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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 7 months ago

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This post has been a long time coming but it's something I need to talk about. There is a general notion that is saying if you're not a liberal when you're young you don't have a heart and if you're not a conservative when you're old you have no brain. Or something generally to that effect one of the things that bothers me greatly, and why I generally agree and disagree with that sentiment, is because I don't think that it is a liberal principle to have sympathy and or empathy.

In the same vein I don't think that being a liberal excludes you from being intelligent. One of the things however, that I have noticed, is that it feels like modern liberals never grow up. They have this very strange believe that bleeding hearts empathy or sympathy makes them a better person. And what makes that particularly funny and interesting, is that it proves them to be moral busy bodies in the exact same way hypercurity Christians were in the 80s and 90s. Which if you really think about it makes a lot of sense. Because they would have been those same kinds of people if they had existed in the 80s and 90s. At least as older teens and or adults. The reason of course that I can prove this it's because back then those people were not really Christians in the actual sense of the phrasing. They were individuals we thought Christianity gave them a reason to moral grandstand and basically bully people into intellectual submission. And we see a lot of that today on the modern left.

To further this point I've recently seen several videos of people talking about how the American dream is dead. How they have X number of degrees and can't find a job, or that they make three times the minimum wage rate and still can't survive. And every time I hear these stories I kind of laugh a little bit. Not because I think it's hilariously funny. But more because I believe that it is generally humorous of the general ignorance of why this is. Recently I heard a couple talking in front of me to a Dollar general clerk. And they were talking about how the minimum wage for fast food workers in California was raised to $20 an hour and how companies were complaining that they weren't going to be making enough so they laid off workers. Something we knew that would be the case and no one listened. A lot of people generally blame capitalism for stuff like this. But that's because they have no idea how companies work, and also have no idea how economy works. Profit is something that generally gets reinvested. The reason for this is so that the company can continue to grow. because there's this weird idea that everyone outside of managers and CEOs at companies all just make dirt poor wages at minimum wage. Which is not only dishonest and not true but broadly ignorant in general. Backed up the matter is people need to that profit of a company does not just end up in the pockets of CEOs or board of directors.

A lot of very rich people in the world do not have access to most of their wealth. Because most of their wealth is actually tied to stocks. Those stocks are known as solid assets. And for those that know Jack squat about economy, that is an asset that is difficult to turn liquid at a moment's notice. And if you don't know what a solid asset is it is likely you also do not know what a liquid asset is. Liquid assets is basically money that you immediately have access to. IE money that you can spend at the drop of a dime. Most filthy rich people on Earth do not just have a billion dollars that they can spend at a moment's notice. So the idea that billionaires can just spend a billion dollars on something immediately is ignorant. Most of you need to learn more about the economy before you keep talking about stuff you have no clues about. When a person is deemed a millionaire it might be because they own a company. That company's worth could be 1.5 million dollars. Because that company is worth 1.5 million dollars the owner of said company is considered a millionaire by proxy.

And because it jeopardizes the wealth of others outright selling stocks in a company in a very quick manner can cause the price of said stocks to either plummet or skyrocket. Due to that there are government regulations that stop this from happening as much as the government is able to do so. That's important because people think that billionaires and millionaires just have immediate access to all of their worth. If I owned a million-dollar home that was gifted to me by a family member when they died, and I have a $50,000 car that I am making payments on. But, I am only making about $20 an hour. What then ends up happening is that the government can steal the home that was gifted from me because I likely would not be able to pay the property taxes on it. But until the government confiscated something that was not theirs, I would be considered a millionaire when I was not making more than 100K a year. And if you do the math I wouldn't even be making 80k a year. Because a metric crapton would be taken out in taxes.

So what is all this have to do with left and right? Well the answer is actually very simple. Leftists often no absolutely nothing about the economy. Though I should hold up just a second and I need to be fair. The reason I say leftist rather than left most of the time is because there is a difference between people on the left and leftists. Leftists are cultists who worship the fact that they are on the left and often a lot of their views are particularly far left. Because they have been inundated by communism and socialism as viable ideas despite the fact that both systems support slavery. Now, back to my point. Leftists mostly do not understand economy and it shows in the people that they vote for. They vote for slavery effectively. They want free money, they want free food, they want free houses, they want free everything. And it's because they think that they have a right to it. Now a lot of leftists will debate this point but it's just fact. Because they don't think anyone should ever have more than they do.

But one of the bigger issues is the fact that people have a tendency to not understand how to manage their own money and that's one of the larger problems. If you are a person who is barely making it from paycheck to paycheck, and you are not living in one of the most expensive cities in the United States, and I'll give another caveat of you're making more than $15 an hour. It is likely you are not managing your money properly. What do I mean by this exactly? So $100 at a grocery store will buy you significantly more food for you to eat, then if you go out for fast food. And a lot of people I personally know who complain about not having money order fast food. Unfortunately because of inflation fast food is more and more and more expensive every single day. And it's going to be funny watching those costs go up significantly higher and places like California because of the minimum wage fast food law where they expect fast food workers to be paid $20 an hour bare minimum. Now forgive me if I laugh my ass off at you if you are complaining about this while subsequently you voted for it. Every single vote for a socialist Democrat like Gavin newsom is a vote for the poor and low middle class to get more poor by the day.

Because if you honest to God believe that Democrats are going to forsake their Rich donors you are out of your mind. They will tell you until they are blue in the face, that they will destroy the rich and make them "pay their fair share". Meanwhile the amount in taxes that the rich are paying currently dwarfs with the other 98% of us pay in taxes. I would say that that's kind of unfair. Because effectively what you are saying is if you make more money that money should therefore be forfeited to the government to spend on things we don't need to spend it on. Which means money going to things you don't want them to go to. So congratulations to you leftists who hate Jews and hate israel. Because every single tax law you've ever voted for to increase the tax rates funded missiles that got dropped on Gaza. So if all of the Jews who have nothing to do with Israel in America are guilty of crimes that they didn't commit according to you you have blood on your hands for taking more money from American citizens for bombs that got dropped on a country who you wholesale support for no reason.

None of you pay attention at all. And it very much shows. Socialist policies do not do anything but destroy countries. Always have and always will. Because do you know one of your bastions of socialist healthcare Canada, is currently cheering on their government funded death care. What do you really know why? It's because their entire healthcare system has been flooded for years with people waiting weeks to months or longer for checkups. Or to have stuff taken care of that they need taken care of, forcing them often to have to find different hospitals that are less flooded or go to a privately funded hospital. But that wasn't the only reason that the Canadian government was praising their own government-funded death care. The other reason was because of how much money they're saving by killing people rather than helping them. Yes, you heard that correctly they are praising the fact that they now get to kill people because they can't continue to afford saving them. So much for your socialist healthcare right.

So let me basically lay this out in a way that makes sense. If you vote for leftist policies you vote for your own demise. If you are complaining about how expensive colleges the fault is Democrats. If you vote for raising the tax rates and watching your money get robbed from you, that is the fault of Democrats. If you are complaining that you cannot find a job at all with multiple degrees, that is the fault of Democrats. And if you truly and honestly want to know why, it is because they have allowed unchecked millions into the United States over the past few years, who they can hire for minimum wage because the government is literally giving them free money. They are fast tracking them to citizenship, and they are giving them all the free stuff that they possibly can so that they can be voted for. And to make this point absurdly clear Joe Biden's administration admitted to flying 300,000 plus people into the United States from foreign countries illegally and dropping them off in undisclosed locations around the US. Meanwhile also pushing a bill through the courts as hard as he can to make it so that non-citizens can immediately get citizenship and vote. If Donald Trump had done this you all on the left would literally be screaming for him to be hung. And yet you continually vote for your dollar to be worth less. You continually vote to not be able to find work. And you continually vote to be robbed blind by your own government thinking that you're going to go get those filthy rich people for being rich. Eat the Rich am I right?

Is any of this saying at all that the right does not do anything wrong? No it is not. The right has done their fair share of really dumb things. Republicans have done their fair share of really dumb things. But one of the dumbest things that the Republicans have done is not enforce rule of law. Another thing that leftists have voted against. Allowing criminals to get away based on their political ideology or the color of their skin. A black man who has BLM stapled all over all of his social media can literally go out and rape murder pillage and anything else and the entirety of the mainstream media will do all they can to hide his ethnicity or call him a brilliant talented scholar who was just misunderstood. But it's not just black either it's trans people it's LGB people it's anyone who is non-white. Unless it's a woman with a very flamboyant hair color that's not natural (caveat her being a leftist activist).

I'm generally sick of the ignorance of leftists and a lot of people who lean left. And it's just funnier and funnier and funnier every single day watching these people complain about stuff that they literally voted for. Unchecked immigration and lunatics in the street? Leftist policies. Have fun getting punched in the face. You're bleeding heart sympathy and empathy is not going to get you anywhere. And it doesn't help others. More often than not it actually harms them by enabling them to continue on very destructive paths. And honestly, as a person who leans left myself, it drives me nuts that I have to make posts like this at all. Because I would love for the Democrats to actually represent me as a person. I would love to have anyone represent me as a person. Unfortunately the only people that seem to do are Rand Paul and Ron Paul. With a few of the new blood Republicans leaning closer to how I view things than not. Because while they are conservatives they're not lunatics. And a large chunk of them are definitely not warhawks.

So keep whining on tick tock and Twitter and every other platform about how supposedly Republicans and conservatives are ruining your lives when literally every single thing that is ruining your life is literally a policy created by the left. (However, here is a honorable mention for the Republicans that voted for sending more billions of our dollars to foreign countries for wars we don't need to be involved in. Yeah fuck you guys too)

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tezla7 · 2 years ago

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The Queen

It's all pretty strange.

I genuinely don't care about the British royal family. The UK needs to be a republic. Because I don't care, I can't connect with people getting angry about them either because, they just do not matter to me. I've ignored them as much as possible my whole life.

I'm also learning from people around the world about crimes of the British Empire- that I suspected in various ways but never had enough knowledge of because- no Empire teaches that to its own subjects.

https://twitter.com/Aldanimarki/status/1567861763219116032?s=20&t=XO8mujD2X7MnXTG-0KoROw

The UK is experiencing pervasive non-stop propaganda, it's unavoidable. I tried to find out some information about Manchester airport to pick up my relatives yesterday and I had to get through a splash screen about the Queen just to get to the website. It's insane.

At the same time as I'm learning from other people, hearing their anger and what it all means for them, there's also this weird thing going on with the nation that I'm not a part of. This death has a big influence on the UK. My parents have lived their entire lives with the Queen being head of state. 70 years. She's been head of state so long that it had this kind of feeling of permanence, that it would always be that way. Like she wasn't going to die.

It's hard to explain what the monarchy is to British people, it will mean very different things to different British people but, it's all very weird and this is another part of it. When I was a little child in infants school, about 6 years old, I remember being taken by the school, all of us to the main road to wait for an hour to wave little flags while the Queen was driven past at 40mph. I can still remember the black Rolls Royce, but I barely saw anything else. I explained the story to my Dad recently and he sat there and said- he remembers doing exactly the same thing 60 years ago when he was a child. That's the depth we're talking about- millions of very young children brainwashed their entire lives with the same thing, for decade after decade. What do you call a nation scale cult? A religion?

https://pediaa.com/difference-between-cult-and-religion/

A friend and I talked months ago about how when the Queen dies, it will be a referendum on the royal family and this country becoming a republic. Charles isn't popular and nor should he be. We expected a huge onslaught of propaganda, the last big huge attempt to save the monarchy vomited up from the British establishment- then, when it fades- people seriously asking the question that surely it’s time to look at getting rid of it. Except, the Queen died one day after electing a dangerously stupid new Prime Minister with the whole country on the edge of widespread disaster.

The UK government is being suspended for another 2 weeks, but it’s already been in suspension for months while the country slides into an abyss. All around Europe countries had their emergency sessions and already made emergency budgets in preparation for a winter crisis (of their own making). Not in the UK. Boris Johnson resigned but refused to leave office shutting everything down while he went on several holidays. Everyone else has been holding their breath wondering how they’re going to survive into the next financial year.

The new leader Truss did her first speech saying she would cut taxes. THE NEXT DAY she announced a plan to spend £150 billion on energy bills and told everyone she would explain the details tomorrow.

https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2022/09/08/gccl-s08.html

The day after they've said they're going to implement the plans but not explain them, while they disappear for two weeks, meaning there may never be any scrutiny. They're going to tax every citizen in the country the £150 billion like another mortgage- and hand all the money to the private energy companies. At the same time as Truss did her first speech it was quietly announced the largest donation to the Truss campaign was from BP. Truss used to work for Shell.

The people in Truss's cabinet are hardcore right-wing neoliberal ideologues who literally wrote a book on how to completely sellout the country. The reason I was on the Manchester Airport website in the first place is that it’s a private airport, the government sold it. You have to pay £5 for 5 minutes to drop anyone off, it’s £6 for 30 minutes to pick anyone up. The airport is understaffed to increase profits, uses robots at passport control that often don’t work, which increases delays which makes them more money in both the car parks and offering things like fast track lanes in passport control- pay £5 to get through quicker. My uncle was delayed an hour in passport control, because I’d planned ahead, I was waiting several miles away with all the other taxi drivers and people on a surrounding housing estate otherwise it would have cost me £20- for the delay, caused by the airport in the first place.

Why was I picking them up from the airport by car? UK rail strikes- the trains, tracks and services were sold by Margaret Thatcher- idolised by Liz Truss.

Copy and paste this across public life- road tolls, fully privatised healthcare, no employment rights or protections, no housing rights or protections. All the things we have to look forward to under new leadership.

EU flags at half mast- unelected anti-democratic ideologues recognise their own.

So The Queen, something that has been there my whole life, my parents whole life and is a huge part of British identity- isn't there anymore. The money needs to change, flags, signage, plus international flags, signage, currency...

Meanwhile it's all being used as a massive distraction to screw everyone over. Also at the same time the event does mean something to a lot of people in this country. Most of them are brainwashed of course but lots of them are just normal people who see a person who they thought was a nice woman and they are sad about the death of a complete stranger they felt connected to. I remember the same kind of hysteria over the death of Princess Diana. Diana never really did much, at all. But she was built into a Mother Teresa figure who was portrayed as a saint. Ironic perhaps, because Mother Teresa wasn’t exactly who she was portrayed as either.

The Queen of England was the figurehead of an extremely evil Empire, but, she did that job very well. And that's the powerful contradiction that is hard to articulate. To her victims she's evil incarnate. To lots of British people she's this weird supreme civil servant who never did any wrong, was always dependable, always discreet, noble, consistent- a paradigm of virtue. She was there but not there, like a benevolent demigod that’s been alive so long it seemed like she wouldn't die.

And it's just impossible to reckon with all these contradictions simultaneously right now. Especially for me because I don’t connect to any of it emotionally.

I want the monarchy to end. But hating people as part of that really means nothing to me. At the same time this is only my perspective, and it has nothing to do with all the voices I hear from all over the world who have righteous anger.

It's a global event, a truly global deep historical event because the Queen echos back into history directly to the British Empire, nobody else does. Nothing else like this does.

Lots of people might ask- why should they care? Well I agree to that sentiment. What I do worry about is that Liz Truss is genuinely reckless in a very real way- she is arrogant and no has no idea how stupid she is. Aggressive, with no comprehension of danger- like a true idiot, blundering in making threats at people as if the UK has any real power in the world whatsoever. It all adds to a hostile global environment already on the brink of war in many places.

Well, so what? Why should people care? Because the UK often obfuscates and enables US NATO aggression. Boris Johnson was the one who went to Ukraine and stopped peace negotiations. If he hadn't, we might have avoided the whole crisis that's coming this winter.

The first foreign leader to speak to the newly elected Liz Truss was Volodymyr Zelenskyy. That doesn’t bode well.

https://consortiumnews.com/2022/09/09/craig-murray-thats-enough-monarchy-for-now-thank-you/

https://jacobin.com/2022/09/queen-elizabeth-ii-glamorize-britain-obituary-royal-monarchy

https://www.mintpressnews.com/queen-elizabeth-ii-her-legacy-21st-century-britain-never-looked-so-medieval/281898/

https://chrishedges.substack.com/p/monarchs-belong-in-the-dustbin-of

Norman Baker https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qunmjOpYps

https://www.bitebackpublishing.com/books/and-what-do-you-do

https://www.thenational.scot/politics/21253709.richard-murphy-one-sentence-told-us-everything-liz-trusss-priorities/

#Queen #the queen #empire #british empire #liz truss #uk #boris johnson #NATO

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writingfics-passingtime · 3 years ago

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Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki tickle fluff #ler!loki #ticklish!reader #marvel tickle #marvel fluff #marvel reader insert

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spideyhexx · 4 years ago

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take a chance on me - b.b.

here's something I wrote for @buckyblues 4k writing challenge! I've been wanting to get back into writing, so here's my first go at it :)

using the song prompt "take a chance on me by abba." @edenslibrary

be sure to let me know what you think :) reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated 😊

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky has a crush on you. he's doubtful of himself, messes up, but turns it around.

