#might keep these in my mental bank when i write :x | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

j0kers-light · 1 year ago

Note

Hiyaa,

Could you write a little something in which the joker thinks he has lost his light? She's not actually dead but maybe kidnapped during a robbery or something. He thinks he saw her dying but idk how he finds out she is still alive. He goes after her and retrieves her. Of course she is both mentally and physically scarred but with time she ends up healing those scars.

I know it's not very detailed, I'm sorry🥺

His Lighthouse: Just One Check (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Just One Check- Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

@darthjokerisyourfather hey hi love! Thank you so much for lighting the spark that cured my writer's block! This is just what I needed to get back to writing although I couldn't find a cool title for this one. Might change that later lol.

I hope I did this one justice, if not message me and I can try again! 😭

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! 🖤✨

There was no telling what could happen at a bank in Gotham City. The average citizen risked the chance of being involved in a robbery or the greatest displeasure of being stuck in line for hours only for the teller to run out of cash halfway through. Both were a drag.

Today happened to be the former.

"It's just one check Joker. I'll be back before you now I'm gone." You already had your shoes on and were shrugging on a jacket when Joker intercepted you in the foyer.

He wanted you to stay with him today, not going out doing errands that could wait until whenever.

Joker watched your every move as you continued to get ready to leave him. Nothing he said persuaded you to stay so he resorted to straight up whining.

"Why can't ya wait til tomorrow? Come back and lay with meeeee..." His handsome pout was adorable and convincing... but it wouldn't work on you today.

"It can't wait. The banks will be closed tomorrow. National holiday, remember? Don't worry, I'll be back in an hour." You bounced back over to kiss Joker but he swatted you away, only to grab your face and smother you with kisses. Always loving you on his terms or not at all.

He hummed and tried to wrap his arm around your waist but you were hip to his schemes. You dodged his affections and made your way to the door. "Don't give me that look. I'll be back!"

"Yeah, yeah. One hour, Bunny. Your time starts errrrr now." He grumbled as you blew him a kiss and walked out the door.

He was serious about timing you but he added a few extra minutes for traffic. With that squared away, he returned to the couch to wait for your return.

It was just a check for a few hundred bucks, but you wanted to deposit it before it expired and/or you forgot about it.

You couldn't remember the last time you physically went to a bank. Normally Cindy's office handled your funds since you hated going in person. Perhaps your aversion generated from Joker confirming that criminals loved to rob banks based on certain statistics such as the bank's popularity and daily usage.

J went out his way to not hit the institutions you banked with so you could feel at ease whenever you did visit. He could be considerate when he wanted to be.

Thankfully, your personal bank wasn't well known and was just a quick fifteen minute train ride away. You arrived and walked into Darth HL. Bank, already sighing at the long line for assistance. You just wanted to deposit your check and leave but this might take a while.

You stood behind an elderly man and pulled out your phone to scroll through social media while you waited. The line hardly budged but patience was a virtue.

You were waiting for almost forty five minutes when four men burst through the front door and started yelling at everyone. You crouched down behind a decorative planter. A shame you had experience with armed robberies. It was simple Blüdaven instincts to duck and avoid being seen. You eyed the distance it would take you to run to the door and decided to stay put for now. It was too risky.

"EVERYONE ON THE GROUND NOW! CELLS! PAGERS! ANYTHING THAT CALLS OUT, WE WANT EM! STAY QUIET AND WE'LL ALL LEAVE HAPPY!"

One of them passed around a box where they demanded people to drop their cellular devices into. They were organized and efficient. It was clear they weren't amateurs. They worked around the room in a fraction of a minute and secured it as their own.

No one had spotted your hiding spot near the financial advisor's desks and you wanted to keep it that way. The first time visiting a bank in months and it just so happens to be robbed. What were the odds? Joker was gonna be pissed. You froze.

You promised him that you'd be back in an hour!

"ARE YOU DEAF OLD MAN? PHONE NOW!" One of the robbers walked up to the same old guy you were originally standing behind and shoved him with the end of a semi- automatic.

You weren't the only one who was concerned that they would start using unnecessary force. Case in point, the old man was not backing down.

He stood straighter and stared the robber right in the eye. "We won't be intimidated by you... thugs." He croaked out.

You hit your head softly against the planter box. Now was not the time for heroics old man..

"Oh yeah? Well guess what old timer? You should be. We didn't come here to play games." The robber raised his gun to shoot but someone in the crowd, another wannabe hero, stole their attention.

"Have you no respect for your elders!?" They cried out.

The entire room went silent after that. The robber eyed the new guy up and down through his ski mask.

"You wanna get popped too? Be my guest." He pulled the trigger and you and the crowd gasped in horror as the poor guy was gunned down along with the old man.

There was no hesitation; it happened so fast. It wasn't about the money. These men were bloodthirsty and obviously deranged.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" The leader shouted. Two men disappeared into the back while the other two patrolled the crowd and forced them to keep quiet.

All in all, only five minutes had passed since they entered the bank. It was the longest five minutes of your entire life.

Another guy in the crowd took a gamble and sent a text from their phone. His thumb hit the send button right as he heard footsteps stop behind him.

"I thought we said no phones. What's so important that you risked your life for?" He yanked the phone away and read the text.

Then a staring contest began. "Which one is she?" The masked criminal asked.

You strained to hear the reply from across the room but it sounded like, "I ain't telling you s__t!"

From your hiding spot you watched the remaining two thieves emerge from the back with large duffel bags leaking with banknotes. They gathered around their leader who was still arguing with the civilian caught having a phone.

"What's with him?" A thug asked.

"I recognized him from my old gang. Caught him sending out a text requesting backup with the code word Nightfall. Spread out and find her. This.. 'bank robbery' just got interesting."

Nightfall. You swallowed and tried not to draw any attention to your position. You knew what that meant.

Should your life ever be in danger, Joker created Nightfall and Daybreak procedures to protect his Light. Only insiders within his gang should have the knowledge to know what it entailed and who it protected.

You could handle a typical robbery– stay down and be quiet until the authorities showed up (what was taking the cops so long anyways?) but it wasn't safe here with your codename compromised. You had to leavenow.

They were beating up Joker's goon to try and extract more intel from him. You hated to use his suffering to your gain but while they were distracted, you pulled out your own cell to call Joker.

You prayed that he would answer since he rarely did. You sighed in relief when he picked up the phone on the second ring.

And for once he cut right to the chase. "What's going on?"

"They're robbing the bank. I need–" Anything else you were fixing to say was cut short when someone took your phone. Joker called out your name in panic.

Joker saw the distress message your security detail sent to the group chat and he was already throwing on his purple coat to rush to your location. He was taking the stairs down to your lobby but he froze when he heard a gunshot and you scream in pain.

All the air left his lungs hearing absolute silence before the call was disconnected.

Joker had to sit down for a second to process what he heard. His mind went over every possible scenario. He knew the odds but deep down he prayed to every higher power that you were still alive. You had to be or he would go even more insane.

By the time Joker and men arrived at Darth HL. Bank it was swarmed with GCPD pigs and other emergency personnel. They all whispered the same verdict. A robbery gone horribly wrong.

No survivors and almost two million dollars was missing.

Coroners were still wheeling out body bags and Joker's life screeched to a halt watching each one being loaded into white vans. None would leave the premises until he was triple sure none of them held your body.

"Check. Every. Last. One." He ordered.

Frost wanted to rest his hand on Joker's shoulder but thought against it. J was slowly losing his grip on reality and his body tremors became more pronounced as more bodies were wheeled out the bank.

Thirty two bags in total. Thirty two times his heart would race until grief slowly kicked in.

It couldn't be true. He refused to believe his Light was gone. You kissed him goodbye over an hour ago. You promised you'd be back! Joker refused to imagine a life without you in it, so he simply chose not to. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny until he knew for sure.

This did not happen at a tiny bank with only two locations in the entire city. You assumed smaller banks were protected from robberies and you weren't wrong. Larger corporations like The Bank of Gotham or Gotham Merchant's Bank were the usual targets amongst thieves. Bigger banks meant more money.

Joker had never heard of Darth or whatever HL. stood for until today, although his mind visualized the bank's logo that he saw on a letter one or twice. Some kind of bird carrying a tree branch in its beak.

It was a useless detail in the clog of his dark depressing thoughts. He couldn't think straight.

Why did you leave when he practically begged you to stay? So what if the banks were closed tomorrow? If you needed the money, Joker had plenty of it! It didn't make sense why you insisted on doing such a mundane task when cuddling with Joker was a far better alternative. Now his Light was gone and the world seemed so dark without you in it. Joker honestly felt like throwing up.

Over the throng of investigators roaming about and the sound of cameras snapping evidence, Joker heard an officer talking to the Commissioner.

"Sir, we might have a hostage situation here. We went over the security tapes and the suspects were seen carrying a young female along with the money out the back."

"Was she?..." Commissioner Gordon trickled off. The officer assumed he was asking about her status and weighed in.

"Alive, but it appears she's injured. I'm sorry, the footage is really outdated to be sure. This bank doesn't have modern security measures. Heck, their panic button isn't up to code. Could've saved their lives and alerted us sooner if it were. We won't know any more information until we get Analysis to clean up the footage back at HQ."

"Alright, good work Rodriguez. Let's work with what we got to create a description for the missing persons."

Their conversation was the spark that gave Joker hope. A possible female hostage. It would explain why he couldn't come to terms with you being gone. He felt it in his bones that you were still alive. He was a fool to not trust his gut.

Frost and the others regrouped after a while and gave Joker even more hope. "She's not in any of the bags. We.. we can't find her Boss." Mac sighed.

"That's because she's alive." Joker said.

The trio glanced at each other with mixed emotions. Denial was the first stage of grief and it was hitting Joker hard. Frost was the closest to J personally so he decided to be the bearer of bad news to his old friend.

"J, I know you... cared for B deeply.. but she's gone."

If looks could kill, Frost would be dead ten times over.

Joker's eyes were frozen pine staring at his right hand man. "My Light is not dead. One female hostage. I want her found." He growled.

There was no point in trying to convince Joker. Until he had tangible proof that proved otherwise, he would staunchly believe that you're alive. They all nodded and spread out to get leads yet there was still uncertainty in the air.

What if this was all for naught and if so? Who would remove the wool from Joker's eyes so he could see the truth?

It took Joker and his men two days to find out who was responsible for taking you and another day just to track them down. You were alive after all. Getting you back however proved to be quite the challenge.

Gotham City was a huge landmass consisting of three connecting islands but Joker would leave no stone unturned in his search to find you. If he had to personally search every alleyway, then so be it.

He would not stop until his Light was safe in his arms, right where you belonged.

Deep in Chinatown and ironically not too far from where you and Joker first met, you were lying on an old, dirty mattress. You had a nasty cough and you could barely keep your eyes open for longer than a minute due to fatigue.

The four men that kidnapped you were standing around arguing amongst themselves and paid you little mind.

"This has gone on long enough! He's looking for her like a bloodhound. It's not a matter of if, but when he tracks her down, we're dead meat! We should cut our losses while we're still alive."

"I agree with Scotty. We should split the money and dip. We can't be on the run forever. He's got too much rep and power to try and escape as a group." The first two thugs nodded their heads right as another tossed in his two cents.

"Woah woah, wait a min. We can't just bail." He gestured to you lying on the floor. "She's seen all of our faces! That b__ch will rat us out! We should off her now."

Scotty took offense to that and bared his teeth. "You think she's in any position to snitch?"

You coughed again and they all glanced at you before returning to their meeting. It was going on day three and they were running out of safehouses to take refuge in. Right when they would settle in, Joker and his men would find the hideout, forcing them back on the run. This was the tenth move so far and each one put a strain on your already deteriorating health.

"Yall a bunch of pussies! Go ahead and run but the money stays with me. I'm the only one that deserves it!" Their leader said.

His comment quickly received backlash amongst the other three.

"Are you smokin dick? What's a dead man gonna do with all that money? He's gonna find her, kill you, and then us for helping your stupid a**. D__n it! I knew I should've said no when you hit me up. It's never a simple job with you!"

You felt like your chest was on fire and you jackknifed into a semi sitting position to cough. The sudden movement pulled at your wound. You were pretty sure it was infected and your fever was a result of the lack of medical attention administered to it. Between your blood loss and dehydration, they were unknowingly killing you.

"Can I please have some water?" You asked anyone in general. You tried opening your eyes but the light in the room was enough to have you cringing away like a newborn.

One of the guys was soft on you and bent down to help you drink from a plastic bottle. It was obvious that you needed help.

He guided the bottle to your lips. "Don't drink it too fast, there ya go. How's your head?"

Your voice cracked, "Still h-hurts." Scotty helped you lay back on the mattress before checking on your wound.

Upon first sight, it was still reddish brown from both dried and fresh blood. He peeled back the crudely made bandage– tossing out a half-hearted apology when you groaned, only to grimace at the infected entry wound.

"Judging by your ugly mug it ain't looking too good." Another guy bent down to take a look but Scotty batted their hand away. He didn't want anyone else touching you.

"She has a fever..." Scotty said. His leader scoffed and stood up, "Listen man! She needs medical attention!" He begged. Was he the only one around here with a heart?

"F__k that, we need a plan. The Joker is closing in on us and if I go down..." Their so-called leader laughed sharply to himself. "Y'all are going down with me."

Tires screeched outside and the remaining two thugs rushed over to the window to check it out.

They watched as some average, low level looking guys stepped out and walked into the apartment building across the street. For now, the coast was still clear.

"I've had it man! It's like I'm paranoid or something. Every little thing is making me jump and it's all because you," He pointed at Rico, "Got too greedy! You three can stick around and spend the money, whatever; I'm out." He grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair and left.

The remaining thugs stared at each other in silence. If Joey walked out on a job then it was serious.

"Look, Rico. I respect you man but Scotty got a point. This job has gone on long enough. Look at her. She's sick because you shot her like some deranged idiot and now you dug a hole you can't get out of. I'm not going down for your mistakes! Whatever you need the money for, is it really worth your life? We're talking about The Joker here. You gotta be ten toes down confident there's a way out before you get us all killed."

It was quiet for a moment until Joey burst through the door in a panic. He locked it back shut and started to frantically load his gun.

"Woah, what's got you all spooked?" Mike asked with a laugh.

"The clown. He's here! I told you he'd find her! Ohhhhh man, we're so f__ked!"

Everyone talked at once trying to make sure Joey wasn't pulling their leg.

"Whaddya mean 'the clown is here?" Mike asked outright. Then Scotty chimed in, "Did you see him for yourself?"

Joey shut them all up with a wave of his arms. "No! No! But I saw his trio! They were coming up the stairs when I spotted them! There was no other way out so I came back!" He turned to look Rico in the eye. "What do we do?"

"It was just those three?"

Joey nodded, "Yeah." He frowned when Rico laughed before responding. Their leader just brushed off his concern like it was nothing.

"No need to get bent outta shape, their lightweights! Especially the blond. He's just a frat boy playing henchmen, trust me." They all shared a laugh but Joey didn't join in.

He saw the look on their faces. Joker's men meant business.

There was nothing to laugh at in his opinion and he spoke up again to try and talk some sense into everyone else. "W-What about the other two? I heard the rumors. Frost is supposedly ex-military and the other guy is like some mercenary for hire."

You snorted in the background, "I'd start praying if I were you. Like it'll do you any good."

Your taunts triggered another coughing fit right as Rico heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He spun around to snap at Scotty. "Shut her up!" He hissed.

"I'm sorry." Scotty said to you before he covered your mouth and pinned your hands down.

It was a temporary fix to silence you as the roar of footsteps went past the apartment door. Everyone held their breath as they passed over and kept going. Rico watched them through the peephole with his hand hovering over his gun.

They all breathed a sigh of relief until Scotty yelped when you bit his palm.

You couldn't breathe. You sucked in some air so you could cough, much louder this time, and that ended with a concerning wheeze. The walls of the rundown apartment they held you in were paper thin and not the best for hiding. You easily gave away their position.

Rico turned to order Scotty to move you into the only bedroom right as the front door was kicked in.

Joey was the first to go. His body dropped dead and the other three scrambled for cover right as a shootout began. Only six shots rang out before Joker's voice silenced all motion.

"Mac! If you accidentally shoot my Light I'll rip your f__king head off!"

Joker sounded frayed and pissed. This wouldn't end well.

Mike and Rico dragged Joey's dead body out of the way before they took cover behind the couch that separated the small living room from the kitchen. Then they listened to their unexpected guests arguing.

"What do you suggest we do then, J?!" Mac yelled back. Joker scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. "Uh. Knock before you enter?"

"Unbelievable." Mac whispered to himself.

A gloved hand emerged from the hallway to playfully rasp against the door. "Knock knock, uhh anyone home?"

You cried out when Scotty tried picking you up. Joker heard you and poked his head in to locate you. "Bunny?!"

Frost dragged J back into the hallway right as a shot missed his head. They both looked at the bullet hole in the wall with intrigue. These common thugs were packing some heat.

"Uh thanks for the save." J said. Frost just shook his head.

He gestured for Mac to do this thing. The former frat boy grinned and raised his voice to carry into the apartment.

"Well that was a little too close to comfort! Let's negotiate boys before the landlord starts charging damaging fees! Hand over the girl nice and easy and we'll leave the way we came. No fuss, no muss."

"Yeah right. As if you'll let us live! WE AIN'T STUPID!" Rico yelled right back. He stole a glance at you being corralled into the bedroom. You were sweating bullets and you looked absolutely miserable.

He still had the upper hand here. If he was gonna die here, he might as well get his revenge before heading out.

Rico yelled at his former boss across the way.

"Does she mean the world to you, Joker?" It was a rhetorical question yet he paused for dramatic effect, before answering it himself.

"Of course she does. You wasted thousands of dollars on her security. We risked our lives for some b___h we never met!"

"And? Your point?" Joker dragged out. Was this guy's problem? Risking your life was a part of the job description.

Mac and Neo both shared a 'is this guy for real?' look.

"That nasty cough you heard? That's nothing compared to the gunshot wound to her stomach. My gift to you for all the s__t you put me through!." Rico yelled.

The bedroom door slammed shut with you inside and that was Mike and Rico's cue to start fighting back.

It was two against four but the odds were in their favor with the apartment layout. They could pick off Joker and his goons the second they walked through the door. Revenge was within his grasp.

Too bad Rico didn't take into account Joker's desperation to get you back. J had only a brief glimpse of the room when he poked his head in earlier but he got a vague layout of the place in that timeframe.

With you tucked away in the bedroom, all Joker had to do was aim at the old leather couch the two thugs were hiding behind.

