#non emergency just an update and really excited to have her here! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notsocooljess · 5 months ago

Text

Double Date

finally wrote the drabble i’ve been trying to write for weeks based on this reddit post discovered by @rainymyx in this post. i had so much fun writing this!

i want to continue to add to this based on the original reddit poster’s updates, so we’ll see!

read this on ao3 here

“What can I say? College football days should always be the best days of a man’s life. Now your best days can be listening to me talk about them.”

Ugh. Katniss huffed out a puff of air as she listened to Cato speak. An hour ago, she had been so excited for this date. They were texting for the past two weeks, and their conversation was easy and funny and, most importantly, normal. Now in person, his vibe was totally different than who he portrayed himself as online. Now, he was a thirty-year-old man who wouldn’t stop talking to her about his glory days from ten years ago and the “boozing, blinkers, and babes” that came with them.

After only receiving their appetizers and a single drink, Katniss knew she couldn’t stick around. The thought of having to hear Cato talk about another frat party he attended before The Force Awakens was released was nearly enough to bring her to tears. Desperate, Katniss did what she always did in trying times like these: text Johanna.

“Katniss! Katniss! I need your help, quick!” Johanna’s voice rang through her phone not even a minute later. Her ability to sound like she was truly in agony was as impressive as always.

“Johanna!? What’s going on?” Katniss responded, hoping her acting was, for the first time in her life, passable.

“It’s the baby! I need you here now!” her childless, non-babysitting, kid-hating friend shouted before quickly hanging up.

Katniss darted her eyes to Cato’s, and his brows were knit tightly as if he were trying to to put together the pieces of the conversation that just transpired.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure if you heard. My friend really needs me. She needs help with her… baby. I hate to cut this short, but,” she didn’t finish her sentence as she slipped on her coat. She shuffled through her bag and retrieved a twenty-dollar bill, smacking it on the table.

“Oh, yeah, it’s cool. You still wanna meet up at my place later, right? I have the best surprise waiting for you,” Cato responded while wagging his eyebrows, seemingly uncaring about her fabricated dire emergency or the quality of their date at all. This only irritated Katniss more. Her friend’s fake baby was in trouble, and all he cared about was getting laid!

“Uh… yeah, no. Definitely not. Let’s just forget about this, okay? Have the night you deserve,” Katniss practically snarled as she fled the restaurant.

Once she was in her car, she peeled out of the parking lot and quickly went around the block, looking for a place to park so she could call Johanna. She found a spot located outside of a small pub and dialed her friend.

“How was I this time? I feel like I’m really perfecting my blood-curdling shrillness. What do you say? Any pointers?” Johanna asked as soon as she answered the phone.

Katniss wanted to laugh, but now that the situation was over, she felt defeated. She actually had high hopes for this date, but she again found herself needing to bail.

At twenty-eight, Katniss finally felt ready to do things for herself. Before this, there was never the time. She was raising her sister Prim and taking care of her mother for more than a decade since her father’s passing. Now, Prim was in her second year of medical school where she received full funding for her work, and her mother has a live-in aide to help her with her daily needs. She finally did not have to spend all of her time focusing on school and work and money and bills, and without Prim nearby, she felt lonely. Her friends had convinced her to start going on dates, but after months of failed attempts, she still had nothing to show for it.

“Is it me, Jo?” she responded, “Do I just attract these weirdos?”

“Oh, shut up, brainless. You've been going on dates for a few months. Maybe if you gave yourself a little more practice when we were younger it’d be easier, but some people take years to find something that sticks. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re caring. Maybe a little hard to swallow with the scowl, but anyone that gets to know the real you is gonna love you.”

She sighed, “Okay.”

“You wanna come over here? I was just going to watch some Dexter reruns, but there’s plenty of room on this couch for two.”

“Actually, I think I need a drink. I’ll let you know what I’m doing after.”

Katniss’s conversation with Johanna ended shortly after, and she made her way into the pub.

The pub was crowded, a symptom of it being a Friday evening in the winter, and Katniss had to shuffle past a group of freshly legal college students to make it to the bar. She wanted something simple, something just to take the edge off, and was quickly handed her rum and coke.

Eager to people-watch while she nursed her drink, Katniss scanned the crowd for an empty seat. Most of the tables seemed to be taken up by a larger group, but a single chair at a small table in the corner of the room was wonderfully vacant. Katniss closed her tab and swiftly made her way across the room.

As she approached, she stopped in her tracks. Hidden from her initial view was a man sitting on the other side of the table, somewhat hunched over with a book in his hands. Before she could backtrack and look for another open seat, he picked his head up and locked eyes with her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was gonna sit here but didn’t realize you were already here. I’ll just…” her voice trailed off. Katniss had a habit of not finishing her sentences when she was flustered, and after meeting the man’s gaze, she was very flustered. Not only was she not expecting someone to be sitting at the table, but now that he was looking at her, his blue eyes piercing through to her even under the pub’s dim lights, she realized he was around her age and absolutely hot. Her hands began to sweat, and her tongue started to feel like lead.

The man smiled, an endearing smile that quirked more on the left side of his face, highlighting a sole dimple on his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You can sit here,” He replied, his eyes scanning the room. “Besides, it doesn’t look like there’ll be much room anywhere else.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, and he nodded. “Thank you so much. I promise I won’t even bother you. We don’t even have to talk or anything…” Katniss said as she placed her bag on the table and took her seat.

Katniss started scanning the other patrons of the pub to observe their activities, but her eyes frequently darted back to the man seated across from her. She gathered more bits and pieces of his appearance in the brief moments she allowed herself to study his features. He had blond, curly hair that looked intentionally tousled. His shoulders were very broad, pulling the fabric of his navy henley taut across his chest. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he drummed the table with his left hand while holding the book he was reading in his right.

After a few minutes, he lifted his eyes up from his book and offered her a soft smile. “My name is Peeta, by the way.”

“Katniss,” she said, offering a shy smile of her own.

“You know, I really don’t mind talking if you want to.”

Her grin grew. “Okay, then.” She paused, unsure of where to start, but her curiosity eventually got the better of her when she asked, “Can I ask why you’re reading a book at a crowded bar on a Friday night?”

Peeta chuckled, a laugh that let Katniss know he wasn’t offended. “You waste no time getting to the deep stuff. I actually just moved into my first solo apartment, and as much as I’m happy to have my own space, the silence feels kinda deafening.”

“Ah,” she began, appraising him up and down, “so you find comfort in the chaos.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I grew up in a house with two older brothers, and the two of them used to practice wrestling no matter where they were. In the dining room, the backyard. One time they threw each other down the stairs,” he chuckled again, “Our mom wasn’t too happy about that one.”

“You’re joking,” Katniss laughed.

“Not even a little bit, I swear. And then I lived in a house with my three friends all the way through grad school. My best friend Finnick used to play eighties pop at all hours of the day. Think, like, Donna Summer or Cyndi Lauper on full blast at three in the morning.”

“And you guys never asked him to stop?” Katniss asked, finding she wanted to know more and more about him.

At this, Peeta hit her with a dead stare, his blue eyes piercing her with a combination of humor and seriousness. “See, that is something only someone who doesn’t know Finnick would ask. If we made any attempts to get him to stop this relatively-harmless-if-not-mildly-annoying behavior, we would only trigger severely worse outcomes for us all.”

“And you said this is your best friend?” Peeta let out a boisterous laugh in reply.

While sitting with Peeta, Katniss found the guard she had put up during her date with Cato had come crashing down.

They spoke about their jobs. Katniss explained how she works as a forest ranger, but she hopes to finish school to become an environmental engineer. Peeta said that he just finished graduate school to become a doctor of architecture.

“I really liked art, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my parents or pay the bills, so I tried to do the next best thing I could think of.”

“So you became a literal doctor? In a field that’s focused on math and design? Are you a genius?”

“Time Magazine did call me the reincarnation of Albert Einstein.”

“Hm. And to think I placed you more as a Michelangelo.”

They spoke about their families. Katniss spoke about her mom and Prim. She bragged about her sister’s accomplishment in getting a full ride to a great medical school across the country. She felt so comfortable with Peeta, she didn’t even shy away from speaking about her late father, even if it was in the briefest of terms. Peeta nodded his head as she spoke, squeezing her hand across the table when he sensed certain details were particularly hard for her to get out. Peeta, the son of bakers, grew up really close with his older brothers. His oldest brother took over the family business, and while Peeta loves baking, he enjoys it more as a hobby than a career.

This seamlessly led to them speaking about their childhoods. Katniss was mostly shy, harboring two friends, Madge and Gale, through her schooling, despite her being a star on her school’s track and archery teams. University allowed her to come out of her shell and meet friends that didn’t matter her reticent personality, like Johanna. Peeta wrestled, painted, did debate team, and wrote. He had a solid group of friends during school, but he found his lifelong friends in college.

They spoke about the little things. Their favorite colors. Favorite snacks. Movies. Shows. And their answers were so similar across all categories, they had a near total eclipse on a venn diagram of each topic. Their responses were so alike that, at one point, Katniss plastered her face with her signature scowl Peeta had not yet been acquainted with, asking him if he was being totally honest with his responses.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, “Look, that scowl is too intimidating for me to not come clean. So the truth is, I’ve been being honest this entire time.”

Before Katniss realized, nearly two hours had gone since she first sat down with Peeta. They fell into a comfortable silence, and she studied his features more in the muted light. She tried to picture what he looked like out of this setting. Hunching over a sketchbook. Cooking in his kitchen. Laughing with his friends. Cheering on his nephews at their little league games.

She studied the way the dim light caught onto the golden strands of his eyelashes, becoming mesmerized by the way they fluttered against his cheek when he blinked. She didn’t even realize she was staring until he spoke again, causing her to jump slightly.

“So what about you?” He asked, a small grin on his lips.

“What about me?”

“Well, before you asked what I’m doing at a bar alone on a Friday night. But what are you doing alone here on a Friday night so that I, a stranger, was able to take up so much of your time?”

Katniss contemplates what she should say, unsure if she should reveal her failed date with Cato. But as Peeta looked at her with sincerity in his eyes, she has the hunch that she could really trust him.

“If I’m honest, I came here because I had left a really, really bad first date,” she responded sheepishly.

Peeta cocked his left eyebrow expectantly. “How bad?”

“Well… it was so bad I made my best friend call me and say she was having an emergency with her fake baby to give me a reason to bail,” Katniss blurted out, her tone hitching at the end to make her statement sound more like a question. Like she was questioning if she really did that herself.

Both of Peeta’s eyebrows were raised, his eyes glinting with amusement, lips curling in to stop him from laughing. “You’re kidding me,” he managed to croak out.

“In my defense, he only spoke about his college football experiences, and after I started leaving to go help my friend with her fake baby, he still asked if we were having sex later!”

At this, Peeta burst out laughing, and after Katniss realized exactly what she said, she joined him. As Katniss clutched her stomach, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, she almost missed what Peeta said next.

“That’s why I’ve kind of given up on dating.”

“Given up?” Katniss asked, her voice airy from her recent laughter and something silly like concern that she might have been wrong about the connection she felt with him all night.

“In grad school, every date I went on just didn’t have any spark. They were just mediocre. Then, I got so busy with trying to finish my degree, I just gave up on the whole thing.” For the first time that night, Peeta responded without meeting her gaze.

She’s not sure what made her say it. Maybe it was the second rum and coke she had gotten while talking with Peeta. Maybe it was that she felt like she had nothing left to lose after her first failed date of the night. Or, maybe it was because she knew she’d majorly regret if she didn’t try to continue with the something that she felt burning between her and Peeta, but she had to say it.

“I find that hard to believe considering this is probably the closest thing I’ve had to a good date in what feels like forever.”

At this, Peeta drew his head back in what appeared to be shock. His eyes met her again, an indecipherable expression plastering his features as he searched hers. Katniss shifted in her chair, somewhat uncomfortable with his unreadable scrutiny.

Finally, Peeta’s features relaxed. and he looked Katniss right in the eye with a neutral, if not somewhat strained, expression. “Tell you what,” he began, “I have to go to the bathroom, but when I come back, I’ll ask you out for real.”

Katniss shot him a curious expression, but as Peeta began to move, it clicked. He did not stand from his seat – he wheeled back from the table, towards the back of the bar with the bathrooms. His left pant leg tied off just below the knee. Katniss understood: he wanted her to see everything about him before she agreed to go on a date with him. He was giving her an out.

At this, Katniss’s gut twisted, both with regret and butterflies. She felt somewhat bad for him, wondering if this was a move he made from being rejected for his physical condition before. Wondering how anyone could do that to anyone, let alone a guy like Peeta. But overpowering this feeling were the butterflies. He liked her. He wanted her to see all of him. He was laying his insecurities bare for her. Most importantly, he already trusted her. In mind, body, and spirit, he couldn’t be any more beautiful.

A minute later, Peeta emerged from the bathroom, a goofy grin plastered across his face to perfectly match hers.

As soon as he reached the table, the words came tumbling out of Katniss’s mouth before she could stop them.

“So, I’m free all weekend. What do you have in mind?”

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #the hunger games #everlark #everlark fanfiction #alternate universe #drabble #rainymyx #jess writes

81 notes · View notes

campoverlook-if · 8 months ago

Text

Progress Update #4// 4/3/24

Hey everyone, just wanted to update you all on the story.

I've started a new process for the past few days where I write for two hours and then take fifteen-thirty minute breaks in between. I'm still blanking on what to write for a section sometimes, but I'm really trying not to have grayed out choices again. That was NOT fun.

Still, the writing process shouldn't be forced, but sometimes you just really need to kick your own ass and grab that text file by the ears. Plus, this is the most productive I've felt since getting my wisdom teeth removed.

In celebration of this new bout of inspiration, here's a sneak peek of an upcoming scene you may encounter in the update.

Alright, that's it. This girl can't just bully you away because she doesn't like you. You hadn't even done anything when she first started acting nasty towards you. Yes, you may have walked away in the middle of a conversation, but she had been so…aggressive. You weren't just going to stand there and take it, and you definitely weren't going to start now. So, you take a step closer to Claire, giving her a leveled glare of your own. "Last time I checked, this table doesn't belong to you." Tension quickly fills the air around the two of you. Claire doesn't respond to your retort, but she doesn't need to. Her body language gives you all the information you need to know.

Ooooh boi, what the hell did you do to make Claire this mad at you. And on the first day? Tragic.

Along with that we'll be getting into a few things before finally ending episode 1:

Reworked the gender system of the counselors. Now you can choose from the beginning how you want them to be.

Added the choice to be non-binary (a new batch of campers, hooyay!). Also need to add onto scenes with Asher, Claire, and Lucas.

Meeting the final two counselors (Ruby and Silas).

An added scene with E for returning MCs during your walk to the mess hall.

Going through orientation, including a fun scavenger hunt (Uncle Robert said it would be fun, don't believe him).

A small scene with your new roommates in your cabins.

I'm so excited just thinking about it, and I'm the one writing the dang story.

If you hadn't seen it yet, I answered an ask a little bit ago about doing visuals for the blog. I'm not the best at visual media (that's more my mother's thing) but I can use a character maker like a mf if I have too.

It was kinda nice, a little limiting, but it was surprisingly helpful for me to have it. I've thought about how these characters look for so long it's strange to suddenly see them brought to life in any type of way except text. The character bios have been updated with these pictures now.

(UPDATE: LITERALLY MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DECISION: SLEEP DEPRIVED AF BEHAVIOR)

So, I wrote this update yeaterday and was planning for it to just post through queue like I normally do, but the situation has changed. The demo will be updated again, however the stopping point is literally the same. The only major changes are the gender system, adding being non-binary, and having everything on one file (pray for me). The stopping point is still the same.

All in all the word count is now at this point: 57k (W/O Code), 14K (average). Not a huge jump average wise, but I'm happy anyway.

Link to demo here.

(END OF EMERGENCY UPDATE)

That's all I wanted to talk about for now, if you run into any bugs just let me know and I'll fix it lickity split.

See you all on the next update!

P.S. - I love it when new people follow and only like the posts of certain counselors. I know who you're into now ;).

#camp overlook #update #interactive fiction #if wip #updates

38 notes · View notes

cranetreegang · 1 year ago

Note

Random question. Favorite author/s?

I love this question!

Got me really thinking and most of them are on AO3 haha! But, this is probably a way longer post than it needs to be BUT LET ME GUSH!

FanFic Authors

Krebony - I love their story You Are My Home. It is such a sweet Ominis story and I am praying for the day it gets updated cause I am invested in what happens. I love the way Ominis is written (strong and sweet and protective and cunning) and it's a super sweet story with angst.

Lana_Morrigan - I love her Arcana - Julian story The Mirror Cracked. I love how she incorporated fairy tales into her story and it was just such a fun and heartfelt read. I enjoy reading very different prose from my own -> helps me grow more and branch out from the normal.

heartsof_theround - omg I love her story Our Floral Courtship. It was so cute and kept me on the edge of my seat. I love how she used the language of flowers (makes me want to do something in regards to that it was just so freaking CUTE).

@applinsandoranges - I love pretty much all of her one-shots because they're so well written and I love how sweet and cute most of them are (im sure everyone is sensing a trend with this and i am a sucker for cute and sweet content).

@eggymf - I love that she's putting in so much time and effort into crafting a long, multi-chapter story. I love hearing her ideas and how she executes them into her stories. I love how she writes Ominis - and I'm excited to see where OPPAW goes!

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

NON FANFIC Writers

Kazutoyo Maehiro, Natsuko Ishikawa, Banri Oda - the genius writers behind Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward (the critically acclaimed award winning expansion lolll). I am still reeling over the emotional devastation they caused me, and it's been a year since I played it. The characters they crafted will stick with me for a long, long time. It's truly amazing how someone can make a character - then make you care so much about them. It's an art I would love to hone and master - and I admire them greatly for being able to do this so freaking well. Like I don't cry much when I'm reading, but damn did I cry like a baby. A literal SOBBING BABY. Just... amazing.

Kentaro Miura - the legend who wrote Berserk. I'm not really into gritty, dark stories, but wow. Just wow. He made me appreciate the trials and hardships of what a character/person may go through - and how they may emerge and change from it. It's really beautiful how you can write the human spirit that survives even when everything seems against them. It's really made me think about how I write future characters -> what makes them human

J.K. Rowling - probs a controversial take, but I admire how she created a world, a literal world, that is such an huge part of society. When you think of wizards -> you think of Harry Potter. I believe that's an amazing accomplishment to have so many people love your stories and to be so invested in this magical world. She inspired a lot of people's imaginations and I think that's the end goal of every writer -> to inspire imagination. And I hope to keep doing that (even with my dumb lil writings about Ominis or whatever)

Brandon Sanderson - Currently reading Mistborn, but he's the first author that I'm reading with a different sort of lens. I'm viewing his work as a fellow author (i know, i know - hot take of me calling myself an author butttt). It's been interesting breaking down his work and how he structures things. I love how he's made the magic system and world easy to digest without it being boring. You're in this world - and it's so organic. You learn more and more without it being overwhelming. You start to really understand the magic system, and it's so freaking cool. I love his prose - as I'm not the biggest fan of flowery prose - and his is a bit more straight to the point.

