#// like you try to call a friend and someone replies 'he's WORKING unlike SOMEBODY I KNOW' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

A Year Gone By | dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

happy birthday @nsfwsebbie!!

it was supposed to be a surprise but then I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I was writing something, I managed to keep most of it under wraps though! I hope the suspense pays off.

idk if it’s weird that i made it a doctor reader when you’re not a doctor but listen...half the fun of reader insert is getting to vicariously live through a cool career right?? the other half of the fun is the obvious thing. and it seemed a little creepy if i made the reader exactly like you but if you want it to be more accurate i will totally write you something with actual you in it lol

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy it and most of all I hope you have a lovely, relaxing, fun birthday. and i hope it makes you h word lmao. ily darling <3

warnings: noncon, dubcon, stalking/kidnapping, ddlg, loss of virginity, bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, d/s, pet play, degradation, painful sex/pain kink, cockwarming, breeding, somnophilia (slightly), spitting, pregnancy mention, breeding kink, mention of drugging... I think that’s everything.

word count: just over 15.5k (YIIIIKES my bad)

Bucky always looked forward to appointments with you. It wasn’t just because he had a crush on you, honest; you really were the best doctor he ever had. Then again, between chain-smoking Brooklyn doctors who handed out morphine like candy and cruel Nazi or Soviet scientists, you weren’t competing with anybody too incredible.

“It’s not so bad,” he bluffed, but he couldn’t hide the wince when you touched his bruise.

“You’re not a very good liar, Sergeant,” you told him with a smile. God, he loved when you called him that. He hoped his body wouldn’t react to it in any uncomfortably obvious ways. “Honestly, I’m a little worried about the bones. I want to do an X-ray, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” he shrugged, “but you’re probably worrying too much.”

“You plan to walk off a compound fracture?” you scoffed.

“Bet I could, if you kiss it to make it better,” he smiled. He was expecting you to giggle a little at the casual flirtation, which you did, but he was surprised when you bit your lip at the end of it. That made it impossible to stop his cock from getting a bit interested, but thankfully it was still easy enough to hide. Clearly his casual flirting was starting to get to you, and it made him especially impatient but he tried to stay calm.

“I’m a good doctor, but I’m not that good. A prescription will do more for you,” you replied as you wrote something in his chart-- presumably that he needed to go down the hall for some x-ray work.

“If you say so.”

“Anything else bothering you?” you asked him.

“Oh, no, I won’t waste your time,” he dismissed.

“I’m getting paid, don’t worry,” you laughed. “I don’t have any more appointments until after lunch. Is there anything else going on?”

He shifted a little, the paper on the examination table crinkling as he did it. “Um… it’s nothing, I just--” he glanced up at you but then looked away again, still embarrassed to admit it-- “I’ve had a little trouble sleeping…”

“Nightmares?” you pressed. “Or general insomnia?”

“Um, nightmares,” he finally admitted, “not as bad as normal. The meds helped. Just… I still get them sometimes.”

“How many nights a week would you guess?” you asked. But you didn’t look to his chart like it was a quiz or something, you kept looking at him with patience and compassion. That was what really made his heart melt.

“Probably 2 or 3.”

“So we’re down from 6 to 7,” you remembered from what he’d said before you’d given him the medication he was on now, “that’s good. That’s progress. But, maybe we need to up your dosage if you haven’t seen better results after 4 weeks. You haven’t missed any doses, have you?”

He tried to fight his embarrassed smirk but it was too late.

“Bucky!” you scolded playfully. “I can’t up your dosage until you’re actually being consistent on the amount you already have, okay? I know it can be easy to forget but you have to stay on it. Set a timer on your phone or something if you need to.”

He nodded, but the problem wasn’t forgetting to take them as much as it was being ashamed that he needed them at all. But he’d stay on them if it made you happy.

“Anything else? Headache, twisted ankle, burns when you pee?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, I think that’s everything.”

“Great, then I’ll let you get to your newly-booked X-ray appointment.” You handed him a sheet of paper for him to take to the X-ray office which informed the nurses there what angles you wanted on his ribs. “Just know that you can call me if you need anything, alright?”

He took the slip of paper but suddenly couldn’t respond, too lost in looking at you and wondering if you’d felt that same jolt of electricity when his hand brushed yours.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“You take care of so many people,” Bucky pondered aloud, “I just wonder if someone takes care of you.”

He could tell by your face that you didn’t like the way his tone shifted, but he refused to backpedal. Just this once, he wanted to see you squirm a little bit.

“Wanna lollipop?” you asked him nervously as you handed him the plastic-wrapped red sucker in offering, but he waved it away.

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how you would look with the cherry lollipop in your mouth: the way it would push your cheek out from the inside, stain your lips and tongue bright red, make your mouth taste like pure sugar.

Of all the things he’d imagined before, that was the one that made him realize it couldn’t just be a fantasy anymore. Thankfully, he hadn’t just been thinking of all the filthy things he wanted to do to you; he’d also been coming up with a plan.

The first thing you perceived when you woke up was the smell. It didn’t smell like your room. Such a simple difference, one you hadn’t even realized you would notice, but one that stood out instantly.

You opened your eyes and instantly spun your head around when you saw the grey cement room you were in. The bed underneath you creaked, unlike your bed, and you looked down at it as if you somehow expected to be in an unknown room but still be in your own bed.

It was then that you realized you were restrained with, of all things, satiny pink rope which pulled each of your limbs to the nearest bedpost. There was enough slack that you could wiggle around some, but it wasn’t exactly roomy either. Your heart raced as you pondered who could have possibly done this, and why.

You startled when you heard the door open, but relaxed when the menacing form suddenly struck you as familiar.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief, “oh thank god you’re here-- quick, help untie me.”

As soon as you said it, though, you realized something wasn’t right. He didn’t look concerned at all, or confused. And that should be a good thing because it meant he had answers, except that you were suddenly realizing this was more complex than you were prepared for.

“Bucky… where are we?” you asked him, quieter, as you realized that he was not going to untie you immediately. Even still you were coming to terms with the possibility that it wasn’t really a matter of where we were and where, specifically, you were.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered simply, stepping closer.

You didn’t exactly believe that.

“Please, help untie me,” you requested again.

“I will,” he assured, “but I want to explain something first.”

Your heart sank straight through your stomach. You didn’t understand what was going on quite yet, but you were getting the gist enough to know that this was really fucking bad.

“Bucky,” you pleaded as he sat down beside you on the bed, “please let me go.” You felt very aware of how thin your pajama set was, how if he tried hard enough he could see your nipples hardening underneath your top for no apparent reason.

“Don’t get upset,” he soothed, “everything’s fine. I’m not going to hurt you-- nobody will anymore. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your eyes burned with tears you couldn’t fight anymore. “Don’t do this,” you begged, “I’m your friend-- we’re friends, remember?”

“Of course I know that,” he sighed, “but that’s not enough. Couldn’t you tell I’d fallen in love with you?”

You shook your head, trying to process everything you were hearing. “This is insane. This is not what you do when you have feelings for somebody, Bucky.”

“What, you’re saying I should’ve just asked you out?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes-- because you’re my patient--”

“See? That’s what the ropes are for!” he smiled, like he was actually proud of his problem-solving skills. “You would’ve said yes if you could, I know. But you couldn’t. And now you don’t have to.”

You resented that he was right, that you would’ve dated him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t an ethical violation. You got the sense there were going to be even more severe ethical violations in your future, though.

You continued to beg him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears as he reached under the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts and pulled them down slowly. He gasped when he saw your pussy and you wished you could just disappear, turn invisible or, best of all, teleport out of here; anything to avoid this humiliation.

“Baby, you’re wet,” he observed. You weren’t sure if the first or second half of the sentence made you more uncomfortable, but either way, you couldn’t stop the shivers from dancing up your spine. “This all for me? Do you like being tied up?”

You refused to answer, looking to the side as if the concrete wall was suddenly fascinating to you, but he grabbed your jaw and turned you to look at him.

“I know you don’t know all the rules yet, but here’s the first one, and maybe the most important: answer me when I speak to you.”

It was cold but not quite threatening; still scared you senseless, though. You nodded.

“Do you like being tied up?” he repeated.

“N-no,” you answered.

“Answer honestly,” he specified.

You had, but you realized it was going to be safer to do what he wanted, so you cleared your throat and spoke again.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I like… being tied up.”

“That’s it?” he pressed. “It’s not me being here, is it? You never got wet when you saw me in appointments?”

This was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated. It seemed like there was no right answer.

“Didja ever get wet for somebody else? It was Steve, wasn’t it?”

“No!” you instinctively answered. “Um, I like Steve. But just as a friend.”

“Aw,” he smiled, “I knew you were the loyal type. Remember just a minute ago when you were begging me to stop cause you were my friend? I think you were lying then too, doll. You didn’t want to be just friends with me.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it,” you grimaced. “I’m getting irritated.”

You yelped when he slapped the inside of your thigh, trying to pull away but only making it easier for him to dip under your leg so that he was between them, sitting back on the bed in front of you.

“Respect gets you a long way with me,” he promised, pulling a knife from a strap on his thigh and using it to quickly cut off the shorts. “Sass does not.”

You winced as he slipped a finger into you-- metal, and it was cold, too. Soothed the burn a bit, at least.

“Oh god,” he sighed, “just one finger and it barely fits…” You watched realization pass over his face as his gaze moved to your eyes. “Baby, are you a virgin?”

You closed your eyes because you knew they would reveal the truth. In all honesty it was probably better that he knew so there was at least some chance of him going easy on you, and yet you were still embarrassed for him to find out.

“Oh, you’re going to spoil me,” he grinned. “You really are too good to be true.”

A second finger pushed into you and a bite to the lip suppressed your moan.

“I’ll warm you up first, don’t worry,” he cooed. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then why did you tie me up?”