Joker nodded at Neo who was scoping the angles with his gun. The mercenary gave the thumbs up. He had a clear shot. J knew Neo would take it with no hesitation.

Mac saw the confirmation and sighed dramatically. As a farce, he tried to make one final deal.

"You sure you don't wanna settle? One million each, with immunity, we won't hunt you down blah blah jazz? We just want the girl back. There's no need for bloodshed."

"F__k you and—"

Neo didn't let them finish their sentence. It only took four rounds to pick off his targets.

It ricocheted off the ceiling light and the walls before sinking into the target. Frost and Joker rushed in and found the door to the bedroom before their bodies had time to hit the floor. Joker could hear the final thug inside freaking out along with you trying to calm him down, in between gasps of air.

"Scotty l-listen to me.. I can protect you. You've been so kind to me.. You have to... drop your weapon though. Please. Stand behind me. Let me s-save you."

"You can't help me! He's gonna kill me! I'm sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry."

Frost glared at J when they both heard you start to panic. Joker didn't care about the outcome; he just kicked the door in, saw Scotty holding a gun to your head and reacted.

"S-Stay back! I'll.. I'll do it!"

Joker threw a knife and it sunk into your captor's neck, killing him instantly. You fell with Scotty's dead weight and groaned when you landed on your wound.

Hands quickly pulled you away and you briefly noticed Mac, Frost, and Neo securing the room before your focus landed on Joker.

His eyes were frantically scanning you all over and they widened when he saw your infected gunshot wound. These idiots shot you in the stomach and failed to give you medical aid. Joker's worries shot to the roof seeing the wound oozing blood and pus.

You were burning up and losing unconsciousness.

"Bunny? Bunny, look at me?! No no noooo, stay with me, Y/n. C'mon doll." He cupped your cheek and gently patted it to keep you alert. He hated seeing your eyes struggling to stay open.

The adrenaline rush of Joker coming to save you had up and left. The only thing that remained was a splitting headache and a numb feeling that was spreading all over.

It had been three days since you kissed Joker goodbye and at times, you thought you'd never see him again. Now he was here, holding you close, pleading for you to keep your eyes open— but you were so tired.

He yelled at Frost to page Sarai when he saw your eyelids flutter close again. The doc would know what to do in this situation. Joker could only hold you close and keep you conscious until she arrived. There was no way he would risk trying to move you in such a fragile state.

"I'm sorry Joker." Your timid voice immediately gained Joker's attention.

"Nothing to be uh, sorry for mypretty girl."

"I.. it took longer t-than an hour." You reached up to cup Joker's cheek. He kept your hand there with his own.

"I am never going to a bank. Never again." You weakly jerked your head over at Mac. "Get him to do my finances from now on." You whined.

Joker cracked a smile watching you go back and forth with his book keeper. If you had the energy to make jokes then you'd be perfectly fine. Sure you'd have a nasty scar and a brutal recovery process, but nothing you couldn't handle with Joker by your side.

Joker looked up at Frost with a smug grin. "See? Told ya my Light ain't dead."

#clingy!joker #thanks for the ask!#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #joker x y/n #heath ledger #reader insert #ledger!joker #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #heath joker #dark knight joker #joker x reader #ledger!joker x reader #his lighthouse #joker x you #joker x black!reader #heath ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker x black!reader

74 notes · View notes

havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years ago

Text

Guardian angel?

***Reader Request***

Note: This request struck me in such a way that I wanted to really give it the old college try for them. Please, I hope that whoever you are, my anonymous friend, that you please begin to write! You have such a creative mind to have come up with this lovely, unique, and thoughtful prompt! Even if you just write a paragraph to get your feet wet, I’d be so happy to know that you did it! And please, if you haven’t already, feel free to send this prompt to other blogs that write TWD fanfiction, too! It may help you with your creative process, or it might simply help you feel joy to escape for a while inside more, and better, and different versions of it!

Perspective - 2nd person reader and 3rd person Daryl **the switches in perspective sometimes imply a time jump**

When - Quarry, pre-Rick

Relationships - Confused and protective Daryl x (therapist!) reader

Genre - pretty fluffy, but be mindful of the TWs

TWs - language, season 1 Merle doing his sexual harassment thing, and discussion and plot involving some mental health concerns

Word count - I ain’t gotta tell y’all nothing

Pronouns - she/her

You

“...Thank you for listening, sweety,” she whispers. The poor woman looks embarrassed. “I don’t know why I told you those things, it was silly of me – ”

“Why do you think that, Carol?” you cut in gently. “That you needing to get something off your chest and feel supported for a while is silly?”

She doesn’t answer anything at first. She just looks down at her hands and starts to absent-mindedly pick at her fingernails. “There’s no point to it, though, is there?” If her voice was telling the truth, she was near tears.

Gently again, you offer that “Maybe the point is that you simply needed to say something. And that’s a very big step, even if it seems small.”

Carol sniffs, then pecks a little kiss on your forehead before saying she needed to get back to ironing. “You know, I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to know you here. What you do for everyone makes life feel more bearable.”

“Same goes for you.”

She now shakes her head and waves it off in shame, saying that “I take care of the clothes and help cook when I’m not helping my girl get ahead on the homework she’ll never have to turn in.”

“Keeping clothing clean, fresh, and mended is important. It keeps us healthy and gives us a sense of normalcy. Cooking is necessary because eating is necessary,” you remind her with a wry grin. “And as for Sophia’s schoolwork, she needs that little anchor to how things were and that distraction that doing homework provides. And even if the world doesn’t improve soon, you don’t know when those things she’s learning will benefit her.”

At first Carol gets quiet again.“You know what?” she suddenly says.

“What?” Should you be worried? You wouldn’t think so coming from Carol, but...

“Ed has been hoarding some snacks in the glove compartment.” Then a look of peace spreads about her face and she smiles shyly. “Do you prefer oatmeal crème pies or cosmic brownies better?”

“Pardon?”

“You’re right. One of each, then,” she winks.

And before you can protest and remind her (again) that payment is not and never will be required, she holds up a hand, and with a good-humored shrug jokes that “I’d write you a check or wrangle up some cash for this therapy session, but I’m not sure the banks are open today.”

In all truth, you were happy to do it. Especially for someone in her situation.

And yes, one could argue that money was useless these days anyways, but so were the many other things that made money essential (even if that came with both good and bad). But you weren’t about to be calling in favors everywhere you’d tried to do good by offering your services. Everyone at the camp worked together to pull their weight, and this was your way of doing so.

Besides, the quarry camp has far fewer clientele than you used work with before the outbreak. You didn’t even mind having your work cut out for you due to the state of the world; it was your calling. The aspects of your personality that enabled therapy and psychology to come more naturally to you, you had augmented and worked hard to improve with your schooling and training. It gave you a sense of purpose and fulfillment, especially when you could see others growing and healing.

Looking at it objectively, you could also acknowledge without shame that you’d also entered into psychology because wanted to further understand some issues that you had of your own.

You’d always felt tranquil and at ease when you were helping others, yes, and that was a blessing. But every so often, you yourself suffered from panic attacks, nightmares, and night terrors. Those three also fed into each other, as is understandable when considering the nature of anxiety.

We all have something that we’re working on, or our loads to bear, do we not? Simply put, that was yours. It was something that you managed as best you could, for which you always were sure to pray, and for which you had been getting your own professional help before the outbreak.

One of the best ways you had discovered to manage symptoms was through swimming, actually. It was relaxing, and yet you could easily turn it into a workout and properly stress your body out in a controlled, healthy way. The stimulation from the water was enough to center you and ground you, but not too much to overstimulate and further induce upset. And this combined with the weightless sensation offered by swimming was able to ease your panic like nothing else.

And now, since the 24 hour gym with a pool was indefinitely closed, you swam the quarry. You then found that even the very natural, subconscious idea that there could be something in the water somehow aided you in relaxing. Maybe it was just the right amount of an adrenaline rush, perhaps? Especially considering that the quarry had no natural aquatic life, only those few species of fish added for fishing purposes and possibly from flooding in the area.

The human mind is fascinating, isn’t it?

The only catch was that your swims took place at night. Yes, you know, you know it is a risk. Maybe that was an irrational part of yourself, but you allowed it. And considering the perfectly smooth nature of the water, completely void of currents or waves, and that it was a relatively small body of water (even if fairly deep in parts), you accepted the risk and acted smart about it.

Plus, the moonlight and starlight were just as helpful to calming yourself when you’d had an attack. Moonlight was gentler where the sun could be harsh, and don’t even get started on the starlight. You’d never seen so many stars in your whole life! Without light pollution, the night sky was...indescribable. Words can’t do it justice. You could probably spend hours floating on your back just staring up into it.

Tonight you were scheduled for a swim. You practiced a regular routine, which is so important, and would go on extras as needed. And if today’s clear skies had anything to tell you about it, the visibility tonight for stargazing was gonna be out of this world. You couldn’t wait!

Daryl

Sure enough, he heard her get up in the middle of the night again. And sure enough, it was to the damn quarry lake again.

The first time it happened, that he saw her taking a night swim, he nearly yelped like a scared little puppy. The first thing that crossed his mind was that it was a chupacabra swimming for some reason (they were real, dammit), the second was that it was some kind of lake monster or maybe a seal lion or whatever (hey, dead people were walking around and eating the living like a damn horror movie, so why would a sea lion this far inland be too crazy?). The third was that it was a... a mermaid (and nah, no way in hell was he gonna admit that. Plus, he then saw that she had legs...).

And he didn’t want to shout out or nothing since she seemed like she was enjoying herself, so he kept quiet.

But he wondered what in the hell she was doing, swimming alone in the quarry in the dead of night. Crazy woman.

So he then...whatever, just sort of waited around to make sure she got out okay. Didn’t want anyone to have to wake up to a floating corpse.

Then the next time, courtesy of his being a damned light sleeper, he figured out what she was doing down there. He’d been awoken by a gasp, and then heard panting. Obviously, he froze and stopped breathing for a second, embarrassed as hell thinking that he’d overheard something sexual going on (or technically finishing up, he reckoned).

But then he heard a zipping noise belonging to a tent, and next the sound of footsteps heading away, towards the path leading to the quarry instead of towards another tent. And the panting hadn’t stopped, but instead sounded like it was coming from the same person who was walking away, with no other noises other than the cicadas and frogs and crickets. No other voices, no nothing, so he concluded that the person was alone and most likely had been alone.

So, he crawled out of his tent to check it out. Merle was out like a light, so he wasn’t worried about waking him.

Looking down the path, he’d recognized her by the way that she walked. “The little camp shrink,” Merle had nicknamed her. Dunno, she seemed okay enough. Most of the people here seemed to love her, that’s for sure.

So long as she was pulling her weight, he didn’t care. Anyways, he was pretty sure that Merle was still fixing to rob everyone eventually, so them having a shrink would probably be a good thing for after whenever they did that.

That idea still didn’t sit good with him, robbing these guys blind. He kinda, well...the camp seemed okay, is all. Had some decent people in it. And there were kids, c’mon like – stealing from kids was shitty!

Whatever, fuck it. What he thought didn’t matter, it’s about what needed doing. Or something like that. Right?

Anyways, right then he just wanted to know what in the hell was that woman doing at that hour. He half wondered if she was gonna go swimming again. And alone! Crazy woman, damn near acting like geek bait to wander around like that, and acting like ordinary bad luck bait to go swimming in the middle of the night!

So quietly, he followed her, and watched her sit by the water for a few minutes, almost like she was meditating or something.

Then she (shit, look away, Daryl, you ain’t a creep) took off her sleep pants and (c’mon, don’t) waded into the water in her tank top and underwear and (oh, for cyin’ out loud, woman) started swimming.

Guess it wasn’t a one-off thing. So he...stayed. Just to make sure she made it back in one piece. Crazy woman.

You

Lori was struggling over her dead husband and her new feelings with Shane. It was only natural to be confused, even if that fact didn’t lessen the pain. She’d been having marital problems with her husband, Rick was his name, and recognized how poorly she’d begun treating him. She’d even signed up for counseling to help her with those issues, actually, and was going to invite Rick for couples counseling to aid in that. Then he was shot and in a coma. And then he died.

Shane was struggling over the same. He was less open to sharing, as men tend to be, but he felt very conflicted by falling so hard for his dead friend’s (practically brother’s) widow, and so soon after his death. Granted, when someone is in a coma, it’s all relative; loved ones react with both grieving as if the person is already dead and with an assurance that the person will pull through. It was even more confusing for Shane since he’d immediately assumed a fatherly role over that little cutie, Carl. But the high stakes nature of the world these days offered a sort of catalystic agent to relationships of all kinds, be it romantic, platonic, familial. To fall hard and fast was a result of that, so certainly you understood Lori and Shane’s entanglement occurring, especially after they’d been close friends for so long.

Jacqui was struggling with the desire to go on, simply put. That troubled you the most since it was the highest risk. In the times that followed the outbreak, many people had acted to end their own lives rather than keep living in such a terrifying, scary, hopeless-seeming new world. But Jacqui was strong, and that she had reached out was a good sign. She was seeking help, and it gladdened you. And maybe it was a conflict of interest, but she also reminded you of your mother. You’d had more than one nightmare featuring Jacqui in recent weeks.

Andrea would discuss her guilt over not being around for a good deal of her little sister’s life. It was very understandable that they hadn’t been overly close given their age difference, and due to familial reasons. And now all of her fears and desires centered around protecting her little sister.

Theodore – he usually went by T-Dog, but when you two were talking, he asked to be called by his given name – was more open to sharing. He knew that he needed to let go of the worry about the elderly that he’d dropped off at the refugee center, and prayed daily about it, but knew that he needed extra help with accepting that he ultimately would not know what happened, and that he held no control over whatever did happen. He and you also discussed the mistreatment that Merle, another resident of the camp, often slung at him. Racism is such an insidious, monstrous thing.

If only Merle was open to growth and change. Or his younger brother. Those two had grown in a very unhealthy environment, no doubts there. But you had hope and trust that even they would change their tune. All it takes is for someone to realize that it’s okay to open up.

And Jim’s sporadic, little confessions about what had happened to his family were horrifying. The poor man. A lot of camp residents had horrifying stories, and all trauma is trauma, but you had to actively control your shudder when he whispered that the dead people had ripped his family, quite literally ripped them, from his arms.

Which lead you to tonight’s nightmare of Jacqui sacrificing herself and getting ripped from your arms and eaten alive while you were left untouched, even while surrounded by those things. You awoke feeling like you were being choked, then realized that you were experiencing sleep paralysis.

Finally, you were able to wake yourself up fully and were shaking so hard and hyperventilating so strongly that your extremities were numbing and your stomach felt cold and tingly due to the excess oxygen coursing through your bloodstream. You managed to grab your canteen and unzip your tent, wave to Dale on guard duty atop his RV, and stumble your way down to the lake as you practiced your grounding techniques and worked on controlling your breathing.

Daryl

She seemed to have a routine of it, so it ended up becoming his routine, too. He felt like an idiot for doing it – what, was he her guardian angel or something? And yet, he kept at it for over a month.

He just wanted to make sure she didn’t drown, okay? Plus the night sky was damned insane these days, all those stars and shit. And she looked sort of, dunno, nice out there when she swam. It was the way that she floated and looked up at the stars that did it. It made him feel like he could...breathe better, if that made sense?

And the old man had casually mentioned it today, actually. Daryl thought he was gonna get chewed out by him for thinking he was a creep, but Dale had just explained that it was simply something that Y/N needed to do to manage (manage what?), and that he was glad that someone else was keeping watch so that he didn’t have to keep leaving his post and climbing down off the RV to make his way down the hill and keep watch on her.

Dale also had the honest balls to admit “I was initially worried, to tell you the truth, that you may have begun following her to do something inappropriate. But whenever I checked, you were merely leaning against that tree with your arms crossed or sitting down on that rock as if you were in a waiting room.”

Maybe it was because he felt somewhat exposed that he snapped back “Somebody’s gotta make sure that bitch don’t drown.”

“Now Daryl, I know that you have a good heart; please refrain from using such a contentious word to refer to women.”

You

Tonight was a really bad one. Really bad. You had to keep at your grounding techniques and breathing exercises for far longer than usual. You’d even started to cry, but couldn’t even catch your breath long enough for your sobs to make noises. It felt like a heart attack this time, like you were dying. That hadn’t happened in a long time. It was really, really, fucking bad.

By the time you’d finally calmed down enough to regain feeling in your fingers and stop trembling, you were far too tired to swim. You trudged back up the hill and crashed in your tent without even zipping it up behind you.

Daryl

Well shit. Whatever happened to her tonight was bad as fuck. He was fairly certain it must’ve been nightmares, but like, shit. He’d never had a nightmare where he’d reacted like that. And he’d never seen her lose her cool like that. Shit, man.

Also, she forgot to zip up her tent, so he carefully tiptoed over and did that for her. Who wants to get eaten alive by mosquitos? No one.

Then he noticed Dale waving at him to come over up onto the RV.

“Everything all right, young man? What happened?” he questioned, his brows drawn close.

“Hell if I know. She didn’t even swim, she just seemed to be having a damn meltdown or somethin’.”

“The poor dear,” Dale sighed sadly. Then he patted Daryl’s shoulder and said “It’s very good of you to keep watch over her, son. Very good of you.”

You

It finally happened. You’d had a night terror and woke the whole camp. You played it off as saying there was a very big critter sneaking around your tent that had caught you off guard.

You weren’t sure which you preferred, the nightmares, where you would often remember them but could also consider them after the fact and try to understand them, or the night terrors, that you could barely ever remember but from which you awoke screaming.

You would’ve gone for a swim once the camp was back asleep, but you thought it best to stay in your tent and not risk waking anyone again, considering everyone would be on edge.

Daryl

“Annoyin’ ass bitch, screaming over a raccoon or some shit,” Merle slurred, still half-asleep, half-drunk, or both.

“Just go back to sleep, man, ain’t no big deal.”

“Why your panties in a bunch, little sister?”

“G’night, Merle.”

You

Carol and Jacqui made you coffee the morning after the night terror. “It’s a very refined combination of certified instant dark brew with genuine, powdered non-dairy creamer,” Carol shyly joked.

With a grin and a coy purse of her lips, Jacqui added “And some hot cocoa mix for a nice little somethin’ extra, baby.”

Also, after that morning the camp had cleaned up and took extra precautions to contain their food supplies to limit the amount of critters that might come sniffing about.

And then, you had four nights of peace after that night terror! You still kept your routine of swimming laps and doing centering exercises, but Lord how much better you felt getting some regular, undisturbed rest.

