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evabritt · 2 years

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A Night With My New Sugar Daddy

The past week has been strange, to say the least. One night I got really high and made a Seeking Arrangements profile, mostly out of boredom. This website is mega sad. There's no way of avoiding that. It's mostly a run-of-the-mill Pre-Tinder dating website, ala Christian Mingle. The different part is that men fill out their income and net worth, with descriptions like “discrete” and “no strings attached”. My profile has no photos of my head, just my body. Totally degrading anti-feminist meat market stuff. I have a photo Maria took of me at North Ave. Beach, right before I left. I cropped my head out. One time I showed a guy at a beer garden in Munich the picture and he went, “What? That's you?”. He was very impressed. I hope. Don't worry, I’m not that much of a slut- I have “private” photos only men of my approval may see. I told Talulah about it and she suggested we do it together. So now we’re sugar babies, sorta. I text with the men and once they seem well adjusted I propose that I have a friend who is “interested in this type of arrangement”. Then they ask for a photo. Talulah doesn’t like having pictures of her taken, a belief we share. So, I send them one I took of her in my kitchen. In the photo, she is gazing blankly at the camera, trying to hold back laughter.

Talulah has accidentally become one of my closest friends. I feel like I’m in a movie when I’m with her. She's genetically cool. She grew up in Brooklyn surrounded by a carousel of artists that lived in her parent's spare room. She frequently launches into long tales about her mythical apartment. Once, she said, someone got married in it. Another story involved a group of Romanian folk dancers who were entrenched in a love triangle. Talulah has beautiful naturally bright blonde hair and amazing bangs. She doesn't even blow dry them. I’m so jealous. If I don't follow a diligent multi-step hair routine, I look like I grew up in an isolated forest and have never seen humans before. Talulah owns an insane amount of jeans but insists that she wears all of them equally. She likes really dark chocolate and peanut butter. She drinks a lot of wine. I feel so special when she wants to spend time with me; we do a lot together too. I think that Talulah is the type of girl guys get obsessed with. At clubs her eyes dart from person to person, occasionally stopping at mine. It looks like she's hunting. She dances a bit like a belly dancer. She moves fluidly, a stark contrast from the typical techno dancing of Berlin. I accept that I follow her around like a puppy. In all my past friendships, I always felt like the one pulling the strings. (An Effy and Pandora from Skins relationship ). But with Talulah I just sit back and let her find the fun. Ive but a lot of faith into her. I find myself spending so much time with her, more than any friend before. This is so exciting for me. Ive always wondered about this type of friendship. It’s a sort of exceptional bond that Ive only seen in movies, or the TV show skins. We made pancakes together once. Shell often break out into song and dance in front of me. This makes me feel awkward. Its so romantic but in this unnerving uncanny way. It doesn’t feel real, like Im a character in a movie.

The problem looming over our friendship is that we have to have sex together. While we were looking at my account, we laughed really hard. I think we were laughing at the sad absurdity of this get-rich-quick scheme. But we laughed really hard when it hit us that we’d have to fuck each other. Well, at least it took a moment to hit me. We promised that we would set time aside to practice. We even considered asking our lesbian friends for help with the matter. Im writing this a week after the events of this post and since then, we’ve made out twice. It was pretty sexy, cant lie. We were both fucked up at a club. I feel really awkward making out with someone on a dance floor. Especially kissing another very straight looking woman. It feels very tacky, attention seeking. But Talulah likes it, I think or at least doesn’t share my shame.

Anyway, back to our adventures: I met this guy on Seeking, his username is Apocalypse Now Later. His bio said he's an artist. He had some of his art on his profile; my mom would hate it. It looks a bit like Target art. Lots of abstract graphic blobs. Blobs shaped like buildings, naked women, and clubs. Some of the blobs were painted colors. Truly sensational. He was attractive, though, which is rare for the website. We planned to meet up with all three of us. I suggested a really expensive bar in Prenzlauer Berg. When we got there he was talking at the table behind him about the events he hosts. I stalked his facebook and knew that he hosts a Hebrew language reading/performance/show/I don’t really know what it is. Some kind of event where people go and look at their acquaintances do funny little shows or hang up blobby artwork on the wall. His outfit reminded me of something a boy my age would wear. He had on a loose patterned top, reminiscent of the 70s, over that was a similarly patterned black blazer. I think he dressed up for us. He might have had a scarf on but I can't remember. We sat down and immediately learned that his money does not come from art but in fact, from drugs; weed specifically, he grows and sells his own. He told us he grows around 3 kilos of weed a month. He grows weed in all his friend apartments. So, he is frequently just hanging out in other peoples apartments. I’m sure he gets a little money from his art, but no way is it enough to support the likely massive drug habit he has. Personally, I value an entrepreneurial spirit. Owning your own business is hard, especially an illegal one. Being a weed man requires, networking skills, organization, a vast knowledge of botany; It’s not easy work.

We learned that his name is Barak, he is from Israel, he is 40, was married for 9 years, currently, he has a partner, and they've been together for 4 years. 40 is really old, older than Uwe. 40 is double my entire life. He was my age in 1996. It’s also strange to be on a three-way date. At first, I felt like he liked Talulah more than me; she's prettier than me and just has this indescribable ethereal quality. (I mean that in a platonic way). But then I recited Israeli history to him like an autistic robot and I think that really charmed him. He kept telling me I was the funniest person he's ever met. If that is true, he must have had a boring past 40 years. We smoked two joints with him. He got into a tiff the owner of the bar about his weed. We stepped out to smoke the first joint. When we came back the man asked us if we were enjoying everything and then very politely asked us to walk across the street if we were going to smoke more. He said it was to be considerate of the neighbors. For whatever reason Barak insisted that it was not weed we smoked, but CBD, that he bought from the store down the road. For someone so brazen with weed smoking it was strange how annoyed he got, you would think this was a common occurrence. Or maybe be it annoyed him so much he gets angrier every time. I bet the latter.

We also did coke with him. It was my first time trying coke, it wasn't what I thought it was going to be like. It made my teeth feel tight, like when you put your retainer on for the first time in months. It also leaves a gross taste in the back of your throat. Damn you sinus system; always fucking shit up. Otherwise, I guess it’s a nice activity to do at a club. The drama of filing into a bathroom and preforming that intricate cocaine ritual. Immediately after he snorted his line, I asked him if he supports a two-state solution. It seems like he probably doesn't but I can tell he has some Israeli-guilt about it. He agreed when I said, “Too bad about Palestine”, so he’s at least a bit emphatic. Honestly, I can’t believe my luck. This is maybe the greatest thing thats ever happened to me. I feel like I’ve found my Berlin-fairy-Godfather. Who else can say they just walked into the most profitable relationship of their life? This is a reward from some higher power. I am Grateful! Thank you!

A couple of days later, Talulah and I were with him in Neukölln at his friend's apartment. An Italian-American hermit from Georgia named Nick owned the apartment; he's a chef that works with Irish people. I actually met him sometime after this night. (The context of that story is so bleak: I lost 4 molly pills and had to go crawling to him to get 4 more, long story). His been in Berlin for 11 years but miraculously sounds like a black teenager from Atlanta. It’s a beautiful sight. The apartment was very well-lit but almost completely barren. He had no table, just a small sofa. He had a computer desk and used a vintage trunk as a quasi-bench/dining room table. His kitchen was mechanical. He had no stove, just a hot plate. And only one set of cutlery, the universal mark of a terminally alone bachelor. Though, he had a large and impressive record collection. This time felt notably different than the last time. Barak was quieter, less suave, and more awkward. He was dressed tamer. He wore an intentionally garish patterned button up but toned it down with a black sweater. For pants, he had on simple khakis. He looked sort of like the sexy kind of history teacher. This time felt weirdly un-intimate like we were hanging out in an IKEA display. It wasn’t any of our homes, I felt like an intruder. The three-person part feels strange when one person leaves to go to the bathroom or leaves because there's a “client” downstairs. (When I was first texting with Barak, I thought his “clients' ' were art clients, they are in fact not that type of client). When Talulah left to pee there was a weird silence between us. Like two 12 year olds assigned to a group project. He emphatically- yet awkwardly- asked me how I was. I responded and probably spun into some complaint or general grievance to fill the silence. I wonder what Barak and Talulah talked about while I was peeing. Probably about how she was.

We ordered Indian food and ate it on the floor. It was pretty good but I got too nervous to eat, the most persisting trait from my days with a light eating disorder. I cant eat in-front of people, especially men. Its really stupid and annoying. It makes me look so dumb, when Im the only friend not eating. As always, can of worms for another day. Around 10, Talulah said she needed to go because she had class tomorrow. An early class is maybe the greatest excuse of all time. Actually, class at anytime is the best excuse. (Pro Tip: If you want to flake on someone at a time when you logically wouldn’t have class, like a Friday night, say you have to attend a special lecture or moving screening or someone other bull shit art fest your fake liberal arts college sends you do in lieu of real assignments) He then invited us to a club and said that he got us all on the guest list. I personally believe that it's important to take the opportunities life blesses you with. So, I put up a bit of resistance, mostly for show. “I really should be going soon, I have class tomorrow blah blah blah”. But ultimately, I agreed to go out with him. One thing about me is that no daytime engagement has ever stopped me from going out. I was excited at the idea of going somewhere on the guest list. It made me feel very fancy, like I was part of some inner circle.

When we got to the club there was no line. The bouncers took his name and showed us inside. The guest list didn’t get us in for free, he still had to pay a “reduced free”. The guest list isn’t some exclusive social club, its basically a rewards card. He seemed surprised that he had to pay. We went through the hassle of getting our bags “searched” and our cameras covered. This felt very humiliating. The lights were so bright and I felt awkward. Mostly because I was aware the staff might be thinking we look weird together. I remember one time a couple came into the restaurant I worked at. The man was maybe in his 50s and the woman was probably my age now. She was wearing a lot of pink and a playboy necklace . Another waitress and I tried to figure out if she was his date or daughter. Now, I am that girl. Thankfully we don’t look alike. God, maybe that makes it weirder then, because its obvious we are not a father and daughter enjoying some wholesome clubbing. He said he has been going to this club since it opened in 2014. I refrained from telling him that I was 11 in 2014. Berlin is definitely the best city in the world for clubbing yet clubs can be really uncreative in their interior design choices. Berlin clubs are either warehouse-themed or circus themed. This one was the ladder. Personally, I like a warehouse more than Cirque du Soleil. It’s way edgier. He led me to the bathroom and we did more coke; snorting drugs with a 40-year-old in a bathroom stall might be a sign that I’m not making the best choices. We sat on couches in a room next to the dance floor. He seems to be really charmed by my occasional spurts of autism. I told him how much I love drugs to which he responded by giving me 2cb or tusi. It seems to be just a random mix of other drugs, namely molly, ketamine, and LSD. He made me read the Wikipedia page beforehand, which is considerate, I guess. It wasn't as strong as I thought it was going to be. The visuals were mild, but the body sensations were strong. Whenever I take a psychedelic, I use the view of my hand as a gauge of the quality of drug. The club was, in its design, pretty trippy. There was a large replica of three Greek goddesses in the center of the room. With murals of chaotic scenes plastered on the walls. He was biting my ear and I felt an all-over tingling. The Wikipedia pages described it as “pins and needles”, which makes it sound like a bad thing. But the feeling was really good, good enough to make me forget that I am not really attracted to the 40-year-old kissing me. While we were making out, I wondered again what the people around us thought. Maybe this is a normal sight for 3 am at a club. But I couldn't shake the feeling that people were watching. Maybe they were judging me or maybe they were worried for me. There was a woman who kept making eye contact with me. I wonder if she was repulsed by his grey hairs and deepening wrinkles pressed up against my bright milky skin, untainted by decades of sun and smoking. She was probably just really drunk and staring into space, though.

Barak is a weird man. Considering how creepy this relationship is, he is surprisingly well-spoken, gentile, and thoughtful. It's impressive how relentlessly happy he is. He is eccentric to his core. He dresses like a character in a John Waters movie; decked out in layers of cheap flashy second-hand clothing. He gave me a vintage Yamaha racing jacket, he said it cost 7 euros. I found the same jacket on eBay and it's worth 170 euros. I gave the jacket to Talulah, I thought it was ugly. It's hard to not find myself charmed by his attention to detail. He doesn’t hold back compliments, he told me I was beautiful in an alien way. He seems so attracted to me. I cant lie, its made me more self confidant. I don’t know if its him or Berlin or the other guys Ive hooked up with but all of a sudden I feel so pretty. Ive never thought I was pretty. In fact, I used to think I was distinctly unattractive. I think most women my age probably have some insane unheard of face dysmorphia caused by years of selfie taking. Ive always liked my eyes the best, still I think they’re too hooded and downturned. I hate my cheeks, chin, and lips. My cheeks are full and make my face look fat. My chin is too small. My lips are uneven and thin. But now at certain angels, I can see the shape of something pretty emerging. When I look in the mirror I am starting to see what Barak might see. I wonder how different things might be if we were the same age.

After a couple of hours of staring blankly at lights on a dance floor, we went back to his friend's apartment. We snorted some coke in a cab then climbed up 4 flights of stairs. He's pretty active for a 40-year-old, clubbing and drug use will really keep a person young! The apartment felt different the second time. Nighttime made the lights glow warmer, the plants looked greener, and the pots and pans that decorated the wall were extra shiny. I was on a lot of drugs. I felt cozy but there was also a growing anxiety stirring in my stomach. He put on some smooth jazz, a choice that is both too on the nose yet also deeply off-putting . He started to kiss me and pushed me onto his lap. I sat straddling a man who could be my father. This made me think of my old high school boyfriends. I remember sitting on Kiran's lap and feeling a hard penis for the first time. He took my shirt off and then his. His beer belly pushed against my own stomach as he moved to the ground. “I want to lick you”, he said. Ew. Gross. I guess there is no better way to announce oral sex but wow lick is maybe one of the worst. At this moment, I felt an all too familiar anxiety wash over me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't really want to have sex with this guy. It was all wrong, Talulah wasn't here, I was super high, and worst of all I wasn't getting paid for it but I worried that if I fucked this up we would never see him again. And we need to see him again because he's our gateway to a wonderland of crazy party drugs. But I gave in to myself and told him I didn't want to have sex. He immediately pulled away from me and very enthusiastically told me it was ok. I think that liberal self-proclaimed feminist men enjoy boasting about how well they can handle rejection. As if it isn't a normal human response to be disappointed when someone rejects you.

I was cold and suggested moving off of the two-person sofa and into the bedroom. We smoked two more joints and I tried to fall asleep. He kept waking me up by massaging me. Eventually, he moved his hand down my tights and began to finger me. It's not like I was being assaulted, I knew I could stop him but I just didn't feel like it. I just wanted to lay there and sleep. The drugs were making me really turned on, I wanted him to keep going. But my brain wanted to sleep. So I just laid still and imagined I was a doll. He seemed so turned on, like probably the horniest person. Eventually, he did give me head because I didn't stop him. Every time I hook up with a man I assume that he’ll pick up on my lack of enthusiasm as a sign to stop but it never happens. Despite lying there like an extra on set for a zombie movie, he pressed on. My senses were completely overwhelmed. I've never felt so vulnerable before. I was completely stripped down both physically and emotionally. I told him in order to have sex I need to complete a complex shower routine, which is only sort of true. (I like being clean before sex but I don't have OCD or anything). I tell this lie to a lot of men in order to avoid having sex and he was the first to actually think about it. He told me that my body is not dirty and that it can actually be nice to shower with other people. I was stunned. I am not used to other people outsmarting me. God, how typical the 19-year-old girl thinks her only intellectual counterpart is a 40-year-old man. Sometimes, my life feels so played out.