“That’s for your safety, baby. I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” he clarified.

A third finger, immediately after you had adjusted to the second. You had never had so much inside you before and it made you feel a bit dizzy. His thumb grazed over your clit and you nearly jumped right off the bed as your hips bucked suddenly-- since when were you so sensitive?!

“Oh, poor little baby, you need it so bad,” he faux-pouted. You couldn’t tell if it was a mockery or genuine concern. “You’ll get it angel, don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

That word made you feel a little sick. No wonder he needed to kidnap girls to get his rocks off, clearly this was the kind of stuff a normal date wouldn’t agree to.

Then again, it was Bucky Barnes. He could probably get any girl he wanted, even if he had some weird tastes. You still didn’t understand why it had to be you, specifically.

His thumb stayed on your clit, the pressure moving from teasing to firm to nearly too much. You tried to angle your hips away but the ropes stopped you (of course), and you were forced to take every sensation he gave you.

“You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, just let go,” he encouraged. “I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

“Maybe I’m just naturally quiet,” you bluffed, but even just those few words were strained, and surrounded by panting as you failed to catch your breath.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. I’ve heard you when you thought you were alone, doll.”

You knew what he must have meant, but it still made you whimper when he leaned in to whisper in your ear: “I heard you touching yourself.”

Your face was burning and you were sure you’d never blushed so hard in your life. You couldn’t be sure how much he’d heard, but just the way he smiled down at you made you sure he must have heard the times that his name passed your lips as you reached your peak.

Of course he couldn’t just let you stew in that, he had to mock you even further.

“Oh Bucky,” he recalled, raising the pitch of his voice a little, “please let me come, I’m so close, please…”

“Stop,” you begged, tears sliding down your temples. The fingers twisted inside you as both of you groaned.

“Yeah, it’s not a very good impression,” he sighed, “it’ll sound better when you do it. Don’t you wanna moan for me again?”

“You stalked me,” you realized aloud, “you spied on me at night, you kidnapped me--”

“And now we’re both getting what we want. I know you wished it was my fingers instead of yours. Doesn’t it feel good baby? Admit it. Tell me it feels good.”

You were determined to resist until he pulled his fingers out and used the metal hand to slap your pussy, both of you gasping at the wet noise it made. He did it again and your hips bucked wildly even as you were trying with everything in you not to react. One more and you finally moaned, the pain brief but strong while the pleasure never seemed to lessen.

“Just be honest,” he demanded, “I know you love it. I just need you to say it.”

One more spank and you were finally willing to cut your losses. “It feels good!” you exclaimed. You cried out when he hit you again, not having seen it coming at all since you’d done as he asked. “Say it again.”

“It feels good, Bucky, your fingers feel good,” you whimpered.

He finally seemed to calm down, giving you an oddly friendly smile. “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head, just trying to appreciate the stillness while you could.

“One little thing though: you don’t call me Bucky anymore. My friends call me Bucky; you’re so much more special than that. You’re my perfect little angel, and you call me Daddy.”

You saw it coming, but it didn’t make it any less awful. You squirmed a bit as he pushed up your top, biting his lip when he got a glimpse of your breasts.

“Oh, when did these get hard, huh?” he smiled as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

“It’s… cold in here,” you explained uncomfortably.

“Uh huh,” he pretended to believe you. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to warm you up.”

He let go of your tits so he could pull back and start undoing his belt; you swallowed dryly, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Of course he was big. It explained his personality, and you’d had your suspicions (and/or fantasies), but now all it did was scare you.

“Will it hurt?” you asked weakly. He smiled as he pulled off his shirt from behind his neck, tossing it aside.

“No baby, I stretched you with my fingers so you can take me. Might be a little bit of an adjustment at first, but we’ll go slow, okay?”

You couldn’t decide if it was sweet or patronizing. A little of both, perhaps.

He leaned over you, resting one hand beside your head as the other guided his cock to rub through your folds. You struggled again, barely able to process that this was actually going to happen, that you were going to lose your virginity tied up in some creepy sex dungeon to an obsessive patient who demanded you call him ‘Daddy.’ This wasn’t exactly the situation you had been saving it for.

“Ready for me, baby? Want me to make you mine?” he asked with a look of excitement, even vulnerability. Your body craved more after he’d left you dangling on the edge from his fingering, but your brain was thankfully still functioning properly.

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “you can stop now, and I won’t tell anyone, and--”

“Baby, don’t talk like that,” he frowned. “This is it, okay? Us. Just us. Nobody else to get in the way. You’re not gonna tell anyone ‘cause there’s no one to tell.”

“You can’t,” you denied, “I have a life-- people who care about me, who are going to notice that I’m gone--”

“No, babygirl, stop-- you’re not listening to me,” he growled. “Stop fighting. You’re mine. You’re finally where you belong.”

“This is crazy,” you spat, “you’re crazy!”

“Baby…” he looked dejected, crestfallen. “You’re the only one who’s ever helped me feel normal again. If I’m crazy it’s only because I love you so much; I need you, doll.”

“You need intensive psychiatric care!”

Sadness shifted to anger as he sat back and stuffed his cock back into his trousers, even though it barely fit now that it was fully hard and leaking from the tip.

“I realize now I’ve given you more than you can handle. I knew you liked me back so I figured you would understand a little sooner but… I should’ve known you need more time before you really admit to yourself that you need someone to take care of you.”

Your relief shifted to fear when he stood back up off the bed and stepped away.

“Wait, don’t leave me here,” you squeaked, “untie me, please.”

Instead he knelt down and pulled a box out from under the bed. You couldn’t see what was inside when he opened it, but he seemed to find what he was looking for when he pulled out a vibrator and shut the lid. It was thin and a little curved, so when he roughly shoved it into you it hit right on your g-spot. You tried to squirm away but he held your hips down and turned it on to a setting that strobed the vibrations, teasing your spot but never giving you enough to get very far.

“I’ll come back when I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he informed you quickly as he started to leave the room.

“Bucky-- Bucky wait!” you called after him. “There’s no food or water you can’t leave me here wait don’t go BUCKY!”

But he was long gone. The door slammed behind him and echoed around the room; only when the sound was completely dead were you sure that he wasn’t coming back any time soon.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity of you wiggling against the ropes, trying to either knock the vibrator out of you somehow or get it to move enough that you could at least come and feel some relief. Trying to push it out with your muscles was useless since the curved shape kept it inside of you, and you couldn’t arch your back enough to press it into the bed-- and if you could, you weren’t sure what good that would do.

Every once in a while the vibration would echo through your clit and it made your eyes water. You sobbed and bit your lip, hoping he would come back soon.

It was at least twice as long before he did, and at that point your voice had gone hoarse from calling out to him. You cried out for Bucky at least a hundred times and got nothing; but when you called for ‘Daddy’ just once, he suddenly appeared.

Somehow his return didn’t bring much relief, because you weren’t exactly safe with him around… but at least you weren’t alone.

He reached between your legs and turned the vibrator off, though he left it inside of you. You took a deep breath and appreciated the stillness, though your body panged with hunger from so much pleasure with no release.

“I hated doing that to you,” he breathed deeply as he sat beside you on the bed, “but it had to be done. You were behaving so poorly. I’ve gone easy on you up until now but I can’t tolerate any more rebelliousness, alright?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his disappointment sink over you.

When he pulled out the vibrator, the tip of it grazed over your abused and sensitive g-spot and you bit back a groan. He set it aside and admired the mess you’d made; you couldn’t see it, of course, but you could tell that there was a wet patch of arousal beneath you on the sheets.

“Your body is ready for me, but I’m not sure your mind is right yet,” he explained, steely gaze finally meeting yours. “Are you going to be good, little girl?”

You were too exhausted to notice the nickname, or even to speak your reply. You just nodded again, watching him as he started unlacing his boots and slipped them off, then took his socks, trousers, and underwear off along with them.

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten how big he was. You swallowed with a dry throat and closed your eyes, just hoping it would be over with quickly.

“Open your eyes babygirl, I wanna look at you,” he murmured, running a finger across your cheek. You reluctantly obeyed and saw him hovering above you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and it felt so wrong, so empty and peculiar. It was a weak facsimile of what a kiss was supposed to be like. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers into your hair, and it had all the trappings of the kind of kiss you’d share as a goodbye after a first or second date, but without any of the stuff that mattered like positive feelings or consent or not being in a creepy cement sex dungeon-- or whatever this was supposed to be.

He pulled away and looked down at you again, anger just starting to brew in his eyes. “Kiss me back,” he demanded. This time when he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue slid between them and it made you feel a little sick but you did your best to reciprocate. You found yourself trying to reach up to put your hands on his hair or neck but of course, the ropes made it impossible.

You felt his cock pressing between your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly, and your heart began to race. One hand slid between your bodies to guide his cock towards your entrance and he said something but you couldn’t hear it because your ears were ringing.

As soon as he pushed into you, your body jolted, trying to squirm away, but he just kept going, sliding into you in one long stroke.

Physically, it wasn’t painful. The vibrator had helped relax your walls, even numbed them a little bit. And yet, even without pain it was so much. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, like you were so full you couldn’t even breathe.

When he was fully seated inside you, Bucky moaned deeply, kissing your neck and mumbling something about how perfect you were. But all you could focus on was his cock pulling back only to slam home again.

“Fuck!” you yelped. You had no idea anything could be so deep inside you.

“Watch your language, angel,” he purred, biting at your earlobe. “You promised to be good, remember?”

The hand that had been gripping your thigh suddenly moved to rub your clit and you choked on a moan.

“It’s okay, it’s supposed to feel good,” he encouraged. “It’s okay to come, baby. I know how bad you wanna come for me.”

You were embarrassingly close as he had observed, a side effect of having been left on the edge for so long. You could feel your walls rippling around him, and you wondered if he could feel it, too. Every thrust stroked parts of you that you hadn’t even realized existed, and when he pushed as deep as he could into you, the tip of his cock hit something so sensitive that you genuinely couldn’t tell if it was painful or pleasurable.

