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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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smoke and fire (16)

word count; 9744

summary; thomas does his best to explain and make amends for the interruption of the night before, but things always seem to get in the way.

notes; again, this part ended up getting too long so it was split up, the finale of this became the next part.

warnings; reference to drug use, reference to injury.

Slamming your car door shut, you took a deep breath. Brenda had collected you the night before and driven you back to the station to get your own car, a gesture you were thankful for because you weren’t so sure getting a cab would have been the best thing for you this morning. You were almost late, only a few minutes off the beginning of your shift, and you could still see the night team clearing out, sleepily waving polite greetings to you as they got into their vehicles to head home.

Grabbing your bag from the backseat, you slammed that door shut too, locking the car up and tucking your keys into the front pocket of your day bag, you didn’t even bother putting it onto your shoulder, covering your mouth with a yawn as you wandered towards the buildings main entrance. Your bag bumped against your leg as you went, feet dragging on the tarmac as you tried to shake away your exhaustion, a smile pulling at your lips as you remembered your night with Brenda.

As promised, she’d brought a bottle of wine and enough take-out food for the entire Squad, before following you back to your place upon picking up your car. You drank, and ate, and she listened to you complain about everything that had happened before doing her best to give you advice. She told you about how things were progressing between her and Minho, and that she was thinking of asking him out on a real date, and she watched Adam Sandler movies with you until the early hours.

You’d caught a few hours of sleep after she’d sobered up from half a bottle of wine and driven herself home, and you’d pumped yourself full of enough coffee this morning that you were almost jittering, but you still felt tired. However, you did feel a lot better.

Until you rounded the corner to the main door, and Thomas perked up from where he was slumped against the doorway, standing up straight as his back left the wall beside the door, eyes fixed on you as you approached, and your footsteps stumbled for a moment. He met you halfway, pausing before you and he stayed a foot or so away, hands twitching by his sides as debated whether or not to reach out, and you grasped your bag a little tighter, holding it with both hands now.

“I don’t know what to say, or where to start.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Thomas.” You let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping, and you shrugged. “I mean, there’s really nothing to say. There wasn’t anything hidden and there were no secrets, you didn’t sneak around behind my back, it’s just something that happened.”

“I know, but I wanted to explain to you that-”

“You bitch, how do you look better than me when you drank more than I did?” Brenda all but yelled the words, and you winced, chuckling a little as she came up to your side, hopping with her steps, and you admired how much energy she had.

“Pretty sure it was you who drank more than I did last night.” You retorted, and she shrugged, linking her arm through your own. The bell overhead chimed, muted from being inside, of the building as the door sat pegged open, and your eyes flickered to the building. “I haven’t even gotten changed yet, does this make me officially late?”

“I’ll distract Vince so you can sneak into the lockers?” Brenda teased, and you rolled your eyes at her, smiling nonetheless.

“I have to go.” You held your bag up, shaking it a little at Thomas, and he nodded his head, face smoothing out as his frown lessened a little.

“I know, I know. Can we talk, though? Please, at some point?” You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, before nodding, and trying to offer him the best smile you could, despite the pain swirling through you right now.

“Of course, later, alright? I have stuff to do first. I still need to fill out all the forms for medicine and equipment used yesterday. I didn’t do it after the call.”

“After that, though?”

“After that.” You confirmed, and he stepped out of your way, lingering for a while as Brenda tugged you along the corridor, her arm looped through your own as she pulled you away into the corridor. Once you were approaching the locker room with no Vince in sight to chastise you for not being changed yet, she glanced back over her shoulder, letting you copy, to catch sight of the doors to the common room swinging as Thomas walked into there instead of following. “What are we looking for?”

“Thomas.” She huffed, holding open the door for you as her arm left yours and you thanked her, jumping a little as it slammed closed, behind you both. She took a seat on the bench before you as you opened your locker, dropping your bag down and pulling it open to expose your uniform, before tugging your hoodie up and over your head. “So, you’re really just forgiving him? Just like that?”

“What are you talking about? He didn’t technically do anything wrong.” Her brows raised at you, eyes narrowing a little as she tried to analyse you, while you tugged your smart new shirt up your arms, buttoning it up over your vest. “Don’t look at me like that, Bren, you know it’s true. He loved her, and you know that as well. Of course, he told her things he didn’t tell me, they have way more of a history, a deeper connection than we do, and there was a lot of unfinished business because it was a messy end.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t love her, anymore. You told him all of your secrets!” She argued, and you nodded, undoing the belt of your jeans and popping the button, shimmying them down your legs before folding them alongside your hoodie. “If you love someone, you should be honest with them, and not let them be caught off-guard with a whole shitstorm of things they don’t know!”

“Exactly. If you love them.” You mumbled, covering your bare legs with your smart work trousers, and pushing your feet back into work-appropriate sneakers that you’d abandoned, listening to her huff as she caved, nothing else to say. “Really, I’m not mad, you shouldn’t be either, nobody should be mad at anyone.”

“Well, I need to be mad at someone, because I’m anxious about asking Minho if he wants to go to dinner with me, and I’m better at being angry than nervous. Anxiety doesn’t suit me.” She huffed, and you grinned, putting your bag away in the locker and swapping out what you needed, before sitting down beside her on the bench to tie your laces. “What if he says no?”

“Then he’s stupid.”

“Well, duh, I’m hot as hell and great in bed.” She scoffed, and you grinned, flicking her in the forehead for sassing you. “I know, but I mean, what happens to us if he says no? Do we keep on hooking up like I didn’t ask, will things get awkward?”

“Well, y’know, you have to ask. Otherwise, you’re always going to wonder what could have happened, and you’re so hung up on the bad that you’re not seeing how awesome things could be.”

“It seems ironic to hear you saying that, what with how you used to be.”

“I’m trying to give you genuine advice, smartass.” She let out a sound of protest at the insult, before letting the last of her nervous defences down for you. “Look, just ask him. If he says no, then you know where he stands and you can move on. Either way, you stop hooking up as ‘just coworkers’. You might become something more, you might not, but you gotta’ take the chance. The same way I took a chance all those months ago by staying here and not running away like I always do, and it worked out for the best.”

“The best? Even though things are rocky with you and Thomas?”

“Whatever is going on between me and Thomas is just a fleck on the surface of it all.” She stared at you, waiting for you to go on, a vulnerable look in her eyes. “The ‘best’ I referred to is finding a family and a home with you all, and finding best friends like you and Newt, and a place to stay for however long I can. I don’t want to move anywhere, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been happy where I was, but I am here, thanks to you all. Even if things never go any further between me and Thomas, we’ll still be friends.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. Which I rarely admit, so make the most of it.” She gave in, a smile taking over, and you held a hand out of her. She high-fived you, taking the offering, and you beamed, standing up and swinging your leg over the bench, before offering your hands out to her and pulling her to her own feet. “C’mon, I’ve got stock to take in the ambo, and you have a date to ponder.”

She sighed, dramatically, but wandered away with you. When you parted ways at the main door entrance, Newt was already sitting in the back of the ambulance, with the doors open, the clipboards out in front of him and both of your bags on the stretcher, the cupboards all open before him. The pen was held between his lips, and his phone was in hand one thumb moving rapidly over the screen as he typed away quickly, various diluted expression flickering over his face as he spoke.

You knocked on the door, your friend clearly not having sensed your arrival because he jumped rather violently when he heard your arrival, glancing at you for a second and letting his shoulders slump, before finishing his message and hitting ‘send’. He chucked his phone to the side to let it land on the beside your bags, and came forwards, sitting on the edge of the ambo’ and letting his legs swing. The pen dropped from his mouth, caught in his fingers and wiped on his shirt, your brows raising as you waited.

“I’m arguing with Derek.”

“Why?” You poked, his frown only deepening, and he shrugged a little, a flicker of anger passing over his features. “Seriously, what happened?”

“He cancelled our date, again. That night he was going to stay over, he didn’t but he said an emergency situation came in at the hospital and I figured that made sense. But then we rearranged for a week later, and he cancelled that too, and now he cancelled our rearrangement of the rearrangement which was supposed to be tonight, so I’m kinda’ mad.” Newt sighed, rolling his eyes slightly at his own reaction, and you plucked the pen and the clipboard from his hands, putting them down on the van floor and stepping a little closer. “I hate relationships.”

“Me too. You want a hug?”

“Mhm.” He stood, holding his arms out wide, and you wrapped yours around his waist as his went around your shoulders, squeezing you in tight to his body, and his chin hooking over your head. “So, why do you hate relationships? I thought you had a hot date last night?”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things get in the way. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, you know I’m here if you do want to, right?” Newt pulled back enough to look at you, and you nodded your head, unable to help the smile you let out at his honesty.

“Yeah, I know.” You nudged his shoulder, and he stepped back, picking the clipboard back up, and clambering up into the van, holding a hand out to tug you up to follow. “So, I’ll count, you do the math, and we get it done in half the time?”

“Deal.” He beamed, and you set to work, turning your focus to the first cabinet, and the sets of bottles. You knew that there was no chance you’d actually used this much medicine, half of these bottles still had the seal on because they were so rarely used, but it was your job to check not only the quantities used but also their expiration dates and what needed replacing.

After pulling on a clean pair of gloves, you opened each jar, tipping the contents out into your hand if it was opened and counting each pill carefully back into the packet, so then it could be checked against the medication logs issued out, Newt adding everything up and writing down each name of medicine or treatment as you went.

You checked every cabinet methodically, rearranging the bottles inside of their holsters and putting them back, moving across the cabinets above the beds. The pair of you moved ins silence, as you always did when doing this job, putting your main focus on the medicines you were calculating, but his company was simply soothing enough.

There was something about being with Newt that was calming, doing this job was calming. It hadn't always been so, for a few months when you’d first moved to this house it had been tense and made your skin crawl, the silence for well over an hour as you counted bottles save for calling out numbers and giving dates on bottles used to make you feel uncomfortable. Now, you loved it. The quiet time with Newt made you feel relaxed, like you could let your walls down, and the mundane task of counting the medications gave you time to think. It was a safe space you could always use to clear your thoughts, a weekly task that helped you to keep your mind in order.

There was a lot on your mind today, everything from fear and confusion to an odd sense of serenity. You already knew that no matter what happened, this was your home, and if things never progressed between you and Thomas, if the furthest the two of you ever got into exploring what could be was the kiss that barely counted on his couch, you weren’t going anywhere. These were your friends, this was your family, and it was an incredible feeling like a rush of warmth simply to know that you were strong enough this time to make it through the pain, and that you didn’t have to run anymore.

Moving across to the drawers behind yourself, Newt was purposefully avoiding the buzzing on his phone as he moved to the bed, the humming of ‘Mr Sandman’ under his breath getting a little more aggressive each time another text came in, and you snickered as you listened to him.

“You know, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“Yeah, but not right now. I’m mad right now.” He scoffed, turning the device off entirely, and you gave him a pointed look, which he was more than eager to avoid. His pen went back to scratching at the paper, scribbling down notes with a little more force than necessary, and you turned back to finishing the final drawers. The supplies in there were definitely running low, everything from the needles to fluid bags was on the short side, and you needed more water bottles to go in the fridge, because you’d used up the last of them.

When the job was finally complete, you were simply left with grabbing your bag, and taking it with you as you went to the stockroom, ready to count what was in them and grab what you needed. Flicking on the light, it was cold inside, the concrete walls having no radiators attached to them, and you shivered at the icy feeling that had gotten caught inside.

Placing your bag down on the table in the middle of the room as the musty yellow light overhead warmed up and got brighter, Newt grabbed the large plastic basket from the table and added that to the middle, the clipboard and plastic bag following. You sourced another pen from the pot, used to Newt’s routine by now, and he handed you two cheers of charted paperwork, keeping two himself, as the two of you split the supplies that needed gathering.

Turning to the shelves, you glanced down at the first item on the list, staring at the writing on the paper for a second, before giving in. “Newt, can I ask you a question about Thomas?”

“Sure! Especially if it’s something embarrassing. Did you know he cried when Tony Stark died? Sobbed like a toddler who got their toys taken away.”

“Okay, first of all, we all cried.” You mumbled, grabbing the first few bottles from the shelf that you needed, and stacking them into the box. “But, no, this is something serious.”

“Okay, well, shoot.” His voice was a little strained as he reached up to one of the higher shelves, pulling a box forwards to get at the contents inside, and you left a little tick next to each box as you gathered the correct amount, or left a number next to the ones where the full amount wasn’t available, so you’d know what to order more of.

“Do you think Thomas is still in love with Teresa?”

“Oh, fucking hell, it is a serious question.” He had turned to face you, you caught his eye as you twisted to another bottle of ‘carbamazepine’ into the crate of supplies. “It’s also a loaded answer.”

“Stop looking at me while you tell me, it’s making me nervous. Pack as you talk.” He chuckled at the request, turning back to his work, and taking a few hesitant moments, before letting out a slow breath.

“I don’t think he does, no. This house was having a lot of substitute paramedics filling in with me before you, and Thomas was angry and upset for a while, and he made it real difficult for anyone to take this job because for a few months he was sure she was coming back, and then he lost hope at all. Around about month eight, you showed up.”

You felt slightly nauseous, like you’d somehow started prying into his business where you weren’t welcome, but Newt was sharing it with you, and there was arguably nobody who knew Thomas better, and what he’d be okay with you knowing.

“He was still hurting when you showed up, as you know, but then he wasn’t hurting anymore. You changed that for him, and he was happy again, he didn’t blame himself so much and he wasn’t so mad. I don’t think he loves her anymore.”

You swallowed thickly, not too sure what to say, and so you switched onto the next page of your set, staring down at the numbers, and trying to clear your thoughts. It was a lot to take in; on the one hand, it filled you with warmth and made you feel a little more secure, but on the other hand, it only made you doubt things further, because you wondered why he’d never told you any of it himself.

“Why do you ask?”

“Teresa showed up last night.” Newt hissed under his breath, the shaking of pills inside plastic sounding, and he continued to pack his collection. He finished before you did, putting down his clipboard and pen before opening up his bag, and moving on to restocking it with sprays and cotton pads. “She said they had unfinished business, and she knew a whole bunch of stuff that made me feel like I barely knew him. I didn’t even know about his mom, Newt. She knows him, I don’t.”

“She also left him.” He sighed, clearing his throat and forcing you to look at him as you finished your sheets, taking your bag and standing opposite him. “What you and Tommy have is nothing like what they had. She already knew everything about him, he’s taking it slow with you, he’s nervous. Maybe that's why he didn’t say anything. He really likes you, okay? You should talk to him about this.”

“I know, I know.” You huffed, shaking your head slightly, and giving in to the silence again as you packed your bag up carefully. You filled it up again, a fresh canister of antiseptic, new cotton pads, fresh packers of paper stitches and needles threads, and some new painkillers. When you were done, you grabbed both bags, Newt grabbing the basket, and the pair of you headed back toward the ambo’.

When you arrived, there was someone leaning against it, and Newt froze in his tracks, face growing a little icy as he stared at the man there. He looked sullen, white lab coat and scrubs swapped out for skinny jeans and a hoodie, his hands tucked into the pockets, and you felt like you were suffocating in the tension.

“What are you doing here? I am working.” Your partner hissed, stepping a little closer, and Derek lifted a set of flowers that he’d placed on the bottom of the ambulance, an offering as he gave Newt a soft smile. “You can’t have those here, and not in the ambulance. Some people have hay-fever, you know.”

“C’mon, are you really still gonna’ be mad at me?”

“Yes, I am, because you keep fucking cancelling on me,” Newt muttered, stepping past his boyfriend and into the truck with his box, huffing when he stumbled a little on his leg, and Derek placed a supportive hand on his back. You offered your friend a shrug when the dark-haired man sent you a pitiful look, begging for help, but you had no idea what you could do. “You know, if we’re breaking up, just say it.”

“Do you think that if I wanted us to break up, that I would have come all the way down here with flowers to apologise after you stopped answering my texts? Huh?” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he was evidently exasperated with the situation, and you placed down your bags, under the stretcher, tucking them away securely, and Newt was angrily putting away bottles and packets. “I cancelled our first time, and that was a mistake, okay? The second time I just freaked out, because it had so much pressure on it then, and you know my relationship history.”

There was a story there, and you shuffled from foot to foot, feeling like you should go, but Newt shot you a desperate glare the second you took a few steps back, and you were frozen in your place to awkwardly endure the conversation you were listening to.

“Then, I felt bad for cancelling the second time because I was nervous. We rearranged again but I wanted to make it up to you, and do something more special, and you didn’t even give me a chance to explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain, you just keep cancelling! You’re the one who suggested taking this step!” Newt’s voice raised a little, nearing a shout, and you poured your lips together. “You said ‘maybe we should call it off for tonight, and wait a few more weeks, and do something else’. If you aren’t ready, or you don’t want to, just say it! But don’t keep rearranging if you don’t plan to go through with it!”

“I was trying to ask if you wanted to go away with me for the weekend!”

“You were-” Newt cut himself off from his shouting, his cheeks going red, and he stopped where he was putting away equipment to stare at his boyfriend. “You were?”

“Yes, you hot-head! I was trying to ask if you wanted to go away for the weekend, when there would be no interruptions, we could book it off. Then you got mad at me and stopped answering, so I had to drag myself out of bed, on my day off, to come down here and fix it.” Derek huffed, and you covered your mouth to muffle your chuckle, but it didn’t work, because both men turned to look at you.

“I’m gonna’ go get more water bottles. You keep unpacking.” Newt nodded, face still flushed, and you spun on your heel, smirking to yourself as you walked away. Entering the common room, a few of the firefighters turned to look at you, raised brows as you made your way through the kitchen to the large cupboards continuing water bottles.

“What’s with all the yelling?”

“Newt got a visitor, and some flowers.” You teased, gasps and teasing going up around the room, and Fry raced to the window with Brenda to peer out of it. Thomas was sitting at the kitchen island, an abandoned bowl that had the remnants of cereal sitting beside him, and he watched you go as you pulled out several packets of water bottles to refill the fridge with.

“Are you almost finished with the ambulance?” There was hope in his voice, his eyes wide as he looked at you, glitter swimming in his irises, and you nodded, closing the cupboard door with your foot. “We can, uh- we can talk soon, then?”

“Yeah, we can.” You lifted one packet of the bottles, feeling a little guilty at the cold shoulder you were giving him when you’d sworn to yourself you wouldn't because he wasn’t to blame, and that you wouldn't take your pain out on him, because that would only put the two of you back to where you were when you’d first joined this team. “Do you wanna’ help me carry the water? If you’re not busy?”

He perked up a little at that, a small smile forming and he stood up, reaching out for two packets straight away. “I’d love to.”

Following after you as you took one of the final two, he followed after you quietly, turning to look at you with raised brows as he backed through the swinging doors and caught sight of Derek and Newt. The two seemed to have calmed down considerably, Newt was no longer yelling, and instead, he had a beam on his face, sitting on the edge of the van where Derek was leaning and staring up at him with what could only be described as heart-eyes, and you huffed a little.

As you approached, Newt’s attention moved to you, his cheeks going red as you placed down your packet of water bottles, placing your hands on your hips, and Derek turned to give you a wider smile now that he wasn’t as stressed.

“You know, when you gave me his number, you promised me peaceful.”

“Uh, I absolutely did not. I could never promise peaceful from Newt. I promised calm and simple. I have delivered, because as far as I’m aware, Newt has yet to force you on a rollercoaster or make you go skydiving.” Newt gagged falsely, before tearing open the plastic of one packet loudly, and opening the fridge to begin stacking them inside.

“I hate rollercoasters.”

“I know.” You teased, and he flashed you a toothy grin, while continuing to put water bottles into the door of the mini-fridge. “There’s another packet of bottles, I’ll go grab it.” You jerked a thumb over your shoulder, Thomas sticking his hands into his pockets, turning to look at you as Derek began to say his goodbyes, the two talking quietly among themselves and consolidating plans with as much privacy as they could get. “Then, yeah, we talk.”

He nodded, motioning his head over towards one of the fire trucks, promising he’d wait there for you, and you only nodded. It took you only a few moments to grab the last collections of water, Derek walking away and offering you a wave as he left, a little more of a pep in his step and a smile on his face than it had been when the pair of you had first seen him, and Newt was grinning madly to himself in the back of the van as you approached.

“So, not as dire as suspected, then?”

You placed the bundle down, leaning over it a little and balancing your forearms on it, crossed over as you looked at him, and your partner sighed happily. “Okay, so, maybe I was overthinking it, and maybe I reacted too soon, but there was compelling evidence, you gotta’ give me that.”

“I never said I didn’t!” You teased, and Newt lifted a whole packet, unopened, and began to stack them into the fridge, the scuffling of shoes a few metres away reminding both of you of Thomas’ presence, and Newt gleaned at his best friend over your shoulder, a split second diversion, before his gaze was back to meeting your own. His look said it all, and you slumped a little more, pouting slightly. “I know, I know. I’m gonna’ face up to it, but sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

“He looks like a kicked puppy. I hate seeing him like that.” Newt frowned, and your shoulders slumped a little further. “I hate seeing you like this, too. It’s killing me.” He reached a hand out, placing it over your cheek, and swiping his thumb over your cheekbone gently, matching your pout. “I’m here if you need me. I’ll support you. I’ll finish up with the bottles and put the stock order through. Go sort your shit out.”

“Thanks, Newt.” You took a deep breath, your gut twisting anxiously, before standing up, and turning around to face Thomas, who was waiting patiently, and pretending not to be trying to eavesdrop.

Making your way over, Thomas offered you a small smile, lips pursed together, but it looked more pained than genuine, and you felt bad that he was so worried, because you didn’t want him to have to be scared to talk to you. No matter what, you’d still be his friend, and his family, and a member of his team.

He shook himself down slightly, and you lifted a hand, placing it on his arm gently, just below his elbow, giving it a light squeeze and he seemed to lose some of his tension at the simple action, his gaze dropping down to it. He paused for a second longer, but he looked back to you, and you could see the cogs working in his mind. “Relax, alright? You look like you’re about to have a meltdown. You wanted to talk, just say what's on your mind.”

“There’s so fucking much on my mind, though, and I can’t think straight.” He huffed, words running out so quickly they all ran together, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Look, first, I just wanted to apologise, okay? Before we get to anything else, I feel like shit for letting you walk away, and having to get Brenda to come and get you. I was just, I don’t know, in shock, I guess? I wasn’t thinking, just like I can’t think now, there’s so many fucking thoughts, my head hurts.”

You frowned, and his eyes flickered over your features, waiting for a reaction. You weren’t sure what to say, but his gaze was too intense, though he seemed to pick up on your forgiveness because while your touch dropped away from his arm, you didn’t step away, and you allowed him to take a hesitant step closer, lifting a hand towards your cheek. Before it could land, you were looking away, your brows furrowing, and he pushed away stray hairs from your forehead. “Uh, Aaron?”

“It’s Thomas, actually.” Your sights snapped back to the man before you, an unamused look on your face despite the twitches of your lips, a direct contrast to the smile he was wearing as he attempted to lighten the situation, and you smacked the back of your hand against his shoulder.

“No, dumbass, Aaron.” You pointed behind him, to the main bay doors, and he swung around, turning to face the driveway, and the young boy you had helped so many months ago was walking up the front pathway of the firehouse, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. His body sagged a little, hands falling to his sides and curling into light fists, jaw tensing a little, like he’d only just actually registered what you’d said. “Can I-”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll just, y’know, wait here.”

You smiled, as best you could with the heavy air settled between you both, before turning to Aaron. He glanced around the garage, seemingly nervous, hiding it behind a scowl before he finally saw you and an endearingly happy look took over the teens face. Your footsteps were quick, almost a skip as you made your way over to meet him at the entrance, and his hands untucked from his pockets, one pushing his hood down from his head to his neck, and you took him in for a second.

There were scars, faded and scarcely noticeable unless the cuts he’d once had were burned into your mind, and you hadn't noticed any kind of limp as he was walking up here, showing that his physical therapy had been paying off, almost a year of it making his recovery possible. There was more colour to his skin, he didn’t look as pale and washed out as the first times you’d met him, and his hair had grown longer, shaggy and sitting long enough for him to run his fingers through, covering the tips of his ears. His smile reached a little wider.

“Aaron, what are you doing here? I mean, I’m thrilled to see you, you look like you’re doing so much better, but this is a surprise.”

“Yeah, I can see that, it looks like I interrupted something important. Are you in trouble?” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart, and you turned to look back at Thomas, who was leaning against the firetruck and kicking his heel back against the tyre.

“I am, but not the kind you think.” You mumbled, staring at him for a second longer, before bringing your attention back to the kid before you. “So, what’s up?”

“I, uh, you’re part of my rehab. Well, my therapy, really.” He scratched at the back of his neck, an embarrassed laugh leaving him, and you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comfortingly. “I went to rehab, and I’ve been clean since the hospital, and my physical therapy worked, obviously. But, my sponsor suggested I started actual therapy, and for months I hated the idea, but I hit super low a couple weeks ago and I wanted to relapse but I didn’t want to let my sister down, and I didn’t want to let you down, and then I realised how long it had been since I’d seen you..”

“Oh, but I’m so happy for you! The fact that so much time passed by without you realising is a good thing. It means you’re doing well, and I couldn't be prouder of you.”

“Really?” He sighed, daring to look up from the concrete he was staring at, warm cheeks signalling his nerves.

“Really.”

He nodded, smiling again now, and letting his anxiety slip away, relaxing before your very eyes. “Good, because, I also wanted to ask you for some advice.” You raised a brow, curiosity filling you. “My therapist thinks I should set goals, y’know? I transferred schools and moved to a new neighbourhood and I got a kinda’ fresh start, and it’s nice, and my therapist says I should pick something to work towards. My grades in school are kinda’ crap and I’m working hard to pull them around but it’s a lot to catch up and with my history, I’m probably not going to college, so it leaves me with limited options.”

“Kid, don’t think like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Because, there’s a lot you can still do that doesn’t require you to have good grades. Maybe I won’t become a super cool paramedic, but,” He cut himself off, shy once again as he rocked on the balls of his feet, and you couldn't contain your smile. “Y’know, maybe a firehouse candidate doesn’t need all A’s?”

“You want to be a fireman?”

“I mean, is that too much?” He was worried now, and you hadn't intended for it to come across that way, shaking your head rapidly.

“No, of course, it isn’t! I’m just surprised. I’m also really, really happy for you. I think that sounds awesome.” He beamed, an expression that read like you’d made his whole day, and you filled with warmth at the idea. “I’m not sure on how it all works, I’m pretty sure you have to do a couple of training courses, and a season at the academy in your free time for your physical training, but I don’t know what that entails. However, one of our other firemen, Jeff, only finished his candidacy a couple of years ago, so he’s pretty fresh with it all. How about I talk to him, and get him to give you a call with some more information, yeah?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“‘Course I would, kiddo.” You reached out, messing up the mop of hair he had, and his face formed a scowl for just a second, smoothing it back down as you giggled, before turning away. “Let me grab you a pen and paper, hold on.”

He nodded, and you stepped away to the ambulance, opening up the passenger side door and reaching into the dash compartment, searching around for the pad and pen you knew was in there, among other pieces of junk, before finding both pieces. The young man took them from you when you returned, leaning against one of the side tables as he scribbled down the information he had; his name, his phone number, his email address, before handing it back over to you, his lips pursed to contain his expression as he kept up strong appearances.

“You’ll hear from him soon.”

“Thank you so much.” You tore the paper from the pad, tucking the pen through the rings and folding the used sheet neatly in half.

“It’s just some information on some courses. It’s nothing.”

“No, no.” He shrugged, biting his lips for a second, before focusing on what he wanted to say. “I meant, thank you for saving my life.”

There was more in his tone, more than just the physical act of changing his life, and as he stared at you honestly without a hint of anything but gratitude, you tried to blink back tears that were forming, and ignore the stinging in the back of your throat. “Well, that was my pleasure. Thanks for making me so proud with what you’ve chosen to do with it.”

“That was my pleasure.” He mocked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him, before he took a step back. “My foster mom is waiting for me in the car, I gotta’ go.”

“Go make me proud, come see me again soon, okay?”

“I will, I promise.” He hesitated for a second, before stepping forwards, and letting you wrap your arms around him as he squeezed you back just as tightly, sagging into you with what you guessed was a much-needed hug for him, running your hand up and down his back soothingly.

“You’re such a good kid, Aaron, you’re gonna’ be great.”

“I hope so.” His voice cracked slightly, and he avoided your eyes as he pulled back, rubbing at his nose and turning to make his way back toward the street.

He turned, waving at you for a second, before he was gone, getting into the car that was parked up and almost completely hidden by the bushes lining the pathway, but you saw enough to watch the excited look on his face as he spoke to his mom.

They chatted for a few minutes, before the car was pulling away, and you watched as he waved again upon seeing you still standing there, the car cruising past, and your cheeks were almost aching from your smile. Turning around, you detoured to the ambulance to put the pad and pen back, before Thomas was making his way over slowly, and you turned to him.

“Good chat?”

“He wants to be a fireman, Tommy.” His face softened a little at your joy, and you couldn't help it, feeling particularly attached to this patient, as he’d been so important to you, and you knew you’d never forget him. “He’s in therapy, and he didn’t relapse, and he wants to do something with his life. He said he wanted to make me and his family proud, and he wants to do something important and give back. God, he deserves it, he’s working so hard.”

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Thomas spoke gently, and you nodded, joy shooting through you.

“Yeah, it is. I told him I’d get Jeff to give him a ring or send him an email with some more information since he was a candidate pretty recently, but maybe you could too?”

“Of course, yeah.” You put the piece of paper securely into your pocket, patting it to confirm, before turning back to Thomas.

“Anyway, you were saying something before. You can continue now.” Thomas tensed up again almost immediately, and your mood was already beginning to lower again, but you tried not to let it sink any lower, no matter what Thomas had to say.

“I was just trying to tell you I was sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I mean, you loved her. Of course, she was going to know more about you, and it was messy, so there was unfinished business on her end and clearly some on your end, too. Which wasn't exactly a shock because you were still pretty upset over it when we met, I just didn’t know it still cut you up now.” You shrugged, confusion flicking over Thomas’ features, before dismay and disappointment were taking their place.

“That’s the thing, though, I didn’t know there was still unfinished business until she showed up. She was right there, and she was speaking about things like it was still a fresh wound and not something that happened almost two years ago, and it threw me.”

“Thomas..” You paused, nervous sickness sweeping over you again and you tried to steady it. “I think a little part of you must have known. I mean, I get it. It was sudden, and you were invested, and there was no build-up. But, you still had pictures of her up in your living room, and you still had her number, and ever after all this time, you were still willing to ‘catch up’ with her when she stepped back into your life. Somewhere, deep down, you knew, you just didn’t want to think about it.”