Glenn spoke to you about his family in Michigan and how he felt like he was a bad son for having lived so far from them. Then you two discussed ways to calm oneself and stay centered and focused while out on a supply run.

Amy spoke to you about a similar concern, that of her parents in Florida, and how she couldn’t stop wondering if they had somehow survived, too.

Miranda and her husband both spoke to you separately, each worrying about protecting their children and keeping each other safe, and what do if they, God forbid, lost one another or either of the kids.

And Dale spoke to you, too, but not about himself; about you. He’d noticed your late-night excursions but hadn’t wanted to cause you to feel self-conscious by bringing them up until now.

He then notified you that he would be there if you ever needed to talk yourself, and to of course be careful when you swam so as to not overexert yourself, even if you had “an extra guardian angel” watching over you. You hadn’t expected him to say something to that regard and it surprised you, but you found it very sweet.

Daryl

He was pretty sure he’d narrowed it down whatever was up with her to some nervous issue that gave her those nightmares, but at least she seemed to be having a better time with it this week. She still did those damn night swims, but he didn’t mind.

Okay, he minded a little because he was starting to get damned tired this week in particular, but it wasn’t so bad. He got to see the night sky looking all pretty and shit, and he got to see her floating in the water and gazing up at it, too, just as mesmerized.

He sure was glad that Merle wasn’t in his head or he’d call him a pussy for thinking girly stuff like that.

Whenever Merle asked where he was going if he caught him leaving, he would just grunt that he needed to take a dump and continue on his way.

You

Another nightmare. Another panic attack, though thankfully the attack itself was mild this time. Another walk down to the quarry while focusing on controlling your breathing and grounding yourself before you took off your clothes and slipped into the water.

You got winded after you’d done ten laps, so flipped onto your back to look at the stars. You decided that once you saw three shooting stars or until you yawned, whichever came first, you’d call it quits and head back.

Daryl

She was floating, and that usually meant that she was almost done with her swim. And good, ’cause he was extra tired tonight. Like, so damned sleepy. He kept doing that trap-pinch thing to keep himself from drifting off.

He wished that he could light up a cigarette to help him stay awake, but then she’d smell it and maybe see the flame or the burning end glowing in the dark and would freak and think he was creeping on her.

Whoa, shit, he just nodded off again. Okay, okay, she was still fine, still floating and moving her arms. But she was in an entirely different spot than she’d been before, which meant that he was out cold for at least a minute.

Dammit, Dixon, wake your lazy ass up and quit falling asleep like a damn baby. Drowsy dumbass.

You

“Well ain’t that the prettiest thing I done seen in a while.”

You froze, still ankle-deep in the water. God help you, you wished you were closer to your towel and clothes. And how had you not noticed him coming down the hill?

Well, you hadn’t been looking for anyone, duh. No one but Dale had ever caught you, and you’d been at this for a month and a half! Calm down, Y/N. Control your breaths. Use the panic to your advantage. You can hear better, see better, move faster, and you are physically stronger. Just control your breathing so you can feel better and think more rationally.

“If I’d’ve known this is what I’d find tonight, I would’ve had me a wash, sugar.”

“Merle. I don’t want you looking at me. Turn around so that I may put the rest of my clothing back on,” you told him, your voice somehow calm and clear.

“You ain’t my usual type, but those curves are delicious and you got a real pretty face. Ain’t harming no one by just lookin’ and appreciating, am I princess?”

“You are. It’s causing me distress, which is harmful even if not physically so. Turn around, Merle.”

“All right, all right,” he relented, and did indeed spin around. “But you should know that even without reaching down and rubbin’ it, I am so damned hard for you right now.”

“That you are feeling aroused is unwanted knowledge and I feel unsafe hearing you discuss it. Stop.”

“You sound tense, girl. A quickie could just what you need to chill a bit. You’re a shrink, so you know how it is. Say the word and I’ll get on my knees and eat –”

“Stop talking and go back up the hill. Now.”

“Just sayin’ it could be fun,” he whined, hands raised. “We could wake the camp together screamin’ this time for much more fun reason than gettin’ spooked by some little critter.”

“I will wake them up right now if you don’t back off!” you growled at him.

“Merle!” another voice suddenly shouted from the trees. “Get your ugly ass on out of here!”

Daryl

He’d fallen asleep? He’d actually fallen so asleep that he’d missed that his damned brother has showed up? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, what the fuck, man?

It was only when he’d heard her shout for someone to back off that he jolted back awake and saw what was happening.

Granted, he wasn’t sure what was happening, but he saw Merle (Merle!) standing at the shore and her standing a ways away, still ankle-deep in the water, and drew conclusions about the rest.

He may have been stupid, but not that stupid; he knew what his brother could be like. He didn’t think that Merle would go so far as to try anything, but he could still say some pretty nasty shit. Seemed to get off on it.

Cue Daryl to bark at for him to “Get your ugly ass on out of here!”

“There he is! So is this where you been sneakin’ off to, sly devil? Play with yourself while this fine little mama swims around?”

“I weren’t doing none of that shit, nasty bastard, now get out of here!”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” he sneered, rolling his eyes. “Even though you’re still a sweet little virgin, ain’t ya?” he added, low enough that probably only Daryl could hear. Merle then smirked and turned around, arms up in surrender. But not before he made sure to say “But hey, I would’ve been gentle with her.” A glance back at her with that shit-eating grin. “’Til you begged me to give it to you harder, ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Daryl had no idea why he was ready to curb stomp his brother’s cracker ass but holy shit, he was.

He watched as Merle made it up to the top before finally finding the wherewithal to say something to Y/N.

“He’s an asshole. M’sorry,” he mumbled to her.

You

Inhale through your nose for five seconds, exhale through your mouth for five seconds. Feel the water as it moves around your ankles. Smooth and cool. Feel the rocks and pebbles and sand underneath your feet. Rough, hard, and grainy. Hear the insects buzzing and chirping. Feel the breeze gently flowing. Smell the wet earth scent tickling your nose. Inhale for five, exhale for five...

“He’s an asshole. M’sorry,” Daryl mumbled to you, interrupting your centering exercise.

Your voice is unsteady as you reply “You aren’t at fault for his actions, Daryl, remember that.” Inhale. Exhale. “Thank you for convincing him to leave.”

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m not okay right now, but I will be soon,” you answer truthfully. You look up to see him facing away from you. That was unexpected, but very welcome.

“Here, um, lemme, um,” and he cautiously sidestepped towards your pile of clothes and your towel, picked them up, and sidestepped a little closer, arm extended. You grabbed the clothing and he immediately took a few steps away.

And he still hadn’t glanced in your direction even once. For that, you were grateful. You would have felt exposed and vulnerable even if you weren’t only wearing a sports bra and undies.

“Your brother alluded to you coming out here multiple times,” you spoke, toweling off and throwing back on your pajamas as fast as you could.

“I wasn’t doin’ nothing dirty, I just wanted to make sure – well, the first time it was an accident...” he trailed off.

“Why did you continue, Daryl?”

“You were swimmin’ alone. at night, in the dark. That’s risky.”

“That doesn’t quite answer my question.” You were using your professional voice, gently and calmly asking questions in an attempt to elicit an honest answer. “Why did you continue?”

“...Didn’t want you to drown. And you s-sometimes seemed all panicked and shit, and – I dunno, m’sorry, alright? Geez,” and with that, he started to scurry away back up the hill with his tail between his legs.

Before you could call out for him to slow down, he stopped and turned around to ask again “Wait, you’re okay now or do you need me to stay?”

Daryl

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Dumbass, idiot, asshole, Daryl!

‘Or do you need me to stay?’ Why in the hell would she want him to stay?

Sure yeah, he’d been worried and wanted to see if she was gonna pass out or some shit, but he wasn’t that stupid (you sure about that?) to think that she’d want any more of his help after finding out he’d been watching her swim all this time!

Damn it. He just didn’t want her to drown is all! How shitty would that be, to have someone as damned sweet and loved as she was to kick the bucket from something like that? He’d never forgive himself!

“Yes, please,” she answered him.

What?

“Having you stay for a few minutes and walk back with me would be very welcome, Daryl.”

What?

She did? It would?

“I have an anxiety disorder, and these swims are a good way to manage symptoms,” she explained, seemingly very at ease with the fact. Then she paused to do that breathing thing again. “It also aids in my recovery after a particularly bad attack or nightmare, or after a night terror, of course.” Next, she looked at him and smiled. “Please come back, I won’t bite.”

So he did, awkwardly, (why are you so damned awkward?) and he wondered why on earth she’d not want to pummel him in the gut and rip him a new one. Unless she was about to?

“Can I help, or...?” he nervously asked her.

“In all truth, yes. Please rub my hands? It’ll help get the sensation fully back faster.”

So he took her hands in his and did as she asked. Weird thing was it was almost as if her hands were...electric or some shit. In a good way.

“You seem worried, Daryl. What’s going through your mind?”

“A lot. What’s goin’ through yours?”

“A lot,” she chuckled, her breathing just about back to normal. “Mainly that you must be the ‘guardian angel’ Dale mentioned a few weeks ago.”

“He what?”

“He used to make sure I was okay when I had my swims. Tried to be discreet about it, but he’s isn’t the most spry sort,” she said with another smile, her body relaxing as she closed her eyes. When she did that, he felt...relaxed, too.

“Anyways, he mentioned that an ‘ extra guardian angel’ was looking out for me. He isn’t the most religious of people, so that struck me as unusual. But it makes sense now. He knows that you’ve been keeping watch, I presume?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered back. Damn, this bitch was – sorry! Damn, this woman was quick, he meant.

And kind. And nice to be around.

How had it taken him so long to figure that out?

You

“That’s also why I’m not angry with you, in case you were curious. If Dale trusts someone, so too will I. And everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“M’sorry,” he mumbles again.

The poor man’s self-esteem was in the gutter, just look at him.

“I forgive you for whatever you think you’ve done wrong,” you offer. “But I would really like to thank you, Daryl, very much. For putting your own rest on hold to make sure that I was safe.”

You start to slowly walk up the hill now, and he trudges beside you. You peer at him and wonder if he might share, even if a little, if you tried. “Was it difficult to have to stand up to your older brother like that, or would you say that that’s a facet of your relationship – that you can call each other out when needed?”

He frowns slightly when he considers your question. “Merle’s...I dunno, Merle’s sort of...”

And you feel warmth in your very soul when he shyly starts to open up.

249 notes · View notes

discopig · 3 years ago

Text

That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 2/3]

Okay so I’ve made a few improvements, first one being I won’t be writing at 2 AM after 4 hours of sleep because I read back part one and honestly wanted to shoot myself, I also added paragraph/scene dividers because the first part was very messy and I kept fucking up the tenses! My imagination has been going wild for this fic so I need to calm myself. I don’t intend for this to be a long story, I hope to finish it by the next part. Hope you guys enjoy :))

Part 1 | Part 3

Warnings: implied family abuse, swearing (doesn’t even need to be a warning)

Word Count: 1,452

You stared at the woman at the door, what seemed like millions of thoughts rushing through your mind at once. She was beautiful. Not to say you weren’t beautiful yourself, but insecurity seemed to be the main component of the blood flowing through your veins at the sight of her. She looked like the models you would see at the fashion shows your mother would take you to as a kid, and she made the plain barmaid’s uniform look like the most expensive piece Chanel could offer.

The woman’s eyes darted between you and harry as she spotted the two of you together.

“Thanks for the help” Harry said, taking the glasses from the basket the woman carried them in. As though he forgot something, he quickly turned around after placing them on the counter behind the bar.

“Grace” he acknowledged the woman, “this is Y/N, your co-barmaid” he said, turning to you.

You were secretly hoping she was just here on delivery for the shop Harry had bought the glasses from, and wished so deeply she wasn’t the barmaid he had mentioned earlier, but alas, she had to be.

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you” she smiled extending her hand towards you

“Likewise” you gave her a small smile, taking her hand and shaking it

“Harry’s told me a lot about you, about how you help him around the bar and whatnot, how good you are at dealing with the rowdy customers” You picked up on her Irish accent

"Well, that’s nice to hear. Are you not from Birmingham?” you questioned

“Oh no, I’m not. I only got here about a week ago. I used to work at a bar in Galway, so I got quite lucky to be able to get a job at a bar here” she replied.

Quite lucky I sprained my fuckin’ ankle you mean. You mentally scoffed at her

“That is quite lucky” you laughed

By now Harry had left to sort out the glasses in storage, so you figured you might as well pry for something out of her

“So Harry tells me you’ve been serving the Shelby boys while I’ve been gone, you know they’re trouble?” You asked, staring into her eyes, trying to gauge any sort of reaction you could receive. She seemed unfazed.

“Well, they’ve been quite nice to me, given me lots of tips”

“Is that so? Who’s been giving you tips?” They never gave you tips, even on the busiest of nights when you were running back and forth serving their requests for beer which seemed to come through ever 10 fucking seconds

“Uh, the tall one” John. Damn him.

“Ah, I see, hopefully it was good money” you ‘beamed’ at her, trying to be friendly

“Good enough” she laughed back

“So what brings you to Birmingham?”

“My father passed away and I just needed a change of scenery” she replied, her eyes showed sadness, so you figured her father passing couldn’t be a lie, but a change of scenery in Birmingham? Yeah right. Maybe on some farm surrounded by chickens and mosquitoes, or in some tropical American city, but not in Birmingham. Most people want out, not in, unless they have good reason to favour the latter.

“I’m sorry to hear that”

“It’s okay, he was quite old anyways, I had expected it at some point” she replied with a half smile, eyes still sad.

You both sat in silence for a moment until you spoke “I’ll be back next week to help out” you looked towards the door, more customers starting to pile in, Harry back from the storage room, rushing to get their orders, and back at Grace “things are starting to get busy, I won’t hold you any longer. It was nice meeting you” you smiled at her, getting up from your seat and heading out of the Garrison, trudging to the betting shop.

The Shelby family were in the midst of a family meeting, discussing business you honestly didn’t care much about, thoughts racing with how you were going to have Thomas’ head on a stake.

“That copper, is going to try and bring this family down with every fuckin’ cell in his body” Thomas exclaimed

“What copper?” you asked. Thomas looked at you like you had just asked him if the sun was a rock

“Campbell. We’ve been talking about him this whole meeting Y/N” you could tell he was annoyed, but you didn’t care

“When did he get here? When did this start?” you asked

“Why does that-” Thomas started

“Answer the fucking question Thomas Shelby” you interrupted

“About a week ago, he worked as a copper in Ireland, and has come with his troops to Birmingham to try and ruin all of my fucking plans. Keep up please!” He replied, clearly frustrated.

Ireland?

You knocked on the door to Thomas’ office and waited before you heard a low “Come in”

You walked into his office, Thomas looking down at some papers, and sat down on one of the chairs at his desk

“How are you liking the new barmaid?” You asked, staring him down.

At the mention of the barmaid he looked up at you, a mix of panic and annoyance flashing in his eyes

“She does her job Y/N. What else can I think of her? He replied with a sigh at the end

“Oh I’m sure she does her job well enough for you to be having secret meetings with her” you replied, venom laced in your voice. You were starting to get angry, and him behaving as though he was annoyed by your presence wasn’t making it any easier

“Y/N what are you-”

“Don’t fucking what me Thomas Shelby! Harry told me all about the lovely interest you’ve taken to her, enough so to meet with her every fucking day! Did you fuck her?! If you did you better tell me because so help me God if I find out from-”

“I did not fucking sleep with her Y/N will you PLEASE calm down?” Thomas yelled, his voice booming through the office

“If you didn’t sleep with her then what did you do?”

“We just talked” he answered, as though everything was normal

“Just talked?! Have you forgotten that you have a girlfriend Thomas, a girlfriend who had a sprained fucking ankle and couldn’t walk, who you could’ve come to any time to just talk?! You think I’m supposed to believe that’s all you did? Why would you just talk to her and not me?!” You were screaming again, your anger reaching a tipping point

“Because she isn’t like you Y/N!”

You looked at him, visibly confused

“She didn’t grow up with daddy’s loaded bank account in some posh city, she’s genuine, like a breath of fresh fucking air in this place! She gets me, and I get her, and she happened to be there when I needed someone to talk to! Is that so bad?!” You stared at him dumbfounded, not only had he implied that he could not come to you -his girlfriend- when he needed someone to talk to, he also brought up your family and history, knowing damn well the riches your family had, meant nothing to you, constantly overshadowed by the yelling, bruises and loneliness.

The true weight of his words seemed to register with him as regret flashed in his eyes under your dumbfounded, yet angry gaze

“Fuck you Thomas Shelby. Fuck you. She’s working with that fucking copper”

He moved to say something but you quickly interrupted him

“I know you did your stupid background checks, I asked Arthur about it. She’s not from fucking Galway, she never worked in any bars, meaning she lied about everything, and she, your lovely Irish angel shows up at the same time that copper does, and you still willingly walk into her presence every damn day while your girlfriend is alone, to talk?! To fucking talk?!”

Thomas was visibly getting angrier as you accused her of working with Campbell, moving to defend her

“Don’t you think you’re going too far?! I get you’re jealous but you can’t just make shit up!”

You scoffed

“Polly was right about men only being able to think with their cocks. Even you, the oh so smart Thomas Shelby, are a blind fucking idiot. Fuck you, I never want to see you again, you hear me? You can go talk to that fucking barmaid as much as you want” You spat, leaving his office with a loud slam of his door, catching John’s worried eyes as you stormed out of the shop. Your ankle was radiating with pain, but you ignored it as you stormed home.

Fucking Shelbys.

#cillian murphy x reader #Cillian murphy fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder x reader

264 notes · View notes

just-mars-writing · 3 years ago

Text

“We’ll see about that” Part 1

next>

Fandom: Enhypen

Member: Jay x reader

Genre: fluff, angst

Reader’s gender: female, she/her pronouns

AU: idol!au (reader is in a rookie girl group, made up names of the other members, Jay is an idol in Enhypen)

Trigger warning: jealous Jay, verbal fights (Reader x Jay, Jay x Sunghoon), let me know if there’s anything I missed!

Summary: Jay starts to notice that Sunghoon, one of his closest friends, has been getting very friendly with his crush, only problem is that he can’t tell him to back off because they’re not together, plus both groups have a dating ban so it’s not like he can act upon his feelings anyways

Word count: 3,067

A/N: hi! so this is my first fic ever, I thought I could start my blog with an actual writing instead of waiting for a request cause that would take too long lol. If there’s any feedback that you want to give me, please do. I would really appreciate it cause I want to improve as much as possible and if you feel like there’s something wrong or offensive with the fic, please let me know and I’ll do better next time. I had the idea for the fic last night, but I was too lazy to turn on my computer but here it is, hope you like it! (also please keep in mind that all the group members of the reader are made up and are not modeled after anyone in specific and they don’t have any face claims. Reader is the third oldest. Jin-Ae, Soo-Yun and Jun are Korean while Naoko and Mi-Sun are Japanese and Ava is American. Reader is from wherever you want her to be. Also the group name was made with a random word generator :) that’s it, enjoy!!)

