#it’s manhattan i feel like if it’s not an actual emergency maybe they shouldn’t be racing through the streets screaming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phykios · 3 years ago

Text

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

"What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

"Of August?" she asks.

"Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

"Duh."

Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

"Good, because we have plans."

She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

"No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

"Our Smarter House thing won an award."

"No shit?"

"Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

"Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

"No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

"Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

"I thought I had until two."

"That was before I had the best idea."

The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

"First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

"Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

"The guy you've been seeing."

How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

"How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

"Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

"That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

"So, for a few hours?"

She shrugs. "More or less."

"I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

"Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

"Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

"Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

"Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

"Another business bro, I assume?"

"He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

"Ballet."

Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

“I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

“Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

“I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

“The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

“Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

“You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

“Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

“2019 fall/winter?”

Annabeth nods.

“Styling?”

“Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

Throwing her head back, she groans.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

“Well… yeah, I was.”

“Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

“That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

“Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

“I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

“Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

“I don’t know…”

“You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

“They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

Well. They are pretty cool.

“It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

“I haven’t even done anything.”

“I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

***

“Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

“Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

“Annabeth Chase.”

She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

“And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

“You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

“Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

“I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

“I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He frowns. “You sure?”

Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

“You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

“It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

“As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

“But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

Hey, it’s her night, too.

After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

“...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

“I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

“You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

“Rehab? Really?”

“What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you

#backstory backstory backstoryyyyyyy #my fic #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #ballet au

48 notes · View notes

thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

Text

The Secret

Rafael Barba x Reader.

CW: language, some suggestive language, some angst, tooth rotting fluff.

Prompts filled: “Hey if your inspired could you do prompt 26. "Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” “Yes we can.” With Barba and a new detective? Maybe the squad went on a camping trip? If you don’t have time then no worries!” @bre160997 plus “Hi, hun! If it's okay, could I request prompt 12 + 29 from the Lyric Starters? Maybe a fight with Barba in front of the SUV or something, I'm really just craving for angst from @i-t-s-a-n-d-y & finally, from @thefanficfaerie Dr. Who Challenge: “Then you stole me. And I stole you… What made you think I had any intention of ever giving you back.”

WC: 2118

“Did you hear? We are going to do some team building exercise this weekend?” Amanda groaned as you entered the locker room.

“What? No. I was going through a case file all afternoon with Barba.” You replied, as you gathered your belongings.

“Barba and Y/N sitting in a tree… k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” Amanda sang, which garnered a glare from you.

“Oh stop it!” You threw your jacket at Amanda who caught it. “It’s not like that.”

Amanda cocked her brow at you. You sighed, defeated. “Okay, it’s like that. But please don’t say anything to Olivia. Barba and I haven’t made it official. He keeps stalling. And there is a ton of disclosure paperwork that needs to be completed.”

“I’m aware – you forget Sonny and I…” Amanda wiggled her left hand at you. You rolled your eyes.

“I know – but it’s different. You and Carisi had a long history together. You each had rank. I’m the newbie.”

“And Barba is the hand that rocks the cradle.” Amanda snickered. “Why do you think he keeps stalling? It’s been six months.”

You grabbed your jacket from Amanda. “So what exactly is this team building exercise?” You asked, ignoring her question.

Truth be told, you were terrified as to why Rafael kept stalling.

“What the hell is this place?” You wondered out loud, as you stepped out of the SUV.

“Welcome to Bear Mountain!” Sonny replied, slapping his hand on your back. He walked past you and you watched as the rest of the team climbed out of the car.

��Fresh mountain air, private trails, a clean creek. We’re going to have ourselves a true mountain adventure and take to the wildness.” Oliva replied.

A woman with wild hair and a hippie dippy dress approached. She had a wide , friendly smile. “Are you the police group from NYC? SVU?”

Olivia nodded.

“Welcome, welcome! I’m Teres, and I am the owner of these grounds. “ Teres clapped her hands and the bangle bracelets she wore clinked together.

Sonny raised his brow and Amanda jabbed him in the ribs.

“These grounds are actually behind my family’s orchard and farm. We have tents set up for you all, but there is also a micro-cabin with a fully functioning bathroom and shower. While it seems like you have left the world behind, we are 10 minutes from the local grocer, diner, deli and pizza place. Barton’s Orchard is also a 15 minute drive. Tymor Park is 2 miles down the road. There you will find a swimming pool, more hiking trails, a lake for boating, volleyball courts and more.” Teres continued. “Is everyone here?”

Olivia looked around. “We’re waiting for one more.”

You turned to Liv. “Who else is coming?”

“Barba.” Olivia replied. “Thank you for having us, Teres.”

Amanda looked over at you and winked.

“The purpose of this weekend is to bring the team together. Now that we have Kat…” Olivia announced, smiling at the young detective. “And Y/N.” She smiled at you. “Carisi is our new ADA and Barba is our new Bureau Chief. Things at the one-six have shaken up. I thought this would be a nice way to get away from the hum-drum of the city and do some old-school bonding.”

At that moment, the rumble of a car approaching the grounds filled the air. You watched as Rafael got out of the cab. He was way over dressed naturally - this did not surprise you. He seemed awkward and out of place. He frowned looking around before his eyes met Liv’s and he smiled brightly. He walked over and said hello. You tried to say hi but he brushed you off and immediately you hated the weekend and wanted to go home.

Your whole life you lived by the motto that you don’t shit where you eat. You didn’t do workplace romances. Then you transferred to Manhattan SVU and had a random hook-up with one very sexy Cuban man after your first hard case who just happened to be the Bureau Chief. But after that one incident, in which you both swore could never happen again, you both couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

But it was a secret. Months and months passed. Now it was six months in. You kept wanting to tell Olivia – but Rafael kept saying it was not the right time. More and more, it felt like the guilt of the relationship was taking its toll. You finally caved one night to your partner, Amanda, spilling every last drop.

Amanda took the information in stride and promised she would keep it all under confidence. That said, she did enjoy occasionally ribbing you from time to time about it.

Night quickly approached. The whole time Rafael dodged you as best as he could. You pulled out your phone and wondered if you could fake an emergency to escape. The campsite claimed there was wi-fi but the connection was shitty.

“Hey.”

You looked up at Fin, who crouched next to you. “Hey.” You replied dejectedly while you nibbled at a s’more.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet all day. Not like you.” Fin replied. You sighed, watching Sonny and Amanda across the campsite with Rafael, laughing over God knows what.

“Yeah. Just tired. Camping isn’t my thing.” You replied. “I need to be in actual civilization.”

“I get that. I don’t do nature either.”

“I think… I am going to head to bed.” You replied standing. You stretched out your hand. “Want the rest of my s’more?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Fin replied. “Maybe Barba wants it. He’s always hungry.” He laughed and jutted his head towards the direction where Barba was.

You hummed and gave Fin a smile before heading to your tent. The ground was cold and hard. Sleep was futile.

It was one weekend. You could do this.

The next morning, breakfast was being had and Olivia was busy going over some of the bonding activities everyone was going to partake in. You decided to take your coffee to go, walking up a trail.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t go by yourself. Barba, why don’t you accompany her?” Amanda replied, with a wink to you. “Unless you want to go kayaking with us.”

You shot a look at Amanda. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Nonsense – everyone should be in pairs. You never know what could happen.” Olivia replied. “Besides this is about team morale and building.”

“Great.” You gritted. Rafael looked at you and gave you a small, forced smile.

“After you, detective. Lead the way.” Rafael replied.

The walk up the trail towards Tymor Park was mostly quiet between you. After you were far enough from the campsite, you whipped around and stepped in front of Rafael, causing him to take a step back.

“I was trying to get away from you!” You hissed.

“Look, Y/N, I don’t know why you are so upset with me.” Rafael began. “I told you I wasn’t ready to disclose.”

“When will you be ready? Why don’t you respect me or our relationship?” You replied, sitting on a rock.

“That’s not true – you know I respect you. It is just complicated.”

“No, it’s not. You are making it complicated.” You watched as a white butterfly flitted by.

Rafael sighed and sat on a rock next to you. “I thought we wouldn't last a month. But then we did, and then another month, and I'm still not sure how this happened.”

Rafael pulled your chin to face him. You jutted your chin out from his grasp. ““It feels like you don’t care.” You scoffed. You stood and crossed your arms. “Well?” You asked, exasperated when Rafael didn’t immediately respond. Your eyes began to shimmer with tears that threatened to fall.

You looked over your shoulder as you began to march in the opposite direction. “I’m going back to the campsite. If you want to follow me, that is your prerogative.”

---

Rafael used the opportunity to think about what he wanted to do as he followed you back to campsite. Truth was that he did like you – a lot. He might even dare to say his feelings bordered on love. But ever since Yelina had broken his heart so many years ago, he was reticent about any kind of relationship. Certainly his line of work didn’t allow for romance and he used that to his advantage.

Then you came along. And turned his whole world upside down..

You were the newest detective after Kat Tamin. You were like a breath of much needed fresh air. You weren’t jaded like the other detectives and thought outside the box. When other detectives offered stereotypical analysis, you had a way of providing another vantage point that might not have been otherwise stated.

You were also thirteen years his junior.

Rafael worried that disclosing the relationship would make him come across some kind of old man pervert. And instead of telling you and leaning on you, he decided to push you away because it was easier to avoid than deal with feelings he wasn’t used to.

When you had gotten back to the campsite, you stormed off to where Fin and Sonny were, joining them in a card game. Your eyes met Rafael’s and you glared at him before turning to Sonny and laughing at what he said.

Rafael felt his heart sink a bit. And then he gathered what resolve he had and vowed to make things right with you. He didn’t want to risk losing you.

---

After a day of more bonding activities, you all sat around the campfire. Sonny strummed his guitar – a hobby of his – as he lead everyone through a round of Wagon Wheel.

Picking me a bouquet of dogwood flowers

And I'm a-hopin' for Raleigh, I can see my baby tonight

So rock me momma like a wagon wheel…

Finally, everyone decided to hit the sack and call it a night. You were settling into your sleeping bag, when you heard the zipper to your tent open. You turned on your flashlight and directed it to the tent opening.

“Who the fu—”

Rafael poked his head in. “Can we talk?” The light shone directly into his eyes, nearly blinding him. He blocked the light with his hand.

You sighed. “I’m going to bed. Make it quick.”

Rafael climbed into the tent and settled next to you. You set the flashlight between you, causing an eerie glow. Rafael took your hands in his and pressed kisses along your knuckles.

“Hermosa, you deserve to know the truth. What I feel for you…” Rafael sighed, shaking his head. You felt your heart thud in your chest and your stomach churned. You thought perhaps he was going to break your heart for good.

You interrupted him and began to speak, your voice shaking. “Please spare me the humiliation…”

“No! If I ever made you feel like I don’t love you. That was my fault and I’m a bad liar.” Rafael replied.

“You love me?” You asked, your voice hopeful.

“I do.” Rafael replied. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Then you stole me. And I stole you… What made you think I had any intention of ever giving you back.”

“I love you too Rafael.” You replied. You climbed over to his lap, knocking over the flashlight. You leaned over and pressed your lips against his. Rafael groaned, and opened his mouth, returning your kiss. He stretched out his leg and pulled you into his lap. His hands ran up and down your thighs, squeezing your ass as you hungrily kissed each other. His tongue danced with yours and you ground yourself against him. You could feel his cock harden. You moaned loudly as he lowered his mouth to the slope of your neck sucking on a sweet spot, causing you to grind further down. “Oh Rafael!”

Rafael slapped his hand over your mouth. “Sshhh.”

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” You asked.

“Yes we can.” A voice that sounded a lot like Olivia’s called out. “And here I thought we would have to worry about Rollins and Carisi.”

You and Rafael burst into laughter. “Well, I was going to suggest disclosing in the morning, but I think we were found out.” Rafael replied.

“Good. Now that they all know…come here.” You replied – your voice was filled with want. You wrapped your hand around Rafael’s neck once more and pulled him down on top of you.

FIN.

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @choppedgalaxynerd @detective-giggles@rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader- anyone else, just ask! xo

#rafael barba and reader #rafael barba imagine #barba x reader #barba and reader #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba fic

182 notes · View notes

folerdetdufoler · 4 years ago

Note

hey kerry!! would you ever write a fic set during the pandemic? or would that be to stressful? what kind of fic would that be?

ah, i think this was prompted by this tweet, and i didn’t want to answer until i had updated that au.

officially? no. or at least not yet. It feels weird like…romanticizing a situation that is killing people across the globe. i don’t watch or read horror/thriller/sci-fi to have any other base knowledge on how a pandemic happens or is contained, even in a fictional setting, so i don’t know if creating a different kind of pandemic would feel less weird and/or accurate.

but i’ve been thinking about it. It’s hard not to, to not exist in a literal nightmare and use comfort characters to mentally survive it. i’ve projected my desires onto them, i’ve hoped for the idea of love to be enough to change people’s behaviors and move them to protect each other. i’m interested in how people have built and destroyed trust, how it’s shaped relationships, and how it’s challenged different worldviews. add a dash of competent government and i go feral. so like, technically…yes. vaguely.

it should go without saying, but it’s (always) a skam AU. it’s always isak and even. i don’t know how it’s being handled in norway, so it would have to be set in america. isak and even would still be norwegian though. and we’re going to add a little unrealistic emergency to make their meeting actually happen.

the borders closed. by the time isak got to the airport, every possible flight was cancelled. he couldn’t even do some kind of convoluted frog-leap through different countries just to get back to his own continent. he was stuck. the ticketing agent behind the desk gave him a sympathetic look and then waved him away, inviting the next soon-to-be-disappointed customer forward. before he left, though, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a disposable mask from the large pack he’d managed to buy before heading to the airport. he slammed it onto the counter. “wear it.”

isak dragged his bag over to the far wall of windows, near the entrance, where the benches were quickly filling up with disgruntled international travelers. he had to sit down and think and research, to figure out what his next step would have to be.

“they’re still not letting people in, eh?” a deep voice two seats to his left asked in english. isak looked over at it, because he wasn’t sure if it was a genuine or sarcastic answer. unfortunately the face he needed to read was devastatingly handsome, and caused his throat to close up before he could answer properly.

“uh….”

“no english?”

“um, no. i mean yes, i speak english.” isak was fluent from his upbringing, but the last year of attending school in america definitely helped. his inability to communicate in this moment was due to the other man’s mouth, not his own. “and no, i can’t get a flight because the borders are closed.”

“i would say it’s a smart move except i’m locked out too.” the man smiled, and his eyes softened, so if he had been sarcastic before, he wasn’t anymore.

“norway?” isak asked, hopeful. he’d clocked the man’s accented english, and they were both sitting across from a scandinavian airline counter, but he couldn’t distinguish between the countries.

“norge,” he confirmed with a little nod.

for some reason isak continued in english. perhaps he felt like he had more authority with it. he bent over to his bag to get another mask out, pulling it by the straps. he offered it to his new norwegian acquaintance. “please put this on.” he got a confused look in return, and no move to accept the protective covering. it pained isak to insist that the man cover up half of his face, but he pressed. “please, for your safety.”

“is that why you’re wearing one?”

“i’m wearing one because norway closed its borders. norway knows how dangerous this virus is. you should wear one too.”

the man reached out a hand but didn’t quite grab the mask. “i can’t tell if you know more about what is actually going on or if you’re…crazy.” the soft eyes had gone serious and calculating. “but if i put it on, will you tell me?”

“what?”

he took the mask. he was clumsy putting it on, but anyone would be if it were their first time. he hooked it around his ears and pulled it up over his nose and mouth, watching isak while he did, as if he were a mirror. isak pinched the bridge of his nose to get the man to copy him, fitting the mask to his face. once he did, the man twisted to face isak straight on. “i’m even.” his voice was muffled, but isak’s ear was already straining to distinguish it from the rest of the airport noise around them. “i want to go home. you do too. can we figure out a plan together?”

“i—um, i don’t know. i have to talk to my school first. and then maybe the consulate.”

“what’s your name?”

“isak.”

the mask did nothing to stop the man—even—from smiling. the mask traveled with his cheeks right up to his squinting eyes. “i’d shake your hand but i feel like that’s not a good idea.”

“you are correct. we shouldn’t be touching.”

“okay, i won’t touch you. but can we talk? my employer said i should fly home, but i think it’s too late. i don’t know what to do.”

isak took a deep breath. he looked around them, at the way the counters were drawing lines of increasingly anxious travelers. the empty seat between them was going to be high value real estate soon, and he could tell someone wasn’t going to allow it to remain a buffer for their safety. “i don’t know either.” he looked back at even. “do you work in manhattan?”

“yes. is that where you go to school?”

isak nodded. it was a small comfort, meeting a neighbor from the other side of the ocean, who also happened to be a neighbor on the other side of the east river. “okay. well. i don’t want to stay here. it’s going to get crazy as more borders close. we should…we should go back.”

“share a cab?”

isak took in the man’s face, still handsome even when it was hidden behind a mask. some of his hair was stuck in the straps at his ears, and isak noticed that the style was slightly disheveled, probably from anxious fingers. but it was the eyes that convinced him. in just a few minutes, in such a short conversation, isak had come to trust them. he trusted the eyes that glanced out the window at the taxi stand. and when Even stood up and threw the long strap of his bag across his chest, isak followed. they stepped out into a gust of cold, early spring air, and headed toward a waiting taxi. whatever their next step would be, they would take it together.

anyway yeah, that’s the start. that’s the beginning of the pandemic, and that’s the beginning of isak and even. isak is a student, going for his masters at NYU in biology, but he’s going to switch to epidemiology almost immediately, for obvious reasons. even…well, i don’t know where he works, or why, but he’s not in school. his office is going to close and he’s going to have to work remote. isak’s basic understanding of diseases and community spread give him a slight advantage in that he knows what he needs to stock up on and is doing it now. so he has a small, but safe apartment to stay in. isak shares some of his hand sanitizer and masks and they go to opposite ends of the island. he bonded with even initially, while they tried to figure out their status in lockdown, but then they separate and try to go about their lives as normally as possible. isolation will hit hard of course, and they’ll reach out to each other again, looking for answers and any kind of connection back home. even shares what his mother reports on in oslo, and isak shares the research that he has better access to. they zoom for work, and for school, and then they zoom each other. isak still trusts those eyes through a screen, and he wonders if he should trust them in person as well. because as the fear and uncertainty grows over the next few weeks, while they still can’t get home, at least there’s a little bit of steady right in front of them. And they crave it more and more. And…more….

#kerrywrites #idk maybe i'll make this into a one shot later #i feel like i would have to finish magic eight ball first #and sorry if the cut didn't work #if this is taking over your dash

22 notes · View notes

name-me-regret · 4 years ago

Text

If The World Was Ending 3/?

If The World Was Ending Chapter Three: California Dreamin’

Read on AO3.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“All the leaves are brown And the sky is grey I've been for a walk On a winter's day I'd be safe and warm If I was in L.A. California dreamin' On such a winter's day

Stopped into a church I passed along the way Well, I got down on my knees And I pretend to pray You know the preacher liked the cold He knows I’m gonna stay California Dreamin’...”

~California Dreamin’ - Barry McGuire

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Tony sprang to his feet as he immediately rushed toward the suit that opened up for him. The skylight he’d had installed after invasion slid open and he blasted into the sky. “J, deploy the Iron Legion now!” As he did, he remembered Evan and he pulled up where the tsunami had hit and felt cold terror grip him as he saw that the Santa Monica pier had been taken out. “Shit! JARVIS, what’s my ETA?”

The HUD popped up a calculation. “At the speed you’re going, your estimated time of arrival should be three hours.”

That was unacceptable. He put more power into the thrusters as he could, and heard the BOOM as he broke the sound barrier somewhere over Lake Eerie. “At this speed ETA is two hours,” JARVIS intoned without having to be asked.

“What about the Iron Legion?” Tony was so relieved now that he hadn’t destroyed the rest of his suits after the Battle of Norco.

“ETA four minutes,” JARVIS told him. That was a much better time since when it came to natural disasters, especially involving large amounts of water, every minute, every second counted. Tony set his suit to auto-pilot for the remainder of the flight, making sure to call the FAA. He didn’t want any aircraft to accidentally stray into his path, and he’d be a disaster on top of a disaster.

“Give me eyes as soon as they reach the affected areas. Also, patch me into the channel the first responders use.” A few minutes later his HUD was filled with live feed from the suits, and he was rendered speechless at what he saw. Tony wished he could speed up past Mach 5 without the suit falling apart.

