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sweatervest-obsessed · 11 months ago

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Second Chances Are For Winners

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

WC: 2.7k

TW: Swearing, teasings, blood, abduction, breaking and entering, Criminal Minds General list of triggers apply here.

A/N: Hiya gang! so actually I have been so unmotivated to write and I just got back from vacation so I promise I will finish up VDVE soon. But please enjoy this mouth vomit that Just came out of my mind. It's a part one since the rest of it is mapped out, just not written! (also why is like every other gif his mouth moving. This man really just doesn't stfu and it's only hot on him)

Spencer Reid being overwhelmed was an understatement. He needed to get out of that police station as soon as physically possible. JJ confronting him about his hostility towards her had not gone the way she had hoped it would, and Spencer was once again, fuming.

The Oklahoma heat was not kind to someone who only wore sweater vests, a fact in which he would later start to reconsider when planning his outfits to places where the heat had personal vendettas against the living. As soon as he stepped outside, it was like he was met with a brick wall of temperatures well over what they should be. As the sweat dripped down his forehead, so did the tension. He took a couple of breaths before picking up the phone and dialing a number he knew all too well.

“Speak and be heard, Wonder Boy”

“Hey Garcia,” A small smile formed from hearing the familiar voice. “I need you to look up someone, and find their cell number for me, if that’s okay.”

He could hear Garcia roll across her ‘batcave’, “Hit me.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N…”

“Give me two seconds…..Isn’t she—”

“Garcia, please.”

He could hear the smirk forming across her face as her fingers flew across the keys.

“You’re looking up more than her number…”

“One point for Boy Genius everybody. Yes, I’m looking up more than just her phone number. She’s the gorgeous mystery woman who kissed your cheek in front of the whole team—of course I’m going to look her up now that I have her name.”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, starting to regret the decision to call Penelope in the first place. “Can you just send me her number and snoop around later Garcia?”

“Fine Genius.” His phone beeped. “Just sent it to you.”

“Thank you Penelope.”

“Anytime Boy Wonder.” Reid hung up the call before looking at the screen, opening the text Garcia had sent him. He smiled at the number, and almost dialed before thinking better of it. Maybe after the case, he’ll call you and take you out for lunch to catch up. But it’s nothing more, Spencer decided. You probably didn’t feel the same way, but at least he knew that there was someone who wasn’t a part of the team in which he could finally vent his frustrations to. Now he’ll finally be able to get an objective view on the whole Emily situation.

Spencer looked at the file in his hand and sighed, opening it up. As he was reading through it for the umpteenth time, something occurred to him, and he quickly made his way back into the station, and towards his team.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Once the jet touched down in DC, Spencer was the first one off the plane. He walked through the hanger, and towards his car. He could feel the others watching him, especially Emily, but his mind was elsewhere.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, dialing the number Garcia had sent.

“Y/L/N and Associates, how may I help you today?”

Spencer didn’t even try to bite back the smile before he cleared his throat, reaching into his back pocket to grab his keys.

“Hi, yes, I was wondering if I could speak with Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Sure, let me make sure she’s available. Her meeting should be ending soon. Can I ask what this is for?”

Spencer pursed his lips before answering. “She, uh, just told me to call this number.”

He heard the person on the other end shuffle something around before answering, “Good enough for me.” They hummed. “Can I just get a name?”

“Yeah–uh, Spencer–Spencer Reid.”

“Give me one moment Mr. Reid” was all he heard before he was put on hold. He sighed and entered his car, chucking his go-bag into the passenger seat. As Spencer turned on the car, he heard your voice.

“Spencer?”

His face lit up, and a smile graced his features.

“Hey! Yeah. Um” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hi.”

She laughed. “I knew you’d find me eventually, Doctor, but a whole week? I feel that maybe your profiling skills need a bit of sharpening.”

“Well–I was, I was working on cases. I-I didn’t forget—”

You cut him off, voice softer than he remembered. “I’m just teasing Spencer. So what do I owe the absolute pleasure of having Doctor Spencer Reid grace my line.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me your cell number so I don’t have to annoy your secretary…”

You were silent for a moment. “Well my number is going to cost you something.”

“Y-Yeah absolutely.” Answered a bit too quickly, almost out of breath.

“I expect a meal sometime soon, and maybe throw in coffee one of these mornings as well.”

Spencer smiled so brightly he almost couldn’t see the road as he was driving.

“I-I, um, think that’s something I can do.”

He heard you hum in agreement.

“What about tomorrow night?”

Spencer paused.

“I–...I actually can’t do tomorrow night, I have a team meeting, but what about breakfast the next morning?”

He heard you shuffling papers around and a bit of typing on the keyboard before you answered him. “Seems like I’m all yours Doctor.”

Reid smiled and parked his car outside of his apartment.

“Then you’ll have to give me your cell phone’s number and it’s a sealed deal.”

“Are you usually this good at negotiations? Should I start prepping my list of demands for breakfast…” You joked, letting out a small laugh.

Spencer shook his head before he realized you couldn’t see him. “N-No, well yes actually. It’s a part of the whole FBI thing.”

You laughed at his joke before giving him your cell number. “I’ll see you soon Spencer. Bye.”

As you hung up the phone, Spencer sent a quick “hey!” text before getting out of the car and heading up to his apartment. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a tense week after all.

______________________________________________________________________________

The Team isn’t stupid. They’ve noticed that Spencer was somehow in a better mood when he arrived at the office the next morning, despite the way he basically ran away from the jet. They also noticed he was spending a lot more time on his phone than before, especially since Spencer was not the one to text.

As Spencer dumped his sugar into his coffee mug, Derek came up next to him and started to prepare his own coffee.

“Wanna tell me why you’re in such a good mood Pretty Boy?”

Spencer pondered the offer for a moment before putting the sugar back on the counter, next to the coffee pot. “Nope.” and he walked back towards his desk.

Derek was taken back a little bit, but finished his coffee. He made eye contact with Emily and shrugged.

Emily was next, since her desk was next to Spencer’s.

“Morning Spence…”

“Morning Emily.” He quickly replied, and even flashed her a quick smile before his phone lit up and his attention was taken away from her. He sent a quick text, before placing his phone face down and started looking through his files to find the right paperwork to finish the consultation he had started before they left for Oklahoma.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nope.” Spencer replied yet again, and now that Derek was back, he watched the same look pass through Emily’s face before she looked at Derek.

Derek decided he was going to try a different tactic this time. “Hey Reid, wanna tell me who you're texting there man?”

Derek’s face lit up like a Christmas Tree not even a moment later when Spencer ignored his question.

“Is it…oh what was her name…”

“Ohhhh,” Emily joined in, “It’s the lawyer from last week…”

Spencer just shrugged and tried to stay focused on the paper in front of him, yet all he had been doing for the past minute was rereading the same line over and over because all he could think about was when you were going to answer his text.

“The lawyer, right right…” Derek smirked and looked at Emily, both knowing they hit the jackpot. “Wasn’t her name…Y/N?”

At the mention of your name, Spencer made the mistake of sitting up a bit straighter, which both profilers noticed instantly.

“Oh so Y/N has been texting you all morning huh. Is that why you raced off of the jet last night? Couldn’t wait to go see he–”

“No.” Spencer cut off Derek, looking up at the pair. “I haven’t seen her since last week’s case. Now if the two of you wouldn’t mind leaving me alone I have a lot of paperwork I need to make it through before I head home tonight.” He turned back to the file in front of him and tried to read it again. And again. And again. Eventually, Spencer was able to continue his work once Derek and Emily let him be.

But anytime his phone buzzed, he could feel the smirks from his friends, he just didn’t care.

__________________________________________________________________________

You were so over your entire day. Every single one of your active clients decided that they had an issue that needed to be resolved in the second they called you.

So when you woke up, face leaving a print against the wood of your desk, you let out a groan.

The little clock in the corner of your laptop's screen flashed the time, causing you to let out a string of curses.

“I cant fucking believe it’s 2 am. Fuck.” You grumbled, standing up and stretching your arms over your head.

Your phone screen lit up with a notification, which also showed that you had missed a few text messages from your favorite profilers. The last one was a, correct, guess that you had fallen asleep at your desk. You smiled and responded with:

Do you ever get tired of being right all the time Doctor Reid?

As you packed up your things, your phone buzzed.

Not really. It’s just in my nature.

You laughed out loud a bit, shaking your head.

And why are you still awake?

That’s when your phone rang. You held it in your hand, staring at it for a moment, before remembering to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Did you even check caller ID or are you trying to encourage stalkers?” Spencer’s voice rang through your body as you let out another laugh, placing the phone between your shoulder and your ear, packing up the rest of your things.

“Well Spencer, I seriously can’t think of another person to call me at this hour besides you…; and maybe this Baby Daddy who won’t leave me alone.” You grumbled, shoving your laptop into your bag with a little extra force than normal.

“Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, one of my clients, he’s a sweet guy—great dad. But because he’s so worried about his daughter having any sort of parenting time, he’s been calling me nonstop, freaking out about supervised visits. Like, I get it, but it’s fucking 2 am and I stop working at 5, maybe 6 the latest.

You heard Spencer hum in response, but no words. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Ye-yeah, I uh–”

“Did…Did you think I was talking about someone I had a kid with?”

Spencer sputtered out a “n-no, why–why would…”

You let out another laugh, that was like music to his ears. “Spencer, I feel like you should have figured that out from the way that you clearly used the FBI to look up my office number to get my cell number. You would’ve found out if I had kids.”

“Y-Yeah I guess…”

“Give me one second Spencer.” and before he could respond, you put your phone down, and pulled out your airpods, letting them connect to your phone so you could go hands free.

“Can you hear me?” You placed your phone in your skirt pocket, adjusting your airpods so that they would be comfortable.

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

“I just had to put my headphones on, I need my hands.” You slid on your heels, and walked out of your office locking the door. “Tell me about your day Spencer, I have to walk around and lock up.”

Spencer hummed again and looked up at his ceiling. He had been sitting in his apartment, trying to read, waiting for you to answer his text–partially because he thought the worst, but mostly because he couldn't stop thinking about you.

“Well. Not much happened. I was at work, and was trying to finish a report for this case I’m consulting on by sending them a preliminary profile, and then Derek was up my ass all day.”

“What about?” You asked, placing your bag on the floor near the office, going to check the rest of the offices to make sure no one was still there.

“Oh, um, well…”

You laughed again, causing his chest to swell again. “So it was me.” You teased me. “Excited to talk to me?”

You could feel Spencer turning redder and redder as the moments went on.

After a brief pause, Spencer responded to you. “And what if I am?”

It was your turn to blush, but it only made you feel a bit bolder.

“Getting a bit flirtatious, Spence. This is not the Reid I once knew from all those years ago.”

You could hear Spencer laugh.

“You sound tired. Why don’t you get some rest Spencer.”

Spencer sat up straighter. “No. I’ll stay on the phone with you—” He interrupted himself with a yawn. “Until you get home. What kind of agent would I be letting you walk home alone at this hour.”

“I’m not going to stop you, but if you fall asleep….I’m hanging up.”

“Fine—Just text me when you get home?”

You hummed and nodded. “Can do sweetheart. Night Spencer.”

“Night Y/n”

You hung up the phone and turned on your spotify, listening to some music that would make this fifteen minute walk bearable. You usually drive into work, but it had been such a nice day, and you usually don’t mind getting in the extra walk since you sit behind a desk all day.

You paused before you exited the first set of doors—part of you felt like you should just go back upstairs and sleep in your office. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it would provide a certain agent with a lot more comfort knowing you’re somewhere safe.

But then you thought about your bed, and the new sheets you put on the night before, and the weighted blanket spread out across the bed spread, and you realized you’d much rather sleep under that than on a stale couch without even a pillow.

You managed to make a fifteen minute walk into a ten one. Speeding home at 2 am was not exactly what you wanted to do, but you’d rather that then the couch. You quickly unlocked the front door and made it up the stairs and into your apartment.

You sent Spencer a quick text saying that you had arrived home, and immediately moved into your bedroom.

The apartment was a small one bed, one bath. It would have been considered a studio if not for the door between your bedroom and the kitchen/living room/entrance/dining room. Your bedroom was quite small, with a skinny closet, a dresser, and your bed. You had gotten lucky enough to shove your bed against one wall, and create a reading nook in the turret window on the other side of the room, which was only about ten feet away, but still.

You kicked off your shoes, and made your way into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and listening to whatever music spotify had decided to play for you.

You took off your outfit for the day and pulled on your pajamas, which felt so good against your skin as you slid into your bed, and shut the lights off.

You wished you took the first option when two minutes later, you heard your bedroom door creak open, and a voice tell you not to scream.

To Be Continued...

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celestialglow24 · 7 months ago

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••• Sharing the Bed•••

Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Reader is wondering how things will be with Frank now after asking him to be her fake boyfriend at her sister’s wedding.

3.9k words

Inspired by the faking dating prompts from @thelonelyempath https://www.tumblr.com/thelonelyempath/705043295893618688/fake-dating-prompts?source=share

Using prompt #25 “I kinda liked sharing the bed with you”

I’ve had such a writing bug lately and im taking advantage of it while i’ve got it! Enjoy xxx

You were nervous to see him again.

It had been a couple weeks since you’d convinced Frank to be your fake boyfriend for your sister’s wedding.

You had panicked when your mom called you at work, saying you had pushed it off long enough and she needed an answer right now if you were bringing a plus one or not.

You almost said no, but after she made a snide comment about already knowing the answer—she was just asking as a courtesy to your sister—you cracked and told her you’d been seeing someone for months now.

When she asked who, your eyes had landed on one of the few patrons left at the bar that night.

Frank Castle.

Surprisingly he agreed to go. It was probably the desperation in your voice and the pleading of your eyes—you didn’t have time to think about how pathetic you felt—but you were thankful nonetheless.

It’s been 14 days since you got back and you haven’t seen him since. Not that you were counting the days or anything.

No texts.

No phone calls.

Just silence.

Normally you wouldn’t think much of it. Even though Frank had become a regular at the bar and restaurant you worked at, he’d disappear for days and weeks at a time.

You’d try and make small talk when he came back. Hoping to get any kind of inclination as to what Frank Castle got up to in his spare time.

He was still such a mystery to you. A very attractive mystery at that. One that you were determined to figure out.

However, as much as you tried, you never got the answer you were searching for.

It was always “business” or “nothing you’d find interesting, sweetheart”.

You never really gave it much thought when he offered those responses, you just accepted that Frank was not an open book. He was a locked book. One kept on the highest shelf that you’d probably never be able to reach.

And yet despite knowing all this you couldn’t help but wonder if your time away together had anything to do with his sudden absence.

You worried things would get awkward. Especially after having to share a bed together. He offered to sleep on the floor but you shot that down quick.

Not only would you feel enormously guilty having him sleep on the hardwood floor—he complained about his back a lot—but you were worried someone might walk in and your fake dating charade would unravel.

The silent crush you’d been harboring had only gotten louder after several days with Frank. Having to hold hands, talk sweetly to each other and even slow dance at the wedding had your mind all in a haze.

What was real and what wasn’t?

Did he feel anything? Or was he just a really good actor?

It was driving you crazy.

One thing was for certain, your family adored him. Especially your equally intimidating, hard-to-please father.

In fact, your dad liked him so much he invited him to go hunting in a few months.

It had taken years before he even extended an invite like that to your sister’s now husband.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing when you watched the way his eyes had widened and mouth parted when Frank agreed to go—your sister offering a reassuring pat to his arm.

You figured it had something to do with the fact they were both veterans. Your dad took an instant liking to anyone who could relate to the struggle and strength it took to serve in the military.

And your mother. The way she fawned over everything Frank said and did. His manners, how he consistently answered with “yes, ma’am” and “no, ma’am”.

She just about fell over when she came into the kitchen one morning to find he had managed to fix that pesky dishwasher that had been giving her trouble for months.

You smiled at the memory, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Another thought had overshadowed it. One that caused a sudden pit to form in your stomach. How were you going to break the news to your family that things with Frank weren’t working out?

The plan was to give it a few weeks and then call to let them know you’d decided to take some time apart. You were both realizing you needed different things, but you would remain friends.

It sounded reasonable, but now? You didn’t think you could handle their disappointment.

You’d never seen them so proud of you. So happy for you. Pleasing your parents always felt like an impossible task. The closer you got there was always some dip in the road that caused that approval to move further and further away.

You finally bring someone home that they approved of only to rip the hope away from them. You were sure they’d find some way to blame it all on you.

You were starting to remember what it felt like when you told them you wouldn’t be going to college.

It didn’t matter that you were excellent at your job, managing both the bar and the restaurant on your own. It didn’t matter that you were able to make more than enough money to support yourself. And it certainly didn’t matter that you had helped exceed the profit goals of each quarter since you started.

It didn’t matter that you had been busting your ass to save back money to buy the place for yourself when the owner retired soon.

It only mattered that you didn��t have a “career” or a family to call your own.

Frank had picked up on the tension pretty early on. He did his best to talk you up. You found it sweet. Endearing even.

One night, while the two of you were dancing to some slow, sappy song your sister picked out, Frank called you out on your off demeanor.

You were surprised he noticed, you thought you had mastered the art of appearing fine when deep down you really weren’t.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” he spoke lowly in your ear. One of his hands rested on the small of your back while the other held your hand close to his chest. His thumb ran back and forth along your hand and you tried to ignore the swarm of butterflies wreaking havoc on your stomach.

“I’m wondering how Uncle Steven has managed to go this long without throwing up. I thought for sure the cupid shuffle would’ve done it.”

Frank turned to look in the direction you were staring. Your Uncle Steven was somehow still performing the steps to the dance from 3 songs ago. Frank lightly chuckled as he watched Steven spill some of his beer on the couple next to him.

Though he couldn’t deny he was also wondering how the old man hadn’t crashed yet, he knew that’s not what you were really thinking about.

You were trying to deflect.

He was starting to learn just how stubborn you could be, but unlucky for you, Frank wasn’t gonna let you off the hook that easily.

“Nah that ain’t it.” he shook his head. “I can tell there’s a lot more going on behind those eyes.”

You were slightly relieved the lights were dim in the reception so he couldn’t see the deep blush heating up your face. You weren’t good at making eye contact with people you were crushing on.

“I think you’re imagining things.” you replied avoiding his gaze. “I’m just tired, I think this week is finally catching up to me.”

“Hm.” Frank hummed.

“What?”

“I think we’re about to have our first fight.”

You scoffed, ”Oh yeah? and what’s this ‘first fight’ gonna be about?”

“How you’re lying to your boyfriend.” he replied, speaking low into your ear again. It shouldn’t have caused the hairs on your neck to stand up but it certainly did.

“Look, you listen to assholes mope and complain all day long about their sad fucked up lives. I think it’s only fair to return the favor.” he shrugged. “So tonight i’ll do your job and you can let it all out right now. Minus the crude comments and shitty tips.”