After our rendezvous, I tried to fall asleep but he was snoring so loud. It sounded painful like he was dying. He would gasp for air for a bit and then he would almost choke on his own breath. He would do one big missive snore, so loud he would wake himself up. His nose is probably messed up from all the drugs. At a certain point, my nose became clogged, probably from all the drugs. Then we were, in sync, struggling to breathe. His music is still playing too. But at this point, the Spotify playlist had been on for long that it was playing Disney movie kind of jazz. Imagine the opening credits to The Princess and the Frog. The drugs were wearing off and I was increasingly aware of my own existence. I felt a headache coming. I hadn't been able to fall asleep at all but I knew my alarm would go off at 8:30 and he would wake up. All I had to do was just lay there for a bit longer. However, we were laying in a way that I was basically trapped in his arms, with his mouth right next to my ear. I was uncomfortable and couldn't move. I could tell it was daytime because the room was brighter. Waiting for the alarm was arduous. It could have been 8:27 or 6 am, I had no way of knowing. In hindsight, I don't know why I didn't wake him up. I wanted to pretend that his snoring wasn’t happening and that I was perfectly content in his arms. I think I wanted to feel alone for a little longer.

It was my lucky day because he soon woke himself up. I felt his hard dick on my back. He commented that it was so nice sleeping with me. He asked me if he could rub himself on me. Instead, I turned around and gave him a blowjob, mostly because I felt it was the polite thing to do. He came quickly, which was also polite of him. He offered to go get breakfast but I said I don't eat breakfast. I actually love breakfast I just really wanted to go home. I did prolong my stay by taking a cold shower with useless organic soap. (My shower is currently broken, beggars can't be choosers).

Some time has passed since this night and I've seen Barak again a couple of times. Each time is weirder than the last. Once I went to an apartment he was renovating to pick up pills. I think he’s using the renovation as a way to hide the over 40 weed plants growing in the master bedroom. Another time I went out with Talulah and him. Talulah went home with a guy from the club. Barak took me to his friend's apartment where he grows weed. He tucked me into bed, whispered, “I want to eat your pussy”, kissed my forehead, then left. This is maybe the most profitable and strange relationship I’ve ever had. I love it.

#sugardaddy #sugarbaby #berlin #diary #journal #thoughts

5 notes · View notes

hoodhookage · 3 years

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Congrats on 200+!!!! Ive only just seen your page and i am instantly in love with your writing 😢😢🙏 feel free to ignore this but could you do a scenario about xiao giving is super shy fem s/o oral for the first time. Just some fluffy reassurance is all that we need. If you dont feel comfortable tho i completely understand. Hope you have a fantastic rest of your day 🤗🤗

thank you so much💗 I COULD NEVER PASS UP THIS SORT OF OPPORTUNITY! i’m so grateful you wanted me to even attempt to try this out for you<3 i hope it’s not too long & that i met your expectations!! here’s xiao eating out his so for the first time

xiao let’s his fingers run through your hair, gentle eyes focused on you as you lay beside him fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. you close your eyes when he lifts his hand now to your jaw, stroking your cheek. his touch is soft, instinctively allowing yourself to melt into his caress. xiao is many things; he’s everything you want him to be. he’s willing to make you happy and comfortable, going far lengths to achieve it.

he’s understanding and caring, in the sense that he’s always keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re never in any sort of discomfort. xiao is loving. physical or not, you always feel so appreciated by him. he does little things to make you happy, you remember how he likes to squeeze your thumb with his when you hold his hand. you both have come so far with one another, growing with every passing day.

xiao loves you in every way imaginable, getting frustrated with himself when he can’t truly show you what you mean to him when his words alone fail him. he wants you to be happy, to tell you he values your company, just being able to be with you. he appreciates you and wants to be able to take care of you the way you do for him, feeling as if he’s entirely at your mercy for the way you’ve patched that sense of longing he once felt on his own. all of that now washed away completely when you’ve brought yourself into the picture.

his presence alone makes you feel so jittery, no matter how serene or still the atmosphere may be. he’s gentle, and warm…so warm you sometimes feel as if you’re burning up at his touch, no matter how light it is. you find yourself drawn quiet even while with xiao next to you, letting your mind entertain frivolous possibilities revolving the both of you. what he makes you feel is a mix of apprehensiveness and exhilaration, just with his face leaning in to your forehead close to place a kiss.

the faint breeze from the window lingers inside and you welcome it with a deep inhale, letting it bring you back to your place between xiao and his bed. your exhale quickly allows itself to take over you, shuddering in reaction to the coolness continuously hitting your skin all over. xiao rests his lips against your forehead, another small and delicate show of affection. “you’re getting cold” responding with a sigh to how he acknowledges your change in body temperature before turning over to face him and let your chest rest against his.

even the air xiao expires so softly across you from the closeness of the both of you is warm. his chest is warm, the arms that keep you close are warm, he’s already letting you get lost in this feeling of heat he provides you with. “xiao” your face is in his shoulder when you call him, snuggling closer. he whispers your name back and begins to hold you closer “what is it?”

you try to conceal the small shake in your voice. “you make me feel really, really, warm when we’re like this”

you mumble, already wanting to hide the show of emotions he makes you feel inside so unexpectedly just from the call of your name. you breathe in, smelling xiao and his clothes as one together. “are you saying that like it’s a good thing?” he rubs delicate circles on your back, holding you with care. you nod and push your face closer into his chest almost like a final attempt to breathe him in again, he overwhelms your physical senses this way.

he pulls you back, a stern look on his face as you look up at him. “you’re nearly freezing” xiao rolls his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips as he brings his hand to your jaw to give you a small kiss. he breaks it but stays just inches away from your lips, giving you a teasing remark when you just stare at his mouth. xiao does a lot of things to you…and right now, whatever it is he’s doing to you to make you feel like this, it has you hot all over again:

this burning sensation reaching all the way into your chest and stomach, impossible to avoid. he takes you close and into another kiss as you pout, this time longer than the first. you close your eyes and let him take charge, your cheeks beginning to feel that same sensation that spread through your body when he slowly slides his tongue inside. you cup his face, gasping when he gives you a playful bite to your bottom lip before tugging on it.

“i can’t stand it when you lie to me, here” he begins to remove his arms from the sleeves and slides his hoodie off from above, his shirt getting caught with it momentarily. it’s hard to look away when you can see the bare skin of his abdomen, making you grow a little desperate for his touch. xiao motions for you to lift your arms up and you do as he asks, putting your head through to now properly wear it.

you turn your head to the side and look down at your hands, “thanks” all of these different kinds of warmths feel good when they’re from xiao. you start to wonder if he’s ever experienced this same kind of feeling. you both have that look in your eyes that tells the other you want more, stuck as if there’s no possible way to convey it aloud. all those thoughts leave your mind as soon as he pulls you in for another kiss.

you tremble into his mouth when his hand rests at your hip, giving an experimental grab as you pant and try to kiss him back just as needfully. “xiao, i think what i meant to say, from before. it was just-“ you interrupt the silence but he shushes you. “you’re alright,” he gives you a tiny kiss at your bottom lip. you think you understand now, “…you want me to take care of you, i can do that for you” stopping between sentences to give you more, this time across your face and jaw. “-but will you let me?”

he does experience that same feeling, your heart is beating twice as fast. “please”

xiao treats you with the same amount of gentleness as always, starting by taking a pillow from under his head and propping it beneath your lower back. he looks at you, “i want to try something for you- and i as well” his hand moving to lace yours. “i’ll always ask this of you, do you trust me?” you nod and let out a shaky yes. he begins after hearing your approval “alright, show me exactly where you want me the most”

you feel your body quiver as he trails his hand across your stomach, your fingers guiding his palm. you feel embarrassed when you have to stop, recollecting yourself as he looks at you. “you pleaded for me to take good care of you. i promise i want nothing more than to be able to” he reassures you. you continue until you reach your abdomen, xiao’s hand slides down a little further on his own now. “good” he sighs, getting worked up himself.

“ remove this for me” he murmurs referring to your clothes, tone still sweet when speaking with you. you start with the bottoms, pulling them down off your legs. you keep your panties on, knowing xiao will be happy to do the honours of stripping those off you himself. you hold onto the hoodie “xiao, i want to keep this on” you whisper. he would never deny you anything, but hearing you ask to keep something of his on during a moment like this has his chest swell with pride.

xiao’s hand rests at the hem of your panties, letting his middle and ring finger stretch out just a little further onto the material that starts to dampen the farther you reach. “to think you would want to let me leave you in this state” he almost whispers to himself. he lets his hand dip into your underwear, his fingers immediately met with how wet you’ve become. “your body knows exactly who it’s with right now and i can already tell” he marvels in the little to no friction his finger tips experience as he slides hands over your cunt.

“close your eyes, just let me” he strokes your hair again as he lets his finger trail around your entrance. you gasp at the feeling but it’s slow, allowing you to await and prepare for the feeling of when he enters. the push is perfect, your soaking cunt pulls his finger in with no resistance. he praises you again for how you take it, letting you relax under his touch once more. xiao pulls his finger out back to your entrance, rubbing at your clit with two of them. the contact making you squirm as he lifts his hand.

he brings his finger up to both of you before opening his mouth to clean it off. he can’t help himself when it comes to you, always wanting a little more. you feel yourself pool even harder between your legs at his action. he holds his finger out to you, “would you want to try yourself?” opening your mouth to meet him. you can still taste yourself on that finger, it’s tarte even after xiao had licked most of it off.

“do you still want to follow through with what i had in mind this time for us” he rasps. he’s only ever fingered you, and the thought of letting him try whatever it is he wanted to right now makes you feel weak. your knees instinctively press together as he waits for your answer, “you want to go…further?” your voice is unsure but still with excitement in your tone. he wants to go as far as you’ll let him, indulge you in whatever it is you want from him right now. but he has to start slow, somewhere. it’s progress.

he wants to ask again to reassure you but you’re past that, kissing him as you’re caught in a tiny adrenaline run he’s been unaware he was fuelling this whole time. all this time he’s been feeding into the fire, but this was a tiny bit of gasoline, and it’s beginning to spread. you know it’ll wear down once he begins again but you want to ride it out as long as possible.

he’s always happy when you are, but now was your turn to embarrass xiao, catching him off guard. “can we?” you try to sit up but he keeps you in place, laying you down. “as long as you want this as much as i do” he gets up from beside you, knees against yours as he holds your thighs. his hands look so much bigger from where he’s moved now, you give him another nod and he holds your panties to finally remove them.

you’re back in your original place; being naked from the bottom down right infront of xiao makes you feel unnerved. you let him slowly spread your legs as he continues to hold eye contact with you to keep you calm. he looks more enamoured by your cunt now than ever, situating himself so that his face is right above your clit, arms weighted on your thighs.

his hands come to lock yours on your sides as his you feel his hot breath, making you clench on the air. “relax, close your eyes if you need to, but i’m right here…exactly where you need me” you let your eyes close before your lips part at the feeling of xiao’s tongue swipe across you. it makes you shiver, his tongue feels long and warm, almost a bit pointy. wet like the rest of his mouth, you’re already gasping again at the feeling.

you bring your head up to look at him, xiao has his tongue running along your folds ever so slowly, eyes never leaving yours. you let the back of your head hit the pillows again as you let out a cry, his tongue is hot when it circles around your entrance. you pull the hoodie up on you in an attempt to hold your thoughts together, only to breathe in and be reminded of who’s conquering every piece of your mind, xiao. you grip his hands a little tighter while you buck into his mouth.

allowing yourself to succumb to him has you thrashing when he sucks on your clit. how he prods his tongue towards your hole to make you squirm. xiao is slowly beginning to devour you; lapping, licking, sucking, darting his tongue onto you. he lets go of one of your hands and lets a finger slide in, “i know what your body can handle, and right now it’s beginning to ask for more. i promise to only give what i know you can take” focusing his concentration and movements back on your clit.

cries and whimpers of his name fill and go beyond his room, letting yourself continue to get lost in the pleasure xiao is bringing you so intensely. the curling of his finger now turning into pumping, his mouth never leaving your messy cunt. “good, it’s really good xiao” you whine, gripping his hair as he moans into you. “i cant-“ you thrash at the feeling of him pull at your clit. “you’re perfect like this right now, finally experiencing the sort of pleasure you always bring me” he leans back down, rocking you against his mouth.

every single shock he manages to send through you has you enjoying it more than the last. it feels good, how he constantly lets you know he’ll give you what’s good for you within your limits. you feel your body course with the kind of build up that has you struggling to stay still, the kind xiao knows how to give you regularly just in other ways. this one is far more intense than the last.

you let out a broken moan of his name, trying to find the words to tell him. you properly call out his name and he looks up at you, both his hair and mouth messy from how you held onto him. “i’m going to cum” you squeak, feeling his fingers rub your gspot. your body cant hang on any longer, as if you’re on the edge. “cum for me, right here against me. i’ve got you” you shake your head furiously.

your back arches off the bed and against xiao, whos still giving you every kind of sensation imaginable and all at once. he feels you squeeze his fingers, convulsing against his mouth.

your back hits the bed as your legs still shake around his head, in complete shock at what he was able to bring you. he can feel you still pulse against his mouth and he slowly pulls off. you both stay still as he lets you calm down. he stares at you in awe, panting from his actions.

he moves back to his side on the bed and embraces you, feeling your body go limp against his. his chin rests on the top of your head as he pulls you into the covers properly. you let his forehead lean onto yours as you move away and cup his cheek, catching xiao shyly turn his gaze away.

you’re right. xiao loves you in every way imaginable, willing to go far lengths to prove it.

frustrated when even he himself has trouble to explain how he feels in just words.

a feeling that he can only describe as gentle and warm…warm enough to feel as if he’s burning up at your touch. no matter how light.

just like he does to you.

#xiao smut #genshin impact smut #xiao x reader smut #xiao thirst #genshin impact thirst

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shurisneakers · 4 years

Text

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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tarosin · 3 years

Text

and that’s how it happened

requested: yes/no

pairing: dream x fem! reader

summary- dream tells chat about y/n

an: really sorry this request is out later than i expected it to be ive been very busy this month school is coming to an end so do feel free to make requests also fun (?) fact i really struggled to come up with a title also thanks to @technowoah for helping me come up with an idea after i had no idea where to take the imagine

"hi chat how are we all? i hope you’re all doing well!"

the door creaked open. y/n sighed, throwing her bags to the floor, the need for sleep taking over her, until she noticed her boyfriend sat hunched over playing the video game he always does.

“will you fix your posture, ive told you several times you’re going to end up with back problems jesus chr- oh sorry didn’t realise you were streaming i mean when was your last stream? 1 maybe 2 months ago.”

“real funny thanks y/n.”

“move over lover boy my stream now!”

not moving quick enough for y/n’s liking, she stood tapping her right foot on the wooden floor, dramatically sighing.

“dream, please?”

“im doing lore and you’ve interrupted twice!”

“ill stop talking and i promise i won’t do anything out of character!”

“you said this last time then sat there trying to convince tommy to play rock paper scissors...in minecraft as there was nothing else to do in the prison.”

rather than bickering for the fun of it, y/n decided she may as well annoy her best friend to pass time, so she left the room and started a call on discord, spamming karl to join her. once lore had come to an end, dream decided to stay on stream ignoring all the donos asking for you to come back on stream. rather than giving into chat, he joined the discord call with y/n. when he joined, he was instantly met by y/n and karl bickering.

