intricate, yet useful, new ideas. You always manage to come up with a fresh and good solution!

🦂 you’re often that person that drags Kalim out from whatever shitty situation he yeeted himself into.

💜 you dislike crying? Good, cause he doesn’t like seeing you crying either. It doesn’t serve you right and for aesthetic reasons he would prefer not seeing your sobbing face with mascara running down your cheeks. Vil just hates it when you’re sad, it makes his heart break in two,

💜 you both have never seen each other crying. Never. Vil views crying as ugly and vulnerable, while you want to present your strenght to others. So whenever one of you need to shed a tear, you excuse yourself and diseappear in your room,

💜 Vil adores hearing your smart remarks and brilliant solutions. After all, isn’t intelligence simply endearing and attractive?

💜 you’re resourceful, so you actually managed to successfully sneak Epel out of Pomefiore without anyone noticing for two hours, which was the longest period of time he was outside and Rook was inside,

💜 he appreciates every effort you put in conducting your creative and unique ideas and bringing them to life. He’s one of your biggest supporters who always have your back!

💀 please share some of your resourcefulness with him,

💀 Idia really respects you. He finds your intelligence, strenght and dilligence truly commendable. You always know what to do or how to avoid any sort of unpleasant or awkward situation, or at least make it work in your favour,

💀 sometimes Idia wishes he had your skills. You always remind him that he actually has braincells (even tho Idia denies it and you both end up trying to convince one another that you’re both smart and resourceful)

💀 Idia has never, ever, seen you crying. Whenever your eyes get watery or he catches a glimpse of tears welling up, you’re always quick to leave the room,

💀 he understands why you wouldn’t like him to side that side of you, but in his eyes you’re one of the strongest and brightess persons he had ever met,

💀 if you ever wanted a shoulder to cry on, Idia would be more to happy to offer his,

💀 your intelligence never fails to amaze him. You’re often seen with Idia trying to pass next level in intricate, puzzle-solving types of games, helping him score more points,

💀 ortho thinks that’s cute

🐲 Malleus finds your strength amusing and intriguing. You may not be strong physically compared to him or any fellow Diasomnia member, yet your mental strength never cease to amaze him. After all, aren’t humans simply endearing and fascinating?

🐲 you and Lilia get along just well, since you’re both master of resourcefulness. You both may or may not compete with each other, trying to find the best solution in given situation,

🐲 Malleus thinks you could easily pass as one of country’s advisors. Your ideas are innovative and unique,

🐲 sometimes Malleus wishes you would let yourself be vulnerbale for a brief moment. He adores your strenght and character, yet he would love to comfort you. After all, he’s here for you and only you,

🐲 however, Malleus deeply respects you and if you wish not to be seen crying, he will quickly excuse him and leave you alone in tears, even if it breaks his heart,

🐲 remember, this ancient dragon is more than willing to listen to your worries, whip your tears and help you find a solution,

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #vil schoenheit x reader #kalim al-asim x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #malleus draconia x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #idia shroud x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland writing

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

Text

i can’t hold you now (and god, it kills me)

rafael barba x female!reader. based on “townhouse incident (season 17, episode 10).”

word count: 12,500

rating: mature, for the pain that comes when someone you love is just out of reach (canon-typical mentions of rape, and tw: vivid depictions of assault and rapes in progress, blood, guns, hostage situation. not fun).

The call from Liv isn’t exactly unexpected – you’re about halfway across town to pick her up anyway, and you’d shot her a text that had gone unanswered about her preferred coffee order. The day is for the two of you. However, the request is an odd one, or at the very least, inconvenient.

You hadn’t anticipated the invitation, and like a lot of things in SVU, it came last minute. If anything, you’d thought Dodds would’ve gotten the invite, considering that he was her sergeant. But, something about your interest in the technical aspects of the jobs, the medical aspects of the jobs, hell, the lab as a whole, had caught Liv’s eye, and so when these innovations came up, a new way to look at DNA, your name was always on the list. It was an honor, and spending the day with the lieutenant never disappointed.

You answer her call with a smile. “Hey, I’m on my way, I promise. I just needed the caffeine boost for another day of lectures,” you tell her. Your voice is light, and the clock in your car tells you that there’s plenty of time. “Like, ten minutes?”

Your boss’s little chuckle is light, but there’s something strained in it. “Not a big fan of those seats personally, but. We’ve got to make a stop first.”

You reach down for your iced coffee, taking a long gulp. The sweetness on your tongue makes you smile, mainly because you can see Barba wincing at the sugary mess you insist on downing.

Rafael Barba. The A.D.A. for the Special Victims Unit, the transfer from Kings County, Harvard Law graduate, Bronx native… and your boyfriend. Even thinking it makes you smile around your straw.

It’d started off like anything else, you and Rafael. Meeting in the squad room after you’d joined up. Bickering and squabbling, different people with different worldviews in high stress situations. The amount of times Liv’s eyes had rolled at the two of you bickering could’ve broken world records. (Amanda was known for leaving the room with her hands up in the air when the two of you got particularly biting, especially if Carisi was added like a cherry on top.)

But then you’d watched him soften. Watched his way with the victims soften, watched his eyes soften. Watched squabbling and bickering turned into standing side-by-side and making snide comments from the other side of one-way glasses. Energy against turned into energy together, and the two of you became a duo that could convince a defendant of anything in those interrogation rooms.

(“At least they’re being productive,” Fin had snarked to Liv, as the two of them watched the interrogation unfold. “Last time they fought paperwork got held up for a week just to spite him.”)

And then the other shoe dropped, as it always did, with a case.

Squabbling turned into standing over his desk, facing him down over a file. You’d stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands gripping his mahogany desk.

“I will not stand by while people we promised to protect are thrown aside in the name of the law.” Your voice hadn’t even dared to waver, and he had stared right back.

His eyes had scanned you. Up, down. Narrowed, sharp, and you braced yourself for the return volley. And then he’d stared right back.

His hand reached out to cover yours. Squeezed it.

“Trust me. Neither will I.”

(The first kiss didn’t happen, then, but it came pretty soon after.)

Rafael’s a good boyfriend, even though sometimes his work prevents him from being as attentive as you know he wants to be. But there’s a catch, because there’s always a catch – you haven’t exactly told anyone yet.

At first it’d been just because it was easier. Because how can you tell the squad what you are when you don’t even know? But when long nights turned into early mornings, and conversations turned serious, it became the only way. To protect yourself, to protect the team, you needed to keep it separate. These two things could not mix, or else disaster would surely come of it.

(“I don’t even want to think about what Carisi will say,” he’d told you one night, fingers running down your arm, and you’d snorted before rolling over to kiss him, shut him up.)

So the now is like this: the day ends, he’s Rafael, and he teases you and tempts you and kisses you. The day begins anew, and he’s back to Barba, and you have to settle for good enough.

Even though he’s more, all you can be is colleagues in the squad room, in interrogations, during debriefs with Liv. Any affection you want to show has to be bottled up until those precious moments alone. It’s exhausting, but worth it, getting to know Rafael, and getting to really, truly care for him.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to the present. You finish your sip, raise a brow. “What kind of stop?”

“A favor.”

You slowly pull up to a red light. The coffee is down. The phone is in the passenger seat and jolts at little at the stop, so you reach for it, turn the speaker off. When you hold it up to your ear you can catch the little things: the rustle of Olivia’s hair against the microphone, Lucy’s voice behind her, something that sounds a lot like Noah babbling.

“What’s up?” You shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of the gun on your hip.

“Lucy works with another family, asked us to check in one them. Said the mother had bruises around her neck, shooed her away after saying that the kid was sick and the husband yelled at her.” Liv’s voice is tense, and you feel your shoulders rise a little. Your jaw clenches, too. “So, can you pick me up?”