“Are you close? I don’t know how much longer I can last, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “Fuck, you want me to fill you up don’t you? Wanna be full of Daddy’s cum?”

Before you could even consider ignoring his question, he wrapped his left hand around your neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” you croaked through the weight on your windpipe, “fill me up, please.”

Talking like that made your heart twist with shame but somehow pushed you even closer to your peak. You knew he could tell that you were turned on by it from the way your muscles tightened around him.

“I will baby, I promise,” he smiled. “Do you wanna beg to come, like you did when you were by yourself?”

You moaned because it was like a fantasy come true, in a monkey’s paw sort of way. This is what you had wanted, right? Just… in a way completely different from how it was turning out?

“Daddy, please,” you answered, so quiet and heavy with embarrassment that it was barely above a whisper, “please let me come.”

“Oh fuck,” he responded hoarsely as his thrusts came faster, more ragged. “Come, princess. I wantcha to scream for me.”

As you started to fall over the edge, you felt like you had lost control over your body; your arms and legs tugged at the ropes as jolts of pleasure coursed through them, and your mouth was spilling moans and whimpers and even his name. His real name, specifically, though he thankfully didn’t seem to mind. He kissed you again as he came, moaning into your lips and still inside you.

You felt cold and sticky and humiliated as he sat up and pulled out, admiring the way your hole leaked out his seed and flexed involuntarily around nothing.

“Oh look at you,” he praised, “my perfect little girl. You’re even more amazing than I dreamed, doll.”

You tried not to listen or watch him as he got off the bed, coming back with boxers on and a damp washcloth to clean you.

“I’m gonna untie you now, okay? Promise you won’t kick me or anything?”

You quickly nodded, willing to promise anything if it meant getting untied. “You’ll just do more harm to you than to me if you try anything, angel,” he reminded you quickly as he started work on your right ankle. The ropes were silky so they hadn’t been rubbing your skin too raw, but there was still soreness from the tight knots. You were a bit surprised when he gave your ankle and foot a brief massage once he was done untying the rope, and did the same to your other foot, and then your wrists and hands. It helped a lot with getting the blood flow back to normal, and you almost considered thanking him but that would’ve been ridiculous. ‘Hey, thanks for the foot massage, next time don’t tie me up and rape me first but, otherwise 10/10.’

Bucky was so impressed with the progress you’d made in a week. Only two escape attempts and you’d taken your punishment quite well both times. He had expected a rocky start, he’d understood what he was getting himself into, so none of it really came as a surprise. You’d managed to get a good crack at his nose once, kicking him straight between the eyes before making a run for it. Yes, it hurt like a bitch and took a few days to heal, but it had actually been a blessing in disguise; that day you’d made it out the front door and realized that you were in the middle of nowhere. When he’d caught up to you, you were standing barefoot and half-naked in the snow, not even running anymore because, apparently, you’d realized there was nowhere to run to.

“I built this place for us, for you,” he explained. “Somewhere far away, all to ourselves. Nobody for miles.”

“How many miles?”

He chuckled a bit to himself. “Baby, it’s a really big number. You’re too little to understand.”

Normally you resisted that sort of talk but this time it shut you up. Hopefully you were beginning to properly realize that this was your new life.

“Are we in New York?” you asked, quieter.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you that yet. I don’t want you to get any complicated ideas in that pretty little head,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for emphasis before leaving you behind to start cooking dinner.

“I’m not eating with these,” you announced firmly as he set your place at the table with a set of pink, rubber-coated utensils.

“It’s too messy to eat with your hands,” he frowned.

“Do you honestly not realize that I want to eat with normal utensils? Or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

Bucky set your plate down a little too firmly, making you and the food on top jump. “Don’t talk back to me.”

“I just… it’ll take me forever to finish an adult-sized portion of food with child-sized utensils.”

“Then maybe you’re not ready for an adult-sized portion,” he threatened. That seemed to get your attention, but you stayed quiet. “Maybe you’re not hungry at all?”

“I’m hungry,” you denied. “Please, I want to eat.”

“And I want to eat with you. But this roundabout is getting on my last nerve, doll. Now are you gonna be good and eat your dinner?”

“...yes, Daddy,” you sighed. He smiled and sat down across from you. You were learning. Slowly, but surely.

Bath time was always a fight, though. You still had some ridiculous notions about ‘privacy’ and ‘autonomy’ and crap like that, and it meant that you were likely to act up and refuse to be washed.

“I can do it myself!”

“But you don’t have to, don’t you see?”

“I want to.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around what you want, angel.”

“Let me guess: it revolves around what you want?” “No,” Bucky shook his head and tried to summon some more patience, “I have to take care of you. Sometimes that means doing things you don’t like, because I know what’s best for you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled as you turned away, and that really broke his heart. He knew you didn’t really mean it, but it still hurt.

“Baby… don’t say that,” he pleaded as he turned your face to him. “It hurts Daddy’s feelings when you say things like that.”

“Yes, that was the idea,” you hissed. “I just want to take a shower, alone.”

“Any chance you had at that is long gone,” he grimaced. “What you’re getting is a bath, with me, and if you quit this attitude now you might still be able to avoid getting a spanking as well, do you understand?”

Your shoulders slumped as you nodded. He knew your poor little bottom was still sore from the last spanking, and as he helped you undress for the bath, he could still see a few welts along the skin. He kissed them quickly, a reminder to both of you what he was capable of, before helping you into the water and slipping in behind you. It was spacious, so there was ample room for the two of you, but he still held you close and pressed your back into his chest.

He had a lot of ideas about what you two could do in this bath, but he knew that now was not the time. Still, he let his mind wander and smiled to himself when you gasped from his erection pressing into your thigh.

He helped you wash your hair, and for that moment where your head was nearly submerged and he was using his fingers to massage out the shampoo, you looked so peaceful. He normally only got to appreciate this look on your face as you slept, but you were almost smiling this time, and it made his heart sing. A week of tantrums was worth it for just a few quiet moments like this.

“I’m gonna let you finish up on your own, okay? I trust you not to do anything dangerous…” he decided as he stepped out.

“Really?” your face instantly lit up. Sure, you’re never supposed to leave them alone in the bath, but he was feeling extra generous and he sympathized with your desire for control. Freedom could be good for you, in moderation.

“Of course.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” you awkwardly responded.

He dried off and dressed, and waited nearby in the living room, listening to you drain the bathwater and start a shower.

You emerged wrapped in a towel and looking slightly lost.

"Honey, where are your clothes?" he asked you with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you informed him. Oh, right. You were being resistant to wearing the clothes he had picked out for you. Apparently you found the overwhelming presence of baby pink to be tacky, and you hated that everything was cute and tiny… he couldn't understand seeing something cute and tiny and not liking it. After all, you were the most adorable thing he'd laid eyes on and it made it impossible not to like you. You just needed clothes to match.

“I have clothes laid out for you,” he explained.

“I’d rather be naked than wear what you pick for me,” you snarled.

“Hey, I wouldn’t complain,” he shrugged, trying to suppress his frustration. “Don’t come bitchin’ to me when you’re cold, though.”

You sat next to him on the couch, defiantly naked and confidently ignoring him. He admired your stubbornness, or at least he found it amusing.

“Do you wanna watch a movie now?” he asked, but he knew you had figured out that this was a mandatory activity.

“Don’t see any reason to wait,” you smiled sarcastically.

Of course, when he got up to show you some DVDs so you could pick what you wanted (Wall-E; he knew you didn’t actually want to watch that since your typical fare was horror and action movies, but it was your favorite of the options), he quickly turned down the thermostat. Perhaps a comfortable 55 Fahrenheit would help you remember why it’s important to take what Daddy gives you.

He hadn’t seen Wall-E before but he found it oddly relatable. A robot, built for someone else’s purpose, abandoned in a filthy, empty world… it brought back some old feelings that he managed to press back down.

Regardless, he was distracted from it when he could literally feel you shivering from across the couch.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked presumptuously.

“No,” you denied, barely managing to suppress the chattering of your teeth.

“Do you want the clothes?”

“Shut up.”

He just laughed a little to himself, ignoring your rude language and turning back to the TV.

It did kill him a bit to have to pretend he didn’t care when you were obviously uncomfortable, but you would’ve been even more irritated with him if he’d held you down and forced you to put the outfit on.

This fucker was smart, you’d give him that. Or maybe it was just that you were stupid. Not stupid, really, but having no sense of self-preservation. Why had you chosen this hill to die on? You couldn’t even remember why you’d put up a fight at all. You were so cold that you couldn’t even understand what could’ve ever compelled you to reject an offer of clothes. Didn’t help that you knew he was so close, that if you cuddled up to him you would be warm, but that it would mean the loss of your last shred of dignity.

Only a week and you were starting to completely lose your sense of yourself. You searched within and couldn’t find any of the fight you’d had so many times before. You remembered that time you kicked him right in the face, and where you once found pride at the memory, you found guilt. You felt guilty for hurting him, after everything he’d done to you-- why?

“B-bucky…” you finally relented not even an hour into the movie, stammering from the force of your shivers.

“Hm?”

“I want… I want the c-clothes.”

He smiled a little, in an insulting way. “Ask nicely, doll.”

“P-please, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He came back with the clothes in hand, but when you reached out for them, he shook his head and motioned for you to stand up. You sighed but obeyed, your entire body shaking with violent shivers as your bare feet hit the cool concrete floor.

He knelt down, holding the lace panties open for you as you shyly stepped into them. He pulled them up to your hips and let the elastic slap your skin a little as he let go, making you jump. He did the same with the fuzzy pink pyjama pants, running his hands over soft fabric for just a second as he stood up, helping you into the loose grey sweatshirt. It was the least feminine thing he’d ever let you wear, noticeably absent in anything pink or fuzzy or girly or adorned with bows. You only realized as it slipped over your head that it was his, because once you plunged into darkness inside of it, you were overwhelmed with the smell of him. You wouldn’t have known that you could recognize his smell, but now that you were in it, it was undeniable.