---

You were getting ready for the third interview of the week, you had debuted two weeks ago alongside six other girls that you would consider your sisters. Their names were: Jin-Ae, Soo-Yun, Jun, Naoko, Mi-Sun and Ava with Jin-Ae being the oldest and Ava the youngest.

You have always seemed to be closest to Soo-Yun and Jun cause you three share the same age and you met in the auditions, you instantly bonded over the nerves that you were feeling at that moment because there were a lot of people watching the auditions and you really, really didn't want to mess up. Once you passed the auditions, you met Ava, she was really shy and wouldn’t talk to you unless you spoke to her first but one day you were assigned as dance partners for some work as a trainee and that’s when you started getting close cause you would see each other almost every day and then you introduced Ava to Soo-Yun and Jun and you three almost adopted her, she was very lonely, she was far away from her home and she didn’t have anyone to go to when things got hard so, you three made a promise to take care of Ava all the time and treat her as family.

You met Naoko, Mi-Sun and Jin-Ae when you were told you were going to debut, you had seen the girls around but never had had a proper conversation with them, so you were really hoping they were nice and got along with everyone else, and they did. You had to do a couple of chemistry exercises where you would bond because your company really wanted your group to be successful and they knew they wouldn’t get that if there was any bad blood between the members. The exercises worked wonders and before you knew it you were performing your debut stage, hundreds of lights shining on your face with big screens behind you decorating and illuminating the dance floor. You were all sweating a lot from dancing and singing and, might as well add you weren’t used to all the cameras pointing at you, especially the one that was recording your fancam because it would definitely capture all your mistakes.

After the debut stage, your group and new had to mentally prepare yourself for all the promotion that you had to do, that meant Mnet stages, Inkigayo interviews, KBS presentations and other things you didn’t even want to think about. That brings you here, to Music Bank, where Wonyoung from IVE and Sunghoon from Enhypen where currently MCing, you were so excited to meet Sunghoon cause he’s part of one of your favorite groups ever and you have always admired him for being able to choose between being an idol or a figure skater which seems so hard cause he put years of effort into figure skating only to realize he wanted to be an idol. Admirable in your opinion.

“Hey y/n, what selcas should I post tomorrow? The ones from the day at the park or the ones that I took just now?” Naoko asked you absentmindedly, snapping you out from your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh! I think you should post the ones from Music Bank when it airs and the ones from the park today when we get out of work” you replied, still a little dazed from the interruption.

“I think you should just post the ones from Music Bank today, that’s what Stray Kids do all the time, they just post their pictures before the interviews air” Mi-Sun says as she overhears the conversation, chuckling lightly at her own example. “That way you can save the other pictures and post them when we’re on a break from work” she adds

“Yeah, yeah you’re right, I’m gonna do that” she concludes in a pensive tone.

“Ok everyone! Be ready in 10 please, we start recording in 20 and we need you all on set by then!” said, very loudly, some lady that you can only guess is the producer or some sort of assistant.

“Alright guys, move your butts and let’s get going, we don’t wanna make a bad first impression,” groaned Jin-Ae as she rose from her seat for the first time in an hour. “Especially not you y/n, judging by the fact that it’s Sunghoon we’re meeting,” she said in a sly tone.

A choir of “oohs” and “aahs” echoed across the room, everyone inside, except for the hair and makeup ladies, who were tidying up their things, knew what was going on.

“Oh, come on Jin-Ae, you told me you weren’t gonna mention it today, plus, it’s not like I have a crush on the guy, I just think he’s cute” you muttered lowly the last part, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ava though she chose to keep quiet cause she knew how much you didn’t like talking about these kind of things in public.

“Yeah, yeah whatever you say” Jin-Ae said, wearing a smirk, in a dismissive but playful tone. “Now let’s get going or we’re really gonna be late” she added seriously

And just like that, you were on your way to the first segment of the show, the first thing you were going to record was the interview part on those little stairs with another group, but you didn’t know what group you would be with, so you were eager to find out. You had your suspicions that it had to be a rookie group too.

“Treasure?” You thought “No, I’m pretty sure they haven��t debuted yet. Maybe TRENDZ? But didn’t they come here not that long ago? Ugh this is so nerve wracking” You started thinking about all the possibilities, who could be here? What other groups are promoting? do they even have to be promoting to be here?

“Hello! It’s really nice to meet you all!” you heard a high-pitched voice say, you had been looking down at the floor thinking about what group you were going to record with, so you immediately looked up to not seem disrespectful. When you focus your vision on whoever the voice belonged to, you realized that it came from none other than the MC herself, Jang Wonyoung. You had never really paid attention to her, but you realized she was as pretty as the tabloids said and you were in awe at that.

“Hi! Nice to meet you too!” you all said in unison. “I’m Jin-Ae, the leader of Picture Perfect, it’s truly a pleasure to be here” she said genuinely. “Thank you so much for having us.” you added in a grateful but composed voice.

“That’s very nice of you,” Wonyoung replied with a beautiful smile that would make anyone stumble over their words. “I’ve been watching your stages and I’m really amazed at them, you guys are so coordinated, it’s truly incredible to see, and your concept is so different from what we usually see in girl groups, very refreshing and bold really.” She rambles on and on about how much she enjoys your music and content in general and you can’t help but feel much more confident than what you did before talking to Wonyoung, you really needed this conversation.

“Wonyoung you’re so sweet, thank you so much, it really means a lot coming from someone as experienced as you” Jun replies.

“No need to thank me, I’m just saying what everyone is thinking.” she says with a grin. “Anyway, we’re just waiting for Sunghoon to finish with hair and makeup and when he’s done with that, he’ll bring TXT with them” she adds but is quickly interrupted.

“Sorry, what? Did I hear that right? TXT?” Ava asked wide-eyed from the information she just heard.

“Uhm yes? Are you ok?” asked Wonyoung, genuinely concerned and confused at Ava’s reaction.

“YES-” she clears her throat, composes herself and tries again. “Yes, I’m okay, I’m just a very big fan of Tomorrow x Together and I didn’t know they were coming here today” Ava chuckles nervously towards the end of her sentence.

“Oh that’s okay, no need to be nervous, they are some of the sweetest most humble guys you’ll ever meet, and I might as well add that they were very excited to be here today with all of you cause they’ve seen and heard so much from you that they can’t wait to see it all live themselves” Wonyoung added in an effort to calm Ava down but it failed seeing that Ava started freaking out even more when she saw the infamous kpop group, walking on the hallway on her direction.

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you everyone, I’m Ava and I’m the maknae from Picture Perfect, I don’t know if you know me or us, but I’m really excited to be meeting you, I’ve been a fan of your work since pre-debut...” And Ava went on and on rambling about how much she loved them, but she grew quiet once she noticed that all eyes were on her and that she hadn’t introduced herself to Sunghoon yet. “I’m sorry” she said bashfully.

“No don’t apologize it’s ok, I’m really glad you like us cause, personally, I’ve been checking out your work and it’s really good, especially for rookies, like I’m sure that if you had more exposure, you would be topping the charts already” Soobin complimented Ava to show his gratitude towards her dedication.

Ava was speechless at that, she didn’t know how to react and so you, being one of her closest friends, decided to step in.

“Uhh thank you Soobin and hi! to everyone!” you chuckled awkwardly. “It’s nice to finally meet you all and hi Sunghoon, thank you for having us here” you added.

Sunghoon froze, he didn’t know what to say, he was speechless and rightfully so cause you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. Granted, as an MC, he should have informed himself a little about who was going to come to the show but truthfully, he had been having a very busy week with all the projects he had been working on so he didn't have the time to look anything up, he just saw the name “Picture Perfect” and “Tomorrow x Together” on the papers he had been given followed by a list of names of all the members that he had to learn but, of course he didn’t bother with the names of TXT cause he obviously already knew them.

“Sunghoon? Don’t just stare at her, talk, don’t be creepy” Wonyoung whispered so as to not embarrass her friend.

Sunghoon shook his head, as if that would help him clear up his thoughts.

“Umm hi, hi hello, pleasure to meet you” Sunghoon mumbled with a shy smile painting his beautifully blushed lips.

“Okay guys, we need you all on the stage, we start rolling in two minutes” The same lady that was in the dressing rooms before exclaimed.

And so, you all made your way to the designated set where the interview was going to take place, the two MCs were reviewing the questions that they had to ask and the lines they had to say, especially Sunghoon, who was very lost with all that. Once you were all placed where you had to be, the lady started yelling commands again to some of the crew members and when she made sure everything was in place, she directed her voice towards you.

“Alright, we’re on in 3,” she started counting down and you could see Wonyoung and Sunghoon fixing up their hair, Wonyoung was next to TXT while Sunghoon was next to your group. “2, 1...”

“The guests we are going to meet today photograph really well,” exclaimed Sunghoon with a small smile.

“And we also have here with us fourth generation leaders that we’re sure you know and love,” added Wonyoung with her beautiful eye smile.

“Picture Perfect and Tomorrow x Together, welcome!” said the two in unison

And the interview went on for three minutes where your group explained your name and your concept in a simple way and TXT talked about an upcoming project of theirs. When you were all done you said your thank you’s and retired backstage to get into more comfortable clothes so that you could go back home.

“Well, this was fun, sucks that we couldn’t do a stage though” Naoko groaned, exhausted from the week that was finally coming to an end.

“Honestly? I’m low-key glad we didn’t have to perform” You confessed

“Why? Did Sunghoon make you that nervous?” Jin-Ae questioned you with a smirk dancing on her face.

“Please! Do you really think some guy would make our ace nervous? Y/n is better than that” Soo-Yun assured Jin-Ae.

Just when those words left her mouth, a knock on the door of the girls dressing room could be heard and everyone stopped what they were doing because they weren’t expecting anyone, but it was Mi-Sun who walked up to the door to answer it.

“Oh, Wonyoung hi, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?” Mi-Sun stammered from the surprise of seeing Wonyoung on the doorway.

“Hi, I’m actually looking for y/n? They told me she would be here” Wonyoung replies without noticing how Mi-Sun’s grin falters slightly.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Mi- Sun replies. “Y/n, Wonyoung is looking for you” she uttered, directing her voice towards the inside of the dressing room.

You walk up to the doorway while Mi-Sun retracts from it, mumbling a quiet “Bye” to Wonyoung.

As you passed her on your way to Wonyoung, you gave her a weird stare cause it’s not often she does things like this, so you made a mental note to ask her later when you two were back at your dorms alone.

“Hey y/n sorry to bother you but I just wanted to let you know that Sunghoon was looking at you- for you, i meant he was looking for you, yeah” she informed you, tripping over her words because she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say

“Why?” you inquired.

“I really don’t know, he just told me to tell you that he will be waiting outside the studio waiting for you when you get out, he told me he has to tell you something important” Wonyoung went on to explain. “He didn’t want to barge in here” she added so that you could understand the reasoning behind him waiting for you and it not being in a creepy sort of way.

“Oh sure, I’ll be on my way in like ten minutes or so, thanks for letting me know.” you gulped, still wary of the situation but not doubting that Wonyoung had good intentions.

“Good! I’ll text Sunghoon to let him know you’re going, goodbye! rest well!”

“Thank you! You too!”

“What did Wonyoung want you for?” asked Jun curiously.

“She wanted to let me know that Sunghoon was looking for me” you stated but it came out sounding more like a question than an answer

“Sounds like the Ice Prince has a crush” Jin-Ae playfully commented knowing it ticked you off.

“Oh, come on Jin-Ae cut it off already, you know he doesn’t want anything like that, he probably just wants to know about us as a group” you replied, mildly annoyed at her.

“If he wanted to know about our group it would have made more sense that he was looking for Jin-Ae though” Soo-Yun added her input to the conversation, and you could hear other members agreeing with her.

“Well, I don’t know, we’ll see what he wants when I’m done with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be” you finalized with a soft smile on your face so that the rest of the girls didn’t think you were mad at them.

With that said, you were on your way to the exit, where you were told Sunghoon would be waiting for you and sure enough, there he was in all of his bleached-blonde platinum haired glory that reflected a green hue because of the “EXIT” sign hanging up above his head, he looked gorgeous looking down at his phone, so gorgeous that you couldn’t help but freeze so you could admire him a bit longer. You stood there, contemplating his beauty, his posture, his grin, everything, but you had to admit that you did prefer him with his dark hair, it looked softer, but you still imagined what it would feel like to run your hands down his fried hair, even if it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, you wanted to know.

You were stirred out of your trance by the sound of a phone ringing, more specifically, Sunghoon’s phone ringing. You saw how his eyebrows furrowed from the unexpected phone call but they immediately softened up once his brain processed the caller ID.

“Sunoo?” you heard Sunghoon question.

Sunoo? As in Kim Sunoo? Of course, it’s Kim Sunoo you dummy, he’s Sunghoon’s group member.

“What’s up? Why did you call? You don’t usually call so randomly” You observed how he was looking down while walking slow steps without a destination. You decided you were going to walk up to him once he was done with his phone call.

“Huh? How did you know? I didn’t even know that much” He sounded confused, and you wondered why.

“Yeah, I get it now she’s great, plus she’s pretty like, really pretty. I understand the fuss around her” Sunghoon chuckled to himself and you could hear a very faint “I KNOW” from the other side of the call you couldn’t help but giggle lowly but apparently it was not low enough, that caused Sunghoon to turn around quickly and he immediately met your eyes, you were making eye contact, at that point Sunghoon was completely ignoring what Sunoo was saying and he quickly interrupted him with a swift “I have to go, I’ll call you back” and he hung up, all while looking intently at you. You were the first to speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just didn’t want to interrupt your conversation, it looked important” You lied. “You see, Wonyoung told me that you were looking for me and that you were waiting here but that must have been a mistake I-” you chattered

“Y/n” Sunghoon interrupted you with an almost cocky grin.

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling”

a/n: hiii, so this is my first fic ever and as you could tell by the title, it’s gonna have multiple part. I know this part is a little boring but it’s basically an introduction to the characters so you could get to know them a little and I promise the drama will start soon :))))

121 notes · View notes

theodora3022 · 4 years ago

Text

Once upon a (fever) Dream

Relationship: Scaramouche x Reader (Gender neutral)

Summary: Scaramouche is unwell with a fever, it's your responsiblity to take care of your superior. Little did you know, overhearing his fever sleep talk would turn your life upside down.

Author's notes: I'm trying to get back into the writing groove! Scaramouche has been on my mind a lot ever since the lore of the pale flame set was datamined. If you are interested in the theory I based my fic on, one of my dear mutuals made this informative post. This is pretty tame and more of a psychological analysis more than a fic tbh.

I will not take any criticism on the theory.

Warnings: SFW, Character study-ish, abundance of internal monologues, use of swear words, hints of speculation on Scaramouche's backstory/identity, power imbalance, possessive and obsessive behaviour, trust issues(??)

"Another day Feelin' like no one really knows me It's okay At least I'm used to being lonely"

-Jake Daniels "The Show"

Scaramouche is having trouble distinguishing the dream realm and the waking world. Tch, this always happens when he falls ill.

Dreams. Stupid, meaningless things he cannot control. Scaramouche is never a fan of them. Sleeping is just a way to recharge one's energy for the following day, so why is this petty factor even a possibility? Memories mixed with random shit. Fever dreams are even worse, because he cannot force himself to wake up, and they might even allow forbidden information to be exposed.

The Balladeer seldom falls ill. But when he does...he needs some subordinates to look after him. Not that he got any other option.

Unpleasant to work with? Talks way too much? Eh, not that he cares. Scaramouche does not see the need to present himself as likeable. Like is a temporary, fragile concept compared to fear.

There was a time in his long life, he thought he was loved...the love he received turned out to be nothing more than one of his past naive self’s delusions in the end. No, it is meaningless in being nostalgic over that.

Damn this Moronic fever, stirring his mind all messy...

Fear is a better alternative, more secure and firm.

"Sir, it's time for your medicine." You knock, hesitating when there is no granting of entry from his end.

This unfortunate task: taking care of the bedridden harbinger has fallen onto you as of late. Being the newest recruit in his sector, of course, your seniors would throw this troublesome work to a rookie like you.

The optimal approach is: Do what you are supposed to do as a subordinate, sprint through the doorway once you complete your tasks. Being in his room longer than needed will only result in harsh insults. That foul mouth does not seem to know any mercy.

"Sir?" You ask again, mentally preparing yourself for the possible scolding before turning the doorknob. Letting yourself in is not a wise idea, however, this is your obligation. Lord Balladeer would be even more upset if you had brought in the medicine at the right time.

"No...Please don't...I promise I'll be-" Is that, sleep talking? Oh archons, why?

Those facial expressions are not pleasant ones. A nightmare, great.

Is there a way to unhear things? You sure wish there is. Scaramouche's life before his service has always been a popular topic of break time gossip among the Fatui. Some say he is of noble birth from that arrogant attitude, some say he comes from a peasant family, there are even absurd speculation about him being a fisherman before. However, his subordinates know better than to gossip in his presence. No rumours were ever confirmed or denied.

Who knows what he would do if the Harbinger catches you "eavesdropping". The mutterings have quiet down now, but you still have paperwork to attend to after this(that he assigned you).

"How much of that did you hear?" Just when you are contemplating whether to poke the sleeping bear or not, that menacing violet gaze has already fixated at you. Did he sleep talk? Scaramouche is uncertain. Still, it is always better to be safe than to be sorry.

At least he’s awake now, no need to wake him anymore. You said to yourself quietly. “Not much, my lord. I will forget everything as soon as possible. Now, time for your medicine.”

That scent makes Scaramouche’s stomach churns. A pot of dark goo and a plate of sugared plums, just like yesterday and the day prior. Wait, wasn’t he-

“How do I know that you don’t go whisper to your friends?”

Efficiency and resilience. Those are the two essential qualities one must possess if one wishes to remain in Scaramouche’s service. He may be a difficult superior, but his sector gets a relatively decent chunk of field missions, therefore it is easier to move up the ranks for new recruits. Who knows when you would get a promotion if you just deal with financial transactions in banks under Pantalone.