He decided to concentrate on what he could do (and not on a certain someone), and pulled up the stats on the suits that were functional. Out of the 35 suits he’d made between the invasion of Manhattan and the Mandarin Incident, there were nine viable suits. It was the Mark 20: Python, Mark 25: Striker/Thumper, Mark 28: Jack, Mark 33: Silver Centurion, Mark 34: Southpaw, Mark 36: Peacemaker, Mark 37: Hammerhead, Mark 38: Igor, and Mark 41: Bones.

Tony wished the Mark 35 would have survived, since the Red Snapper was made to save people during natural disasters; for example, rescuing victims trapped during an earthquake. He’d gotten the idea after the 7.1 earthquake that had hit LA, and now a year and a half later they’re hit with a tsunami. Unfortunately, Killian had destroyed it during the Battle of Norco.

Well, Southpaw would have to do, even if Red Snapper would have been better with its extendable and retractable claws. At least Hammerhead would come in handy, since it could remain submerged for long periods of time.

“This is Iron Man. I have multiple suits flying over the city and ready to help out. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll help where I can.” Almost immediately he was flooded with calls of trapped civilians, several inside and on top of their houses. He told JARVIS to concentrate on the ones trapped inside their houses, since there was another wave and the water was rising alarmingly fast. There were some people still trapped in their vehicles and unfortunately they couldn’t get to everyone on time.

He directed the suits where to go that they’d be the most useful. Tony heard dispatch call Swift Water Command, calling in a Code Three. Tony heard the commander say they were delayed and luckily J had a suit in the area. It was Bones and he saw the armor detach into several pieces and break through two roof vents to save a man trapped in the attic of his flooding house. As he watched the suits save people; Hammerhead dove for a little girl that had fallen into the water from off the roof of her house when she slipped, and Igor large enough that it could fly with several people hanging from it to take them to higher ground, he was even more glad he hadn’t destroyed the suits.

Sure he loved Pepper and would do anything for her, but with every life he saved, he remembered why he’d become Iron Man in the first place. He’d remembered those soldiers he’d laughed and joked with before they’d been gunned down, with his own weapons no less, and knew he’d made the right choice to not quit this. And maybe Pepper would come around and maybe she wouldn’t, but he refused to be guilted for doing something that saved people’s lives; even if at the times he was so sick and tired, and so inured he could barely move or breathe without something hurting.

It was more important to be able to help people, made him feel like he was alive for a reason. He’d told her three years ago, that he shouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for a reason, and this was that reason. It wasn’t fighting Killian and aliens, but helping and protecting the people from those threats.

It was almost two hours later, after remotely piloting the other suits, that he was physically flying over the city. The water still hadn’t receded, and three more waves had hit, and hopefully that would be the end of it but he doubted it. Tony wanted to call Evan and make sure he was alright, but cell phone service was wonky at the moment. Besides, he didn’t want to tie up the line when there were others that needed actual help. Evan’s apartment was out of the flood zone, so he was sure he was fine. He was weirdly glad he had a serious blood clot condition that had him confined to his home, and not out there with the rest of the first responders. Tony wouldn’t be able to concentrate if he knew Evan was in danger.

He decided not to unpack all of that right now and quickly dismissed the rest of the live feeds of the Iron Legion, letting JARVIS take over. Although now that he’d seen some of what was required for something of this magnitude, he knew he needed to remake Red Snapper and more Iron Legion, probably a special force that could be used for natural disasters. While Southpaw was for natural disasters as well, it was mostly to protect the user from damage from natural disasters. He needed more armors that had emergency features, like medical features such as the ability to be used as a defibrillator or even carry oxygen or breathing equipment for CPR.

Tony headed toward the pier, since flooding was still extensive, and he heard calls earlier of first responders being needed at the Santa Monica Pier. As he neared where the worst of the flooding was, he saw that the whole pier was underwater. There saw also an actual Ferris wheel that was still standing after all three waves, but it wouldn’t hold for much longer.

As he neared, he saw that the wave was starting to recede, going in the other direction. He heard the ones at the Ferris wheel call the coast guard. ‘Coast Guard, Coast Guard. This is Captain Nash LAFD. We need a miracle at the pier. We need one quick.’ As the helicopter flew in, the Ferris wheel started to tip, and he blasted forward.

“Incoming, Captain Nash!” he called over the speaker on his suit, arriving in time to catch the Ferris wheel as it almost toppled. Tony saw that most of the people had been evacuated except for the one who was being airlifted and a woman with curly hair, as well as two first responders, both firefighters by the looks of it.

“Iron Man!” he heard someone call in surprise.

“Yes, I’ll sign autographs later,” he joked, “but right now this thing is coming down and I might not be able to hold it for long.” The two firefighters, one Hispanic man and another Caucasian woman had just finished lowering the woman and now looked at each other, unclipped from their lines and jumped, landing feet first in the water. “Ten out of ten!” Tony called, “now let’s go go go!” They scrambled onto the speed boats as Tony grunted as the debris hit it hard and it started to put a strain on the armor. When he saw they were clear, he let it drop as he flew out of the way barely in time from getting knocked down by it.

He met them at the entrance of the pier by the sign that read ‘•Yacht Harbor• SPORT FISHING •BOATING Cafes’, the water still high enough that it reach most of their calves. If he’d been in any armor before the Mark 8, he’d have thought twice before landing in the water. However the Mark 43 was a better version of all the armors that had come before. He wanted to see if anyone needed help.

“Iron Man,” he heard someone call. Tony turned to see a stern looking man in his early fifties with a helmet on his head and the red vest that declared him a fire captain. This must be Captain Nash. He was wet and obviously tired, but there was still a certain amount of authority to the set of his shoulders. He had the kind of presence Howard had given off, but tempered with something softer Tony couldn’t identify.

“That’s me,” he said as he lifted up the face plate but refrained from stepping out of the suit. He didn’t want to get his shoes wet, and besides, this man appeared to be at good six feet and even if it was only two or three inches, he hated feeling short. Especially when it was from a man that reminded him if even just a tiny bit of Howard. “But just Tony, please. What can I do for you, Captain?”

Nash extended his hand, and Tony took it without hesitation. He had more respect for first responders than any bureaucratic asshole that wanted to shake his hand and play nice for the cameras. “Bobby Nash of the 118. Thank you for the assist,” giving his gauntlet covered hand a firm shake. Tony liked the sincerity in his voice.

“It was no problem, Cap. I didn’t really do much,” he assured. The man’s lips quirked a bit, whether in annoyance or amusement, it was hard to tell. Bobby Nash had one of those faces that gave almost nothing away. “Do you need anymore assistance?”

The woman opened her mouth but Bobby held a hand to stop her. The woman’s nametag, which was surprisingly still on, read Bosko, and the man had Diaz on his. Tony wondered why that sounded familiar. “We have a missing member of Firehouse 136, Captain Ronnie Cooper. There’s also a lot of people trapped and missing. I had thought I heard that Iron Man was helping out, and it’s nice to see it’s true.”

“Sure am, wherever it’s needed.” He’d already been able to help a lot of people and hoped to continue as long as his body and the power supply on his armors allowed. “I’ll keep an eye out for Captain Cooper, and if you need help with anything, give me a holler. There are several other suits flying over the city. So, even if I’m not nearby, my co-pilot JARVIS will be able to assist you if I can’t.”

He gave the man a salute that wasn’t meant to be at all mocking, and then the faceplate snapped shut before he blasted into the air. Tony wanted to make sure there weren’t any locations that had been damaged that could potentially become deadly. The last thing he needed was for the water to catch on fire if there was any gas spillage, and he expected it’d be a terrifying sight.

“J, try Evan’s phone,” he said. “Also, bring up satellite images of Hawaii. I don’t want to be blindsided in case they were hit as well.”

“Bringing up images right now, sir. Also, I’m getting no response from Mr. Buckley’s phone.” This made Tony worry, since Evan always answered his phone (even when he called him an old man for calling and not texting). He couldn’t do anything though, since he was needed right where he was. Tony couldn’t just rush to Evan’s apartment, there was no flooding in the area, and there were people in need of help. So, he reluctantly continued on.

“You better be safe, Evan,” he muttered.-

7 notes · View notes

eirabach · 5 years ago

Text

For @gumnut-logic 's FabFiveFeb Challenge

Prompt Two - Gordon

[Can't / No clothes]

Also inspired by Nutty's TAG ages meta, because it gave me *emotions*. I'm super sorry. Added Vance Joy because it’s Gordon.

---

Under the surface you don't know what you'll find,

Until it's your time.

---

The night that Jeff Tracy took humanity's first step on the surface of Mars, he had three little boys watching at home. Gordon, he liked to say, was born of the fall out. A child created in a whirlwind of press tours and ticker tape and eventually brought home to that quiet little homestead that would never be truly quiet or homely again.

By the time Gordon became a Tracy being a Tracy mattered. And sure money's great and influence is better, but Gordon's sixteen years old with sunlight in his hair and his eyes and his soul, and for him, for him the best part of being a Tracy is that no one ever tells you you can't.

Not that Gordon would listen if they did.

Because the other important thing to know about being a Tracy, is that Gordon isn't very good at it.

He's uninterested in physics or engineering or math. He has minimal desire to blow things up or shoot people or study space dust. He likes a party and he loves people, but he's miserable in a cummerbund and he kinda never understood capitalism.

When you're fourth, you gotta find your own way to be first. And all right Scott's a fighter pilot and John's a genius and Virgil's some sort of goddamn savant, but at least Alan can't even tie his shoelaces yet so Gordon's got one up on him. Gordon doesn't even wear shoes. Doesn't wear much of anything at all except teeny weeny trunks splattered red, white and blue.

Gordon won't be a hero, won't have a theory named after him, but what Gordon will have will be his.

Gordon's going for gold.

His muscles burn and his hair turns green and he sweats chlorine into his sheets every night, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the next millisecond, the turn, the cleanness of his touch. He can't care about anything but his coach's thumb hovering over the stopwatch and the crest of his fly because it's coming. Gold. It's coming, and it's everything.

Everything.

---

Dad calls on Wednesdays at three. Alan calls at midnight just to hear him swear. He gets weekly updates on daring-do from Scott and a monthly serving of sarcasm and space babble from John.

Virgil calls because they tend to forget.

"You gonna come home, you think? Before?"

Virgil looks different, his floppy black hair cropped short, band shirts exchanged for some weird quasi military uniform. He's still watching Gordon shovel food down his throat with an expression of disgusted awe, though, so some things never change.

"Dunno." Gordon shrugs, mouth full. "Gotta keep training. Four months to go, can't lose form now."

"You should come, there's -- there's a lot changed around here," says Virgil, like that's a reason. Then, when Gordon just chews at him in reply, "Dad built you a pool."

And maybe that's a reason, after all.

Cause sure, his dad's never told him he can't, but Gordon's been gone a long time, and he's not sure he remembers the last time his dad told him he could.

---

Home's not the farm anymore, or the ranch, or the townhouse in Manhattan. Home is some island a billion miles from anywhere, where huge portraits of his older brothers stare expressionlessly down at him and his shoes squeak on the super shiny floor, humidity making his tracksuit stick to his back.

Gordon has only really spent a few weeks here, his training all taking place under the eagle eye of Uncle Sam and sponsored entirely by Old Glory, but he doesn't remember it like this.

The decor is still retro spy movie meets crazy billionaire with paranoia problems, and his bedroom is pretty much as he left it, but nothing else seems familiar at all. He'd left Tracy Two in a great cavernous hanger that would have been overkill even for one of dad's crazy projects, Kyrano had rushed him past huge shadowy behemoths that suggested, pretty damn strongly, that Jeff Tracy is in the midst of another too easily financed midlife crisis.

"Please tell me he isn't planning world domination," Gordon had only half joked as they’d emerged into the brightness of the villa proper. "He'd look awful in lycra."

Kyrano had glared at him, swirled back into the bowels of the island, and left him with Scott.

Scott is wearing lycra.

He's sitting behind their dad's desk, two high points of colour in his cheeks and his eyes bright with something Gordon can't name as he pours over datasets. All he's missing to complete the look is a fluffy white cat and a maniacal laugh.

"Hey. Hey." Nothing. Scott mutters to himself as he sweeps his fingers through warning signs. "Scotty, hey!"

Scott looks up. Blinks. Blinks again.

"Gordon?"

"The one and only."

Scott stands, still grossly tall, and moves to ruffle Gordon's hair. It's not as easy as it used to be, there's an actual lift of his hand, and Gordon can't help but feel satisfaction creep into his bones.

"You grew."

"Hear it happens."

"Got a girlfriend?"

"Got a pillow."

"Tragic."

"That's me." Gordon throws his arm across his eyes and flops backwards onto the sofa. "Sacrificing everything in pursuit of a noble goal. Hold tight, beautiful people. Only three more months and I'm yours."

He peeks out from behalf of his elbow to see Scott standing over him, arms folded, lips twisted into something a bit like a fond smile. A bit.

Something unpleasant settles in Gordon's stomach.

"What are you doing desk work for? I thought you were out there --" He gestures to the cloudless sky beyond the glass wall. "Y'know. Saving the world."

Scott opens his mouth, but then there's a chime from the desk and Alan hollering from the staircase and Grandma crushing him to her chest, and Gordon is left to wonder.

---

Scott isn't the only thing that's strange.

There's a fish tank in the corner, empty but for a little model sub from that docudrama he and John used to love to watch with Mom, but when he lays his hand on the glass it hums beneath his fingers and makes his teeth ache.

John's not here, replaced as resident super nerd by some guy they call Brains who makes John look dumb. Dad isn't there, either, but that's okay. Nor is Gordon, really.

He's lived apart from his family for the best part of two years, he shouldn't be surprised that they've changed. That's he's changed. But somehow, it doesn't feel like he has.

Alan's finally learned to tie his laces but still never bothers, Virgil's taken out his piercing, Grandma is being followed by a robot dog, but Gordon is still the same kid with the same dreams and he isn't sure what anybody else's dreams are anymore. Virgil's in a uniform and Scott's out of his and John is gone and Alan's looking at him like he knows stuff.

This is impossible, of course. Alan is an infant. This is the abiding certainty of Gordon's life and he intends to prove it this evening with three rubber spiders and a trapeze but whatever.

It's just that Gordon isn't quite sure where he fits, just like he doesn't know where to sit when holograms of the great and the good appear in his living room. Doesn't quite know what to make of the way their eyes skip over him to rest on Scott, or Virgil, and where the hell is John, anyway?

"Top secret," Alan says, all pre-teen smugness, "can't tell you."

"Dad'll be home soon," Virgil adds, ever the peacekeeper, "I'm sure he'll tell you everything."

Gordon's not so sure and Scott says nothing at all except a vehement 'no!' when Gordon dares to suggest going for a swim.

So much for the pool, then.

---

Night is falling and Gordon's already ready for bed when the roar of engines fills the air and the whole family dart for the window, faces pressed against the glass. Gordon hovers behind them, unsure of his place, until Scott grabs him bodily by the elbow and drags him downstairs to where the deck leads down to the pool.

"Come on! You got to see this!"

It's a thing to see, all right. The pool withdraws beneath the villa itself, leaving a great gaping hole in the earth into which a great silver plane descends, jets first. And Gordon remembers the TV-21 and his father's fascination with speed and grace and more speed -- it's the one thing they have in common after all -- but this, this is something else.

She disappears into the ground, and the pool sweeps over her, only the sway of the water left as evidence. Scott turns to him with an almost hysterical glee.

"Did you see that!?"

Gordon would have pointed out that he'd have to have been dead blind and comatose not to have seen it, but Scott's practically bouncing on his toes, his expression full of what Gordon recognises as real, true love.

"Isn't she beautiful? Come on, come on, Dad's gotta debrief and then --"

"Scott!" They both snap to attention, immediately turning to where their father stands, towering over both of them from the top of the stairs. "Debrief can wait. Let me see your brother."

Scott darts off, probably to hump the shiny thing, and Dad approaches Gordon, his eyes shining, dirt on his cheek.

"What do you think of her, son?"

"I think you've safely guaranteed Scotty won't be bringing you home any surprise grandbabies."

Dad snorts, clapping Gordon on the shoulder and turning him back toward the pool. They head out across the deck together, Gordon barefoot in only his sleep shorts, Jeff in a uniform like Scott's only gently singed.

"I've missed you. How's training?"

Gordon half shrugs. "Wet. Good. Pretty tiring."

Jeff looks him up and down with a critical eye "So I imagine. It looks good on you."

Gordon stretches and grins. "No more noodle arms, right?"

Jeff blinks, and for a moment Gordon almost thinks he sees something like sadness in his eyes, but it's soon gone and his dad's turning him to face the pool again.

"Will it do? I know it's not Olympic standard but we needed some room for the house and --"

"Dad," he says, because his dad is rambling and his dad never rambles. "Dad what's going on?"

Jeff looks down into the pool. The stars flicker into being in his reflection.

"Forest fire. Family home was cut off."

"Your rescue thing. You saved them."

Jeff looks at him, Gordon watches in the water as he schools his features, tightens his jaw. "This time.

"Scott and Virgil?"

"Are involved, yes."

"And John?"

Jeff looks up then, up to the darkening sky, and points. "We built a satellite. It monitors distress calls from all over the world - and beyond."

"Makes sense. Space case."

"Play to your strengths, isn't that what they say?"

"What about Alan?"

"Alan's eleven, Gordon. Even my insanity has its limits."

"And you built me a pool?"

"And I built you a pool. Is it -- " a breath where Gordon wouldn't expect to hear one "is it all right?"

"All right?" Gordon turns to him and grins. "It's perfect."

Because okay, so it's only a short course, and it occasionally has a supersonic plane blasting through it, but it's a pool and it's for him, and that's better than Scotty's super special plane.

His dad's clapping him on the back again and smiling and that's better than any top secret technology.

It makes a strange island full of strange things feel a little bit more like home.

Jeff's off again already though, gesturing to the round building above the villa and going on about blast radius and Gordon's content to just watch for a moment, to bask in that feeling for as long as it lasts. Then the subject changes.

"We'll be in Cape Town for the opening ceremony, of course, and I've made arrangements to ensure we can all make your races. I'm sure it won't shock you to hear Alan's made t shirts and John's bringing a banner. I hope it's safe for television."

His eyes snap to his dad's.

"John's coming?"

His dad's eyebrows twitch. "You think he'd miss it? Gordon, none of us will miss this. Not for the world. And as you now know, I mean that quite literally."

Gordon nods, mutely. There's a build up of something in his chest. Lactic acid squeezing his heart. His dad takes pity.

"What about September? Are you still planning on marine biology?"

Gordon scuffs at the tile with his bare heel. This is a conversation he's been avoiding for a long time, now. The after.

"Yeah. UCLA."

"California?"

Gordon shrugs.

"You don't seem keen? Sydney have an excellent program, do you --" Gordon feels more than hears the shudder in his dad's exhale. "No, no Jeff stop it. You tell me, Gordy. What do you want to do?"

Gordon's voice is never small, but it's as close as it's ever been. "Was thinking WASP."

Both of his dad's eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "The military? You?"

It's not an unexpected reaction. Gordon scoffs. "You wound me, Dad. Maybe I have hidden depths."

"I don't doubt that for a moment," his dad says, then he looks up, right up, to where the milky way swirls and John sits. “You’re not old enough.”

“Yeah, I know, I thought, college first - couple of years of credits and I can join as an officer.”

“You’re my son, you can join as whatever you damn well please.”

“Dad--”

"Sorry, sorry.” And his Dad’s looking into space and Gordon’s looking down at the water and it’s kinda always been like this, between them. Gordon suspects his dad hates it even more than he does.”You know I'll support you, if that's what you really want."

Gordon finally follows his gaze, imagines John in the vacuum of space, alone with his books and his stars. He wonders if Dad had had this conversation with him, before sending him up there. "That sounds kinda like a don't do it, Dad, I'm not gonna lie."

"Can I be honest?" Gordon nods, because saying no seems kinda harsh, but his heart is thundering faster than after a sprint. "Gordon, when I designed International Rescue, I designed it for you boys. A legacy, I suppose. I wanted --" he shakes his head. "I'm getting to be a selfish old man."

Gordon scowls. "You're the least selfish man I've ever met. Pretty sure those people whose lives you saved today would agree."

Jeff shakes his head.

"I want you to know," he says, "that there will always be a place for you, here, with us, if you want it. But only if you want it." A twitch of Jeff’s lips. “God knows, I could never make you anyway.”

"Thanks, Dad." Then, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, "Race you?"

A splash, a shout, laughter rings out into the night and hell it's cheesy but it's true; for a moment Gordon kinda feels like he's already won.

---

The Olympics are due to start in June.

May, and his father dies.

Gordon flies home immediately, thirty thousand feet over Cape Town without even looking down.