You were almost surprised to see him when your head popped through the neckline, somehow. It’s not as if you had forgotten he was there in the three seconds you couldn’t see him, just that he looked so different to you now. He had this stoic, nearly stern look on his face as he helped you get your hands through the sleeves, and the way he caressed your fingers as they emerged from the cotton was so upsettingly tender.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, and he looked back at your face.

“Is this better? Are you warmer?”

“My feet…” you realized, looking down at them.

“I’ll get you some socks, baby,” he nodded, dashing away for a moment. You felt colder with him gone. It couldn’t be loneliness, could it? Even knowing he’d only be gone less than a minute, you were unduly anxious for his return.

He came back and held your feet up by the ankle one at a time as he rolled pink fuzzy socks-- with lace at the ankle, of course-- over your feet. You wiggled your toes into them, finally feeling like you’d be able to get warm again.

“Let’s finish the movie, okay?” he suggested, rubbing his hands on your arms. You nodded, allowing him to guide you back to the couch and finding yourself cuddling into his side as he laid an arm over your shoulders.

You barely managed to pay attention as you felt his hand slip lower, resting on your waist. Then your hip, then your thigh.

Something about the way the lace panties rubbed against your pussy made you feel so oddly sensitive, and even the inside of his sweatshirt was just rough enough to make your nipples react every time you adjusted your position.

You figured he realized your condition pretty quickly, but he didn’t react until a moan, so quiet that you were sure he wouldn’t hear it, passed your lips.

“Everything alright, doll?” he asked, failing to hide the fact that he clearly knew the answer.

You didn’t respond, distracted by his other hand reaching over and stroking your thigh. You were caged in his embrace now, and your heart raced in a way that was oddly lacking in fear.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he demanded, watching your nervous reaction to his intensity.

“Daddy I… I feel tingly,” you murmured, feeling yourself blush.

“Where, baby?”

“D-down there,” you admitted as you forced your eyes shut, too embarrassed to look him in the face as you said it.

“You need Daddy’s help?”

“Please,” you whispered, hating yourself a little for needing him but too desperate to really care.

In one motion he’d already turned the TV off, pulled you onto his lap, and started kissing where the baggy neckline of the sweatshirt exposed your collarbone.

You were rubbing yourself on his thigh and you didn’t even know how to stop. It felt so good. It made your skin warm up even faster as you recovered from the cold.

He slipped his right hand into your pants as the other pulled you closer until your face was buried in his neck. If there was anything worth appreciating about Bucky, it was how good he was with his fingers. He knew your body better than you did at this point-- but then again, he had spent so much time exploring it in one week that he was probably competing with you already in terms of practice time.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as his fingers moved faster and firmer, making your hips jerk forward unexpectedly.

“It feels good?” he asked in that way that made it obvious he knew the answer.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whimpered. You’d gotten pretty good by now at appeasing him by performing the role he wanted you to play… so good, in fact, that it was starting to feel very real.

Just as you were grabbing onto his shoulders to hold you steady through your orgasm, he was pulling out his hand and reaching for his own pants instead.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained quickly as he pushed them down and revealed his hard, leaking cock. “I need to be inside you when I make you come.”

He helped you slide off your pants and underwear but pulled you back into his lap the absolute second they were discarded. He slid you down onto his cock with a groan, and your face was so hot as you processed how wet you were, how easily he entered you. Your joy halted, though, when he held your hips down. You tried to wiggle around for some friction but he was so strong that it was a complete waste.

“Daddy,” you mumbled with confusion, “what are you doing?”

“You’re mine, baby, ‘m gonna use you how I please,” he reminded you darkly, “and right now I want you to stay still and wait.”

“But--”

He slapped your ass harshly, and you whimpered but decided not to put up much more of a fight.

All the while as you tried to stay still, he was kissing your neck and jaw and cheeks, murmuring praises and leaving the softest bite marks every once in a while.

“Please let me move,” you sobbed against his shoulder, having to fight everything in you not to start grinding on him like your life depended on it.

“I’m not ready yet,” he denied.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you whimpered. “I’ll do anything. I just need to come, and I need to make you come, please…”

With a hand on either side of your hips, he started to move you on top of him, excruciatingly slow. Your head fell back from how wonderful just that felt.

“Anything? You’re gonna spoil me talking like that, doll.”

“Oh god, anything, just move a little faster, please,” you begged. Of course you knew it was a bad idea, and you figured you were going to regret saying it, but your need was surpassing your sanity at the moment.

He grabbed your face and pulled you down until your lips were almost brushing his, but not quite. “Keep riding my cock, babygirl.” You nodded, finally free to pick up the pace to where you wanted it, and you bit your lip as his cock stretched you exactly how you needed it to.

“Daddy, you feel so good inside me,” you moaned.

“I can tell,” he smiled, “you’re making those perfect noises, it’s killing me not to flip you over and fuck you so hard right now.”

You were much more inspired by that mental image than you expected to be. Those few times he’d gotten really rough with you, it had made you so wet you thought you might get dehydrated.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low that it sounded like a growl, echoing in his chest and making shivers run up your spine. “I know what I want you to do for me.”

You swallowed and braced yourself as he pulled you even closer, looking right into your eyes.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded.

You gasped, tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes. It was the last thing you expected, but it also tracked. Of course that was what he wanted. But now that you were trying to form words and nothing would come out, you were kind of wishing he’d just said he wanted anal.

“D-daddy,” you stammered, distracted by him grabbing your hips and moving you even faster on top of him. He was practically throwing you up and down on top of him, and somehow doing it effortlessly.

“Just say it,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back. He smiled and pulled you into a deep kiss, swallowing every moan as you felt yourself barrelling towards your peak.

“Please, I’m about to come-- can I come, Daddy?”

“Almost,” he nodded, “say it again, babygirl.”

“I love you,” you panted, “Daddy, I love you, please--”

“One more time,” he grunted, watching your face.

“I love you!” you yelped, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer and feeling your walls flutter as sensation washed over you. Thankfully he wasn’t far behind, only thrusting up into you a few more times before he spilled himself with a groan.

He kissed you long and slow, staying inside you even as his cock began to soften a little. When he pulled away, he looked up at you with an expression that brimmed with restrained excitement.

“Oh, doll, you have no idea how good it is to finally hear you say that,” he beamed. “We’re gonna be so happy here together… just me and my best girl, right?”

“Right,” you smiled, but as soon as you blinked a tear was rolling down your cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, “everything’s finally the way it’s supposed to be. You’re finally where you belong, with me.”

You nodded weakly and felt whatever grip you had on your sanity loosening. Dreams of escape faded as he carried you to bed, holding you in his arms all night long. You were beginning to embrace the simplicity of just letting life happen to you. For every time you felt belittled and patronized by his coddling, there was another time that you secretly felt protected and loved. The truth was, even though you had experienced so much that you couldn’t begin to describe in the past week, you had been relieved of so much of the stress you dealt with before. As you drifted to sleep, you only hoped that you could manage to hide that truth from yourself just a little bit longer.

He was honestly proud of himself for managing to keep his hands off you while you slept all this time. But it wasn’t too much longer before you woke him up with your stirring. At first he was just going to give you a quick hug and then get back to sleep, but then as he pulled you closer, he realized you were dreaming. And when you moaned quietly in your sleep, he realized it wasn’t just any dream.

He smiled to himself as he kissed your neck gently, wondering if you would wake up or not. It was sort of a win-win either way for him. He let his hands slide down your body, listening to your breathing as it began to pick up. Your mouth fell open and it made your sounds even more apparent as he carefully opened your legs.

“Oh baby, you’re drenched,” he murmured to no one in particular, admiring the way your pussy glistened in the low light of the room. This was one of those times that he really appreciated his choice to make you sleep naked almost every night.

One metal finger sliding through your folds made you shiver. He wondered if it was from arousal or if the metal felt cold on your warm skin. Your clit was swollen, and apparently extra sensitive from the way your sleeping body erupted in goosebumps when he drew lazy circles around it.

Suddenly lacking in the patience more foreplay would require, he found himself shoving down his boxers and stroking his cock, preparing to push into you. If that didn’t wake you up, he’d be slightly concerned… but he wasn’t sure if he’d be concerned enough to stop fucking you. Thankfully he didn’t have to face that dilemma because the second he was pressing his head into your opening, your eyes flew open.

“Daddy!” you yelped, your voice sounding a little strange as you were torn from your sleep.

He bottomed out and groaned softly, relishing how tightly you wrapped around him. “You looked so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t help myself.”

You mewled but said nothing, only wrapping your hands around his biceps as he pulled back to thrust into you again.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked firmly.

“N-nobody-- I mean, uh, nothing,” you stumbled over your words.

“Oh, you can’t lie to me very well can you? It’s okay doll, you can tell me, but if it’s someone other than me I’m probably gonna kill him.”

He felt you tense up a little and he knew he’d scared you. He sort of wanted to do it again, because he loved the way your cunt tightened in that moment, but he decided against it.

“Aw, I’m just joking,” he dismissed, though he wasn’t quite sure if he actually was or not. “Go ahead, tell me what you were dreaming.”

“Y-you were there,” you explained, “but it wasn’t just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Um, yeah,” you deflected nervously.

“Go ahead, spit it out,” he hissed as he started to thrust into you a bit harder.

“Well, uh, Steve was there too,” you finally admitted. A lot of emotions hit him at once when he heard you say that. Of course jealousy was prominent, but it was different than it would’ve been before... you were home now, and nobody could take you away. Both of you knew that. So it might have been a slight blow to the ego, but he didn’t see Steve as a threat. What he did see was an opportunity to make you squirm, which he was always looking for.

