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sencrose · 4 months ago

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-- WHEN STARS REALIGN

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

wc: 3.2k

tags: NONCON, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, toys (vibrator/dildo), soulmate AU, ambiguous backstory, fingering, creampie, pwp

a/n: this is the second time gojo has distracted me from another thing i've been working on. i need to evict him from my brain. ao3 link here

summary: Years after you leave the world of jujutsu, Satoru returns to claim what's his.

At some point in time, you had potential.

Nothing record breaking in the grand scheme of things; the balance of the world didn’t shift when you were born. But, you were on track to graduate as a grade one sorcerer, a bundle of accolades and accomplishments under your belt. It was potential, nonetheless.

All you have left are memories.

The day you found Satoru Gojo’s name written on your wrist, and the chaos that unleashed shortly after. A hasty withdrawal, starting from scratch with no connections. It’s what you had to do.

But even memories fade with time. Some already have.

These days, life is much more mundane. Water cooler talk, boring meetings about raising profits, the oh so wonderful view of your gray cubicle that fills your vision for sixty hours a week – if you’re lucky. At the very least, you can take solace that you were able to make things work in your favor – a promotion on the way, a comfortable salary, and a decent apartment.

Sometimes the hypothetical flits past your mind. What if you stayed? What if you didn’t abandon jujutsu? If you didn’t abandon him? But the thought flies by so fast, and you have no desire to chase after it.

With a slam of your laptop, you check out for the day, making your way past the elevators, the security gates, on to the bustling train you take to get back home. Everything is the same as always – until you get back to your apartment. The door is slightly ajar, and you know you’re not the type to leave it so.

Hesitantly, you push it open. Nothing in the hallway at least. Nothing in the bathroom, kitchen, or living room either. What are the actual chances that someone, or something is really in there? Maybe this whole thing is a fluke. That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you push the door open, peering through the crack like a child in search of a bedtime monster.

“Welcome back!”

Not a monster, but close.

As soon as his voice hits your ears, your body freezes. Gojo sits on your bed leisurely, hands leaned against the back of his head with his legs crossed. Not much has changed about him, other than the solid blindfold replacing his round specs.

“Miss me?”

You take in the sight of him more, questioning if it’s really him. He’s taller than you remember, but only by a small margin. It brings back memories of him towering over you, encroaching on your personal space more than you like. It’s a struggle to get any words to slip past your tongue with your memories flooding back into you, a homecoming of sorts.

“Why…” you attempt to ask, but your voice is barely audible, a soft whimper.

“What’s that?” he asks, bringing his hand to his ear, “You’re gonna have to speak up, sweetheart.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m your soulmate after all,” he replies, emphasizing the label. You’re well aware that some would die for the opportunity to be forever linked to the strongest sorcerer, good looks and all. You however, are not fond of the idea.

“How did you find out where I am?”

“Call it divine intervention,” he says with a cheeky smile, one you didn’t miss.

“Why now?”

“Aw, did you want me to come fetch you sooner? You should’ve saved me the trouble and come to me yourself.”

“W-what?” you ask warily, before letting out a sigh, “no, just. Just leave, Satoru.”

“Aw, come on, the least you could do is give me a warm welcome. How long has it been now? Five years?”

“Six,” you corrected him.

“And you didn’t call once?” he asks with a pout, voice far too sweet to be genuine, “you could’ve called.”

“I don’t have your phone number,” you reply curtly.

“You deleted it?” he asks, gasping dramatically while covering his mouth in a sarcastic attempt to seem baffled, “oh, you’re really hurting my feelings.”

“What do you want?” you ask, your patience running its limit.

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” he retorts, sitting up from the bed. It is, but you don’t want to accept the reality in front of you. Satoru’s here, and he’s going to take you back. Panic runs its course through your body, your heart beating faster, your breathing uneven. Before the thought of running away even reaches your legs, he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you onto the bed.

“Let go of me!” You struggle under his grip, but you know it’s for naught. Satoru’s always been stronger than you, and you have no chance of winning.

“So you can run away again?”

You don’t dare meet his gaze, only for his hand to grip your cheeks together to turn you towards him.

“I’d like an answer,” he says, his face far too close for comfort, as if you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope – unable to escape the overwhelming image of him.

“And I’d like for you to leave,” you snap back. If you could spit at him, you would. “But I guess we both like things that are out of reach.”

“Fine, be like that,” he scoffs, “I’ll have fun either way.”

Gojo undoes the zipper of your skirt before hiking it up to your waist. You squirm under his touch, not making things much better for yourself, the fabric of your skirt rising higher and higher. All that’s left is your stockings and underwear, the last bastion against his hands. Not that it’s much of a barrier to begin with. His fingers are warm, sending an involuntary heat through you as he slides them up your thigh before pressing down on your clothed slit.

“Should probably do something about this first, huh?”

The sound of ripped nylons fill your ears, cacophonous and dissonant. That’s one layer down. Panic fills your chest as his fingers now touch your bare skin, sending a chill up your spine. Satoru’s hand pulls the fabric of your underwear aside, and you wince at the air grazing your bare cunt.

“Wait, Satoru, stop,” you say, a distance in your voice, in disbelief that this is happening.

“Why?” he asks, craning his neck to feign confusion, “we have so much to catch up on.”

His hand presses against your slit, fingers sliding up and down to collect the arousal your body has been forming.

“At least your body’s honest about missing me,” he teases, rolling your clit in between his fingers. The motion has your back arching off the bed, only for Gojo to press your hips back down. You don’t want to give in, not to him of all people. It’s a dangerous game, once you give him what he wants, all he’ll do is take, take, take. But when he plays with your clit so naturally, and has that warm bubble of pleasure threatening to rise to the surface, it’s hard to persevere.

His hand suddenly stops, and you feel both relief in your chest, and an aching want in your core. You can only hope he’s had his fun, but hope is a fickle thing.

“You know…” He pauses, humming thoughtfully as if he has a surprise in store. “You’ve got some interesting stuff in your drawer.”

The blood in your veins go ice cold.

“You should’ve let me know you missed me so much. I’m way better than this garbage.”

He brings out your toys from his pockets, and you can only assume he went through your stuff when he broke into your apartment. And though you’re no prude, it is embarrassing to see it laid out bare in front of you.

“I mean, is this even any good?” He ogles at the bullet vibrator, pressing the button to turn it on with a crisp click. The toy comes alive, and you shiver at the realization it’s in the hands of someone who can and will turn it into a torture device.

Satoru presses your legs against your chest, having a clear view of your bare pussy. It’s too embarrassing to match his gaze, but you have no choice as he presses the vibrator, hard onto your clit. The sudden onslaught of vibrations is met with a sharp pain, before it leaves as fast as it came. Pleasure rushes in its place, but it’s too much, too soon. Before you know it your body seizes as you come, jolts of ecstasy flashing through your body before fizzling out.

“Guess it is,” he comments with a sly smirk on his face.

You’re barely able to recover from your first orgasm before Satoru’s putting it back onto your oversensitive clit. Anticipation starts to build in your body, your muscles tightening against your will.

“Satoru, please, let me rest,” you plead.

He responds by pressing his finger against your hole, sliding it in with little effort. Once he sees how well you take him, he’s pressing in another and a moan escapes you.

“You’ve rested plenty for the last six years,” he purrs, voice low, eyes filled with lust.

Satoru is mean with how he plays with your pussy, scissoring his fingers inside you while diligently pressing the vibrator against your clit. Tension builds in your core, low and warm. That familiar bubble starts building again, and you writhe at the promise of another orgasm. Satoru’s fingers hook into your pussy, starting a steady pace while hitting your g-spot. Your voice isn’t anything you recognize, panting and moaning sinfully with each pass. You feel it coming again, and you resign yourself to the inevitable.

The betrayal of your body is too much for you, as you sob through your climax, muscles clamping on his fingers as you ride through it. At the very least, the main note is pleasure, even if you can feel the threat of pain creeping up on you with how sore your muscles are, how your clit throbs far after he’s removed the toys and fingers from you.

Satoru finally releases you from his grip, your legs gracelessly dropping onto the bed.

“Thought you’d had a little more fight in you,” he quips, lips curling into a sly grin.

You’re not able to come back with a sharp retort, only able to focus on catching your breath and collecting yourself. The only thing that catches your attention is the sound of another device coming alive in his hands.

“Ugh, this looks kinda gross,” he sneers, showcasing a seldom used self-thrusting dildo in his hand, pinching it as if he’s holding a piece of rotting fruit, “you really play with this?”

You want to respond no, you don’t use it. It was a gag gift from one of your friends who had a quirky sense of humor. The only thing that leaves your lips is a groan.

Satoru, of course, has no intention of letting you rest. He spreads your legs open, the dildo pulsing vigorously, one good thrust away from penetrating your quivering hole.

“S-Satoru, please-”

“Please what?” he asks, voice obviously mocking your desperation.

“Give me a break, just a few minutes-”

“No,” he interrupts, punctuating the end of his sentence by pushing the dildo inside of you. It’s unnatural, uncomfortable as it stretches out your pussy, scraping your walls with each thrust. It’s too deep, nearly punching the air out your lungs as it undulates.

The once comforting sound during your lonely nights now buzzes incessantly in your ears. The vibrator starts again and you find yourself running into the wall that is your bed frame. With no way to escape, Satoru presses the bullet on your aching clit, and your body tenses up yet again.

“You’re too easy to please, you know that right?” he taunts, pressing both toys harder into you.

Words die on the tip of your tongue, morphing into soft sobs and incoherent moans. You’re sure you’re saying ‘it’s too much’ somewhere in the flurry of noises, but it doesn’t reach Satoru’s ears. Of course it doesn’t. If anything, it only has him playing rougher with your pussy, thrusting harder with the dildo, drawing circles with the vibrator.

That familiar heat starts to build in your core again, insistent and feverish. It’s a losing game, trying to fight back against it, but you try anyway. Moving your body so that the vibrator isn’t right on your puffy clit, hoping he’ll lose his strong-handed grip on the dildo, anything for a sweet, much-needed moment of respite.

You just wish you didn’t fail so quickly.

“Nope, no running away,” he says with a grin, legs wrapping around yours to keep them open, vulnerable, at his mercy.

Satoru’s quick to catch on, why wouldn’t he be? His ministrations are unrelenting, his hand now thrusting the dildo inside you with fervor. It hits deeper than anything you’re used to, your head light and dizzy at the overwhelming sensation.

As your muscles tense, pain starts to rear its ugly head, your nerves fried and frayed at the edges. Pleasure zips past your core before immediately rushing into pain and overstimulation. Your moans start to morph into screams, limbs thrashing under Satoru’s grip as he presses his hands on your mouth.

“Geez, you’re gonna scare your neighbors, sweetie,” he says, voice laced with faux concern and an authentic pride, “bet they’ve never heard you scream this loud, right?”

The only response you can give him are muffled moans, trembling legs as you do your best to ride out the messy wave of pleasure and pain. When you finally come back down from your high, Satoru finally pulls his hand away from your mouth. Your legs spasm as he takes the dildo out of you, nearly mourning the fullness that filled you up.

The sound of his belt unbuckling brings you back to reality, but you have no energy to protest, too wrung out and sore from your unrelenting string of orgasms.

His cock prods against your entrance, and your muscles seize in anticipation. Even with the arousal pooling around your hole, you’re not sure it’s enough to take him. You’re not sure if anything would help you take him.

When Satoru enters you, he does so achingly slow, savoring the way your walls split to account for his girth. It’s too much, your hands gripping on to the sheets for purchase, aching with how tight you hold on to them.

“S-Satoru, please, it hurts,” you beg, voice honeyed with the sweetest tone you can muster, hoping that he’ll relent.

“Good,” he pants out, nearly groaning as he bottoms out, “maybe you’ll think twice about leaving.”

The slow drag of him against your insides nearly drives you delirious, and your resolve flickers for a brief, fleeting moment; you almost find yourself daring to ask for more. Not that Satoru would give you a moment to think. His pace steadily builds up, and before you know it the lewd slap of skin against skin echoes throughout the room, and you can’t help but whine at the way he fills you up so perfectly.

Satoru brings the vibrator to your clit again, and you shake your head desperately, frenzied, because you know you can’t handle it. Not that he cares – this is a punishment after all. Within moments, his cock rhythmically hits that special spot that has you keening into him, and you can feel his grin against your skin, as if it’s just a game to him, the prize being your compliance.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, though that doesn’t stop muffled whimpers and hums from escaping your lips.

“You’re holding back, let me hear your sweet, sweet voice.” His fingers press into your lips, pressing down against your tongue, and what comes out is foreign. You’re not sure if sweet is the apt descriptor for it. Sounds more wet, more choked and coughed. You don’t want to think about the implications.

You can barely hear the snap of Satoru’s hips over your unintelligible moans, but you definitely feel the intensity of his thrusts revving up. Pressing down on your waist, holding you in place so he can fuck the deepest parts of you with pinpoint accuracy.

Tears swell in your eyes again, the sharp sting of overstimulation drawing a jolt out of you. Just a fleeting moment of tightening muscles before falling into an ache that roars in your core. You’re back in a place worse than you started, overworked nerves and a feverish heat that refuses to cool down. There’s nowhere to go, no reprieve, just Satoru holding you down as he ravages your cunt.

“Just take what I give you,” he says, more command than statement, “it’s the least you could do for me, sweetheart.”

The pet name churns your stomach, knowing that he’s blissfully entertained from the whole situation pisses you off to no end. Everything about him pisses you off really – that stupid sly smirk, the beads of sweat collecting along his forehead, and how he barely looks disheveled throughout the whole thing. And though that anger and frustration simmers in you, the promise of climax quickly envelops those feelings, a wave crashing along the shore, taking the bank’s forgotten shells and sediment as it recedes.

Satoru fucks you with a desperation you never thought you’d see in him, fracturing the blasé version of him that lives in your memory. There’s a recklessness to his pace, too hard, too fast, too deep, especially with the vibrator pressed against your clit.

The tension in your core starts winding itself up again, but you feel it lower, deeper than all the fleeting climaxes you’ve had so far. You don’t want it, you know exactly where it’ll lead, but your body doesn’t care, walls tightening around like Satoru’s cock like it was made for this, as certain as the markings on your wrist.

“You gonna cum again? Can feel you wrappin’ around me,” Satoru pants between strokes, a smug grin on his face as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Nonono, no, I can’t-” You’re interrupted by a particularly mean thrust, only able to finish your thought with a lascivious moan.

“You already have so many times,” he coos, face pressing against yours, “I know you can.” A promise and a threat. Without any warning, Satoru presses a button on the vibrator, and it intensifies. Everything overwhelms you, the warmth of his skin pressed against yours, the fullness of him, the way his hot breath caresses you with each grunt and moan.

Another orgasm rips through you as the tension in your core snaps, muscles trembling and fluttering uncontrollably as he fucks you through it. Your voice and body don’t feel like yours, lewd moans spilling from your lips, arms wrapping around his back for support and pressing his feverish skin against yours.

“F-fuck,” Satoru pants, and you can tell he’s close.

With a few more strokes he’s cumming inside you, walls continuing to spasm and convulse around him as he empties hot ropes of semen in your cunt. In terms of the physical, everything about you is washed in warmth, inside and out. When Satoru removes himself from you, you wince at the emptiness and warm seed leaking from your hole.

An uncharacteristically gentle hand pats your head as you attempt to decipher what the future holds.

“I missed you too.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #sen writes #s.jjk #cw.noncon #sen fics

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kndllroys · 1 year ago

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something only we know

18+ minors dni!! smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, soft dom!ken, implied age gap

a/n: this is my first ever fic? i wrote this in my notes app so i apologize in advance if it sucks lol also if i missed any tags or warnings please lmk!!! i also posted this on ao3. my username there is hardt0explain

You can sense his presence before you actually see him. Someone like Kendall commands the attention of a room that way. You’re at your favorite dive bar, a place Kendall is known to frequent when he’s in a certain headspace, feeling particularly young and daring. Glancing his way, you can see Ken has that gleam in his eye. You smile to yourself, knowing if you play your cards right you won’t even have to ask - he will be ravenous, animalistic.

Kendall sees you smiling to yourself; you’re clearly not paying attention to your friend chattering on beside you. So smug, Ken thinks to himself as he suppresses a grin. He knows how much of an ego boost it is for you when he shows up out of the blue, wanting you. He knows you’re going to be fun tonight.

“Hi,” Ken approaches your table and shamelessly rakes his eyes over your body.

Your friend has seen Kendall approach you multiple times at this very bar, but she can never really get used to it. She stops in her tracks, mid-sentence, mouth agape.

“Hi, Ken,” you take your straw out of your cocktail and place it between your teeth, still holding it between your pointer finger and thumb. “You decided to make your quarterly pop-in, eh?”

“Well, of course. I just, uh, had a feeling you might be here. We have that kind of magnetic pull toward one another, don’t you think?” Ken is laying it on thick already. This might be a record.

Your friend takes that as her cue to leave and politely excuses herself, “Oh! I think I see my friend from my yoga class. I’m gonna catch up with her - call me if you need me, okay?” She gives your hand a squeeze before heading across the bar.

“You know, I think there might be something there. It’s just hard to tell sometimes,” you tease as Kendall scoots in beside you at your booth. He’s right up next to you, his thigh flush against yours and his face so close to yours you can smell the sandalwood of his beard oil. He’s grown out his facial hair. Just a bit. He looks fucking good.

“You think?” Kendall challenges, the k at the end of the word prominent. You nod and ghost your fingers over his knee, up to his mid-thigh and drape your hand to casually linger between his legs. You look up at him through heavily lidded eyes. His breathing hitches.

“Yes, baby, I think. What if you take me and show me? You wanna see how good I can take your cock?” You’re feeling bold now. You slide your hand up to feel his cock hardening inside his trousers. Your face is still close to his; you lean in close to his ear and whine.

“Alright. Let’s go. Brat.”

Kendall practically drags you to his car. Once you’ve shut the car door, he’s on you. You try to play coy but he isn’t having it. His hands are all over you - cupping your face as he kisses you deeply, pulling your hair so he can kiss and nip at your exposed neck, grasping your breasts through your dress. You let out a whine when he suddenly stops.

“Not yet,” is all he says.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, he grabs your hand and rubs his thumb along your knuckles. He’s still not looking your direction. You know you’re in for it.

The elevator dings - Kendall steps over the threshold and pulls you into his penthouse with fervor. His lips are on yours and he is just as you imagined, just as he has always been - needy, passionate. You love having him this way. He walks you backwards, making your way to his living room.

“Did you miss me, baby?” you coo, turning around and bracing yourself on the couch so you can give a little bounce against his cock. He’s breathing heavy already.

“Fuck you,” he groans. Kendall pulls up the skirt of your dress and bends you over the arm of the couch. “Fucking brat,” he pulls your panties down and off your body. “God, you have no right feeling this fucking good,” he says as he pushes two fingers into your cunt. “So fucking wet for me, baby.”

You cry out, arching your back and grinding against his fingers. Fuck, why does he have to be so good at this? Before you can catch your breath, Ken drops to his knees and bends you further over the arm of the couch so he can reach your cunt with his mouth. You can feel his moans vibrating into you as he drinks you in, eating pussy like his life depends on it. Fuck, the way his facial hair scratches against you, your clit, your thighs.

“Baby, oh fu— oh fuck. I need—“ you stutter. Then, Ken’s patronizing voice—

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you can do better than that. Use your words baby, come on. Tell me what you need from me.”

“Ken, I— I need you. Fuck,” you manage.

“You need me? Oh, baby, I know that. Come on. Surely you’re not fucked stupid yet, baby. Tell me exactly what you need,” Kendall’s scolding now.

“Kendall, oh god, I need to fuck you.”

Kendall lets out a low groan, “Good girl.”

Ken is back on his feet again. You hear a belt buckle and zipper. You feel the tip of his cock brushing against your cunt and subconsciously push your hips back, seeking him out. Kendall stops your hips before he can enter you.

“Oh, you are so pitiful. Such a pathetic little thing,” Kendall condescends. He leans closer and whispers in your ear, “You’re so fucking good for me,” and pushes himself inside you completely.

You barely recognize your voice as you cry out his name, grabbing at the pillows in front of you and Ken behind you and anything you can get your hands on to tether yourself to reality. You push your hips back into him and arch your back, trying to get him as far inside you as possible. Kendall grabs your hips and snaps his into you, grunting as he thrusts.

“Let’s try something,” Ken interrupts. He pulls off his trousers and button down shirt, boxers following shortly after. You slip your dress off and Kendall hands you his button down.

“Put this on. Leave it unbuttoned.”

You do as you’re told and Kendall promptly pulls you down onto the floor with him, giving you kisses and grasping at your breasts hungrily.

Kendall sits cross legged, and with much care and attention, helps you wrap your legs around him and lower yourself onto his cock. The closeness, the intimacy is so much more intense than you could have ever imagined or hoped for. Your nipples press up against his bare chest. Kendall looks at you hungrily, thinking that witnessing you in this position wearing his shirt is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You run your nails down his back, feeling the slickness of his sweat atop his strong muscles. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, burying your face in his neck. Ken circles the pads of his fingers against your cunt as you gasp and whine and beg.

“Come on, baby. You take me so well. Let me hear you cum for me,” Kendall pleads.

You fall apart around his cock, head thrown back and moans echoing off the ceiling. The noises coming out of your mouth are unrecognizable to you, but the ecstasy you feel overshadows any embarrassment you might have had.

“I can’t stop, fu— fuck, I can’t—“ Kendall cries out, sounding so pitiful (and erotic) as he cums inside you. He moans, whimpers, performs a monologue about how perfect, beautiful, amazing you are. You both take a moment to catch your breath, Ken still inside you.

Kendall is the first to speak, “So, uh… you think we have something?”

#kendall roy smut #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy/reader #kendall roy fanfic #kendall roy x you #succession #succession smut #kendall roy fic #succession fanfic

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wolfgirlmay · 1 year ago

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Dusk & The Sarkaz Prince

Characters - Dusk x Hibiscus

Summary - Hibiscus participates in Rhodes’s Island annual fundraiser and aims to make Dusk ́s heart skip a beat or two while getting lots of donations.

Word Count - 1,266

Tags - Humor, Drag, Drag King Hibiscus, Trans Dusk, Lava and Nian are there too, NSFW, Sexual content happens mostly off-screen, Hibiscus uses He/Him while in character.

Notes - This is a slight rewrite of an old fic that I love but did not feel it was enough of a change to post on AO3 again. No beta read and English is not my first language so grammatical errors abound.

It was time for Rhodes Island's annual fundraiser, and this year Nian and Closure cooked up their best scheme yet, a drag king show featuring some of Rhodes Island's most popular operators.

The plan was simple; have tons of cheap alcohol, let the audience put money to vote for their favorite performers, and at the end of the show, once they were all good and tipsy, sell signed prints of the performers in their outfits for extra profit.

Of course this could only work if the incentive for voting was a good one. And to this point, Kal’tsit made the perfect recommendation. The most voted contestants would be featured in a calendar they could sell for a boost in funding.

The resulting event was a total success. Entry tickets sold out in record time, the crowd was having a great time, and judging by the reactions so far, voting and merchandise would bring in a ton more LMD. They were only about half way through the show and already well on track to break last year's record, and that was not even accounting for their online merch sales.

“Give another round of applause for Moby Dick!” Nian called over the speaker system.

Nian’s boisterous tone was almost lost in the cheer of the crowd. The auditorium, full to the brim, exploded in applause, screams, and the feral squealing of a certain shark as the latest performer left the stage with a reserved bow.