He can't.

He has a place in a legacy.

---

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #jeff tracy #oh look its angsty #theres a wild shock #idek #there might be a part 2

81 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 4 years ago

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 8: The Big Easy

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Amulet's trail ends in the supernaturally rich city of New Orleans. Still reeling from hers and Kamilah's first real fight, Nadya, Lily, and Adrian travel to the French Quarter to see old friends and meet some new faces.

[READ IT ON AO3]

She meant to fake-awaken from the nap of all naps when Lily returned from her minibar excursion. Unfortunately though Nadya’s just a little too lost in her thoughts; which delays her reaction by enough of a fraction of a second for to be fooling absolutely nobody.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Nadya combs her fingers through her hair. She may not have actually been asleep but tell that to the nest that somehow spontaneously manifested where she was resting against the wall of the plane.

She plasters on her best ‘ditzy secretary’ face. “Do what?” she asks; pitches her voice just a tad but that’s overselling it.

All credibility pretty much flies out of the window and down the however-many-thousand-feet to the ground below. And without a parachute, poor thing.

“Well first of all don’t gimme that look. I helped you invent it, remember?” Only Lily could chide her enough to actually make Nadya feel bad while simultaneously inhaling a complimentary bag of Korean BBQ chips. “Dos, you shouldn’t bottle it all up inside. And don’t you dare say you don’t know what I’m talking about. I will shove potato chips down your bra.”

Nadya blows a strand of hair up, but it falls back down right in front of her eye. Great, even her hair is out to get her.

“Please don’t. I only packed one.” And Adrian and her will never be close enough friends for her to feel comfortable asking him to swing by Target for a quick bra buy.

“Same girl, same.” But even as Lily kicks up her boots and makes herself comfortable the intent is clear. She’s going to get Nadya to open up somehow, some way, and most likely some time before they start to descend on New Orleans.

After all she’s practically locked in between her seat and the fancy table by vampire thighs of steel.

Crunch. Crunch. Crun—

“I’ll talk about it when I’m ready, Lil’, okay?”

Cruuunnn—

“I promise! Pinky promise, blood oath, anything!” Just please don’t keep chewing like that. She’s very near begging on her knees.

After quickly wiping the flavor powder off, Lily holds up her pinky finger expectantly. Nadya takes it with her own. She means it too, villainous torture methods aside. Some people went their whole lives and then some without someone to care about them as much as Lily cares for Nadya — she knows this and really, her gratitude is unwavering.

But she’s still a little too raw on the inside (and out; her tear ducts may have gone into permanent early retirement by now) to just bring it all up. And so casually, too.

The cabin lights catch on the chains of her charm bracelet. Little sparkles that draw Nadya in; pull her down deep in velvet the same black as the midnight sky, away from the stale plane air and back to New York.

Back to Kamilah.

And Lily — well, she’s Lily. Of course she notices. Just like she quickly acts and lowers their still-linked hands before Nadya suffers the unpleasantness of choking on her heart again.

“I’d say lets head back there —” she jerks her head from the direction she came from, “— and get you a little tipsy for your troubles, but for some reason showing up to a place like New Orleans already drunk feels like blasphemy.”

“And I wouldn’t feel comfortable with the plan if you weren’t completely sober, Nadya.”

The girls look over across the aisle to where Adrian leans back and away from his laptop, a slightly admonishing look in his eye. Nadya blindly seeks out the open bag of chips while offering what she hopes is a smile that says “Yes, of course, I totally agree,” even though a margarita at the very least sounds comforting.

“Actually, since it’s out there, how are you feeling?”

Lily tenses beside her. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s done but Adrian tries to take it back so fast Nadya’s somehow the one who ends up with emotional whiplash. “I mean — about this; the…” he sighs, “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

Nadya elbows Lily before she can get a word in. “It’s fine,” she tells Adrian with a smile — and if it’s a little strained well… they can’t blame her.

People fight in relationships sometimes. It’s not ideal, but it happens. Does Nadya wish she could throw open the emergency hatch on Adrian’s private jet (freaking out which happened loudly, quickly, and before they had ever lifted for takeoff) and fly her way back to Kamilah to try and work things out by sheer force of will? You betcha.

Is she going to let that stop her from doing what needs to be done to get this Amulet? No. God willing; she and Kamilah will have plenty of time to cool down, talk, and see where they were supposed to go from the place they had left at. But that’s only the case so long as Nadya, Lily, and Adrian get to the Amulet of Nero before Gaius does.

Though… none of them can still fathom the literally microscopic chances that had decided to work in their favor. No really, Lily ran the numbers. By all accounts they should have been prepared for a voyage around the world, sometimes in multiple places (and according to the simulation, at multiple times).

What were the odds that not only was this mythical once-lost-to-history Nadya-was-literally-kidnapped-to-find-it-but-it-only-took-their-collective-squad-like-two-weeks-and-a-couple-all-nighters Amulet of Nero in the States, but that it was currently in the hands of—well—a friend?

Apparently the odds were pretty freakin’ good.

“I’ve failed the universe.”

“Lily, stop.”

“It’s been three days! And all I could come up with was a list of the players from Kavinsky’s private rich-jackass tournament. A list, Nadi’.”

“It’s far more than we had previously Lily,” Adrian had said with a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder, “and for that matter — its more than Gaius could get on his own. So if anything you’ve outdone him; and trust me when I say that doesn’t happen every millennium.”

While it wasn’t the best pep talk in the world it had been enough to get Lily back on track. Her finger scrolling on her mouse faster than humanly possible until she got to the names they needed. Eight billion people in the world and they had narrowed it down to ten. Way to go, Lil’.

Adrian started to write down the names in his hasty scrawl — which had just been a waste of time since Nadya refuses to try and read his terrible colonial handwriting and already has a list of her own transcribed. “It’s still more than would be ideal. But I think the four of us should be… able… hm.”

Hm because of the obvious. Because there were only three people in his office. Because Kamilah is following a lead on the whereabouts of Gaius and while one is arguably more important than the other… it’s good to know his movements. Nadya can’t argue with her logic in that.

She knows their enemy better than anyone. And it means she doesn’t have to be in the same room as Nadya.

“Wait — this name, here.” Adrian had pointed at the screen; Lily had slapped his hand away. “I know this one. That can’t be the same man, though, the odds…”

“Who-what now?” Nadya hadn’t recognized the name at all.

LaPointe, C.

“Someone from your past?”

The very recent past; like very recent. Like, Nadya-adjacent recent. And with time maybe-probably quickly running out they couldn’t afford to wait to fill everyone in on all the juicy details. Or, apparently, wait for Kamilah to return from her trip.

Sometimes Nadya catches herself looking around for the familiar comfort of maroon.

Overhead there’s a soft bing from the pilot’s speakers.

“We’re coming up on Louis Armstrong, Mr. Raines and guests. If you could remain seated until we land, your arrangements have been taken care of as requested.”

Nadya’s heart pounds a little bit faster. When Lily reaches out to squeeze her hand she doesn’t reject it one bit.

After all, she’s doing the first leg of this on her own.

“You can do this. You can totally do this.”

Behind her a family of four jostles her chair so hard Nadya almost spills iced coffee slushy all over herself.

“You’ve survived Ferals, and Vega, and Gaius. You kicked butt at ‘Tech-Xpo.’ You’ve eaten French cheese and danced in a corset and you didn’t even ruin a Lacroix. You’re a force of nature, and you can totally do this.”

And remember, he’s just a vampire. If he tries anything just run outside.

“Would Miss ‘Force of Nature’ like a box to go?”

She’s been in the cool shade of the cafe awning for far too long to even pretend like the red in her cheeks is the heat; but that doesn’t mean Nadya doesn’t look up to the sight of her bemused waitress with a styrofoam box and the bill in her hand.

Nadya must look as embarrassed as she feels because she doesn’t even get to answer before the woman gets in a small laugh. “Whatever yer psychin’ ya’self up for, honey, keep at it. More people could stand to give themselves a pep talk.”

“Th-Thanks.”

‘Bonnie’ (as per her name tag) grins with all the boisterousness she’s had since Nadya first took up her table. When she winks it’s full of energy; enough to jingle her large earrings. Nadya kind of wants to adopt her as a weird aunt? But that might just be the all-nighter talking.

Without hesitation Nadya pulls her purse close and takes out one of the (ridiculously unnecessary) large bills Adrian had given her before she got into her cab. Bonnie’s eyes widen, protest at the ready, but Nadya won’t hear it. “I won’t need the box, but thank you.” She all but has to force the hundred under the woman’s thumb.

If she has another one of the mini mountains of powdered sugar on top of her beignets she’s actually gonna burst. The coffee is totally coming with her, though.

Nadya weaves her way first out of the cafe’s closed-off seating, but it somehow only gets worse from there? New York is full of people; she knows this. But she’s gotten used to working nights, to the emptiness of Raines Corp. after dark — so having to literally fight her way through the sea of tourists is a jarring experience to say the least.

You can do this. You can do this.

Yeah, because her last motivational mantra worked out so well?

This isn’t a vacation (and if it were she’d be too stressed to enjoy it anyway) so she soaks up as much as she can. The ride from the airport to the French Quarter, every street sign and avenue and cool-looking building covered in ivy. A few of the early-riser tour groups she’s passed by have mentioned ‘the history of the city’ and Nadya is kind enough to let herself imagine — after all this is done — coming back here with Kamilah and learning it from someone who was probably there.

It’s the most optimistic feeling she’s had in… too long, actually.

She puts it to good use in her ‘I’m Totally Not Nervous’ act all the way from Jackson Square to the small museum off the side of the St. Louis Cathedral. Smiling to the entrance attendants is a little bit easier. So is plucking up the courage to ask a security guard where she might find the offices to visit a friend.

That no one would think a short girl with glasses almost as wide as her face is up to no good doesn’t hurt, too.

If Nadya’s got her orientation right this is definitely the right office. The window — if there even was one — inside would be facing the stonework of the next door church. Perfect for avoiding direct sunlight.

She takes care in not stepping on top of a small, neatly-wrapped bouquet of orchids in front of the office door when she knocks. Picks it up for good measure because they really are a lovely shade of purple and maybe they remind her of better times.

Of rare blue lotuses and… happiness.

Nadya waits… and waits… and waits… and knocks again? She doesn’t know what else to do. Admittedly they all might have been a little too focused on making sure Adrian and Lily had a place to rest during daylight hours.

For the record Nadya still isn’t comfortable with abandoning her friends to sleep in the cargo hold of a plane — private or not.

This was a dumb idea. Of course he’s not going to be in his office in the middle of the morning. He is a vampire.

But just before Nadya can put down the flowers and pull out her phone, there’s a thud on the other side of the door.

“Kathy, is that you?”

Uh… “No? I’m…”

“Yes yes, payroll said they’d be sending someone up,” another noise follows — this one more like the distinct collision between feet and office desks of which she is all too familiar, “just a moment!”

Nadya realizes she doesn’t have anything prepared to say when the door opens.

When he had arrived late to the Council Chamber for Adrian’s trial, Cadence Smith had looked the very picture of flustered and in a panic. Nadya was pretty familiar with that, too. But apparently that was only a fraction of his anxieties because…

Well to put it in one simple word — yikes.

Cadence pushes his glasses back up his nose to scrutinize her properly. His tie hangs in a messy and loosened knot around a collar half-unbuttoned and his sweater is untucked and bunched at the waist. If she looks down it’ll be too obvious, but it doesn’t even look like he’s wearing shoes.

He pushes the blond mess from out of his eye-line with his entire palm and leaves a smeared trail of black behind — which makes sense given the large and aged newspaper folded in his grasp.

“You’re not from payroll.”

But Nadya smiles up at him, dishevelment aside. “No, I’m —”

Then he notices the bouquet in her hands. Immediately—almost frighteningly—his entire being goes cold; harsh.

“I thought I told you people to stop delivering those.”

“Huh? Oh, no—no I —”

“I don’t care if he’s bought the lot in advance. I. do not. want them. Christ — there’s no way a flower shop is this dedicated to customer satisfaction!”

“Wait, Mister Smith, if you lemme —”

“Burn them. Next time I’ll have security escort you out. Good day!”

The door slams closed in her face before Nadya can get another word in. She’s left there, dumbfounded, mildly offended, and the good mood from her sugar high now soured.

“Mis— Cadence, please!” She knocks again, and again, and quickly screws politeness in favor of pounding on the thick wooden door. “I know you can hear me! I’m not from a freakin’ flower shop!”

But it’s an office; not like he has anywhere to run. He’s just straight-up ignoring her.

She so does not have time for this.

“Adrian sent me!” Nadya shouts at the top of her lungs. If Cadence doesn’t hear her someone must — maybe she can get through to them instead.

But as it turns out she won’t need to.

Even through the blood pounding in her ears she can hear the door unlock. When he faces her this time, Nadya’s ready.

“Adrian Raines sent me. These —” she shoves the flowers through the door into his chest; then points at her feet, “— were already here. I don’t know what’s got you so rude but I didn’t fly all this way from New York to be —”

“You’re the secretary; the one from the trial who convinced them to let me testify.”

Nadya huffs. “Well—yeah, and I’m also the one who’s really tired of being interrupted.”

The more he recognizes her, the more Cadence softens until some semblance of the man she remembers is all that’s left. He has the decency to look embarrassed at his outburst.

In Nadya’s opinion he shouldn’t talk like that to anyone; let alone some poor person stuck delivering flowers. Makes sense why they were just abandoned in front of the door.

“Oh, and I have a name. It’s —”

“Nadya; I remember now.”

Her nostrils flare and Nadya actually feels the telling-off as it starts to rise from her belly to her lungs. But Cadence realizes his mistake as soon as he makes it; he ducks his head quickly. “I’m — forgive me. That was… I just remember who you are, is all.”

Only after she eyes him up to determine his sincerity does Nadya finally nod; once, and curtly. “Fine.”

The vampire turns the orchids over in his hands; plucks a petal crumpled in their not-quite tussle from the stem and lets it fall like a path to his doorstep.

“A… situation, shall we call it, with a lapse in my judgment has led to, well, these.” He smiles; strained and not quite seen in the eyes. “A fellow who can’t take a hint.”

“I get it. My heart goes out to you.”

“Thank you.”

“But we need to talk; like, now. It’s important.” Nadya nods at what little she can see of his office behind his towering figure. “May I come in?”

He hesitates a beat. “I’m a bit… deep in a research project at the moment. Will this take long?” Then, as an afterthought; “You said Adrian sent you — is he here, as well?”

“Yes, he’s waiting out the sun. But we’re already behind as it is and I don’t want to waste a whole day. It took us long enough to get this far… we don’t have the time.”

“You’re being a bit vague, Nadya, even for me. What are you ‘behind’ on, exactly?”

Yeah — she’s being vague and she knows it. Feels like somehow the fact that they’ve not really had to talk about the massive panic their situation is worthy of because they all know the stakes has been a blessing. Nadya knows she has to explain things to get Cadence’s help.

It’s just that saying it — actually telling other people — makes everything that’s happening very very real. And being real makes it dangerous.

It has already been dangerous, says a voice in Nadya’s head that sounds enough like Kamilah to make her lower lip wobble a bit.

“Nadya?”

Not-Kamilah in her head is right. Nadya sucks it up and looks Cadence dead in the eye.

“I need the Amulet of Nero and I know you were the last person to have it — when you beat a man named Kavinsky at poker in Vegas two years ago.”

Cadence defies the laws of nature and somehow manages to look paler than he already was. Which means she’s in the right place.

“How do you… actually, it doesn’t matter. The Amulet is useless to humans.”

“Maybe. But I’m guessing it’s not useless to a psychopathic power-mad vampire king who’s spent almost three thousand years trying to take over the world.”

An eerie calm comes over them as he takes in the weight of what she says.

Cadence steps aside wordlessly. When she crosses the threshold he stops and checks either end of the hall in a way that totally screams suspicious.

When he’s satisfied they aren’t being watched, he closes the door behind them.

He asks her to start ‘from the beginning.’ But does she really know where that is? Does it begin when Gaius finally revealed himself after a year of working in hiding in secret, or does it begin from a time only a few know and fewer remember?

“I’ve found the beginning is often the place you think of first,” Cadence answers her; he sets down a tray and tells her to be careful to not burn her hand on the offered mug of tea, “that, or the place where you enter the story as a character in your own right.”

It’s all very oddly domestic in here; Nadya wouldn’t be surprised to find out he doesn’t bother with an apartment and just lives here instead. Even if the mess is giving her the headache to beat all headaches.

The ceramic warms her from the tips of her fingers outward. It’s hot as heck outside but if there’s one thing she’s learned from Gerard its that the soothing powers of tea are beyond things as silly as the weather.

“It’s funny you say something like that.”

“Why would that be?”

“I don’t really know where I come in. Not… not me, as I am, anyway.” She probably—no, definitely—sounds like she’s a few marbles short of the bag. But it’s nice to be able to admit something so personal to a stranger. Someone who won’t judge her — or if he does it’s not that big of a deal.

“I’m not sure I know who I am lately. It’s… hard to explain.”

Cadence brushes the barest touch of his fingertips over her knee. He looks hesitant, like he’s not quite sure he has her permission, but she doesn’t say no to it. It’s like the man who was so cruel to her in the doorway was a skin shed in the safety of his home.

“You don’t have to explain a thing. I know the struggle better than anyone should have a right to.”

Nadya remembers then; Cadence’s testimony on Adrian’s behalf — exactly why Adrian had been in New Orleans in the first place. They had been so close to the Amulet and didn’t even know it.

She’s a little embarrassed by it, to be honest. “Right, I… I’m sorry,” shaking her head, “that was insensitive of me.” At least she knows her own name.

But the vampire shrugs it off and sips his tea. “The struggle of identity is innate in every species throughout time. If I’ve learned one thing; it’s that.”

It makes Nadya laugh softly. “You must have gotten along with Adrian when he visited.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re both kind to the world.” Kind to others; strangers. But not to yourselves.

Cadence opens his mouth as if to respond; but whatever he plans to say he thinks better of it and changes their course.

“Let’s get back to the Amulet and this… vampire king.”

Which is probably for the best.

She tries to start where things make the most sense — recently, with the Amulet and Gaius’ plan. But that leads to explaining how he was locked up in the first place, which leads to the founding of the New York Council and the Clans, and somehow jumps to the events of the Awakening Ball, and Nadya doesn’t blame him in the slightest when Cadence holds up a finger and grabs a notepad from his nearby desk to start jotting everything down.

It’s a full transparency kind of deal because if Adrian trusts him then Nadya does, too. But some things sound crazy no matter how casually she spins them. So Nadya keeps certain things to herself; the whole Bloodkeeper disaster, her fight with Kamilah, the fact that when she looks at him she can see a woolen uniform dusty with dirt and with embers still clinging to the thick material and a little cut on his forehead that definitely healed a hundred years ago or more.

And to the man’s credit he takes everything in stride. Nods and scribbles down her tale faster than Nadya could ever hope to do herself. He even asks questions here and there; things you’d expect more in a classroom than, well, here.

Though Nadya really doesn’t grasp the enormity of it all until she blinks and realizes her eyes have grown accustomed to a lack of light. She can’t even see the small alley street below his window anymore. Jeez, it’s sunset already?

“And that’s why we need the Amulet of Nero; if Gaius gets to it first and there really is a vial of blood from the First Vampire inside…”

Cadence nods. “It’s an ‘end of the world’ sort of deal. Well… for humans, anyway.”

Did he really need to put it like that? Way to remind Nadya that all her friends are vampires and would probably make it out of everything at least mildly intact.

“So where is it?”

“Where is what?”

Really? “The Amulet of Nero.”

“Oh, well… about that.” No, Nadya thinks in a panic — because nothing good ever started with ‘about that.’

“You have it —” —hello instant nauseating panic, my old friend— “— Cadence please tell me you have it.”

“Had; past tense.”

There’s not quite a word to describe the noise that grumbles out from deep in her soul but it’s certainly not a whoop of joy.

More like an eeeughh of… urrrrghh.

Which is why she’s a little relieved her phone screen lights up blinding and interrupts them before she can start pulling her own hair out.

While Nadya grabs it to read the latest message, Cadence stands and pops his neck in two places. “I have a few calls to make myself, actually. Another tea?”

“No thank you.”

He leaves her with the office door open just a crack.

In truth Nadya wants nothing more than to stretch out on the couch and take a power nap.

No rest for the wicked.

She thumbs her screen unlocked to read a text from Adrian.

[TEXT]: It’s sunset and we haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay? -A

Well — she managed to train him out of the ‘sincerely’ at least.