WARNINGS: sfw. fluffy. some tiny tiny angst. bucky being self deprecating. huge hate of chekhov. bookstore owner!reader.

word count: 2.3k

Bucky replays his conversation with you a billion times within the couple of minutes it takes for him to walk from the quaint little book shop to his apartment.

After his favorite bookstore closed, Bucky took to finding a new one and stumbled upon the Murky Lime. He thought the name was strange, a little off putting, but as soon as he walked in, Bucky knew he was going to enjoy spending his afternoons there. It always smelled like hazelnut or vanilla, a scent he found so incredibly comforting that he bought a hazelnut scented candle for his home. Although it was a small shop, the shelves were loaded with books and he was able to find a hidden corner to sit down and read for a couple of hours, unbothered.

Not to mention the pretty girl that worked at the main desk and seemed to be the owner. You were there every afternoon that Bucky stopped by. He noticed how you would paint your nails when there weren’t as many customers. How kind your words were to anyone who asked for help. It took him a couple of weeks to work up the courage to ask you to help him find a book, even though he knew exactly where it was.

Bucky remembers when he complimented your bracelet and you smiled, stuttering out a thank you. The first time he saw you nervous. It gave him hope that maybe you were into him, but Bucky pushed away those thoughts as quickly as they came.

He couldn’t fathom how someone would truly want to be with him. Besides, he had enough on his plate, what with helping Sam on whatever mission he called him on and dealing with the occasional nightmare that haunted his mind.

That’s why he keeps on replaying the conversation. And cursing at himself for being so stupid.

…

“Hey Bucky!” Your words were cheerful, causing heat to rise up on his cheeks. You loved how a simple greeting seemed to get him all flustered. He’s still not used to even hearing his name come from your lips.

“How’re you doing, doll?” He lets the endearment slip, hoping he’d get to see you smile, and you do, before turning away and pointing at a box.

“I’m alright! And if you don’t mind, and you can totally say no, but I got a whole new set of Chekhov plays and I need to bring them to the play section, which is the furthest point from here and the box is a bit too heavy and I was going to make multiple trips but now you’re here and-”

“Of course I’ll help,” Bucky responded, chuckling at your babbling. You sighed, secretly hating your rambling habit, but it was hard not to when a handsome man was standing in front of you.

“I thought you hated Chekhov?” Bucky asked, picking up the box and following you to the play section.

“Oh I do, but a customer has been calling in for the last three weeks, asking if we have Chekhov and I thought I should finally put my Chekhov hating ass aside to appease the people who adore him,” you told him.

You couldn’t remember when you told Bucky you hated Chekhov, but you did not necessarily need to say it for someone to understand your distaste for the author.

“Or they could’ve just gone to a different bookstore,” Bucky mumbled, but you heard and let out a laugh. He put the box down and leaned against the opposite book shelf, hoping you would continue talking to him as you put the books away.

“So, I had another question for you,” you said, sneaking one glance at him before looking away.

“Go for it.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? Not sure where but we could just go get some coffee? Or go out to dinner?”

This was it, the penultimate moment Bucky had been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Yet his mouth began speaking before he could really take it in.

“Um, no,” he said, immediately widening his eyes at your expression. Your mouth dropped to say something, but you weren’t sure what to even say.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I can, right now, maybe?” You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled softly.

“It’s okay to say no, Bucky.”

“I know that, I know. I think I’m just not ready right now,” he said, his voice quieter as he said the last part. His brain was screaming at him to retract everything he had just said to you and to tell you he would go on a date, but Bucky could not do it. He already felt like he had failed and saw no point in trying.

“That’s okay. But...if you ever change your mind, let me know, I’d still be down,” you said.

You were slightly disappointed, but understood his reasoning even if he didn't give you an exact one.

Ever since he first came to your shop, you knew exactly who the tall, blue eyed man was. It was hard trying to comprehend everything James Bucky Barnes had gone through. You knew asking him out might’ve been a big step from having occasional small talk. A small part of you hoped he would take a chance on you someday.

...

Bucky throws his jacket haphazardly onto the couch as soon as he gets home, not caring that it ends up falling to the floor. He lights the candle on the kitchen counter and collapses onto the couch face first, letting out the sigh that was building up in him ever since he left the Murky Lime.

How could he do that? Was he actually not ready to date? He told himself he wasn’t, that’s why he felt like he had to say no to your date. But god, does Bucky want to go out with you and hold your hand and kiss your cheek. He hasn’t felt this feeling in a long while.

All the therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor flood his mind. The ones where she encouraged him to try dating and finding new friends but he brushed it off, feeling like he was unworthy of it. How could a sweet girl like you see something in him, he simply did not understand it. But you liked him enough to ask him on a date and he fucking said no.

Bucky sends Sam a quick text that’s more like an entire paragraph explaining the situation and what he should do. He throws his phone to the other side of the couch and drops his head into his hands. His phone pings a few seconds later and Bucky scrambles to grab it.

I think you’re just afraid of dating buck. You’re definitely ready, you’ve done so much work to be yourself again and I’ve seen that in you. If you like her AND she mentioned still going out if you changed your mind??? Go get her, man. Take the chance. If it doesn’t work out and you really aren’t ready, then that’s okay too. But it’s clearly eating you up that you said no, so just go to her.

...

You button up your coat and stuff your phone into your pocket, straining your head to the side to double check the time. Closing the store required a particular routine that you perfected, but you did not expect to see Bucky’s face at the front door. He did not notice you looking at him and you see the hesitation in his hands before he opens the door.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Hello again.” Bucky gives you a stiff grin and rocks on his feet for a few moments. The silence is deafening and it’s just about too awkward for you to handle.

“Is there uh..something you want?” He glances up and your eyes lock with his pretty blue eyes. You feel like you could gaze into them all day.

“Yeah, if you’re still up for it, I would like to go on that date with you. I’ve been afraid to put myself out there, but you’re so kind and beautiful..” his words trail off and he’s distracted for a moment at how you’re biting your lip nervously.

“I wanted to take a chance, so yes, let’s go on a date.”

“Do you wanna go now?” Bucky raises his brow and nods. You run to the back door to make sure it’s locked. When you come back, you see that Bucky took it upon himself to turn a few of the lights off and he hands you your purse.

“What a gentleman, huh?” He blushes and moves to open the door for you. You lock it up and turn to him.

“Does a walk in the park sound like a good idea?”

“Perfect.”

Since it was almost evening time, the park was not as busy. Bucky prefers it that way, and you do too. He’s so close to you, you can smell the little bit of cologne he must’ve put on. You want to tease him for it but decide not to. Instead, you purposely brush your hand against his own and Bucky immediately takes your hand in his.

“Maybe after this we could get dinner,” Bucky suggests.

“That would be nice. You can pick where.” Bucky thinks for a moment before responding.

“There’s this diner..a couple of blocks from your shop actually. It was there back in….you know.” Now that he’s thinking about it, he wasn’t sure you knew. He doesn’t wear gloves to hide his vibranium arm anymore and it’s an easy google search but you never showed any indication you knew about his past.

“I know about your past, Bucky. I won’t ask anything about it if-”

“No, it’s okay. I can talk about it.”

You nod. You're not planning to scour his brain about the haunting details of his life as the Winter Soldier, but you were curious about his life before that.

“Does it look the same as it did back then? The diner, I mean.”

“For the most part. There’s some newer technology in there and updated furniture but the style is all the same. It’s kind of nice to go somewhere familiar.”

The two of you walk over to an empty bench and take a seat. Your hands are still intertwined, resting on Bucky’s thigh.

“One more question about the 30s and 40s and then we can head on over to the diner,” you say, making Bucky laugh and nod his head at you to continue.

“How were dates back then? Like would you do the same thing we’re doing now or was there anything different?”

“It’s mostly the same,” he tells you. Bucky looks down at your hand, admiring how you rub your thumb against his hand.

“But there were these dances. I haven’t seen anything like them nowadays.”

“I think the closest thing we have to that is nightclubs. I’m gonna assume that is not your scene,” you say, giggling at his disgusted expression.

“It isn’t. I like forties music. I tried to listen to newer stuff and it’s not all terrible, but still not my favorite. I don’t think anyone in a nightclub will play Tommy Dorsey or Dinah Shore.” You ponder that for a moment as he turns to observe what else is going on in the park.

Quickly, you take out your phone.

“What are you doing?” All you do is smile at him, setting your phone down on the bench and standing up in front of him. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously as you hold your hand out.

“Mr. Barnes, can I have this dance?” Bucky takes a look around. There were a few people around who seemed to not take notice of the music coming from your phone.

“Gladly,” he accepted, taking your hand. Bucky placed one hand on your hip and pulled you in closer to him.

“I must admit, I know this was my idea, but I don’t know how to dance,” you whisper to him. Bucky shakes his head, smiling so wide he thought his mouth would start hurting. He slowly moves his feet side to side.

“Just this is fine,” he mutters. He tries not to take his eyes off yours, but you’re so close and Bucky can’t help but look at your lips, slightly parted and letting out deep breaths. He moves your hand rest on his shoulder, both of his own now holding your hips.

You trail your fingers from his shoulder to behind his neck, clasping your hands there.

“Thank you for this,” Bucky says and he hums along to the song playing, ‘Be Careful, It’s My Heart’ by Frank Sinatra. You smile at it, so he keeps humming. Bucky leans his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s not perfect-”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s with you. And this is...it’s nice.” You feel like your heart is going to burst. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips and Bucky leans in.

As his lips ghost against yours, you move your head, so he ends up kissing your cheek. He pulls back, a confused look on his face.

“Save that for the end of the date, honey,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You linger your lips against his skin before moving away from him and his scoff turns into a laugh.

“I’m holding you to that,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I hope you do” you mumble and Bucky pulls you in close to him, making you squeal. He twirls you and brings you back into his arms, his lips touching the top of your ear.

“Let’s go get some dinner now.” You nod and grab your phone, opting to let the music keep playing. Bucky doesn’t hesitate from telling you random music facts about the artists as you make your way to the diner.

And as you ramble on about your own favorite singer, Bucky thanks the heavens that he took a chance on you and that it was going better than he ever imagined.

#buckyblues 4k challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky fic #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fics

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calumxkisses · 4 years ago

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Sleep On The Floor | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: life’s getting dark grey, lucky for you, Calum is ready to show you all the colors - or maybe that’s what you dream about.

a/n: hi beautiful angels, i’m back! sorry for being away fr such a long time but i was studying and trying my best to stay alive. today’s also my birthday and i wanted to thank all of you for loving my past serie. i love every single on of you.

this imagine its inspired by the song: sleep on the floor

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The music is loud, the same songs are repeated continuously but the constant talk and the drinks make it difficult to notice the monotony of these parties. It is a monotony that you relive every weekend since you started working in the music industry and it doesn’t depend on the place, the week or the event, the same things repeat themselves over and over again.

Dark grey. It’s the color that you best associate to this situation. It’s that color that makes you think about factories, workers in line, controlled by rules and by a world that leaves no room for creativity, for change, for a better world. You remember that Charlie Chaplin’s movie that your professor made you watch in school and the way he ends up living an adventure. Will that happen to you too? It’s just a party, you think, but because it’s a party you shouldn’t feel this way.

You’ll take a plane tomorrow and you’ll end up in another city that you won’t visit because there’ll be no time. After the concert or the interview, you’ll end up in some hidden place dancing and drinking and the day after another plane or bus will be waiting for you. And when the tour ends, you’ll be able to breathe.

The girl in front of you keeps talking about the promotion she got at work, but you stopped listening to her a long time ago. Didn't she get the promotion last week? Or was it another girl? Maybe she was the one who had just returned from a business trip?

Across the room, a few steps away from you, Calum, Luke and Roy are talking about the new album the band is working on, the new genre they are experimenting with and the lyrics they enjoy writing but will never release. They spend their days like this, searching for new sounds and writing lyrics about salads and strange places where they get lost.

You look around before your gaze gets placed in front of you and you notice that Calum is looking at you too, his curly hair with shades of blonde free from any beanie and he’s still wearing the leather jacket. His eyes stare at you and a little grin forms on his lips. Without realizing it, you slowly approach each other.

“It doesn't look like you're having fun.”

“My stomach hurts from how much I’m laughing.” You say in a sarcastic tone, your face expressing your emotion.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Calum knows you. He knows your need to break free from the world and the way you love everything that is extraordinary. He needs that too, he wants to have the possibility to just be him and not the bassist from 5 Seconds Of Summer, but he’ll never tell you this, he won’t give you the satisfaction of being right. But you know.

“No, I'm just tired of always doing the same things.” You say dramatically, sighing.

“Then let's do something different.”

“Like what? Playing hide and seek instead of beer pong?”

“No, let’s leave. We have a couple of hours before this party ends and nobody will notice our absence anyway. Let’s do something different for once.”

You smile. He’s trying to relieve your suffering and you appreciate that.

Calum walks away for a moment and when he returns, your jacket is in his hand and no longer on the couch. He throws it at you and offers you his hand. “A Taxi is already waiting for us outside. What do you think?” His smile is wide on his face, but not as big as the one that forms on your face when you grab his hand and drag him out.

You both laugh as you get into the car, your adrenaline is running high and you already feel better. The driver smiles at the scene, Calum whispers something in his ear and then sits back on the seat, his eyes following your body before looking in your eyes.

“I didn’t know you could speak French.” You say looking at his face.

“There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me, love.” He says before looking in front of him, mentally trying to remember the name of the streets. His side profile is lightened by different colors as you pass all the different neons of the shops of the city.

The window on your right is slightly lowered. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, the wind brushes your face and the noise of the city is like a melody in your ears. Calum kisses your hair and rests his head on yours.

You’re in a car, just the two of you stuck in traffic, yet you feel like you are in a different world, in a world of constant change, where everything happens only once and you are ready to treasure every second of it.

You don’t know how many minutes have passed by before Calum taps on your shoulder and whispers, “Look.” before pointing to his left. You open your eyes and the Arc de Triomphe lights up the city. It’s a masterpiece that reigns in the French city. It’s fully illuminated and stands powerful in the center of the rotunda.

“Wow.” It's the only thing you can say as you get closer to the window to get a better look. The driver chuckles at your reaction. You are too distracted by the beauty of the monument to notice the way Calum looks at you, lost in the way the lights illuminate your face and the way your hand is in his, as if they were made to hold only each other.

All the cars are driving past the monument as if it was nothing, probably used to the view, but you can’t get enough of the magical feeling that you feel just by looking at it.

As the Arc de Triomphe is now behind you, you sit back in your seat, your mouth still slightly open from the astonishment of the sight. They might have been some of the most intense minutes you’ve ever experienced.

“Everytime we finish a show here, we always ask to pass by here. After the confusion of the concert, this view always manages to bring peace. Usually we are always exhausted but we try to stay awake as much as possible to not miss this view.” He whispers, looking out and smiling at the memories.

“I know how much you daydream and how much you like these views and as soon as they gave us the tour dates, I immediately asked to let you come with us. I knew you would like it.”

The idea that Calum has thought of you, especially in this occasion, warms your heart. He’s not a person who expresses what he feels, he finds it difficult to open up to the world and to the people around him and you know that that's his way of showing that he cares, by gestures, thoughts and small details.

“Thank you, Calum. We passed here yesterday and it was magical in the sun, I didn't expect to love it even more at night.”

The car crosses a bridge and the Seine is illuminated, leading you to fall even more in love with this city. It is definitely the most romantic city in the world, as everyone says.

“Close your eyes.” Calum whispers, taking your hand and putting them on your eyes.

“Wait, why? What are you doing?” You ask but he stays silent. Your heart beats fast.

Before you know it, the car stops and Calum talks to the driver. You are tempted to open your eyes and peek but the idea that he has decided to surprise you makes you feel too much guilt to do it so you decide to keep your hands on your face.

Calum opens the door, “Give me your hand but keep your eyes closed, okay?” You nod before holding out your hand. He grabs it and, being careful not to hurt you, he gets you out of the car.

You walk for a while, the noise of the stones is loud as you walk on them and the wind ruffles your hair.

“Keep your eyes still closed for a moment.” He whispers in your ear making you feel chills all over your body.

You feel him moving away and you try to use your senses to understand where you are. You hear people talking in the distance, the noise of some cars behind you as you play with your fingers to entertain yourself while you wait. You aren’t afraid, there’s no single cell in your body that feels fear, you trust him too much to think about the idea that he left you there. He would be ready to climb the highest mountain and cross the hottest deserts to come to you, there’s no emergency that’ll let him leave your side.