“I know how it looks, okay? I do, I really do, and I know I fucked up what we have going on, but there was more to it.” He paused, stuttering a little, before going silent, his words falling away, and he cursed himself under his breath as he tried to decide what to say. “She knows my mom, and I should have told you about my mom, I was going to, I planned to. But, it’s hard to just come out and say.”

“You think I’m mad, because you didn't tell me about your mom?”

“Well, I mean, I’m taking it from your tone that’s not what you’re mad about, but I don’t know if you’re mad at all, and whether that’s a good sign, or a really bad one, but-” Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you jumped violently, having forgotten that it was even there because you never normally carried it on shift, usually leaving it in your locker, but today was an exception. It continued buzzing, clearly not a text but a call, and Thomas’ face flushed with anger. “You’ve gotta’ be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot I even had it, let me put it on silent, okay?” You pulled it out, brow furrowing for a second as you looked at the number on screen, trying to place why you knew it, before the last few digits clicked in your mind. “Oh, it's the hospital! It must be about Gally!”

You looked up to Thomas, whose face smoothed over from anger at another interruption, but he nodded his head, seeming at least a little relieved. “Answer it, everyone needs to know.”

You clicked ‘accept’, bringing the device to your ear, and taking a few steps away to answer it. As you listened to the nurse on the end of the line talk, you could only focus on a few key pieces of information, humming and mumbling a few words of acknowledgement as you chewed on the nail of your thumb, pacing in the entrance of the garage.

Thomas watched you, waiting for a few minutes, trying to put together how you were feeling clearly as he stared at you, puzzled you didn’t doubt, and you eventually gave up on the spot. Nodding your head to the man, you motioned toward the common room, and he made his way to your side, the two of you walking there in silence as you entered the room, and Thomas made sure to round up anyone who wasn’t in the room, including Vince, everyone gathering in silence and the television being turned off as they all waited.

When you finally got done, all eyes were on you as you thanked the nurse who had called you, clicking your phone off and putting it away. Letting out a deep breath, your hands rubbed together, and a smile pulled on your cheeks.

“Gally is okay.” Cheering went up around the room, a giggle on your lips that only increased when Fry scooped you up, swinging you around in circles once your feet left the floor, and you slipped in his grip slightly, insisting he put you down so you could finish what you had to say; “They got the bleeding under control yesterday evening, he’s all stitched up, and last night he woke up from his meds and was able to do a few tests, before the painkillers knocked him out again. He’s had all his shots, and they finished up their examinations.”

“Why does it feel like there’s a ‘but’ to come, though?”

“Because there is.” Vince’s eyes narrowed a little bit, analytically as he studied you again, and you sighed, the joy in the room dropping away as everybody turned from their celebratory chatter to focus silently on you again. “There was a lot of nerve damage in his shoulder, and he still has some movement, but he struggles to make a tight fist. He doesn’t have enough strength to lift anything up, not even something light. Admittedly, it’s only been twelve hours and they’re optimistic about it, they have great physical therapy programs and Gally is a healthy guy, but they said they can’t promise anything solid yet, but he may not be able to return if he can’t pass the physical requirements with that arm anymore.”

“He’s okay, though?”

“He has some use of the arm, right?”

“They say anything else about his recovery?”

“How long until they discharge him?”

The questions came flying in, overwhelming you a little, and you sighed, swallowing down the lump in your throat as hesitation swept in. “He’s okay; and yes, he has some use of his arm, which is a really good sign right now. They said some people don’t show signs of movement after that kind of trauma for days after surgery, so he’s doin’ good. They didn’t say a lot, but that’s because they have to talk to him about his recovery options first, doctor-patient confidentiality, y’know?”

They nodded, taking it all in, and Clint spoke up, from where he’d been leaning against the wall in silence. “How long until we can see him?”

“We can go see him from tomorrow, as long as it’s during visiting hours, of course. As for discharging him, I’m not too sure, they didn’t say. If I had to make a guess, though, I’d say they’ll keep him for observations for another week or so, and then send him home on extended leave for work.”

That seemed to soothe everyone, plans to visit Gally and who would go and when immediately taking up, and Vince excused himself from the room, remaining professional despite his relief as he gave the reasoning of going to arrange a temporary Truck lieutenant replacement, but you suspected he just wanted to relax in his relief alone, where he didn’t seem any less strong or fit to lead by doing it in front of his crew.

You were floating on a little bit of a high, having seen Aaron and now having good news for Gally, what had started as a bad day was very rapidly becoming an epic one, despite the lingering sadness still hanging over it.

Scooter woofed, loudly, expressing his own excitement as he sensed everyone else's, and he sat up in his bed, the new cushion with his name stitched across the front that had arrived a few days ago, chosen specially by Minho himself as everyone chipped in for it, and you crouched down, tapping at the floor for him, and the puppy came bounding over.

Scratching behind his ears, his tail wagged excitedly, thumbing against the tiles floor when he sat down for you, before he was rolling over, exposing his belly to you for scratch, and you chuckled at his enthusiasm.

Golden fur as growing back on his body, no longer showing the patches that had been shaved, and he was almost at the end of his medication course, the pills that you had to crush and hide in his food to get him to at, and you certainly wouldn’t miss that struggle every day as you disguised the medicine he needed. His stitches had dissolved and burns were healed, a half-used tube of dog-friendly skin cream having worked wonders, and the bottoms of his paws that had been swollen and sore were all fixed up, allowing him to run and bound every time you took him for a walk without any pain.

“Hey, you know I taught him a new trick?” Minho came over, crouching beside the puppy and scratching at his tummy two, taking over as you pulled your hand back, and Scoot squirmed and yipped happily on the floor with his excitement. Something in Minho’s tone suggested he wasn’t talking about tricks like ‘sit down’ or ‘roll over’, and you chuckled. “Do you wanna’ see?”

“Yeah-”

“No!” Thomas interrupted, and you turned to him, brow raising, standing up a little before him, and his face crumpled a little. “I mean, in a few minutes. Just give us, like, fifteen minutes, please! No interruptions or anything, I just needed fifteen minutes to talk to you.” His tone was pleading, and you nodded, holding up your phone.

“Let’s go put this away in my locker, and then I'm all yours, alright?”

He nodded, following after you as everyone mingled around, returning to their business as they waited for the day to go by, and you unhooked your locker, placing it on the shelf inside as soon as you could. There was evidently a lot Thomas wanted to say, he looked like he was running through it in his mind, various expressions taking over one another in quick succession as his thoughts worked, and he followed you silently as you guided him out of the locker room, and into the hall. He took a breath, before you could speak, and then your name was being called by Brenda from the garage, and Thomas growled under his breath.

“Why are you the most popular person on the surface of the fucking planet today?”

His hand found your wrist, securely but not so tight as to hurt you, and he tugged you along behind him, ignoring the second shout of your name from Brenda as she entered the hallway at the opposite end of the corridor, noticing you. You glanced back, protesting a little as Thomas pulled you with him and guided you through the halls, before opening the door to his office. He looked stressed, closing the door, and turning to face you as your back pressed to it, eyes wide at the look on his face.

“I just need five damn minutes to tell you how I feel and what the hell is going on and I can’t get even thirty damn seconds today.” He wasn’t talking to you, more like yelling at the universe, but he was jittery and on edge over it all.

“Tommy..” His attention moved to you at the sound of the nickname, his features softening slightly.

“You’ve got me now. Just talk, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” He was whispering it to himself, calming down, and his eyes closed. Two deep breaths, and then he was looking back to you, sadness swimming in pretty brown irises. “The first time I called Teresa was a long time ago, okay? You’d been here for, like, two months. We were arguing all the time and I was pretty sure you despised me but you reminded me of her and it made me miss her more. I called her, and told her I missed her. And, yeah, I told my mom that too. But, that was before any of this started.”

He waved a finger between you both, pausing for a second, and you stepped a little closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek, which he happily leaned into. “Thomas, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” His hand closed over yours, holding your hand there for a second longer, before pulling it away. “I called her again, the night after the first time we spent a day together. After Chuck’s funeral. It had been so long since I had actually seen her, and we were drunk by the end of the night, and when I got home and I was alone again, I was sad and confused. “I wanted to tell her it was over, I wanted to finish whatever was unfinished between us, but she didn’t answer. Admittedly, it was like three in the morning by then, so I’m not really surprised she didn’t. But, by the morning, I wasn’t brave enough to face it again. It fucking hurts, still. All of it, it hurts to dig back up, but not as much as it did.”

“You’re brave, Thomas. You were brave telling me everything you have, and I know there’s something different and deeper that you had with her, and that’s okay. You can never just forget her, she was a part of your history.” He frowned, sensing it was going somewhere else. “I just need to know if I’m going to be a part of your future or not.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, Tommy.” He sighed, lips pursing when his chin wobbled, and you lifted your hand again, hovering near his cheek, and he nodded, letting you cup his jaw softly. “I’m not going anywhere, but you gotta’ decide, okay? I don’t want to be strung along, and I’m not mad at you. I’m not going anywhere, this is my home. So, no matter what happens, I’ll still be here and I’ll still be your friend.”

“I don’t want us to be just friends, though.”

You nodded, dropping your hand from his face, and he looked a little more broken as you did, but he let you step back. “I know, Thomas, but I can’t be a second choice, okay? I can’t be with you, if you’re still in love with her. Just make your choice, and let me know, okay?”

“But I don’t. Love her, I mean. Not anymore, you changed things. I know she’s back, and I sorted things out, and I know it all seems like I didn’t but I..” His words trailed off, not knowing what else to say, studying your face carefully as he tried to find what you were feeling, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was looking your feelings up tight.

Silence fell between you both, only the sounds of heavy and deep breaths to break the tension, before the chiming overhead muted by the closed office door called you both away to a call.

He paused, just for a second, before glancing at the door, signalling the pair of you to go. Once you opened the door, you could hear the rushing of the team, multiple footsteps and the sounds of engines starting as they all ran to their stations, boarding the vans, and as you reached the doorway to the corridor, a second before entering the busy garage, you turned to him, watching as he came to a halt from where he’d followed behind.

“If you want to try and make things work with her, that’s okay. If you want to make things work with me, then you already know I want that, too. I just need you to clear things up, that's all, and if you want us, then we’ll start over, okay? We’ll forget last night ever happened, okay?” He nodded, a vulnerable look on his face as he stared at you, hope flickering over his face. “You promised you’d never hurt me, Tommy, so just don’t hurt me.”

He only nodded, the two of you backing out into the main bay, and Newt was waiting next to the ambulance, the Truck can already pulling out, and Thomas was kicking off his shoes to pull on his work boots as you climbed into the passenger seat, following the first red van, as the second one followed the two of you.

Newt didn’t say anything, which you were grateful for, because your emotions were in overdrive, the idea of him picking an option that wasn’t you cutting deeper than you cared to admit, but he silently offered you companionship on the ride. He didn’t comment on your cracking voice or occasional sniffles as you tried to read off the information that had come through on the screen of the ambulance as he drove, to prepare you both for what was coming.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF

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mutants-and-soldiers · 4 years ago

Text

The Proposition (Ch. 1)

summary || You've been thinking about Steve's proposal a lot. Part of you wants to decline but a bigger part of you wants what he's offering.

pairing || alpha!Steve x omega!Reader (Past alpha!Bucky x omega!Reader)

word count || 3,706

warnings || A/B/O, eventual smut, therapy talks, kink negotiation, lots of dialogue — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes || I can't get this story out of my head, really! First chapter is all about setting up the smut so I apologize but I believe in talking things out. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first part of the series! I'm going to try and be better about answering comments from here on out! Keep the comments coming, I love hearing from you guys so much!

You can also read it on Ao3. Do not copy, translate, rewrite or repost any of my work, even if you credit me. I always welcome comments and reblogs!

Sequel to Helping Hands: One Two Three Four Five

Divider courtesy of the talented @firefly-graphics

After so many years of going to see Dr. Beta, you were used to the routine when you stepped through the doors. It was late in their work day so you were the only person in the office other than Valarie, the receptionist, who gave you a kind smile. “Good afternoon,” she said, typing something onto her computer. “Dr. Beta’s just about ready.”

“Thanks, Valarie,” you say, setting your bag down to take off your suit.

It had been weird the first time Dr. Beta had demanded you not wear the suit during your sessions. You protested but in the end, she won out. There were a lot of reasons for choosing a female-only office but this was the biggest one. They accommodate you so much just to make you feel welcome and safe in your own skin. It was one of the few places that you could take the suit off and feel comfortable.

The suit was just being zipped up into your bag when the door to the doctor’s office opened. Dr. Beta was a matronly middle aged woman with plenty of laugh lines and crow's feet from years of laughter and joy. She was a kind beta who had done wonders for your mental health and self esteem. Without her, you probably wouldn’t have gone through with the job proposal.

She called your name with a gentle smile, “You ready?”

“Yep,” you smiled, walking over to step into the room. The blinds were closed tight but there were several lamps around the space that allowed a soft light to keep it illuminated. The wooden diffuser was pumping out the soothing smell of lemon and sandalwood. Dr. Beta had always said the lemon helped cut the potency of your powers but you weren’t sure if that was true or if it was something she said to make you feel better.

The two of you settled into your usual spots before the doctor asks, “Anything new since we last saw each other?”

It had been a month since your last session. The milestone of going monthly instead of bi-monthly had been huge for you. There was a time that you saw her weekly, which was when you were at your lowest. You were glad to be where you were.

“Where do I even start?” you laugh, leaning casually back on the leather couch. The cold material felt nice on the bare skin that peeked out from your denim shorts and athletic tank top. “I’ve been meeting regularly with three guys to run with them every Tuesday and Thursday. We also go out for drinks and the game on Sunday.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic!” she gushed, genuinely excited for you. She even sat her clipboard and pen down to lean forward with her elbows on her knees. It was something she only did when you made some kind of...positive choice in your life. The way it made your chest swell with self pride was silly and kind of childish but the woman had always been extra motherly to you. “Clients?”

“One of them was,” you nod, trying to keep the flush of excitement from making you seem too eager. “They’re really nice guys and they invited me to start sparring with them next week after our runs.”

A gentle look crossed the doctor’s face that had you melting. It was a look that she gave when she was proud and the way your name came out of her mouth spoke volumes. “I’m so proud of you,” she said aloud even though you knew it by her body language. “It’s been a long time since you took time for yourself in your personal life. Are they on your level of martial arts?”

“Better!” you said, excited to have a good challenge.

“Better than you?” she laughed, sounding incredulous. “I’d have to see that to believe it!” You join her for the laugh. “Anything else?”

Your mind flutters to a certain blond and his proposition but decide to keep that to yourself for now. It wasn’t good for you to hide secrets from Dr. Beta and you usually didn’t, however, she would definitely encourage you to take him up on the offer. You didn’t think you were ready to come up with reasons (lies) for why you couldn’t do that yet.

“Not really.”

She nods, grabbing her clipboard to flip the paper. “Dr. Noland said you were going to get your heat early this time around. She said you mentioned you might know why?”

Damn it. You forgot how much the two doctors communicated between each other about your health. It was the program you were in and, while amazingly helpful, could be very annoying at times. Case in point, now you need to make a choice on whether to point blank lie to Dr. Beta or just tell the truth. Lying by omission was much more your style.

“Yeah,” you sigh, resigning yourself to the conversation. “The last client I helped had...intense pheromones. I think it may have kicked me into my heat cycle early.”

The doctor’s hazel eyes widened in shock, “Even with the suppressant you took?”

Nodding, you look away for a second. “The client was a super soldier,” you admit, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Understanding blossomed on her face when she made a guess as to who you were talking about. “Well, that might do it, for sure,” she nodded, making a note. “Still, I’m going to have Dr. Noland change your suppressant just in case it’s not working.”

She stood up, going over to the cabinet behind her desk. She took out a large bottle, tossing it to you, that had heat vitamins in them. Another bottle was thrown your way full of pills specifically for healthy slick production. The last thing she came over with were a few vouchers for omega-centric energy drinks and heat-snacks.

“I know you hate this question but I am legally required to ask,” she chuckles. “Do you have someone you trust to help you through your heat?”

You hesitate. “No.”

Her head snaps up, hazel eyes pinning you to the spot. “You hesitated. You never hesitate,” she points out with far too much excitement. She sets the clipboard down, doing the lean again. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Well, the cat was out of the bag and now you couldn’t lie because she would never believe you now. “I was...propositioned,” you admit, feeling stupidly relieved that you had been honest with her. She had conditioned you so fucking well to feel better when you told the truth as opposed to lying. It had been a ‘bad coping mechanism’ you created during your childhood to gain some control of your otherwise uncontrollable life.

“By one of your new friends?” she asked, already getting the gist of the conversation. “Was it your client?”

“No, not my client but his...best friend,” you whisper, feeling a little embarrassed that you were having this conversation.

Dr. Beta is quiet for a moment, contemplating how to ask the question. “What’s the big deal then? Why not take him up on the offer?”

You cringe. “There are…a lot of reasons but I’m sure you’re going to make them seem like they’re not problems but things I’ve blown up in my mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You know your feelings and worries are valid! I just help you see things in a more logical light. I think you should really talk this through with him but...would you like to practice with me?”

You bite your lower lip but give a heavy sigh when you realize there’s still nearly forty minutes left of your time with her. “Fine. It can’t hurt.”

You sat in the booth twitching with your napkin. You and the owner were good friends from back in your academy days so he allowed you to pay a certain amount for the whole rooftop terrace. It meant you could enjoy a meal with someone without having to wear your suit. You also got the same female server every time who knew your situation and didn’t care.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you heard a familiar voice say to your left.

Not really sure why, you stood up when he approached. He was wearing a thin blue zip-up jacket over a blue and white plaid button up shirt that was unbuttoned enough for you to see the white t-shirt he had under it. His jeans were dark and fit far too well around his massive thighs. A plain blue ball cap sat on his head and some fake glasses to help hide his identity. The smile he gave you was enough to make your preheat brain purr.

It took you by surprise when his big arms wrapped you up in a hug that smothered you in his masculine scent. Your hands touched his back, hugging him hesitantly. The squeeze lasted a little longer than you expected, just enough for your head to be perfectly swimming in his pheromones.

You pulled away when he did, allowing him to sit at the far side of the table, facing towards the rest of the area. He had insisted that you come without your suit so it was the least you could do to keep the waitress from noticing his erection.

“It’s okay, I ordered some water for us,” you smile, genuinely happy to see him. It wasn’t often that you saw any of the three men individually. They usually hung out in a pack and you were happy to know that you fit into the group pretty well. “Get whatever you want, Steve. It’s my treat.”

He gave you a look. “I would prefer it if you let me pay.”

Your heart gave a hard thump in your chest. There was something about the way he said it that was just short of a command. You look into his blue eyes, trying to gauge his intent before setting down the menu. “Is this some old-fashioned pride I see leaking through?” you tease, giving him a mischievous grin.

“No, I just figure it was only right that I buy you lunch before helping you with your heat,” he said so casually it made your face heat.

“What makes you think I’m going to agree?!” you laugh loudly.

There is a knowing glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “Isn’t that why we’re here? Alone?” he questioned easily, looking up just as Julia came to the table.

“Welcome back,” she greets you, setting two empty glasses and a pitcher of water down on the table. “My name’s Julia.”

“Nice to meet you Julia,” Steve responded with a neutral smile. It caught you a little off guard because it...definitely wasn’t the smile he gave you. Was it just part of his disguise?

You both ordered a beer and your entrees. It wasn’t until Julia walked away that you focused back on the alpha across from you. He was already looking at you with an intense expression. You feel like he’s basically prying into your soul.

“I...spoke with my therapist yesterday and…” you start, finding it very hard to talk about this kind of thing. It was so easy to soothe your clients but so hard to give yourself a break. “She...convinced me to talk with you about my...worries.”

His expression softens a bit. “I’m willing to work with you,” he soothes, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid. “Tell me everything.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not afraid of hurting you,” you blurt out. “You can take me even on your worst day. I’m...embarrassed to count myself among the small population of omegas that go...feral during their heat. I...fight my partner. Dr. Beta says it's because of the trauma I experienced. Trauma doesn't just disappear during heat...it gets worse. I’m just not the usual kind of docile omega that society seems to exemplify.”

He looks up to alert you that Julia was returning with your drinks. He didn’t speak until she was back inside the building. “Truthfully, I’m actually more intrigued than put off by the notion,” he finally said after taking a sip of his beer. “Do you fight the whole time or just in the beginning?”

It wasn’t a line of questioning that you expected so you gaped at him like a fish out of water for a few seconds before finding your words. “I don’t...know,” you admit sheepishly, sipping your hard cider. “I’ve only been with one alpha during my heat and he had to go to the hospital a few hours into it.”

Something dark and tempting flashed through the blond’s eyes. “How do you feel about restraints?”

Your core throbbed at the simple question. It probably showed on your face because his smile started to widen in understanding. “Yes, that’s fine,” you breathe, trying not to think too hard about the implications.

“Would you prefer to do this at your house or in my suite?” he asked as if you had already agreed to the whole thing.

Your mind screamed at you to say decline. It was dangerous and there were so many things that could go wrong. Your omega brain though had already bought into the whole thing. You wanted this big, powerful alpha to hold you down and take you in the most forceful of ways. You wanted him to restrain you to your nest and have his way with you until the heat fog cleared.

“Wait, wait,” you say, trying to finish your thoughts before deciding anything. “I’m serious when I say I’m insatiable. I don’t have any refractory period between one wave and the next.”

Julia opens the door, alerting you both that she was coming out with food. You both wait until everything is set and she walks away before continuing. The food smells delicious so you grab the burger and bite into it. You always craved red meat before your heat so when the flavors burst across your taste buds, you hum in appreciation.

Steve took a few bites of his own meal before responding. “The super soldier serum makes it so I don’t have any refractory period,” he shrugs casually with a smile. “I’ve never met someone who could keep up with me so...I’m interested to see if you can. Any other worries?”

Heat blossoms across your cheek and in your chest. “I don’t want our friendship to be jeopardized,” you finally admit after finishing half of your burger. You grab some of the fries and eat them while thinking.

“Did helping Bucky keep you from being friends with him?”

“No, of course not,” you sigh, running out of excuses. Dr. Beta had been right, talking with him had definitely made you a little more comfortable with the idea. “Fine, okay, I accept your offer.”

“My place or yours?” he asks with a genuine smile.

You mull over the question for a bit before shrugging. “I have all of my nesting supplies at my house so we can do it at mine,” you chuckle, feeling a little nervous but excited too.

He nods. “Do I need to bring any supplies? Snacks or drinks?”

The two of you continue talking about the logistics of your heat while you finish the food. It makes you feel a lot better knowing you wouldn’t have to go through with it alone. You had already taken the initiative to send a message to all of your clients to let them know you would be out for your heat. You even went ahead and took an extra week just for yourself.

After you pay and you have your layers back on, the two of you stand outside the doors to the restaurant. You don’t want to leave him, truthfully. He smelt so good and you were so close to your heat that it was hard to separate from him. “Thanks for talking with me,” you smile despite the bonnet covering everything but your eyes. “I’ll give you a text when I’m ready.”

“Of course, thanks for lunch,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead through the layers. “Here, take this for your nest.”

He shucked his jacket and offered it. Your hand reaches out to take it slowly. “Thanks but this might just push me into it faster,” you laugh brightly, holding the large jacket close to your chest. You could smell the scent of him even through all of your layers. It made your head foggy.

“That’s the idea,” he smirked, turning towards the tower with a wave. “Just let me know when you want me to come over.”

You watch him walk away, eyes lingering on the way his biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt and down until you stared at his toned ass in those jeans. It was obvious how close you were to your heat when sweat started to form along your temples and slick started to dampen your panties.

Once you got back home, you arranged your snacks and vitamins on the counter so they were easy for Steve to find. He might need to feed you for the first few waves because you weren’t sure if you’d be coherent or not. Then you went into your extra bedroom that you used for your heats and started getting it ready.

You pulled out all of your slick-resistant pillows, cushions and blankets from the closet to make a nest on your king sized bed. It was a nice four post bed that had your mind in dark places. All you could think about was being restrained with cuffs around one of those posts while Steve fucked into you.

It didn’t take long before you needed a pad for all of the fucking slick that was making everything so annoying. The nest took a lot longer that you would like to admit because it just didn’t seem...right. You’d never had this kind of issue before but your omega brain wanted Steve to be comfortable and happy too.

Looking back at the closet, you debated on whether or not you wanted to pull out the box of toys. You weren’t sure if Steve would want them or need them or…

“Fuck it,” you mutter, grabbing your phone to send the alpha a quick text. Toys or no toys?

You were adding his jacket to your nest when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Instead of the one or two word answer that you expected, it was...something else.

Definitely toys. I’ll enjoy teasing you until you’re begging for my knot.

Fuckin’ hell! Was this the same blond with the surprisingly boyish face that you had met during lunch today? The same guy that Sam teased about being an old virgin?

You didn’t think the pad was going to hold up to all of the slick that gush from you at the text. How does one respond to a text like that? You grabbed out the delicate pink box out of the closet, wincing at the color because it was the only color that the shop had to store your toys. Omegas were feminine right?! They liked pink, right?!

Laughing at yourself, you set the box on the little table in the room. You opened the lid and set it to the side so you could look at your assortment of toys. It was a collection you started when your first heat hit you at sixteen. You had been a late bloomer because of your constant martial arts training, which stilted your omega hormones.

It had all the necessities and even some extras. You had your typical knot dildo, a vibrator, a clit vibe, a few different types of condoms for when you weren’t in your heat, a bottle of lube that encouraged slick production, a bottle of regular lube, and a few different sized anal plugs. The last few were just because you enjoyed the feeling of being full when having sex.

Quickly you took a picture of the box and sent it to Steve as a reply. It was the best you could come up with. You had never really been good at those kinds of things. Well, you’d never had someone try and sext you.

Happy that everything was prepared, you cuddled under your fuzzy blanket in your nest. Comfort flooded through you as you nuzzled into the man’s jacket, deeply taking in his scent. It was nice and musky and made you feel warm and safe.

The phone buzzed. You’re okay with anal during your heat?

Your pheromone idled brain made you giggle, “Consent is important,” before you could text him back. Yes, I like being stuffed full.

It didn’t even register how inappropriate the text sounded before you hit send. You were obviously a lot further along than you had previously thought. The subtle throb of your core was starting to get worse but you weren’t too far gone to see his last text.

Good to know. Get some rest. Need me to come out and check on you before dark?

You groaned as a cramp hit your pelvis, slick becoming an issue. It simultaneously hurt and felt good. You were so distracted that you couldn’t answer the text message. Everything was suddenly too hot so you threw off your clothing, slipping your hand down to brush against your clit. It was already so sensitive it hurt but you needed relief.

It wasn’t enough and you knew that it would be futile to try and get yourself off with just your fingers but your brain wasn’t working. You groaned helplessly as the lackluster orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t enough, so frustratingly not enough. Sweat dripped down your cheek from your hairline making you kick off the blanket so you could turn over.

You didn’t care how it looked with your ass up because the scent of Steve on the jacket helped clear your head a little. It made your core throb but it also helped you become coherent. Enough so that you grabbed the phone and typed in a one word response that only said:

Now.

Credits for the pictures in Moodboard:

Unsplash photographers:

1. Kelly Sikkema

2. Vulkan Olmez

3. Toa Heftiba

Like, comment and reblogs are always welcome! Thanks for reading!

#a/b/o verse #alpha!steve x omega!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #eventual smut #kink negotiation #therapy #mutants #fanfiction

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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

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 32

A/N: Another ‘friend’ of ours makes an appearance in this chapter (unfortunately for me lmao)

August 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was as prepared as she could be for Game 1 against the Columbus Blue Jackets.

Scotiabank Arena was freezing – more freezing than normal – because of the three-games-a-day and all the hockey being played. She knew the players and team personnel would complain if the ice was crap (apparently they could tell, though it beat the shit out of her how they could tell), and of course Scotiabank Arena, and the Leafs in general, wanted to make an excellent impression. They were the centre of the hockey world, so Aberdeen knew they could pull it off. It just didn’t help that it was August and it felt like early November indoors.

She joined Brendan and Kyle in their usual box – luckily they didn’t have to give that up. The team was taking their pre-game skate below and Aberdeen watched as William shot pucks towards Freddie in the net, sneaking one past him before skating around their perimeter of the rink a few times. On the other side of the ice, the Columbus Blue Jackets were doing the exact same thing, though she barely knew or recognized a soul on the team. One of them could walk by her in the arena and she wouldn’t know better.

“How do you think it’s gonna go?” Brendan asked from six feet away from her, his black mask covering his face.

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “You should stop asking me these questions, Brendan. I know nothing about hockey.”

“That may be,” he said, not letting up, “but you know the boys, on a level far superior than your knowledge of hockey. So what do you say?”

Aberdeen thought about it. She knew them on a personal level, but that didn’t matter at all – at least she didn’t think it mattered – when it came to a playoff game. She knew how much pressure the guys were under. She also knew that they were still adjusting to the bubble life and how weird everything was. Make no mistake – they were being taken care of exceptionally well by the staff at the Royal York Hotel, and Aberdeen made sure she said a loud thank you to every worker she came across and interacted with. She heard every single one of the guys do the exact same thing. But she didn’t know how that would translate into a hockey game. They were two different things. They were to different entities that she had no idea how to join together.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, her voice soft. “When you ask me these questions, I feel like you want me to be Nostradamus or something. What if I said they were going to lose 2-0?”

“I’d believe you,” Brendan shrugged.

***

The Leafs lost 2-0.

“C’mon Nostradamus,” Brendan said as he packed up his clipboard and tucked it under his arm. “The social media posts can wait. You need to go mediate the post-game interviews and press calls.”

Aberdeen packed up her iPad after she rolled her eyes. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have responded ‘They’re going to win 5-0!’ the first time he ever asked her that question and kept that answer throughout the entire season. She followed six feet behind Kyle, who was in turn six feet behind Brendan, as they made their way to the locker room. By the time they got there, Sheldon was nearing the end of his post-game speech. Most of the guys were half undressed – at least at the top – and a few of them were shoving off their elbow pads and chucking their tape from their socks into the bins. They all looked irritated.

She made her way into the media room and set up the Zoom call where a bunch of reporters joined. Morgan and Auston walked into the room, and she quickly typed in the chat which players were there so they could organize their questions accordingly. Morgan and Auston sat down in their chairs.

“Is Steve on the call?” Auston asked suddenly while Aberdeen was adjusting the camera.

“Uh, yeah. Why?” she asked.

Auston pursed his lips together and shrugged it off.

The interviews were going fine. She hated hearing the sound of her own voice on recordings but she knew she’d have to suck it up for the sake of the media call. She called on each reporter by name. The boys answered their questions. It was all very routine.