[TEXT]: I’m surprised I dont have like 5000 txts [TEXT]: shes still asleep isnt she

[TEXT]: No. Her phone died. You didn’t answer my question. -A

[TEXT]: I’m fine [TEXT]: here w/ cadence

[TEXT]: Great news. He’ll give us the Amulet? -A

She doesn’t want to lie to him. But there’s really no good way to soften the blow.

[TEXT]: :|

[TEXT]: What does that mean? -A [TEXT]: I showed it to Lily. She isn’t happy. We’re grabbing a car now. I’ll convince him to give it to us if I have to. Did you explain what’s at stake? -A

Nadya scoffs — kind of very rightfully offended. “No,” she says aloud, but she’s alone so her phone suffers her snark in silence, “I told him I wanted it for my Halloween costume. Yes I explained what’s at stake, Adrian Raines. Ugh.”

So of course that’s the perfect moment for Cadence to return with confusion knit in his brow.

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really.” Nadya peels off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Just — Adrian’s on his way. Tell me where the Amulet is and we’ll get out of your hair.”

She can’t tell if the pensive look on the vampire’s face is him trying to decide whether or not to help or something else entirely. All she can do is pray, really. Or hope Adrian can convince him. And if neither of those work maybe Lily can threaten him or something.

They should have brought Jax along. Katana and all.

“Actually, send him somewhere else, would you?” Cadence rips off a corner piece of paper and scribbles an address down before handing it over. “That’s where I planned on heading anyway. And this way I won’t have to go into the explanation twice.”

He’s been nice so far; friendly and helpful. And Adrian trusts him — if she hasn’t brought that up enough times.

So why does unease start to tangle and knot itself in her gut?

“Or maybe we could all go there together.”

“Why not save the trip?” He brushes hair out of his eyes with a genuine surprise. “You said time was of the essence.”

“It is.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I just think it would be better to wait.”

“But —”

Thunk. Thu-Thunk.

A knocking at the door cuts both Nadya and Cadence off at the same time — but Nadya’s pretty sure people knocked nearer the top of doors.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk!

With a long-suffering sigh, the vampire wheels himself around in his chair and makes for the door. “What have I told you about kicking my door? The museum said they won’t be paying for the third replacement.”

THU—

“Christ, Kathy!”

Cadence yanks the door open with more than a little force. The hinges creak and there’s the slight cracking sound of splintering wood — even with his back turned Nadya can see the disgruntled slump of his shoulders. “Great, now look what you’ve made me do.”

“Stop being so easy to mess with,” says Katherine as she enters; beaming immediately at Nadya around the towering blockade of a man. “He’s so fun to mess with, isn’t he?”

All the tension in her extinguishes like a blown-out candle. Leaves Nadya smiling because she didn’t even know how reassuring the sight of a familiar face would be until, well, she’s right there.

Katherine shoulders her way around Cadence and holds out her arms. “Bring it in!” And Nadya most definitely brings it in. Even if her hurry to hug the Nighthunter sends a small stack of papers scattering to their feet.

“Oops…”

Cadence groans. “It’s fine, it’s fine…” And he shoos Nadya away to pick it up himself.

Very little about Katherine seems to have changed over the last year. Though technically Nadya could say the same for herself. The hunter now sports a fancy scar along the edge of her jaw and she must have just recently given her hair a fresh shade of violet but she’s still Kathy and it’s an honest relief.

Wait a second. Nadya pulls back to hold her at arms’ length.

“I tried calling you before we took off from New York. Why didn’t you answer?” Truthfully, they thought she must have been out of town.

Katherine scoffs, mock-offended. “I have a life too, you know. I’m not always looking at my phone.”

“Indeed,” grumbles Cadence at their feet, “but last night you weren’t ‘having a life’ so much as trying to break your own arm.”

What’s worse is that Kathy doesn’t try to deny it. She just laughs at Nadya’s suddenly pale expression. “Don’t worry kiddo,” she teases, “I was just taste-testing for a bartender friend. Had a little bit too much, you know how it goes. I thought I could arm wrestle a stone troll.”

Blink. Blink-blink. “I’m sorry a who-what?”

“A stone… well you’ll see. C’mon Cade, pick it up later. We’ve gotta get going,” with a fist curled in his sweater she hauls the man up against his wishes, “don’t even worry about it. Not like the place isn’t still a historic hoarder’s nest.”

Nadya definitely agrees — but she’s too polite to do so out loud.

Hold on, though. “You know where we’re going?”

Cadence’s left eyebrow arches slowly. “You’re suddenly on board now?”

“Well —”

Katherine interrupts her with a finger and a quick smack to the vampire’s upper arm. He doesn’t even flinch. “Context, Cade, remember? Taller, stronger man tries to take you somewhere only he knows of in an unfamiliar city. What do you do, Nadya?”

“You kick him in the groin.”

“Exactly.”

He looks between the women in brief silence; but they aren’t exactly wrong. “Fair point. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe, Nadya.”

“It’s okay.”

Katherine claps her hands together quickly. “Come on. I don’t really think you want to leave Raines undefended against Garrus for long.”

“Who is —” you know what, probably better that Nadya waits to learn, “— Lily’s with him, it’s okay.”

“Your friend the newbie vamp, Lily?” asks Katherine. When Nadya nods, though, she’s the exact opposite of reassured. The hunter barely gives her time to grab her purse before she’s tugging Nadya out of the office by her sleeve.

“Oh god — we have to go.”

“What’s the matter? Are they in danger?”

“No,” Cadence laughs behind them; the fact that he’s far more at ease than Katherine though doesn’t make Nadya feel any better, “they’re fine. But Garrus has been perfecting a shooter to give my kind an actual buzz.”

Drunk Lily. Nadya remembers her well… well enough to shiver bodily. Because drunk Lily was one thing.

Drunk vampire Lily, though?

“Maybe we could hurry up a bit.”

If I’d known there were going to be drinks involved I might’ve not been so against it, Nadya thinks, and immediately foresees a great concern regarding the eventual state of her liver by the time she’s (hopefully) settled into a more peaceful life post-Gaius’ World Takeover 2020.

By the time the three of them make it to the Graveyard Shift (which was, in her humble opinion, the height of tacky non-humor — and according to Kathy if she wanted to keep her tongue in her mouth she had better keep that thought to herself) Adrian and Lily are already there.

Lily hugs her first, then goes for Katherine with equal gusto. Cadence and Adrian, however, exchange nothing but a crisp businesslike handshake.

“I was glad to hear your name had been cleared,” the blond vampire says with a hint of shame. Then — watch out world — Adrian crosses the professional boundary and clasps a hand on his shoulder.

“Kamilah told me about how Vega tried to keep you from testifying. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am that you risked daylight travel for someone you barely knew.”

“You helped me all you could. It was the least I could do.”

At the bartop in the very back a young woman dressed head-to-toe in black leather and lace whips out a (black) fan and flutters it rapidly. She eyes the pair bright and mirthful. “Good ghoulish gods, the sexual tension there is enough to feed a dozen succubi!”

They pull away from each other after a long and uncomfortable pause.

Then Lily’s tugging Nadya forward with maniacal delight. “Ohmygod, Nadi’, come meet Ivy. She’s literally the coolest person on the planet.”

Behind them Adrian splutters; “Wait, Lily —”

And she should really be worried when Katherine joins in; “Ease her into it — ah shit.”

Because ease her into what, exactly?

Lily stops them in front of Ivy’s stool. “Technically not a person, remember?” chides the stranger; and then things start to make a bit more sense.

What Nadya had thought were tattoos or maybe was a decorative grey bodysuit underneath Ivy’s clothes just… isn’t. It’s skin. It’s greying, veiny skin and the muscles beneath that Nadya can see with a little too much ease for her personal comfort. Yes, Ivy is wearing black lipstick, but there’s not a whole lot of lip for the stick. And while the way her eyes seem to actually burn with a strange and pinkish flame is very cool and very up Lily’s alley, Nadya can’t really look at them for long without feeling like the long shadows cast in every corner of the bar are watching her.

“Dude,” stage-whispers Lily while tugging at her sleeve, “Ivy’s a revenant. Victorian zombie goth chick, Nadya!”

Ivy holds up a veiny finger. “Actually that’s a bespelled revenant, sweetie.” And the only solace Nadya seems to be able to take right now is that when the woman smiles she still has a full set of teeth — though some look a little… pointy.

“We’re a little different because we still have our souls… they just don’t belong to us and aren’t in our bodies and will forever burn in some eldritch pit or another.”

Words that awful should never be said so cheerfully.

“But enough about me,” like she isn’t practically preening under Lily’s adoration regardless, “ever meet a fae? This is Garrus; he owns the Shift.”

The revenant jerks her hot pink head behind the bar where the bartender has been devoted to messing with something out of sight — until now.

No, Nadya would have answered if she wasn’t having way too much new information thrown at her like a bag of big supernatural bricks, I haven’t met a fae. She hasn’t, she’s sure.

Since she’s just as sure she would have remembered meeting anyone equally pale — somehow glittering, with the same unnatural symmetry in the face that was both pleasing to the eye and unnerving in impossibility. With eyes as clear as the sky and actual pointy ears that definitely weren’t bought from Lily’s preferred cosplay crafters.

Yup; no way she could forget that.

This is Nadya we’re talking about, however, so she swallows down all of her (many — many) feelings about the current situation and turns on her heel to where Adrian has come to stand just shy of behind.

“I’m gonna need a glass of wine.”

Adrian shakes his head with a small laugh. Back the other way Garrus calls out a cheerful — and slightly Irish(?) so that’s a thing — “Coming right up, darling.”

“Just… one glass though, Garrus.” Adrian feels the need to emphasize, even if its with a glint in his eye. “Trust me. She’ll try to go for the bottle.”

“I handle this crap the way I handle it, Raines.”

“Then don’t complain about the hangover this time.”

A beat. “Yeah fine, one glass only.”

For a bar in New Orleans at night the place is a little barren, but nobody else seems to mind so Nadya doesn’t think about it twice. It gives them more opportunity to spread out at the very least rather than having to lean halfway over the bar to talk to one another.

Ivy joins Katherine and Cadence in the crescent-moon booth closest to the actual bar. Freeing up stools for Adrian and Nadya — though Lily quickly pulls away to jog up a tightly-coiled metal staircase by the back door to, apparently, check on her charging phone and call up Maricruz.

“When did you add the second floor?” Adrian asks Garrus; who now is moving so fast Nadya’s pretty sure he’s getting a little blurry around the edges.

He doesn’t even pause to think. “We finished it a couple of years before the turn of the century. After you and your lady friend had such a hard time finding accommodations I took a real stock in the idea of places more… suitable to our folk.”

Adrian gives an “aah” of understanding, but if he thinks he can just get away with that without being smacked in the arm he’s very mistaken.

“Ow?” He tries to look affronted down at Nadya — it doesn’t really work.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Briefly, yes, in the later 19th century. Why are you so surprised?”

She gives a little shrug. “It just doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.” Yes, the Graveyard Shift is rustic, charming; antique. But it’s also dusty, rickety, and Nadya really doesn’t trust the way those stairs screamed through Lily’s every step.

“Well — yes and no. I enjoy this place immensely; you should have seen it back in its heyday.” He pauses; probably hopes Nadya will say something so he doesn’t have to keep going. But she knows a ‘but’ when she hears one.

“But… we weren’t here for a good time. We were here on Gaius’ behalf to settle some… unsavory territorial disputes between two vampire families.”

“Who’s ‘we?’”

His lips purse. “Kamilah and I.”

Garrus whistles shrilly behind them; breaks the chance for Nadya to go all melancholy before she even starts with a glass tumbler in front of Adrian and a wine on her end. “Thank you,” since she’ll definitely need it, now.

Cadence clears his throat into his fist. “Now that we’re all caught up perhaps I should finish what we started in my office?” He looks Nadya level in the eyes. “I told you I no longer had the Amulet of Nero?”

Adrian looks between her and Cadence with a rising surprise. She hadn’t gotten to that part, exactly, in her texts… thanks.

“What do you mean you don’t have the Amulet?”

“I thought that pretty self-explanatory.”

“Then why are we wasting time here?”

“I don’t have it because it didn’t provide what I needed.” And just like that he and Katherine are back on friendly terms. He swings an arm over the booth behind her and she accepts it with a sigh. “I had heard of the Amulet’s long history with vampires and thought that perhaps it had some sort of charm or hex that could prove useful to me.

“Objects have memories like people have memories. Only people — they live, remember, and die. Their memories are lost forever. But objects are a little like vampires. They just keep remembering.”

Adrian feels her still beside him. He reaches out to her; throw an arm around her shoulder, hug her; whatever gets spun on his roulette wheel of Uh-Oh, the Human is Freaking Out Again. This time, though, Nadya pushes his hand back. Touch is kind of the last thing she wants right now.

Why? He asks with his eyes.

Nadya looks away only because her own eyes want to give him an answer.

Because that means I’m an object, too.

“All that collective history should have been compiled in the Amulet,” Cadence continues, “but none of the witches I hired could help me unlock it. I even prostrated to the Garden Elders, you know.”

Judging by the way their new friends all react Nadya thinks that wasn’t a good call on his part.

“Before they lost the single brain cell they shared?” Ivy asks with a derisive snort. Garrus gets a chuckle out of it at least.

“Indeed. But they couldn’t even…”

Why did he trail off into silence? Doesn’t he know nothing good ever comes of trailing off into silence when it comes to matters of the supernatural?

Cadence’s eyes go wide. If he had a beating heart — he definitely wouldn’t have it now. “Mary Mother of Christ. I think that’s around the time when the Elders pulled the witches from the Quarter.”

He looks between Ivy between Katherine between Garrus; all of whom have gone just as silent and still. Something haunting them behind the eyes just out of sight.

“Do you think the Amulet did something to them?” Adrian asks — and Nadya’s glad to know she’s not the only one royally confused.

The blond vampire nods. “Of—Of a sort. You see, last year’s Mardi Gras was a bit… murder-y.”

“That was only a couple of weeks before the Awakening Ball — and my trial.”

“Lucky we made it out then.” He squeezes Katherine’s shoulder. The look on her face punctuates his optimism with a restrained barely.

“The Garden Coven — the witches of the city — their Elders went a bit…” Cadence tsks for a delicate turn of phrase.

And the hunter at his side doesn’t bother. “They went cuckoo bananas. They used a born necromancer, summoned a bloodwraith using the bones of an equally cuckoo bananas Nighthunter known as the Bloody Hand, and thought they could control him in the form of a vengeful spirit to kill the city leaders and install themselves in power.”

And she thought being chased by Vega was terrifying? Well, it was. But on some level Nadya’s kind of glad she didn’t have to touch any of this with a ten foot pole.

“I know I’m gonna regret asking this…” in fact she regrets it before she even finishes, “but why would they do something so… awful?”

“Fear is a powerful motivator.”

Ivy drums her nails on the table. “One of the Elders, Millet, was really handy with a deck of tarot. But the thing about prophesy — if you don’t have the gift, you just don’t have it. So the forces you call upon sort of… call upon you right back.”

Cadence’s whole world is being rocked; Nadya can totally sympathize. “The Amulet would have been the perfect conduit for Millet’s foresight. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it then.”

“Would it have saved anyone’s lives?” Garrus challenges him to consider it. Cadence does, but no answer at all is all the answer they need. “Shame.”

“So they used the Amulet of Nero and got a vision that drove them mad with… fear. I’m missing something.”

The gears are turning in Adrian’s head so fast steam might start squealing from his ears. “Whatever had been seen would have been tied to the Amulet’s magic.”

He and Nadya lock eyes. The same thought at the same time.

Whatever they foresaw would have had to do with vampires — with the Amulet — with Gaius.

Cadence snaps his fingers, eyes alight and a half-smile of understanding starting to grow on his lips. “The darkness coming has something to do with vampires!” Though when the weight of his words settles in, they’re decidedly less a revelation and more of an omen.

“Oh dear…”

“Before we get—ahem—any more ahead of ourselves,” Adrian cracks his neck and mulls over how best to go forward, “Cadence… what were you trying to open the Amulet for? You said it wasn’t useful, what do you mean?”

The man shrugs. “It was an object with great importance throughout much of recorded vampiric history. If you’ve forgotten that’s… kind of my thing. I hoped whatever lie within — whatever had the kind of power to draw us to it — might be able to jog a memory or two.”

“But it didn’t.”

“I’ll never know. I never got it open.”

“So you got rid of it?” Adrian’s voice raises more than a pitch or two. “If the Amulet couldn’t help you personally it wasn’t worth keeping safe?”

“What? No. But it took quite a bit of money to acquire, none of which was mine.”

As he starts to understand where Cadence is going with his story, Adrian leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“You took a loan from Carlo. Which means it was left to Isadora when he passed.”

Who are Carlo and Isadora?

“Speaking of…” Katherine looks between Adrian and Cadence expectantly. It doesn’t bode well that Cadence shifts as if trying to inch away at the same time that Adrian takes a long drink.

The Nighthunter groans in frustration. “You guys are idiots!”

Cadence splutters — waves an arm at Nadya from afar. “Well I wasn’t exactly expecting them, was I?”

“I don’t care! That’s the first thing you should’ve done when you found out he was in town. But let me guess — you made tea.” Which is, unfortunately a fact the vampire doesn’t deny. “God, you are such a damn stereotype sometimes.

“And what about you?” She rounds on Adrian next. “You’re smart… ish. More responsible, I guess. Tell me you’re not as dumb as he is. Tell me you called her at the very least.”

From her edge of the booth Ivy looks like she’s taking way too much enjoyment in this. When Adrian’s head hangs she squeals in delight and claps with the promise of more yelling.

“I had more pressing matters to think about.”

“So that’s a no.”

“Correct.”

“That’s a no,” Katherine repeats; growing louder with every word, “to telling the most powerful vampire in the city about your little trip — and with not one, but two vampires staying in her territory for longer than a fucking layover?”

Some clarification on the rising panic bubble blowing up inside her would be awesome, but Nadya has a feeling she’s just not gonna get one.

“Forgive me for caring a little more about the danger of the most powerful vampire in the world more than Isadora de la Rosa.” Adrian almost snarls — Nadya swears she hears the glass in his grip creak ever so slightly.

Judging by the look Kathy gives him she doesn’t regret one syllable; not a single one.

“Its not my forgiveness you’ll need.” She grabs Cadence’s arm and turns it at an awkward angle to look at his watch. “Lucky for you Flechette just opened.”

“‘Flechette?’” Nadya asks — and can’t help but feel like an owl at this point.

Katherine snorts. “Flechette is the front for the city vamps; and they’re headed by Isadora de la Rosa.”

But this is a good thing. They know where the Amulet is. Sure, it sounds like there might be a little arguing along the way but… surely this Isadora woman will be totally understanding, right?

“You don’t have to come, Nadya.”

She looks at Adrian and really can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Of course I do.” Her eyes narrow. You know what I went through for this. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Because Flechette is a fetish club.” Oh.

Well… yes, yes she’s still going. She’s been to worse places than a fetish club; the Shrike, the Shadow Den, kind of… how bad could it really be?

“Well, at least Lily will enjoy it.”

#bloodbound #choices bloodbound #adrian raines #playchoices fanfiction #bloodbound fanfiction #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #lily spencer #oc: cadence smith #katherine nightbound #garrus #ivy #krom #cal lowell

4 notes · View notes

marvelhero-fics · 5 years ago

Text

Peter!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: A bunch of criminals decide Tony Stark would pay them a lot of money to get his daughter back so they try to kidnap her, little did they know Ironman and Spider-Man would come to the rescue

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven't posted in so long!!!! This was a super quick blurb just off the top of my head, pretty much unedited, sorry about that! I’ve got a lot more fics on the way

Word Count: 1,470

Warning: swearing, maybe a little violence?

The carpark was so empty you could hear the clatter of your hard-bottomed shoes against the cement. It was illuminated very clearly with pale blue lighting, whilst darkness surrounded the exterior. It was just after 9:00pm. You were making your way to your chauffeured car just outside of the Stark building. You’d been spending most nights after high school at one of your dad’s labs close to school to help bump up your science grades, and plus make some extra money. No matter how rich your parents were, they always made you work for what you had. You sighed slightly at the impending long car ride back to the Avengers compound where you currently resided with your parents.

You were stopped slightly in your tracks when two men emerged out of a navy blue car, about 10 ft in front of you. You really tried to think nothing of it, but being a young, small, female who wouldn’t be able to protect yourself against a large man, let alone two, fear bubbled up inside you slightly. You decided to detour slightly, trying to get to a different exit to avoid these men. Another man in similar robber-like black clothing appeared slightly too near to you for your comfort. Your lips pursed together as you could feel your heartbeat radiating throughout your entire body due to how fast it was pumping.