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

There's many more I could put on here - honestly there's so many fanfic writers that don't get enough credit, but they're doing the Lord's work out there. I love all of their creativity and how they inspire others with their stories and characters.

Thanks again for the ask! <3 <3

#favorite authors #thanks for the ask!

11 notes · View notes

undesired-attention · 3 years ago

Text

I had been thinking for a while about jumping back on here for an update- both for those who used to follow if they’re still on here and also to consolidate my own thoughts of the past 8 months, and today feels like the day. I believe I left off with my mom having surgery, that ended up going well and all is mostly good- some complications that can be fixed with a colonoscopy or two and another surgery planned for the future, but nothing emergent and things have been fine with her for the most part. That feels like so long ago reflecting back, I cannot believe it’s only been 8 months.. then the bf went to finish up his last term of college, he absolutely killed it banging the last of his degree out and graduated in December. Meanwhile, I began taking the charge role at my job- meaning I was the head nurse on the floor, didn’t take patients (usually), directed the flow of care and dealt with the major problems.. and I found that I really enjoyed it. I was feeling so burnt out from covid, mentally I dreaded going into work every day to take care of non compliant covid patients who didn’t believe they even had the virus, and watched them turn into a mess when they got sicker and sicker to the point of needing to go on a vent.. it was horrific and traumatizing. And that was my work life the past two years. I tried to find other fulfilling things, I studied for and passed the CMSRN (certified medical surgical RN) exam in December, and thought a lot about where I wanted my career to go. I ended up applying for a nurse supervisor position on the cardiac floor in my hospital, and after a month of interviewing with different people and then a month of waiting for my incompetent manager to get her shit together, I accepted the job and start next week.

Last night was my last night working on my med surg/covid/basically nursing home because patients stay for 6 months+ floor that’s run itself into the ground and I no longer want to be a part of. It was a EXTREMELY difficult decision, and I still have that urge to stay in my comfort. I love my coworkers. I’ve known a lot of them for three years and learned how to be a nurse with them. They (for the most part) are the best group of people I’ve ever worked with. Now saying that- this was only my first full time job in a steady position. So I have really high hopes I find that change is okay and good, and I’ll love it up there just as much as I do on my unit. My manager fired my mom a week before her surgery in august and she struggled really hard to find a job- she’s working in a clinic now making more money than before and likes it for the most part. I’ve brought up countless issues to my manager and current nurse supervisors, and none of them care about anything and are so negative and mean. I’ve spoken to my new manager more times over the past 3 months during this hiring process than my old manager in 3 years, and she has been so kind and helpful through everything. So- I’m nervous, but so excited. Bf was job hunting at the same time, and while I was hopeful he could find something local/remote, the options are just nonexistent or for way too little pay. He accepted a position at a company in pittsburgh with a offer too good to even consider turning down, and he starts (remote until moves out there) next week. He signed a lease on a house and is working his way to getting out there. And of course with that, I had to think a lot about what I wanted to do. We talked about it, a lot, and the plan is for him to go out there and me stay for ~a year (likely less) in my new job, get official job title nurse supervisor experience, and then come out to pittsburgh with him and find a nursing supervisor job somewhere out there. I’m not a fan of UPMC’s tactics one bit, but they pay their supervisors comparatively to what I will be making here, so I won’t be taking a $10 pay cut like I would as a staff RN, if I became part of the hospital system that monopolizes Pittsburgh. I am EXTREMELY excited for him and I know he’s excited too, pretty close to a dream job for him.

Meanwhile- my brother is finishing up his last semester at Carnegie Mellon in pittsburgh, and will be doing a PhD fellowship in math for a big college close to Pittsburgh, but also closer to home. It’ll be the closest he’s been to home since he was 15 and moved to New Hampshire for boarding school. I’m also obviously very excited for him as well. I had a routine doctors appt a couple weeks ago, and I decided to finally open up and mention that I’m having an extremely hard time focusing and concentrating. I’ve always had this issue, but it was really starting to effect my work being now that I’m sitting down and having to do paperwork and it’s not constantly running to tend to my patients. She made me an appt for next week to get tested for AD(H)D. I still don’t know how I feel about it, I feel kind of ashamed but that was the way I was raised, mental health disorders do not exist and you’re fine, it’s all in your head. I did some research into ADHD in women, and a lot aren’t diagnosed until their 20s-30s. So either way, I’ll see what they say. It’s either that or anxiety but I am starting to believe it’s more than anxiety the more I really reflect on how I feel and act.. but overall, the past 8 months have been great for myself and everyone close to me. I’m feeling emotional from last night being my last night on my home unit for the past 3 years, and a little delirious because I worked 3 nights in a row lol, but I just have been wanting to type all this out for a while and send it into the void of what was a major part of my life for multiple years. If anyone takes the time to read this, thank you for checking in. Talk to you again maybe in the future. :)

Also, formatting on this app is HORRIFIC, I’m sorry

#jj

11 notes · View notes

diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

Text

This is two parts because I got carried away. I wrote this on my phone and proof read as much as I could.

Warnings: cheating, male masturbation, m/f sex, minor spoilers for “Defending Jacob”.

——————————————————————————————

Plain Gold Ring

“Plain gold ring on his finger he wore

It was where everyone could see

He belonged to someone, but not me

On his hand was a plain gold ring”

-Nina Simone

When the Barbers moved to your building every old bitty in the place was buzzing with excitement. You had loosely followed Jacob Barber’s case as it played out on the evening news. The whole thing was bizarrely too neat and tidy for your liking. You tried to stay out of idle gossip as much as possible. But, when you heard Andy Barber was interviewing for a senior position at your firm, you had questions.

Andy was brought in to interview for a position that you were also interested in. You requested a meeting with your boss and you went in guns blazing. Your poor boss was not ready for all the excitement.

“Am I still being considered for junior partner?”

“Y/n, calm down.” When he saw you winding yourself up, he popped an antacid an a few ibuprofen.

“Calm down? Calm down he says. I’ve been with this firm since I clerked for you in Law school, Stan. I’m the best fit for this role and you know it.”

“I know you are, kid. I’ve been out voted.”

It’s common knowledge that the partners don’t want too many women gunning for their jobs. They already have one token female partner. They didn’t feel the need to add another. You were infuriated. You stomped back to your office and slammed the door.

All of the work you put in. All of the late nights. You don’t have time to even date. And all for what? You had to calm down now because you were starting to cry out of sheer frustration. You took a deep breath and started going through your to do list. With a relatively light schedule you decided to leave for the day. You mumbled something to your assistant about a doctors appointment and headed for the elevator.

You saw some of the senior partners headed your way shaking hands with Andy. You pressed the elevator button furiously trying to avoid them. Could you make it down seventeen flights of stairs in your stilettos? The elevator dinged and you jumped on just as Robert called your name.

As soon as you put your car in gear, your assistant called. You sent her to voicemail. She called again. Declined. Finally she texted call me back ASAP. Emergency. Fuck.

“Caitlan I said I had an appointment. What’s the emergency?”

“Sorry. Mr. Cramer insisted I call. He’s standing by my desk” she whispered. “They want you to have lunch with them today. Maybe it’s about the job.”

“Did you see guy shaking hands with them? That’s the new junior partner. They are asking me to lunch to reject me. Fuck! Where?” You rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Commander’s at 1:00.”

“Fine.” you groaned.

You went home to freshen up and send out your updated resume. You made sure to include “Willing to relocate” at the end to broaden your prospects. You had a friend in Chicago who worked for a very high profile firm. They were always looking for new blood. You shot her a text to let her know you were looking then emailed your resume. The prospect of starting over completely made you nauseous. You would have to go through the ranks and probably waist another five years to get exactly where you were right now.

When you arrived at the restaurant the maître d brought you to the table where Stan, several other senior partners and Andy were waiting. Andy stood up to pull out your chair.

“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sit down, Y/N. We wanted to introduce you to Andrew Barber.”

“Andy. Please call me Andy. It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. These guys haven’t stopped talking about you all morning.”

“All good things I hope.” The men laughed and ordered a round of martinis. Good thing you ate a big lunch at home. No one likes a sloppy drunk girl.

“Yes. Well, Y/N, as you may not know Andy has accepted the junior partner position. We would love if you brought him up to speed on anything you’re working on and show him the ropes.”

You were seething. “Of course Mr. Cramer. Happy to.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s order huh? I’m starving.”

You were silent for the rest of lunch ordering two more martinis very dry and a salad. Dressing on the side of course. The men spoke loudly and never even tried to include you in the conversation. You excused yourself to use the restroom. Andy, ever the gentleman, stood up at the same time.

You didn’t go back. Not that it would have mattered. You ordered an Uber and checked your email. You didn’t notice Andy at the valet stand.

“I’m headed back to the office. Need a ride?” he called to you.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He watched you pace back and forth reading a message almost out loud.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “Shit.” You scowled looking at the screen. You dialed Caitlan’s extension. “Caitlan, Sloan Treadaway’s deposition was moved to today. I need it pushed to Monday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I figured you would be coming back so I told them it was ok to push it up. I can call them back.”

“No. Don’t bother. I’m on my way back.”

“Looks like you can use a ride after all.” Andy was grinning from ear to ear.

He held the door and rushed around to the other side. You pulled a small bag out of your purse. You freshened your hair, popped some breath mints, lotioned and spritzed away the smell of booze. Andy thought this must be commonplace for you. It’s not easy trying to run with the guys. He could walk into this deposition piss drunk and most people wouldn’t care. You had to be perfect. He always hated that aspect of working in a big firm like this.

“Sorry. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” It smelled like you now. Expensive perfume and minty breath. Sweet but not sickly so. He inhaled letting his nostrils flair breathing you in. “Don’t want your wife to be pissed.”

“Lori? Don’t worry about her. She’ll understand.”

“How is she doing with her job search?”

“Doing ok. Thanks for asking. She’s interviewed with a few places.”

“She worked for a non profit right?” When he looked at you quizzically, you quickly explained yourself. “I hear things. Anyway. I know the director of a non profit organization that might be a great fit for her. I’ll pass along her information.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Stan told me you were the front runner for this position. I know how hard it is for women in this industry. I want to say how sorry I am…”

“Let me stop you there. First of all, don’t be sorry. You’re high profile and a damn good litigator. They would be stupid not to offer you the moon. You’re over qualified for this job. You didn’t come here gunning for me. I’ll be fine. Besides, a few of these old bags have one foot in the grave. It won’t be long for me.”

Andy smiled at you but still kind of felt like shit at the way the firm treated you. When you pulled into the garage you offered a quick thanks and rushed into the building to prepare.

Andy stayed behind for a bit. He spent a few precious moments breathing in your scent, letting it linger and wash over him. He hoped his clothes would smell a little like you. Stan said you were a “fire cracker”. Andy always hated that analogy. He knew by the way the group of men talked about you that he would like you. Your quick banter in the car confirmed it. Throughout the rest of the day you would invade his thoughts. He and Lori were still married but their relationship was long over. You had excited him more in a couple of hours than she had in years. When he got home he didn’t eat dinner or speak to anyone. He went right to his room where he replayed your exchange over and over. The ghost of your perfume lingered on his shirt. Both of your scents mixed together gave him a raging hard on. He kept your shirt over his face while he fisted his cock.

——————————————————————

The next morning you decided to face the day with a fresher attitude. Sometime yesterday you heard from your friend. She was thrilled that you reached out to her. She has been trying to get you out there for a while. Knowing that you had a solid backup plan was giving your hair volume and clearing your skin.

You thought you were early but Andy was already in your office waiting for you.

“Morning, Mr. Barber.” God he loved how you said that.

He scoffed, “Andy. Please. I brought you a coffee. I hope it’s ok. I got your order from Caitlan. I thought we’d order in lunch today. We have a lot of ground to cover. You should probably let your family know you’ll be missing dinner.”

“I don’t think my dead ficus will worry too much.” Your tone was dry.

“I apologize for the assumption.”

“Not necessary. Though my mother and my therapist would both be pleased to know that I look like someone who could have a family.”

You were funny. You seemed to say whatever thought popped into your head. You had one hell of a poker face though. He didn’t know if you were trying to be funny or if this was just you. When you didn’t look up from your computer screen he didn’t laugh.

As the day wore on you warmed up to him a little. You filled him in on the three big cases you were working on. You were actually going to trial on a very important case soon. He insisted you rehearse your opening statement a hundred times.

During the third run through Andy’s phone was blowing up. He finally turned it off and told you to keep going. He watched you pace around the room and coached you on your stance. “Stand with authority not arrogance.” He chided. He showed you himself then, asked if he could touch your shoulders. “Round them out like this. Good. Back straight. See?” he pointed to your reflection in the window, “It’s not menacing or arrogant. But you look like you’re in charge. You look perfect.” Hell. Was he flirting with you? By the time you looked at the clock it was 9:30.

“Fuck is that the time?” he said with a boisterous yawn.

“Shit. We should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m buying.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m sure your wife and kiddo are dying to see you.”

He stacked some folders neatly on your desk and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’ll be sure to tell my therapist that I look like a guy who has a happy marriage and a good relationship with his kid.”

Your cheeks heated. The way he was looking at you made you sad but it also warmed your insides. “I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. We said we would stay together until Jacob went away to school. He pretends to ignore the fact that we have separate bedrooms. We put on happy faces everyday. We’re a typical American family.”

You laughed at his admission. His whole story was so fucked up. You wanted to know everything about him. “You know, I think I will let you buy me a drink.”

“Good girl.” he said in a low voice that went strait to your core. The whole way to the car you repeated a mantra in your head reminding you not to get involved with a married man. It didn’t matter how unhappy they were. But you wanted him. Every time he touched you, your insides would quake.

The bar was packed with regulars from the DA’s office and other firms. You introduced Andy around. The guy was a legitimate pro. He was so smooth working the room. The whole time he kept finding small ways to touch you. The brush of his fingers on your arm his breath against your ear when he asked if wanted another drink. Your heart nearly stopped. You stuck with him for a while until your feet couldn’t stand anymore. Every time he caught your eye from across the room he winked at you.

For the first time in a long time Andy was enjoying himself. Your friends were fun and not at all stuffy like he thought this crowd would be. You were adorable. Your laugh was cute. The way you brushed against him on purpose was cute. You were openly flirting with him the more you drank. He had a massive crush on you. What grown man has a crush these days. He thought maybe if he fucked you and got it out of his system he’d get over it.

Your friend Liz sat down at your table trying to talk to you for a solid minute before you noticed. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?” She threw her head back laughing at you.

“I said you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

“Stop. He’s married.”

“Happily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Married is married.”

“So that’s a no. He’s been eye fucking you all night. Shoot your shot, darling. We get so few in this life.” The light hit his wedding ring just right making you feel horrible for even entertaining the thought. Do not get involved. You kept chanting it in your head over and over until Andy slid in the booth next to you. He leaned over so he could talk over the din of the crowd.

“Hey, you. Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t need to bring me home, Andy. I can catch an Uber.” That was such a ridiculous statement since you lived in the same building.

“That’s not what I asked. I said do you wanna get out of here?” His eyes were fixed on your mouth. A salacious grin splayed across his lips just knowing you’d give in.

“Andy. I….” You stuttered over your words. Your brain stopped working when you felt his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your chest when he touched the small of your back. He payed his tab and lead you out of the bar.

You held hands in the car. His thumb rhythmically traced patterns on your knuckles. Every touch sent bolts of arousal to your aching cunt. It felt electric. You were ready to crawl into his lap by the time you made it into the garage. He parked in his spot and followed behind you to the elevator. You lived two floors below him. You glanced back at Lori’s sensible suv next to his car and felt embarrassed. He caught you looking and stopped you in your tracks. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to invite me in. I’m asking a lot of you. But I really like you, Y/N. You are funny and intimidatingly smart. And, fuck me, you are fucking stunning. I can go to work tomorrow like nothing happened. Don’t worry about Lori. Worry about what this means working together. Can you handle this?”

Your brain was no longer working and deferred to your pussy for any and all further decisions. You had not had even mediocre sex in six months. You just knew Andy was going to blow your mind. All day you have been working together so well. You challenged each other and he encouraged you when you faltered. Would this change the dynamic at work? Absolutely. Could you handle it? You’re damn right you could.

“I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” You all but sprinted to the elevator. He wouldn’t touch you until you actually got inside of your apartment and closed the door. When you did, he pushed against you and covered your lips with his.

You tasted the golden flavor of beer on his tongue as it probed your mouth. He unbuttoned your blouse and pushed it over your shoulders letting it hit the floor. He kissed his way down the column of your neck to the swell of your breasts. You panted underneath him raking your nails through his hair.

“God you smell incredible. At any point if you don’t want this….”

“Andy, shut up and fuck me.” He growled low in his throat before he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. You could see how hard he was through his impeccably tailored slacks. You unzipped his fly and took the whole throbbing appendage in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby yes.” he hissed. You relaxed your throat muscles and swallowed him deeper. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He moaned your name over and over soaking your panties. “Stop, honey. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

He eased you down onto the bed and undressed you painfully slow. It had been so long since he was intimate with someone, he wanted to take his time. He started with your feet removing your heels and massaging your insteps. His hands ran up the length of your legs to your skirt. He took off your panties first letting the skirt material pool around your waist. “So wet for me. So beautiful.” He slipped two fingers in between your folds hitting everywhere but your clit. He built up a tortuous rhythm that had you begging for relief. He smiled down at you watching completely fall apart. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you were done. Your orgasm spilled out in one glorious cry. Before you could catch your breath he pulled off your skirt and unhooked your bra. His cock was weeping at the sight of you. A large hand held the back of your neck holding your head in place so you could look at him. Your eyes locked as he buried himself inside of you. There were no more words as he moved inside of you. Only breathless moans and sighs would escape your lips. He increased his pace and your orgasm started building again.

“Fuck. Andy, I’m….fuck!”

“I’m with you, honey. Come with me.” His words were your undoing. You latched your whole body onto him. He held you tight whispering praises in your ear. He kissed you slow and deep easing you back down to Earth. “You ok?”

“I think so.” You both laughed at the sight of yourselves. Sweat glistening off of your skin, lips puffy and kiss swollen. He eased off of you and rubbed your thighs to relax you. You thought he would get dressed and rush out but he crawled under the covers instead.

“Can I stay for a while?” Big arms pulled you down to his chest. He stroked your back softly to help you drift off to sleep.

“I’d like it if you did.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and let his eyes flutter closed.

When dawn found you a few hours later, you were still tangled with each other. You jolted awake panicking because Andy was still in your bed. “Andy, wake up. You stayed all night.”

“I know. What time is it?”

“6:45.”

“Then we have time. Go back to sleep.”