Domestic violence cases always have your anger flaring, the thought of those victims stuck and unable to get out. Your sigh is short, sad. “Yeah. I’ll grab you and we’ll head over.”

“Thanks.” She signs off, and suddenly the sugar in your coffee feels like it’s churning in your gut.

For a moment your hand runs over your phone’s screen. Wakes it up from its brief sleep, ready to text Barba – to text Rafael – the update. Might be a little late. Favor called in. But then the light turns green, and you toss your phone to the side, sighing.

You’ll do it later. After the visit. When all is said and done.

Olivia knocks. It’s loud, repetitive, sure to get the attention of whoever’s home. Your hands slide into the pockets of your jacket, your toe tapping on the concrete.

“Did Lucy say anything else?” you ask your boss, but before she can answer the door opens. Slowly, carefully, and you find yourself looking over every detail the woman who peeks out offers.

She looks exhausted, first of all. Her eyes are watery, and you can clearly see the bruising. One hand is holding the door open, the other hidden. You wonder if there’s bruising there, too, and your hands in your pockets clench into fists at the thought of someone hurting her.

“Hi, Lisa.” Your boss greets. Her smile is small, but there’s something urgent in the way she does the same scan. “Olivia Benson.”

“Right, Noah’s mom,” Lisa responds, and she’s quick to tell them that Lucy’s not there.

Liv has perfected the concerned friendliness, and her head tilts a little at the assumption. “Well, actually, I stopped by to speak with you.” With a gesture to you, Liv introduces you as a friend, and you offer your warmest smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Crivello,” you say. “How’re you doing?”

“Well, Luca’s sick, so – so it’s not really a good time,” she stammers out, and you glance towards your lieutenant, who seems unfazed. When you look back, though, you see the injuries add up. The span of the bruises. The little marks on her face.

“You have a little cut, over your eye,” you tell her. Your hand starts moving to your bag for something to dab at it, clean it up.

But Lisa just shakes her head. She looks even more teary, close to letting them fall as she pulls back a little from the door. “I should go…”

Again, Liv just looks at her, and you see her brow furrow for a moment. “Well… how about we come back later? Is that all right?”

Suddenly the two of you hear a voice from behind the mother. It’s quiet, but firm.

“Let them in.”

It’s like a switch is flicked. The uncertainty gives way, and suddenly, Lisa acquiesces. Glances down at her feet for a second before opening the door wide, and the two of you smile at her as you’re let into the apartment. But your eyes see almost nothing before something clocks you in the back of the head, and you hear Liv’s cry as she’s shoved back against the door.

There’s a clatter, but the room doesn’t go black. The hit just grazes you, fortunately and unfortunately, and you stumble forward into arms that are anything less than welcoming. A woman has Lisa, a guy with sweat on his brow has Liv against the door, and a third is the one who’s grabbing you. Your vision is blurry, and your ears are ringing, but you can see Liv lift her hands, see her look both of the captors in the eye.

There’s another girl, you realize. She’s young, a teenager, and when your eyes meet hers you can see her tears. The whole room comes into some kind of focus, and when you take it in your heart starts to sink.

Oh, fuck, what did the two of you get yourselves into?

Instincts start kicking in quick, even in your daze. Your hands test the strength of the guy behind you, which makes his grip turn bruising, and you hear the shouts of the men as they tell the two of you to drop your bags.

“Who the hell is she?!” one of them hisses, and your whole body shivers at the feeling of breath on your neck. “Who are they?!”

“My name is Olivia Benson.” There’s a shake in her voice, the adrenaline, the high, and your eyes blink a few times to focus in on her.

“Liv –“ you call out, but her eyes meet yours suddenly. She glares, and you go quiet, once again feeling those hands tighten on you. It’s as good as an order from her.

“We’re here by chance, okay, but the both of us are New York City police officers.”

The panic on them in clear, and you feel one of the hands holding you start to roam against your waist.

“Fuck, man, this one’s armed,” says the man holding you, and Olivia just sighs, nodding.

“I am, too. Okay? I am, too. I’m telling you now, do you understand?”

“Ralph,” the guy next to Liv says sharply. He’s jittery, and you see a bead of sweat drip down his brow. “Come take this.”

Your guy just stammers out something. “But I’ve got her, Joe.”

There’s no warning, from Ralph or from Joe. One moment, you’re being held to keep from struggling, and the next there’s another hit, this one against your temple. Liv’s voice is the last thing you hear as you crumple, and your mind goes blank, the room going dark.

When you stumble to consciousness again, it’s to the sound of sobbing. Your head is slumped forward, and the taste in your mouth is copper.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Every movement feels like fire, and when you blink your eyes open it’s to see one of the men, Joe, jostling the teenage girl in his arms, they’re moving towards another room. She’s screaming, Liv and Joe are talking, and Roxie is yelling. The cacophony of her voice and everyone else’s makes you wince and groan again.

“Roxie, this is on you. Let me in there,” Olivia all but snarls, and you see her get clocked across the face. Watch her stumble, get shoved on the bed. You’re pinned to the bed, you realize, as you try to reach for your lieutenant. Tied around it, your ass on the hardwood floor.

“Liv,” you whisper, and your voice makes her pause. You’re awake, after all. But the look she shoots you is sharp. She wants you to let her handle it, you realize. Throw herself in the line of fire.

Yeah, you think to yourself, unlikely without your company.

Joe. Ralph. Roxie. The trio that broke in. Ralph is… gone, now, nowhere in sight, and… where’s Lisa? Your eyes blink a few more times, the sounds around you ratcheting up to full volume as you wake.

There’s someone else here, another voice, so painfully young. A memory swims to the surface as your head swivels from side to side – Lucy takes care of their boy.

Liv hasn’t moved since she got hit, hasn’t said a thing, but the screams are raucous. They make your head spin, and Roxie only adds to it when her frustration reaches her limit.

“Can’t you just shut up? God, make him shut up,” Roxie snarls, and you blearily blink so you could turn to look at Liv. Her eyes are like daggers at the woman, who looks frantic at the noises Luca is making, the sound of… his sister…

Begging for his own sister’s life.

God. You feel sick, and combined with the concussion you’re trembling.

“You’re gonna need to untie me to do that, aren’t you?” your boss almost whispers. She’s frustrated, pulling at her restraints as her will battles Roxie’s. “Please, I’m not going to do anything stupid, just let me help the boy.”

When you look back at Roxie, she looks helpless. Even with the gun in her hand. And when she moves to untie Luca and Liv, cutting off her restraints, the sigh of relief you let out is audible, even with Roxie’s whisper threat over your head.

So Liv goes. Goes to Luca, quiets him, and her voice is so gentle. It makes your lower lip tremble, the way she cradles him against her, reaches for his iPad so he can send the world away. He doesn’t deserve this, not even a little, but Liv is there for him anyway.

Leaving you to stare down Roxie.

“You wanted this?” you mutter, and the woman’s attention shoots to you, her gun shaking ever so slightly in her hand. “It’s on you, like she said. All of this, right now.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, and Liv looks up, too, lifting from her spot next to Luca, who is thankfully engrossed in a movie.

“This can’t be the way you wanted things to go down,” she adds, and she’s able to stand to her full height, dwarf the woman who looks nothing more than a girl. Uncertain, even in her arguments.

“You don’t know me,” Roxie snaps back, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t want to, if you’re fine with your boyfriend raping a sixteen-year-old girl,” you hiss. Her gun shifts between the two of you, Olivia staring her down, you glaring up from your spot on the bed. “Do you even hear that? Do you hear what he’s doing to her, that sick son of a –”

“Well, Joe does Joe, and I do me, so you better sit down.”