Since the first moment his eyes saw you, he knew that he couldn’t let you go.

You feel someone stand in front of you before you hear him speak: “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Calum is standing in front of you, he’s looking straight in your eyes to see your reaction. He’s holding a red rose in his right hand and a huge smile is on his lips. Behind him, the Eiffel Tower is majestic, a source of light in the dark of the night. You’re left speechless, the magic you’re living is impossible to explain with words. It seems like billions of stars are joined by surrounding the structure, illuminating it and making it something eternal.

There are a few people in the distance, taking photos of the structure and laughing at each other.

There’s a musician on the side of the tower, she’s playing songs that you’re not familiar with and yet they seem to be perfect for this moment. They might be love songs, or even sad songs, but the melody envelops the atmosphere that surrounds you, making you look like the protagonists of a dream.

“Calum.” It’s the only thing you’re able to say. He’s standing there, between you and the Eiffel Tower, one of the most beautiful attraction in the entire world and yet his beauty almost steals the spotlight. But he’ll never know.

He grins and turns around to admire the structure. You reach to take your phone from the pocket of your jacket and take a picture of him, of the Tower, of everything that is surrounding you. Something to look at when you’ll need to think about a happy memory.

“I’m in love. That’s it. I know what love looks like now.” You said admiring the view.

“With me?” He looks at you smiling.

“You wish, don’t you?.”

He laughs and there’s no sound that could be better than that. Not even a view could be more beautiful. Calum Hood laughing in front of the Eiffel Tower, in the middle of the night, surrounded by stars is a sight that no one will ever experience and you hold this moment close to your heart.

“I’m moving here.” You say after a few minutes of silence.

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t live without you.” Your heart skips a beat. “How am I supposed to wake up on time and to go to all my appointments if you don’t remind me?” You both laugh.

“Fine, I’ll honor you with my presence for a little while longer.”

“Thank you.”

For a moment, you look straight into each other's eyes. The world seems to stop, except for the Tower and the music in the distance. Calum takes a piece of your hair behind your ear and you can see your reflection in his eyes.

“It’s getting late, we should go.” He whispers close to your lips.

“Do we really have to go?” You want to close your eyes but you can’t seem to leave the sight of his face. A face that you see everyday but that you can’t get enough of.

“Yeah but this’ll be our little secret. A place that you can escape to when you’re tired of the world. It’s gonna be here-” He says before pointing to your mind, “-and here.” He stops pointing to your heart and for a second you stop breathing.

“We have too many secrets, Calum.” You say as he takes your hand and walks towards the Taxi. You can’t see his face but his body language is telling you that he’s smiling.

He opens the door of the car and gets in and you follow him, not before looking at the Eiffel Tower one last time and taking a deep breath.

The drive back to the party passes quickly and silently, your head is again resting on Calum's shoulder and his head is resting on yours, your hands are intertwined as you play with your fingers while the stereo plays slow, almost inaudible music.

“We are here.” The driver says with a strong accent and you realize that you're back in that building. You both get out of the car and while Calum pays for the ride, you look around you.

“It’s okay to escape reality every once in a while, as long as you remember to come back to reality to me.” He whispers while you get inside the house and you look at him confused before noticing the scene in front of you.

As you enter through the big door, you see that everything looks exactly as when you left. People are doing the same things they were doing before and while you throw your jacket on the couch, you notice that the stereo is playing the same playlist it was playing a couple of hours ago.

Calum is back at talking with Roy and Luke, he’s holding a drink and he’s laughing at something his friend is saying.

You go back to the group you were with at the start of the party, nobody seemed to have noticed your absence. The girl in front of you keeps talking about the promotion she got at work but you’re not really listening.

You look around before your gaze gets placed in front of you and you notice that Calum is looking at you too, he gives you a questioning look and winks before turning his attention back to his friends.

You smile.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum imagine #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #calum thomas hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #imagine #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #michae #michael 5sos

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

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Arkham Files: The Flash (Wally West)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Wallace “Wally” West, also known as the Flash. Session One. So, Mr. West, how are you?

Wally: Let’s go over the situation I’m in, shall we? My wife and I visit your creepy, Gothic asylum-perfectly legally, by the way- to make sure that Bruce Wayne is okay, and you get us arrested on bogus charges of trespassing. Then you pull strings to get me stuck in Arkham Asylum while I’m awaiting trial, and now you’re trying to have me declared legally insane so that you can lock me up in here for good. How the heck do you THINK I’m feeling?

Hugo Strange: Your hostility is unnecessary, Mr. West. I am trying to help you.

Wally: If this is your definition of ‘helping’ me, I’d hate to see what you do to people you want to hurt. Seriously, did you go to the Zoom Academy of Making Things “Beeetttteerrrr”?

Hugo Strange: I am nothing like Mr. Zolomon, Mr. West.

Wally: I’ll say you’re not. Hunter...he’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But you? What’s your excuse?

Hugo Strange: I do not need an excuse, Mr. West. You may not realize it yet, but you-and all the other costumed vigilantes-are doing more harm than good.

Wally: What do you mean, more harm than good? I’ve had my powers since I was ten years old, and since then I’ve done my best to hold to the promise that I made to Uncle Barry: to use my speed only to help those in need, to combat evil-and never for my own personal gain. I haven’t been perfect at it-I’m not as selfless as Uncle Barry, and I’ve got quite a temper-but I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried.

Hugo Strange: Let’s talk about your Uncle Barry, shall we, Mr. West?

Wally: Why? So you can twist my words and use them to make him out to be some sort of misguided lunatic? Not gonna happen.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I assure you I bear no ill will towards Mr. Allen. Obviously, you bear a great deal of affection for him. I simply wish to know why that is.

Wally: Because he’s a hero! He’s brave and loyal and honest and kind and good. He cares about everybody. He uses his powers to protect the weak and help the poor and defend the helpless. He became friends with Albert Desmond when nobody else would’ve given him a chance and got him his job at S.T.A.R. Labs, and he’s tried to help Mick Rory get the treatment he needs for his pyromania, too. He’s raised billions of dollars for charities, and he’s helped to save the world more times than I can count. (Pause) And he does all that while also working for justice as a police scientist!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, the exploits of Mr. Allen are well-known. I was asking you why you, in particular, are so fond of him.

Wally: Well, he did marry my favorite aunt. (Pause) More importantly, though...as a kid, I really needed a hero, and he….he was my hero. My parents barely knew I was alive, except when I did something that inconvenienced them. When that happened, my dad would call me names or hit me, and my mom would wail and cry and guilt-trip….and then they’d go right back to obsessing over their own problems or arguing with each other. I...I felt like I was all alone, except for Aunt Iris. She was the one person in my family who really seemed interested in me, and she also had this awesome job as a reporter in a big city. She was really cool, but because I lived two hours away from her, I didn’t get to see her very much. (Pause) When Uncle Barry first became the Flash, I didn’t know who he was...but I idolized him. I was his biggest fan! I was even the President of the Blue Valley Flash Fan Club. (Pause, laughs) President and only member. The other kids thought he was cool, but they weren’t as invested in him as I was. To me, he represented freedom.

Hugo Strange: It sounds as though you were a rather lonely little boy, Mr. West.

Wally: Yeah, I guess I was. (Pause) That’s why I was so excited when my folks sent me to live with Aunt Iris in Central City during the summer when I was ten. And that’s when I first met Uncle Barry. Like I said, I didn’t know he was the Flash yet, so at first I thought he was...well, honestly? Kind of a dweeb. But then he told me that he knew the Flash and could introduce me to him. I was so excited, I probably could’ve inhaled an entire shoe. Anyway, Uncle Barry used his super speed to change into the Flash and act like he’d been waiting for me to arrive, and that’s when I met the Flash. He was everything I’d dreamed he would be. Even though I had been a little bit of a brat to him as Barry Allen, he treated me with respect; like he was happy to meet me and have me around, and it put me over the moon. Eventually, he started to explain how he’d gotten his powers, and that’s when it happened: lightning struck twice. I was doused in the same chemicals he’d gotten his super speed from, and I gained access to the speed force. It was the best day of my entire life. Besides the day I married Linda, of course. I became his sidekick, and from that point on, he was like a second father to me. He laughed at my stupid jokes, got me ice cream, took me on field trips, played games with me….all the things I dreamed of having my dad do with me. Eventually, he told me his secret identity. It was shortly before he and Aunt Iris got married, and I was ecstatic to learn that my favorite aunt was going to marry my hero. I was the ring bearer at their wedding, and from that point on, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris basically raised me. They helped me through my parents’ divorce. Uncle Barry taught me how to balance a checkbook and apply for college scholarships; Aunt Iris helped me get my driver’s license and taught me how to really notice when other people were in need. (Pause) If it hadn’t been for them, I...I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Maybe I’d be one of Captain Cold’s strays right now.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, let me posit a question to you. If your uncle loved you so much, why did he put you in a costume and allow you to fight dangerous criminals? You became the so-called Kid Flash at ten years old, and by the time you were eleven, you had already faced the Weather Wizard, Captain Cold, and the first Mirror Master-to say nothing of your garden-variety gangsters and thugs. Surely, a responsible adult would have ensured that you stayed far away from such violence...and yet Mr. Allen seemed to almost thrust you towards it.

Wally: (Annoyed) Thrust me toward it? Are you kidding? If Uncle Barry hadn’t allowed me to be his sidekick, I’d have struck out and done superhero work on my own. I wanted to be just like him, remember? If anything, I thrust him into letting me fight criminals. (Pause) Besides, it wasn’t like he was just letting some random kid fight crime. I had super speed, remember? The chances of my getting shot were virtually nil. And the Rogues have a thing about not hurting kids. I wasn’t in any particular danger, especially not with Uncle Barry watching out for me.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, you obviously are unaware of this, but your uncle is a very sick man.

Wally: Have you been listening to anything I said? Uncle Barry is the best man in the world. If that makes him crazy...well, I don’t want to be sane!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must face reality. Your uncle was a very eccentric, very lonely man. He had few friends; most of his life was absorbed in his work. He always wanted to be someone special, but he knew that slow, lazy Barry Allen was no one important. Like you, he idolized a superhero-in his case, the Mystery Man known as Jay Garrick, and, like you, he wished that he, like his hero, was special. When his metahuman powers were activated by the lightning strike, his mind, already fragile from years of being mocked and looked down upon by his peers, shattered. He decided to use his powers to emulate the hero he had read about and idolized as a child, so that he could finally be special. Eventually, his antics drew the attention of other, even more damaged individuals, thereby indirectly inspiring the debut of all the costumed oddities that both you and your uncle spend so much time playing cops and robbers with. And then he met you. Another lonely little boy who wanted to be special. When you got your powers, he saw a chance to expand his fantasy world; recklessly endangering you. He may have been deluded enough to call you a sidekick, but what you really were was a child soldier. No wonder your life was sent into such a tailspin when he was temporarily lost in the speed force five years ago. Without him around to help maintain the fantasy that he had indoctrinated you into, you were lost, and the only solution you could think of was to take up the role that he had once filled. You are not a hero, Mr. West. You are a sad, deluded child; just as your uncle is a sad, deluded man. But I will see that you get the help you need.

Wally: (Furious) That’s a load of bunk, and you know it! I don’t know what your game is, Dr. Strange, but you’re not going to get away with dragging my uncle’s name through the mud!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, your loyalty to your uncle is misguided. He is a dangerous vigilante, one who took advantage of your innocence and loneliness to turn you into yet another costumed freak. What he did to you was wrong, and it is my duty to make sure that you, and the rest of the world, realizes that fact.

Wally: (Very loudly) Don’t you talk about Uncle Barry that way, you filthy liar! (Stands up rapidly; knocks over the chair he was sitting in)

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I would advise you to refrain from such open displays of hostility. Otherwise, I will have to recommend that your children not be allowed to visit you, for the sake of their own mental health.

Wally: And how do you think it affected their mental health to have their parents locked up on phony charges, huh?

Hugo Strange: Neither of you were fit guardians for them, Mr. West. I understand that having them separated from you was upsetting, but it is for their own good. You and your wife obviously love them, but you are too ill to properly care for them, and your wife was only enabling your behavior. It was simply not a safe environment for the children, so they have been removed from your home until such time as you have been cured and can properly care for them. Two generations of costumed vigilantes is quite….(Hugo Strange is frozen solid)

Capt. Cold: And he’s got the nerve to call us crazy. Really, accusin’ you an’ your missus of being bad parents? I seen how you dote on those kids, West. Only a nutjob could think you were unsafe for ‘em.

Wally: Captain Cold?

Capt. Cold: The one and only. You ready to bust outta this joint, kid?

Wally: Are you seriously asking me to help you escape prison?

Capt. Cold: Sam got Lisa and all the guys out already, and I’ve pretty much already escaped, kid. Just figured I’d be nice and get you outta here, too-before the Doc decides to give you a lobotomy. (Freezes and breaks Wally’s metahuman power dampener) Besides, Central City is furious over what happened to you and your missus. They ain’t exactly gonna expedite you back here.

Wally: All right...but as soon as Iron Heights gets rebuilt, I’m taking all of you Rogues straight back there.

Capt. Cold: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Pause) C’mon, kid. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

#the flash #dr. hugo strange #wally west #captain cold #flash comics #dc comics #fanfic

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supermarvelgirl15 · 4 years ago

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Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 1: New Neighbor

Summary: You hated moving, but luckily you had a helping hand. Bucky just wants to go home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,440

Warnings: A few curses, mentions of death

A/N: I know, I know. Another series. Don't worry, I'm still working on Home! I just been in a Bucky craze lately hehe. There's gonna be oneshots with these two and when the TFATWS comes to an end, I'll write into those episodes. Anyways, enjoy! Tags are open for this series/oneshots!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

“James, did you hear me?”

Bucky’s eyes snap back from the window, landing back on the cold orbs of his therapist. For someone that was supposed to be welcoming, she tended to come off as unreceptive. Then again, she did have to put up with his bullshit.

Doctor Raynor crossed one leg over the other, her pen tapping the dreaded notebook. He knew it was just an inanimate object, but it was too passive aggressive for his liking. Or maybe it just reminded him of that red book with that grating star.

“Did you make any progress with your amends?” Raynor repeated her apparent earlier question, locking her eyes with his own.

He’s been looking into a couple of politicians that he had helped gain their positions, ones that still held their place in office even after Hydra collapsed. They were terrible people that needed to be stopped before they harmed anyone else. All he needed was some evidence that would be enough to convict them, since he had to follow “the three rules” set by his therapist.

“No.”

Raynor let out a small sigh at his dry response. It was hard to get more than three words out of him at times, but she had come to not expect anything else. If he wanted to open up some more, he would. Today just wasn’t one of those days.

She opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by the timer going off, signalling the end of the day’s session. Bucky got up and started out the door before she had the opportunity to add anything else. He’s come to learn that if he doesn’t leave immediately, Raynor would definitely keep him there longer than an hour.

All Bucky wanted to do now was to grab a bite to eat and get back home. He’d usually meet up with Yuri afterwards, but the old man-- that was still younger than him-- already had plans for the afternoon.

Yuri Nakujima was also someone that he needed to make amends to, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about that right now. Right now, he just needed a damn burger.

You hated moving, you decided.

If someone ever heard those words leave your mouth though, they would have probably called you a hypocrite. You would have gladly informed them that moving across the world with a SEAL team was extremely different than moving across the state.

At least with a SEAL team, you were with people that you knew and loved as you bounced from an unfamiliar place to another, with the promise of returning home to see your family after the operation was over. Moving from Syracuse to Brooklyn alone wasn’t really ideal, but it was the only way.

You had been one of the half billion people that vanished during the Blip, waking up one day to find out that five years had apparently passed. You came back only to find out that the United States government had disbanded your squad. The only thing the government did for you was give their thanks and sent you into early retirement, made, no, threatened you to keep your mouth shut about the highly confidential operations that you and your squad worked throughout the years. But that wasn’t the worst part.

Before the Blip, the only family you had were your mother and your younger brother Colton. They still lived in your hometown while you were off working. Your mother and Colton were the only people that kept you grounded when you came home for a few weeks at a time, helping you hold yourself together when you thought you were going to fall to pieces.

When you came back, not only was the only job you’ve known stripped away from you, so was your family. Your mother had passed away a couple years after you vanished, and a couple years after her passing, Colton went missing, apparently without a trace. And no one looked for him. Everyone told you that they couldn’t look for someone that had been missing for over a year, that you needed to accept the possibility that he was no longer alive.

So, your taking matters into your own hands.

Brooklyn was the last place where Colton had been seen, why he was there, you hadn’t the slightest idea. You found his abandoned car at one of the docks with no indication of where he was heading. It was apparent that he had some kind of business in Brooklyn, so that’s where you were going to set up camp. He wasn’t the first person you had little to nothing to use to track him down.