You were about to laugh and lightly shove Frank for messing with you, but the look on his face made you pause.

He was being serious.

“Is it your folks?” he asked. “I saw your face when your dad gave that speech. That smile you were forcin’, it didn’t reach your eyes.”

You bit your lip and lowered your stare to the dress shirt he was wearing, playing nervously with one of the buttons to avoid looking up at him.

“That obvious huh?” you laughed sadly.

Frank felt bad as he watched the hurt wash over your features. He knew all too well the overwhelming pressure to please one’s family. He grew up with an overbearing father who never thought he’d amount to anything.

He knew how much that disappointment could eat you alive.

“It’s just, no matter what I do. I know my dad will never speak about me the way he does my sister. She’s an ivy league graduate who just got into med school. She’s married now, moving to a new city and probably going to be popping out kids before the end of next year. and me? In his eyes I'm just a bartender in a small town with no ambitious goal in sight.”

Frank nodded in understanding. He could see from the outside how the comparison could make you feel that way.

“Are you happy?”

You thought about it for a second. Even though the job had its ups and downs—managing a restaurant and a busy bar was no easy feat—you could honestly say you enjoyed what you did.

You got to know a lot of the locals well and it always made you feel good to know that you’d helped make their day or night a little better.

You loved the house you recently bought. It was a bit of a fixer upper but it was yours.

You loved how independent you were. How you could come home after a long day and you didn’t have to cook for a litter of kids.

It was just your dog, cat and you.

“Honestly? Yeah, I think I am.”

“Then fuck em.” he shrugged.

“Frank I-”

“Nah, nah.” he cut you off. “I know that’s your family but that don’t mean they’re always right. If you like what you do and you’re happy then who gives a shit what anyone else thinks.”

You processed Frank’s words and while you knew he was probably right, it didn’t mean it was easy to just tune out your parents’ criticism.

Frank seemed to know what you weren’t saying out loud because he followed it up with something that made your heart swell.

“All i’m saying is if they can look at you and what you’re doing and feel anything but proud there’s something wrong with ‘em. Not you.”

You could’ve kissed him right there but the song had ended and couples were clearing the dance floor.

Instead you walked back to the table with Frank, your arm looped through his.

You couldn’t help but think about how this man was screwing with your heart and your head and he didn’t even know it.

That much was still true all these days later. At this point you were dying for him to show up again.

Even if he didn’t talk to you, you’d at least know he wasn’t avoiding this whole place because of you.

The night was winding down, the 2 am crowd had begun to disperse and your eyes were fighting hard to stay awake. You’d chosen to work a double today, one of the other bartenders had a family emergency.

In your 20s you could work shifts like this and bounce right back the next day but now? In your 30s you were lucky if you managed to wake up without an achy back and sore feet.

“Phil, I'm gonna run the last of the trash out and then I'm heading home. I left the keys to lock up in the front drawer.” you shouted to the line cook in the back.

You could see him mopping up the kitchen floor so you knew he wouldn’t be too far behind you.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with ya this time?” he shouted back, “I’d hate for a creepy critter to make you run like you’d seen a ghost again.”

You rolled your eyes as Phil roared with laughter. Referencing the one time a little group of racoons had taken up residence inside the restaurant dumpster and sent you running like Freddy Krueger himself was chasing you.

“I think i’ll manage this time Phil, thanks for looking out.” you replied playfully.

You picked up the large trash bags and backed into the front door to head out. It was really inconvenient but they recently had moved the trash compactor across the street.

Not only was it annoying during the day when the streets were busy but it was extra spooky at night.

Once you were out of the door you turned around only to gasp and drop the trash bags you were holding.

“Jesus, Frank.” you cried, “What the hell were you trying to do, give me a fucking heart attack?”

You were too distracted by the adrenaline coursing through your veins to realize the man you’d been waiting to see for the last two weeks was finally standing in front of you.

“My bad, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. I tried to go by your place and you weren’t there so I figured you might be here.”

You blew out a puff of hair and a couple pieces of your hair went flying.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, sorry I know it’s late. I wanted to make sure you got this back. Somehow I think it got mixed up in my things.”

Frank pulled out a pink phone charger from his jacket pocket and extended it out to you.

You had a million of these things scattered around your house so you honestly hadn’t noticed it was missing. It was sweet of him to bring it back to you though.

“Oh Frank, you didn’t have to worry about that.” you replied, walking forward to retrieve it. “But thank you”.

You beamed a genuine smile at Frank while holding up the charger in your hand and he thought his heart had grown 2 sizes. Just like the Grinch his kids used to watch.

There was something about your smile that always stopped him in his tracks. He would never get tired of seeing it.

“Nah it’s nothin’.” he shrugged. “May I?”

He gestured toward the garbage bags sitting on the ground and bent over to pick them up.

“You don’t have to!” you tried to stop him, but subconsciously you knew it would be pointless.

Frank was always a gentleman and while he knew you would have no trouble carrying them on your own, he wouldn’t feel right not offering a hand.

“Can I atleast carry one of them?” you asked sweetly.

There was that damn smile again. How could he say no?

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, it wasn’t awkward but it was clear you were both trying to think of what to say next.

How do two people that recently spent a week pretending to be a couple go back to normal?

You decided to break the silence as the two of you walked back toward the bar.

“I, um, never got to properly thank you for helping with my family. I know it was probably a bit weird but it meant more to me than you could ever know. I think my parents would’ve had us get married that same night if it were up to them.” you laughed, playing nervously with your hands.

“Is that right?” Franked looked down at you with an amused expression.

“God, yes. I think you’re probably gonna be the only guy I bring home that they will ever like. I actually feel bad for the next guy that has to live up to the great Frank Castle.” you nudged him as you walked and he let out the most glorious laugh you’d ever heard.

You wanted to hear that more.

“Well if i’m the measuring stick for all the future men in your life then it’s your parents I feel sorry for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, playfully swatting his shoulder, “What do you mean by ‘all the future men in your life’? You think I still got a revolving door of men to get through before I finally settle down?”

It was meant to be playful banter, but there was a look that settled in Frank’s eyes and the mood suddenly got a bit more serious.

“I sure hope not.”

You weren’t sure how to take his comment. Maybe you were over analyzing but there was a part of you that was hoping he said that because he wanted you.

Wishful thinking of course.

You cleared your throat to help ease the tension.

“So, you just get back from whatever mystery place you squandered off to?”

“Just taking care of some business, sweetheart.”

That famous phrase again. You simply nodded. Accepting once again that you would probably not get any further information than that.

“But you know it’s funny.” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “There I was, lying in bed in some run down roach motel off the highway, having a hell of time trying to fall asleep each night.

“It coulda been the state of the motel—that place was a real shitbox—but the more I laid there, the more I realized it felt like I was missing something.”

Frank started fidgeting a bit. Almost like he was nervous or something. It was strange. You didn't think a guy like him got nervous.

“I realized, I kinda liked sharing the bed with you.”

Your heart started hammering away in your chest. Did you hear him right? Frank Castle liked sharing a bed with you? So much so that it was keeping him up at night?

You had to be dreaming.

“Really?”

You tried to act nonchalant but the word came out all high and squeaky. You don’t think Frank noticed though.

“Yeah, believe it or not I’d gotten so used to having no covers at night, I just tossed the damn thing on the ground.”

You gasped and punched his shoulder slightly. “Hey, I warned you I would probably take all the blankets. You coulda pulled them right back.”

Frank laughed again.

“Nah, you were too cute wrapped up like a burrito. Besides, I was more worried if I tried you’d whack my head or kick my nuts. You sure do move around a lot in your sleep.”

You feigned hurt, placing a hand to your chest.

“And just why do you miss sharing a bed with me so much? It doesn't sound so pleasant based on what you’re saying.”

Frank looked off and smiled. “I don’t know.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“Look, uh, I’m not really good at this. I’ve been out of the game for a long time so you’ll have to forgive me but-”

“Frank Castle.” you cut him off.

“Yeah?”

“Are you about to ask if you can sleep in my bed tonight?”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up and a panicked sort of look took residence on his face. “Shit, no I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-”

He stopped when he saw you throw your head back in laughter.

“What?” he asked, trying to fight off the smile that was beginning to form on his own face. Your laugh was just too damn contagious.

“I’m sorry,” you said between breaths,”You shoulda seen your face. I was just messing with you Frank.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, poking your side. “You think that shit was funny huh?”

Suddenly you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and over Frank’s shoulder. “I can be real fucking hilarious. How about I carry you home just like this?”

“Frank!” you screamed playfully, swatting at his back. “Put me down you asshole!”

“No, I think I like this view better.”

You continued to hit his back and laugh. You were just about to come back with your own smart comment when you heard a car pull up beside you.

“Is everything alright here?”

You turned to look, adjusting your hair so it was out of your face. It was an officer staring at you both with a confused expression.

You could’ve sworn you heard Frank growl a little bit.

“Uh we’re good officer!” you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

“She had a bit too much to drink tonight. Tried to drive home. Just makin sure she gets home safe. She’s a stubborn thing.” Frank spoke up, making sure to pat your ass for dramatic effect.

The officer seemed to buy this story.

“Well miss, you got a good man there. You should probably listen to him more often.” he replied before rolling up the window.

You gasped and Frank roared with laughter.

“Thanks officer!” he shouted as the man drove away.

You poked his side hard and he finally released you, setting you down in front of him. Your faces were real close together now, and the smiles you both had slowly fell.

There was a quiet moment before you quickly leaned in and kissed Frank. He seemed surprised at first but thankfully responded and pulled you in tighter.

His hands roamed your body while yours held his face.

You pulled away gently, and he rested his forehead on yours.

“You know, I thought you’d been avoiding me.” you said quietly.

“Yeah?” he replied, moving a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I know you disappear sometimes but I thought this time was gonna be different.”

Frank nodded, running his hands down your shoulders before grabbing both of your hands in his own.

“You know, I got a confession.” he said quietly, “I swiped that phone charger before we left.”

You leaned back and looked up at him.

“What?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I know it’s stupid but I wanted an excuse to see you again. Like I said, it's been a while since I’ve done anything like this and I didn’t think I could just approach you in the bar like before.”

“It’s not stupid.” you smiled, squeezing his hands. “It’s sweet.”

“So i’m sweet now? Just a second ago I was a asshole.”

“Both can be true.” you shrugged.

He scoffed. “Come here.”

Frank pulled you into him and you wrapped your arms around his waist. He placed a kiss on your head and it suddenly felt like it did when you were with your parents.

It just felt natural.

“Let me take you out.” he said, pulling back and tilting your chin up at him. “On a real date.”

You bit your lip and smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” he replied before kissing you again.

“Now let’s go before that cop comes back around and you gotta act drunk for him.”

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever you say, Frank. I gotta listen to you more right?”

“Attagirl.” he smiled, before putting his arm around your shoulder.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle angst #frank castle x you #jon bernthal

357 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

Text

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is.

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet.

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still.

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.”

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—”

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother.

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.”

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue.

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement.

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify.

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma.

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body.

And just age in general.

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly.

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is.

Gifts.

From Joe.

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery.

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands.

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent.

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently.

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan.

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.”

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.”

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls.

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.”

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.”

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.”

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone.

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected.

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy.

If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed.

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us.

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text.

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her.

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants.

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath.

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away.

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her.

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now.

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town.

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings.

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap.

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?”

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to.

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit.

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

��Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no.

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you.

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.”

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.”

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.”

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid.

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter.

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that.

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say? No wonder she was crabby this morning.

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter.

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one.

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school.

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years.

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is. Was about that.

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade.

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you.

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door.

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject.

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking.

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously?

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around.

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic.

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply.

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad.

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly.

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well.

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity.

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset.

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything.

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet.

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better.

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial.

Usually.

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N.

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky.

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see.

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well.

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #black writers #arisnotebook

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alicerosejensen · 9 months ago

Text

Another you

Warning: reader mutation (c-virus), angst, blood, slight aggression, acquired albinism, fem/reader (not an agent, an ordinary civilian who worked at the museum), Leon has plot armor, more narration than dialogue, the text contains an antagonist like Simmons (male character), Ada is helping Leon again, relatively happy ending.

Synopsis: You didn’t want to change, you loved him, just as he loved you, but against your will, your love turned into hatred and animal anger towards him. However, Leon still hopes that you will remember him...

A/N: This is probably my biggest work. Tumblr told me to fuck off a few times while editing, but I came out victorious in the fight, although I had to re-write the text into the draft a few times because Tumblr for some damn reason published it without my knowledge. I hope feedback if anyone liked it, because I have been burning with this idea for a long time!

The text also contains an excerpt from Byron's poems (I adore him)

He promised himself first of all that nothing would happen to you. That his work won't affect you in any way and you won't get hit by the corporate bastards, and you really didn't. However, something else happened...

But people whom Leon loves or simply cares about tend to leave or even die.

Everything was fine with you. Ideal in his imperfect life and you were this perfection that he valued and protected. A prudent person would not keep an expensive diamond in front of everyone, so Leon did not scatter information about you and who you are to him. You were loved and dear to him more than all the treasures of the world, he appreciated your tenderness towards him and kindness, because it was you who helped him get out of the hole of despondency in which he buried himself. His personal little guardian angel. Still, he has something to continue his fight against bioterrorism.

A normal working day, except that the museum where you work was supposed to host an exhibition of some very expensive collection for which you were so carefully preparing, forgetting about yourself. It seemed to Leon that you were burning with enthusiasm and love for the work you were doing, which made you walk around too excited, forgetting about food, so he had to remind you to eat. This exhibition had no meaning for Kennedy, but he did not belittle your efforts thrown into this preparation, especially since you were so happy that you were incessantly talking about all these paintings, historical activities depicted on them and objects: a pendant with a strand of hair of some queen - you explained to him that this is a symbol of affection that was previously used It's like you're giving a piece of yourself to your giver, a kind of connection with a loved one, but this is just one of the meanings of such a peculiar gift. Silk fans, a clock, a desk, some items of clothing that, in Leon's opinion, were very strange and he was just glad that fashion had moved far ahead.

Although he could interpret all this in one word: beautifully.

And you were beautiful too. He would have liked to spend more time with you, but you were completely absorbed in your work, and he was overwhelmed with paperwork that he couldn't stand, but anyway, at least he could come back to you and listen to excited speeches and new facts that he didn't know anything about and would hardly remember if he told him about it someone else.

And everything went to hell when there was another outbreak, less global, but most importantly - human lives. And yours.

He was trying to save you, even if someone else had survived this exhibition, he would still have saved you first and not someone else. Mini Raccoon City, that's what he called it, making his way with you to the emergency exit while you kept up with him on your heels, because today you were supposed to shine and glow and not cry with fear looking at the pale corpses of history and art lovers. The light from Leon's flashlight illuminated a small part of the space while you walked quietly thinking about Leon's words, "I wonder how much time we have before they get up?"

"Were they poisoned?" you assumed, because how could you kill such a huge number of people without weapons. Leon, watching the ventilation grilles in the rooms, suggested in his head only one quick way.

"It must be gas,"

But then you would both have died too, you decided, but you did not voice your thought, because shortly before the tragedy you were invited to discuss something by the sponsor of this exhibition. A man who managed to collect so many magnificent things with a rich history. The man who gave you flowers and flirted with you from the day you first met, despite the fact that you made it clear to him that you were not interested in any relationship with him, except for work.

However, Leon also remained silent when he saw the luxurious bouquet of scarlet roses on your work table, which filled your entire small office with their aroma. But right now that simply wasn’t the main thing. He needed to get you out of the mess that happened, and then ask about flowers from rich strangers.

You walked slowly, trying not to make any noise or cry behind him while you clung to his jacket, partially managing to wonder why Leon's gun was with him when he had no reason to carry a gun. All this, of course, was secondary, given how stress, coupled with imagination, turned the exhibits into various frightening figures that frightened, made you scream, thinking that the fallen armor, which was probably simply poorly secured to the stand was another dead man. I didn’t even want to think about what happened in the exhibition hall, much less imagine. Leon had to take you by the hand and at times drag you along with him because the panic really aggravated everything, he was afraid that you would start to go hysterical, but it seems that despite the periodic stupor, you kept yourself well under control, exactly until the moment when Leon’s flashlight went out, leaving you in pitch darkness.

“Leon?” you called out anxiously, feeling noisy ragged breathing behind your back. Was this what Leon was talking about? Until recently, you hoped that his words were just another stupid joke and the dead do not rise, but here behind you is the living embodiment of a nightmare who is ready to grab your neck and feast on warm flesh. Have time to scream? You didn’t even have time to fully scream when a strong grip grabbed you by the shoulder and roughly threw you to the side from the line of danger because you fell, hitting your thigh on the marble tiles, after which a series of deafening shots and the muffled groan of a dead man was heard, three bullets or maybe be more? You didn't count.

As if in slow motion on a large screen, it was impossible to take your eyes off what you saw. All sounds died down, leaving the silence of your own mind and the smell of blood.

All you could do was watch how the beam of light from the flashlight shines directly on the corpse and how Leon’s hands are trying to bring you to your senses, because you knew the one whom he had just completely killed. Richard, your colleague with whom you had coffee this morning and discussed the latest news, sometimes often joked at lunch... was now dead and you were crying without knowing it. Tears just flow uncontrollably from your eyes even as Leon wipes your face with his thumbs, trying to lift you off the floor and make you go outside.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know it’s hard but we have to go"

"I... I can't... why here?" You ask more into the void than from him

“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here.” Leon grabs you under the armpits, helping you get to your feet, dragging you towards the exit.

Better yet, this would all just be a nightmare. The noise from the shots makes you cover your ears with your hands while Leon once shoots people, at the same time trying to protect the slow-moving you. They scream, moan, attack and you feel like you are in a horror film with high-quality special effects and good acting, but you realize, albeit reluctantly, that all this is not a joke but an evil reality where Leon almost at the very exit asks you to pull yourself together and you don’t even you can stand on your feet. Before your eyes, everything collapsed and the world went crazy, trying to grab you with it.

"I can't... can't... I'm so scared..." your hands grab Leon and he hugs you to him, which only makes you want to cry harder and ask him to do the impossible - to return everything to the way it was. He hugs you tightly, kissing you on the top of your head, giving at least some reassurance given the fact that he has always tried to protect the little that he loves from his work, but you accidentally found yourself in the epicenter and your reaction is quite expected.

"Everything will be fine, please look at me," he asks in a soft tone, lifting your head and forcing you to look into his eyes, "It will be difficult, I do not know what is happening outside and what kind of virus it is, but you must not leave me alone. I shoot, and you stand behind me or hide if I tell you to. If you see a dead person, don't you dare approach him!"

"Is it like this everywhere?"