“But Lori…”

“I told you not to worry about her. Get back on this pillow and let me hold you. Please.” The poor guy was so touch starved you guessed. Andy Barber was not a man who did well being single. He loved being in love. He longed for a connection. For passion. He knew those things would sometimes fizzle out of a marriage. But, with you, he couldn’t see that. Your fire matched his fire and Lori was the wet blanket that always snuffed him out.

He supposed that wasn’t really fair. Two people were in their marriage. He worked long hours and spent very little time doing anything but being an ADA and being a dad. He didn’t give the same dedication to being Lori’s partner. The stress of this past year pushed them further apart. He felt obligated to be with her. It was his idea to stay together for Jacob’s sake. He regretted pushing for it.

He pulled you close to his body and wrapped an arm around your waist. He nuzzled your hair and fell back to sleep. You did too.

#andy barber #andy barber x y/n #andy barber smut #defending jacob

80 notes · View notes

transsergio · 4 years ago

Text

Emily's Top Surgery (Read on AO3)

Penemily / Gen / 4038 words

Emily has top surgery and their loving, perfect, beautiful girlfriend Penelope is their caretaker.

Notes: I refer to Emily as Penelope's girlfriend intentionally; Emily is a non-binary lesbian and in this particular story, is comfortable with the gendered term "girlfriend". However, if you see Emily referred to as she/her at any point, that's an editing mistake on my part and I mixed up their pronouns with Penelope's. I went through this a couple times to make sure I gendered them correctly, but one might have slipped through the cracks!

Also feels important to say that Dr. Dolan is a totally fictional doctor and not a reference to any real life surgeon

Surgery Day

Penelope has seen her team through too much already. Kidnappings, stab wounds, bullets – their jobs aren’t exactly arts and crafts. Yet, she thinks this might be the most nervous she has ever been. She’s been rapid-fire tapping her heel for the last hour and forty-five minutes, and trying to distract herself with her cell phone. Morgan texted a couple times to check in (once on behalf of Reid), but otherwise, radio silence. The few messages mean more than she can say; she is intimately familiar with how busy they are on a case. But she really wishes any of them were there to squeeze her hand right about now. She’d even take Strauss.

In the middle of Penelope’s billionth Candy Crush level, a doctor materializes in front of her. She startles and fumbles her phone trying to click it off. “Is it over? Can I see them now? How’d it go?”

As the doctor peels his surgical mask off, she sees he’s laughing at her. That’s good, right?

He says, “Everything went just fine, Ms. Garcia. Emily’s in the recovery room now, and we’ll let you back there about twenty minutes after they wake up. They’re going to be a little groggy and maybe nauseous. It all depends on how their body reacts to the anesthesia. They’ll most likely sleep for the rest of the day, but make sure to keep up with their medications, alright?”

Penelope nods fervently. “Absolutely, Dr. Dolan. Can do. Will do! And I’m sorry to ask this again but I really have to make sure, the whole operation was totally fine? Nothing went wrong? Everything…chopped off okay?”

The doctor stifles a chuckle. “Yes, Ms. Garcia. Everything went exactly as planned, no complications as of yet. We’ll see you tomorrow for Emily’s one day post-op appointment to check the surgery site and switch out the bandages for a binder, and then for their first week post-op. Okay?”

Penelope smiles back, still nodding along like Emily’s health depends on it.

The doctor shakes her hand and ducks back into the surgical ward, leaving Penelope to update the group chat.

“Emily’s out!!!!!! Doc says all good!!!!!! Will be with them soon 😍💖🥳”

She types almost as quickly as her heart is beating.

Penelope makes it through another few rounds of mobile games and desperately refreshing her Twitter feed before she risks checking the clock. It’s been half an hour. Shouldn’t Emily be awake by now? What if they never wake up? Could someone be permanently anesthetized? Reid would know. Maybe Penelope should call Reid. No, she can’t do that. They’re all off in Texas trying to catch a serial killer and she doesn’t need to distract them, not when they’re already down two team members. Kevin Lynch is pretty good, she hopes. She’s seen his work and it’s adequate. Nothing like the multi-tasking Penelope pulls off, but in the same ballpark. His boyfriend, Grant Anderson, vouched for him. It was unnecessary, and maybe Kevin shouldn’t have sent the person who got Elle shot to sing his praises, but at least they knew Grant. Kevin was a stranger from another department. A back-up.

“Penelope Garcia?” A nurse calls as she emerges from swinging double doors.

“Yes, right here!” Penelope chirps. She leaps to her feet and scurries over as quickly as her heels will allow.

The nurse walks her through the recovery ward and the steps to Emily’s post-op instructions. Emily has four different prescriptions already filled and two cannot be taken at the exact same time while one is an antibiotic and the other is just for nausea which they might not need and –

“This is all written down, right? Sorry, my head’s just like, woo, swimming right now,” Penelope says. Her eyes are wide and darting frantically between the curtained beds. She hates the fluorescent lights. Her skin is buzzing with all the sour electricity. The nurse assures her they’ll send them home with physical copies along with phone numbers in case of emergency.

They round the nurse’s station and finally, come to Emily. They’re shifting slightly in their bed, leaning forward and sipping at a dixie cup of water. They're groggy and slow, with the IV still in their arm. Penelope’s glad they don’t have a mirror – their bangs are scattered over their forehead in three wispy chunks, a way Penelope knows Emily hates.

“Hey sweetheart,” Penelope coos. She leans over the bed's plastic siding to kiss the top of Emily’s head, and run her fingers through their dark hair. Emily leans into the touch.

They croak, “Hey,” and cough to clear their throat, wincing all the while.

“That’d be because you were intubated,” the nurse says. “Take plenty of cough drops and you should feel much better.”

Penelope assures the nurse they will while Emily drifts in and out of focus.

“Did it work?” they ask.

“Did what, Em?”

“M’surgery.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. You’ll see in a little bit. You’re just sleepy.”

“M’kay,” Emily says. Their head lolls back into their pillows as the muscles in their face tighten.

“Emily, what would you rate your pain out of ten?” the nurse asks, coming closer with her clipboard at the ready.

“Uh, five? Maybe six.”

Penelope looks to the nurse. “Is that bad? That sounds bad. I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt right now.”

The nurse jots down a few notes before she answers. “It’s not unusual. We’ll up their pain killers before we remove the IV.”

Penelope plants herself firmly at Emily’s side in the meantime. They’ve redressed Emily in their own clothes, an oversized button-down and sweats. Well, Penelope assumes they put Emily’s bottoms back on. The blanket is still tucked tightly around their body like they’re some kind of soft, hot mummy. They stay like that for another fifteen minutes, Penelope working her nails through Emily’s scalp as they try to relax.

When Emily rates their pain at a four, then a three, Penelope helps the nurse settle them in a wheelchair. They roll a few feet into the hall before Emily claws for Penelope’s arm.

“Where’s the barf bag?” Penelope asks. She has her hand out and ready for the nurse to pass it over, and swings it into Emily’s face.

Emily, thankfully, does not puke. Their slow, steady breath crinkles the blue plastic bag, but all they fill it with is air. They keep a tight grip on the thing for safekeeping, even as they’re helped into the passenger’s seat of Penelope’s car.

“You ready to go home, lovebug?” Penelope keeps her voice low and sweet, like dark honey. Emily nods and Penelope grants her wish, starting the engine and turning out of the parking lot.

-❤-

One Day Post-Op

Penelope holds her breath as the nurse unwraps the medical bandages. She wonders if Em is doing the same. While she’s watching them, Emily’s eyes flit between her and the floor-length mirror fastened to the exam room wall.

The nurse is talking, and they’re both supposed to be listening, but who could expect them to? Emily has spent a couple grand (after insurance) and something like four years waiting for these next seconds. Penelope is just as invested, if not more, in Emily’s happiness. She’s not going to get the camera out, but wonders if she should just in case Emily cries.

Their eyes follow the final bandage as it unravels from Emily’s form.

And Emily’s mind goes quiet. They have two, deep red swoops where their chest used to bulge. Above and below, their body is nothing but smooth skin. They thought this would feel like shock. Like disbelief that they were finally here. Instead, it just feels right, as if this is the way it’s always been and some crappy daydream is over at last. They giggle, and Penelope glows like the sun has risen.

“Wow,” Penelope says, soft. She’s wrenched with admiration.

The nurse is smiling in the corner. She takes out a roll of Steri-Strips and measures them against Emily’s new scars. Scars! Emily finally has scars!

“Now the bruising should lessen in the next three to four weeks,” the nurse says. Oh, bruising. Emily almost hadn’t noticed. Their body is splotched with patches of yellow, green, and purple as if it’s trying to camouflage itself, but Emily’s not hiding from anything anymore.

They’re given more practical information, like how often Emily should be walking to avoid blood clots, how high they should lift their arms, how much they should be carrying – most of which tells them to stay reclined, arms down, to sleep as much as possible, but get in ten minutes of walking every few hours. Penelope hears more of this than Emily does, and again, they’re given written instructions just in case.

Emily takes one last look before the compression vest goes on. This will be the most uncomfortable part of the process, thank god. Emily chose a surgeon who used a tighter suture method rather than the typical drains intentionally. Still, the fit of the binder is exciting. Emily’s never had something lie flat on them before. Their body now falls in one fluid line without anything, even nipples, to interrupt.

“Em?”

Emily snaps to Penelope, who is standing and holding the door for them.

“Oh, right,” Emily says with half a laugh and a daze in their eyes. They thank the nurse, and the receptionist, and a passing surgeon that isn’t even Emily’s on the way out. This is the most gratitude Emily’s ever contained in their life, and they need to flush it through their system.

“And especially you,” Emily gushes as Penelope helps buckle their seatbelt. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re taking time off for me, or that you’re not stir crazy already. Thank you.”

Penelope grins like she might burst, and can’t answer just yet. She gets them safely onto the highway for home first. “Of course I’m here for you, dumb-dumb! Not only because you literally can’t do anything for yourself right now, or because the hospital said you couldn’t have the surgery without having a caretaker, but, well – okay, maybe half for those reasons too. But because I love you. I’m so happy for you, and how happy you’re going to be, and that this is so good for you. I love you so much.” Penelope sniffles.

“Maybe you should have said all that before we left?” Emily asks. “You’re gonna cry the whole drive back, babe.”

Penelope swats at them. “I know, I know! But you’re on a strict schedule, my lovely angel, and you need your meds in like, thirty minutes.”

Emily laughs and catches Penelope’s hand in their own. They squeeze it tightly and press their lips to Penelope’s fingers. Emily only releases when Penelope tugs their grip toward the steering wheel.

“Next stop, Recoveryville,” Pen jokes.

-❤-

Five Days Post-Op

Emily is more or less comfortably laid on their couch. They have an arsenal of pillows stationed behind them, under their arms, and at the bend of their knees, and Penelope’s militant care routine keeping them afloat. For the last four days, they’ve done nothing but watch French art films together, eat ice cream, and order takeout. It’s been a nice break, Emily realizes. One they didn’t know they needed.

Penelope emerges from the kitchen with a bag of Doritos and a bright blue DVD in her hands.

“This looks like a bribe,” Emily says with a wry smile.

“That’s because it is. I am in no place to object to your choice of movies, especially after I promised I wouldn’t make fun of the accents anymore. But I was sorta hoping this would be a good opportunity to manhandle you into watching a real classic.” Penelope blocks the television in her pink pajama pants and Emily’s Yale hoodie. Penelope is well aware that Emily loves when she wears their clothes; she has to be doing this on purpose. And it’s working.

Emily bobs their head from side to side, considering the offer. “Alright, shoot. I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

Penelope slaps the movie cover over her face. Mamma Mia! (2008) Dir. Phyllida Lloyd.

“Oh, god.”

And Penelope reemerges, scowling. “Hey! I didn’t complain when you made me watch that sad movie about the woman with the dead family. This time, no one’s dead! And they’re in Greece! Okay, admittedly no one wants to hear Pierce Brosnan sing, but if you ignore him and focus on Meryl Streep the movie gets a lot better!”

This is not the first time Emily has heard argument on behalf of Mamma Mia! and it likely isn’t the last, either. Movie night in the Garcia-Prentiss household is in a state of constant debate and usually decided by a fair and unbiased coin toss. Emily considers it a miracle that Penelope’s lasted this long without putting up a fight, and considers it part of her generosity as their caretaker.

Emily scooches themself into a more upright position. “Trois coleurs: Bleu is a beautiful movie and you said you liked it, first of all. And I thought we were watching my movies because I’m the one healing.”

Penelope hesitates. “…Yes, but I may have also been doing a little eensy weensy bit of work at the same time because they’re also like, really slow and boring and Kevin needed the tiniest, tiniest bit of help on the Texas case.”

“Traitor!” Emily is aghast. “What about the deal?”

The deal, of course, was the promise they made each other after their third movie night. Emily was texting throughout The Muppets Take Manhattan and not entirely invested in Kermit and Miss Piggy’s wedding. Penelope was hurt, Emily was confused, and didn’t fully get it until Penelope fell asleep twenty minutes into Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle. From that point on, they agreed to compromise more on movie selection and to pay undivided attention to the films they did pick.

“You passed out! I thought the deal was void if you weren’t awake during your own movie!” Penelope said.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” Emily argued.

“Oh, yeah, I’m going to wake up the person who just had surgery so they can pay attention to the third sad foreign movie of the day. You need your rest, and Kevin has maybe half of my inimitable skills!” Penelope’s words were jumbling together as she went up an octave. “I know I’m on vacation but the team needed help and I didn’t want to abandon them with some computer monkey who doesn’t know the first thing about my system, much less the way the team works, and isn’t even a regular assist on cases like me and—”

Penelope is cut off by three short raps at their front door. A welcome escape.

“Pen!” Emily calls after her. “We’re not done here!”

“I think we are!” Penelope shouts back. She passes down the hall and peers through the peep hole, though, she really doesn’t need to. She recognizes the voices on the other side.

“We’re not too early, are we?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, genius.”

“I mean in days since Emily’s operation. They might not be up to company.”

“Then we’ll say hi to baby girl and head out, no big deal.”

Penelope swings the door wide open. “Definitely say hi to me, definitely do that!”

Morgan and Reid stand in their building’s hallway, Derek carrying bags of Chinese food, and Spencer juggling some sort of gift basket. Their eyes are tired and Derek’s stubble is looking rougher than usual, but they perk up in the light of their friend.

“Hey, there she is,” Morgan says. He comes in for a tight hug as he and Reid crowd themselves inside. “How’s everyone holdin’ up?”

“Peachy keen,” Penelope says. She squeezes Derek’s shoulder and leads them back to Emily by Reid’s hand. “Look who missed their favorite co-workers!”

“Hey, guys,” Emily says. Their heart warms at the sight of them. “What’re you doing here?”

“Now how’s that any way to greet a friend?” Morgan laughs. He lowers their takeout food to the coffee table and dives onto the couch beside Emily. “You been good to Garcia so far, or do we have to put the hurt on you?” He playfully punches Emily in their arm, and they cower in mock pain.

“Hey, no roughhousing!” Penelope scolds. “If anyone pulls any sort of muscle in the next twenty minutes, you’re all in timeout.”

Emily and Derek snicker in their seats and launch into the most recent case details. It’s a lot of the gory, icky stuff that Penelope doesn’t want to know unless she’s in her bat cave, so she takes Spencer and his basket into the kitchen.

“Doritos, huh?” he notices the bag Penelope drops on the counter. “You were trying to get something from them?”

Penelope answers with her head stuck in the fridge as she paws to the back for Spencer’s La Croix. “I may have wanted to watch one of my movies today, and I may have offered chips in payment.” She fishes a couple cans of LimonCello out, and huffs. “So what’s all this?”

“It’s from JJ. She wanted to come herself but didn’t think bringing Henry over was the best idea,” Spencer explains. He holds his drink gingerly with both hands and peers into the basket. It looks a lot like the one Penelope used for JJ’s baby shower, and is also definitely the same basket. Inside are a few bags of beef jerky, chocolate, a backscratcher with a little pink hand at its end, and an airline neck pillow with the Texas flag patterned over it.

“Awe. I’m definitely baking her cookies,” Penelope says. She leans back against the counter and eyes Spencer up and down. “Tough case?”

Spencer shifts from side to side and looks into the dark pit of his La Croix can. “Not much worse than usual. It was just… long. And Emily would’ve been a big help. None of us speak Spanish.”

“But you didn’t want to call right now,” Penelope guesses. “It’s all over though, right? All good? Everything wrapped up with a bow for good luck?”

Spencer nods and purses his lips. He looks over his shoulder to the living room, where Derek is describing something with his hands and Emily watches, wide-eyed and entertained. Spencer says, more to himself than Penelope, “It’s always good to be home.”

-❤-

Two Weeks Post-Op

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss!”

Emily freezes with one arm reaching desperately above doctor-recommended height, and another gripping the cabinet door like their life depends on it. They press their forehead into the shelf, groaning, “That’s not my middle name.”

“I can make up whatever name I want! You know what Dr. Dolan said, and this is so far out of bounds!” Penelope stands in the kitchen threshold with her hands on her hips. She sighs and tugs Emily away from the cereal cabinet by their waist. When their arms are safely lowered to their sides, Penelope puts on her serious face, with her seriously furrowed eyebrows, and her serious frown on her lips. She asks, “Do you, like, want to injure yourself? Is this your new favorite hobby?”

Emily is petulant. “No, I want breakfast, and it’s on the third shelf. Let’s just pretend you got it for me, okay?”

Penelope grumbles her frustrations under her breath as she pulls down the family size box of Lucky Charms. She flurries around the space until she’s collected a bowl and spoon and settled them on the other side of the kitchen counter, where a bar stool and carton of milk wait for Emily.

“Sit,” Penelope orders. Emily complies with a glint in their eyes.

“Thank you,” they say, saturating their words with genuine love.

“Oh, stuff it.” Penelope pecks a kiss to their cheek regardless. She tries not to think about how cute Emily is when they’re smug, but it’s a losing battle. The way their nose scrunches, the smirk; not helping. Instead, Penelope picks a smidgeon of a fight.

“Your hair is greasy.”

And Emily’s face falls flat and exasperated. They let their spoon rest in the pool of marshmallows. “Can we do this after I eat?”

“Oh, lovebug. Absolutely not,” Penelope smiles knowingly. “You haven’t washed it in like, four days, which tells me that it’s not as easy as you said it was. Y’know, I was wondering who said washing your own hair was too much work immediately after having an operation? It would have to be someone super smart and beautiful and funny and—”

“It was you, Penelope. We all know it was you.”

“Funny; it was, wasn’t it?”