“You can save yourself,” Liv tries, but the girl just raises her voice, pulls back. You duck your head to hide the frustration on your features, the clench of your teeth as Liv’s phone chimes.

When Roxie moves to it, you look up at your lieutenant, who spares a glance down at you. You must look a mess, because you can feel the slow throb of your temple, the stickiness of your hair that’s surely from blood. You can smell it, on you, but even after all of it, you offer a smile. A small grimace. And when Liv turns toward Roxie again, her toe taps yours.

“Who’s Lucy?”

Liv freezes. You see her shoulders tense, and for the first time since you’ve woken up another name dances across your mind. Noah. Oh, god. All of this, and Liv has Noah, and your stomach rolls again.

Your boss is quick. Her minds works, and as you blow hair out of your face she’s reaching for the phone.

“She’s my sitter. She’s also Luca’s sitter, and she needs to talk to me. She needs to know about my son’s daycare pickup.”

Wait. Pickup? It’s… it’s what, 11:00 in the morning? Your mind swirls with confusion, but in shock you realize that Roxie is handing her the phone, that Roxie is letting her text back. Your eyes widen, and quickly you duck your head.

It’s almost in prayer, you realize. With your hands tied behind you, with the feel of them going numb against the metal that’s hot from your own body heat.

Please, Lucy. Whatever she tells you. Get it to the right people.

Suddenly, a face swims to mind, and your eyes widen, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. Liv is surely thinking about her son, but all you can think about is Rafael.

Please, Rafael. Please be the right person.

The wake-up call in the morning is a text, and Rafael Barba blinks blearily at the message. It’s almost habit that makes his lip curl up in a smile, and when he throws off the sheets it’s with a preparedness for the morning he almost never has.

Perhaps it’s just the expectation of coffee. These huge events usually have a few cups for him to help himself, too, and he knows the sight of him downing them will make your lip curl in disgust. Or maybe it’s the knowledge, knowing that going to this DNA conference will make him a better lawyer, a better advocate for the victims.

Or maybe, it’s just that the text is from you.

You’d been a surprise, when you’d met him. A veritable source of conflict on one hand, with snappy words soothed by smiles. A disregard for the courtroom, in more ways than one. A capable detective, who had a tendency to follow instinct whether it helped or hurt. At least, that’d been the pitch.

Of course, because it was Rafael, the start had been shaky. Bickering and bantering over everything and nothing. More than once Liv had to shut the two of you up with a raised hand and a raised brow, since gut collided with a man who wore suspenders and a belt.

(“If the two of you don’t get it together, I’m throwing both of you out,” she’d threatened one eventful evening, her voice very reminiscent of the tone she took with Noah. An unsteady peace was made through the end of the week.)

But just like the squad, just like Rollins, and Carisi, and Liv, all it took was one case.

One case to turn the tide.

From there, it’d grown. Moments alone, somehow snagged against all odds. Him and you in a side room in the courthouse, talking about deals. Visits to his office to break the monotony, banter and bribe with snack to take a break. You became a friend, first and foremost, and from there it slotted into place.

Didn’t take long for him to realize just how much he’d fallen for you. A kiss sealed the deal, Rafael finally working on instinct. But while the short-term was brilliant, the long-term was more… complex.

The ADA, together with a detective. Complicated to say the least, a disaster waiting to happen at most. But how could he stay away, knowing that you had a smile that was just for him? Eventually, the two of you had agreed – it would be a secret, from the squad, from the office. The only people that needed to know were you and him.

On the outside, you did your best to treat him like everyone else, treat him like before. Banter and bicker and bite. You’d slug him in the arm same as Carisi, and you laugh with him like you do Rollins, and you roll your eyes with him and Fin as the perps incriminate themselves.

But when the two of you were alone… when you knew you were alone…

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the thought of spending time with you even at work, can’t enjoy your morning texts in the privacy of his own apartment. Today is the DNA conference, after all, which is why your text isn’t surprising. He expects to see you there, you and Liv. You send him your itinerary, which matches his almost to the letter, and he thinks about you as he thinks about what to wear, thinks about you as he pours himself his coffee, and thinks to stop thinking about you as he pulls up to the conference.

And then… you’re nowhere to be found.

He double-checks the schedule you and Liv have planned out. It’s intricate, but there are overlaps. And in those sessions, he sits, thinks about saving a seat. But there’s no further texts, nothing, and that makes the lectures a bit harder to get through. He’s almost thankful for the text from Carisi, the one that pulls him up and out of his chair and out the door. Because surely this is what’s keeping you.

Got the push-in rapist.

When Rafael makes it to the precinct and immediately grabs a cup of coffee.

“What do we have?” he asks Dodds, who is the first to greet him. Not you. Or Liv. He gets filled in by the new sergeant, and by the time they make it to the one-way glass he’s noticed that the two of you are nowhere to be found. It makes his brow furrow, but soon he’s leaning against the window, watching as the man inside starts fidgeting.

“He was on top of the roof, got trapped. Had the weapon on him, too, tossed aside. It was clean,” the sergeant tells him, and Barba can’t help the lift of his brow.

“We’re sure?” he asks, letting the doubt creep in, and Dodds’ eyes narrow at the ADA.

Fin backs him up, arms crossed over his chest. “It was clean, Barba. We got him.”

There’s a bit of relief, and tension in Rafael’s shoulders drop. Fin joins the two of them in front of the window, and he nods at him. He takes a sip of his coffee, and the steps that stalk towards the squad are distinctly unfamiliar.

“Well, congratulations. You found another innocent black man.” The defense attorney is vaguely familiar, and his eyes scan the three of them with disdain (and some kind of sick glee at his own taunts). “I suppose we should be grateful that you didn’t shoot him.”

“He had a gun on him,” Fin says, no flair, just facts.

“Did he?” is the return, and Rafael looks between the two sides, brow raised. “Who planted it?”

That’s when the ADA decides then he doesn’t have time for this, and he lets his scoff sound over his coffee cup.

“Don’t troll. This is your client’s third rape. We have multiple IDs.” He says it with a confidence that he rarely gets to have, and it feels good to be able to reply with the knowledge that DNA will match, IDs will be made. Dodds again affirms the presence of DNA, forensics, and that’s that.

It could all go horribly wrong, of course, but he still has time to relish just a little in the assurances provided.

“Save it for the judge. May I?” The public defender moves smoothly into the interrogation room, and Barba watches him for a few moments before turning to Dodds again.

“Nice work.” Frank, but honest. And straight to the point. “Where’s Liv and Y/N?” he asks, casually, paired with another sip of coffee. There’s no urgency, even as he hopes that Dodds has some idea why you bailed.

But the sergeant seems unbothered, and Fin pipes up as he stands up straight, hands in his pockets. “They’re both still at the DNA conference.”

Barba stops. Pushing off of the window, stands up straight. Looks at the two officers in front of him. Smirks a little. Not a prank, he guesses. Something else came up, surely. “No, they’re not. I was there all morning. I would’ve seen them.” He doesn’t confirm how he knows he would’ve seen them, the texts from you on the cell in his pocket, but he does know that the two of you were nowhere to be seen.

And… well. That certainly catches the two of them by surprise. Dodds looks at Fin, and Fin looks back at Dodds.

“I’ll text her again,” Dodds decides. “Let’s wrap this case up, get it delivered to her signed, sealed.”

But at that point, there’s still a hesitant peace. A certainty that whatever is wrong will be resolved, wherever Liv is she’s there for a reason. Rafael finds himself hoping the same thing for you, hoping you are not far behind her, that soon enough your voice will be heard down the hall, in the elevator, your laugh pitched high among all else.

And then, the peace shatters.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem here.” Carisi’s voice is sharp, tight. His strides are long, and soon he’s across the precinct, at Fin’s desk. “Liv just texted this to Lucy, and… it’s bad news.”