Leon didn't quite understand if you were talking about the whole city or just the upcoming race, in any case, he only nodded briefly, giving you a little more time to catch your breath while you listened to the rapid pounding of the heart in his chest. He was afraid too.

It could have tried better. You really pulled yourself together, but after contacting Hunnigan, Leon exhaled for a second, saying that the virus had not spread so far and in fact the appropriate measures had already been taken, she sent the two of you to the evacuation point where doctors could examine you and give you a vaccine injection in case it really was gas, as Leon said, which logically you were both breathing anyway. So the virus could have entered your body, the scariest thing you reasoned while you were following him, is that you are both alive by a lucky chance, because if Leon had not been attacked by an attack of tenderness, it would probably have been the last day of his life. You no longer even thought about the fact that that sponsor called you somewhere... Emerick. You smiled when you remembered that Leon called him a high-dimensional asshole, but he probably became a victim like everyone else, so there's no need to speak ill of him.

You thought that because you didn't think he was a bad person. You and Emerick had common topics of conversation, he knew a lot and he had a rich collection of rare things bought from auctions for a lot of money, besides, as he himself said, much of what he actually has was inherited in his family, which made you think that he probably was some kind of hereditary noble. His manners were really perfect.

It took about an hour before Leon left you in a quiet place. There were only zombies outside and a few survivors who, no matter how hard Leon tried, still couldn't help. They always died in front of his eyes, even now leaving a sense of guilt in his soul, because he should protect and not kill, but now this is the best thing he can offer them to the infected. Wide windows on the third floor of a God-forsaken warehouse protected from enemies and if you believe Ingrit, then this is the C-Virus that Neo-umbrella created, not so old, but in the terrorist market, in fact, it is already junk.

"At least there are no cocoons and lepoticas, otherwise I would have big problems"

You were sitting on the crates risking tearing your nylon tights while Leon was talking via video link on his work smartphone, waiting for his colleague Ingrit from F.O.S to plot the safest route to the plane that should pick you two up. Leon thought you were safe with him. You just sit quietly next to him trying to catch your breath while he does the main work and he was really calm until you screamed sharply falling off the box, forcing him to turn to you when he saw you holding your neck.

The phone immediately fell to the floor.

"What happened? Are you in pain?!"his eyes widened as he pulled out the dart that was the cause of everything. "Baby, can you hear me?! Everything will be fine, hold on!"

There was no one in the window. By the way, there was no time to search for the culprit. Thoughts were flying crazily in his head, Leon picked you up in his arms, hiding you behind drawers so that you would not get into anyone else's lens, noticing how quickly your breathing becomes shallow.

Was it a new virus or an improved one from before? You curled up crying from what seemed like your organs were turning into a burning cauldron causing hellish pain that made you moan loudly.

"Hunnigan! I need a vaccine, urgently! Where's the damn helicopter?!" Ingrit shot up for a moment. The women's painful moans in the background were ready to make Leon burst into tears and she was almost sure that tears were stuck in the corners of his eyes.

"It will take time to figure out what it is..."

"There's no time!" he shouted into the phone. Ingrit's fingers immediately clicked on the keyboard.

You sobbed. The bones seemed to melt, which made you literally lie on the concrete floor until Leon shifted you onto his lap, feeling your body temperature rise from normal to high.

That's probably why you threw up and blood gushed out of your nose. Your heart was pounding wildly, you didn't hear Leon screaming in panic, hugging your body to him, realizing that if you don't inject the serum soon, then everything will be over. You're dying, but Leon's brain refuses to accept it when he picks you up in his arms trying to save you because with your death, life won't make sense to him.

"You're not going to die!" the words expressed through clenched teeth echo in the spacious building as Leon picks you up in his arms and carries you outside in time. "Everything will be different"

He couldn't let this happen again. It was as if everything was being repeated again from hell to hell, only now in Helena’s place he is himself and he definitely won’t have enough strength to put a bullet in your forehead, and if he does... then he’ll shoot himself too.

Every minute was precious and if it weren’t for the infected, Leon would have instantly reached the right place and injected you with the serum, but luck was not on his side again, just like on the first day of work in Raccoon City. You were heating up so much that he could feel the heat emanating from your body, even through your clothes. Once the virus enters the human body, the incubation period varies for everyone: Deborah Harper lasted two hours before she mutated, for some it takes about a couple of minutes, even God himself does not know how much time is measured for you.

Having reached the helipad, Leon cursed everything in the world since the helicopter was not even visible anywhere. The situation was clearly not going in your favor. You again let out a painful groan, feeling like your body was literally burning and your head hurt so much that you wanted to be hit with a huge hammer. Leon stroked your back, holding you close to him. God, your temperature was already colossally high!

"Just a little more, be patient, honey" Leon doesn't believe it, he wants to, but he can. You scream and cry, trying to tear off your skin with your nails just to make this heat go away. He would like to change places with you, it would be better if he were dying now and not you, and not so monstrously.

The virus flows through the veins, attacks all defense mechanisms, mercilessly rebuilding the entire body in a new way, creating an aggressive weapon out of a person capable of mass murder without any remorse. Leon's affection does not destroy you, right now it is the only way to save yourself, but even if by some miracle an active medicine fell on your head, what is the chance that it saved you? The probability of healing, even with side effects, tends to be no more than 5-7%.

"D-don't want to d-die"

A pitiful groan, through the agony of pain you see Leon’s crying eyes, the skin peels off unnaturally under the influence of high temperature, but this is not visible under the clothes, but face...

"No no no no!"

Leon fell to the ground from your sharp push, but immediately jumped to his feet, running up to you after a wild, painful cry. Just one second and the body was suddenly engulfed in a flash of fire, turning the flesh into a hardened cocoon. You are gone.

It was all over.

Leon sees double. It shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this! The gun is lying somewhere a couple of meters away, having fallen out of the holster when you pushed it away from you, and if this was a standard work situation, Leon would have tried to quickly run up to it or pick up the Sentinel Nine, but his hand did not rise. His knees hit the concrete floor painfully, along with the realization that he had lost again. The hard cocoon transforms the caterpillar inside itself into a beautiful butterfly, which is destined to fly, but Leon knows that everything human in you has burned out and only a monster will hatch from this cocoon, at best only vaguely reminiscent of you, so maybe it’s better to just tear it apart and then let him go on his own a bullet for himself?

The rain continues to pour, gradually calming down. The guys from B.S.A.A are already somewhere down there clearing the city of the infected and saving the survivors because there is a vaccine, there are ways to destroy the trash that Neo-Umbrella created. The sounds of gunshots mix with a frenzied rumble in his heart, which is why Leon doesn't want to hear anything anymore, preferring instead to stretch out his hands to your still warm cocoon, where some movement is already visible. Watching this, Leon was ready to miss even the deafening sound of the helicopter, but the light made him close his eyes and lift his head up.

Even without looking closely, he immediately realized that it was not the helicopter that Hunnigan had sent.

For the sake of love, people really do the most cruel things.

Leon immediately realized who was behind all this when the helicopter landed and several armed men jumped out of it, their faces hidden by masks. He slowly got to his feet, looking at the culprit of his suffering, dressed in a snow-white suit, with an impudent grin that Kennedy remembered from the beginning of the evening, when everything was still fine. Leon could have sworn that he had never felt such rage before, although a painful scream stuck in his throat.

No one pointed a gun at him. Everyone just froze, waiting for something.

"It's a small world, Mr. Kennedy," he said, waving to one of his assistants, and he and two mercenaries pulled a cryogenic capsule out of the plane. "But it was stupid to think that a man like you would die from a bunch of mindless zombies. I must admit, I didn't want to go to extreme measures until the last moment, I liked today's event, but because of you, I had to cancel everything. I've lost most of my collection"

"So it was you after all…" Leon muttered through his teeth, not yet grabbing the gun, realizing the risks. He is alone in the open space - a wonderful target. "I didn't see your corpse in the museum."

"A distraction," he explained, watching the capsule's preparation from the corner of his eye.

Emerick… Leon suddenly remembered how you recently confessed to him that he began to take care of you by giving you flowers, then inviting you for a cup of coffee, listening to music or general topics of which there were too many. But in the end, when the attentions began to exceed the standard amount, hinting at something more, you refused him, saying that you already have someone. You didn't notice, but Leon has been catching his obsessive glances at you all evening… How sometimes you looked at the exhibits behind the glass case, which you can not touch, despite the ban.

But you didn't even choose between the two of them. Leon always came first.

"For what?"

Emerick smiled as he looked at the cocoon and Leon's question disappeared by itself. Because of jealousy? Because a rich bastard couldn't get what he wanted, even with a giant bank account?

"You won't believe it, Mr. Kennedy, but for love. Death took away a dear person from me and I want to return what belonged to me, however, you will not understand this"

Leon grinned, clenching his fists.

"Why? Why her? If you wanted to take revenge on me, then you would have taken revenge on me and not on her!"

"Who said it was you?" asked Emerick, looking at his interlocutor as if he were an idiot. "For the most part, you just annoyed me like an annoying fly, but no more, although you encroached on something that does not belong to you."

Leon was about to answer and pounce despite the machine guns pointed at him, but the movement below and the sound of the cocoon tearing attracted all attention. He has seen it many times and your hand was reaching out to break free from the tight shackles of the past flesh, forcing its way out. Everyone is closely watching the birth of a new life, but only in the eyes of one of those present there was delight, not fear and regret. Leon couldn't bear it… He didn't understand what was wrong. The transformation was different.

"Happy birthday, Ada,"

A memory flashed through his mind.

History repeats itself. Only it turns out that besides Simmons, there is another bastard who looks like him in everything.

Leon reached out to you, as if trying to grab you, to help you get out and take you away from here. A brief moment of hope still lit up in my soul like a small smoldering flame, my mind seemed to be clouded, and yet deep inside there was a glimmer of awareness. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong while you were trying to get out, muffling all his annoying voices of caution. Wrong smell, wrong body color… Leon squints his eyes, the cocoon breaks and before he can grab your hand, he freezes.

The slimy, sticky naked body lying in front of him looked more like a white marble statue with a thin network of blue veins protruding under the skin. The mercenaries looked at each other, clutching their guns tighter but still not pointing them at you. The sight is really amazing. Leon comes up to you lying down, at first glance it seems lifeless, but looking closely, your chest quietly heaves and he kneels down again, pulling you to his shoulders, peering into familiar but still changed facial features.

There are no appendages behind the back, from which ugly claws protrude, no razor-sharp claws, no fangs. But instead, unnaturally pale skin and hair… the structure is thicker, and the color merges with the color of the body. The same discolored ones, but stuck together due to the transformation in the cocoon. You open your eyes a little, and instead of the usual iris, two red lights rush at him without a shadow of anger and aggression, just fatigue, something that Leon used to see when you stayed up late at work.

"And, when the grave restores her dead,

When life again to dust is given,

On thy dear breast I'll lay my head—

Without thee! where would be my Heaven?"

Ignoring the familiar lines of poetry, Leon remains silent when he gives him an order in a harsh voice.

"You won't understand," Leon has no doubt. He doesn't want to understand these motives. "You're not even worthy of the dirt under her nails, let alone touching her!"

Leon picks you up in his arms, turning to face Emerick, meeting with loaded guns.

"Did you infect her with the C-virus so that she would become your toy?"

"A toy?!" he snapped back.

Now it already looks like a confrontation between two men for the heart of one woman, almost a joust in modern realities in all its dirty manifestations and meannesses, but Leon does not feel the advantage. A fairy tale with a bad ending. One madman decided to use a virus to change the girl's memory and her appearance, making you the one who died a long time ago, and he…a brave man with a valiant heart who somehow thinks that even after death, Simmons is also connected with this. Even indirectly. Sold the idea of resurrecting someone else's personality in another person?

The rain is hitting your body in drops, and Leon wants to cover you, hide you, hoping that this is his second attempt. It seems that consciousness is returning to you, but you are still disoriented, not understanding who you are and what is happening. You became a part of the darkness that Leon carried on his shoulders.

"All for love," one wave of his hand, and the one standing behind him makes Leon bend painfully, crying out in pain, almost dropping you, his fingers dig into your skin, causing a barely audible moan from your mouth, but you are still snatched from his hands, carried into that capsule, after that, Emerick turns away from his opponent, putting something like an oxygen mask on you, stroking your cheek gently with his fingers.

"What the hell kind of love?!" Leon knows for sure that the other person is smiling even if he does not see it himself.

"You may not believe it, but I'm one-woman man, Mr. Kennedy. It took me a fortune to improve the C-virus so that it would affect her body without turning her into a vile insect-like creature. There was only one side effect after the final result - loss of pigmentation, but this is not significant, in all other respects it completely met my expectations. All THIS is for her sake."

"You sick... "

"No, I'm a heartbroken husband who lost his wife prematurely but now we will be reunited." Emerick looked at you lovingly before closing the capsule, which they began to load back into the helicopter. “And you, Mr. Kennedy, are just one of millions. You saw a work of art and decided to grped it when you had no right to do so. Someone like you will never understand her value, you were never able to give her everything she deserved!”

It’s hard to disagree when the muzzle of a machine gun is pressed to the back of his head, but Leon still fights as he watches the cryogenic capsule ahead being shoved back into the helicopter.

Adrenaline is pumping into his head and his palm is itching to get the second gun out of the holster, but Leon realizes one wrong move and this will be the finale in his story. You will drown in a pool of false memories, considering yourself the person you have never seen or known, you will begin to be called by another name, carrying antibodies to the improved C virus in your new body and you will give yourself into the arms of a man distraught from his loss, considering yourself his true love.

Leon walks on the edge, but now the feeling that a thin rope can throw him into the abyss, from where there is no return, feels more acute. If only Hunnigan's helicopter had arrived, but intuition suggested that the delay was caused not just by technical circumstances.

"Do you think you injected her with a virus and she will start to adore you? You gave her the power to smear you like a bug on the wall as soon as she wakes up." He does not know the properties of this virus and what abilities it can give, but experience suggests that minor adjustments in appearance and lack of pigment like albinos are not the whole potential obtained.

"You've dealt with many terrorists, but I'm not one of them, Mr. Kennedy," still pretending to politely hide his hatred for some American sharing a bed with his woman, whom he considered his own, Emerick retorts: "I don't want to turn people into monsters, although I don't want the world to be on fire, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. This virus was tested on many before my trusted person injected it to her, and before using it, I tested it on many."

Leon clenches his teeth, glaring at Emerick, letting him finish. Truly, big money creates lawlessness.

"As I said, everything is for love"

But there is no love here. Just an obsession.

Emerick no longer intends to continue the conversation, sits back down in his seat in the helicopter next to the cryocapsule, again signaling his people to get rid of the last witness, besides, he no longer intends to dirty his hands, especially about someone like Kennedy. Although he may still have the desire to end Leon on his own, but looking back at the capsule, his lips are touched with a mocking smile. The project must be completed, and the finishing touches are always needed so that the creator can enjoy his creation.

"But so be it, I'll leave her memories of you. The most bitter and unhappy, she will remember you and be glad that I saved her from you. See, I can be generous even to those who don't deserve it."

"I will refuse your generosity."

The situation was turning into complete shit. Emerick probably hoped to clean up all traces of himself, which is why he left the mercenaries to clean up after him, while he himself rose into the air with a last contemptuous glance at Leon.

"I'll find you, you son of a bitch."

He'll find him and kill and then bring you back.

Fortunately, sometimes Leon has a guardian angel with a smoke bomb behind his back, covering him with shots from a crossbow bolt while Leon quickly pulls out his spare pistol, getting rid of the last two mercenaries. A familiar style and a familiar fragrance when the haze clears allowing you to see the savior in the flesh in his unchanging red outfit and Leon would even smile at her if the plane with you did not move away from him every second. Ada is the red queen of today who postponed the execution of her former lover, smiling at him gently and a little cunningly wondering how fate brings them together and separates their paths from time to time. Leon does not thank out loud, but words of gratitude to this woman who clearly spent her personal time on him still freeze in the air.

She looks at the remains of the cocoon, clutching the crossbow tighter, roughly imagining what could have happened, seeing Kennedy's wet eyelashes, although the rain could have been to blame for everything, which fortunately had already calmed down, as well as the noise outside, although occasionally groans and shots were heard in the distance. Today, her calculated accuracy saved him again.

"Long time no see, Leon" The velvety voice sounds soothing, but a little tired. In any case, Leon definitely owed her more than double the fare for his rescue.

A princess must have a knight in love to protect her from evil. In fairy tales, a kiss of love usually solves all problems, but what if the princess herself does not remember losing herself in the memories of her own and others? A suppressed personality cries out from the depths, not wanting to be forgotten, fighting with the one who took the pedestal and two names… two girls cannot merge into one, causing you only panic attacks and uncontrolled aggression, forcing the creator to believe that he is not so skilled even if he was filled with desire and endowed with money.

A charming man who calls himself your husband bends over her, holding out his hand decorated with antique rings to you, and you look at her with a puzzled look, pressing your back against the wall, trying to create distance between you. Because no matter how hard they tried to suppress your personality, but the feeling of uncontrollable fear, fused together with a new body, did not leave you, so you did not believe. Neither to him, nor to himself, nor to anyone else, and the dagger in the white palm hidden behind your back does not seem so heavy. The reaction is faster, the senses are heightened, and although the virus does not give the princess strength, you still resist, wounding your "husband", allowing scarlet drops of blood to bloom like roses on a white dress that has merged with the color of your skin.

Contrary to that, you have not become perfect, but you are still a passionate obsession for two men: one with pure thoughts and the other with a mad desire that has been tormenting him for a long time. It's hard to escape from the mansion, but thanks to heightened senses, it no longer seems impossible. However, it is even harder to ignore your true self, which screams and tears your head apart, as well as to separate two personalities from yourself.

You're confused. Not in luxurious rooms and corridors, but in yourself.

Something screams from the inside telling you to run away from here, and then it calms you that this place is your home, you know every corner here, every crack on the vase, these outfits in a separate dressing room tailored specifically for you, everything is familiar and at the same time alien. Your husband said that he saved you from a bastard named Leon, and after saying this name, the image of a blond man with beautiful blue eyes immediately stands in your eyes, but your heart overflows with rage, forcing you to tighten your grip on the dagger hilt.

You still have at least one sincere emotion, as you thought, however...

Leon is intently examining the analysis result from the remains of the cocoon that was sent to him. It really was what he was thinking, but Ada had already revealed a little secret to him.

"Maybe years will pass, and her real personality will somehow begin to manifest itself. I still don't know how Simmons fixed Carla's memory."

Leon puts the phone back in his pocket, looking at Ada with a slightly offended look, although she knows that he holds a grudge only against himself.

"But she's an exact copy of you," Leon reminded her, saying that when you pulled out of the cocoon, your face remained almost the same, yes, the features changed a little, but it was still you.

"But it will explain your new friend's obsession with your girlfriend," she chuckled, teasing him kindly, "If she looks so much like his dead wifey, then why would he change her appearance when they are almost identical to each other."