But Penelope lets them finish their cereal. She was about to eat her own Eggo waffles, after all. Once the dishes are rinsed and in the washer, she marches Emily straight into their bathroom. The tub thankfully doesn’t share a wall with the toilet, making it easier for Emily to scoot in next to the faucet. Penelope folds Emily’s towel (the towel that is dark purple, and not spring green, which Penelope keeps carefully out of the splash zone) (unlike Emily, who does not mind if their towel is damp long after it should be dry, and probably growing some type of mold) (okay, it’s not growing mold, but Penelope insists that it will eventually become mold-ridden if Emily doesn’t start hanging it up more consistently) along the side of the tub. Emily fits the towel under their neck, and Penelope guides them into position.

“Your hair is so thick,” Penelope comments.

Emily says, “You tell me that once a week.”

“Because it is. Now close your eyes.”

Penelope detaches the removable showerhead and lets the water warm her hand. When it’s a comfortable temperature, she douses Emily’s head. She maneuvers carefully around Emily’s forehead to avoid hitting their face, though Emily’s eyelids flutter when they worry the stream is near. Penelope thinks with their long eyelashes, they look like butterflies about to take flight.

She works the shampoo in with a gentle, but thorough touch. It’s when she rubs the lather into Emily’s scalp that Emily lets a soft moan break, and Penelope smiles. She takes pride in her work, whether she’s at her desk or in her soapy bathroom.

The shampoo swirls down the drain as Penelope rinses Emily free. Emily opens their eyes and tries to sit up, but Penelope pins their shoulders to the tub.

“Hold on! I haven’t conditioned yet.”

“Isn’t shampoo enough? We’re going to be here again in three days. It’s a hassle.”

Penelope does not think so. For the low price of two-thousand dollars and the risk of post-op complications, Penelope’s seen her girlfriend relax for the first time in, maybe ever. She’s going to drag it out as long as she can. Which, for right now, means dumping a handful of conditioner into her palm and rubbing it through the tips of Emily’s hair.

The final rinse is cleansing, like the weight falls from Emily’s shoulders. Penelope swipes the towel from Emily’s neck and cocoons their hair inside. She manages to keep their shirt dry, for the most part. Emily sits up with a pain in their shoulders, and does their best to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” Penelope prompts. Their best is not nearly good enough, not when Penelope has the analytical eye of someone who loves them. Penelope plants Emily on their shared bed for the first time since their surgery, already grateful to have a little of Emily’s smell in the room again. She sits behind them and overlaps their legs with hers. Penelope digs into the knots wound through their back as if she's torturing for information.

“It’s almost like you have a stressful job or something,” Penelope says.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, something like that.”

Penelope massages her way down until Emily feels looser under her fingers. She leans her head into the crook of Emily’s shoulder and presses a kiss to their skin. “We could ask for more time off,” she offers.

Emily slouches against Penelope’s body. “We could. But we have to go back at some point.”

“Let’s pretend we don’t.”

Emily exhales. “Sounds good to me.”

#penemily #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #criminal minds #penemily fic #text #mine #cm

49 notes · View notes

tomtenadia · 4 years ago

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 9

Aaaaaand chapter 9 is here.

Aelin and Lysandra have a very interesting conversation.

Aelin and Rowan have a fun day at work and their relationship evolves a bit more.

Elias does not have the brightest of the moments... but hey, the poor man is competing against Rowan. I'd be nervous as well if I were him.

A couple of things about updates. Chapter 10 is faaaaaaar from being completed So I highly doubt I will update tomorrow. I am coming back home late from work so it will be Wednesday. Also, I ran out of the chapter I wrote quite easily at the beginning (That's why the speedy updates) so I will post a bit slower, but don't worry. I want to keep posting regularly.

Well, that's all the announcements.

Happy reading <3

-------

After the bad storm the town was slowly returning to normality. The emergency services had worked non stop to fix the power cut and to re establish the phone lines. Rowan had decided to open a bit later that day since he was still helping out his aunt to clear up her place and gave Aelin the morning off. Knowing that it was Friday and that Lysandra was off work, she decided to give her a call. She hadn’t heard from her in a while and she missed her friend. “Hey stranger,’ said Aelin in greeting “Do you still remember me now that you have a boyfriend?” “Always. Aedion still does not know that he is the third wheel and that you are my only love.” “I miss you.” Aelin confessed and Lysandra picked up her sad tone immediately. “Un-oh what happened?” “Remember when I told you that I had not yet found a sexy Scottish guy?”

Lysandra laughed. Her friend had been teasing her non stop about that. “Yes. Forget the asshole down here and get a move on.” “I lied.” Aelin took a breath “I have two.” Over the phone she heard Lysandra gasp loudly “Tell me everything.” Aelin started pacing around the living room. “Scottish man number one is called Elias. He is mr Nice Guy. He is sweet, intelligent, funny and let’s not forget good looking.” She could just imagine her friend reaction on the other side of the phone. Lysandra was probably on the couch, her legs on the coffee table and a notebook in her hands to take notes about her love life. “Did you have sex with him?” Lysandra could not contain her excitement. “No, Lys!!” “Just asking… why not? Especially if he is so hot.” Aelin stopped in front of the window staring outside and mulling over an explanation. “Because of Rowan.” “Ah… let me guess, he is Scottish man number two.” Aelin sighed and Lysandra took the sound as a yes. “Ok, what’s his deal?” She could ear her friend munching on something. Sweeties of some kind, she bet. Aelin picked up pacing again “We… we had a very bumpy start. He basically hated me, but we are on the mend.” She picked up the last book she took home from the shop. “Sure. Sure. Is he sexy as well?” “He is… so handsome that it hurts. He has silver hair and the most amazing green eyes I have seen in my life.” She closed her eyes for a second and pictured his face and a timid smile appeared on her face. “Silver as in grey? Damn, is he old? Are you contemplating a May-September romance?” “No. His hair is silverish and is as old as me.” “Sexy.” Commented Lysandra laughing. “He has a bookstore and I work at his shop.” She confessed in the end and waited for Lysandra. “You do not.” “I do.” “So extra sexy bonus.” A massive extra bonus. Not only he was extremely attractive physically. She was drawn to him intellectually as well and that was a turn on. They could talk about books for hours, something she had never been able to do with Chaol as he read the only genre of books she hated: crime. “But things are complicated. He has baggage too.” And she knew that was just an excuse to justify her indecision. “Who doesn’t, Aelin. Especially if he is close to you age. What do you expect? If he is as hot as you say, of course he has been with other women.” Aelin sighed again “It’s more complicated than that.” “And I assume you can’t choose.” Lysandra was always spot on. “I… Lys damn…” she felt so frustrated by the situation. “Let it go, darling.” “Elias… is easy to be with. He is aloof. He has baggage as well but he laughs about it. There is very little drama with him. He makes me laugh and he is caring.” “But?” “We kissed but.… it felt wrong. The kiss was good but it just felt wrong.” She had thought about it for a while. Being with him had been easy. Their adventures had been fun and when he was nice to her and it was okay but it never felt fully right. “And what about Rowan.” “I am not sure where we stand. We are both stuck, but when I am with him I feel things, emotions that not even Chaol gave me. He feels right, Lys.” “Have you smooched?” “No. We held each other, he kissed my head. He gave me his hoodie.” She felt like a schoolgirl at her first experience. But maybe there were some advantages to going slow. “I think I have feelings for him. Big damn scary feelings.” “How big?” “I want to kiss him. Badly. Run my hand through his hair. And his arse, Lys… damn that man has the most amazing arse ever.” Lysandra laughed “What about his hands?” “Let’s just say that I want them to do the most despicable things to me.” Lysandra laughed hard in Aelin’s ear “someone is really horny. And Elias does not make you feel like this?” Aelin closed her eyes for a moment and thought about the times they kissed and although the kisses had been good, they had not awakened the same fire. “Nope. I like him but no… not even a spark.” “You want Rowan, Aelin. This is quite clear.” And Aelin knew Lysandra was right. “I don’t want to hurt Elias. He has been nothing but nice to me.” “Ae, you can’t keep them both. From what you told me it sounds like you like Rowan more, but I can’t be the one telling you what to do. You are there and have to decide. Whichever way you go one is going to suffer.” She missed her friend deeply. Lys had always helped her when she was in trouble with something. They were good at brainstorming and Lys had the power to show her what she didn’t want to see. “There is a reason why I always ask you when it comes to men.” Lysandra scoffed “How’s Aedion?” “He is coming over later.” And Aelin laughed. She was happy that Lysandra had finally what she wanted. She deserved it. “So you’re going to spend your day off having sex.” “Oh no, we’ll have lunch and dinner too. Don’t worry.” Aelin looked dat the clock and discovered it was time to go to the shop “hey babe, gotta go. Rowan is expecting me at the bookshop. Thanks fro the chat.” “I am here. Whenever you need me. Just keep me posted.” “I will. Love you.” They said goodbye and Aelin hung up. Then she ran for the shower.

Half and hour later she was on her way to the bookstore. The chat with Lysandra had helped and she thought she had finally made up her mind about which man she wanted by her side. But her heart was not at ease yet. She was not sure if Rowan wanted to be in a relationship again, especially now that they worked together. What happened with Lyria had shaken him a lot she did not think he was ready yet and she was not going to push him. But still, she could not stop thinking at how close they had been the day before. How she had held him at the window. He had not pulled away from her but indulged in the contact with her. Without realising it she had reached the shop. “Morning,” “Nice hoodie.” He said to her pointing at what she was wearing. He had brought back the hoodie after he went back to his place and found her asleep on the sofa as he had ordered. “I think so too.” And she snuggled in it “A guy gave it to me.” ‘How dare he?” Aelin grinned and joined him at the counter. His eyes were alive and the lines of his face were soft, she just wanted to go on her toes and kiss him. badly. “How’s Maeve’s shop?” Rowan nodded “all fine. Fire dept say it’s safe for her to go back to business as normal.”

They were still speaking when a group of tourist made their way into the shop. “Hi,” Aelin greeted them “Let me know if you need something.” A moment later she spotted the shy kid hiding behind his father’s leg. She kneeled in front of him and offered him her hand “Hi, I am Aelin.” The boy’s head peaked out and stared at the woman in front of him. “Marcus.” He replied timidly. “That is a very great name.” And the boy smiled back and moved away from his father. “Do you like books?” The boy nodded. “Can you read already?” Aelin guessed the boy was either four or five and although some kids would start to read at that age it was still a bit early. “Very little.” Answered the father I still read to him at the moment, but he is learning and he is making good progress.” “I think I have something for you.” Aelin stood and went to the kids section and grabbed a book then went back to the family. Kneeled again and gave the book to the boy “This is for you. I think you will like it, if you can’t read it ask your dad, okay?” And brushed her hand in his dark hair. The boy gave her a toothy grin. The boy nodded and in the end he gave her a huge hug and thanked her. “Do you and your husband have kids yet?” The man asked looking at Rowan when he said the word husband. Aelin froze. She turned to Rowan who was laughing silently in his corner while following the scene. “No, not yet.” “Well, you seem a natural around kids. It will help you when you have them.” Aelin stood and let the family continue browse until they left and she and Rowan were alone again. As soon as the shop was empty Rowan folded in two and erupted in a wild laugh. And he kept laughing until he had tears in his eyes. Aelin stared at him from the other side of the counter with her arms folded at her chest. “What’s so funny, husband?” “Your face, wife.” And slowly the laughter calmed down and Rowan began breathing again “I am sorry that was hilarious.” The last spark of laughter bubbled on his lips. She ran to him and started tickling savagely until Rowan wiggled free and ran around the shop with Aelin chasing him. If any passerby saw them from the window they would have thought they had gone insane. He then turned and his hands were ready for his round of tickling. “You are a dead man, Whitethorn.” And Aelin began running until he caught her and pinned her to a bookcase and tickled her. “I yield!” She shouted. She lifted her head and noticed that Rowan’s face was mere centimetres from hers, his pine green eyes sparkling with mirth. He took her breath away. She squeezed out and went back to the desk “I am paying for that book.” “You don’t have to. It was a nice gesture.” She folded her arms again “You might be stubborn but I win, husband.” Rowan’s heart skipped a beat again at hearing her calling him like that. No matter how hard he tried to keep his distance from her, what happened in the shop a few minutes earlier was the clear example of why he couldn’t. Somehow, in a matter of a short period of time she had manage to steal his heart. And he didn’t want to let her go. The bell woke him up from his revelry and Aelin went straight to help the customers. She had been an amazing help. She was fantastic with people and would take her time to offer suggestion to customers looking for idea. She was good at listening and giving the right recommendation. Something that Lyria wasn’t, said his treacherous mind. Sneakily he observed while she was discussing with a woman one of the books in her hands. A realisation sneaked in his heart. He was in love with her. Utterly and completely in love with her. A part of him was terrified at the idea. He recoiled from his thoughts when the woman Aelin was speaking to reached him at the counter with four books. He laughed internally, Aelin was good for business as well. The woman paid and left. “You convinced to buy four books.” Aelin had a smug smile on her face “She had no idea which one to choose but she was intrigued by all of them I gave her a reason for each book for why they were good. In the end she took them all.” She flicked her braid “I am amazing that way.” Rowan lifted his eyebrow in doubt. “Plus, I think she was flirting with me.” Rowan’s eyes bulged in surprise at the statement. “She kept touching my hand on purpose and brush her fingers against it.” She joined him at the counter “Maybe I should chase her and try my luck with a woman.” Rowan froze and his brain betrayed him with some non work friendly images. Aelin burst out laughing at his reaction “You just pictured me having sex with her.” “I did not such thing.” He tried to regain some composure. She moved closer to him and her face was very close “You did.” She winked at him “Imagine me all you want.” Her voice was soft and it sent shivers down Rowan’s spine. Then she went back around the shop tidying up where customers had moved things. Rowan stood in silence realising that she was shamelessly flirting with him.

The afternoon had been busy and they had quite a nice flow of customers. Aelin had worked her magic again and Rowan had a massive grin by the end of the day. “I guess tourist season is starting.” She joined him and she was now wearing his hoodie and a flutter of joy and smugness reached his stomach. “Hug me.” She said surprising him. “Uh?” “Your smell is fading. Hug me so I can top it up. Come on.” She opened her arms in welcome. A moment later she was in his arms, he held her tight, with his chin leaning on her head and he breathed in her scent. She smelled of jasmine and lavender. He only let go when she told him. “Good, I should be fine for a couple of days. But once I wash it you will have to wear it for a while.” Rowan bowed “Of course m’lady.”

She and Rowan had just closed the shop after a long but fun day when she got a text from Elias asking her to meet him. He was down at his usual parking spot and waiting for her. “See you tomorrow.” Said Rowan, touching her hand briefly. Aelin almost grabbed his hand back, craving contact with him. She said goodbye and started walking to the marina. In the distance she spotted his car and he was leaning against it as usual. He was wearing a suit. Probably just came for work. And yes, he was handsome but she noticed that her feelings did not go past that. No spark, no heat. Aelin sighed, she had her answer. She had felt a spark for him at the very beginning, but as soon as her feelings for Rowan had mutated, so had the ones for Elias. “Hi stranger,” he greeted her. He moved toward her for a kiss but Aelin swiftly moved to his side and kissed him on his cheek. The brutal realisation that she didn’t want his lips on her anymore hit her like a train wreck. She noticed his reaction and felt guilty. She had to find the courage to talk to him, to explain. “How was your day?” Aelin asked trying to keep the conversation innocent. “Boring and tiring, and I missed you.” He grabbed her hand and she had to fight the urge to pull back. “I have this effect on people. They can’t stay away from me.” She joked but something passed in his eyes. “That you do.” He closed the distance, an arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her into a brief kiss. Aelin almost pushed him back. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t anymore. When he let her go, she took a step back just to put some distance. “I need to go away for work for a week. I have to be down in Glasgow and I am flying out tomorrow.” Surprise washed over her at the news. She had a week to think about how to break the news to Elias. How to let him down gently without hurting him. That was good. That was really good. “Still too early for dinner, fancy a walk around Lews castle grounds?” “Okay.” She wanted to say no, she had a book to finish and she was dying to discuss it with Rowan but in the end she accepted and they walked in the direction fo the grounds. Always making sure there was a bit of distance between them. She felt bad when h noticed the disappointment in his eyes. Damn, she was a horrible person. Then he noticed her University of Glasgow hoodie. Rowan’s hoodie “I thought you studied in London.” And pointed at the writing. Shit. Shit. Shit. “It’s not mine. It’s Rowan’s…” anger flashed through his eyes. That flicker of emotion had been impossible to miss “I was cold and I left my jacket at home and he lent me his hoodie.” Liar. “What did he study? Book science 101?” And anger rose in her at the comment. “He did bushiness management.” Her reply was almost a growl. “You know quite a lot about him all of a sudden, even share his clothes.” “Where are you going with this, Elias?” Her fist clenched and unclenched at her side. She had punched a man once she had no problems doing it a second time. “We work together. We talk.” “I don’t like the guy, okay?” He confessed. “Ah, but you liked him enough when he helped you pick my book about Callanish. You had no problem with him picking the perfect present and making you look good.” Shock was all over his face “How do you know?” “I am going home. I am tired.” She turned around but he grabbed her hand. “Aelin…” “Have a good week in Glasgow.” She freed herself from his grip walked away and leaving him down at the marina. Round the corner she breathed out and a sob broke out of her. Quickly she walked home and once the door was locked behind her, she slid down the door and sat against it and cried.

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #fantasy #fluff #angst #throne of glass series

29 notes · View notes

euphoria-vmin7 · 4 years ago

Text

Gnossienne Pt.3 | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: angst, violence (though it’s not too too graphic), mentions of blood, swearing, non idol! au, mentions of weapons (guns, etc.), some fluff but it’s mostly angst, mafia! au

words: 6,366

rating: pg-15 (violence and swearing)

–summary: how could you have been so blind? didn’t you know everything about him?

a/n: okay YES i know that i haven’t updated this series in forever but i kinda got stuck on it. but now i’ve figured myself out SO here’s part 3!! i hope you guys like it :)

Gnossienne

gno·ssi·enne

n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life

****

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Yoongi quickly looked down at the shirt in his hand. Reddish, iron colored blotches and streaks littered the front of the white t-shirt.

“Woah, hey!” he said, trying to catch your appalled gaze. “Yes, it’s blood. I sliced my finger while cutting vegetables for my grandma. See?”

He held up his left hand where the pointer and middle fingers were wrapped with gauze.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged. You sighed in relief.

“Jeez, that scared me. That’s a lot of blood, I thought something worse happened,”

“Nah, I didn’t realize I hurt myself at first so I ended up getting the blood everywhere,”

You nodded in understanding before taking his hand.

“Still, I don’t like that you got hurt like this,” you said quietly, smoothing your thumb over his palm. He shook his hand out of your grasp and instead raised it to your cheek.

“Hey, I’m fine. I promise. Don’t worry so much. You trust me right?” he asked, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm and nodded immediately.

“Always,”

Min Seo ran up to you on Monday morning, an eager smile gracing her face.

“Well?”

You raised a brow, your coffee mug pausing halfway to your lips.

“Well what?”

She clicked her tongue in irritation and she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean ‘well what’? What did he say?” she pressed. You blinked, feeling stupid.