Perhaps it is sight of the oh so mighty man in such a fragile state, you are feeling...braver than usual. “My lord, what do I have to gain from gossiping?” Do you focus on unscrewing the cap of the pot, sounding somewhat amused? That unnoticeable curl did not escape his eyes.

When was the last time a recruit dared to look him straight in the eye like this? Scaramouche has no recollection. That immense headache is not helping either. Whatever, what matters now is making sure you do not go slipping off what you heard to others.

After handing the utensils and the pot to your superior, you head outside, prepared to stand in the hallway until he finishes the pot.

“Did I give you permission to leave?”

Aren’t you curious about what he is hiding? Humans love to pry by nature, right? It’s not the first time he had to dispose of those who know too much after all.

“Do you need anything else, my lord?” Of course, he’s not gonna let you off the bat that easily. What were you thinking? Deep breathes, (y/n). It’s not like he is going to electrocute you in this state.

“I wish to keep this head on my shoulders.” In an organization like the Fatui, new recruits are seen as resources that can be disposed of if needed. No one would blink an eye if you were to die of “accidental” death.

“You say that, but your eyes tell a different story.” Since when does he care about what is going in the minds of his subordinates?

“Sir, you can deal with me once you are fully recovered. Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa needs you in top condition as soon as possible.”

Gulping down the thick porridge, the little man then lied down, trying to sleep the fever away. The sensation of the quilt moving almost made him jump, he thought you had left the room already? What do you think you are doing?

Did you pull the quilt up to his chin? It’s not like he needs that cloth, but...this notion.

He’s so adorable when he’s sleeping. You thought as you walked through the door.

Did you just… tuck him in?? That is what’s that called right? Arranging the covers for someone?

You really should know better than treating your superior like some infant. However, that is not a mocking gesture. Scaramouche supposes he’ll let this one slide.

As the door shuts behind you, you hummed a cheerful melody, trying to not think about what would happen once he’s back on his feet. Hopefully, he will let you live on if you try hard enough to prove your usefulness.

You are reckless. You have no idea what you got yourself into.

He just had the perfect way to make sure his secrets remained in safe hands.

Someone else would take care of your current position. What would that leave you? Hmm, a personal assistant would be fitting for someone as caring as you. Personal, somehow he likes the sound of that already. Scaramouche had loathed the idea of having someone tend to his daily life, complete independence is a goal he always strives to achieve. Now...that idea does not seem that horrible after all. Do you even know how to brew tea? You’ll have to learn if not, and quickly too.

His past must remain a secret until the situation calls for it, that much is certain. Unstable variables should be placed under constant surveillance, and Scaramouche can only rely on himself to guard something as important as this.

(A/N: Thank you for reading this character study fic!! Relogs and comments will be greatly appreciated!)

#genshin impact imagine #scaramouche genshin #genshin self ship #genshin self insert #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader

295 notes · View notes

carnationcreation · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there, I love you and your work so so much!!

I was wondering if you could write a Mighty Ducks imagine, about your favorite duck-i just low key wanna know who your favorite is- that is set in the second movie where the reader is new to the team and it kinda starts off as them not liking each other to them kissing? If you need any more ideas I’d be happy to help!!

TITLE: Pride (Adam Banks x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Request: Hey there, I love you and your work so so much!!I was wondering if you could write a Mighty Ducks imagine, about your favorite duck-i just low key wanna know who your favorite is- that is set in the second movie where the reader is new to the team and it kinda starts off as them not liking each other to them kissing? If you need any more ideas I’d be happy to help!!

Prompt/summary: Adam finally has to admit to his pride after he’s injured.

Word Count: 1,298

Authors note: Set in D2! Also I had such a hard time picking cause I love Charlie, Adam, and Luis but I decided to go with my first boy crush from the films! For the vibes listen to Take Yours by Matthew Mole it’s so cute!

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

My laces were tied so tight I could feel the pressure right on top of my foot as I charged Julie in the goal, she barely caught the puck from my slapshot to the top right corner.

“Ugh, almost had it,” I groaned.

“Maybe one day (Y/l/n),” Julie said. I couldn’t see her face because of the goalie mask but I’m sure she had a shit-eating grin on.

I never thought I would make it here, representing my state for the US youth hockey team for the Junior Olympics. The day I got the call I almost passed out from the excitement and anxiety, and today I almost puked getting out of bed as I thought about how I needed to be on my best game if I wanted to make a good impression on the team I would be joining.

I saw the whole team walk in, the green jersey was almost a threat. Something I could join but never truly be a part of. I felt that anxiety build up again when I saw they were watching me as I skated down the ice.

Tibbles began to introduce each of us giving us a chance to show off our best skill.

Julie went first, her speed and accuracy in goal made her a vital member to the team. If we were going to stand a chance against Iceland then we needed her.

“And that’s (Y/n) (Y/l/n), everyone calls her Sharpshooter though.”

“Why’s that?” Bombay asked.

“Just watch,” Tibbles nodded, “She’s the only person that’s been able to score on Gaffney.”

My heart raced as I skated quickly up to the goal, aiming on Julie’s stick side, right in the corner I knew she was weakest on.

“Cheap shot (Y/l/n)!” she yelled causing me to laugh as I threw my arms up in victory.

Tibbles waved me over.

“So what makes you so important?” Bombay asked me, “We have about 3 sharpshooters on my team. Why do we need you?”

I stood there in shock, not able to respond as I racked my brain for an answer, “I- well have any of your boys managed to score on Gaffney yet?”

“No, but they will be able to.”

“After how long? I’ve known Gaffney for maybe 30 minutes and I’m already scoring. From what I can tell your boys rely mostly on strength, put anyone up against me and I can show you how accurate I am.”

Bombay smirked, “I like this kid.”

I couldn’t help but smile as Tibbles let me skate back over to Gaffney.

“Look at the boys,” she smirked.

I gave her a confused look.

“Attractive, presumably single hockey players? Might be able to get ourselves a date.”

“Oh shut up,” I shoved her shoulder, “We should be thinking about Hockey, not getting some stupid guys to go out with us. Besides, dating a teammate would just be... weird.”

Julie rolled her eyes, “Oh whatever.”

I laughed and gave the team one final look. My eyes fell on two boys standing near the edge of the group, I assumed one, if not both, was the captain.

“Who’re those boys? Near the edge?”

Julie smirked, “Conway and Banks. The two star players.”

“Oh.”

“Who do you think is cuter?”

I swallowed hard, “Honestly hard to tell. They both give off different vibes.”

“I thought you said dating a teammate would be ‘weird’“ Julie laughed.

“Listen,” I smiled, “I can look at the menu, I just won’t order.”

Julie let out a cackle and skated away.

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

The tension between the groups finally bubbled over and I was swept in by someone insulting Julie.

“She’s a lot better than you bus boy!” I yelled in the other goalies face.

“I’d block any of your shots any day (Y/l/n)!” he said.

“Wanna test that theory?” I said, apparently I had this fiery look in my eyes cause when Julie pulled me back I saw how terrified the goalie looked causing me to laugh.

Banks skated over, “You really think you’re hot shit huh?”

“Oh please,” I scoffed, “I know I’m hot shit. How many state titles have you one pretty boy?”

I mentally slapped myself. Pretty boy? Really? Best you could come up with?

Adam smirked, “I’d take you on anytime princess.”

“Bring it on.”

Eventually Bombay broke us all apart.

“Now we didn’t come here to fight! We came to play Hockey. We’re team USA. You represent your country!”

Julie and I giggled at the looks on the players faces.

Adam turned to me, “SHH!”

I rolled my eyes in return.

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

After the first practice we all seemed to get along better. The girls all went out shopping together on the weekends leading to us getting close quick. Adam and I had a competition going of who could make the best trick shot, which Julie kept saying was ‘tension’.

We finally made it to our game against Germany. The summer had seemed to go by in an instant and I knew after the championship I would have to be bussed right back home to Boringtown USA.

I walked into the locker room after workouts, I stayed afterwards to work on my shot more. I turned the corner and saw Adam wrapping his wrist up, he winced.

“Adam?”

He jumped and looked up, “It’s not- (Y/n) don’t you dare tell coach.”

“What’d you do?”

Adam sighed, “In the last game, the dude that hooked my wrist with his stick. It’s just a little sore I promise-”

“Adam,” I said gently grabbing hist wrist to examine it, “You might’ve sprained it. If you keep playing on it it could get worse, you might not be able to play anymore.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it checked out after the seasons over with.”

“That’s self destructive. You can’t set aside your pride for a minute just to get it looked at?” I knew to get him to see how ridiculous he was being I’d have to rile him up a little.

He scoffed, “I’m prideful? Have you even looked at yourself sharpshooter? You think you’re better than everyone and-”

“Adam this isn’t about me, or even you. It’s about the team. And if you have to get benched for longer than necessary just because you ignored an injury than that’s gonna be the whole teams problem.”

Adam sighed, “Fine. But I better not hear a word from you about it.”

“And on the topic of me being better than everyone, I’ve never thought that. I just didn’t feel like I fit in.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, “You fit in fine. You’re just constantly pushing yourself to where everyone feels like you’re full of it. A lot of people are jealous.”

“Jealous?” I cocked my head to the side.

“Yeah.”

I looked at him confused, “Of what?”

“Just- you’re constantly finding things to improve. You’re just the person who doesn’t realize just how good you are sometimes. To the point where it’s almost annoying. Yeah it’s like you think you’re better but at the same time you’re never the best. And it’s infuriating when all I can think about in practice is impressing you-”

“Impressing me?” I smile.

“I- uh. Yes. Impressing you.”

“Adam,” I chuckle, “Everyone on this team thinks you’re amazing. Myself included.”

“Amazing?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle.

He stands up and walks over to stand in front of me, I look up into those bright blue eyes I could never seem to avoid. I gently grab his wrist, “Let’s go get this checked out by the trainer okay?”

“Okay,” he says as I started to lead him down the hallway, “And (Y/n)?”

I turned back to him.

He quickly leaned forward to press a quick kiss on my lips, “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

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

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @hemmingsness @persephonequeenofthedead @bookfrog242 @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @drxgxnslxyer @schnapp-my-neck @blue21727

#the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks imagine #TMD imagine #Adam Banks #adam banks imagine #adam banks x reader #disney #disney imagine

429 notes · View notes

missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

The Boy Who Lived

Reader X Draco

Summary: A few months after the war, Draco gets attacked and left barely alive in St. Mungo’s. They refuse to treat him or take his money. You have a few things to say about that.

A/n: Look at me writing! And I’ve really been meaning to write something like this for quite some time because it is so soft and fluffy with only mild angst if you squint. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and let me know what you think! I miss talking with y’all.

“He... he’s gonna be okay, right?”

My heart feel when I heard the news. No matter how much I loathed the youngest Malfoy, hearing that he was in St. Mungo’s because some ne’er do well thought that the boy deserved to be tortured to almost death for what his family had done. My eyebrows furrowed as I parted from the small group of Alumni Gryffindors and watched the city behind the windowpane. I could hear the soft murmurs of Harry Hermione and Ron discussing it.

“Oh, come on Ron really!?” Hermione shouted.

“Well it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it!” Ron argued back.

“Deserves it?” I snapped turning. “Yes, I’m sure he deserved to be killed. An eighteen-year-old who fought on the wrong side of the war but walked away for his family! What would you give for your family Ron!?”

The golden trio stared at me, Hermione grinning and the other two looking dumbfounded. Not that it ever took much.

“So, your defending him?” Harry asked, his voice barely restrained.

“I don’t know, Harry,” I rubbed my face. “But I won’t stand here listening to how he deserved to be tortured for being loyal to his family,” my voice dropped ice as Ron’s gaze was focused on the floor. “I’m heading out,” I huffed, grabbing a coat.

“Where?” Harry stood. “You’re going to go see him aren’t you!?”

“Yes,” my voice was calm and soft as I paused at the door. “Maybe you’d like to join? Make sure he isn’t up to something?”

Flustered, Harry didn’t respond as I stepped outside and apparated to St. Mungo’s. The receptionist at the desk was genuinely baffled when I asked for Malfoy.

“Well, Miss, no one has gone and seen him. We were barely able to ID him. Do you think you could answer a few questions for us?”

“Uh, I can do my best? I don’t know him that well to be honest,”

She nodded and started to prattle off questions.

“Middle name?”

“Lucius,”

“Mother’s maiden name?”

“Black? I think?”

“Allergies?”

“For Merlin’s sake I don’t know,” I huffed. “I’m just here to visit him,”

“I apologize miss, but we’re not sure what to give him to medicate him. We’d hate to give him something he might react poorly too,”

“I understand,” My temper diminished. “He likes apples,” a smile touched my face. “And I think he’s allergic to feathers?”

“Feathers?”

I shrugged as she scribbled something down on her notepad. “Alright Miss, thank you for the help. He’s on the fourth floor,”

I nodded and swallowed thickly, heading up to the permanent spell damage ward. I had only been here one other time, with Neville one Christmas to see his parents. It was different being here alone and being here for Malfoy of all people.

“Malfoy,” I gave the nurse. He led me to an estranged cot near the window.

It would be a lie if I said I hadn’t gawked at the sight before me. I had seen my fair share of injured and mangled bodies with the war, but this... this seemed unnatural.

His chest was thickly wrapped, red seeping through. His arms and shoulders not faring much better. I was thankful that he was half covered by a sheet. But despite the wounds that no doubt lingered beneath the white cotton, nothing could compare to the deep gash that drove down the left side of his face, distorting his features and pulling his lips down into a permanent grimace. His cheeks were hollowed out with malnourishment and his once creamy pale skin was deathly and translucent.

Tears stung my eyes as I wrapped my arms around myself. No matter how much Malfoy irked me, he didn’t deserve this.

“Are you his girlfriend then?” The nurse asked.

“Stars, no.” I gasped. “Just... an old friend.”

“You’re both a little young to have old friends,” the nurse muttered. “Poor kid. Barely dragged himself here before collapsing in a puddle of his own blood.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I took a step closer to the hospital cot, nearing his upper half and the chair that was my destination. I winced in taking off my coat, the buttons tangled in my hair.

“Is he gonna make it?” My voice was hoarse as the question slipped out.

“If they can figure out who to bill. The Healers don’t want to heal a Death Eater much less a Malfoy.”

“Are you bloody joking?” I demanded standing promptly. “He’s just a kid! And...” I growled menacingly. “He’s going to die if he doesn’t get the medical attention he needs, now.”

“Well, ma’am, I... I can get a Healer in here but—” the nurse stammered. “It won’t be much use without a patron,”

With one final glance to Draco I hissed:

“You’re looking at his patron. Now get him a damn healer.”

Collapsing on the chair again, I sighed, mourning my savings account. I had spent a long time waiting tables and doing odd jobs, determined to move far away after school and the war finished. But it looked like that would have to wait. Besides. He was a Malfoy. If I really wanted to, I could finagle the money back from him when this was all said and done.

A Healer rushed in and ushered me out, despite my protests. I ended up back down at the receptionist desk.

“I thought you didn’t know him that well?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as I gave her my bank info.

“I don’t,” I huffed. “But I couldn’t let him die. Not because the Healers refuse to—”

She just smiled at me.

.................................

“You what!?” Ron and Harry demanded.

“Have you gone mental!?” Ron shouted.

“They were going to let him die!” I roared. “You didn’t see him! It was worse than what Harry did to him!”

That shut both boys up.

Hermione wrapped an arm around me and led me to the sofa. Ron huffed and left the room. Harry however sat on the adjacent armchair.

“He’s really that bad?” The question was barely heard.

“It’s awful, Harry. He’s got a gash down the left side of his face... it’s going to scar no matter what they do,” I confessed to my hands.

“Dark Magic tends to scar,” Harry murmured. “And they... they didn’t treat him because he was a Death Eater?”

I nodded and rubbed my face.

“What else was I supposed to do?” It was the question that had been running through my head. “I couldn’t let him die,”

“And rightfully so,” Hermione encouraged.

....................................

Every day that followed, I visited Draco. Sitting at his bedside. Each day he looked a little healthier. A little more color returned under his skin. A little more weight filled out his sunken cheeks. A little less blood was seeping through his bandages. One day I came in and the left side of his face was bandaged properly. I felt a pang of fury knowing that if it had been done sooner, there was less of a possibility of scarring but whoever decided he was worth killing among the Healers, also decided he was worth scarring. The anger faded and it left unshed tears in my eyes.

“Oh, what did you get yourself into, Draco?” I murmured.

Hesitantly I reached out for his hand. It was cold under my warm fingers. Experimentally, I felt more of his skin that was still like ice no matter where my fingers met the softness of it.

The next day I brought in a quilt and draped it over the bedsheet.

“That should keep you warm,” I murmured though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “You’ll get better soon,” it was a weak promise.

Somehow it became a part of my routine. I’d spend hours with Draco as he laid there unconscious and healing. Sometimes I’d read to him or just lament about my day—anything from Ron’s ridiculousness to what I had for breakfast, or even the flowers I noticed growing on the roadside. I did it because I knew he couldn’t hear me. I did it because he was almost easier to talk to than anyone else.

“You’re not so bad when you’re not talking,” The thought of him glaring at me for daring to say such a thing, made me smile to myself.

.................................

“He’s awake,” the receptionist informed me one day.

I didn’t reply as I ran up the stairs and burst into the long room where Draco remained. A fit of nervousness washed over me. Even though I had spent the last few weeks talking to Draco, he was still the same person he was when he went under.

Yet, I couldn’t deny how elated I was to see a grey eye meet mine, the other still trapped beneath gauze.

“Stars, Draco,” I smiled in spite of myself. The tears the stung my eyes were involuntary as well. “I know you probably don’t want to see me, but you have no idea how good it is to see that you’re awake,” I whispered, then turned and left.

Agony tore through me that night, knowing I had dug myself a grave to lie in. I kept myself away from the hospital for two days before in the middle of the night I arrived, not bothering with reception. There was no point in my lying awake staring at my ceiling when I could be at the place that kept me awake in the first place.

I knew that Draco would be asleep when I pushed the door open. The bandages from around his face had been removed, a faded pink line distorting and carving a path down his face. And I had been correct. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as breaths were drawn through parted lips. My quilt was still draped over him.

“I hate to make this all about me,” I sat beside him and spoke softly. “But who am I supposed to talk to... what am I supposed to do, if there’s no you? You’re the only one who listened...” I scrubbed my face.

“How daft is that? Craving someone to talk to while they’re in a coma? I should be happy that you’re getting better, but... that just means I lose you faster in another sense,” I studied his peaceful face. “Not that you’d ever know... or care.” I sighed and looked out the window at the stars about the sleeping city.