You set a box down on the floor of your new apartment, cringing slightly at the emptiness of the room. Maybe a couch would make it feel more homey instead of a camp out. A sigh left your lips as you walked back out the room, jogging down the stairs to retrieve the last of your belongings.

Bucky had his gloved hands stuffed in his jacket’s pockets as he moseyed his way up the stairs of his apartment building. He didn’t exactly have any plans for the rest of the day, but he just wanted to spend it at home. Maybe he would get around to reading that book the waitress at that restaurant he and Yuri frequented recommended.

Upon reaching the door of his apartment, his hand reached into his back pocket to grab his keys, freezing when he noticed the door across the hall was open. Bucky looked down both ends of the hallway before inching closer to the opened door. He didn’t recall that room being vacant, so it was a bit strange.

Bucky double checked his surroundings once again before he proceeded to open the door some more. Peering inside, he saw almost the same layout of his own apartment with a few boxes littering the floor. Who exactly was moving in across from him?

His silent question was answered when he heard a string of curses coming from the flight of stairs. He watched as you came into his view, struggling to balance three boxes, one of them falling out of your grasp, which pulled another curse out of your mouth. He hadn’t heard anyone curse so much since he was on the battlefield during the war, let alone from a woman.

After a few moments of seeing you continuing to struggle to retrieve the fallen box, he made his way over to you, picking it up off the ground. “I got it,” he alerted you as he held it in front of him.

“Oh, thank you,” you thanked him, looking over the other two boxes to see your savior. Bucky noted how your eyes briefly glossed over with recognition and how your smile faltered for a second. You know him.

You moved around him to get to your apartment, kicking the door open more with your foot. “You can just set it in here,” you called back to him over your shoulder. Bucky nodded as he followed you into your apartment, setting the box down where you directed him to.

You wiped your hands on your pants after you set down your own boxes, turning back to face the man before you. “Thanks again. It was really a pain in my ass,” you offered him a small smile as you placed your hands in your back pockets.

Bucky offered you his own smile, his less warmly than yours had been. “No problem,” he replied shortly, stepping backwards out of your apartment, turning with a final nod to you before reaching for his keys once again.

You quickly stepped out after him, sticking your hand out towards him. “I’m Kris, by the way. I guess we’re neighbors,” you mentally face palmed at the awkward greeting that just left your mouth.

Bucky glanced down at your outstretched hand, hesitating a moment before shaking it. “I guess so. I’m…”

“James Barnes. I, uh, know,” you finished for him, closing your eyes tightly immediately afterwards. “I’m so sorry, it just came out. Now I made things weird,” you apologized, opening your eyes to look back at him.

Bucky chuckled dryly, unlocking his door behind him. “It’s fine. Hope you like it here,” he said with another tight lipped smile before slipping into his apartment.

You groaned internally as you walked back into your own apartment, locking the door behind you. After all the training you’ve been through, nothing would have prepared you for anything like this.

For being literal neighbors with the Winter Soldier. One of your squad’s old targets.

××××××

Tags are open!

#DToB #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #kay writes

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phroyd · 4 years ago

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I’m not going to pretend that I know how to interpret the jobs and inflation data of the past few months. My view is that this is still an economy warped by the pandemic, and that the dynamics are so strange and so unstable that it will be some time before we know its true state. But the reaction to the early numbers and anecdotes has revealed something deeper and more constant in our politics.

The American economy runs on poverty, or at least the constant threat of it. Americans like their goods cheap and their services plentiful and the two of them, together, require a sprawling labor force willing to work tough jobs at crummy wages. On the right, the barest glimmer of worker power is treated as a policy emergency, and the whip of poverty, not the lure of higher wages, is the appropriate response.Reports that low-wage employers were having trouble filling open jobs sent Republican policymakers into a tizzy and led at least 25 Republican governors — and one Democratic governor — to announce plans to cut off expanded unemployment benefits early. Chipotle said that it would increase prices by about 4 percent to cover the cost of higher wages, prompting the National Republican Congressional Committee to issue a blistering response: “Democrats’ socialist stimulus bill caused a labor shortage, and now burrito lovers everywhere are footing the bill.” The Trumpist outlet The Federalist complained, “Restaurants have had to bribe current and prospective workers with fatter paychecks to lure them off their backsides and back to work.”But it’s not just the right. The financial press, the cable news squawkers and even many on the center-left greet news of labor shortages and price increases with an alarm they rarely bring to the ongoing agonies of poverty or low-wage toil.

As it happened, just as I was watching Republican governors try to immiserate low-wage workers who weren’t yet jumping at the chance to return to poorly ventilated kitchens for $9 an hour, I was sent “A Guaranteed Income for the 21st Century,” a plan that seeks to make poverty a thing of the past. The proposal, developed by Naomi Zewde, Kyle Strickland, Kelly Capatosto, Ari Glogower and Darrick Hamilton for the New School’s Institute on Race and Political Economy, would guarantee a $12,500 annual income for every adult and a $4,500 allowance for every child. It’s what wonks call a “negative income tax” plan — unlike a universal basic income, it phases out as households rise into the middle class.

“With poverty, to address it, you just eliminate it,” Hamilton told me. “You give people enough resources so they’re not poor.” Simple, but not cheap. The team estimates that its proposal would cost $876 billion annually. To give a sense of scale, total federal spending in 2019 was about $4.4 trillion, with $1 trillion of that financing Social Security payments and another $1.1 trillion support Medicaid, Medicare, the Affordable Care Act and the Children’s Health Insurance Program.

Beyond writing that the plan “would require new sources of revenue, additional borrowing or trade-offs with other government funding priorities,” Hamilton and his co-authors don’t say how they’d pay for it, and in our conversation, Hamilton was cagey. “There are many ways in which it can be paid for and deficit spending itself is not bad unless there are certain conditions,” he said. I’m less blasé about financing a program that would increase federal spending by almost 20 percent, but at the same time, it’s clearly possible. Even if the entire thing was funded by taxes, it would only bring America’s tax burden to roughly the average of our peer nations.

I suspect the real political problem for a guaranteed income isn’t the costs, but the benefits. A policy like this would give workers the power to make real choices. They could say no to a job they didn’t want, or quit one that exploited them. They could, and would, demand better wages, or take time off to attend school or simply to rest. When we spoke, Hamilton tried to sell it to me as a truer form of capitalism. “People can’t reap the returns of their effort without some baseline level of resources,” he said. “If you lack basic necessities with regards to economic well-being, you have no agency. You’re dictated to by others or live in a miserable state.”

But those in the economy with the power to do the dictating profit from the desperation of low-wage workers. One man’s misery is another man’s quick and affordable at-home lunch delivery. “It is a fact that when we pay workers less and don’t have social insurance programs that, say, cover Uber and Lyft drivers, we are able to consume goods and services at lower prices,” Hilary Hoynes, an economist at the University of California at Berkeley, where she also co-directs the Opportunity Lab, told me.

This is the conversation about poverty that we don’t like to have: We discuss the poor as a pity or a blight, but we rarely admit that America’s high rate of poverty is a policy choice, and there are reasons we choose it over and over again. We typically frame those reasons as questions of fairness (“Why should I have to pay for someone else’s laziness?”) or tough-minded paternalism (“Work is good for people, and if they can live on the dole, they would”). But there’s more to it than that.

It is true, of course, that some might use a guaranteed income to play video games or melt into Netflix. But why are they the center of this conversation? We know full well that America is full of hardworking people who are kept poor by very low wages and harsh circumstance. We know many who want a job can’t find one, and many of the jobs people can find are cruel in ways that would appall anyone sitting comfortably behind a desk. We know the absence of child care and affordable housing and decent public transit makes work, to say nothing of advancement, impossible for many. We know people lose jobs they value because of mental illness or physical disability or other factors beyond their control. We are not so naïve as to believe near-poverty and joblessness to be a comfortable condition or an attractive choice.

Most Americans don’t think of themselves as benefiting from the poverty of others, and I don’t think objections to a guaranteed income would manifest as arguments in favor of impoverishment. Instead, we would see much of what we’re seeing now, only magnified: Fears of inflation, lectures about how the government is subsidizing indolence, paeans to the character-building qualities of low-wage labor, worries that the economy will be strangled by taxes or deficits, anger that Uber and Lyft rides have gotten more expensive, sympathy for the struggling employers who can’t fill open roles rather than for the workers who had good reason not to take those jobs. These would reflect not America’s love of poverty but opposition to the inconveniences that would accompany its elimination.

Nor would these costs be merely imagined. Inflation would be a real risk, as prices often rise when wages rise, and some small businesses would shutter if they had to pay their workers more. There are services many of us enjoy now that would become rarer or costlier if workers had more bargaining power. We’d see more investments in automation and possibly in outsourcing. The truth of our politics lies in the risks we refuse to accept, and it is rising worker power, not continued poverty, that we treat as intolerable. You can see it happening right now, driven by policies far smaller and with effects far more modest than a guaranteed income.

Hamilton, to his credit, was honest about these trade-offs. “Progressives don’t like to talk about this,” he told me. “They want this kumbaya moment. They want to say equity is great for everyone when it’s not. We need to shift our values. The capitalist class stands to lose from this policy, that’s unambiguous. They will have better resourced workers they can’t exploit through wages. Their consumer products and services would be more expensive.”

For the most part, America finds the money to pay for the things it values. In recent decades, and despite deep gridlock in Washington, we have spent trillions of dollars on wars in the Middle East and tax cuts for the wealthy. We have also spent trillions of dollars on health insurance subsidies and coronavirus relief. It is in our power to wipe out poverty. It simply isn’t among our priorities.

“Ultimately, it’s about us as a society saying these privileges and luxuries and comforts that folks in the middle class — or however we describe these economic classes — have, how much are they worth to us?” Jamila Michener, co-director of the Cornell Center for Health Equity, told me. “And are they worth certain levels of deprivation or suffering or even just inequality among people who are living often very different lives from us? That’s a question we often don’t even ask ourselves.”

But we should.

Phroyd

#capitalism #economics #poverty #slavery

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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

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guarded | jhs x reader | chapter two: i’m screwed

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 3.1K

A/N: you guys are? the? best? i’m so thrilled that you guys like the story and i hope you like this chapter, too. i’d like to thank my emotional support llamas @ladyartemesia and @taetaewonderland for being the amazing people they are and beta reading for me, too. they really are the best.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

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

“What’s with the muscle?”

Donghyuk looks over his menu, eyes narrowed on the man just behind you. You sip your wine as you decide on how you want to answer that.

Jung Hoseok is seated at a table for one, barely three feet away. If you thought spending the last four days with him under one roof had been the most awkward stretch of your entire life, then you were dead wrong.

Tonight is infinitely more awkward.

“Personal security,” you say casually, picking up your menu to peruse the entrees for effect.

Donghyuk’s answering huff of agitation is loud -- probably loud enough for Hoseok to hear and your skin prickles with embarrassment.

“You need security to have dinner with me now?”

“Don’t be silly,” you say under your breath, hoping Donghyuk will take the hint and lower his voice. “I’m getting some heat on the Kwon and Lim case, so it’s just a precaution. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” he deadpans, one skeptical eyebrow raised. “I see you every day at work. How is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” you say with nonchalance, looking back to your menu.

You should be deciding on something to eat but your mind is wandering. You wonder if Hoseok has ever been to this restaurant before. You wonder if he purposely picked a table where he could see you but you couldn’t see him. You wonder what he plans to order.

You wonder --

“Well, you’re sending him home for the night, right?”

Your wine glass thumps against the linen tablecloth when you set it down with more force that you’d intended. A flush creeps up your neck.

How much of this conversation can Hoseok hear from his vantage point? The thought makes the tips of your ears warm as you fix your dinner date and occasional hookup partner with a warning glare. Smart as Donghyuk is -- with the law degree to prove it -- he can be downright thick sometimes.

‘No,” you say quietly.

He narrows his eyes.

“No, you don’t want to? Or no, you can’t?”

You blow out one long, irritated breath.

“‘Hyuk, I’m about two seconds from walking out of here,” you hiss. “Can we just drop this?”

He stops just short of frowning, eyes sliding back over your shoulder to Hoseok.

“And for the love of God, quit staring at him.”

Donghyuk slams his menu shut.

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

Jung Hoseok is like a ghost in your home.

He moves with a practiced stealth that makes it hard for you to keep track of what room he’s in at any given time. He’s awake when you wake and still awake when you head to your room at night.

You have no idea when the man sleeps or when he eats.

Conversations -- if you can call them that -- are stilted and awkward. Short discussions limited to working out the logistics of your day. You tell him where you need to be and when and he makes it happen.

Apart from that, there is silence -- thick and suffocating and constant.

In fact, Hoseok is so silent inside your home that when you’ve retreated to your opposite corners of the apartment you could almost pretend that things are normal. You could almost pretend that you don’t have a complete stranger living in your home.

But then you catch a scent.

It’s the smell of coffee that greets you when you wake every morning to a freshly-brewed pot.

It’s the clean, masculine smell that wafts under his bedroom door, carried on humid air after he’s showered.

And sometimes it’s the scent of gun oil that creeps into your room at night when he’s cleaning his pistol, bringing back memories you’d thought were long lost. Memories you’d hoped were long lost.

That’s the scent that always brings you back to your senses -- the one that reminds you that the man under your roof isn’t just any houseguest.

He might not look like the battered thugs who worked for your father all those years, but underneath the designer suits and composed exterior is a man cut from the very same cloth.

And you’d better not forget it.

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

The sunlight beating down on the window to your office this morning is deceptive.

Behind the protection of the thick glass, it’s powerful enough to make you feel uncomfortably warm in your lightweight sweater -- but outside it’s bitter cold.

Hoseok is parked just across the street from your building, like he has been every day this week. You can’t help but notice there isn’t any steam coming out of the exhaust of the sleek black sedan and you wonder if he’s warm enough in there.

“You busy?”

Hyejin interrupts your thoughts with a knock at your office door.

“Not at all,” you sigh, turning to smile at her before taking a seat at your desk. “I should be busy, I just seem to keep finding ways to put things off.”

“Tell me about it,” she laughs. “Listen, I was looking for the photos we got from the Daerim warehouse. I can’t find them in the file and thought maybe you pulled them for something.”

“No, I haven’t pulled them,” you say, lips pursing into a frown as your hands skate over the papers on your desk. You flip the corners of the folders up, checking to see if the photos are hidden underneath. “They’ve got to be here somewhere. Maybe Hajoon took them?”

Hyejin nods. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll check with him. You alright this morning?”

Tense laughter bubbles up your chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot going on, is all. Let me know when you find those photos, okay?”

“Will do,” Hyejin promises before leaving you alone to your work and your thoughts.

Hyejin is probably the closest thing you have to a friend — but there’s no way you’d tell even her that your brother thinks someone is trying to kill you and you’re living with an armed guard.

That’s not a conversation you can have with anyone.

You grab a drink, straighten up your papers and get to work.

The raid at the Daerim warehouse turned up enough guns to arm the entire city. Police spent hours unpacking weapons from giant crates, hidden inside huge sacks of coffee beans and offloaded from a ship that docked from Colombia. The coffee was pretty decent, actually.

As for the guns -- you knew the Ssijog leadership was furious about the confiscation. In all, investigators estimated they took about 7 billion won worth of firearms out of that warehouse that day. That’s the kind of financial hit that could level any criminal organization, including your brother’s.

What you can’t seem to understand is why the Ssijog seem more worried about the men taken away at that raid than the guns.

You take a close look at the side-by-side booking photos of Kwon Jiho and Lim Joowon.

These are the kind of men who look like the muscle your father kept around. Heavily-tattooed, thick-necked and ears cauliflowered from one too many fights. Their criminal records read like street gangster templates, page after page of petty crimes starting in their youth graduating to more violent crimes in recent years.

Men like these are a dime a dozen in this line of work. So what makes these two so special that the Ssijog are this desperate to get them back?

You pull a post-it note out of your drawer and grab a sharpie. In big block letters you write the question you have to answer before this situation really spirals out of control.

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

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

Car rides are the only time you let yourself get a good look at Jung Hoseok.

When he’s driving, his eyes never leave the road, never stray in your direction -- and you refuse to make him feel like some kind of glorified chauffeur by riding in the backseat. So you use the silent drives as an opportunity to steal glances at him from the passenger seat like a shy kid.

Hoseok has strangely elegant hands for a man with a career in crime, you think. Long fingers free of scratches and calluses; prominent veins that move when his hand works over the gear shift. And then there is his face -- his chiseled jawline and sharp nose and bow-shaped mouth.

He’s handsome, of course, and you -- a woman with a pulse and perfectly-functioning eyesight -- would be lying if you tried to deny it.