A slight pang of courage/curiosity hit you to pull your gaze up from the dirty concrete floor to look at your surroundings. There was a lot more than 3 men around you, it was definitely closer to about 15. You came to a complete stop in your tracks, your breath becoming uneven and panicked as the worst thoughts flooded your mind.

“How do you know it’s her?” One of them mumbled to another, his eyes travelling up and down your figure as you clutched your bag closer to your body.

“It’s definitely her.” The other replied, a devilish smile creeping upon his lips. He strutted towards you, his frame seemed to be about twice the size of yours. A sudden wave of quick thinking hit you in your moment of shock, you slowly and secretly moved your right hand over to your left wrist. Your father always made you wear an emergency bracelet. It was an inconspicuous, silver bracelet that hugged your wrist tightly with a small button on it that would alert your father of an emergency. He made sure to explain that it wasn’t an ‘I forgot my purse’ emergency or an ‘I left my homework at home’ emergency. It was only if you were in imminent danger. And this definitely felt like the time to use it.

The man was so close to your frame that you could smell his slightly ‘off’ body oder. His face came close to yours to take a deeper look at your features. You looked away and squeezed your eyes shut in attempts to stop your eyes from welling up.

“Miss Stark, it’s so nice to meet you.” His voice was raspier and lower as you heard it clearly, almost as if he has gravel stuck in his throat.

“I’m- my name isn't Stark.” You lied through gritted teeth, your breath so panicked you almost couldn't speak.

“Oh sweetheart, you don't need to bother with that. I know exactly who you are.” He had an almost laughter as he spoke this time, his breath smelling of alcohol. Suddenly, his hand grabbed your upper arm, tugging at it to pull you along with him. “Do you know how much your father would pay for you? We’re gonna be fucking rich boys!” He added, in attempts to hype up the gang around him. Part of you wanted to fight back, a large part of you wanted too. But you simply knew you wouldn't make it out of this fighting. This man by himself could take you down, not mentioning the other 14-or-so men around you.

“Hey! I don't think she’s consenting to that buddy.” A familiar Queens accent rang through your ears. You, along with the men around you, turned your heads to see Peter in his classic Spider-Man costume standing atop of one of the cars.

A few of the men huffed, making a few comments about ‘that Spider-Man dude from YouTube’. Peter jumped down from the car, causing some of the men to pull pistols out the back of their trousers. You gasped out in horror, your lungs feeling like they were being viciously squeezed as you watched your boyfriend contemplate his next move, while still struggling against the man holding you. You watched as Peter expertly used his webs to pull weapons from the men around you while also dodging bullets in the process. He tried his best to web them to pillars or cars around the carpark to take them out of the action, but he was clearly experiencing some difficulty with the amount of men surrounding him.

The noise of a burst of energy hit your ears, causing you to flinch. You looked up to see that all-too-famous red and gold suit crushing men beneath it. The weight forcing down your shoulders seemed to lighten up slightly as your father began fighting alongside Peter. Many of the guys began yelling about Ironman in horror, stating that they needed to ‘get the fuck outta here’.

Tony mainly used his blasters to get men to the floor so Peter was able to web them down. You watched your fathers movements, they weren't that of someone who was planning and strategising his attacks, they were pure anger. Which seemingly made them a lot more effective, and a lot more deadly.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing here?” Tony questioned Peter, his voice accentuated through the mask.

“Just helping out!” Peter swiftly dodged an incoming punch, “being your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man!” He added, sending another man down to the floor with a thundering cracking noise, God, you didn't want to know where it came from.

You felt the grip on your arm get exponentially tighter as the man began pulling you away in a rushed, and clearly frightened manoeuvre. You’d gained some courage amongst all the fighting and began trying to bat this mans hand away, while trying to pry your arm from his clutch. It seemingly took him no effort to pull your body along. “Peter!” You yelled out in a frenzy, immediately regretting that decision. Firstly, these men shouldn't know Spider-Man’s name, and secondly, your dad didn't know that you knew Peter was Spider-Man.

In a matter of seconds, Peter was swiftly swinging in to send a harsh kick to the mans head. His grip left your arm and he fell down to the floor. With a few more rushed attacks and webs, Peter had officially rendered this man useless.

“Wait, Peter?!” Your father exclaimed in shock, turning to face you while sending a small rocket into a car sitting directly behind some of the assailants. A burst of flames hit the roof of the carpark building along with some shocking, frightful shrieks.

“Oh shit...” Peter said under his breath, facing you. It felt strange looking at the mask eyes instead of Peter’s actual eyes.

“We’re having a very long conversation when we get home Miss (Y/N) Stark!” Your dad hollered out, sending the last of the men into a nearby pillar. Without hesitation Ironman was flying towards you, he grabbed you tightly. “Let’s go Pete.” Tony stated, flying out of the parking building far too quickly for your liking. Within minutes you had all landed just outside one of Tony’s many houses, this one residing in Midtown Manhattan.

You realised you were essentially holding your breath the entire way, letting out a loud sigh as your feet finally hit the ground. Peter ripped his mask off his head, showing off his frightened expression and disheveled hair. Seeing Peter’s face brought out every emotion you had bottled up. Your body fell immediately into his arms, hugging him tighter than you thought physically possible. He held your body close, his heat radiating onto you. You sunk your head into his shoulder and began crying, due to the fact that you just really didn't know what else to do.

You heard the movement of the Ironman suit behind you. It opened to reveal a frightened, but relieved looking Tony. His hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you away from Peter into his arms. You clung onto your father for dear life. Tony clearly reciprocating. His placed a huge kiss on your forehead, his hand tightly holding your head close to his body. “Thank you, dad.” You whispered through tears.

“I’m never going to let anything happen to you darling.”

378 notes · View notes

xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years ago

Text

Stairway to Heaven (almost)

Summary: When the Hulk breaks the elevators in Stark Tower, Peter and Tony have to climb to the top in order to repair them. 93 floors shouldn’t be an issue, Tony tells himself, and, in typical Stark-fashion, completely ignores his heart condition. Turns out that was a bad idea.

Tags: Heart issues, Fainting, Whump and humour and a tiny little bit of angst, Irondad, Pepper/Tony, Bruce&Tony

A/N: For @greeniebean2014, thank you for the prompt and for medical consultancy services ;) Major thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

________________________

“What exactly is the Hulk’s problem with elevators?” Peter inquires when they cross the 19th floor of Stark Tower and start climbing another flight.

The boy is jumpy and impatient, but his breaths are even and, as far as Tony can see in the dim emergency light, there’s not even a hint of exhaustion on his face,. The engineer, on the other hand, is already starting to pant, his cheeks feeling flushed as he tries his best to keep pace with the kid.

“He’s just not a fan,” Tony huffs. “No idea why.”

That’s not true, strictly speaking, because Tony knows very well that it all started with a certain event in 2012, but thinking about that would mean thinking about what happened to New York on this particular day, and that - no, not now.

Tony’s always bragged that out of all the things he’s built, Stark tower is one of the coolest. Located in downtown Manhattan, with a fully wired artificial intelligence that’s adaptive to its inhabitants’ respective needs, containing a vertical garden, thirteen gyms, seven swimming pools, and labs that would make the AAAS go green with envy, it is certainly something to be proud of. Not to mention that it is the first of New York’s skyscrapers that’s exclusively running on green energy.

The tower is also very, very high. Not, as some journalists suggested gleefully, because it has to compensate for anything, but because Tony wouldn’t build a skyscraper with his name on it that wasn’t visible from the ocean. And why go for 50 floors when you can have 93? He wanted to see where to land when he comes back from business trips with his private jet, or, more recently, feel more than a bit smug when returning from a mission in his Iron Man suit and spotting the Avengers symbol shining high above New York.

Today is the first day he curses himself for each and every one of those 93 floors.

“At least he could have left the power supply alone,” Peter goes on. “I mean, Hulk is pretty dumb - don’t tell Dr. Banner I said that - but somehow he managed to destroy the entire system.”

“Yup,” Tony replies short-windedly.

Peter gives him a side glance. “Do you need a break?”

“Do I look like a pensioner to you?” Tony retorts in mock-offence. “I once crossed half of Tennessee in a snowstorm while dragging my own armour behind me. This little workout is nothing compared to that.”

“Okay, okay, I was just asking,” Peter appeases. “By the way, did I tell you about the new web-fluid formula that Ned came up with?”

The kid starts to ramble while they make their way towards Tony’s workshop on the 79th floor, where, in a moment of maybe not-so-genius, he has installed the controls they will need in order to get the arc reactor in the basement back online. The tower is protected against pretty much every imaginable outside threat (and even against most of the inside ones) but Bruce, of course, has access to almost every part of the building and Tony never thought that Hulk would be clever enough to disable all the security measures protecting the main power supply.

By the time they reach the 26th floor, Tony has started to pant for real, unable to conceal his breathlessness any further. When they cross 32, his chest starts to hurt with every step, and he thinks that maybe a break wouldn’t be that bad after all. But the kid next to him is still taking the steps two at a time, not even a bead of sweat on his brow. So Tony grits his teeth and tells himself that this means he can skip his exercise routine for the next couple of days.

At 35, Tony’s head is swimming and his fingers begin to go numb. There’s an irritating tingling sensation in his left arm and that’s when he knows that things are Not Great™. He makes it another two floors before the pain in his chest spikes and his vision blacks out completely for a moment before turning into a blur of colours. Tony’s foot catches on the next step. He stumbles and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Peter’s quick reflexes.

“Whoa, Mr. Stark, are you okay?” the kid asks in panic while he lowers Tony down onto the floor.

Tony grunts and tries to get back up, just to realise that he can’t really differentiate up and down anymore. His own heartbeat is pounding loudly in his ears, pulsating in time with the stabbing pain in his chest and the pattern of black and grey in front of his eyes.

“Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Peter’s voice is openly worried, his hand still holding tightly onto Tony’s arm.

“‘m okay,” Tony manages. “Jus’ give me a sec. Gotta take a breather.” He feels himself list to the side and is glad when his shoulder finds a wall he can lean against. Tony lowers his head onto his knees, fully aware of how stupid he must be looking, and waits for the symptoms to subside.

They don’t. Instead, his vision goes from fuzzy to spinning, the pain from bad to worse, and he is suddenly very nauseous. Tony swallows hard, determined to preserve his last bit of dignity and not throw up in front of the kid.

“Mr. Stark?” The kid addresses the ceiling when Tony doesn’t reply. “FRIDAY, what’s going on with him?” The AI doesn’t answer, of course, because the power is still out, which Tony could have told him if he had any intention of opening his mouth. He feels bile rise in his throat and gulps.

“Do you feel sick? Are you gonna puke?”

Tony manages a shrug. “Dunno,” he grunts out through gritted teeth.

He feels more likely to faint on the spot, but he isn’t going to tell this to the kid. Peter is saying something else and Tony thinks he can make out Pepper’s name, but the kid suddenly seems very far away. Everything has gone sort of slow and muffled. There’s another stab of agony in Tony’s chest, and he can’t suppress a groan. He’s used to pain, been in a lot of it, but this is definitely somewhere in the upper end of his tolerance scale.

Tony closes his eyes and tries not to stop breathing.

“Tony? Can you hear me?” He opens his eyes again and makes out a very blurry Pepper, her red hair shimmering like a halo behind her face.

“‘m okay,” he gasps, “’s just s-stupid heart -” He reaches for the staircase railing, determined to get back to his feet and pull himself together and -

That was a mistake. The pain in his chest spikes. Tony can feel his body fold into itself - can hear Peter and Pepper yelp in unison.

Then he passes out.

He wakes up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor and an entirely different kind of pain in his chest. Tony blinks himself awake and waits for his vision to clear while the faces of Pepper, Bruce, and Peter slowly swim into focus.

They are in the medbay. Bruce is wearing a mismatch of clothes and a worried look on his face, Peter has streaks of tears on his cheeks, and Pepper looks to be somewhere in between relieved and very, very angry.

“Hey, I’m back online,” Tony announces to no one in particular, then has to interrupt himself to cough against the dryness in his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce hands him a glass of water, luckily with a straw in it because Tony doesn’t feel quite up to sitting just yet.

“Good, good. Guess I’m okay now,” he lies. “Why the long faces? You all look like Happy when he found out Downton Abbey wasn't getting another season.”

“That’s not funny,” Peter replies with a seriousness unusual for him.

“It is, actually,” Tony retorts. “For weeks I’ve been trying to get Pepper to take an evening off and have dinner with us, and turns out all it took to get you three into one room is - what is it that’s wrong with me? Feels like the Hulk danced on my chest.”

Bruce turns pale at the words and swallows hard before speaking. “You were in ventricular tachycardia, which means that your heart was beating in such a way that it wasn’t getting your blood to the rest of the body. We had to shock you back into sinus rhythm. Pepper performed CPR before we got you to the medbay. She, uhm, might have broken one or two of your ribs.”

Tony mimics a shocked expression. “Wow, Pep, I get that you’re pissed at me, but no need to get violent…” he trails off upon seeing Pepper’s stony face.

Bruce gives him a serious look. “Sorry to tell you, Tony, but it looks like you’re gonna need to get a pacemaker. As soon as possible, I think.”

Tony replies nothing.

“Tony?” he repeats.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony finally says without looking up.

“Wait, you know?!” Pepper’s voice is so shrill that he winces.

“I had an episode a couple of weeks ago and contacted a specialist,” Tony admits, weakly raising his hand to stop her from interrupting. “I’ve got a check-up appointment scheduled on Friday, and if everything goes well, I’d get the pacemaker before the end of the month. Nobody would’ve even realised. Just, maybe, shouldn’t have climbed forty stairs. Stupid elevator.”

There’s a break. Peter looks shell-shocked. Bruce is chewing his lower lip. Pepper Potts is actually speechless for once.

“I am so sorry,” Bruce starts, his cheeks going red. “I didn’t think I’d ever have an incident in the tower, I am really -”

“Bruce, stop,” Tony orders with as much strength as he can muster. “We talked about this. It’s not your fault that the Hulk has a personal grudge against elevators.”

“But if you knew that something’s wrong with your heart, then why did you even think of climbing 80 floors?” Peter speaks up. “I could have gone upstairs on my own!”

“See, advanced planning when it comes to my own health isn’t really...what I do,” Tony admits with a weak grin. “Sorry for scaring you, though. You shouldn’t have been there.”

“Oh, it’s actually a good thing that he was there,” Pepper replies with a sardonic smile on her face that makes Tony suspect something evil. “I couldn’t have carried you all the way to medbay.”

“You did what?” Tony glares at Peter. “Please tell me she’s joking.”

“Uhm…” The kid’s face takes on an even darker shade of red. “There wasn’t really anything else we could’ve done, I mean, with the electricity out and all that…”

“Oh god,” Tony buries his head in the pillow, “I think I’ll just pass out again. For the rest of the month, maybe. And then I’ll fire you, kid. After making you sign a confidentiality agreement.”

The kid looks actually intimidated for a second until Pepper gives Tony a stern look and says, “A thank you would be more appropriate here.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, kid.” Tony lifts his head up again to look at Peter. “I mean it. FRIDAY, for the record, interns with super strength are very useful. Should be added as a criterion for the application form on the SI website.”

Peter tries to hide a chuckle. “I’m glad I was there, Mr. Stark. But really, you should take better care of yourself.”

Tony, mature as ever, sticks out his tongue at him.

There is a moment of silence in which Pepper gives a confused Bruce a very pointed look, until he suddenly says, “Oh, Peter, what about a hot chocolate? You look like you could use one. And then you can give me a hand fixing the power supply…”

Peter is a bit quicker on the uptake. “Okay, Dr. Banner.” He almost trips over his feet while walking backwards out of the door. “See you later, Mr. Stark. And don’t try to get up yet.”

Bruce pushes himself to his feet with visible exhaustion and gives them a tired wave before disappearing out of the room.

“See,” Tony spills the moment the door has closed behind the two of them, “I would have told you, I swear. I’ve been seeing this specialist about developing a custom pacemaker, but we’re not yet sure whether it is gonna be effective with all the scar tissue in my chest and I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I was 100 percent sure it would work.”

He makes his eyes as big as possible before looking up at Pepper. “Please don’t be mad?”

With a sigh, Pepper shifts her chair a little closer to the hospital bed. “I am mad,” she emphasises. “But I’m also glad that you didn’t die while climbing the stairs. And proud that you’re working on getting it fixed, though I’m not sure yet which of them is stronger.”

“Well, that’s…” Tony struggles to sit up a little against his lumpy hospital pillows and grunts when the pain in his ribs flares up, “that’s something I can work with.”

“How are you actually feeling?” Pepper asks. “And no lies this time.”

“It hurts,” Tony admits. “My chest. And, well, there’s the aftershock of almost dying.” The corners of his mouth twist into a smile. “But what else is new?”

Pepper’s expressions softens. She reaches for his hand on the blanket and takes it in both of hers, giving it a squeeze. Then she reaches up to his chest and lets her flat palm rest just above his traitorous heart.

Pepper doesn’t often talk about feelings, and if she does, she phrases them in a rational manner - so unlike Tony, who swings back and forth between stinging sarcasm and cheesy declarations of love. But he knows what she’s saying now, through the concern in her eyes, through the fingertips that outline the scars between the electrodes fixed to his bare chest.

I need you. I was so scared of losing you. Don’t be gone again.

Tony lays his hand on top of hers. “Thanks for saving me, Miss Potts,” he whispers.

She smiles in response. “That’s my day job, Mr. Stark.”

The lights suddenly flicker back on, replacing the green emergency glow with a cold white light. Tony blinks against the sudden brightness, feeling a headache throb against the back of his skull. He’s exhausted as if he’s been on a three-day mission. Although his original plan was to sneak out of the hospital bed and repair the elevator as soon as Pepper goes back to work, he now wonders whether a bit of rest might not be a bad idea. Not while he is alone, though.

“You gotta get back to SI?” he asks casually, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind whether there will be a day when he’ll simply be able to utter the word stay.

“Oh, seeing that the electricity went out, I postponed my meeting. I guess it’s okay to be absent a little longer and just answer a few emails from here,” she replies just as casually, nodding at the StarkPad poking out of her handbag.

The thing about Pepper is, sometimes she just gets him.

“Well then, be my guest,” he says with a smirk. “Make sure that Bruce and Peter get some rest after repairing my tower - poor guys have had a long day. And could you ask someone to check up on Dum-E and U…?”

“Sleep.” She silences him with a light kiss on the lips.

He takes her face in his hands with somewhat uncoordinated movements and kisses her back, hard, until he has to stop to take a breath. He feels very complete, slightly winded, and also a bit woozy. Pepper catches on to that and raises an eyebrow. “No sexual activity until you get your pacemaker, boss,” she teases.

A small smile spreads across Tony’s lips just as he can feel his eyelids start to grow heavy. "We'll see about that."

__________________________

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Broken Ribs’ square.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine

#badthingshappenbingo #broken ribs #heart issues #fainting #cardiac dysrhythmia #hurt tony stark #sick tony #irondad #spiderson #pepperony #pepper/tony #science bros #bruce banner #pepper potts #tony stark #peter parker #mcu #marvel fanfic

129 notes · View notes

steajitos · 5 years ago

Text

the mission

summary: the typical someone gets injured during the mission, furthermore their frustration of failure turns into sexual tension which drives them into having an aggressively steamy session in bed. // 2,656

warnings: 18+ smut, language, hints of violence and someone getting injured, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex

everyone nodded in agreement as steve stood at the far edge of the glass table, giving his final remarks on what to do on the mission. it had been days and the team was already getting impatient with the army of robots invading the city, nevertheless, things somehow kept going downhill.

you couldn’t specifically point out the flaw the mission had that made it unable to defeat the enemies sooner, but it definitely had something to do with someone fucking the plan up and deciding to execute in his own ways as there was always someone too hardheaded to actually strike for the perfect timing.

the last time the avengers tried to attack had completely backfired. just as everyone thought the team of superheroes were getting the upper hand, more androids began to emerge from some kind of black portal that had another universe on the other end. thus, having to withdraw from the battlefield and create a new game plan.

within a number of days that passed by, steve decided to split the team into groups of duos and trios. you didn’t mind getting paired with him knowing he never doubted your skills at least once and that he trusts you on helping him win this mission. although you weren’t quite sure if that was the only reason why he chose to fight with you side by side, acknowledging that you had your fair share of intimate and steamy moments with him from previous times.