“must be hard not being able to laugh!”

“I do have a sense of humor y/n!”

“I’ve never heard you laugh before!”

“I’ve never heard you say anything funny!”

“i’m out of here!” *dream and y/n have left the call*

he was only able to ignore the comments asking about you for so long. soon enough someone had donated £60, ‘stop avoiding the questions we all heard her say lover boy. when did you ask her out?’

before he could even answer the question, y/n ran in “CHAT HE DIDNT!”

“don’t lie to chat!”

“sorry, chat!”

y/n sat on his lap, causing the need for sleep to catch up to her again. resting her head on his chest, she fell asleep leaving him to talk about their relationship to chat.

“well chat i’m not going to going to go into much detail for privacy, however what i will say is it was around 7 months ago, and even i can’t tell you how it happened. if i remember rightly, we were on a walk and she was telling me something about how penguins give their lover a pebble, so i just handed her a rock, and you guys should have seen the look on her face. now she could have been lying or completely telling the truth, but either way i got a relationship out of it. i think im going to end stream now as y/n is about to just fall on the floor and i will laugh about it, ranboo is live so i’m going to raid him! i appreciate all the lovely comments about myself and y/n, we love you guys and we will see you next stream byeee!"

#mcyt fluff #mcyt reader insert #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dream x fem!reader #dream x y/n #dream x reader #dream imagine #dream fluff #mcyt imagines

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wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes mob au #bucky barnes x mobboss!reader #mob au #marvel #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #even tho bucky wants her to give up control we all know he prob likes being yelled atin italian #and that the real reason he wants to take you out

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

Text

heavy cross to bear* matt Murdock x reader

+++++++++ Request @juniebugg: reader and Matt are in a very serious relationship (could be married) but then when reader actually sees Elektra, whom she already knew about but has never seen because she was "dead," she gets really insecure and tells matt that he deserves better or something and he reassures her. Angst and smut"

hopefully its not too ooc this is my first MM smut so i hope you like! and thanks again for the request!!

* - you asked for smut and that really is all this is lol, little bit of story.

Song: wasted time by skid row

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg

+++++++++

i sat at the table sipping coffee and thinking. it was almost nine at night and i knew i should be getting ready for bed but my body wasn't quite ready to move yet. when matt disappeared into our bedroom i figured he'd be changing into daredevil for the millionth time but when he emerged in his pajamas i was a little surprised. and then it hit me. maybe he knew. hell, he always knew.

but maybe it was just that something was off, that i needed him to say it again, to stay with me and make sure i knew. but then there was her. she had showed up out of nowhere and took me off guard more than anything else up until now. one more doubt at the forefront of my mind. that i didnt believe him when he said he loved me despite being married for a year, despite having dated for three before hand, and despite everything he has done to keep me safe. because he loved her first and it felt like the biggest lie ive ever been told. even after a couple days of sitting on it and hoping it would go away. still it was there. in the back of my mind:

"matt i dont know if i can do this anymore."

his head tilted to the side and he looked confused.

"do what?"

he asked almost worried, moving slowly to the table and sitting.

"this, us. i just- you deserve so much more, so much better than- well, than me."

he was quick to scoot his chair closer to my own, his hand coming to rest on mine.

"hey, dont even say that. what would make you think i would want anyone but you?"

now he absolutely sounded worried.

"i saw her matt."

"saw who?"

i shook my head.

"that woman, your ex. you said she was gone."

"elektra?"

he sounded a little broken.

"shes something else ill give her that much. i see why you like her."

he swallowed hard.

"elektra is dead."

i shook my head.

"then why was she here? looking for you. saying your name with such... god i dont even know how to explain it. matthew."

i repeated it exactly as she had said it and it felt wrong. like i was acting. saying someone elses emotions and intentions. they were no longer mine. or at least it seemed like it. There was a long silence and I just stared at him.

"She was here?"

There was hope in his voice and I figured that was it. It made me angrier than it probably should've and my only response was to stand and walk away. I got half way across the living room before he caught my arm.

"Y/n, that doesn't matter. I-"

He swallowed hard and I tried to study his face.

"You mean more to me than anything. Yes I love, loved, her but I married you. I chose you. I want nothing more than to be with you. For better or for worse remember?"

He bargained and I sighed heavily.

"How can I be sure you mean that? What if she comes back? again."

He shook his head, taking both my hands in his and stepping closer to me.

"Let me prove it to you. If she really is back then it doesn't matter. I'm with you, I love you, and I'll always chose you."

I closed my eyes, feeling him get closer and closer until his forehead was against my own.

"We belong together."

He whispered before kissing me gently.

"I only want you."

He kept just as quiet, kissing next to my mouth once, then twice, making his way across my cheek and to my jaw.

"Matt."

I breathed out and he paused. I licked my lips lightly before opening my eyes and looking at him. He really did seem like he meant it. He was trying so hard to keep it together.

"I can't lose you."

He sounded so broken.

"Do it."

He drew his brows and I brought my hand up to touch his face gently. We were still so close I could feel his breath fanning my neck.

"Show me you mean it."

I said softly and his Expression changed.

"I love you so much."

He said before kissing me harshly, releasing my hands and pressing his fingertips into my hips. I hummed against him as he walked us backwards. We stumbled along as he pulled my shirt up, tossing it to the floor.

"Matt."

I moaned, pulling his shirt up next. It was gone in a second and he was back, kissing me and moving quickly to get my pants down. His hands roamed my body just as much as mine roamed his. I traced my fingers slowly up his torso, grazing over his scars before wrapping my arms around his neck. I gasped when he picked me up. There was a soft laugh that escaped him and I was relieved to see him smile even if it was just a second. He knew it would take some convincing and he was right. I needed to know he meant it. That Elektra wasn't gonna be a problem.

"I need you."

He whispered again, laying me gently on the bed and situating himself between my legs.

"I need you to know how much I mean it."

He kissed my jaw slowly, then down my neck and across my collar bone.

"Prove it."

I challenged, my breath hitching in my throat as he ripped my bra open from the front, his lips grazing my nipple before taking it into his mouth. He hummed against me, his finger tips down my torso and into my panties.

"Matt."

I moaned, dropping my head back as he ran his finger up me and against my clit. i closed my eyes, pushing my head back into the bed as he stroked me, kissing his way back up to my exposed neck.

"i love you."

he repeated against the heat of my skin. when he resituated i could feel how hard he was already.

"i need you."

i breathed out, pressing my hips up into him as he continued to finger me.

"matt."

i whined, him removing his hand long enough to pull my panties down. i looked up to him with lust blown eyes, watching him intently as he got rid of his boxers.

"youre still okay with this?"

he asked and i nodded quickly, pulling his face to mine and kissing him deeply.

"please."

i moaned, inhaling deeply before he kissed me again, pushing his hips into mine. my breath caught in my throat as he pushed all the way into me, catching my bottom lip between his teeth as my mouth hung open.

"i wanna hear you."

he said softly.

"feel you."

he moaned against my shoulder, dropping his head to the crook of my neck as he placed his large palm over my heart. it was already banging at my rib cage begging to be let out but i could have swore it did when he started moving. he pulled out of me slowly before slamming back into me and i moaned so loudly i was surprised at myself. and then he did it again and again, getting a good rhythm. it was long, and hard. nothing like our nights prior, even on his worst of days when he's frustrated and in need of release. no this was different. purposeful.

"matt."

i held onto him for dear life, pressing my fingertips into his shoulder blades as he continued to pound into me in long drawn out strokes.

"tell me. tell me what you want."

he grunted out, trying to sound as steady as possible.

"i want you. god i only want you!"

i cried out as he thrusted upward harshly. then he did it again and i saw stars, my mouth falling open as i moaned.

"thats my girl."

he praised, trailing his hand down my torso and pressing his finger in circles against my clit.

"youre almost there."

he coaxed, building me up. i could feel the tightness building, pressing my hips up to meet him as he kept his pace.

"im so close."

i panted, pressing my finger tips harder into his bicep as i gripped onto him.

"do it, do it for me, let go."

he said softly and i snapped. my orgasm racked through my body and my vision went blurry. i was breathing hard as he rode out my high, still chasing his own.

"im almost there."

he said, squeezing his eyes shut. he moved to pull out but i wrapped my legs tightly around his waist.

"y/n?"

he asked surprised and i leaned up to kiss him.

"just do it."

i said, pressing a hard kiss to his neck. he kept going, knuckles going white against the bedsheets as he came in me with a loud groan.

"oh my god."

he panted, slowing his thrusts.

"i love you oh my god."

he said, dropping to his forearms, trying not to put his full weight on top of me. my legs were still wrapped tightly around his torso as we both calmed down.

"i love you too matty."

i said softly, feeling him nuzzle his nose against my neck. it made me giggle a little bit and i could feel him smiling against my skin before kissing it gently.

"you have no idea how relieved i am to hear that. youre the only one for me. always will be."

i sighed softly in content, kissing his forehead and dropping my legs.

"im sorry i doubted you. i just. i need a reminder every once in a while i guess."

he kissed my chest before pulling out of me and dropping to the bed beside me.

"i will give you as many reminders as you need, as long as we both shall live."

he said, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it.

"thank you matt. thank you for everything. especially knocking some sense into me."

he raised a brow, a half smirk on his face and i immediately wondered what was going through that mind of his.

"after tonight sense might not be the only thing i knocked into you."

i couldnt help but laugh, him matching it as i rolled onto his chest.

"i know you want nothing more than to tell the father we're finally starting that catholic family with lots and lots of beautiful babies but i still have my iud."

he let out a short laugh sigh before i kissed him quickly.

"but that doesnt mean i couldnt be persuaded into getting it taken out."

he raised an intrigued brow.

"oh?"

i laughed lightly.

"ill think about it. right now i just wanna live in this moment with you."

i said the last bit through a yawn, resting my head against his chest and hearing his heartbeat.

"i love you."

he whispered, earning a hum from me as i dozed off.

#wattpad #x reader #337 #matt murdock #smut #daredevil #marvel #imagines #one shots #requests

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yonkimint · 3 years

Text

So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.1

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

TAGLIST (send me an ask or leave a reply if you want to be added!): @esteemedsalt @halesandy @historicalgigi @seaoffangirling @secretlycrazyhummingbird @kiwimash12 @aviwasabi21 @sehun096rainbow @darkskin-buttercup @rainfallingfromthesky @yoongiofmine @lucedelsole97 @pleasegivemearemedyyy @kim-jias-den @unadulteratedlyunique @thesweetest-peas @joyfullyobsessed @irishhbamb

When the door to your hospital room swings open, you groan in relief. Finally Jimin was here to jailbreak you. It was great having Lauren, Heeji, and Luna here but they are dutiful bulldogs and you can’t blame them. Your last visit to the hospital had left them pretty traumatized.

Your hopes fall when a man in scrubs steps into the room instead. You had seen him once or twice but you had never exchanged words. In fact, the only reason you remember him at all is because he is white and you thought that was odd, considering you were in a Korean hospital.

“Oh hi,” you say, uncomfortable, when he just stands at the foot of your bed. His head is bowed so you can’t study his face too closely but his presence puts you on edge. He doesn’t respond to your greeting so you push on, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “The nurses just did their rotations and I’m doing fine. Did you need to check something?”

He laughs. A low throaty laugh that has haunted all of your nightmares. Your hands fist around hospital sheets as a cold chill runs up your spine. Swallowing around the lump rising in your throat, you peer closer at him.Mark’s hair is black. This orderly’s is ash blonde. But everything else… you suck in a sharp breath.

“Hello, y/n, did you get my flowers?”

He lifts his head and all his sharp features suddenly come into focus. He has been here the whole time watching you try to recover from injuries that he perpetuated. He looks pleased. And his pleasure makes you want to claw his face off.

“Go to hell, asshole.” You try to sound menacing, to hiss these words like poison, but they only come out a weak, fearful wheeze. Mark clucks his tongue at you.

“Look at you, y/n, trying to be brave when you’re really nothing but a weakling. A cowardly little girl. You would be nothing without me and you know it. You don’t really think you’re going to fight me, do you?”

There’s a glimmer in his eye and it makes you so angry. But the part of you that has endured his abuse for years is still the stronger part and you feel your anger give way to hopelessness. Mark is right. You won’t fight him.

“Good girl. Now, we are going to go on a little field trip, okay?”

You shudder as he steps around the bed and traces the IV still in your arm. You had been waiting until the last second to remove it so the nurses wouldn’t suspect anything if they walked in but now you regret that choice. Mark has no intentions of being gentle with you.

He presses a palm against your mouth, smiling vindictively as the fingers of his other hand loop around the tubes that have been delivering your medicine and fluid for the last few days and yanks the whole thing loose. You whimper into his skin as blood splashes from your open vein.

“How are we supposed to go on a field trip when any camera is going to catch you dragging me out of this room?” you ask him, hoping fleetingly that he hasn’t thought of this. But he’s been here for who knows how long.

“My little writer,” he coos, snatching your phone from your lap and slipping it into his scrubs pocket, “You really do try to think of everything that can happen, don’t you?”

You glare at him. You have taken abuse from him all these years and still, it’s the patronizing that sets you off every time. And he knows he’s pushed the right button too because he laughs and pats your cheek gently.

“Oh my sweet little y/n, the field trip is right here in the hospital. I’m going to roll you out of here in that wheelchair,” he says, pausing to point to the wheelchair that sits in the corner of your room, “and we’re going to go down the hall. And you’ll do exactly what I tell you to because you know that I have your phone which means I can either let you say goodbye to your friends or make them think that you never want to see them again. Your choice!”

This is so cliche, you think, hobbling out of bed when he gestures for you to get up, like something out of a stupid soap opera. Disguises himself as an orderly and kidnaps me right under everyone’s noses. God damnit.

Your field trip brings you to a supply closet on the third floor of the hospital which, conveniently, is under renovation. You can’t help but think that Mark is following this cliched script just to piss off the writer in you.

Now that you’re out of sight of the cameras, he has tied your limbs to the chair so you can’t run away. A gag sits roughly in your mouth and cuts against the corners of your lips. Mark is circling you as if deciding where he should start.

Lauren told you that he threatened to do so much worse than put you in the hospital next time he found you and you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat.

You choose not to think about that. Instead, you let your memories play like old movie reels on the backs of your eyelids. Heeji’s art galleries. Lauren’s photo shoots. And Luna’s ridiculous seances every full moon.

You stifle a chuckle. No need to bring on Mark’s wrath any sooner than necessary.

And then, newer memories begin to play and a lump rises in your throat. These ones aren’t supposed to be tinged with melancholy. These are supposed to be the memories of starting over. The memories from after you are safe.

You swallow hard.

The flight had already taken a lot out of you. This was just the cherry on top of a totally stressful, life changing ice cream sundae. At least this coffee shop seemed safe and warm while you tried to figure out if you were going to be homeless or not.

Seoyun, the barista, had been kind enough to give you the WiFi password so looking up your address shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, you lowered your head down on the table with a sigh of defeat. Seoul was so confusing.

“Oh, I know that look,” a voice sounds above you. Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing, already distrustful of a friendly stranger in the heart of South Korea. He smiles at you and his perfect rows of white teeth are so familiar, you already feel your tense muscles uncoiling. He presses on, “it’s not your first day in Seoul, is it?”

You glance at your luggage and back at him, remembering Lauren’s texts to go find BTS. As if the butt of some cosmic joke, it seems that they have found you instead.

You roll your eyes at him, “what gave it away?”

He glances down at your luggage too and laughs. You study his face carefully so you see the exact moment he makes a decision that will alter the course of both your lives.