“Was he watching us?” Bucky pressed.

“Uh, sort of…” you trailed off.

He leaned down, putting his lips right against your ear. “Was he fucking you?”

You whimpered but he could tell you were turned on. He reached down and roughly rubbed at your clit. “Be honest, darling.”

“He wasn’t,” you explained, “you were; you said he wasn’t allowed to… but I gave him a-- a blowjob.”

As much as Bucky wasn’t exactly the sharing type, he was intrigued by the mental image of you stuffed with cock at both ends like that. Even more so he was intrigued by the fact that it apparently turned you on.

“Is that what you want, huh? One cock isn’t good enough for you? Who knew you were such a fucking slut.”

“‘M not!” you denied.

“Then why are you soaked from dreaming about choking on somebody else’s cock while I fuck you, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“And how did you feel when I told Stevie he wasn’t allowed to fuck you? Even in your sleep you know your Daddy owns you. That this is my hole and I decide everything that happens to it.”

You moaned so loud that he was afraid he would come right then and there. You sounded like heaven. He thrust into you as hard and deep as he could, slamming into your cervix and hitting your clit with his pelvis with each brutal motion. You cried out and dug your nails into his skin.

“Fuck, you like it rough don’t you? Of course you do. ‘Cause you’re Daddy’s needy little whore.”

“Yes, I’m close!” you yelped.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna let you come until you beg for it. Seems like you need to remember that I’m the only one for you.”

“Just you, Daddy, I only want you!” you reassured, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I’d die before I let you get on your knees for another man, do you believe me babygirl?”

“Yes, I know Daddy, I’m yours, there’s nobody else.”

“If you wanna come you better start askin’ really nice,” he growled.

“Please, Daddy, I want you to make me come! It feels so good, please…”

“Keep going.”

“You’re amazing, your cock feels amazing, I wanna come for you so bad--”

“Fuck, baby, beg me to use you.”

He knew you were flustered by that.

“I-- I don’t know how,” you protested.

“Oh come on, you’re dumb but you’re not that dumb,” he grinned. “Just how I said it.”

“Use me,” you murmured in defeat, “please.”

“That’s it,” he praised, “just like that-- come for me, doll.”

You were so obedient, tightening around him and nearly screaming with pleasure the moment he commanded you to. He wasn’t far behind, succumbing to the perfection of your wet heat and filling it with his climax.

“Fuck!” he groaned when he hit the peak of it, trying somehow to focus entirely on both the way you felt and the way you sounded.

Normally he cleaned you up after this but right now he wanted his come to leak out of you all night, make your thighs and the sheets sticky. Apparently you had some sort of implant or something which kept you safe… he was trying not to count the days until it wore off. He figured you would totally lose it if he told you that he wanted to get you pregnant, and yet, he was surprised that you hadn’t asked him about getting your implant replaced.

You knew that life was unpredictable and all that, but if never in a million years would you have expected for the Winter Soldier to be painting your nails. But there he was, focused intently on each stroke of the tiny brush as he held your hand still.

“This’ll help you stop chewing your nails,” he gave as his excuse. It was almost believable, except that he did your toes too. Amazingly enough, you’d never chewed on those.

They were actually sort of pretty, if you were being honest. You admired them a little, as they dried. It wasn’t a perfect paint job by any means, but much better than you expected from Bucky and honestly, a bit better than you would’ve done it in all likelihood. The baby pink color was a little nauseating as always, but it admittedly did look nice with your skin tone.

“What do you say?” he prompted.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you smiled. “It looks nice.”

“You’re welcome, angel. I think so too. We’ll take ‘em for a spin when they’re dry.”

You swallowed. You had a pretty good idea of what that would entail.

Next was your hair. Pigtails, the way he always did it. You never quite understood what he liked so much about turning you into a girlier, more childish version of yourself, but you were finally embracing the things that you liked about being in this role. He certainly pampered you, which was hard to complain about. In your whole time here (you struggled to keep track but it must have been over a month now) you'd never cooked once.

After lunch he had you on your knees, looking up at him while you started to unzip his fly. You found yourself salivating a little as you pulled his half-hard cock out of his boxers.

“Baby, your hands are so small…” he noticed reverently. “Barely fit around it.”

“It’s not that they’re small, it’s that you’re so big,” you replied, more honest than you were used to being with him.

“You flatter me,” he grinned. “Do it some more.”

You felt put on the spot, but feared disappointing him. “Daddy, your cock is… so big,” you improvised, still stroking him as he got harder for you, “I can’t believe it fits inside me.”

“Hmm, it almost doesn’t,” he recalled.

“But it feels so good when-- when I get used to you and, um, your cock… stretches me…”

He groaned a little, and you moved your hand faster.

“Fills me up so good, Daddy,” you moaned, getting more into it than you had intended to. “Your cock feels so fucking good, it’s like it’s made for me--”

He cut you off suddenly by pushing you back onto the mattress, hovering over you as a muscular hand wrapped around your throat.

“Got quite the mouth on ya, doll,” he growled. “Do I need to wash it out with soap?”

You shook your head; he wasn’t choking you hard enough to stop you from speaking entirely if you had really wanted to, but you were too stunned to say much. His attitude could flip on a dime like this, and you could never see it coming. The fear made your heart race; the anticipation made your thighs clench together.

He smiled as he pulled back, letting go of your neck and reaching for his cock instead. “I can tell you’re worked up. Go ahead, touch yourself.”

You hesitated because typically that would be an infraction, but he nodded for you to continue as you nervously reached between your legs.

You gasped softly when you touched your clit: it was swollen, and especially sensitive. You hadn't realized how turned on you really were. Slowly, you started to rub circles around it as your hips rocked with your movements.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, and when you looked up at him, he was stroking himself as well. You nodded quickly. "'M gonna come on that pretty face, little one. Beg me for it."

"Daddy…" you murmured in shock, "I… want you to come on my face, please. Wanna be covered in it."

"You're not a good liar," he grinned. "I know you really want me to fuck you."

He wasn't wrong, so you nodded again and watched his hand speed up as it moved up and down his length.

"You poor thing," he cooed. "I fuck you daily and you're so disappointed to be going without, to just be getting my come on your face like the dirty little whore you are."

His words stung but your hand was moving faster between your legs.

"You're getting close, aren't you? Wait until I'm ready," he ordered. You swallowed dryly but slowed down a little to buy yourself some time.

He grunted a bit and you really hoped it was signalling an orgasm because you felt yours building unstoppably. You didn't even think you could pull your hand away from yourself if he asked you to, you needed to come so bad.

"Fuck, open your mouth baby-- stick your tongue out," he commanded quickly, stepping forward until his cock was casting a shadow over your face. "Oh god, just like that… ready baby?"

You nodded one more time and heard yourself panting loudly through your open mouth, your moans only interrupted by a wince as his come spurted forward and painted your face and exposed tongue in hot stripes. Your orgasm hit just in time, embarrassingly spurred on by the degrading position you were in.

When he was done-- which seemed to take forever because he came so much-- he started to catch his breath before slipping his softening cock onto your come-coated tongue and into your waiting mouth.

"Mm, you look so good like this," he praised, "I'm not sure I wanna let you wipe it off."

A flesh thumb moved down to your cheek and rubbed a stray drop of spend into your skin.

"My perfect little cum dumpster, huh?" he said proudly, as if it was an award or achievement or something, and not a sick, insulting term.

Weird thing was, you felt proud of yourself, too.

He’d been working outside all day, chopping firewood in preparation for the upcoming winter. Sure, the cabin had heating, but he had a lot of ideas about cuddling in front of the fire, or maybe making love beside it.

Regardless, even super soldiers tire and must rest after working. He decided to head inside and heat up something warm to stave off the cold. You were still sleeping last he’d checked, exhausted from a long night-- yes, that kind of long night. He almost felt guilty for putting your body through so much… you were so delicate, sometimes he forgot you couldn’t always handle what he could. However, you were stronger than you realized, and such a perfectly obedient little girl; he smiled at the memory of your skin under his fingertips, your fragile form writhing and whimpering beneath him as he’d taken you for hours. As he daydreamed and began to enter the kitchen, he was torn from his imagination by a sound from your room. At first he wondered if he’d misheard it, but when he heard you cry out again, he assumed you were hurt and nearly tripped over himself to run to you. His heart was racing and he almost considered reaching for his sidearm-- there was no way someone could’ve broken in and tried to hurt you, right?

But as he flung open the door, instead he found you alone with your hand between your legs. You jumped up when you saw him, but it was too late.

“The fuck are you doing?!” he exclaimed, climbing onto the bed and trapping you before you could crawl backwards away from him.

“I-- I was just--”

He cut you off with a quick slap to the face. Not to hurt you, just to get you to focus on him.

“You know you can’t touch yourself without my permission. Did you forget?”

“No…” you murmured ashamedly.

“If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

“I… I just missed you…”

“Why didn’t you call me for help? I can’t take care of you if you don’t ask.”

“I knew you were busy, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“Show me what you did,” he growled, watching you sheepishly spread your legs again to reveal your wet pussy and swollen clit. “Oh doll, you really did a number on yourself. Did you come without me?”

You looked away.

“Don’t bother lying. Did you make yourself come with your fingers?”

“Yes…”

You were hiding something. He almost didn’t want to know the entire truth because it was breaking his heart to know you’d disobeyed so severely, but he had to know what happened if he was going to discipline you properly.

“Was it more than once?”

You shook your head and his blood went cold upon the realization that you were hiding something worse.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked you slowly. He could hear your breathing quickened and he was sure he might die if you said what he was afraid of. “Answer me.”

“I was thinking about… being fucked…”

“By who?” he asked. You opened your mouth instantly but he cut you off. “Don’t lie.”

You spoke but it was so weak that it wasn’t even a whisper. “What was that?” he pressed.