Tonight you are so distracted with looking at Hoseok’s face that you miss the fact that he’s skipped the turn he normally takes to get back to your apartment. It isn’t until you are well into the heart of downtown that you snap out of your stupor and take a look outside.

“Where are we going?”

“Your brother wants to see you.”

Your scowl is wasted on the man because he doesn’t bother to look your way.

“So is this how things work now? You and my brother decide where I go and when and I’m the last to know?”

Hoseok is unmoved by your obvious irritation.

“Just following orders,” he counters evenly. “You’ll need to take up any concerns you have about your schedule with Namjoon.”

“I’ll do that,” you murmur, turning to glare out the window.

A short while later you’re walking into your brother’s office, Hoseok trailing closely behind. Namjoon signals for him to leave the two of you alone to speak privately. You round on him as soon as the door latches behind Hoseok.

“If you want me here,” you say tightly, “Then tell me. Directly. I don’t like finding out I have plans second-hand from my babysitter.”

The corners of Namjoon’s mouth lift into a wry smile. “Good to see you too?”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile back. Your brother seems at ease tonight, lighter somehow. It’s a good look on him.

“I want to know how things are going,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “How are you finding Jung Hoseok?”

Let’s see. Frigid? Intense? Unapproachable?

“He’s...quiet,” you say after a long moment. “And maybe unnecessary at this point. I haven’t had any more trouble since that letter.”

“I assure you, he’s still very necessary,” Namjoon returns quickly. “We’ve still got a lot to work out as far as this situation goes. My guys on the street say the Ssijog are in planning mode. I don’t want any of them catching us unaware with some kind of nasty surprise.”

You sigh. “So no end in sight.”

“Not right now. Just bear with this a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your buzzing phone.

Your mouth pulls into a tight line when you read the waiting message.

hyejin: can’t find the pictures. hajoon doesn’t have [ 6:15 PM ]

you: ? i have backup on my laptop [ 6:17 PM ]

hyejin: okay need to make sure we have those tonight? [ 6:18 PM ]

you: yeah, i’ll call you from my place when i get them [ 6:18 PM ]

“Everything alright?” Namjoon asks when you rub your fingers against your temples.

“Yeah, just work stuff,” you sigh, a low-level anxiety simmering in your stomach. “I actually have to go, unless there’s something else you needed?”

“No, just—“ your brother looks like there’s something he wants to say, but decides against it. “— just be careful, okay?”

You nod and send him a small smile.

“I’ll try.”

You’re almost to the door when you hear him call out to you again.

“And Amsaja -- with Hoseok. Try being nice.”

He nearly laughs at the disgusted look you shoot back.

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

HOSEOK

Hoseok’s got a pretty good idea of what a prosecutor makes in this town, and it’s damned sure not enough to pay for your lifestyle.

Your spacious apartment in one of the best buildings in town, your expensive furnishings, your fancy car and your designer clothes. Hoseok has done the math in his head and that shit does not add up.

You’re a hypocrite, he decides -- too good to associate yourself with the trash that brings money in for the Gajog, but apparently not too good to spend it. Living comfortably on the backs of men you wouldn’t acknowledge in the streets.

Men like him.

Hoseok wishes that didn’t get under his skin the way it does.

He wishes he didn’t feel resentment simmering under the surface every time he sees you, every time he even thinks of you. You keep to yourself and you don’t make demands and you haven’t really given him a reason to dislike you, but he desperately wants to.

He needs to.

He wishes he truly didn’t give a shit about the idiot you had dinner with the other day. The one straight off the assembly line of some prep school in the Seocho District. The one with the loud mouth and the loafers and the country-club grin. He wonders what you see in that guy, when all he can see is how punchable his face looks.

That’s why Hoseok doesn’t give too much weight to the furtive looks he can see you stealing in his peripheral vision. He doesn’t put too much stock in the way your cheeks color when he looks at you sometimes. He has to remind himself that underneath the polite distance and pretty packaging, you’re just desperate to be done with this entire situation. You’re desperate to distance yourself from him and people like him.

When he finds himself staring at you when you’re not looking, Hoseok forces himself to remember that men like him don’t warm your bed, they pay your bills.

And he’d better not forget it.

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

Hoseok can read the agitation in your body language loud and clear the second you slide back into the car.

He can see the way you keep scrolling through your phone, firing off texts and emails from the passenger seat. Tonight, you stare out of the window instead of pretending not to stare at him and he wonders what happened behind closed doors with your brother.

He almost lets it go because it’s none of his business. But he’s curious.

“Are you...upset about something?”

You seem to startle when he asks the simple question.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of,” you admit quietly, eyes falling back to your phone. “Work stuff. I have to find something when we get home.”

Hoseok nods, eyes glued to the road. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning to look out the window again.

Minutes later, you’re both walking into the apartment. Hoseok turns to secure the deadbolt lock and when he turns back, you’re gone. He hears the room to your bedroom click closed.

He briefly entertains the idea of asking you if you need help, but resists.

Instead he sweeps the open rooms of the apartment like he does every night before heading into his room and closing the door.

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

The knock that comes almost two hours later is just short of aggressive. Hoseok jumps up off the bed, ready in the case of trouble.

He does not miss the way your eyes go a bit wide when he opens the door, dressed in a thin tank and sweatpants.

“You need something?” he asks when you don’t say anything right away.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” you say with a shake of your head. “I’ve just never seen you in anything but a suit. For a second I wasn’t sure you were the same man.”

“You think I sleep in a suit?”

“Well I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say hotly. “But that’s not the point. I need you to take me to the office. Please.”

Hoseok glances at his watch.

“Now?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “I know it’s late and I’m sorry. This is super important.”

“Alright, hang on,” Hoseok says, turning to grab his holster from the dresser. He slips into it and notices your gaze lingering on the pistol he fits onto his side. You clear your throat and look down at the floor while he slips a sweatshirt overhead.

“It’s just a precaution, okay?”

Hoseok doesn’t know why he’s bothering to reassure you. You know that he’s armed all the time, you grew up in this life. None of this should surprise you.

You say nothing.

It takes only ten minutes to get across town to your office, in the dead of night and in the absence of traffic. You look almost as irritated as you are surprised when Hoseok climbs out of the car to escort you inside.

“You’re coming in?”

“Yes,” Hoseok fires back, keeping pace just behind you. “It’s well after hours. No one will see us together, since that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You stop for a moment, turning to face him and mouth opening like you want to deny it. But you don’t.

“Fine,” you say under your breath. “Please avoid looking at the cameras.”

“I know how to do my job,” Hoseok manages between gritted teeth.

“I never said you didn’t,” you hiss back.

The two of you stand just outside the entrance to the building, trading glares.

The tension feels like a step backward somehow.

One strained elevator ride later, Hoseok trails you into your office. You flip the lights and immediately get to work going through file cabinets. Hoseok takes a look around.

It’s not a huge space, but the large windows looking out onto the street make it look a little bigger. Piles of file folders and papers are sorted into neat columns on your desk. A desk, Hoseok notes -- completely devoid of personal effects. No pictures, no mementos. He doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

“Shit.”

It’s the first word either one of you has spoken in five minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Hoseok turns to find you on your knees at the base of a filing cabinet, a pile of flash drives scattered across the floor.

“What is it?” he asks, crouching down beside you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Hoseok picks up a flash drive, turns it to the side to read the small label. It’s dated three years back, with the name “Cheon” written on the side.

“All of my digital evidence is gone. All of it,” you whisper, voice wobbling with emotion. “I was searching the cloud at home and thought there was some kind of mistake. There’s no way this is a mistake. There’s no way my cloud and flash backups disappeared by chance.”

You’re right, of course, but Hoseok doesn’t voice that out loud. You look stricken already without him pouring salt in that wound.

“What about these?” he asks, handing you the flash drive.

“Old cases,” you say, shoving a hand through your hair. “They didn’t bother to pull my old cases. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were looking for.”

Hoseok almost forgets himself for a moment.

He nearly forgets who you are and who he is and what this is. He stops himself just short of reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You turn tired eyes up to meet his.

“I’m screwed.”

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

tag list!

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @jjeonjoon @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts mafia #bts tsundere #hoseok mafia au #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan

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the-broken-truth · 4 years ago

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The Young Lords: Modern AU

Broken Truth (Tied up - hanging upside down from a tree branch): Just every good series, there is at least one Alternate Universe. Allow me to show you the AU for the Young Lords: They are the Children of the Four Lords - The Richest People in Village City in Romania. But they are still the same as their originals. Let's find out how!

Broken Truth: The Order of Wealth is the same as the order of strongest to weakest amongst the Lord: Karl Heisenberg is the richest, then Alcina Dimitrescu, Salvatore Moreau, and Donna Beneviento

Enjoy @snowflakestree

- Eliza Dimitrescu -

The Youngest Daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu - World Famous Vintner.

This girl literally lives in a freaking castle with her mother and sisters - Castle Dimitrescu; one of the last ancient landmarks that belong to Alcina's Bloodline.

While her older sisters are already working at the winery with their mother, Eliza goes to one of the most expensive colleges in Romania whose headmaster happens to be her grandmother - Miranda.

Her sisters also make sure they are the ones who drop her off but not before heading to their favorite hot chocolate place to get some before work/school.

This girl doesn't like people - mainly men - and she can smell a fake friend from miles away. She knows when someone is after her riches or her cousins' riches.

Most of her classes are with her youngest cousin Diedre Beneviento and the two of them spend most of their time together until they met up with their male cousins around lunchtime and free period.

Rich doesn't mean ignorant or stupid - she's one of the top students in her classes; seconded only by Diedre who spends most of her time studying.

The smartphone she uses isn't something you're gonna see in the shops - her phone and the phones of her cousins were made by The Lord of Mechinary and Tech - Karl Heisenberg - each one with the proper family crest engraved in silver on the back.

- Diedre Beneviento -

The Only Child of Donna Beneviento - The Famous Doll Maker and Painter. She was known for her talents in making the best paintings and dolls that almost looked alive. Thousands of people would commission her every month but while she is rich - she is the least wealthy of the 4 Lords; marking around only 15 Billion a year.

This girl is quieter than a church mouse unless she's with her cousins or she's answering a question for the teacher.

Almost always dressed in black - whether it's a black dress shirt with black pants and shoes or a black dress that covers everything but her hands and head.

Her nose always in a book - unless she was looking at something on her phone for a few seconds or talking with her cousins whenever they got around to seeing each other.

There were once a few girls that tried to make fun of her but their bodies were broken by Diedre in a fight when one of them tried to take the Beneviento Crest Hairpin from Diedre's hair - it was given to her by he mother on her last birthday and there was no way in hell she was going to give it up or let anyone take it.

Diedre also has a strange friend at school - a lonely raven that would come out of nowhere and sit on her shoulder. When her cousins asked about it, she told them the raven looked hungry and she fed it one day, and ever since then, it would just hang out with her and watch her read.

- Sebastian Moreau -

Sole Heir to Salvatore Moreau's Fortune - The doctor who made the one cure to all the major diseases; like all kinds of cancer, aids, HIV, and others - from blood o diseases to sexual diseases.

Sebastian wanted nothing more than to make his father proud of him and live up to the Moreau Family name after his mother abandoned him at his father's doorstep without so much as a goodbye.

Sebastian wanted to be independent just like his father, so he drives himself to school with a car he purchased himself

While his father is more of a medicine man, he was more interested in building things or taking things apart to understand how they work.

He was currently in the process of a special contribution to his father's research - An Bracelet with constant monitoring of the person's vital status - if they were diabetic, it would warn if an hour ahead of time if their blood sugar levels were going to drop soon.

At the moment, he was in his class for medical science while making notes about how he can incorporate this information into his own project.

He would share his thoughts with his cousins at lunch...that is if those gold diggers would let them have a moment's peace.

- Kaleb Heisenberg -

The Son of the Richest Man in Romania - Karl Heisenberg: Founder of Heisenberg Tech Incorporation, Karl's Cars, and The Four House Brewery.

Each business raking in millions of dollars in months and trillions of dollars in a year.

Kaleb was the sole heir it all and he wore that mantle with pride.

Every single day, his phone would blow up with requests from businessmen and women, asking him to court their daughters but he never listened.

Eventually - his father made him his new phone, as well as the phones of the other Heirs.

When he came to school, he rode on the loudest motorcycle his father could make for him with his jacket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

His cousins would groan when he arrived - he was the loudest and annoying idiot they knew.

But while he was the richest out of them - he was also very smart and dedicated to his work, never willing to slack off for even a moment.

He would aid his cousins in a way he could - like using his connections to find a rare book for Diedre, a new kind of wine recipe for Eliza's Mother, or he would give the metal pieces and chips to Sebastian; he wasn't going to charge them.

He protected and cared for family, not charge them.

It would make them grow stronger together...and he could tease them about it later.

#resident evil 8 #eliza dimitrescu #diedre beneviento #sebastian moreau #kaleb heisenberg #The Young Lords #The Four Protective Children of the Lords #Modern AU

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hoyaanae · 4 years ago

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The beautiful dialogue of Lovely Us

Ep 01

"Once people become parents, their memory begins to become biased. They always remember they are their children's most reliable parents, but often forget that they are also children loved by their own parents. When they are waiting for their children to come back home, they forget that their own parents are also waiting for their return in a similar mood."

"When I'm absent from the concert, my idol won't know or feel sad. But when I don't go back to accompany my mom to celebrate her birthday, she'll know it. I don't want to make her sad."

Ep 02

"A lot of things are good at hide and seek - the old scarf I bought last year, the new eraser, Mom's favorite sewing needle, and a feeling of heartbeat for someone. We try to find them, but in vain. Then when we give it up, they just appear somewhere unexpected - on the back of the chair, in the book, in the cotton thread, and behind my back.

Human heart beats 60 to 100 times per minute on average. That day, I failed to count my heartbeat per minute. Even the water droplets falling from the umbrella were disrupted together with me. The joy, the thrill and the butterfly in the stomach converged into the restless heartbeats. On this raining day, a girl's heart beat 101 times in a minute."

Ep 03

"Huang Chengzi, why is the starry sky beautiful? Do you think it is because of the brightest star? Of course, everyone might say "Look, the Venus" while pointing at the brightest one. However, for those stars shining together and forming the Big Dipper and Orion, don't they look beautiful? They cannot be described as a foil. Anyway, I think some stars that keep shining might be more beautiful than the brightest one however dark they are."

Ep 07

"The audio frequency of the sound when a snowflake falls on the water surface is over 50,000 Hz. Because it falls beyond human beings' hearing range, this snowy day is still so quiet that it seems I can only hear my own heartbeat and that it seems there is only me and the person in front of me on this planet with a population of 6.6 billion. I hope this world can be noiser so that I can pretend that I've never discovered this secret."

"Do you have such a feeling? People around you always tell you that you are already standing on the top of the mountain, but when clouds and mist scatter, you find there is another higher peak waiting for you. After going out, I've found there are so many people who work harder and are more excellent than me. It's just like in an originally easy marathon race, I suddenly find all the people around are sprinting. So, I must run faster. Otherwise, others will surpass me. I'm a little bit out of breath."

"At the age of 17, we all have our own secrets. We are trying to hide those secrets, but they are still going to be discovered. We are unwilling to admit those secrets, but the more we conceal them, the more conspicuous they become. We are very clear about those secrets, but eventually, we are still willing to turn them into memories. And these secrets that cannot be told, are found so similar to each other after a long time. It turns out they are all about unexpected feelings for someone."

Ep 08

"I've always been content with what I have and I'm in need of nothing. I can remember what I read and I'm surrounded by nice people. My life has always been smooth and I thought the life that had been planned was not bad for me. Just like a sailing ship, with enough food, I didn't look forward to rains and storms. I just wanted to follow the prescribed route and go back fo the safe zone of the harbor in the end. That was my perfect ending. But from the very beginning, you've been determined to brave the storm and to see the bigger world. Wind and rain can't knock you down and the waves can't overturn you. You've shown me a life course that's completely different from mine. So, since her dream is to explore this world, I just can't let her go through it alone. Zhu Jinxiao, I like you."

"At the age of 17, the first habit developed by boys is to hide their affections. They think that the probability is just 0.01, so they put on the emperor's new clothes, trying to hide their affections with magic. But affections are not that easy to hide. Even if the probability is pretty low, it will be revealed at a certain moment. So on that rainy night, while looking at her back, he found that the most obvious evidence of falling in love with her was the feeling of easement in his heart and the smile on his face when he looked at her."

Ep 09

"In the past, we always felt a year with 365 days was exceedingly long, but only when it comes to this moment do we understand that we become one year older all of a sudden. The significance of spending the Spring Festival, extending from ancient times to the present, is shining brightly like fireworks, giving us the courage to heal each other many times. And then we can have a new start. It doesn't matter that you can't eat steaming hot dishes. It doesn't matter that you perhaps don't know the secret hidden in the couplet. It doesn't matter that you listen to your grandma's nagging sometimes. Even if it takes too long on the way back, as long as there are people we care about, we won't be lonely. We will return to the home we are familiar with."