“I’m sorry, I never meant...” I huffed, rubbing my face. “Sleep well Draco, you’ll... you’ll get better soon.” I paused. “But I’m not too sure about me,”

Grey eyes watched me as I left.

It was another day that I avoided the hospital, before succumbing again. The receptionist eyed me warily.

“Did Mr. Malfoy forget something?” She asked.

“Uh...” I drew a blank. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh stars,” The papers in her hands began to reorder themselves. “He checked out this morning, under the pretense that he would be allowed home if he had a caretaker. He listed you,” She handed me a random document and sure enough in Draco’s elegant script was my name.

“That lying Slytherin bastard!” I shouted, then sheepishly handed her the paper back. “Anything I need to know to take care of him?”

“He has potions with him, he needs to take them every morning and evening with or without food. He needs his bandages changed daily. He shouldn’t be walking and shouldn’t stress himself out too much in fear of a relapse,” She handed me another pamphlet of rules. “And absolutely no magic. It’s going to affect his healing process,”

“The little twat,” I muttered. “Thank you,” I smiled kindly before stepping outside and apperating to the Manor, a place I had been only a handful of times.

“Draco!” I shouted, bursting through the grand front doors. “You know it’s one thing to lie the receptionist, but I paid for your sorry ass! You can at least tell me that you left the hospital! Or return my blanket!”

“M-m-miss,” A house elf stammered, appearing at my side. “Please, Master Draco is asleep,”

“Take me to him,” I growled.

“Y-yes ma’am,”

Again, all of my anger seemed to fade at the sight of Draco. He appeared absolutely ghastly. His grey eyes were trained on me, only barely open, as if it were too much effort for him. My blanket was draped over the large bed, looking out of place amongst the expensive silks and linens. I took a sharp breath in and let out an annoyed sigh.

“Hey there, drama queen,” It was barely a whisper as I sat on the edge of his bed. “What were you thinking? Checking yourself out like that? You’re not well enough to take care of yourself,”

There was a sort of fire that returned to his eyes at my words, though he made no attempt to speak.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I rolled my eyes. “You know I’m right,” His gaze dropped, almost as if he were pouting.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do,” I muttered. “But you need to get better, and you can’t do that alone. Not this.”

His eyes closed as if he were ignoring me, but his breathing evened out and I knew he had fallen asleep. A soft smile touched my face. Without the scar that distorted his features, it was almost as if nothing had changed. Almost as if there was no war. There was peace on his face. An innocence. All disrupted by an angry flushed gash.

The house elf informed me that he has taken the vial as he was instructed to earlier, and though night had barely settled in the sky, I was wary to leave him alone in the Manor. My eyes drifted to the chaise lounge that was in the corner of the lush room. Sighing, I stood, wandering to the room next door—thankful that it was another bedroom—and located pillows and a blanket. As comfortable as I could be, I settled onto the chaise and kept an eye on Draco until my eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

I was nudged awake. By the same house elf that attended to me the night before. I panicked when I saw Draco’s bed was empty and made.

“Master Draco wishes me to inform you that he is in the den downstairs, and wondered if you’d like to join him for breakfast,”

I gaped at the house elf.

“Uh, sure?” I scrubbed my face. “I’ll be down in a moment, thank you,”

“Yes, Miss,”

Sure enough, Draco was downstairs, in a silk emerald housecoat, scanning the Daily Prophet like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Is there anything that you own that isn’t green or black?” I drawled softly, taking a seat in the adjacent armchair.

“Good morning,” His voice was as tires on grovel or perhaps the groaning of a whomping willow.

“So, he does talk,” I offered a small smile.

He took a careful sip of what I assumed was tea. The house elf set out another mug for me, pouring the hot water over the small bag of dried leaves.

“You said you preferred when I didn’t,” His voice was less strained after the tea.

“Suppose I did,” I hummed, fixing the rest of my tea to my liking. “Doesn’t mean it’s not good to hear your voice though,”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes trained forward, through the window panes overlooking how autumn had conquered the rest of the Manor.

“So, how are we going to do this?” He finally said. “You’re too stubborn to leave me on my own,”

I wanted to argue, but he was right. I was too stubborn.

“I... I can come in the mornings and evenings. I’ll change your wrappings and make sure you take your potions... do you need me here more than that?”

He shook a seldom ‘no.’

“I... should be off then,” I stood. “Thank you for the tea. I’ll be over around seven tonight?”

He didn’t comment as I made my way out. I hated myself but I counted down the hours until seven arrived. At work, at home, at lunch, all of my thoughts meandered back to how long it would be until I could see Draco again.

____________________________

Draco hated being reliant on anyone. He hated that he was weak. He hated that he couldn’t make it up the stairs without help. He hated the scar that pierced the left side of his face. He hated the face in the mirror regardless. He hated that you kept coming back. He hated that he wanted you to keep coming back. He hated that he had heard every word that you spoke to him while he was healing. He hated that you had said them. He hated that even when he was asleep, he could still hear your voice.

He hated that when he heard your voice pipe up in the house again promptly at seven, his heart fluttered.

He hated that you helped him up the stairs and into his room. He hated that you lead him to his lavish bathroom and sat him on the counter and began to undo his wrappings with such concentration that you seemed to tune his stammering heart out.

“Stars, Draco,” You murmured after unwrapping his left arm bandage.

He winced involuntarily. To be fair it looked a lot better than when they had first gouged the Dark Mark off his skin. And perhaps some part of him was grateful. All that was left was a skin graft and a scar in the shape of the Dark Mark, raised and angry like the line on his face.

“Dark magic always leaves a scar,” The words tumbled from your lips as your warm fingers brushed over the raised skin. He hated how he shuddered at the touch.

With all of his bandages gone—despite that his bottom half was still clothed—Draco felt bare, if not completely nude before you. He hated that too. Your eyes trialed over his chest and the marred skin that now belonged to him. Your gaze dragged up his shoulders, his neck, up the slice on his cheek, until your warm eyes settled on his.

There wasn’t pity in your eyes. Nor sadness. But rather understanding, and comfort. He hated that he noticed.

Wordlessly, you turned and began to draw a bath, filling it with what looked like a chance bath salt to you, but was the one his mother had once used for him, when he was young, and she was home. The scent quickly began to overpower the smell of sweat and soiled gauze and the hospital smell that lingered on his skin.

“I... Call if you need me,” You stammered and rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. Maybe he hated that you left.

The warm bath water and the familiar scent calmed him greatly. It soothed the ache in his muscles and bones. As he draped the water over his skin, washing away the past few weeks. He so desperately wanted to wash you away too, but you lingered on him like the scars he couldn’t ever heal.

An excruciating pain shocked his system as he reached up to wash his hair.

“No, no, no, no,” He groaned, trying again and reaping the same results. “Oh, this is so not fair!”

“Draco?” There was a soft knock on the door. “Everything alright?”

He glared at the door; the words trapped behind pursed lips. He loathed this.

“I need help,” He growled.

Your head peered in, a gentle look on your face. You weren’t laughing at him or teasing him. You looked genuinely concerned.

“What do you need?”

“I... I can’t wash my hair,” He muttered.

“Do... do you want me...?” The question was timid. He didn’t remember the last time he had seen you timid.

He nodded.

With a few well-placed bubbles and some shifting, you entered the bathroom and rounded the tub. He directed you to the correct soaps and lathers. Before you began, your eyes darted around the room, trying to locate something. You rose and took one of the empty ornate cups on his sink. It had once held flowers or something, but it had been emptied for months. Flowers didn’t grow in the presence of Dark Magic. You rinsed it in the sink and took your position behind him again. He didn’t have the energy to question you.

Draco never thought how calming having someone else wash his hair would be. The glass you had taken from the sink was filled carefully with bath water and cascaded over his head and shoulders as your free hand kept the water from his face. Your fingers massaged his favorite lather into his hair, and he had to be careful not to let out an involuntary groan. You hummed softly as you worked, to fill the silence. Again, water flowed down his head, clearing the lather from his hair and into the water around him. Draco closed his eyes and relaxed as you reached for the oils, not afraid in your company. This time your fingers carded the oil through his hair.

He hated that he enjoyed it so much. He hated that it was over too soon. He hated that you simply got up and left when you were finished without a word and left him, half asleep, feeling incomplete without your soft lullaby or your hands in his hair.

He hated that you combed his hair for him. He hated that you were silent as you reapplied his bandages. Your eyes focused on the task at hand and not his racing heart.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” He loathed that the most.

In the morning, you undid his bindings and applied the healing balm that the doctor had sent him home with before wrapping him up again. You gently brushed his hair and ran gel through it, coiffing it like he used to. Somehow it looked different when you did it.

You rarely spoke a word as the days passed. Your morning and nightly routine with him becoming a ritual that he craved. To feel safe with you near. To relax even for just a moment for nightmares and terrors plagued his sleep. To feel more like himself, even if things would never be the same. You treated him the same. Despite the foul scars that plagued his skin.

He hated that you kept leaving.

“You’re dressed,” A smile rose on your face as you walked in one crisp winter morning. “I thought I’d never see you rid the house coat,” It was the most you had said to him since he had been unconscious.

“I thought I’d try,” Draco ran his fingers over the soft cotton of the dress shirt. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had with the buttons,”

A soft chuckle left your lips as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Is this where it ends then?”

The words shattered him more than torture ever could. He hated the thought. He hated the somber look on your face.

“Y/n, I...” Draco loathed fumbled his words.

“No, I guess this was... this was always going to end.” Your eyes didn’t meet his. “I should have just paid and left.” There was regret in your voice. Regret that he misread.

“So, you’re here for the money then?” His voice raised against his better judgement. “Is that why you kept coming back?” He couldn’t deny how deeply that wound pierced.

“What? No! It was never about the money!” Your voice raised as well. “If it was about the money don’t you think the first thing I would have done was gone to Paris to demand it from your parents!?”

“Then what was it about!? Some vendetta!? Something to goad over me!? As if you don’t have enough already!” He was gripping onto the stair railing tightly, his body threatening to collapse any moment.

“Merlin’s sake, I couldn’t let you die!” The tears he never say you shed, finally fell in front of him. “They were going to let you die!” Your head shook in denial as you pressed your arms around yourself, as it if would stop the tremors that shook your frame.

“You should have let them kill me!” He roared and you gawked at him—finally a reaction response to how he appeared. “It would make your life so much easier!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” You paced up the first few steps of the staircase, closer to him.

_________________________

I watched the light fade from his eyes.

“Draco!?” My anger turned to fear as his arm gave out and he fell to the step he was on. My close proximity allowed me to prevent him from tumbling down the stairs further.

“Stars, Draco,” I wept pulling him into my arms. He was out cold. “Don’t, don’t die on me, please,” I couldn’t stop my tears now.

I gathered him into my arms and with great difficulty, trudged upstairs, collapsing beside him on his bed. Righting myself, I gently brushed the hair away from his eyes.

“I don’t want this to end,” I confessed. “I don’t want to leave you, Draco,” I wiped away my tears. “Merlin, you have no idea how much I love you. That’s why I kept coming back,” I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

I must have fallen asleep beside him because I was woken by a whimper and cry. A desperate plea for someone to stop. A guttural cry of mercy.

“Draco!?” I was wide awake and alert. “Draco! Wake up!” I shook his shoulder as gently as possible.

Petrified grey eyes met mine, filled with tears and terror. Not a beat passed before he pulled me close and clung to me, sobbing into my shoulder. After the moment of initial shock, I wrapped my arms around him, cradling him against me. His cries tore deep wounds in my soul. The desperation and agony that they possessed.

“Don’t. Don’t leave me,” He hiccupped through tears. “Please, I don’t want this to end,”

I ran my fingers softly through his hair, leaving soft promises of new beginnings in their wake. It was enough to lull us both back to sleep.

When sunlight crept through the windows, my eyes fluttered open, to see grey ones studying me.

“Hello,” His voice was soft, his arm draped around me.

“Good morning,” A soft smile touched my lips as I sat up. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Draco sat up—without wincing. “Did you mean it? What you said?”

“Mostly likely yes, but which part are you referring to?” I teased softly, working on the buttons of his shirt to free him of the tight article of clothing.

“You’re gonna stay?”

“Well, not here probably, but as in I’m going to keep coming back, yes,” My fingers traced old and new scars.

“And this isn’t the end?”

“Not particularly,” I watched him shudder as I ran my fingers over his collarbone—something I had noticed months before and used against him now.

“And you love me,”

My fingers left his skin promptly as my eyes flashed to his.

“Yes,”

Part Two

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @memalfoy-spidey @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie @xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @honeymarvel @darcypotter-blog @atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289 @boredashaeck @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @okaydraco @the-queen-of-hell-things @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @cleopatera @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @peters-legos @quillsareforwriting @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox @slothgirl22 @peachesandpinks @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel @coconutdawn @skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo @naughtygranger @queenofmankind @dragonsandbread @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff @myforeveryoungblog @and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field @strawberriesonsummer @jjustsomerandomgirl @mrvlfangirl3190 @in-slytherin-we-trust @emmaa-t @introvertedrae @infinity1o1 @stoleurmomsvan @echpr @sunkissed-hufflepuff @dekulover @marshmallowtraver @cereuselle @lonely-skywalker

1K notes · View notes

sgtjbbhasmyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Six (part 1)

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Tumblr sucks. It forced me to split this chapter up because I exceeded the text block limit. That’s just how I write! Link to part 2 at the end.

A/N 2: Thank you again to everyone for showing this story so much love! And thank you to everyone for your patience and support as I struggled to put this out. As you can tell from the multiple parts, it was a doozy. 🥰 divider credit- @firefly-graphics

In case you missed the update, I will be publishing a new chapter every other Saturday from here on out. Schedule is in the Masterlist in my header.

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

Monday morning rolled around, and your good mood from the weekend followed you into the office. Spending all of Saturday and the majority of Sunday texting James had lent to this early morning cheerfulness. You couldn’t help the smile on your face. You had even managed to arrive before most of your team.

You hummed a sweet melody as you booted up your computer and organized a few files for Timmons to peruse. They were statements intended for the press needing his approval about a particular prominent CEO or A-list celebrity client. The firm was not confirming nor denying any knowledge of said client’s whereabouts the previous week or why there was photographic evidence of them coming out of FlashDancers NYC. Other files included those seeking rebranding approval for existing companies looking to revamp their image.

Most importantly, today was contract signing day for Stark Industries.

You had compiled the document from a generic template the company used for all its clients, manually plugging in Stark Industries’ information in the correct spots and changing or omitting any services rendered or not. E-signing contracts were not only environmentally responsible, but they also saved a lot of your time from printing out numerous copies of a single agreement.

All you needed now was Timmons’ go-ahead to email the contract, and Pepper Potts could plug in her Jane Hancock.

Seeing Timmons enter the workroom, tweed coat draped over his forearm and attaché in hand, you rose from the seat behind your desk. You shuffled into his office after him.

He hung his jacket from the coat rack in the corner near a bank of expansive windows and placed the small, leather case he’d been carrying on the sturdy oak desk. He pulled out a stack of papers and tapped the pile against the desktop to straighten them before setting them down. Looking up at you briefly, he tugged out his laptop next.

You positioned a mug of coffee on Timmons’ desk, turning the handle just so, making it easier for him to grab. You cleared your throat gently. He glanced up at you again.

“Here’s the media statements for today,” you said, handing him a group of manila folders. You smoothed down the hem of your cardigan, smiling at the reminder of Bucky. You wished there had been a way to apologize to him again. He had left your apartment with such a pained look on his face. Maybe you could ask Peter. “And the Stark contract pdf is ready to go. I can email it over to you for final approval.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Timmons replied absent-mindedly, lifting the organized piles on the desk as if looking for something.

“Oh, okay,” you returned, nodding your head diminutively. “Do you want me to forward the contract on to Ms. Potts, then?”

“Ah-ha!” Timmons exclaimed, plucking a pen from underneath a stack of envelopes. He twirled the writing implement in his hand and peered at you, finally taking in your presence for the first time that morning.

An uncomfortable feeling washed over you as he evaluated you from head to toe. What was he looking at? Your hands tensed into fists as you continued to wait for his answer, growing impatient.

“Should I go ahead and do that, then, sir?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest like a protective suit of armor to deflect prying eyes.

“Yes, yes. That should be acceptable,” Timmons answered.

It threw you off balance. What had gotten into him? Timmons always had to have the final say on everything. It was so unlike him!

“Just so we’re clear- I will be sending the Stark Industries contract via email to Pepper Potts to e-sign,” you said, seeking clarification. You wanted to dot all i’s and cross all t’s because you weren’t going to lay your ass on the line for a misunderstanding. Especially not with something as crucial as the Stark Industries account.

“What? No, there’s been a change of plans,” he corrected.

You stared at him dumbfounded. Was he purposely trying to give you mental whiplash?

“Change of plans,” you affirmed. “Has Stark Industries decided not to use the firm, sir?”

“Oh, no. They’re still going with us,” Timmons said, rearranging the clutter he’d made on his desk.

You dropped your arms to your sides, although inside, you felt like throwing them into the air in frustration. Why was he so vague? He was usually wholly transparent with you. “Would you mind explaining it to me, please?” you asked, borderline annoyed. “Last time I checked, Stark Industries’ contract signing was still on the calendar for today’s agenda.”

“And it still is,” Timmons acknowledged. “It’s moved to an in-person signing.”

Your stomach plunged to the floor. Shit! You hadn’t printed out the contract! When was the appointment? How much time did you have? So many questions flew through your head.

How could Timmons keep something like this from you? Your heart hammered in your chest. You practically wobbled on your feet. Were you going to be sick?

I’m going to get fucking fired over this, you thought, trying to steady your breathing.

“Will you be ready to go in twenty minutes?” Timmons questioned, sitting down in the comfy desk chair and opening his laptop.

“Go?” you squeaked, attempting to recall how much you had in savings. You shook your head, trying to understand his words. Was he already asking you to clear out your desk?

“Yes. The car will be here at nine,” he said, keyboard clacking as he typed something.

“Car?” you asked, finding great difficulty comprehending the situation. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Timmons regarded you in bafflement. “Have you been drinking?”

“What? NO!” you declared. You didn’t need that added to “the inability to perform required tasks” as a reason for your firing. “I’m-I’m just really confused, sir.”

“About what?” Timmons asked, sitting back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

“Well…” you started. “What do we need a car for?”

His chocolate brown eyes shone with what you imagined might be excitement. “To drive upstate, of course.” He smirked as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desktop.

Upstate? What was upstate?

Timmons’ smile broadened as realization crept across your face. “Are we-”

“Yup!” he interrupted gleefully. He was like a child in a candy store. “We are headed to the Avengers Compound with a personal invitation from Tony Stark himself!”