"And if it was an extreme measure, as he said... " Leon continues, scolding himself even more.

"You provoked him to infect her yourself. If he was hitting on her and she turned him down because of you, then it makes sense. Maybe if your girlfriend had been more mercantile and greedy for money, everything would have been without the virus."

However, was it Leon's fault or yours? Ada didn't blame anyone.

Leon may never guess at the ulterior motives, which may not have existed at all, but who else but she helped him again, however, leaving all the dirty work to Leon himself. After all, you were his concern, not hers. Although she followed you and your strange behavior a little, she finally sent him the coordinates of the place and your photo.

"I wish I could say that she remembered everything, but it seems that the virus did not affect her the way it was originally intended. Be careful, your beloved is a little aggressive."

Is it a consequence of the virus, or do you still remember who you are? Leon wants to believe in the latter when he collects equipment for the road, no longer hoping for anyone's help. But your new house looks more like one big clever trap and all the working staff have disappeared somewhere. In Leon's opinion, there should be more than one butler here, but there were no corpses either. Holding a gun at the ready, it was essentially a trespass on private property, but in the report he would later indicate that he was getting evidence. It won't be easy to find you, although you might make a little noise to attract his attention.

And you? You are sitting in a silent garden in the sweet scent of roses, standing out against the background of bright colors as a white spot, listening to the noise of the fountain, which still somehow calms you down after the last scuffle with your spouse. Alone, barefoot, you walk along a stone path, fingering strands of hair between your fingers, trying to compare in your head incomprehensible pictures from the past of two different people. You cannot love that person, for some reason you are afraid and angry at him despite his care. He took the knife away from you, letting you wander around the house like a ghost humming an annoying melody from his own past to himself, letting Emerick hope that manipulation and time will do their job. You hate Kennedy and that's been enough.

The support group is ready, but Leon still prefers to pick you up and then let the guys from the alliance work, having their own personal accounts in this matter. This could be the easiest capture of a terrorist in all his professional experience, but when his presence becomes known, the situation becomes complicated in the form of additional traps equipped with deadly devices and gas for which the anti-C vaccine is useless. In the end, Leon remains even without light and the flashlight does not save well. He looks into every room in an attempt to find at least some hint of your stay here after almost six months of absence.

And he finds in one of the inhabited rooms where only one bed occupies a quarter of the space. There is a beautiful comb with precious stones with traces of white hair on the dressing table, and Leon, picking up the jewelry, is sure that you are here somewhere, just like he is wandering among the dark corridors, although he really regrets that he did not find you in this room. However, another thought comes to his head when a thin lace pale pink negligee lying on the back of the sofa catches his eye… you only walked around in such things with him alone, and clutching the fabric in his hands, Leon can't help but think that Emerick slept with you in this bed.

The funny thing is that he's ready to forgive you everything now. He won't even remember that another man touched you afterwards because you're a victim and Leon, even if you don't remember him, wants you to at least return to a relatively normal life.

But the silence is suddenly cut short when a creak is heard behind, barely perceptible to the ear. A secret door? He does not turn around, freezing in one position, continuing to hold your negligee in his hands, feeling someone's sharp gaze on his back, but out of the corner of his eye catches a familiar silhouette, in the darkness of which two red eyes are burning.

You.

Leon tenses up. The sound of the blade breaks the silence, and your light tread turns into a sharp jerk as you rush at him with a sharp hairpin, hoping to plunge it deeper into his back. Your reaction may have improved, but Leon's reflexes are still faster, Kennedy dodges to the side, which causes you to fall directly onto your dressing table, knocking it over with you, forcing him to open his eyes in amazement.

"No, no, no, you couldn't turn into a monster," a thought runs through Leon's head.

The mirror breaks into many pieces and dig into your skin, causing the blood to contrast brightly on the light skin, which seems almost an unnatural sight. But through the pain, you hiss again trying to pounce on him, which causes Leon to fall on his back, rather out of surprise, managing to intercept your hand that aimed the clip directly at his eye. Pushing you away is not too big a problem, but the point is that you will still continue to throw at him and he does not want to use weapons at all.

"Bastard!" you growl, "Don't you like being hit back?"

"Stop, it's me!" he shouted, still holding your wrist so that you couldn't hurt him.

It was as if you hadn't heard. Leon pushed you away a little, hoping that being farther away would allow you to get to know him better, but what he didn't expect was for you to lash out at him over and over again, and honestly, if it were up to him, he would have removed the threat quickly, but it's hard to hurt someone you love. He'd had to kill Marvin and the President in the past, that in itself still weighs on his soul, but if he had to kill you… Deborah was easier. She was Helena's sister, not his, so his hand didn't shake when he pulled the trigger of the shotgun, but you're different. You're impossible to shoot at.

"Stop it!" he begs twisting your wrist so that you scream in pain and that scream tears his soul causing a lump in his throat. "It's not you! I beg yoy don't make me hurt you."

He doesn't even want to think about the estate being so deserted because of you. Leon still thinks it's just a virus, and somewhere inside you remember his, you just need to trigger it somehow. Ada said the virus affects you differently than it does Carla, but she didn't mention that you're aggressive to anyone who tries to touch you. Leon keeps his guard up, but despite your tight grip, you've apparently acquired some sort of ability that allowed you to break free and run down the hallway. He's not sure if you can throw people against the wall like baseballs, but your regeneration is enviable, because the only reminder of the wounds from the broken mirror on your body are drops of blood.

No abrasions.

So, after a little scuffle, as a result of which the antique dressing table is smashed to pieces along with all the bottles standing on it, Leon gets to his feet trying to figure out what the hell just happened. However, your trail has already disappeared. The house is huge, but despite this, Leon still puts the safety on the gun, afraid to instinctively shoot you if you attack him again. In hand-to-hand combat, you have little chance, but his reflexes can work faster than his brain. But abrasions and wounds a couple of centimeters deep, your body is able to regenerate itself. So cold steel will be the best thing, in case he meets other inhabitants of the estate besides you.

As already mentioned, the flashlight did not save the situation too much, of course, fanatics worked in some places, especially in the garden, but Leon did not find anything except small supplies, although his gut instinct encouraged him to pick up a gun to feel confident. But in the backyard, after several hours of searching among the marble statues and the damp fresh air that hit in the face, somewhere among the bushes in which some cautious movement is heard. It's like a wild cat sneaking up to its prey and Leon realizes - you're here!

Behind him again, so Leon straightens up. If it were daytime or even evening, he would have no problem finding you, but there is a starry night overhead. Rage is growing somewhere between your ribs, inside, but everything is different for him, because despite the internal contradiction, Leon is to some extent convinced that it is useless to fight with you.

There is nothing in his chest but regret and delayed words that he rarely said.

And yet at some point you look at each other continuously. You notice that he has only one knife in his hands, just like you, although Leon hides it back in the case, taking two small steps back trying to talk again. White hair is blown away by the wind and it annoys you that there is no elastic band or barrette to put it in a bun or tail. There doesn't seem to be anything in this damn house for your comfort!

The most painful thing is the way you look at him, but Leon still grins hiding his pain behind an inappropriate joke, standing in a fighting stance preparing to deflect blows.

"Well, I'm not against role-playing games, I really liked it when you were my bunny last time."

It's confusing or rather discouraging that it stops you for a few seconds and Leon uses this time to take the knife away from you, but you dodge so deftly and still more scared, almost dropping the knife to the ground.

"Come on, drop it, sweetheart" Leon asks, taking a step towards you, then you, on the contrary, retreat trying to find your advantage. "You know I'm not the one who's going to hurt you. I'll take you home."

"fucking dog," you growl in response, seeing how he swallows the insult, "Do you think I'll go with the one who made me like this?!"

Your voice is almost hoarse with hate. At the same time, Leon's face takes on a painful appearance, as if he was hit from the inside in the most painful place. That's what that son of a bitch told you! Okay, you can scold him with the most vile words, most of which he'll really be surprised that you even know, but... No buts!

"See?! I'm not afraid of you anymore! "

"You've never been afraid of me."

"You loved me, and I still love you," he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat. And after all, somewhere in the whirlpool of memories, these frames sometimes pop up in your head. Not the Stotholm syndrome...

You weren't afraid of him, but of the other one... the man who is your husband calls you by a different name, although Leon calls you by a completely different one, and what you hear from the agent seems much more familiar, more correct and more familiar.

"Baby, I don't want to hurt you! If I wanted to, I would have shot long ago, right? "

"I'm not your baby!" you're snarling, and your red eyes are burning even brighter in the dark.

Bad word.

Leon wants to bite his tongue. He still doesn't know about all the properties of your mutation, but he hopes that now you won't have claws behind your back, God bless him who left him many years ago, but it seems you don't have anything like that. Although when you attack him in a fit of anger, Leon really hurts like hell, which makes him even clench his teeth trying to hold back a moan of pain.

Probably, with strong malice, the power also somehow increases... A lot of times, because it looks like you broke his rib.

"Yeah, you never liked that word, but at least you didn't rush at me with a knife before," Leon still jokes, realizing that talking clearly won't help here. He doesn't want to use force, but it seems that there is no choice. He agrees that you may never love him more, but he won't leave you here either.

It is not even necessary to move to radical measures. Your head is bursting with pain again, causing tears to flow from your eyes and everything inside screams with fear, making you want to cower into a ball. Therefore, Leon does not expect you to bend at the knees and cry and start running away from him, just as you ran, according to Ada, all over the estate from Emerick. The wind licks wet tracks from your cheeks, scratching your skin when you run along the garden path, running out into a small open space before freezing in a frenzy, pressing your palms to your chest, as they did in a previous life, before mutation, when you were worried.

Cocoons.

A nightmare come true. Your heart was pounding and forehead was covered with sticky sweat, as were your palms from which the knife slipped.

"It's scary..." an inner voice echoes. You hear Leon running up to you and stopping too, looking at something he hoped to forget someday. Tears involuntarily flow down your cheeks, as if the real you are making your way, pushing someone else's personality into the background. Fire, pain, fear, a dart... This hellish pain that turns people into monsters, you haven't seen the staff, the estates, but now you understand what happened. Just like a divine epiphany.

Maybe it's just one of the reactions. Leon remembered from his own experience that not all individuals hatched from cocoons, but this was a huge rarity, and here as many as twenty if not more, however, this was the trigger. You remembered something.

The wet paths glowed in the light of the moon on your cheeks. If the situation had been different, Leon would have immediately tried to console you, but it seems that this could have become another stupid idea, on the other hand, your stupor could have been turned into a plus and they could have simply picked you up, put you in a helicopter and then calmly dealt with this crap. A tempting thought, of course, but... Something like a phantom pain... a feeling as if the whole body was burning again and being reshaped under high temperatures. Even the same hellish headache that sends a painful pulsation into the eyes. You were again struck by a short flash of memories, how someone’s strong hands held and stroked you while your body was changing and it definitely wasn’t your husband... his hands are icy, and his voice is dry, devoid of emotion... Maybe..

"Аt least it's clear where everyone has gone," a voice sounded from behind. It was getting harder to breathe and the world was spinning wildly in front of your eyes, so an inner voice told you to find where to land or your head was at risk of injury. This is not the first attack, but the most severe in the last few months. Anyway, your vague consciousness leaves you for a while, turning off, allowing you to get lost in fragmentary memories, but Leon's hands manage to catch you in time, carefully laying you on the grass.

Leon checked your pulse, the main thing is that your heart was beating and your chest was heaving smoothly. Apparently, it was an ordinary fainting fit against the background of a spectacle that caused you psychological trauma. He picked up your knife with which you tried to stab him a couple of minutes ago, was ready to take you away from this place as he had hoped earlier. Those guys who were still alive from his group proved that Emerick was not in the estate, but Leon did not believe.

And it's good that I didn't believe it. Leon didn't believe in miracles at all.

Well, right now he was definitely aiming to just pick you up before you regained consciousness, because trying to explain where the truth is and where the lie is clearly not the best idea. Calling a helicopter for evacuation and picking you up in his arms, hugging you closer to him, Leon quickly jumped up but heard a painfully familiar click to his right, which froze him in place.

“In the past, hands were cut off for theft, but I’ll assume that a colossal imbecile like you doesn’t know that.”

Leon grunts as he turns around. A tactical vest will protect his back and chest, but his head remains open for a shot.

"Then you should have been walking without hands for a long time," Leon retorts, putting you on a bench while delaying your rescue. "Looks like you didn't run away after all."

"I don't like unwanted guests, because of you, my wife and I will have to move to another place. It's a pity, she liked this garden."

"She's. Not. Your. Wife." Leon almost hisses, reaching for his gun, but jumps aside after a burst of three shots that were meant for him. "Bastard"

"I was informed that they did not get rid of you and I assumed that you would look for me at least out of a sense of duty to the country you work for, but please note that there are bigger fish in the sea. You seem to have a weakness for women with Asian features, so maybe you'll focus on your own preferences and not mess with my wife, whom, as I told you earlier, you just don't deserve. You have no idea what a valuable diamond she is, a nugget! One in a million!

Oh, this conceit! His measured and calm tone is annoying, Leon tries to suppress his anger at the fact that the bastard dug up information on him somewhere, but his attachment to Ada is in the past, although they still care about each other in some sense, but now there is you. And you are you, not the woman that Emerick considers his wife. Leon hides behind one of the cocoons and the bullets hit the non-dense flesh, after which a kind of ugly embryo that was once an ordinary person falls to the ground, forcing him to quickly take a better position behind the statue of the goddess Aphrodite.

"You've been living a lie for so long that you've come to believe it yourself!"

"Oh, sure, you know better!" sarcastic laughter makes anger boil from the inside, but Leon looks out of hiding just to look at you and make sure you're still where he left you. "We past even though we always knew that we were made for each other, and only by chance and then you got in my way! "

"I would have felt sorry for you if in your grief you hadn't tried to make an innocent girl into a copy of your dead wife and killed a lot of people in the process."

Leon pulled the safety off the gun. Now the main thing is not to catch a stray bullet and hope that this bastard does not turn into a giant mutated creature, because apart from four spare clips and another pistol, he has nothing and the space is not spacious enough to maneuver, besides, you could also get hurt. He has already forgotten that you can regenerate wounds, but nevertheless, there is no time to find out what is your Achilles heel yet.

"All for the sake of love"

"This is not love"

Leon pulled the trigger but Emerick dodged. There was a smell of gunpowder and something sickeningly acrid in the air, as if something had died somewhere and even the scent of flowers could not completely drown out this smell. You opened your eyes, but your head still continued to spin and the sharp noise of the vystreds only mocked your brain, forcing you to involuntarily pull up your arms and clap your ears with your palms, just like... Like when you were protected from zombies in a museum"

It wanted to hide, curled in a dark corner and not get out until everything resolves itself, although life knows how to throw surprises. You hear someone else's conversation, you hear how the one who came for you says that your husband is a sick cretin who considers it normal to infect people to make a copy of a dead person out of them, whereas he explains his reasons only with grief. The puzzle is not fully assembled and there are still many white spots in your memory, but some fragments have connected to each other despite the fact that you still do not understand who you are.

This shootout will continue for some time, and unnoticed by these two, you will slowly slide off the bench and see Leon and Emerick engage in hand-to-hand combat after they ran out of bullets. It is noteworthy that after losing your knife in battle, which is now proudly stuck in a tree post, he used his own, which he did not plan to part with, but since they are busy with each other, you calmly grabbed the handle and pulled out the blade, looking at your own reflection of scarlet eyes in steel.

You don't love any of them and you don't want to choose someone's side at all, but you also don't want to be tied to someone who actually infected you, having put so much effort into driving you crazy. You need to make a choice, and whether it will be right, only time will decide. Two people are fighting for one woman, although it looks like you are not a princess in trouble at all, and as Ada said, despite the effect of the virus, the real personality will still take everything back under his control, but the old life will never be. All dreams burned down along with that body, so you're also quite sincerely stabbing the family knife into Emerick's back.

The princess does not need a knight to kill the dragon, because she herself is able to stab him when he does not expect it. This is the simplest from the point of view of Leon's combat missions, but at the same time the most difficult. A scarlet stain spreads on the snow-white suit, but that's all. Emerick had not infected himself with anything, although his fate could not be called terrible. It was all for love, and he died at the hands of that love. A stupid death, which is even insulting, but not for you. And walking with you to the helicopter in the living room above the fireplace, Leon really understands why such an obsession arose...

You really look like the smiling girl in the portrait like two drops of water.

He was told that rehabilitation would take a long time, possibly years. You never spoke to him, you didn't even say a word, but you didn't attack him either. You just withdrew into yourself, allowing the doctors to conduct tests and identify whether you are ready to mutate into other stages when you receive any damage, but I was glad that you did not. In their opinion, all your physical data remained at the same level before infection, although perhaps you just deceived everyone well just so that they would leave you behind and not make you an experimental rat, allowing them to drain blood from you, but this allowed Rebecca's team to make a new improved vaccine. A dubious achievement for Leon, given the fact that you persistently ignore him.

He brings clothes, books, even begged for a TV for you to let you kill time and still nothing. You didn't even turn it on until the moment when, with fighting and shouting and after a bunch of official papers, Leon was finally allowed to take you home. They said that you don't have any regeneration and your injuries heal like on any other person, you don't rush at people in attempts to devour them, sometimes you still talk for more than five minutes a day (but not with Leon) and you don't have any unusual abilities. Nothing that would be of interest to the bigwigs of the government. You'd think that you'd literally become a black sheep, people would just start mistaking you for an albino, which is basically true now.

It's good when you can control some of your body's processes. This eliminates a lot of problems. At home, you curiously look at all these little things from your past life, thinking about what it was like to share this apartment with Leon, you look at the bed in which you must have slept with him, and it seems incredibly comfortable, although right now sleeping with Leon causes rejection. He does not climb into your personal space, no longer clings like a puppy, although he whines in the corner from the lost affection of a loved one. He gave you the bed, but he sleeps on the couch, brings breakfast and after a couple of months you get in touch.

It took Jill Valentine several years before she returned to the barn. Chris is so comforting, telling him that everything is still fine, but if necessary, he will let you go. One way or another, of course, he will check if everything is okay with you, but he will let you go if you still do not accept him back into your heart. Leon believes that therapy will help and you will remember your real self by separating the grain from the chaff. You don't have to love him again, although he will be happy if you ask him to stay by your side on a stormy night, hugging you after a nightmare. Then he will wrap you warmly in a blanket and press your face to his chest, gently stroking your back and comforting you with words.

Therapy will help and one day everything will be fine again. Kissing the top of your head, Leon wants to believe it as much as you do. At least you're willing to try.

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justlookfrightened · 2 months ago

Text

A trip back in time

Filling a prompt from @notenoughgatorade: The haus gang goes to a renfaire

King Richards Faire opens the weekend we get back to Samwell!!!!