“Steve Simmons from the Toronto Sun,” Aberdeen called out. She waited, and while waiting, she saw Morgan’s and Auston’s demeanour completely change.

“Uhhh, Steve Simmons, Toronto Sun for Auston – it’s one thing to hear about how tight they play, and to even watch the films of how tight they play. What was it like to experience it?”

Auston took the lead. “Uh, well I mean first of all, it’s unfortunate that I’mn getting a question from you at this point, Steve, but I just wanted to say I didn’t really appreciate the article you wrote about me a couple months ago. I thought, uh, it was very unethical to be honest, but…uh, moving along…”

Aberdeen didn’t hear the rest of his answer. Truthfully, she didn’t care. All she could feel was a burning sensation shooting up her spine at Auston’s words. He did it. He called out Steve Simmons, the most annoying reporter known to mankind.

She smirked.

***

After the media interviews, Aberdeen found a quiet space and took out her iPad again to post the final score graphic to the team’s Instagram page. As she finished typing the caption – ‘Battled hard. Back at it on Tuesday.’ – she heard some fairly loud footsteps behind her before they stopped. “A girl?” a voice from behind her said.

She didn’t recognize it – and it wasn’t like anybody from the team would refer to her as “a girl” – so she furrowed her brows and turned around. She saw what had to be a member of the Columbus Blue Jackets staring at her. She couldn’t see it, but she automatically knew from the way he was standing and the energy he gave off that he was smirking smugly underneath his mask. “Yeah, we exist,” she shot him a look, not ready to take any bullshit from him or anybody else. The way these men thought she was a complete novelty astounded her. “Have you never seen one of us before?”

“So Barzy was right,” the man continued. “The Leafs have a girl in their bubble. Incredible.”

Aberdeen could tell by the way he said and emphasized girl that this conversation – if you could call it that – was gonna be a doozy. The guy was huge but didn’t look any older than she was, so she knew she would be able to put him in his place. “What are you even doing in this hallway? You’re not supposed to be on this side,” she said sternly. “I suggest you leave and go back to your area of the arena unless you want me to complain to the NHL that your breaching protocol.”

From the very end of the hallway, another figure walked by, stopping at the gap when he apparently found who he was looking for. Aberdeen could at least recognize him – John Tortorella, the head coach of the Columbus Blue Jackets. “Pierre, what the fuck are you doing there? Come on, we gotta go.”

The man, named Pierre, gave Aberdeen a smoldering look. She rolled her eyes. “Must have taken a wrong turn,” he said, loud enough so John would hear.

Dead set on not taking any bullshit, and just really, really wanting to put this guy in his place, Aberdeen didn’t let up. “Perhaps you should remind Pierre of how to speak to the staff of another NHL team,” she said sternly. Both men were too far away to notice how red she was getting, but she could see Pierre whip his head to look at her and his eyes go wide in shock. “And perhaps he should read another copy of the social distancing and bubble protocols tonight in his bedroom so he doesn’t make this unfortunate decision again,” she said, deliberately using ‘decision’ instead of ‘mistake’, because she fucking knew this was no mistake. She wondered what other rumours were swirling in the Royal York about a girl being in the Leafs bubble.

Pierre scurried to the end of the hallway. From her spot, she could hear John chuckle. “You must be the Aberdeen Bloom I’ve only ever heard good things about,” he said. “Keep it up. I might ask you to take my place to keep the boys in line.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Pierre took one last look between his coach and ‘the girl’. “I could take ‘em,” Aberdeen commented, getting a nod from John before he and Pierre disappeared.

She let out a breath.

***

After the team got back to the hotel, picked up their pre-packaged dinner, and settled into their rooms, Aberdeen showered and changed. She sat at the desk where she put the meal and took out her phone. She sent some quick texts to her parents, Siena, and Camden before bringing up William’s name.

U up?

lmao minskatt isnt that what i should be saying to u *wink emoji*

Do you want to eat dinner together?

of course

I’m ready whenever you are babe

She waited for him to start the call. Not even two minutes later, her phone began to ring and “Head Empty” flashed across the screen. She accepted the FaceTime call almost immediately. When it connected and he appeared on her screen, walking in his hotel room with his bathrobe on and his hair wet and tied back, she smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi minskatt,” he said, his voice low. She watched as he put a pair of headphones on. “That’s better.”

Hers were already in. “I’m sorry about the game tonight,” she said, perching her phone on a high point on the desk. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not really. At least, not right now,” he said, putting his phone down too. “Maybe later. Like, after we have dinner.”

“Promise me we will.”

“I promise,” he said, looking into the phone. He knew she would want him to talk about it, and he made her a promise all those months ago. He would never break it. “Right now I just want to have dinner over FaceTime with my girlfriend even though we’re less than fifty feet away from each other.”

Aberdeen chuckled, if only because she agreed wholeheartedly that this whole thing was ridiculous. The tone of William’s voice made her know that he thought it completely ridiculous too. “It’s hard. I know. At least we get free food,” she held up a forkful of the marinated chicken breast. “And good food. It’s not like it’s airplane food.”

William smiled slightly. “First thing I do when we get out of here is bring you to Canoe or Ardo or Miku and splurge on every meal they have on the menu,” he said.

“Sounds good to me. Maybe by then I’ll have a new job to celebrate, anyway.”

“How’s the article coming along?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. She’s started in the other day and already had about 1500 words worth of material. She figured the best way to go about it was keep a sort of diary every day and then edit it down when she could. “Might talk about how fucking awkward you hockey boys are these days with women.”

“I’m excluded from that, right?” he asked. “I mean, I totally swept you off your feet when we first met.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You did.”

***

August 3rd, 2020

Aberdeen accompanied the team to one of the workout facilities just so she could catch a glimpse of sone sunshine on the day off. Instead of working out, she sat on the sidelines of where all the equipment was and the boys worked out, furiously typing away on her personal laptop. Every so often when she’d glance up, she’d see Morgan’s thighs almost ripping through his shorts as he did some lunges; she’d see Auston’s biceps almost bursting through his sleeves as he lifted weights above his head; she’d see William’s thick torso exposed as his shirt rode up from him throwing a heavy medicine ball above his head.

A million girls in this city would kill her to be in her position.

And here she was, writing 10,000 words about them instead of ogling them. Well, everyone except her secret boyfriend.

***

August 4th, 2020

Game 2.

Aberdeen was confident that the boys would respond to Columbus’s win in Game 1. She could tell in their energy throughout the day and in the arena they were ready and they were ready to win.

“Hey Nostradamus,” Brendan called out, winking. Aberdeen saw Kyle chuckle from behind his mask. “What’s the score gonna be?”

“Oh shut it,” she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking to herself. Except she couldn’t hold her tongue. “3-0, but this time for us.”

“I believe her!” Kyle piped up.

Brendan snorted. “Who’s placing bets?!”

The bell rang and everybody settled down to stand for the anthem. As the game got underway, Aberdeen could feel rushes of electricity move up her spine every time the Leafs touched the puck. They were playing phenomenally. They looked focused, into it, and like a complete team. It was a night and day difference from Game 1. Though the first period didn’t have any goals, Aberdeen knew they’d be coming – for the Leafs only.

In the second period Auston scored and Aberdeen jumped out of her seat to celebrate. And when John scored late in the third period to get a two goal lead, she was even happier.

Then, with less than two minutes left, disaster hit.

It was a play behind the net. Pierre Luc Dubois – the guy from the other day, Aberdeen had learned – basically cross-checked Jake Muzzin, and Jake fell awkwardly, trying to break it, with his head hitting a Blue Jackets player’s leg. He fell to the ice.

He wasn’t getting up. And the referee hadn’t blown the whistle.

Those fuckers.

“BLOW THE FUCKING WHISTLE!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs, startling Brendan and Kyle. Her face was turning red. She was sure she’d been so loud the referee actually heard her, because he finally blew it. Jake was having a hard time getting up, and then he lay back down. One of the trainers immediately made his way onto the ice, rushing towards Jake.

The replays began to play from every angle, and Aberdeen watched on the TV screen in the box how his head and neck contorted once he hit the player’s thigh. She had tears in her eyes as she watched the worst angles. She looked back out onto the ice to see Jake still lying there. The trainer was still with him, though more were making their way onto the ice now. Then, she saw one of the trainers put his hands near Jake’s neck. They called for a stretcher.

She bolted out of her seat.

“Aberdeen!” she could hear Brendan call out after her, but she didn’t listen. She didn’t turn around. She hurried down to ice level, her mind running a mile a minute, and flashed her credentials to anyone and everyone she needed to, not bothering to stop so they could actually see them.

By the time she got to ice level, she could hear the distant sound of sticks tapping, letting her know he was being stretched off. She met all the trainers and the stretcher at the entrance. “Jake?!” she asked frantically.

“Aberdeen?” he asked.

“Are you okay? Did you break your neck?!”

“I didn’t break my neck. I can feel my arms and legs,” he said. Aberdeen let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “Did it look scary?”

“Is that a joke?” she asked. “I ran down here the second they called for the stretcher.”

“We’re going to take him to the hospital. He’s going to have to leave the bubble,” the head trainer informed Aberdeen. “You need to tell Brendan and Kyle. Then update us on the protocol of what it will take to get him back into the hotel.”

Before she could acknowledge what was just said, Jake spoke up again. “Aberdeen?”

“Yeah Jake?”

“You need to call Courtney for me. Tell her I’m okay,” he said. “She’s probably worried sick.”

Aberdeen’s heart sunk into her stomach. Courtney. “Yeah yeah, of course—”

“—You have her number, right—”

“—We really need to get him to the hospital—”

“—Yeah, I have her number—”

“—Call Courtney, please,” were Jake’s last words before he was stretchered off.

Aberdeen watched until they were out of her line of sight. For a few moments, the images of what just happened flashed through her mind, and she momentarily forgot about everything. She felt sick to her stomach. Jake said he felt okay, but she knew hockey players always just said that. Morgan had been playing injured for the better part of the year until he actually got injured. High sticks to the face, lost teeth, blood drawn – these guys just put a bandaid on it and said they were fine. But this was different.

When Courtney’s face crossed her mind, she jolted back to life and grabbed her phone out of her pocket, scrolling until she found Courtney’s number. The phone didn’t even have to ring twice. “Aberdeen?!” she asked frantically. “How’s Jake?”

“Hey Court—he’s okay—”

“He’s okay?!”

“Well, they’re bringing him to the hospital right now,” she said. “But I was able to talk to him because I rushed down to ice level and he told me he was fine and to call you.”

“So you—you were able to talk to him,” Courtney said, her voice much calmer than just moments before. “You saw him?”

“Yes. He told me he could move his arms and legs,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Okay. Okay. Does that mean he has to leave the bubble though? I mean can I go visit him?”

Aberdeen cringed. “I don’t think so,” she said. As she did, she could hear Luna being fussy in the background and Courtney trying to calm her. “The NHL has an agreement with Toronto General about potential injuries. If everything is okay and he comes back into the bubble, all he has to do is pass three negative tests,” she explained, listening to Luna get even fussier.

“Okay. Alright. But they’ll call me, right?”

“Absolutely. I’m sure Jake will even be able to call you from the hospital. Our trainers all have their phones on them.”

“Thanks Aberdeen,” Courtney said, and Aberdeen could hear the relief in her voice. She knew all Courtney wanted was to hear from her husband. Luna let out a loud cry. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Court,” Aberdeen ended the call.

Families. So many of them had families. So many of them had families that were suffering and making do with a prolonged absence and Aberdeen couldn’t take it. The players were sacrificing so much to be in the bubble. And their families were sacrificing so much letting them go into the bubble. She knew most of them had money – to cope, to do whatever, really – but that didn’t compensate for presence. That didn’t compensate for having daddy around to play and snuggle with.

She began to cry as she found herself walking towards the locker room, not even knowing whether or not the game had ended. She didn’t really care at this point. All she could think about was Courtney and Luna at home, worrying about Jake as he was being taken to the hospital. To Aberdeen, nothing else mattered right now.

She heard some commotion from the locker room and she knew the boys were back in. She didn’t know how long they’d been back for, and didn’t bother to peek in to see. She didn’t want to when her eyes were still red and welling up with tears. Instead, she hid herself around a corner, crouching down with her knees against her chest, wiping at her eyes every so often and trying to control her emotions before having to go in, or getting called by Brendan, or by Kyle, or—

“There you are.”

Well, so much for that.

She looked up from her crouched position and saw Jason looking down at her. He wasn’t completely undressed – he had all his UnderArmour on – but he was still sweaty from the game and his hair was matted against his head. She wiped her eyes one last time before getting up. “Hi.”

“Did you see Jake?”

She nodded. “He’s okay. He can feel and move his arms and legs or whatever.”

“Why are you crying?”

She knew he wasn’t asking to be insolent, but did she really have to have to spell it out for him? “Don’t tell me you’re immune to this shit,” she said. “I just had to call Courtney and explain to her that her husband didn’t break his neck and end his God damn career. Luna was crying in the background. It’s a lot, okay?”

Jason nodded his head. “I know it is. I’m not trying to…fuck, I know that came out wrong. He’s gonna be okay, Aberdeen.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Aberdeen,” he said soothingly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She shook her head, wiping away the last of her tears. “I know. I’m just being a big baby.”

“No you’re not,” Jason said. “You’re not being a big baby. You’re being a human being. Someone you cared about got hurt. Do you want to talk about it when you get back to the hotel?” he asked.

She considered it for only half a second before she shook her head. “No. I know you call your girls every night. I can’t take time away from them.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I’ll be okay,” she asserted. “I promise. I’ll be okay.”

“Aberdeen!” Kyle’s voice suddenly called out. He rushed towards her with his phone in his hand. “They took him to the hospital, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, trying to steady her voice and make it seem as professional as possible. “He’s technically left the bubble, so we have to update the trainers on protocol to get him back into the hotel and how—”

“I’ll handle that with Brendan and Josh,” he interrupted. “But he was okay?”

“He could feel his arms and legs. That’s what he told me. Then he asked me to call Courtney and I did that.”

Kyle nodded his head, looking – really looking – at Aberdeen for the first time in their conversation. “Were you crying?”

“I’m going to be fine,” was all she said.

***

“I’m going to come to your room,” William said through the phone in a strained voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Aberdeen chastised him, a new batch of tears having fallen down her face as she lay in bed. “Don’t you even think about leaving your room, William.”

“Aberdeen, you need me and I need to be with you right now—”

“And you need to stay in your room so you don’t get kicked out of the bubble,” she said sternly. “I’m being serious, Will. Don’t come over.”

She watched as he bit his lip and shook his head. She could see all over his face how conflicted he was. It was one of the things she loved most about him – to the world, he seemed cool and unemotional and that he didn’t really care about anything or take anything too seriously, but to her, he was the entire range of emotions in one conversation. He had a heart full of gold and she knew it would always stay that way. “This is killing me, minskatt,” he whispered, his voice defeated. “I want to be there for you when you need me. Always. I mean…you need me, right?”

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know where this was coming from, but like some things with William, she felt like it was something that had been on his mind for a while and was only letting out now. He was still learning to talk to her about his feelings. He was keeping his promise from February, so she could appreciate that. “Of course I need you,” she said softly. “I’ll always need you like you need me. We’re in this together. You know that. But you need to be on this team right now. You need to help them fight. This isn’t about me. It’s about the team.”

“It’s always about you,” William said. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s always about you.”

“Don’t make it about me right now, Willy. It’s not about me. It’s about Jake, and the team,” she paused for dramatic effect. “Make it about me later,” she added, trying to be humourous.

It garnered a small smile from him, and she felt proud of herself. “I love you, minskatt.”

“I love you too Willy. Promise me you’ll get some sleep?”

He nodded slightly. “I promise.”

***

Aberdeen’s iPhone was still in her hands as she woke again from its vibrations. She jumped at the sensation of being awoken in the middle of the night. If it was Willy calling her at three in the morning, she was gonna kill him.

“Hello?” her voice was groggy.

The voice on the other end was not William’s. “I lived, bitch.”

***

August 6th, 2020

It wouldn’t be a Toronto Maple Leafs series without some drama, apparently. And the drama tonight was how the team blew a 3-0 lead, allowing the Columbus Blue Jackets to win 4-3 in overtime, with Pierre-Luc Dubois scoring a hattrick. That meant the Columbus Blue Jackets were now up 2-1 in the series.

It meant the Leafs could go home tomorrow.

Aberdeen tried not to think about it.

She didn’t bring it up with anybody as they went back to the hotel, and she knew, judging by the looks on their faces, that they didn’t want to hear about it either. Nobody would be turning on their TVs tonight, and she doubted they would check the news on their phones, either. Maybe they’d play video games to take their minds off of it. Or maybe they’d go right to bed and rest, since they had to do all of this again in less than 24 hours. Fuck.

Aberdeen took a shower. She washed her face. She did her skincare. She put on a sheetmask.

Her phone rang.

She knew it was William, so she tucked herself into bed and accepted the FaceTime call. When he realized that she had a sheetmask on, a smile broke out on his face from ear to ear. “Nice sheetmask,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

She smiled cheekily and shrugged her shoulders. “You’re used to it by now. Shouldn’t come as much of a surprise,” she said.

“I am used to it by now and—oh shit, hold on, I forgot something…” he said, trailing off as he set his phone down so Aberdeen could only see the ceiling in his room. Knowing William, he probably forgot to turn the light off in the bathroom or something. But the longer he took, the more Aberdeen became skeptical of his whereabouts. She barely heard anything on the other end. “There we are…” she heard his voice. And then she saw what he had on his face: a sheetmask. He was still smiling from ear to ear. “Now where were we?” he asked.

“William!” Aberdeen squealed, letting out giggles she couldn’t hold in at the sight of him. He looked ridiculous. It was clearly the first time he’d ever put one on himself. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“You love these things!” he tried to justify himself. “I brought one because I knew I’d catch you at least once in here with one of these things on. And if we can’t do it together…well, physically, then we can do them together in separate rooms. Like everything else we need to do.”

Her cheeks flushed red – not that he could see. He bought sheetmasks and put them on with her. He gave her time to write. He encouraged her writing. He listened to her. He cared for her. He was even better than anything she could have imagined in a dream boyfriend. How did she get so lucky? How did she let guys treat her like shit before him? She felt tears well in her eyes. He was going all out to make the best of the bubble, and she couldn’t be more thankful. “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I love you too, minskatt.”

“No…I love you Willy. Like love you love you. Love you love you love you. I don’t even have the words…and I’m a writer! You make me speechless, Willy. There aren’t enough words in the English or Swedish languages that I can string together that will, like, tell you or show you how much I love you.”

“I get it, minskatt. Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

“I annoyed you enough until I wore you down,” he quipped.

She giggled. “You seduced me is what I’d call it.”

“I don’t know about that. If I remember correctly it was you rubbing yourself against my thigh that morning.”

She made a face at him. He made the exact same face back but crinkled his sheetmask so he had to flatten it with his free hand. She watched him with complete adulation. “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Can we listen to our song together?”

William smiled. He fiddled around with his phone and his ‘Minskatt’ playlist until the familiar chords started playing over the phone, filling the air with the nicest, best, most beautiful sound Aberdeen had ever heard – save for Willy’s laugh, maybe – because she knew this song was about her, about them, and it was still their little secret.

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sapphire374 · 3 years ago

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Soy Sol: Chapter 10 (Hopeful Curiosity)

Wattpad Link

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch.11 / Ch.12 / Ch.13 / Ch.14 / Ch.15 / Ch.16 / Ch.17

The gang is huddled around each other at the Jam and Roller rink. Ámbar proceeds to glance over her clipboard that carries the original sign-up sheet. “So, Ámbar, do we have enough members to make up a team for the competition.” Ámbar quickly looks Luna in the eyes and decides to call out the list of names. “The official Jam and Roller team members are Luna, Simon, Matteo, Gaston, Ramiro, Jim, Delfi, Pedro and Jazmin.” Everyone starts counting with their fingers but before anyone gets the chance to start counting, Gaston and Nina both yell out “that’s nine members, we’re missing one.” Luna rollers towards Ámbar. “Ámbar you’re not on the list. Are you going to join us? Please, pretty please join us. Whether you would like to admit it or not, you’re one of the best roller skaters out there and we need you.”

Ámbar takes a big gulp of air, processing everything that’s going on. Luna’s pout with her watery eyes has made Ámbar reconsider her decision. Before she always wanted the worst for Luna, but the past few years has made them become inseparable. She now views Luna as her younger sister plus being the manager of the gang’s favorite place has made her feel as everyone’s bigger sister, being the mature one. Ambar gives in. “Fine, I’ll do it. Especially since you guys need me so much. You guys aren’t wrong though, I am the best,” Ámbar jokes. The whole gang cheers, everyone jumps up and down and excitement enters the room.

Everyone is huddled as they all set their hands out and chant, “ready! One, two, three Jam and Roller!” Juliana enters through the chaos of excitement. “Opa opa! Seems like the group has never separated and feels closer than ever.” The gang all turn around facing her, their faces show signs of shock. No one was expecting this except one certain person in the room. “Juliana! You’re back! Wait how did you know we got the team back together for a competition?” Simón asks. “A little birdy called me and said that a certain team needed my help so I came as quick as I can.” The whole gang starts whispering, wondering who was it that reached out to her. Luna gives Ámbar and Simón a little smirk.

“So have you guys chosen which song you all are going to skate to?” Juliana questions. “Nope,” Ámbar answers. That’s when the idea hits Simón. “I have an idea! Maybe not only the team gets back together for this competition, but also the band? What do you guys say, Nico, Pedro?” Simón suggests. Nico and Pedro look at each other in disbelief and with a loss of words. “Uhh yes of course! You have no idea how long I’ve missed playing on the drums,” Pedro states. “And you guys have no idea how long I’ve missed collaborating the three of us together again,” Nico chimes in. “I guess that settles it. The band is back!!” Simón announces. The room is filled with so many emotions as everyone is so excited about what’s to come next. True nostalgia and memories really do start coming back to them since working together and competing to save their beloved place truly brings them back to old times. Just like how Matteo and Luna wouldn’t stop stealing glances at each other through the midst of it all.

This competition will be fierce including what’s called two stages. The first stage is the basic entry in which they record a video of their performance, the second stage is where they have the official competition. They first though have to make it through the first stage. For the next few days, Juliana tries to prepare them with some exercises since it has been years some of them roller skated. Then they gradually learned again how to do some simple routines as pairs then as groups. Before the gang knew it, in a week they have mastered all the skills and are ready to practice the actual choreography for the performance. Luna and Matteo still haven’t talked much though, yet they’re constant staring proves to show that they still miss and love each other.

Monday Evening at the Jam and Roller (after about a week and a half)

Juliana tells the gang that they can rest, and training has just finished. The group has finally mastered the double turns alignment but are struggling with air spins. Matteo heads over to Luna like old times, while she’s drinking water near the rails. “What’s the matter Chica Delivery? Has all the training finally tired you out?” Matteo flirtatiously says. Luna tries to hide her blushed cheeks and smirks at his comment. “Chico fresa you know that can never happen. My internal adrenaline is endless.” Luna and Matteo begin to laugh. Luna stops once she remembers why she was trying to avoid him for the longest. “Matteo don’t think I forgot everything that has happened.” She begins to stare at the floor, holding back a tear. “I’ve already apologized, what more do you want?” Matteo begs.

“You know that’s not the issue. I just feel like I can’t trust you anymore. You promised me you wouldn’t lie to me anymore and that’s exactly what you did. I don’t want our relationship to be built out of lies. I’d rather stay single instead of having someone stab me in the back unaware.” Matteo widely opens his eyes, it feels like someone has sucker punched him in the gut. For a long time, Matteo has tried to prove to Luna he has changed and does truly care about her, how can one little lie bring all the pain back. “Luna, you know I would never want to break your heart or ‘stab you in the back.’ I just lied about this because I knew you would get jealous of me hanging out with Viviana.” Luna gasps in astonishment. “Jealous! Now that’s a joke right there. For me to be jealous of her, that would mean I would want to be like her or want something she has but that’s not the case at all. I’m happy with the life I live and don’t want to change it. I just don’t like how close she’s been with you. You know I’m okay with you having female friends, but not when one tries to kiss you when I’m not around and constantly wrapping her arms around you. Even the news outlets think you broke up with me and dating her because of how much ‘quality time’ you guys spend together.”

Matteo responds with, “You know how much I miss it when you call me Chico Fresa and miss these fun bantering moments. I would never fall for her because you’re my one true love. You may not be jealous of her but you’re jealous of her getting to spend time with me. Is that it? You want to hang out more with me? How do I make it up to you?” Luna shakes her head and says, “You just don’t get it and it’s okay. I don’t feel like arguing today.” Luna rollers away and Matteo covers his face as he lays his elbows on the silver polished rails. Gastón heads to him and pats his shoulder. “She still hasn’t forgiven you?” Matteo shakes his head in response. His phone begins to ring in the pocket of his jeans. He lifts himself up and pulls it out. “Hello…. yes……. Already in a week? ..... ah I see, okay that seems appropriate I guess…...tomorrow okay, I’ll see you then.” Matteo hangs up and places his phone in his pocket again. “Who was that?” Gastón questions. “It’s my manager. They’re planning to release my music video with Viviana at the end of this week. Usually, we don’t release music videos this early but apparently she demanded for it since it would look good and perfect for this summer. Well to prepare for the release, they want me to perform with her in a live concert.” Matteo’s expression shows his stress and frustration. “But what about the Jam and Roller training?” Gastón asks him. “I’ll try to practice for the concert before the Jam and Roller training starts every day and the concert is on Saturday so that day I guess I’ll just miss training for that one day. I have no other choice.”

Gastón keeps thinking and doesn’t say a word till an amazing idea slips in his head. “I just got it! I just thought of the perfect plan that’ll get Luna to forgive you and get back together with her.” Matteo starts smiling as Gastón whispers the plan into his left ear. “Hermano, you’re a genius.”

The Benson Mansion

Ámbar doesn’t stop glaring at the letter in front of her. It was the original copy that was locked up in Sharon’s vault. This was what her biological mom wrote to her before she gave her away, it includes her phone number. She wants to call that number, desperately wants to but what if this number doesn’t work anymore? Or what if it does? She feels so confused. The closer the wedding gets, the scarier it feels for her. She wants to invite her biological mom and maybe even Sharon, she’s just undecided. It’s more than just complicated for her.

She sucks up every bit of courage left in her, grabs her phone and types in the numbers smeared at the bottom of the letter. It’s…. ringing. The longer she has to wait, the faster her heart beats. The phone stops ringing. “Hello,” the person on the other end answers. Ámbar’s voice begins to crack, “Uh… yes is this Sylvana Ariel?” Ámbar takes a big gulp of air. The person on the other end responds, “yes this is she. Who do I have the pleasure speaking to?” When Ambar hears that it’s her, she decides to move forward with the plan of meeting her. Maybe it was destiny for her to still have this phone number for so many years? “Yes, this is Ámbar, Ámbar Smith. We need to talk. Are you available today?” Ámbar takes control of the situation showing no signs of hesitation, even though her heart says otherwise. “Oh Ámbar? Yes, I’m available today.” Ámbar takes one good look at the letter and answers back, “Good. Meet me at Pachani’s restaurant today at 7 p.m.” The lady answers with an okay before Ámbar hangs up the phone.

She didn’t know this day would come so soon. Getting to meet her birth mother. What should she say? What should she do? Maybe this would help her understand her whole story and discover more who she really is before she gets married. Simón walks into the living room. “There you are. I thought you would be at the Jam and Roller; you never miss an afternoon of work?” Ámbar quickly folds the letter and slips it into her purse. “Oh yeah I just came home to… find another bridal magazine. I thought I left one of my favorite ones here in the living room.” Simón scrunches up his face, “here? In the living room of the Benson Mansion? But you always look at them at our apartment?” Ámbar clasps her purse and places the strap around her arm. “Oh well I sometimes look at them here whenever I visit the Valentes and have a cup of coffee, by mistake one of these days I left my bridal magazine.” Simón nods showing how he understands. “So how are bridal things going?”

“Pretty smooth. Luna and Nina agreed to go order the sets of flowers and decorations at the boutique right across town,” Ámbar states. “Oh, that’s nice. Luna and Nina were so kind to offer their help. What would we do without them?”

“Yes, I agree. We’re very lucky to have them indeed. Um there is one thing I forgot to tell you. At around 7 p.m I won’t be at home yet, I have a meeting with some other law school students for this project we have going on, so I won’t be home.”

Simón’s smile fades away. “Aww I’ll miss you, but I do wish you good luck on the project. I know you’ll do great on it.” Ámbar smiles from thinking how lucky she is to have a caring, understanding partner by her side. They hug each other and head out of the mansion.

*Gif not made by me. Owner of gif's name is at the bottom right hand corner :) *

Lacey’s Boutique

Luna and Nina wait at the front desk holding a slip of paper that carries a list of things they need to purchase for Ámbar’s wedding. “He said that?” Nina whispers. “Yep, I can’t believe he called me jealous when he was the one who lied and created this whole mess in the first place. When we got back together, we agreed on no secrets and to always communicate. That’s the only way a relationship can go well, just look at Ámbar and Simón?”

“I absolutely agree. I felt awful when Gaston spied on me that day, so I understand what you mean. Luckily everything is fixed now,” Nina cheers. “I’m happy for you Nina, sadly in between Matteo and I is a person who doesn’t stop flirting and hanging out with him. Plus, it’s so obvious too, even Simón thought he was dating Viviana and broke up with me. I can’t believe Matteo doesn’t believe me and instead calls me jealous. After everything we’ve been through.” The cashier heads to the counter and Luna and Nina’s conversation ends. “So, is this the list for everything?” Luna nods in approval. “Okay great, everything will be prepared in time and the delivery will be sent to the place on the date of the card.” Luna picks up the card and puts it away in her tiny backpack.

“Thank you,” she begins to head out before the cashier stops her. “Wait, I have something to give you.” He pulls out another card from his pocket. “Here’s my phone number, maybe we can have a cup of coffee together someday if you’d like?” Luna is speechless and turns to Nina for a choice of words. Nina shrugs and seems to be just as confused as her. “Um... well the thing is I’m in a relationship… well right at this moment I’m not sure…. Honestly I don’t know it’s complicated me and my boyfriend well after what he did, I don’t think he’s still my boyfriend but I don’t know…” Luna stops talking when the cashier extremely perplexed expression shows vividly. “Um… well once you get all that resorted and decide not to be with this… complicated person feel free to give me a call.” He leaves and heads to the back of the store. “Luna, I’m shocked he’s still into you after everything you blurted out. I think you even fried his brain.” Nina and Luna giggle their way out.