His hands are full with two trays of coffee and he shoves them down on your table without asking. You raise an eyebrow at him, not really surprised by his boldness but somehow taken aback all the same, but he only flashes his brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. He sits down.

“You look like you don’t trust yourself to breathe. Like you’re trapped in your own brain or something,” he comments.

You lean forward, reminding yourself to calm the flare of annoyance rising in your chest before you speak. “Jimin,” you say evenly, “do you think you can just sit here with a complete stranger, flirt with her a little bit, and she’ll open up with her whole life story?”

“It’s always worked before,” he chirps back, batting his eyes, that same heart melting grin never wavering. But you see it there behind his gaze. No one has ever called him out on this before and you smile.

“I sincerely doubt that…” you say, trailing off as his hand darts out for the phone you’ve left on the table. You gasp, your reflexes too slow to catch him now, and he giggles swiping through as many un-password protected screens as he can.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you know where you’re going since you’re sitting in a random coffee shop with all your luggage so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to help you find your way,” he says, handing the phone back and gesturing for you to unlock it for him.

Your insides are screaming not to do it. You have to keep a low profile or starting over is going to fail but the earnest look in his eye has you wavering. With a sigh, you unlock the phone and you feel it deep in your gut, everything is over before it’s even begun.

It didn’t really matter what Mark was doing to torture you, just that he was and the pain was excruciating. You had heard a rumor once that after a certain point, the body would stop responding to pain but you were sure now that that was a lie. This was endless.

Your eyes start to roll back when Mark claps in front of your face again. You blink back into focus and your whole body is screaming for relief. He’s looking at you like you should say something to him but you can’t speak, the gag still firmly in your mouth, muffling all your screams.

“Can’t have you dozing off, my favorite little writer, you’ll miss the best part!”

You quirk an eyebrow, inviting him to give his little villain’s speech. He obviously wants to follow the soap opera script so you might as well let him follow it to its natural conclusion. He grins, tracing your jaw line with something icy cold. A knife?

No, you tell yourself, don’t think about that.

“You’re probably thinking how cliche this all must be. The hospital disguise. The hiding in plain sight. You’re probably even thinking that since we stayed in the hospital, it’s inevitable that I will get caught. Which is true. The question is if it will happen before or after I kill you,” he says, “And maybe the more important question is this: why did Mark do this to the thing that makes him all his money?”

The thing? You would spit on him if there weren’t a gag in your mouth.

He leans close, his eyes boring into yours. “And the answer is really quite simple. You disgust me. You think you’re so talented and so clever. Everyone adores you and bends over backwards to care for you and what do you really need protection from? Your big, bad manager and publisher?”

He’s going to keep ranting, you know it, and you don’t want the short time you have left to be spent listening to this tirade. They say it’s normal to disassociate under trauma and so you do, falling into your memories again.

Namjoon had warned you about Yoongi before you even stepped foot in the studio. It still wasn’t enough to stop the way your heart dropped down into your stomach when you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway.

You had told him after the fact that you didn’t remember this moment but the truth of the matter was, it was impossible to erase this memory from your mind. With all the steel you could muster, you met his gaze. Dark, critical eyes stared back at you, soft pink lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line.

You offered a gentle smile like it was an olive branch, your knees wobbling while you waited for him to roll his eyes or storm away. But his eyes only widened, those annoyed lips parting in a small ‘o’, color rushing up to dust his round cheeks.

It made your knees knock together and you ducked your head. What was that? Forget it. If he was going to refuse to meet you, you weren’t going to waste feelings over it.

The next memory spills into recollection almost on top of this one.

Would it be okay if I came and listened to what you’re working on? you texted Namjoon.

Jungkook and Hobi were arguing about who got to be Luigi in the next race. You chuckled to yourself, amazed for the billionth time that you had somehow been invited to hang out with these boys again. You had already known they were incredible but actually interacting with them was overwhelming. They were as wonderful as they had always seemed from afar.

Even, you thought, Yoongi. He had extended a truce but he was still frustrating to no end. What did he mean you could never be friends? He was obviously capable of being friendly and you knew the way he cared for and protected his group members. It shouldn’t sting so much that he didn’t want to be YOUR friend but what could you do?

“Y/n, I curated a meme just for you,” Tae whispers from his place beside you on the couch and you startle when he pushes his phone into your hands.

“What the hell, Tae?” you burst out laughing, trying to make sense of the chaotic picture before you. He starts laughing too, satisfied by your reaction and takes his phone back. You punch his arm lightly and mutter, “you’re so weird.”

Let me ask Yoongi, your phone chimes. Your stomach surges with some feeling you don’t understand. You remind yourself that you’re just going to hang out with Joon. This has nothing to do with Yoongi and yet…

How is he supposed to become your friend if you let him keep avoiding you?

He says you can’t talk but you can come in.

You’re out of your seat before you have time to think about it more. The boys look up at you in surprise and you announce that you’re gonna hang out with Namjoon a bit before you challenge them to Mario Kart. The look of fear in Jungkook’s eyes sends you into another fit of laughter and you pat his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Kookie, winning isn’t everything!”

“Yes it is!” he groans as you walk away.

In the studio, your stomach starts to dance again. Yoongi doesn’t look up from the scratch paper he’s scribbling on but you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. He is as aware of your presence as you are of his. When Namjoon points to the spot on the couch beside him, it takes all your concentration not to trip over your own feet.

You scold yourself for this silly behavior. There are more adoring members of this kpop group to be mooning over. Mooning over? You are NOT mooning over Yoongi. Who said that? Not you.

Anyway, whatever it is you’re feeling, Yoongi has done nothing to deserve it. So why do your eyes keep landing on him as you survey the room?

“I don’t like that lyric there,” Namjoon says, “maybe we should move it down into the second verse.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but it’s softened by the small smile playing at his lips. He and Namjoon must have been going back and forth over these lines for quite some time. You watch as he scribbles out the words and moves them lower down the page.

His eyes meet yours and the hairs rise on the back of your arms. He doesn’t look upset that you’re there and that’s almost more unsettling than him insulting you. You press your lips together and search for anywhere in the room to look but him.

The phone in your lap will have to provide distraction enough. You pick it up and fiddle around between home screens but there’s nothing as interesting there as what’s happening before you so you listen in on the lyrics they’re crafting while you pretend to text the girls.

Of course, when you find out the song is for E.L. Penn, you spiral. You knew your worlds were going to collide if you stuck around long enough. It’s never been a secret to you that Namjoon was a fan of her work — your work — or that they would have worked with her on the movie if she hadn’t gone on hiatus.

But you are just an English teacher in Seoul and not the recipient of this song that is making your heart hurt. You can’t believe Mark would hack into your Twitter account just to set this in motion without you. He’s trying to push your buttons and it’s working.

So you do the only thing you can. You call Lauren.

When you return to the studio, Namjoon is gone. You knew he would be since he passed you in the hall while you were still on the phone. Yoongi looks up at you in surprise but you only offer a curt nod before beelining for your spot on the couch.

The tears spill out before you can help it and your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi. You feel stupid as you read his stupid question through blurred vision. You respond sardonically and toss your phone onto the couch.

When he tells you you’re killing the vibe, you almost launch to your feet and run out of the room but Yoongi stops you. You stare at him, mouth gaping open like a fish.

“You want to what?” you ask, wondering if he’ll scold you for talking out loud to him.

He reaches for his guitar instead, a sleek, black stained acoustic that you’ve seen in several lives from before you actually knew him. He strums the chords lightly, the sweet sounds discordant in the small space. You blink at him.

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he says vaguely, “I’m just curious what you think.”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. He frowns at you, his lips puckering and little dimples appearing in the corners of his cheeks.

“Just be quiet and listen, okay?” he asks it like a question but you know he’s giving a command.

You smile at him a little too sweetly and then settle back into the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest, so you can rest your chin on your knees as he starts to strum. He rolls his eyes at you but there’s a smile in them that you’ve never seen directed at you before.

Your stomach makes that weird lurch again and you finally resign yourself to what you are feeling. Butterflies. Min Yoongi is giving you butterflies.

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kellyvela · 3 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to ask you something. Jon and Sansa thinking about having children and having domestic life with their respective partners is a strong foreshadowing for jonsa. Then there was Jeyne W who also told Cat that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned. While Robb is dead, it's not sure if jeyne is pregnant. Sansa didn't married to Willas and Jon will not gonna steal Val. Do you think it's foreshadowing something?

Before actually answering your question, I think we can't compare Robb and Jeyne, who willingly married, actively tried to have a baby, and were arguably in love, to Sansa and Willas (they never met, they never married, they weren't in love), and Jon and Val (they never had sex, they never married, they weren't in love).

Also, while having the wish to name their children after their late father and siblings, Sansa couldn't stop thinking about Loras, not Willas; and Jon wished Ygritte were alive so he could marry her instead of Val.

And Loras is a stand in for Jon the same way Ygritte is an stand in for Sansa.

. . .

"A king must have an heir."

Jeyne Westerling told Catelyn that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned???

Are you talking about this passage???

"Jeyne," she called after, "there's one more thing Robb needs from you, though he may not know it yet himself. A king must have an heir."

The girl smiled at that. "My mother says the same. She makes a posset for me, herbs and milk and ale, to help make me fertile. I drink it every morning. I told Robb I'm sure to give him twins. An Eddard and a Brandon. He liked that, I think. We . . . we try most every day, my lady. Sometimes twice or more." The girl blushed very prettily. "I'll be with child soon, I promise. I pray to our Mother Above, every night."

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn III

Because it was Jeyne who told Catelyn that she (Jeyne) was sure to give Robb twins to be named Eddard and Brandon, and that she thought Robb liked her idea (Jeyne's idea).

We don't know if Jeyne Westerling was, at some point, pregnant or not.

With all the Tully super fertility references, Jeyne could have been pregnant, but, as you can read in the quote above, her mother Sybell Spicer was giving her an abortifacient all the time, and sadly, that's what happened to Lysa Tully in the past... That's why a guilty Hoster Tully repeats "Tansy" in his sickbed several times, since "Tansy" was an ingredient of the abortifacient that Lysa took all those years ago...

The Lannister not only plotted to kill the King in the North, but also to prevent that said king have an heir... Sybell Spicer and the abortifacient were part of the plot.

And if there was still the slightest chance that Jeyne was pregnant with Robb Stark's heir, the Lannister would not hesitate to kill the unborn child and the mother, if necessary.

Actually, I'm afraid that in the next Book Jeyne Westerling will die anyway...

Now, Robb also used the same phrase "A king must have an heir." while later talking with Catelyn about the North's Succession, and guess who were the ones actively mentioned during that conversation? Any thoughts?

The answering is, a "Lady Lannister" (lol) and a "bastard Snow". Let's see:

"I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child . . . we tried often enough, but I'm not certain . . ."

"It does not always happen the first time." Though it did with you. "Nor even the hundredth. You are very young."

"Young, and a king," he said. "A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." His mouth tightened. "To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north."

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ."

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”

“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”

“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.”

“Jon would never harm a son of mine.”

“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”

“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa … your own sister, trueborn …”

“… and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.”

“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this … this folly. Do not ask it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

As you can see from the quote above, Robb and Catelyn were pushing to prevent Sansa or Jon from inheriting Winterfell and the North after Robb. For Robb, the problem was that Sansa was "Lady Lannister," and for Catelyn, the problem was that Jon was a bastard "Snow," and a brother of the Night's Watch.

Ironically, Robb ended up losing Winterfell and the North, and it will be precisely Sansa (the Lannister by marriage) and Jon (the bastard Snow) the ones retaking the ancestral seat and all the lands of House Stark, and I suspect they will do it together.

Indeed, Robb and Catelyn's conversation is also very telling because Robb said: "By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her". But since Sansa was married to Tyrion Lannister, Robb had to name another heir, Jon.

Robb's reasoning is a contrast to Jon's reaction to the offer of getting Winterfell and the North. Stannis Baratheon used the same argument (Sansa's marriage to Tyrion Lannister) to convince Jon to accept his offer to become a legitimized Stark and Lord of Winterfell, Stannis even called Sansa “Lady Lannister”, but no matter what, Jon didn’t accept Stannis's offer.

And what was Jon's answer?

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Beautiful, isn't it?

And Jon and Sansa could also produce a new generation of Starks, honoring their late relatives by naming their children Eddard, Robb and Catelyn, the ones that are actually dead, because fortunately Arya, Bran and Rickon are still alive, even if Jon and Sansa believe they are all dead.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Be still my beating heart!

. . .

So if you're wondering if the sad fate of Jeyne Westerling and Robb, who had a similar wish to Sansa and Jon's wishes, to name their children after their late father and siblings, could mean something negative for Jon and Sansa in the future. The answer is no.

#anon asks #jonsa

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years

Text

Anesthesia | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: Tom suffers a serious car accident and the reader is the nurse on duty in the ER. Tom and anesthesia don't mix and Tom acts very out of character. Can Tom regain his composure or will he continue to shamelessly flirt with the reader? And is Benedict going to work all of this to his advantage?

Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals, Anesthesia Makes people act crazy, Tom quoting Shakespeare

“Tom?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered, and he blinked several times, adjusting to the bright white light.

“Nurse! He is waking up!”

Nurse? Waking up? Tom reached out and cold metal hit his hands. Safety rails. The air was cool, dry, and sterile. As he attempted to sit up, he felt a cold air hit his bare back.

“Hey buddy, lie back down. You gave us quite a scare,” the familiar voice reassured him as he lowered himself back down to the bed.

Tom turned his head to the sound and once he saw Benedict’s face he smiled. Ben smiled back.

“Welcome back to Earth, Tom.”

“Thanks, what happened?”

The last thing Tom remembered was climbing into the stunt car to rehearse the big action shot. After that, it was just flashes of fire, screams and sirens.

“The brakes failed and the stunt coordinator doesn’t know what happened. But the important thing is you got out alive.”

Tom attempted to sit up again and felt winces of pain throughout his body.

“What was the damage?”

Benedict looked down.

“To you or the car?”

“The car… of course me! I feel as though a Mack truck hit me.”

“You are not far off. You broke your clavicle, wrist, and a few ribs. Um… lacerations everywhere and a… a ruptured spleen.”

Tom twisted to see his friend’s face better and felt the stitches and bandages strain. He winced at the sharp pain on his left side. Benedict hit the call button and in minutes, the nurse arrived.

She smiled as she approached the bed.

“Feeling pain?”

Tom nodded.

She looked at your chart before adding some pain meds to Tom’s IV.

“That should do. I would suggest lying down and the doctor should be in about twenty minutes.”

Tom thanked her and couldn’t help but notice her gazing over her shoulder as she left the room. Her smile barely contained her giggles. Tom’s eyes widened.

“Do they know who I am?”

Benedict averted his eyes and rose from the chair, feigning interest in the generic artwork on the wall. Tom narrowed his eyes at the clear avoidance of the question.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Oh boy, you don’t remember anything when you got here, do you?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, what happened?”

“You were in a lot of pain. Tell me have you ever been under anesthesia before?”

“Maybe, once or twice…” Tom questioned, but then he stared his friend down for answers.

“What did I say, Ben?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Sit down and tell me, and I will decide if you live or die.”

Dejected, Ben returned to the chair and let a sigh out.

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

Four Hours Earlier

The gurney burst through the ER doors just fifteen minutes after you started your shift. Emergency room shifts are never boring but physically and emotionally draining. You put down your cup of coffee and headed in to assess the patient.

A man lied, groaning on the gurney. His face covered in scrapes and blood staining his ginger whiskers. His left wrist sat at an unnatural angle and his shirt cut away by the paramedics to administer help.