Ep 10

"Actually we never forget the happy hours with our parents in childhood. Maybe the so-called alienation is because we walk so fast while our parents are staying where they are. One meter, a hundred meters, a kilometer. The distance becomes farther and farther until we can't hear them calling us. That's why we mistakenly think love is silent. So while we are confused, our parents feel the same too. They are confused about how they can give us their deep love in a smart manner."

"Those who love hiding their feelings most in this world are fathers. They hide their inarticulate concerns in warm lights. In every precious certificate of merit, they put their unmentionable encouragement. Besides, there are many silent surprises they carefully arrange in every day when we are marching to the future. They firmly care about us with such silent fathers' love, and we firmly love them."

Ep 11

"We think that many things and many people in this world can wait til tomorrow. So when you pause it or when you turn around, you think that everything will still be the same tomorrow, or you won't even realize this hope in your mind, because you think tomorrow should be the same as today. And you think nothing will change as time flies by. But this time, the moment you let go and turned around, some things completely changed. The sun went down and before it rises again, some people will leave you forever. We always thought that there would be a big ceremony to say goodbye, so we keep waiting for a warm hug, a refreshing drink, and a heartfelt goodbye. But in the end, we realized that most goodbyes in our lives are all silent."

Ep 12

"At that silent corner in my mind, there are a number of weird illusions. For example, can I become Alice who enters the wonderland with White Rabbit? For example, can I become the little girl who enters the forest with Totoro? For example, is there some special switch in this box which can teleport me? No, none of them exist. There's no flying dragons or knights, and I'm not the heroine of some comics for girls, either. However, the only thing I'm sure about is that this escape greatly shocks my world. My palms would sweat, and my sight would be indistinct. Then my view becomes narrower and narrower until there's room for only one person in my eyes. After a long time, I know such a moment is named adventure, in which the one in your eyes is irreplaceable."

Ep 13

"In the summer of 2008, in retrospect, the most impressive thing may not be the world-famous Olympic Games, but the silly things we did because we were fearless. What is shining and unexpected is everything that is closely related to friendship. We wanted to pick the brightest stars and make the most beautiful wishes, so we became the bravest boys and girls. While crying and laughing, with the bond between each other, toward the most beautiful end of youth, we keep running all the way and never stop."

"The familiar chirping of cicadas on summer nights, the familiar bear doll who must lean by the lamb, the familiar lovely girl who frowns even when she sleeps, and the 17-year-old time wrapped by the sense of familiarity never seem to have changed. The only difference is that when I look at the familiar him, I feel a flurry and uneasiness that I have never expected."

Ep 14

"That night, it was the first time I found there's magic hidden in my mom's smile. Those feelings between adults and children which I thought are hard to express in words don't have to be spoken out. They can be understood through her smile. Indeed, adults don't often say I love you, and seldom say sorry. But it doesn't matter. Action speaks louder than explanation. There's no need to express deep feelings in words. If you stand there quietly, you can automatically receive all their love for you."

"There are many new days like today. Today, he holds my hand. Today, he holds me in his arms. Today, he carries me on his back and runs in the street in the early morning. Many days with him like today will eventually become my unforgettable past days. I'll remember days like today for a long time."

Ep 15

"In the last hundred days, I heard countless times "Hurry up to walk! Hurry up to eat! Hurry up to take the notes! And hurry up to go to the toilet." But it's strange. When you try to seize time by the forelock, it goes faster. Then after the exams, we graduated."

"I just want to be an ordinary person. I'll live on a small fruit stand in the future or continue your small shop, which makes me happy. This is life. It's my own choice and I will bear the results. Different people have different dreams. Let those extraordinary people be extraordinary. I just want to be a happy and ordinary person."

"Friendship means so much to us. It brings us close, and makes me flinch, so sometimes we just tell ourselves that as long as we're together, I can be just a friend of hers. But the taxi that I failed to catch, the phone calls that have been hung up, the time that's flying and my restless heart are telling me eagerly that in this world, both love and friendship are important. Every detail related to you is reminding me that we can't be just friends. So when it's still not too late, I have to tell you the things that I want to tell you as soon as possible. Huang Chengzi, I like you."

Ep 16

"In this world, it seems like all wishes have a guardian. Wishing wells, shooting stars, the aquarium's white whale. They're all hiding in the corners of the universe caressing the sorrow of loving someone alone. It's just that the god of happiness can't bless everyone out there. They let some people be happy and their wishes come true, and let some be sad, but they can't admit how sad they really are. The feeling of being in love is like a butterfly gently flapping its wings, that stirs up a hurricane in people's hearts. The second you realize it, then there's no escape."

"That's you when you're happy. And that's you when you're mad. Over there is the jealous you, and you when you're being naughty and pretending to cry. I was just going to draw one to start with, but every expression you have is floating around in my head, and I really love every single one of them."

"I've never been afraid of growing up. And I've never worried that growing up would be lonely. Not because I'm so strong, but because I have faith that I will never be alone. The guy who held my hand will continue to grow up closely together with me. The guy who's in my diary and I in his, will exchange even more secrets in the future. All of us have walked together through the years and will continue to walk together farther into the future. This world never lets lovely people down, and we are all lovely."

#如此可爱的我们 #Lovely Us #Lovely Us Cdrama #Cdrama #李明德 #Li Ming De #田曦薇 #Tian Xi Wei #李寅崟 #Li Ying Ying #李明源 #Li Ming Yuan #尤浩然 #You Hao Ran

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years ago

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The Wedding

Pairing: Earth-2 Harry Wells x Female!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: None

Summary: Needing a date for a cousin’s wedding, you ask your colleague and friend Harry to pretend to be your boyfriend for the day. But is it really pretend when you’re already secretly in love with him?

A/N: My first fully-fledged Harry fic! Ahhhh! If you guys like it and want more, there may be a smutty sequel

"Got any plans the weekend, Harry?" Cisco asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms. "Or you just gonna wait here for us to get back?"

Harry glared at him from behind his coffee mug. "Actually, Ramon, I do my best work when I don't have your incessant drivel in my ear."

"Oh yeah, hot stuff? What grand piece of technology are you gonna bless upon us on Monday then? A personality transplant?" Cisco laughed, narrowly swiveling out of the way of the pen that came hurtling towards his head.

"Nothing this week. I have other plans."

"Suuuch as?"

"Y/N invited me to her cousin's wedding and asked for me to…pretend we're together. So she doesn't get inundated by annoying questions."

"Ohhh myyy God!"

"What?"

"Look, I know my fiction tropes and fake dating? It's a classic! And it's only gonna end one way, my dude."

Harry raised an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.

"With you two declaring your love for each other."

Nearly choking, Harry coughed up the drink, his grip on the armrest turning knuckle white. "I...are you…suggesting that I… love Y/N?!"

"And that she loves you, genius."

Spluttering, Harry shot up from his seat. "Don't be absurd, Ramon! Y/N doesn't love me! The only reason she asked me was because you and Allen are already in relationships! Th-there's no love! Or any romantic…feelings. Why would there be? She's…smart and kind and beautiful! She's brave and strong and I assure you there's no universe in which she'd ever love me!"

Cisco looked at him a moment, smile curling up on his lips. "See, I was just teasing you before, but wow, dude, you're really in love with her."

"Maybe you're in love with her!"

Cisco simply raised his own mug, failing to hide his own smirk behind it.

"... Shut up, Ramon."

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Hare," you said, smiling over your shoulder at him before resuming your task of unpacking.

"It's fine. Nice to get out of the Labs for once." Harry dropped his bag on the armchair of the hotel room you were sharing and hooked the one carrying his suit on the bathroom door frame. "But uh," he gestured to the one bed in the room, "how are we going to negotiate this?"

"I've got that covered." Reaching into your case, you pulled out the rolled-up sleeping bag.

Harry made a face. "You expect me to let you sleep in that?"

"I expect you to play me for it." Dropping the bag down, you held up a closed fist. "Paper, rock, scissors."

Harry stared at you a moment then laughed. The sound made your stomach flip in the giddiest of ways. "You should know I've never lost a game," he said, walking towards you.

"There's a first time for everything, Doctor Wells."

"Bring it on, Y/L/N."

You looked yourself over in the bathroom mirror a final time, adding the final touches to your make-up and clasping a silver necklace in place. You were ready, and looking pretty damn fine. Knee-length and with a cold shoulder, the midnight blue dress fit you perfectly. Exiting, with the intent on adding your shoes, you stopped short when you saw the sight in front of you.

Harry was dressed in a suit that matched the shade of blue you wore, an unintentional but useful detail for your ruse, the white button up standing out stark against the jacket. The most distracting detail was the fact that he'd left one too many of the top buttons undone, leaving a tantalizing amount of neck on display.

Not for the first time you wondered if asking Harry to be your fake boyfriend for the day was your smartest idea. Being forced to share a bedroom and pretend to be smitten with the man you were already in love with was definitely going to take a toll on your sanity. But showing up to yet another family event filled with happy couples on your own, and having to deflect the endless questions as to why seemed worse than having to spend forty-eight trying not to go mad.

"Y/N," Harry's voice broke you free from the trance, "you...you look…nice."

"Thanks. So do you! Who knew you scrubbed up so well." You moved around Harry quickly, avoiding looking at him too much and sat on the edge of the bed, to pull on your heels, while he tucked the sleeping bag he'd ended up using away out of sight.

"Ready?" You asked, finishing up and grabbing your purse.

"As I'll ever be." Harry opened the door for you, then locked it behind you both before passing you the key to tuck away in your purse.

Even though the hotel had been booked by your cousin for all the out of town guests, you hadn't expected to do much pretending until the reception. While guests were mingling on their way to the ceremony, there wasn't much time to chat yet, so not much time for prying questions or close observations either. Harry, however, seemed prepared to delve straight into it. He took your hand in his almost immediately, giving you a quick glance to make sure it was okay, then walked with you to the elevator. It was a simple gesture, but it sent your heart racing.

How the hell were you going to survive the day?

You were starting to think you'd accidentally brought another Wells doppelganger to the wedding. A much more polite, charming doppelganger, because it had been two hours now and Harry had yet to reduce anyone to tears or be anything more than a little sardonic.

"Who are you and what have you done to Harry Wells?" you whispered in his ear as you lined up outside the fancy hall to congratulate the newlyweds and take your seats for the reception meal.

Harry chuckled. "I don't think your family would approve of your new 'boyfriend' if I was my usual self."

"Okay, fair. Still, it's weird. I wasn't aware you even knew how to be charming."

"You don't build a billion-dollar research company by not knowing how to occasionally butter people up."

"Well, thank you. It must be painful for you, and I appreciate it."

Harry smiled at you softly. It was the same one you'd only ever previously seen him use on Jesse. It did a funny little thing to your heart and nearly distracted you from the hand that came to rest low on your back as he guided you forward.

"Annie! Congratulations!" You beamed, hugging your cousin and kissing her on the cheek. "You look beautiful!"

"Thank you!" Both she and her new husband couldn't stop grinning, and you loved how happy they looked.

"Uh, this is Harry, my boyfriend." The word sounded strange to say.

"A pleasure. Congratulations," Harry smiled, shaking both their hands.

"I could hardly believe it when Y/N told me she'd be bringing a plus one! You kept that one quiet!"

Laughing nervously, you shrugged. "We wanted to keep it on the down-low for a bit."

"Wanted to keep him to yourself more like!"

"That too."

"You know, you look kinda familiar, Harry, but I can't- oooh! I know! You look like that scientist Y/N used to crush on! What was his name again, Y/N?"

Feeling the heat rapidly spread up your neck and across your cheeks, you looked at anywhere other than Harry. "I, uh, I can't remember now."

Annie gave you a knowing look, but Harry came to your rescue before any more embarrassment could be had. "We'll let you greet the rest of your guests. Congratulations, again."

"Thank you, Harry. Talk later."

Harry led you into the beautifully decorated hall, his hand still hovering on your back as you made your way to the table. You were the first ones there to take a seat, which meant you were unable to escape the look he gave you.

"So, you used to have a crush on Harrison Wells?" He asked with an amused eyebrow raise.

You groaned, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. "In my defense that was years before I joined the Team and found out about the whole evil speedster thing. Don't mention it to anyone, please?"

Harry looked at you a moment longer, then nodded. "It stays between us."

"Thank you."

Other guests began to arrive at your table, and the topic was dropped.

The food was amazing and the company just as much, and with the distraction of other people to talk to, it was easier to ignore the constant butterflies in your stomach.

After the meal and the speeches and the first dance, people began to mingle. You and Harry mostly stayed at your table, however, talking with your Great Aunt Margaret. The woman was in her nineties now, but she was just as sharp as ever, and probably one of the members of your family you were closest too.

"Another drink, ladies?" Harry asked after a little while.

"Gin and tonic for me, dear."

"Y/N?"

"Just an orange juice." As tempting as it was to just drown your feelings in alcohol, keeping a clear meant it was far less likely you'd make a fool of yourself by saying something you regretted.

Harry nodded, standing from the table and heading over to the bar.

"So, who’s he really?" Margaret asked as soon as Harry was out of earshot.

"What do you mean? He's my boyfriend." Margaret fixed you with her infamous 'cut the bullshit' look. "He's a co-worker. A friend. I asked him so I wouldn't have to show up to another family function alone."

Margaret watched you thoughtfully. "That's what I thought. You've been too skittish around him for you to be together."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Only to me, dear." She smiled and leaned across the table to you. "But you two need to talk."

"Why?"

"Because it's clear he's more than just a friend to you, and he's hopelessly in love with you."

"Wh-what? No, he's not!"

"Dear, I don't think I've ever seen a man more in love."

"I…" Looking away and down at your hands, you chewed your lip. "How do you know?"

"The way he looks at you. It's plain to see."

"No, no, I'd have noticed if he'd been looking at me like that!"

"We don't reveal our true feelings when the object of them is watching. We wait until we think they aren't looking. And the way that man looks at you when you aren't paying attention...it's like you hung the moon. I can tell you there aren't many people lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that kind of adoration."

"Oh."

Margaret's smile was kind when you met her gaze again. "Talk to Harry, Y/N. You deserve to be happy, and I get the feeling he does too."

"He does. He's been through a lot."

"Did I miss anything?" Harry returned carrying your drinks.

"Just some girl talk. Thank you," Margaret said as he set the glasses down in front of you. "Why don't you two have a dance?"

"Oh no, you know I'm not much of dancer-"

"Nonsense! I went to enough of your dance rehearsals to know better!"

"Aunt Margaret-"

"All the other couples are up dancing! You don't want to be the odd duck, do you?" To anyone else, Margaret's happy grin seemed innocent enough. You knew better. "Go on! Off with you! I'll watch your drinks!"

Before you could protest further, you were being poked out of your seat by her walking stick in your ribs.

Harry followed suit before he too came under attack, and took your hand as you merged into the crowd already on the dance floor.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm the one who should be apologizing for this-" Harry pulled a few moves that could really only be described as 'dad dancing.'

Muffling a laugh with your hand, "That's…something," you giggled, swaying your own body in time with the music.

"Told you."

"Maybe one day I'll teach you a few moves. Ready for when you have to do your Father/Daughter dance with Jesse."

Harry groaned, "Don't. Don't make me think about that."

Giggling again, it turned into a squeak of surprise when Harry suddenly grabbed your hand and twirled you around.

"That's what happens when you tease," he grinned, hands landing on your hips to steady you.

"Not the worst punishment I could think of."

"Oh, and what is?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Maybe."

Realizing you were suddenly on the border of flirting, you shrugged. "You know, the usual. The same stuff everyone else hates as punishment," you mumbled.

"I see." It seemed like Harry was going to step back and let go of your hips when the song changed. A slow song. A slow, romantic song. Harry swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, "We should...head back?"

You were going to nod when you looked across the floor to spot Margaret. She motioned for you to move close together. "Or...we could stay. Unless you want to get whacked with a walking stick that is."

"No. No, I don't."

It was awkward for a moment, then Harry took you into hold, one hand staying on your hip while he took one of your own in the other, with your free arm finding it's way to his shoulder.

He smiled. You returned it. Together you started to sway softly to the music.

It was way too intimate. More intimate than you really had the capacity to deal with, especially after your earlier conversation with Margaret. So you did the only thing you could think of to not have to look Harry in the eye. You lay your head on his chest.

For a split second, Harry's breath seemed to hitch, then it evened out again, though his hold on you tightened slightly, drawing you in until there was no space left between you.

Okay so maybe this was actually way more intimate. But at least now, with your head tilted away from him, you didn't have to hide the sappy smile that spread across your face.