Jim and Yam’s Apartment

Ramiro adjusts the collar of his nicely firm long sleeve button up shirt. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers and is trying to collect the right words to say to Yam. He knocks on the door and waits for a response. “I’m coming,” she says. For Ramiro, hearing Yam’s voice is like a breath of fresh air.

She opens the door and is surprised to see Ramiro’s well put together fit. “Before you say anything I want to do this right. Yam, I know our relationship has been like an ongoing rollercoaster, we’ve been through the ups and the downs but the one thing that has always stayed constant is my love for you. After everything that has happened, I always knew I love you and my path ends up meeting yours. Yam would you like to go on a date with me?” Yam covers her mouth in amusement. She’s appalled from the beautiful surprise he’s presented her, and with a speech too. Usually, Ramiro is too cool for all of this but seeing what he has done has proven enough to Yam that he’s committed. “Ramiro of course, I would love to. In fact, I was always thinking what took you so long?” Yam begins to chuckle. “I guess fear from this not working out, but you can’t always live in fear for the rest of your life.”

Yam jumps into Ramiro’s arms and kisses him on the cheek.

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p5youllneverseeitcoming · 4 years ago

Note

Mwahahaha >:D Thanks to the S/O’s traumatic fear of hospitals post I now have an idea! As a sequel to it, can I get Headcanons where Akira and Akechi get critically injured (from Metaverse or an accident I dunno) & they have their own death experiences while in the hospital/ER (they survive thanks to the promises they made with their S/O but still) and their worried S/O visits?

*Casually posts this at 3am* I return from the Super Mega Hell I call transcribing interviews to bring you this

Also… Uh very minor Royal spoilers I guess? In Royal there’s a chance that Mementos is completely dark when you go to one floor but that’s it

As for Akechi’s part… Spoilers for the seventh palace (for vanilla P5) so just incase anyone here is not up to this part I put his part under the cut!

Akira Kurusu & Goro Akechi getting injured and having a near death experience with a S/O who is scared of hospitals for that exact reason

Akira Kurusu:

> Everything was going rather smoothly

> You were in Mementos, taking care of a few requests

> But eventually, you got to a floor that was particularly confusing… And completely pitch black

> “Um Joker? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this broken wall like three times already.” Skull said as he pressed his face against the window

> “Did I make a wrong turn? No but… I went right and…” Joker muttered to himself as he mentally tried to recall the path he took

> “Should we go back to where we were?” You asked as you squinted trying to see anything in the darkness

> “I’m not exactly opposed to that idea but um, where exactly would that be?” Asked Fox

> “Navi, can you see anything?” Noir asked as she turned to the hacker

> The girl opened her mouth to answer only to be cut off by something no one wanted to hear

> Rattling chains

> “That doesn’t sound good…” Crow said as he leaned forward to grip the driver seat

> “Joker we have to-” Mona began to say

> He didn’t get a chance to finish however as moments later, the Mona car was knocked over causing the Thieves to scream in fear and tumble out

> “Do we even stand a chance?” You asked as you gripped your weapon and looked at the Shadow before you

> The Reaper was… Well, terrifying

> “We don’t really have much of a choice.” Crow replied as he raised his saber

> “Get ready everyone!” Joker called as he rushed towards the Shadow

> You were hitting it with everything you had

> Magic, melee attacks, guns… Even Almighty attacks

> But it seemed like that was barely effecting him

> And what’s worse, you were running out of items

> “Joker…” You say as you turn to him

> Everyone is exhausted, all of you are breathing heavily, trying your best just to stay conscious

> You watch Joker, the leader, your boyfriend, lets out a shaky breath as he turns to Mona

> “Mona… Turn into the car and… Please… Get them out of here.”

> “’Them’? Wait, Joker you don’t-”

> “Please.”

> “No, Joker, you can’t be ser-”

> “I leave you in charge of driving, [Code name].” He says before turning back to the Shadow and aiming his gun at it

> “Wait!-”

> “See you at the entrance.” He says with a smile as he fires a couple of times before turning and sprinting in the opposite direction of the Thieves

> “We- I- We have to-” You stutter out as you turn to try and run after him but then you feel someone’s hand on your shoulder

> “Joker gave you a task to do didn’t he?” Crow says as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze

> “But…” You say, tears making your vision blurry

> “Come now, this is Joker we’re talking about, I’m sure he meant what he said.”

> You sniffle quietly before nodding

> “You’re r-right.. Let’s go, everyone.”

~~~

> It’s silent on the way back

> You glance over at Crow who is sitting in the passenger seat and notice that his expression is a lot more… Different than usual

> You’re used to seeing his signature polite yet charming smile but this time he looks…

> Scared.

> Does that mean?…

> No, don’t think like that. This is Joker we’re talking about. I mean… This man runs across rooftops without the slightest care there’s no way he could be defeated…

> Right?

> After a bit more driving you eventually manage to reach the first floor

> But instead of going up the last platform you stop, just right before it

> “Hm? [Code name]?” Queen says as she leans forward a bit

> “I- I want to wait for him.” You say, trying your best to keep your voice from shaking

> You can almost feel everyone turn to look at you but instead of saying anything else you just grip the wheel a bit tighter

> “… Okay.” Crow says after what feels like ages, “let’s wait five minutes and then go up, alright?”

> You nod and bite your lip

> You can’t cry right now, because Joker is fine, and if Joker is fine, then there’s no need to cry

> You repeat these words over and over like a mantra but…

> … Five minutes pass, and Joker is nowhere to be seen.

> You let out a shaky exhale as you grip the wheel once more

> “We-” you begin as you shut your eyes “we have to go up.”

> No one says anything, but it doesn’t matter

> You know everyone’s thinking the same thing.

> You watch as the other Thieves slowly climb out of the Mona car, supporting any of the members that can’t quite find the strength to stand anymore

> Once you’re all out, Mona quickly turns back into his usual form and quickly walks up to you

> “[Code name], let’s go.” He says tugging at your outfit lightly

> You give a quick nod before finally climbing up the stairs

> You’re exhausted and you wish for nothing more than to collapse on your bed and sleep for about a week

> But what you see as soon as you climb the final step makes you instantly break out into a sprint

> Leaning against the wall is… Joker

> His clothes are torn and there’s blood everywhere but he’s really there

> He’s alive

> “Hey, what took you so lo-” He says before you knock the air out of his lungs as you collide into him

> “Oh my God.” You mutter into his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly

> You hear him hiss which can’t mean anything good but you feel one of his hands slowly rise until its settled on your back

> “Joker! Y-you made it!” Skull shouts as he hobbles as quickly as he can towards you

> “Oh my, you look horrible!” Noir exclaims as she quickly glances at him

> “We need to get him medical help, now.” Crow says as he glances towards the entrance

> “Yes, um, what’s the quickest way to get to the hospital again…” Queen mutters more to herself than anyone else

> “Come on guys…” Joker begins, his voice a lot quieter than before, “I’m fi…”

> He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, instead he just slumps forward causing you to stumble as you try to keep the two of you upright

> “Oh no, Akira! Akira wake up!” You shout as you shake him slightly

~~~

> When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself in a dark room

> He groans quietly as he turns his head to try and get a better understanding of his surroundings

> Upon closer inspection, he notices that this isn’t just a ‘dark room’, it’s a prison cell

> Or to be more exact, his prison cell

> Wait then that means that I’m…

> “How did I end up here?” He mutters as he slowly sits up and stares at the all too familiar bars

> “Hm? Oh my,”

> “So you finally woke up huh, Inmate?!”

> Akira watches as the twin wardens turn and face him at the same time

> “How did I get here?” He asked

> Instead of an answer, Akira just hears a deep chuckle

> “This place exists between mind and matter… I believe this should be enough to answer your question.”

> It really isn’t but okay

> “Don’t look at our Master with such a dumb expression Inmate!” Caroline says as she slams the bars with her baton

> “Caroline, I don’t believe this was his intention.” Justine says with her usual calm voice “I suppose he is simply confused.”

> “… Am I dead?” Akira asks turning his head towards Justine

> “Not exactly.” She answers as she glances at her clipboard

> “It seems you’re too stubborn to die, maybe you do have potential after all.” Caroline adds as a small smile appears on her lips

> “Your friends also seem very determined to keep you alive, they’re the reason why you woke up.” Justine says

> “My friends?” Akira asks

> “They practically dragged you to the nearest hospital! You should thank them for all their efforts!” Caroline says with an angry expression

> “Yes, it seems the bond you share is truly something special.” Justine says with a polite smile

> “Yeah, so stop wasting time and wake up already!” Caroline says before slamming the bars with the baton once more

~~~

> Once again, Akira finds himself opening his eyes

> Only this time, he’s staring at a white ceiling as opposed to a dark prison cell

> Also this time instead of the sound of water dripping, he hears beeps

> Turning his head to confirm his suspicions, he finds a monitor showing his heartrate

> Huh, so he really is in a hospital

> “Akira?”

> “[Name]?”

> He tries to turn his head back but before he can you’re already leaning over him

> “I was so worried… You- You collapsed so I- I tried to wake you up but you…” You practically sob these words out

> “Hey, hey [Name] it’s okay, take a deep breath and try to calm down okay?” Akira says as he raises a hand up to your cheek

> You hate hospitals, he knows that

> Yet here you are, right by his side

> He must’ve made you really worried if you managed to conquer one of your greatest fears

> He makes a mental note of how he will have to make this up to you once he gets out

> “You stopped breathing Akira.” You cry out as tears make their way down your cheeks

> Oh God, how does he even respond to something like that?

> “… I did?”

> Wow, congratulations dumbass.

> “Yes! I- We- Doctor Takemi… Oh God…”

> “[Name], [Name], hey, it’s okay, breathe with me okay? Come on, deep breath in…” Akira says before taking a deep breath

> You let out a few more sobs before trying your best to copy him

> Once you do, he smiles softly and deeply breathes out, hoping you will do the same

> The two of you continue this for a while, and eventually you manage to calm down

> “Good, it’s okay now [Name], I’m okay.”

> “Please don’t… Don’t ever do that again.”

> He nods as he strokes your cheek again

> “I promise.”

Goro Akechi:

> “Long time no see” Crow says to the group before his eyes land on you

> You couldn’t help but look away

> This wasn’t how it was meant to be

> You knew what he was planning, but you always thought hoped that you would be able to change his mind

> You quietly listen as Crow talks to the group and clench your fist when he tells you about Shido being his father

> Panther gives you a quick worried glance but you just raise your head and look directly at Crow

> “Why? Why must you be against us? We- We could’ve-”

> “Let’s finish this.” Joker says cutting you off

~~~

> It doesn’t take long for you to defeat the enemies

> “Goro…” You mutter quietly as you raise your hand slightly

> But then, something you never expected happens

> You watch as that mysterious persona, who you now know as Loki, appears once more and transforms Crow’s pristine white outfit into a dark blue and black costume, the small red cape turning into a ripped up black fabric and his pure white gloves turning black with talon like fingertips

> “You’re going down… I’ll destroy you…. Go down with me!” Crow shouts as more of the red mist surrounds him

> “That bastard, he made himself go psychotic!” Skull says reaching for his weapon

> “No…” You say as you stare in disbelief

> “[Codename] I know this is hard for you but you need to focus right now. You can’t let him win.” Queen says as she places a hand on your shoulder

> You take a shaky breath and nod

> She’s right. You can’t lose here, you need to snap some sense back into him afterall

~~~

> “Change Shido’s heart… In my stead… End his crimes… Please!…”

> “Leave it to me.” Joker answers staring at the partition

> “We can’t…” You begin as you look from one Thief to another

> “Isn’t there some way to get this open?!” Panther says as she glances at Mona

> That’s when you hear the gunshots

> You can’t help but cry out in shock, one hand flying up to cover your mouth

> You realise the others are talking but you just stare at the partiton, tears flowing down your cheeks

> You don’t move, at least not until Fox physically has to drag you away from the partition

> You don’t really know how long the group has been walking to reach the exit, but then again, you don’t really care about that

> You’re still crying when you return to the real world, only this time there’s no mask to hide your tears

> Your face feels hot, and your head hurts which must mean you look like an absolute wreck right now

> Once again, you notice the Thieves are talking but you don’t listen

> After a couple of minutes, you notice that some of the members are slowly shuffling away and heading off in different directions

> Soon enough, it’s just you and Akira left

> “[F/n].” Akira says, as he turns to look at you “I’ll walk you home, okay?”

> You shake your head at that, mentally cursing at the shooting pain you feel moment after

> “… Here…” You practically choke out

> “Huh? I’m sorry I-”

> “I’m staying… Here…” You repeat, hand vaguely gesturing at the Diet Building

> Akira looks at you for a solid minute before nodding a few times

> “Okay… But [F/n]-”

> “I’ll go home… Later.” You say cutting him off

> “Right.” He replies as he turn to walk towards the station “I’m sorry.”

> You listen to his footsteps for a little while, but then… There is silence.

> You’re pretty sure you’re out of tears by now, so you decide to wipe your face with both hands

> You need to calm down, crying won’t solve this

> You take a few minutes to just breathe and eventually, you feel yourself shaking a lot less

> Why did this have to happen?

> No, asking this is pointless now

> You look at the Diet Building once more and bite your lip

> Before you can fully comprehend what you’re doing, you find yourself marching towards it

> You really wish your weapon wasn’t just a plastic imitation in the real world

> Then again, what could you possibly do?

> Maybe you could-

> “Hm?” You hum to yourself as you take a closer look at the wall

> Due to it being early evening, there isn’t much natural light left but you’re pretty sure there’s something smeared on the wall

> Not only that, it seems almost like… There’s some sort of trail?

>… Wait, is that?

> You cautiously touch it with your finger before bringing it back for closer examination

> T-This is…!

> Before you can fully process why there’s blood on the wall you hear the nearby bushes rustle

> You move one hand close to your bag ready to pull out your plastic weapon as you take a few steps closer

> “Who’s there?” You ask

> “Don’t be… Stu-” The voice begins before coughing violently

> “G-Go…”

> “Mm…”

> You quickly drop your bag and use your hands to carefully move away the leaves

> Sure enough, there’s the Detective Prince, Goro Akechi, your boyfriend, lying in a small pool of his own blood

> “How- No, wait- Erm- Hospital.” You sayas you quickly move one hand towards your pocket to retrieve your phone

> “Heh…” Akechi coughs out as a small smile appears on his lips

~~~

> You were pacing the hospital hall back and forth for hours

> Despite your constant pleading, the doctors told you that you can’t be in the room

> Your hands are constantly fidgeting and the amount of times you bit your lip caused you to draw a bit of blood

> You hate this place, you would much rather be anywhere but here…

> But you can’t leave him. You won’t leave him.

> “[L/n] - san?”

> You look up at the sound of your name

> “Yes?” You ask as your eyes land on the doctor

> “You can go see him now, but…”

> “But what?” You ask as your eyes widen

> “He’s in a coma.”

> You nod and give a quick thanks before walking into the room

> Your hands are shaking again

> Calm down [F/n], just breathe

> You take a deep breathand slowly step towards his bed

> Goro is wrapped in so many bandages but he’s alive

> “Goro…” You whisper as you gently stroke one of his hands “you absolute fool…”

> You stay with him until visiting hours are over

> But you return the next day

> And the day after

> It’s not until the 3rd day that he actually wakes up

> The first thing he does when he wakes up is raise one hand slightly and flex his fingers

> “Hm.” He hums looking at his hand

> “Oh my God… Goro, how are you-”

> “Terrible.” He says with an annoyed expression

> “I thought you… You know…” You say as you turn to fully look at him

> “I almost did.” He answers, a hint of sadness in his voice

> There’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again

> “It was… A strange experience.”

> “Huh? How so?”

> He coughs before answering

> “I’m not sure how to explain it,” he says before clearing his throat “I saw… A blue room?”

> You frown at him, clearly confused

> “Don’t look at me like that… I told you I don’t know how to describe it.” He says, his eyes scanning your face

> “Ah, um, sorry.”

> “You know, I can’t say for sure but… I thought I heard your voice in there.”

> “Hm?.. Wh- What did it say?”

> “You said I’m too stubborn to die, especially in that asshole’s Palace, plus, I heard you crying.”

> You let out a small laugh at that

> “Well, it’s not wrong.”

> “There’s no need to cry over me. I told you, I’m not wanted, I’m a backstabber, a traitor.”

> You click your tounge at that as you reach for both of his hands and squeeze them lightly

> “That’s wrong. You may have betrayed the Phantom Thieves but you are wanted. I want to be with you.”

> “[F/n]…”

> “I… I can’t say I forgive you for what you did, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to abandon you!”

> Goro doesn’t answer

> Instead, he just squeezes back

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youngbloodlisk · 4 years ago

Text

Worth It // Kim Sunwoo Model AU

Chapter 2

chapter genre: slight angst, fluff

Worth It series masterlist can be found: under my tbz masterlist in my pinned

"Everyone, I'd like you to formally meet our newest members."

A room full of perfect looking people give a round of applause while staring at Juyeon and me. The director tells them our names and I hear some scattered murmurs of 'oh, I recognize that name'.

I look into the faces of some of the greatest models of all time. Models who are used on a regular basis by some of the biggest brands.

Lee Sangyeon, famous for his work with Calvin Klein (yes, that means exactly what you think it means).

Ju Haknyeon, famous for his work with Dior.

Ji Changmin, famous for his work with Louis Vuitton.

And of course, Juyeon's (intensely denied) celebrity crush, Choi Chanhee. Famous for his work with Gucci, as well as having his own monthly Worth It magazine. Issues of NewShot sell out entirely every month, without fail.

NewShot aka the magazine which has made Juyeon cry way too many times, no matter how much he says he 'had something in his eye'.

"They're from Imaginary Parties. I'm sure you know the agency recently went bankrupt due to a corrupt leadership partner. We are extremely excited that they got our offer and decided to join us. They're here to stay. Be nice. Ah, and if you two haven't already met your roommates..." The director flips through the pages on the clipboard in his hands. "Here." He reads off my roommate first, and I'm quite shocked to hear him say Sangyeon's name instead of the "Park Sanhyo" that I was expecting. However, I'm not given much time to think about it before I catch my friend trying to control his red cheeks. "Lee Juyeon, you're with Choi Chanhee."

As the director walks off and people begin to mingle and talk again, Chanhee smiles and raises his hand to wave Juyeon over to talk with him.

Juyeon turns around and stares at me with wide eyes.

"I can't."

"You can."

"I can't."

"You have to, you're living with the man."

"I'm gonna freeze."

"You're gonna be fine."

"I can't do it, I really can't-"

"Hey, I'm Chanhee." Juyeon chokes and starts coughing when he looks to his left to see Choi Chanhee has approached him. "Woah, are you okay?" Chanhee lightly pats Juyeon's back.

"Ju, I'm gonna get you some water." I subtly wink at him as I walk away from the boys, knowing the kitchen is on the other side of the large house and that would give them plenty of time to talk... or plenty of time for Juyeon to embarrass himself. Tomato, tomahto.

I lean against the counter and sip on the cup of water I got for Juyeon, debating if I should go back to him or "accidentally get lost".

I decide I'm gonna "get lost on the way to kitchen", but I do sneak back to spy on Juyeon.

I find Juyeon and Chanhee laughing, smiling, talking, and neither of them (Juyeon) are hyperventilating. Seems to be going well.

I feel a pair of eyes on me from somewhere, so I scan the area around me until I lock eyes with a certain Ji Changmin.

However, as soon as my eyes find him, he turns and averts his gaze...

-----------

I swipe my glossy, white keycard and slowly push the door open just enough to speak through the crack.

"Is anyone in here?"

"Yeah, come on in!" A male voice prompts me. I push the door again and enter the room, giving a shy smile to Sangyeon. "How's your first day going?"

"It's alright. Everyone seems nice enough. I do just have one... question-"

"Why am I in your room when the door says it's supposed to be Sanhyo?"

"Yep, that's the one."

Sangyeon chuckles. "This used to be Sanhyo's room, no roommate. She left the agency a week ago when they told her she'd have to give up her solo room." He notices my horrified face and quickly adds detail. "Don't feel bad! She was always a diva about everything. I'm sure if it wasn't the room, it would have been the minor schedule changes they just made. Don't worry. When she left, staff forgot to change the room signs. I used to room with Chanhee."

"Why didn't they just put me and Juyeon together?"

"They wanted you both to feel more welcomed. Figured that putting you together might just make you feel isolated from everybody else."

I nod, letting him know that I see how that makes sense.

"Do you want some help unpacking your stuff?"

"Huh? Oh! No, no, no... that's okay. Thank you though."

"Are you sure? Here, I can at least handle the bedspread for you. And if I do it wrong, feel free to yell at me."

I smile lightly and pick up the box labeled "bed", handing it to him.

"Thanks."

Silently, we both start unboxing and unpacking my stuff.

Once he finishes making the bed, pristinely, he sits on his own bed on the other side of the room.

"Hey... if rooming with me makes you uncomfortable at all, I can unofficially bunk with Haknyeon and Changmin. I'm sure being put in a room with a man you don't know isn't exactly what you were hoping for."

His thoughtfulness makes me smile, as well as makes me feel a bit safer.

"No, it's okay! Really, I don't mind. Even thought I don't know you personally, it feels as if I know you on some level. The famous Lee Sangyeon. I think I own at least half your issues of Calvin Klein."

He laughs with a beautiful smile on his face.

"You might rival my parents' collection. Gotta be honest... it's a little weird for your mom to buy eight copies of a magazine just because you're on the front cover in your underwear giving the camera bedroom eyes. But you can't stop a proud parent."

Our funny banter continues on as he keeps helping me unpack and decorate.

Soon, my new room looks quite similar to my old room.

"You have a lot of pictures with Juyeon. You guys must be close, yeah?" Sangyeon asks, looking over my photos on the wall.

"He's my best friend. Losing him was the scariest part of our company going under. I'm really thankful that Worth It wanted both of us... I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Well... I'm really glad to have you both here." A genuine smile as sweet as candy grows on his face, with kind eyes to match.

-----------

"Thank you all for gathering, we have some very exciting news." The same staff member who introduced me and Juyeon yesterday now stands alongside a couple other staff members.

"More new people?" Changmin's eyes are wide with excitement and hope at the idea of more new friends.

"No, Q, we'd have to build more dorms. We have something far more exciting to tell you about. Somebody from Versace called today and said they wanted to use some of our models, in collaboration with them and some models from Guy.exe, to reshoot all of their products. All for a special edition catalog."

Gasps and chatter erupt, until I hear Haknyeon groan next to me.

"Guy.exe..." He mutters, his voice full of distain, with a sharp eye roll. "That place is full of snobs."

"Haknyeon, play nice. You're gonna have to work alongside them." Sangyeon nudges him.

"Who exactly from Guy.exe?" Chanhee asks.

"Uhh..." One of the staff members flips through the papers in her hand. "Versace has confirmation from Kevin Moon, Jacob Bae, Kim Younghoon, and Eric Sohn. Still no firm answer from Lee Hyunjae or Kim Sunwoo, but they were requested."

Half the room groans and rolls their eyes, almost directly mirroring Haknyeon's earlier reaction, at the mention of the name "Kim Sunwoo".

"I know!" The staff cuts them off. "I know, you guys have never gotten along with the boys from Guy.exe... especially Kim Sunwoo. But like Sangyeon said, you have to play nice and be professional at the shoot. That being said, if anyone would like to reject the offer, now is the time."

The room is silent, despite the energy being heavy and very loud.

"Alright. I'll call them back and confirm that you will all be attending. You're dismissed, more details will come later."

-----------

(3rd person POV)

"Sunwoo!" Eric jumps over the back of the expensive leather couch to drop down next to his friend. "Check this out."

"What is it?" Sunwoo's eyes don't leave the video game he's currently winning.

"It's from Worth It. They have fresh meat."

Sunwoo turns his head immediately, suddenly forgetting about his game, and drops his controller to grab Eric's phone. Sunwoo scrolls through the photos and reads the welcoming caption, before clicking on the models' own Instagrams and looking through them.

"Fresh meat... from Imaginary Parties? So they're new and desperate... Will they be at the Versace shoot?"

"Kevin said they would be."

A cocky smirk appears on Sunwoo's face, clearly already coming up with ideas.

"This should be fun."

#ciiikbwork #sunwoo au #the boyz au #tbz au #sunwoo fluff #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #sunwoo angst #tbz angst #the boyz angst

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rmtndew · 4 years ago

Text

Begin Again ~ Chapter 3

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff)

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo, @musicartmayheminmyheart

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Hectic was the only word to describe the next morning. From the moment I stepped foot into Darcy’s office at Waverly, we were going non-stop. We had a massive delivery that had to be ready by eleven o’clock and even though we’d done as much prep work as we could the day before, it was still a huge undertaking for a single morning. Our saving grace was that the company was sending someone to pick it up for them instead of having it delivered, which meant we could work right until pickup time. And that’s exactly what we did.

We had all the orders boxed up and ready to go, and Nick and I waited in the front room of the store for the pickup guy. Nick’s sole purpose for being there was to make up for his mistake from the day before: his punishment was to help with the loading.

I was double-checking the order (just for my own sake) when I heard the bell above the door alert me to someone coming in. I turned, mentally preparing myself for social interaction, knowing that I had to greet the customer with a smile. But as I took in the man walking towards me, I felt like puking.

“Fiona? Is that you?” Ezra, my ex-boyfriend, was smiling and walking towards me.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I steeled myself and asked, “Are you here for the Mead-Holmes order?”

“Come on, Fi, don’t play like this,” he said, stopping far too close to me.

“Don’t call me that,” I said. “And what order are you here for?”

He put his hand on my arm. “Fi, I swear I didn’t know you worked here. I promise. Or I wouldn’t have come,” he said. “But maybe it’s a good thing.”

I took his hand off me, removing it completely. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me Fi. Just tell me what order you’re here to get,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage.

He scoffed. “Wow. I really thought you’d be an adult about it whenever we finally ran into each other, but I was wrong.”

Nick stepped up. “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but I’m here to help load the Mead-Holmes order, so if you’re here to pick that up, you can go ahead and sign off on it and show me where you’re at and I’ll get these loaded for you.”

Ezra kept his eyes on me while Nick was talking and then a moment longer once he finished. Finally, he looked at Nick and let out a breath. “Yeah, that’s my order,” he said. “Where do I sign for it?”

Nick moved behind me, taking the clipboard with the order form from the counter, then handed it to Ezra. He scribbled out something that was meant to be a signature, but I was sure that a brain dead parrot would have had more legible handwriting. Nick had his hand out, ready to take the clipboard back, but instead, Ezra thrust it at me. I took it, trying not to give him the satisfaction of letting him see a reaction on my face.

“Thank you. A copy of the receipt is attached to the order and will be e-mailed back to your company. We appreciate your business,” I said. “Now, if you would show Nick to your vehicle, he would be more than willing to help you load your order.”

He took a set of keys from his pocket, aimed over his shoulder, and pressed a button. The van parked right outside the door beeped and the lights flashed temporarily as he unlocked it. “You can load them in the back,” Ezra said to Nick, not bothering to even look at him.

“Have a good day,” I said flatly, then turned to leave. I didn’t even take a step before he put his hand back on my arm again. My entire body tensed up. “Ezra, let me go.”

“You’re really just going to walk off without talking to me?”

“I did talk to you, but there’s nothing left to say except let me go.”

He removed his hand, then circled around so he was in front of me. “I’m here on business and you’re supposed to be representing your company. Being rude to me isn’t a great way to treat customers.”

I placed the clipboard on the counter and crossed my arms, trying to keep them out of his reach, then took a side step, allowing Nick access to the boxes stacked beside me. “I’m not being rude.”

He smiled condescendingly at me. “Look, I know that we ended on some...rough terms, but I hoped that when we finally saw each other, we could recognize it was for the best.”

“It was for the best,” I agreed.

“See? That’s my girl.”

My jaw clenched as my hands balled into fists. “I’m not your girl. I’m not your anything,” I said. “The reason I think breaking up was for the best is because I didn’t want to waste any more of my time with someone so shallow, and cold, and selfish as you. And the moment you finally revealed that part of yourself to me, the moment you showed me exactly who you are, I was done.” I shook my head. “The one good thing about you being as heartless as you were, was that I never spent a single second worrying about what I did wrong, or how I could have fixed things between us. I never cried myself to sleep at night missing you. Most people who have toxic partners don’t get a clean cut at the end of a relationship like I did. But that day at South York, when you broke up with me all of ten seconds after I’d told you that Dad had been in a wreck, you cauterized that line between us. So yeah; it was for the best.”

Nick made a low whistling sound right before leaving the store, the bell overhead echoing him.

“You know, it’s a little irritating that you always bring up this crap about ending things after your dad’s accident, but would you have preferred me to wait until after you knew that he was dead? Would that have made it easier? No,” he said. “I did you a favor. It was like a Band-Aid. I pulled it off quickly and got it over with. But you don’t see it like that, do you?”

“I’m not sure if you understand the definition of ‘quick’ but talking about it for the full twenty-minute drive to the hospital, where you basically kicked me out on the sidewalk, isn’t it,” I said.

“Do you hear yourself, Fi? You’re happy that I broke up with you, but oh, I should have held your hand and walked you into the hospital? Why so your mommy could yell at me then, too? Even you have to admit that was embarrassing, having Ava yell at me for you.”

My fists tightened, my fingernails biting into my skin. I’d never been so tempted to smack anyone my whole life. “I didn’t have her do anything. She was plenty mad enough to do it on her own. It was her husband who had just died when you dumped all of my stuff on her front lawn because seeing it was ‘too painful’ for you.”

“Well, rumor has it, it’s your house again now.” He took a step closer to me. “That you got fired and had to move back in with her.” He smirked. “Is that what happened, Fi? I wouldn’t marry you so you had to move back in with your mommy so someone would take care of you?”

The bell over the door rang again. I was expecting Nick to come over for more boxes and give me a way to escape, but he didn’t.

“Stop calling me Fi!” I snapped. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Now I suggest you take your order and leave.”

He frowned at me mockingly. “Aw, am I making you mad? You’re so cute when you’re mad. You finally do that red hair justice,” he said. “You know, if you’d shown this much passion when we were together, I might have actually considered marrying you.”

“Thank goodness I dodged that bullet then.”

The humor left his face. “Whoever gets you next, they better like broken things.”

I looked him in the eye. “Do you honestly think you were strong enough to break me, Ezra?” I asked. “The only thing you could break were promises.”

He sneered at me, then let his eyes drift behind me. I was sure that he was looking at Nick, wondering how much of his true personality he was going to let a stranger see, but then I felt a wall of heat behind me. I turned my head and saw Walter. Comfort flooded my body the moment he was at my side.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking down at me.

I nodded. “He was just leaving.”

Ezra took a step back. His mouth was in a thin, tight line as he looked Marshall up and down. “Are you the owner?” he asked. “Because I’m here for an order and your employee here -” He crossed his arms and nodded his head at me. “- she needs to work on her customer service skills.”