Bitty had no idea what King Richard’s Faire was, much less why Holster was assaulting the group chat with four exclamation points.

Ransom, however, appeared to get it.

Road trip! Ransom responded.

Bitty thought about asking what this was, where it was or why Ransom and Holster wanted to road trip there. He thought about asking, but doing so in the group chat would be letting himself in for even more humiliation, proving he was different than the rest of the team in yet another way.

He was small, he was southern, he didn’t play hockey until high school, he was gay, and oh yeah, he was terrified of being checked, which just happened to be a big part of the game he played to allow himself to afford going to college. And now he didn’t know what King Richard’s Faire was?

Bitty muted the group chat and shoved his phone into his shorts pocket; dinner was on the table, and Mama got cross if he was texting during dinner anyway.

Maybe he’d feel better with some food in his belly. That would probably make his headache go away. And maybe no one else would respond, it would go from a Haus road trip to a Ransom and Holster road trip, and Bitty would never have to betray his ignorance.

After dinner, he told Mama he had to start packing, and headed to his room. It wasn’t exactly true; he’d left all his winter stuff at Samwell, in the room Johnsn had deeded to him — dibbed to him? Was that a word? — which meant that he would be with the team pretty much 24-7.

And not just with the team. With the core of the team, the team leaders, the heart of the team, Coach would call them. Jack, the captain; Ransom and Holster, the top D-pair; and Shitty, who — well, everyone loved Shitty and was exasperated by Shitty in equal measure, but Shitty did seem to keep everyone in line when it came it social justice kinds of things.

It was Shitty who first adopted Bitty last year, followed by Ransom and Holster. Bitty had been a little afraid of the D-men, to be honest, especially about them finding out he was gay. But they loved his pies, and they had turned out to be like big brothers he never knew he wanted.

Even Jack had come around to accept Bitty’s presence by the end of the season. If Jack wished Bitty spent less time in the Haus kitchen, Bitty was pretty sure it was only because he was hardass when it came to sugar, thinking less was always better.

Now, a week before he was set to head back north, he was starting to wonder whether living in the Haus was such a good idea. He hadn’t skated since the game where he got hurt (got bowled over by a behemoth, lost his helmet and crashed head first on the ice — a sequence he saw in his mind every time someone talked about him “getting hurt”). He had no idea what kind of a player he would be when he started practice, but he suspected that all the work Jack had done with him in all those early mornings had been undone.

How much patience would his teammates have?

Bitty pulled out his big duffle bag and started filling it with T-shirts and shorts from his clean laundry basket, then, once it looked like he had actually been packing, flopped on his bed and pulled out his phone.

Jack had chimed in next, with a reminder: We have practice that Monday

That was hopeful. Trust Jack to focus on hockey and why they were due in Samwell at the beginning of August.

Aw, c’mon, Cap! Shitty had contributed. It’ll be a team bonding experience.

Bitty knew then that he would have to find out about this King Richard’s Faire thing. If Shitty was calling Jack “Cap” it was all over.

Ugh.

Could be fun, Lardo had chipped in. Some people I know from the art department are working there on the weekends.

Lardo. Lardo — not at all an athletic bro — could be be Bitty’s salvation.

Bitty found her contact.

Help! I don’t know what King Richard’s Faire is! Why does everyone want to go?

By the end of the evening, Lardo had explained the concept of a Renaissance Faire to Bitty — food and drinks and jousts and plays and shopping and lots of people in costume and knights and ladies and fairies and even peasants — and it sounded like it might actually be fun.

It also didn’t sound like something that most of the sports bros Bitty had grown up with would do.

It sounds kind of — I know I’m not supposed to say this but kind of girly, Bitty said. And like, something maybe the theater kids would do? And maybe the stoners who played D and D?

At that, Bitty’s phone rang.

“Do you even know the Samwell Men’s Hockey team?” Lardo asked in lieu of saying hello. “Holster would be a musical theater guy if he could carry a tune, or dance, or act. Ransom is like crazy smart, and he needs stuff completely out of his zone to get him to relax. I’m gonna have to do my best to keep Shitty from dressing a serving wench — or maybe I won’t, the actual serving wenches will find it hilarious.”

“And Jack?” Bitty asked. “I mean, even he didn’t think it was a terrible idea. I don’t think. You’re going to tell me he liked the history of it all?”

“Not really,” Lardo said. “Although he does like pointing out all the anachronisms, including, y’know, food safety standards and age limits for buying alcohol.”

“You’ve been with him before?” Bitty asked. Because he didn’t remember being invited to such an outing last year. Lardo hadn’t even been in the country.

“This one is only in the fall, but there’s another one in the spring,” Lardo said. “Shitty and Jack and I went at the end of my first year. It was fun. You’ll like it. I promise.”

So Bitty added his approval to the group chat, hoping his, Sounds like fun! Sounded enthusiastic enough.

Bitty didn’t precisely forget about the renaissance fair for the rest of the week, but he put it out of his mind while reassuring his mother that he had enough underwear and yes, he intended to go with this haircut and no, he didn’t want to get the top cut short.

Returning to the Haus ended up helping put some of Bitty’s fears to rest. The guys in the Haus welcomed him back with open arms. The complimented his haircut, pretended to be impressed with the development of his muscles — with no skating, he had plenty of time to spend in the gym over the summer — and followed his instructions to get a “welcome back” dinner together, punctuated with a birthday pie for Jack.

Even Jack smiled when he saw Bitty, and took the case of beer Shitty had thrust at him to the basement fridge with no complaints.

Before bed that night, before she disappeared to sleep on the air mattress in Shitty’s room, Lardo told Bitty not to worry about a costume. “You can wear a pair of your athletic leggings, and I brought a big shirt you can wear like a tunic. I don’t suppose you have boots?”

“Boots?” Bitty asked. “Costume? You didn’t say I had to wear a costume.”

“You don’t have to,” Lardo said. “But I’m wearing one — like what I brought for you — and Shitty’s going as a pirate. I bet Random and Holster have costumes.”

“Really?” Bitty said.

“Holster said something about royalty,” Lardo said. “You know how over the top they are.”

The next morning, Bitty pulled on a pair of black leggings and a white T-shirt before Lardo knocked on the door and handed him an oversized ruffled shirt.

“Theater department costume room,” she explained. She looked at him with a critical eye. “Do you have a vest or anything? Or a belt?”

“I have a belt,” Bitty said.

“Give it to me,” she said, then wrapped it a little below Bitty’s waist, blousing the fabric of Bitty’s shirt artfully.

By the time the group assembled next to Holster’s old minivan, everyone was in costume except Jack. Shitty, as promised, was a pirate, complete with an eye patch and knee-high boots. Holster was indeed in cheap-looking king costume, probably from a Halloween catalog, and Ransom was an improbable queen. Lardo was dressed much like Bitty, although she had motorcycle boots and had painted her face and glued crystals under and next to her eyes.

“What are you?” Bitty asked.

“A fae,” Lardo said.

Jack wore his usual form-fitting jeans and a snug black T-shirt. When Bitty arrived, he thought Jack’s look lingered on him longer than usual, and fancied that Jack was suppressing the urge to shake his head at the silliness of it all.

“You couldn’t even try to get into the spirit of the day?” Holster asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Jack shrugged.

“This is me in the spirit,” he said. “I’m here.”

Ransom called shotgun, and Shitty and Lardo dove for the back, leaving the middle seats for Jack and Bitty.

“I think you look fine,” Bitty murmured as he leaned over to fasten his seatbelt. “I think I’m kind of ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” Jack returned, giving Bitty a reassuring smile. “You’ll fit right in. You don’t think Lardo would steer you wrong, do you?”

“What are you looking forward to the most?” Bitty asked. “I was thinking about the food — they say the turkey legs are the size of my head! Plenty of protein, I guess.”

“Almost,” Jack said. “But you know a lot of the food is modern. They even have soda.”

Jack seemed personally affronted by that.

“Not like they can serve mead to ten-year-olds,” Ransom pointed out from the front seat.

With the bantering that went on in the car, Bitty realized that he needn’t have worried that he didn’t know what would happen at a renaissance fair. With all the talk about what they were looking forward to, Bitty was pretty clear on what he would find: A lot of people pretending to be in Merrie Olde Englande, complete with extra e’s at the end, watching all kinds of performances from singing to animal acts, plus stage-fighting with swords and jousting on horseback. There were games of skill — mostly throwing things at targets, it sounded like — and simple, non-motorized rides like swings.

Lardo wanted to look at the artisans’ stalls — she was especially interested in the blacksmithing demonstration — and Shitty and the rest of the boys were looking forward to the tavern, and the serving wenches.

“They’ll put you out on your ass if you don’t behave,” Lardo warned them.

“We always behave,” Shitty said. “At least when it comes to not being disgusting pigs to women who are just trying to do their jobs, right, boys?

Ransom and Holster rolled their eyes, but agreed, and Bitty had a moment of being proud of the team he had become part of.

While the food would not be strictly period-accurate, Bitty was looking forward to trying some of the meat pies. He’d been wanting to incorporate more savories into his baking.

Once they piled out of the car and made it through the admission booths, Bitty found his eyes darting from the crowd, full of archers and knights and ladies and nobles, and, yes, woodland fairies with antlers on their heads and elves with long pointed ears.

He couldn’t always tell who was a guest and who was a cast member, although he assumed the jester who juggled while he walked and the man in doublet and hose standing on a box and declaiming poetry both worked there.

His costume did not stand out at all — if anything, it was a little basic, but there were plenty of people like Jack who hadn’t dressed up.

The booths and stalls and signposts were bedecked with flowers and ribbons, and the signs were hand painted and not always easy to read. Bitty found his head starting to swim, until he recognized the smell of baking pastry, and beef.

There was a pie stall right next to the entrance, so Bitty got in line. It wasn’t until he was close to the front that he realized most of his group had melted away. Only Jack stood next to him.

“You wanted pie too?” Bitty said.

“I’m holding out for a turkey leg,” Jack said. “Maybe we can get one after you get your pie? Then walk around and eat and figure out what we want to do? Lardo and Shitty said they were going to Artisan Alley, wherever that is, and I think Ransom and Holster said something about a strongman competition?”

“That would appeal to them,” Bitty agreed.

He ended up with two pies — chicken and beef, with vegetables and gravy — and a plastic tankard of ginger beer, which he suspected was really just ginger ale.

He and Jack made their way through the fairgrounds to the stand that sold turkey legs, noting places they’d like to go back to. It was never too early for Christmas presents, and there was a woolen shop that had shawls he thought Mama would like, right at the top of the row of shopping stalls, and Jack said he wanted to try his hand at throwing a wooden ball to knock down pins.

The line for turkey legs was long, and by the time they got to the front, he and Jack had finished both pies, trading bites. They were hot, which was good, but Bitty thought he could make better gravy, especially for the chicken, and come up with better seasonings. The pastry cases were crumbly, rather than flaky, but Bitty supposed they had to be sturdy enough for people to eat with their hands as they wandered.

“I thought they were good,” Jack said, popping the last bit of the beef pie into his mouth and sucking the remaining gravy off his thumb. “You want a turkey leg?”

“I couldn’t,” Bitty said. “Not yet.”

“You can have some of mine,” Jack promised.

Once they were again provisioned, they set off for the tournament field, where Holster and Ransom were indeed engaged in a contest to see who could lift the heaviest log. They did well, with Jack and Bitty cheering as loudly as they could, but a huge man wearing nothing but knee breeches and an open leather vest won.

“He was a ringer,” said Holster, breathing hard, as he pulled his crown back on.

He looked at Jack, tearing a mouthful of meat off the turkey leg, and said, “You almost fit right in. You know they rent costumes, right?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said.

Bitty, eating the meat he had pulled off the turkey leg with his fingers, said, “I dunno, Jack. You’d make a great Prince Charming.”

Because he looked like every Prince Charming in every Disney movie Bitty had ever seen, with his dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. Not because Bitty thought of Jack as his own Prince Charming. That way, he knew, madness lay.

“So what do you think, Bitty?” Ransom asked. “Is it everything we promised?”

“So far,” Bitty said. “But all I’ve really done is eat and watch you try to pick up a tree. You want to find Lardo and Shitty?”

Horns blared, and Holster said, “The tournament’s starting. Let’s watch that, then see if we can find them before the Royal Parade at noon.”

“You guys go ahead,” Jack said. “I … want to see Lardo about something.”

Ransom and Holster stood on either side of Bitty, watching the knights on horseback thunder around the field, draped in colorful cloth matching the flags the knights on their backs carried. Then the knights took long poles and they ran at each other, narrowly missing each time, while the crowd around the field cheered. Finally, the queen — seated in a raised pavilion on the other side of the field — declared a winner by dropping a scarf to one of the knights, and the horses left the field.

“That means they’re getting ready for the parade,” Holster said. “Let’s find the others.”

Shitty and Lardo were saving space near the top of Artisan Alley, right in front of the woolen shop.

“You guys seen Jack?” Bitty asked. “He was looking for you.”

“He was at the leatherworker’s booth,” Shitty said. “Said he had something to show you, after the parade. But I thought he was going to meet us here.”

The same horns that had signaled the start of the tournament sounded again. There was a band coming, and a group of jugglers and acrobats, then all the knights riding slowly down the road, bowing to the people on each side.

At the end came the king and queen, seated on thrones on a horse-drawn float, preceded by ladies in their finery scattering flower petals.

Bitty finally caught sight of Jack on the other side of the road when the parade passed. He was still wearing the jeans and short black boots he’d started with, but he’d added a sleeveless dark blue tunic with a wide leather belt, and a blue, red and gold satiny cape.

“Good enough for you?” Jack asked, as the group crossed the dusty road, eyeing everyone before settling his gaze on Bitty.

“Oh, Jack, you know you didn’t have to,” Bitty said, suddenly feeling guilty in case he’d made Jack uncomfortable.

“But brah, you do look amazeballs,” Shitty said.

“Yeah, dude,” Ransom said. “Like, I have this whole costume on, and you add a shirt and a cape and somehow look better.”

Lardo just nodded in approval.

“So,” Holster said. “As your king, I declare Jack to be a noble of the realm. And I declare that it’s time for lunch.”

Holsted led the way to a restaurant that actually featured chairs and tables and food served on dishes, and everyone fell in. Jack and Bitty brought up the rear.

“The costume really does look good,” Bitty said.

“I actually got the belt first,” he said. “I bought that. At the leather shop. The cape and the tunic I rented. But I got you something too.”

Jack pulled a satchel that was hidden under the cape forward and opened it, and took out a laced leather vest.

“It’s called a jerkin,” he said.

Bitty almost snorted, but didn’t.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that in front of … anyone else here. But I thought it would look good with the shirt you have on. And then if you come to one these again, you’ll have something to start with.”

Jacks cheeks were pink when he finished his little speech.

“Jack,” Bitty said, feeling his own cheeks flame in response. “You really, really didn’t have to. You know that, right?”

But he was already pulling the vest on and tightening the laces, making a snug bodice to contrast with the billowy sleeves and collar. The shirttails almost looked like a skirt coming out from under his belt.

“What do you think?” Jack asked.

“I … really like it,” Bitty said. He felt less like a kid in a nightgown this way, more like a proper boy.

“You look good,” Jack said.

Then they went in to join the others, who had already ordered platter of such medieval fair as nachos and chicken fingers.

“Looking good, Bits,” Lardo said, when Bitty sat on the bench next to her.

The beer came by the pitcher, and Bitty indulged with his friends, and then joined them as they spent the next several hours laughing at a slapstick comedy show, getting their caricatures drawn in all sorts of combinations, and helping Holster choose the perfect sword to complement his costume.

Lardo came with him to buy a shawl for his mother, helping him choose a soft blue and gray pattern that she said went with his brown eyes.

“Your mother has your coloring, right?” Lardo asked. “This will look nice, then, Maybe not as nice as that jerkin, but …”

Bitty huffed and turned away in pretend annoyance. To be honest, he liked knowing Lardo agreed that it looked good. She wouldn’t lie about that.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, after he paid and they were on their way to join the group for the last joust of the day. “Do you know why Jack bought this for me?”

“Because he thought you’d like it?”

“Lardo, I’m serious. I saw what the prices were like in that shop. Why would he do that?”

“It’s not like he told me,” Lardo said. “But he did show it to me and ask if I thought it would fit. I think … he likes you, Bits, and he’s worried about you.”

Because Jack didn’t think he’d be able to play this season?

Lardo continued as though Bitty had voiced his question.

“He thought you seemed … nervous, I guess, about moving into the Haus, being the new guy, all of that,” Lardo said. “And this is a team bonding activity. Might as well dress the part.”

“Is that why he got himself a costume too?”

“I guess,” Lardo said. “You could ask him.”

By the time the sun was sinking towards the west, the team was tired and cranky and ready to leave. Holster, who had partaken of much more beer than Jack, gave up the car keys without a fight (thank God, Bitty thought) and he and Ransom collapsed on top of each other in the back seat. Lardo and Shitty took the middle, leaving Bitty to ride shotgun while Jack drove.

The car was quiet, with most everybody sleeping or just looking out at the New England evening. Jack played what Bitty thought of as “dad rock” and hummed along, almost inaudibly, until Bitty said, “Lardo said you were worried about me.”

Jack made a noise that showed he heard, but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry if you’ve been concerned,” Bitty said. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know,” Jack said. “But it’s nothing to apologize for. You’ll be fine, and if you’re not, I — we’ll all be here to support you until you are. I know moving into the Haus — it’s like being new on the team again, in a way. We need to make sure you know we have your back.”

“By buying me clothes?” Bitty asked.

“Whatever it takes,” Jack said. “Even putting on a costume myself.”

“You didn’t have to,” Bitty said, even though he knew he was repeating himself. Then he fell silent, wondering if his head was more muddled than he thought.

“I know,” Jack said. “But it seemed like it might be fun.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s fun to be part of the group sometimes. As long as it’s a group you like.”

“I think so too,” Bitty said.

Jack hummed along to the song about a horse with no name, and Bitty thought about what it meant to be part of the group, and what it meant that Jack had wanted Bitty to feel like he belonged.

It was team bonding, of course. And it was Haus bonding. But Bitty felt like maybe, maybe it was something more.

#zimbits #omg check please #omgcp #my fic #prompt fill

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velvetures · 9 months ago

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COD AU: Intro

AN: I love this. I have so many thoughts in my head. So many it’s killing me inside. Please enable me. God I hope at least one of you likes this enough to talk to me about it. To hc, to literally just share my words with. And yes…. There is a very heavy Ghost/romance element… but I’m totally not against picturing the other options ahaha.

So I’ve been thinking….

An AU where everyone needs to lay low for a while. Maybe they’re all compromised and someone with enough power and money shows interest to take out the 141 forever. And Laswell, being the problem solver that she is, suggests a safe house of someone close to her. Someone who can be trusted. Not just to provide somewhere physically safe, but also keep a close eye on the team while they’re -somewhat- forcibly being cut off from the world.