“Car accident,” the EMT relayed, “stunt gone wrong.”

A specific hazard unique to Los Angeles. They wheeled him to the examination room and put him onto the bed with care. He wore a C-collar, but the jostling stirred the man. His eyelids fluttered open and his blue eyes work to focus on his surroundings.

“Hey…” you looked down at his chart, “Tom. How are you doing?”

“Pain.”

“I know you are in pain, but where?”

Tom gestured to the left side of his abdomen.

“Okay.” You grabbed some morphine and added it to his IV. “Any allergies?”

He shook his head.

“Anyone come with you?”

As if on cue, Benedict pulled back the curtain.

“I did.”

You recognized the man standing before you. Benedict Cumberbatch was quite the movie star.

“Really?” You attempted to keep your cool. This was no time for fan girling.

Within minutes, Benedict could communicate the information about not only the accident but Tom’s medical history as well. It had all been on file with the production company.

The doctor came in and did a quick examination.

“We need to get a CT scan and X-rays. Looks like there may be internal injuries.”

You nodded as you prepared to wheel Tom down the hall.

“Ready to go for a ride?” you asked.

Tom nodded and gave a goofy smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N. That’s a beautiful name. My name is Tom Fucking Hiddleston.”

The drugs were doing their job.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. We will take you for some tests.”

“But I didn’t study!” he sounded dismayed.

You could not suppress your laugh.

“I think you will be fine.”

Tom grabbed your hand and looked up at you, tears in his eyes.

“Will you help me study?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Of course.”

Tom continued to babble on for the rest of the trip to imaging. He spoke about how nice you smelled and how pretty your eyes look. The full court press of flirting. As you reached the room, you and the other nurse lifted Tom onto the machine.

“Here you go.”

Tom grabbed your hand once again.

“Please don’t leave. I’m scared of the dark.”

While his words spoke of her fear, his eyes and smile said something else.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hiddleston?”

His smile only grew.

“Is it working?”

You leaned in to his ear to whisper, “No, but the drugs are.”

Tom pouted.

“Not fair.”

“But you are cute.”

His face lit up once again.

“I came, saw and overcame.” Tom was being dramatic.

At that point, the other nurse started up the machine, and you walked away to let the rest of nurses to care for his needs. After his scans, you headed back to the waiting area. You found Benedict pacing the floor in anticipation. His long fingers alternating between steepling in front of his face and raking through his hair. As you approached, you cleared your throat.

“Yes?” his voice shared a tone of concern and hopefulness.

“A few broken bones but the big thing is that his spleen has ruptured. He needs surgery right away.”

Ben’s face fell.

“Will he be okay?”

You nodded.

“He will make a full recovery. Would you like to see him before they send him in to operating?”

You led Ben back to where they were prepping Tom for surgery. The anesthesiologist added drugs to the IV and Tom was now in a full hospital gown. His tattered rags of clothes in the garbage.

“No fair!” Tom bellowed as you entered with Ben throwing the thin sheet over his legs. The two of you shared a knowing look, “You have seen me naked but I have not had the chance to see you naked.”

You leaned into Benedict.

“It would seem that the medicine does not agree with your friend,” you smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I rather like him like this, so not proper. So not Tom Hiddleston.”

You smiled as you looked upon Tom who, in vain, tried to cover his body. Even loopy on drugs, he charmed and warmed your heart.

“I will leave you to it.”

As you turned to leave, Tom shouted at you.

“I love thee, Y/N. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not withstanding the poor and untempering effect of visage. And therefore tell me, most fair Y/N, will you have me?”

You suppressed a small giggle.

“I will see you later,” you let them both know as you shut the door.

As soon as the door latched, Tom grabbed Benedict’s arm and pulled him down close.

“Ben! Ben! Have you met my wife?”

Benedict screwed his face up with confusion.

“The nurse? That is just the drugs talking, Tom. You barely know her.”

“Nonsense. She will be my wife and you shall be my best man.”

Benedict looked at Tom with an exasperated face but Tom’s only contained earnest. With a chuckle, Benedict conceded.

“Very well, Tom. I will be your best man.”

Tom slapped Benedict’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. As my best man, I require you to acquire my future bride’s number.”

Benedict could not resist at this point to play along with his friend’s drug-addled fantasy.

“I will, on one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Name your firstborn after me.”

“Consider it done.”

“Then consider the number yours.”

Tom’s face beamed and as if on cue, the nurses came to wheel Tom into surgery.

***

“Oh dear, God. I quoted Shakespeare.”

Tom hung his head and his face and neck turned a bright shade of red.

“Yep. The Henry the Fifth wooing speech too. Honestly, it was one of your better performances. Might I suggest doing all your roles drugged from now on.”

Tom shot Benedict a withering look.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I can’t show my face to her again.”

At that moment, the door opened, and you entered. The color drained from Tom’s face, while the smile grew on Benedict’s.

“Y/N!” Benedict cooed, “We were just talking about you. So nice of you to stop in.”

Your shift ended half an hour ago, but you wanted to check in on Tom before going home. Today was not the first time a patient hit on you, although they are usually not an award-winning actor with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare. But, you would remain ever the professional. You checked the chart before wishing the two men well.

As you turned to exit, Benedict walked you out.

“Thank you, Y/N for attending to Tom.”

“My pleasure. Even under the influence, he is quite charming.”

Benedict took this opportunity.

“Speaking about that…”

3 years later

“Tom!”

You yelled down the hall of your London home, beckoning your husband. At six months pregnant, getting up and down was no easy task. Tom rushed to your side. He gave you his arm and with a rocking start; you extracted yourself from the chair.

“Thanks, darling.”

“I am at your beck and call.”

You rubbed your swollen belly as you waddled your way down the hall. Tom followed you to the kitchen.

“Now about names for this little young man here.”

Tom grew ashen. He thought he could avoid this conversation, but it seems his luck had run out.

“Yeah, I have I mentioned today that I love you.”

Tom kissed your lips, and you looked at him with distrust.

“What have you done?”

Tom smiled and rubbed his neck, a nervous habit.

“I may have promised to name the child after Benedict.”

Tom flinched.

“You what? Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Which was?”

“Your phone number.”

With that, Tom took off down the hallway. You smiled as you walked with much effort behind him.

“We are NOT naming our child after breakfast food!”

You heard Tom’s laughter fill the house.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Act IV: The Finale

Hi people! Finally the last part of this short serie! Honestly I had no expactation for it but I think it might slither into my all time favourite things I’ve written. I won’t lie, I think I’m in love with this last chapter. I feel like it’s the part we really understand both characters and their motivations in relation to each other. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Edit: I realize I have kept this gender neutral! so I change it on the infos on the first part and this one

Parts 1-3 in Masterlist!

Pairing: Tim Drake x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3456

Warnings: language, mention of violence (non-graphic)

“... And this is why I have taken the decision to repeal the vigilante act. All measures taken by the city and GCPD to collaborate with vigilantes on the matters listed are to be repelled at this instant. We will no longer tolerate criminals telling us how to protect our city and all arrest mandates out for vigilantes are to be reactivated--”

Tim passed a hand in his face after Bruce turned off the TV. There was some serious tensions going on in the batcave, especially after this gruesome live tape of the mayor, visibly held hostage in some kind of basement, delivered the new order to cancel all the work they had achieved to at least stop the cops from trying to hunt them down instead of focusing on actual crime.

The first thing he had done once he came back to the cave was to research you in any database he could hack into. He started in the state registry, knowing you had told him you had been an orphan. He had no idea what was a lie and what wasn’t in what you had told him, but that was apparently true. The picture attached was a younger version of you, that was clear, but any update on your whereabouts stopped at age 11. Then, he tried to look for a driver’s license, passeport, any ID documents you could have. He also hit a dead end with that too, so he looked into less savory types of repertories.

He finally found you in the mercenary databases, with a clear, recent picture and your… Impressive record. As he scrolled down your list of confirmed hits, he felt his stomach sink further and further. Marco Rizzo, the philanthropist, the kidnapped mayor, and it went on and on. What truly put him on the floor, however, was to see your credentials. You were Falcone’s main gun and you had trained under various mentors including Slade Wilson, out of all people.

You were the real deal and he had let himself fall for you, hard.

He felt stupid now. Did you even know who he was at night? Had you gone to him to throw him off your scent? Even after discovering all of this about you, a part of him still hoped you had no clue. It would hurt less to know it was a coincidence you bumped into each other rather than a calculated move from you.

“So… Your date uh?”

Tim cringed when Bruce spoke up. It was even worse to hear it out loud.

“I don’t wanna hear it” He mumbled, keeping his eyes dead set on the wall. He knew he had acted irresponsibly, he knew he should have seen the signs sooner, he knew he should have remained alert and not let himself be charmed by you, or let himself be sidetracked from his mission. It was a rookie mistake.

“Talk about sleeping with the enemy” Damian snorted from behind them. Tim turned around, glaring at him. He was sitting in a computer chair, casually eating noodles with chopsticks and watching the exchange like it was a movie. Of course, the demon had spied on the conversation.

“Damian!”

“What?” He looked at Bruce, shrugging nonchalantly.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. He returned his attention to Tim again. “What do you want to do now?”

Tim didn’t reply straight away. He was conflicted, angry, sad, disappointed; he had rarely felt such a cocktail of emotions like that. On one hand, he wanted to wallow in self pity. It seemed like the one thing left to do, as life finally sent someone he could see himself get with but made them the exact opposite of what he stood for. But he couldn’t, he had to put a stop to this madness. He had to confront you.

“We’ll need to set a trap” He finally spoke, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “A contract that can’t be refused, draw them out. I’ll take care of it, it’ll be better that way”

“Are you sure you’ll be up to it?”

“Yes” Tim snapped, and Bruce took a careful step back. “I won’t be fooled twice. I can do it”

“Alright, just making sure” Bruce wasn’t convinced, but he still trusted his son. He knew he'd do the right thing if push came to shove. “What did you have in mind?”

Tim took a deep breath. “50 millions for a bullet in Bruce Wayne’s head”

---

It was too good to be true, and your suspicions of foul play were confirmed when your eyes spotted the red and black sticking out of the grim portrait of Gotham’s roof tops.

You knew something was up when you were offered a 50 millions solo contract. You usually went out for 15 millions for high profile targets, but curiosity got the best of you. The only thought of potentially pocketing that much money was enough of a motivation for you to at least find out what was up. But now, it was clear it was a set up as Red Robin himself was waiting for you. It was too bad for the money, but the prospect of facing a real Gotham vigilante for the first time was exciting.

“I’ve beaten you twice already” You smirked. “You called me for a third?”

A scowl set on his masked face. “Trust me, there won’t be a third” He spoke up in a gravelling voice. “Either you come with me here and now, or we do this the hard way”

“Oh, now you’ve got me interested” You teased as you circled him. “Do tell me more about this hard way of yours”

He deployed his staff. Your eyebrows raised at his challenge. “You’re arrogant” He stated. He wasn’t wrong. “It’s gonna be your downfall”

“... Or not” You shrugged, not stopping your assessment of him. “Still waiting on the monologue detailing your plan to stop me, by the way”

“There isn’t one”

He lunged. He did it so quickly and smoothly you almost didn’t see him move. Your reflexes allowed you to roll out of the way just in time, and the way the staff collided with the cement told you it wouldn’t have been a long fight if that had hit its intended target: you. You looked at him and you regained your footing, reevaluating the situation. You were skilled, but you doubted it would be enough to go toes to toes with Red Robin, now that you had had a glimpse of what he could actually do.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Catch me if you can”

Before he could process your world, you turned around and jumped off the building, landing on the roof a dozens of feet lower. You didn’t waste time taking off, knowing he would be right behind you. You ran across the rooftop and leaped off the ledge and above the alley to grab onto the fire exit on the next building over. You hurried to climb it, ending up on yet another rooftop. You ran alongside the pool and jumped over the tables, kicking them back to try and slow down Red Robin, who was little by little gaining on you. Fuck, he’s fast, you thought. You weren’t even tempting to look back, but you knew with the sound of his footsteps alone.

You hadn’t planned on him being able to follow you that easily, not even cursing behind you as you took another jump over a considerable gap between buildings. You were fast, faster than most. Making exits had always been your strong suit, whether it was on foot, by car or otherwise. However, the only times you had faced him were when you had a rocket launcher as a deterrent or when you were driving an actual race car. Now that the field was levelled, you didn’t have the advantage anymore. You knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him if you kept going on that way, so you had to change your strategy.

You took a sharp turn to the left and grabbed a clothesline, pulling out a knife from your belt and severing in behind your grip. You took a good running start and let yourself fall on the building on the other side of the street, pausing to glance at Red Robin standing where you had just been seconds ago. He was trying to find another way to cross, but there was none and even he couldn’t make that jump. You gave him a wave and a wink before taking off again. However, on the corner of your eyes, you still could see him tracking you relentlessly, not letting you get away so easily.

You jumped over an alley, and instead of landing on the next roof, you aimed for the first balcony from the top. With your shoulder first and your head tucked in, you went straight through the sliding door window and rolled on the landing to smooth your fall. You glanced beside you at the terrified man in his underwear who was cowering on the couch and looked behind you, shrugging.

“Sorry for the mess” You didn’t wait until he replied to walk out the apartment. You jogged down the stairs, knowing Red Robin would have lost your trace now. Or so you thought.

You halted your steps when you noticed him waiting at the bottom of the staircase and leaning on the rail with a nonchalant expression, like it had been easy to predict you would come out that way. He returned the little sarcastic wave you had given him minutes earlier, making your face fall. You turned around and climbed back the steps back to the first floor, barging in and running across the hallway until you reached the window at the end. You took the time to open this one, seeing as he had not yet reached the floor. You slipped through it and climbed down the wall to land into the back alley. You were about to head for the streets when an already too familiar red and black figure blocked your way.

You took off in the opposite direction, well, until you came face to face with a brick wall. There was nothing to climb onto, no fire exit to use, no way to get away. You closed your eyes and cursed under your breath as footsteps reached you. He wasn’t in a hurry, his pace was tauntingly slow and confident he had you trapped. You recomposed yourself before turning around to face him.

“You forced me to make a mistake” You stated with a sigh. “Impressive”

“Told you” He said, taking a step toward you. “Arrogance did end up being your downfall”

“I don’t suppose we could have a rematch, uh?” You tried, smiling coyly. “That staff didn’t seem such a bad idea in hindsight”

“If you thought you could win then, you wouldn’t have dragged me into this pointless chase” He scoffed, and your eyebrows raised. He was right, but damn. “Unless you want a beating at that too”

“Ouch” You chuckled. “That really hurts my pride”

“Good” He smirked. “Now that you know you won’t get away from this one, just do the logical thing and surrender. There’s nowhere to go”

You held eye contact for a moment before slowly raising your hands. “Alright” You complied with a nod. “You earned that one”

He took careful steps toward you, alert to whatever quick move you would do. But you could recognize when you were beaten, so you didn’t plan any surprise move. Getting caught by a vigilante was an eventuality, even you knew you wouldn’t escape them forever. You just didn’t think it would have been this soon. He grabbed your wrists, and once he was sure he had you solidly enough, he twisted your arm behind you and pushed you rather roughly into the brick wall.

“Woah there champion” You coughed out in surprise. “I feel that spark between us, I really do, and I admit I am partially to blame for it, but I’m kinda seeing someone? And I’m really into him so if you could just. Stop manhandling me that way, that’d be great”

You felt him take a considerable step backward, and his grip on your arm dropped. You frowned, carefully turning around to face him. You didn’t understand why he had let you go, and his blush combined with his bewildered expression only made you more confused.