“I’m not the owner. But I’m fairly sure she told you to leave.”

Ezra looked confused. I watched in his eyes as he tried to work out what was going on. “If you’re not the owner, then our conversation has nothing to do with you. You have no reason to intervene.”

“I’m here for Fiona. And how you’re talking to her, it isn’t acceptable. She’s asked you to leave, so if you’re here for an order, I suggest you take it and go,” Marshall said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, but each word was laced with anger.

Ezra smiled. “Are you serious? You’re with her?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Good luck to you. You’ll never be able to please her.”

“From what I understand, you never really tried,” Marshall said.

“Is that what she told you?” Ezra looked at me again. “You’re always the victim, aren’t you? You poor little bird,” he said mockingly. “Maybe one day you’ll grow up and see the truth.”

“You know, this immature gas-lighting bull crap that you and Demi both pull, it’s getting old,” I said.

He smirked. “Speaking of Demi, the next time you see her, tell her that I found her earrings. They were in my couch.”

I knew what he was trying to do and I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of succeeding.

“So you had the audacity to dump my belongings on a dead man’s lawn, but you don’t have the guts to return some earrings that she allegedly left at your place?” I asked. “But I’m the immature one. Sure.”

He was angry that I hadn’t taken the bait. He pushed his hair back from his face aggressively and stepped back from me. “I hope your boss realizes that you just lost a big client,” he said, then started walking away.

“Did we? Because I’m pretty sure that the company is called Mead-Holmes, not Mead-Holmes and Williams,” I said, turning and calling after him. “And I’ve never heard of a partner or CEO fetching lunch for his company. It seems to me that you’re just an errand boy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, then slowly turned back around. He opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.

“Don’t say another word. Just turn around and keep walking,” Walter said, putting himself slightly in front of me. “Or I can escort you out. It’s your decision.”

Ezra looked from Marshall to me and I could see him trying to decide if he was going to back down and listen or try to get the last word in. Eventually, he made the smart choice for once and left, shoving past Nick, who was returning to the store, then climbed into his van, slamming the door hard enough to make his windshield wipers jump.

Marshall turned to me, blocking my view of Ezra. His face was softer, his eyes holding worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

I let out a breath. It was shaky. My whole body was tense. “No, actually. I’m angry. I can’t believe he had the nerve to come in here and act like that.”

“What do you need me to do for you?”

I blinked. It was a simple question, but it wasn’t one I was used to hearing. It felt like it took me a long time to unwrap it in my mind. Finally, I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You should take a break,” Nick said. He was loading another portion of the order onto his cart. “I’ll tell Aunt Darcy what happened as soon as I’m done. She’ll understand.”

I chewed my lip for a moment, mulling it over before finally relenting. “Okay. Thank you,” I said to Nick. Then to Marshall, “Would you come with me?”

He nodded. “Where do you want to go?”

I led him through the store and out the back door, into the employee parking lot. The moment we stepped outside, the cold air hit me. I gasped. I hadn’t thought to get my coat from Darcy’s office. Walter noticed.

“It’s cold,” he said, taking off his coat. “Put this on.”

I shivered but shook my head. “No, I can’t take it from you.”

“Yes, you can.” He placed it over my shoulders and held it on me until I finally put my arms through the sleeves, then he pulled it closed in the front. It swallowed me whole. He smiled at me. “Perfect fit.”

I smiled back. “It’s pretty cozy. Thank you,” I said. “But I feel bad that you don’t have one now.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay close to you for warmth,” he joked. He slid his hands inside the coat and placed them on my hips. Instinctively, my arms went around his neck. We looked like we were dancing, even though we were standing still. His smile grew. “Just like this.” He kissed the top of my head before pressing his forehead to mine. “Do you want to talk about what happened or do you want to forget it?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t - I don’t know.” I let my fingers wander into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently playing with his curls. “That was my ex. I haven’t seen him in two years. Part of me...a big part of me, just wants to forget about him, erase him from my memory and never think about him again,” I said. “But another part of me wants to go yank him out of his van and throw him to the ground and stomp his stupid teeth in. And I hate it because he’s the only person who makes me feel that way.”

“Do you want me to talk to him? The gun and badge tend to make people listen to me.”

I smiled but shook my head. “No. I just want you to stay right here with me,” I said. “Please.”

He didn’t say anything, he only nodded, moving my head slightly with his as he did. Then I closed my eyes as I tried to breathe calmly and let go of the anger that Ezra had stirred up in me. With every passing second, Marshall took over and pushed out any lingering pieces of Ezra. The heat of his hands melted away all remembrances of Ezra’s cold, clammy touch that always had an ulterior motive. The scent of him, clean and full of coffee, chased away the smell of expensive cologne that had always been applied too liberally. His presence was comforting and enveloping, not demanding and suffocating. It was like I’d been trapped in a burning building, inhaling smoke, and Walter was my first breath of fresh air and my lungs were screaming for him.

I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me. I blinked and it suddenly hit me that there must have been a reason for him being there and I’d been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t even thought to ask. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I doubt you came here for all of this.”

His hands tightened, pulling me closer. “I came here for you.”

“What did you need me to do?”

He smiled, just the corner of his mouth turned up. “Nothing.” I must have looked confused because he laughed softly. “I just wanted to see you,” he said. “I thought I might be able to take you for coffee?”

I felt my heart swell. My fingers pushed further into his hair, sinking to his scalp. Lightly I scratched my nails against it. He closed his eyes and sighed. “How did I get so lucky to meet you?”

His eyes stayed closed as he leaned back into my touch. “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”

“Mom, I’m home,” I called out as I walked through the door that evening. “I picked up dinner, too.”

“Already in the kitchen,” Mom called back.

I kicked off my shoes by the door, then went to the kitchen. Mom was at the table, papers spread everywhere in front of her as she wrote on a legal pad. One set of reading glasses sat perched on her nose, while another hung around her neck on a chain.

“So...what’cha doin’?” I asked slowly, standing in the doorway.

She looked up at me and over the rim of her glasses. “Last night, June mentioned that since I was sick on her’s, mine, and Aunt Rose’s birthday, it would be fun for the three of us to go away for the weekend and celebrate. So -” She indicated to the layers of paper in front of her. “I’m planning the trip.”

“A trip to where?” I asked. “What kind of weekend getaways call for this type of planning?”

She shook her head. “No, see, I looked up a few places, printed off a list of all their attractions, restaurants, hotels, what have you, and now I’m making a list of each with pros-cons and prices for them all, then we can decide from there.” She waved her hand dismissively over the papers. “This is all getting condensed. I’m not giving them an entire booklet.”

“So, when Dad said that you were a teacher’s pet, this is the kind of thing he was talking about. Right?”

“I wasn’t a teacher’s pet; I just like being thorough. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She stood and started clearing the table. “Those are pretty,” she said, nodding to the vase of flowers in my hand. “Where did they come from?”

“Marshall gave them to me.”

“He sent you flowers at work? That was sweet.”

“Actually, he didn’t send them. He took me out to coffee and bought them for me afterward,” I said, carrying the vase and takeout bag to the counter and setting them down.

“He saw you last night, and you have a date planned for Saturday, but he asked you out for coffee today?” she asked.

I turned to look at her and leaned back against the counter. I couldn’t help my smile. “He said he just wanted to see me.”

“I think this one might be a keeper, Fi.”

I laughed. “I think so, too,” I said. “Today was very nearly a dumpster fire and he extinguished it.”

She looked concerned. “What do you mean? What went wrong?”

“So, the big order we had today? Ezra was the one who picked it up.”

She paused her cleaning. “What?”

“Yeah. I was there to get the driver to sign off on the order, so I had to talk to him. I was hoping - a little naively, I guess - that we could just keep it simple and professional, but unfortunately that didn’t happen,” I said. “I tried walking away and he followed me, essentially saying that everything that had happened between us was my fault. He said that it was pathetic that you yelled at him after we broke up, making it sound like I’d had you do it for me. And then insinuated that he and Demi were having an affair, or they’re currently sleeping together now. I’m not sure. He was trying to upset me, but I don’t know if it was the truth or not. I didn’t fall for it and ask.”

“Well, if Demi is dumb enough to get involved with him after everything she saw him put you through, then she deserves what she gets,” she said. “And if he thought it was pathetic that I yelled at him, what did he think about throwing your stuff out on our lawn two hours after your father died? Is that not beyond pathetic?”

I shook my head. “I genuinely think he’s too narcissistic to even consider himself at fault. He said he got it over with quick for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “How kind of him,” she deadpanned.

“Then Marshall came in -”

Her eyes widened. “He came in while Ezra was there?” she asked, interrupting me. I nodded. “What did he do?”

“He told Ezra that how he was talking to me was unacceptable and that he needed to leave. Then he took me outside so that I could calm down, and once Ezra left, Darcy let me have an early break and he took me out for coffee and bought me flowers to cheer me up.”

“Oh, Bird. He really is a keeper, isn’t he?”

I put my hand over my chest and felt my heart speed up thinking about him holding me in the parking lot, telling me that he was the lucky one. I let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. He really is, Mom.”

That night Walter called me like he said he would. I’d always been rather bad at phone calls and even he had admitted that anything outside of work calls was out of his comfort zone, but for the three and a half hours that we talked, it didn’t seem that way. I lay in bed and talked to him like he was right there. Like we’d known each other forever. We only hung up because I started drifting off. He joked that he was boring me, but I tried to assure him that it was far from that. His voice was calming and soothing and every bit as warm as he was. Sleepily I told him that he was like sitting in front of the fireplace on a rainy day with a cup of tea. He laughed but said as long as he got to sit at the fireplace beside me, he didn’t mind the comparison.

I slept better that night than I had in months.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #Night Hunter fan fiction #Night Hunter #Nomis #Nomis fan fiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfic #Detective Walter Marshall #Begin Again

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kyleoreillysknee · 4 years ago

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Blue Tinted World

Part 1/?

Pairing: Orange Cassidy x Ophelia “Lia” Freeman

Word Count: 2036

Warnings: ABO, hints of emotional baggage, Orange holds a baby

Tag Squad: @snarkandsarcasmftw @adampage @cowboyshit @unabashedwrestlefics @cabotcoves @rampagewriting @goodnaito (bolded means you got a cameo in here)

A/N: Special shout out to Aj who encouraged the shit out of me.

Spiraling had such a deceptive name. It sounded like fun. Like something exciting. Carefree. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t spiraling. She couldn’t be spiraling. She was running late.

Snatching her finger away from tracing the kaleidoscope of blues etched into her forearm she gave the contents of the baby bag one last look over before taking her keys off the counter. Lia exhaled sharply before leaving her apartment, dropping a gentle kiss to the newborn strapped to her chest as she locked the door. This was going to be an awkward conversation with Charlie.

Once she got to the arena, she kept her eyes down to avoid all the strange looks and double takes. It was like no one had seen a baby before. Not wanting to let the tension fester, she followed her nose and found Charlie inspecting some rigging and jotting notes on a clipboard. She didn't have to wait long and watched his shoulders tense before he shifted to sniff at the air a few times. The broad smile on his face stuck awkwardly as he turned and dropped his gaze to the baby blowing drool bubbles against her collarbone. She could only shrug.

“So. Immaculate conception?” Charlie tried, folding his arms across his chest.

“Nephew. Godson, actually.” Lia mumbled, fighting against the nervous tick of reaching over to her forearm. Silent recognition crossed over her manager's features before he gave a small nod.

“I … can’t afford to miss any more work.” Especially now was left unsaid but lingered in the air between them. After a beat she felt a giant hand roughly pat her head and when she looked up Charlie had a soft smile on his face.

“Obviously no climbing the racking, but there’s still a shit ton that needs to get done. Glad to have you back.” Charlie pulled out his phone and she felt a buzz in her pocket, “Sent you Ash’s number. Her and Viv run a daycare, reach out and see if they can take him in.”

Lia’s breath caught in her throat and a rush of heat burned her eyes but she set her mouth in a flat line to push it back, “I- thank you.”

Charlie crouched down to meet her eyes, “I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

With a sniff, she nodded and managed to try at a smile. It was pathetic but this new life didn’t come with a manual or anything so of course the first time anyone offered the bare minimum of help it struck her raw heart.

“What’s his name?” Without her realizing, Charlie had taken the baby bag from her and she naturally fell into step beside him as they walked to the lighting area.

“Sam. Short for Samson.” Lia finally felt like she could breathe and she knew it was Charlie letting out some of his alpha pheromones. Sometimes having a giant overprotective softie for a boss was a good thing. The baby currently trying to snuggle deeper into her skin was probably triggering some deep rooted omega thing in her too but she didn’t want to dwell on that.

After Charlie made sure she was situated comfortably in the booth, he went back to doing his rounds and barking and whoever needed barking to get the show running. Lia let out a happy sigh as she hovered her hands over the switches and dimmers for a second, settling back into the familiar for the first time in what felt like forever. Grabbing the walkie, she announced the start of testing and received a string of cheers of her name from the rest of the tech crew.

Letting the cycles start, Lia sat back and absently rubbed along Sam’s back through the harness as she scanned the program for tonight. Sam let out a gurgle as she felt a slight tickle of air against her shoulder, causing her to flinch as aqua blue sunglasses crept into her periphery. That pure shot of fear caused every muscle in her to tense but she still had the sense to not shout, not wanting to disturb Sam.

Orange immediately went ramrod straight, his hand shooting up to pinch his nostrils closed. Stumbling backwards, he leaned against a nearby barricade and waited until they both had their bearings. Lia almost felt bad, knowing that he just got a metric ton dose of pure omega pheromones slammed into him but he could’ve at least knocked or made any noise. It didn’t help that he was a void of scent, which led to many instances of him suddenly appearing beside her and nearly getting punched.

“For fucks sake, Orange.” Lia sighed, pushing a clump of hair out of her face as she turned to look at him. He gave his head a shake before sinking his hands into his pockets and giving her a shrug. It was the closest thing to an apology she ever seemed to get from him so she accepted it as her body slumped in her chair now devoid of any adrenaline.

“Cool baby.” He mumbled as if he was complimenting her getting new shoes or a haircut.

Lia just stared at him, trying to figure out where he was looking at behind his sunglasses but all she got was her own bewildered expression mirrored back at her, “thanks?”

His head snapped to the side and she could hear a faint low rumble come from him that only confused her more. Is he growling? Lia didn't need to follow his gaze to know that the Inner Circle sans Jericho prowling around the equipment. The heavy cloud of cologne and spicy unrestrained alpha scent was heavy in the air. She had started expecting Orange to show up in places he wasn't supposed to but the Inner Circle pack only came here for one reason: to annoy the shit out of her. Sammy deemed it that she owed him a date because she looked at him once after he nearly knocked her over while vlogging and now she couldn't go a day without having to reject him. She could feel a headache forming and sighed as Sammy finally saw her and they all thundered over.

"Heard your sweet little voice over the radio- ew." Sammy grimaced at the sight of Sam which had her seeing red. She felt a warmth draw closer as Orange placed a hand on the back of her chair and stood beside her.

Hager had to elbow Sammy before he could recover and he was soon flashing his giant toothy smile, "if you just agreed to be my princess you wouldn't have to babysit. I'd take care of you."

"I'm not babysitting. He's my nephew." She snapped, letting her anger pulsate off her in sour waves. Orange tilted his head slightly and Lia realized that what she said wasn't much of an explanation. But it was the truth. He was her nephew and she was his … aunt? Guardian? Mom?

"It's complicated." She whispered, mainly for Orange's benefit. She didn't give a shit what the Inner Circle thought. He gave a barely perceptible nod before shifting his attention back to the now fuming Sammy. Clearly he didn't like the spotlight being moved from him a few centimeters.

"What are you doing here?" Sammy sneered and Hager stood straighter and cracked his knuckles in a display of dominance. Lia felt a slight shake from Orange's hand as her shoulder brushed against it as they both struggled to not burst out laughing at the pathetic peacocking.

"Chilling." Orange muttered simply as he couldn't help himself and made a show of copying Hager. Lia finally couldn't contain it and let out a giggle that she had to slap a hand over her mouth to stifle. Prompting Orange to break and snort as the corner of his mouth twitched into a small grin.

The Inner Circle just stared at them as if they both grew an extra head before Sammy got tired and dismissed them with a wave of his hand and left. Hager frowned at them before plodding after Sammy and Ortiz had to pull Santana away from trying very hard to get a peek at Sam. Now alone again, Lia smiled up at Orange who was trying to rub away his grin and settle back into his perpetually cool stance.

"Thanks," she said softly, realizing that whole scenario would've played out very differently without him here.

"Wasn't for free," as he spoke he flopped into the chair beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth emanating from him but they were not actually touching.

Lia simply raised an eyebrow at him that morphed into genuine surprise as he took off his sunglasses and placed them on the table. When he looked back at her she swore he was a little sheepish.

"Can I hold the cool baby?"

There was such an earnest gleam in his eyes that it took her breath away. They were so blue. It had to be an omega thing that was making her heart race. Any man showing a bit of interest in children and that whole caregiver bullshit. Right?

"Sorry. Stupid question." He mumbled, eyes downcast as he reached for his sunglasses.

"No!" Lia blurted out, suddenly very unhappy at the idea of not seeing his full face. That thought did not at all make any heat rush up to the tips of her ears, "sorry. It's ok. I just … not used to seeing your eyes. Or something."

His head perked up as she carefully moved to unstrap Sam from her. All that understated confidence melted off him as she stood and gently slid the harness away revealing a snuggly swaddled bundle of baby blue dinosaur print. If she wasn't so taken with staring at Sam's face she would've noticed the slight tremor in Orange's hands as he moved them to his lap. As she stood, she hesitated for a moment and Orange just silently watched as a myriad of emotions flitted across her face for split seconds each. Remembering herself, she found a small smile and shifted to place Sam in his perfectly positioned waiting hands.

The expression became genuine as she watched Orange expertly adjust so that Sam was securely nestled in the crook of his elbow. His motions oddly practiced until he started using his other hand to trace absently along Sam's back.

"Hey cool baby," he muttered softly, head bowing to let Sam take up his entire vision. She wrestled down the urge to coo at the sight, instead wrapping her arms around herself feeling a bit of a chill in the arena.

"Sam," Lia softly provided, only now recognizing that she was still standing and moved to sit. Nudging her chair a little closer, their knees ended up touching but neither made a move away. She relished in the contact, letting his warmth seep into her as she draped herself across her chair arm. All those sleepless stressful nights finally catching up to her now that she was allowed a moment to not be vigilant.

"Hey cool baby Sam," Orange corrected, utterly captivated. Peeking over at Lia, he watched her struggle against her eyelids and shifted so that she could see Sam better resulting in their shoulders almost touching. A distantly familiar ache settled in his chest as her head rested against his bicep after she finally lost against her exhaustion. He ignored the eruption of itch that took over his forearm, specifically the swirl of vibrant blues that covered his inner arm hidden beneath his guard.

Charlie later found them all asleep in the booth 30 minutes before recording. Orange with his cheek resting against the top of Lia's head as Sam mouthed at the tip of his finger was the first to wake. Lia was roused by the rumble he let out for a moment before catching himself. He tried to play it off as a yawn but Charlie flashed him a knowing look that he ignored. In under a minute Orange had placed Sam back in Lia's arms and was sauntering out of the equipment area with a lackadaisical flick of his wrist to push his sunglasses back in place.

#My writing #orange cassidy fic #orange cassidy x ofc #orange cassidy #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #aew imagines #orange cassidy imagine

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plaidbooks · 4 years ago

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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 1

A/N: It’s finally here! I really wanted to finish this series before I started posting (mostly because I was afraid I wouldn’t finish it). This is my first time writing for an OC, and for SVU! I promise not every chapter will be this long; I was just trying to establish the character.

The first three chapters are prequels. This chapter takes place during season 5.

Next Chapter

Tags: child prostitution mention, sex trafficking mention, minor character death, child death, guns, blood, normal SVU stuff.

Words: 10k+

Devon Motely got out of bed and stretched, yawning loudly. She walked over to her window and threw the curtains open, letting the sun stream in. She glanced at the clock, 7:05am. She shook her head; it was later than she was used to, but not really; time zones still made sleep times awkward. The dawn was just peaking over the city buildings. New York, Devon thought, a thrill running through her. She had just moved across the country from California at her boss’s suggestion, transferring in the same department, but a new place; a welcome change from the monotony that was Devon’s life. It was fine by her; she was kind of done with California: the heat, the drama, the constant worry of her childhood coming back to haunt her. New York was a fresh start, a new adventure. Though, as someone who worked in the FBI, an adventure wasn’t always a good thing. But she wouldn’t think about that, instead focusing on the positives. For example, her best friend and fellow special agent, Emma, was reassigned with her. Plus, her old psychiatrist-turned-friend was reassigned to New York years ago, and she was hoping to catch up with him.

Devon was nearing thirty and had been an FBI agent, working with the Hostage Rescue Team, since she was 18—a whole decade ago! Most of the time, she hardly believed it had been that long. Other times, it felt like it had been so much longer; working HRT meant she had to do and look at things that would make others sick. They made her sick, too, but she could deal with it; she had to, it was her job. Sometimes while working undercover, however, she had moments of weakness, moments when she couldn’t commit to her illicit cover story, and she had to isolate herself to get back in the mindset. Only once did she ever have her cover blown; she grimaced when checking out “product”—little girls—and she couldn’t recover. She lost a couple girls that day, and she learned to always put on the correct face after that, no matter what she said or saw. Devon was damn good at her job, though, and she almost never lost another life since. Almost.

1 year later

Cubicle of Devon Motely

Thursday, October 25th. 12:37am

Devon sighed heavily; she was in the office—a rare occurrence indeed—flipping through pictures and unconsciously clenching her teeth in disgust and anger, slowly giving herself a headache. The Assistant Director, and subsequently her boss, Thomas Jenkins, had personally given her this task. It was a delicate procedure, one that he needed to make sure made it into the right hands. For that, only one name came up, and that was Devon’s. Devon scrolled through the pictures looking, searching for anything that could be useful—a tattoo, a building, a street sign. Anything. Hell, she’d take a moldy food wrapper at this rate; her search has pulled up dead-end after dead-end, and she was getting frustrated. She knew, though, how to relax and refocus her efforts; getting frustrated helped no one, especially not the poor children that were caught in the middle of this chaos. That being said, flipping through hundreds of kiddie porn images wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her day.

About two weeks ago, another field agent had been able to shine some light on a huge human trafficking ring, one that the FBI had been trying to break into for months. Devon hadn’t really been on the case, besides maybe looking through some facts or pictures in her fleeting free time, but she was now called in. Thomas mostly wanted her to stay caught up on the details because he wanted to send Devon in, hence why she was now stuck at her desk in the middle of the night, obsessively looking for some clue as to the location of where the kids may be. The other field agent, the one that first broke into the ring, was shockingly able to take one of the pimps alive, and even more shockingly, they were able to break through the encryption on the bastard’s laptop. All that he really had on there, however, were private messages with anonymous johns and pimps, something that the FBI’s best computer techs were trying to crack the identities of, and then some very, very disturbing pictures and videos.

Devon had mentally prepared herself for a couple hours before going to work on watching the videos; she figured that they were probably the worst things there, so she’d deal with them first. Sadly, she was correct; the things that she saw in those videos—mostly violent kiddie porn—made her skin crawl and still haunted her at night. It had been about a week since Devon started this “project,” and she had either gone to or talked to a psychiatrist almost every day afterwards. The pictures were…better isn’t the correct word, but they were less intense than the videos...for the most part. Devon kept a notepad and pen by her as she flipped through file after file. She came upon a particularly horrible picture and turned her screen off for a moment, feeling nauseous. She stood up quickly and took a couple steps from her desk, rubbing her temples, trying to get the image out of her mind with no luck. She needed a moment to recollect herself before she did something she regretted—going into their secure facility to beat that pimp to a bloody pulp would help no one. Though, it may make her feel better.

She sighed, taking a sip from her long-cold coffee. She picked up her notepad, going over the few—mostly useless, she knew—clues that she could pick up from the files she had already gone through. One kid in a video—a young boy, no older than 10--begged the man to not touch him, calling him by name, Evan. She wrote down the video timestamp; you can see half of Evan’s face for the briefest of moments. That’s been the most helpful thing she had found, though. Everything else she had scribbled down was just a description of the various rooms in the videos and pictures, or one of the children’s names, or the brand of…items used—anything that may be helpful in tracking down where these children could be. There was a grand total of 4 different rooms; she labeled one as “Evan’s room” and had scrawled down a basic description, but no other names of the pedophiles came up.

Tossing the notepad back onto the desk, Devon took a deep breath before sitting back down. She steeled herself, trying to force herself to feel nothing at all. It was good that she still felt repulsed, she told herself. Once she really did feel nothing, then it would be time to quit…and find a better therapist. Barely containing her groan of discomfort, she turned her computer screen back on, and analyzed the grotesque picture that appeared, looking for something, anything, that could help this child and all the others.

It took her two more days, and thousands of images that she’d need the strongest alcohol in existence to erase from her mind, until she found something concrete. There was a picture of the same bed that Devon had seen a hundred times now, the bed that she had labeled under “Evan’s room.” But Devon ignored the…scene that the picture was attempting to focus on. Instead, she focused her attention on what looked like a receipt—one that someone would get after they signed for something, a carbon copy of the signature on the bottom—that was on a clipboard on a dresser on the other side of the bed. It looked like the signature said “Evan Thompson” or “Evan Frampton,” but it was hard to tell. She needed another set of eyes, a fresher set that aren’t bloodshot from looking at a screen for days. She called Jenkins on his direct line and waited for him to come over to her desk to inform him about her discovery, see if he could make it out.

“I was starting to give up on you,” Jenkins joked as he appeared in the office doorway.

Devon gave a tired smile. “Trust me, I’ve been wanting to give up on this since the first image.” Jenkins came up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the image on the screen. Devon had saved him from seeing the whole image, having it punched in on just the receipt. “What does that signature say to you?”

Jenkins leaned over her shoulder, putting his face almost against the screen. “Evan Thompson?”

“That’s what it looks like to me, too. Think the techs can clean it up?”

Jenkins leaned back, nodding. Devon turned to face him, cautiously hopeful. “I think it’s worth a shot. Good work Motely,” he replied, giving her a pat on her shoulder.

Grateful for the praise, and for the possible lead, she copied the file into a message and sent it to the techs. It took them only an hour, in which Jenkins had retreated back to his office and Devon had been engrossed in more pictures, before they sent back the picture, clearer than before. The receipt now clearly read “Evan Thompson.” She could even see a total amount above it now. With how much it came to, she was pretty sure that she knew what he had purchased; more children.

With a name now confirmed, Devon opened the Bureau’s database, typing in Evan’s name. Thousands of matches pinged in seconds. She narrowed the field down; in New York—the apprehended pimp accidently mentioned that detail--still alive, not incarcerated. Down to a couple hundred. She then pulled up the half-of-a-face picture she had saved and added in a couple things in her search; white, aged 35-50, 160-190lbs. Only a handful of addresses this time. She wrote down all of them, then got up to go to Jenkins’ office, give him the good news. She needed a team of—she looked down at the number of addresses—at least 16 people, if they were to go at all of these Evans at once and in pairs, as per protocol. They were all over the state, but in clusters. The furthest an Evan was from another was 5 miles. Perfect.

The FBI had been desperate to catch this trafficking ring; they had people at their disposal. Getting the field agents to interview the suspects would be the easy part; the hard part was assembling teams to go back them up. Devon wanted to be coordinated in this takedown. If the real perp was to catch wind of the FBI coming down on Evan Thompsons, then he’d be in the wind instantly. They had to be ready to take all eight down at the same time, just in case. They couldn’t let this guy get away. Because of their close proximity, they were also able to place teams in between the suspect’s locations, saving them some manpower. Devon conveyed as much to Jenkins, who agreed; now they just had to pull every agent they could back to base, go through the briefing and saving those children.

FBI Headquarters

Monday, October 28th. 8:05am

Everyone crowded in the briefing room, standing with their partners or teams, watching Jenkins intently. Jenkins went through the whole operation with everyone, 80 agents in all—16 field agents and 64 SWAT members. Every single person wanted these kids in safe hands; they all wanted to take these bastards down, and they hung on every word Jenkins said. Assignments given, the agents started to prepare. Devon vaguely noticed the field agents that were assigned to interview the suspects pair off and get their equipment.

“We better get this guy,” she heard one agent mumble to another. Devon pulled on her bulletproof vest, strapping it tight. She strapped on her glock and put her badge on over her head—she had it on a chain necklace for this. Then she grabbed the rifle issued to every SWAT member. She wasn’t normally SWAT, and the metal weapon felt heavy and unfamiliar in her hands. True, she had learned to use it in training, but it was rare that she used it at all. She couldn’t wait for this mission to be over, to be back in the field, alone, with no liabilities. It was easier that way.

“Hey Dev, don’t sweat. We’ll get those kids out safely,” a familiar voice said. She turned to see Emma next to her, red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, helmet already secured on her head. Devon didn’t have many friends, inside or outside of the FBI, but Emma had always been nice to her, always had her back when Devon had to play nice with others instead of going undercover by herself. While Devon counted Emma as her best friend, they didn’t see much of each other outside of work, only a stray text here or there.

“God, I hope so,” Devon replied. She didn’t want to imagine the scene that may be awaiting them. She had done this hundreds of times, but it never got any easier; her brain liked to imagine the worst possible scenario. It didn’t help that she had seen that scene in person. Every time she geared up for a siege like this, the dead bodies flashed in her mind. She shuttered.

“We will. I know we will,” Emma said with such conviction, how could it end any differently? Devon simply nodded back, putting on her helmet. Once fully geared up, Devon, Emma, and the rest of their team—6 other men--made their way to their SWAT van. Devon felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach on the drive to their outpost spot. She tried to calm her nerves; there was only a 1 in 8 chance that she would even see any action today. But she knew her luck. And she knew how much Fate liked to fuck with her. So, she counted the minutes ticking by while her team idly chatted about nothing; getting drinks later, the Knicks game the previous night, the wife and kids wanting to go on vacation with their father for once. Devon had nothing to contribute—she hardly did anything outside of work—so she just listened, replying only when prompted.