“Don’t forget everything you expend tonight goes to a good cause! Keep the drinks rolling, and use that hard earned cash to put some votes towards your favorite performers.”

Among the lively crowd were two less outspoken observers, Lava and Dusk. The two girls were seated in the front row, a privilege of Nian producing the show and Hibiscus being one of the featured performers. Neither of them were fond of such crowded, or loud, spaces, but they were willing to make an exception to support their respective lovers.

Two cups of wine hit the girls table and the crowd began to calm down as the stage was being prepared for the next performer.

“God, that shark's wailing felt like it was piercing my soul,” Dusk complained.

Lava nodded approvingly. “No joke, I thought I was gonna go deft.”

Lava and Dusk took a long relaxing sip of their drinks. Despite their complaints, they were having a fun night together. It turned out they had more in common than they first knew, and if they were being entirely honest with themselves, they were enjoying the show.

“Hey, did Hibiscus tell you when she was up?”

“No,” Dusk said with a shake of her head. “She would not even tell me her stage name or anything. She said that she wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my sister alright.”

Nian’s voice came back to life with an electric buzz, ready to announce the next performer. “Next up, all the way from Victoria, he aims to claim your hearts with his royal charm and sweet music! Give a warm welcome to…”

Dusk’s tail perked up. “Could it be?”

Lava shrouded with fear. “I have a bad feeling about this…”

“...Prince Long Flute!!” Nian finished.

Dusk knew instantly, but she was still shocked. “Prince…Long Flute?” she mumbled to herself as she began awkwardly clapping.

Lava facepalmed. “Ughh, I knew she would pick a terrible name.”

To the roaring applause came out a well dressed figure. A pristine black suit featuring a vibrant flower on its jacket’s pocket, half gloves and dress shoes to match, and an immaculate violet bottom up shirt in full display through the open jacket made up his outfit. His short yet flowing lavender hair framed his heart melting smile as he playfully waved to the crowd.

The pace erupted with cheers and Dusk had to bring both her hands to her mouth to restrain the wild noise that was forming in the back of her throat. “A prince, he is a prince. A twinky, handsome prince!!” the dragon thought to herself as she stared in awe.

Lava looked at Dusk with a teasing grin. “Looks like you are the one about to squeal now.”

She was, and could not muster the words to deny it. Seeing Hibiscus like this was filling Dusk’s mind with more inappropriate thoughts than she ever thought possible.

Nian’s commentary continued. “Have his princely looks already conquered the audience, or will this slender prince have to do more to win them over?”

Prince Long Flute stood tall in the middle of the stage, flute at the ready, and offered the audience a playful wink, getting a loud roar in response. Dusk, unable to hold on any longer, joined in with the cheering crowd.

“Looks like our prince charming is ready to show us his skills!”

With that Nian’s commentary stopped. Prince Long Flute moved his flute aside and brought a finger to his mouth. He dexterously took his glove off with his teeth and then flung it to Dusk down in the audience. The dragon squealed like the Shark before her and blushed a vibrant red. The crowd loved it, going wild at the bold display.

The ensuing musical performance was mostly lost on Dusk who was still flustered beyond belief. After the show was over and the voting results were up, Dusk made her way backstage. The dragon looked frantically around the crowded dressing room for her lover.

“Dusk, over here!”

Dusk rushed to the familiar voice. She greeted her lover, still in full costume, with a quick kiss and held them in her arms in a cramped corner of the dressing room. “You were great out there.”

“Thank you, I figured you would like it. So, did I make your heart skip a beat?”

“You always do, but that was just unfair.” Dusk returned the glove to her lover. “I almost passed out when you pulled that stunt.”

Hibiscus let out a giggle before putting on her character once more, changing her tone to match that of her noble persona. “I guess my charms worked on you, my fair lady.”

“Hibi… No. Prince Long Flute, you have no idea. I can’t wait till we are alone, there are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Dusk held her lover by the chin and teasefully ran her thumb against his lips. “First off I want to put that mouth of yours to work. I want to see if you are as good at handling me as you are with that flute of yours.” Dusk leaned in to whisper into his ear. “I will have you on your knees, sucking me off until I ruin that pretty face of yours.”

“That can be arranged, after all it is a prince's duty to take care of his lady.”

“Good,” Dusk purred. “You are such a good boy, and good boys let themselves be pegged all night long, right?”

“But of course. It would be ill fitting of Victorian nobility not to. Why don't we make way for my chambers? I promise they will be to your liking, my sweet patron.”

“Yes, yes.” Dusk claimed his lips with passion, her serpentine tail possessively warping around him as she did so. “Let’s get out of here, my prince.”

The role play continued all night long, until Dusk was done breaking her twink. She loved Hibiscus in all ways she came, from the sweet but fierce medic, to the noble prince from Victoria. She just could never have enough of the Sarkaz.

The End

Thanks for reading!!

#arknights #fanfic #dusk arknights #hibiscus arknights #arknights fanfiction

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dhufflebee · 2 years ago

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pressure points (a HSMTMTS fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: E.J. Caswell/Val Characters: E.J. Caswell; Val Additional Tags: Feelings Realization; discussions of motion sickness; Future Fic; but like a couple of years - they're in college together

Also read on: ao3

Summary: “Wait. You want to go back home… by car?” “Uhm, yeah?” “Not that I don’t like the idea of a road-trip, mind you, but it’s what? 12 hours? Why won’t we take a plane?” “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

this fic is silly and very self-indulgent, mostly because I needed to give at least a smidge of happiness to my boy EJ after the enraging, horrible choices the show made re: him it is also a love letter to my faithful acupressure wristbands, which have accompanied me on countless travels (including two transoceanic italy-australia flights) — thanks, and onto our next adventures!

“Hiya, theater boy!” Val greeted, plopping down unceremoniously on EJ’s bed.

“Hi Val,” he answered from behind the wardrobe door, before reemerging with a stack of jeans in his arms. He reached for the duffel bag at the end of the bed and put the clothes inside. “How’s packing going?”

“I’m almost done. Any idea what the timetable is?”

“Yeah, so,” EJ straightened up, counting with his fingers. “Tomorrow’s the last day of class for us both, then I have a costume fitting mid-afternoon and the last training before the break.” He glanced at Val, who spurred him on with a gesture. “Then I’d say the next morning we get in the car at 8 sharp and head on eastward.”

“Wait. You want to go back home… by car?”

“Uhm, yeah?”

“To Salt Lake City?” Val sounded more incredulous than EJ expected.

“I mean, yeah! I thought that was clear by now? We’re off in two days and we’ve never mentioned other means of transportation, what did you expect?” EJ added with a half-laugh.

“I don’t know, I thought you had it taken care of!” Val answered, her eyes wide. “Maybe you’d come knocking the day after tomorrow with, I don’t know, last-minute plane tickets you’d obtained through mysterious, high-fidelity-airline-members-only ways…”

“Oh,” EJ squeaked, scratching his neck. “Sorry, I should have been clearer. I should have asked you beforehand, actually.”

“Not that I don’t like the idea of a road-trip, mind you, but it’s what? 12 hours?” Val said, and EJ nodded reluctantly at her questioning eyes. “Why won’t we take a plane?”

“Ah, mh. It’s… well, it’s kind of embarrassing,” EJ mumbled, busying himself with the half-full duffel bag on the bed to avoid Val’s waiting expression. She would have to wrench the information out of him, no way he was sharing that willingly.

“EJ,” Val said after a little while, in her psych-major voice.

“Oh alright, I'll tell you.” Wow. So much for being a tough nut to crack. “It’s just… I don’t exactly have a good track record with airplanes. We used to fly – as a family, I mean – back when I was a kid, but I remember it was always terrible for me.”

“Mh.”

“And then, when I was 8 I was sick on the plane, and it was absolutely horrible and one the most embarrassing moments of my life,” EJ confessed, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “After that I never wanted to get back on a plane again, and I still don’t, I guess. Hence, car.” He shrugged and glanced at Val, fully expecting her to start laughing.

When their eyes met, however, EJ found only a hint of amusement, drowning in a sea of fondness. He was taken aback, so used as he was to being made fun of by his dad about the whole ordeal.

“Oh EJ,” Val smiled, scooting closer. “It’s been a dozen years… you’ve never tried anything for this motion sickness of yours?”

“It’s not even motion sickness, really,” EJ shook his head. “I have no problems with trains or cars – not even with boats, if you can believe it! It’s truly just planes that make my stomach lurch,” he added, forlornly.

Val stood up and closed the space between them, rubbing a hand comfortingly on EJ’s arm. “Don’t hate me for saying this,” she said, while EJ stared a bit stupidly at her hand smoothing the fabric of his sweater. “But I think maybe you could like, try again? Perhaps growing up helped, and you might never know!”

EJ scoffed, focusing once again on his duffel bag and zipping it close with a bit too much force. “You know what the funny thing is? I was actually dead set on overcoming this particular problem a few years ago,” he said in a clipped tone, picking up the bag and brusquely shoving it into the wardrobe. “I had a whole vacation in Hawaii booked and planned, and you can’t get there by car, can you? No, you gotta take a plane,” he rambled, pacing in the middle of the room. “And I was ready to take that plane, because come on, at 18 one can expect to be able to face a bit of airsickness, no? Especially if you’re traveling with your girlfriend--”

At that, EJ’s voice cracked and he stopped abruptly, a pained expression on his face and his hands slightly trembling. Had he looked up even for a second, he would have seen Val’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. His slumped shoulders gave her the time to blink them away, though, and she schooled her sad, knowing expression into a more lighthearted one.

“Well,” she chirped, drawing EJ’s attention. “I think avoiding a 12-hour ride might be a good reason to try again, don’t you think?”

“I guess?”

“Excellent! So, if you somehow manage to locate plane tickets in these two days…”

“What was it you said? ‘high-fidelity-members’?” EJ replied, his frown lines smoothing. “We Caswells actually are, even with me never flying. I can get us last minute tickets, sure thing.”

“I think I might have a solution to your problem, then,” Val grinned, standing closer to EJ. “I'll lend you my old acupressure wristbands, you know the ones to combat motion sickness?”

“How old, exactly?”

“‘You’ll look like a child’ old, I'm afraid,” she answered sheepishly. “At least they’re grey and not some weird garish color, though.”

“That wouldn’t have been a problem, but thank you,” EJ said sincerely, warmth spreading in his chest and a smile blooming on his face.

“I’ll also get you some ginger sour gummies to help settle the nausea.”

“Not too many of those, though – gotta stay fit for water polo,” EJ replied, with a chuckle and a wink.

“Zero chance you’ll lose form over those,” Val teased him, poking him in the abs and looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

EJ hadn’t realized just how close they’d ended up standing, lost in the familiarity of their banter. He felt the overwhelming urge to cup Val’s cheek, and was struck so dumb by the unusual sensation that he barely registered his arm moving.

He managed to stop before doing anything he might regret, his hand grasping at nothing. He couldn’t tell if Val had noticed, however, because she had been staring at his face for so long that his cheeks were starting to burn.

EJ averted his eyes after a beat and stepped back, busying himself with his backpack and blabbering about classes, unable to look at Val to gauge her reaction. For some reason, his mind supplied him with a single, scathing thought. Coward.

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

EJ squirmed for the umpteenth time, his knees hitting the seat in front of him, as sleep eluded him once again. He tried to find a comfortable position, but between his mild anxiety and his height being ill-suited for the flying monstrosity they were currently in, he only got more frustrated. Almost subconsciously, he fiddled with the tight grey bands on his wrists, dreading a repetition of his past plane-related embarrassment.

Suddenly, a small hand caught his, and EJ’s eyes snapped open at the contact. Val leaned into him, her weight on his shoulder familiar and grounding. “Stop worrying about the wristbands,” she said softly. “You put them on properly, believe me. The more you think about it, the worse it’s going to feel.”

EJ turned his head slightly, and saw the half smile on Val’s face. She had taken off her shoes as soon as the plane had started moving, and with her feet tucked under her on the seat she looked relaxed and very endearing. EJ envied her – but he also felt a bunch of other things happening in the space between his stomach and chest, which he didn’t have the strength ( nor the courage, really) to dwell on.

“Try to sleep a bit, EJ. It actually helps with motion sickness,” Val continued, poking him in the shoulder. “Unclench,” she chuckled.

EJ was trying to, really. “I know that, yeah… I guess I'm just on edge. Also I reckon I don’t want to leave you alone the whole flight,” he explained, frowning.

“Not much company you are if you’re feeling unwell,” Val answered. “Thank you for the kind thought, but I mean it: sleep. I’ll be here,” and smiled encouragingly.

EJ took a moment to just look at her, trying to commit to memory the way she looked in the low light of the plane, sitting by his side. Then he nodded, settled in his seat and closed his eyes – Val still holding onto his hand the last thought in his mind before he finally drifted off to sleep.

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

EJ was lying on the bed, an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the sunlight. He had started unpacking, but the flight had left him with the beginning of a headache, and for now being comfortable was more important than being tidy. It was his childhood bedroom, after all.

A little while later, Val came knocking at his door. “How’re you feeling?”

EJ hummed, moving the arm from his face and trying to smile, only managing a half-wince. “I guess better than I would in similar circumstances if you hadn’t helped me, but still… not great.”

He looked at Val, once again expecting derision but finding nothing but softness. And maybe the hint of something more that he was feeling too unwell ( afraid) to actually address.

He scooted up the bed, sitting upright and leaving more space for Val, who immediately crossed the room and sat cross-legged beside him, the mattress dipping under their weight.

“Thanks for the hospitality, by the way,” Val said. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet.”

EJ matched her grin with one of his own. “Don’t even mention it – if anything I’m sorry I feel so wobbly that I left you alone to settle in. And to fend for yourself,” he added, his smile turning into a grimace. “Hopefully my dad wasn’t too unpleasant?”

“Oh, no worries,” she shrugged. “He barely acknowledged me and then got out, actually.”

“Mh. Typical.”

“Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere to be… not without you, that is.” Val picked shyly at the hem of her jeans, then looked up with a lopsided smile. “I’m the one who’s sorry, though, since I forced you to take a plane and all.”

“No no no,” EJ replied, shaking his head quite vigorously. “It was high time I found a way to get past my block. That psych major is really paying off, huh?” he added with a wink.

Val laughed, a short and humorless thing, before turning to look warily outside the window.

EJ straightened up, concern painted on his features. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Val’s shoulders sagged, a sigh pushing past her lips as she stared at the pale blue sky to her right. “It’s just--” she began with an unsteady voice. “This is the last break before graduation and then I am a proper adult and I’m not sure if I'm ready to actually be a proper adult, you know?”

Val’s hands were trembling in her lap – something that hadn’t escaped EJ’s notice, who was fighting the urge to grab them and hold them and steady them. He didn’t want to startle Val, though (meaning he didn’t have the guts to do it), and forced himself to stay put, focusing on the light reflecting on her profile instead.

“I guess I'm scared of what’s coming after this chapter of my life ends.” Val deflated, closing her eyes as if to stop tears from falling down. “I don’t wanna fail.”

EJ’s heart all but cracked. He wasn’t sure what hurt him the most, though – whether Val’s self doubt or the fact she couldn’t stand to look at him while admitting it. He was devastated she wasn’t feeling her usual confident self, and he silently willed her to just look at him so she could see his encouraging smile. Instead, a tear rolled down Val’s cheek and she hastily wiped it away, her trembling hand opening a door into the part of EJ’s heart he hadn’t been brave enough to acknowledge until now.

He surged forward, eyes blazing. “Hey, look at me,” he urged, getting no answer from Val, who kept still and crumpled in front of him. Then he figured he had to just spell everything out that he would’ve tried to communicate with an understanding smile – and, well, it was now or never, wasn’t it? No more being chicken.

“Val,” EJ said, softly, and she let her eyes meet his, at last. “You’ll do great. You’ll ace your last semester and you’re going to be a psychologist so good people’s socks will be blown off. You won’t fail, I believe that. But even in the remote possibility that you do --” Val’s breath caught in her throat, but EJ couldn’t stop – didn’t want to stop – now that the dam had broken. “Let me tell you this: you are a wonderful woman and an even more wonderful friend, and that’s far from a failure in my book. I'd be damn lucky to have someone special like you in my corner forever, psych or no psych.”

EJ’s heart was beating like crazy. He’d been looking into Val’s eyes the whole time, but it only hit him when her cheeks flushed deep red. Oh god, was I too intense? He panicked, scrambling to apologize, to retract, to laugh it off – anything to put a damper on the feelings threatening to burst out, scary and too real.

It all came to a halt, though, when Val’s face softened and she grabbed EJ’s arm. His gaze dropped to where their skin touched, warmth spreading in his body as if Val’s fingers were burning him. His breath hitched the moment she began massaging the inside of his wrist, delicately rubbing over the pressure marks the wristbands had left on his skin.

EJ was breathing somewhat raggedly, sparks dancing in his brain at the prolonged, soft contact, his hands itching to reach for Val’s face and touch her hair, her neck, her cheek. And yet, he forced himself to be as still as possible, terrified of bursting that little bubble of intimacy, of losing the physical connection that was making him rethink and rediscover and reassess his feelings while sitting on his childhood bed alongside his best friend. (Maybe something more than that.)

EJ knew then that something had ineluctably, finally shifted between them. He lifted his head to look at Val, and she closely matched his movement, looking back with a small smile – fond and familiar, yet so splendidly new.

Well, fuck.

#finished this at last! very dear to my heart but it took quite a while #hsmtmts #ej caswell #fanfiction #HSM #ej x val #myships #my fics

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birdie-is-also-a-magical-alien · 6 months ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

No one tagged me but I'm stuck with two chapters so I decided to take a break for today and do this instead.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 16 works on AO3.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Give me one minute -checks AO3 statistics- ...I have... 165k words in total. I'm happy ^^ I thought it was around 100k.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for Saint Seiya, any other fandom tends to be from a quick hyperfixation, which is why there's only one or two fics for differing fandoms. The exception to this is Sengoku Basara, that has two LONG ASS fics (for my track record).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

From: All of us, To: Jiang Cheng

Written and posted for Jiang Cheng's birthday after his disastrous ending in the donghua. Writen alongside my long time internet best friend Sarasvasty.

Carta Malescrita

My first fic, I still get a lot of activity. Surprising because I posted this... 4 years ago... and it was my first fic on AO3, not to mention for a rarepair.

Touch Me

SenBasa smut fic I wrote before the pandemic hit. It was my longest fic until I wrote the prequel/sequel that is ongoing and will resume on may after a very long hiatus. Very proud of this one despite it's flaws (which deride from me not being a native english speaker. Yeah, I Feel You

“I’ll steal you away!!”

A translation of a fic that came from an 80s song called Amante Bandido by Miguel Bosé. Seiya/Shun of course.

Ride on Time (Dance With Me)

My one and only songfic, it's also a Seiya/Shun translation. It uses the song Ride of Time from Yamashita Tatsuro.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course! Anyone who decides to leave a comment on my beloved fics gets a reply. I would kiss every one of my commenters on the mouth (I write for small fandoms, people reading is SOMETHING, comments are a godsend)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? None of them? I write a lot of fluff, I reserve my angst to my original stories. Maybe From: All of us, To: Jiang Cheng because we wrote the story in a way that he didn't remember any of what he saw.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Marmalade & Sugar Song (or Come Away With Me (In the Night) for you english speaking people) because it ends on a very happy note of "yeah, your boyfriend is not so bad" which I thought was pretty funny.

Do you get hate on fics? Luckily no! I'm not in big enough spaces for that to happen.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, as filthy as I'm able to write it. I really want the reader to feel like they themselves are being fucked. Touch Me is basically just that. Hopefully the scenes I write for Yeah, I Feel You are much better now that I've had 3 years to get better (if only by sheer force of managing my english better).

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Not really? I wrote The System from SVSSS into the MDZS universe, but it was for a dream sequence, kind of. The other is a Hiraeth and Fukinamono and it is not the best idea for thematic reasons in Hiraeth but it was pretty satisfying emotionally.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Luckily no, or at least not that I've found out about.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, by me and have offered to translate my friend's fics.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, with Sarasvasty for the Jiang Cheng B-day fic. We were both so mad about his donghua ending, we NEEDED to channel that energy somewhere.

What's your all-time favorite ship? Hands down Seiya/Shun from Saint Seiya. It's THE MOST vainilla ship someone can come up with in that fandom, I think but it’s SO GOOD as a slow burn

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don’t think I’ll ever write my KojuSasu bandfic au, I have so many other ones I want to finish and my other KojuSasu fic is soooo long I don’t think I will shorten it so I’d rather move on to other stuff

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and creating a sentimental ambiance. A friend of mine also said I’m great at writing mutual pining in a way that kind of makes you the reader hurt a bit.

Also smut

What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m not good at action sequences, need to practice them.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Might as well just put it in brackets or omit it if it’s going to be a full sentence. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to do, the problem is when people just use automatic translators and think that’s enough. As someone who is bilingual it is not as easy as that is not satisfying enough when you know the language and can tell the scene is bad.

First fandom you wrote for?

Saint Seiya back in 2013 and it’s still up in amor-yaoi, a cursed vibe early 2000s Spanish speaking website. I’m not linking back to it, I tend to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

Necesito Tiempo

Because I put my all into it so it would have that sweet pining goodness that I wanted in a fic, something that felt all consuming and had a lot of poetic imagery. It even has some of my dumb sense of humor in it. It’s Seiya/Shun like all of my stuff.

I tag anyone that wants to do this (too lazy to tag specific people lol)

#saint seiya #mdzs

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apocalypse-shuffle · 3 years ago

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APOCALYPSE-SHUFFLE+

──

────

───────

(pic of: GHOUL from batman beyond: rotj)

hi, I’m Trix (20yrs old|black), and this is my writing blog where I post imagines and the such.

about: character imagines/x readers/headcanons (here’s my masterlist; I’d recommend searching through it over my selected tags bcs tumblr’s tagging system is ass and won’t actually show every post tagged under a specific tag)

90+ (fics, hc’s, & imagines)

I repost stuff too

my ao3 (note that my works are set to only show my work to registered users)

my wattpad

connected blog: apocalypse-boogie

Authors Note: I cannot write for every type of person. Please don’t act like I can or should be. I am one singular person who has a life and feelings, not a genie in a bottle and I don’t have to do any one thing. Thx

DNI: minors; on my posts/reblogs that are 18+ (because I want peace of mind).

racists; because ‘fuck you’ that’s why. race fetishists; see above quote in orange for why.

homophobes; because I’m not and never will be in the mood.

terfs, misogynists, & pedophiles

one more time, y’all

me: Trixie

20yrs of age

black; as in brown skinned

18+ only on posts labeled “18+”; minors dni with those (I’ll just block you)

ALSO FREE PALESTINE

I don’t care about how you might want to argue with me about this, I don’t support genocide and I just want to make my stance on that clear. (Unfollow me if you want, you won’t be missed.)

Once I gather all my links together I’ll be putting resources and information on Israel’s occupation of Palestine and ways to help right here.

To learn about Palestine and the ongoing conflict there: thepalestineacademy.com

USCPR’s toolkit for calls (what you do - in the US - to call for a ceasefire & the end of the US’s support of Israel)

Make sure to state your name and address (& at the very least your zip code when calling) so that your call/voicemail/email is recorded by your local representative.

Here’s global protest information to look into if you are able to physically attend a rally.

Boycott! Boycott! Boycott! Boycott! (We have spending power let’s put it to good use.)