Yet your mind was still racing. Was Margaret right? She'd never been wrong before. But that would mean Harry actually loved you in return, and that...that was nearly enough to make your brain explode.

You would have to tell him. He'd never say anything himself. But when? Now? Later? Tomorrow? Next week? That would be safest. If things went sour you wouldn't have to share a room or a car, and you could simply retreat to the safety of your apartment and eat away your feelings. Yet it felt like if you didn't say anything soon you'd implode.

It was so hard to think when he was still swaying you like this and was he…he was resting his cheek on top of your head. He was relaxed. Enjoying it just as much as you were.

The song came to an end, and Harry's grip loosened enough for you to take a step back. He didn't say a word. Just looked at you with that soft smile again.

You had to say something. Now. Just say the words and tell him. It'd be fine. You just had to say three little words.

"I...I'm really warm. I'm gonna go get some fresh air."

Coward.

Turning before you could see his face drop, you wormed your way off the dance floor and made a beeline for the door, exiting out into the garden and the cool night air.

"Stupid, stupid!" You muttered under your breath, pacing up and down the cobblestone path. How could you have chickened out like that? The opportunity was right there. And there was no way Harry would've bought the 'needing fresh air' excuse, which meant now you had to come up with something more believable or leave it feeling awkward. Why did you have to fuck it all up?

"Y/N?" Harry's voice from behind you nearly startled you out of your skin. Spinning around, you saw him approach, illuminated by garden lights that lined the path. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"If I did something-"

"No! You didn't do anything. You've been amazing all day, Harry."

Nodding, Harry came to a stop in front of you. "You ran out so quickly, I thought...maybe…"

"It's not you, I just...I had to get out before I did something potentially very stupid. We both know how much you hate stupid."

"The last thing you could ever be is stupid."

"Says the man with seven PhDs. Pretty much everyone is stupid to you."

"Never you."

The way he was looking at you...it made you want to turn and run. There were too many emotions in his eyes, and it almost made you hate the hope that bubbled up in your chest.

Harry was the first to move, running a hand through his hair as he turned away. "Ramon...he said this would happen. I thought...I told him not to be ridiculous. Now here I am…he'll never let me live it down."

"What did he say would happen?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Taking a breath, Harry faced you. "He said I'd end up...saying how I love you."

The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the din from the party could no longer be heard, the garden disappeared, only you and Harry and the thumping of your heart remained. "You love me?"

"How could I not? You're...special. I'm not an easy person to get on with. I know I'm an annoying, cantankerous dick, and while I can act the charmer, when I'm just being…me, I can't, I don't...I don't always find it easy being around people. Except you. From the start being around you was easy. You know when to call me out or when to let me rant, and always you're kind. You're smart and brave and beautiful and I love you."

You stood in shock, simply staring at him. You'd never expected him to say anything let alone make a confession like that.

Harry cleared his throat, "Of course I value your friendship above anything else. Say the word and I'll never mention it-"

"I love you too. I wanted to say it in there, after our dance, but I couldn't…I was too scared it wouldn't be reciprocated."

For a breath, Harry hesitated, then he took your face in his hands, fingers curling around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. Your response was immediate, kissing him back as fiercely as he kissed you, your own hands clutching at his arms. It was everything you'd ever imagined and then some.

Breaking the kiss Harry stayed where he was, holding you as if he were scared you'd slip away if he let go.

"Wow," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

"I should've said something sooner."

"I should've too, but it doesn't matter now."

"No, it doesn't."

Unable to stop the giggling like a schoolgirl, you kissed him again. "Just so you know I'm going to want a lot of these kisses."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I love you, Harrison Wells."

"I love you too."

Best wedding ever.

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! I’ll love you forever!

Tagging: @pinkdiamond1016

#harry wells x reader #harrison wells x reader #earth 2 harrison wells x reader #harry wells #harrison wells #harry wells imagine #harrison wells imagine #the flash imagine

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centerofreality · 4 years ago

Note

What if kiyru and majima found their male S/O playing yakuza 0 and they were absolutely loving it.(Shhhhh ignore the lack of logic and reason) P.S I love your headcannons.

Ohh, this is a good idea! And thank you so much! ♡ I hope you like it! This might be more angsty than you requested so I’m sorry about that!

(This headcanon is set right after the events of Yakuza Kiwami)

Kiryu and Majima seeing Male S/O play Yakuza 0 HCs

Kiryu:

Like Majima, Kiryu is also incredibly confused, but he wouldn’t think about it for a long time. Strange things kept happening to him, he wouldn’t be surprised about a strange game...Okay, maybe a little.

He would stare at the controller. That looks so... complex... What do you mean it’s touch-screen?? He knows about the NES and the Playstation but he doesn’t know anything about... this. Not like, he’s played any virtual games in his childhood. He only played tag and other physical activities back at Sunflower.

Seeing the parts of Majima before he became a Mad Dog made Kiryu respect him a lot more. Majima was strange but a good man and Kiryu knew that.

“Who knew that Majima-san was close with Makoto-san..”

When Oda and Tachibana showed up, It made him remember how much he’s been helped by them and how it could have been better had the situation’s been different. It should be time that he visits their graves again.

“I’ll forever be grateful for what they did. I wouldn’t have been alive now without them.”

Sign him up for some Karaoke! You do all the work because he’s not really good at games. He can sing and cheer if you want?

You asked him to play one time and you didn’t think teaching someone how to play was so stressful.

*You two proceed to spend hours trying to learn*

But seeing Kiryu succeed in completing Bakamitai for the first time could be your biggest achievement yet. It was all worth it.

“I...I did it!” He’ll stare at the screen with wide eyes.

“You did!!” You’ll beam as you give him a high-five which he accepted.

Kiryu mainly plays the Fishing, Karaoke, and the Disco minigames and watches you fight. How the tables turn. Kiryu couldn’t play as well as he fights in real life.

“I caught a Great White!! Yes!!!” You’ll cheer as you smirk at Kiryu who looked disgruntled. “Why don’t you try?”

You’ll only be surprised when he caught an Oarfish larger than yours.

“It seems I win.”

“No fair!”

You two would also spend time playing the two-player mode in the Disco Minigame! You’ll only laugh because Kiryu quietly curses underneath his breath when he misses.

As he watches you do the Five Billionaires Quests, he wondered what could have happened if he experienced it as well, seeing all the money pile in easily.

Seeing all the other sidequests he was meant to be in, he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not. He could remember some but not all.

All the other songs but Judgement have scores. Kiryu says it’s because Nishiki would beat his ass for not having a high score but you know better.

Whenever Nishiki pops up, Kiryu gets quiet but gives a small smile when he sees the interactions of Ingame him and Ingame Nishiki. Those were good times that he could never forget.

If you do the Pocket Circuit Quests, Kiryu takes his opportunity as the expert. He knows all the parts you would need for each race. He might actually ask to play it himself, it wouldn’t be the same but the thrill’s still there nonetheless.

“Y/N... Can you open the game?”

“Huh? Why?”

“...Well, I was wondering if I can play Pocket Circuit..”

His love for Pocket Circuit never diminishes. He ain’t Kamurocho’s Fastest for nothing.

Haruka also occasionally joins in with playing, grinning when she sees the familiar white suit and a red shirt that Kiryu wears during Adventure Mode. She’d also be the one to play the Cabaret Club minigames, giving her own comments when she watches or plays with the both of you. It gives her joy that she could have bonding time with her Uncle Kaz and Uncle Y/N.

“I wasn’t born at that time, right, Uncle Kaz, Uncle Y/N?”

Kiryu nodded, “Mhm. I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

Majima:

Majima would be so confused. How does this game that you found somewhere to have the events that happened 17 years ago? But he doesn’t think about it much, thinking of different possibilities as he watches you play. The more you progress, the more he gave up and gave commentary.

“Shit hurts my head, you know.”

However, when Lee, Nishitani, and Makoto were mentioned, now he was suspicious. How did this game know about those people? He has to reassure himself that what was done was done and it was just a game, so you tell him that he doesn’t have to watch you play.

“I know that these people are important to you. I can stop playing the game if you want?” You look at Majima who shakes his head after thinking deeply.

“Nah. It’s fine. If you’re the only one that has that game then I don’t mind you seeing it. It’s just the other people I’m worried about.”

Eventually, he moves on after seeing that you’re the only owner of the unknown game and even tells you about the events.

In order to lighten his mood, you’ll talk to him about his previous appearance.

“I wonder what you’ll look like with long hair but with the same clothes now. I should rent a tuxedo too.” You’ll grin at him as he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll look so hot that you won’t be able to keep your eyes off me. You gotta take the safety measures first.”

When you’re in Kiryu’s story, he’d look so excited, wanting to see what the man had in store.

“Beat him up, beat him up!!” He shouts as Ingame Kiryu fights with Kuze.

“Majima, he can’t hear you.”

He would absolutely enjoy all the heat moves, he’d tell you to fight enemies 24/7.

He’d also cackle at the sidequests. He’d poke fun at both Kiryu and his own sidequests.

“Kiryu-chan gets into all sorts of shit, doesn’t he?”

Majima would talk about the game with you almost every time the both of you are together in private.

“It’s kinda weird though. It’s like a weird, psychic game.” “Do you think that another version of me would exist somewhere?” He would ask.

Seeing Tachibana and Makoto’s story made Majima feel like shit. He’ll actually offer to play the following fight scenes despite not knowing how to really play it. He thinks he could have done better.

“Even if it’s already over with, I still feel like I’ve accomplished something.”

“I’m sure Makoto’s brother would be grateful.” You’ll tell him with a gentle smile and he’ll look at you and slowly smile back.

“I hope so.”

Majima’s moved on but he still hopes that Makoto’s safe. It was the least he could do.

If you get too tired, Majima will offer to play for you. He’ll make sure you sleep well before he stares at the headset and the controller.

“Now..How do I play this thing?”

Majima would be so into playing the Cabaret Club Minigame. He’d play it more than you. And he’d be so happy seeing the faces of the familiar girls he’s worked with before he left. He’ll openly admit to you that he misses them.

He would look like a kid sneaking off to hide something from their parents as he stares at you, holding your controller, with the intention of ranking his ladies to the max level.

“What is that you’re holding?”

“...A knife.”

You’ll gape as you see that in Adventure Mode, Majima can be styled.

“Look! It’s your new look!” You’ll point and indeed, Ingame Majima had the Mad Dog outfit.

Majima’s eyes would narrow in suspicion, “Wait, don’t tell me there’s a game about-”

“About what?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

Majima would spend so much time buying so many items that you wouldn’t even need. Mainly weapons that he can beat people up with.

“Majima, how did we just lose a billion yen?”

#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #majima goro #yakuza #yakuza 0 #yakuza kiwami #kiryu kazuma #kiryu kazuma x reader #goro majima #goro majima x reader #anon request #headcanons #angsty?#yakuza headcanons #male s/o #I expected that this would turn angsty #oops

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years ago

Text

Untouchable Ch 29: Amplification (S4E24)

Warnings: swearing (a lot of it), illness, hospitals

Ch 28 | Ch 30

~ ~ ~

“I’m picking you up from work. Now.”

Lydia sighed, glad that it was her break and she wasn’t in the middle of teaching class. But then again… Spencer already knew that. “Just once I’d like to get a case and be told ‘you can drop by when you’re done with what you’re working on.’ No worries. Sending out emails now.”

“Sorry. It’s local, if that helps.”

Lydia’s eyebrows knit together suspiciously. “Local? Local cases are never my cases. If it were, I probably would have heard something, right?”

“I don’t know anything about the case,” he admitted. “Hotch called and he said he needed everyone now, you included.”

Lydia shut her laptop, already stuffing it into her work bag. “I’ll meet you out front.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia had stuffed herself into the back of the elevator with Spence, Morgan, and Prentiss, so when the doors opened, she didn’t immediately see what made the three of them stop.

“What’s the army doing here?” Morgan said.

Lydia stepped to the side to get a better look at the crowd of people rushing through the BAU office.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily muttered.

Spencer was the first to set off for the conference room, Lydia joining him immediately if only to get away from the insane amount of people in the bullpen.

Inside were Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and a woman.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC.”

“Hello,” Emily said.

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Reid inquired, but Hotch stopped him.

“We need to get started.”

JJ cleared her throat, ready to take over the briefing. Lydia could tell it was going to be a quick summary, with no slides, few files to share, and no time to sit down.

“Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2pm yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7am the next day, we have 12 dead.”

Looking over her boyfriend’s shoulder, Lydia could see large welts across the victims faces and necks. Purple rings lined the deads’ eyes.

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Morgan read aloud. “Anthrax?”

Spencer shook his head. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Dr. Kimura admitted.

Lydia’s eyes shot to their expert. She could see why Hotch felt the need to bring her in, but a new strain of anthrax was far out of her comfort zone, especially in a time when people were dying quickly. This would take a team of people in a lab running trial after trial to find a cure. These poor people were doomed.

Lydia wouldn’t know anything about the strain, she could only come up with a vague idea about what sort of background a person would need to create this, and there were so many people already involved in whatever this was.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets?” Prentiss inquired. “Airports, malls, trains?”

“There’s a media blackout,” Hotch replied.

“We’re not telling the public?”

“We’d have a mass exodus,” Morgan explained.

“Psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack.”

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did it might go underground or destroy their samples.”

“Or,” Emily tried to argue, “if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have a right to know that?”

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch assured her. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

“What do we know about this strain?” Lydia interrupted, grabbing the files from Spencer to get a closer look.

Dr. Kimura answered, “the spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odorless and invisible.”

“A sophisticated strain,” Rossi reasoned. “Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

Lydia nodded.

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours.”

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Dr. Kimura warned. “It’s the lungs. We don’t know how to combat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“Reid, Ambers, go to the hospital with Dr. Kimura. Reid will interview victims. Ambers, I want you in the lab updating us on blood tests and toxicology reports.”

They nodded, Spencer throwing his satchel over his shoulder.

“Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Dr. Kimura grabbed a tray of pills from a desk along the side of the room. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Lydia picked up a plastic cup with two pills inside and glanced around. Everyone hesitated, knowing that for the rest of this case, they’d be risking a lot. This wasn’t chasing down bad guys with guns, but rather with immunity. Their kevlar vests wouldn’t protect them from the air.

“Jin dan,” Rossi said, raising his cup. “May you live 100 years.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer was fidgeting in the passenger seat of the car as they drove to Walter Reed hospital with Dr. Kimura. “What did you tell your students, Lydia?”

She shrugged. “What I normally do. Just that I was called into work by the FBI. They don’t normally ask where I’m headed or why. It’s strange. For the first time since I became a professor, I’m worried about them.”

“I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “This is going to affect everyone in the DC area.”

“I mean, what would a cure for this even look like? The only person who has any idea how it differs from normal anthrax is our unsub. He’s got to have some kind of antidote, right?”

“Let’s hope he does,” Spencer replied. “For now, building the profile is Hotch and Rossi’s doing. Our job is to find out what we can about the victims and their symptoms.”

~ ~ ~

“How many more have died since this morning?”

“Five,” Spencer admitted. “We’re up to 17 dead.”

“It’s no good,” she sighed, having stepped out of the lab momentarily to call him. “The drug combinations are useless. We don’t know anymore about this strain than they did this morning.”

“Dr. Kimura says the strain duplicates every 30-45 minutes, poisoning the lungs and causing organ failure.”

“Extreme bacterial amplification,” she replied. “That’s insane.”

“I’m thinking whoever created this had to have gone through the trouble of testing it.”

“That would make sense, but who’s to say the park wasn’t his test run?”

“It’s too risky. Human tests are done on a much smaller scale. What do you know about illnesses that have similar symptoms to anthrax poisoning?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I’ll talk to Garcia and do some digging about weird medical deaths in the area.”

“Thanks.”

~ ~ ~

“Tell me you got something good, Spice.”

“I rarely find myself giving out good news, Sugar,” Garcia admitted. “However, I did find some strange deaths for you. Two days ago, three people in the Baltimore area checked into 3 different ERs, slipping into comas and dying within 3 hours. The COD on all three was meningitis, but they were never tested for anthrax. Is that what you were looking for?”

“Possibly. The respiratory problems would be similar, but the lesions would have definitely signalled to the doctors it was something else. You said they died within 3 hours?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s fast. They likely had to have inhaled a high concentration of anthrax if that were the case. But, it would also make it harder to identify. See if those three were in the same place that day and contact Hotch.”

“On it.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia?”

She huffed. “What’s up, Derek?”

“Don’t get pissy on me,” he teased.

“All I’ve done all day is answer calls and get told once an hour that someone else has died. My mood has limits.”

“I’m pulling you from the hospital. We’re going to the house of a Dr. Lawrence Nichols. Fits our profile.”

“Great.” As she spoke she slipped out of the hospital lab and towards the elevator. “What’s this profile?”