Devon’s phone rang, causing her to jump and the others in the van to go silent, looking towards her. Devon quickly silenced it, looking at the caller ID. She never got phone calls outside of spam or telemarketers; she had completely forgotten to turn it off before this. She was shocked when she saw a name appear; Dr. Huang. Fighting the urge to answer it, Devon let it go to voicemail. Dr. Huang only ever called in case of emergencies, opting to communicate through text. But there was no time to answer as the van’s engine sprang to life, Jenkins informing them through their earpieces that the Evan they were sitting on was their guy. Devon shot a quick text to the psychiatrist—emergency, call you later—before putting her phone away. She fought down the thoughts that had sprung up, wondering why the doctor had called her; she had more important things to worry about. The knot in her stomach had returned and every bump in the road made it feel like she was going to be sick. The van drove for a couple more minutes before cutting the engine. Everyone in the back of the van readied themselves. They laid out a basic plan on the short drive over—Jenkins had told them it was a warehouse. A team of four people were going through the front and the other 4 were going through the back. Devon and Emma would be in the latter group. They had done this a handful of times before; all the team knew each other, trusted each other. Devon gripped her rifle, stifling any lingering nerves. She switched her thoughts off, ready to rely on instinct and training. The van doors were thrown open, and Devon and her team charged out and into the beyond.

Warehouse of Evan Thompson

Monday, October 28th. 12:47pm

Devon and her team stormed the place as quickly and quietly as possible. They found the backdoors quickly, unguarded. One of the men pulled out a crowbar, shoved it into the crease between the doors, and ripped it open. It was loud, and they moved in slowly, listening for any sign of life. Hearing nothing, they started clearing little office rooms before they made it to the big, empty space. Well, empty besides a couple of abandoned cement guardrails, like something that littered parking lots, and a huge chain-link cage. Devon had taken the lead, had been the first to peer around into the expansive place. The cage had caught her attention immediately, not because of its size, but because of its contents. What seemed like at least 30 children, all between what looked like 8- and 12-years-old. Devon felt the nausea come back but shoved it down. She could feel sick later. She motioned for the team to follow her as she led them slowly towards the cage, keeping an eye out for danger.

“What the fuck?” a male’s voice called out from across the warehouse. Devon whipped around to the source of the sound, seeing 4 heavily armed men coming out of a small room. Then, pandemonium. The traffickers open fired, forcing them to take cover behind the cement guardrails, firing back. Devon looked over to the cage; it was far enough out of the line of fire that none of them were injured, though the children were all on the ground now, hands covering their heads and ears. But how long would it take until the traffickers decided to cut their losses?

“Cover me,” Devon said, mentally preparing herself for the short run to the cage—it was at least 10 yards. She felt the familiar churning in her stomach when having to make this tough decision; she knew it was highly unlikely that all the children would survive, but it was better than leaving them stuck like fish in a barrel. Wasn’t it?

Emma saw what she was planning and shook her head. “You’ll be killed before you make it halfway.” A bullet pinged off the cement by their heads, as if to emphasize this point.

“That’s why I said cover me.” Without waiting for a response, she poked her gun out from behind the low wall she was crouched behind, rapid firing in the direction of the traffickers. Their gunfire quieted as they took cover from the barrage, allowing the FBI agents to peek their heads out, taking better aim and giving her the cover she had requested. Devon took her chance and sprinted to the cage, firing at the traffickers as she went. A couple of stray bullets got close to her, but none hit their target. The kids noticed the agent running towards them and scrambled to their feet. They came rushing to the door, reaching for Devon through the chain link wall, voices overlapping, panicking as they begged, pleaded for help.

“Stand back!” she yelled over the ruckus. It wasn’t until she took aim at the lock that the kids backed up. She pulled the trigger, bullet destroying the padlock. Devon turned her back on the cage, firing wildly at the traffickers while the children ripped the door open.

“Run, run! Go go go!” she ordered, raising her voice over the gunfire. She could barely hear the children fleeing across the warehouse towards the waiting agents. Devon chanced a glance to the side, trying to make sure they were making it. She felt a pang in her heart when she saw Emma positioned halfway between the cage and the other agents. It was in that moment, that split-second glance, that Devon realized that she loved Emma.

The traffickers renewed their efforts, obviously pissed that their product was escaping. Bullets flew, but Devon held her ground until the last kid left the cage. Once the cage was empty, Devon started to retreat back to her previous cover. It was a perilous journey; there were a few bodies in the path—Devon glanced to find her footing, but otherwise tried to ignore the small, unmoving corpses and the sudden sadness and anger that they conjured. After what felt like hours, Devon made it back behind the low wall. As she was moving to crouch behind it, however, she was hit in the chest. It hit her vest, but that didn’t stop it from knocking the wind out of her, causing her to fall onto her back. It hurt like hell, and she knew she would have a wicked bruise, and hopefully that was it. She scrambled back to her knees, trying to get a baring on her surroundings again. One of her teammates was covering the escape route from their cover to the hallway leading to the exit; a much closer trek than the cage was. The other agent that stayed behind was giving them cover fire from the hallway. Devon joined in; having no more distractions besides the pain in her chest, she was able to take precise aim, shooting two of the traffickers, their bodies falling like a sack of bricks. The firefight seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the warehouse fell silent. Keeping their guns at the ready, the agents came out from behind the wall, making their way towards where the traffickers had been in cover. Six dead bodies; two more must have joined the original four. Right at that moment, the other half of the team came in from the front, calling out the all clear. Devon let out a heavy sigh, lowering her weapon.

“Thanks for the cover, Emma,” she said, turning to find the spunky redhead. But she wasn’t with Devon’s team. She unstrapped her vest, checking the area that she was shot. It hurt and was already bruised, a bump forming, but no broken skin, and from the feeling, no broken bones. “Emma?” she called out after a couple moments of silence.

“You didn’t see?” one of her teammates asked. Devon felt a stone drop into the pit in her stomach. She shook her head and the man raised his hand slowly, pointing. Devon hesitantly followed his finger and felt the ground drop out from under her. The children who were hit were laid out in almost a line from cage to cover, an indicator of their flight. And among them was a redhead, complete with SWAT vest.

No, Devon thought. A pain completely unrelated to her injury punched her in the heart. She hurried over, knelt down, and turned her friend over, hoping against hope that she was just grazed, that she was still alive. Emma’s eyes were flat, grey, staring at nothing. A bullet hole was almost perfectly in the middle of her forehead, blood already drying. Devon dropped her as if burned, falling backwards onto her ass. She started hyperventilating, bile rising in her throat. She had to get out of the warehouse, get some fresh air. There was a roaring in her ears, her heart beating frantically. Out of nowhere, a faint whimpering broke through the blood rushing in her head. Devon whipped her head in the direction of the sound. There—a small form was crying, breathing hard. Devon scrambled over to the child, anything to get away from her dead friend, and found a little girl. She was clutching her stomach, blood seeping through her grasp.

“I need medical attention!” Devon yelled, ripping the shirt off a not-so-fortunate body, and using the fabric to try and staunch the bleeding. She held the shirt firmly, but not too hard; pushing too hard on a stomach wound could damage the internal organs. Devon stayed like that with the poor girl until paramedics came. A different set of medics checked Devon’s injury. They tried to convince her to go to the hospital, to make sure nothing was damaged internally, but Devon declined. She was quiet the whole trip back to the FBI HQ, mind completely blank.

FBI Headquarters

Monday, October 28th. 2:26pm

Devon moved on autopilot, making her way to her locker, ignoring the congratulations or condolences sent her way. She opened the locker and started taking off her gear, her hands like machines. She unstrapped the helmet from under her chin, lifting the piece of equipment and placing it on an empty shelf. She then gently took off her vest, wincing in pain, the events from the past hour still fresh in her mind, flashing before her eyes, as if she were still in that warehouse. Devon closed her locker door forcefully, hands still feeling sticky from all the blood, even though she had scrubbed them clean. In all, 7 children laid dead in the warehouse. The little girl, Patsy, was the only one who was found to still be alive in the pile. She was still in surgery, and Devon had asked for updates; she needed one win to come out of all this. The other 25 children survived, and the FBI were now attempting to track down their family members, if they had any. Now out of her SWAT gear, Devon made her way to Jenkins’ office. She was running on autopilot, Emma’s dead stare branded in her mind’s eye. She really rather just go home, drink until she couldn’t see straight. But she had to be debriefed, and she knew Jenkins would force her in to see the Bureau’s shrink before she was allowed to leave—if she didn’t tell Jenkins that she was shot, then he wouldn’t force her to the hospital.

The debriefing took upwards of an hour, and Jenkins gave her a shot of strong scotch—not Devon’s drink of choice, but she was used to it from past hard cases and highly grateful for the burning liquid, warming her cold, empty shell of a body. As she had predicted, Jenkins all but ordered her to go to the shrink before she left for the day. And to take some time off—she had enough vacation days saved up—and to continue seeing a shrink at least once a week. Devon hid her pain as best she could, but she knew Jenkins saw her little winces. Jenkins, to his credit, ignored it; he knew that she’d make sure she was alright, but he also knew that she needed some time. It wasn’t until Devon was sitting in the waiting room of the company shrink that she remembered that she had a call from a different FBI psychiatrist earlier, before everything went to shit. She pulled out her phone and redialed Dr. Huang’s number.

“Hey George. What’s happened?” she asked when he answered.

“I need a favor, and it’s very time sensitive.”

SVU Department

Monday, October 28th. 4:30pm

Devon stepped through the doors of NYPD’s 16th precinct after blowing off her appointment with the shrink, claiming she was meeting up with Dr. Huang. The psychiatrist had giving her a hard look, but agree that Huang could counsel her, too. Devon looked around curiously; she had never been in this particular precinct before and had to ask for directions from the deskman, who directed her to the elevator. The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the Special Victims Unit. Officers and detectives were wandering about, doing paperwork, or otherwise working. Devon felt eyes trailing behind her as she made her way through the precinct. She tried to shove that down, along with all her other emotions; there was a time and place for that eventual breakdown, and this wasn’t it. Work was work, and this seemed important as well as stressful, as her work normally was. NYPD already felt like walking on enemy ground, no matter how much people wanted to claim about them being “brothers in arms.”

“May I help you?” a woman asked, breaking through Devon’s thoughts. She was in street clothes—a detective, then—with short cropped hair. She had bags under her eyes, slumped shoulders; she was obviously running on overtime, probably hasn’t slept in a day or two.

“I’m looking for Dr. Huang,” Devon replied. She felt a fresh wave of pain as she subconsciously puffed out her chest. She didn’t try to engage in posturing, but this woman already was giving her a hard glare.

The woman nodded. “Ah, you must be his FBI friend—” Devon didn’t miss the…resentment? Venom? in her voice—“he’s in the Captain’s office.”

“Thanks,” Devon said, pushing past the detective. She was used to NYPD disliking her; the Bureau had no friends. But she rarely had someone using that kind of tone so boldly to her face; it was usually coy smiles, sugar-coated threats, and other politics designed to make them seem like friends to the untrained ear. She may not like the detective, but she respected her bluntness. Devon ignored all the other eyes that she could feel on her as she made her way to the only office in the place. She knocked on the open door, sticking her head in. Before she could say anything, Dr. Huang stood up from his seat, gesturing her in.

“Devon, it’s nice to see you again,” he said, giving her a hug. He released her quickly, giving her a concerned look when he felt Devon tense up, hissing in pain. She subtlety shook her head, promising to explain later.

“Same to you, George.” Devon had met the doctor years ago in California as a patient; they’ve been good friends ever since, even after Huang was reassigned to New York. As much as Devon liked him, though, she had a hard time reading him; it made her slightly uneasy, but not enough to stop being friends with him. They’ve worked on cases together in the past. Huang was a profiler as well as a psychiatrist; he made most of Devon’s aliases when she went undercover in her early years, would spend hours working with her until she became that person.

Dr. Huang gestured to the man, presumably the Captain, sitting behind the desk. “This is Captain Cragen,” he introduced. “Cragen, this is Special Agent Devon Motely.” They shook hands.

“I assume Huang told you why you’re here?” Cragen asked by way of meeting.

Devon let out a breath. “No, actually. Only that it was an emergency.”

Dr. Huang gave her a weird look but said nothing. Devon knew the look, though; she had said something wrong, something weird. She knew he’d ask about it later, when they had more privacy. She wasn’t looking forward to that talk.

Cragen looked between the two before answering, “well, we have a missing kid. Kidnapped 16 hours ago. Believed to be taken by a gang member in retaliation. It’s a…delicate situation, one that I felt the need to call Huang in on. Though, he has convinced me that you specialize in this kind of work, that you could get this kid out with no casualties.”

The familiar knot formed in Devon’s stomach; the dead children from earlier, Emma’s dead face flashed in her mind. She took a sharp breath, trying to ground herself in now. She needed to focus; there was another child in danger, another child that needed her help.

“Do you know where the perp is, where he took the kid?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, professional.

“No, but I have every available officer on it; we’re closing in on them.”

Devon nodded. “Tell me about the perp.” All business, nothing else. Emotions didn’t belong here.

Cragen led the two FBI agents to where they had a screen and whiteboard, all filled with information on this case. The woman detective from earlier was there, as well as two others; one was a tall white man with glasses and grey hair, the other was a black man, slightly taller than Devon. Another detective was at his desk, on the phone and typing on his computer. Cragen introduced the man as Elliot Stabler, the woman as Olivia Benson, the tall man as John Munch, and the black man as Fin. Devon nodded to them each in turn, but got mostly the cold shoulder or a hard stare in return. As Cragen filled her in, she tried to memorize every detail she could, no matter how small. The perp’s name was Jose Gonzalez, the kid was Eddy Suarez. Eddy’s father was in the same gang as Jose; from what SVU understood, the father had slighted Jose in some way, so Jose took his kid as payback. He was considered armed and dangerous.

“Captain, I may have something,” Stabler called out, slamming his phone on its receiver. His desk was against Benson’s desk—partners, then. The group hurried over to look at his screen. “Got the car and license plate crossing the bridge into Staten Island.”

“Let’s move,” Cragen said, spurring the detectives into action. Devon followed; Huang would stay behind, waiting for the interrogation, to where his skills would be needed.

“We need to talk,” he murmured to Devon as she hurried by him. She simply nodded, then followed the Captain out of the precinct.

540 East Marigold Lane

Monday, October 28th. 5:28pm

They pulled up a couple houses down from where Jose had barricaded himself with the child. ESU was still arriving, scrambling to get into place. It was a normal, suburban house, one story, complete with white picket fence; ESU didn’t need long to surround the place, evacuating the houses nearby. Devon wanted to get in there before they were ready; the most important part was getting the 7-year-old Eddy out, alive and unharmed, not something ESU was trained for. She got out of the car, bulletproof vest on and ready, trying to ignore the pain in her chest and her heart, but failing miserably. The nerves that she normally got in these situations were absent; she was still reeling from the warehouse earlier. She kept glancing around, trying to find Emma, then remembering and grimacing. It was like she couldn’t control her emotions, her mind. Devon was afraid that she’d feel this anytime she put the vest on again.

“You alright there, Agent?” Stabler asked, coming to stand next to her. She nodded absently, not really pay attention to the man. Devon’s mind was far away, her nerves fried. She felt like she was about to scream, cry, explode, all of the above. She shook herself, shoved all of her thoughts and feelings down; all that mattered now was that little boy being held hostage. She conjured up the picture she saw in the precinct; a little boy, laughing, being held by his dad who was also laughing. She focused on that boy, focused on the fact that he was in the house in front of her, scared to death. She took a deep breath, then made her way around the house, away from the NYPD officers. She vaguely heard someone call out to her, asking where she was going, but she ignored them. There was a backdoor in the backyard that had a huge window next to it, blinds open, giving her a clear look inside.

She could see a large living room with couches and a TV mounted on the wall. There was a coffee table and a couple of bookshelves full of a variety of books. Otherwise, the room seemed empty. Looking through it, Devon could see an empty kitchen and a hallway. No sign of the man or child. She tried the doorknob and was stunned that it was unlocked. Why had no one else come back here? she thought. Fearing it was a trap, she unholstered her gun, the familiar steel in her hand. She twisted the knob, opened the door slowly. She stepped back, aiming her glock for anyone who may jump out at her. Nothing. Confused, she slowly went through the open door, checking both ways as if someone could be hiding there against the wall, waiting to kill her. Empty. The house itself seemed empty, but then why was ESU and the NYPD stationed outside? Might as well clear the building, make sure that they were just overreacting rather than blaming them right away for botching the location.

Devon crept through the rooms, listening for any sound, but hearing nothing. She then made her way to the hallway; there were only two doors lining the walls, with a master bedroom at the end. She took one step into the hallway, and her mind flashed. She blinked, and she was back in the warehouse, hard concrete under her boots, Emma’s breath loud in her ears. Devon’s breath caught in her throat as she whipped around. But no one was there; it was an empty living room in a quaint house in a suburb. Trying to calm her racing heart, Devon turned back to the hallway; all the doors were open, almost confirming that there was no one here with her. The first room was an empty child’s bedroom, nothing in it disturbed. The second room was a small bathroom, also empty of human presence.

“Get out of here,” a man’s voice called from the master bedroom, making Devon jump, heart racing painfully against her chest. She heard a soft, metallic sound and looked down, trying to find the source. She was surprised to find that it was coming from her; the hand holding her glock was shaking, hard enough for it to be making noise. Calm down, she told herself. She glared at her own hand until the shaking stopped. Devon took a deep breath, then made it to the doorframe, pressed up against it. She tried to peek in, to see the situation she was about to be in.

“Let the boy go. We can talk about this,” Devon replied, gripping her gun tighter if only to keep in control. She could just barely see the man holding the child, gun to the latter’s head. Eddy let out a choked sob. Another flash in Devon’s mind and she saw Patsy lying in a pool of her own blood. She pulled back, breathing hard. Quit it! she yelled at herself, her own mind.

Jose’s voice wavered slightly as he said, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

It took a moment for Jose’s words to make their way into Devon’s mind. “Then stop it from continuing. All you need to do is let the kid go, and we can all walk out of here unharmed.”

She could almost hear him shaking his head. “Naw, that’s not gonna happen. If I let this kid go, you’ll just shoot me. I don’t wanna die, man.”

Emma’s face flashed across her mind. She didn’t want to die, either, Devon almost spat out, but she held her tongue. What was happening to her? It had been a long day, and she needed to get out of there. “I’m going to put my gun down, okay? I’ll be unarmed, and I’m coming into the room.” True to her word, she put the safety on her gun, then gave it a little toss into the room, not close enough for Jose to reach it, but definitely out of Devon’s reach. A little show of trust, so that hopefully he will trust her, even a little bit. She then put her hands up, reaching them around the doorframe before coming in herself. “I don’t want anyone here to get hurt, Jose, I promise. Why don’t you tell me how this happened?” Keep him talking, help him see that there was no winning here, that he’d have to do as she asked.

Jose used the hand holding the gun to rub his shaved head. He was panicking, but Devon was hoping to calm him down, even if she couldn’t keep her own mind calm. “Alonso fucked up for the last time”—Devon recognized the child’s father’s name— “and the boss wanted to make him pay, ya know? So, he had me pick up his kid, but then he wanted me to kill him and I just, I can’t kill a kid, man. But if I don’t, boss will kill me.”

Devon felt a pang of pity for the man; he was in a lose-lose situation. But her fraying nerves and overall exhaustion was making it hard to think straight, making it hard to play the nice cop. “Jose, you’re not leaving this house alive unless you surrender yourself. But, no listen to me, if you give yourself up, you’re only going to jail. You hurt that kid, though? You’re done, you’re in the ground, I guarantee it.” She spat out the last part, a little more violently than she meant to. Normally, she’d use a threat like that just to get a suspect to comply. But right now, she was afraid…afraid that she wasn’t using an empty threat. Afraid that she may actually kill this man if she didn’t end this soon. She had never felt like this before.

Jose let out a pained whine. “I don’t wanna die,” he mumbled. He tightened his grip on Eddy, who was starting to cry louder, as if he understood that the more distressed Jose became, the least likely he was to survive.

Devon took another deep breath, trying to shove all of her personal feelings down, trying to bring that professional side back out. The field agent that she always was. “I won’t let you die, Jose. Trust me, I can get you out of here, but you have to put the gun down. You said it yourself, you don’t want to kill this child. What would that even accomplish? Eddy has done nothing wrong. Think about how terrified he must be, how cruel it would be to end his life before he got to do anything that he’s dreamed of.” Devon glanced at the cross Jose was wearing around his neck. “Do you really believe that God would forgive you for ending this child’s chance at life?” If personalizing Eddy didn’t get through to him, religion probably would.

Jose sniffled, the hand holding the gun starting to shake. “You—you can get me out of here? Alive?”

Devon nodded. “Of course, but you have to put the gun down, let Eddy go. I give you my word.” During this whole exchange, Devon had been making her way slowly through the room, around the bed towards Jose. Jose looked like he was thinking through all of his options, breathing harder and harder. After what felt like forever, he released Eddy, who ran to Devon, wrapping his arms around her legs. She jumped as if shocked by the touch, but played it off, trying not to scare the child. Jose then slowly handed his gun to Devon. She put it in the waistband of her pants at the small of her back.

“I’m so sorry,” Jose said through tears. He turned around, head down, defeated. He put his hands on the back of his head and waited. Devon took her handcuffs out of her back pocket and awkwardly made her way to Jose, Eddy hanging off of her.

“Don’t let me die,” Jose whispered, more to himself than to Devon. Once he was secured, Devon let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. All of her nerves were on fire, as if the slightest touch would set her off. It was taking everything in her to not react to Eddy hanging off of her. As she led the two out of the room, she swooped down to grab her gun, replacing it in her holster. Eddy stayed by her side, never releasing her leg. She was glad he was safe, that she could provide some safety to him, but it was starting to annoy her more and more. He’s a scared child. You just saved his life. Suck it up, she thought to herself. She thought back to Patsy, still in surgery. If Devon had patience for her, she’d have patience for Eddy, too.

“Let me go first,” Devon said, stopping them when they had reached the front door. She pushed Jose gently against the wall by the doorframe, so that none of the awaiting officers could get a clear shot on him. She moved the child behind her legs, effectively becoming a human shield. It’s not that she really distrusted ESU or the NYPD as a whole, but all it took was one overzealous cop to have a twitchy finger, to let this all go to hell.

“Coming out! Suspect is unarmed and apprehended! Don’t shoot!” she yelled out the closed door. Slowly, she unlocked the door, then turned the knob, inching the door open. From the outside, she knew that ESU would only see her standing there, a child behind her. From her point of view, Devon saw guns from every direction aiming at them.

She put her free hand up in surrender, the other hand holding Jose by the cuffs. “Hold your fire!” she called out. She waited until she heard whoever was in charge repeat her order before she moved Jose through the doorframe and out into the open. Eddy took Devon’s free hand when she had lowered it, gripping her tightly. She couldn’t even imagine how terrified this kid must be having this many guns pointed in his direction. She led them out slowly, struggling not to flinch as officers came hurrying up. They all but ripped Jose out from her grip, reading him his rights, and throwing him in the back of a squad car. Devon gave him a sympathetic look as the car pulled away. At least he didn’t die, she thought. More officers came up to take the boy, but Devon refused to release him as Eddy gripped her hand tighter, turning to hide his face against her legs. All of the anger and frustration that had been welling up inside of her finally had a target.

“Back the fuck off,” she said, venom dripping from her voice. The officers scrambled to get out of her way as she led him over to the awaiting paramedics in the ambulance. She waited by his side as he was checked out for injuries. She looked over and saw the SVU detectives, Cragen in their center, looking over to her, something like respect and astonishment in their eyes. She knew Cragen would want to debrief her, but at this point, she was emotionally exhausted—she had spent all day in this damned vest. So, she stayed with Eddy, giving him silent support while he was poked and prodded, asked questions. It eventually came up that they wanted to take him to the hospital, run more tests to make sure he was physically okay.

“Don’t let them take me,” Eddy cried, grabbing Devon’s hand like a lifeline.

“It’s okay, Eddy. I’ll ride with you,” she replied softly. She climbed into the ambulance before the medics could say anything. If they didn’t want her there, they made no mention of it as they loaded up. The whole way to the hospital, Devon whispered encouragement to Eddy—“everything’s fine, you’re safe, you did so good back there”—until he calmed down. Devon stayed with him until the nurses kicked her out, much to his dismay.

“I’ll be right outside. I promise, I won’t leave you until your parents get here,” Devon said as she was shooed out. She went to the waiting room and was shocked to see two detectives—Stabler and Benson—already there.

“That was good work today,” Stabler commented quietly. Benson nodded in acknowledgement. “Even if you did go a little rogue going in the house.” Benson rolled her eyes at that.

“I’m just glad there were no casualties,” Devon replied before slumping into a chair. She felt so drained, so tired. And yet, today wasn’t quite over; she wanted to be there for the interrogation, to let them know about Jose’s impossible situation. To maybe give him some sort of mercy, and maybe some protection from his boss. This day just got longer and longer. Plus, she should probably get her injury checked, too. She rubbed at it absentmindedly, trying to relieve some of the pain.

Benson sat down next to her. “How’s Eddy?”

“He’s fine…relatively. He’s going to need some counseling. But physically, I think he’s unharmed.”

Benson nodded. “Detective Olivia Benson, by the way. Detective Elliot Stabler,” she said, gesturing to the man. Devon was glad that the animosity from earlier seemed to have disappeared. Rescuing a child had that effect on people.

“Special Agent Devon Motely,” she replied, giving them both a small smile. “Any word on Eddy’s parents?”

“They’re divorced; mother is going for full custody, and after today, I’m sure she’ll get it,” Stabler explained. “She’s on her way now.”

Devon nodded, but was too tired to answer. Hopefully, the mother can better protect her son from her ex’s illicit life. She’d make sure she gave them her business card, let them call her if they were ever in trouble again. Even if Devon was busy, she had connections all over the city.

It took about 20 minutes of the three officers sitting in silence—the detectives seemed to know how tired Devon must be, mumbling to themselves every no and again--before the mom showed up. Devon and the detectives had been barred from seeing Eddy until a parent or guardian gave the okay, but they were informed that the child was indeed unharmed, just shaken up by the ordeal. The mother was shown to his room, and the nurse asked for Devon to follow her about 5 minutes later.

“Not you two,” the nurse said to Benson and Stabler. Stabler looked like he was going to start a fight, but Benson waved him down. Devon followed the nurse to Eddy’s room, his mom standing next to him, grasping his hand in both of hers.

“You’re the one who saved my boy?” the woman asked. Devon nodded and the mother came over, flinging her arms around Devon’s neck and pulling her into a tight hug. Devon grimaced as fresh pain coursed through her, but she did her best to stay quiet, keep her pain undetected by the civilians. She awkwardly patted the woman’s back as she cried, thanking the agent over and over again.

“I’m glad he’s alright. You got to watch him, though. Make sure he doesn’t get wrapped up in this again,” Devon replied after she extracted herself from the mother’s grip. She handed her card to the woman. “You call me, though, if anything does happen, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course,” the woman nodded fervently, taking the card from Devon. “We’re moving out of the city, though. Moving closer to my family in Connecticut.”

Devon felt a weight lift off her; getting Eddy out of New York was probably for the best. “Good, that’s good.”

Feeling like they needed time alone, Devon said her goodbyes to both Eddy and her mom—who never stopped thanking her—and backed out of the room. Both detectives were still in the waiting room, and Devon relayed the information to both of them.

“As long as she brings him back to testify, then it’s fine,” Stabler huffed.

“Do you really need a 7-year-old to testify?” Devon asked, incredulous. Devon hated the courts; such bad memories from her past there, plus the unneeded drama and politics that came with it. Besides, hadn’t Eddy suffered enough?

Stabler gave her a hard look. “If we want to get him on kidnapping, then we need the actual kid that was napped,” he explained in a slow tone, as if Devon was an idiot. This was why she liked her job. She only needed to catch the bastards; she didn’t have to go through the whole façade of lawyers, courts, and the politics involved.

“That’s your problem,” she shot back. She really wanted to just go home, have a nice, relaxing bath, and listen to some orchestra music. But she needed to go back to the precinct, listen in on interrogation. Like hell she’d ride with this asshole, though. She said nothing as she left the hospital, hailing a cab. She was sure that the detectives were staying behind to interview Eddy, anyways.

SVU Department

Monday, October 28th. 8:36pm

She made it back to the precinct quickly. Her mind had wandered on the drive over, and she was having trouble focusing. She vaguely realized she didn’t see a doctor about her gunshot wound while she was at the hospital, but she couldn’t force herself to care. She felt like she was floating through the precinct, weaving around the officers as she made her way to SVU’s floor. Her emotions were so frayed, she didn’t think she’d ever feel anything ever again. One of the officers pointed her towards an observation room, where she found Captain Cragen and Dr. Huang watching Fin and Munch grill Jose.

“Fin and Munch have been able to get the whole story out of Mr. Gonzalez, here. Not that it took much prompting,” Cragen said by way of greeting.

“From what he told me in that house, he was in an unwinnable situation. I do hope that you and your DA will take that into consideration when indicting him,” Devon replied flatly. She didn’t have the strength to put up a polite exterior anymore.

Cragen gave her a wondering look; he didn’t seem mad about her tone, just curious about her, about why an FBI agent, especially someone who works in HRT, would be on the perp’s side. “He kidnapped a 7-year-old and held him hostage at gunpoint. Do you really think we should go easy on him?” It didn’t seem like he was trying to defend this point, simply wondering how Devon would answer. As if he were in charge of the debate team in high school, seeing if she could defend her point.

“He was just following his boss’s orders, the promise of death if he failed. And even then, he didn’t kill Eddy. He made it clear how much he didn’t want to,” Devon explained.

“And what would have happened to Eddy if we didn’t find them? If you never talked to Jose?”

Devon didn’t have an answer for that. She’d like to think that he wouldn’t have shot a child, that he may have even killed himself instead. But she could also see the possibility of Jose doing it, because he could make sure Eddy didn’t suffer in death. It all came down to Jose’s fear of death versus his fear of God’s wrath. She resigned to watch in silence as Jose continued to tell the detectives—Fin and Munch—about the hierarchy of the gang, about his boss, about anything they asked about. She could feel Huang’s gaze on her, but she ignored him, trying to focus on Jose’s words.

All three looked to the door when a redheaded woman walked in. Devon felt a punch to the gut as she recalled Emma’s face for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. No matter how many times her empty eyes flashed across Devon’s mind, the nausea and emptiness hit her hard.

“This is ADA Casey Novak,” Cragen announced. “Novak, this is Special Agent Devon Motely.”

“I didn’t know this was a Federal case,” Casey said, giving Devon the familiar I-don’t-trust-the-FBI look.

“Off the clock,” Devon replied, giving her a small, exhausted smile. Maybe she could still have some pleasantries. Casey gave her another look, this time of disbelief—who the hell wanted to do this kind of work off the clock?--before focusing in on the interrogation. Cragen filled her in on the details, including the fact that Devon was the one who collared him, before Devon interjected.

“I’d like to request that you go a little easy on the man,” she said.

Casey gave her an appraising look. “He kidnapped a child, with a gun.” It was the same conversation over and over again. Devon was getting sick of it.