Rafael’s brows inch up his head. His mind goes to the solution that’s obvious – that Carisi is overreacting. That nothing’s as wrong as the Fordham student says it is. He doesn’t even lift his pen from the paper.

And then Fin reads.

“Stuck at precinct all day. Pick up William at daycare. He has a playdate with Lewis and Y/N today.”

In a moment Barba finds his head spinning. He lifts up, looks around the room at the other men, watching as their own minds piece together the information.

William Lewis. Just the thought of him sets Barba’s teeth on edge, sets his body alight. He has to straighten so he can wrap his mind around the implication.

“William Lewis?” he repeats. Well. Says, out loud. “That’s… that’s not good.” But he remains calm. He has to remain calm. His voice is steady, even as it wants to tremble. “When did you last hear from them? From Liv?”

Barba tries to keep his cool, but he can’t ignore the way his heart is pounding. Can’t ignore the way that he turns to Dodds again. “Have you spoken to them today?” he urges, and the sergeant jaw is clenched as Rafael reaches for the phone Fin has in his hand.

His eyes scan the words. Over and over, just to confirm. He can’t help but hope against hope that Fin read it wrong, but everything is there, in black in white in front of his face. There’s a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I sent Liv a text, let her know we got the push-in rapist,” the sergeant explains. “She responded.”

“Same with Y/N. I texted her, earlier, and I got a reply,” Fin tells Barba, but there’s still something that’s got him on edge.

“But did you talk to them? Hear their voices?” He hopes the others can’t hear the break in his voice, the worry in his tone. “You didn’t actually speak to them?”

The silence is deafening.

For once, he and Carisi are on the same page. Their eyes meet over Fin’s desk. “That sounds like a 10-13 if I’ve ever heard one. It’s gotta be. Lucy said that Liv checked on a neighbor this morning?”

Dodds’ voice cuts through before Rafael’s can. “Where?”

The four men find themselves all turning to the nanny, who stands off to the side. Her worry, that brought her to the precinct in the first place, seems close to crashing over her.

“Go find out.” It’s not an order, not really, but it leaves Barba’s mouth before he can stop it. And without a second to waste, Dodds and Carisi step towards Lucy, while Barba looks down to his own phone.

It’s instinct. One tap, two, three, and there’s your name. His thumb sweeps over the screen before he presses dial, and within an instant his phone is at his ear. He’s dialed your number, what feels like hundreds of times, but the ringing stretches on and on and on. Each time it goes off, he expects the call to connect, for you to tease about calling during work hours. Can’t get enough of me at work, Barba?

When he hears your voice, he starts, wants to feel that relief, but the automated message is the only thing that’s going. His heart climbs into his throat.

One more time. He pulls back, taps a couple of times. Another call, this time to Liv. The same thing. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Message.

Nothing. He tries both numbers again, with all eyes on him, with the same result.

Two of them. Two of their own. Gone without a trace. And all Barba can think about is the name William Lewis, and the sight of it so close to your own.

Nausea rolls, and he tries one more time.

“Barba,” Fin tells him. Reaches out, fingers on his desk. “Barba.”

When he looks down, Fin’s eyes are piercing him. There’s something in them, something that makes the lawyer think the old blood knows more than he ever lets on. That Fin knows exactly what the day looks like now, and what the next case will be.

“Find out,” he manages, and tries not to think about how he’s dialed your number yet again, the sound of your automated message the definition of insanity.

Your phone is in Roxie’s hand. It buzzes, over and over again, and then the same thing happens with Liv’s phone on the chair next to her. Your captor watches it, reads the name and then the notifications on your own phone. There’s a back and forth, a pause, and then she looks at the two of you with confusion.

“Barba keeps calling. And this guy, Rafael. Why?”

Your breath catches. Liv is on the bed, her feet planted next to you, and you hear her words, vaguely. Something about work.

Then you realize Roxie is staring at you, raising a brow your direction. You swallow, blink a few times. Clear your head, offer a tight smile.

“Just… probably calling to ask about a case. Let it ring. He’ll get the… the message,” you say, and her eyes narrow at you before setting your phone down.

You feel Liv’s toe tap your leg. When you look up at her, her eyes catch yours, and you feel her gaze sweep over your face before you shake your head.

Not now, Liv.

She taps your leg again, but you refuse to rise to the bait, and that’s when the door bursts open.

Joe says something, but his voice fades away. All you can see is the girl, the way her face is vacant now. The faraway look, in her eyes, and your chest tightens at the sight of her hair, limp around her face.

Your sympathy turns to anger in an instant, as she limps over to the bed. Liv’s voice is soft to the girl, but your mouth twists into a sneer as you look up at Joe, who sneers right back.

“What are you looking at?” he scoffs, and the rage is blinding.

“Untie me and you’ll find out,” you shoot back.

“Playing hero, huh?” Roxie spits, but Joe beats her to it, glancing toward your phone.

“Got someplace you gotta be? Someone at home waiting for a detective who’ll never come back?” His threat isn’t lost on you, and your instinct is gone, replace with the impulse to lash out, kick at his legs.

A third tap, a warning shot, but it’s too late. Joe reaches for your collar, and Liv’s hands reach out to stop him, press against his chest as he lunges.

“You’re okay, Joe, it’s fine,” she urges, and his mouth goes a little agape as he stumbles back.

“What the hell, Roxie? What is she doing untied?”

“She was helping with Luca –” you snap, just as Roxie says that Liv isn’t going anywhere.

“If she does, she’ll never see her son again,” Joe sneers, and he moves to retie Liv just as there’s another phone ring. But it’s not Rafael, and it’s not your squad. It’s the third wheel, it’s Ralph, and you watch as Joe’s anger is stoked again. It’s like watching a train you know is going to crash, your eyes drawn to the disaster as it happens. Joe’s frustration is only peaked by Lisa’s demands, and your admiration for the will of a mother is tempered by the way that Joe’s voice grinds on his last sentence.

“Now get the cash, or they’re dead.”

One thing after another. Your head, still pounding, can barely keep up, your energy gone from the kick. There’s a ring at the doorbell, and Joe’s corralling Tess downstairs. You strain to listen, to hear anything, but the muffled voices aren’t ones you can recognize. When Tess comes back up, she’s shaky, and Joe screaming at her doesn’t help.

“They were cops! What the hell did you say?!”

Cops? you think to yourself, and for a moment images of your team swims across your vision. Oh, god.

“Nothing, I just told him Luca and I were sick!”

Joe’s pacing now, and Liv is standing. She reaches out for them, and her voice is so strong, so calm. You’re still on the bed, attached, but you force yourself to breath in and out, to look up at Joe with Liv and try to talk him down.

“Now is the time for you guys to go,” she whispers.

“You need to stop talking,” Joe hisses, but your voice chimes in before he can think too much.

“This is only the beginning,” you add. It’s what you have to do. Make him think, make them second guess. Your hands pull at your restraints to no avail, and you huff out a breath to move the hair in your eyes. “You guys should get out of here, while you still can.”

“What do you mean?” Roxie asks, but she’s silenced by Joe. Your anger at him only grows at the way he grips her tight, enough to bruise her wrists.

“They are cops – both of them, do you fucking hear me? She is lying to you, and everything that comes from her mouth is a lie.”

“Joe, there is no perimeter,” Liv urges. “Look outside. There’s no one out there. If you sneak out the back, they won’t find out who you are.”

The conversation ends with one last word from Joe. A knife in his hand pointing at all you, even Roxie. “And we’re not going anywhere until we got the money.”

The next hour is ruthless. Your concussions settle in, and you keep having to force your eyes open as Liv moves to sit next to you. The lights and the sirens are relentless, and every so often you can’t help the groan that leaves your lips at the pain.