So the team are flighted into the middle of god-knows-where in the mountains. A tiny little town -if you can call it that- and they meet their contact.

Not only a girl… but civilian.

She refers to Laswell as Aunt Kate and the Captain and Uncle John. Sweet as can be, and so damn helpful that it’s almost infuriating. Especially to Ghost. She hasn’t seen a single thing about them other than what Laswell has offered, and really appears like she couldn’t care less about opening her house up to them. A house just big enough to fit all four men.

Ghost isn’t sure about the whole thing. It feels wrong being holed up in the deep holler of an Appalachian mountain with a girl not twenty-five. Like some kind of fucked-up movie he wasn’t aware of being cast for. It’s all too strange walking inside her house and seeing photos on the walls, a massive rack of cast iron skillets and pots hanging above her kitchen island, and the way she looks at Price so fondly.

Uncle John…

Something about it rubs him wrong. There’s got to be history there… at least enough for her to feel the right to call Price that. But he’s never heard of her before. And this kind of arrangement isn’t one to taken lightly. There are people hunting the 141… A threat so well documented that they couldn’t even just turn a blind eye and wait for the smoke to clear.

The sweet thing doesn’t notice Ghost’s apprehension.

But she does recognize Price’s excitement in seeing her, as well as his slight disappointment that she’d offered to do this. She’s too good to get involved in matters of war, and he’s honestly surprised that Kate let you. But then again, there could only be so much disappointment he could find in seeing his goddaughter. And funnily enough, there’s a sense of relief he has in seeing how well she’s done for herself since he saw her last.

Intelligent, scarily so. But not in an overt way. He can see it in the way she collects rainwater for watering the little garden out back, and the pistol safe tucked under her bed with a thumbprint scanner. He notices the small town she’d bought her home in, and the relatively tight community. Maybe a little old-fashioned… but it’s good in case something goes wrong. And right now, it’s paying off.

Unbelievably welcoming too… but Kate and John always knew there’d come a day when she’d get a chance to ‘mother’ someone. And now she’d have four men to do exactly that for. Even from day one, she’s already made trips to the store, rearranged her whole home, and bought god-knows-what in anticipation for their arrival.

What’s each of your favorite food, I’ll make lists so I never run out of dinner ideas.

Any preferences on how I should come and go around my the house? I don’t want to startle anyone.

Did you need anything you didn’t bring? If I can’t get it in town or online I’ll text Aunt Kate and have her get it…

She’s nearly frantic to get them settled, and everyone reacts in a muted tone of shock save for Price. He’s well-aware thanks to Kate about how excited she is… something about wanting to prove herself. And Jesus if it doesn’t make Price feel a bittersweet burn in his chest as he introduces her to the others. Seeing her wide eyes examining all of them without the slightest hesitation. Memorizing names and faces, and shaking massive, gloved, hands without missing a beat.

She’s got Soap wrapped around her finger on instant. Maybe it’s a big-brother feeling. One like Price holds for her. Since she’s younger than him -unlike his own sisters- there’s something of a chance to be one for a while. Soap almost instantly takes to her Appalachian lilt and bright smile. They’re both too sweet for their own good at times… and Price can tell right away there won’t be a knife sharp enough to cut the two of them apart after this.

Gaz is quietly polite is a way only he can be. Meticulously trying to stay out of her way as she flutters about. Wanting to help her out, but also downright flustered when she demands she be the one to carry their bags to their rooms. It’s a clear sign he’s not used to it… A woman being this damn sweet and intent on ‘helping’ a man. But he takes it in stride. Learning how to help without stepping on her decidedly ‘southern comfort’ style of catering to them. And god if Price doesn’t have to chew the tip of his cigar when she gets on his ass about something. The poor sod looks like a kicked puppy… and he’s certain she’ll end up training him with due time.

Christ above. If Ghost isn’t the most difficult bastard to deal with initially.

He’s much more sour than typical. Lurking in corners, and unable to settle down anywhere for more than an hour. He looks caged in by the comfortable couch and throw blankets. Swallowed by her pleasantly creaky porch swing and sun-couch on the wraparound. Not even her well-used garage housing an old Fold flatbed makes a good refuge for Ghost. She’s all encompassing in a way he can’t come to terms with easily.

Price sees her trying the hardest with him.

The way her voice lowers when addressing him. How she makes a conscious effort to tiptoe around the house after 10pm because that’s when he shuts himself inside his bedroom… She doesn’t exactly know he never sleeps. Dinners are often served close to the time he finally realizes he’s got to come back inside the house… and without fail, she can be found sitting near him.

Not friendly by any means.

But more like a girl who’s found an old bait-dog at the pound and can’t leave well-enough alone. Sitting with her back it to and tossing treats over her shoulder. Hoping silently that the old, scarred, dog will come around. Damn near predatory in a sweet kind of way. Price can tell she means well. She can see the same thing everyone else on the team can… and she’s just going about it her way.

She’s good like that. Maybe a little too good.

But John can’t deny he enjoys seeing it. All of it really. The way she dotes on them individually. Consistently. Hell, she even does their laundry and bought separate baskets to keep things neat and tidy. The fridges -yes… multiple- all are set with their preferences in drinks, and she’s scarily observant when things need replaced. Toothpaste… shoelaces… socks… there’s no missing anything. Brands and sizes don’t seem to be a problem either, to some shock and mortification.

Uncle John, what’s Soap mean when he says he misses Irn-Bru?

His quick and unconcerned explanation goes without another notice… until he sees Johnny taking a long drink from a bottle of it while sitting on a rocking chair on the back porch watching some hummingbirds fight over richly dyed sugar water.

John’s often preoccupied with worrying about the plans of those head-hunting them and what Kate’s doing behind the scenes in the meantime. But it’s clear there’s nothing concerning his goddaughter but whether or not they’re all fed, warm, and comfortable in her house…

Whether Ghost likes it or not.

Comments are so heavily appreciated on this… I want to make this more of what I talk about & I can’t keep it all on a notebook under my bed.

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nomizombie · 11 months ago

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(2) Fanboy!König x Rockstar!GN!Reader 🎸🎤🎶

[SFW/Wholesome] ; more rocking out!!!! Mutual pining, gender neutral, no usage of y/n!!! Author has never been to a concert or been a rockstar, not proofread…

[A/N] ; ty for all the nice comments on my last post! my face is gonna be sore from all that smiling 😭😭 heres a continuation from the last part, hope you enjoy!!! :)))

Part 1

Your hand hovered over the call button. Would it be so bad to call him? I mean, he did write his number down. The least you could do is call it. Thats normal. Yeah, that’s completely normal.

You tapped the call button and waited (for 3 seconds) until you heard the familiar click.

Silence.

“Hello?” You called out.

More silence.

“This is König right?”

Even more silence. Unbeknownst to you, König was a trembling mess on the other end. He parted his lips and no sound came out.

“Ah, I’ll just hang up then. Must’ve been a wrong number-“

“The albums. Thank you for signing them.” A meek voice spoke.

“So you are there after all!”

You hear nervous laughter on the other end.

“Sorry. Um. Whats the word? Starstruck?”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“‘s alright, König.” His name was getting easier to say the more you said it.

More silence.

“Your singing. It was great.” He spoke again. This time a bit more confident.

“Well, I would assume so since you have so much merch of me.”

“Ah. Right.”

More silence. He was a lot more awkward over the phone.

“So… do you like the band or do you like me?”

Even more silence. Maybe you pushed too far. Maybe a guy like him doesn’t like teasing-

“You. You’re a good singer.“

You chuckled as you heard his response. Nevermind that, teasing him was fun. You could imagine the shaky hands as he held his phone, the pink tips of his ears, and the quietness as he thought of a response. How cute.

“Only good?

You pushed further.

More silence.

“It’s amazing. I’m in a trance when I listen to you.”

Now it was your turn to blush from your cheeks to your neck. Such simple words but it felt so good coming from him.

...

You had never texted with someone so much. Especially not someone as kind as him.

Every waking second, you spent tapping away on your phone. Before you fell asleep, in between shows, even during a meal with your bandmates.

It started off simple. You sent him a quick thank you message for the necklace and he responded with an also simple thanks for the handshake. Then, he followed up with another message complimenting your performance, and that might've been when you started expecting his texts.

Weeks later, you two continued to talk nearly everyday. Obviously, people began to notice. Your small smiles and giggles were frequent enough that even your manager got suspicious.

“Got someone special?” She snickered as she gripped the steering wheel. You couldn’t see her face but you just knew that she was raising a brow at the rapid screen smacking of your phone.

“Huh?- No! Its just a friend…” you quickly clarified.

Her eyebrow climbed a little higher as she gave you the look in the rear view mirror.

“Doesn’t seem like just a friend.” She laughed again, noticing your red cheeks, "Hey, I won’t get mad, I promise.”

Your cheeks continued to burn as she tilted her head to the side, silver earrings dangling and clinking as she waited.

“Okay, fine. He’s a fan from our December show.” You sighed. You really couldn’t hide anything from her, could you?

She gasped, “A fan?! Gasp! Our lead singer is into groupies!”

“He’s not a groupie! Its just- How do I explain this… He’s really fun to talk to.” This time your entire face burned.

“Fun, huh? Well I will warn you, dating a fan never goes well. Be careful alright? Can’t have our star vocalist getting heart broken now, can we?” She tutted her finger at you. Surely an experienced warning.

Before long you had arrived at the concert hall. This gig was probably the biggest youve had in months. Hundreds- no, thousands would be here tonight, watching you play. But, you could care less about the numbers, you only needed one person to come, the massive fanboy that you’ve been texting everyday the last few weeks.

You hands reach for your phone.

- im here at the venue. you almost here?

- Yes. Almost. Good luck with your show.

You two had been texting for weeks now, nearly everyday (or more accurately every hour) but he was still super formal with you. It was almost a little adorable that he still felt nervous interacting with you.

- awesome!! see ya :D

The typing animation played for a long time, disappearing and reappearing a few times before he finally responded.

- See you soon. 👍

An emoji. That's new. You grinned at the thought of him struggling to text you but that was quickly forgotten when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder.

"Stop texting your friend and start your warm ups! People are starting to come inside!" Your manager growled before quickly ushering you into your changing room.

By the time you stepped onto the stage, you were still struggling to rid your mind of thoughts of him. It's funny how much this boy has completely taken over your brain. But nevertheless, you greeted the crowd, strummed your electric guitar and started off with a new song. This one about your most recent obsession.

As you sang, walking from stage end-to-end you found yourself scanning the crowd for your favorite fan. But, oddly enough, he was nowhere to be found.

"That's odd." You muttered under your breath. Seriously. You have a massive audience tonight and the only thing on your mind right now is König? Get your head in the game.

Sweat beads dripped down your neck as you jumped up and down on stage, hyping up the crowd as you continued to hit ever note. The music was the only thing you could think about. You soon fell into the groove of the song, but yet, he still remained at the back of your mind.

With one final strum, you sank to your knees, panting. When's the last time you had really felt the rhythm? You smiled. Your new obsession was your muse.

As you trudged off stage, a damp mess dragging your feet behind you, you suddenly hit a wall. A very tall and solid wall.

You hissed, rubbing your sore nose as you opened your eyes. Once again, the worn out logo of your band crowded your vision. Your gaze travelled upwards as you finally realized that this wall, is in fact, not a wall.

A pair of beady eyes in a balaclava stared down at you.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"K-König! What are you doing offstage?!" You suddenly remembered how sticky and dewy your skin was, how damp your shirt was and the crazed, frizzy hair. You smoothed your hair out and wiped your face on the sleeve of your shirt frantically.

"Why are you here?" You asked a bit more calmer this time.

His ears turned a light red as he averted his gaze.

"Well... I wanted to watch you from here... and your manager… let me in." He breathed. Pausing in between words as he grew a little redder.

"My manager- her?!" Your calmness had left just as fast as it appeared.

He blinked at you. A few seconds of silence before nodding his head and rubbing his neck nervously.

"Ja, that's right."

"Holy shit- wait, how'd she know who you are..?" You asked curiously. You had never once mentioned his name or described him to her.

"Oh, uh..." He thought for a moment, finding the words in English.

"She's my... How do I say, like- aunt but not, kind of like my mother's friend." He muttered the last part quickly.

That explained the collection of exclusive merch.

Noticing your confusion, he continued, "Ah, it's not important. Your voice, lovely as always."

"Thank you, König." You grinned at him, your eyes squinting as you smiled.

His eyes widened before squinting as well. The way you said his name always made his heart jump in his chest. Meanwhile, you just couldn't get enough of his eye-smile.

The conversation was silent again. He stared anxiously at you before lowering his head.

“Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course, shoot away.”

He went quiet, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, before continuing.

"Well- do you, um..." His signature stuttering and stumbling over his words.

You hummed curiously.

"Do you want to get a-a drink together? Later? I'll wait for your autograph session and then I was wondering if you wanted to go out perhaps, of course you don't have to it was a stupid question, wasn't it? Excuse me then, I shouldn't have asked-"

"Of course. I would love to," you cut him off. His rambling was strangely... endearing?

Shock filled his eyes before he chuckled nervously.

"Ah. Sorry- I got a little anxious."

"It's okay!" You laughed. How was this behemoth man so cute? “What time?"

"I'll text you." He smiled and you noticed how his eyes crinkled when he did. That was never going to leave your memory, was it?

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn !!!!

Hii!!! If you got it this far, tysm for reading!!! ❤️❤️ Lmk if youd like more!! I like this au but i would also love to expand! If you have any ideas my requests are always open :)!!!

#fanboy!könig #rockstar!reader #fanfic #fluff #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #konig x reader #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig fluff #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty #°˖ ⊹ ꒰✒️꒱ ♡#. ˚₊‧꒰ა 🧟🧠 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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bekkathyst · 6 months ago

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Hello! I just found your foraging videos and feel HUGELY inspired. 😍 Could you recommend any other blogs or resources about foraging? Even if it's not specific to my area (eastern-ish North America), just seeing what's out there would be an enormous help! 🥰✨

Hey! I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this! I meant to do it way sooner but it slipped my mind.

I have a ton of recs though!

First of all, buying field guides about your specific region is a massive help! (But something I feel the need to warn about is if you're buying one from Amazon, just google the author first and make sure they're a real person with credentials bc there's been a huge rise in AI-generated garbage being published there and I genuinely think it's going to kill someone one day)

But since books with walls of text and scientific words can be intimidating, I think the best way to begin to learn and kind of just dip your toes into the foraging world is by learning from educators online! (Especially if you're a more visual learner like I am!)

Here are some of my favorites who are either US-based and/or whose content is in English. You can find these people on TikTok and most of them on Instagram and Facebook as well. Some also have books published!

Alexis Nikole aka BlackForager TikTok | Instagram

Samuel Thayer TikTok | Website

Gabrielle Cerberville aka ChaoticForager / Mushroom Auntie TikTok | Instagram

Whitney Johnson aka Appalachian_Forager TikTok | Instagram

Gordon Walker aka FacinatedbyFungi TikTok | Instagram

Jess Starwood (I took one of her mushroom classes when I lived in California and it was amazing! We even had a mushroom-centric feast in the forest at the end. She has a book about mushrooms out that I've been meaning to buy but I haven't had the chance yet) Instagram | Website

I feel like I'm forgetting some so I'll reblog with updates when I think of them!

Now that being said - when talking about foraging I want to note that it's important to listen to and follow the wisdom of the people indigenous to the land you're living on. They're always going to be the most knowledgeable about the land and how to protect it. Also if you can find a list or resource about which plants in your area are endangered and off-limits, it's good to have that handy.

And finally! You can check out my TikTok for more of my videos, if you enjoy them and like the perspective of a regular-schmegular person just foraging the things that are traditional to the area they're in and learning more as they go :) I'm finding that a lot of what I forage here in Austria is really similar to things you can find on the east coast of the US. I'm also going to launch my Patreon this week where I will have recipes, some foraging videos, and more stuff crystal-related (which is actually what I'm known for on here) haha!

I hope this helps! I think a lot of people feel overwhelmed when they first want to get into foraging but it's so human and normal and starting small and working your way up is the way to go. At the end of the day, it's all just knowledge that you accumulate over a long period of time!

#original #foraging

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coolbeesbro · 19 days ago

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So I set up my new stuff on Etsy hoping I'll have better luck there and biting the bullet on listing fees, and already I've had 2 scammers in my inbox that start off making it sound like I just got a sale.

This is just 1 since I didn't think to screenshot the other before I marked it as spam, but that's just downright cruel. Taking advantage of someone who you can see hasn't made any sales, especially right now, takes a special kind of evil.

Although this goes without saying, just in case this is a PSA to others that sell on Etsy, do not follow any link or type any URL's that they ask you to.

Taking this opportunity to point this out (I didn't pick up on these parts before until I saw a video on TokTok) notice how they ask me to type in COM and not .com? It's usually small things like this that trick people into trusting it, because it look similar enough to be legitimate that some people (myself included at one time) won't think twice about it. Likely, this link would lead to somebody hacking into your device or account to steal information such as credit card and banking info that you might have attached or saved. The scary thing is, you may not even know you have one right away.

This also applies to other phishing scams, mainly pertaining to PayPal (I've gotten these emails many times). They (the hacker and not PayPal) send you a message that looks just plausible enough to trick somebody into thinking you just made a purchase, won't give any form of specification, and will have an attached PDF "receipt" that they ask you to click on. This usually tricks people into doing so because you think, "Hey, I didn't make any purchases with PayPal, what was ordered?" you click on it then BAM they can get into your system. I unfortunately did this myself once and my phone slowly stopped working over the course of a year, I started getting a lot of texts trying to get me to follow suspicious links, calls from the "FBI" and "IRS", and I had to change the passwords to all my accounts because the person even tried hacking into my actual PayPal account. My phone would get absurdly hot, and the full battery would last 4 hours at best.

Never click on a PDF document from any sketchy emails, because a virus can and will infect your device (computers and phones) by hiding malicious code in it. These forms of attack are usually in the form of spyware to track what you do on that device and collect your private information so the hacker can commit fraud or identity theft. It could also download ransomware and lock you out of your device unless you pay them, and also threaten to leak private information (some of which being outing someone LGBT+, leaking nudes, and doxing) to scare you into giving them what they want.

There's a way you can always tell if it's a scammer, and that's by checking the actual email. PayPal emails are always going to be one of these two: [email protected] or [email protected]. If you cant remember making a payment and get an email from one of these, it can still be a scammer that can change 1 or 2 letters subtly. For example: [email protected], [email protected]. If you have any suspicions, just go straight to your PayPal account and check for any bills/receipts there. If you don't seen anything, it's best to report those emails to PayPal directly so they can either verify it as one of theirs (it won't be if it differs at all from the two I showed) and work towards flagging and taking it down for others later down the line who may be tricked.