“Yes, but Jose had a gun to his own head. He was acting under duress. Plus, he’s giving you guys all the information on his boss that you need,” Devon reasoned.

Surprisingly, Casey agreed. “I’ll plead him out, then. Kidnapping is 5 to 25 years; I’ll recommend 7.”

“Thank you,” Devon said before excusing herself from the room. With her work effectively done, Devon just wanted to go lay down somewhere for a couple hours…or days. She heard someone follow her out of the observation room and sensed Dr. Huang’s presence.

“We do still need to talk, Devon,” he commented. Devon’s shoulders slumped and she hung her head in defeat as she followed him to an unoccupied room, full of standard-issued beds. Must be where officers could sleep when they couldn’t make it home. It seemed like a cruel joke to bring her here, with how tired she was, but at least it was private. Devon resisted the urge to sit on any of the mattresses; she was afraid she wouldn’t get back up again.

“What’s going on, Dev? Are you okay?” Huang asked once he shut the door.

“Don’t treat me like a patient, George. I know you know me better than that.”

Huang nodded, dropping the professional tone, and adopting something more personable. Yet still that overall calm that he exuded was present. “You’re right. Something did happen to you today, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

Devon huffed out an unamused laugh. “Not really, no. I would rather just down a bottle of whiskey and sleep for three days uninterrupted.” She knew by admitting that, Huang would just dig in further, at least until she got everything off her chest. But she was too exhausted to come up with some elaborate lie about how she was feeling, too exhausted to really care what anyone thought of her right now. She felt nothing, only the dull ache in her chest that pulsed in pain in time with her heart.

Huang looked concerned but hid it well. It only showed in his eyes. “You need to talk it out,” he said. When Devon didn’t reply, he continued, “first, you missed my call, texting me that you were in an emergency. And second, you told Cragen that I gave you no details. I told you the whole case over the phone.”

That stunned Devon; she thought back to the phone call that felt like days ago—how was it only earlier today?—tried to remember what was said. She didn’t remember a single word, though he must have at least old her to come to the 16th precinct, since she showed up here.

Sighing, Devon recounted the Thompson ring takedown. She was a little shocked that Huang didn’t get the notification—“I’m not a field agent, and I was already assigned here,” he explained. Devon got a little choked up when recounting the 7 dead children, and the 1 dead FBI agent, shocked that she even had emotions left.

“I don’t have many friends—you know that. So, losing Emma hurt more than I thought it would,” Devon finished. She refused to acknowledge the feelings that became apparent shortly before the agent’s death—that would be something to unpack later.

Huang had listened intently to her plight. He gave her a look of sadness as she recounted the dead; no matter how many times someone saw another person killed, it never got easier. “You saved 25 children from hell, though.”

“And lost 8 people in the process.”

Huang weighed his words, then responded, “but don’t the lives saved outweigh those lost?”

Devon’s phone went off right then. She recognized the hospital’s number and answered. She felt the dread build in her core, tears finally springing to her eyes as the final nail of the day was hammered into her. “Correction, 9 people. Patsy didn’t make it.” She let the tears flow freely now; it was the first time she had cried that day, but all of the sadness, anger, and guilt from earlier rushed out of her in a wave. She collapsed onto one of the beds hard, face buried in her hands as she let everything out. She vaguely felt Huang sit down next to her, patting her back in comfort, careful to touch lightly after hearing about her being shot. He let her cry until they became hiccupping sobs. Devon wiped her face with her shirt, trying to regain her composure. She tried to make it a point to not cry in front of people; she didn’t want to appear weak. The fact that Huang had been here to see her fall apart hurt her pride more than anything.

Huang waited until she seemed to be back in control before whispering, “Devon, why do you still do this job?”

The question caught her off guard, and an answer didn’t immediately jump out at her. She thought about it, really thought about it; why she got up in the morning, put on the badge, and went to deal with the worst side of humanity. Why she put her life on the line for strangers. Why she cared enough to help people.

“Because if I don’t, who will?” she sniffled. She wanted to expand on that, but the right words didn’t come up right away. She took a deep breath, tried to pull in her scattered thoughts, then said, “you’re right, you know. The lives saved are more important than the lives lost. This city, this world, can be a terrible, terrible place. But if I can save even one person, one child, then it’s worth it to me.” She sniffled again and blurted out, voice desperate, “I just want to help people.”

Huang nodded. “That’s a good answer. The fact that you even had an answer is a good sign, Devon. You still have your humanity. You’re still a good person.” Huang always knew exactly what Devon was really feeling; inadequate, remorseful, and most of all, guilty.

“Even if those 9 deaths are my fault?”

“Devon listen to me. Emma”—her name still hit Devon in the stomach—“knew what she was doing. It was her choice to cover the children’s escape. Besides, if you didn’t unlock that cage, what do you think would have happened to those kids?”

As much as Devon wanted to argue that the cage was out of the line of fire, she didn’t know what would have happened. Maybe the kids would’ve been safe until the firefight was over. Or maybe the traffickers would have decided that they didn’t want any witnesses.

“Survivor’s guilt takes time to digest, to move forward. I agree with your boss, too; talk to a psychiatrist about this. I can talk to you as a friend, but not as a doctor-patient anymore. The one in your sector is good, and a friend of mine,” Huang said.

Devon nodded, agreeing to go to the company shrink. “You know me, though. I can’t take time off; I’ll go insane.”

“You are a workaholic,” Huang agreed. He was the only one allowed to call her that, no matter how true it was. “How about I arrange Cragen to call you if he can use your help?”

Work for the NYPD? Busting low-level rapists and pedophiles? Trudging through the shit field work, the court systems, and the corrupted politics of the mayor’s office? “Sounds like a deal…as long as I don’t have to work with that Detective Stabler.”

“He can be a little abrasive,” Huang said, smiling. “But he grows on you…eventually.”

“Like a parasite?”

Huang laughed at that. “He is a good detective, and a pretty good person. He gets angry, and he’s headstrong. But at the end of the day, I’m glad SVU has him on their side.”

Conversation coming to an end, they both stood up. Devon didn’t really care what her face looked like after all that crying. All that mattered was that she was tired and hurting but feeling lighter than she had all day.

Huang stopped her as she went to leave. “Do me a favor, though.” When Devon arched an eyebrow, Huang said, “go see a doctor for that gunshot wound.”

#everyone deserves love #edl #fanfic #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #law & order svu #law & order svu fanfic #barba x oc #oc fanfic #my writing #chapter 1

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bastillewolf · 5 years ago

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The Grand Tranquility Hotel (XIII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: My 100th post! Also, I’d planned on making this one chapter since it’s the last song left on the album, but writing it made me realize it was getting far too long. So, I split it. Hope you’re all doing well. Enjoy!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

@edgythought @iwannabemorethanme @he4rtbre4khotel @juga-42

Chapter XIII - Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino (Pt. I)

5 YEARS LATER…

“Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, this is Mark speaking. Please tell me, how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, hi!” She quickly informed him of her name. “I was wondering if I could book a room at your residence? If possible, sometime soon.”

A moment of silence passed over the line.

“O-Of course, madam. It would be our pleasure. Would two weeks from now work?”

“Perfect. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. Oh, and I’m bringing someone, if that’s alright.”

“That’s won’t be an issue.”

“And- Could you do me a favour?”

“Anything, madam.”

“Could you book me into room 521?”

“Certainly.”

She glanced down at her suitcase, taking a deep breath, before slamming the top down and sitting on it to be able to zip it shut. She had packed it to the brim, an unusual habit she’d started showing ever since she’d had to visit random book signings she would only know the location of later during the day. She had spent a while traveling, thus having this quirk grow into something more of a routine.

Her driver had been watching her struggle silently, noting the way she was fumbling with her hands as she put her coat on and nearly dropped her purse for the third time. When she finally looked up at him, he did his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Are you ready to go, miss?” Matthew asked her. She nodded.

He held the door open for her as usual.

The building was one she’d seen before on a picture, but only briefly, and she had to admit that she had underestimated the sheer size of it. It was not looming in any way; it was a place you’d walk into expecting to have fun. She could compare it to a billboard; massive, with bright flashy neon lights and something about it that made you turn your head to look at it.

The entrance hallway was decorated with a brightly coloured carpet and simplistic wooden furniture, and it was busy. People were gathered around in little clusters here and there, most likely just having arrived and others meeting up with friends. She was a bit relieved to see that the face behind the counter was not a familiar one, because she still hadn’t decided how ready she was to be in the situation she was today.

“Welcome to the Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino,” the clerk said most enthusiastically. “How may I be of service?”

She tried her best not to pull her nose up at the way he said it, instead opting for a polite introduction. “I’d called the other day; I’d asked for room 521?”

He decidedly blinked at her, before his gaze wandered her up and down, almost as if to check if she was really who she was claiming to be. Finally, when her brow lifted impatiently, he settled with believing her, because he said, “Of course, miss. I absolutely loved your book, by the way. If I may be so bold, would you sign my copy for me one of these days?”

“Of course,” she put up a polite smile, “You’ll know where to find me.”

Matt appeared behind her, lowering their suitcases to the floor. “Sorry I took so long. Couldn’t find a spot.”

“That’s alright,” she muttered, as he eyed the young clerk behind the counter suspiciously.

“Our sincere apologies, sir,” the boy told him, “The hotel is working on the plans to expand the parking lot.”

“Working on the plans? How difficult is it to expand a parking lot?” Matt quipped back, leaving the clerk trying to form a sputtering sentence which mostly consisted of a lot of uhms and buts. He rolled his eyes at the employee, simply reaching out with an open palm. “Just give me the keys.”

“H-Have a nice stay, miss. And to your mister, of course!”

She had no time to reply, for Matt was already guiding her to the elevator with his hand on her lower back. “You didn’t have to be so rude, Matthew.”

“I wouldn’t have to be so rude if they hired better staff at this hotel.”

“He barely said anything. You’re biased.”

“It was the way he was looking at you. I didn’t like it.”

She huffed, hitting his arm.

“Are you joining me for dinner or are you going to sulk in this room for the entirety of our stay?” she asked as she glanced over herself in the mirror one last time. She’d put on something a bit fancier, having known beforehand what kind of restaurant the hotel housed. Luxury food for the luxury people.

“Those are two big varieties in time,” Matt commented from his strewn-out position on his bed, “I know I’m not joining you tonight, but I don’t know what I’ll be doing for the rest of the week. I’m not a fortune teller.”

“I know you’re not a fortune teller, otherwise you’d throw out some bullshit that you foresee that you will join me in other activities and then it never happens. Just promise me you’ll be a bit more productive. Join me on walks, you can bring out your camera.”

“We’ll see,” he said, as she walked out the door.

Dinner for one, such a common theme for her during her life. When she lived on her own a while away from her family, she used to enjoy going to restaurants by herself. No one there to chatter her ears off, no one to take her attention away from the delicious food she didn’t have to cook for herself. She’d done it quite often, and still thoroughly enjoyed it.

Especially considering the fact that she had a best-seller book and a lot of people now knew her name, she couldn’t say she’d ever been denied a seat at a restaurant. Up until now, when a familiar man with a frantic look on his face was glaring down at his clipboard, going through people’s names and reservations.

“I’m very sorry, madam, but I’m afraid all of our tables are reserved. We could provide you with complementary room service, though-“ The sound of his voice had died down quietly during the moment he’d looked up at her and recognition had befallen him. His eyes softened momentarily, his hand wavering over the clipboard he was holding. They inspected each other, and both felt a mutual warm blanket of familiarity and respect surround them, as two old friends would.

Though it had only been a few years, he had changed a lot. Not so much in appearance; still sporting the long, curly bush of hair resting on his slim shoulders, which were covered by a velvety suit jacket. It was in the way he held himself. He looked so very much more confident, if not relaxed. The dark circles under his eyes were no longer as prominent as they used to be, and he radiated a hospitality any clerk could only dream of having.

“I could always just sit on the floor,” she said, her lips quirking up facetiously.

Nick smiled warmly at her in turn. “Actually, I think we’ll manage. If you’ll follow me, miss.”

He guided her through rows of tables holding chattering people, most adorned with a crystal glass of alcohol in their hands, seemingly in a state of pure and utter rich bliss. They reminded her of the very people she’d slandered at a particular gathering. She noticed them catching glimpses of her through the corners of their eyes, telling each other ‘don’t turn around, but there’s this-‘ or something of the sort. Because they knew what kind of person you had to be to get into an already packed restaurant.

She loathed them as much as they loathed her.

“Here we are,” Nick announced, pulling her out of her daze. He snapped his fingers, and she’d almost burst out laughing at the comical gesture until a few of the personnel came running through a door, carrying a table and chair, amongst a few other things. And in a flurry of motion, they’d set her in front of the window, adorned her place with the most intricate cutlery and dishware she’d ever seen, and had even poured a small amount of champagne for her to try.

When she’d agreed to the sparkling gold that slid smoothly down her throat and her glass was filled generously, they were gone as quickly as they’d come. She’d barely had time to get comfortably settled in her chair, or even blink.

Nick smirked at her clear state of disarray. She hadn’t changed a bit, and it made him more than happy.

In the time of her absence, Nick had seen a lot of people he’d known change. Some for the better, some for worse. It had hurt him to see it all. And thus, knowing it was her in particular that had her familiar ways rooted so deeply into the ground and still stood tall, made that wave of nostalgia something he wanted to cherish.

“I hope you didn’t have to cancel any reservation for this?” she wondered, “This table has such a good view.”

“Not at all, miss. Only the famous and our regulars get a special treatment.”

“And I am?”

“Both, really,” he replied with a playful lift of his brow.

She snorted, “Not as famous as you’d think, Nicholas. And certainly not a regular.”

“You are a regular to us, miss. You always will be.”

He made her heart flutter, drowning out the initial worry she’d come in with. “I suppose you’re too busy to join me, then?”

“Unfortunately, I am. But I will ask our head chef if he has time to go over the menu with you, and keep you a bit of company.”

She hummed, “That would be nice. Thank you, Nicholas.”

Her gaze wandered over the many faces in the room, her ears filled with their nonsensical blathering, barely being able to make out the faint jazz band seated on the stage a little end away from her. She glanced down at her worn golden watch; the same one she’d carried around all those years ago. It was time for her medication, and if the time hadn’t told her so, the noticeably increasing pounding in her head certainly did. She plucked the bottle out of her purse, took one out, and threw it back quickly with a gulp of water. They never really worked, but a part of her always hoped they would. It was one of her last options, and even her doctor was getting frustrated.

She noticed him before he did her. And he looked good.

He was dressed in a black chef’s uniform, which looked like it had come straight out of dry-cleaning. Not a spot of grease or grime to be seen, yet his sweaty forehead which he quickly ran his handkerchief over told her he was still as hardworking as ever. Chef Cook, read in a red italic on the front of his shirt.

His blue orbs met hers and held a giddy sense of surprise to see her. He rushed over to her table, ignoring every singly person asking to have a word with him about his commendable food, and didn’t hesitate to give her a tight hug. Everyone who had tried to grasp his attention looked rather appalled.

She pulled back from him with twinkling eyes. “Look at you,” she muttered, “Chef Cook. All professional and organized.”

He huffed, “Professional, I certainly strive to be. Organized? I don’t think that’s possible. Not in my kitchen, at least.”

He took a seat right next to her, provided by one of the same waiters that had set her table up for her. “It’s good to see you again, miss. I’m really sorry I haven’t had the chance to call. It’s been a very hectic few years.”

She shook her head, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jamie. I can tell how busy you’ve been, and how much it has payed off. It makes me happy to just see you doing well.”

“But it’s not an excuse to not have been able to thank you for what you’ve done for us,” he insisted.

“You would’ve been fine without me,” she waved him off, “The book only gave you a bit more publicity. The rest you did yourselves. Besides, I completely understand if certain… regulations made you refrain from calling me. That’s not your fault, either.”

He held a look of guilt; a similar one she’d seen at another time, another place. “Even if there were, I should’ve just picked up the phone. I just- I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to us again after the last time we saw each other…”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Why?”

“We certainly didn’t do much to speak on behalf of your honour, miss. I didn’t have words to describe what I was feeling, and I couldn’t say I was ready to defend you in that moment. And yet I wonder, after all of that, how you still managed to write any good about us lot.”

She placed her hand on his back comfortingly. “You did what you thought was right. I did something awful and have spent the past five years trying to make up for it. I’m only glad you still want to talk to me.”

“How could I ever not want to talk to you?” He smiled, “You’re our favourite guest.”

They talked about a whole lot. He told her about how he met his wife shortly before the grand opening of the new hotel, and how they’d gotten married in the spring only a few months ago. He told her of how he had struggled with the new position he’d been given, considering it had been a while since he’d had actual staff work underneath him, let alone this many. And he told her of how he’d gotten through the reestablishment with the support of his family and friends, and how he often thought back on the old hotel, which still remained a hidden gem.

She informed him of how she’d gotten quite a few offers on the previous script of her book, though most of them seemingly more interested in the gossip than her actual story. When she felt she found the right company, she’d set the record straight that all earnings go to the hotel itself, which Jamie confirmed.

“The, uh- The boss didn’t want it at first. As you can imagine. But I knew you wouldn’t take the money back, so we had the old bathhouse in the Grand Tranquility Hotel restored. You should come see it sometime, it’s beautiful.”

“I’d love to,” she replied genuinely, “I’d hoped that old ruin would get its life back some day. It’s a place I hold dear in my heart.”

Jamie nodded in understanding. He hesitated, and she noticed the question lingering on his lips.

“Spit it out,” she huffed.

He smiled awkwardly, glancing up at her with his bright orbs. “How’s Matt been?”

She let out a sigh. “He’s been okay. Has been acting as my chauffeur, mostly, though he knows I can drive perfectly fine myself. He’s still looking for a job that holds his interest for longer than a few weeks.”

He nodded, reaching over to scratch the back of his head. “Is he here, too?”

“He is. We share a room.”

“Has- Does he ever mention us?”

She blinked. “No.”

She watched as his shoulders slumped in anguish, quickly adding, “But I know he thinks about you a lot. And that he misses you, even though he’s too stubborn to admit it. It will take him a while to be able to realize what he really needs and wants.”

He didn’t perk up much, but he gave a noise of acknowledgement that told her he’d at least taken her words into consideration.

“So,” she started, “how outrageous would it be if I asked you to make me a cheeseburger?”

He smirked. “Probably be the least outrageous request I’ve ever gotten from a guest, miss. Coming right up.”

Her walk back to her room was slow, her belly not allowing her to take the long strides she would usually take. Her face felt slightly warm from the buzz of champagne, which she admittedly drank more of than planned, and her chest was full with happiness.

The people she’d been so anxious to meet had accepted her back with open arms, and it was a wave of gratitude and ease that had washed over her since then.

The moment she’d stopped in front of her door and glanced down at her watch, however, was not a moment of joy. She had forgotten her keys, and it was late, meaning Matt had most likely already fallen asleep. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes tiredly. There was no way she was going to bang on the door only for other guests to wake up and file noise complaints. Resting her head against the wooden surface, she thought about her unfortunate circumstance, and wondered how people did that trick with their credit card to break in.

Just as she was about to consider committing a felony, her ears caught the click of a door opening and a pair of feet shuffling until they momentarily wavered.

She met the chocolate brown eyes she hadn’t seen in five years.

Happy birthday, Miles <3

#Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Arctic Monkeys #The Last Shadow Puppets #AM #TBHC #Wpsiatwin #Humbug #TLSP #Fanfiction #Matt Helders #Jamie Cook #Nick O'Malley #Miles Kane #Romance #Reader Insert #The Grand Tranquility Hotel

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trickstermiraculous · 5 years ago

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Musician Payback

Chapter Two - Consequences Of Lying About The Famous

Summary - Lila experiences that consequences of her lies.

It was halfway through the school day and Lila had already accused Marinette of bullying during lunch along with stealing her ‘sketchbook’ that happened to look like Marinette’s. Which, of course, made the class give Marinette’s sketchbook over to Lila, it was lucky that Marinette doesn’t bring her main sketchbook to school insted brings her practice book to school instead (It was one where she practises different outfits by copying what people are wearing.)

“Now class as you all know, next week is the school dance so please make sure that you are ready for it as we are the class tasked with decorating the main hall this time” stated Miss Bustier, this caused the class to look at Marinette as she was the one known to produce most of the decorations whenever the class was tasked to decorate the event.

“Marinette, how many decorations are done?” continued Miss Bustier, “I only have the streamers done as that is what I was tasked with and is all I’m able to do this weekend” replied Marinette as the class stares turned into glares, “But Marinette I need to you to get the balloons and the tables decorations” wined Alya, “I’ve got a journalist workshop this weekend”, “I’m sure Marinette can do it,” said Adrien smiling weakly as Lila clung to his arm, “No, I can’t because as I have stated previously, I’m too busy to do anything else” snapped Marinette, “Don’t worry Alya, I can do it” spoke Lila in a sickly sweet voice, “Thank you, Lila” replied Miss Bustier, “Marinette if I could have a word-”, she was cut off but a sharp knock on the door.

“Hold that thought,” said Miss Bustier as she opened the door to let whoever knocked on the door in, it turned out to be a man and women with a clipboard and a brown file along with Penny which caused Marinette to quietly panicking while pulling out her phone to contact Uncle Jagged. “Can I help you?” asked Mis Bustier with slight worry showing on her face, “Yes, but I believe Miss Rolling would like to go first” spoked the man, “Miss Rossi, you have been sue for the numerous claims about Jagged Stone,” said Penny while placing papers on Lila’s desk, “What!” exclaimed the class, “Why would you do that, she saved Jagged’s cat and he even wrote a song about Lila?” exclaimed Alya.

“Well, Miss Césaire, if you researched before you posted that lie, you would know that there is no song that Jagged had writtern or released to do with Lila along with the fact that Jagged is allergic to fur which means Jagged could never own a cat even if he wanted and I doubt he would since he is happy with Fang, his crocodile” replied Penny raising her eyebrow, this caused the class to gasp in shock and pull out their phone to check if what Lila had been saying had any facts to back it up, “and I would recommend that you take that article and other articles that state Miss Rossi’s lies down before you get sued for slander as we are not happy with how Miss Rossi seems to imply that Jagged Stone, a 23-year-old man would write a song about a 15-year-old girl”.

Alya looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself in favour of going on her phone to most likely remove the article, “but-” Lila was stopped by Penny, “Your mother has already been contacted about this”, “Which is where we should jump in,” said the women with the clipboard, “The school board has contacted your mother about the amount of time you have spent out of school which was a surprise to her since you apparently told her the school had been shut because Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t stop the Akumas until days after” the man continued, “Which Miss Bustier and Mr Damocles should have contacted your mother about along with the medical problems that were also a lie insted of taking the word of a student which happen to be the same issue that caused a student to be wrongly expelled” the women stated looking sternly at Miss Bustier.

“Lila’s mother confirmed her time off when both I and Mr Damocles emailed her” replied Miss Bustier clearly panicking, “Emails can be faked, if a student has enough to skill to trick the staff into changing but that is also why school’s have other ways to contact student’s parents to double-check” snapped the man before handing Miss Bustier the brown file, “read this then meet us in Mr Damocles Office at the end of the day” and with the women and man left with Penny who gave Marinette a smile.

As soon as the group left, the class descended into arguments with the class yelling at Lila for lying to them, Adrien trying to calm the class down while Miss Bustier sank into her chair as she read through the file.

MDC: Did you really have to sue Lila? Also, how did you get the school board involved

Uncle Jagged: Yes, because as soon as the tabloids got a hold of her lies, they would have jumped on the story like hungry wolves. As for the school board, your parents weren’t happy once we told them about Lila

MDC: You told them!

Uncle Jagged: Only the Lila issue, you were close to a breakdown, they needed to know Also, we need to have a much longer talk about this hero job of yours.

Notes - Right, so when I was writing this two-shot, I had writer's block at the beginning (still do) and then I was ill for about nine days and I'm still technically ill so I was tired to write when I could and obviously because of this, the two-shot isn't my best but I still wanted to at least post something and hopefully I can post more.

Tag - @just-a-teen-fangirl

AO3

AO3 - also here

Wattpad

#miraculous ladybug #ml salt #miraculous fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lila salt #lila rossi #bustier salt #caline bustier #Penny Rolling #mr damocles #mild class salt

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fortunatelyunadulteratedmagazine · 4 years ago

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Civilization 6 Cheats: More Science = Higher Progress Science performs one of the most important functions in all Civilization games - it develops (unlocks) your technologies. As a result - you get units and new abilities for your citizens. Code: Select all Game Title: Civilization VI - Gathering Storm Game Version: 1.0.6.9 (521158) Game Sponsor: Fennix102 + daipm (XP1 and XP2) Process Name: CivilizationVI.exe Relevant Info: 64bits/TBS/New Engine Script Version: 3.10-AOB CE Version: 7.0 Release date: 24-Oct-2020 Author: Recifense History: 22-Oct-2016: Preliminary Release 1 (7 features) 24-Oct-2016: Preliminary. Firstly you need a freeware called Cheat Engine which you can download from here cheat engine. Domination is the usual military-style way to win but it costs a lot of money. Add text damnit, the steam browser is bugged With the vast realm of Civilization 6, its no surprise you’re looking for some cheats to help you on your way.

scripts dont seem to work anymore. Many improvements and features to make your gaming better Resources: Diplomatic Favor Firstly you need a freeware called Cheat Engine which you can download from here cheat engine 1. Added an AVX2 version of CE, which will speed up all those floating point operations CE does so much... Symbolhandler can now have the following types in front of pointers : (BYTE), (WORD), (DWORD), (QWORD), (CHAR), (SHORT), (INT), (INT64) to typecast the pointer to a value of that type, Structure dissect can detect vc++ and object pascal classnames now, Dissect code now also detects references to strings, Sorting the addresslist now sorts faster and more properly with regards to groups (depends on the level your current selection is), Rightclick the addresslist header to bring up a menu which allows you to disable sorting, The chosen floating point rounding type is now saved in the registry, You can now use (addresslist description) as an address, DBVM doesn't activate the TSC hook by default. 4. Select the Civilization 6 process. Und mit Pokémon (...) mehr, Dieser Charakter in Watch Dogs: Legion war so nicht beabsichtigt.In Watch Dogs: Legion sollen alle Charakter (...) mehr, Cheats und Trainer für ein leichtes Spiel, Einsteiger-Guide: Tipps und Tricks für einen erfolgreichen Start, Das Aufbaustrategiespiel - jetzt auch für Konsole, Anno 1800 | Kartennummer anzeigen und beste Karten, Anno 1800 | Baupläne für effiziente Produktionsketten. Multiply 20 by 256 which is 5120 and type in the values 4700 and 5500 - click on 'Next Scan' like 2 times. Age of Empires 3 Definitive Edition Trainer v100.12.3552.0, Subnautica: Below Zero Trainer (Oct-2020 37024), NumPad 3: Fast Build Buildings and Wonders.

if (UserWidth <= 1024) Selected Unit: Unit Can Level Up Therefore you multiply 10 by 256 which is 2.560 and search for a value between 2.000 and 3.000 (just switch 'Scan type' to 'Value between' to be able to enter two values) just to make sure to hit it. 3. Resources: Gold Select the Civilization 6 process. added ansicode character support for textRect, added loadFromStream and saveToStream to the RasterImage class, added readAnsiString and writeAnsiString to the Stream class, Better document the mode field of createFileStream, Added the DrawItemEvent general GUI property to Lua's callback system, Added the MenuDrawItemEvent general GUI property to Lua's callback system, Added the ContextPopupEvent general GUI property to Lua's callback system, Created a new Diagram class group which can allow you to create graphs and diagrams, Memoryrecord.DropDownValue and DropDownDescription work now (still RO), Stackview can now show by reference , previously it did nothing, the 'resume thread' in the threadlist now resumes threads instead of freezing them, fixed an error popping up when editing registers with no debugger attached, getNameFromAddress will not show userdefined symbols when symbols are disabled, Waiting till all symbols have been loaded has been removed, Launching structure compare from dissect data now only needs 1 address, though it's recommended to have at least 2 each, Code completion in lua engine is now more smoother, You can now compare traces generated by the tracer, Threadlist window now has a copy to clipboard, Structure compare now digs deeper into pointers, Pointerscan import/export now works with newer types as well, Added rudimentary sort to the structure compare window (based on levelwidth only), Referenced strings now also shows if it's unicode, Formdesigner now has a context menu to add undocumented controls, added getWriteLog (Let's you get the writelog and activate it), HexadecimalView: added the OnCharacterRender and OnValueRender events.

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Civilization VI: Gathering Storm Cheats

Enable Console

Start by head to the following file location:

C:Users[USER NAME]DocumentsMy GamesSid Meier’s Civilization VI

Now, make a backup of the AppOptions.txt file. Open that file and scroll down to the [Debug] section of the file. Look for a line containing the following text:

EnableDebugMenu 0

Change the 0 in that text so that it reads 1, and start playing the game like usual. Then press ~ (TILDE, THE KEY ABOVE TAB) to access the debug console.

Easy Deity Win (Exploit)

You can win the game on Deity difficulty and score some easy achievements by taking the following steps:

Choose your civilization.

Create a custom game with only “Score Victory” checked, and change the turn limit to 1.

Load the game and choose the Found City option.

End your turn as soon as the option becomes available.

You win the match, just like that, and you will unlock numerous achievements. This works on any difficulty setting.

Reveal the Entire Map

Use a text editor to edit the “Config.ini” file in your Steam Apps folder or the “DocumentsMy GamesSid Meier’s Civilization 6” directory.

Civ 6 Gold Cheat Engine 6.4

Find the “DebugPanel = 0” line and change it to “DebugPanel = 1”

Save and close the “Config.ini” file.

While playing the game, press ~ to display the debug panel.

Select “Reveal All” to reveal the entire map.

There are also other debug options you can enable.

Now you can easily access Debug Console in Civilization VI in-game. In order to activate it you just need to PRESS TILDE “~”. It will open a Debug Window, from there select “Reveal All” option.

Trading Glitch

When trading with the AI, you can use two major glitchs:

1- Give any strategic or luxury resources and as much gold per turn as possible, then click the option whatwill you give me for this?, the AI will break and will offer insane amounts of goldand gold per turn just for the resource.

Civ 6 Gold Cheat Engines

2- Ask for whatever you want from the AI (cities included) and start putting gold (not gold per turn, only normal gold) untilthey accept the deal, then reduce until you’re as close as possible to the required amount, Ex: 25890 Gold of 26000 required, and click on the option make this trade equitable, this will break the AI and will ask an amount of gold per turn proportional to how close you were to the real price. (I bought 5 cities for 3 gold per turn and a jeans in emperor difficulty). This glitch can also be used in multiplayer matches that include AI, but will surely get patched soon.