“alright, i suppose everyone knows what they have to do and where they should be located at,” steve prompted, “we have been going through this for days therefore we close the portal as soon as possible and retrieve the scepter.”

everyone nodded in agreement. sooner afterward, they were gearing up in their distinguished suits and prepping their weapons for what’s about to come − in your case, you wore a prussian blue uniform, that was vaguely similar to natasha’s, and carried two distinctively sharp katanas as your weapon of choice.

“are we all set?” you asked, earning several responses of agreement before joining in with steve while the others went on with their assigned partners.

although just as a few hours had gone by, things weren’t going as smoothly as planned − believing that tony was one step ahead from the enemies, with his newly invented gadgets and improve suits, but in reality they were five steps further from your master plan. the captain sensed it too, discerning that clint and natasha were being chased by too many he could handle and that the hulk was getting swarmed all around and needed more help to escape.

no matter how great captain america’s shield is, you could see him struggling as he continued to throw the object in the air and receive it within seconds like a boomerang, hitting numbers that weren’t enough to compensate with the destruction left in the city of new york. along with that, he greatly smashed one droid with the edge of his shield, quickly running towards it and lifted both his feet to knock it out completely.

however, things were going downhill and you could see steve being bothered by that fact. his face twisted into a series of troubled emotions, thoughts getting overpowered and caused him to get a bit distracted by it which was enough grip for one of the robots to tackle him to the concrete road. in addition to that was him losing grip of his shield, now that it has flown in the air and landed far from his reach.

“steve!” it caused you to look aside and catch a sight of him and his face getting beaten up by the sharp metal figures, leaving multiple scratches and wounds all over. soon enough there were tons of droids crushing him and you could barely discern where his body was at.

it was difficult enough that you were trying to hold back against three robots, but things became more complicated once you neatly sliced them into pieces and began to dash to steve’s body that was still lying against the cold ground. he hardly coughed and looked at you with hints of blood streamed from his forehead. “you’ve got to be shitting me now, super soldier” you muttered under your breath while calling and seeking out for assistance from any of the other members in the team.

gladly, sam came to the rescue, seeing his wings dash within seconds and land close to the both of you. you were trying your best to prevent any bots to come in your way and at the same time protect captain america from obtaining more injuries. “what’s happening over with tony and bruce?” you asked while he looked upset and merely shook his head, gesturing neither of them are going well with the plan though they promised they’ll continue to fight.

"we need to take him back or else he’s going to suffer out here,“ you suggested knowing well that steve wasn’t one to give up, but he’s useless if he can’t move a muscle or let alone stand properly using his legs, and sam agreed with your decision without hesitation.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

next thing you know a day has passed and you were sitting on the edge of steve’s bed. he was dressed in his casual dark-colored clothes while resting with the serenity of his room. he hasn’t spoke a word and looked completely pissed while you didn’t question him because you already know what was bothering him and where this will all go down to – the captain frustrated that he couldn’t help out the team completely as how he planned it out – he felt devastated by it.

"you know you didn’t have to ask sam and clint for help to carry me back here, i could’ve done it myself” steve finally voiced out monotonously, shifting from his position as he now sat down and pressed his back against the wooden headboard.

“yeah and i believe you could’ve walked perfectly fine across the street in manhattan, maybe even take advantage of walking into a coffee shop downtown,” you retorted sarcastically with his face twisting into offense.

“i could’ve done my part in this and–“

“we’ve heard enough of that, steve. you’ve done so much for the team and you shouldn’t be guilty that you took part of it any less,”

“but, y/n,”

“dammit, rogers! why do you have to be stubborn and oppose to everything i say or do.” your patience was beginning to level up and you tried to avoid getting it to the best of you, but dealing with steve at his condition at the moment would be impossible.

“despite the fact that i’m perfectly healed and looking better than yesterday, you shouldn’t have underestimated me because i could’ve done something for the team.”

you were already rolling your eyes and groaning at hearing all of the nags and excuses, there was no way you were talking him out of this as his thoughts were still clouded and unreasonable. “listen, you were pretty helpless back there and i had to slice my way through more bots than i could count on my fingers alone. the people might as well thank me for saving america’s ass from it getting torn or shred into pieces.”

your face was now inches away from his, eyes throwing looks that could stab him instantly, feeling each other’s breath brush past some of the tension that was building up between the pair of you. the tip of his nose as well his scrunched up forehead were dangerously getting closer and you weren’t certain if it was you or him that was inching closer and closer. “argh! why do you always have to look this charming, makes it harder for me to get infuriated by you.”

maybe it was because of the arising tension, though it might not have been, but you couldn’t help but admire steve’s twinkling blue eyes that was further highlighted by the room’s lighting. it was always at these kinds of circumstances where you keep on falling for his dynamic features; and it was definitely moments like these where things would lead to the only thing you both had in mind – getting rid of the sexual tension, moreover the frustration you currently have with each other.

“well then maybe you shouldn’t get mad at me at all and start focusing more important subjects,” he suggested.

as things escalated, you watched steve have a quick glance of your figure from top to bottom and finally cueing an agreement. you leaned in and linked both your lips together, being all too familiar with the feeling of the steamy make up session going on. “i take it that you’re still healing so i’ll gladly take over tonight.”

hearing those words purr from your mouth immediately made steve go crazy, especially knowing that he loves being the dominant one in bed even if you had your fair share of experiences of it with him also. he groaned loudly, feeling his erection already bulging his pants and it didn’t help him further once you moved yourself from the edge of the bed and straddled your legs on both of his sides.

your fingers reached for the hem of your loose blouse and pulled it over your head, breaking the kiss for a short while, and proceeding to strip off your bra and unbutton your jeans. as you were already on the verge of being completely naked, steve was merely enjoying the view of you on top of him while he stayed still there and throbbed for your tight cunt.

he extends his muscular arm, with palms grasping gently onto your breasts, moaning as he toys around with each of them. the tip of his fingers were swirling around the top of your nipples as his actions combined with the cool breeze of the air conditioning made it become harder. “shit, you look so hot.”

a smug grin couldn’t help but convey on your face after hearing short and breathy compliments from steve. he has his way of wrapping you around his fingers and making you melt into complete putty, it was insane granting the fact that he wasn’t even in a normal, super soldier condition, yet knew what to say to make your pair of panties become soaked.

it wasn’t long before your lips had to part ways with his and began to descend, going past his flawlessly toned torso and avoiding to come in contact with the few wounds he acquired from earlier. he let out a moan once you met with the edging of his pants, giving time to unzip it and haul it down along with any other undergarments. and it was always a feast for your eyes when his dick got to sprung out.

your palms wrapped around the base of his length and subtly jerked it halfway, teasing him at first until he gets to break. maybe it was because of his weaker condition that he flinched at your touch when you tried to pump harder, but you confirmed that he wouldn’t last as long as he usually does with his condition now.

then your mouth leaned closer until the tip of his cock was pressing against your bottom lip already, hints of your drool leaking and layering over it. you didn’t waste further once you began to dip your tongue onto the slit, causing steve’s body to draw back especially with it being in time with your torturous pace. your head began to bob forward and backwards, part of it was covered with your saliva as it streamed down to your hands. although steve fairly has a great number in length, your gag reflex couldn’t help but kick in whenever the crown of his cock was reaching over the back of your throat. things were getting messier and you haven’t complete began with the fun parts.

meanwhile for steve, if only he could’ve massed enough strength to flip your body around and dominate over you, he would have. he loved being in charge, of course, being the captain america that he is. but he merely had withdrawn back and became weaker, letting you take control while he becomes a groaning disarray.

“fuck, that’s it. keep going, deeper,”

eventually, your jaw was beginning to get tired and you had to switch to an alternative plan of riding him until he gets to come inside you. once your cheeks hollowed in deeply and relaxed, you pulled back and wiped any excess liquids that were drooling on the corners of your lips using the back of your hand. you smiled, taking a closer look at his disgruntled face when he realized that you stopped giving him a blow job.

“son of a bitch, don’t tell me you’re going to stop now,” he grumbled.

“oh don’t worry, captain, things aren’t going to end here just yet.”

just like from your previous position, you went on and straddled his body but this time being completely naked on top of him. the entrance of your soaked cunt sliding and grinding on top of his hard dick, however you didn’t completely proceed on banging him just yet as you gladly moved your hips all the while covering him with layers of your wetness.

a trickle of sweat streamed down from your hairline, not to mention that steve was soaking through his shirt and his nipples were already poking through the thin apparel. your hands couldn’t help but grip onto the fabric and swiftly tear neatly into two, giving you a better view of what was underneath all of that super soldier goodness. the strength and skills you gained after training with the team definitely comes in handy during these kinds of scenarios.

“i’m moments away from cumming. just fuck me already, agent.”

you almost let out a chuckle as you enjoyed hearing him begging for you to ride him into the sunset. steve was perspiring more intensely compared to you since you became lost when you caught sight of his abs glistening with sweat with his hair dampening into a darker shade of blonde. steadily, you reached for his length and aligned it onto your entrance before sinking down and feeling your walls adjust. he was thick also and no matter how many times he got to pound into your sweet, tight pussy, it still remained rigid for him.

things were going smoothly as he entered you pretty easily, having been that you were completely wet and it granted a better access for him. and as you ground your hips against his, your ass couldn’t help but slap skin against skin which created a loud smack that echoed throughout the room. meanwhile one hand was resting on steve’s chest for support while the other was gripping onto the metal headboard that was evidently slamming against the wall.

“we might break the bed for the fourth time now,” you moaned.

steve was already getting aggressive as he strived to thrust his hips into your cunt while you were still on top of him. he plastered a look on his face that was hard to identify but it was mostly because he was problematic yet acutely driven with sex, “i don’t care. so far i only care about filling your tight pussy with my come.”

before you know it your mouth was agape all the while steve gave his last whimper and got to cum inside of you. you could feel every inch of it dripping down past the inside of your thighs while his dick slowly throbbed and emptied itself. everything was intense, both your breaths were rapid and panting loudly enough that the other room still could be hearing it, and you felt too hazy and exhausted.

“next time it’s my turn,” steve puffs while trying to turn the corners of his mouth into a grin.

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america smut #captain america #captain america imagine

264 notes · View notes

saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 5 years ago

Text

Three Dark Christmas’ ~ Day 2

Yay! Day 2 which is early in the day bc school! This is probably my shortest piece of the series so don’t stress they get longer.

Day 2 - Arsinoe x Billy

Universe: Modern AU

Setting: Manhattan, USA

Arsinoe had nearly walked into the Christmas tree when she had gotten home from work absolutely exhausted. She had had to man the emergency ward that night and had been run off her feet because of a disproportionate ratio of patients to doctors. She was so mad and tired, she nearly took a swipe at the monstrosity of a tree that her boyfriend had insisted on erecting in their living room, solely because it was their first Christmas living together.

The only thing that stopped her was the presence of said boyfriend, who watched her from the couch where he was watching what looked like Love Actually on TV.

“Hi,” she whispered, taking a seat next to him and toeing her shoes off before she curled up on the couch against him. He draped the blanket he had been wearing around them both and kissed her hair.

“Hi. Should I not ask how you’re day went? You know, considering you’re shift ended three hours ago and you’re only just getting home now?” She buried her face into his chest and he laughed softly, running his hand over her arm in comfort.

If she had less dignity, she would purr. A very gross thought considered she had never experienced that sort of feeling at a gesture so simple until she had met Billy. Oh the ways she had changed.

“My day was crap. But I’m home now. Interesting movie choice. Very Mirabella of you.”

“Is that a bad thing or…”

“Relatively neutral. How was Christmas shopping with Jane?” Billy smiled softly at the mention of the sister who had just moved in with them.

“Apparently she has a girlfriend, who she may convince to come to Christmas dinner with us,” Arsinoe smiled at this. Jane had had a hard year that led her to move in with them, mostly because she had come out to her parents, neither of whom had taken it well.

“Good. She deserves it.” She stopped and considered him before saying quietly, “I love you, you know,” the Christmas lights and the light from the TV made sure there was no hiding the blush that flared on his cheeks.

“I love you too,” and then he kissed her. And then she melted into him.

Jane came back home to find the two of them, making out on the couch like two teenagers instead of two responsible adults who a, definitely shouldn’t have been up as late as they were and b, had their own bedroom.

She couldn’t but laugh at them.

“You two are a stone cold travesty,” she had said as Arsinoe attempted to pull her shirt back down from where it had rolled up to reveal her tattoos, a blush painted on her face and down her neck.

“Goodnight, Jane,” Billy had said rather tersely, a clear message from brother to sister to say get lost! She laughed and left them to it.

Billy buried his face in his girlfriends neck and laughed softly.

“Maybe we should take this into our room?”

“Gladly,” she reached over and clicked the remote to turn Love Actually off and flicked the wall switch to turn the tree lights down before dragging him to their room.

They woke up late the next morning to Jane laughing at them even more.

#three dark christmas'#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #queen arsinoe #billy chatworth #billy x arsinoe

15 notes · View notes

occasionalfics · 6 years ago

Text

worth my while // p. 3

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 2 | p. 4

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: Woo for no Hades this chapter! I think my favorite part of editing so far is realizing how much I skimmed over and never took the time to delve into, so now I’m filling in gaps and stuff. It’s fun.

I’m loving that y’all are liking this, so far! Thank you, and continue to shower me in your love (aka let me know what you think)!

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, eventual smut, way too many feels, major character death (eventually). A little more harassment on Hades’ part this time around.

Words: 2,660

The one thing you got to keep in your arrangement with Hades was your apartment. It took a lot of negotiating, but you refused to move into his mansion. It didn’t matter that he could build you a wing to yourself in a matter of minutes. You wanted a home to yourself, and you wanted him to pay for it, if you were going to be in his service whenever he needed you.

The only stipulation was that you needed to move into a place Rick hadn’t been in. Your ex couldn’t know where you lived, and you couldn’t know where he was, either.

And that was just fine with you.

Over time, you’ve come to appreciate the quiet loneliness of your apartment. Hades likes hosting at his place, rarely ever makes an appearance at yours. You’re grateful for that, at least.

The darkness at night doesn’t eat you up. The quiet during the morning doesn’t smother you. It’s all comforting. And it’s yours.

But what’s unsettling about it this morning is that it’s been three days.

Three days since Hades dropped you off here. No texts, no calls, no finding him with an expensive car on the curb outside the building, waiting for you to emerge.

Three days since you watched Thor explode out of the Hydra, and three days since the last day you didn’t think about him at least once an hour.

Both thoughts are driving you a little crazy. You hate this. You want them both to leave you alone, even though neither of them have made contact with you in three whole days. You’re worried because Hades never leaves you alone for this long, and because you really shouldn’t be letting some guy you don’t even know dictate your brain space like this.

You force yourself out of bed. It’s comfortable there, yes, but that’s the quietest place in the apartment. It’s the place ripe for the most contemplation. At least in the shower, you can focus on the grout between the tiles or the hair you should probably clean out of the drain.

You’re dressed in under thirty minutes, afraid to let a single thought linger with an action for too long. You decide to head out, though you don’t have a clue of where you’re going at first. But if Hades isn’t requiring your presence, then you see no reason to lock yourself away from the world.

What’s funny about that is that, before today, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.

Ever since Rick… died. That’s all you’ve done - hide away. You were hiding in that church that day, only in plain sight. And Hades had taken advantage of that.

Since Rick left, you’d sequestered yourself. No contact with old friends, barely any texts and calls to and from your mother. The only person you regularly interact with is Hades.

Man, your life is a sad, strange little mess.

Made even worse by the direction in which your feet take you: straight to Avengers’ tower. You don’t even know how you get there - you just walk and walk and ignore your rumbling stomach until, suddenly, you’re staring up at the neon letters that used to make up STARK but now read AVENGERS.

The building is nearly impossible to look at on a sunny day, what with its visage of windows and solar panels. Thankfully, today is somewhat overcast.

You don’t know what you’re doing at Avengers’ Tower, but that doesn’t stop your feet from dragging you into the lobby. The receptionist smiles at you, asks if you have an appointment, but you shake your head.

“I was wondering if Thor was in,” you hear yourself ask. Your heart skips a beat and the hairs at the back of your neck stand like you’ve been electrocuted.

Why are you asking for Thor? You wonder. If Hades knew, he’d surely taunt you. He’d probably use it against you, honestly. Or, if not against you, then at least in some way to his own advantage.

Same difference.

The receptionist reminds you that Hades isn’t here simply by nodding. She offers to call for him, which you’re sure is a safety precaution since you obviously don’t belong here. Without meaning to, you take her up on her offer.

You take a seat by the wall, but stand again because, if you sit, you’ll think. You’ll think about how weird this is, how you shouldn’t be here, how it’s really off putting that Hades hasn’t texted or called or anything in three days.

You realize, only then, that coming to find Thor is a distraction. You don’t even know him or know that he’ll want to see you, and yet, you’re here. You’re here on the flimsy hope that he’ll take your mind off whatever it is your dangerous employer is planning.

You don’t notice you’ve started to pace until Thor steps into the lobby. You have to turn around to face the elevator as he ducks his head slightly. He’s too damn tall.

You’ve never been drawn to big guys like him before. Rick was toned but slim, built much closer to Hades or Tony Stark than...this.

But you can only deny the fact that you think Thor is attractive for so long.

“(Y/N),” he says, curious surprise clear in his voice.

You remember that he only knows your name because Sam said it to him at the event. To you, Thor is the man who burst out of the stomach of a Monster, outmaneuvering Hades, by sheer will of force. But to him, you’re a mystery.

“Uh,” you stumble, “hi.”

“What’re you doing here?” he asks, not impolite. He comes over to you, apparently just as aware as you are that the receptionist is watching you.

Looking up at him, you feel tiny, but - surprisingly - not in a bad way.

“I, um.” You weave your fingers together and pull, cracking a knuckle loudly in the silence. Grappling for words isn’t your style - not anymore, not since Hades - and yet you find you’re entirely confused. What are you doing here, anyway?

You clear your throat. “Sorry. Could we, uh. Maybe go get coffee?”

You absolutely had not planned on asking Thor, an Avenger, out on a date today. Is it a date? It sounds like a date.

What will Hades say when he finds out?

Well, if he finds out.

Yes. If. If is good.

“Sure,” Thor answers, though his expression gives no new emotion away. He feels his pockets and breathes out deeply, then nods. “Just a moment,” he tells you before turning to the receptionist. You turn halfway to the door so you don’t look like you’re eavesdropping.

You actually don’t hear what he’s saying to her at all. And that’s okay. She just nods, and then he joins you by the door.

“So,” he says when you’re on the street, heading for the closest cafe that you know has good pastries. “I must say, I’m rather surprised to see you.”

You nod, because of course he is. It’s not like you have his number or anything to announce your appearance ahead of time. It’s not like you know one another well enough to actually be going on coffee dates.

Not a date.

Yeah, right.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what possessed me to show up like that,” you say with a shrug. You cross your arms before going on. “I am surprised you even came down, though. You could’a just told that receptionist to tell me to get lost.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure you know this city better than most.”

There’s no way he can know that. No one knows this city as well as they think they do. There’s always something new to see or stumble upon, which is why so many people are drawn to cities like New York.

“Beatrice had Friday alert me, but all either of them said was that a pretty girl was requesting my presence.” He doesn’t explain who Friday is, but you agree that the receptionist looked like a Beatrice. Somehow. “Who was I to turn away a woman in need of my assistance?”

That’s not the situation here, and you both know it. But you don’t correct him. You point out the cafe and Thor takes the door from you, insisting on following you in.

“I guess,” you start as you get in line. You sigh, because your brain really isn’t working with you. Your mouth is moving on muscle memory alone, it seems.

But that’s not right.

Still, you find yourself saying, “I just thought that we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Twice. And I wanted to clear that up.” Kind of. Because telling him why you were in Victor Von Doom’s office is off the table.

You wait until you’ve both ordered, paid, and picked up your steaming cups. Maybe this really isn’t a date - a thought that you actually allow to disappoint you a little bit - if you’re each paying separately. Then again, you haven’t exactly been on a date in some time. Are they still doing it the same way?

Thor picks a table away from most of the other people in the cafe. It’s early afternoon, so the place isn’t quite packed. Especially not for Manhattan. But still, it’ll be easier to talk without having others around to hear.

He sips on his drink. You just wrap your hands around yours.

“So,” he says after a bit. “What are we clearing up?”

You chuckle out a sigh, unable to tell which one is meant to cover up the other. “I’ll start with an introduction, I guess.” You let go of the coffee cup and hold a hand out to him. “I’m (Y/N).”

Thor cocks an eyebrow at you, but seems to catch on quickly. He shakes your hand and tells you, “Thor Odinson, Avenger.”