Anyways, this has just been a PSA since something good can come from the asshole who sent me this message. Hope this can help at least 1 person.

#etsy scam #phishing #etsy #paypal #paypal phishing #etsy store #suspicious emails

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atinyniki · 10 months ago

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soft thoughts on Nat? (that valentine's gifft makes ne wonder)

authors note: this is literally the cutest ask ever omfg… also ive never done soft thoughts on anyone before…?! heheh im excited (also this might be super inaccurate bc im kinda projecting but… wtv) anyways this one is probably going to be long-ish, but it can be read as gender neutral. (i got help from zehina and kylei too btw :P) also normalize men being soft in relationships please!!! they don’t always have to be the tough guy :3 i hope most of it is right @writingforstraykids hehe :3

nat has to love cuddles. it’s the same thing over and over again. you’re sad? “come cuddle 🥺” you’re tired? “come cuddle 🥺”. she’d give the best cuddles too, which leads me into the specifics… nat would hold you close to her and fondle your hair while cuddling. if you’ve read her fics, that’s one of the things she talks about most. just laying down with her while she massages your scalp and rakes her fingers through your hair like agh 🥺💕 she’s so cutie

another thing, nat really hates when someone is in pain. if an anon mentions that they’re upset, she always asks what’s wrong. and she’d do the same to you, so so so incredibly caring. she’d always ask about your day, and you could talk for hours on end, but she’d pay attention the whole time. and if you asked her to recite everything you just said, she’d parrot it right back 💕

when you have a tummyache, nat would kiss and rub your cute lil tummy till you’re content. she hates seeing her baby in pain, and does anything she can to make you feel better. just imagine small little pecks across the soft skin, her nose nuzzling into your plush with every kiss 🥺

nat gives compliments. a lot of them, to just about everyone she knows. but what if you were to turn the tables? she’d get so blushy, trying her best to stay composed. if you were to shower her with compliments, she’d get so red. especially when in public. just small gestures to show your affection and some praises thrown around here and there is enough to get her all warm and fuzzy 🥺💕

nat cares deeply about every one of her friends, so what’s to say she wouldn’t care for her lover the same? of course, she shows everyone so much love, but once you’re the one being treated this way, everything changes. everything she does and says comes directly from her heart, and she’s never afraid to show you how genuine her words are.

nat is godly at aftercare. there’s nothing she loves more than taking care of her love. she always makes sure you go to the bathroom after and runs you a bath. even after a soft scene, she will always reassure you and make sure you know how much she loves you. her heart just about bursts whenever she hearts your heavy breathing and soft snoring as you fall asleep in her arms 🥹

when it’s gloomy out and you want to go outside, the two of you will drive around for hours. nothing is better than spending time with your lover, and long drives with the light pitter-patter of the rain in the background also gives you some more time to talk to eachother. when she’s driving you, she likes to intertwine your fingers with hers and place her hand onto the gear stick, just to feel you close to her. and since you’re traveling so much, you normally try a new place to eat! kind of like a special occasion ☺️

kissing nat is so sweet too. with the small pecks here and there, as well as the steamier moments you have with her, you will always be able to feel how much she loves you. kissing is never exclusive to just the lips either, and i’m sure she’d kiss all over your face if she had the chance 💕

it’s basically impossible to hide your feelings from nat, considering how attentive she is. if you talk or text a specific way, she can tell exactly how you’re feeling just based off of that. this ties back to the point about comforting. she’s constantly checking up on you, providing as much comfort as she possibly can. she never wants her baby feeling upset 🥺💕

nat is an amazing artist. if you’ve ever seen her art, you’d know. imagine going on a nice picnic date, feeding eachother fresh fruits and doing silly poses while sketching eachother. bonus points if it’s springtime, picking flowers and braiding them into her hair 🥺 you could be there for hours with her and never get bored, not when you’re in your lovers arms with the light breeze brushing against your cheeks >//<

kisses were already mentioned, but lazy/sleepy kisses deserve their own section. you both work hard, as one does, and sometimes it’s hard to talk to eachother when you’re drained of all energy, and so is she. so what do you do? you hop into bed with her and curl into her, planting lazy kisses to her face while half-asleep. there’s something about these kisses that are so intimate, recharging you after such a long day. the two of you end up getting so comfortable that you just fall asleep in eachothers arms, lips still brushing against each others 🥺

pda with nat sounds soooo sweet. just holding hands while in public or linking arms? kisses to the cheek while walking and talking? hugs while you’re at small gatherings and watching the smile grow on her face? she’d get soooo giggly and so so happy. we all know how cuddly she is, so chances are she’d do it right back to you :3

being with nat will always feel like a dream. at some points, you may even think she’s too good to you, because that’s just how amazing she is. she loves with her entire heart, and she’s damn good at it too. you will never feel neglected or unwanted with her, not with the amount of attention and love she gives you. with all the constant reassurance, the compliments, and the sweet gestures, there’s no doubt that she loves you hehe <3

#nikitalks #nikis mooties <3 #atinyniki #mummy nat 😵‍💫💕#fic…?#soft thoughts

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dereliction-if · 1 year ago

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A = Affection(How affectionate are they with a s/o?) (For the ROs)

Ok, here we go, I know you all deserve more insight AND background on the ROs, so I decided to answer this question while adding a bit more flavour to the overall interaction and hope that's fine with y'all. I picked the MC as their s/o to make it more approachable. Oh, and ...some delicate unspoilery spoilers for moments which you might or might not encounter on your journey. Read at own risk... (btw. long ass text ahead, don‘t forget to drink in between 😉)

The Heir The heir, who has known you for so long, is yet seeking to learn more about you every day, wishing for an intimate understanding of your being – the intricacies that make you unique, the nuances of your being, the light and the shadow that dance within you. They know how to trigger you and take delight in teasing you, be it through playful words or mischievous actions. Each reaction you offer them is treasured, for it is a gift that reveals another layer of you. Though they ensure that their playful teasing and jesting never crosses your boundaries, seeking only to witness the hues that color your cheeks or stir the dormant fire within.

In their eyes, you are the anchor in their life, reminding them that they are more than just the weight of their royal responsibilities. Together, you venture beyond the confines of their obligations, embarking on small escapades and whimsical adventures that would make you shake your head in amusement - had they only given you a fair warning beforehand. Although they may not always forewarn you, there is a shared delight in the unexpected, a secret bond that strengthens your connection. Further, whenever they lead you into a situation that seems beyond your control, they are quick to find an exit strategy, minimizing any potential damage - well, most of the time.

And, of course, they always make it up to you in their own unique way. What is your favorite way for them to make amends? Sneaking into a theater show you could never have accessed otherwise? Sharing a secret meal atop the palace roof, indulging in exotic dishes you never knew existed? Or perhaps, daring to experience and intimately share your first moments together? They have dreamt of such intimate encounters for far longer than you can imagine, though they hesitated to make you blush - or themselves, for that matter.

They envision a future with you, one that may not conform to the traditional expectations dictated by their royal status. Running away with you sounds like an adventure worth pursuing, or perhaps, when the time comes for their reign, they might even dare to dismantle the entire system. Oh, the wonderful dreams they share with you of a future where anything is possible, especially with someone as extraordinary as you. They yearn for you to see your uniqueness, making it their mission to eventually help you recognize your own special qualities. The Commander

First off it has to be said, that if anybody wishes to earn even a fraction of affection from them, they must tread a treacherous path filled with pain, vulnerability, sacrifice and be open to the need for immense understanding and forgiveness. And even then there is no guarantee, the taste of their affection remains uncertain, and any glimpse of tenderness must be cherished as a precious gift. However, do not be deceived by naivety, for these displays are not your typical gestures. Only by reading between the lines can you discern them.

The Commander is burdened with an unwavering belief that they cannot afford to show weakness. Kindness and emotions, in their eyes, are synonymous with vulnerability - an attribute they have been taught to despise since a young age. Their unbroken pursuit of connection and affection has been relentlessly scorched by their father, fueling a deep self-loathing and a penchant for inflicting harm upon others - and themselves. This unyielding facade is rarely shattered, appearing almost imperceptible.

When they desperately yearn to reach out, their attempts manifest in destructive ways – adding a scar upon your body as a reminder of hostile emotions you both shared, a conversation revolving around violent battles as a means to forge a bond born from struggle. Fragments of vulnerability are concealed within these hidden moments of fragile tension. Threats combined with insults become their twisted method of conveying that you have affected them, although they resent you for evoking such emotions. Amidst this darkness, they secretly observe you, their heart breaking as they witness the smile you share with others - a smile they yearn for but will never allow themselves to receive. As a consequence seeing no other way than punishing themselves for this. Yet, in moments of anger, when a mission fails and their father's wrath descends upon them without hesitation, their mind drifts to you. They contemplate your every movement - the way you walk, the way you tilt your head, the appearance of your hands and fingers as they interact with objects, the subtle furrowing of your eyebrows when once gain cruelty taints their words, the parting of your lips when they catch you off guard with a sharp retort. These conflicting emotions baffle and unnerve them. As a result, all you glimpse are the cracks in their façade. When their attacks truly wound you, for a fleeting moment, their eyes widen, their breath catches, and their hand reaches out before abruptly retracting, leaving you to question if your eyes deceived you.

But is there more to be revealed? More to be felt? That remains a mystery you must unravel. You must decide if you truly desire to venture further into their complex world, for the journey ahead is rife with darkness, conflicting emotions, and the delicate dance between pain and the possibility of something deeper.

The Sovereign

The bond you share with the Sovereign is unlike any other you have experienced before. It transcends mere companionship, reaching deep into the realm of intellect and philosophy. Engaging in profound conversations, they stimulate your mind, revealing that they hold you in high regard and value your unique perspective. They challenge your true intentions and encourage you to reevaluate your entire existence. Attentively, they listen to your stories, motivations, and opinions on leadership, appreciating your worldview and enriching your connection.

This profound bond allows them to surprise you with gifts that are catalysts for your personal development. Ancient scripts filled with knowledge that you never dared to explore before are entrusted to your care, guiding you along the path you seek. A meticulously crafted, one-of-a-kind weapon, carrying within it a potent power that can only be harnessed by you. Its purpose is to aid you in achieving your goals and unlocking your true potential. These gifts reflect their admiration for you and their belief in your capabilities.

Putting the intellectual connection aside, they revel in the delight of forging physical bonds of affection. They entice you into a world of pleasures you had never fathomed, be it in their exclusive company or alongside their trusted intimate companions. Possessiveness is inherent to their nature, yet their control over the situation should not bother you, as they ensure that the outcome is tailored to your utmost satisfaction. They may selectively choose to share their affections, as long as they retain authority over the selection process.

Perhaps, in rare instances, they may relinquish a fraction of control, allowing you to hold a semblance of power. However, this remains an uncertain prospect, as their dominance and need for control is deeply ingrained. Nevertheless, who knows what your own magical touch is capable of achieving? To fully explore the spectrum of their affections, you must delve into the very essence of their being, both mentally and physically or you will be forgotten just as quickly as just one of their other toys, maybe casting a slightly larger smirk on their lips if you managed to surprise them in bed. The Mage

The Mage's love for you is all-encompassing, making you the center of their world. They constantly think of you, and everything around them reminds them of your presence. Each encounter and discovery is evaluated in relation to you - would it bring you joy, cause concern, or align with your desires and needs? They cherish moments you shared or things you mentioned. Whenever they come across something that they believe would bring a smile to your face, they make it their mission to obtain it for you, using their magical charm to ensure success. And once they have it, they can't wait to give it to you. They become excited, like a child, eagerly awaiting your reaction. They have to find a balance between worrying about your well-being and abusing their ability to understand people's intentions. They don't want to be overbearing or suffocate you, but they desperately want to show you that you deserve the best and to make you happy.

Whenever they notice even the slightest sign of need or any kind of discomfort, they want to shower you with attention and affection. They try to gauge your needs and make their actions more or less obvious, depending on what you require. They may gently touch your shoulder when you're feeling down during troubling times, carefully take your hand to get your attention during a vision – unfreezing you, or kiss your sleeve to comfort you when all you desperately need is to connect to the here and now again. They pull you close when you have trouble falling asleep after a nightmare, and listen attentively to the details of the dreams you recount. They create moments of happiness by planning surprises that express their deep affection for you. They write cute poems inspired by you, some of which become part of rituals you share. They are sweet and loving in their presence. But if a situation arises that requires it, they defend you with all the force and fury of a thunderstorm. They have studied you closely, allowing them to know you well, but they might not always succeed on holding back, ending up in being a bit too much.

The Mercenary

For the mercenary, their affection towards you becomes a constant battle between their irresistible attraction and their inclination to deny it. This inner conflict shapes their gestures of affection, which are carefully veiled and nuanced to avoid revealing their true intentions. They tread cautiously in your presence, always ensuring their watchful gaze remains discreet, unwilling to face your confrontation about their thoughts or desires. Preferring the safety of denial, they frequently frown upon themselves for being bothered by thoughts of you, growing frustrated when you do something they perceive as foolish or perilous.

Any demonstration of affection is executed with utmost care, often accompanied by sarcasm or hostility. Despite their gruff exterior, the mercenary harbors a tender side that occasionally breaks through their guarded demeanor. Beneath their sarcastic and hostile facade, they find moments of kindness to bestow upon you. For instance, they observe you smiling upon discovering a book at the bazaar that you couldn't afford. Secretly, they acquire it for you - just don‘t ask how, surreptitiously placing it within your belongings when your attention is elsewhere. However, they refuse to admit their role in procuring the book. Similarly, if they witness you sustaining a significant blow in your sparring session, they hurl insults at your perceived weakness, advising you to practice further with the wooden dummy. Yet, beneath their scornful facade, they cautiously approach, reluctantly checking if you are genuinely hurt, their concern mingling with their aversion to physical contact. Ultimately, they grasp you with less-than-gentle force to alleviate the tension causing pain in your shoulder, all the while continuing to mock your performance.

Moreover, the mercenary surprises you with acts of kindness that reflect their understanding of your desires and experiences. Sensing your nostalgia for a cherished memory or a place of significance, they deliberately engineer seemingly coincidental encounters, allowing you to relive those moments of joy and contentment. These orchestrated happenings, carefully planned behind their tough exterior, serve as a testament to their thoughtfulness and consideration for your happiness.

When it comes to your safety, they act without hesitation. Alert and ever watchful, their hostility flares towards anyone who dares cast more than a passing glance in your direction. Their hand instinctively finds the hilt of their daggers, lips curled into a snarl as a warning to all potential threats. In the enigmatic existence of the mercenary, affection is a paradoxical dance between conflicting emotions and guarded actions. Though they mask their feelings behind layers of indifference, their protective instincts and clandestine acts of kindness reveal the depth of their attachment to you. The Knight

The Knight's signs of affection radiate warmth, tenderness, and an unwavering commitment to your well-being. Though they may not speak openly of their emotions, their actions speak volumes about their deep care for you. Having opened their heart once again after such a long time, they cherish this connection and are determined to nurture it in every way possible.

Their caring gestures encompass both the small and more significant aspects of your life. They willingly take on tasks and responsibilities that alleviate your burdens, may it be planning the next steps of your journey or even helping with smaller tasks that seem to annoy you on a regular basis. So for example, observing how you pack your belongings, fuming pnce again at the chaos, they step in to lend a helping hand, ensuring your comfort and ease.

Their concern for your well-being extends to equipping you with the necessary skills to protect yourself. They take it upon themselves to teach you the art of self-defense, guiding you through the most effective parts of fighting techniques. Patiently, they train by your side, helping you develop strength, agility, and the confidence to face any challenges that may come your way. With each practice session, they instill in you a sense of empowerment, ensuring that you can protect yourself and stand tall in the face of adversity.

Beyond their protective role, they weave moments of romance into your shared journey. They delight in the simple yet beautiful experiences around you - a street musician's melody, a breathtaking view - and eagerly share these moments with you. Tenderly reaching for your hand, they create a connection that speaks volumes about their affection. In these stolen moments, you both find respite from the world, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. Through sweet surprises, they bring your favorite fruits or introduce you to new delights, always seeking to bring joy into your days. Their attentive listening and genuine interest create a safe space for you to share your stories and experiences, knowing that being heard and understood is a precious gift. They aim to enrich your life, focussing on the fact that a relationship holds value when it enhances your experiences in ways that surpass what you could achieve alone.

#dereliction if #if wip #interactive fiction #adult fiction #interactive novel #dark fantasy #if recs #interactive story #upcoming fantasy if #upcoming if #grimdark if #affection #signs of affection #ask response #long ass paragraph #romantic option revealed

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reiynm · 11 months ago

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NEWS

First of all- HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I hope you enjoyed the holidays and had a good time ✨ I wish you all the best and may this year be productive!! :D

(tw vent) I'd also like to take this opportunity to leave you this little note, a little note which does not particularly bring good news.

So… as you have probably noticed, I'm no longer very active on social media. Especially over the last three weeks. I'm still trying to post some drawings, but other than that, nothing regarding the story of my vn.

I received hate messages, messages that basically make fun of my poor writing skills and my bad english. I know it only comes from one person, and most of the time my game is well received despite these flaws, but I never thought I would attract so much hate from someone just because I created a game that doesn't suit their taste or standards.

And it hurts, because these aren't constructive messages… but also because it's true. I wanted to create texts to help me learn english. One thing led to another, these texts became a story that I subsequently made into a small Visual Novel. I don't speak English, nor am I a writer. I learn everything by myself. So, it's normal that it's not excellent. (and I never claimed it was) And I loved learning on my own. But now, not so much.

I don't know why I take this so seriously. Especially since I deleted all their messages… But all that led me to have my friends read the script, and their opinion was unanimous. The version in my mother tongue is, obviously, way much better… So, yeah- I will keep the demo online, but the final version will be in french. Maybe one day, if I feel able to, I will translate it into english. I'm very sorry, everyone.

And even if my mood isn't so great about my novel right now, I'm sure I'll get through it. In the end, I'll try to keep the positive things from this little experience.

I also wanted to say thank you. For your kind words, your kind criticisms (those who try to help me evolve, and who genuinely helped me) Thank you for your patience and kindness. This means so much to me.

So here we are, see you later everyone, I love you ♥ (and sorry I really had to vent, I've been keeping this inside of me for days oof <<')

#tw vent #vent post

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midnightraine131 · 7 months ago

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Love Letters from the Skies to the West Coast Chapter 6 - Leap of Faith

Pairing: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart Cover art by: @klaradraws Tags: Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Teenage Love, Awkward First Times, Slow Burn, POV Armin Arlert, Bottom Armin Arlert, Wet Dreams Warning: R18 contains sensitive topics Summary: They say the most judgmental people are those who attend church on Sundays. Despite growing up in a Christian household, Armin Arlert felt overburdened by the pile of ministry activities assigned to him. So he made a pact with himself to never follow in his father's footsteps and become a pastor. With the goal of saving enough money to persuade his parents to let him move to another state after high school, he started accepting paid essay projects in school in secret. Everything in Armin's busy life seemed manageable until he met Annie Leonhart, a Californian girl whose parents had moved her against her will to Vermont. Upon discovering Armin's secret business, Annie approached him with a unique request- to write love letters for a long-distance lover. To craft the perfect love letters, she would help Armin embark on a journey of firsts— his first kiss, first hug, first date, and first everything in a relationship.