Liv’s at the bed, too, with Tess and Luca, and a hand reaches out to you. You hear Luca’s voice, soft and gentle. “Is she gonna be alright?” he asks your boss, and before she can answer you look up at them with a shaky smile.

“Hey, buddy. Yeah. I’m – I’m fine. Just. Just got a bit of a headache. Go back to your movie, okay?”

You try to ignore the way that Liv’s hand presses on your shoulder, the way you can feel her urge for calm through the touch. Try to forget that for a few minutes, that’s the only thing grounding you, her fingers on your skin and the knowledge that your friends are out there. Your family.

And Joe? Joe’s on the edge. His fingers keep messing with the blinds, keep pulling them down and shoving them aside when the sight of the cops steadily piling into the street overwhelms him. You watch his hands go to his hair, pull, and drop back down to his sides, watch his sweat drip down his forehead. He looks manic, he looks pissed, and Roxie’s whispered doubts only do that much more to drive him mad.

“Let Richard go,” Liv urges, at one point. “Let the kids go. Keep me – I’m your best asset.”

Oh, no, you don’t, Liv, you think. Not while you’ve got Noah.

“Keep me,” you press. Your hands are still tied, so you push forward with your shoulders. “I’ll do whatever you need to do, but if you let the kids go, if you let Richard go, use me as a bargaining chip.”

“Y/N,” Liv warns, but you pull forward again, the zip-tie digging into your skin.

“They won’t come after you if I’m inside,” you urge. “Liv’ll make sure of that. Keep me, Joe. Keep me, and… and I can get you out of here.”

But before you can push anymore, Joe is shaking his head. Roxie looks frantic, and their voices drown each other out.

“Just shut up!” is the shriek that stops her, but Liv is reaching out to him again.

“Joe. Just let the kids go.”

“Will they stand down?” Joe snaps, suddenly, at Liv. You sigh out a groan, as Liv just shakes her head. “No. Not unless they hear it from you. You’ll call them, tell them to stand down. You’re going to get us out of here.”

“Joe, they’re not going to stand down,” Liv tries, but soon her phone’s in her hand, anyway, and there’s a gun to your head. You wince, tears springing to your eyes as you squeeze them shut. Liv’s voice catches in her throat.

“There’s – there’s no need for that, Joe –“

“But I’m not playing. Call them.”

“Okay. I’m calling my sergeant. Speaker is on.”

When the gun is pulled from your head you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You gasp for air, and when the phone call goes through, Mike’s answer is drowned out by your own breathing.

At the mention of a negotiator, he loses it. There doesn’t seem to be anything that doesn’t set him off, and Roxie can’t calm him.

“No, I want to get out of here,” he snaps, and your voice comes out raw.

“We have to negotiate, Joe.” You’re begging him, begging him to see reason. “We have to, if you want to survive.”

Liv fills in the gaps. “You have a family in here, Joe. You have two police officers in here. They will burst in here if you do not negotiate. That is where we are.”

“So – so who do you trust?” the asshole sneers, and the gun points to Liv, nudges against her shoulder. “At the NYPD.”

“My squad,” she responds immediately. Your heart warms, for a moment, before the chill of Joe’s voice freezes it again.

“Oh, no. Someone with more pull.” You watch Joe lean close to Liv, watch his breath puff in her face. “So I’ll fucking ask again. Does anyone at the NYPD care if you both live, or if you die?”

You look up at her. You can see her thinking – her eyebrow twitches for a moment, her gaze drifting over the scene before her.

“What about that Barba guy?” Roxie asks, pointing her gun between the both of them. “He called both of them, he obviously seems to give a shit –”

Your heart climbs so high in your throat you choke on it. Liv’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and thankfully speaks before you can stammer out an indication in the negative. “No. Ed Tucker. He has pull.”

You try to hide your shock, the way his name twists your lips. There’s history there, more than you know, and Liv looks to you, brow furrowing, a silent plea. Something passes, between the both of you, a mutual understanding. About what it means to be someone that either of you care about.

This is what needs to happen. To get the both of you out. The both of you safe, to those who care about you the most.

“Ed Tucker, Joe. He’ll get you what you want.”

The street outside the brownstone looks like a battleground – the armored vehicles and lights flashing on closed windows.

Rafael’s steps are quick through the organized chaos, shouts from other officers as they directed the traffic around the area filling his ears, exhaust from engines rising up into the cool air. But there’s no time to linger, catch his bearings. He can only feel lost among the uniforms and bullet-proof vests. There is only the task at hand, the thought of you pushing him to keep one foot in front of the other.

And if his hands start shaking, well, that’s what pockets are for.

He sees Dodds in the distance, the man standing half a head above any others in the area. He makes quick work of the terrain, weaving through armored bodies, and soon he’s beside the man, who greets him with a tense nod.

“Where are we?”

“Ralph Volkov. Assault, drunk driving. Fired by the Crivellos’ after two failed drug tests.” Dodds is to the point. His steps are quick, and Rafael feels like he has to take two keep up with him. They’re on a fast track to the command center, and Rafael tries to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“A revenge plan?” Rafael hisses. It’s in disbelief, in horror. All of this because of some grudge? Your life over a job as a truck driver? “Do we think he’s in charge?”

“He’s not the ringleader. Through here,” Dodds tells him, but before the sergeant can reach for the door the counselor’s voice stops his hand.

“Dodds. Where… where are we?” When he asks again, he doesn’t mean for his voice to tremble, but it’s fraught with the emotions he knows he’ll need to put away.

The sergeant takes a moment. Ducks his chin, before giving an answer. One without fluff, or pomp, or poise. Just the truth. “As far as we know, they’re both there, conscious. Okay, as of a few minutes ago,” he murmurs. “But we don’t know what okay means. They’re alive. We caught a glimpse of them, both of them, through a second-story window. Some bruising, bleeding. But… the one with the phone is hopped up on something, and. We can’t get a rapport. Not a real one.”

“But we’ve heard them?”

When Dodds glances back, it’s with a sigh. Rafael tenses. “Just Liv. Her phone is the one they’ve been using. To make the calls. But she’s told us that they’re both okay, and I trust that… she knows what she’s doing.”

Rafael’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but Dodds doesn’t see. He’s already pushing forward, into the armored truck, leaving the lawyer’s thoughts scrambled. Your voicemail message seems to sing in his head. But the spiraling has to stop, and so he forces himself forward, through the door, chin lifted and steps long.

He can see him, at the end. One of the assholes responsible for taking you, for beating you. His shoulders straighten, and that fury is used to stalk close, tilt his chin down and glare. His presence makes the man shrink, and he relishes in that pleasure.

“Hello, Ralph. I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba. Who’s we?”

He’s pathetic, the man in front of him. Voice a mumbled mess, clothes dirty. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and he can barely look Rafael in the eye. But he answers, slowly, blinking up at the lawyer. “Me and my sister, Roxie. We needed money, for my ma, she. She needs a new hip, she can hardly walk.

Dodds says something. Rafael’s mind is on the name. Roxie. Roxie. Roxie and Ralph, the fucking dynamic duo.

Suddenly Ralph is pushing back. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone either. And Joe came along. All of this was his idea, man, not ours.”

Rafael takes a seat. He’s level with this guy, and it makes him sick to his stomach. “Uh-huh.” His voice is hoarse. Bitter. “Joe’s his real name?”

The man doesn’t respond, seems to shrink back, and Rafael finds his temper flaring, his voice going sharp. His hand reaches out to snap under the man’s nose. He sits down, and the only place he’s looking is at the dumb son of a bitch in front of him. “Ralph. Look at me. Anyone dies in there, you’re on the hook for felony murder.” He doesn’t want to think about you, about your body coming out, not your life. His vision goes a little red, and he leans close with a tight tone. “You help us or you’re gone.”