“Sam,” you finally relented, “it was Sam.”

He was livid, but at least it wasn’t Steve.

“Go stand beside the bed and kneel,” he commanded firmly. You nodded weakly and slithered out from under him to do as he asked.

He took a deep, slow breath hoping to calm himself a little. He had heard that you shouldn’t punish little girls when you’re angry. But he needed to nip this in the bud.

He got off the bed and approached you after a moment, running a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him.

“You understand you’ve been very naughty, don’t you?” he asked with a cold fury tinting his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered. Clearly you were trying to be extra good and dutiful, hoping that strict adherence to the rules from here on out could save you some pain. You weren’t wrong, but he wished that you would’ve had that attitude a little sooner.

“And if I don’t teach you a lesson, that would be unfair to both of us.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his belt and fly, pulling out his cock. He sensed that you were compelled to lean forward and take it in your mouth, but you stayed still; you knew he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do.

As he stroked his cock to full hardness, he glared at you so intensely that you couldn’t keep his gaze, looking up briefly but always glancing back down to the floor shamefully.

“I-I’m sorry, Da-” you began weakly.

“You’ll speak when spoken to,” he interjected harshly. Finally, he held your jaw with one hand, the other holding his cock forward as he plunged it between your lips. He moaned a little when you swirled your tongue over it, doing your best to coat every inch of it in wetness.

As quickly as he had pushed in, he pulled out again. He slapped his cock on your face, smearing your own spit on your cheek. He rubbed his tip over your lips in a circle, but when you opened up your mouth for him, instead he leaned forward and spit into your open mouth.

“Swallow it,” he demanded through his teeth, and you did though it made you shudder with disgust.

Only then did he shove his cock in again, and with brutal force as well. He used fistfuls of your hair to pull your face up and down on his cock, ignoring your whimpers of pain.

The room was filled with the sounds of your choking and coughing, until those extended periods of silence when his cock was shoved all the way into your throat and you couldn’t even get enough air for that. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

When he pulled you off of him to look at your face, he grinned proudly. “Doll, you look like a fuckin’ mess.” And it was true; spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin and onto the floor, red nose and puffy eyes from crying… truly a sight to behold.

He gave you one more slap for good measure, the fist in your hair preventing your head from spinning to the side.

“Gonna fuckin’ come in your throat. You’d better swallow it all, bitch.”

He could feel your whole body jerk when he said it, and it only served to make your throat even tighter around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “just like that, choke on me, fuck, oh god, fuck--”

He came with a stuttered moan and the sounds of protest you tried to make were lost as cum filled your throat and mouth.

He smiled when you swallowed quickly, determined to obey. He wasn’t even done coming yet and you were swallowing it. Probably a good strategy; he had been pent up for a while now and he probably could’ve filled your tiny mouth until it was leaking.

When he was sure every drop of come had been spilled and swallowed, he pulled out and gave you some reprieve. You gasped for air loudly, coughing a few times but mostly maintaining your composure like the good little slut you were.

He watched you shift your hip uncomfortably and realized you must be quite agitated yourself.

“If you want something from me, just ask,” he encouraged. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered.

He wagged his finger disapprovingly. “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and he yanked you off the floor and into his lap quickly.

“You get so dumb when you need me,” he growled into your ear. “So desperate that you don’t know how to think about anything else but cock. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded with a gasp.

“You’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you? Say it," he hissed in demand.

“I’m your dumb little baby,” you repeated breathlessly.

“Get on your hands and knees and get that ass up.”

You obeyed quickly, almost eagerly, and he grinned at your obedience. You really needed it bad, and he was helpless but to oblige you. As soon as he was on his knees behind you and lining up with your sopping entrance, he was shoving his cock into you all at once.

You yelped at the brutality of the intrusion; he stayed still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your warmth, before pulling back out again.

“Wh-?” you began to protest in confusion, but he was a step ahead of you.

“That was just to get my cock wet, baby.”

One metal finger slipped into your puckered hole and you yelped. “D-daddy, not there!”

“Shhh, just relax,” he soothed.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you whined.

“That’s sort of the idea,” he explained. “I know what you can handle, doll.”

“And I can handle this?”

“I never said that.”

And with only one more finger and a few more minutes of hasty preparation, he was pushing his cock into your tighter hole.

“Shh,” he soothed when he felt you clench around him, but still pushing forward, indifferent to your hiss of pain.

“It hurts!” you sobbed.

“I know baby, you’re just gonna have to take it. This wouldn’t be happening if you had just asked me to help you.”

You pouted and it was equal parts adorable and pathetic. “I’m sorry!”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time to apologize. Right now you just need to be quiet. Don’t you wanna be a good little girl?”

“Y-yes.”

He started to move his cock inside you and you shivered under him.

“Please come,” you begged weakly after a few more minutes of thrusting.

“You wanna get it over with? Don’t like it?”

You nodded and he did feel bad for you, but he knew it was what you needed.

“I’ll come when I’m ready, doll. Just take Daddy’s cock, ‘s all you’re good for anyways, right angel?”

You nodded and bit back another sob, blissfully unaware of his adoring gaze; you looked so cute crying for his cock. He liked being strong enough to hurt you almost as much as he liked being strong enough to protect you.

“My perfect little crybaby,” he cooed. “Don’t whine too much or I’ll have to stuff that filthy mouth with a paci, alright?”

He watched you bite your lip and try to stay calm. Out of pity, he moved a little slower than he wanted to, giving you some more time to adjust. Eventually he felt you relaxing, though you still yelped a little when he pushed in all the way. It was hard to choose between watching your face or watching his cock stretch open your hole.

“God, you’re takin’ me so well,” he praised. “Who knew you were such a whore, huh?”

Before you could deny it, he reached down and swiped his fingers through your folds quickly, groaning when he felt how swollen and wet they were. “Fuck, baby, you’re drenched. You like getting fucked up the ass; such a dirty little slut.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you informed him with a weak voice. He was still angry with you, of course, but he was so proud of you, too. He could remember all those times you’d tried to run or fight, now you were just laying there and taking it like a champ-- no restraints, no threats, just the desire to be good for him. You were everything he’d ever dreamed you could be and more.

The thought spurred his orgasm ahead sooner than he expected, but he still wanted to hold back. You needed more to learn your lesson, and he wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible.

His fingers had been digging into the supple flesh of your hips and ass, hard enough to bruise, but you felt too warm and too soft, so he gripped the sheets instead in his attempts to stave off his rupture.

But it wasn’t much longer until the tightness of you, the heat of you, the sweetness of your sobs all became too perfect to ignore. His cock was aching for release, and if he denied himself much more, he figured his balls would never relax from their tightened state.

“I think you’re ready to apologize now,” he groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you sobbed. “I swear, I’ll never touch myself without your permission again-- and I’ll never think about anybody but you! I only want you, I swear!”

“You sure, baby? You don’t think Sam would treat you better?” he mocked. Sam definitely would be nicer to you, but there was no way he could treat you better than Bucky did. Maybe you wanted a guy who was sweeter, more traditional, but this was what you needed and only your Daddy could give that to you.

“I’m sure! I only want you, please! Please, please come.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Want me to come in your tight little ass?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please…?”

“Please, Daddy.”

And he came, though it was a little more physically taxing since it was the second of the night. You whimpered a little but he could tell you were relieved it was over.

You didn’t put up any fight at bath time that night, just curled into his arms and let him wash you as you whispered more apologies.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed as he washed your hair, whispering right against your ear before giving it a little kiss. “You did good, baby. You made a mistake but you’re gonna learn from it and we’re gonna be better than ever. You took your punishment so well, darling, you should be proud.”

Today you'd woken up to an empty house, with a note on the kitchen table:

Gone for groceries, I'll be back in the afternoon. When I get home, greet me at the door wearing what I've laid out for you in your closet.

You figured it wasn't going to be something conservative by any means, but you were still taken aback by finding a tail, collar, and cat-ear headband. The collar was pink leather with a tiny bell and a little heart-shaped steel tag with your name on it. The realization that he had this custom-made sent a shiver down your back. On the back of the tag was another engraving:

IF LOST RETURN TO BUCKY BARNES

You were a little concerned about wearing only a collar, ears and tail… especially when you realized how the tail was intended to be worn.

Still, you had become thoroughly obedient, and you trusted that this would make him happy which was all you could hope for. You fought past your hesitation and changed out of your pajamas into the outfit (if it could even be called that when it contained no actual clothing).

He had the biggest grin on his face when he opened the door to find you on your knees just outside the entryway.

“Oh look at you, kitten,” he beamed.

Being naked on the floor was cold and awkward. You crossed your arms to cover your chest, frowning as you tried to avoid his penetrating gaze. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You are stupid," he smiled. "But you look great! Now behave or you’ll have to eat out of a bowl on the floor until you’ve learned to love being Daddy’s pet.”

Your eyes went wide.

“You’re gonna behave, right?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

He smiled and curled his finger, motioning for you to come closer. You awkwardly crawled towards him on your hands and knees, biting your lip absent-mindedly. When you were on the floor in front of his legs, he knelt down a bit and grabbed a handful of your ass. It made the plug inside you shift and you whimpered.

“Mm, this tail looks lovely on you,” he praised. “And the ears… you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you shyly accepted the compliment.

"I bet you got wet putting this on, huh?" he presumed. You nodded as he moved to rub two fingers through your folds, proving himself right.

When he leaned back and pulled his cock from his jeans, you were surprised at how hard it already was. Clearly the kitten thing was working for him.

"Go ahead kitty, I know you want a taste," he encouraged.

You leaned forward and gave, fittingly, small kitten licks to the tip of his cock and he groaned. “Just like that, fuck.”

You hummed when you tasted his pre-cum on your tongue. You’d gotten so accustomed to it that you actually enjoyed the flavor now.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your lips around the head and suckled on it gently. Apparently, he didn’t care much for the slow-but-steady method; he slipped two fingers under your collar and used it to pull you down further until you choked.