You blinked several times at your boss, not entirely computing what he’d said. You were usually a lot quicker on the uptake than this. Why were you having such an off-day?

“We?” you asked, shaking your head clear of the cobwebs. Why on Earth would he bring you along?

“I need someone who knows the ins and outs of these contract signings,” he said, fiddling with his pen again.

Wasn’t that his job?

“I’m just the schmoozer- the people-person,” he admitted, shrugging. “You’re the real brains behind this whole operation.

You nodded your head in agreement. He wasn’t wrong. The office would collectively collapse without you, and it felt good to hear your actual boss say it out loud.

“You better not forget it, either. Especially when my job performance evaluation comes around,” you asserted.

Timmons swiftly saluted you as if he was the subordinate. You huffed a laugh at him while shaking your head with incredulity. You took a step or two toward the office door before looking over your shoulder at him.

Timmons had turned back to his laptop screen already and started typing again. “So, twenty minutes?” he asked with an air of levity.

You faltered, nearly tripping over your feet. “Wait? You were serious about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Timmons wondered, looking up hurriedly from his laptop.

“I need to print out the contract and make copies, for one thing,” you mentioned, almost accusatory. Maybe if he had warned you ahead of time, you wouldn’t be so defensive.

“Already taken care of,” he soothed.

“What do you mean it’s ‘already taken care of’?” you asked, raising your hands to make quotation marks with your fingers.

“I had one of the other grunts do it last night.”

You gaped at Timmons like a goldfish, mouth popping open and closed. Did you hear him correctly? Timmons did something to make your job easier? You could hug him right now! You felt like pinching yourself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Once you gathered your wits again, you glanced to your feet bashfully. “Oh,” you spoke, absently fingering the bottom button of your cardigan. “Thank you.” You smiled gratefully.

Timmons returned the smile with one of his own. “You’re welcome.”

“Nine o’clock, then,” you agreed, moving further toward the doorway.

“On the dot!”

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the Avengers Compound. You’d seen it on the news, sure, but that didn’t compare to seeing it in real life. It was grandiose, imposing. You felt dwarfed in size looking up to the high rooftop.

It was almost ostentatious in a way. Much like the man who designed it. Larger than life.

Tony Stark.

Tony had insisted he take you and Timmons around on the tour of the compound. You still hadn’t seen the need for a tour.

“When Tony Stark invites you to tour the Avengers compound, you don’t say no,” Timmons had said in the car-ride up when you questioned why it was necessary.

It was all superfluous, really. Like Tony was trying to woo the firm to sign them, not the other way around.

A headache was forming at the base of your skull as you waited in line at the reception desk to return your visitor security badge.

The tour of the facility seemed to have been drug out longer than it needed. Tony had appeared overeager to show off every little gadget or trinket. Or maybe he just liked to hear himself talk.

When Timmons excepted the lunch invitation after the tour was completed, you felt the urge to run down to the armory, grab a gun, and shoot yourself in the foot. You were kicking yourself for ever agreeing to come on this dumb tour.

As the line slowly dragged forward, the muffled noise of men’s voices caught your ear. It sounded like an argument. Your line of sight followed to where the altercation originated.

Standing twenty feet away was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, clearly disagreeing.

Your breath stilled as you watched the two super soldiers quarrel in a near-stage-whisper. What could they be fighting about?

From your place in line, you saw Bucky shake his head adamantly, his chestnut hair swishing about his shoulders. He might have even stamped his foot like a child, but you were too preoccupied with the look of abject horror on his face. He turned away as if to flee, but his friend caught him by the shoulder to stop him.

Were you causing this reaction from him?

You looked to your right to see if there was possibly someone else. All you noticed, though, was an empty space. Had you hurt Bucky’s feelings that badly? Your stomach clenched. The last thing you wanted was to be on an Avengers’ shit-list.

Glancing back to the two men, you caught Steve gesturing Bucky forward with short sweeping motions of his hands. Bucky shook his head again, stubbornly.

Even at this distance, you could feel the frustration rolling off Captain America.

Like a sucker-punch to the gut, you suddenly became very aware you were eavesdropping on Captain America and his best friend.

Your cheeks heated instantaneously, embarrassed of your staring. You shouldn’t be spying on them, you admonished. No matter how much your curiosity is piqued.

It was none of your business.

You turned away from them, facing the reception desk again.

As hard as you tried not to pay attention, you could still see what looked like wild gesturing from the corner of your eye.

What if they started fighting? Shouldn’t you be conscious of your surroundings for your own safety? You fidgeted in your spot as you debated your moral compass.

Fuck it, you thought.

As you peered over to the two super soldiers, Steve shoved Bucky forward gently, causing the latter to trip over his booted feet. Bucky glared back at his friend, his hands clenching into fists. Steve shooed him further. You could barely make out the word “Go!” on his lips.

As if in slow motion, you eyed Bucky taking step after step toward you. Was he coming over here?

Once you realized what was happening, your heart plummeted to your knees as your head whipped around to the front of the line.

Bucky Barnes was definitely walking over to you.

Had he noticed you staring?

You tried to stabilize your heart rate with slow, easy breaths, but Bucky was beside you much sooner than you could imagine.

A waft of aftershave hit your nose- woodsy and deliciously masculine. Your stomach swooped.

God, he smelled good.

Without having to turn your head, you could feel his brawny mass hovering near you.

How do you play this?

Perplexed?

“Oh, my gosh! I had no idea you’d be here!” Of course, he wouldn’t believe that. This is where the Avengers lived. He’d probably think you were a stalker.

Apologetic?

“I’m so sorry Peter and I made fun of you! Will you ever forgive me?” Nah, too needy or clingy.

Or--

Before you could think of any other ways to portray the situation, you heard a large gush of air escape from Bucky. Was he nervous?

“Hey-hey, (Y/N),” he said, voice shaky.

You gazed to your left. Bucky looked as white as a ghost. Had his ego taken that big of a hit?

At that moment, you wanted to do nothing more than wrap him in your arms and tell him sorry, and everything would be okay. You couldn’t, of course. You didn’t know the guy. So you settled for the next best thing.

You smiled at him beatifically. “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

Like a veil had been pulled, his demeanor changed instantly. He returned the smile. “Ja-” he started but scrunched his nose as if he’d made a mistake. “Please. Call me Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you replied.

Timmons turned around, ahead of you in line, and eyeballed you. You gave him a dismissive look, praying he wouldn’t butt in.

“So, you here visiting?” Bucky asked, observing the badge in your hand.

“Sorta. It’s a work thing,” you remarked, waving the plastic fob in the air. “Stark Industries has hired my firm as their PR representative. It was signing day.”

“Ah,” Bucky said, nodding in understanding.

“And I got the tour and lunch courtesy of Tony Stark,” you added.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised in interest. “What did you think?”

“Honestly?” You watched Bucky shake his head in agreement. “It was extremely overwhelming. How do you not get lost in this place?”

Bucky laughed. Crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes, yet he looked so boyish. He was beautiful.

“When I first got here, I did several times,” he huffed. “Every hallway looks exactly the same!”

“Right?!” you exclaimed. “I kept thanking my lucky stars that I had a tour guide!”

Timmons rolled his eyes and pivoted, facing front.

“Steve had to draw me a map to help me find my living quarters after the third time,” Bucky confessed, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, no!” you empathized, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. “That must have been so embarrassing!”

“Bird brain caught wind of it and gave me shit for weeks,” he lamented.

You gave him a confused look, not understanding who or what he was referring to.

Realizing his mistake, Bucky corrected, “Sorry. Bird brain is Sam.”

“Because he’s Falcon?”

Bucky bobbed his head yes, looking a little sheepish.

“It’s clever,” you grinned. “I like it.”

Bucky reciprocated the smile, and your chest warmed. It was a feeling you usually felt while texting James. Light and airy.

Finally making it to the reception desk, you relinquished your security badge to the pretty blonde in the too-tight sweater set. She handed you a clipboard to initial and fill out your departure time.

While signing, you surveyed the blonde as Bucky stepped closer. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and she bit down on her bottom lip. Was she giving him bedroom eyes?

A new kind of warmth flooded your body. It felt a lot like jealousy as it snaked its way up to your ribs and circled your collarbones, which was absurd because you had no claim to this man. You’d met him one other time. Why would you feel this way?

Shoving the clipboard back at the receptionist, you spun toward Bucky. He regarded her politely and nodded, “Ma’am.”

Her shoulders slumped, and a frown slithered onto her painted lips. Somehow you felt triumphant, but not sure why. Bucky hadn’t picked you over her.

Your heart thumped harder in your chest as you walked side by side with Bucky, nearing the exit. You were suddenly overcome with the feeling of apologizing. What had you told James if you ever saw Bucky again? Apologize profusely and ask him to coffee.

You smiled at Bucky once again as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The sound of a throat clearing resonated nearby. It wasn’t until you glanced up did you register Timmons standing so close. You had nearly forgotten about him.

Trying to gather your courage, you glimpsed between the two men. Bucky was squinting suspiciously at Timmons, and it made you chuckle lightly. “Easy tiger,” you assured. “That’s my boss, Roger Timmons.”

Bucky’s blue eyes widened a fraction, and he raised a hand in hello. “Sir.”

Timmons raised his chin in acknowledgment before looking down at his watch. You took it as his way of telling you to hurry up.

Okay, it’s now or never.

“Would you like to go to coffee with me?” Bucky blurted out, cheeks coloring pink.

Your eyes roamed across his handsome face. The boyishness was back, along with a touch of uncertainty. He was sweet, regardless of what the media claimed about him. Your lips curled up into a broad smile. “You read my mind,” you revealed, then winced. “That’s not one of your superpowers, is it?”

Bucky tittered. “No, no mind-reading.”

“Good,” you said, relieved.

“Whaddya say? Coffee?”

You dipped your head in a slow yes. “It’ll have to be after work, though.” You motioned over your shoulder with your thumb. “The slave driver over there is taking me back to the office to put me to work.”

Giggling, as you heard a scoff come from behind where you were standing, you reached into your purse and pulled out a pen and an old receipt. You quickly jotted down your work address. Handing it to Bucky, you began moving towards Timmons. “I get off at five,” you called. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” You waved goodbye.

Bucky smirked. “Don’t work too hard!”

You flashed him one last smile before disappearing through the exit door.

You had a coffee date with Bucky Barnes!

You couldn’t believe it! The giddiness swelled inside you.

You gazed at Timmons’ profile as you walked to the waiting car parked at the curb. He had that look on his face.

It was a long drive back to the city. There was no way you could endure it if he started up now.

You gave a stern look before you stated, “Whatever you’re thinking, keep it to yourself.”

Timmons threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“Uh-huh,” you said dubiously. Timmons smiled smugly as you both climbed into the town car.

Chapter Five | Chapter 6 (part 2)

DTIBFYH Tag list:

@hommoturttle @courtneychicken @vicmc624 @shawnie--jo @redbarn1995 @learisa @austynparksandpizza @ddowii @comeasyoudar @notsoinnocentrebel @i-have-no-life-charlie @champagneacademiaproblems @oldschoolkiddo @jillweasley @thefridgeismybestie @versacefloors @justab-eautifulmess @the-doctors-fallen-angel @saintsha @artaxerxesthegreat @emmabarnes @captain-asguard @herondalesunsetcurve @holl2712 @rosalynshields @met4no1a @kitkatd7 @broccoli111 @beautifulsweetschaos @strawberrywoman @tlcwrites @aerolanya @socalgem1124 @cminr @fangirl-swagg @broco8 @chook007 @dracris33

Permanent Tag list:

@indigo123789 @buckybarnes1982 @strangersstranger

Send an ask to be added to the tag list!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health #dtibfyh #shannon writes

130 notes · View notes

thewhitejournal · 4 years ago

Text

”The Intern”

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

(not my gif)

hey all! so recently i’ve gotten into criminal minds and i may or may not have fallen in love with thomas gibson, so! i decided to write some fanfic about him. please let me know what you think, any feedback is great. like and share if you enjoyed, and let me know if i should continue this as a series! thanks a bunch!

content warnings: none

It was your first day shadowing under Penelope Garcia, a technical analyst at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. Your dad had some connections to the bureau and got you a special opportunity to see what a day, or rather, a week in the life of a technical analyst at the BAU consisted of.

Technical analyst, that’s been your dream job for what felt like forever; before you knew what the words meant, you knew you wanted to be able to do extensive research on awful people and help put a stop to their doings. Helping people was one of the things you felt you did best. So you were going to make a career out of it.

Stepping over your stacks of clothes and textbooks, you sized yourself up in your floor-length mirror. Your mom helped you pick out some new clothes, and you were wearing your favorite shirt you found while shopping. It was a navy button-up shirt, carefully pressed so there were no wrinkles. It fit your curves right in every way, and the navy complimented your skin tone perfectly. Your eyes travelled to your neckline; a chain with a simple charm hung around your neck, the metal shining in the sunlight coming in from the blinds.

Your fingers played with the charm, twirling it back and forth. It matched the pair of earrings you wore, a hand-me-down set of jewelry from someone in your family, probably your grandmother. You looked yourself in the eyes, admiring your simple makeup. Your hair fell in waves; you fooled with it a bit to make sure there wasn’t a hair astray. Your attention wandered back to your outfit. The black slacks had a piece of fuzz or two on them, and you picked them off, straightening them out. Your mom tried to convince you to wear a skirt, but you insisted pants were more practical. They are, of course.

The only part of your ensemble you might regret is the black pair of heels that were already hugging your feet in a bit of an uncomfortable manner. It was the comprise you made with your mom to not wear the skirt. You had to admit though, they complimented you well. Glancing at the clock on your wall, you saw it was almost time to leave. You grabbed your black blazer, pulling it on and releasing your hair from the neckline.

The keys laying on your table in your apartment jingled as you picked them up. You grabbed your purse and gave the place a once over, making sure you didn’t forget anything. You flicked the lights off, shutting and locking your door behind you, and headed towards the elevator.

Stepping in and pressing the button to the garage, you let out a shaky breath, suddenly realizing how nervous you were. You tried to breathe steady breaths and calm down, but it was hard. Your mind was racing. Would you be any good? Could you handle the cases? Would Penelope like you? What if nobody liked you?

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, pulling you from your thoughts. You could do this. Probably.

Your heels clicking echoed throughout the parking garage, followed by the sound of your car unlocking and beeping. Opening the door, you climbed in and sat your purse in the passenger seat, sighing heavily. You wish you had some sort of idea of what to expect for today, but it’s like you were walking into a room blindfolded. You slid the keys in the ignition and started the car, pulling it out of the garage and making the short drive to the BAU.

A playlist of your favorite songs spilled through the speakers and filled the air; you thought maybe the music would help you feel better, and it did. But that feeling of bliss ended quickly when you pulled into the parking lot. Turning the car off, you looked out your windshield at the daunting and intimidating building before you. Making one last check of your appearance in the review mirror, you grabbed your keys and your purse and made your way to the front door.

You told the front desk person what you were instructed to by Penelope, and he let you proceed to the elevator. You luckily ended up alone in the elevator, giving yourself some more time to mentally prepare. It dinged, signalling your arrival to the floor you were supposed to be on.

The directions from the elevator to Penelope’s office replayed in your head like a broken record, as to not forget your way there. You tried to keep your head held high, but it was hard to; a feeling washed over you, like every pair of eyes in the room was on you. Maybe that was just paranoia though. You were about to reach her office when an undoubtedly handsome and buff man stepped foot into your path as you passed him.

“I think I’d remember seeing your pretty face around here, got a pretty name to go with it?” He said coyly, raising his dark and thick eyebrows as he spoke, a smirk gracing his face that showed off his incredibly straight teeth.

You stuttered and tried to think of what to say to such a bold question, but Penelope peeked her head out of her office before you had the chance to conjure a sentence.

“Ah ah, Derek. That one’s mine. Leave her be.” She said, looking at you with a kind smile. She waved you over, and you slid past Derek.

“Nice meeting you, Derek.” You called over your shoulder as Penelope practically pulled you into her office. You heard him huff with defeat and say something else before she shut the door behind you.

“But I don’t get your name?” He practically yelled, arms rising and then falling in defeat. He shook his head and returned to what you assumed to be his desk. You and Penelope shared a laugh.

“Hi, honey! I hope sweet-cheeks out there didn’t give you too much trouble. It’s so nice to finally meet you! Your dad’s told me so much about you!” She said to you, extending her hand, the sound of bracelets jingling accompanying it. She was quite bubbly, it was clear to see. Her clothes and office space were colorful and bright; it’s not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just not what you expected to see inside an FBI agent’s office.

You shook her hand, returning the smile she gave you. “No, he didn’t. I was just taken by surprise is all. It’s nice to meet you too!” She took your purse from your hands and sat it on the table closest to the door, next to the purse you assumed to be hers. She gestured to an empty chair that was pushed into the table; it sat in front of a laptop, a setup that looked puny compared to hers. She had several monitors all over the wall and two separate computers set up.

“Your seat, madam.” You chuckled a bit, sitting down. Her personality made you feel more at ease immediately. Maybe she was always like this, or maybe she could tell you were tense. Either way, it helped you feel better, and you were already starting to like her.

“So what I usually do is sit in front of these screens all day and dig up the nasty stuff on the bad guys for our good guys. I’m talking sealed records, CCTV, bank accounts, you name it and I can find it.” Penelope was sat down in her own chair now, waving her hands around as she spoke. You sat silently, listening intently as she continued to tell you what her job consisted of. Suddenly, her door was swung open. A tall man in a suit with black hair and beautiful light brown eyes stood there, looking directly at Penelope. He was holding a file.

“Garcia, we have a case.” His left arm outstretched to hand her the file, letting you be able to notice his shiny watch and wedding band. It was almost like he didn’t even know you were there - at first. His eyes glanced over your way, then did a double-take, when you assumed he realized he didn’t know who you were.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. You must be the intern Penelope was telling me about.” His hand reached out to shake yours. You stood to your feet quickly and shook it. His grip was firm and his hands were huge. You tried not to make it obvious that you were intimidated by him, but you tried very hard to not let your gaze fall to the floor. Looking into his eyes gave you butterflies, which was odd. This man was a stranger to you and yet he seemed so familiar.

“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you, sir, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m really excited to be here.” You gave him a smile, and he returned the favor, a soft one gracing over his lips. Your hands seemed to be clasped together for a second or two too long, but neither of you seemed to be objected to it. He let his hand fall from yours, and he shoved them in his pocket.