“You use that line on all the girls you go out for coffee with?” you ask. You hadn’t even meant to. You hate sounding...jealous or petty. Or basic. But you hope the case is that you sound flirty.

Thor think the last, too. He shakes his head and tells you, point-blank, “Not at all. It’s merely a polite formality - most people already know who I am. But I want us to be on equal footing.”

More than the words he’s said, you’re quite floored by his honesty. Not even Hades has been this up front with you - maybe ever.

“Now I’ve told you what I do for a living,” he says, and immediately, your heart speeds up. “What is that you do?”

The question reverberates in your head. And your chest. And your stomach. This whole idea was terrible - why did you let yourself out of the house again? What force in this universe possessed you to ask an Avenger out? Date or no, this is the quickest you’ve ever fallen into a disaster.

You can’t just tell him you work for the Greek God of the Dead, Ruler of the Underworld. He’d probably believe the God part, and that would be a nice break, but you definitely shouldn’t tell him the truth. Hades won’t like it at all.

But you also can’t not answer him. You’ve dug yourself a hole already, and now you need to lie in it.

“I...uh. I’m a maid.”

You hate yourself for lying. Which is new. You lie all the time - you were going to lie to Victor Von Doom if you needed to, and you absolutely would not have felt like an absolute disappointment then. But you hate that you’re lying now, and that you feel like you have to lie to keep this going.

Why do you even want this going at all?

You sip your coffee to avoid having to say anything more so soon. Thor just nods, like he believes what you’ve said. Poor fool you think, even though you are the only person making him into one.

But honestly, maid is the closest thing you can think of that isn’t inappropriate. Errand bitch somehow doesn’t have the same ring to it. So you allow it.

“And do you work for Doctor Von Doom, then?” he asks.

And you pause then, as you realize that you’re only making this worse. Of course that’s where he’d go. Because maids can’t just afford gorgeous gowns and aren’t usually invited to exclusive galas for billionaires just for the sake of company.

“Oh, uh. No,” you say. You clear your throat again, pushing your cup as far away from you as you can get it without making it obvious that you’re uncomfortable.

It must not work, though. You don’t go on, and Thor doesn’t appear to know what to say, at least at first. So the silence drags on until he scoots just a few centimeters closer to you, somehow dragging in the smell of clean before a storm, and tilts his head to glace sidelong at you.

“I did not mean to overstep, (Y/N),” he says softly.

This is so silly you think. He didn’t overstep. He asked all completely normal questions - you’re the one that’s being ridiculous. You can hear Hades’ voice in your head, telling you to get a grip, that Thor is just a guy. Just another guy, just like Rick was just another guy.

You shake your head to dismiss your own thoughts and Thor’s apology. “No, it’s okay. My employer...he just prefers privacy, you know?”

That’s not entirely a lie. It settles the uncomfortable rumbling in your stomach, at least for now.

Thor nods. “Of course,” he says, forcing a smile.

It’s cute, that he wants to make you comfortable. You think that’s what it is in his eyes - those lightning, mesmerizing eyes that have drawn you into him every single time you’ve seen them.

But you stop yourself from appreciating that fully, because you haven’t done anything to earn it. And the last time you did… Well, that landed you with an Eternity of doing Hades’ bidding to look forward to.

“So you’re a maid,” he repeats. “That’s more than I knew three days ago.” He smiles at you, clearly trying.

You take a deep breath and decide to try, too. “In that case, it’s your turn to tell me something that I don’t already know.”

He laughs at that. After another sip of coffee, he says, “Well, I don’t know how much you already know, but if we’re keeping things quite simple, I’m not an only child.”

The only reason you pause at that is because that definitely feels like first-date territory. And your response, “Really, now?” definitely points in the same direction.

“Technically, my brother is adopted. You may know him, if know anything about the Battle of Manhattan.” It almost sounds like he’s bragging, but there’s a grim darkness that takes over the blue of his eyes. Is he shaming himself to make you feel more comfortable, you wonder?

“Wait,” you say, thinking of the green man you’d thought was Thor’s cousin only a few days ago. “The dude that brought those aliens here - he’s your brother?”

Thor chuckles sarcastically, then nods. “When you’re as old as we are, you find ways to keep life interesting.” He takes another sip of his drink, then turn the cup away from him when he puts it back on the table. “Funny how he comes and wreaks havoc here, and yet he’s still admitted entrance into Asgard.”

His gaze goes to the table, too, and every instinct in you is yelling out to ask him what that means. But then a small voice - Hades’ voice, just distant - reminds you that you’re already too deep into this conversation. The less you know, the better, even if you’d asked for information about Thor.

This “date” is a one-time thing, you tell yourself.

If only you were as good at following your own rules as you are at following Hades’.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor au #hercules au #worth my while fic

93 notes · View notes

unfolded73 · 5 years ago

Text

How Do We Get Back (4/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

This chapter is explicit. 3.7k words. (ao3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

_____________________________________

Chapter 4

Kissing David made Patrick Brewer feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

After a long day at his tax seminar, Patrick had been tempted to go back to the hotel, crawl under the covers. and turn on the TV. It was shame that had driven him to buy a ferry ticket to Manhattan — the future shame of telling his coworkers that he’d gotten so close to New York but hadn’t actually visited. Of course, he’d lacked any kind of real plan so when he had disembarked, he’d checked his phone and started walking in the general direction of Rockefeller Center. But it was a long walk and he got tired and thirsty, and so Patrick had stopped in for a beer at the first decent-looking bar he saw.

At first, David had just seemed like a flamboyant curiosity, the sort of fashionable person you’d expect to meet in New York City, with his unusual black and white shirt designed to draw attention, four silver rings on the fingers of one hand flashing as he gesticulated. Talking to him had made Patrick feel giddy, like he’d boarded a roller coaster and was hanging onto the metal bar for dear life as David took him around curve after curve. He had mentioned that the person who stood him up for a date was a man in the off-hand way of someone who’d forgotten to be self-conscious about the fact that he was gay, if he ever had been.

Patrick hadn’t examined his reasons for wanting to stay at the bar talking to David, or the reason his heart had been racing for a lot of that time. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off of David’s expressive face, or when he could it was only to be distracted by David’s hands. It probably hadn’t been until David caught himself with a hand on Patrick’s thigh — a move that sent Patrick’s heart rate ratcheting up so high that he’d certainly have set off an alarm had he been hooked up to one — that Patrick started to ponder exactly what was happening between them.

He’d known the responsible thing to do would be to say no to David’s offer of a place to sleep. All other things aside, sleeping in a strange man’s apartment in New York City was an objectively risky thing to do. He could get robbed. He could get roofied. It was madness. But when David swept on his jacket, the scent of expensive cologne and leather surrounding him, Patrick had followed like a child under the thrall of the Pied Piper. He should have known then where things were leading. Perhaps he had known.

Now they sat next to each other on David’s sofa, mouths meeting over and over, and Patrick honestly couldn’t remember a time when kissing had been this thrilling. As he let his jaw drop, opening his mouth to admit David’s tongue, he felt the scrape of the other man’s stubble against his own. He reached out with his hand to cup David’s face, wanting more of that sensation on his skin. David was taller than him, and he held Patrick in his arms in a way that made him feel enveloped in the best possible way. Patrick balanced on a knife’s edge, a breath away from losing complete control of his ability to make a rational decision. He’d never wanted anyone this way, not ever.

“Listen, David,” he said as soon as they parted to breathe, unable to resist the temptation to keep planting small kisses on David’s lips as he talked. “I need to tell you, I’m…”

David pulled away, putting some space between them. “Tell me.”

Patrick blushed. “I’m not ready for... Not that I don’t want… Suddenly I want a lot of things that I’ve never wanted, or never let myself want, but I…” He huffed, frustrated with his inability to construct a coherent sentence. “I’m not ready for sex. I hope that’s okay.”

David smiled at him, a smile that was maybe sweet but also maybe patronizing. “Anything you want is okay. But I do want to clarify exactly what you mean by sex? Because some people, especially — no offense — people whose experience has been limited to vanilla, straight sex, when they say ‘sex’ about two men they mean anal.”

Just the sound of that word coming out of David’s mouth made Patrick suppress a shudder. It was terrifying, but also a little bit thrilling, and a hundred pornographic images starring David Rose collided in his head all at once.

“So I actually don’t do anal on the first date? And some queer men don’t ever do it. Being into anal isn’t a requirement for liking sex with men,” David said.

Patrick let out a slow breath. “Okay.”

“But sex can mean other things, and I need a little more guidance as to what you’re not ready for.”

Panic set in again, and Patrick clutched the arm of the sofa hard enough to leave marks in the leather. “I don’t know if I can articulate it. Out loud.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna need a little more than that. Unless you want to stop now?” David picked Patrick’s hand up and traced his fingertips along his knuckles. Patrick shivered and shook his head.

David leaned in close then, using his hand to tilt Patrick’s head back so that he could plant a row of kisses along his neck. Patrick stifled a groan.

“Your responsiveness is very sexy,” David murmured against his neck, “and if you’re willing, I’d like to touch you and see if I can make you come. Would that be okay?”

Patrick gasped, his head spinning. “Fuck.”

“Is that a yes?” David kissed his way up to his chin and then to his lips.

“Yes,” Patrick whispered into David’s open mouth. He felt dangerously close to saying yes to anything if David would just keep kissing him like that.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Patrick tensed up at that, pulling back far enough to bring David into focus. “Oh. Umm…”

He felt David’s hand sort of petting his hair. “Just so we’ll be more comfortable. I promise, nothing is going to happen without your enthusiastic consent.”

Snorting, Patrick moved to stand up, keenly aware of the way his erection was pressing against his jeans. “You sound like an instructional video for horny teens.”

“I’m just trying to put you at ease because you seemed nervous about the bedroom.”

Patrick gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he said honestly.

David led the way to a good-sized bedroom of stark contrasts: white walls and black bedding and similarly monochrome modern art adorning the walls. The lighting was warm, though, and not too bright, and Patrick tried to slow his breathing to calm himself down.

“You can take off your own shoes and socks and… anything else you feel like taking off,” David said with an elaborate wave of his hand. “I’m just going to freshen up a little bit.”

Sitting down on the bed, Patrick began unlacing his sensible walking shoes and tried not to think about the fact that he was committing adultery. It was a heavy word, and one he’d never imagined could be ascribed to him. I shouldn’t do this, he thought, even as he was tucking his socks inside his shoes. I should get my coat and apologize to David and leave. But he had to know. If the reason his relationship with Rachel had never seemed right was because he was gay, then he had to know for sure.

A more immediate concern occurred to him as he looked down at his clothes. What exactly should he take off? His jeans was a good start, he supposed. If David was going to do… what he’d said (and just thinking around the edge of it sent a surge of desire through him), then his pants were going to get in the way. With shaking hands, Patrick unbuckled his belt and stood to pull his jeans off by the cuffs. He sat back down, nervously twisting his ring. Then with a guilty cringe, Patrick pulled his wedding ring off and reached over to tuck it into his jeans pocket.

He wasn’t sure why, but Patrick trusted David instinctively. If he was nervous about being half dressed in a strange man’s bedroom in a strange city, it was more at the abstract concept of it than at the actual situation.

David emerged then, wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants, and Patrick took a moment to be amused that apparently making out on the bed required a full wardrobe change if you were David Rose. Then David sat at his side, close enough that their legs were touching, and Patrick’s brain sort of shorted out.

There was more kissing — deep, messy kisses that got more frantic as they gradually moved into a horizontal position across the carefully made bed. David hovered over him, holding himself up on his elbow, and Patrick could feel the unmistakable press of the other man’s erection against his thigh. Thoughts of the wrongness of what he was doing disappeared. In that moment, nothing had ever felt less wrong in his life.

David’s hand trailed down from Patrick’s cheek to the collar of his shirt. “May I…” David asked, his fingers hovering over the buttons. His breath coming quick, Patrick nodded.

As he unbuttoned Patrick’s shirt, David made a cringey face. “I’m trying not to think too much about this being, like, a critical moment in the evolution of your sexuality and how very badly I do not want to mess it up. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

David’s fretting weirdly calmed Patrick down, and he tried to suppress a smile. “You know I’m not literally a virgin, right? I’ve had sex with women.”

“And how has that been working out for you?” David parted the two sides of Patrick’s shirt, and Patrick sat up long enough to shuck the thing and toss it aside.

“Not great.”

David’s face contorted into what might have been a suppressed smile of his own. “Okay, well your chest is working out well for me, so I suggest we focus on that.”

Patrick moved to kiss David, trying to show through a little bit of forcefulness that he was fully on board. Based on the moan that came from David when Patrick scraped his teeth across David’s lower lip, it was a good tactic. They collapsed back onto the pillows again, one of David’s legs between Patrick’s now, and fuck, he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up, seeking friction. He didn’t think he’d ever been as turned on as this. And then David scratched his fingernails over Patrick’s chest and he had to revise his assessment. This was as turned on has he’d ever been.

“Can I touch your cock, Patrick?” David asked, hand settling heavy and warm on Patrick’s belly.

“Jesus,” Patrick gasped, then remembering that David would want to hear his consent, added. “Yeah. I’m… I might be embarrassingly quick.”

“As if that would be anything other than flattering,” David said as he was carefully lifting the waistband of Patrick’s boxers clear of his erection. Patrick reached down to help get them off, and then he was naked — in a man’s bed, in bed with a man, and it should have been shocking, it should have been a bucket of cold water over the whole proceeding, but it wasn’t. He just felt warm and right and desperate to be touched.

David lay on his side next to him, watching Patrick’s face as he reached down and ran a single finger up the base of his cock. Patrick’s eyes snapped shut and a loud, guttural moan came out of his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” David said, his fist closing around Patrick’s shaft and beginning a slow rhythm. “Spread out and aching to be touched.” He gathered precome on his fingers, spreading it as his hand moved, and Patrick couldn’t help but thrust into David’s fist. He felt like the entire world had disappeared, that all his other senses had bled away, leaving him with only the sensation of David’s hand on his cock and David’s mouth on his shoulder.

“I’m… God, I’m gonna come,” Patrick gritted out after just a few strokes, wishing he could hold out and last longer, enjoy this feeling forever, but he needed to come so badly, needed it to be David who did that for him.

“That’s it. Just like that,” David coaxed, and those words were what sent him plummeting down, a hoarse shout on his lips as he came all over David’s hand and his own stomach. Only when his last aftershock had shuddered through him did David move away from his side. Patrick was dimly aware of a drawer opening and closing, and then he was being cleaned up, efficient swipes by a practiced hand.

Reality crashed in suddenly, and Patrick felt incredibly exposed, again struck by the fact that he’d just engaged in this intimate act with a near stranger, with a man he’d never met before and after tonight, might never see again. Some might find that freeing, but at the moment it made Patrick feel very empty. He shivered.

“Here, let’s get under the covers,” David suggested.

Once they’d arranged themselves, Patrick returned to kissing David, pressing body to body until he could feel David’s erection through his sweatpants, evidence that David really had enjoyed touching him, that it hadn’t been an act of charity. Or pity.

“Can I return the favor?” Patrick asked. He pictured it, touching another man’s — touching David’s — cock, and miraculously felt another surge of want shoot through him.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to… if you want me to.” Maybe he didn’t, Patrick thought suddenly. And that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Why would a glamorous man like David want him?

“I definitely want you to,” David whispered.

“Thank fuck,” Patrick said, which made David giggle. They fumbled together with David’s sweatpants until they were kicked somewhere near the bottom of the bed.

Patrick started to reach for him but hesitated, worrying that he wouldn’t be good. That he wouldn’t be able to give David the kind of pleasure David had just given him. “Can you lie on your back?” Patrick asked. “So it’ll be more like doing it to myself? I’ve never done this to another person before.”

David rolled his eyes and shifted onto his back. “Yeah, I assumed that, although it’s not impossible for you to have never kissed a boy but to have engaged furtive handjobs under the bleachers with the captain of the football team.”

Patrick chuckled. “Is that a fantasy of yours?”

“It could become one,” David shot back. “Here, hang on.” He reached for the same drawer that had produced the wet wipes and pulled out a bottle of lube. Patrick held out his hand, and David depressed the pump a few times into his open palm. Then he threw off the covers, exposing himself to the room. David still had his t-shirt on but that was it, and Patrick took a second to admire the sight of another man’s cock. A cock he was going to touch.

It was a little awkward at first, spreading the lube and finding the right rhythm, but then things seemed to click as David groaned and clutched at his bicep.

“Harder.” David’s voice was high and breathy, and Patrick followed instructions, squeezing tighter. Patrick felt David’s hand move to the back of his head and then he was pulling him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and dirty. David’s hips pistoned and Patrick held his arm steady and let him fuck his fist. David became less coherent, less able to actively kiss Patrick back, panting into his mouth and it was sexy, it was beautiful, and in that moment Patrick had the wild and errant thought that he belonged here, that he’d belonged here for a long time and had just gotten lost somehow, but now he was found, now he was home.

“Fuck, Patrick, yes,” David gasped, continuing to say ‘yes’ over and over until Patrick felt the pulses of his orgasm. I did this for him, Patrick thought giddily. I made him come.

When David relaxed, Patrick gently let him go, collapsing on the pillows at his side. David was already reaching for the wipes again, grabbing Patrick by the wrist and cleaning him up before he did the same to himself, pulling his dirty t-shirt off and tossing it toward the hamper.

Patrick lay back and looked at David’s chest and how hairy it was compared to his own. He regretted that he was only just seeing it now.

“That was very nice,” David said as he pulled the covers over himself. “Thank you.”

Turning on his side, Patrick met David’s gaze. “I’m the one who should be saying ‘thank you.’”

David yawned, and then reached over and picked up his phone, doing something to turn off the lights. “Oh, are you okay sleeping here? If you’d rather go to the guest room, you can do that.”

“Are you okay with me sleeping here?” Patrick asked into the dark void. Uncertain what he’d do if David said no.

“It’s fine. Unless you snore.”

“I don’t,” Patrick said with a laugh.

“Okay, then.” David turned over, and Patrick could just make out the line of his bare back as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He felt the sudden urge to press himself against David, but even Patrick with his lack of one-night-stand experience knew that probably wouldn’t be welcome. He was just feeling vulnerable because such a momentous thing had happened, cracking him open in the bed of this stranger. Well, not stranger. Near-stranger who he’d seen naked and exchanged handjobs with.

As he drifted off to sleep, Patrick remembered the weird feeling of belonging he’d had a little while ago. Get a grip, Brewer, was his last conscious thought.

~*~

Patrick awoke still in darkness, and it took several seconds to remember where he was. What he’d done struck with renewed shock: meeting David, talking to him for hours at the bar, going home with him, kissing him, going to bed with him. Was this some temporary insanity, the kind of travel-inspired loneliness that made it easy to cry on airplanes? He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door quietly and flipping on the light.

He looked at his own naked body, trying to see if it betrayed any sign of what he’d done. If he was a gay man, shouldn’t he look different somehow?

After relieving himself, he crept back out to the bedroom and gathered up his clothes and shoes from the floor, carrying them out to the living room where the windows let in more light. He pulled his clothes on quickly, checking the time on his phone. 6:23. Hopefully the ferries were running and it wouldn’t take too long to cross back over the river to Jersey.

He wanted to leave David a note, even started to look around for some paper and a pen, but what could he say that wouldn’t sound too flippant or too emotional about what had happened? For David, surely this was one of a hundred such hookups. A few months from now, Patrick would barely be a blip on his memory. Whereas for Patrick, it had been everything: a terrible betrayal, a rapturous awakening. A cataclysm in his life. He knew that no matter what happened, he’d never forget David Rose for as long as he lived.

Which is exactly what you don’t want to write in a note, he thought. Instead, he pulled out his wallet, took out one of the business cards, and left it on the kitchen island before he bundled up in his coat and walked out of the apartment.

Down on the sidewalk, Patrick looked up and down the street and then checked the map on his phone. Neither of the nearest ferry terminals were within walking distance so he needed a taxi, but there didn’t seem to be any on David’s street. He smirked, cursing all the movies he’d ever seen that made it seem like a New York taxi would be waiting wherever you needed one. There wasn’t any reason to have a ride-sharing app on his phone in Oak Grove, so he couldn’t summon an Uber.

A noise made him turn around. A woman was pushing a cart down the sidewalk toward him, and he assumed by the blankets and clothes he could see in the cart that she was homeless. He didn’t have any coins, but he thought he might have gotten a couple of American dollars when he’d bought a pretzel at the ferry terminal yesterday, so he reached for his wallet.

“You,” she said, stopping short.