“What did who say?”

She stared at you.

“(Name), sometimes I wonder just how stupid you are,”

“Excuse me?”

“Yoongi, (Name). Yoongi!”

“What about Yoongi?!”

She groaned with unhidden exaggeration.

“What did he say? About your promotion?”

You gasped.

“He’s back, right? You mentioned that he was back on Saturday. So what did he say?” she asked with a grin. You weakly smacked her, realizing your fault.

“I forgot to tell him,” you sighed, putting your hand on your forehead. She blinked owlishly

“What?! How do you forget something like that?? You telling me that you didn’t talk to him at all since last week? Not even on the phone?!”

“No! I did, I just thought I’d surprise him,” you groaned. She rolled her eyes at you and shook her head.

“Wow (Last Name) (Name) you really amaze me with your stupidity sometimes,”

You glared at her and pulled out your phone.

[4:03 p.m.] (Name): you wanna go out for dinner tonight?

“What better way to surprise him than over dinner?” you smiled as you tucked your phone away. Min Seo flashed you a thumbs up. You grinned and sat back down at your desk, resuming research. Since your story had done well, your supervisors were looking for a continuation and more stories about these gangs. So the story was now assigned to you and you were in charge of finding more things about them.

“Looks like we’re stuck together huh, buddy?” you muttered, placing a palm under your cheek as you zoomed into a blurry screenshot of one of the members - the bulky one with a lot of piercings.

[4:14 p.m.] Grumpy: sure. what’s the occasion?

[4:15 p.m.] (Name): to celebrate the end of my peace and quiet

[4:15 p.m.] Grumpy: and for that reason you’ll be paying

You smoothed down the folds of your dress and smiled at your reflection. Sure, it wasn’t too fancy of a dinner, but it was still more posh than the two of you regularly indulged in, so why not dress up?

“You’re really not gonna tell me why we’re doing this?” Yoongi asked, walking into the bathroom while buttoning up his collared shirt.

“I told you it was to celebrate the end of peace for me,” you smiled teasingly, letting your eyes rest on his frowning reflection.

“Okay okay,” you sighed catching his expression. “Truth is, I missed you and I just wanted to spend time with you,” you confessed, turning away from the mirror to look at him. Yoongi smiled, his gums emerging from behind his pink lips. He didn’t say anything else, simply opting for a chaste kiss to your forehead before exiting the bathroom.

You bit your lip in excitement as Yoongi’s car pulled up to the restaurant and quickly stepped out. Yoongi followed behind you while loosening his tie in irritation. You laughed softly as you told the hostess your name.

“Why did you wear a tie if you weren’t gonna be comfortable?”

“Well you dressed up nice so I didn’t wanna come looking like I was homeless,” he grumbled, his hand dropping his tie and instead slipping around your waist. You snorted.

“Don’t you wear a tie to work everyday?” you asked and Yoongi licked his lips.

“Irrelevant,”

You chuckled as the hostess led you both to your table and you took a seat. After some measly small chat and once your orders were placed, you cleared your throat and placed your hands on the table. Yoongi looked up from his bread with a raised brow.

“I have something to tell you,” you tried to say seriously though your leg was bouncing in excitement.

“Yes?” Yoongi asked, putting his knife down. You were about to tell him, but Yoongi’s phone went off, vibrating against the table. Your eyes darted to the screen and took in the caller ID.

“Shit,” Yoongi muttered, before declining the call. His dark eyes settled back on you and he smiled lightly. “What were you saying?”

“Oh,” you grinned, pushing the two letters out of your head. “Well, while you were in Dae-” you stopped abruptly as his phone began to buzz again. NJ again appeared on his screen. He cursed once more and you frowned.

“Maybe you should get that, Yoongi? It might be important,”

Yoongi looked away from his phone to study your face and once he realized that you were okay, he smiled gratefully.

“Thanks baby. I’ll be right back,” he stood up and placed his napkin on the table before grabbing his phone and heading out.

“What is it...?” you heard his voice trail off into the phone as he stepped outside to take the call. You sighed and dragged your finger over the rim of your glass. You couldn’t even have it in you to be annoyed that he was bringing work into your time. After all, Yoongi worked so hard everyday and the amount of effort he put into helping his coworkers was so admirable. After a few minutes, Yoongi walked back inside, a deep frown on his face.

“All okay?” you asked as he sat down in front of you. His expression eased immediately and he nodded.

“Yeah just some idiot messing shit up at work. It’s fine,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, what were you trying to tell me, babe?”

“Right,” you cleared your throat and grinned. “So while you were in Daegu….I submitted my article!”

“No way!” Yoongi smiled. “How did it go?”

“Really well!”

“Yeah?” he asked but then he frowned. “But I thought you needed evidence,”

“Well…” you trailed off and his eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I did some more research,” you admitted and he shut his eyes.

“(Name), I thought we agreed that would be dangerous and that you wouldn’t try to get closer!” he asked, a crease between his brows.

“I know,” you said immediately. “I know. I promise that I didn’t put myself into any danger, Yoongi!”

“How do you know that?!” he fired at you and you pursed your lips. At your expression, he sighed. “What did you end up submitting as evidence?”

“Oh I….” you hesitated and then spilled only a part of the truth. “A video. Some kind of footage of a gang talking,”

“Footage?” his eyes narrowed. “What kind of footage? Where did you get it?”

“O-Online,” you said, and you immediately regretted the lie. But, it’s fine. You were only doing it to stop his worrying. It didn’t really matter where you got that footage. Besides, it was surely taken offline anyway. Right?

Yoongi sighed. “Online. Alright,”

He didn’t say anything else, instead resuming with buttering his bread. You looked down dejectedly. Why was it so hard to tell him? You just wanted to say you got a promotion. But instead the conversation had pissed him off. The rest of the dinner felt off. Though you both did talk to each other, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about your accomplishment. Even he, you could tell, was still irritated and you couldn’t help but feel like you disappointed him. After all, he was worrying about your own safety. He stood by while you were first discovering the gang but he had warned you that interfering with them could be dangerous. And he was right? Who’s to say that the gang isn’t aware of your nosiness at this very moment. Suddenly your food didn’t seem so tasty. Even the ride home had a tense air and you didn’t like it.

“I…” you started weakly and you could feel Yoongi open his eyes from behind you. You turned around in his embrace and tried to make out his facial features in the dark. “I submitted the article and everyone was super happy with it. I got a promotion. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s why I asked you to dinner today…”

It felt good telling him, even though you wanted it to happen in a better setting. Not when you had ticked him off and made him worry. Yoongi’s gaze softened considerably, or at least, you hoped it did.

“I know I still told you that I wouldn’t dig deeper,” you gulped, finding a string on his black t-shirt more interesting than his face. “B-But I really wanted to find out more. I really wanted that promotion. I thought about my parents. Maybe they would actually talk to me now that I have a better paying job. A-And I figured that it would help us too. I mean you always did say that you wanted to move out of this crappy apartment and-” you took a breath. “I’m really sorry Yoongi. I thought you’d be happier,”

Yoongi sighed. “(Name)...I’m not mad okay? I just get really worried. I mean this isn’t just a common story, right? These are gangs. They’re dangerous,”

You nodded miserably. “I know,”

“And I’m not saying this to scare you but I’m sure that they wouldn’t like people digging into their crimes and stuff. What would I do if they came after you, huh?”

Once again, you nodded mutely.

“But,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you,”

You looked up and he smiled. “You managed to put together a story that basically had no evidence to support it and proved a lot of people wrong. And you got a promotion. That’s amazing (Nickname),”

You grinned. “Thanks, Yoongs. I’m really sorry for not listening to you,”

“It’s okay,” he sighed and pulled you closer to him, his hand rubbing your back gently. “Just no more okay?”

“But I’m the only one in charge of this story,” you said. “It’s part of my promotion,”

He groaned but relented. “Fine, just promise me no more digging. You can use evidence that shows up from the police and shit. But I don’t want you trying to follow them around for pictures and an autograph, got it?”

Hearing the sarcastic irritation in his voice made you giggle and you nuzzled in his chest with a smile. “Okay okay. You’re so bossy,”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Someone’s got to keep your ass out of trouble,”

A few weeks later you woke up with a horrible back ache and an ugly wetness between your legs. Rolling onto your back slowly, you frowned with displeasure as you realized what time of the month it was. After cleaning yourself up, you trudged into the kitchen where Yoongi stood leaning against the counter. His reading glasses were perched low on his nose as he scanned the paper, a steaming cup of black coffee in his other hand. You slid your arms around him and sighed, pressing your cheek into his shoulder blade.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his eyes remaining on the paper.

“Morning,” you answered nuzzling into his warmth.

“What?” he chuckled.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

“Why so clingy this fine morning?”

You pouted and pulled away. “I love you?”

“Ah,” he hummed in thought. “Period?”

You blinked slowly. “How did you know?”

He scoffed before setting the paper down. “Stupid question. I’m stuck with you everyday. I can tell these things by now,”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped a slice of toast into the toaster. “Don’t act cool,”

“I don’t need to act for that,” he shrugged and you snorted before pouring yourself a glass of water.

“What’s the plan for today?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi responded. “It’s been a long fucking week. I’m just going to relax today,”

You grinned as he plopped down on the couch in exhaustion. Leaning down to kiss his cheek, you patted his shoulder.

“Good. I can’t remember the last time I saw you relax. Has to be...maybe a decade?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well you’re disturbing me now,” he pointed out.

You laughed and sat down next to him as he turned on some morning show. With the pain in your lower abdomen, a day of relaxation sounded like heaven.

“Hey Yoongi?” you asked a couple hours later after rummaging around in the bathroom.

“Yeah?” he called from his spot on the couch, laptop balanced on his legs.

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, standing up and dusting your hands on your pants.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Can you run out and buy me some supplies? I’m almost out,” you asked and Yoongi sighed before grinning.

“This is why you restock before it starts, (Nickname). Everyone at the store knows me as the boyfriend who’s always buying pads. All the old ladies keep giggling at me,” he laughed while standing up.

“Well I would go,” you started indignantly. “But I look like a mess and I’m too lazy to get ready. You look fabulous all the time,”

He rolled his eyes. “No need to flatter me. I’ll go get some,”

You beamed at him. “Thanks Yoongi,” you kissed his cheek gently as he moved to tug his shoes on. You plopped on the couch before lazily scrolling through the channels as you heard your boyfriend shut the door behind him. After watching some movie for a few minutes, you shivered at how cold the room was, goosebumps prickling along your skin. You thought of going to find a blanket, but then you remembered that you had Yoongi. One of his big warm sweaters would do nicely. You stood up ignoring the chill that ran up your spine and made your way into your bedroom before pulling open Yoongi’s closet. Flicking on the light switch, you tapped your chin as your eyes raked over the clothing. Finally deciding on his black pullover, you turned to go back to your movie when something caught your eye. Under a pile of dark clothes in the corner of the closet, something shiny glinted in the light. You reached down and pulled up the clothes, briefly realizing that you had never seen these clothes on Yoongi before. You grabbed the object, feeling the cool metal on your warm fingertips and pulled it up. The brass knuckles in your hand made you gasp out loud.

“What the hell?!” you whispered to the emptiness of your apartment, the cold object feeling foreign in your hand. You flipped it over to examine it. They were slightly worn out and dirty, as though they had been used for a long time. The thought made you shiver. These couldn’t be Yoongi’s. What would he need brass knuckles for? Yoongi had never fought anybody. You glanced at the pile of clothes you had found the brass knuckles with.

“Probably one of his friend’s stuff?” you muttered to yourself, though your own voice sounded unsure. “Yeah that’s gotta be it,”

You quickly dropped the metal in between the clothes and rummaged them around to make them look as you had found them. You tugged Yoongi’s sweater on and shut the closet quickly, an uneasy feeling in your gut. You didn’t want to see or think about that ever again.

You lazily scrolled through websites on your laptop, eyes searching for updates about the gang you had been hunting. The TV was quietly droning with the news in your empty apartment. Yoongi was still at work and you craved his words of comfort because honestly, you felt like you had hit a dead end. You had come back home much earlier than you had expected, and your apartment wasn’t helping your lack of inspiration either.

“-and gangsters causing problems in the neighborhood. This symbol has been officially marked as dangerous and any civilian who sees it should report it to the authorities. These gangs are getting more suspicious and dangerous as time goes on and are currently under heavy investigation. They’re suspected to be major players in the underground drug cartel and the major robberies occurring around the city. Though there haven’t been any cases of muggings reported, civilians are advised to be cautious at night and to report any illicit activity…”

“Damn, they’ve been busy,” you mumbled to yourself, tugging your laptop closer to begin taking notes on what you were hearing. Maybe that’s what the old woman you interviewed had overheard. Shipment issues related to drugs. You shook your head in disgust.

You heard the lock of the front door click and perked up. You tossed your laptop to the side and peeked over the back of the couch as Yoongi pushed his way inside wearily.

“Hey you’re home-” you paused. “What are you wearing?”

It seemed that Yoongi wasn’t expecting you home because he flinched and whipped his head up so fast you thought he might break something. His eyes were narrowed threateningly but then softened when they focused on you. But you were more focused on the black skin tight jeans and heavy black jacket he was wearing, which was certainly not his daily work attire.

“O-Oh I-,” he cleared his throat. “I had to change since some idiot at work spilled coffee all over my clothes. These are some spares I had for emergencies,”

He chuckled to himself as he shook his head, walking into the living room to bend down and kiss you.

“Oh,” you said lamely. “You changed your shoes too?”

You raised a brow at the black combat boots that he most definitely didn’t wear to work that morning. He looked at you with a slightly nervous grin and shrugged. “It matched the outfit,”

You snorted and sat down properly, now focusing on the TV and droning out Yoongi’s movements. You didn’t notice how Yoongi paused to listen to the news, a quiet curse leaving his lips before he started to the bedroom.

“I’m gonna be on some office phone calls, baby. Just don’t disturb for a little while, ‘kay?” Yoongi asked you with a sweet smile and you tore your attention from the screen.

“Okay,” you grinned and nodded at him. He flashed you another small smile and shut the door to your shared bedroom.

“So you’ll get something on your way back?” you asked as you rummaged around your purse for your bus ticket.

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighed on the other end of the receiver. “Ever since this stupid project started we’ve had so much more work to do. Sorry I can’t be home earlier to eat with you, baby,”

You smiled sweetly through the phone regardless of the fact that he couldn't see you.

“It’s okay. You know I admire how hard-working you are,” you shook your head with a grin as you sat down. That earned you a tired chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Thanks for always being so understanding, (Name),” Yoongi said, and you laughed.

“Don’t need to thank me. Just take care of yourself and come home soon. I miss you,”

Yoongi chuckled fondly and voiced an affirmative. After a farewell and a quick “I love you” you ended the call and got comfortable in your seat before tugging on your earbuds and shutting your eyes. You would probably catch a quick nap before you reached the apartment. At least, that’s what you wanted to do.

Only a few minutes had passed when you suddenly felt a chill run up your spine. The hairs on your arms stood up and a wave of uneasiness passed over you. You peeled your eyes open to look around. The bus was mostly empty, given one or two passengers. They all seemed normal however, except for one.

He was looking straight at you when you made eye contact with him. He sat straight, dressed in all black with a heavy leather jacket making his frame look even larger. His big arms were crossed menacingly and you wished you could put a face to his description but the mask he was wearing covered everything but his eyes.

Dragon eyes.

He tore his eyes away from yours as soon as you looked and you shivered a bit. You were probably overthinking it.

That didn’t mean you wanted to spend more time having a staring contest with this man, however. You quickly shut your eyes again and pretended to fall asleep, because even though you knew he was looking at you, it felt a lot safer to not be looking straight into those eyes.

You must’ve been on that bus for hours, or at least it felt like hours. When the bus pulled up by the stop just near your apartment, you quickly stood up and hurried down the aisle, not sparing anyone a passing glance. You stepped out into the nighttime and breathed out in relief before starting the walk to your building. When you glanced back to the window of the bus, the man was pulling out his phone and placing it near his ear as the bus started rolling away. Your racing heartbeat began calming down as you reached the door to your building. You weren’t sure who that man was, but you knew he was intimidating as hell. If he was actually staring at you, and hopefully he wasn’t, you wished you would never cross paths with him again.

You sighed and brushed a few strands of hair out of your face as you climbed up the front steps and went to open the main door. You wished that Yoongi was waiting for you at home so that you could cuddle up with him, share a bowl of ramen, and tell him about your day and this man and how nervous he made you. But Yoongi had work. You could never be angry at him though. Yoongi was so hard-working and he was doing his best to pitch in and help you both lead comfortable lives. Just the thought of your sweet boyfriend made you smile as you moved to tug the door open.

Pressure on your face made your eyes widen in confusion and before you could realize anything it was already too late. The cloth being pressed against your nose and lips was doused in chloroform and though you had never even had the chance to see it, you knew. You tried to shout but the hand pressed harder, making the sounds more muffled. Your heart rate spiked once again as a big arm wrapped around your body and began dragging you down the stairs. You were crying and you didn’t even realize it. Instead you were trying your hardest to get a hit on the person behind you. You rammed your elbow back and hit a body, which released a low masculine grunt. His grip loosened a bit and you managed to take two steps before he grabbed you once again. Though now, your vision was blurring and your head was spinning and everything was going out of focus. You tried hard not to breathe in, but eventually your lungs burned and you took one more breath and everything went black.

The first thing you could smell was dampness. The smell of wet concrete and mold filled your burning nostrils before you could even open your eyes. When you had fully gained consciousness, you chose to keep your eyes closed, opting to strain your ears and listen to your surroundings. You could faintly hear the sound of clanging metal and the rush of a few cars but other than that it was silent. You peeled your eyes open and your heart dropped.

You were on an old couch, brown with stains of things you didn’t want to know. A dirty rug decorated the concrete floor and you looked around with tears pooling in your eyes at the metal walls. Was this some kind of warehouse? Cigarette butts and bottles were haphazardly strewn across the floor and you suddenly felt sick to your stomach. You had to find a way out. You stood up shakily and tried to find your bag, but of course it was nowhere to be seen, which meant that your phone and house keys were gone too.

Oh god, Yoongi would be so worried.

You wondered whether he had called the police or if he was searching for you or if he was going crazy with worry before a thought struck. How long had you been here? If it had only been a few hours and Yoongi was still working then there was a chance that he didn’t even know you were taken at all. You gulped as nausea rolled over your gut once again. You began quickly and shakily stumbling towards the only door you could see, freedom tasting bitter on your tongue.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”

Your heart leapt into your throat as you quickly turned around. Plump pink lips were stretching into a menacing smirk as narrow brown eyes shone with mischief. You knew him. You knew this man.

He was graceful and he was familiar. Faded orange hair, a toned body, it was him.

No.