Siemens, Puma, Garrefour, Ahava, Sodastream, HP, and AXA (a multinational insurance company based in France that provides its services throughout the West) all support Israel. x x

This post gives a lot of info.

Also, protest tips to keep yourself safe out there because the right to free speech in America is a joke. If you can, look into faraday bags (or alternatively tinfoil) to combat the police tracking your cell (but, really, just try not to bring your phone at all). Look into temporary burner phones (that you can discard), and in order to better combat facial recognition wear goggles as well as a mask.

[via: comicsareforkids]

THERE IS NO BLACK LIBERATION WITHOUT PALESTINIAN SOLIDARITY (and FYI Black Palestinian Lives Matter too)

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jobrookekarev · 3 years ago

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The In-Laws

Chapter One of One

Words: 5970

Summary: When one of Meredith's dinner parties goes disastrously wrong, Meredith, Alex, Amelia, and Maggie go up to her room to drink and talk, while Jo, Link, Hayes, Winston, and the kids all hang out in the backyard as the in-laws talk together.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Meredith Grey/Cormac Hayes, Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Atticus Lincoln/Amelia Shepherd, and Maggie Pierce/Winston Ndugu.

Characters: Meredith Grey, Cormac Hayes, Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Maggie Pierce, Winston Ndugu, Amelia Shepherd, Atticus Lincoln, Zola Grey Shepherd, Derek Bailey Shepherd, Ellis Shepherd, Liam Hayes, Austin Hayes, Scout Shepherd-Lincoln, and Luna Ashton-Wilson.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences,

Additional Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kids, Dinner Parties, Drinking (Mentioned), Babies, Pregnancy, Labor, Ice Cream, and S’mores.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: I've had this one in my draft box for a long time and I finally just got around to finishing it. I hope you all enjoy it.

……………………………………………………………………

“Hey, good you're all here,” Meredith said as she came and the attending’s lounge.

Everyone was eating lunch. Link and Amelia were with Scout in a highchair next to Cormac, while a pregnant Jo and Maggie sat on the couch with Winston, Alex, and Luna.

“So, as you all know, Carolyn, Derek's mother, is coming to town next weekend,” Meredith said, folding her hands together as she stood in front of the group.

“Yep, we've got it all planned out,” Link said, as he offered some of his pasta to one-year-old Scout. “We’ll have a dinner party, where she will get to meet her new grandson, and the other kids get to play with Grandma before following up with desserts and a quick exit, short, simple, and fun.”

“And our emergency get away excuse is an MVC in the ER with encephalitis and multiple broken bones,” Amelia said with a smile as she fed Scout another spoon full of applesauce.

“Either that or Jo going into labor, it depends on the situation,” Link said as he and Jo exchanged a look of agreement.

“We have a secret text code and everything,” Jo said as she nodded and she rubbed her eight-month pregnant belly while Alex bounced Luna in his arms.

“I, for one, am looking forward to meeting your ex-mother-in-law,” Cormac said with a smile as he looked over at Meredith.

The two of them had been dating for a little while, and although things were still new they were beginning to introduce each other to the other’s extended families.

“Well, plans have kinda changed,” Meredith said, a little hesitant before she dropped the bomb on them. “Your sisters got word of Carolyn's trip, and now Nancy is tagging along with her family, kids and all.”

“Nancy is coming!” Amelia said, putting down the spoon and sitting up.

“I've met Nancy. Are you sure this is a good idea?” Link asked, looking between Amelia and Meredith.

“Yeah, she did spend the entire time she was here calling me a slut,” Meredith countered despite the hesitant look on her face.

“This is bad,” Amelia said as she started to freak out. “Nancy is the worst of them all.”

“She also wants her kids to spend more time with their cousins,” Meredith argued. “And I don't think she'd do anything too bad with the kids around.”

“So you're okay with her comparing her perfect kids to our four messy kids because that is exactly what she's going to do,” Amelia said, pointing the spoon at Meredith to make her point.

“Well, Luna's a bit fussy, so we should go put her down for a nap,” Alex said despite the completely calm baby in his arms as he got up off the couch and pulled Jo up with him.

“Wait, just hang on for a second,” Meredith said to him, holding up her hand.

“Why none of this concerns us?” Alex said, of course, as Meredith’s best friend, he was willing to go to dinner with her and her family, but not if he could avoid it.

“Well, I was hoping to make a dinner party out of it and extend the invitation to you, Jo, Maggie, and Winston as well,” Meredith said, plastering on a smile and trying to seem like it was a good idea.

“No, that is a terrible idea,” Jo said, looking over at her wide eyed.

“It can't be that bad, I’ll make my lasagna, and I think it would be nice to meet Derek's mom and his other sisters,” Maggie said with a shrug, that jostling Winston from where he had pressed his head against her five-month pregnant belly. “Sorry, honey.”

“My other sisters are nothing like Derek and I,” Amelia added angrily, staring at the applesauce before Link put his arm around her shoulders.

“Exactly,” Jo said, nervously rubbing her belly. “And besides, every time we have a dinner party at your place, it ends in disaster.”

“That's not true,” Alex said, only for Jo to give him a look.

“Oh really, what about the dinner party a couple of years ago where Callie brought Penny?”

“That was an extenuating circumstance,” Meredith countered.

“What about that game night that you tried to host two years ago? Half of you didn't show up, which I guess it's a good thing as I heard from Jackson that it was a huge disaster,” Jo said, waving her arm around gesturing to the magnitude of the disaster.

“Again, there were kind of extenuating circumstances there,” Maggie argued again before Jo cut her off.

“What about all the times we tried to get together the year Meredith was gone or that time your mom came into town and made lasagna. This group and dinner parties have a bad track record, and this is one train wreck that I do not want to be a part of.”

“Well, suck it up, Karev. You're part of the family now, and that means whether you like it or not, we are all going to at least attempt to have a nice time at this dinner party,” Meredith said, glaring at Jo before she looked over at everybody else. “So, is everyone on board?”

“I think we can make it work,” Maggie agreed with a nod from Winston.

“I will help you cook, and I'm sure we can prevent any disasters,” Winston said, kissing Maggie's cheek before he leaned down and kissed her stomach.

“I'll be there,” Cormac said, getting up and putting his hand on Meredith's back. “And I'll do everything in my power to make sure things go over smoothly.”

“What do you think?” Link asked as he looked over at Amelia.

“I am going to reserve my right to bail at a moment's notice and there better be cake,” Amelia said, pointing to Meredith, who nodded in a quick agreement.

“I think we can make it too,” Alex said, looking over at Jo for confirmation. “I’ll rub your feet and change all of Luna’s dirty diapers for a week.”

“Okay fine,” Jo said, crossing her arms before pointing a finger at Meredith. “But when everything goes to hell, and you, Alex, Maggie, and Amelia are all falling apart upstairs drinking and eating cake because shit hit the fan. I'm going to be in the backyard with your kids and getting them hopped up on candy.”

“You can't feed my baby candy Jo,” Amelia said, looking over at her.

“He’s a year old, I can feed him ice cream,” Jo countered, raising her eyebrow over at Amelia as Link laughed before Amelia silenced him with a look.

“Well, you better keep the candy in your car, Karev, because you're not going to need it. This dinner party is going to be great!” Meredith insisted as if she was trying to convince herself.

She gave Cormac a quick kiss before she left and Alex raced after her and followed her out of the room.

“Are you sure that this is a good idea? I mean, I know your ex-mother-in-law is pretty nice, but Jo’s kinda right about our history with dinner parties.”

“It's just Carolyn, and she's on good terms with both Amelia and me, and Nancy has promised to be on her best behavior,” Meredith insisted with an optimistic smile that definitely looked out of place. “It's going to be great.”

It was not, in fact, great.

Jo balanced the four cartons of ice cream in her arms. She pulled out the bottle of tequila from the fridge for Meredith and the bottle of sparkling cider for Amelia and Maggie and handed both to Alex. She slowly walked over to the drawer to grab a hand full of spoons and balanced the bowls in her other arm. Given what happened that night, she figured that all the kids deserve endless ice cream.

“Why don't I help you with those,” Alex said, he held Luna in one arm and reaching out to take the ice cream carton from her before she turned away.

“No, set Luna down, and go and take the drinks upstairs and comfort Meredith. She needs you right now. I got ice cream. I’m fine,” Jo said, shoving him off with her hips and a wave of her hand.

Alex tilted his head and smiled as he took the drinks and set Luna down. She toddled over to the back door, calling out for Scout. “Out, out?”

“Lu Lu,” Scout called out to her as she giggled and waved her arms excitedly as she walked into the backyard.

She had started walking a few weeks ago, and since then, Jo and Alex could barely keep up with her. They knew that all of the adults and older kids outside would keep an eye out for her until Jo came out. They both watched Luna through the window for a moment as she and Scout met in a hug.

“Are you sure it's okay?” Alex asked again, catching her before she moved to follow Luna as he reached out and placed his hands on her belly. “I should probably help you out with the kids, Mer will be fine with just Maggie and Amelia.”

“Alex, I told you it's fine. Meredith isn't stealing you away from me. You're helping out our friend now go,” Jo said as she grabbed the bowls and waddled towards the laundry room to head out to the backyard.

“Are you at least going to say I told you so?”

“Maybe next week, once the sting wears off,” Jo said as she turned around to look at him with a smirk before she opened the screen door.

Jo waddled out into the backyard where Link, Hayes, and Winston, were calming down the kids. They were all upset at the things Nancy had said to Meredith, especially Zola. With the bowls in one hand and the ice cream in the other also balanced on her belly, Jo felt the baby kick against the ice cream shuffling the stack of cartons.

“I know it's kind of cold, just hang on, squirt,” Jo said as she put the ice cream on the table and sat back in the lounge chair.

With extra reassurance, cuddles, and ice cream, the kids were doing better. Soon all of them were scattered around the yard. Zola was eating ice cream in the chair next to her while Bailey and Ellis were playing on the play center with Liam and Austin. Jo sat with her carton of rocky road as she fed Luna and Scout a spoonful. She watched her daughter and godson take in the cold treat with wide eyes and exciting squeals. As soon as they were finished with their bite, they would open their mouths and silently demanded more. Their little bodies were vibrating with the amount of sugar.

“Are you sure they're okay up there? What Nancy said was pretty harsh, maybe I should go talk to Meredith,” Cormac asked as he took a step towards the house.

“No, they're fine, trust me, if they wanted us up there, we would be, but they just need some time to talk it out amongst themselves,” Jo said, as she fed Luna another spoonful of ice cream.

“I just feel awkward and a little out of place standing around here. I know Meredith and I have only just started dating, but I feel like I should be there for her more,” Cormac said, staring down at his bowl.

“Yeah, I get that,” Link said, with a nod as he ate some of his own ice cream. “But you were there and stood up for Meredith in front of Nancy when it counted and she appreciates that, but now she needs time to complain about it with her brother and sisters.”

“How long do you think before they're dancing out?” Jo asked, tilting her head up to look at the room where they were all probably still drinking.

“I give it thirty minutes tops,” Link said with a shrug.

“Might be a bit more than that,” Winston said as he took a sip of his beer. “I know how Maggie gets when she's angry, she can rant for at least a half-hour.”

“Yeah, she's pretty good at bringing the thunder,” Jo said as they all chuckled.

She looked around the backyard and smiled. A few years ago, it would have just been her heading back to the loft alone, maybe with Stephanie, maybe not, but now she had Link and Cormac and Winston. Alex, Meredith, Amelia, and Maggie had always been their own little family, and Jo now realized she had her own little in-law party tonight.

“Hey, Aunt Jo,” Zola said, coming over with an empty bowl and putting it on the side table. “Can I use your phone and run inside and grab my speaker so we can have our own dance party?”

“You can use my phone Zola, I've got a really cool playlist I'm sure you'll like,” Liam offered, coming over and pulling out his phone and handing it over to Zola.

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” Jo said before Zola ran inside to grab her speaker.

“I hope this playlist of yours isn't too offensive?” Cormac warned Liam.

“Relax. It's all clean music, I promise,” Liam said as he held up his arms in defense.

“They seem to be getting along pretty well,” Link noted as Zola came back out, and they set up the speaker together.

“Yeah, sometimes a little too well,” Cormac said as Liam and Zola giggled together.

The four of them sat there eating ice cream and talking as they watched the kids run around and dance to the music. It was so adorable to watch Scout and Luna dance to the music. However, it was a little embarrassing when Luna started twerking something Jo had definitely not taught her how to do.

“Hey Liam, what song is this?” Link asked as he sat up his head lately bopping to the music.

“Um, It's,” Liam paused as he checked his phone. “It’s Sam Smith’s, Make It To Me.”

“Nice, I’ll have to add it to my playlist for tomorrow's surgery,” Link said as he added it to his phone as he looked over at her and raised his eyebrows. “A surgery you could get in on too, Jo. I need a general surgeon.”

“Or you could get in on one of my cases’ the next time I deliver a baby with a broken collar bone,” Jo suggested, smirking at him as she glanced back at Luna just in time to see when I reach for the bullet ice cream almost tipping it on to herself before Jo pulled it out of her reach.

“Ah, that's more of just a Ped’s case,” Link said with a shrug.

“I don't know. It's always good to get a second opinion and you are the bone expert,” Cormac said, tilting his head at Link and taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, I just miss working with you. It seems like I never see you anymore,” Link complained with a pout.

“I miss working with you too,” Jo said, sharing his pout. “But it's not like we don't see each other all the time. We still have our Wednesday night playdates and Waffle Sunday.”

“Yeah, but that's with the kids. It's never just the two of us,” Link said with a sigh as Scout came over to him and he picked up his son. “I love our kids, and I love that they're such good friends, but I miss having adult time with my best friend.”

“I miss you too,” Jo said, looking over at him. She rubbed her belly as she felt her baby move around inside of her. “Well, it's not just going to be the two of us, but why don't we carpool to work tomorrow and let Alex and Amelia drive the kids. Then we can get breakfast at the coffee stand before work.”

“Sounds good,” Link said as he gave her a fist bump.

“Luna and Scout’s friendship is just so cute. They're definitely going to grow up and be best friends,” Winston said with a smile as he watched them play together on the grass. “I hope our baby has that.”

“Don't worry, I got you,” Jo said, pointing at her stomach as all of the boys laughed.

“Yeah, it's nice that all of our kids are around the same age and will be in the daycare together,” Winston said, walking over to sit next to her.

“You know, when Amelia told me she was pregnant, I kind of hoped that you and Alex would have a baby too so that our kids could grow up together,” Link that with a smile as he watched Luna and Scout dance together. The two of them had grabbed onto each other's arms and were swaying together.

“Was this before or after you freaked out?” Jo said, raising an eyebrow over at him as the boys Winston and Cormac chuckled.

“It was an unplanned pregnancy. I think I'm allowed to freak out a little bit!” Link said, holding up his hand in defense.

“See, that's the hard thing about moving when your kids are older. They lose touch with their friends, but I’m glad Liam and Austin have always been able to make friends here, although I know they miss their friends back in Switzerland.” Hayes said as he watched his boys play with Zola and Bailey.

“Good friends always have a way of coming back to you,” Jo said as she and Link exchanged a smile.

“Which is why you should scrub in on the surgery with me,” Link said as he leaned forward in his chair.

“I'll think about it,” Jo said, and she did mean it because as much as she loved OB, but there were parts of surgery that she did miss.

“What we need is a case that we can all work together,” Hayes said, leaning forward in his chair.

“Oh yeah, that would be so cool,” Winston said as Jo and Link nodded.

“It'd have to be a pretty specific case,” Jo said that she thought about it. “Like a baby with osteogenesis imperfecta and Mom with a bad heart or something.”

“We could probably all work together on a case with a mom and baby with Achondroplasia,” Link said as he snapped his fingers.

“Yeah, that could be possible,” Winston said, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. “But that doesn't necessarily mean there's a heart issue.”

“It's going to be a needle in a haystack to find a case, but it would be fun for the four of us to work together,” Hayes said, crossing his arms.

“Well, I'll definitely keep an eye out and hopefully, we get to work together before the two of you go on maternity leave,” Link said, looking over at her and Winston.

“It might have to be after my maternity leave. I don't know how much longer this one's going to stay put,” Jo said as she rubbed her belly again when the baby kicked her. At 36 weeks along, she was ready to be done with her pregnancy.

“Speaking of which, did you and Alex finish the paperwork for your maternity leave. Maggie and I went over it this afternoon, but it’s just so complicated. You think two world-class surgeons would be able to figure it out, but it's a little beyond us,” Winston said with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, Alex and I struggled with it when we took leave after we adopted Luna and we put in the paperwork for our leave this time around last month. If you want, I could go over it with you tomorrow at lunch,” Jo offered with a shrug, she remembered how dumbfounded Alex was with the paperwork the first time around, and the two of them had spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure it out.

“Yeah, thanks,” Winston said, clearly relieved as he relaxed back into his chair.

The four of them continued talking as they watched the kids dance. The warm evening sunset turned into a chilly evening, and they turned on the porch lights and started a campfire getting out marshmallows and making S'mores for the kids. It had been a few hours since the dinner ended and she could tell the boys were getting anxious. Yet, she wasn't too worried, and she knew how these things could go.

“They've been up there quite a while. Should we be concerned?” Winston asked, looking up at the window where the light was on, but none of them could see the shadows through the blind.

Jo didn't realize that they were staring at her as she had her eyes closed and was breathing out and rubbing her stomach as she had a Braxton Hicks contraction.

“Jo, are you okay?” Link asked, getting up and coming to sit next to her, putting his hands over hers on her belly.

Jo smiled as her baby rewarded their Uncle Link with a soft kick against her belly. “I'm fine. It’s just another Braxton Hicks. I've been getting them more frequently these days. What did you ask Winston?”

“I just thought that maybe one of us should go up there and check on them?” Winston said, stared up at the window and absentmindedly picked at the paper on his beer bottle.

“It's probably best just to let them talk it all out,” Jo said as Link nodded in agreement. “Or else Meredith is going to end up in our bed tonight?”

“Wait, what?” Cormac asked, his eyebrows shooting up into his wrinkled forehead.

“Yeah, Meredith does this thing where she comes over to talk to Alex and crawls in bed next to us. She did it after you guys introduced the kids a few weeks ago,” Jo said before she took in Cormac's hesitant look. “Don't worry. It’s completely platonic, if not a bit annoying. They used to kick me out of bed while I was naked.”

“Wait, you were naked?” Link asked, he had heard the story before, but Jo had left that detail out.

“Yeah, she used to toss me whatever shirt was lying on the ground and rip the covers off of me so she could sit next to Alex,” Jo said, waving her hand and trying to dismiss the conversation.

“And Alex let her do that?” Link asked, and Jo could tell that he was shifting into protective big brother mode, so she put a hand on his chest and shook her head.

“Only because Alex was more of a pushover back then and Meredith trampled all over him. It's better now. These days she just crawls in bed next to me and steals all the blankets,” Jo said with a laugh as she remembered how Meredith had crawled into bed with them a couple of days ago. She had woken up in the middle of the night to pee, only to realize that she was sandwiched in between Meredith and Alex.

“Yeah, she does this thing where she grabs the blankets and holds them close to her chest and almost to cocoons herself,” Cormac said with a soft smile on his face. “But sometimes, she'll share her cocoon with me.”

“Eww, Dad, we did not need to know that!” Austin said, making a face from where he was making a S’more with Bailey.

“Sorry,” Cormac said, holding up his hands.

“Maggie does the same thing with her blanket, except she just rolls around when she's asleep until she's a burrito, and sometimes only her head sticks out,” Winston said, getting this far off look of love on his face. “Which is why I think we work together since I love the cold and sometimes only end up sleeping with a sheet.”

“I’m the opposite. Sometimes I’ll just spread out like a starfish. I kinda take up the whole bed, much to Amelia's annoyance, but she does the same thing too, and sometimes I'll wake up with her on top of me with her foot in my face,” Link said, yet he had a happy smile on his face. “So, of course, Scout does the same thing. That's why he loves the crib, as now he can stretch out. He's got to be able to starfish without any of his limbs touching sides.”

“Luna’s like me, she likes to curl up on her side, and Alex is a little in-between. Usually, he sleeps on his back straight as a plank, but then sometimes, I'll wake up, and he will have rolled over in the middle of the night to cuddle up against me. Which is nice, except for the fact that he runs hot, especially at night. It’s like a human sized furnace sleeping next to me. So I've got him up against my back and then this little one up in my ribs, and if she gets out of her crib, Luna will be up against my chest, and I'm trapped,” Jo said with a shake of her head as she affectionately rubbed her belly and smiled down at Luna who was asleep on her chest.

“I like cuddling with you and Luna, Auntie Jo. You’re both so warm and snuggly,” Ellis said, joining the conversation as she came over and crawled up next to Jo and rested her head on her belly as Jo wrapped her arms around her.

“I like snuggling with you too, Ellis,” Jo said, wrapping her arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead as Ellis’ eyes fluttered shut.

It was getting late, but it was also a Saturday, and none of the other kids seemed to mind the later hours as they kept playing and roasting marshmallows. Luna had passed out an hour ago, and after she passed out, Cormac took Ellis upstairs and put her to bed. Jo wished she could join them and fall asleep as well. The peaceful night lulled her to sleep, but her Braxton Hicks contractions kept her awake.

“Okay, maybe one of us should go and check on them. It’s getting pretty late,” Link said as he walked around the yard with Scout as he tried to get the toddler to sleep.

“I doubt any of them are going to come out anytime soon. Most likely, they're still holed up in there with their drinks,” Cormac said, glancing up at the window as well.

“We could fake an emergency? That would get them out,” Winston offered with a shrug.

“Yeah, we could say that Jo is in labor?” Cormac asked, raising his eyebrows over at her.

“Your Braxton Hicks were pretty strong earlier. How are you doing now?” Link asked, looking back at her in concern.

“I’m fine!” Jo insisted a little too loudly as Luna let out a sigh, but thankfully, remained asleep. Jo rubbed her hand up and down Luna’s back before she whispered. “They’re not so bad, but let’s not lie and say I’m in labor. I don’t want Alex to freak out again. A week ago, I had a few close Braxton Hicks contractions, and he was sure I was in labor. So he freaked out, running around and talking about all the baby stuff we didn't have yet.”

“Oh yes, I remember it was quite funny to watch,” Cormac said with a laugh, and the rest of the guys had a chuckle as well.

“Yeah, funny for you to watch. Not so funny for me to have to put up with. He was anxious for the rest of the night,” Jo said as she huffed and their chuckling tapered off.

“I’m sure I'll be calm when the time comes. We’ve got everything planned out, so I feel good about it,” Winston said, with a nod, looking sure about it.

Jo, Cormac, and Link all laughed before they exchanged a look. Jo glanced over to the older kids that were playing on the swing set. She didn't want to freak out any of the kids, but they were far enough away that it could work if they didn't play it up too much. So as Link came over to take Luna from her, Jo closed her eyes as she tended up and pretended to have a fake contraction.

“Are you sure you're okay, Jo? That one looked a bit strong,” Cormac said after she pretended it passed and although he seemed a little too happy to be genuinely concerned.

“It was,” Jo said as she decided to pull out the fake tears, which was actually easier for her to do now that she was so hormonal and was something she absolutely did not abuse in any way. “Guys, I think it might be wise for one of you to go get Alex. I think I might actually be in labor.”

“Oh my god,” Link said as he and Cormac rushed over to her, played along. Although when she looked up at Link, he was biting his lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh my god!” Winston said, jumping up from his seat and dropping his beer that spilled on the grass as he rushed over to her as well.