Early Domination

If you want to enjoy Civilization 6’s battle systems, it’ll be best to pick up the Aztecs, Scythia, or the Spartan Greece. Aztecs allow your own territories to have more tile improvements as their Eagle Warriors convert slain units into Builder units. Meanwhile, Scythia’s units have bonuses against targeting wounded enemy units. Lastly, the Spartan Greece units generate Culture per enemy unit killed. Waging war in the earlier eras yields fewer Warmonger penalties, so feel free tosiege other Civilizations or City States if you need something from them. If you manage to take every Capital or wipe out every leader in the match, your Civilization will attain the laborious and difficult Domination Victory.

Civ 6 Gold Cheat Engine 6.4

Camera keys

With Civilization VI now out in the wild, one of the biggest gripes is the camera control not being mapped to WASD. The good news is that camera keys can be changedwith some simple file editing. To change the camera control keys do the following: ..SteamsteamappscommonSid Meier’s Civilization ViBaseAssetsUI

Open the “WorldInput.lua” file in a text editor such as Notepad or Notepad++ Find the DefaultKeyDownHandler section Find the line if( uiKey Keys.VK_UP ) and then make the changes as follows if( uiKey Keys.VK_UP or uiKey Keys.W) if( uiKey Keys.VK_RIGHT or uiKey Keys.A) if( uiKey Keys.VK_DOWN or uiKey Keys.S) if( uiKey Keys.VK_LEFT or uiKey Keys.D)

Next you need to add the same entries above to the DefaultKeyUpHandler section. Note that you will also need to rebind the default Attack and Great Works default keys to something else so your new camera keys do not conflict.

Civ 6 Gold Cheat Engine Rebuild

Rename Cities

1) Go to the Civilization VI installation folder – C:Program FilesSteamsteamappscommonSid Meier’s Civilization VI.

2) Go to Base > Assets > Text > install language – ..SteamsteamappscommonSid Meier’s Civilization VIBaseAssetsTexten_US.

3) Then open the file named “CityNames_Text.xml” with any text editor, then search for the city/civilization that you want to rename. Change the name there and save. Once you are all done reload the game and you will find your city name changed.

Disable Unit Auto Cycle

Go to ..UsersDocumentsMy GamesSid Meier’s Civilization VI

Then open “UserOptions.txt”

After that go to “line 60” then change “AutoUnitCycle 1” to “AutoUnitCycle 0”

Save the file “UserOptions.txt”

Once you are all done then save (Ctrl + S)

Civ 5 Cheat Engine Gold

Now you are all set to enjoy the Civilization VI game without Unit Auto Cycle.

Civ 6 Cheat Engine Gold Address

It’s end. I hope “Civilization VI: Gathering Storm Cheats, Cheat Codes” helps you. Feel free to contribute the topic. If you have also comments or suggestions, comment us.

Civilization 6 Gathering Storm Gold Cheat Engine

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stuck-in-jelly · 5 years ago

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The Irony of Life (MP100|One-Shot| Fan-Fic Commission)

A short SeriRei one-shot that was commissioned

In which Reigen reflects on his 15 year old mindset and realizes just how wrong he was.

———————————————

When Reigen was 15 years old he accepted the fact that he was never going to have kids even if he wanted to. With a single glance to his parents, he doubted he would be any better than them and no child deserved a fate like that.

Yet irony had a way of creeping into his life and taking away his choice, because by the time he was 30 he somehow amassed an army of children who all looked up to him and visited him often, none of which were related to him in any way.

It had all started with one kid and just ended up snowballing into more and more children before he could even try to stop it. Half of the pictures he has on his clipboard in the office have turned into photos of him and the kids on outings; the time Teru and the Kageyama brothers joined them on their trip to the hot springs, his birthday party with all of them, Ritsu getting thanked by his first client, Rei doing a fortune telling, and so on and so forth.

He hates to say it, but it’s starting to look like a mother’s scrapbook and he is neither a mother nor in possession of an actual scrapbook (though he has considered investing in one at this rate). And although Mob doesn’t visit the office often anymore, too busy focusing more on his studies and the Body Improvement Club, he accidentally ended up sending more kids his way to replace him.

More specifically in the form of a bunch of rather loud girls that Tome dragged in hardly with his approval and his office had turned into their hangout spot (much to his dismay when he is trying to work).

Even now, at the end of the work day, they lay sprawled all over the couch and chairs talking and laughing away as if he hadn't already turned off most of the lights and locked the windows in a subtle way to tell them to get up already.

Most days Reigen was left alone like this– given that Serizawa typically heads off early for night school– however today was a lucky day and he didn’t have classes which is a godsend since Serizawa is much better with kids than Reigen.

“Come on, girls. Pack up, we are closing soon.” Serizawa’s voice snapped the girls out of their conversation much faster than his ever would, it was a perfect mix of a stern yet gentle demand that sounded much more like a suggestion making it much more appealing to listen to.

With a ‘tsk’ Reigen looked over to chime in:

“We are closed,” he sneered before snapping the blinds to the windows shut.

Imminent whines traveled from the girls.

“Come on, just a couple more minutes!” one of them pleaded dramatically. It was almost enough to make Reigen roll his eyes.

“Do you want to be locked in the office?”

“Cool! Like a sleepover!”

“No, no sleepovers in my office.”

Tome leaps up, a tale tell sign she has an idea

“What if you give me the keys?! I can lock up after we all decide to leave or we stay the night!”

“Absolutely not.” He doesn’t even need to think about that one

“What!? Why?! I'm super reliable?”

A smirk crept on Reigen’s face.

“Ah yes, like that time you got lost in the cursed woods, or the time Dimple had to possessed you and punch your teacher, or that time you assaulted one of our clients, or when you-”

“Fine, fine I get it!” the girls were giggling and Tome’s face had turned a bright shade of pink as she slumped in defeat.

Before he could say much else Serizawa stepped in once again,

“How about this: Tomorrow we have a case down at Cape Cop Avenue, if we head off now you can tag along for it.”

The girls cheered, accidently having adopted Tome’s curiosity for ghosts and other such creatures. With their minds satisfied somewhat with the idea of a new activity they began to gather their bags and the homework they hadn't even touched the entire time at the office.

Usually Reigen would scold Serizawa for promising something like that, but the location was an apartment complex that Serizawa had scouted yesterday and as expected there weren’t actually any ghosts there. The scariest thing at the apartment complex was their plumbing system.

Regardless, Serizawa would be sure to give them a show (thank god none of them were espers).

It wasn’t long until they all began piling out. Somehow it has become a habit for Reigen to walk the girls home and tonight was no exception, the only difference being that Serizawa decided to join them.

The first destination was for Mika who lived only 3 blocks down from Reigen’s office, she gave an enthusiastic wave goodbye and promised to take a bunch of pictures tomorrow (even though Reigen tried explaining it would be hard to capture a ghost on camera).

Up next was their tall friend whose name Reigen hasn’t caught just yet. She seemed to stare a lot at them when they worked and doodle them but she was the politest of the bunch so Reigen didn’t mind her all that much.

Then Tome, who groaned loudly as Keiko reminded her of the homework due tomorrow before sulking back into her house with a small wave. Misa lives just two houses down from Tome and jogged ahead since she forgot about the homework too.

And then last but not least Keiko who without the company of her friends becomes rather bashful and shy only uttering small ‘thank you’s’ and ‘good night’s’ as she scurries into her house.

With the girls all safely in their houses Reigen without meaning to let out a soft sigh as he stretched, finally allowing himself to relax away from the kids. Usually he’d keep on his facade for Serizawa but lately that illusion has been melting away and luckily, it’s been mutual.

Serizawa has begun to relax too around him, being more confident and even being so bold as to tease him. They had also begun to work fluidly with each other, understanding what the other needed or wanted with simple quick glances and they practically danced around each other in their morning routines. Reigen even trusted him enough to give him copies of the keys to the office, it was nice to have someone to lean on when you needed it.

Neither of them said a word but they both began walking in the same direction. Serizawa lived just a bit further from Reigen in a different and better apartment complex than his so it made sense they were sticking together.

Nights like these were rare but appreciated, his whole life Reigen has always felt like he was supposed to be running just to catch up; but walking like this alongside someone you trust and care about is nice. It makes him feel like he can finally walk instead of run, like there is no rush.

And Serizawa is a good person and perfect company, initially Reigen assumed they didn’t have much in common but as time has moved on it turned out they do and they frequently found themselves talking each other's ear off. Mostly Reigen more than Serizawa but it’s a mutual exchange at least.

Though right now they seem to appreciate the silence, the girls were a nice change to have in the office but they also tend to drain the two of their energy with how loud and energetic they get, not to mention the trouble and danger they seem to like to get into. The thought alone is already giving Reigen a headache.

“Reigen?” With the sound of his name, he snaps out of it quickly, looking up to Serizawa only letting out a small ‘hm’ of acknowledgement.

Reigen catches the brief moment Serizawa was looking at him before staring forward instead.

“I know we’ve been busy lately but I was wondering if you would like to join me tomorrow for dinner at my place?”

Now that was extra new, Reigen has never been over to Serizawa’s apartment. Something about it felt a bit too personal, maybe it's because he hasn’t been over to a friend's place since he was in middle school nor has he had guests over willingly at his own apartment.

“What’s the occasion?”

The question makes Serizawa visibly tense, although the man has become more confident in himself, he finds moments like these where he still falters in his choices.

“Oh! Uh well I just um thought it would be nice to have some company over you know, I wanted to try out this new recipe and I thought it would be nice to have another taste tester and well I’m also trying to get used to having more people over at my place and I-”

Before he could go on another list of excuses Reigen interrupts,

“Sure, sounds nice. It’s been a while since I had a home cooked meal anyways.”

The response seemed to calm him down, his shoulders untensing and letting out a not so subtle sigh of relief.

As casual as Reigen is trying to act though he could feel his heart hammering in his chest in excitement. Every time he’s tried to have a moment alone with Serizawa one of them has always been either busy or with other plans so it would be great to finally have time.

But Reigen isn't an idiot, he knows exactly why he’s excited for this. He’s noticed how things between them have changed recently and perhaps it’s wishful thinking but he’s noticed from Serizawa too, when his gaze lingers, when he relaxes into soft touches, and the change of his mood from around his friends as opposed to him.

Along with this came a new tension, and not the kind where you want to murder each other or fuck, no it was something different. It was the kind of tension where both parties are trying to read each other and think they know what the other is thinking but they don’t want to make any unwarranted assumptions.

Reigen’s always been great at reading people, and usually he wouldn’t doubt himself but this is different in many ways. Serizawa is not only a friend but an employee, and he’s being reintroduced to the world away from all the hardships he faced and the trauma he’s brought along with him. If he is right about this, he needs to be careful.

Serizawa is perfectly capable of making his own choices but he needs to go at his own pace and to push anything onto Serizawa wouldn’t be fair.

There’s another thing Reigen had accepted when he was 15 years old, and it was that no one could ever love him for who he truly is. And that is a firm belief he’s kept, even now as Serizawa leans to be closer to him and he leans back.

But then again irony loves his company. So maybe 15-year-old Reigen could be wrong about that too.

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

If you enjoyed this fic please consider commissioning me or donating to my PayPal

If you want this posted on AO3 tell me and I’ll probably do it!! Thank you for reading

#30 year old reigen beating 15 year old reigen with a stick: YOU ARE CAPABLE OF LOVE YO ARENT YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER YOU PIECE OF SHIT #jelly tarts #long post #just in case #mob psycho 100 #serirei

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thealphabetmurders · 6 years ago

Text

Incompetent Competition

Pairings: Prinxiety and background Logicality

Word Count: 4116

Summary: After months of flirty back and forth, Virgil and Roman's relationship comes to a tee during a particularly competitive game of volleyball.

Triggers: Blood, Injury, Broken Bones, Crying

Authors Note: This is my first Prinxiety fic and I am incredibly proud of the result. I do hope you enjoy reading this.

Read on AO3

If there was any place Virgil hoped and prayed that he would never go back to after he graduated, it was the high school gym locker room. The sweaty cesspool of teen angst and hormones made for a humidity that was indescribable to anyone who was not privy to the experience. Sinks were running high and metal was slamming against metal as gym lockers opened and closed harshly for the teens to change into their gym uniforms.

There were very few seniors who had to take a class for gym, seeing as most got it out of the way in their underclass years. Nevertheless, Virgil was in his last semester of school and has to spend an hour and a half in Sports and Leisure for 2 days out of the week. According to his best friend Logan (who is also taking the class with him), leisure is defined as “use of free time for enjoyment”, and not a day has gone by that Virgil has enjoyed Sports and Leisure.

Logan and Virgil begrudgingly made their way into the locker room, already packed with those a few years behind them. It felt a tad awkward being one of the oldest people in the class, however the class size was rather large, so nothing too anxiety inducing.

“What do you think Coach has planned for us today?” Virgil asked, spinning the combination on his locker.

Logan shrugged, taking off his glasses and then his shirt, “I am not sure. She mentioned last week that we would be doing football on the field, yet it is 10 degrees outside, so I do not believe she is even allowed to take us outside,”

Virgil opened his locker forcefully, the red door swinging wide hitting the metal behind it, “If she makes us play basketball again, I am going to kill myself,”

Logan chuckled and shook his head, putting back on his glasses with the uniform shirt on, “If I remember correctly, you were quite good at basketball. Coach let us out early after you dunked a basket,”

Virgil scoffed, kicked off his shoes and then jeans, “Yea, I am good because I am 6’1 and this class is co-ed. I work out as much as you do, Logan,”

Logan shrugged, copying Virgil’s motions, “That is true. Your hand eye coordination could use a bit of work, though, and you seemed to gravely misunderstand what “double dribbling” means and-”

“Just because you played basketball for 4 years, doesn’t mean you have to show off, L,” Virgil cut him off, he smacked the waistband of his gym shorts against his hips.

“Irregardless,” Logan sat down on one of the benches and pulled on a beat up pair of Adidas high tops, “You could at least pretend to care. Coach grades on participation and attitude. You do not want your GPA to slip because of gym ,”

Virgil sighed, shaking his head. He knew that Logan was right, seeing as he has given this speech to Virgil many times before. Yet, it never seems to properly stick in his brain and stay there as a lesson, which frustrates Logan to no end.

Logan “try hards” in every class he is in, including gym, despite that not being one of his strong suits. Normally, Virgil can at least stay on the same track as his best friend, but with gym, Logan is going 175 in the left lane and Virgil is texting and driving.

“Fine. I will try in gym today. Instead of 1% effort, I will give 45%,” Virgil yanked off his graphic t-shirt in one fluid motion as Logan groaned in frustration.

“That is not- That is still a failing grade, V,”

Virgil shrugged, looking for his uniform, “Still, that is 44% more effort than I-”

Virgil’s protests to Logan were cut off by a whistle from the other end of their locker nook, “Ow! Looking good today, Virgil. Lookin’ good to-day,”

Virgil rolled his eyes and groaned and the smirking figure leaning against a wall 20 paces away, “Fuck outta here, Princey,” Virgil grabbed one of his shoes on the ground and threw it in Roman Prince’s direction. He missed terribly and it hit the wall next to where Roman was leaning. The other looked completely unfazed; he just smirked and winked at Virgil, ruffling his perfect brown locks as he waltzed away.

Virgil’s look of annoyance quickly dissipated and a bright red blush spread across Virgil’s pale cheeks. He shrunk in on himself slightly and a sheepish grin spread across his face.

The flirty back and forth banter began between Roman and Virgil sometime a few months ago as their Coach had them explore different sports during their class. In one of their first weeks, they did wrestling and Virgil was paired with Roman to fight. The two never really noticed each other, Roman mainly hanging out with other Thespians and Virgil hanging around Logan and some other design students. Their paths never had a reason to cross before now.

Despite Virgil having half an inch to an inch on Roman height wise, Virgil quickly found himself on the ground with Roman straddling his waist and both of Virgil’s hands pinned above his head. Indeed, it was a very compromising position that allowed Virgil to finally study the figure and face of his opponent, who now Virgil realised looked like he was sculpted by Michelangelo. Roman, ever the empath, must have sensed the ardor coming from Virgil, and allowed Virgil to escape the situation and take victory over Roman in that match.

Virgil may have won the battle, but he was getting brutally destroyed in the war. Ever since that incident, Roman has had no problem giving Virgil longing looks (that no man can call just ‘friendly’), accidental subtle touches, and not so subtle comments, always leaving Virgil a flustered and blushing mess.

“Y’know,” Logan’s voice made Virgil jump slightly and removed him from his reverie, “Maybe if you do a good job in class today, you will impress Roman,”

Virgil went to protest, but the words choked and died in his mouth, leaving him with incoherent sound and protests.

Logan clapped and hand on Virgil shoulder and made his way out to the gym floor. Virgil, still shirtless, quickly finished getting dressed and tugged on his shoes, following the other. He sat next to Logan on the crappy plastic bleachers as their Coach took attendance to begin the day.

“So today we are not going outside because it is too cold and I frankly would not want to go out in this weather anyway,” She looked at her clipboard and back at the class. “Today we will be playing volleyball. You will be divided into 4 teams that I will choose-” The class groaned collectively, “I do not care if you are not with your friends. Team A is Freshman and Sophomores, last name A through L. Team B is Freshman and Sophmores, M through Z. Team C is Juniors and Seniors, A through L. Team D is Juniors and Seniors, M through Z. We will warm up with partners first and our first game will be A versus B, C versus D.”

Coach blew her whistle and the group quickly scrambled away to their respective sides of the court. Thankfully, Logan and Virgil's last names fell into the same category, so they partnered up doing basic drills like setting and bumping.

“Now, remember if you can spike the ball over the net,” Coach yelled out to the teens, “Doesn't mean you should. We do not want any injuries today,”

“But can we spike the ball, Coach?” Roman's partner, Patton, tentatively raised his hand and spoke.

Coach pondered this before sighing, “Just don't hurt anyone or yourself,”

Patton beamed and began bumping the ball to just himself while Roman watched and laughed.

“Hey, Patton,” Logan called out to the other. Patton let the ball fall mid-air and ran over to Logan, standing on the other side of the net, “Your last name is Foster, shouldn't you be on our team?”

Patton's eyes widened a bit behind his round glasses. He looked over at Coach, preoccupied with some underclassmen before putting a finger to his lips and slowly walking away from Logan.

Logan groaned, casually tossing the ball that was on his hip back to Virgil, “If Patton can spike then we stand no chance of winning. We do not exactly have the most athletically inclined group,” Logan said, dejectedly as his eyes trailed over their teammates.

Virgil shrugged and began setting the ball to himself out of boredom, “Who cares, it is just a dumb game,”

“Yes, one that I wish to perform well in and win,”

“You hold no stake in this,” Virgil said, thinking of what Logan said earlier, “It is not like you are trying to impress anyone here,”

Virgil had to strain his ears to hear Logan mutter, “I wouldn’t say that,”

Logan put his hands in his pockets and looked off into the distance. Virgil placed the ball on his hip and followed Logan’s line of sight towards Roman and Patton. Patton giggling, trying to toss the ball up as high as possible while Roman interfering. The same type of high school shenanigans that Logan looked down on so often were the same that was giving him a longing, misty look in his eye.

Before Virgil could say, Coach blew her whistle to begin the games. Everyone except one person from each game put away their volleyballs while Virgil was still standing, rooted to the ground, holding his on his hip. Not wanting to make the effort to walk to the metal container where they were kept, he shot the ball like a basketball into the container a decent distance away. The ball landed directly into the container, and Virgil smiled, impressed with his dexterity.

“Nice shot, V,”

Virgil turned around and saw Roman standing on the other side of the court, his hands on his hips and grinning and Virgil. He gave him a quick thumbs up before making his way to the corner of his side of the court, where he would presumably be serving first. Virgil made eye contact with Logan who smirked at him and mouthed a quick, “Told you so,” before getting into position.

“Huh,” Virgil thought, “Maybe I am going to have to try hard volleyball,”

****

The game was not going well for Virgil’s team. The score was 7-13 in favor of Roman’s team, and it doesn’t look like they are letting up either. Roman had muscles for days, allowing him to serve the ball quickly over the net, barely giving any time for their ragtag team of misfits to react. 5 out of the 7 points that had been earned were from Logan using fake out techniques to confuse the opponents in the front. Virgil had earned zero points, seeing as he was placed in the back center, never touching the ball.

“Prince!” Coach called out, silently tweeting her whistle, “Have you been serving this whole time?” He heard her yelled at Roman, slightly cringing in on the white ball.

“Is- er- is that bad?”

Coach blew the whistle loudly, gesturing to the teams, “Everyone rotate! Back, come up front, front, go to the back,” She blew her whistle twice more for good measure as everyone dragged their feet to their new position.

Roman came up in front of the net and touched it, pulling down slightly on the strings, “Fancy seeing you here, Wonder-emo,” He quirked up an eyebrow, “You come here often?”

“To class?”

Roman sighed, staring off into the distance, “I do not know how you are going to cope with such a massive loss on your part. Despite the hiccup of us having to “rotate”, we are still going to wipe the floor with your team,”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “I honestly don't care that much. Save the trash talking for my buddy Logan, he’ll be happy to engage,”

Roman put both his hands on the net now, “You better watch out, because now you may become victim to one of my awesome spikes. Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty face,” Roman bit his lip and winked.

Virgil took slowly, calculating breaths to keep him from blushing or making a fool of himself, “Please Princey, I can get it up just as well as you can,”

Roman’s face split into a shit-eating grin, “That’s what she said,”

Virgil had to stop himself from screaming. Instead, he opted for another, more petty alternative.

“It’s our ball!” Virgil yelled out, “Rule violation: No one can be touching the net,” Virgil looked at Roman dead in the eyes before catching the flying ball without breaking eye contact, Roman’s eyes filled with disgust and betrayal, snapping his hands back to his sides and off the net.

Virgil lowered his voice once more so only Roman could hear, “Revenge is a dish best served cold,”

The game continued and Roman’s team’s success went from guaranteed to fleeting, as their new server hit the net multiple times and Roman’s ball spiking was easily intercepted by a junior whose name escaped Virgil. Each time Virgil’s team got a point, his grin would just get wider and wider. Eventually, it was a tie game, both teams quickly reaching 14-14. Virgil was beaming now while Roman practically had steam coming out of his ears.

“Okay!” Coach yelled out and blew her whistle, “In just about 3 minutes we are going to switch and A will go against D and C will go against B,”

“Huh,” Virgil said and looked at Roman, “It looks like my team may just take the victory after all,”

Roman huffed and crossed his arms, “That’s a funny joke, Macabre, calling it ‘your team’. You have not even scored a point,”

“I set it to her and she-”

“An assist is not a success, Leonardo DiCraprio,” Roman told him, definitively, and walked away as the round began.

Virgil was not bad at sports, he is more muscular than the average high school senior, hell, he had dunked 2 basketballs before. He knew that he could score a point just to shove it back into Roman beautiful face, they just have to give him a chance.

His eyes ping-ponged back and forth at the exchange of the ball over the net to both sides. At one point, Roman rushed from the other side of the court to directly in front of Virgil to hit the ball that a distracted junior was going to miss. He hits it to the far right corner with impressive speed and then moves to the center of the court.

“Mine!” Logan yelled, skidding forward to hit the ball (Virgil still very impressed with his reaction skills). The ball once again was vollied to the other side of the court.

“Mine!” A cheery voice called out. Patton slid to the center of the court next to Roman and hit the ball to the left hand side of the court. He smacked the ball with imposing velocity and was heading in the space between Virgil and another teammate.

With a sudden burst of confidence, the words of Roman ringing in his ears, Virgil shouts, “Mine!” and leaps to the center where the white ball was hurtling.

Virgil knew that time was all relative to human perception and technically was not real. Nevertheless, his surrounds slowly moved to a near halt as he had to make a decision on what to do. He could hear the screams of his teammates in anticipation, as the ball was slowly rolling towards Virgil, and would not be stopped unless he did something.

He was just going to bump it. That is all he wanted to do. Bump the ball and keep their thrilling volley going. Just simply bump the ball, maybe even set it. However, Virgil legs must have hated that idea, as his fight-or-flight response kicked in and they made him jump to a height he did not think he was capable of. He knew he only had one shot at this, so he closed his eyes and smacked the ball downward as hard as possible. The rubber bladder of the ball burned as he hit it with all his might, but he couldn’t help but think about how similar it is to dunking a basketball as he had done previously, unmitigated.

Virgil’s ankles ached as he hit the ground once again and his ears were roaring from doing such a physical act so suddenly. He opened his eyes and heard his teammates cheering. The senior next to him held up his hand and Virgil high fived him back, suddenly filled with energy. He looked on the other side of the court, and immediately felt his stomach plummet when he saw 3 teenagers circling a body on the ground.

Virgil rushed to the crowd, standing next to Patton who was mid-conversation, “- just keep your head tilted forward and keep pinching your nose- no, not there Roman,”

Anyone would have cringed at the sight in the center of the group, but it made Virgil sick to his stomach. In the thick of it all was Roman; perfect, beautiful, incredible Roman, holding his nose and his mouth for dear life as bright red blood quickly dribbled down his hand and onto his shirt.

“Holy shit,” Virgil cried, “What the hell happened,”

Roman looked at him with a fiery intensity. A different intensity than on average, this was filled with malice and anger, “You hit me in the nose with your spike, you freaking punk!” Roman whimpered, tears pricking his eyes. He inhaled sharply and groaned, the tears were now spilling from his eyes, “Oh God, I think it’s broken,”

Any shot Virgil had with Roman broke as soon as he cracked his nose. He covered his hand to his mouth, feeling so incredibly guilty for what he did. Stupid, stupid, stupid Virgil. Apologies weren’t enough, nothing was enough. Yet, he had to say something, anything. But, instead, he opted for staying silent instead. Saying nothing. Covering his mouth so no one could hear the dry sobs he was keeping back from his acquaintances.

“Roman, here, let me walk you to the Nurse,” Patton held out a hand and Roman took it, his hand still covering half of his face. Roman eyed Virgil the entire way out, using the shorter man as a crutch, and Virgil was rooted to the spot, frozen in a position of sobbing at almost any moment.

Once the gym doors closed loudly, signalling the pair had left, all eyes turned to Virgil, widen and with shock.

“Too much attention, too much attention, no no no,” And now Virgil did something he should have done with the volleyball: flee. He ran towards the locker room doors, he feet failing him and causing him to stumble a few times. Tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes as he threw open the doors to the room, vaguely processing the desperate cries of his best friend behind him.

***

Virgil hummed contentedly as he was putting his books in his locker. After the incidents of yesterday, Logan calmed Virgil down and they talked calmly and rationally about the incidents that unfolded. He also attempted to make Virgil feel better by discussing his infatuation with Patton; any talk of emotions involving Logan was odd to hear but extremely intriguing (and distracted him from his own issues). They sat on the floor, talking until the end of the period and then moving the conversation to chatting for hours in Logan’s car. He may claim to not understand emotions, but Logan has a way of making Virgil feel better, no matter the situation.

Nevertheless, Virgil rationally chalked the incident up to an accident. It was easy to do so, seeing as he doesn’t have to see Roman for a while and was probably remembering it injury as worse than it really was. It was Friday, so Virgil will have the whole weekend to compartmentalize the incident and everyone will forget about it by then. Well, that was the plan. Virgil was almost finished putting his books away when a hand harshly closed his locker for him. Virgil squeaked as he saw who it was.

Roman Prince, looking as godly as ever in his signature red bomber jacket and chocolate locks, stood imposingly over Virgil (despite Virgil technically being taller, he does slouch quite a lot). Roman’s big white cloth bandage was the first thing you would see when looking at the other, the tape to hold it down also moved onto his cheeks. Virgil winced a bit more when he noticed there was also dark bruising around Roman’s eyes as well. No, the injury was worse than what he remembered.

The pair had never talked outside of gym, but here he was, a little over 24 hours since Virgil had destroyed Roman’s face, turning him from statue by Michelangelo to a painting by Picasso.

“Hey… Roman,” Calling the other by his real name felt foreign on his tongue, but calling him Princey during this moment felt inappropriate.

The awkwardness was thick in the air as Roman said nothing back. His fingers twitched slightly as he leaned an arm against the locker doors and he bit his lip, eyes trailing down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with Virgil.

“I went to the doctor, my nose is broken, confirmed,” Roman stated simply, the dramatics in his voice were replaced by a dead and broken kind of disinterest.

Virgil swallowed thickly, “Roman… You have to know how sorry I am. Logan was getting in my head about being competitive and… You kind of egged me on to score a point,” Roman eyes shot up to look at Virgil, shocked, “I take that back, it was all Logan,” He quickly finished, “I will do anything to make this better, do you want me to pay for your doctor bills, I can,”

He cannot, but thankfully, Virgil did not have to worry about that as Roman waved him off, “I have pretty fabulous insurance, it was not too much, do not worry about it,”

Virgil nodded, sadly smiling.

“However,” Roman continued, his usual stupor seemed to be returning slowly, “If you do want to do something for me, you could allow me to take you out for coffee,”

“Take… you out?” Virgil repeated back, slowly. His brain and the words we were hearing were still disconnected.

Roman chuckled, “Yes, that is what one typically does on a first date,”

Virgil mind went to a screeching halt as Roman said those words. His heart was not beating anymore, it was vibrating from nerves and pent up emotions. Confused as to why a man Virgil had injured so greatly could still be possibly interested in him in any fashion. The stars were not aligned for this to work out; they had already collapsed in on themselves and become black holes, sucking up everything in their path. Yet, somehow, in someway, Roman was standing in front of him with love in his eyes, willing to look past that. With every compliment Roman gave, Virgil would retort with a biting comment, how did Roman still keep his affections? Virgil would completely shutting down at any sign of physical affection and yet, here, standing before him, an angel walking on Earth was asking him to coffee. He could not understand how or why Roman could want that. How does one articulate these worries? How can Virgil express his fears to Roman without it seeming like an outright objection, because he want to be with him so badly?

“I broke your nose,” He responded flatly, dumbly, and cringing in on himself because that was the wrong things to say.

Roman sighed, ruffling his hair, “Yes, I do realise that that was a most unfortunate instance for both of us. But, it made me realise that our back and forth had gone on too long, and will only spur even more injuries if not sedated,”

Virgil blinked rapidly, his mouth had gone dry and his heart was beating out of his chest as he stared at Roman, “I demolished your face, and you still want to go out with me?”

Roman bowed dramatically, holding out his hand. Virgil flushed pink and awkwardly picked at the loose strings on his backpack. Roman looked up at Virgil through his eyelashes smirking, “I do, if you’ll have me,”

Virgil held onto his hand, their fingers and palms coming together nicely, and Virgil smiled once more, “How can I say no to that?”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #prinxiety #logicality #Virgil Sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #my writing

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