You stumbled back and the man clicked his tongue. “Careful sweetness, you’ll fall,” he sighed. “And don’t try anything. I’m prepared,”

His fingers tapped his side where you could see his gun and you shakily gulped.

“You’re lucky we didn't decide to handcuff you or something,” he said nonchalantly.

“What do you want with me?” you asked, sounding much braver than you felt.

“I don’t really know. I’m just following leader’s orders. He said you were a threat and that’s why you’re here. And no, we’re not gonna kill you. As long as you don’t give us a reason to,” the man sighed as you opened your mouth.

“U-Um,” you started and the man raised a brow at your stutter. Fuck, he was intimidating. “How am I a threat?”

Please don’t be what I’m thinking.

He chuckled. “You tell me (Last Name) (Name),”

You didn't even bother asking the cliche “how do you know my name?” question. It was clear to you now. The gang knew you and they were angry with you for digging up on them. Yoongi was right. You had never felt such a horrible sense of regret and you feared you weren’t getting out of this alive.

“The research I’ve been doing?” you asked nervously. The man smiled sweetly, a contrast to his intimidating aura.

“Mhmmm~” he sang, sitting down on the couch as you stood anxiously. “But anyways, contrary to what those stupid fuckers in the news make us sound like, we aren’t demons. We don’t kill innocent people,”

You raised a brow but allowed a bit of hope to settle in your chest.

“You didn't really know what you were doing and from the research Hoseok hyung has done on you, it was only to make your company happy, right?”

You nodded slowly, briefly wondering who the hell Hoseok was. But the fact that this man was apparently understanding your situation was much more important. He wasn’t going to kill you.

“But I still think that she knows too much,” someone said, and you turned to the door to see a taller man walk in, a scowl on his face. In his hands was a bowl of plain rice and a water bottle and you eyed him from head to toe, instantly recognizing him from his piercings and bigger build. Knife boy.

“C’mon Jungkookie~” the man on the couch purred teasingly. “Don’t scare her,”

The bigger man looked to the other in shock and disgust. “Hyung don’t say our fucking names what if she-”

“She’s not going anywhere and she’s not gonna tell anyone,” he sighed. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

As a barely hidden threat, the orange-haired man tapped his gun and you nodded meekly. He suddenly smiled brightly as though he didn’t just threaten your life. Knife boy rolled his eyes and handed you the food, which you began scarfing down without a second thought. He raised a brow but didn’t say anything else.

“Jin hyung told me to bring her some food,” he muttered. “Because we’re not supposed to starve hostages,” he added sarcastically. The orange-haired male simpered.

“See?” he asked you teasingly. “We’re taking care of you,”

“Oh shut up Jimin,” another voice chuckled. “Quit acting like that. It isn’t you,”

Another man walked in, around the same height as “Jungkookie” with silver hair. His voice was deep and you recognized it from the footage. But it still sounded more familiar, like that wasn’t the only time you’d heard it. You racked your brain trying to find it, but could come up with nothing. On a completely different note, he was so extremely pretty. He had a sculpted face and unique eyes and his pink lips curved into a weak smile.

“I came to check if she was awake. Namjoon hyung wants to talk to her,” the deep voice of the man washed over you. “Jungkook, I thought you were on interrogation duty,”

“Yeah but then Jin hyung called,” Jungkook grumbled. “He told me to get her something to eat,”

“I’m sorry, can I please leave?” you interjected pleadingly, tears forming in your eyes because you were so scared and tired and you missed home. “I swear I won’t do anything more. I’ll keep my mouth shut just please let me go home. I didn't know, I’m sorry,”

The silver-haired male's eyes softened a bit but Jungkook spoke up in exhaustion.

“Look, we’d like to get you out of here and forget that you exist, too. But Namjoon hyung still has to decide what to do with you,”

Your blood ran cold. Decide what to do with you. Why did that sound like there was still a possibility that you could be killed? You hoped that this Namjoon was understanding but another part of you was convinced he wasn’t going to be. You were about to find out.

Namjoon was the man on the bus. You were absolutely sure of it. Though the man on the bus had his entire face covered, you would never forget those cold eyes. Dragon eyes.

The same eyes that were looking down at you with a steely, calculating gaze. You wanted to cry so badly but you bit your lip and forced the tears back. Yoongi would tell you to be strong.

“(Last Name) (Name). 21. Aspiring journalist. Did I get the basics?” Namjoon asked in a rough yet cold voice. You nodded slowly and he glanced down at you. “You’ve been getting yourself into places you shouldn't be Miss (Last Name),”

“I know I’m so sorry. Please don’t kill me,” the shaky words were out before you could stop them and your stomach dropped in fear.

Namjoon only sighed and asked you a question. “(Name), what do you think of us?”

“I-what?” you stuttered dumbly, feeling chills run up your spine.

“What do you think about us?” Namjoon repeated coolly and you balked.

“I….” you started. “..That you’re a dangerous gang,”

“And what makes us dangerous?”

“The fact that you’re involved in underground drug trading and burglaries and deaths-”

“How many deaths have you heard about?”

“A-A few,” you responded dumbly, eyes flitting over to Taehyung whose lips twitched upwards a bit at your glance, as though trying to comfort you. Nothing about this situation was comforting.

“And how many of those were innocent civilians, (Name)?” Namjoon asked, turning away from you.

“I-I don’t-” you struggled but Namjoon answered for you.

“None. Because we never allow innocents to get hurt in our business. The deaths you saw were all related to people involved in this life. I promise you that we don’t hurt innocent people. We may not be good but we aren’t evil,”

Jimin blinked slowly with a calm smirk and your shoulders dropped a bit. “S-So you...aren’t gonna kill me?”

“No,” Namjoon’s eyes flitted to you and you saw the fatigue behind them. “But you have to make us a promise,”

“And keep it,” another man, Hoseok, added from his spot behind Namjoon.

“You cannot get involved with us anymore. It’s very dangerous for you and your loved ones. No more digging and outing us to the news. You’re forbidden. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” you agreed easily, anything to get away from the dangers these boys were pulling you into.

“Be serious,” the handsome broad shouldered man piped up. “Otherwise things won’t end well for you,”

“I’ll send Jungkook to kill you,” Namjoon commented offhandedly. You glanced at the bulky male and gulped. You didn't like him very much and with what you’ve seen him do with a knife, you weren’t taking any chances.

“Yes sir,” you bowed quickly. “I promise,”

In the back of your mind, you wondered how they could be letting you go like this. For all they knew, you could go rat them out to the police as soon as you left. That’s when you realized that they were serious. They really didn't hurt innocent people. Even the threat of sending Jungkook after you was to scare you. They’d never act on it. They didn’t hurt innocents. That’s why they were giving you a second chance.

“Good,” Namjoon’s lips turned up and you were surprised at the dimples that appeared. When he smiled he looked much less intimidating and more like an overgrown bear. “You’ll have to be blindfolded before you step outside but once you get into the van, Taehyung will take you straight back to your apartment.

“Thank you,” you smiled weakly before pausing. “Wait-Taehyung?”

“Oh, I didn’t get to introduce myself,” the silver-haired man grinned. “Sorry we had to do all that to you. I’m Taehyung,”

Wasn’t that the name of…?

You pushed the thought aside and nodded softly. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Just because they were letting you go didn’t mean you were suddenly going to trust them. You were sure each of them had identical guns to the ones tucked in Jimin’s black jeans. In Jungkook’s case, maybe more than one.

“Take her back Taehyung. And (Name),” Namjoon called out. “Remember your promise,”

You nodded mutely and followed Taehyung out. He walked you down a corridor in relative silence. Well, what exactly do you say to a kidnapper anyways?

“Um, I know you’re probably scared and upset. I’m really sorry you had to go through that. We don’t normally do these kind of things. But we had to make sure that you weren’t a threat,”

You only nodded again and Taehyung sighed. “We were protecting the people we care about. I think you’d understand if you were in the situation,”

“I...understand,” you mumbled and Taehyung hummed a bit. As you continued down the hallway, you heard a faint grunt of pain. Then some talking and then another shout. Taehyung didn't say anything and continued walking but as you got closer to the room, the sounds became louder.

“-better tell me who the fuck it is, buddy,”

“GO TO HELL, ASSHOLE!!”

The sound of metal colliding with flesh and the howl of pain that followed made your skin crawl.

“Mm try again. Who the fuck sent you after us, huh?”

“I…I can’t tell you, man,”

Another loud blow, this time earning a scream. Your skin crawled as bile rose in your throat. The room was only a few steps away now, the door slightly open.

“I have all night, bitch. I’ll be here until you’re in so much pain you’ll be begging to die,”

There was only a whimper to be heard as you reached the door. Taehyung’s back was getting further away but you still decided to glance inside. You wish you didn’t .

You wish you didn't catch the familiar black hair and pink lips bent over another man’s bloodied body. His hair was messy and wet and his lips were pulled back into a bored snarl. His pretty hands were splattered with blood and his fingers were sporting a familiar piece of metal.

“Tell me,” he sighed condescendingly. “Who sent you?”

“Go….fuck…...yourself,” the other man wheezed. His gums appeared, but not in the smile you knew, but rather in a malicious smirk. A dark chuckle escaped his lips and you watched with tears in your eyes as he reeled his knuckled fist back before shooting it straight into the man’s head. You stumbled back with a shaky cry of disbelief, tears spilling over as you saw his face completely. Taehyung turned around in confusion but your eyes weren’t on him. Dark eyes narrowed at the body, the dark eyes that sparkled with love for you, now empty and cold and cruel. Though they didn’t see yours, you saw everything clearly, and every last bit of trust in you shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

Tag list: @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone, @sunshine-ruins

(comment or message me if you want to be added!)

164 notes · View notes

emutempo · 4 years ago

Text

Zero to Hero (domestic SuperCorp one-shot)

Summary: Lena gets off work early and thinks she’s going to surprise Kara on date night…

Posted to my Ao3 here.

Notes: I'm kinda new to SuperCorp and this little one-shot popped into my head and refused to leave until I wrote it out. I've never written SuperCorp before so hopefully it’s not too ridiculous and you liked it. If you did, let me know! And if you didn't, I guess you're welcome to let me know that too? More notes at my Ao3 link.

-----------

Lena sighed louder than she meant to. She was stuck in a conference room with her team of lawyers presenting her with a tedious update on the contractural affairs for her latest acquisition.

She’d been through so many of these over the years, each just as dull as the next. But, Lena valued every person working for her and she hated to seem like was bored or not giving them her full attention. Lena loved running L Corp and she was not the kind of CEO to sit by and take a paycheck without putting in the work. But she thrived in the lab, looking through a microscope and in the boardroom making deals. Not so much with power points crammed with legalese in tiny fonts. But, it was hard to focus and her mind wandered again...

Tonight was date night with Kara. Dinner at 7 and a movie on the couch after. For tonight, Kara had insisted on cooking her mom’s lasagne recipe, one of the few carbs Lena let herself eat without restriction. At least, I’ll work off the calories later tonight with Kara.

Lena fought the corners of her mouth to keep them neutral. She didn’t want to have to come up with some excuse for why she was grinning like a cheshire cat about multi-million dollar deal structuring. Although, she was looking forward to the acquisition of the new company’s tech… Shit, focus Lena.

Luckily, when Lena brought her eyes back to the power point, she realized no one had noticed her day dream. And when she was sure all eyes were on the power point, she glanced stealthily at her watch — 4:57PM. Oh thank God. She had a video conference call at 5PM. Although she was itching to get home to Kara, she was glad for the excuse to get out of this meeting even if it was just for another meeting. Lena waited for the right moment to interrupt…

“My apologies gentlemen but I have a meeting in a few minutes in my office. Could we pick up with the horizontal integration plan on Monday? I am really grateful for all the hard work you’ve been putting in on this deal and I’m personally very excited for this acquisition.”

The lawyers nodded and thanked her for her time. Lena shook their hands as she left the conference room and walked briskly back to her office. Only one more meeting and then I’m home with Kara.

Lena pulled out her tablet and opened an email with some tech mock-ups. She turned the corner, heading to her office and approached Jess’s desk, where Jess is just getting off the phone.

“Did we set the call up for video and screen share, Jess? I know it’s last minute but I want to share those mock-ups we just got from R&D with Mr. Garcia.”

Jess turns to her computer and pulls up her calendar, “Actually Ms. Luthor, Mr. Garcia had to reschedule. His assistant just called. He had a family emergency. His father had a heart attack.”

Lena stops in her tracks, stricken for a moment. “Oh no. What hospital is he at?”

Jess shakes her head. “I’m not sure but I can find out?”

Lena nods. “Yes, please if you can. And when you do, please send him some flowers. I’ll send you a note to include.” Lena took a step to her office but turned back to Jess, “And if you can find an update on his condition, let me know. I’ll have our doctors look at his charts and see if we can offer any help.”

Jess nodded and turned back to her computer, picking up the phone and dialing as Lena heads back into her office.

Lena’s brow creased, worried for the man and his family. She had only met with Mr. Garcia a few times but she was struck by his humility and clear love for his family. When he explained the motivation behind his prototypes meant to help his daughter with mobility issues, Lena teared up. Listening to him describe watching her laugh and smile as she played with other kids, never minding her body’s limitations… it had hit Lena hard.

Lena turned to her desk and typed out a quick note to Mr. Garcia and sent it off to Jess before logging out. Whatever she could do to help Mr. Garcia, she would.

With her things collected, Lena headed out of her office and said good night to Jess. She rode the elevator down to the garage and climbed into the car waiting for her. With the lull of the car rolling down the street back to her place, Lena slipped back into her memories and thought about why she had teared up in front of Mr. Garcia.

But she didn’t have to think about it much at all. She knew why: Kara. Lena finally understood what it felt like to have something as precious as having Kara in her life. Before she met Kara, she'd been a vault of emotion, never showing a drop of it to anyone. But since Kara... well. She had trouble holding back, even in front of potential future colleagues. Damn you, Kara. Even now, sometimes she still couldn’t believe she and Kara were together. Like… together-together.

When they’d first admitted their feelings for each other and took their first steps in their relationship, Lena would often become overwhelmed with anxiety. Consumed by the fear it wasn’t real. That she’d just imagined Kara confessing her feelings for Lena, Kara kissing her so sweetly the first time, Kara staying the night for the first time…

The fear would take over so intensely that Lena would stand in front of her or Kara’s apartment door, terrified to knock. Terrified Kara wouldn’t be there… or worse.

The first couple of times, Kara had rushed to the door to find Lena having a panic attack, struggling to catch her breath and paralyzed with fear. So, Kara had started listening for Lena’s heartbeat when she was on her way home and made sure she was at the door, waiting for Lena every time. It had taken a few months and quite a few therapy sessions with Kara to overcome the anxiety but eventually the panic attacks stopped.

But, even though the attacks stopped, Kara didn’t stop showing up at the door when Lena would come home — even after Lena assured Kara that she didn’t have to do that anymore. It had become one of their ‘things’ and for Lena’s part, her heart sang every time Kara met her at the door. It was the part of her day she looked forward to most.

The sound of the partition lowering in the car took Lena out of her reverie.

“We’ve arrived, Ms. Luthor.”

Lena slung her purse over her should and thanked her driver before leaving the car and shutting the door. Suddenly, she remembered again... she was coming home early and hadn’t bothered to text Kara a headsup. It’ll be a surprise then… Well, not exactly. Kara would have heard her coming. Lena smiled to herself as she pictured the look on Kara’s face when she heard Lena approaching. She didn’t care if she surprised Kara or not but, just in case, she would try to calm her heart and not give herself away…

Lena walked across her lobby at a brisk pace, nodding to her doorman before entering the elevator and pressing the PH button for her penthouse. As the elevator rose, taking her closer and closer to home and to Kara, Lena took deep breaths and focused on calming her heartbeat, failing a bit when the elevator dinged and stopped at her floor.

Quietly, Lena took out her keys and unlocked her door slowly. To her surprise, Kara wasn’t on the other side, waiting for her. Before Lena can set down her bag and keys, she hears music carrying from the kitchen…. Is that gospel music?

Lena closes the door quietly, and strains to hear the music as it fades out. There’s a beat of silence and just as Lena things the music's off and opens her mouth to call out to Kara, she hears the vibrant notes of another song start up…. Oh. Oh my God.

Lena can’t stop the fat grin that’s quickly growing across her face. She sets down her bag and keys. Then tip-toes down the foyer as we hear Kara’s voice start to sing over the track.

“Bless my soul! Herc was on a roll. Person of the week in ever Greek opinion poll.”

Lena slowly leaned around the corner to find… Kara wearing an apron, spatula in hand as she sings and acts out the lyrics. Lena watched in awe as Kara mimed brushing dirt off her shoulder as she sang...

“ What a pro, Herc could stop a show.”

Swinging the spatula, Lena watches Kara karate kick into the air, as she sings with some gravel in her voice…

“Point him at a monster and you're talking SRO.”

And Lena bit her hand to stifle a giggle. A grin of admiration and total love in her eyes.

“He was a no one. A zero, zero.”

Kara made a zero with the index finger and thumb on her non-spatula hand and pumped her hand in the air to each ‘zero.’ Then she made her hand into a ‘megaphone’…

“Now he's a honcho, He's a hero! Here was a kid with his act down pat.”

“From zero to hero in no time flat. Zero to hero just like that.”

Kara snaps her fingers and grabs a glass dish. She bends over, giving Lena a very nice view as she opens the oven door and places the dish on the rack, singing all the while.

“When he smiled, The girls went wild with, Oohs and aahs.”

Lena can’t help herself. She oohs and aahs silently along with the lyrics, never taking her eyes off Kara. So this is why Kara didn’t hear her.

Lena recognized this song from one of their many Disney nights even though she wasn’t totally sure which movie it was from. Hercules, was it? But Lena didn’t have much time to think on that as her favorite part was coming up and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

Ever since the first time Lena had sung along to Part of Your World with Kara on one of their other Disney movie nights, she promised herself if she could ever elicit that kind of look from Kara again — one of pure awe and adoration — she would. Lena watched Kara close the oven as she sang…

“And they slapped his face, On ev'ry vase… On—”

Loud enough to be sure Kara heard her, Lena sang out…

“On ev’ry vahse”

Kara whipped around and squealed in surprise, almost knocking over a large Peppermill next to the stove top. A flash of her stealy eyed look crossed her eyes for the briefest moment before they landed on Lena. Then, a flash of embarrassment at getting caught singing and dancing so intensely.

(From appearance fees and royalties, Our Herc had cash to burn.)

But Lena knew Kara wasn’t actually embarrassed. This wasn’t the first or even hundredth time Lena had watched Kara sing her favorite Disney songs… in the car, in the bathtub and the shower, at the gym with Lena, on walks in the park, lying in bed, waking up together, falling asleep together.