“Okay, what is going on, now?” You asked, not taking your eyes off him. It was like he was a completely different person now, and you couldn’t point out exactly why it was suddenly so familiar. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, jeez”

“I’m not” He defended too quickly, his voice wavering. Your eyes squinted even more as you took one step forward. He didn’t move, it was like he was frozen in place. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over for you”

“Uh” You took another step, and he squared up, trying to cover the fact he had totally lost his edge over you. You could have made a run for it, you knew it would have been ridiculously easy at that moment to evade him, but something held you back. You scrutinized him, your head tilting to the side. He gulped, and suddenly it all pieced together. That reaction to your flirting, you knew it all too well. Your eyes widened, before you gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know, while this mask does suit you, I prefer to see your eyes, handsome”

His muscles tensed for a second or two, but his shoulder sagged soon after. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How long have you known?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, how long?” You asked. “Thirty five seconds ago”

“You didn’t know before?”

“Uh, no” You replied. “What does it matter?”

“You… You didn’t go on a date with me to distract me from your trail?”

“No, I went on a date with you because I like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I would have been way more careful with my lies if I had known, fuck I was so obvious, no wonder you figured it out. Besides, I just told you I’m really into you--”

You were surprised by the sudden movement of his arm that sneaked behind your neck and brought you flush against his lips. Okay then. You returned the kiss without hesitation holding on to his shoulders under the sheer force he was applying against you. It was a lot different from the shy boy you had met at the racetrack, but then again, he was Red Robin right now, more so than Tim Drake. You could have never connected the two if it hadn’t been from your flirting from up close. Before you knew, he tore himself from you and jumped back like you were actual fire, cursing under his breath. You blinked slowly at his sudden absence from your immediate vicinity, then rolled your eyes. Dramatic much?

“What is it now?”

“You’re still a criminal” Now he refused to meet your eyes.

“Are you-- Is this because of what happened in the alley the other day?” You sighed, throwing your hands up before letting them fall back and slap on the side of your thighs. “I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have ran you into the garbage pile if I had known it was you. And I wouldn’t have threatened you with a rocket launcher either-- Shit okay I see your point, I’m really sorry about that too”

“No!” He yelled. “I mean, yeah, kind of. But you kill people for a living, I can’t--”

“What does it change?” You asked. “You liked me before you found out. You were about to hand me to the police, I still like you! In fact, if you could ram me into the wall once again like you just did, I wouldn’t--”

“Please stop talking”

You grinned. “Does it turn you on?”

“Y-No” He replied, correcting himself last second. You raised a subjective eyebrow. “Stop that”

“Stop what?” You asked innocently. “I’m just saying it’s on the table. If I had known it was you when you did it, I would have enjoyed it so you’re welcome to do it again”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” He deadpanned. He crossed his arms against his chest, but it definitely didn’t have the intended effect. Instead, you just checked him out even more, since his muscles were very well defined in that suit. You liked it.

“With you? Not a chance, handsome”

And here came the blush again. He looked away and gulped, ignoring your self satisfied smile. You could do that all day and never get bored of it. Still, you regained a somewhat serious expression for the conversation that was inevitably coming.

“So now what?” You spoke up. “You give me to the cops? We pretend nothing happened between us? Because I’ll be honest with you, I don’t want that. I meant it when I said I liked you”

“My job is to stop crime, and the people who commit it” He began with a sigh. “I just can’t ignore the fact that you are one of the bad guy”

“That’s valid” You nodded slowly. “But this is just a job. I don’t do it for the power trip of taking people out, I do it because I’m good at it, and because I like the money that comes with it. Although, I’ll admit I do enjoy making dramatic exits from time to time--all the time”

Tim snorted. Of course you liked your exit, that had been obvious from the start. But even if he did not agree with your job, or with the lack of morals that came with it, he had to recognize the difference between you and the typical Gotham criminal. From what he had found out so far about you, you never caused casualties in any of your contracts. You always kept the mess to a minimum. You were a far cry from the Joker or Poison Ivy, for that matter.

Even if you couldn’t see his eyes clearly, you could just see the gears turning in his head. Would it be so bad if he let you go? What if he kept seeing you? He could agree with you on one thing: behind his reluctance because of your job, he really didn’t want to pretend nothing happened. He liked you a lot, and it absolutely frustrated him that the one god sent person he instantly clicked with was on the other side of his moral spectrum.

“Tell me” You said softly, bringing back his attention to you. “If you had never found out about my job, would you have asked me on a second date?”

“Yes” He didn’t hesitate in his answer. It was like you could read his mind, reminding him of how well you fit together. He wanted both to scream and to kiss you again.

You took a deep breath, letting him think some more. You could very much suspect the news of your activities was harder on him than his were on you, so you understood the need to let him a little space while he figured it all out. You had half expected him to go ahead with his initial plan though, so you prepared yourself mentally for him eventually binding your wrists and dragging you to the nearest precinct.

That’s probably why you were surprised when he took a step aside, no longer blocking you from leaving. You didn’t move, only stared at him.

“I won’t give you a free pass if I catch you doing shady stuff” He sighed, gesturing to the exit of the alley. “ But for this time, I guess I’ll see you next time you do something stupid”

“Not before?” You raised an eyebrow. The corner of his lips slightly lifted.

“Maybe before”

“Is that a yes on the second date?” You asked, hopeful. “7:30 next Friday at that lobster place you mentioned?”

“Will you be working that night?”

“I won’t!” You hurried to confirm. “I swear I won’t”

He let out a long sigh like he was reconsidering his entire life. “What the hell, sure”

“Great!” You grinned wide, stealing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Go, now” He ordered, gaining back his more authoritative vigilante voice. Oof, that was hot, you thought, but you kept it to yourself for once. “Before I change my mind”

“See you on Friday, handsome!”

He watched you run out of the alley, finding himself suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing you again, whether it would be as Red Robin or as himself on a date with you.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake imagine #tim drake fic #red robin x reader

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ofieugogyshz · 4 years

Text

Fic;; Memories: Riolu IV

Word Count: 8900 officially over 9000 now

Summary: Sarah accepts Cynthia’s invitation to visit her in Celestic Town. On her second day there, she finds herself visiting Cynthia in her grandmother’s home, and, once again, facing an internal struggle that her Riolu, Lance, and Cynthia, were set on helping her with.

Warnings: Lots of bad mental health, self-depreciation spirals, abusive thoughts to self. Also some awkwardness. (But it gets better!)

Notes: This is the thing that’s just been. taunting and harassing me for weeks, and i am so done with it. i am so sorry that it’s like, 2x as long as the others. I really hope it’s worth it to you guys, because I am just so done with it. Edit: Fixed up some spots, and re-pasting it added paragraph indents, so ????

(Series Masterpost)

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

After helping me with my Riolu, Cynthia invited me to visit her in Celestic Town.

“I'll be there for a while, researching more myths.”

I told her yes, but when she offered to take me with her, I declined. I said that I wanted to walk the rest of the route to fulfill my Pokedex.

“Oh, you're working on a Pokedex? That sure takes me back...” She had a wistful look on her face. “I went on a big adventure with a Pokedex when I was younger.” I told her to share with me some of those stories when I met up with her in Celestic Town. She gave me her number, and we parted ways for the time being.

I spent the rest of that day and the next playing with my Riolu named Lance to make up for the issues we had ran into. Totally not connected to the Lance of fame. Yep. Definitely not. But it wasn't like I had that much of a choice. My friend, his father's trainer, had named him that for me as a cute little joke. I suppose I could have picked a name and told my friend to name it that. But I wanted to know what a Pokemon was like before I named it; and without the Pokemon in front of me, it was so hard to find an appropriate name. But watching Riolu-- little Lance fight our way up Route 210, I couldn't help but think that maybe my friend Blaze had the right idea in naming him after him. He was definitely strong and determined like his namesake, and showed plenty of care towards other Pokemon.

<<Can we call my namesake today? I wanna tell him how strong I got!!>>

I laughed. Now that I had accepted it, it was cute whenever he asked to talk to Lance. Lance—the human-- thankfully couldn't understand what the little Riolu was saying, but watching him entertain the notion was cute. Endearing. Enjoyable.

I looked at the time. Lance might be available now...? I had tried calling him earlier, but it went straight to voicemail. Probably working, I thought to myself.

“Let's try again after we get to the Pokemon Center in Celestic, so you guys can see each other with the videophones.”

And so we went through the rest of the route. It was a rather annoying route; there were many obstacles in our way, not including the fog that limited visibility. It took a few days to traverse the rest of the route by foot. I was able to train up my Pokemon a lot more than I expected. But even with the great training it provided, I was so relieved when I finally saw the rustic buildings nestled away in the mountain range. Even if it hadn't been Celestic, I would have been grateful just to stay a few nights away from the mess that was the foggy mountainside.

It was daytime when we arrived. I immediately looked for the Pokemon Center and checked in. When my Pokemon were returned, I let Lance out of his Pokeball.

“You know what, I think I'mma call you 'Little Lance', if that's alright with you? It's a little confusing talking to my friends about the both of you...” That was only partially a lie. I thought it might help distinguish them, yes, but I also still felt a little embarrassed calling him by that name... I was hoping a working towards a middle-ground might help.

Lance considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

<<Nope.>>

“Aw, but c'mon! It's super cute, calling you 'Little Lance'. Ooh! I could even call you 'Lil Lance'”

But he wouldn't budge.

“Ugh, fine then.”

<<Can we try calling Lance now?>> he asked, pointing to the videophones. I thought about it for a moment.

“I suppose so... It's almost time for our weekly call anyways.”

<<Yes!>> Lance curled up his fist and pulled it back in excitement. It was so cute to see him emulating a human gesture; he must've picked that up from me in the last week.

I picked up one of the receivers and dialed Lance's number. My heart was pounding, as it always did whenever I called him. Often I worried that I was being a bother. Things like, “Maybe I should call back later,” would plague my mind. But for some reason, I felt less nervous about it now. Maybe because Lance the Riolu was there, just as happy as I was to talk to him, that it made me feel less scared.

No answer still.

“Hmm... Weird.” The landline recording asked if I wanted to leave a message; I hung up. It wasn't that important to me to miss once. I had to let it not be important.

<<What's wrong?>>

“He isn't answering. Hope everything's alright. He's probably busy with other stuff right now.” I wonder if they officially made him Champion yet, or if they're still filling out the paperwork on that, I thought. He had mentioned that a few weeks ago; though that had little to do with him not answering. My thoughts were wandering far away on the topic, musing on what that conversation would be like when he told me that it was officialized. Lance tugged at my pants.

<<Can we visit Miss Cynthia then?>>

“Yeah, let me just see if she's available.” I pulled out the number she gave me, slowly typing it in. It rang once before being answered. There was no visual, so I found myself staring at a screen that just said “No Visual”, accompanied by the image of a Chatot.

“Hang—Hang on a moment.” Cynthia's voice sounded far away and strained, like she was just out of reach of her phone. The distant sound made me curious on how she had answered it, but I didn't have time to think about that, because she suddenly came in much louder and clearer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Cynthia? It's Sarah.”

“It is! I'm glad to hear from you! Are you nearby? I can go out and meet you if you want.” She sounded eager, excited. Had she been looking forward to this? I didn't think so. I was just a trainer she had met twice; and younger than her, I would later discover. Maybe the sound of her happy voice was because she just had a breakthrough with her research, and she couldn't wait to tell someone. I highly doubted she was excited to hear from me, after all. Not after the impression I gave last time.

Lance looked at me, his ears drooping a little as he examined me. Ah. Right. I shouldn't be thinking a thought like that. I guess that was something both Lances wanted me to work on.

“I'm already at the Pokemon center,” I told her. I scritched behind Lance's ears, making him feel better. It helped me, too. “I just got in.”

“Oh! That's perfect! I'll come get you.”

We hung up. She arrived in about fifteen minutes, brushing dust and dirt off of her coat as she arrived. Based on what I had seen of her in pictures and in person, I never would have imagined that she could look so disheveled.

“Where were you?” I asked. Lance and Pika both ran over to greet her.

“Oh, excavation. Have you learned about the Celestic Ruins yet? It's why I love coming back here so much! I can show you later, if you'd like.”

“N-no, that's fine for right now...”

We hadn't made any plans for the visit, so Cynthia gave me a short tour of the small town. In its center was a crater, and in the center of that crater was a small shrine. She told me that it dates back to ancient times; many of the town's residents still prayed to the deities and Pokemon they believed were tied to it. Behind the shrine was a cave; on each side of the cave's entrance were two large drawings, of what I presumed were ancient or mythological Pokemon. Beyond that, there was little of interest to passing trainers. The town was so small that it lacked a proper Pokemart. Instead, an old couple sold things from their home for any passing trainers that needed to restock between Mt. Coronet and their next destination. I wasn't sure if it was surprising or just interesting that the Champion considered this town her favorite.

For lunch, she took me to one of the few places to eat in the small town. While there wasn't much to catch Cynthia up on, I found myself excitedly telling her how Lance and I got along better since we last saw each other. She listened intently, speaking thoughtfully and giving me advice. I found myself asking her for a casual battle-- not one with her title on the line, but as between new friends.

“Very well then,” she said. “I should let you know-- I plan on going all out!”

“Couldn't ask for a better match myself!”

I sent out a Luxio and a Roselia, both Pokemon that I had caught here in Sinnoh. They were doing great at Gym Battles, and I figured the experience with a Champion might help them grow even stronger. Cynthia quirked an eyebrow, interested in the unspoken challenge of a doubles battle. She sent out a Garchomp and a Gastrodon. The double Earthquake duo had a huge advantage over Luxio; Roselia could handle Gastrodon, but that still left her Garchomp. As we battled, I did my best to keep my two Pokemon from fainting, but there was only so much they could do at their current strength. We both called back our Pokemon when the battle was over.

“That was a great match! The confidence in which you issued your commands allowed your Pokemon to trust you, and they responded well! I can't wait to have another battle with you when they've gotten stronger.”

“Tch...” Though she gave me high praise, the defeat still stung. “We should have another match with my aces.”

“Hmm. Perhaps another day... Don't forget that the key to growing as a trainer is to challenge yourself! Playing it safe is going to deprive yourself of new possibilities.”

She was right on both counts. One battle was enough for now. I had gotten a glimpse of what waited for me when I would challenge the Sinnoh Elite Four and its Champion, and I felt myself eager to train with my Pokemon for when that day would come. Beside me, Lance had looked on in awe, little tail wagging during the battle.

<<I want to battle too!>> he said to me. I knelt down to pat his head.

<<Maybe next time.>>

The next day, I headed over to where Cynthia was staying. We realized that we had a shared interest in mythology, so she invited me over to look at some of the texts that her and her grandmother kept. Pika followed behind me with Lance. I could hear the both of them talking happily amongst themselves, and I smiled. It was nice to hear him feeling like a member of the team again.

When I got to the address Cynthia gave me, an older woman answered the door. She adjusted her glasses, looking me up and down.

“Um, hi. I'm here because Cynthia invited me. This... is the right address, yes?” I looked at the address she had hastily scrawled down for me, and showed it to the woman. She didn't bother looking at it.

“That's correct. My granddaughter told me that she would be having a friend come over. Didn't think it'd be someone so young.” I winced. She motioned for me to come in, closing the door behind her. I took a look around. Stacks and stacks of paper were all over the living room, or what I thought was supposed to be one. Cynthia's grandmother followed my line of sight and sighed. “Pardon the mess. When we both really get into our research, it shows.”