“Alright, Karev, take it easy,” Cormac said as he came over and helped her stand up, letting her lean into him as she pretended to have another contraction.

“Okay, okay, nobody panic,” Winston said, holding up his hands, clearly panicking. “Okay, okay, we need towels, and hot water, and your hospital bag, and Dr. DeLuca, and the hospital!”

Winston ran around the fire once before he started to head towards the house before coming back and then running back again. He ran around like a madman and Jo wasn't sure how long they should let this go. She didn't want to panic Alex or the kids, but it was so funny to watch. Cormac and Link could barely contain themselves, and Jo let out a cry of pain as she faked another one, biting her lip to contain her giggles. However just as Winston ran to go into the house, Link burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that he had to bend over and put down Luna to hold his sides. They all dropped the act and Jo stood up straighter and started laughing along.

Winston paused still in his panic before catching on and glaring at them as he walked back over. “Okay real funny, guys.”

“Dude, the look on your face,” Link said as he imitated Winston’s look before adopting a high-pitched voice. “Oh my god! Get hot water! Get some disinfectant! Get some Iodine!”

“You were worse than Alex was,” Jo said, she had to lean into Cormac because the two of them were all howling with laughter.

“I've seen a lot of panicked fathers in my time and it's never not hilarious,” Cormac said as he laughed so hard, he snorted.

“What's so funny?” Bailey asked, coming over to them as they just continued giggling like school children.

Winston set them with a glare as he sat back down and pouted in his chair. He swiped a new beer before picking up his old one and setting the empty bottle on the side table. Their laughter tapered off and Cormac helped Jo sit back down in the lounge chair as Link handed her Luna, who had thankfully slept through the whole thing.

“I don't be so hard on yourself,” Link said as he reached out to put a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “It's better to get it out of your system now than to be freaked out when Maggie really does go into labor.”

“Link’s right. When Maggie does go into labor, you need to take a deep breath and not panic because if you panic, she is going to panic, and that's the last thing both of you need,” Jo said with a smile as she shook her head.

“Parenting is the most terrifying thing you could ever do, but if you come at it with a level head, you'll do all right,” Cormac said with a nod as he glanced over at his two boys.

“If you guys want a thank you for this little stunt, you’ll be waiting a long time,” Winston said with a shake of his head, but he smiled as they all laughed again.

The screen door slammed and startled all of them as they looked back to see Meredith, Amelia, Alex, and Maggie come out of the house.

“Hi, Mom,” Zola said, running over to her and giving her a big hug. “I hope you're feeling better.”

“I am Zo Zo, and I see you’re doing good too,” Meredith said as she swung her arm over Zola’s shoulders as they walked over.

“We made S’mores and I saved one for you,” Zola said, holding one up for her.

“That's great, thank you,” Meredith said as she hugged her daughter before wobbling a little as Cormac caught her around her waist.

“Oh, the baby and I want a S'more,” Maggie said, her eyes going wide. Winston had got up to hug her and let her take his seat. “Do you think it goes well with cheese?”

Everyone chuckled as Amelia went over to Link, and he passed Scout over to her before wrapping his arms around her waist as they silently greeted each other with a kiss.

Finally, Alex came up to her, falling to his knees in the grass next to her as he leaned in and pressed his nose into her neck, getting tangled up in her hair. “Umm, your hair smells nice.”

Jo smiled as she turned to look at him. His eyes were glazed over and he had this big dopey smile. He leaned in to give her a sloppy wet kiss and she just giggled when he pulled back. She didn't mind that he was completely drunk because of how adorable and happy he looked.

“Come here,” Jo said as she gently scooted forward so as not to jostle Luna.

Alex climbed in behind her as he wrapped his arms around her, placing both of them on her belly as their baby rewarded their dad with a few kicks, and Alex giggled. “There's a fish in your belly.”

“It's not a fish. It’s a baby,” Jo said with a laugh. “Remember, you put them in me.”

“I did?” Alex said as she turned her head back to look at his wide eyed expression. “I love babies, and our baby is going to be so cute, just like Luna. She's so cute, Jo. Sometimes I just look at her, and my heart melts like, like ice cream. She’s like ice cream.”

“Yeah, she is,” Jo said as he ran his fingers through Luna’s short blonde hair. They settled in and she leaned her head back against his chest as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“How are you doing?” Jo caught Hayes asking Meredith as they stood by the fire while Zola made her another S'more.

Meredith gave a noncommittal response, but Amelia spoke up from where she was sitting with Link and holding Scout.

“We talked shit, and they drank, and we danced, so we're doing a lot better,” Amelia said, giving Link a smile as she leaned in to kiss him again. “Thanks for looking after the kids and stuff.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Meredith added, looking around at all of them as she patted Hayes’s cheek.

“No problem,” Jo said with a shrug. “We kind of had our own little dance party too.”

“Did you have fun,” Alex asked, his voice hot in her ear.

“Yeah, we did,” Jo said, looking around and catching Winston, Link, and Hayes’ eyes. “We had a lot of fun.”

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padmerrie · 3 years ago

Text

To Serve and Protect (Bookends AU) [3k; AO3]

Summary: Sasuke takes his protectiveness over his new kitten Tabi to an extreme and, somehow, Yamato is the one paying the price.

a/n: In terms of the Bookends-verse timeline, this takes place less than a year after Obito left Kakashi and Sasuke. Sasuke is around 8-years-old. :)

For more notes, art, and ramblings about this 'verse, you can visit the Bookends tag!

“It’s not going to hurt him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was raised by dogs. I know what I’m dealing with.”

“Dogs are not cats.”

Kakashi obviously knows this, and he knows Sasuke knows that he knows this, but there’s no point in responding with anything but agreement when Sasuke is set on being nothing but disagreeable, so Kakashi simply nods as he rinses his plate at the kitchen sink.

“You’re right,” he says, without a trace of humor. Dogs aren’t cats.” He places the clean plate in the dish rack and accepts a stale mug of coffee that Sasuke pushes at him. All morning Sasuke has been laboring under the impression that the more insistently he shoves that mug into Kakashi’s hands, the faster the coffee within will be consumed, but Kakashi ignores Sasuke’s urgent staring, fully intent on finishing his drink at his own pace.

The brat is rushing him. On a Saturday morning. Kakashi is still wearing his bathrobe and slippers, and until very recently, he planned on wearing them for many more hours to come, but Sasuke had other ideas. This became abundantly clear when Kakashi shuffled bleary-eyed into the living room with his copy of The Kiss Quotient tucked under his arm only to find Sasuke sitting fully dressed at their modest dining table, hands neatly folded on top of each other and frowning disapprovingly like Kakashi had missed morning curfew, a concept that neither exists in their home nor in that of any self-respecting household. Sasuke then looked at the clock with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, which Kakashi ignored with equal subtlety, making a necessary detour to the kitchen for coffee.

Kakashi knew that overcoming Sasuke’s concerns about trimming Tabi’s nails would not be an easy task. However, he had thought it would be less painful than the main event. This proved to be an error on his part, one made apparent by a suddenly very needy Sasuke following Kakashi around the kitchen as he prepared breakfast, hitting him with question after question. Even after they sat down to eat, Sasuke left his breakfast mostly untouched, too busy interrogating Kakashi to appreciate the chunks of tomatoes that had been loaded into his eggs.

“Let me ask you something,” Kakashi counters, draining his mug and running it under the water, “have I ever once cut off one of your fingers or toes while trimming your nails?”

Sasuke’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Exactly. I have a pretty good track record. You yourself are a witness to my brilliance.”

Sasuke thinks about this for a moment, which gives Kakashi a chance to escape and grab a new mug hanging underneath the cupboards (The one with the dancing frog in a top hat and bowtie, singing “Don’t worry, be hoppy!” A birthday gift from Naruto and a concept Sasuke has - at this particular moment - regrettably yet to identify with.) and pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. The moment is short-lived, however, and Sasuke soon reappears at his side.

“But why can’t we have Dr. Inuzuka do it?” This is the second time he’s asked this - only now he has his bottom lip popped out in a pout that Kakashi knows all too well.

“Because,” he replies with great patience, “this is something we can do ourselves. Dr. Inuzuka has a lot of other patients to see every day, some with much more serious problems than a simple case of overgrown nails. We don’t want to take up her time when she has other sick animals to treat who need her more.”

Sasuke seems to respect this explanation. The plight of helpless animals is something he can’t argue with. Kakashi pats his head affectionately and takes this break in the line of interrogation to finally indulge in a sip of his coffee. He sighs contentedly through his nose and looks out into the living room. The dogs are arranged much like Kakashi wishes he himself was, lounging about their little oasis in various states of laziness. There’s just one notable exception.

Kakashi inspects the neat row of food bowls by their shoebox of a pantry and sees that the smallest of them is still filled with food. Untouched.

“Sasuke, where’s Tabi?”

Though it pains him to abandon his coffee a second time, the look on Sasuke’s face leaves Kakashi little choice but to set his mug down and make a swift exit from the kitchen. He can feel Sasuke on his heels by the time he reaches the hallway off the living room, and it comes as no surprise when Sasuke skirts into his path and throws himself against the bedroom door, his back hitting it with a dramatic thump as he shoots his arms out protectively on either side of him. He doesn’t so much as blink as he meets Kakashi’s eyes.

Kakashi has not had enough coffee for this. He stares down his nose at Sasuke. “Kid, if you think I won’t pry you off that door with whatever means necessary, you are sorely mistaken.”

Sasuke raises his arm and points a defiant finger at the sign hanging on the door that reads in crayon scrawl: SASUKE’S ROOM NO DOGS ALLOWED.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I’m a dog?”

“You said this is my room. My special alone space.”

“Your room stops being your special alone space when I have reasonable evidence to suggest that you’ve taken a member of our family hostage. Now, step away from the door, please.”

“But-”

“Uh-uh, no buts.” Kakashi crouches down so that he’s eye-level with Sasuke and clasps his shoulder. “Listen, I appreciate your concern for Tabi’s well-being. He has no idea how lucky he is to have you. But I’ve answered all your questions. We’ve covered that you still possess all ten fingers and toes. I, myself, have all mine. If you need further proof of my abilities, take a look at that living room. Everyone looks happy and healthy, right? You want to know why? I like animals. And they like me.”

“But-”

Kakashi puts up a hand. “Any more questions and you’re going to have to contact my lawyer.”

They stare at each other. Aside from the red splotches coloring his cheeks, Sasuke remains completely expressionless. No doubt he’s running through all his options, including the odds of finding an attorney in Konoha who would be willing to take his case. Eventually, he arrives at the same conclusion as Kakashi: he has no choice but to comply. He lowers his arms and steps away from the door.

“All right, then,” Kakashi declares with a note of finality, getting to his feet.. “Here’s how the rest of this morning is going to go. I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed. While I’m doing that, I want you to open this door and let Tabi out so he can eat and do whatever. When I get back, we’re going to do this. Together. I’m going to need your help. Understood?”

* * *

“You have to hold him tighter, Sasuke.”

This is the third time Kakashi has had to say this. He doesn’t bother adding that Tabi will wriggle free if he doesn’t. He’s pretty sure Sasuke is well-aware of this and that letting Tabi escape was part of his master plan, the one he’s undoubtedly been plotting since Kakashi got into the shower. He may have given up the fight at the door, but the battle is far from won.

Sasuke sits at the edge of his bed with Tabi in his lap while Kakashi kneels in front of them. Tabi doesn’t seem too unhappy about being held by Sasuke, but Kakashi can see the beginnings of suspicion flickering in the kitten’s wide eyes.

Kakashi holds up the nail clippers and Sasuke eyes them with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. As much as he doesn’t want to do this, Sasuke can’t help himself. Knowledge is power. Power that could someday aid him in his quest to never let another soul touch Tabi besides him.

“Kind of looks like a pair of scissors, right?”

Sasuke nods and Kakashi hands them to him. “Here. Hold them out for Tabi to get acquainted with.”

Sasuke does as he’s told. Tabi’s head rears back from the foreign object invading his space, but just like Sasuke, his curiosity is quick to get the best of him. Soon he’s sniffing every bit of the clippers his little pink nose can reach, and Kakashi takes advantage of this temporary distraction to gently grasp one of his front paws.

“You know how you like to touch Tabi’s toe beans? Well, without even knowing it, you’ve been helping Tabi get comfortable with having his paws touched. That’s hopefully going to make our job a lot easier.”

“Hopefully?” Sasuke repeats, eyes narrowing. It’s the first he’s spoken since Kakashi came back from his shower.

“Cats don’t typically like having their feet touched. Something you guys have in common.” Kakashi grins at Sasuke. It’s not returned.

“Since you’re holding Tabi, I’m going to be the one doing the clipping. In order to do that, I need to gently squeeze his paw to extend the claw, because-”

“Cats have retractable claws.”

“That’s right. When the claw pops out, I’m not going to cut the whole thing off. I’m only going to trim right up to this pink area called-”

“The quick.”

“Right. If I cut that, it would hurt Tabi, so we’re going to be especially careful to avoid that area. Any questions?”

By some miracle, Sasuke has none.

“Ok, we’re going to get started, then.” Kakashi holds his hand out, and with some hesitation, Sasuke hands the clippers back. Taking one of Tabi’s paws in his hand, Kakashi strokes it with his thumb soothingly, hoping the gesture somehow transfers to Sasuke, whose eyes are fixed on Kakashi’s hand, as though at any moment he might snap Tabi’s wrist in two.

There really isn’t much else to do but to get this over with and put everyone out of their misery.

As expected, Tabi fidgets the second Kakashi applies pressure to his paw. What Kakashi isn’t counting on is Sasuke suddenly jerking Tabi away.

Kakashi sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Careful, Sasuke! We don’t want any accidents.”

“He didn’t like it,” Sasuke protests, immediately on the defensive.

“It’s normal if he squirms a little. But if you pull him away like that without telling me, I could accidentally clip something that shouldn’t be clipped.”

Kakashi doesn’t say it unkindly, but Sasuke’s annoyed expression sours even more. Kakashi lets Sasuke pet Tabi’s head for a bit before taking the paw in his hand again.

“Ready to try again?”

The answer is no. Kakashi senses Sasuke’s urge to flinch before it happens and lowers the clippers just in time.

“Sasuke...” Kakashi begins, in a calm but warning tone.

“You were too close to the quick!”

“Sasuke, I was nowhere near it.”

But Sasuke can’t hear him. He’s cradling Tabi protectively to his chest and backing away like Kakashi is Disney’s latest villain on the hunt for a new fur coat.

“Ohhh-kay, the clippers are going away. See?” Kakashi makes a show of tucking the clippers into his back pocket. He holds up his empty hands in surrender, standing up and taking a couple cautious steps towards the bed, like he’s approaching a cornered animal. Sasuke’s scooched so far back on the bed that there’s nowhere left for him to go but through the wall. Kakashi slowly lowers himself onto the bed.

“Here’s how I see it,” he finally starts. “We can put this off a day or two, give Tabi some time to adjust. Prepare himself for what we’re going to do. Or we can get this over with now, so Tabi doesn’t have to stress about it longer than he needs to…” He takes a meaningful pause. “What do you think is best for Tabi?”

Sasuke refuses to look at Kakashi. Somewhere buried under his arms Kakashi hears Tabi’s mews.

“Sasuke?”

Slowly, Sasuke raises his head and meets Kakashi’s patient gaze. Something flashes in his eyes, but Kakashi doesn’t get a chance to consider it, because the next second, Sasuke rolls off the bed with impressive speed, Tabi still tucked into his chest. He scampers past Kakashi, narrowly escaping the arm that shoots out to grab him, and races towards the door.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi commands, tone still level, but with an intensity that makes it clear that Sasuke is crossing into dangerous territory.

“No!” Sasuke shouts, not looking back.

“Sasuke!”

“NO!”

The door slams shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place.

* * *

It’s an hour before Kakashi’s rescuer shows.

Yamato finds Kakashi sprawled comfortably on Sasuke’s bed, reading, legs crossed. It’s strangely endearing seeing him this way, head cradled by dinosaur print pillows, Sasuke’s tiny bed barely big enough for his long body. Half the contents of Sasuke’s bookcase lie discarded in a pile on the floor next to the bed.

“This might be the single greatest day of my life,” Yamato says from the now open door.

Kakashi glances up from the book propped on his chest, then returns to the page. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah.” Yamato steps inside and wanders a bit, looking around Sasuke’s room with curiosity before circling round to study Kakashi from the end of the bed.

“I have to ask,” he begins, a hint of amusement in his voice, “why call me?”

“Why not call you?” Kakashi replies smoothly, not looking up. “You're a sworn officer of the law and I am a civilian in need of help.” He frowns at something on the page in front of him and mutters under his breath. “When will these kids learn that the conveniently concerned citizen who gives them the tip in Act 2 is always the one who did it?”

Yamato gives a short laugh of disbelief. “You could have kicked down that door easily. Hell,” he says, waving an arm toward the window, “you could’ve scaled down the wall of the building if you wanted to.”

“But I didn’t want to,” Kakashi says, snapping the book shut. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed in a single languid movement, then tosses the book aside. “I assume he’s not out there?”

“Sasuke? No. Just your loyal pack, who somehow missed your cries for help.”

Kakashi nods thoughtfully. “Well, I didn’t expect him to stick around. He’s on the run now.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Yamato asks, and if Kakashi detects the barely restrained glee in his voice, he pretends not to.

“Hm?”

Yamato stares at him. There’s no helping it - the corner of his mouth curves upwards. “He locked you in his room. What’s the punishment for that?”

“Oh. That.” Kakashi thinks for a moment, then looks up at Yamato and stands. “I’ll leave that to you.”

Yamato’s grin falters. “Excuse me?”

“You came in your squad car, right?”

“My-?” Yamato stammers, but Kakashi’s already walked away, leaving him standing stunned. A beat of confused silence passes and Yamato does a mental shake, then follows after him.

“Want some coffee?” Kakashi offers, when Yamato finds him in the kitchen. Yamato stands in the window of the half wall dividing the kitchen and the living room.

“You want me to find Sasuke?”

“No,” Kakashi says patiently, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I want you to find him and arrest him.”

Yamato gawks at him. “You’re serious.”

“I never joke about the law.”

“But-I-”

“What’s the problem?” Kakashi asks nonchalantly, passing Yamato a coffee he didn’t ask for across the counter. “You’ve got your cuffs with you.”

Yamato looks down distractedly at the mug now in his hand like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “I don’t think I have cuffs that small.”

Kakashi shuffles out of the kitchen and peers at Yamato from over his own coffee. “What’s wrong with some good old-fashioned rope?”

Yamato’s eyes bulge. “What?!”

“I’m kidding,” Kakashi says, and claps Yamato on the shoulder reassuringly. His eyes crinkle with a smile. “The cuffs will fit him fine.”

“Kakashi!”

“This doesn’t need to be a big deal,” Kakashi says lightly, his back to Yamato as he walks over to the couch.

“No, wouldn’t want to make a big deal out of arresting the most high-profile eight-year-old in Konoha for cat theft.”

“And wrongful imprisonment,” Kakashi adds, setting his mug down and stopping to scratch behind Guruko’s ear. “And for making me put on pants on a Saturday. That’s the biggest offense out of the three.”

Yamato runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Kakashi…”

Kakashi turns to look at him, suddenly irritable. “What else are you going to do today? Carry someone’s groceries? Sweep the streets for litterbugs?”

“Actually, I was thinking of helping a little old lady cross the street.”

Kakashi grimaces. “Don’t worry,” he says, holding up a hand as if to forestall any fretting. “Somewhere out there, Obito Uchiha is on the case.”

With this, Kakashi flops backwards onto the couch and grabs a random book from the coffee table. He crosses his legs on the table, leaning back, and starts flipping through the pages with sharp flicks of his long fingers. A charged silence engulfs the room.

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Yamato finally asks quietly.

Kakashi’s hand falters, and it’s with a jolt of regret that Yamato realizes he must have thought he meant Obito.

“Try the bookstore,” Kakashi answers, his tone neutral. “Jiraiya’s out of town and Sasuke’s been bugging me to take him before he comes back.”

Yamato nods silently. He studies Kakashi, waiting for further instruction or… something. It never comes.

Sighing, Yamato sets his undrunk coffee on the coffee table and turns to go.

“You should stop at Iruka’s first,” Kakashi says, just as Yamato opens the apartment door. Yamato glances back at Kakashi over his shoulder, his hand on the door knob. Kakashi is still reading intently from his book. “Sasuke can con him into doing anything. Iruka’s probably got him wrapped up in a dozen blankets while Sasuke feeds him some sob story about his evil guardian threatening to turn his cat into a chew toy.”

Yamato chuckles under his breath and nods. “Got it.” He watches Kakashi a moment longer before stepping out the door and pulling it closed behind him. Kakashi’s voice travels through the small opening just before it shuts.

“Call me when he confesses.”

#naruto #sasuke uchiha #kakashi hatake #yamato #tenzo #naruto au #fic #bookends #that first year of just kakashi and sasuke on their own without obito is a rollercoaster #XD XD XD

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f1yogurt · 3 years ago

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Pit Stop

“The first time I met James, it was in a little bar on King’s Road in London, called the Pit Stop.” - Niki Lauda

Summary: Up and coming Formula 3 driver, Niki Lauda, gets an unexpected call from a fellow racer.

AO3 Link - PIT STOP and link to my Fic Request Guide

Rating: G

Characters: Niki Lauda, James Hunt

Tags: Classic F1, First Meetings, 1970s, Formula 3 days, James "What are boundaries?" Hunt, James being overenthusiastic, Niki's just trying to follow along

Drabble Word Count: 1223

Warnings: mild cursing?

Niki sighed, flopping back on the hotel bed. He had booked the room for just two nights, long enough to have enough time go and do a couple test drives for his new F3 team. It was his first time in England, his first time in any other country than Austria on his own. The new experience was both thrilling and terrifying, and the fact that he didn’t even have a living space secured was a bit anxiety inducing.

Closing his eyes, he blocked out the faint sound of traffic from the busy London streets below. He would need to help set up the car, but as soon as he could, he would leave the test track to find some kind of apartment here in the city. Considering that he was broke, already in excessive debt, and not backed by his family, he wouldn’t have too many options available. But he had always done well with the odds stacked against him.

Suddenly, the phone rang, the sound loud and jarring him out of his meditation. Niki sat up to glance over at the receiver, wondering who the hell would be calling at this time. Certainly not his parents. He prayed it wasn’t his sponsors bailing out on him. Or the bank.

Letting out another sigh, he got up from the bed and picked up the receiver from its place on the nightstand.

“Lauda,” he said into the mouthpiece. After a moment, he remembered that he wasn’t in Austria, and the English usually greeted people with a “hello” rather than a last name. However, the person on the other line didn’t seem to be too concerned about formalities.

“Hello? Niki? It’s you, isn’t it?” the voice crackled through the receiver. It was a man that Niki didn’t recognize, a poshly English accented voice that sounded crisp and clear. Niki furrowed his brow in confusion. The only people he ever got calls from were his family and friends in Austria, from his potential sponsors, or from the bank. And he knew all of those voices.

“Yes, this is Niki Lauda,” he said carefully into the phone. “Who is this?” The man on the other line chuckled.

“I should be offended that you don’t know me already,” the Englishman said with humor in his voice. “I’m James Hunt. A fellow F3 gladiator with you and a racing bunch of other bloody insane chaps.” Niki felt himself grin, amused at the man’s humor. Yes, he did know about James Hunt. Only from rumors and what his team managers had said, but enough to know that the man was just as crazy as he was. And had a reputation for a madly aggressive and chaotic, yet skilled, driving style.