“Fanatical,” he summarized. “Dr. Nichols got booted from Fort Detrick after the Amerithrax case. He was afraid of anthrax being weaponized against the US and was preaching stronger protection from the government.”

“If he was against anthrax, what makes you think he’d use it?”

“A warning. He was told that we couldn’t spend billions of dollars to fight against an attack that may never happen. This is his way of saying, ‘You should have listened to me. Now it’s too late.’”

“Got it. I’ll meet you outside Walter Reed.”

“Good.”

Hanging up, she sent a quick message to Spencer to let him know she was leaving the hospital, then made a break for the front entrance.

~ ~ ~

“It’s quaint,” Lydia said, stepping out of the SUV and waiting for Morgan to walk around the car and join her.

The Nichols house had cute rose bushes around the front and all the windows had white trim. Classic suburban look.

“Nicer than a hospital, I bet.”

She huffed. “I cannot thank you enough for getting me out of there. I don’t know how Reid is able to talk to these people, knowing that they’re doomed.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Morgan countered. “To make sure they aren’t doomed.”

A team in protective gear had arrived before them to search the house. There was no one there, luckily enough, as Nichols was supposedly at work. And the team had yet to notify them of any contamination, but until they were certain, she and Morgan had to stay outside.

The two of them wandered towards the backyard, looking at all the greenery and sweeping for anything suspicious, but frankly, if Nichols was harboring anthrax, he would have kept it at his lab. As soon as the team inside was done, all she and Morgan had to do was the usual profiling stuff. Does this man have a motive to commit mass murder and all that jazz.

Lydia was so caught up in the difference between the well trimmed front lawn to the overgrown backyard that she didn’t hear Morgan’s cell start ringing, nor did she take notice of the fact that he stopped walking to answer it.

There was a small stone fountain, which was completely dry, in front of a decaying garage in the back. The shed was designed exactly like the house, but its paint was faded and chipping and the plants clung to it like it had been long abandoned in the weeds.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in there for years, and yet all the doors and windows were open.

As she crept towards the sliding glass door along the side, her hand went to the gun at her belt. He should be at work, but frankly, unsubs were never where you expected them to be. So, to be careful, she unclipped her weapon and kept a hand on it as she leaned inside.

“Hello? Dr. Nichols? It’s the FBI!”

Nothing…

Hesitantly, she stepped inside and didn’t take a moment to realize how bad of an idea that was. Directly across from the door was clearly a work desk, and yet, she didn’t take into consideration that he might have worked on his toxins at his house.

And so, as she stepped around the corner to find Dr. Nichols’s body with a shattered tube of white powder on the floor, it took her a moment to process what this meant.

Powder… anthrax… deadly. The AC was on, meaning the toxin was circulating the air and she had most certainly been exposed.

Deadly.

Her hand shot up to her mouth, quickly covering it with the fabric of her shirt to filter out some of the powder from the air. Funny enough, the dead body was the furthest thing from her mind. Her next plan of action was to cover the broken pieces of glass so that whatever powder was left on the floor wouldn’t be swept up into the air. She could worry about the AC in a second.

“Ambers?”

Fuck, Morgan.

She couldn’t let him inside. It was too dangerous. But if she left, the BAU might never get the chance to search the lab before the rest of the infected died. It would take too long to clear the garage. No, she had to stay, even if it meant increasing the concentration in her lungs.

Flipping around, she shut the sliding door, locking it just as Morgan appeared.

“Ambers!”

“Get back!” she insisted, looking around wildly for the closest open window to shut, one hand still holding her shirt over her face. “Get out of here!”

“What are you doing?! What’s wrong?”

He rushed over to the window with her, but wasn’t fast enough. “Don’t! STAY AWAY, MORGAN!”

“Tell me what’s going on!”

“I’VE BEEN EXPOSED!”

His face and Lydia’s heart both dropped at the same time.

What had she done?

“Morgan,” she started, trying to keep her mind off of her death sentence, “I need you to tell the team that Nichols is dead.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s been murdered,” she explained, stepping away from the window so that he could see the body behind her. “Blunt force trauma to the head. I have to stop the anthrax circulation in the room and then I can start to profile what happened.”

“What? No! Lydia, you have to get out of there so we can take you to the hospital!”

“Derek, Dr. Kimura said the only thing they can do at the hospital is give me morphine! If we wait for a team to clear the room before we profile, those people at the hospital will die. I might die. If I stay here, maybe I can find a cure.”

“I don’t like this, Lydia,” he grumbled. “Think about Spencer-”

“I am! We’ve seen what this toxin does to people. I have a few hours before I become incapable of doing my job. My chances of surviving increase tremendously if I spend those hours doing work. Trust me. I can do nothing from the hospital.”

He nervously gave her a once over, as if he’d be able to see how bad it was, before pulling out his cell and stepping away from the garage.

~ ~ ~

By the time Hotch got there, Lydia had turned off the AC unit, found a lab mask to cover her face, and given Morgan a rundown on the state of Nichols’s body. There was no way he was responsible for the attack at the part, because he had been dead for at least 2 days. The fact that he had anthrax here likely meant someone had murdered him to take his samples.

“Ambers,” Hotch answered his phone from across the backyard, looking at her through the window.

“Does Spencer know yet?” she demanded.

“Yes. He’s on his way now.”

“How did he take it?”

“How do you expect, Lydia?” Morgan hissed, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to do this,” she argued, glancing around the room. “But I’m going to stay and look for a cure, or at the very least, some more information on this strain and I’ll try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols.”

Hotch took over once more. “Okay, we’re going to get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother. I’m already infected. I’ve stopped the airflow for now, so my condition won’t get worse. I need to spend my time working the case.”

“Alright. What do you see?”

“He has cages stacked against the back wall, filled with dead animals,” she began, getting into work mode. “He struggled before he died. Um… there’s some oddly empty spots on shelves, which leads me to believe the murderer robbed him as well. Nothing personal in here, clearly it was only meant to be a workshop or lab of sorts. There are two desks. One is a mess but the other totally organized…”

“Two different work spaces?” It was Derek’s voice again.

“Yeah, um…” She started to flip through a journal on one of the desks and paused. “I think our unsub was working here with Nichols. These look like research notes. Stuff that Nichols would already know, considering he has a doctorate.” She ran back to the cluttered desk to look over some loose papers. “Yep. Two clearly different sets of handwriting. Maybe he took on a protege?”

“Ambers, Morgan is going to stay with you and help profile Nichols. I’m going to go back to the BAU and try to figure out who this protege might be.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hotch,” she said, hearing the edge in his voice. He didn’t want to leave her here. “I feel fine. I’m good at this stuff. If there’s a cure, I’ll find it.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia prepared herself for the worst as Spencer grew closer. Reckless together. That was her promise. Getting herself into this situation was exactly what he was talking about after the Colorado case. But she really hadn’t meant to end up here. She felt like there was no better way after being exposed. She was being as careful as she could. But their last fight hadn’t been good.

She was listing excuses in her mind. Building up a strong argument for when he got here and inevitably lost his shit on her.

It was almost ironic that their last fight had been about her putting up walls between them and now, she was quite literally locking him out. But as she had promised to be careful, he had promised not to rush in to save her. And that included walking into a building of toxic air.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket and she took several deep breaths before looking at the caller ID.

Spencer was here.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, not wanting to look outside and see him there. With Morgan. Probably pissed as hell.

But he matched her tone perfectly: gentle and concerned. “Lydia, how are you feeling?”

Her breath caught on all the things she was planning to say when he yelled at her. She wasn’t sure where to go with that response. “The… um… The fever’s kicking in. I’m unnaturally warm. But I’ve been super careful to lower my exposure, I promise! I didn’t mean to-”

“I know, honey. I know. Stay calm. Keep working. You’re gonna be alright.”

God, she never really knew with him, did she? Of course he wasn’t happy she was there, but he kept his promise. He was trusting her. And for the first time today, she didn’t feel like she had to convince everyone that everything was normal. They both knew her odds were unfortunately low at the moment and they weren’t going to spend this time arguing.

“Dr. Kimura came with me. She’s suiting up to come in with the decon team.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause, before he said, “Lydia, come to the window.”

She originally had thought she was avoiding his gaze because she had expected him to be angry, but stepping up to the glass and seeing him at the edge of the lawn, as close as the CDC would allow him to get, brought a new meaning to the word guilt.

She didn’t just break her promise of being with him when the bad things happened. There was a chance that in a few hours, a few painful, painful hours, she might leave him. She might die. And Spencer… he didn’t deserve that.

“Lydia,” he began, looking her over carefully. “I love you so, so much, you hear me?”

She nodded, feeling tears begin to well up in the back of her throat.

“You keep fighting in there, alright? Fight and fight until we find a cure.”

“I know,” she gulped. “I know. I- I- I-”

She froze as a violent chill ran up her spine, causing her to lose her train of thought. Spencer's face broke momentarily, giving away his fear and anguish.

“I’m sorry. I… love you, too, Spence,” she finally forced out. “More than you will ever know.”

“Hopefully in an hour you’ll be out of there and you can try to tell me.”

“Of course,” she smiled, halfheartedly. “I will.”

She had to hang up the call as she heard the decon team start to file in.

She turned around to find Dr. Kimura approaching her directly. “Dr. Ambers.”

“Dr. Kimura,” she smiled, trying to hide how nauseous she was beginning to feel. “You look nice.”

She glanced down at the red and grey suit she wore and laughed along. “I haven’t been in this outfit in a while.”

“How are the patients doing?” she asked, before mentally kicking herself. She didn’t want to know how many more had died. She didn’t need that weighing her down.

Luckily, Dr. Kimura seemed to think the same. “Let's worry about you.”

“I feel fine,” she deflected. “I don’t think I’ve inhaled that much.”

“I see you’re being careful,” she noted with a nod to Lydia’s mask, “but if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

“Oh, I don’t think giving me morphine is a good idea.”

Dr. Kimura raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Are you sure? Some pain medication might make you feel more comfortable.”

Lydia shook her head quickly. “Don’t worry. In my line of work, you learn to focus despite your discomfort.”

Dr. Kimura still looked hesitant to let go of the subject.

“I feel fine,” she tried again. “I should work at the task at hand.”

“Ok. Tell me how I can help.”

Thank god. She could get back on track. Between Morgan, Hotch, Spence, and Dr. Kimura, she would never find the cure. Everyone would be too busy worrying about her condition.

“The team believes that there’s a cure for this strain within this lab,” she explained. “Our profile for Nichols says he’s secretive, and likely, he’s paranoid. So he would be protective of the cure. Probably hid it from his partner. Look for something totally unsuspicious.”

“Alright…” Dr. Kimura hesitated, knowing that those instructions were too broad. But Lydia didn’t have anything else. Her profiling skills didn’t go as far as the others. And she didn’t have the same information on Nichols or the partner that the others might be getting from Quantico.

Her phone rang sharply and she almost jumped at the vibrations in her pocket.

Fuck, she was succumbing quickly. Disoriented, panicked, nauseous.

“Hello?” she asked, trying not to cough violently after saying it. Her throat was starting to dry.

“How’s it going in there, kiddo?” Morgan replied.

“I’ve seen better days,” she admitted, hoarsely.

“Well, you’ve got me, Reid, and Garcia.”

“Hey, Sugar.”

Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling and was almost through the word “Spice” when the coughing fit finally took over.

“Lydia, stick with me. Listen, Rossi and Prentiss don’t think the partner is a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him?”

God, she was hot. She wiped her brow and tried to run her fingers through the tangled, sweaty mess that was her hair. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I looked through all the drawers, but I can’t-”

“Come on now, kiddo. I know you’re not thinking straight, but the Lydia I know would not stop looking.”

All she wanted to do was sleep. She didn’t care if Morgan called her lazy. She didn’t care if it wasn’t like her to quit. But then she remembered all those people at the hospital who were dying. They needed a break in the case. Now. She had to at least try to give that to them.

“Alright,” she mumbled, headed straight for the partner’s desk. “We think this partner is more like a protege, right? He clearly doesn’t know as much about the chemistry of anthrax than Nichols would. So maybe he was one of Nichols’s students?”

“Nichols stopped teaching ages ago. Any of his students would likely be far more advanced now than what you described from the partner’s notes.”

She flipped through everything she had left on the desk from her last search through the doors. “You’re right. These look more like my freshman year of college notes. Basics…” A large huff escaped her lips as she desperately attempted to swallow more air. Could you drown in your own sweat? “Wait, wait- I’m looking at something here. My best guess is it’s a thesis and based on the marks in red along the sides, Nichols has been correcting it. So maybe, not one of his students, but a local PhD student, looking for help on their thesis about anthrax?”

“I can look up local PhD students,” Garcia cut in.

“Yeah, check the sciences,” Morgan told her. “Biochemistry, microbi-”

“No, wait-” Lydia cut in through another coughing fit. “A science PhD student wouldn’t have all these other notes. It’s the only part that doesn’t line up with…” She trailed off, trying to skim what he had written, but it was so hard to concentrate.

“Lydia?”

Spencer… finally.

“Lydia, you’re almost done. We’re so close to getting you out of there. Is there anything else you can tell us about this student?”

She closed her eyes, soaking in his voice, without really considering what he was asking of her. “Okay...okay…” Eyes open again, she turned the thesis back to the opening page, a table of contents. “The chapters are on setting up mobile emergencies-” She fumbled for her words. “Emergency rooms. That’s not… Science students don’t care about city preparedness.”

“Garcia, check with students in the social studies,” Spence ordered. “Public policy, urban planning. And cross check those with-”

“-Former employees and customers with grievances at the bookstore,” she finished for him. “Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, school of public policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front.”

“That’s gotta be him,” Morgan said

“Totally. He’s been in the doctoral program on and off for five years. Nix on a steady job. Was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in DC. I’ll tell Hotch.”

Garcia spoke so fast that by the time Lydia had put Brown’s thesis down, she had already dropped off the call.

“You did good, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” she rasped.

“Now it’s time for you to get the hell out of there,” Spencer demanded.

It wasn’t a cure, but Lydia was feeling so sick, she didn’t care. She’d done her best. Maybe it really was time to hit the hospital and succumb to the morphine.

“Yeah. Bye.”

She started to move towards the exit, knowing that they would have to decontaminate her before getting her into the ambulance, but was stopped on her way.

“Dr. Ambers!” Dr. Kimura called. “You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’s inhaler?”

...smart.

Very smart.

“Bag it as evidence,” she ordered. “I have to hope this is it. But I can’t stay.”

The older woman nodded, likely seeing the sway as Lydia stood before her, or the sweat slipping down her neck. “Let’s get you to the hospital and I’ll have this sent to your lab.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, smiling through the pain.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day was a blur. Lydia had small snippets of memory: the moment Derek left to help the rest of the team, having the get hosed down and changed into a hospital gown outside of Nichols’s house, Spencer promising to meet her at the hospital. But after the fog cleared up from her mind she was positive that those would disappear as well.

She let her eyes crack open and swallowed a groan. Her nose was burning and itchy from the plastic tubes connecting her to a breathing machine and her voice was practically gone. She didn’t want to open her eyes fully because at the moment, her head was a dull ache, but she was sure the lights would cause a full blown migraine.

Spencer was holding onto her left hand with his right, his own left arm a makeshift pillow underneath his head.

On the opposite side of the room, Derek and Penelope were leaning against a wall, talking quietly. Morgan had a red Jell-O cup in his hand.

“You know, Derek,” she mumbled, softly, “I think hospital Jell-O is meant for the patients.”

They both looked over at her smiles spreading across their faces.

“Hey, kiddo,” Morgan said, matching her vocal level to not wake Spencer. “Hey doc,” he directed outside the room. “Look who’s back.”

Dr. Kimura wandered in next, standing at the edge of Lydia’s bed to speak to her. “Hey, Dr. Ambers. How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” she asked, glancing between her friends and the doctor.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Morgan prefaced. “And we got Brown. It’s over.”

“And the other patients? Did any of them…?”

“The four who were still alive are on the mend,” Garcia finally said, anxious to spread joy after the day she’d had. “You were right, Lydia. You saved them.”

“I didn’t-”

“Uh-uh,” Morgan interrupted. “I will have none of that. You put a lot on the line to find that cure. To find Brown. We all got a happy ending after what you did. Bask in it for a minute.”

She rolled her eyes teasingly and turned to check in on her boyfriend once more. He was still peacefully sleeping across his elbow, his long hair shielding his eyes from her.

“He was very worried for you,” Dr. Kimura told her.

“I was worried about him,” was all Lydia said, gently squeezing his hand.

“How long do you think you two are going to do this back and forth thing?” Morgan teased. “One of you is always worried about the other.”

“When we lose our impulse control,” Lydia replied, but stopped, thinking of something better. “When we lose our hearts.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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