That seems to get his attention, and Ralph nods, swallowing down his fear. “Joe’s his real name. Joe Utley.”

Fin moves to the laptop quickly, looking at his sergeant. Their glance is exchanged, but Rafael’s mind is fixated on the three names he has. Ralph. Roxie. Joe Utley. All of them responsible for taking you. For taking Liv. He finds himself squeezing his knee under the table, praying for a moment that the crime he prosecutes them for doesn’t have – fuck, doesn’t have murder in the damn headlines.

And then he gets a text from Carisi. His hand goes to Ralph’s phone, next to him, and the latest text shines up. The two kids, huddled together on the bed, Liv to the side, and you… sitting against the bed on the floor, looking up. There’s blood, on your forehead. Some down the side of your neck. Your eyes look glazed, dull, and all the blood drains from his face.

When he holds up the photo, he can barely speak.

“This photo.” His voice is raspy, and his hand is almost shaking. “Is this the last time you had contact with Joe and Roxie?”

Ralph confirms it, and that’s when he has to step away. He just hears a fraction of what Dodds says. It doesn’t matter. It just confirms the filth that has you captive in that fucking building. Has to pull back, take a breath. There’s a fury within him that only builds as Ralph pushes back, refuses to cooperate when you’re inside that damn townhouse –

Fin’s voice cuts through the chaos, goes straight to the point. Tucker and Dodds and Rafael watch on, as the detective leans close, scowls at the perp. “Let me ask you something, man. Do you ever want to see your sister alive again?”

Rafael swallows at that. Looks down at his phone. Can’t watch as Dodds holds up the phone to Ralph, can’t do anything but close his eyes and turn as the hand is dealt.

And then Ralph stammers. There is nothing more useless than a juris doctorate in that moment, watching as the man turns. Admits that he’s caught, that it’s done. Nothing more horrifying than the sound of Joe’s voice on the other end of the line, a furious shout of a curse before the line goes dead. And nothing more nauseating than knowing that whatever happens next, Rafael can’t do a damn thing.

“Son of a bitch!” Joe screams, and you can’t help your wince. The noise seems to rattle your brain, and when you open your eyes again the man is leaning on the fireplace.

The four of you – including Liv and the kids – had been moved downstairs as Ralph’s absence stretched longer. And no matter how much you wanted these bastards ended, you couldn’t help your prayer that Joe would just get what he wanted. Anything to keep him sane, to keep him from using one of the kids as a punching bag, or from hurting Liv.

But with Ralph out of the picture, caught by the police… you can’t help but notice the way that your chances get slimmer and slimmer. Your eyes flick toward your lieutenant, the strongest woman you know, and you can’t help but feel the doubt. Doubt that trickles down your cheek with a couple of tears, a mixture of blood and sweat joining it.

And Rafael… your throat closes up at the thought of him, swimming around in the back of your mind. Usually such a comfort, and now the guilt kills you. The knowledge that you’d – fucking hell, that you could’ve seen him for the last…

You have to physically shake your head. Enough that Liv’s hand reaches out for you.

No. You have to see him again. You have to.

Joe and Roxie are yelling now. Back and forth, back and forth, and you want to sink further into your chair but can’t get far enough away. It all bounces in your head, and everything just as you hear Joe’s voice scream into the phone.

“What?”

The silence is deafening. Joe’s ultimatum more so. And then the phone is shoved into your hands, along with a threat for your life, the gun pointed at you.

“Ralph, and the cash, or your pretty little girlfriend dies. Or what about… what about this one? This useless bitch, huh? Not much stopping me from putting a bullet in her head.”

Your energy is used to glare up at the man. You feel Liv freeze beside you as you lift your mouth to the speaker.

“He… he really wants Ralph back in here, Tucker.”

“Yeah. I, uh. Understand that. But that’s not something we can do right now.”

Your head drops. The phone and your hand drop. And Liv’s voice is next to you, soft. “He’s telling you the truth, guys. We’re not allowed to send civilians inside.”

“All right. Then I’m done talking.”

There’s a hitch to your breath at the end of Joe’s statement, and Rafael’s hands are limp at his sides. He can picture it so vividly – he knows what Joe looks like. It’s not hard to visualize him lifting a gun and aiming it at you. Barba barely notices he starts to tremble as he anticipates the sound, that one final sound.

Luckily the finality is something that Tucker doesn’t accept. And at the sound of Joe’s request to talk to Ralph.

After all, he knows what that look on Tucker’s face is trying to tell him. He sees the way the man turns to him like he understands. With Liv on the other end, perhaps that’s what he’s hoping to convey. The urgency, the knowledge that he’s doing everything he can.

Little does he know.

There’s yelling, fighting. Tucker tries to talk them down again, but Roxie and Joe on the other end of the line are going off at each other, and then there’s a clatter. The whole room seems to wince at it, and when there’s silence on the line no one can breathe.

“Everybody okay?” Tucker asks. But even when the silence breaks, the tension is still thick. Rafael feels it clawing at his throat. And Liv’s voice on the other end, shaking, makes him lift a hand to his hair.

“Okay. So we know that Ralph’s not coming in here, but do you have his money?”

The trade develops. Slowly. Too slowly, and your name doesn’t come up once. It makes Rafael’s twitch, and by the time the final deal is made, he’s had enough of it. One person. One person, and it’s not you. It’s not you.

The door is opening, and Rafael is gone before he can think. He’s pushing out of the van and starts pacing behind the command center, muttering something to himself. He’s halfway through the recitation when he realizes it’s a prayer, and almost done with it when he sees Carisi just a few feet away, making his way to where Rafael just left.

He doesn’t stop the detective from coming closer. If anything he almost welcomes it. Carisi looks almost as harried as he is, and he can’t help the way his lips twist at the familiarity of Carisi’s “counselor” in his mouth.

“How’s it goin’ in there?” For a first question, Rafael is struck by how little he can bear to answer.

“The… the father’s in bad shape. They’re organizing a trade,” he whispers, and hates the way that his voice cracks. The way he looks up at the row of townhouses and has to swallow his fear so he doesn’t vomit with it.

Suddenly Carisi’s face softens, somehow, even more. He looks at Rafael with pity. And while the counselor wants to bristle at it, he can’t.

“We’ll get them out, counselor,” the blond promises. “We’ll get Liv, and we’ll get them out –”

But when Rafael lifts his hand, it’s to silence him. To just glare, work his jaw, and try not to shatter so completely.

“It’s not just Liv,” he spits, and the admission takes even him by surprise. “It’s not. So. Please, just.”

He doesn’t know what Carisi is seeing when he looks at Rafael in that moment. He doesn’t know what the detective thinks. But no matter all of his words, his teasing, he knows that the man isn’t stupid, and can put the pieces together on a simple puzzle.

Who else is in that fucking room? Who else could the squad lose?

“I can’t lose her.” Carisi’s jaw clenches, his whole body tensing in Rafael’s periphery. But there’s no answer, because the detective isn’t stupid.

Not enough to make empty promises.

Mike’s eyes meet yours first when he comes through the door. He reassures Joe that his demands are being met – the money, the car, the goddamn plane – but he can’t stop looking at you. Maybe it’s the blood at your temple, the way your hands are gripping armrests on the chair you’re basically strapped to. Maybe it’s the dazed look in your eye that you’re sure you have, a concussion wreaking havoc on your system. But it doesn’t matter. He can’t help you.

Joe’s orders to strip had made too much sense – forcing them down to the bare essentials to come in and get the father out. But seeing it, seeing how vulnerable Mike it makes your chest hurt, and as he stands before Joe and his fucking assault rifle basically bare, you can’t help your desire to reach out to him.