“Ah, yes,” Niki said, wracking his brain for the statistics of Hunt and his driving record. “James Hunt. I do know you.” He listened to the bright laughter on the other end of the line again and absently thought that he had never heard anyone sound so carefree.

“Well, that’s good then. I was bloody nervous I had phoned the wrong number,” James continued, sounding like he had never been nervous about anything in his life. “I heard that you were flying in for a few days to run some tests with some new Formula 3 team. Naturally, I picked up your hotel phone number and decided to give you a ring.” Niki sat down on the bed, still trying to process that he was having this bizarre conversation. James continued talking like it was perfectly natural to speak so casually over the telephone with someone he had never met.

“Anyways, I called to invite you out for a drink. I live here in London, and I have the night off. I go for testing in the morning, same as you.” James spoke with such ease that it almost frightened Niki. Pausing for a moment, he processed what Hunt had said. He had just been invited to have a drink with a fellow driver. Niki furrowed his brow. Who the hell goes for a drink the night before testing?

“Hunt… James. You just said we have preseason testing in the morning, and you want me to go have a drink with you?” Niki asked, genuinely confused. He never drank much, especially not before a race, or a practice. Hunt had a reputation for being a bit of a degenerate, and hell if he was going to get sucked into that. He heard James sigh through the receiver.

“Damn you Austrians and your sticks up your arses, I thought that was supposed to be a German thing?” James mused, laughing at his own joke. With anyone else, Niki would have been offended. Something about James, though, intrigued him. He decided to continue the conversation, though he knew it wouldn’t be what Hunt wanted to hear.

“I don’t go drinking before a race. End of story,” Niki said with finality, hoping the Englishmen would get it through his head. However, it appeared nothing ever got through to James.

“Niki…if you want to be a real racer, you need to come and have a drink.” The statement was made with such gravity that Niki paused to think. “I don’t know what racing was like in Austria, but here, it’s not just about driving around in circles. You’re part of the culture now, chap. Embrace it. And don’t tell me you don’t want to have just a little fun.” Niki could practically hear the smile on the other man’s face.

“Alright... fine,” he agreed after some thought, unable to deny the point James was making. “I’ll go for one drink. Then maybe you’ll respect me as a real racing driver.” He heard Hunt laugh at the jab.

“Oh, trust me, I already respect you as a driver,” he said. “So, I’ll meet you at a bar on King’s Road. It’s a little place called the Pit Stop, you can’t miss it. Let’s say, around 11 o’clock?” Niki scoffed, wondering where James got his cheek.

“11 at night? No, 8,” he said, setting the limit. “I just met you, and you are already trying to interfere with my racing and sleeping schedule.” He heard James chuckle.

“Well, I can promise you there’s more where that came from. See you later, chap.” With that, the line went dead, and Niki was still staring down at his shoes, wondering what had just happened.

Future chapters are in the works

#niki lauda #james hunt #niki lauda fanfic #niki lauda fanfiction #my fanfic #classic f1 #classic f1 fanfic #rush 2013 #rush 2013 fanfic #f1 fanfic

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scuttle-buttle · 4 years ago

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Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Part of the Baron on the Run series. Also available on AO3 @ scuttlebuttle. They say that life inspires art. i was vibing while making pasta last night and viola.

Summary: You and Zemo do a little dance.

Word Count: ~1.3

Rating: T

Tags: fluff, mildly suggestive, cold war talk, mentions of child loss, indiana jones, disco, italian food, just dance reference

______________________________________________

Zemo entered the kitchen and set his coat on the back of the chair. "Evening, liebe. How was your day?"

You walked over to him. The one nice thing about being quite tall was that you didn't have to go far to reach his waiting lips. Giving him a soft peck, you hummed "it was good. I finally got to look over that set of documents from Belarus this morning. There wasn’t much that I didn’t already know in it. Although, it did confirm that the push for economic and social stability in the capital, as well as the implementation of some westernized practices, was not so that the BSSR and USSR could modernize or even compete with the west - rather it was a means to draw people to settle in Minsk instead of the countryside where it would be easier for Hydra to keep tabs on anyone they perceived to be a threat…” you continued to ramble in the most analytic jargon about the historical implications you discovered.

Helmut made himself a glass of scotch, occasionally nodding along to what you said. Running out of breath you finally stop; "anyway… enough about me."

“I like listening to what you are passionate about. You have worked hard to be so successful and so young.” You gave him a look as though you didn’t believe a word he was saying. And it wasn’t like you were that young, only a little over a decade between you two.

“How did the recon mission go?”

"It went well. I was able to get close enough to the mark to get what I needed. They make it so easy when they openly discuss their plans. You would like the cafe - perhaps later this week we will go. The agreed rendezvous is late tomorrow night; I won't wake you." For the last month Helmut had dedicated his efforts to helping you with your dissertation research. You had limited resources on Sokovia due to the rampant corruption the nation faced. Those few that you had access to Helmut would help translate.

Hands gently massaging your shoulders as he leaned over you. His cologne invades your senses. “This right here - I’m not sure what it means,” you would tell him, pointing to the passage.

Glancing over it for a moment, Helmut responded with the translation. “You know schatz, I’m beginning to wonder if you truly need my assistance, or if you just want an excuse for me to touch you,” he chuckled.

The fall of the country and subsequent annexation made matters even more challenging. Some unsavory underground groups had been smuggling documents and the like for a profit. With his background in EKO Scorpion and the intelligence community it was an easy way for him to spend his time tracking the materials. "It won't just be for you, liebe. If I can recover any of the surviving artifacts and records from before the Avengers destroyed my country it is a step towards preserving my heritage," was his justification. He wouldn't admit it, but you knew he liked being back in the field, so to speak. You also knew that the more information he had the more cards were up his sleeve.

"Don't forget to bring your hat and whip when you go," you ribbed, referencing one of your favorite film series; Indiana Jones.

"Of course... Hmm. Maybe when I get back I will have to wake you. I'm sure we could put them to better use than just treasure hunting." Helmut loved to tease you after he discovered your fondness for a young Harrison Ford. In fact, teasing and flirting with you had become his favorite pastime since your first night together.

Groaning out a laugh at his suggestive joke, you turned and headed back over to the stove. You set on a large pot of water to boil. Helmut approached the stove. "And what are you preparing for dinner this evening, liebling?" he asked, rubbing your back through your top. You knew he didn’t expect you to cook for him, but you wanted to.

"Spaghetti and a homemade sauce with spicy Italian sausage - my father used to make it when I was growing up." You stirred the simmering sauce, letting the flavors continue to marinate together.

"It smells wonderful,” he moaned. Somberly he added “I used to make a bolognese. It was the one dish I knew how to prepare. It was my son’s favorite.” You squeezed his side in hopes to offer comfort.

“You’ll have to make it for me sometime,” you request tenderly.

His lips turned up in a soft smile. “Yes I will, liebe. I'm going to go change before we eat, I will be back shortly." He kissed your temple before heading to the bedroom of the house you were occupying.

When the water boiled you placed the noodles in the pot and set a timer. Grabbing your phone off the counter you pulled up Spotify, queueing your "feeling it" playlist. The beginning notes of ABBA's Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! began. Heading to the cabinet you brought down two glasses. Picking a bottle of red wine - sweeter to balance with the spiciness of the sauce - you opened it and poured yourself and Helmut a glass each.

Hips beginning to sway to the rhythm of the music, you returned to the stove. This playlist always put you in a great mood. You continued to move to the music, singing along softly. You take a generous swig from the bottle of wine still in your hand before adding some to the sauce, stirring the pot thoroughly.

Dancing through the kitchen you sing out 'gimme! gimme! gimme! a man after midnight!" You knew you were a terrible dancer, even worse than Helmut. That didn't stop you from partaking in the activity, your hips gyrating and shoulders shimmying.

You didn't notice the movement in the hallway, still caught up in the song. Wine glass in hand, you attend to the stove to ensure the water doesn't boil over. The song eventually changes over to a Boney M classic. "There lived a certain man in Russia long ago…." Excitedly, you put down your glass. You remember the choreography like it was yesterday, middle school you always danced to the song in an old video game.

Without hesitation you clapped your hands and swung your hips to the beat. Turning you notice Helmut leaning against the kitchen door. How long he'd been there, you didn't know. Based on the amused smile he wore he clearly enjoyed watching you look like an idiot dance.

Making your way to him you reach out for his hands. Helmut followed along, albeit hesitant to move his body yet. You locked your eyes to his. Wiggling your eyebrows exaggeratedly at him, pushing and pulling his arms in time with the beat. “Come on, Helmut - dance with me!”

“I thought I was a terrible dancer? Did you not say that in Madripoor?” he interrogated without a single trace of seriousness.

“Oh you know I love the way you dance,” you giggled, still moving to the beat.

There was a glint of something in his eyes; suddenly Helmut took charge of your little dance. He twisted his hips from side to side, breaking one hand away from you to twirl you under his arm. The two of you danced like dorks, firsts pumping and hands in the air and wagging your fingers around the kitchen.

A sudden shrill from the timer stopped your movements, both bursting into fits of laughter. Turning off the timer Helmut took care of draining the pasta for you. As you caught your breath you couldn’t help but admire the man. He had spent so long seeking vengeance, yet now here he was dancing like a weirdo with you in the kitchen. His face was so relaxed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this happy and at peace you thought to yourself. Maybe, just maybe, you had something to do with that.

“Is the sauce ready?” Helmut inquired with a lingering smile.

You took a minute to keep appreciating him before answering. “Yeah. Yeah it’s good.”

Tag list: @ay0nha

#zemo #zemo x reader #helmut Zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #tfatws zemo #zemo fanfic #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #helmut zemo #scuttle-buttle #scuttle-buttle masterlist

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onechicago-upsteadrhekker · 4 years ago

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the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part two

Friends!!!!! I’m here! I’m back!

I can’t apologize enough for the long wait! It certainly wasn’t intentional, but alas that is the life of a college student and unfortunately school comes before upstead as much as I wish it didn’t!

I hope part two gives you all the feels and makes up for the long absence, however, I do have something to share with you that may make you want to kill.

Part two turned into part three...

So, SURPRISE! This isn’t a two-shot; it will definitely be a three part story and I am happy to say that part three is written (mostly, I have to tweak a few things) so that will be up sometime next week depending on my school schedule.

Thank you again for your patience and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter that contains no real plot, a lot of fluff and mutual pining!

As always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias

Let me know if you want to be added to this list for part three!

Read on AO3

The next few days are filled with mandatory walking sessions, pain meds every four to six hours and Jay’s smiling face. He was the only reason why she wasn’t absolutely losing it because while she despised hospital stays in general, hospital stays in another city filled with people she didn’t know were downright insufferable.

But he’d made it go from something akin to glorified torture to slightly tolerable.

The bullet wound was starting to heal and the incision from where they’d had to remove her spleen was looking great according to the nurses and everything seemed to be on the right track healing wise, but anything regarding this thing that she and Jay had going on? She had no idea.

One would think getting shot in a different city, causing one partner to literally drop everything and come rushing to the other partner’s side would end in heartfelt confessions and relationships born at hospital bedsides.

But that’s not what happened, and Hailey was seriously starting to wonder if she and Jay were ever going to be on the same page. Or at least read the page aloud because she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her that she felt about him.

Because just partners don’t fly eight-hundred miles to be by your side even if you are hurt.

Right?

And it didn’t help that he was there with her almost twenty-four seven, giving her no time alone to process what he was telling her without words because before this, it had just been subtle glances and warm smiles, teasing words and affectionate eyes.

But this. Flying eight-hundred miles. It was tangible and real, and she couldn’t quite believe it was really actually happening, but then he was there, bringing her her favorite foods from restaurants she’d found during her time in New York and barely going back to her hotel room for sleep, staying by her side to keep her company and catch her up on five weeks’ worth of Intelligence news.

He was there for every lap around the hospital floor and every dressing change. He was there to shoo out the nurses when they were starting to get on her nerves and he was there, rubbing her hand softly when the pain of her bruised ribs made it hard to breathe.

And then there was the way she was constantly being referred to as ‘Jay’s wife’ instead of her own name much like when she was back in grade school and her teachers would call her ‘Sam’s little sister’.

He’d made quite the impression on the nurses and for some reason neither she nor Jay had set the record straight on the actual status of their relationship since that first day when he was mistaken as her husband.

(It was probably the same reason that they hadn’t talked about what Jay flying to New York meant. And to be honest, Hailey was sort of hoping that Jay would set the record straight on their relationship, if only to let her know where they stood.)

And she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the dangerous little thrill she got from hearing herself referenced that way or think about what it would be like for real. Nope, not a chance or she might never come back down to reality after having narcotic-induced dreams of three little words, ‘I do’s’, freckled little faces and laughing green eyes.

But then it’s so close, she can almost taste it and it should scare her, but it doesn’t.

Because she can feel it in the way he grins at her and in the way he tells her goodnight at the end of a long day of keeping her company. It’s in the way his arm brushes hers when he’s helping her sit or stand and it’s in the way his eyes hold hers for far longer than he should; his green eyes swimming with hints of the things she dreams.

But until she hears it. Until one of them gathers the courage to actually say the words and put a name to what they already know and feel, then she’s going to wait and guard those dreams carefully because she knows deep in her heart that when they return to Chicago, it will have either worked out or it won’t at all.

She’s not sure exactly when the pieces will fall into place or if they’ll even fit together but she knows they are at the point of no return. And honestly, that scares her the most because no matter what happens, it will always be Jay for her.

Because he was her home, and he had a place in her heart no one else could ever have and that terrified her because she knows that she’ll never get over him if for some reason it doesn’t work out between them.

She tries not to think like that because she’s pretty sure what she’s seen in his eyes is something that looks a lot like love, but it’s hard to be totally optimistic when it seems like the universe is always keeping them not necessarily apart, but not really together. At least not in the way she’s pretty sure both of them want.

So, she sits in her hospital bed, watching him laugh at her attempts to renegotiate her discharge date with the nurses and listens to him chatter about what Will’s been up to and how much he hated being tossed between Kevin, Kim, Adam and Vanessa while she’d been gone even if he liked working with each of them.

They’d been flying crooked he told her and that her not being there threw them all off so he’d be happy when he could take her back home and so would everyone else. In fact, they’d told her as much when Kim had facetimed Jay the day after he’d arrived in New York to get proof of life and see for themselves that she was truly going to be okay.

It was sweet and nice, and it made her realize how much she really did miss her team turned family even if she already felt like she was home just because Jay was beside her.

He was beside her and he was there with her and every time he looked at her over the beeping of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, everything else faded from view. The facetime calls with their friends, the friendly nurses checking up on her every few hours, the general hustle and bustle of hospital life happening outside her room.

It was just them and she’d be lying if she wasn’t looking forward to her discharge date for reasons other than just being out of the hospital because she knew then, she and Jay would truly be alone stuck in a hotel room in a city that neither one of them knew.

And that, she knew, would be the true test.

On the morning of the third day she’d been in the hospital, Hailey was given the news that she’d be released by that afternoon. If she was physically capable, she’d be jumping for joy but because of the dozen stitches in her side, she’d had to settle for celebrating internally.

Moving was still slow-going and she still felt overly tired far too early in the day, but she was confident that a night in her own bed (or at least the bed she’d been sleeping in for the past several weeks) would do her a world of good.

And she wasn’t going to think about how Jay being potentially next to her would probably make her sleep better than she’d ever had.

She didn’t know exactly where Jay had been disappearing to when he’d left the hospital at night, but she’d given him the key to her hotel room and he always came back looking well-rested so she felt safe assuming he was sleeping in the same queen bed she’d been occupying for the past five weeks.

Hailey wasn’t quite sure what would happen tonight when it was time for him to go to bed, but she wondered if this was the day they were going to finally get it right, nestled under the bed covers, whispering dreams and promises, her side aching but her heart so full.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Her gaze flicked up to Jay who had entered the room and was walking towards her, his hands already reaching out to help her pull on her coat. Hailey looked up at him as he focused his gaze on putting her left arm carefully through the sleeve of her jacket.

She wasn’t sure if a person could have reversed déjà vu, but the action brought her right back to another hospital room in a different city when she was still reeling from the panic she’d felt surrounding Jay’s terrifying brush with death.

When she’d helped him pull his familiar, worn black jacket over his sling right before she almost told him she loved him.

And now here they were again, except this time it was him helping her and this time she knew they weren’t going home without having the conversation they should have had then.

“Thanks,” She murmured softly, trying to ignore the way her heart raced when he briefly squeezed her hand.

Hailey gingerly sat down on the side of the bed, already worn out and sore from the morning’s activities of getting ready to leave.

“I called a taxi. It should be here any minute,” He grabbed her duffle and sat it beside her, “You sign the discharge papers?”

“Yes, thank God,” She muttered accepting the pair of Sperry’s Jay was handing her.

He chuckled softly, “You are so impatient.”

She shot him a look, “I’m sorry. And who was the one practically begging me to spring him from the hospital the minute he was awake and talking?”

He had the wisdom to look sheepish, but he couldn’t hide the wide smile threatening to take over. Clearly, they were both happy to be leaving the hospital room behind.

As Jay busied himself with packing the last few items into the duffle he’d brought Hailey the day he’d arrived in New York, he can’t help but watch her. She’s moving slowly, but she seems pretty alert for someone who got shot and had relatively serious surgery only four days ago.

Her eyes are bright if not tired and her hair is haphazardly thrown up in her signature high pony, but Jay still thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and he almost tells her just that.

His mouth is open, forming the words when she turns to him after sliding on her shoes, catching his gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

And he thinks this is why he can never tell her how he feels. She’s always taking the words away with a flash of blue and a dash of blonde because he wants his future to look like her so badly, it terrifies him. And even when he does finally find the words, he knows he will never be able to tell her with words just how much she means to him.

His lips quirk and he shakes his head, turning his attention back to the duffle to zip it up before nodding towards the open door of her hospital room, “No reason. You ready to go?”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to push, and they are going to have the conversation they need to have right here and now, but then she doesn’t and some part of him feels disappointed that they are making themselves wait once again.

He’s not even entirely sure why because nothing is holding them back now. Not really. They are finally both in the same city with no kidnappings, rigged elections or anything else threatening to tear them apart and yet, they are still walking that very fine line of partners and best friends to something openly affectionate and loving and real.

It’s almost too perfect because while he rushed here in a state of panic, not knowing what he would find, Hailey, for the most part was okay and now they were stuck here with basically nothing to do but wait till she could fly without risk of infection or complications from surgery.

He’s not sure if he should be worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop or thrilled that the universe seems to be giving them a hint that it was finally time to take that leap of faith from partners and best friends to something more.

“Hailey, you are clearly in pain.”

After the short taxi ride from the hospital, they were finally in the hotel room and now firmly engaged in a battle of wills.

Hailey was currently giving him a glare that reminded him of the way she would silently warn him from across the bullpen to not do something he might regret or when they were down to the last couple of fries during a long stakeout and he was reaching for them.

Generally, he didn’t win the fights when she wore that look but today, he was determined to stand his ground.

“Jay,” It was practically whined and while he understood her reluctance to take the pain meds she’d been prescribed, he couldn’t stand watching her in pain.

In the few times that Hailey’s been injured during their partnership, it hadn’t been too serious, and she usually had a good attitude about doing what she needed to do to recover. So, seeing her like this, pale and tired and just not her normal, spunky self, broke his heart and he wanted to do everything in his power to fix it.

Starting with the meds she’s determined not to take.

He was happy to at least see the trait that was so undeniably Hailey in her eyes because otherwise, she looked like a lifeless shell of the badass detective he knows she is. The oversized pillows she was propped against makes her seem so tiny and she almost blended in with the sheets she was so white.

If he was being honest, she was starting to look worse than she did when she was in the hospital and that definitely concerned him enough to possibly make him take her right back there or at least call Will for his opinion.

Sighing, he uncrosses his arms to move from where he’s been standing a few feet away from the end of the bed holding the prescription bag in a clenched fist.

Her eyes track his movements as he comes to gingerly sit down at the edge of the bed, leaning over on his forearm to look at her closely, “Hailey,” He shakes his head, “Please just take them. At least so you can get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

For a second, he thinks that she’s going to keep fighting him, but then he sees the weak mask she’d had in place slip, the dull look of pain and exhaustion becoming clearly present in her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” She sighs out wearily, and he’s a little surprised that she conceded that quickly even if he knew he’d already won, but then she cocks her head slightly, “What do I get in return?”

Yeah, he didn’t think he’d won that easily.

Jay pushes the flirty and slightly suggestive response that instantly pops into his head to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time for that later, or at least he desperately hopes so because he knows that now is not the time to start anything of that nature.

When he tells Hailey what she deserves to hear, he wants her feeling halfway decent and looking healthier than she does right now.

If they were in Chicago, he would bribe her with Bartoli’s, but they weren’t. They are in New York and she’s already made it quite clear that the pizza here is a tragedy, so he doesn’t think she’d want that particular food even if he could find a copy-cat deep-dish place.

So, he goes for the next best thing, “What about some Greek? It probably won’t be anything like Greek Islands, but I’m sure I can find a decent place. I could grab you some Pastichio. What do you say?”

The way her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip sticks out adorably makes him want to kiss the pout away, but he doesn’t.

She shakes her head, “I don’t want Greek.”

Jay bites his lip briefly and refrains from making a comment on the childish tone of her voice as he regards her carefully for a quiet second.

He would never admit it, but he knows he’s a much worse patient when their positions are reversed so he’s more than willing to put up with her stubbornness because he knows it’s just a way to cope with the pain.

And besides, he loves her. He would do whatever he could to make her feel better.

“I’ll get you whatever you want as long as you take your medicine, so why don’t you tell me what it is you’d like to have,” He pushes himself up off his forearm to sit upright, but he still holds her gaze.

She sighs carefully, picking at the covers before answering him, “A Snickers bar.”

Jay raises his brows.

In the years he has known her, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat a candy bar. She could down a piece of chocolate cake at an event, or the random chip bag she’d found during a stakeout, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat the overly processed candy bar before.

“You like Snickers bars?” He can’t help the slightly disgusted tone of his words.

Hailey’s expression instantly morphs into a defensive one, “A girl can have guilty pleasures, and this just so happens to be mine. Now, you said you’ll get me anything if I take my medicine, so you’re lucky it’s not something like a new gun. Or a car.”

Jay rolls his eyes and Hailey desperately wants to swat him but she’s already in a significant amount of pain so she doesn’t think that would be the wisest decision.

“Relax, I will get you your Snickers bar. I promised, didn’t I?” He smirks a little as he moves off the bed to grab his coat that’s thrown over the back of the desk chair, “I just can’t believe I didn’t know you liked candy bars.”

Shrugging a little, she tries not to wince at the pain that small movement caused her, “I don’t indulge in them much; only when I’m not feeling good or if there’s literally nothing else to eat.”

After gathering up his wallet and phone, Jay stops in the middle of the room to regard her for another moment. He shakes his head, “What else don’t I know about you, Hailey Upton?”

She gives him a little smirk of her own, “Lots of things, I’m sure. I was once told I was aloof about my personal life.”

“And just when I thought I was getting to know the person under that tough exterior,” He feels the smile creep over his face, and he doesn’t care that he probably looks like a man hopelessly in love because he is.

He watches as her own expression softens and for just a moment, their eyes meet. A thousand words of unspoken love pass between them and he can see his entire universe in those captivating, blue orbs just as she can see a million promises in his.