“Ahaha, it's okay. Kind of reminds me of my room,” I said without thinking. Woops. Probably shouldn't've mentioned that. That wasn't a good impression, but hopefully it wouldn't mean something bad to them, if it came back up.

“In here.” Cynthia's grandmother had led me down the hall and stopped in front of one of the doors. “Cynthia's already in the library. She said she wanted to pull out some texts for you to read before you got here. Knowing her, she's probably already got a huge stack prepared for you. I'll be going out for a walk, so if you need anything, let Cynthia know.”

I was alone in the hall with my Pokemon. Lance and Pika stood on either side of me, looking up at me. I was a little nervous, and her grandmother's comment on my age left me feeling a little unsettled. Was she expecting someone older? How much older? I just realized that I don't even know how old Cynthia is! Is it really okay to call ourselves friends if she's much older than me? But I found the nerves paling in comparison to my excitement. I was excited to have someone else to call a friend; excited that the local Champion had called me a friend to her grandmother. But more importantly, I was excited to see the library that she had. All the books, all the texts, the myths and years of research that people had put into studying these things-- even if I was only interested in reading only the myths, being surrounded by so many books would be so exciting! Old books had that especially exciting aesthetic appeal to them, just thinking about it...

<<Are you okay?>> asked Lance. He tugged at my clothes, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Ah, yes. Thank you. Sorry, I got a little excited...”

<<You must really like books.>>

The comment made me smile. I took a deep breath and knocked loudly on the door.

“Come in!” I could hear Cynthia's faint response through the door. I turned the doorknob and pushed.

The sight of so many books greeted me. They were on the walls, stacked against shelving on the walls. Some stacks were so high that some of the desks and chairs were buried and hidden from view. Everywhere I turned was littered with books, folders, and handwritten notes.

“Sarah! I'm so glad to see you!” I could see Cynthia in the center of the room, holding a cup of tea. I could barely make out the sight of some fancy-looking seats centered around a coffee table in the middle of the room. I smiled, and closed the door behind me.

“Thanks for inviting me!” I said. I started walking towards her, my Pokemon carefully hopping from low bookstack to bookstack like the floor was lava. I began to talk excitedly, sentences running into each other as I couldn't wait to share what I had to say. “I'm so glad you asked me to come over, this is so amazing, and---L-Lance!!! W-w-what're y-you doing h-here?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, face flushing, unaware that there was going to be company. Much less company that I liked.

<<I'm sorry, was I not supposed to jump on the books?>> asked my Riolu. The sudden change in my reaction, the strange query mentioning his name, had left him confused. It took him a moment to realize what was going on with me. He looked to where I was stuck staring, as though I were stricken with a Glare attack and could not look away. I heard a happy yip from him, and he ran towards the red-headed trainer that was seated on the couch.

<<It's him!!! It's him!! My namesake!! We get to meet my namesake!!!>

“You must be the little Riolu that I've been talking to over the phone!” I heard Lance say. He caught the little Riolu, ruffling the top of his head. My Riolu looked up at him, starry-eyed, before turning back to me. I was still stricken to the spot. Cynthia came over to me, gently pushing me behind the back to lead me to a chair that was seated on the side, between both of theirs.

“Come on in! Don't be afraid to sit down with us!”

“I-I'm not!” I said quickly, the words out of my mouth before I realized what they were. I shut my mouth right then, glancing at Lance, before looking back at Cynthia. She gave no indication that this was intentional, but I had the underlying sense that it was... I was suddenly hyperaware of how I presented myself. I quickly placed my hands in my lap. I kept my legs together, though one foot would begin bouncing in place before I knew it.

Pika had heard the excited commotion and came over to me, peeking her head over a pile of books to look. When she saw who it was, she ran over and happily nuzzled Lance on the cheek.

I felt simultaneous embarrassment and envy of her at that moment. I could have cried. I wanted to cry.

Sensing the conflicting emotions, Lance-- the Riolu-- came over to me and climbed into my lap. He was emanating so much happiness from meeting Lance –the human-- that it started to put me at ease. I wrapped my arms around my Riolu, gently resting my chin on his head, wishing I could have fiddled with something instead.

I watched as Lance picked up my Pikachu and set her down on the couch, gently scritching her under the chin.

“And hello to you too, Pika! It's been awhile since we've seen each other, hasn't it friend?”

“Chu! Pika pikachu!!”

<<My namesake! My namesake!!!>>

This was going to give me a headache, if I didn't die from embarrassment first. I tried to suppress a groan, and looked to Cynthia once more, trying to get help from her. Any kind of help. But her attention was already towards Lance, ignoring my distress.

“I'm glad to see that you're such good friends with Sarah's Pokemon already.”

“I've met her Pikachu several times, both in and out of battle. The Riolu is new.” He turned towards me. “I hope he hasn't been giving you too much trouble?”

I sat up straight when he addressed me. “Hm?! Oh! Um, n-no, not recently,” I said, lying a little. But I could feel Riolu become a little angry with me for the lie. He didn't like me being dishonest, it seemed. “A-actually, Cynthia helped us with a, uh, misunderstanding about a week ago, so things are actually better than before!” I gave him a nervous smile.

“I see.”

“It was moving to see. Sarah really is passionate about her Pokemon.”

“Y-yeah, I am.” I turned towards Lance, asking him the same question that I asked earlier when I came in.

“W-what are you doing here, Lance? I thought you were busy, with, um. League stuff?”

“Cynthia invited me to come out. She said that she's found an ancient connection between Sinnoh and Johto, and asked if I was interested.”

“But aren't you supposed to be at the league right now?”

“Since we're still in the process of obtaining a new Elite Four member to replace me, the League's been closed. I normally have time off from the Pokemon G-Men when the League is open, so I haven't had as much to do for the time being.” He looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “Why, did you want me to be there?”

“W-what?! Uh, no, I guess? I think?” I didn't know if that was the right answer or not. This was making me so nervous, so on edge. I didn't know which way I should play into this. “I just thought that you wouldn't be able to come this far north, is all.” I looked away, cheeks flushing a little. “You never mentioned it in any of our e-mails or calls.”

“It was last minute,” Cynthia interrupted. I looked over at her; she had been watching the conversation. Her legs were crossed, one elbow propped up on a knee as she rested her chin on the back of her hand. She had an inscrutable smile on her face, but the body language told me all I needed to know. She definitely planned this. I felt my face grow hotter as I realized it, and all the implications that could mean. Riolu squeaked as my arms tightened around him.

Cynthia continued. “I had the breakthrough a few days ago, and I thought he'd be interested. I found some text that suggests that Sinnohans may have moved over to Johto, but the connecting thread mentions a cave that no one's been able to find in Johto. Not yet, anyways.”

“She thought that I might like to try and find it.”

“Ah.... I see...”

“Oh! Before I forget, these are some of the books I wanted to show you, Sarah.” Cynthia got up to grab a small handful of books. She placed a few of them on the table in front of me; I was so apprehensive of the situation now that I couldn't even glance at their titles. My Riolu looked at the books curiously. “You might enjoy familiarizing yourself with Sinnoh's myths and traditions. It's a region that's full of beauty and history!”

She handed Lance the other books she held. I watched as she spoke so passionately to him about the ruins that she had found mentioned in her texts. I found myself a little jealous. Cynthia was a beautiful, confident, and an amazing trainer. She had no problems talking to Lance and keeping him invested in a conversation. And I could barely talk to him without becoming extremely flustered, stuttering and stumbling over my words, uncertain of which ones to say at all. I wanted to say all of them, in all the ways and combinations, until I could find the best ones to say to him. But with that desire to talk to him came the same conflict of being noticed, of being watched, of being paid attention to. As much as I wanted it, I didn't want it; because if he saw me, then he was watching me. And if he was watching me, then that meant that I could be judged one way or the other over something I did. Something I said. The way I looked, the look I gave off. I didn't want him to think less of me because of that. Cynthia, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about the mess that her library was in. She knew who she was and confident that it was more than enough to be liked, to be respected. I yearned to have that kind of confidence, that fearlessness. But I had to be liked. I had to be well-liked. I couldn't stand letting someone think worse of me for an accident or lack of attention or knowledge.

So I sat there, quietly watching the two of them as they became more invested in their conversation, until I thought myself forgotten about. The things they spoke about were beyond my current knowledge, and I, for once, could not interrupt. The two of them got up to look at something else in the library, ancient maps I think. I sunk into my seat, letting out a long sigh. Riolu looked up at me from where he sat in my lap, confused and concerned.

<<What are you feeling right now? I know the confusion.>>

Jealousy, I thought back. I was jealous of her. Not to a bitter extent, but... She probably could have-- I couldn't finish the thought, the mere idea of it making me hurt. I wanted to cry. Riolu turned around to press his forehead against mine.

<<I don't understand your feelings, but I do know that you're in pain right now. I hope you can feel better.>>

“Thanks.”

I watched as Cynthia helped Lance find reference materials for the Sinjoh ruins that she talked about. He hadn't heard of it before, and Cynthia speculated it was somewhere far north of his hometown. Lance placed a hand on his chin as he thought, looking carefully at the maps she had on the wall and the documents she showed him. It looked natural, seeing them together. Perhaps if I was in a better place emotionally, I could have enjoyed watching him in a different element.

The two of them seemed to flow well together, I found myself thinking as I observed them. I didn't want to, but it came unbidden. They looked good together. People probably think... nicer things about the two of them together than if it were me with him. I was not pretty. Today, I didn't feel smart enough to even join in their conversation, though I obviously could have picked up the information. I couldn't deny that, and so, the argument inside my head began.

My thoughts struggled between telling me I was worthless as a trainer and proving all of it wrong. I was good at Pokemon battles, and I had defeated the Champions from Kanto and Hoenn, but I didn't choose to take that role of responsibility that came with being Champion. It wasn't something I could do. It required a lot of work, and I wouldn't have been free to continue on my own journey. On the other hand, it wasn't impressive to not take up the position. That was the only thing I was confident about. All those achievements didn't mean that I'd be interesting to someone. Someone that I struggled to initiate a conversation with, and sometimes procrastinated replying to text or email messages to, and thought for hours on a reply, just because I didn't want to worry about him thinking awful of me. But...

My eyes roved over to where the two of them talked. I felt something awful in the pit of my stomach. A pang of jealously.

I wish I could be like her.

Anyone but myself.

Ugh. I hated these thoughts. But once they started, they wouldn't stop coming.

If he got with me, it would be such a joke. The media would have a field day. And why would he even get with me? Because I have a one-sided crush? That's bullshit. Plus, she can talk to him about things, and hold a conversation, and, damn, even get him to travel to another region for just a myth that she thought he might be interested in? I can't even do that. I mean, I never asked him, but why would I? I know he won't show, even if he didn't have all those responsibilities. And I'm strong as a trainer, but I'm not as experienced as her. I can't even accept that my own selfish feelings might be hurting my Pokemon. I thought I knew a lot, but it's just as much hot air as Eusine. And then there's just... UGH. Expecting someone to get with me, looking like this? A Milktank, no a Snorlax-- wait what was that cat they have here? Purugly. I'm so ugly, so awful--

<<Sarah?>>

It was a sound like a cold drop of water. The burning, burdening chaotic swirl of thoughts stopped, for just a moment. Riolu's thought was like a cool, soothing balm. I opened my eyes. I hadn't even realized that I had them shut, tears welling up in the corner. He touched his forehead to mine. After a few moments, I felt a calming wave of energy sweep through my body, relaxing all the muscles that had tensed.

<<Better?>> he asked, thoughts full of concern.

Yeah, I thought back. I hugged him tight, closing my eyes again. That helped a bit. Thanks.

<<Good. Because you got Miss Cynthia's attention.>>

That made me jump. I opened my eyes again to see her standing nearby, a gentle smile on her face.

"Are you doing okay, Sarah?" she asked me quietly.

"Uhm.. Mm… y-yeah. I-I'm okay now."

"That's good. I'd hate for you to feel awful while we're all here." She gently ran her hand along the back of my head, and rested it on my shoulder. "Please, have some tea. Or, if you'd like, there are more beverages in the kitchen. I could get you something to drink.”

I looked at her, then looked over to where Lance was, still invested in the scrolls.

"Uh, um. No, I'm okay. I have water in my bag. Thank you."

It was strange. She had such a caring aura about her that I wanted to break down and cry to her. To let her know about everything that was upsetting me, including how I was both jealous of her, and that I admired her. That I hated my conflicting feelings. That I lacked the courage I would otherwise have, when it came to Lance. I wanted to ask her for advice, but I hated the idea of needing to seek it. Knowing that she showed so much care to me, a trainer she had only met a few times, was enough to make me want to break down.

But my Riolu, Lance, continued to emanate calm energy, keeping me from reacting in a way that I would have hated. He didn't understand it, but he understood enough to know that keeping me calm was what I needed most at the moment. Crying was one of the last things that I had wanted to do.

<<Thank you, Lance.>> I thought to my Riolu. I'd have to remember to give him a good treat later on.

"Do you want to step outside for a bit?" Cynthia asked me suddenly.

I blinked. I looked up at her, confused. Was she… Trying to get me to leave the room? But… did that maybe mean….

As though reading my thoughts, she quickly added, "I could give you a tour of the house. Though, I suppose we should avoid my room, it is a bit messy from all the paperwork…."

"I, uh…"

"Great!” She turned her head, calling out over her should, “Lance, we'll be back in a bit. If you're interested, there's some books I found on the Johto region, pre-dating the Tin and Brass Towers in that corner over there."

She got me to take off my bag and come with her. Riolu followed, though he didn't have much choice as my emotional support Pokemon at the moment. Pika stayed behind; she was enjoying the small snacks that Cynthia had left out. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her.

Cynthia gently guided me towards the back of the house. And by gently, I meant that she gently pushed me towards the back, ignoring all confused protests with cheerful replies. She led me outside, to where there was a wide, empty dirt yard. She let out her Lucario, much to the joy of my own Riolu, who now squirmed in my arms so he could say hello to his newfound hero.

"Gahhh… I'm sorry about all this. I should have thought more carefully about it or let you know that he was coming over."

"Wait, so it was planned?" I said, turning around on her. I didn't know if I should have been more angry or shocked that she knew all along about my feelings towards that Lance, and still let this happened. “Or at least the him coming over part…?"

Cynthia leaned against the banister of the porch. She didn't say anything for a moment, as though she was trying to carefully word her thoughts. I waited, trying not to be angry, trying not to be embarrassed.

"I thought it might help," she finally said.

My emotions decided: I was angry, mad at her, though I couldn't put into words why. But…. I believed her. She really was trying to help me. I could feel it. And as I stared angrily at her, I felt my conviction weaken. Her Lucario stood nearby, palms out; he was using his aura powers to connect our spirits so we could better understand one another.

"...You're really scared about this," she said with a mixture of pity and understanding. “And you're right to feel angry; I should have asked or talked to you about this beforehand.” She slapped her forehead, muttering a simple idiot to herself.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I really am. Both angry and scared. Because I already did this once, like an idiot, and erroneously assumed that that's what you do to like people. That you just... Decide to. And then you tell them that you want to date them and then you become boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever and it all goes uphill from there. But it didn't. And I'm lucky at all that he still let me get to know him after that. But I guess not enough, if I didn't know that he was coming here..."

Cynthia paused, giving a thoughtful hum. Then, she said in a hopeful tone, "Well, what if he wanted to surprise you? When was the last time you guys got to see each other in person?"