And Lena loved every second of it. Especially when Kara would carry Lena on trips into the sky to dance under a meteor shower or just lay in the clouds together under the stars. More often than not, Kara would sing to her. Sometimes it was When You Wish Upon a Star. Or Somewhere Out There. But Kara’s favorite to sing to Lena was I See the Light. Lena still hadn’t seen that film yet but there was something hopeful about it and the way Kara looked at her that made all of her anxieties melt away. Made her believe that she and Kara’s love for each other was as eternal as the stars.

But Lena didn’t have long to linger on the thought before Kara’s embarrassment was quickly replaced by a big, golden smile and a blur whooshing across the living room. Before Lena realized it, Kara had captured Lena in a hug and peppered her face with kisses. They stared happily at each other for a half second before Kara pulled back with a twinkle in her eye. Lena giggles because she knows what’s coming.

( Now nouveau riche and famous )

Kara throws her head back and snaps her fingers as she sings…

“He could tell you, What’s a Grecian urn!”

Lena giggles and playfully swats at Kara’s butt, pushing her back toward the kitchen, following a couple steps behind. Kara turns so she’s walking backward to the kitchen, still singing and dancing but now with Lena as her audience.

Lena’s grin grows as Kara smiles through her singing. Miming the lyrics, Kara puts her hand up to her forehead like she’s searching for something…

“ Say amen, Ah there he goes again, Sweet and undefeated.”

Kara flashes 10 fingers at Lena…

“And an awesome 10 for 10!”

Kara bit her lip, trying (but not really) to hide the smirk on her face as she brought her arms up and flexed…

“Folks lined up, Just to watch him flex…”

Lena bit her lip, HARD, and shook her head. Kara knew what she was doing and stopped trying to hide her smug look as she bounced her shoulders and puffed her chest to…

“And this perfect package, Packed a pair of pretty pecs. Ow.”

Lena couldn’t help it anymore. She shook her head and locked eyes with Kara while she slid her blazer off in that sexy way she knew Kara liked. Now it was Lena’s turn to look smug.

“Hercie, he comes, he sees--”

Kara froze as the song continued in the background. She caught Lena’s eye and tilted her head slightly. Lena could tell she was listening for her heartbeat. Not that Kara needed to. She didn’t need her super hearing to pick up on what Lena wanted.

Kara’s eyes shot up to Lena’s once she heard the pace of Lena’s heart pick up. And at that, Lena turned and walked straight toward her bedroom. Lena didn’t need to have super hearing either to hear Kara scrambling to turn on the oven timer or to hear the ripping sound of Kara tearing the apron off.

(He showed the moxie brains, and spunk

From zero to hero a major hunk

Zero to hero and who'da thunk)

Lena barely made it into the bedroom before a whoosh of sound rushed in behind her, slamming the bedroom door shut. Lena grabbed Kara and pulled her in close.

"How long do we have on the lasagne?"

Kara leaned in, hovering her lips over Lena's, "forty-five minutes."

"Great. More than enough time to work up an appetite before dinner."

(Who put the glad in gladiator?

Hercules!

Whose daring deeds are great theater?

Hercules

Isn't he bold?

No one braver

Is he sweet

Our fav'rite flavor

Hercules, Hercules ...

Bless my soul

Herc was on a roll

Undefeated

Riding high

And the nicest guy

Not conceited

He was a nothin'

A zero, zero

Now he's a honcho

He's a hero

He hit the heights at breakneck speed

From zero to hero

Herc is a hero

Now he's a hero

Yes indeed!)

#supercorp #karaxlena #kara x lena #disney #hercules #ao3 #supergirl #fluff #domestic fluff

8 notes · View notes

thesaltyoceanwaves · 5 years ago

Text

Good Intentions

Ao3

Based off this post. You guys really seemed to like it, so here you go.

The plan to ruin Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s reputation and credibility was well under way. And while there had been a bump in the road with Bustier undoing her seat switch plan at the end of the day, Lila still considered the day a victory. After all, she managed to sow the seeds of distrust, and the class managed to believe her over Marinette. She gave the baker girl maybe a month, tops, before everything came crashing down on her, and with no way to prove that Lila had anything to do with it.

Of course, there was still the issue of Adrien, but he was a pushover. All he wanted was to make friends! He had no spine, and it would only be a matter of time before she had him twisted around her little finger.

That night, maybe an hour or so before retiring to bed, she hatches her next plan and hits up Alya with a text:

L: Hey, Alya? Could I have Marinette’s number? I’d like to work things out with her and maybe even get her opinion on some clothes??

Usually, for texts like these, she gets a pretty immediate response. She even gets the animation indicating that Alya is typing a message, only for it to stop and no message to be sent. Frowning, she places the phone down on her desk as she goes about browsing social media profiles of her classmates and the stars she’s supposedly schmoozed with, checking to see if there are any new updates. About thirty minutes pass when Alya finally responds, and Lila can’t help but roll her eyes at what might have possibly kept Alya for so long.

A: heyyy, i think it’s great u want to get along w Mari, but i think it’s better 2 give her some space after 2day. but if it’s an emergency, i can ask her 4 u!

Squinting her eyes, she gives the text a long, hard glance before realizing that it’s real. It has to be some sort of joke. There’s no real reason Alya should be hesitant in giving her something like this.

L: I was worried about this. Marinette must really hate me if she doesn’t even want to give me her number!

A satisfied smirk spreads across her face as she waits for the inevitable anxious reply. Surely, Alya wouldn’t want her new friend to feel so left out and targeted, right? Once again, the texting animation is quickly evident, and she can practically hear Alya apologizing for making her feel so bad about it.

A: i swear it’s not like that!!! just give her some time & she’ll warm up, i swear!! so how about those outfits!?

Scowling, she quickly responds with a half-hearted “never mind, I’ll ask Clara’s designer instead,” and tosses the phone across the room onto her bed with a sigh. Perhaps it’s just a fluke, and maybe tomorrow, when Lila comes face to face with Alya, she can corner her into giving up Marinette’s number. It’s not something she should be this worried about anyway, but if she’s going to forge fake messages, she needs to make it look like they had contact with each other.

For now, that idea is on hold. Still, there’s plenty of ways to shake things up the next morning.

---

While having a position of power made you respected, it also made you stress out over every other little thing, and put you in a position of criticism. Thankfully, Lila doesn’t have to contend with the responsibilities of Class Rep, and can instead content herself to push Marinette’s buttons instead.

“...And the class vs class picnic will be happening next Friday,” she says, finishing the morning announcements, “Please make sure to bring athletic attire to change into, because we will be getting messy. Does anyone have any questions?”

Oh boy, does Lila ever. She meekly raises her hand, making sure at least one or two other classmates note the wary expression on her face. Biting back a sigh, Marinette points to her and asks, “Yes?”

“Um, well, I’m not sure I can handle anything outdoorsy,” she pouts, holding out her hand, “My wrist is busted and I can’t really throw anything.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mylene interrupts, smiling cheerfully, “We made sure to include some non-athletic activities, like making friendship bracelets and writing nature haikus! If you don’t want to use pen and paper, you should be able to bring your tablet!”

With her lips curling inward, Lila has to bite back a dark glare. Something was definitely up. She’s not sure what, but Marinette must have told them something about the previous day. It’s difficult to tell because Marinette doesn’t have a very distinctive expression, but Lila would be a fool to believe otherwise.

And she would certainly not be that.

“That’s very nice of you to think of me,” she says, trying to bite back tears, “But, um, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go that day, anyway. I’m supposed to be volunteering at a charity event to help reduce carbon emissions. Is it possible that we could have the picnic a day earlier? Or the next week?”

Some glances are exchanged in the rows before conversation breaks out. As she expects, Marinette’s face contorts with annoyance, and she opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by Alya, who places a hand on her shoulder, and shakes her head. Turning to Lila, she says, “Actually, me and Mari spent a lot of time organizing this event with the other student reps, and it wouldn’t be fair to suddenly reschedule like that. But I assure you that we have some other events in the future that we’ll be more easily able to take your schedule into account, just as long as you tell us ahead of time, Lila.”

“Oh,” she pouts, blinking as rapidly as she can. “That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to going too…” she says with a sigh.

“Well,” Mylene offers, “We can always throw you a picnic another day. That way, Marinette and the other student reps don’t have to worry about all that rescheduling, and you can still have fun hanging out with us. Right, guys?”

The chattering, the annoying, annoying chattering grows more excited, as if they already have it planned in stone. As though they no longer have to give Lila anymore thought or concern. Of course, she’d have to be gracious and just accept it, right?

There’s still no sign from Marinette that she’s in on it, or that she’s satisfied with the turn out. For someone who hates lying so much, she must be pretty good at it. There’s no way she’s innocent.

Still, Lila has no choice but to playfully bat her eyes and practically coo at the suggestion. “You’re all just so wonderful! I would love that, of course!”

A pen snaps in her hands, and the ink covers the knee of her leggings. But her forced smile doesn’t falter for a second, lest she want to draw unwanted attention.

---

Marinette is naive to leave her backpack by itself, without a single eye to watch it. It seems that Chloe failed at her job at instilling fear in the school, if Marinette was going around carefree without any sort of protection. But that leaves Lila free to sneak into her bag and plant the answers for the test that they finished taking-

A sudden, squeakish voice interrupts, causing her to drop the paper.

“There you are, Lila!” Rose says cheerfully, “What are you doing?”

Jumping, it takes her a moment to realize she’s dropped the paper. She unfortunately can’t see where it landed, and she finds herself sputtering, sputtering, her response, “O-Oh, Rose! I-I was just… I found Marinette’s backpack!”

“Oh, she was looking for that!” Rose says, picking it up and hugging it to her chest, “That’s awfully nice of you, Lila! Marinette was looking for that.”

“It’s not a big deal! I just wanted to help out a friend, you know?”

“You really are a sweetheart, you know?” Rose says, patting her shoulder, “Still, I think we’re better off just telling Marinette it was in the lost or found.”

She blinks. “What? Why?”

“Well, we don’t want to give Marinette the wrong idea,” Rose points out, “You might be trying to help her, but knowing her, she’ll probably think you tampered with her stuff.”

“I can’t believe she thinks so little of me,” Lila sniffs, “I’m only trying to help.”

“Oh, we know,” Rose says, patting her shoulder, “And someday she’ll be able to see that. But I think she’s really coming around. Just a little more time and she’ll see just how cool you really are!”

As they leave the area, Lila waits for a moment to sneak back into the backpack, but the opportunity never presents itself. Soon enough, Marinette is reunited with her backpack, and Lila knows from her narrowed leer, she’s bound to search through the bag to make sure it wasn’t tampered with.

There is no doubt in her mind that this is deliberate sabotage. Marinette said something to get these goons to follow her around and interrupt at the most opportune and least convenient moments. Plan after plan, ruined because they “don’t want Marinette getting the wrong impression of her!”

Well, with any luck, that was going to stop today.

She is quick to follow Marinette into the bathroom and pin her against the walls.

“So, you think you’re so smart, huh? Getting your friends to keep an eye on me and keep you out of trouble?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop lying!” Lila shouts, “Playing stupid isn’t your forte! I know you said something about me to them to ruin my plans! Well, guess what? I have plenty of methods that’ll get you expelled.”

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Lila?” Alya’s booming voice calls out, holding a phone in front of her. Behind her are Alix, Mylene, Rose and Juleka, who all share darkened expressions and are ready to voice their distaste. She has to think of something quick if she’s going to recover and get control of the situation again.

“A-Alya,” she stammers, trying to force a smile, “M-Marinette was just, um, she was bullying me! Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t,” Alya retorts, “Because I just captured footage for the past few minutes of you attacking Marinette in the bathroom and threatening to get her expelled! And after everything we did for you, trying to help you get along with her, especially at Adrien’s suggestion!” She clicks her tongue.

Blinking, she looks from Marinette back to Alya. Adrien? Adrien was the one to calculate this plan? She supposed it would make some degree of sense - Adrien was hardly the type to get his hands dirty when he had assistants and money to do that for him. Still, there was no way the boy with the least amount of backbone in the entire school would go out of his way to sabotage her, especially not for Marinette.

“You’re a liar,” Lila hisses, before trying to smile again, “Adrien would never suggest something so diabolical.”

“Since when was trying to help people get along diabolical?” Alix points out, “If anyone is headed toward the realm of villainy and bullying, it’s you. Anything else you want to confess to?”

And for once, Lila’s out of stories to spin.

#ml salt #ml salt fic #lila salt #lila exposed #salty writes #good intentions au

1K notes · View notes

vganimefanatic · 4 years ago

Text

Saw @genshinatsu do this and it looked fun so here's mine.

Genshin Impact Ask Game

1. Who did you choose as your traveler?

Lumine/female!traveler. I renamed her as Eos (after the Greek goddess of the Dawn) because she reminded me of a bright morning.

2. Who is your favorite character?

ZHONGLI. A close second would be Diluc or Barbara.

3. Your favorite party?

Adventuring: Geo!Traveler, Xiangling, Barbara and Noelle

Dungeons and other shiz: Kaeya, Xiangling, Barbara and Noelle

4. Which characters do you have (count all of them)?

10 excluding my traveler: Amber, Barbara, Chongyun, Kaeya, Lisa, Noelle, Razor, Sucrose, Xiangling, and Xingqiu.

5. The character you don’t have but you want soso bad?

BROKE BOSS ZHONGLI (I've saved up all my primogems for his upcoming banner)

6. The character you have but you never use?

Chongyun. He has a bonus when conducting expeditions in Liyue so I always send him on those instead of bringing him into battle.

7. Who is your least favorite character?

I don't dislike anyone so far. Crossing my fingers that this keeps up.

8. Favorite nation?

There are only two nations accessible right now but Liyue caught my attention instantly. Most fantasy RPGs are Western inspired rather than Asian (Final Fantasy X and Tales of Xillia blew my mind because of this) so I was delighted when I first ventured into Liyue.

9. Least favorite nation?

No idea. Gotta wait for them all to come out.

10. Favorite element?

Pyro or Geo. Leaning towards Geo because my current team features Geo!Traveler and Noelle (and also because ZHONGLI).

11. Least favorite element?

I don't dislike using any of them but I do hate fighting enemies that use Hydro or Dendro so I guess one of those?

12. Favorite combos of element?

Frozen, Overload and Crystalise.

13. Favorite enemy?

I tend to gravitate to enemies who drop useful items/gear or are important to the story. So... Dvalin?

14. Least favorite enemy?

Boss: Oceanid or Geo Hypostasis (glitchy arse who keeps resetting)

Non-boss: Abyss Mages and Ruin Hunters

15. Do you k*ll animals when you pass by their sides?

Everything except little Timmie's pigeons.

16. Walking or using teleport?

I usually teleport nearby the location I want to go and then I walk to it while looking out for resources or treasure chests.

17. Favorite mission?

Story missions. I particularly like 'Farewell, Archaic Lord' and 'Bookworm Swordsman'. Too bad they aren't replayable (I don't even need a repeating reward miHoYo just let me replay them doggone it).

18. Least favorite mission?

Timed missions. I always feel super stressed whenever I see a countdown timer appear (which, unfortunately, happens a LOT in Genshin Impact).

19. Do you like gliding?

(I believe I can fly~ I believe I can touch the sky~dive bomb hillychurls and then run away~spotting chests from miles away~)

Yes.

20. Who is the most useful character in your opinion?

Barbara and Diluc (his trial use was amazing).

21. And the least one?

I guess Xingqiu? He isn't weak or anything but I already have a water user (Barbara) and a Sword user (Kaeya/Traveler) so I don't really use him despite liking him as a character.

22. Your favorite character’s design and the least one?

Favourite: Zhongli. Second place would be either Diluc or Sucose.

Least favourite: Bennet.

23. Bow, Sword, Polearm, Claymore or Catalyst?

I loves swords (I have two in real life) so obviously Sword! Catalysts are a close second.

24. Your party formation? (DPS, Healer, Tank, Support)

DPS + Support+ Healer +Tank or DPS+DPS+Healer+Tank/Support.

25. How much lucky are you with Wishes?

No 5 star characters or weapons so far (ZHONGLI PLEASE COME HOME).

26. Do you usually focus on your mission or you go around to find items?

The latter. I usually search every nook and cranny because curiosity and ADHD is me.

27. How much do you cook? If you do it.

Quite often! Blame the Tales of Series for instilling in me the need to cook healing dishes instead of downing down a potion (I remember searching a whole continent for a store which sold milk in Tales of Symohonia).

28. What is your Adventure Rank?

I just hit AR30 today.

29. And your characters’ level?

My main team is level 50. My two subs are level 40.

30. Something you like in general.

The gameplay environment. Exploring Teyvat is really fun and hilarious because the game designer in me gets super excited everytime I see something incredibly mundane to normal players (eg: I examined staircases in different locations just to see if they made it using a slope or modelled them individually and create a collision box for each step because I noticed the way my Traveler stood on one particular staircase). I am truly impressed with the scale of the world they built considering this game can still run on mobile devices.

31. Something you dislike in general.

The overuse of microtranscanctions. I understand why miHoYo implemented the usage of microtranscanctions but I feel that the way they could have gone about it could have been better (eg: primogems cost less and drop rates are slightly higher but the shop offers alternate costumes/cosmetics which cost real money).

32. Something you’re waiting for.

ZHONGLI BANNER! Oh, and an update which allows you to pet dogs and cats.

33. Domains or Bosses?

Bosses. Screw domains and their timed challenges.

34. What do you think of Paimon?

Emergency Rations.

(Just kidding. I love her even though her tendency to blab important info is exasperating)

35. A random headcanon.

I headcanon my Traveler/Eos to be 18-19 years old because she isn't old enough to drink alcohol (in my country the legal drinking age is 21) but she is old enough to travel across the universe accompanied only by her twin brother instead of an older chaperone.

#genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #genshin impact aether #genshin impact lumine #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact paimon #genshin impact ask quiz #gacha #gacha game

13 notes · View notes

scarletwillowtree · 4 years ago

Text

The Soldier and The Artist ch4 (soulmate AU)

Pairing: Bucky x artist!reader

Warning: slight angst

Word count: 2,146

Summary: In a world where your soulmates first words show up on your skin once you meet, it’s not entirely common to actually meet the one you’re destined to be with. Though you’ve always held out hope, you never believed you would meet them, especially after you got your words but haven’t seen the man since. Now, working closely with The Avengers for a project Tony Stark himself requested you for, you’re closer to your soulmate than you ever expected.

A/N: Yes, hello! I am aliiiiive! My apologies to my readers, it’s been rough going for me for a while, but I have returned. Originally this chapter was VERY different, and the way I wrote it honestly made me hate the direction the story went, so I scrapped it and now I’m much happier. Chapter five is being rewritten as it’s the epilogue I had planned, but we’re almost there! I hope you enjoy my lovelies.

masterlist

As I watched Bucky walk off the jet, I could feel my heart speeding up. My face flushed as I felt my lips part and a harsh inhale past my teeth must have been heard by Steve still standing next to me as I could see his head turn to me from my peripheral vision. But none of that mattered. Not Steve, not the fact that I was standing on the roof of the compound still, not even that I was still dressed in my paint stained clothing.