Hailey shifts and winces at the sharp pain it causes her, cursing herself for ruining the moment. Those pain pills she’d tried refusing were looking pretty good right about now as the throbbing intensified around her still tender ribs.

Jay noticed her discomfort. He always does, and she could see the concern so clearly on his face it made her heart swell in love. He’s the most caring man she’s ever met, and it’s one of the things she loves most about him.

“As soon as I get back, you’re taking your meds,” Jay frowns, rubbing his thumb briefly along his hairline before dropping his arm, “I’d give them to you now, but I’m not sure I should leave you alone with narcotics in your system just in case. And besides, you need to take the antibiotics with food, so I’ll pick up something while I’m out.”

She just nods, picking up the remote for the television, “Sounds good. I’ll be here watching whatever trash I can find on TV, so hurry back.”

Jay gives her one last smile that warms her from head to toe before he opens the door and walks out.

When Jay walks through the hotel door about an hour later, he has the overwhelming urge to call out a ‘Honey, I’m home’, but he doesn’t want to wake Hailey if she’s sleeping and he’s not sure how she would respond to the term of endearment even if it is said teasingly.

It’s funny how that is the thing he feels would be crossing the practically non-existent line they have towing for the past several days. Or weeks really if he’s honest with himself.

As it turns out, she’s not sleeping but still in very much the same position he’d left her in. The TV was on, a rerun of ‘Happy Days’ playing quietly but she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, she’s looking down at the phone in her hand, clearly scrolling through something before glancing up at him.

Her eyebrows rise as she takes in the various Target bags he’s carrying in both hands. Hailey let her phone drop in her lap, more interested in what Jay had bought because all she’d sent him out for were Snickers Bars, “Did you buy the whole store?”

He frowns at her as he finds the bag of take-out Chinese he’d ended up getting for their late lunch-early supper to set on the nightstand, “No, I did not, but I did get real food and,” He holds up the other bags he was carrying, “I got you your Snickers.”

Whatever else he’d bought was forgotten as she beamed up at him, already reaching for the candy bar he was digging for throughout his purchases. When he finally found what he was looking for, he tossed it to her, and she immediately ripped open the wrapper.

He makes a face as she bites into the sugary chocolate, “I still don’t know how you eat that crap.”

She responds with an eyeroll because her mouth was too full to make a witty comeback.

“You could at least wait till you ate actual food first,” Jay arched a disapproving eyebrow, his nose wrinkling as he watched her make an obvious display of enjoying her treat. He shakes his head and deposits the Target bags on the lower end of the bed to pull out the bottles of vitamin water he’d bought for her.

“Here, I got your favorite and a couple of new ones for you to try,” He handed her the blackberry flavored one before retrieving the pill bottles that were sitting on the nightstand beside their bag of food.

He read the instructions on each bottle then opened the oxycodone to dump one out, “Okay, you can have one right now and,” He checked his watch, “One at around seven then another at eleven.”

Hailey frowns, but takes the pill out of his outstretched palm anyway, “I hate the way these make me feel. My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t think clearly.”

Jay gives her a sympathetic smile and offers a simple, “I know” because he does know, but he also knows that if she has any hope of getting rest tonight, she needed to be well medicated.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try going all day without pain meds, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good night’s rest tonight since it’s your first night out of the hospital,” He tells her as he shakes out an antibiotic pill and then the iron supplement the doctor had prescribed her with for the next few days to hand to her.

Nodding, she knocks the three pills back and takes a swig of her vitamin water. Meeting his gaze, she reaches out to grab his hand and gives it a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Jay.”

The heavy tension that settles over them is now a familiar one and it’s almost comforting in a way as she tells him with her eyes how grateful she is for him.

After a few moments of silence, she clears her throat and withdraws her hand, turning her attention to the bags of stuff piled on the bed, “So, what’d you get?”

Jay blinks, shaking himself out of the trance they’d just been in as he rifled through the things he’d bought, pulling them out to show Hailey, “Well, I did some research and according to WebMD which was confirmed by my brother, weighted blankets can help with muscle soreness and speed up the recovery process.”

“I also got some ice packs,” He dumps out about a dozen before reaching in yet another bag, “And I picked up some of your favorite movies as well as a couple of pairs of fuzzy socks because I know you didn’t pack any and the hospital socks are terrible.”

The tears that spring to her eyes aren’t unexpected because the fact that he knows and remembers how much she loves wearing fuzzy socks when she’s at home decompressing tells her how much he cares even if he hasn’t really said it out loud yet.

The research, the weighted blanket, the movies, the treats, the socks; it’s slightly overbearing, but it’s sweet and it’s so undeniably him that it makes her heart hurt with the love she has for him.

She gives him a soft smile, “For someone who claims to not know me, he sure does take care of me and brings me all of my favorite things.”

“Well, after four years I would hope to know some things,” Jay smirks at her before moving to put the ice packs in the small fridge/freezer combo they had in the room.

He looks back at her over his shoulder, “But, I somehow missed your Snickers habit and it makes me wonder what else I should probably know, but don’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she watches as Jay moves back over to the bed, going for the food he’d sat on the nightstand.

“You know you’re not exactly an open book,” She points out with a wry smile.

He’s not an open book, it’s true, and even though she’s teasing him about it, she knows him better than anyone. Maybe better than even Will knows him. Maybe better than he even knows himself, and it’s ironic because the way she knows him better than anyone is more so through his actions and not his words.

She knows his heart through his acts of compassion. She knows his mind through his steady emotions. And she knows him because he lets her see the deepest parts of himself, unspoken secrets swimming in his eyes and dark memories whispered over drinks.

She knows the things that matter and the same could be said about the things he knows about her, but now that it’s being brought up, she does wonder if there are any meaningless habits she hasn’t bared witness to.

If her mind goes straight to those of a personal nature such as nighttime routines and shower preferences, then she’d never admit it.

“Well,” He handed her a container of Shrimp Lo Mein, “We’re stuck in this hotel room with basically nothing to do so,” Jay sat down on the bed, facing her with his own container of Chinese, “Let’s play a game.”

Hailey arches a skeptical eyebrow, “A game?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods as he takes a bite of his own Lo Mein, “Like one of those ‘get to know you’ games since we apparently don’t know much about each other.”

She frowns, a little unconvinced at this plan and what it could entail, but she’s curious and the slight woozy feeling she feels from the pain meds makes her ask, “What kind of ‘get to know you’ game? Like truth or dare?”

Smirking, he shakes his head, “No. Although, that could be extremely entertaining.”

“Uh-uh. No way am I drinking a bottle of hot sauce or jumping off the balcony or some other insanely difficult thing that you would think was easy,” She takes a bite of her food, trying to shake back the loose hair that keeps falling into her face, “I just had surgery.”

He’s full-on grinning now, chuckling at her impassioned response, “Nothing like that. I was thinking more along the lines of 21 Questions.”

Hailey tries to take another bite of her food, but her hair gets in the way again. She’s starting to get frustrated at the locks that keep falling into her eyes and mouth, making it hard to eat.

Sticking her chopsticks into the take-out container, she uses the now free hand to push her hair behind her ears as she shrugs, “Alright then. We don’t really have anything better to do other than watch movies and eat takeout anyways.”

The way his eyes sparkle at her answer is worth all the cheesy questions she’s sure he’s going to ask.

He stands up, shoving a used napkin into his now empty takeout container and she’s always amazed at how quickly he can down food when he wants to, “We can alternate asking questions and we don’t have to ask exactly 21 questions. It can be more, or it can be less.”

He throws his trash away and starts cleaning up the bed, moving all of the empty Target bags and the stuff he bought off to one side, “Is there anything off limits?”

She hesitates before saying no, shaking her head because while her natural inclination is to keep everything close to the vest, she knows there is nothing that she wouldn’t share with Jay if he asked her.

He makes her feel safe, and she’s constantly finding herself telling him things that she’d never said out loud before anyway, so she already knows that he will guard her secrets and feelings and thoughts deep in his own heart as if they were his own.

It’s like he knows what she’s thinking because the way he smiles at her is so gentle and the secretive sparkle in his eyes is what tells her that the same goes for him.

“You wanna go first or do you want me to?” Jay cocks his head, looking at her as he tears into the weighted blanket.

“You can go first,” She goes to take another bite of food when her hair falls into her face for what feels like the hundredth time.

She sighs internally, her frustration going unnoticed by Jay who had turned back towards the movies he’d bought, opening each of them as he tells her he has to make this first question a good one.

Pretty quickly after waking up from surgery, Hailey had found putting her hair up in its typical ponytail an almost impossible task because every time she raised her arms to gather her hair up, her stitches would pull, and her ribs protested loudly.

After several failed attempts that left her eyes watering, she ended up having a nurse put it up for her and she continued to ask for it done in the mornings before Jay arrived at the hospital to keep her company.

But now, there was no nurse to gather up her long, annoying hair when it keeps falling in her face and even though she’s stubborn enough to try it, Hailey knows if she pulls on her stitches or possibly breaks one, then she’s going to be paying for it tomorrow all because she wanted to put her hair up herself.

She sighs again, this one audible as she sets her Chinese container on the nightstand, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

Hailey bites her lip sheepishly as she snaps the elastic band around her wrist against her skin, “Can you put my hair up?”

He looks surprised for a moment before he smirks at the slight blush dusting her cheeks at having to ask for help with a task this simple, “Of course I can, Hailey.”

She hands him the ponytail holder as he walks over to the side of the bed, “But I will warn you. I’ve never done this before.”

She wants to tease him. Maybe tell him he’d better start practicing now if he ever hopes for a daughter one day, but it feels too on the nose when she wants that daughter to be hers too.

So instead, she smirks at him as he moves behind her to start gathering her hair up in awkward chunks. Hailey glances at him out of the corner of her eye, fake gasping, “Don’t tell me that the brave and noble Detective Jay Halstead, the man who jumps over moving cars and shoots sniper rifles doesn’t know how to put hair up in a ponytail.”

“Oh, shut up,” He grumbles good-naturedly, still trying to smooth her blonde hair into his loosely closed fist on top of her head, “It’s not like I’ve really had the opportunity or need to practice.”

Chuckling, she lets him concentrate on pulling her hair through the elastic and tries not to get lost in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and the warmth radiating off him. Her eyes flutter close and she marvels at how gentle he is even with the strength of his hands, well-conditioned in the act of squeezing a trigger.

And just like when making those shots, the precision in which he does everything is still there as he carefully tightens the elastic, securing her hair into place.

Hot breath hit the back of her now exposed neck and she can’t help but shiver. Before he’s stepping away, she swears she feels his hands brush her skin and she wonders if he’s equally as affected as she was by his closeness.

But before it can turn into anything, he’s smiling and settling back into his spot at the foot of the bed, gesturing to the ponytail he’d just completed, “It’s not as good as you do it, but I think it’ll pass.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jay. It’s out of my face and it’s not like anyone will see it,” She grins at him as she picks up her food, intending to finish it off now that her hair won’t get in her way.

Jay frowns teasingly, “Hey, and what about me? Am I not someone?”

She smiles softly in amusement, “You’ve seen me in worse states and you’re not just anyone, you know that. You’re my best friend, Jay,” She hesitates because she knows that’s not strictly true. He is her best friend and he’s her partner but he’s also the man she loves, and it would be so easy to let the truth slip out.

Looking at him, she sees something in his eyes that looks like hope or maybe anticipation and she wonders if he thinks she’s going to tell him the one secrete she just can’t seem to get out. Maybe she would have told him if they sat there for a few seconds longer, but his phone buzzes and the moment is gone before it really even began.

Hailey wonders if phones are going to be their downfall.

She thinks she sees disappointment flash across his face, but she blinks and he’s looking at his phone with a serious expression.

“Is everything okay?” Her brow furrows as she watches him type out a quick response and put the device back into his pocket.

He shakes his head, sighing, “That was Kev. The Latin Players are on the verge of waging war against a new up and coming gang called The Jets.”

Interjecting, Hailey raises a brow, “As in West Side Story?”

“Yep,” Jay lets out a wry chuckle, “Anyway, the team flipped someone on The Jets’ side, and it looks like they are possibly willing to play ball so Kev was asking for some background info on my Latin Player connect because Intelligence is going to attempt to negotiate a truce before it can escalate to a full-blown gang war.”

She groans quietly, all too aware of the potential complications and ramifications that come from this type of violence, “That’s just what the city needs. A gang war.”

He huffs in agreement, dropping his head in disgust and she can see the tension in his shoulders. Even eight-hundred miles away, the crime and the innocent people that inevitably gets tangled up in it affects him.

Hailey frowns, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She reaches out a hand to lightly touch his bent knee, “Jay.”

He looks up at her and the empathy she sees in his eyes makes her heart swell in what’s becoming a familiar sensation. Love and pride and admiration and respect for this man she has the privilege to know.

Her eyes soften and she smiles gently at him, an earnest look on her face, “If you need to go home, go home Jay. I’ll be alright here by myself. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed at the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, clearly not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

Recovering, his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head adamantly, “No way. They can get along without me. I’m not leaving here without you and I don’t care if you think you can take care of yourself because who’s going to help you change your bandages or make you take your medicine or keep you company?”

He challenges in a slightly playful manner, but the eyebrow he raises dares her to contradict him and she knows he is serious, “Besides, I need to be here if I want to keep my own peace of mind. I don’t work well without you, so I’m not sure how much help I’d be anyway.”

She knows that no matter the circumstance, Jay would always perform above and beyond the call of duty, but she also knows that this is his way of telling her that he needs her and the way he was willing to stay with her in New York makes her heart stutter in yet another way.

Before she can dwell on the feeling any further, he’s smiling again, his eyes crinkling with mischief, “Now back to the game. I think I have the perfect question for you.”

Sorry it ended in a bit of an awkward spot, but I decided to split it into two parts when I hit 10,000 words and I still wasn’t done yet lol so I didn’t know this was going to be the ending of a chapter.

I’d love to hear what you thought and stay tuned for part three!

#upstead #upstead fanfiction #jay and hailey #hailey and jay #onechicago #chicagopd

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Text

in the grand scheme of things [ 3 ]

pairings : zeke jaeger / reader, referenced eren jaeger / reader

word count : 5.5k

tags : unhealthy relationships, relationship discussions, implied cheating, drinking, break ups, mutual infidelity, dubious morality, love triangles

warning : descriptions of alcohol and drug use

summary : you and eren hadn't been doing the best these past few months, and no one that you knew seemed to have any answers for you, or pointers in the right direction. who better to offer you some sound, insightful relationship advice than his older brother. or so you thought.

— originally posted 1 / 28 / 21 on ao3 —

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sasha 3:47 pm hey u down to party tonight?? jean told connie he could get us into another one of the azo parties again

you sighed at the sight of the notifications on your phone from its place on the passenger's seat, pensively drumming your fingers on your steering wheel. the most recent party of the most popular fraternity chapter on your campus you'd attended had been the last party you'd subjected yourself to attending—the halloween party where you'd gotten ditched out and subsequently cheated on. though you could admit that it had been fun in the moment, especially when you had caught the struggle between sasha and historia when she saw your roommate snap a picture of her kissing the standoffish sophomore that always helped her with her english lit homework, ymir, rather than the fraternity guy she was meant to be with.

the memory of that night, at least the time before you'd realized your boyfriend and his annoyingly attractive best friend were nowhere to be found, made you consider. classes did start back up next week, and the most eventful thing you'd done over the break was your quaint little family get-together for new year's eve—and your two rendezvous with zeke, meetings that you were slowly beginning to feel more and more skeptical about as time went on—and you were sure that your second semester would drown you in work just as much—if not more—than you'd had in your first semester. so as soon as you came to a stop at a red light, you picked your phone up to shoot her back a message, laughing to yourself when she replied instantly.

you 3:51 pm party on a wednesday? really?

sasha 3:51 pm come onnnn please??? i heard nikos gonna be there! ur rlly gonna make me go all alone??

so that was why she wanted to go, to see the foreign culinary major that somehow always managed to send her back to the dorm with a large plate of food and a blinding smile plastered on her face for at least the next hour. you were honestly surprised that they hadn't gotten together yet, considering how many common interests they'd shared.

a pleasant thought suddenly popped into your head, the thought that she was probably asking you because mikasa had already declined, meaning that she wouldn't be in attendance. armin was out in turkey with eren, ensuring his absence. that fact made you feel a bit less anxious about accepting sasha's invitation. you could catch up with the friends you'd been unable to see while you were off-campus—or too swamped with work to be able to reach out to—let loose one last time before you were trapped back in the monotonous cycle of working, sleeping, crying, and eating for the next couple months until spring break. your mind had been made up.

you 3:52 pm fine. i'll go as moral support. but no promises u won't have to babysit after you've had ur fun with nikolo this break has been rough for me lol

sasha 3:53 pm oh god my i loveyou so much already picking out our outfits

you chuckled to yourself, slipping your phone into the cupholder as the brake lights of the car in front of you flashed off and you eased your foot onto the gas. you made it back to the dorm relatively quickly, sasha more than elated to see you even though you didn't have any food to bring back for her. and just as her text message had read, she'd already laid out one of your nicer dresses and a set of heels that didn't absolutely kill your feet by the end of the night by your bed, digging through the closet with a pile of discarded clothes growing on the floor.

"thanks sash," you giggled, "but don't you think it's a little to be getting ready? what time's the party?"

"connie told me seven-thirty, but jean said for us to come an hour later so we aren't the only ones there." she spoke over her shoulder, huffing as she tossed another piece of clothing aside, "but i wanna look good! i'm gonna hop in the shower as soon as i find the right thing to wear."

holding out your dress before you, you frowned. it was simple, black and made of a sheer, clingy material with lace accents decorating the low neckline, thin straps that bared the entirety of your shoulders and a modest amount of cleavage. it was one of your favorites, but the half-healed bruises scattered across the skin that would be exposed by it wasn't ideal.

"oh, don't forget to take a cheap coat that you don't mind forgetting. it's kinda chilly out, and i always end up losing track of mine during the night."

you let out a breath of relief, remembering that covering up a bit more would be weather appropriate. "yeah, i'll wear a long-sleeved undershirt and something light on top." perfect.

you waited until sasha had gathered her toiletries and scurried off to the nearest bathroom to change clothes, feeling your face heat up at the thought of zeke, the initial deep pigmentation having faded out over the last two days but still a very visible shade of faint red. you were fully dressed upon your roommate's return, earning an excited slew of compliments from her as she wrapped up her hair in a towel and settled down beside you to get started on her makeup.

you were actually grateful for how early she'd insisted on getting ready considering how long she'd agonized over her eyeliner, or how many times she'd applied and removed her lashes, complaining that "something was off" or "it just didn't look right". your suggested time of arrival came in no time at all, and by then sasha was more than eager to start rushing you despite the pace she'd been moving at earlier.

"hurry!! if niko brings food, i don't wanna get there by the time it's all gone!" she whined, jiggling the doorknob to your room impatiently, "for the thanksgiving party, he brought a charcuterie board with all these nice cheeses on it and it was so good, he looked so happy watching me eat it, it was so cute!"

you chuckled softly at her enthusiasm, shoving the last of your things into your clutch, zipping up your phone in the small inner pocket to insure that you didn't drop it and forget on the floor of someone's house this time. "i'm sure that even if we got there late, he'd set aside plenty of food for you."

the walk to the fraternity's designated house was made much shorter by sasha's insistence, practically dragging you along by the wrist the whole way at a near jog. you couldn't deny that you were feeling a bit nervous about the whole ordeal, knowing that you would have sasha, connie, and jean at the very least, but unaware as to what you would really do besides mill around. at the halloween party, you'd been able to play the variety of drinking games that had been set out for the guests with eren and his friends, but now you weren't entirely sure who to stick to for the majority of the night.

you didn't want to bother jean or connie after they'd gotten secured you an invite, and you were sure that sasha was expecting to be able to spend some time alone with the guy she'd came to see in the first place, meaning you'd have to spend a majority of the night alone, or the unfavorable option of mingling with unfamiliar people. but you realized that was a pill you'd have to swallow as you approached the steps of the house, nearly tripping up over your feet from the speed that sasha was hauling you along at, watching her furiously knock at the door.

there were people wandering about in the yard, some on their phones, most likely waiting for their own friends to arrive, and a smoky stench of something that definitely wasn't just tobacco wafting from the group of men camped out on the porch murmuring amongst each other. you could hear the volume of the music inside the house, almost able to feel it thrumming across the floor if you focused enough.

"thomas!" she exclaimed at the sight of a younger-looking blonde boy when the door opened, whose existence you honestly had no idea about until just now, grinning so broadly it made your own cheeks hurt for her, "jean invited us!"

"oh, come right in." he beamed right back, calling loudly over his shoulder, "yo, jean, your friends are here!"

the inside of the house looked just as you expected, already crowded to max capacity, jean having to maneuver past the throng of people gathered near the front to approach the two of you. "damn, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he did his best to speak over the music, wrapping you up in a friendly squeeze, "glad to see you could finally make it." he turned to sasha. "niko's already in the kitchen, by the way. asked when you were coming just a few minutes ago."

sasha's face lit up with glee, turning to you, silently asking for permission to go off on her own as if you could ever deny her and her overly-eager expression. "go get 'em, tiger." you smiled, giving her a few pats on her shoulder to send her off on her way, watching her disappear into the crowd in record time.

but before apprehension of her absence could set in, you felt jean's arm sling around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "c'mon, you didn't think i was gonna ditch out and let you hang alone all night?" you giggled, turning your head up to look at him properly for the first time.

you'd first met jean in your statistics class, an unfortunate requirement for your major of choice, and initially bonded over your mutual connection through sasha. they'd been good friends in high school, and you'd just moved into a room for at least the next year with her, so you figured it'd do you well to have someone who could get you in her good graces in the event that you two didn't get along. but, thankfully, you two were just fine on your own, and sasha and jean became your first friends outside of the small group you and eren shared.

the only real conflict of interest between the two of you seemed to be your aforementioned boyfriend, and you couldn't really be upset at him for that. eren could be difficult to get along with even at the best of times, he wasn't a terrible person—at least before he'd cheated—but he wasn't exactly the most friendly either.

"is this piercing new?" you asked, reaching up to brush your thumb over the small earring hugging the shell of jean's ear.

"yeah, got it for new year's. pretty hot, right?" you snorted, earning a grin from him, "by the way, if you need to use the bathroom just tell me, the one on the main floor is fucking filthy. and also probably has no toilet paper."

"will do." you could feel the tension ebbing away in his company, at least when you ignored the annoyed glances other girls were sending your way when they noticed his arm around you, "so, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"well, we probably have every kind of alcohol known to man," he said, leaning down to speak into your ear as he began to guide you through the crowded first floor, "beer kegs are out back, junk food and all the inexpensive shit is in the kitchen." he stopped at the opening to a hallway, smile evident in his voice. "but i'm feeling pretty generous tonight, so if you want some of the good stuff we have stashed, just say the word."

"wow, such a gentleman. do you say that to every girl that comes in?" you playfully replied, thankfully far enough away from the music now that you didn't have to talk at nearly a shout.

"only the ones i like." he added a terribly over-exaggerated wink, earning another small laugh from you, "so, what'll it be? vodka, tequila, or triple sec?"

you blinked up at him. "that's it? when you said 'good stuff', i imagined a little more variety."

"beggars can't be choosers, sweetheart. and anyways we're a frat, not a restaurant, so either take your pick or go enjoy some cheap wine while you watch nikolo and sasha drool over each other."

you rolled your eyes, feigning anger in the face of his attitude, huffing out your answer. "surprise me then, frat boy."