Her questions gave me pause to think. I never considered that, but I also didn't think I was important enough for something like that. Like he'd come all the way out here just to surprise me, when my Pokemon journey meant that I could be anywhere between a city and a route, even stuck somewhere. Sure, I normally tell him where I was heading or planning to go; but there wasn't a guarantee that I would have been here. Or anywhere. Planning a visit was one thing, but a surprise one....?

"C-c'mon now…" I looked away from her, eyes searching ground for things to say. Burnt orange dirt greeted me as an answer. A single rock, a couple of weeds, more dirt. Nothing useful that could be said. “There's no way that he'd... wanna... I mean, I'm not someone important. I'm just a stupid, annoying teen, annoying some guy that I kn--” I stopped, horrified. “Oh Arceus, I should be leaving him alone, shouldn't I?! I bet I seem like some crazy stalker fangirl and-- ugh. Damnit, Sarah, how could you be so stupid!? You're bugging him so much--"

I was cut off as an unlikely hand-chop came down on my head, causing me more surprise than pain. Doink.

"Owwwowowowowow." I clutched at my head, tears curling up in the corners of my eyes from the pain. I looked up at Cynthia, whose hand was still vertical and poised to chop me on the head again. “What'd'you do that for!?”

“What about all those calls?” Her voice was stern.

"Courtesy. He's just doing them out of courtesy, or to be nice, or because I seem crazy enough that if he doesn't he's worried I might--"

Doink.

Another hand-chop to the head.

I rubbed the top of my head, tears welling up in frustration now.

“You need to stop the negative thinking! He wouldn't take the time out of his busy schedule to do all that just because you annoyed him, Sarah. Trust me; I've had my fair share of crazy fans, and I wouldn't let any of them near me like I've let you. I'm not saying this to get your hopes up, but it's clear that he think you're someone worth keeping near. For people like us, where we're constantly being hounded by media and trainers looking for personal gain and not much else, that's a lot. We have our own lives; but it's hard to let people in them. And with the frequency of those calls that you guys have--”

“E-EH?! W-w-wait, y-you know... a-ab-about.... th-those!?” The way she had so casually said it this time had caught me off guard. I don't know why I hadn't froze up at the first mention of the calls mere minute ago.

“Lance told me.” At the sudden deep blush that set across my face, she clarified. “Your Riolu, I mean. ...I see now why the name might have been difficult for you.”

“Oh.” I still felt alarmed, but I relaxed a little. That meant he wasn't sharing stuff like that with other people. Not that I wanted him to. I didn't want to think about what it meant if he was sharing that to someone else, especially not with Cynthia.

“I apologize, for not telling you that he was coming over. You were so afraid and scared to say Lance's name,” she said, nodding towards my Riolu, “that I thought having you come over while he was here might have helped. I didn't let you know because I thought that you might run away... And I thought that you might appreciate the surprise of getting to see him again, in person.”

“I--” I stopped to think about it. She was right; I would have thought about running away. But I realized that, despite all the fluster and frustration and everything else that just happened, it was nice to see him again, in person. I hadn't gotten to see him in person very often the last few years; part of that happily avoiding the awkwardness awarded to me by my thirteen-year-old self, while also us having our own, vastly different paths in life at the time. But, even with the information that Cynthia had now shared with me, I thought that maybe I should keep my distance from him. To leave him alone, and not bug him like I usually did. To not repeat the mistakes of the past. To make sure that I didn't do that.

I really wished I could have been better about that.

“You do like getting to see him again, right?” Cynthia asked me, noticing that my thoughts had started to spiral again. I felt myself flush right up, stammering out a reply.

"I-I… I'mma… Y-you're n-n-not… wr-wrong about… about that…." I crossed my arms, looking away for a moment so I wouldn't have to face the consequences of admitting it.

Cynthia laughed. "Who knows. Maybe this might help you get closer to him, so you're not always stuttering!"

"I'M NOT STUTTERING!!!" I shouted at her, face red. “I just…. Fumble… and stumble… over my, uh, words………."

"Can you even refer to him by name?" she asked, sounding concerned for a moment.

"Err, um… that is to say…. Uh…." I hung my head. "N-no… n-not r-really."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Um…." I paused to think. Why do I have trouble using his name? ...ah. That's why. I looked down, and I picked at the sleeve of my shirt. I didn't want to say the words.

"Because I don't think I'm worthy of saying it."

There was a solemn moment between the two of us. Putting it into words made it feel so surreal. It made no sense to think that way, or feel that way. After all, I was a human. I was a damn Champion; I've beaten his ass at Pokemon battles more times than it was worth, when I was much younger. So then, why did that not mean something? Why was I venerating a name that anyone could have? Even my own Pokemon had suffered because of those feelings.

Then, as I was contemplating the absurdity of it, Cynthia started laughing, wiping tears from her eyes as she approached me.

"Wh-WHAT?!" I shouted, embarrassed and confused. "I REALLY DO THINK- er, feel… That way… I guess."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for laughing. But just… The way you said it--"

"Ugh! Why did I even come out here with you?! I should have just gone off and trained!" I turned away, crossing my arms angrily. She came up and gave me a consoling hug.

"You really shouldn't feel that way about yourself," she said quietly. "Regardless of whether or not you're in love. It's not good to hate yourself like that. You are worth so much, and I see so much potential in you, both as a trainer and as a person. Don't give up on your dreams, because someone told you to feel this way once."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will myself not to cry.

“W-what if...” It was a struggle to get the words out. “Wh-what.. i-if.... it w-was... m-m-more... se...several... people?”

“Not even then. Their lies are not what's true about you.”

Her words and compassion had finally gotten me to cry. Feelings that I kept pushed down inside myself burst forth. I turned around and pressed my face against her, trying to hide it, but so painfully aware in some part of my brain that it would result in some snot on her coat. It was embarrassing. But she didn't show anything other than kindness as I broke down. She soothed me with comforting words and hushes, gently rubbing my back. When I had finally stopped, spent of the emotions that I had kept bottled up, she recalled her Lucario and guided me back inside. We stopped in the kitchen for a moment; Cynthia suggested that I get something to drink before returning to the library.

Riolu had followed behind us, watching everything with quiet awe. I could feel that he had a query for me, but he couldn't quite formulate it clearly. And even if he had, I wasn't sure that I could answer him.

“Lance,” Cynthia called out sweetly to my Riolu. “Do you understand what just happened here?”

He shook his head, mouth slightly open.

“Ri.”

“Sometimes, when things hurt for us, we try to hide it. But if we keep doing that, then it gets to be too much to hold back. Sometimes you have to let yourself cry. Or scream. Or whatever it is that your emotions are making you feel. Sarah seems to be especially fond of holding them back. I can't say she's particularly good at hiding them, though.”

“Thanks, Cynthia,” I said wryly, face heating up as I took another drink. It was embarrassing having her explain things to my Pokemon, because it also felt like she was trying to wink-wink-nudge-nudge me about how to solve my own emotional issues. I should have been more than capable of doing that myself, without the explanation from someone else. She continued.

“So if you feel like she's ever in need of letting out her feelings, you might need to pull her aside and get her to open up to you. It might not be as easy as it was today. Sometimes, in order to protect herself from her feelings, she might fight you on it. But you'll have to be patient and wait her out, letting her know that you're there for her.”

“Ri...”

Riolu jumped up to hug me, startling me for a moment.

<<I promise to help take care of you!>> His feeling was sincere. The energy behind it, the strength of his feelings, almost made me cry again. I shook my head, trying to focus elsewhere.

When I calmed down, we walked back to the room. I was staring at the door again, mentally preparing myself once more to enter. The calm that I had gained was slowly giving way once more to nervousness. I found myself worrying that it would show all over my face that I had an emotional meltdown. (Cynthia told me it didn't look like I had been crying, but I wasn't convinced.) I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down while it felt like every fiber of my being was racing. My skin felt like ants were crawling all over it. I rubbed one of my arms and took a final deep breath.

Cynthia smiled at me.

“You ready?”

“Y-yeah. I'll be fine.” I picked up my Riolu, hugging him tightly. “I've got this Lance with me to help keep me calm.”

“Ri!” His tail wagged.

“We're back!” Cynthia called out when we entered. I could see Lance's tuft of red hair over by the table that we had been seated at earlier.

“Welcome back!” he replied. We walked over to him, and I could see Pika curled up beside his lap, taking a nap. I instantly felt envious of her. To just so casually....! Lance noticed that I was looking at her, and gave a small laugh.

“I came over to read some of the books, when I noticed that Pika had been left behind. I thought it was odd, but she didn't seem to be bothered by being separated from you. In fact, she curled right up next to me and fell asleep.”

I blushed. My Riolu looked up at me.

<<She felt confident that I could help,>> he said. <<I'm not sure why that is. Miss Cynthia was the one to help you the most! I think she just wanted to eat the cookies without sharing...>>

I frowned when he told me that. I put him down and picked up Pika, sitting down on the couch as I did so. I held her up, away from me, waiting for her to wake up.

Pika gave a sleepy little yawn. She squeaked when she saw me staring at her with an unamused expression. She squirmed, giggling as she tried to get out of my grip. I let go of her with a short sigh, and she fell into my lap. With a carefree attitude, she climbed back up the couch to sit on my shoulder, nuzzling me. She was definitely trying to be trouble.

“Honestly...”

“Is everything okay? It's not often that I don't see her without you.”

I jumped up for a second, forgetting that he was there. I tensed up, and feigned ignorance. “Hm? Oh, uh, Riolu said that she wanted to eat all the cookies and not share.” I gave him a nervous smile. “Some days, y'know?” I had no idea what I was trying to get at, honestly. But I hoped it was enough of an answer to avoid any future questions.

Now that I was no longer giving my Pokemon a condescending stare, knowing what her real motive was, I realized that I had sat next to him. On the same couch. I felt my face heat up and I slowly started to scoot away. Ah, but that's too obvious. Ah, quick! I patted the space next to me, motioning for Riolu to come sit there. He tilted his head at me, but obliged, climbing onto the couch. I scooted over more so he could sit between us; Lance raised an eyebrow at me.

“Ah, I forgot to mention it earlier, but Riolu's really excited to meet you!” I gave him a nervous laugh, and fumbled around for a further explanation. “Though I guess that much was obvious earlier... Ahaha... I thought, um. Well, uh... I don't really know how else to explain it, so just! Accept that he wanted to sit next to you!!”

Smooth.

As if picking up on the cue, Riolu turned towards Lance and wagged his tail. It wasn't disingenuous, as he really was excited to meet his namesake.

<<Hi, I'm Lance! I was named after you!!>> He stood up on the couch and held out his paw to Lance.

Panic coursed through me. My face instantly turned red and I grabbed Riolu. I pulled him away, hand over his mouth while trying to resist the urge to grumble something into his ear.

“What... did he say?” Lance sounded concerned, but I could hear muffled laughter from Cynthia, seated across from us. I had forgotten about her, but now wasn't the time to deal with her.

“O-Oh! Uhhh...ummm... y-y'know... how some.. Pokemon, just... say.... silly....things? To, um, their heroes?” I winced, feeling like the lie wasn't much better. My Pokemon wasn't satisfied with it either, and frowned. I could feel the dissatisfaction, right there, in my arms.

“I can't say that I know... Seeing as I haven't had any Pokemon talk to me in the same way that Riolu seems to with you.”

“Oh!” I let him go, and Riolu crossed his arms, pouting. “That's, um...” That's great! I wanted to say, but I knew that it was a very enviable thing to be able to understand Pokemon clearly. In specific words.

“That's, err, too bad, I think?” I relaxed, relieved that my Riolu hadn't somehow instantly been able to connect to and bond with Lance like he had with me. “I mean, it sucks, when they um, just have a lot of cool things they want to say to you! He thinks you're really cool!”

“And what else does Riolu think,” Cynthia said from the sidelines. I gave her a sharp look, and she stifled her laughter.

“Okay, I don't know what Cynthia thinks is so funny, but he really does look up to you!” I said, finally giving a genuine statement. “He's wanted to meet you for awhile now. And, it's, uh, it is nice to see you outside the league, for once. And not because of work!” I added, remembering that one time I had run into him. He was on a mission with the Pokemon G-Men, and somehow the events of that created this... issue. “I was just, um, surprised earlier to see you anywhere but Kanto or Johto, really. So I'm sorry if it seemed like I was being rude.”

Lance seemed to be confused by what I was saying, and I rolled my eyes and shook my head, frustrated at myself.

“Nevermind. Sorry if that didn't make any sense.”

He gave me a strange look, perhaps because my own words were strange enough without all the context on my end.

“I accept your apology, though I'm not really sure what it's for.”

“Um, 'cuz I thought maybe it seemed like I didn't want you here?”

“It didn't seem that way to me.”

I paused, trying not to overthink on what he just said. “I—oh, um. Good.” I nodded, trying to sound certain of myself.

An awkward silence followed, but it was shortly interrupted by Cynthia.

“Sarah,” she turned to me. “Where is your next badge located?”

Bless her for changing the subject to something less nerve-wracking. Riolu perked up at the mention of the Gym Challenge, and uncrossed his arms. I looked up at nothing in particular, trying to recall where I was told to go next. It was on the west side of Sinnoh, somewhere closer to Twinleaf Town than this side of Mt. Coronet.

“Umm... I think the city's called Canalave?”

“Then you should definitely make sure to train up your Riolu!” Cynthia looked excited, eyes brimming with energy and the teasing forgotten. “The Gym Leader is Byron; he's a steel-type user. Would you like to stay for awhile and train with me?”

I blinked. The offer was extremely honoring, and I couldn't figure out a reason to say no. “Sure, I'd love to! Thank you very much Cynthia.” I looked down towards the little Pokemon beside me. My Riolu jumped up, looking starry-eyed at Cynthia, tail wagging excitedly. “I'm sure Riolu would love it too, if he got to train with your Lucario!”

“Of course. I'd be more than happy for them to train together!”

“Would it be okay if I joined the two of you for your training?” Lance asked suddenly.

I felt myself freeze. I was not expecting that. I looked at him, scrutinizing him. Was there a joke in this? A prank? I was suddenly suspicious, wondering if somehow he and Cynthia were in on something. But if they were planning something like this all along, I couldn't tell; not from him. I quickly looked towards Cynthia, who clasped her hands together, smiling.

“That would be great! Incidentally, how long are you planning to stay in Sinnoh?”

“I've got a few days before I need to head to Blackthorn City.”

“Excellent! Then it's settled. We'll all train together!”

So maybe it wasn't planned. That didn't stop Cynthia from flashing me a devious smile right after. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive that she had something else up her long, black sleeves.

“That reminds me!” She pulled out a poster from under one of the books, and showed it to us. It had a drawing of a starry night sky, with what looked like shooting stars falling across it. Under that was the shrine, and the area around it was decorated.

“We're having a festival in a few days. Because we're away from any of the larger cities, the night sky is really clear. It makes it easy for us to see a meteor shower that happens once a year. It's one of the few things that draws visitors to Celestic Town, giving them revenue. The both of you should go! I'll be busy helping the town run it, so I won't be able to show you guys around, but I think you'll have plenty of fun exploring it without me!”

I felt my insides go hollow, instantly recognizing what Cynthia was doing. She was setting up an opportunity... for... a... I couldn't finish the thought, too frazzled to think it. I could only hope that, between the blanched feeling I was having and the inevitable blush that was to follow, my complexion looked relatively normal. Because I wanted to scream. And run away. And never come back.

Cynthia just gave me that, sweet, innocent, inscrutable smile, now decipherable, as a little nudge forward. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I hated that I wanted to thank her for it, too.

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