“Everything is on its way,” Mike tells Joe, meeting his gaze head on – a steady lift of the chin while Joe fidgets.

And then the vests come off, too. And you have to watch Mike leave without any protection, his back so vulnerable, and you have to watch Joe’s eyes follow him, and once he leaves the breath you let out is audible. Audible enough to earn you a glare.

“What?” he snaps, and you just shake your head, offering a smile that feels like

“Nothing, Joe. That was a good thing you just did, letting Richard get the helps he needs,” you tell him.

There’s a beat, and then before you can react he’s lunging forward, his fist and thankfully not the butt of the gun smacking you across the face.

The kids scream, a horrific sound as your head is whipped to the side, eyes closed tight as you groan and try not to look at them.

“I’m – I’m okay…”

“You’re laughing,” he hisses, bending forward. “You’re fucking laughing at me.”

“Joe,” Liv says with a sharp tone. She doesn’t come to you, but her eyes are wide as your body pulls in on itself, barely able to look up and see her through the tears in your eyes. “Joe, look at me. That was good, getting Richard out of there. The car is… is coming, okay? It is, and… when it’s here we can start working on an exit strategy.”

“I have an exit strategy. For me, and for Roxie,” he snaps. His voice is hoarse from yelling, and then the phone rings again. Joe picks it up, and he’s moving from the hall to the table and back again, the end of the line approaching steadily.

“I’m gonna send someone out to check the car. I want the keys in the ignition, I want the engine running, and I want all those ESU guys gone, y’hear me? I want a clear path!” The phone is tossed away, connection gone, and then Joe’s in front of you again, bending forward, grinning. “About time to make yourself useful.”

“Joe,” Liv murmurs, trying to reach out to him, but the gun is quickly pointing at her.

“Shut up, boss lady!” he snaps. “The both of you are gonna put the vest on Roxie, and then she’s gonna go out there and check the car.”

What else can you do but comply? Joe’s release on your restraints has you stumbling forward, but when Liv goes to get you she’s pushed away by the firearm. You slowly rise to your feet, and there’s blood falling steadily from your nose as you stumble forward.

There’s no affirmation. Joe can only hiss out a curse, and then he’s stumbling away towards the back of the house.

The front of the house feels cold. By the time you make it to Roxie it feels like an eternity, and you and Liv have to get to work buckling her up. You’re so disoriented, the world spinning, that when you realize Liv is talking she’s already halfway there.

“Roxie,” she murmurs. “You can save yourself. You realize that? Right now. your brother is out there, and you don’t have to die. All you have to do is drop to your knees and put your hands up.”

Your hands are finally free. It feels good being able to roll your wrists, but you can barely focus as you realize you’re looking up into Roxie’s eyes. Your brain stumbles through its recollection, and when you do manage to speak it’s small. Soft. So Joe can’t hear.

“Save yourself, and your brother, Roxie, okay?” you whisper. “Get out of here. For him, you understand.”

“Just – just shut up,” she snaps, and Liv buckles her in.

It’s torture watching her leave. Joe’s back now, and the phone is at his hear, while Liv’s at the window, watching. But the light from outside makes your head spin. All you can do is stumble back to a chair, count to ten, and try not to cry.

You wish you had a hand on your back right now. Someone rubbing small circles into your skin. You can hear his voice, Rafael’s, in your ear, low hums as the two of you relax on the couch…

No.

You blink a few times. You can hear Roxie’s voice over the phone. Her sharp gasp, the long pause. You hear Rafael, then, too, urging you onto your feet, urging your mind to come together for just a bit longer…

No. He’s not – he’s not there. He’s outside. He’s not on the phone, he’s not on a couch, he’s outside and waiting and you’re stuck in here. It makes you want to scream, and your fingers lift to curl in your hair.

And then Carisi’s voice filters in over the phone.

“Hey, hold up, she’s surrendering. We got her!”

Something in Joe seems to snap at that moment. His eyes are wild, the assault rifle draped over his body, and when he lifts to gun to direct it between you and Liv.

“We’re almost there,” Liv tries to tell him. But you know she’s telling you, too. You try to nod, but there’s a flash of light as you struggle to stay conscious.

We’re almost there, Rafael whispers in your head, his little smirk so clear.

Okay, Rafa. Okay.

“It’s your terms,” Liv’s saying. “You tell Tucker how to do this… we’re so close to getting out of here.” Even as your head hangs you can’t help your smile. That’s your lieutenant. That’s Olivia fucking Benson. Allying herself. Protecting you. Your everything aches and she knows it and she’s still there.

The phone rings. Tucker’s voice filters over all of you.

“Now I’m gonna need something. The kids, Joe, okay?”

But Joe’s ready. Joe’s fired up, thanks to Liv. She’s there with him, she almost smiles at him, as he ends the negotiations. He’s ready to get out of there, he’s ready to live.

She’s got him, you think. She’s got him, right where she wants him.

“Joe, we kept our side,” Tucker says. “We’ll need at least one kid.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “You get the boy. When I get into the car you get the boy.” And then his smile goes rancid, evil, cruel.

“But I’m keeping my girls.”

Rafael’s leg can’t stop bouncing. He’s made his way back inside the command center, and the hustle and bustle never stops. People are in, people are out, and all he can think about is you. All he can hear is your voice is his ear, all he can focus on is getting you out safe.

Which sucks, because he can’t do a damn thing about it.

He shouldn’t even be here. He should be home. He should be home but he hasn’t been able to move since he made it to this chair.

His fingers go to your tie. It’s around his neck, but it’s yours. One you bought for him, the burgundy something you said brought out his eyes. You’d handed it over with a wink, at the end of a day that’d had you both in the office for longer than you strictly should’ve been.

Just for you, you’d said. It was basically calling your name.

God, what’d he give to hear you calling his name.

He doesn’t have an earpiece in his ear. So he doesn’t know why the cops all around him suddenly tense up, he doesn’t know why they file out of the command center and start loading their guns. What he does know is when Dodds peeks in, Carisi’s eyes visible behind him through the doorway.

“Barba,” the sergeant barks out. “They’re coming out. Stay down and stay behind, Joe is coming out –”

Rafael’s throat closes up. “With who?” he asks, but Dodds is already gone. Carisi peeks in.

“All of them, Rafael,” he says. “Liv, the kids, and –”

Rafael doesn’t need to hear your name. He’s already up. He’s led by Carisi to a vest, he’s led by Carisi to a spot behind the line of armed officers, and all he can do is watch as everyone watches the doors.

“They’re coming out by the garden level!” someone yells, and guns are aiming before Rafael can think.

He sees you first. It’s not hard to miss you. Your hair is whipping around your head a little from the wind, and there’s...

“That’s blood,” he whispers to himself. “God, that’s blood.” It’s dripping down your face, or it was – from your nose, all over your face and mouth.

“Barba,” Carisi whispers back, and that’s when he sees the gun.

No! his brain screams. His body is motionless. The gun is against your head, and you’re walking, no, stumbling forward ahead of him.

He sees your lips moving. You’re talking to Joe – Joe, surrounded by you, and Liv, and the kids. Your hands are up.

Joe starts yelling. “Farther back! Get farther back!”

“Get back,” Carisi says, and he shouts it a little louder for the group. Everyone starts backing up. Everyone does, and Rafael watches as the four of you creep towards the car. Liv is talking now. She’s right in his ear.

And then the kids get let go. He seems a small smile play across your face, as Joe looks back at Liv.

“He’s letting both kids go!” Dodds shouts. Someone rushes up to meet them, carries them away, and Rafael watches as Joe is flanked by you, by Liv. The kids are rushed away, and the breath Rafael can take after that is minimal. It’s minimal and you’ve still got a gun to your head.