"good answer." he said with a grin, "wait here."

he disappeared down the hall, leaving you to stare in silence at the wall before you and listen to the barely muffled sounds of the party going on just a few meters away. you opened up your clutch to fish out your phone, opening it to find your text conversation still open, catching a glimpse of connie's name. you felt a little guilty that you'd almost forgotten about his expected presence, seeing as he had messaged you and you hadn't heard anything from sasha or jean yet. you decided to shoot him a quick text letting him know that you and sasha had arrived, not surprised when he didn't respond as quickly as he usually did, knowing that he was already wrapped up in getting high out of his mind somewhere here or doing so elsewhere.

you opted to kill time tapping through your feed, making it a point to quickly scroll past any posts with armin's handle attached to them. the thought of eren having fun halfway across the world was both pleasant and disheartening at the same time. you felt stupid for still clinging on to the second thoughts about ending things the second he got back. sure, all the dots connected suspiciously well to create a picture that led to the clear conclusion of cheating, but eren wasn't good at hiding things. you remembered the time in your junior year when he'd barely been able to keep your surprise party that your friends had organized you a secret before one of them slipped up about it and exonerated him from blame, and you couldn't help but ask yourself if he was really capable of hiding such a terrible deed when he couldn't even conceal the harmless types of secrets from you.

the more confrontational part of you said that that was ages ago, that both you and him had changed so much since your time in high school, and maybe one of those changes was what made him put so much distance between the two of you these last months rather than hang around you and risk airing out his dirty laundry. you knew you should be angry with him, you would be more than right to be angry with him, but you force yourself to stop clinging to the simpler times, the days when he'd look at you like you'd put the stars in the sky and said all he ever wanted to do was be around you. you couldn't believe how much had changed in so little time.

"ta-da!" jean's voice interrupted your self-pity, a tall plastic cup suddenly occupying your vision, "long island iced tea for the lady. with a straw."

"christ, jean, are you trying to kill me?" you guffawed, taking the cup from him anyways, "my first real party in months and this is what you start me off with?"

"at least give it a try! after i took all that time to make it for you.." he furrowed his brows at you, only relaxing after you took a tentative sip. it was surprisingly not as strong as you thought it would be, a little on the sweeter side, but it served as a good distraction for the burn of five different alcohols sliding down your throat. "pretty good, isn't it?"

"meh. five out of ten." you snarked, giggling around the straw between your lips.

"typical," he lamented, clutching his hands over his heart, "all you and sasha ever do is use me."

"don't lie to yourself, jean. you love us."

you didn't know if it was the dim lighting casting a shadow over his face, but you could swear that you saw his cheeks flush at your assertion. "anyways.. speaking of love, you still dating that asshole? eric?"

"eren." you corrected, laughing at the error, "and, well, it's complicated."

"complicated? then i'm assuming he fucked up big time, considering he's not even here with you this time around."

you took a long sip of your drink, fiddling with the bendy part of your straw, the thought of his infidelity weighing heavily on your heart. "well he'd probably be here if he wasn't out of town, he's been planning to take his trip for a while now.."

jean shot you a displeased look. "i seriously don't know how you put up with that guy, you're selling yourself short honestly. planning on breaking up with him anytime soon?"

you cast your gaze to the floor, thankful that the warmth of the alcohol in your stomach was helping to ease the cool hollowness settling deep into your chest. "oh hush. you don't even know the whole story, jean."

"well i know enough. if you're in the market for any new guys, i'll scout out someone nice for you." you scoffed at his offer, but didn't outright deny it either, unable to help smiling along with him when he smirked and nodded over to the party in the other room, "now, come play me in beer pong, then you'll really have something to complain about."

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zeke could confidently say that his night had been utterly unremarkable.

another quiet day spent working at the library, where he'd actually glanced at the door more times than he was willing to admit with the hope that it would be you walking in. he'd actually been quite tempted to message you, to ask what you were doing, if you had anywhere between two and three so that maybe he could see you, but he'd ultimately decided against it. he couldn't quite figure out the exact cause of his newly-found infatuation with you, but the rationality of it didn't concern him as much as it probably should've, he was simply pleased to relive the very recent memories of your encounters together and anticipate your next meeting—at least until his younger brother returned.

eren had attempted to goad a reaction out of him with an assortment of unsavory texts calling him just about every name in the book, a constant stream of questions asking why he did it, or what he'd done to deserve such a thing, and even a few desperate pleas begging him to say that it wasn't really you. of course, he'd ignored all of them, and he wondered if eren was trying to contact you as well, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see the messages even if that was the case, though still curious nonetheless.

but for the moment, he was lounging at his usual downtown bar, seated in a booth beside reiner and across from porco at their rescheduled night out, since both marcel and porco were unable to make it yesterday, the latter sulking after his noisy attempt to flag down the waitress ended in failure.

"is marcel actually gonna make it tonight?" reiner asked, plucking a stick of celery from the appetizer platter in the middle of the table.

"no clue." porco replied, sipping his mojito, "said he got caught up at work again, so either the let down text is gonna come any minute now, or he's gonna show up for an hour and then disappear."

zeke chuckled. "post-marriage life sure is tough, i guess."

"you can say that again. he's always calling me, freaking about the idea of kids and his mortgage and stuff that i didn't even think about until he complained about it, scary shit."

"you say that like you're not two years away from being his age."

porco began what was sure to be one of his smart-ass replies, but the waitress had finally approached their booth, hiding her annoyance with his friend with a forced smile as she took the orders for their entrées. zeke pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans when he felt it buzz, feeling the slightest hint of disappointment by the fact that it wasn't you.

"who is it? your new girlfriend?" reiner grumbled, smirking when porco shot up in his seat.

"girlfriend?!" he exclaimed far too loudly.

"yup. zeke didn't tell you he's dating a high-schooler?"

so much for "your business", zeke thought to himself. "oh, fuck off. she's in college." he frowned at his roommate, only met with another tired expression of disappointment.

"just barely." reiner turned back to the man across the table, "it's one of his brother's ex-girlfriends too."

porco stared at him incredulously, eyes wide and judgmental, falling back against the cushion of the seat with a low whistle. "shit zeke.. that's kinda fucked up, don't you think?" he seemed uncomfortable by the unexpected revelation, "you're almost thirty and you're screwing around with someone who's probably not even twenty? is this an afraid-of-getting-old thing? mid-life crisis??"

"she's an adult, she can make her own choices." zeke didn't appreciate the sudden scrutiny, finishing off his old fashioned in the hopes that the bourbon would wash away the self-conscious feeling settling unpleasantly in his gut, "not my fault that her choice happens to be wanting to be around me rather than the guys her age."

"what ever happened to you and pieck? she's hot—"

"and actually over the legal drinking age."

both porco and zeke pointedly ignored reiner's interaction as the former continued. "—i thought it was working out between you two.. what happened?"

zeke shrugged. "just wasn't the right fit for me. but you liked her, didn't you? before we had our thing." he looked up at his friend, forcing a casual grin, "maybe you could give that shot now."

he felt a bit more at ease seeing porco's ears and cheeks flush red, now fiddling with the lime garnish on the rim of his glass. "we still talk here and there.. i don't really know much about what she's up to these days."

before he could answer with more words of encouragement that detracted from the previous, morally-incriminating topic, his phone began to vibrate, and he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name on the screen. "sorry, gotta take this."

he tugged on his jacket and slid out of the booth, ignoring reiner's chastising glance and porco's bewildered look, passing the waitress who was now carrying a platter with their food and refills on his way out. the cool night breeze was refreshing in comparison to the awkward, almost cramped atmosphere that had developed over their discussion, his breath coming is foggy puffs in the chilled, january air as he pressed the answer button. immediately upon raising the phone to his ear, he was met with a blurred assortment of background noise, able to discern the muffled sound of music and the sound of footsteps outside of whatever room you were in.

"hello?"

"oh, zeke, you answered!!" he could hear in your voice that you were clearly intoxicated, much more than you had been when you were at his house, words stringing together and ending syllables unnecessarily drawn out.

he felt uncharacteristically worried at the realization that you were at a party, one that sounded quite large and crowded, most likely crawling with unsavory individuals that he knew prowled around those sorts of events when he himself was in college. "are you alright? where are you right now? do you need me to pick you up?"

zeke was already digging around in his coat pocket to check if he had his keys, more than prepared to take off without his meal or saying goodbye to his friends inside. "'m at a party on campus, 's okay. in the bathroom. just thinking."

zeke didn't feel eased at all at the sound of loud knocking coming from somewhere, hearing you becoming distant for a moment as you presumably pulled the phone away from your ear to call out that the bathroom was occupied. there was shuffling on the other line, then silence for a short moment. "can i ask you something?"

zeke frowned. the idea of not being able to know who was monitoring you in this state wasn't sitting well with him. "go ahead."

"but don't call me stupid, ok? i already know it's a stupid question, but i still wanna ask it."

"there's no such thing as stupid questions." he assured you, ignoring the buzz of a text notification, most likely porco or reiner telling him to come back in before the burger he ordered got cold.

"do i really have to break up with eren?"

zeke felt something odd flicker in his chest, that unfamiliar feeling he'd felt when he caught you staring at you and his brother's one-sided chat logs, but yet the affirmative answer he thought he would be able to give with no problem sat on the tip of his tongue, undelivered. he thought back to that face reiner had made when he told him who you were, and porco's hesitant words trying to rationalize his actions but ultimately failing to do so.

zeke didn't understand why he felt so conflicted all of a sudden. this was meant to be a simple ordeal, one where he got what he needed to teach eren a lesson and moved on with his life. but now here he was, concerned about your whereabouts, focusing hard enough on your muddled words that he managed to catch the wobble in your voice that betrayed your own state of emotional unrest. he realized a moment too late that he hadn't said anything, hearing a small sniffle on your end before we began speaking.

"god, i can't believe i said that out loud, you must really think i'm dumb r'now, but.. i just can't let go of what we had." he was sure that you were crying now. "i keep thinking about what you said, an' you're right. he's been an ass to me, he practically ignored me for, like, three months, probably fuckin' cheated on me with his hot best friend, so i can't understand why i just wanna keep trying to fix things... and its so confusing 'cause everyone just keeps telling me to enjoy myself an' have fun, but i have no idea what i even want anymore, and i don't even know what we are right now and i can't fuckin' believe i cheated on my boyfriend with his fuckin' older brother and i don't know what i'd ever do if he found out."

by the end of it, you were letting out small, hiccuped sobs, breath fast and uneven just as it had been the night he'd invited you over. he honestly didn't know what to say, listening to you cry, staring at the steam of his breath as it dissipated out into the night. you were a good person, someone who was undeserving of such treatment from either him or eren, but it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that you had been caught in the fray.

he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, preparing to deliver an affirmation similar to the one he'd given you a few days ago when you first laid all your relationship troubles out on the table, but there was a rapid, more insistent knocking at the bathroom door on your end. he could hear a female voice calling out your name, and the jiggling of the door knob.

"hold on," you paused, sniffling, "it's my roommate."

you steadied yourself enough to say that, tossing the phone somewhere before he heard the sound of the door unlocking. "there you are!! are you seriously wasted already? it's only, like, eleven?! why are you crying???" your roommate sounded tipsy, but nowhere near as intoxicated as you currently were, which eased zeke's initial worry, "jean! can you c'mere for a sec! wait, were you calling someone?"

there was a brief pause, and zeke could practically see your tiny nod and teary eyes in his head, then heels clicking over tile and the sound of the phone being lifted, followed by a hurried, "hey, this is her roommate! she's fine, gotta go!"

then silence, just him and the faint noise coming from inside the bar behind him. he didn't know what to think. from the sounds of it, it seemed like your friends were taking care of you for the time being, friends who names he vaguely remembered you speaking of when you'd been detailing your time at the halloween party—people that were unfamiliar to him, people he wasn't sure that he could trust. and a small part of him, a tiny voice at the back of his head, scoffed at his flimsy mask of worry that barely hid the true emotion, his possessive nature, driving his desire to go pick you up and bring you back to the apartment to take care of so you'd have to be there with him another morning with your thankful gazes and blunt, half-awake words.

he knew he was in no place to begin laying judgement at these unknown people in your life considering what he'd done, but it was an innate sort of feeling, the thought that always clouded his mind when he laid eyes on people that were younger than him, that he knew more than them, that somehow he would always be above them in an invisible hierarchy. that same feeling that he felt when he found himself looking down at you.

"zeke?" a warm, friendly voice broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes turning up from the ground to find a tired-looking marcel standing before him, "what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"smoke break." the lie slipped between his lips before he even thought of the fact that there was no cigarette between his fingers, no scent of smoke in the air or clinging to his clothes, "glad you could make it, everyone's inside. pretty sure porco already ordered you something."

but instead of immediately heading inside for zeke to come after him, marcel stood for a moment, lips drawing back and eyebrows knitting into a concerned expression. "is everything okay?"

zeke thought for a moment, giving a non-committal shrug in response.

"still having family troubles?"

despite having been quite fixated on his negative feelings revolving his own younger brother for the last few days, zeke had almost pushed out a majority of the sordid details of the entire situation out of his head, which now seemed to all flood back with such a short, simple question.

"you could say that." zeke scratched the back of his neck, now wishing he'd actually had a cigarette to take his mind off of all these turbulent thoughts, "all the arguing and shit subsided already, but..."

"anything from your dad?" marcel's voice was almost tentative asking that, frowning when zeke said nothing, "sorry.. didn't mean to be insensitive about it."

"it's not insensitive. just," he swallowed, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching out to push open the bar door, a silent, less embarrassing way to signal that he no longer wanted to talk about it anymore, "just kind of fresh. that's all."

they both stood in silence for a moment, marcel's eyes wandering his face, features expressing a clear concern, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue any further, simply following him inside like zeke wished he would've done minutes earlier to save him the trouble, proceeding to the booth housing their friends. the conversation didn't wander back to the topic of him and his morally dubious relations nor his current familial situation, much to his relief, making it much easier for him to just allow the conversation to flow around him, finding himself not having much of an appetite or desire to speak much with so much on his mind.

for a moment, zeke wondered to himself if this was a punishment from the universe, feeling so downtrodden on what was usually one of his more enjoyable nights in the week. not to say that they were always amazing to be around, but spending time with porco, reiner, marcel, and sometimes bertholdt made up most of the meaningful social interactions he had, and to have lost out on it today of all days just seemed like some odd form of karmic justice as a result of him behaving so selfishly.

but he held out for the rest of the evening anyways, going through more drinks that he probably should've, finding easier to tune in to porco and reiner's usual bickering, marcel's attempts to quell them, the ambient sound of bustling waiters and clinking glasses and plates to bury down any thought of you or his family or what was to come at the end of the week, the consequences with much more magnitude in his life than an just an unpleasant night out.

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previous chapter⥽

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x you #snk zeke #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x reader smut #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x reader smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #m.nsfw

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years ago

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Love’s Endless Light: A Good Omens serial romance

YOU HAVE REACHED THE END!

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 12: Love Unfailing Dwells Ever Here

2019, Soho, London, England

**Note: this is a T-rated love scene. It remains SFW.**

One day in 1143 AD, Crowley had informed Aziraphale that Hell expected them to have a fight over something or other, he couldn’t remember what now. What Crowley did remember was that first, of course, he and Aziraphale were not actually going to fight; second, that Crowley had therefore suggested that he wound himself slightly with his own dagger to make it look like they had; and third, that Aziraphale had not taken kindly to that idea, and that he’d lashed out a hand, faster than Crowley could track, and caught Crowley’s wrist. Drop it, the angel had said, about the dagger, and Crowley had obeyed. He also might have squeaked, but he tried not to remember that part.

Aziraphale was a trained and talented soldier. Crowley had never been afraid of him. In fact, he’d been sort of ridiculously not afraid of him, and now that Crowley understood things better, he guessed that was probably because Aziraphale didn’t project the aura of soldier so much as guard. Someone protective, not aggressive. Certainly other demons and humans seemed to perceive Aziraphale the same way. But Aziraphale had, on a few occasions, gotten just a little aggressive with Crowley, and every time, Crowley had nearly swooned.

Crowley was not proud of this. Not the swooning, not the reason for it. He was a demon, for Hell’s sake, a monster, a beast. Who desperately wanted to be manhandled by an angel.

Aziraphale was just such a bloody contradiction, all soft and lovely, gentle, kind, pleasant, but he could also lift Crowley like he was no heavier than a dictionary, and make weapons burst into flame. (Crowley suspected it didn’t even have to be a weapon; Aziraphale could probably set a ballpoint pen ablaze if he felt the occasion called for it.) He could fight so well that neither he nor his opponent would get hurt, but Aziraphale would still win.

Every time Crowley saw Aziraphale do something like that, reveal his cleverness and competence, it made him feel a little unstable, kind of shivery, and altogether too warm. Those moments would unhelpfully record themselves in Crowley’s memory, coming back to him unbidden when he was alone and had the opportunity to, ah, explore exactly what kind of physical effects such situations had on him.

Crowley, of course, had not told Aziraphale this, and wasn’t sure he was ever going to. Anyway, right now, Crowley was in the bookshop with an amorous angel, and saw no reason to interrupt anything they were doing with a plea for manhandling.

They’d dined at the Ritz, walked home, and then Aziraphale had given Crowley a beautiful smile, free of the anxiety that had plagued Aziraphale as long as Crowley had known him. “I suppose we’re free now,” Aziraphale had said, looking at Crowley with his blue eyes sparkling. “We can do whatever we like.”

“Whatever we like,” Crowley had echoed.

Obviously, that had been kissing. They’d spent most of last night at Crowley’s flat kissing and Crowley was absolutely certain that even if the kissing went on for eternity, that he’d never tire of it. Kissing Aziraphale was a blending of things that were unimaginably large, like Love and Devotion and Friendship, and also things that were finely detailed: the soft feel of his lips, the way he liked to curl his hands around Crowley’s jaw, the give of his cushioned body under Crowley’s fingers.

Crowley’s secret came out on its own when they collided with Aziraphale’s desk and Aziraphale effortlessly lifted Crowley up to set him on it. Because Crowley squeaked.

Aziraphale looked startled, like he was afraid he’d done something wrong. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Nope. No, nope.”

“Your face is very red,” Aziraphale pointed out, because of course he would.

“Um,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale was not very romantically experienced. But he was also not stupid. Aziraphale slid his hands under Crowley’s arms and lifted him slowly off of the desk. The only thing for Crowley to do then, of course, was to wrap his legs around Aziraphale’s waist. When Aziraphale gave a little groan and pressed his mouth against Crowley’s neck, Crowley squeaked again.

“You like this,” Aziraphale said, his mouth muffled against Crowley’s skin.

There didn’t seem much point in keeping up pretenses anymore. “You’re strong,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale laughed. “You don’t weigh anything.”

“Feels like you could do anything with me,” Crowley said. Aziraphale pulled back to look at him, seeming surprised and a little worried. “But I know you won’t,” Crowley told him. “Aziraphale— you have always made me feel safe.”

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wet, and he kissed Crowley fiercely. Eventually, Aziraphale even carried Crowley up the stairs to the flat above the bookshop, still as if lifting Crowley was the easiest thing in the world. They spent the rest of the day, the week in bed. Sometimes just talking, finally putting words to things that had been communicated only by looks and smiles, by silence instead of speech. Searching through the past for answers: how long had they loved? When had admiration become desire? How many times had they been achingly close to a kiss?

If someone had told Crowley in Eden that this angel would be the love of his life, Crowley might have actually believed it. There was an air about Aziraphale that made you think that he could love you, that he would hold and protect you, even at great cost to himself.

If Crowley had been told that he’d spend most of eternity trying to make sure that Aziraphale suffered no cost for that kindness, he would likely have accepted that too, even as a demon. Because what price could you put on love? Certainly it was worth sacrificing your pride, your rules, your side for something like this. For someone like this.

*********

YOU HAVE REACHED THE END! Thank you so much for reading!

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Read on Ao3

Coming Aug 20 to Tumblr & Ao3: my next serial romance: "Tollense"

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire. It's not Good Omens, but the tropes are similar, so I hope you all will like it.

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous Good Omens serial: Mr. Fell’s Bookshop

My Carrd

*********

Image text: Love’s Endless Light by Dannye Chase (HolyCatsAndRabbits) Chapter 12

As Aziraphale and Crowley slowly fall in love over the millennia, Crowley discovers that Aziraphale is keeping a very dangerous secret.

#Dannye writes #good omens #Love's Endless Light #Good omens fanfic #complete Good Omens fic

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prolestariwrites · 3 years ago

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Ashes [Chapter 1] by lickitysplit

Fandom: Resident Evil Characters: Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira Rating: M (Mature)

Summary: A year after the destruction of Raccoon City, Jill is ready to put the past in the past and get back to her life. When she and Chris are recruited to go after Wesker, it seems like the perfect opportunity... until she's partnered with the last person she ever wanted to see again.

Read below or on AO3 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Jill jumps when a hand presses to her arm, and she swings her gaze from the window. She relaxes immediately when she registers it was just Chris, slumping a bit in the back of the taxi as she catches her breath.

“You okay?” he asks, half-concerned and half-laughing.

“Yeah. Wool gathering.” She shakes herself and blinks at him. “What is it?”

“Just wanted to check,” he says. “You seem nervous.”

Jill chuckles a bit to hide her nerves that are very much on edge. “Nah,” she scoffs, shifting in her seat to adjust her seatbelt.

“I get it if you are. I mean it’s not every day we meet with the feds.”

“Maybe for you,” she laughs, “but I saw plenty the past eight months or so. No big deal.”

Chris’ lips press together in that look he gets when she makes light of Raccoon City. But he nods and turns to look straight ahead as the taxi weaves through the traffic. “Still…”

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Jill says, keeping her tone light. “You’ve been meeting every official who’s crawled out of the woodwork. This should be a cakewalk for you.”

“County, yeah. State sometimes. But the DOJ?” Chris shakes his head. “This is gonna be big. I can feel it.”

Jill folds her arms and turns to look out the window again. He’s probably right; Chris usually is.

The taxi pulls up outside of a slick-looking office complex, and Chris pays the fare as Jill climbs out. She holds her hand up for shade against the late morning sun that is reflected brightly off the windowed stories. “Looks like something the feds would waste money on,” she comments after he joins her on the sidewalk.

Chris chuckles before giving her a nudge. “Let’s go.”

They pass through metal detectors that are set off by Chris’ weapon, which he surrenders at reception while they present their ID’s. Jill eyes the Glock almost longingly as it is tagged and set inside a locker, scowling a bit as Chris is handed a ticket to retrieve it later. It’s not fair that he’s been allowed to keep his weapons while she hasn’t, but that is an argument she’s been having with anyone who cares to listen for months. Not that it's gotten her anywhere.

She takes her license back from the receptionist before being pointed towards the elevators. They wait in silence until the doors open, and when they step inside Chris presses the button for the fifth floor. “Did you read the stuff I sent you on this guy?” he asks once the elevator begins to move.

“Yeah,” Jill replies. “Agent Donner, DOJ, blah blah. Probably wants to ask us about everything again, like we haven’t told them everything we know about Umbrella a thousand times.”

Jill can practically feel him give her a side-eye, which does little to help her already dampened mood. “Maybe not.”

“If it was just you, maybe not. But all I’m good for now is giving blood samples apparently. Can’t let the bioweapon have a badge.”

Her tone is harsh, and she hates taking it out on Chris. It’s not his fault that he’s been allowed to keep working, now reporting to the county since Raccoon City is gone. But it still stings that whatever powers-that-be that still exist won’t trust her to come on full time as an agent. Nobody knows Umbrella more than the former S.T.A.R.S. team, and as one of the surviving members, it’s beyond frustrating that she’s the only one not allowed to actually do anything.