He continued to guide you forward and back, moaning every time your throat accepted the leaking head of his cock.

“You don’t want me to come in your mouth, do you?” he asked with a grunt.

You shook your head.

He grinned knowingly, pushing you back until your mouth was empty and free to respond. “Where do you want it?”

“In my pussy.”

“Full sentences only, please.”

“I want you to come in my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Hmm, you did ask very nicely,” he smiled. “But I have something else to do first. Go get on the couch, kitten, hands and knees.”

You almost stood up but realized he wanted you to crawl again. As soon as you’d done it, he was behind you, humming contentedly as he ran his rough hands over your skin. You mewled when he started to kiss along your back, down your ass and between your thighs until he was licking long stripes through your folds. Both of you moaned when he sucked your clit into his mouth, even allowing it to graze against his teeth which nearly hurt but made you gush with wetness anyways.

"Please-- I'm close, Daddy, can I come?" you whimpered.

"Go ahead," he mumbled before returning to his work, knowing exactly how to use his tongue to take you apart in mere minutes. Your hands grabbed desperately at the back of the couch for stability as your legs began to quiver with the force of your orgasm. You yelped and bit down on your lip as it crashed over you; sometimes when he ate you out, he wouldn't stop after you'd came and keep going until you were begging for mercy, but he was apparently feeling generous today and stopped once you'd finished.

That, of course, did not mean he was finished with you.

He pushed his jeans down to his thighs and laid back onto the mattress, cock so hard that it was pressing into his abs.

“Come on kitten, ride me,” he grinned, motioning for you to climb on top of him. The moment you did he was rubbing his cock against you, pushing it upwards for you to sink down onto it. You moaned as it stretched you open, and when your hips met his, the tip of it brushed against the deepest places inside you. You yelped and tried to move back up but he suddenly grabbed your legs and held you down.

“Nuh-uh, kitten, no running away. You’re gonna take all of me.”

“It’s too deep,” you protested weakly, even though you felt your walls throbbing with pleasure.

“Not at all, angel; you’re made for me, so you fit me perfectly,” he explained. “If I let you go, you’re gonna ride me properly, take my whole cock, right?”

You nodded and he eased up his grip. You felt your legs shaking as little as you pushed yourself up only to drop back down, wincing as he filled you so completely once again. You repeated the movement over and over, picking up pace and moaning every time. You could feel his cock moving the plug inside your ass, and each bounce on top of him made your collar jingle a little.

You did your best to keep up the pace, but to lift yourself required use of a muscle that you clearly hadn't been getting much exercise for; it wasn't more than a few minutes before you were faltering, your moans of pleasure accented with the struggling groans of exhaustion.

"Oh kitty, are you too weak? Too wimpy and small to ride my cock? Baby… that's pathetic," he moped.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you pouted. "I'm just tired…"

"Just a little longer, kitten, just ride my cock a little more then I'll help you out, okay? I know you can do it. I know you can be a good girl."

You hoped he was right. You nodded weakly as he looked at you expectantly, before slowly beginning to move again in spite of your sore thighs.

Soon, as he'd promised, he pulled you down and wrapped his arms around you, thrusting up into you. Your moans echoed against his skin when your face was shoved into the crook of his neck. When his cock slammed into your most sensitive spot, you bit him there as a way to stifle yourself and he slapped your ass.

“Only bad kittens bite, doll. I thought you were going to be a good kitten for me?”

“Feels so good,” you tried to explain though it came out slurred, “please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop until that pussy is full of my come. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you pleaded, “oh god, yes, please…”

He moaned loudly as his thrusts lost all rhythm, his cock moving so fast inside you that the sensation became one hot blur against your walls. Finally, as he groaned and gripped you tight enough to bruise, he spilled inside you.

As he let out a long breath and his body relaxed under you, he smiled softly. "You really are perfect, pet."

"C-can I take off the ears now? And the tail?"

"Hmm, not yet," he grinned, "we need to take a few pictures of you like this first."

He was working in the kitchen when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Don't come in here!" he ordered you. "Wait for me at the dining table."

"Why, Daddy?" he heard you respond from the hall. He smiled just to hear your sweet voice.

"It's a surprise, babydoll," he explained. "It's almost ready-- just wait, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," you answered dutifully, your footsteps moving to the dining area as he'd requested.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he lifted it and turned out the door to deliver your surprise: a cake, with pink frosting and one pink candle.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him holding the cake stand, being careful not to tilt it or get the flame of the candle near his long hair.

He smiled and set it in front of you, looking to your face for a reaction. Suddenly he felt self-conscious about it, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um, I made it myself. Sorry if the decorating isn't that nice…"

"It's beautiful, Daddy, and I bet it'll taste great, too," you beamed. "What's the occasion?"

"It's our anniversary," he replied, his voice suddenly low and dark.

He saw recognition cross your face, though you looked confused as well. The meds he'd given you throughout the year had disrupted your memories, and probably distorted your perception of the passage of time as well, but it was all necessary to get you compliant. He hoped reminding you of that somewhat violent first day wouldn't set back any of your progress.

"I've… been here a year?" you asked weakly.

"We've been here a year," he corrected, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around you, "but that's not what we're celebrating."

The hand on your shoulder slipped down to the underside of your arm, stroking it slowly.

"We're celebrating that a medication somebody gave you a long time ago, before we were together, is finally worn off," he explained slowly, a grin creeping across his face. "We're celebrating that the next time I come inside you, I'm gonna get you pregnant."

He didn't fuck you for three days after that, loving the way you were clearly on edge as you waited for him to make good on his promise. And he didn't blame you for being nervous about it, even if you seemed to understand that any protest from you would fall on deaf ears.

So, he was quite taken aback when you came onto him one night, bedtime cuddling quickly turning into something more as you rubbed your ass against his crotch. He hadn't even realized that you would want it all on your own.

God, you were so fucking perfect he couldn't stand it.

"What are you doing, angel?" he asked you with a growl as he grabbed your hips and forced them to still.

"Nothing, Daddy," you answered coyly. He grinned and nipped at your earlobe.

"Are you horny, babygirl? Because you're acting like a whore."

You nodded and gasped, shivering under his touch.

"Want Daddy's cock inside you?" he pressed, voice getting darker.

"Yes, please!" you begged.

He sat up and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his arms as he hovered above you.

“You wanna have my baby?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“Yes,” you nodded your head quickly.

“Want me to knock you up, doll? Right now?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He leaned down, almost close enough to kiss you, as his gaze wandered over your face “I don’t want it to be like the other times. None of the crazy shit, nothing rough. If I’m gonna get you pregnant--”

“Whatever you want,” you pleaded.

He kissed you suddenly, deep and slow. “I love you,” he told you quickly as he pulled back, breathless but confident.

“I love you too,” you answered without even questioning it.

He was gentle, and thorough, and patient. It was love-making in a way that was out of character for him. He lifted your legs to wrap around his hips, pushing into you as deep as he could but with a contemplative slowness; he cradled your face in his hands and kissed all over it as he praised you in whispers.

My pretty girl, my perfect little girl, gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.

You were only moans and sobs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

The first time you came was unexpected, building slowly but crashing into you all at once, judging by the way you went from softly whimpering to nearly screaming in seconds. The second was quieter, more subtle, but he could tell by the way your walls tightened around him. The third left you in tears, beyond overstimulated and broken down into a babbling mess.

“Please,” you cried, “please I need you to come-- come inside me.”

He struggled to resist that offer, but he didn't want it to be over too quickly.

“Soon,” he promised, “I’m close. You feel so good.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss but stopping as his mouth brushed against yours.

“Please, Bucky… please come…” you whispered.

He moaned, his thrusts getting a little more erratic.

“Need it so bad,” you whimpered, “need you to put your baby in me--”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “‘m gonna, promise.”

“Now,” you demanded through your teeth, “I need it now.”

“Not until you come one more time,” he responded. You whined and he knew you were questioning whether it was possible. “I know you can, just gimme one more.”

His angle shifted and he stayed deep within you, grinding his hips on yours just the right way to rub your clit with his pubic bone. Your back arched but he held you close, barraging you with the sensation and pressing his forehead to yours.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life, as if you were afraid to fall. He smiled and kissed your neck, feeling your walls flutter around him once again.

“That’s it,” he praised, “I know you’re close. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Tears streamed down your face as it tore through you, hitting you so hard that instead of moans it was just silence. He watched your face intently, breathing through his teeth as he summoned all his willpower to hold on just a little longer.

"Daddy!" you yelped, and he couldn't take any more: with a high-pitched, stuttered moan, he felt his cock flexed as he came harder than maybe he ever had before. Knowing that you were fertile made it all so much more intense. Normally, his orgasm just meant the end of sex-- maybe just for a few minutes on a good day. But now? Now it was the beginning of something. His perfect little angel was going to finally fulfill her final purpose and give him a baby. He'd waited so long, dreamed of it every day for years, and finally it was going to happen.

He refused to pull out or let you move until he was sure it would take; he killed the time by kissing every part of your face and neck that he could reach.

He hadn't even gotten you pregnant yet, technically, and he already couldn't wait for more children. He'd always wanted to have a big family, but he gave up on that dream years ago; meeting you had brought it all back, and made him realize that all this time he'd just been waiting for the perfect wife to start it with.

You were well worth the wait.

#dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes non con #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x y/n #dark!sebastian stan x reader

3K notes · View notes

youngerdrgrey · 3 years

Text

I know you (even if you don’t want me to) // a Batwoman fic, chapter 8

about: After finding out Batwoman’s identity, Sophie tries to trap Ryan with her newfound knowledge. If she’s going to be on the outside, she might as well have some fun – and maybe fall in love along the way. #WildMoore

CHAPTER EIGHT (even if we're waiting): Time for the aftermath of the Sheldon Park dance + read on ao3 previously: read chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, + chapter seven

notes: so wild that all of season 3A aired between these two updates. but let's jump back in, shall we? please comment/reply/reblog and all that fun stuff. it's another 8k, so please be nice to your eyes and read on AO3.