There’s talking. There’s more talking. The car is only inches away.

And then your elbow swings.

“Joe,” you whisper. “Keep the gun to my head.”

You feel the pressure against the back of your head. Right against the bruise from this morning. “Good, Joe. We’ll keep pushing forward, okay. I’m gonna keep my hands up, and you…”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth closes tightly. The inching forward is tedious, but you creep with every step. And then Liv starts talking.

“You don’t need the kids, Joe,” Liv whispers. “You don’t need them. Let them go, all right? It’s just about you and us, no one else.”

And then they’re gone. The kids. They dart away, and your eyes close tightly, the smile on your face momentary. One step closer. You can almost hear Rafael still. Almost there.

You feel Liv’s foot tap against yours as the group of you come to a halt. And when your eyes meet hers you can’t help what happens next.

There’s a mutual understanding. One that the two of you come to, in that moment, surrounding Joe, protecting him. His voice is still in your ear, but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. In that moment, it’s just you and Liv, and you see her eyes flick to Joe’s head before glancing down to your elbow.

“Get in,” Joe snaps, and you nod.

You know what she’s asking of you. You what she’s begging for. Safety for the kids, for the parents, for the nightmare to end.

“I will, Joe. I’m just gonna tell Tucker the plan.”

And you know that while she thinks of Noah one last time, steeling up her courage as the two of you shuffle towards the car, that you think of Rafael Barba.

“Get in!” he shouts, and you swallow tight.

Three fingertips against your hand give one tap.

“I’m just gonna tell –“

Two fingertips.

“Get in the damn car, you bitch!”

One finger, one more second.

His gun lifts from your head.

One smile staring up at you from his contact photo, one kiss that he gives with his hand tangled into the hairs on the back of your neck –

Go.

You throw an elbow, and Liv throws herself to the side while you drop. You hear the command, the gunshot, and everything stops as it rings in the air.

And then Joe’s body crumples. There’s a thud as it hits the ground. and you wait for the other shoe to drop. Liv’s own body falling, a new radiating pain in your side. But there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. It’s over.

“He’s got a gun,” you murmur, but it’s so quiet it’s just to yourself. You can’t speak up louder, the sound of the shot that killed him ricocheting in your head, rattling around until your eyes cross and you can’t think.

The yelling of the officers around you can’t stir you from your daze. Nothing seems like it can. You’re holding your hands over your ears to try and quiet what you can, your eyes wide as you stare at Joe’s dead body. And then it hits you, all at once. Like a fucking tidal wave.

It’s done. You’re free. And as you turn towards the crowds around you, shaky legs and a migraine making you stumble, one name is on your lips.

“Rafael?”

It starts out small. Low. Quiet. You can hear Liv next to you, calling out for Noah and people start crowding before you can think.

“Rafael?”

Another time. Louder, fiercer. You can’t see him, but you need to. You know he’s here, he has to be. Your throat almost can’t push the sound out, but it goes, fierce and brave.

“Rafael!”

And then you see him. There. You see him, you see the bright purple tie, the way he’s turning any way he can to find out where your voice is coming from. It’s almost comical, and you start laughing, a lot hysterical at the same time tears start coming down your cheeks.

Laugh. Cry. Same thing. It doesn’t fucking matter. The next thing you know you’re pushing towards him, and it takes one more turn for him to see you, to start moving through the crowd. You throw your arms around him as he does the same to you, and everything inside of you seems to fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento, estoy aqui.” But his apologies mean nothing more than just hearing the sound of his voice, pressing your lips to his mouth and neck and shoulder as you press as close as you can, hug as tight as you can, hide as much as you fucking can.

“I – I was so sc-scared,” you sob out, and that’s when your legs give out. Rafael has to try and catch you, and almost can’t, the way you go dead weight on him. But there’s nothing left to give, no more strength, and in the end he holds you as the medics rush you.

Liv’s voice fades in behind you. “I’m fine, go to her, I’m fine. Where’s Noah?” Tucker’s voice is trying to assure her that they’re getting him, that he’s coming, but then everything fades out again.

You’re so tired. God, you’re so fucking tired.

Your head hurts so bad.

Shit.

“Rafa,” you whimper out, and his shushes are gentle, one of his hand lifting to shakily push through your hair. There are other bodies around the both of you, and you try not to think about how when his hand pulls away you can see your own blood on it. Blood. Like your nose.

“Cariño,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“Got… hit. In the head,” you whisper, and that’s when everything goes black.

You wake up in the hospital. You wake up, and things are still a little fuzzy, but you wake up at all, and that’s a minor miracle. You could’ve slept for another week, you think, if the way your head is pounding tells you anything.

“Fuck,” you hiss immediately, when everything hits you all at once. The lights, the beeping, the feeling of your body, somehow weightless and heavy as hell at the same time.

“They wouldn’t let me in.”

You have to blink. The lights are still too bright, and the voice almost doesn’t sound like it’s coming from in the room. After all, Rafael’s voice was in your head throughout the last few hours of that damn mess.

Right. The townhouse.

You blink again. Rafael is sitting next to you. His eyes are on you, and he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

You try not to think about the way his sleeves are rolled up, the way he looks like he hasn’t slept. There’s a bit of stubble on his face, and you want to reach out and touch it – he’s never not clean-shaven.

“What’d you say?” you murmur. Your mouth feels like cotton.

“They took you away,” he whispers, and reaches out to grab your hand. “They took you away, out there, and… they didn’t let me in because I’m not family.”

Everything slowly comes back in.

“You’re here now,” you whisper, and he shakes his head.

“I wasn’t. Not the whole time you were... I wasn’t.”

“You were... you. You were.”

You struggle to sit up, but there’s oxygen in your nose and you can’t pull at it. You’re so weak, and everything, everything hurts. But. But the kids, Liv –

“They’re okay.” That’s when you realize that you were talking out loud, and Rafael reaches up to brush your hair back. Leans forward to kiss your forehead. “They’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Rafael.”

“The squad didn’t know. No one knew. So no one could vouch… no one knew, when your name was on there, too, with Liv, with... fuck, William Lewis...”

You’re blinking. You’re blinking a lot. Something is prickling at the corners of your eyes, and you let the tears fall. “Rafael. I’m here. I’m…”

He leans up to kiss your forehead again, and you realize he’s crying, too. You can feel something wet against your skin, and he’s holding you so close.

“You almost weren’t, and. They know now,” he whispers. “I told them. If anything ever happens, I – I need to be in here first.”

You don’t have time to process, and frankly, you don’t want to. Because Rafael is here, in your room, holding you gently, and you hear his voice in your ear just like you did earlier. You hear his little murmured prayers against your head, thanks to God, in Spanish right at your collarbone.

You didn’t tell anyone because it was safer. You didn’t tell anyone because it was easier. You didn’t tell anyone, and it still ended with you in a hospital bed.

He told them. And you can’t help but… but feel grateful.

No more uncertainty. No more secrets. No more, if it means that he gets there just a little bit earlier. If it means you know that he’ll be there.

“If anything ever happens to you,” you mutter back, “you best believe I’m beating down the doors. Family or not.”

It’s slurred, your words. Things are getting a little fuzzy, again. You think it’s something about the medicine that’s dripping into your arm. It doesn’t matter. Rafael’s holding you so tight.

“Of that I have no doubt, cariño. Now get some rest for me.”

tag list - @writefasttalkevenfaster // @hurricanejjareau // @crazyshannonigans // @goldenxreid // @teamhappyme // @chasingeverybreakingwave

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #female!reader #olivia benson #law and order: svu #my fic #tw blood #tw guns #tw rape #tw rape mention #canon-typical violence #hostage situation

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