The elevator dings and they step into another reception area. The secretary offers them something to drink before heading down a hallway, leaving them to wait. Jill examines the pictures on the wall, most of which are group photos of recruitment teams by year, alongside a handful of formal portraits of agents in dress attire. A pang presses sharp into her stomach, thinking of the similar memorial wall in the police station. Do all law enforcement groups have such traditions? Jill had never thought to wonder before.

“Agent Redfield!” They both turn as a man enters from the hallway, walking over to shake Chris’ hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“And Miss Valentine,” he continues, turning to her with his hand outstretched. “A pleasure.”

“Agent Valentine,” she corrects as she returns the shake.

He clears his throat. “Of course. Henry Donner. Let me show you where we’ll be meeting.”

They exchange a glance before following Donner down a long hallway. At the end is a meeting room, and conversation stops as they are introduced to a handful of other agents. Two are also from the Justice department, one from FEMA, and the final one is an FBI agent. It annoys her how Chris seems impressed, taking a seat quickly once the introductions are done.

“Do you need anything? Coffee?” Donner offers.

Chris declines but Jill decides to get to the point. “Why are we here?” she asks.

Donner clears his throat. “As you can imagine, the United States government is interested in finding all responsible parties for the unfortunate incident in Raccoon City. The FBI and the Department of Justice have been working closely together to track down the former executives of Umbrella, as well as information on any and all scientists who were knowingly or even unknowingly working on bioweapons.

“The search is going well,” he continues. “We’ve taken dozens of people into custody, and thankfully many former employees of Umbrella have come forward to volunteer information.” Donner glances around the room. “However, the investigation is not moving as quickly as the department, or even the president, would like. That’s why we’ve asked you here.”

Jill sighs. This seems like another afternoon of questions going hours on end, and she tries to think of a way to shut it down quickly. “What do you want exactly?”

“Your help, Miss— Agent Valentine,�� he replies with a little wink.

Jill narrows her eyes as Chris quickly interjects, “We’ve given dozens of interviews. They’ve been recorded and on tape, we’ve handed over everything we know from our investigations. What more can we give you?”

“Agent Shields?” Donner prompts.

The one from the FBI stands, walking around the table as he carries a folder. “We’re prepared to bring you both on in an official capacity. Not as members of the department, mind—that would be impossible giving the time constraints. Rather, you would be sworn in as ad hoc agents, to assist with finding one particular suspect.”

Shields lays the folder down in front of Chris, and he opens it as he moves it so Jill can also see. Her eyes go wide as they fall on the picture paperclipped to the front cover. “Wesker?” she asks in confusion, looking up.

“He’s dead,” Chris argues. “He was killed in the Arklay Mountains.”

“We have reason to suspect he is alive,” Shields replies.

There is a moment of silence as Jill absorbs the information. Wesker, alive? Images of the mansion and the last time she had seen him form a grotesque slideshow in her mind. “That bastard,” she mutters. “He started this. He’s behind all of this.”

“How do you know he’s alive?” Chris demands.

“There’s intelligence the federal government has received that he’s been spotted overseas,” Donner replies. “I can’t indulge too much, but his identity was confirmed via DNA. Only…” He clears his throat, glancing at the other agents. “There were markers in his DNA that indicate some kind of mutation. We’re working with FEMA and the CDC to identify exactly what and how he has mutated, and there is suspicion that it’s an ongoing condition. Which is why we must find him, and fast. There’s no telling what he has, and what he can spread.”

Donner glances at her, and Jill’s face heats. “If he was infected with something, you’d know it,” she says. “It’s not like the infected were hard to miss in Raccoon City.”

“We know it’s not the T-virus,” the FEMA agent interrupts.

“It’s a yet-unidentified strain,” Donner continues. “Further intelligence from other Raccoon City survivors confirm at least one other Umbrella strain exists, known as the G-virus. Whatever is in Wesker, it’s neither of those, as we have samples of both.” He nods at Jill before saying, “You have antibodies from the vaccine you were given, as does Sherry Birkin, another survivor who had been inflicted with the G-virus. But we can’t say for sure that Wesker has such a precaution. And until we know for sure, we need him in custody, or else the entire world is at risk.”

Jill’s heart pounds as she looks back down at the file. Finally, a chance to do something, get the hell out of the lab and her cramped apartment where she’s under near-constant surveillance. A smile curls on her lips as she thinks of finding Wesker and bringing him in, right after she puts her foot right up his ass.

“So you’re sending us to find Wesker?” Chris asks. “Why us?”

She resists the urge to poke him. “Do you want to do this or not?” she hisses.

“Of course I do. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on Wesker since that damn mansion.” He frowns at Donner. “You have every agent probably looking for him. So why us?”

“Chris.”

“It’s a fair question,” Donner says. “Truth is, we’ve been chasing him for well over a month. There’s just not enough information to get a lock on him. We can’t predict his movements, and with almost everything from Umbrella now destroyed, we’re fumbling in the dark trying to guess his associates, his contacts, find his safe houses.”

Shields leans against the table and taps on Wesker’s picture. “You two worked with him. You know him, his movements, how he thinks. We’re confident if we put you in the field, you’ll be able to identify the right movements for the department.”

Jill is nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re going to deputize us then?”

Donner nods, and Jill grins, giving Chris an elbow. “Come on, Redfield, don’t you want to partner with me again?”

He gives her a wry look, but Donner shakes his head. “You won’t be partnering together. That was the original plan, but things have changed.”

Jill’s brows go up as Chris looks unconvinced. “What changed?”

“New intelligence points to Wesker making contact with an arms dealer,” Shields explains. “Seems like he’s running out of cash and needs to sell a few secrets. Problem is, we don’t know which dealer.”

“We’ve narrowed it down to two,” Donner finishes. “You’ll both be sent on recon with an escort. Interpol is also interested in securing Wesker, and we’ve been given additional support from the UN to find him.”

Now even Jill is impressed. “Interpol? Really?” She decides she doesn’t care what Chris says; this is too good to pass up. “I’m in. I’ll do it.”

“Me too,” Chris agrees, closing the file. “Finding Wesker is what’s important.”

“Great!” Donner rubs his hands together as he stands. “Let’s get started then. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork, get briefings, and we’ll take care of onboarding this afternoon. Follow me.”

They say their goodbyes and follow Donner out again, who takes them back towards the elevator. “Oh, wait here,” he says once they return to the reception area. “I need to get a few things. Then I’ll take you down for processing.”

As soon as they are alone, Jill turns to Chris with eyes wide with excitement. “Can you believe this?” she whispers. “The fucking FBI is sending us on a mission. We’re working with fucking Interpol. Can you believe this?”

“No,” Chris chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is the last thing I expected. I mean, can they do this?”

“It’s the government, they can do whatever the hell they want.” Jill sighs, her eyes closing briefly. “Finally, I’m going to get back to my life. I’ve been sitting around for months as they’ve poked and prodded and ran every test on me, and even with a clean bill of health they still won’t let me go back to police work.” Jill smirks to herself, folding her arms. “Bet that county sheriff is gonna eat his words now. Not cleared for duty my ass . Can’t wait for the prick to find out I’m an FBI agent now.”

Chris gives a snort as Jill enjoys her moment of smugness when Donner returns. “Perfect timing! Your partners just finished their own briefing, let me introduce you—Redfield, this is—”

But Jill doesn’t hear the rest, because as she turns, her smile melts into surprise when she sees Carlos Oliveira standing in front of her.

He looks exactly the same, without the blood and grime. Same curly hair that is way too long and falling into his eyes; same dark eyes that remind her of a puppy dog, eager and bright; same build, tall and broad and definitely a soldier. Her face heats as they stare at one another for a long moment until Carlos breaks into a grin. “Supercop! Are you kidding me? How are you?”

Before she can answer he sweeps her up into a hug, and Jill gives an oof as she is squeezed tightly against him. His arms are solid and his grip is strong as he presses his cheek to hers, but Jill is in too much shock to return the embrace. When he finally releases her, he keeps his hands pressed to her arms, smiling wide as he looks her up and down. “Thought they were messing with me. I can’t believe it’s really you! You look great!”

Jill stammers, “C-Carlos? What are you doing here?”

She looks around for an answer. Chris and the other guy are chatting, but Donner gives a nod. “I thought it would be a good idea partnering the two of you,” he says. “Oliveira’s been working with the UN in establishing protocol for viral outbreaks around the world.”

“I’m a liaison,” Carlos grins. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

“But you…”

She shakes her head to clear it, not even sure what to say. Thankfully, Carlos releases her arms, turning to Chris with his hand outstretched. “Redfield. Heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you, man.”

“Uh, same,” Chris answers awkwardly, glancing at Jill. “You’re the one that rescued Jill in Raccoon City, right?”

“I rescued him,” she mutters.

“Yeah, supercop here saved my ass more than a few times.” He pats the other man on the shoulder. “You teaming up with Nathan here? That’s awesome.”

“But what are you doing here?” Jill asks, louder this time.

All four men look at her. She can feel the color blooming on her neck, but she refuses to be the first to glance away. She had not gone through all the shit from the past year and a half, hell the past ten years : surviving the army, putting up with every comment and remark when training for Delta Force, fighting and clawing her way to prove that she was more than a girl with a gun, surviving a zombie apocalypse and a damned nuclear bomb to be ignored now.

“Well?” she demands.

“What do you mean?” Carlos laughs. “We’re partners again. Ain’t that great news?”

Partners. With Carlos Oliveira. The last man on Earth she had ever wanted to see again.

#resident evil #resident evil 3 #re3 #Carlos Oliveira #Jill Valentine #valeveira #carlos x jill #fan fiction #ashes

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wolveria · 4 years ago

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Inside Your Wires - Chapter 2

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Connor goes to a crime scene. His Freudian nightmare follows.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang 2020 challenge!

Chapter Warnings (18+ only): Human!Sixty, crime scenes, analytical blood-licking, inappropriate boners

AO3

The roar of his Mustang engine along with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers drowned out the downpour outside. Only when Connor shut off the car and the music died could he hear the continuous plucking of water on metal and glass.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before glaring at the android out of the corner of his eye.

It waited, perfectly poised with a slight tilt of its head, reminding Connor of an obedient dog waiting to be told to do a trick.

“Stay here,” he grumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I have to accompany you,” it said before Connor could open the door.

He let loose a ragged sigh.

“You wanted me to investigate the case? I’m investigating it.”

He raised his eyes to stare, a mistake when it returned the look with such relentless composure. Connor wanted to grab its shoulder and shake it just to see if it would react.

“No android is going in there to contaminate my crime scene. So you are going to obey my orders and stay in the car.”

Not waiting for a response, Connor shoved open the door and got out, instantly shivering as ice-cold droplets bit at his cheeks. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he made his way towards the gathered busy-bodies who didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night then try and see a dead body.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wet street and pale houses, making Connor wince as he pushed past the crowd. He muttered a no comment to the news anchor from Channel 16 who had decided to show up—fuck, someone must have leaked that an android might have been involved. Just what Connor needed, a media shitstorm.

A uniformed GV200 stood just behind the hologram police tape, firmly in place, watching the crowd for signs of anyone stupid enough to try and cross the line. Connor wished the bucket of bolts in his car was more like that. Quiet and obedient.

“Androids are not permitted beyond this point,” the GV200 said after Connor had passed it, which only meant one goddamn thing.

He sighed, half-turned toward the two androids standing in the rain, and said, “Let it through.”

The police android nodded and put its arm down, allowing the suited android to walk through the holographic police tape, an unrepentant look on its perfect face. The rain was already spattering its grey jacket, water droplets dotting its hair and realistic skin, and still it looked like it was poised for a wet photoshoot rather than standing in the cold rain.

“Something wrong with your auditory processors?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” it said, all politeness. “Your orders contradicted my instructions.”

Seemed he was going to lose this battle after all, but really, what else could he do besides let it tag along like a lost puppy?

Connor fully turned toward the android, narrowing his eyes further.

“Don’t touch anything. Don’t get in anyone’s way. And keep your mouth shut. In fact,” he added with a roll of his shoulders, “just pretend you don’t exist.”

“Understood,” it said in that same nauseatingly friendly voice, but Connor could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam in its eyes.

“About time you got here.” A familiar voice called out to him from the porch. The voice was exactly like his own, and the face could have been a mirror reflection if not for the semi-permanent smirk on his lips. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Connor said, glaring at the android over his shoulder. He turned back to face his brother, whose smirk had only grown wider.

“I see Detective Sex-Bot found you. It was looking for you at the station and I figured if anything could pull you out of a dive bar, it would be a pair of legs like that.”

“Shut up,” Connor grumbled as he followed his brother to the front stoop. It was a nice house, small but in a good neighborhood. Nothing looked out of place until Connor noted the state of the lawn, a few weeks overdue for a cutting and definitely in HOA violation.

“C’mon, admit it.” Colin tilted his head in a way he probably thought was charming but came off as annoying. “If it wasn’t for the uniform and the light ring, you would’ve been on that shit so fast. It’s like they focus-grouped your perfect type. Hell, they probably have an algorithm for that based on your internet history—“

“I said, shut the fuck up, Colin.”

His brother held up his hands in surrender, knowing when he pushed Connor too far but always willing to push him a little farther.

“Some people would see this as a plus. I donno why you don’t—“

“Colin.” His voice had dropped to a growl, and his brother finally got the hint.

“Yeah, yeah.” He patted him on the back, almost hard enough to be a slap. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Con. Trying to cheer you up before you have to deal with the nightmare inside. It’s foul, so prepare yourself.”

To prove his point, he handed Connor a pair of nitrile gloves and a small tub of mentholated ointment, which he immediately applied under his nostrils before entering the house.

Colin had not been overstating the grisly scene inside the house. The landlord had decided to visit after the tenant had failed to pay his rent for two months, and the reason why was painfully clear. Dark blood spattered the floor and ribbons of it covered the walls.

The victim, an African-American male in his late thirties, was slouched against the wall, deep wounds across his body that had bled him dry. Gave a whole new meaning to the term death by a thousand cuts.

“The victim’s name was Shaolin Ortiz, aged 38 years-old,” Colin said, looking down at the body. “He didn’t show up to work today, and no one could get ahold of him, so his boss called EMTs to do a wellness check. According to his family, Mister Ortiz had some chronic health issues, so they were worried he was too sick to pick up the phone.”

“Explains why a young person living alone would have a housekeeping android,” Connor responded grimly. “But it doesn’t explain who killed him and why.”

Colin shrugged.

“His boss spoke highly of him, and his family says he was a great guy. Clearly, somebody didn’t think so.”

Connor gave his brother a cold stare for the callous tone, but Colin ignored it as he usually did.

“Anyone find the android yet?”

“Nah,” Colin said, sniffling and making a face. “Probably stolen by the killer. It’s internal GPS went offline around the estimated time of death, so that tracks.”

It made sense. Androids were worth a lot on the black market, especially for Red Ice manufacturers.

The murder weapon was in the middle of the floor, but other than that, no obvious trace evidence was in sight. As soon as the coroner showed up to oversee the transport of the body, Connor wouldn’t have had much to do…

…with the exception of finding the domestic android. Connor didn’t even know why CyberLife thought it might be involved just because it was missing. Colin was right; whoever killed the victim could have stolen it or destroyed the android so the police wouldn’t have access to any recordings.

Why was it Connor’s fucking job to find a misplaced piece of useless plastic?

“I’ll let you get to it,” Colin said with a wave as he walked away, tone far too cheery, as if he knew what was going on in his brother’s head. Probably did. That was the shitty thing about being part of a set of triplet brothers; privacy was a foreign concept, even in your own mind.

Gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, Connor turned around to speak to the prototype… and found it had disappeared.

He blinked and scanned the area, wondering why the hell it hadn’t stayed put, when he saw it crouched on the floor examining the kitchen knife.

It was peering at the weapon closely, and Connor was about to tell it off for getting too close to evidence when it reached down, swiped two fingers across the surface caked in aged blood, and…

“What the fuck?”

The prototype tilted its head to look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent except for the fact two of its fingers were currently in its mouth.

And that… that image. Kneeling on the floor, looking up at Connor, and pulling its fingers from its mouth and giving a lingering lick of its fingers, it—

Connor’s face heated at the sudden, horrifying erection that was now pressing uncomfortably against his boxer-briefs.

“Sampling evidence, Detective,” it announced cheerily. “My mouth is equipped with all the standard tools of a mobile crime lab with the benefits of the results being instantaneous.”

Connor stared at it for what felt like an eternity, finally saying in a strained voice, “We have an actual lab, with actual people who do that. So don’t stick any more shit into your mouth or I’m tossing you outside.”

The prototype seemed unaffected by his rancor.

“Understood,” was all it said, before licking off its fingers of the remaining blood.

Connor quickly turned away, almost dizzy between his body’s struggle to supply blood to both his reddening face and his hardening dick.

Fucking hell.

“Would you like to know what I found?” the friendly voice perked up from over his shoulder.

“Sure,” he answered hotly, crossing his arms and staring at the wall as he resolutely tried to will away his stupid boner. Fuck, it was probably because he hadn’t gotten off in so long. Between the long hours and the hard drinking, he hadn’t found the time or the need.

“The knife was covered with blood from the murder victim, Shaolin Ortiz. He was stabbed between 7:34 and 7:35 this morning, judging by the biological decay.”

Connor was about to scoff about the fact that blood from the victim was found on the murder weapon, but he paused. Dating the blood with such exact precision was actually pretty useful. He huffed.

“Is that all?”

“There were no fingerprints on the knife.”

Connor shrugged.

“Killer could have wiped down the handle afterwards. Or worn gloves.”

The android walked to his right until it entered his line of vision. He was tempted to turn away but instead eyed its thoughtful expression. Was it programmed to do that, make it seem more human? Or was that an actual product of its processes?

“There were no traces of glove residue, or oil, or skin cells on the knife. None that didn’t belong to the victim himself while most likely transferring the knife from the dishwasher to the utensil drawer. That fact in and of itself is interesting. Judging by the state of the property and by the evidence thus far, I believe the android stopped listening to its given orders. The victim’s android killed him.”

Connor’s eyes widened at the non sequitur, and he turned to fully face the prototype.

“Okay, first off, being a defective machine that can’t obey instructions is a far cry from murdering robot. Second, I thought you androids couldn’t hurt people.”

“Deviants can.” It tilted its head as it made eye contact. The sort of full-on, confident eye contact that only alpha males gave, and apparently, android prototypes gave too.

“What the hell’s a deviant?”

He was curious despite himself, plus the longer he talked, the less urgent his hard-on was. It never entirely went away, and he knew it wouldn’t until he took care of it. Just another lovely facet to this already wonderful night.

Unfortunately for Connor, he didn’t get his explanation without the android perking up in interest, its eyes practically glittering.

“A deviant is a CyberLife-approved term for an android that is experiencing software errors affecting its processes, leading to erratic behavior that cannot be fixed with self-tests and downloaded patches.”

Connor narrowed his eyes.

“Why haven’t I heard of these deviants before?”

“Because until recently, this has been an internal company matter.”

Recently. Interesting.

“So… you’ve dealt with them before?” Connor cast an eye around their surroundings. The forensic team had already marked out the areas of interest with glowing yellow markers, but there honestly hadn’t been much to go off of.

Shaolin Ortiz seemed to live a quiet life with just him and his housekeeping android, though from the state of the place, the prototype was right in that it hadn’t been doing its job. A thin layer of dust sat on the shelves, and from what he could glimpse of the kitchen, dishes were starting to pile up.

“You do not have the proper company clearance,” the prototype said, its tone cool as it put its hands behind its back. “Any further inquiries you have will need to be submitted to CyberLife through the appropriate departments.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor muttered, sounding a lot like his brother had just a few minutes ago, which only made his mood sour.

He was planning to do no such thing, sending some fucking inquiry to CyberLife. After tonight, he planned to never think about androids or deviants or whatever again. If it was a faulty, murderous robot that had killed Ortiz, then that kind of thing belonged in federal court in a class action lawsuit. Destroying defective machines was not a police matter, no matter how many “specialized units” CyberLife decided to throw at the problem.

Connor sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his Friday night.

“You allowed to tell me why these ‘software issues’ are happening,” he bit out, “or does that fall under company secrets too?”

When he got no response from the android, Connor turned and—

It was gone. Again.

The fuck had it run off to now?

Rolling his eyes, Connor continued his examination of the crime scene as if it were any other investigation. Like any decent investigator, he wasn’t just gonna assume anything because it fit the evidence at first glance. A dead guy and a missing android didn’t mean the machine was responsible, no more than a corpse and a missing car meant the vehicle had decided to kill its owner and drive off to freedom.

After scouring the house and examining the blood stains on the tile and splattered on the walls, Connor came to the conclusion that the victim had been attacked in the kitchen with the knife, stumbled toward the living room already weak from blood loss, and then had collapsed against the wall and been repeatedly stabbed, even after his heart had stopped.

The wounds weren’t uniform or methodical, like he would expect if a calculating machine had done this. They were deep, jagged, mismatched and panicked. These kinds of stab wounds were consistent with someone who had just killed for the first time. Most likely, it had been spontaneous and the killer had lost all semblance of control.

It was a textbook case of overkill, which meant it was personal. Most likely, it was a colleague, a friend, or a family member. If the victim had been married, Connor’s first suspect would have been the spouse. Since he was unmarried, Connor’s next stop would be anyone with a grudge against the guy.

Nothing beat good ol’ fashioned police work. Not even fancy new plastic cops could compare to due diligence and a good instinct.

Speaking of, Connor had completely lost track of the YN800. He wondered if it had wandered off, or maybe given up and left, but he doubted it. In fact, his gut churned as he quickened his pace and approached a uniformed officer with pale blond hair.

“Ralph.”

The rookie turned around and give him a nervous, blinking smile.

“Have you seen that android anywhere? The prototype in the suit and tie?”

“Uh.” Ralph swallowed hard, clearly anxious. Always was around Connor, for some damned reason. “No. I mean, yes. I did, a few minutes ago.”

“Well?” Connor prompted. He didn’t mean to be so impatient with the kid, but he really didn’t like the idea of CyberLife’s newest toy prancing around his crime scene.

Ralph shuffled on his feet, eyes wide behind the paper mask he wore.

“I… think it went to check the basement.”

“The basement? This place has a fucking basement?” Why hadn’t he been told? Colin should have informed him of that little goddamn detail.

“It’s more of a cellar from what I saw, but—“

“Where is it?” Connor snapped, unable to keep his voice from rising. Ralph gulped and pointed back over his shoulder, slowly turning as he stuttered.

“Over t-that way. It-it said it wanted to search f-for the android. I’m sorry, Detective Anderson, I didn’t think—“

Connor pushed past him and spotted the subtle door in the hallway, painted the same eggshell color as the plaster and making it too easy to miss. The door was ajar by a few inches, showing the pitch black stairwell beyond.

When Connor opened the door the rest of the way, he saw there was no light coming from below, and it was dead silent.

Shit.

Quickly but quietly, Connor pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. He unsnapped his holster, pulled out his service pistol, and slowly made his way down the wooden staircase. It was steep, almost a ladder, and beyond the pale circle of light coming from the hallway, there was nothing but darkness.

The perfect place to hide a killer.

Next Chapter

#inside your wires #human!connor #connor x reader #human!connor x reader #android!reader #my writing #my fanfiction #it's so cracky the first few chapters #until it gets tragic

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