Dear Love, How are you? How is everyone in Vermont? It feels like forever since I last laid eyes on your handsome face. I ache to feel your lips on mine under the moonlight, with my fingers trembling as they trace your cheek. I am writing this letter on the train somewhere in Ohio, unsure if this letter will ever find its way to you. We're hopping from town to town, praying for a safe haven where nobody cares about who we are. My mother and I had probably reached Louisiana by the time you opened this letter. It tears me apart knowing you might not even get the chance to write back. I yearn for your presence, my love, especially in these turbulent times. Here's hoping that in a few years, fate brings us back together, closing the chasm of distance between our hearts. I love you and I’m writing this with all the love in my heart. Yours forever darling, Brigitte Wilhelm Richter

Hitch flipped the envelope, her tired green eyes examining the small piece of paper that had turned brittle and yellowish over time. She read, “To Stephen Arlert.” Carefully, she placed the letters back inside the box, looking up at the ceiling, digesting the contents of the letter in her mind. She commented, “I can’t believe sixteen-year-olds could write this kind of letter back in the day.”

Armin hummed, laying down on his stomach as he plucked a strand of hair from Hitch’s armpit. “Those were the letters my great-grandma sent to my great-grandpa during the war. And PS! Grandpa told me his mother was older than his father. According to him, she told everyone that she was sixteen by the time they met when her family moved here to the States from Germany— when in reality she was twenty-one.”

“Oh really? Okay, if someone dares to pull that lie off, it’s gonna be jail time in our generation,” Hitch retorted, adjusting her crop top cami to cover the upper half of her already exposed tummy.

“I know. I mean, what else can they do? It’s 1944,” Armin said, wiping the tweezer with a tissue before signaling Hitch to move to the other side so he could work on her left armpit.

The ash blonde shifted her position on the bed, twisting the white sheets on her back. The door to Armin’s room was left wide open, as his mother instructed before both teenagers climbed up to his room. Armin rolled his eyes, thinking as if they would do something more than they were allowed to.

Armin had texted Annie the night before about Hitch staying over to finish all the activities they had to prepare for the camp.

Annie: Oh, caramel drizzle girl will be taking my spot on your bed?

Armin: No, she has no plans to sleep tonight and I guess I’m part of her plans too. How’s Arnie?

Annie: I left her in Levi’s care while we were away for the weekend. Hange said she introduced Arnie to her other kittens so she would have playmates while staying in their house. They look like they're getting along well.

Annie sent a video of their kitten playing with a small pingpong ball with other kittens. Arnie’s look had drastically changed since the time Armin took her home. Her fur had finally turned pure white, like the color of clouds, as if she were a cotton ball running around with other kittens. Armin smiled while watching the video.

Armin: She’s so cute! Anyway, I can’t wait to see you at the camp tomorrow, Annie.

Annie: Good night.

Armin debated inside his head whether to reply to her last message, but eventually, he decided to leave it read. He didn’t want her to assume that he was desperate to invite her into the church.

Hitch placed their phones together on the nightstand so they wouldn’t distract them while they worked throughout the night. It was about three in the morning when they finished all the tasks, but as both thought of themselves as geniuses, they both agreed to completely brush off the thought of resting since it would only take two hours before Armin’s mom woke up to prepare breakfast for them.

“So, you’re telling me someone commissions you to write love letters?” Hitch continued, closing her eyes while she talked. “Doesn’t he have the balls to write his feelings of his own?”

“Why would you assume it’s a boy? Anyway, it’s a hundred bucks each letter, so I have no reason to say no,” Armin shrugged his shoulders.

“Because… you said… the name of the recipient is Mina Carolina.” Hitch’s eyes flew open after the realization. “Oh, now I get it. This person is a ‘she’ who likes girls.”

Armin nodded, feeling his heart ripping apart. He was as shocked as she was when Annie mentioned the name of the person she wanted to write letters to.

“How do you always get yourself involved with gay women? I mean, Ymir? Historia?” Hitch elaborated, unintentionally rubbing salt into the wound. Armin decided not to tell her what happened to them, so he hid the pain upon hearing their names.

“I just want to help her, Hitch.”

Armin’s eyes glanced lazily at the clock. 5:15 am. He sighed before refocusing his attention on his task on Hitch’s armpits, but his eyes landed on her cleavage instead. She had pulled her cami too low, exposing a part of her chest. Hitch was indeed beautiful with a body type every boy his age would fantasize about, but Armin didn’t feel that way. He was completely self-aware that she didn’t give him the same feeling he got when Annie was around.

Maybe he likes gay women?

Armin suddenly flinched, startled at the thought. He accidentally pinched Hitch’s skin with the tweezer, causing the ash blonde to squeal in pain.

“What the heck, Armin! Are you trying to rip my skin off?” Hitch jumped to her feet and ran to the mirror to check her armpit. There was a small part of her skin where the tweezer had left a soft pink mark. She massaged it with her fingers.

“I’m sorry!” Armin immediately apologized. “I’ll be careful this time. Just three more strands left, then I’m done.” He signaled for her to come back to his bed, which Hitch complied with, though she was glaring at him while he smiled.

“If you do it one more time, I will stab you with that tweezer.”

“That’s so un-Christian of you,” Armin teased.

No, it’s rather un-Christian of him to be infatuated with a girl who likes girls, and it’s driving him crazy internally. Armin used every fiber of his being not to think about it, to convince himself that it’s not appropriate.

Not long after he plucked the last strand, they both heard one of the phones on the nightstand vibrate. Not knowing whose phone it was, both teenagers exchanged glances, mentally challenging each other.

Hitch's reflexes were always faster than the blond boy's, so she flipped him down onto the bed before jumping toward the nightstand. Her actions shook Armin, but he wasn't the type to give up easily, so he wrapped his arms around her thin waist and pulled her backward. Her hands gripped tightly on the bed sheets, but it didn’t help her stay in place. She heard a loud thud on the carpeted floor when Armin jumped over her body to take his phone.

Panting, Armin unlocked his phone to check for messages, the faint light of the screen illuminating his face.

Defeated, Hitch crawled to the nightstand to take her phone, finding no messages in it. “You’re a boy! You should be a little gentle with girls like me, geez!” she ranted.

“You started it!” Armin chuckled.

Hitch knew that chuckle came from a different reason. Growing up with Armin, she knew he didn’t usually smile with a sparkle in his eyes without a reason. It must be the person who texted him, and Hitch would kill to know the person behind that smile.

Like a vicious animal, she jumped onto him, causing him to yelp from the unexpected attack as he was dragged to the floor with the taller girl’s body. Her weight pinned him to the floor. Their bodies were so close to each other that if someone caught them in this position, one might mistake them for doing something inappropriate. But…

He is dense.

She is naïve.

And in their awareness, they just fight like siblings.

“Who texted you? Show me. Show me!” Hitch shook him like a little girl wanting a toy.

“Alright! Alright! It’s just Eren!” Armin turned his phone directly into Hitch’s face, her eyes squinting at the sudden burst of light.

Eren: Armin, can I borrow your power bank? I can’t find mine, and mom is nagging like crazy!

Hitch read out loud before clicking her tongue. “How disappointing,” she muttered before hearing Armin’s mother call out from the kitchen. “Kids! Breakfast is ready!”

Armin watched the ash blonde stand on her feet, dust off her clothes, and leave to go downstairs. He, still lying on the floor, quickly looked back at his phone to check the message before smiling again.

Annie: Good morning, Tiger.

Armin hugged his phone to his chest as he stared at the ceiling, letting himself drown in his feelings.

Oh Lord, why did he have to feel this way about the wrong person?

“Armin, honey?” his mother called again.

“Yes, mom. I’m coming!”

-Read more on Ao3-

#lovelettersfromtheskiestothewestcoast #aruani fic #ao3 fic #armin arlert #attack on titan #aruani #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #armin arlelt #arminarlert #aruannie #annieleonhardt

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reigningqueenofwords · 3 months ago

Text

Adorable

Pairing: past Steve x Tony, Clint x Nat, Bucky x Steve Warnings: Dry humping

Part 8 of Housemates

The next day, Bucky was there as soon as visiting hours started, a little gift in hand. He was happy to see Steve sitting up and looking a lot better. “Hey, handsome.” He said brightly. “You’re looking better.”

Steve blushed at that. “Feeling a lot better. Especially now that you’re here.”

“I brought you something.” Bucky sat on the side of the bed. “I went to the actual store because the gift shop always has lame stuff.”

Steve chuckled. “You didn’t have to. I’m almost back to normal.” He smiled. “But thank you.” He added as he took the small bag. He pulled out a little sketch pad and some drawing pencils. “Wow, this is nice. I always need these.” He beamed. “Thank you.”

“Figured you may wanna sketch until I can bring you home.”

“Can’t wait to go home.” He nodded. “Will you play with my hair again?”l He asked shyly. “It feels nice and makes me sleepy.” He admitted.

Bucky smiled. “Sure.” He thought he meant right now and moved up to the top of the bed. He got comfortable and started to play with Steve’s hair.

Steve blushed brightly. “Oh, this works.” He leaned into him.

“Glad you’re a normal temp today.” Bucky chuckled. “You we’re burning up yesterday.”

“You could just say I was hot.” He teased.

Bucky grinned. “Missed opportunity.” He liked this flirty side of Steve. “Your room is all ready for you to come home. Fresh bedding and the bathroom closest to you is clean.” He told him.

“Thank you.” He said softly. “I’ve never had someone do all this for me.” He said honestly.

“Nat said you get the stomach flu once a year. Stark never helped?” Bucky didn’t like that.

“He cared but he wasn’t hands on.” Steve admitted. “He’d text me every few minutes from work and would send food.” He shrugged. “I would just sleep in a spare room because I didn’t wanna get him sick.”

Bucky frowned. “Do you prefer that? I know I can be too much.”

“I don’t think I prefer it, but after three years, that’s what I’m used to.” He shrugged.

Bucky shook his head and continued playing with his hair. He’d take care of Steve as long as he’d let him. “Movie when we get home?” He suggested.

“Buck, you need rest too.” Steve sighed, even though a movie just like this would be so nice. He enjoyed being close to him.

“I got some sleep last night.” He promised him. “And how straining can relaxing while watching a movie with you be?” He teased.

“I dunno.” Steve hummed. “I’m still all gross.” He moved away a little.

Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re not gross.” He pulled him back gently. “I can run you a bath when we get home.” He offered. “That might help you, too.”

The blonde huffed and allowed himself to lean against him.

That weekend, Steve was back to himself, but couldn’t bring himself to stop leaning into Bucky. “Still tired, Stevie?” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck gently as they sat on the couch. “What would you like for lunch?”

He blushed. “No, just comfortable.” He sat up with a chuckle. “But how about I make us some BLT’s?”

“Okay.” Bucky smiled. “We can relax outside after?” He offered. “And Nat and Clint will be here tomorrow, so I’ll probably run to the store later if there’s anything you want to add to the shopping list.”

“Right.” It had slipped his mind. He wasn’t really sure where him and Bucky stood and hoped Nat wouldn’t ask. Or that Clint wouldn’t be...Clint. “I can go with you? See if anything catches my eye? I’ve been in the house since I got out of the hospital.”

“Sure.” Bucky nodded. “Get you some fresh air.” He smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Steve nodded and went to make lunch for them, thinking of what to make for tomorrow. He knew that Bucky liked plums, so maybe he’d find some kind of plum dessert.

“If they want to sleep over, the couch pulls out.” Bucky informed him. “So if we drink they don’t have to worry about getting home.”

“Okay.” He smiled at him. “Perfect. We’re probably grilling right?”

Bucky nodded. He liked when Steve grilled. “Burgers, hot dogs, all that.”

“Can’t wait.” Steve nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen them. And now we can all hang out.” He said brightly. The last time they planned to hang out Clint got called into work. “I’m gonna look up a dessert recipe to try before we head to the store.” He told Bucky as he handed him his plate.

“Thanks.” He beamed. “I’ll look up grilling stuff and dip ideas.”

They worked well as a team and by the time Nat and Clint showed up the next day, they had an entire spread going. Nat came in, bags in hand. “I brought stuff for some mixed drinks.” She smirked.

“Oh, I’ll help.” Bucky grinned, going to pull out their glasses.

Clint grinned at Steve, wiggling his eyebrows. “So, enjoying life here?” He teased.

“I am, yeah. Bucky’s a great housemate.” Steve said casually. “Neighborhood is nice, I’m close to work…” He shrugged, starting to prep some burgers to grill.

“Mhm.” Clint chuckled. “I’m sure he’s great.” He patted his back as Bucky came out and set the glasses down.

“Nat said this one is sweeter for you.” Bucky handed one to Steve. “She knows how you like your drinks.”

Steve took a sip and knew it meant she just poured it heavy. “Thanks, Buck.” He smiled. “Thanks, Nat.” He looked over to her, earning a wink from her. He blushed and focused on cooking.

Clint put some music on. “This is nice!” He grinned. He got comfortable in a chair. “We should visit more often.”

“Won’t argue there.” Bucky chuckled. He refilled the drinks once it was time to eat. It was a nice day out, so he figured they’d spend most of the time out there. Nat connected the sprinklers after the meal and everyone changed down to bathing suits. Not that anyone complained about seeing the others like that.

They were on their fourth drinks when Steve made it more obvious he was watching Bucky. “Buck, want me to get you more dessert?” He gently tugged at his arm. “It’s plum.” He reminded him. “I know you like plums, so I made sure to make it.”

Bucky grinned at him. “Before bed? I love your desserts.”

Steve beamed, looking like a happy puppy. “Works for me.” He agreed, finishing off his glass. Nat came over to talk with Bucky and sat half on his lap to whisper into his ear. The brunette laughed and Steve pouted. Looking away, he got up to make another drink. He wanted to sit on Bucky’s lap or the other way around. He felt Nat should be on Clint’s lap.

“Refill?” Clint came up behind him. “This stuff she gets is good.”

“Yeah, that’s what I came over for.” He chuckled lightly.

“Sweet.” Clint refilled them both. “Might as well take some to them.”

“That doesn’t bug you?” Steve asked, motioning to them. “Her being on him?”

Clint blinked. “No.” He shrugged. “They’re close friends.” He grinned suddenly. “Oh, you’re jealous.” He nudged him. “I’m sure you could sit on him and he’d really like that.” He encouraged. “Or pull him on yours.” He suggested. “I think he’d like either.”

Steve’s cheeks were a dark pink between the alcohol and the images in his head. “Maybe.” He cleared his throat and they went back over to them.

“Thank you!” Nat smiled and stood. She kissed Steve’s cheek. “You’re adorable when you get all rosy.” She told him. “Isn’t he, Bucky?” She looked over at him.

Bucky was already looking at Steve and nodded. “Very adorable.” He winked at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes going from Bucky’s face to his lap. The brunette sat back as if inviting. He fixed his shorts slightly, hoping Steve would take the hint. Steve glanced at Clint who nodded. Swallowing, he tried to seem casual as he carefully went over and sat. He was used to being close to Bucky, but this was the closest they’d been.

Bucky grinned and rested his hand on Steve’s thigh as Clint started telling one of his stories. He was really enjoying Steve sitting on his lap, and hoped that it happened more often. Neither him or Steve paid much attention to what Clint was saying.

Steve leaned back and rested his head against Bucky’s shoulder, hand sliding to Bucky’s and intertwining their fingers. He smiled as Bucky gave his hand a small squeeze. They stayed like that until Nat pulled them up to dance. Anyone who would glance to their yard probably would have a laugh as no one was coordinated at this point. Steve did his best to keep Bucky close, making even less coordinated.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. He pulled Steve’s hips close to his. “Better?” He asked, his voice low.

“Much.” He grinned.

Bucky saw their friends kissing out of the corner of his eye and grew brave enough to try and kiss Steve. It took a moment before the shock wore off and Steve kissed back. The kiss was instantly heated and they stumbled onto the grass. Luckily it was dark enough at this point. Bucky rested himself against Steve, smiling into it.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and whined. “Grow it out again?” He asked, licking his lips. “Bet it was great to tug, and it was so hot.”

Bucky nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything you want.” He kissed his jaw.

“We’re taking your bed!” Nat told Bucky as Clint was carrying her inside.

“Which one?” Steve asked, laughing.

“Yours!” She said before they were completely inside.

“So, head inside to my room since yours is occupied?” Bucky asked.

“Want me to carry you, too?” Steve ran his hand down his back. “I like holding you.” He pecked his lips.

Bucky chuckled. “I think we’ll barely make it up as it is.” He stood and tugged his hand to stand. “You can hold me once we’re in bed.” He promised. “And even when we’re not. Hold me whenever you want, Stevie.”

Steve groaned and gave him a deep kiss. “Can’t get enough of you, Buck.” He rested his forehead against his.

Bucky beamed at him. “That’s okay. I’m offering everything I have.” He kissed him. “Can we go make out?” He asked, really wanting to get back to kissing him. “We can talk more tomorrow when we’re sober.” He chuckled.

Steve nodded quickly. His mind was clouded with Bucky and Bucky only. He wasn’t thinking about the aftermath. As soon as they were in Bucky’s room, he kicked the door shut and let Bucky pull him to bed. Steve straddled him as they kissed, grinding against him. He was way more brave when he had drinks in him. Bucky groaned, his hands on Steve’s hips.

Steve kissed down his neck, sucking a dark mark. “Shit, Stevie.” Bucky gasped. “More.” He scratched down his back.

“You like being marked up, Buck?” He asked, kissing over his jaw.

“So much. Everywhere.” He bucked his hips. “Mark me as yours.” He breathed.

Steve groaned and did as he asked. He loved having his mouth on him. He loved the reactions and sounds it pulled from Bucky. Grinding his hips down, he shuddered slightly. “I could finish like this.” He mumbled.

“Me, too.” Bucky helped Steve move his hips. “Lemme hear you.” He felt Steve had the prettiest noises. “Come undone for me.” He urged him, close himself as Steve moved his focus to his collar bone.

Steve gasped and nuzzled in his neck as he got close. “Bucky.” He groaned as he finished.

Hearing Steve groan his name had him finishing moments later. The two of them panted against each other before lazily kissing. Bucky rubbed Steve’s back gently, feeling closer to him.

#stucky series #stucky #steve x bucky #bucky x steve

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