“Well from what I hear from Garcia, we’re lucky to have you. Nice to meet you, (Y/N). And you can call me Hotch.” With that and one last smile to you both, he swiftly shut the door behind him. You sat back down and noticed Garcia giving you a weird look, a smirk on her face. You laughed nervously.

“What?” You asked her, her smile beaming at you.

“Nothing, he just never smiles like that. Especially not since Haley-, well his wife...” She trailed off. Your brows furrowed. If something had happened between him and his wife, why was he still wearing a wedding band?

“Is she-?”

“Dead? No. Staying at her parent’s house with their son? Yes. It’s taken a toll on him, but I haven’t seen him smile like that in forever. We’ll have to keep you around, you’re magic or something, kid. Hotch doesn’t smile for anyone.” Penelope turned to her computers and started typing away, getting ready to work the case you assumed. A blush crept up onto your cheeks. Something told you that you wouldn’t mind staying there a bit longer either.

454 notes · View notes

maddiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 24)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Here we go!!!!! The final chapter to this series/rewrite!!!! Thank you to everyone who’s stayed with me and has left me with great feedback and compliments. I’m so grateful! I loved writing this series and I’m looking forward to season 2! As always I love you all and forever grateful for every single one of you!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter 23 Masterlist

JJ pulls me aside by Kie's car and lets me silently cry into his shoulder while he kisses the top of my head and tells me everything is going to be okay in sweet whispers. I let him hold me because I feel like I can finally breathe for the first time in weeks.

"I should have went with him," I mumble for the millionth time in his shoulder.

"Trust me, if nothing else kills him first, you would." I pull away and give him a confused look. He quickly explains with a small grin. "I think the reason you two lasted so long together was because the three of us were there to buffer most of your fights."

"It's not my fault he's stupid." I smirk.

"See?" JJ says like he just made his point.

I roll my eyes and look over at Pope and Kie when I finally hear them talking like friends again.

"I'm sorry for acting like a dumbass," Pope stammers. "I was just upset and I was acting petty..."

"Yeah," Kie agrees with him.

"And I just..."

"It's okay."

"...just wanna be friends again."

Another round of thunder rumbles above us and I know it's going to rain any second. But that's not what has my attention. It's the way Kie moves closer to Pope and how her hand gently caresses his cheek. Then their lips meet and they're embraced together as one.

My mouth physically drops to the floor and I cover it with my hand. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Only hours before, the two of them couldn't be further away from this moment. Pope hated her and Kie was adamant about being nothing but friends. I guess Kie did have a thing for Pope. She tried convincing herself otherwise and it didn't work.

JJ laughs next to me and squeezes me tighter to his side. He shakes his head but smiles proudly at his best friend for finally making his move.

Unfortunately, the moment is ruined by another wave of police sirens closer than I wish they were.

"Hey, guys, I'm sorry to ruin the party, but, uh, we gotta go right now," JJ says. Kie and Pope pull away from each other, both of them wearing delirious grins. "Come on!"

As we move towards the car, a round of about four different cop cars surround us with their red and blue lights and loud sirens. JJ backs up, making sure I'm right behind him by clutching my wrist behind his back.

"Pope..." Kie says worriedly.

"Move! Hands up! Hands up!" Officer Shoupe approaches us first with a mean scowl on his face. He looks at each one of us, no doubt looking for John B.

"Pope, hands," Kie says through clenched teeth when Pope hesitates to comply.

Shoupe's eyes land on mine and he holds my stare for a second longer than everyone else's. I make sure to keep my face stoic and unreadable even though I want to proudly smirk in his face and even say 'ha ha.'

"We're too late. He's gone. God damn it!" He says to his team. He speaks into his radio strapped on his shoulder. "Bratcher, have your guys stand down. Let me talk to these kids." Shoupe approaches us again and looks directly at me. "All right, where the hell is he? Where the hell is he?" When I don't say anything or even as much breathe in his direction, he looks at JJ. "JJ? I see you're living up to your name." Then he looks at Pope. "Pope, how about you? This isn't a fucking game! You can do the right thing now! Where'd he go?" Shoupe glances one last time at me before looking behind my shoulder. He pulls his radio up to his lips. "Suspect has just left Station 26 in a small boat."

The man on the radio responds. "Need marine patrol to respond."

Another crack of thunder strikes a new wave of nerves through my body. John B's barely out of here and I don't know if the storm is going to hold off long enough to give him a steady getaway.

Next thing I know we're being tossed in two separate vehicles. I keep my teeth clenched and my eyes forward. I pretend to look strong and committed when all I feel is nervous and scared.

The police bring us into a large tent set up to protect them from the rain. I'm literally in shock by how many people are here, working together to find my brother. Many men and women walk past us with rain jackets with the letters FBI on their backs in gold bold letters. I'm literally speechless by how important these people think my brother is.

Every word that comes from these people's mouths sound like a code I'm trying to decipher as they speak to one another.

"They're still trying to verify..."

"Mobilized..."

"Follow Plumb to that tent..."

"Wait for your friends..."

"...SBI on the scene..."

"They killed a person."

"This way." Someone physically tugs on my arm and pulls me to sit on a row of plastic chairs with my friends.

"...That's all you can say?"

Shoupe stands in front of me, temporarily distracting me from trying my best to eavesdrop on the other agents. "Sit down. Don't move. We got a lot to talk about." He looks at the agent who pulled me by my wrist. "Keep an eye on these kids."

I look up at the agent placed on babysitting duty. Younger, fit, brunette, stubble. He looks at each one of us like he's studying us, placing a mental bet on which one is going to break first. His gaze lands on me and he holds it longer than he did the others. They probably recognize my face as easily as they would recognize my brother's.

There's a lot going on inside and out this tent. Agents speak so fast with one another you might think they're speaking a different language. Every time thunder rumbles above us, I don't know if it's my heart or my stomach swirling with nausea. Rain is pouring down outside, each drop pelting against the concrete and drowning out the demands and orders of every superior agent.

The lights are bright against the dark wall that is outside. If I keep my eyes open for too long I think my head is going to explode.

I feel fingers interlocking with my right hand. JJ's looking at me like he's waiting for me to break like a fragile vase teetering off the countertop. I nod my head in a silent way of saying thank you and that I'm still confident our plan is going to work.

"Hey, we're back up. We got power," I hear someone announce.

My head snaps forward. I look outside the flaps of the tent opening. I can barely see the lighthouse, but the light circling around it is bright enough to light up the entire island.

"Shit," I curse to myself.

Ironically, power is all I wanted this summer. Mentally and, because of Hurricane Agatha, physically. But now, I dread it.

"That's them! There they are!"

Dozens of agents run outside with their binoculars, flashlights, and guns, and tasers. Immediately I stand up to follow, but just as quickly, I'm pushed back into my seat by our babysitter agent who isn't even cool enough to get an FBI windbreaker.

Kie's looking at me with as much fear as I'm feeling. My leg bounces anxiously and the hand I'm not using to squeeze JJ's is wrapped around the bottom of my seat tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

I try peering out through the plastic 'windows' of the tent which are just clear plastic tarps cut out in squares in the tent. Boats with red, white, and blue lights chase after another boat in the water - a boat that would be impossible to see if the lighthouse was still out of power.

"Subject is changing heading. They're heading south."

I look at our baby sitter's radio that's gripped tightly in his hand.

"Subject is attempting to escape to the south."

I look at JJ with wide eyes. "He's going straight into the storm."

I don't know if it's a second, a minute, or an hour later, but my name is being called. Another agent, this one more superior than the others, stands in front of me. He's tall, bald, has light brown skin, and bright hazel eyes. He's not smiling but he looks pleased with himself nonetheless and I don't know why because John B isn't captured yet.

"I think your brother would like to speak with you," He says.

My jaw tightens and I narrow my eyes in his direction. I don't believe him. John B wouldn't ask for me unless he knew this was the end. And it isn't. It can't be.

But if it is and I don't talk to my brother one last time, I will hate myself forever.

So I follow him despite the calls of disagreement coming from my friends. He and a couple agents behind him pull me into another tent where more important agents are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

People move out of my way like I'm Paris Hilton and they're the paparazzi. They look at me like I'm a celebrity and they're speechless with surprise and judgement.

But I don't care about the FBI, Kildare's cops, the rain or the storm. I care about the man sitting on the other end of the fold up table with a pair of headphones around his head and a fake look of concern on his face.

Ward looks up. When he sees me, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"Ms. Routledge," The agent says to grab my attention.

I'm placed in a seat in front of Ward on the other side of the table. I don't take my eyes off of him for even a second. It's the first time I'm seeing him since our day on his boat. I hate that he's sitting here like he's a fucking victim and not the man who should be behind bars. I hate that he's being treated like an ally while my brother is being chased like a criminal.

But I love that he's looking at me like I can change all of that.

I take the headset from a woman agent next to me and place them on top of my head. I'm instantly met with rustling and whistling of the wind. A couple of disgruntled grunts swim through my ears and I know I'm listening to John B rolling through the storm on the Phantom.

"Don't listen to him. He's a liar!" John B yells into his radio. His voice comes out through the FBI's speaker so everyone can hear. Ward's lips press into a thin line and his hands tighten around the circular end of the headphones by his ear.

They must have tried to get Ward to talk John B down first. Maybe it's because Ward is technically still our legal guardian or maybe...

Maybe Sarah ended up finding him after all.

Ward finally rips his eyes away from me and looks down. "John B, I am begging you. Think of her and turn around." I'm met with nothing but heavy breathing from the other end. I hold my own breath and make sure not to move even an inch so I don't miss a single word that my brother has to say. My heart feels like it's being twisted, shredded, and torn apart by a wild bear. John B is in danger. Not by the cops but by mother nature herself. Out in the ocean where he can disappear forever. Just like my father did. And the thought itself is absolute torture. "John B, what are you doing?"

There's another long pause with seconds lasting as long as hours. My hear skips a beat when my brother finally speaks up again. "Ward Cameron, do you hear me?"

Ward looks at me again and slowly brings nods. "Yes. Yes, son, I'm right here. I'm right here. Please bring her back, okay? We'll work it all out when you get home."

I jump up from the table so fast, my hips bump against the table and shake the radio display on it. "You son of a bitch!" I yell at him, not caring about the hands pushing me by my shoulders to sit back down. Or the barks of other agents telling me to calm down. I want to rip Ward's head off his stupid shoulders and punt it into the deepest part of the ocean. Or a log shredder.

"You killed my father!" John B shouts through the speaker. It's the only thing that actually gets me to calm down and I glare straight into Ward's eyes. I don't pay attention to how the agents react to John B's accusation, because even with the truth out there, I don't trust them to move on it. At the end of the day Ward Cameron is Ward Cameron and my brother is just John Booker Routledge. "And you framed me for a murder I didn't commit. You took everything from me! You took everything from me! But I'm still here. And I swear to God, Ward, I will come back one day and take what's mine. So, you listen to me, all right? I'm coming for you." A small smirk tugs at the corner of my lips and a sense of pride runs through my fingertips from John B finally standing up for himself. "I'm coming for you."

For once, Ward Cameron looks shitless. Like he did when he realized his mistake on our fishing trip.

"You." The agent next to me points at the radio set and looks at me. "Talk to him! Talk to him!"

I look back at Ward Cameron and place the headset on my head. A crack of thunder shakes around me and I physically flinch away from it. "John B?"

Another pause. Silence that is deafening. "Marleigh? You okay?"

I can't help but laugh. "Come on, brother. You should know by now cops don't scare me."

I can actually hear John B laugh on the other end and it's the only thing that makes me feel better. "Yeah, I know."

"Are you sure about this, Johnny?"

I swallow the lump in my throat as I wait for his reply. "I'd rather die than go to jail for something I didn't do, Mar."

I feel the wall I put up when I was placed in front of Ward Cameron crumble within seconds. Tears cloud my vision at the realization that nothing I can do will stop John B from driving straight into that storm. And I hate that I understand him for it. Because I would do the same thing.

I look up at Ward as tears trail down my cheeks silently. I can tell he's calculating my next move, waiting for me to stop my brother.

"I'll take care of this, okay?"

"I know. You've always taken care of me." His voice cracks and another ripple of thunder rips through the sky. "I love you, Rocket."

A sob wracks through me and I push myself away from the microphone so he doesn't hear me feeling weak. When I gather my composure I push myself closer to the radio. "I love you, Bird."

The head agent slams his palm against the table in frustration. "No!"

I close my eyes and let the tears drown my vision. I feel like I've been placed in an ice bath. Frozen to the core, wanting to kick and scream my way out of it, feeling numb but also like I'm being ripped apart by something sharp.

Another agent walks out. "I wanna have Search and Rescue standing by."

"Any response?" A woman asks another agent.

That other agent shakes his head. "They're not calling it off yet."

Everyone's running around, talking into their ear pieces and looking at one another for any kind of clue on what to do next. I refuse to look at them because I know what's going to come next.

John B use to tell me that being a pessimist would be my downfall. He was always an optimist - hoping and aiming for the best. Believing Dad was alive kept him going where telling myself he wasn't helped me move on. Growing up, we would butt heads a lot. But as a team, we worked well together because he pushed me to go further in life and I helped him stay grounded when it was necessary.

But today, being a pessimist is my strength. Because I'm prepared when Officer Shoupe approaches me with a sullen and sorrowful expression. I don't even have to ask what's wrong because I know it's the last thing I want to hear.

"Marleigh," He says. I think it's the first time he's ever talked to me like I'm a person with feelings and not some teenager causing chaos on his island.

I'm nauseous. My heart is thudding against my chest so heavily I think it might crack a couple ribs. The blood running through my veins feels like it's been lit on fire and I'm on the verge of exploding. The dread and the devastation runs through me in half a second and then is suddenly replaced by a blinding white flare of rage.

"You!" I turn on my heels and try running up to Ward Cameron to wrap my hands around his throat, to pull a gun from the nearest agent and shoot him in the head with it, to tear his eyes out with my finger nails. But I'm easily stopped by the millions of agents that surround both of us. They physically pull me away, barely even flinching as I try clawing through them to get my hands on the entitled Kook in front of me. "This is all your fault! You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you! No - get off of me!"

I kick and scream until my throat is raw and my legs feel weak. Ward is pulled away from me so he can grieve the death of his own daughter. I only stop thrashing around when my body goes limp. My legs are rubber and my head is heavy. I fall to the floor and fold into my knees and cry the hardest I have ever cried before. I cry for the loss of my brother. For Sheriff Peterkin. For the justice my dad will never get. For the gold he's worked so hard to get live on without his name ever being mentioned with it.

I don't know how long I stay on the floor until someone helps me up. They place a windbreaker over my shoulders and walk with me to the tent where my friends are waiting for me.

My heart is a bloodless organ, my head a hollow skull. I can't feel anything from the thinnest part of my fingertips to the deepest emotion in my brain.

I follow Officer Shoupe and two other agents back to my friends like a zombie. I can't even look at my friends because I'm afraid they'll feel the same heated pain that I'm experiencing and I don't want that.

Shoupe looks at them the same way he looked at me.

"Did you find them?" JJ immediately stands up. He tries meeting my eyes but I keep them focused on the dirt ground below me.

"No," Shoupe says.

"So, they got away?" I hate the hope laced in JJ's voice.

Another crackle of thunder makes me flinch.

Shoupe sighs. "We, uh...we lost them." He looks up. "I'm sorry."

A deafening silence falls around us and I finally look up. JJ's brows are pinched together in confusion and anger, Kie's about to burst into tears, and Pope looks frozen in shock.

"What do you mean you lost them?" Pope asks. "Like they're gone?"

"What are you talking about?" JJ demands.

Again Shoupe sighs. "They took an open boat into a tropical depression, Pope."

"So they're dead?" Pope asks.

"We don't know."

JJ snaps. He takes a threatening step towards the set of officers and points an accusatory finger at them. "You drove them through the storm, man! Are you kidding me? Come here!" It takes two agents to pull JJ away from Officer Shoupe. "I'm gonna kill you."

I don't even react to the outburst because I can't. I can't feel anything other than my own teeth clattering together and my lip quivering with the threat of a new round of tears.

"JJ, stop!" Kie tries to calm him down through her own sobs. But even I know, she's wasting her breath.

"I'm gonna kill you, you bastard!"

"Hey!" An agent scolds him.

"You killed him! He didn't kill anyone and you know it!" Pope yells along with JJ. He doesn't try to attack like the blonde, but he makes sure to get as close to Shoupe as possible.

Shoupe sighs. "We're still looking for him, all right?"

"Pope. Pope, just stop!" Kie pleads. She grabs onto Pope's arm and pulls him closer into her body. "Please, stop."

When JJ proves he's calm, he pulls me into him and holds me tight against his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist and let myself fall apart for a second time. I cry into his shoulder, not caring about the snot or tears that will probably ruin his second best button down shirt. I grip onto him so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if my fingernails ripped holes into the fabric. He's the only reason I'm still standing on my two feet. I can't feel my legs.

"Pope...Pope!"

Mr. and Mrs. Heyward run into the tent followed by Kie's parents. All four of them run to their kids and pull them into their own family group hugs.

I watch even though the sight destroys me. Kie with her two parents. Pope with his. I observe the way they hold their children, kiss the top of their head, and tell them everything is going to be alright. Pope keeps mumbling about how sorry he is and Kie is weeping into her mothers neck.

They have that and I don't. Not anymore. It's all been ripped away from me like a toddler and chocolate they're not allowed to have.

But it makes me even more grateful for JJ. Even though I hate that he's in the same boat as me, I know I can always rely on him to be by my side. We have each other and even though it doesn't always seem like enough, it is.

There's nothing that I wouldn't do for this man. He's my light at the end of a dark and dreary tunnel. My guide in life to live it to the fullest without any regrets. My life partner that's going to make me the happiest girl on the island one day. I couldn't ask for anything more from the love of my life.

Mr. Heyward looks up from his family moment and holds out his arm for JJ and I to join. JJ and I take advantage of it and let Pope's parents hold us like a parent should, despite any hateful feelings they have towards us for leading Pope down this road with us.

My brother's gone and I don't know how to comprehend that yet. I don't know where life's going to lead me and the future went from being adrenaline inducing to absolutely terrifying. With Kie, Pope, and JJ by my side, I'm hopeful that I can get through pretty much anything.

JJ's my rock and my leader. I will love him until the universe physically pulls him away from me. With him, I'll take on life one day at a time. Each one will be a struggle, but I made a promise to John B that I refuse not to keep until the day I die.

I will take care of this. I will make sure Ward Cameron gets what's coming to him. And I will not let him take anything else away from me. Not even over my dead body.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @buckysbcrnes @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights

#jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x oc #outer banks rewrite

94 notes · View notes