“Hang on, I might have a dollar,” he said, shuffling past the Canadian bills in his wallet. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can catch a cab, would you?”

“You found him,” she said urgently, stepping away from her cart to come close to Patrick. He tried not to recoil. “Does that mean you feel it too? That this world is wrong?”

Oh, she had mental health problems, he thought, feeling a surge of sympathy. “You don’t know the half of it,” he tried to joke.

“So how do we get back?” She grabbed his arm, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“Whoa, okay,” Patrick said, pulling his arm away and holding out the dollar bill. “I just need to know where to find a taxi.”

She squinted at him, took the dollar, and then jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s usually a taxi near the bodega at the corner.”

“Thanks.” He walked quickly in that direction, but when he looked back a couple of times, she was still standing there and staring at him.

Chapter 5

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek ff #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick smut #hdwgb fic #my fic

8 notes · View notes

peraltasames · 6 years ago

Text

don’t go sharing your devotion

requested by anonymous - 26. A jealous kiss

read on ao3

Amy wakes to the incessant beeping of the alarm clock on the nightstand, programmed to go off a few minutes before the backup ones on her phone.

While leaning over to hit snooze, feeling oddly sleep-deprived, she realizes a few things.

Despite it being Monday, she’s tangled up in blue sheets instead of white ones, meaning she’s violated her rule of always staying at her own apartment on Sunday nights to ensure that she’s well-rested for the beginning of the new week. She recalls being coerced into staying one more night after an incredible weekend (she hasn’t actually gone home at all in three days). She also recalls staying up way too late last night, reinforcing her reason for the Sunday night rule - a rule that Jake despises and attempts to break every week with about a fifty percent success rate.

She does not understand why she’s alone in the blue sheets when the sole reason that she sleeps in a less comfortable bed in a less clean apartment and gets dressed for work out of a duffel bag half the time is so that she doesn’t wake up alone now that she knows there’s something so much better. In a matter of weeks, waking up to messy brown hair, a warm chest pressed against her back and soft snoring in her ear has become a crucial part of her nearly everyday routine, and her days never seem to go quite as well without it.

Amy doesn’t have much time to lay there pouting about the absence of her boyfriend in bed; before she can call out his name and figure out why on earth he’s awake before her, he’s strolling in, wide awake - already dressed, even - with a mug in each hand and a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Tactical Village day!”

Of course, this would be the only logical explanation for Jake being up before seven. Frankly, she’s surprised she didn’t remember sooner. Amy smiles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Who’s the character this year?”

“Vladimir Smirnov,” Jake says confidently in a terrible Russian accent, “a former spy seeking revenge from the mob boss that killed the woman that turned him over to the light and taught him how to love.”

Amy laughs at the familiarity of it all, leaving the warmth of the bed to stride over to him and wrap her arms loosely around his neck.

“Definitely better than Rex Buckingham. I think Vic Kovac was the sexiest, though.”

Jake’s eyes widen comically, his hands stilling on her waist. “You were into that?”

She kisses his cheek and strolls off to the bathroom before he can ask any more questions about her formerly bottled-up feelings.

“So, we’re paired the Seven-Six this year,” Terry says to the squad as they enter the village, reading from a piece of paper.

“Nice, their arrest numbers were crazy last year,” Rosa says approvingly.

Amy looks around the room, which has no discernible differences from last year’s layout. The hostages and perps are getting ready in the corner while most of the other squads begin to prepare for the course.

“Oh my god, Jake Peralta!”

Amy whips her head around at the voice, higher-pitched than her own and unfamiliar. Standing in front of a group of people that she recognizes to be the Seven-Six is an absolutely stunning woman with shiny light brown hair falling just past her shoulders and piercing blue eyes.

“Katherine, it’s been forever,” Jake says with a small laugh, stepping towards her as she pulls him into a tight hug. “I didn’t know you were with the Seven-Six now.”

The woman - Katherine - releases Jake, still holding him at an arm’s length.

“Yeah, it’s awesome other than the cost of living in Manhattan,” Katherine quips. “You’re still with the Nine-Nine?”

Jake finally turns back to the squad for a moment, which has gradually dispersed to the point that only Amy is still looking at him (and Rosa looking at her with what’s she’s sure is a knowing smirk).

“Yeah! These are my coworkers, Detective Diaz and Detective Santiago.”

Amy forces a polite grin, trying not to care that he referred to her as a colleague - it’s a terribly petty thing to care about, something that she never would care about if it weren’t for the beautiful woman still smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you…sorry, what was it?”

“Detective Katherine Porter,” she states confidently, extending a hand to shake Amy’s firmly. “Peralta and I go way back. We were friends in the academy and dated for a few months right after we started as beat cops.”

The haven’t had the exes talk yet, so Amy shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t like she thought Jake never had girlfriends - she’s met a few since she’s known him, Sophia being the longest relationship she can recall - but never has she felt the ugly emotion rising in her chest right now. There were many times she felt a tinge of jealousy towards Sophia (like, every time he kissed her or held her hand or, to be honest, even mentioned her name) but now she feels a possessive instinct that is both new and entirely unwelcome.

The gears in her brain must be whirring a mile a minute, her face easily giving away her inner thoughts, because Rosa pulls her away under the guise of “looking at some guns” while Jake continues to chat with Katherine.

“Santiago, you are so jealous.”

Amy wants to object immediately, but even if the gun is just a paintball gun, Rosa holding one is a menacing enough sight that she doesn’t dare lie to her.

“I’m - maybe a little - she’s gorgeous-“

“Amy,” Rosa says sternly. “Jake is obsessed with you. You know it, I know it, anyone who steps within ten feet of him knows it. Who cares about some dumb ex he dated ten years ago?”

“I don’t care.” Amy grabs the nearest gun and fires it at one of the targets, landing a perfect bullseye. “Let’s just get ready for the course, alright?”

Much of the next few minutes consist of Amy busying herself with firearms and trying to avoid watching Katherine follow Jake around the village and laugh at everything Jake says and - god, why is she touching his arm so much?

She’s pretty sure Jake is oblivious of any jealousy she may be harbouring, because when Katherine slips away for a moment he turns to grin at Amy. He’s holding up a huge gun and pretending to shoot at nothing in particular and smiling like a little kid at her, not at Katherine. Still, the feeling lingers.

It lingers when they start the drill and she watches him bust into a room and take down three perps in one swift movement, when he pumps his fist victoriously and turns to high-five her, when Katherine re-emerges out of nowhere immediately afterwards to congratulate him on beating the course record again and hug him again.

Amy would be appreciating his fitted navy t-shirt and the confident aura he’s radiating even if it weren’t for the jealous streak she’s experiencing, but the culmination of everything is enough for her to abandon her attempts to be a “chill” girlfriend who isn’t intimidated by gorgeous women her boyfriend has slept with.

“I’m just gonna borrow Jake for a second, if you don’t mind-“ She grabs his hand and tugs him away from a very confused Katherine, ignoring Jake’s raised eyebrows as she pulls him into the nearest empty room and shuts the door.

“Ames, what’s going-“

She grabs him by the material of his t-shirt and kisses him, feeling him stumble backwards in shock until his back hits the wall and his hands find her waist. When she feels his attempts to pull away, she presses herself closer against him and slides her tongue into his mouth, knowing this will incapacitate him for at least another minute or two.

“Amy,” he finally manages to pull away long enough to say, panting slightly. “Are you okay? Someone could walk in.”

She drops her hands from his hair, taking a small step back and shifting her weight awkwardly.

“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend after he just set the course record?”

“It is if you’re Amy Santiago and you have a very definite set of rules for workplace PDA.”

She has been enforcing said rules quite regularly when he tries to hold her hand in the break room during their lunch or steal a kiss in the evidence lockup, despite her constant urge to reciprocate.

“Well, maybe I missed you since you’ve been so busy all day-“

The look on his face quickly informs her that she’s given herself away, somewhere between shock and smugness.

“Hold on. Are you...jealous?”

Amy crosses her arms defensively and opens her mouth to bark out a defense, but she can’t find the words to get her out of this one.

“Maybe a little.” Jake starts laughing, and she hits his arm and furrows her brow. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m only human, Jake, obviously I noticed your beautiful ex-girlfriend flirting with you all day.”

He shakes his head apologetically, stepping forward to grab her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just - there’s no threat there, Ames. I dated her over ten years ago.”

She softens a little, squeezing his hands.

“She just seemed so into you, and I didn’t wanna be the crazy jealous girlfriend, but-“

“She asked me to go to dinner before the drill started.”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

“Is there a ‘but’ coming, title of your-”

“Jake,” she cuts him off with a stern look.

He laughs at his own joke as he tangles their fingers together.

“But I told her I’m not interested, that I’m very happily dating someone else, and she backed off. She’s just an old friend, I have no interest in her or anyone else that’s not you, okay?”

He stares at her for a few moments with the same soft, loving look that has made her melt more than once before, until she finally nods and lets out a sigh, running her hand up his bicep.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats, ducking down to kiss her again. “Also, even though it’s crazy to think I would ever wanna date her when I have you, it doesn’t make you crazy. Remember Tactical Village ‘14, when I followed you and Teddy around all day? I was straight-up obsessed.”

Amy lets out a soft laugh, remembering the days of their blossoming feelings with quiet reverence and a small pang of regret that she didn’t grow to understand her feelings earlier.

“I would’ve gone out with you if you had asked first, dummy.”

“Ugh, that’s what Charles said!” He exclaims, pulling his hand away to slap his forehead. “We suck at timing.”

“Speaking of bad timing…I probably shouldn’t have tried to make out with you at a work event,” Amy says, red creeping onto her cheeks.

“You’re right, we should get out of here.”

Her eyes widen incredulously. “Jake! We have to go back to work after this!”

“We also have a lunch break and my car-”

“Absolutely not.”

She tries to walk out, her stride interrupted by a hand gently tugging her arm and spinning her back around, followed by lips pressing against hers.

When she sighs happily, he pulls away to survey her expression.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” she murmurs teasingly against his lips.

“Does the fact that I cleaned all the candy wrappers out of the backseat sway your vote?”

(It does.)

#jake x amy #peraltiago #kiss prompts #b99 fic #i wrote this so fast sry if there are mistakes lmao #more early relationship woooo #myfics

206 notes · View notes

majdalenaska · 5 years ago

Text

Up in the air aka glorified waitress

Today it’s been exactly two years since I officially started my cabin crew journey and working for Norwegian Air, hence I‘ve decided to start a blog. Let’s see how it goes..

Below I describe my 6 days‘ trip down route. I hope you will enjoy it a bit and get a little glimpse into my flying world.

I’m talking to a young girl in the elevator; she looks at me in my uniform and says: „Wow, you are a cabin crew? Well, in fact she meant to say : „ Wow you are so lucky, you get to travel the whole world“!

That made me smile, but deep down I thought, hmm that’s a bit of an overstatement.

No, really, many of my friends have a bit biased ideas about this world of flying and what it really feels like to work on a plane. Initially, I was very naive as well, not having a clue as to how I was going to feel on board, how I was going to interact with passengers from different countries and cultures who speak languages that I might not understand. What it is like meeting a different crew every single flight - a bunch of folks who you have never met before, and having to pretend you are proficient enough to provide excellent customer service.

No one can prepare you for the actual flight and being on board. The jetlagg, the anxiety, stress and fatique but with time it all goes away and you get used to it, somehow.

But, on the other hand, who can say they’ve had a steak for dinner in one of the most famous restaurant in Buenos Aires and danced Tango with one of the locals? Or who gets to experience flying in the skies at 39 000 ft every week using a Dreamliner 787 as their office? And getting paid for all the traveling around the world? To sum it up all, I’d say my life is kinda up and down, literally.

This week I’ve had a 6 days‘ trip: London-New York-Madrid-New York-Madrid-London, sounds awful, doesn’t it? It is kind of an odd pattern but since we cover the workload of other bases, we have to be ready anytime for anything. This is aviation! Sometimes you never know where you could be flying next.

28.8./ 8:20 CET- London Gatwick

I meet my crew at Costa coffee at Gatwick and first introductions can begin. There are over 800 crews in Norwegian, so in most cases you will see everyone for the first time, and there is a little chance that you will be flying with someone you’ve already met before. I really appreciate when I see someone I’ve worked with on my previous flights, so there is a slight possibility. I’m feeling a bit awkward, I don’t seem to know anyone. I am not keen on small talk but there is no other choice. The flight crew aren‘t looking very happy today but maybe a smile from cabin crew will cheer them up.

Together we are headed on board and in the forward cabin (PREMIUM) we have a quick briefing before the flight. Our senior assigns positions of the door which we are responsible for. Together we talk through all emergency questions and also discuss first aid topics. The Captain provides us with information regarding turbulences and the flight time, which is the only information everyone’s been waiting for. I’m feeling tired, didn’t have a good night’s sleep , but once the meal service starts, I am ready to go. The flight runs relatively smoothly, we do have an enormous bunch of orders though, which is not ideal, if there are only 8 cabin crew in total. Flights, especially to NYC, are ridicilously busy sometimes.

We finish the service and half the crew can hit the crew rest, which is located at the rear of the cabin. It’s my turn so I can get myself into the little bunk, close my eyes trying to get some rest;this is so far the best part of the flight. If anyone of my readers has ever flown on a Boeing 787 before - please keep reading. You can find the lavatories on the other side of the crew rest and if you see the sign CABIN CREW ONLY , please stay away, this is definitely not a lavatory. You might wonder why I mention this, but 99% of our passengers do try to open our doors and fail miserably.

Anyway, we get to New York city around 1 PM local time (18.00 CET), and since this airport is one of the busiest airports out there we sometimes spend around 45 minutes taxing to the gate and waiting and waiting… (the worst part of a flight)

15:30 local time/ 20 : 30 CET – New York City

Two hours later, we finally reach our hotel in Manhattan; the whole journey from the airport can take up to 1 hour. But we stay in a hotel in Manhattan, so no one complains really. Everyone gets to their rooms and we talk about what to do later. We plan a rooftop bar in Brooklyn, but it starts raining, bummer. I take a shower and a short nap, since later I plan on going to Whole Foods with one of my colleagues. Shouldn’t have done that; after waking up I feel so drained that I am only capable of going downstairs for a pizza at the corner.

The pizza tastes delicious though and I put a Netflix on, unwind and relax. At 8 o´clock I can’t keep my eyes open anymore and I fall asleep. At 2 am I wake up and lie around in bed till 5 am. Thank you jet lag! Being an experienced flight attendant, however, I do have my morning routine. I do a bit of yoga, meditate and head for the coast to have a jog, which works perfect for jetlagg issues. You usually need a buddy who will drag you out of the bed, though. This time I pulled it off on my own!

It really feels amazing to be jogging along the Hudson river at 7 am, passing thrilled New Yorkers with their dogs and strollers, thinking about how awesome it might be to actually live here. After a while, I sit on a bench, listen to music and admire the views over Manhattan and get carried away. I come for a run here every single morning.

Back at the hotel, I go downstairs to have breakfast and meet the rest of my crew. A big breakfast makes me tired once again, so no big plans for today, I’m afraid. But maybe I could manage some shopping in Century 21 and a lunch in Whole foods? ( BTW This place is awesome, just don’t get too carried away, otherwise you’ll be crying at the till.) Later we fly back to Madrid and I desperately long for a good night’s sleep. Tough luck, though.

I play a meditation video to calm me down but it’s pointless.

29.8/21:15 local time( 02:15 CET)- New York City

It’s not ideal to start your flight at 3 am European time, as you can imagine. Anyway, in the world of flight attendants you get used to anything…anything at all. One hour on a bus to the airport, one hour taxing to the gate…man, I am drained. I am sitting on my jumpseat about 50 minutes and there are 3 passengers sitting opposite me.( Cabin crew must smile no matter what, so wakey wakey Magdalena!) Luckily all the passengers are asleep so I can relax. The flight is stress and turbulence free and it only takes 6 hours and 30 minutes,yay. Well, sometimes it is rather enjoyable. Although every flight is utterly different, to be honest. Fatique, arguments with passengers, arguments with crew, fainting passengers, drunk passengers…take your pick. But, hooray, today no one has vomitted on me and I haven‘t spilled any drinks on anyone. Not yet, at least.

30.8/14:35 local time - Madrid

We are thrilled arriving in Madrid. My idea of the upcoming days looks like this: The sun, the pool and chill. I leave my uniform in the hotel room and in the evening I meet my colleagues from Hungary and Poland. Together we set off towards the center of Madrid. The plan is to stroll around the city and get some Tapas and Sangria. We are lucky enough to be guided by one of our colleagues who is local in Madrid.

He shows us a few places of interests. I am mainly excited by the beautiful park called Cuarttel de la Montana, which gives you a stunning view over the city. We can‘t possibly finish our evening in Madrid without visiting the local Chocolateria San Gines, where the best Churros is made. The next day we explore the shopping mall next door, and spend a great time relaxing at the pool and regaining energy for the upcoming night flight.

31.8./18:25 local time

All bags packed and prepared, I am headed down to the lobby to meet my crew. We are flying back to New York City, which I am not really keen on, due to my poor sleep on the East Coast. Interestingly, lately I‘ve preferred flying to the West coast of USA where I don’t have a major issue with jetlagg and sleep.( Though it only took a year and half to get used to all those time differences, haha.) We have a nice flight, the only trouble being that almost 80% of all passengers are Spanish speaking, so we send our only Spanish speaking colleague L. everywhere we can. L. is not that excited about the situation. We have a small issue with a passenger who refuses to give up on her own meal with nuts. Unfortunately for her, we have a passenger on board, who is allergic to nuts and hence it’s strictly forbidden to be eating anything containing nuts. But Mrs. B. is not happy about that and complains that she only eats foods that are vegan, gluten free an organic and we can’t really provide that from our snack bar, according to her. I try my best explaining and offering something else but in the end I have to call my senior. We bribe her with a freshly made coffee which is the only thing she is willing to consume. Anyway, at the end of the flight. Mrs. B opens up her own meal box risking an anaphylactic shock for the poor passenger. Fortunately, nothing happens and her meal doesn‘t trigger an allergic reaction. It really feels utterly frustrating that although we do our best to explain the seriousness of the situation, Mrs. B. ignores everything we say and put the life of a co - passenger at a risk. I think it is outrageous how some people are so ignorant and arrogant. Yet, there‘s so much more a cabin crew can come up against and have to deal with.( I just can‘t really stress enough the importance of working on yourself, your resiliance and patience, to be able to face all those kinds of challenges without ever losing your head and nerve.)

Another situation comes up with a lady complaining about not getting a seat in exit row , where she can hang up a bassinet for her baby during the flight. Since she only speaks spanish, my colleague L. apologizes to her saying that they must have made a mistake at the check in desk and she will have to take another seat unfortunately.

Service is taking ages and is not pleasant at all, no one can understand me, but eventually I am good to go with Vino Bianco and Vino Rosso. Spanish is not that difficult after all.

We get to the Manhattan hotel at around 1 am in the morning, which is 6 am European time. Having an alcoholic beverage goes aside and I am only focused on my beautiful bed on 23rd floor. I am so tired I would happily stay in that cosy warm bed until tomorrow’s pick up. But I forget I am at East coast so I am up at 6.30 heading for breakfast. I don’t feel like running today, apologies Hudson river. After breakfast I feel drowsy again, I roll in the bed and put on some Netflix. I get my lunch in Preta Manger nearby and go back to my hotel room. You‘re thinking right, jetlagg is not an easy beast sometimes.

1.9 /21.15 local tme- 02.15 CET- New York

Here comes the very last working flight of this pattern and we are going back to Madrid, yay, feels like Dejavu. On the way to the JFK airport everyone falls asleep since it takes about an hour to get there and it is quite late in the evening. What is the best thing about night flights? Almost every passenger is fast asleep before the take off, awesome! We have a quiet time in both galleys and the flight only takes 6,5 hours, which is a big plus of NYC flights. Compared it with Buenos Aires, which is about 13 hours from London Gatwick, a bit of a difference, eh?

2.9. /12:59 CET – Madrid

We’ve arrived in Madrid but our flight back to London Gatwick is due in 5 hours. We are lucky enough to have our hotel booked for us so we can refresh and relax for a bit. We don’t operate this flight- it is called DEADHEADING, which means, that we fly as passengers in our civil clothes. We get to Gatwick around 7.30 in the evening and everything seems great. There wasn’t any delay, no baggage was lost, everything is as should be. Around 10 o’clock in the evening I get home and order a pizza and a beer from Deliveroo. Unpacking my suitcase can wait till tomorrow - I fall into my cosy bed and I am not getting out of it for the next 12 hours.

1 note · View note