All that mattered was Bucky, the man from the coffee shop, my soulmate. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from his steely blue ones as he made a beeline for me, never looking away from me. Once he finally reached us, I expected him to move for Steve, his life long best friend.

Surprising everyone in the area, Bucky reached out and pulled me into his arms where I immediately melted into his embrace, feeling him press his face into my hair with his mouth near my ear.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you, doll.” He whispered gently, his arms squeezing me slightly tighter as he did. We stood there for what could’ve been minutes or years, before a throat clearing to the side of us caused me to pull back enough to see who it was, Bucky’s grip loosening enough for that to happen but not letting me ago entirely.

“So uh, you two know each other?” Steve shifted awkwardly as he looked between me and his best friend, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Beyond Steve I could see who I guessed to be Sam and Thor standing there, both wearing teasing smiles while looking at the group that had gathered.

Looking back up at Bucky, I felt a warmth blossoming in my chest as my next words spilled from behind my lips with no fight or filter.

“We’re soulmates.”

***

After a lengthy talk in the communal kitchen, several cups of coffee, and a very awkward walk from the hangar, Steve sat across the bar from Bucky and myself. Everyone else had cleared out already after the initial announcement, too tired to unpack the full story yet.

“Gotta say, I’m happy you two found each other. Bucky here wouldn’t shut up about what you’d be like when we were younger (Y/N).”

“Alright punk, that’s enough about that. Why don’t you get lost for a while?”

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender as he stood and moved to leave the kitchen. At the last moment, he turned to face us at the bar, a genuine and soft smile on his face.

“Hey, (Y/N), treat him right okay?”

I smiled and gave him a nod in response before he finally left the room. I turned back to Bucky to see him shaking his head as he grumbles under his breath too low for me to understand.

“What was that, Buck?”

His face flushed as he looked up at me, his words only coming out barely above a whisper as his eyes darkened from their brilliant ocean blue.

“It’s not you he should be worried about.”

“What do you mean by that Bucky?” The worry in my chest began spreading quickly, hoping this wouldn’t be one of those instances where a soulmate rejects the bond.

“I’ve...I’ve done a lot of bad (Y/N). I could understand if you choose to leave, I’m damaged and I’ve hurt so many people...it wouldn’t be fair to you to be stuck with someone like me...with a monster.”

I felt my heart crack at his words, a few tears building on my lashes as I took a shaky breath before softly saying his name. When he didn’t look up, I placed my hand gently on his chin and raised his eyes to finally meet mine, the pain in his shining bright as fear mixed with it.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what you did as another person was beyond your control. Being damaged is part of being human, you just got a really bad lot in life. But look at what you’ve done to turn it around! You save lives and prevent wars now. From what Steve has told me of you, you are an incredible person with an amazing heart and you’d give anything for those you love. You. Are. Not. A. Monster. Okay?”

By now a few tears had fallen from your eyes, and his as well. He grabbed your hand from his chin, placing a kiss to your palm before letting out a shaky sigh.

“So...you’re not leaving? You’re not scared?”

“Bucky, the only thing that scares me is that I won’t be good enough for you. I’m just a normal person who loves to paint. I’m not skilled or super in any way.”

He laughed lightly at you, shaking his head as he stands and hugs you where you still sit, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

***

As the weeks flew by, I continued the portraits and spent every spare minute with Bucky I could. I had been saving his portrait for last, even though I’d already had it mapped in my head from the first conversation we had that day in the kitchen. He’d tried to sneak peeks of the other paintings, but hadn’t been successful as I wanted them to be a surprise for everyone.

Now that I’d finally come to his portrait, my time at the compound was almost at an end. I had spoken with Tony and was welcome at any time, and I planned to stay an extra two weeks at the compound before flying back to DC. Back to my life.

As my mind became lost in the strokes of greys, steely blue, and streaks of gold I thought back on my time here. I had come to view these people as good friends, maybe even a second family. Thinking about having to leave them caused a weight in my chest that made it hard to breath.

Finally finished with the final painting of the collection, I set my brushes aside to be cleaned, knowing they wouldn’t dry too soon with the oils smeared across the canvas and my hands. With a heavy sigh I moved to a nearby table and grabbed my phone, knowing it was time for my weekly update with Hannah.

She’d been so excited for me when I told her about Bucky, nearly exploding at my over the phone in typical her fashion. For someone so small, she sure was one hell of a force of nature all her own.

“You better be calling to tell me you’ve finally slept with that fiiiiine hunk of man you get to call your soulmate, lady.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but we are actually taking it slow and he’s been a perfect gentleman, Hannah.”

She snorted into the phone before I heard the telltale sound of the bay doors in the workshop we shared back home. Didn’t feel like home anymore, not with Bucky being here.

“So, judging by the timeframe I guess you’re done and coming home soon, huh?”

“I’m planning on staying an extra two weeks actually...not ready to say goodbye just yet.”

“I can understand that boo. Good thing we run our own company then, right? No need to ask for the vacation time!”

“That’s true. I miss you Han. I hope things go well while I’m still gone.”

“Well, as it happens it’s vacation time for me too lady, so no need to worry about the company! Just relax, and in to weeks we can both come back refreshed, okay?”

“Alrighty. Thank you! I gotta go, but I’ll call soon okay?”

“Love ya, ya weirdo!”

With her final affections given in her typical fashion, Hannah hung up. I gave a sigh before heading out of the studio and to my designated room, which had been moved to the one next to Bucky’s once he came back. I hopped in the shower, letting the nearly scalding water pour over me and wash away the paint and stress of the day.

Soon enough I had to face the music and get out, wrapping myself in a large and fluffy towel before padding my way into my room. Over my weeks here, the room had really become personalized to me, I even had an easel in here near the window overlooking the city. I quickly dressed in some leggings and a longer tshirt, aiming for comfort more than appearance.

I headed back to the studio, cleaning my brushes first in the sink in the corner, laying them next to it to air dry before making my way back to the easel with the latest painting. I smiled softly, this was truly a masterpiece in my eyes, whether it was because of the subject of because I poured every ounce of emotion I had into it I wasn’t sure.

I began moving the paintings into the common area where Tony intended to hang them, moving fast to get them all up. I managed to somehow get all 10 hung before anyone came out, no small feat in this place since they were all back from missions for the moment.

“FRIDAY, could you ask everyone to come here please? Non-emergency though.”

“You got it, (Y/N).”

***

Not long after they’d been called, I watched as all 10 of my friends stared into their portraits. The emotions written on their faces were enough of a response for me, I didn’t need them to voice how they felt.

Tony’s was in brilliant and bold colors, reminiscent of a peacock. With vague white lines indicating the iron man mask overlaying his face and the arc reactor in his chest glowing with leds embedded in the canvas from behind.

Wanda’s painting was a black and white portrait of her smiling wide, a red stream flowing through the background as a ghostly transparent silhouette of her brother Pietro framed her position on the canvas.

Steve’s painting was a mix of charcoals and paints, his pose of him mid laugh at some silly story he’d been telling me of him and Bucky as kids. He looked carefree and relaxed, years younger than his guarded self.

Vision had a black and white painting as well, with silver and gold foiling filling the background and a few lines in front of him creating an intricate circuit board that seemed to stem from the resin crystal emulating the stone in his head.

Clint’s painting had been done in various darknesses of coffee, as nothing could fit him better. He was pictured mid sign, his hands blurred to capture his swift and erratic speech as best I could in a slice of time.

Nat was the only one with a full body, necessary for the ballet pose her body was held in. Reds and black dominated the painting, a peaceful smile on her lips as her body contorted in a graceful way. The tulle attached to the canvas gave depth to her painting more so than I had expected.

Bruce had another black and white portrait, his shy smile painted on his face and his glasses sliding down his nose. Behind him stood a whiteboard with equations I could never make sense of filling the space, though the shadow he cast on the board was undoubtedly that of the Hulk.

Thor had a greyscale painting too, with a pale blue and lavenders accenting it as the edges of the lightning surrounding him and flaring away from his eyes. He was dressed in his royal armor as always, but he wore a cocky smirk on his face, the same he usually sported.

Sam’s painting was made of varying metallic materials in the colors I needed, the textures letting lights shine off it in various ways depending on which angle you viewed it from, making it look like he was composed of fireworks. Like Steve, he was also laughing in his picture, that mischievous twinkle to his eye you’d seen plenty after he played one of his many pranks during your week together.

Finally was Bucky’s painting. His eyes were full of warmth and love, the unending depths of that steely blue leaping from the mostly grey painting. His face was framed by his long hair, and from behind that extended a halo of glittering gold. In that same gold paint a golden heart rested on the sleeve of the Henley he wore stretched tight across his muscles.

There were no words they could find to truly express how the paintings made them feel, but the tight hugs and repeated thanks I received were more than enough to tell me.

Now to enjoy my time before I have to go home. Before I have to leave Bucky.

************

next chapter >

tag list: @aireka-frnc @katgirl05 @beep-beep-quarterfool @ladifreakingda @huffleasfluff @thequirkypeach @courtmr @doublephoeenix @38leticia @gennyld @londelle @loving-life-my-way @lostnnot2befound @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @just-a-little-bit-of-everything @aurorawitchcraft @buttercup337 @theseulehurricane @thejourneyneverendsx @tommyhoe @milady-mira @lyricalstella @cutiepiemimi13 @unknownuserhasjoined @rinthehufflepuff

Strike through means the tag doesn’t work

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagines #bucky #soulmate au avengers #bucky x soulmate!reader #soulmate au

43 notes · View notes

astyle-alex · 4 years ago

Photo

[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim]

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

It could save lives.

So… fiddling.

Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

And then… it wasn’t.

One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

A big flash of blinding light.

Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_ _ _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

It found an Angel.

Sorta.

It found a something.

And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

Yeah. BIG Weird.

Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

HELLA Big Weird.

So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

Personally.

And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

Charlie’s met Castiel.

Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

But, like, a cool alien.

Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

Not really.

For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

He is looking for something, though.

Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

So, she makes the call.

Sam picks up on the third ring.

“So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, they do.”

“Okay. And?”

“They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

“Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

“Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

“Trench coat?”

“I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

“Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

“Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

“What if he really wants to head out?”

“Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

Only to find him looking back.

For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

But he seems kinda zonked.

And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

He’s not really expressing anything.

He’s just looking.

It’s weird.

Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

It makes her shiver.

But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

He blinks, real slow like.

Then he nods.

Relief floods Charlie.

Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

“So, kid, what’s your name?”

“Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

“My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

The kid simply frowns.

“So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

“My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

“Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

“One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

“You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

“Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

The kid rolls his eyes.

It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

“Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

“But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

“Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

Immediately, he softens.

“Hey, what happened? You okay?”

Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

“Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

“Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

“Like apocalypses?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

“Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

“Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

“Yeah,” she tells him.

“So where are you now?”

“Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

“Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

“That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

“So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

“Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

“And..?”

Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

Sounds totally doable, right?

In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_ _ _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

#fanfiction #fanfic #batman #batman & robin #BatFam #DCU #dcu fanfic #SPN #spn fanfic #supernatural #destiel #jay x tim #jason todd x tim drake #dean x castiel #multiverse #crossover #charlie bradbury

5 notes · View notes

foramomentonly · 5 years ago

Text

@spaceskam So, your Jealous Michael stream of consciousness fic was so good it inspired me. And then I got angsty. I humbly dedicate this to you since basically I’m just copying your brilliant style.

If you are reading this and don’t know what I’m talking about do yourself a favor.

It’s not that Michael doesn’t like this new guy Forrest, per se. He doesn’t, but personal incompatibility is not the biggest issue. He’s not trying to be best friends with the guy. He just wants to go twenty minutes in his own damn town without seeing him. Is that really too freaking much to ask? And maybe also to not constantly find him hanging around Alex like a puppy on an invisible leash.

First, it’s Bean Me Up, where Michael stops in one early morning to pick up coffee and pastries with which to woo a justifiably still frosty Maria. There’s Alex, dressed for a run, nursing what Michael can only guess is a black coffee. And he’s with someone. Someone familiar. Someone with a really bad dye job and a very stupid cardigan. Seriously, this is small-town New Mexico, a place full of unironic cowboy hats, functional boots, and ugly plaid and turquoise everything. The only individuals with a real sense of style are Maria, with her boho patterns and bright colors and flowy pieces, and more recently Alex, with his military-fashion boots and dark, tapered jeans and that fucking leather jacket. At least he’s not wearing the jacket. But all this to say you can’t just throw on a dull, shapeless cardigan and dig up some boxed hair dye from Alex’s high school medicine cabinet and call it a look. But Alex doesn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t seemed to mind at the ranch when they first meet Forrest, either. When Forrest was two steps from getting on his knees if Alex so much as asked to borrow a pen and Alex pretended not to notice and Michael glowered at them both. And now Alex is smiling at something Forrest says and raising a perfect brow, and when he catches Michael’s eye he doesn’t hold his gaze. Michael grabs his order and stalks off, and of course, it’s Forrest who runs out to tell him he forgot to pay.

***

Bean Me Up is just the first time. A few weeks later he’s finishing up at the lab with Liz and Kyle, and Isobel is hanging around because she’s not working right now and she doesn’t have much else to do.

“All right,” Kyle says, “if we’re done, I’ve got to head out. I’m meeting Alex at the high school track.”

“What for?” Isobel asks.

“Cardio,” Kyle beams, and Michael rolls his eyes. Who gets that excited about a hamster wheel for adults?

“Can I join?” Isobel asks, and, oh right. Isobel does these days.

Kyle says, “…yes?” uncertainly and Isobel flutters her eyelashes at him like good answer. Liz announces she’s coming to “the ab parade” too, and Michael wonders if she’s been sampling her drawer wine already. But the whole gang is game, so he is, too. He’s a joiner.

They get to the track and Alex is stretching idly in one of those sporty bro get-ups—shorts, athletic shoes, and the tee-shirt that’s been cut into an extremely baggy tank top that has more functionality as a wind tunnel than actual clothing. He looks relaxed and tan, and he has a prosthetic Michael hasn’t seen before; he guesses it’s specifically for athletics. He’s objectively admiring the view when Alex grins at someone to his left and Michael looks over and it’s fucking Forrest in a college tee-shirt and a fucking sweatband. He points to their group and Alex turns, smiling uncertainly.

“Do we have an audience?” he asks.

“Isobel asked to join us. I don’t know what these two are doing,” Kyle explains, holding his hand out to Forrest like it’s the most natural thing in the world for Alex to have company that isn’t one of them or dressed in army fatigues and letting him order them around. “Good to see you again, man. You running with us?”

Forrest grips Kyle’s hand, and these two fuckers would be BFFs.

“Yeah, if it’s cool with you,” he says, “I’ve been meaning to get more active-”

“Been pretty active lately,” Alex murmurs, smirking, and Michael literally gags. Alex shoots him a dark look.

“-and Alex suggested a run would be a good place to start.”

Kyle is spouting off fitness theories or whatever to Forrest and Isobel, and Liz wanders toward the bleachers, leaving Alex and Michael effectively alone.

“You got a problem, Guerin?” Alex asks, tone forced casual.

“You pick up a boyfriend since I saw you last, private?” he replies.

Alex, little shit that he is, has the audacity to laugh.

“No,” he says, “but I’ll be sure to update my Facebook status for you the second I do.”

***

That’s the thing, too. Alex won’t admit he’s dating this tragic librarian loser. He doesn’t say anything to anyone. He brings F-word to The Pony where they sit on stools at the bar facing each other and practically fellating their bottlenecks from what Michael can tell from over the pool table, where he’s pretending to line up a shot; Alex has apparently introduced him to all their friends and Arturo, if their biweekly lunches at the Crashdown are any indication; and they text non-stop, Alex’s phone constantly buzzing in the pocket of his fatigues or the cupholder of the Jeep where he stores it while driving them to the library or the Project Shephard bunker, or dropping Michael off at the Airstream.

“Want me to check that for you?” Michael asks when it buzzes three times in a row during a food run for what they now call the Secret Science Lab, thanks to Cam’s big mouth and Liz’s continuing mortification.

“No,” Alex says easily, “it’s Forrest. It’s unrelated.”

“Could be an emergency,” Michael goads, “what if he needs you to help him touch up his roots? ”

Alex glares.

“Spoiler alert: He needs you to help him touch up his roots,” Michael says in an exaggerated whisper.

“You could be a little less subtle, you know,” Alex says.

“What?”

“This whole ‘jealous ex’ thing,” he says, jaw clenched. “It’s getting old.”

“We’re not exes,” Michael says, “we’re bros. And I’m just looking out for you. Bro.”

Alex rolls his eyes.

“Well, look somewhere else. I’m good.”

Michael grits his teeth, tries to forget that they once told each other I don’t look away and that Alex absolutely remembers.

***

It officially becomes too fucking much when Forrest is at his house. Not the actual guy, though that would be bad enough, but his junk. Michael drops off some documents for Alex one night and asks to use the bathroom. Alex shrugs and steps aside to let him pass. Alex likes a neat space; he grew up in a military household with his fucking psychopath of a father and old habits die hard or sometimes not at all. So Michael notices immediately when there is just stuff lying around. Some folders scattered across the low coffee table; a glass on the side table still dripping condensation onto the wood; an ugly Forrest green sweater draped over the back of a chair in the kitchen. These things are very much not Alex’s, but there they are strewn around Alex’s space like half of a What’s Different About These Two Images puzzle come to life.

Michael scoffs and says, “You know if I find his toothbrush in there I’m gonna use it to clean the toilet?”

Alex stiffens and his knuckles go white around the handle of his crutch.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he hisses, and Michael realizes too late that Alex is carrying all the markings of a crappy day in the rigid set of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw, and the way he leans heavily on his crutch as though he’s too proud to admit he would rather be resting. But they’ve been dancing around this massive, electric blue elephant between them for too long, and Michael isn’t going to back down now. Not his style.

“Oh, just that you apparently have a live-in boyfriend you didn’t bother to tell anyone about,” he says, lifting his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “No big deal.”

“So what if I do? Where are you parking your Airstream these days, Guerin?”

Michael avoids the question by pointing at the glass still sweating on the table and asking, “Be honest, did he jump out the back window when I knocked?”

“Why would he?” Alex spits. “He belongs here. You don’t.”

They both pause, their anger deflating at his words that hit a little too close to the core of what they definitely are not actually arguing about.

“You can’t just bring someone into our lives like it’s nothing, Alex,” Michael says, switching tactics.

“I would never tell him anything,” Alex answers, taking a hesitant step forward. “You know that. I would never.”

I would never tell.

I never look away.

I loved you. For a long time.

Michael hates the past tense. But the present sucks pretty hard right now, too.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles and turns back toward the front door. “Think I’m just gonna hold it. Have a good night, Alex.”

“Guerin-”

“Tell Forrest I said hello.”

#malex #malex fic #rnm #rnm fic #forrest #alex manes #michael guerin #angst #jealous michael #my fic #kylexbrotp

64 notes · View notes