🦇

Tavaroff calls out to Sophie the moment that she enters Crows HQ that afternoon. “Agent Moore!”

His gaggle of Crows chuckle around him. Sophie doesn’t have the energy for this. She’d much rather fly under the radar. Work and get to spend the majority of the day figuring out what comes next with Ryan after their kiss.

It was a good kiss, but then Ryan got back into her van and drove off, and Sophie isn’t really sure how to proceed aside from putting herself even further out there.

Sophie sets her phone down with a sigh. “Yes, Tavaroff?”

He grins. “Congrats on going two for two.”

Her blood cools at the words. He couldn’t know.

Tavaroff turns up the volume on his phone. As always, Vesper Fairchild’s voice rings out from that cursed radio show.

“Thank goodness these kids have phones,” Vesper says with a laugh. “They recorded our very own Batwoman outside of Sheldon Park Community Center last night. Get this, Gotham, the Bat’s got a girlfriend to win over. And who might that girlfriend be?”

Tavaroff sits on the edge of Sophie’s desk. “I have a guess.” Sophie resists the urge to grind her teeth.

Vesper recovers from her dramatic pause. “None other than Crows Security second-in-command, Agent Sophie Moore!” Shit. Sophie keeps her eyes on the phone and not on the Crows that have turned to watch as the audio continues. “Talk about keeping your friends close, and your security closer.”

Sophie scoffs. “You’re getting your intel from children now?”

Tavaroff smirks. “I can’t believe you downgraded from a Crow to a—”

“Tavaroff,” Sophie starts through clenched teeth, “you do not want to finish that sentence.” If he’d actually cared about Tyler, maybe it would be one thing, but Tavaroff only cares about himself. And undermining Sophie at every given opportunity.

He chuckles, like her reprimand is all the confirmation that he needs. His flock split knowing glances and little smiles. Somebody’s whispering, but Sophie can’t try to figure out who. If she looks, they win. They get under her skin. They expose her for someone who’s vulnerable to gossip and bullshit office politics.

Sophie keeps her voice as level as she can. “Turn it off.” He does so without comment, but that humor doesn’t leave his smug face.

Jacob’s voice cuts through the newfound silence. “Agent Moore!”

Her jaw clenches. She turns enough to spot Jacob outside of his office. Everyone watches him from his perch. Watches him summon her with a nod of his head towards his door before he goes back inside. If he suspends her over this, Sophie’s coming back and clocking Tavaroff in the face.

She rolls her shoulders back. “ Unlike you, Tavaroff, I like to be on a first name basis with my partners.” A few Crows laugh at that.

Tavaroff picks Sophie’s cell off her desk. “Why don’t we tell that to HR?”

She snatches it from his hand . “I’ll dig out my list of complaints.” She starts for the stairs that lead to Jacob’s office. Her heels clack along the staircase.

Tavaroff follows behind her. “It’s probably itemized.” He clearly means it as a dig, so Sophie makes sure to smile down at him once she reaches the top of the stairs.

“It’s alphabetical too.”

His jaw ticks. “File this under ‘B.’”

For bitch, surely. She tilts her head to the side. “For blatant disrespect?” He opens his mouth to say something, but she goes into Jacob’s office before he can get it out. She shuts the door behind her with a click. In an instant, the rest of the Crows office is gone. No whispers, no stares, nothing but Jacob Kane, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

He looks so much older than he used to. When Sophie first met Jacob, he was this brilliant, imposing man. Well-respected, leader of his own organization, a decade of military service — and it didn’t hurt that he was Kate’s dad either.

Now, though, his suit seems larger than it should. His face is hollow and worn in. He lets go of his nose to command. “Talk.”

Sophie stands at attention. “About what, sir?”

He clicks his tongue. “The Bat. What else?” He practically shakes in his seat. “How are we having this conversation again? And with that — that imposter.” His disgust fills the room.

“Imposter?” She repeats. “Sir—“

“Are you working with her?” he asks.

Not officially. “No, sir.” She hasn’t worked with Batwoman since she said she’d stop.

“I wish I believed that.” His skin has a bit of a sweat sheen to it. “But you worked with the last one. Why not her too? Did Ka—the last Batwoman mean nothing to you?”

Sophie rears back at the accusation. He knows how much Kate meant to her. After Coryana, how could he dare ask her that? He even asked her in Coryana.

“Respectfully, sir, we’ve had this conversation before.”

Only last time, there was still a question of whether Kate would come back. Last time, they were obviously on the same side as far as what happens next. But now, Sophie glances out to the window into headquarters and doesn’t feel that same… certainty as before. That same knowledge that this is where she should be. Is every day going to be like this? The jokes at her expense, the disrespect and distrust of Ryan’s Batwoman, the actual unwarranted brutality that Tavaroff continues to lead with….

But Jacob doesn’t care about any of that. He and his glassy eyes only care about Kate. It’s like nothing else exists anymore for him. He barely listens in reports. He barely leaves his office. Even now, there’s almost a glint in his eyes.

Sophie’s brows knit together as she maintains eye contact. There is a glint in his eyes. That Snake Bite swell, that slight glaze that the users have towards the tail end of a fix. Is Jacob using?

“Sir, are you…?” Sophie stops short. He wouldn’t respond well to a direct question. Not like this.

“Am I what?” he snaps.

Sophie lets his aggression roll off of her. “Are you taking care of yourself?” she asks. “There are people who need you, like this department. Like Mary. And… if you needed something — anything — there are places where you could get help—“

He scoffs. “I don’t need any help. Worry more about your standing with the Crows and less about me. One more word of you and Batwoman, and you’re on probation.”

“Sir—“

“That’ll be all, Agent Moore. You’re dismissed.”

🦇

“Dismissed?” Mary turns on her heels so fast. She nearly knocks her coffee off her desk. She steadies it, but Sophie keeps her eyes on the to-go cup rather than look up at her friend. “You haven’t even done anything.”

Sophie rolls her shoulders back. The motion normally makes her feel stronger, or steadier, but now, it makes her feel like a kid. Like she’s putting on a show. Like if she stands her tallest on this side of Mary’s desk, then maybe her tension and disappointment won’t come through.

“That’s what I said, but….” She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. Jacob will come around. He always does. “Just keep an eye on your dad, alright?”

Mary’s face scrunches in confusion. “Why?”

Because he’s clearly on drugs. Sophie sinks her weight back into her heels. “I wouldn’t bring it up if it weren’t a problem. But I looked into his eyes, Mary. I think your dad’s on Snake Bite.”

“My dad?” Mary repeats. “Jacob Kane. Come on, that’s ridiculous. My dad isn’t doing Snake Bite. Sure, he’s been a little weird, but who hasn’t?” She frowns. “He wouldn’t…. He freaked out on Kate for having a joint in her backpack.”

“People change, Mary. And something about him is off. Better be safe than sorry, right?”

Mary sits on the edge of her desk. “Fine. I’ll talk to him, but I know my dad.”

“I know him too.” Not to be rude, but Sophie’s spent more time with Jacob in the last five years than Mary has. The Jacob she’s come to know is not the same man from his office. The one grumbling about Batwoman and Sophie moving on. They saved Batwoman’s life together. He shouldn’t be stuck on the past, or leaving Tavaroff to run things so he can hide in his office.

Mary grabs her coffee and sips it. “When you came over, I thought we’d just talk about what happened with Ryan.” She slowly lowers her cup back to her desk. Her eyes still have that tinge of worry to them, but a little bit of light peeks through. “How’d it go?”

It didn’t. Well, it did, but it didn’t. Sophie shakes her head. “I don’t know. I-I tried, but, I… haven’t talked to Ryan since last night.”

That gets an even bigger frown out of Mary. “I can’t believe she didn’t text you, especially if you told her.” Then Mary’s eyes narrow at Sophie. “You did tell her, right? That you like her.”

Sophie didn’t use that many words, but she kissed Ryan. They danced on the rooftop. It should’ve been enough for Ryan to know how Sophie feels.

Mary groans. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

What happens if Sophie tells Ryan and Ryan doesn’t care? Sure, she kissed Sophie back, but what does it matter if Ryan’s not going to be real with her? Ryan didn’t even tell Sophie that Ryan is Batwoman. She had every opportunity last night to do it. What if she never does? Does Sophie have to make her say it? Does Sophie have to do everything in this relationship before it even is one?

“You know what, I should go.”

“Wait, Sophie, no—“

“Yes, Mary. I wanted to check in, and I did, so I’m leaving before your dad finds another reason to call me into his office.”

Mary scrambles up before Sophie even takes a step away. “If you just tell her—“

“Tell her what?” Tell her that Sophie wants to kiss her? Ryan knows that. Ryan’s been in every single one of these conversations, as Batwoman and as herself, for weeks. And yet, Ryan continues to play in Sophie’s face. Who’s to say that one kiss, or some feelings, will actually change that? “When has she ever told me anything?”

“That’s not fair. You text all the time. She tells you stuff.”

Sophie glances away. “Not the stuff that matters. Look, I don’t want you in the middle of this. If something changes, I’ll let you know. Until then?” Sophie raises her eyebrows in a silent reminder of how the conversation started.

Mary gives a dejected nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll text my dad.”

“Thank you.”

🦇

Mary to Ryan Text Sophie!

🦇

Ryan’s phone vibrates on the ground. She glances down as she continues her training drills in the center of the Bat Cave. First day officially back in the suit means she needs to rebuild her strength and stamina. A self-led kickboxing class is the right way to do it. Plus, Luke can see her progress while he buffs out the scratches that he left on the Batmobile.

Ryan runs over to the punching bag. “Vesper needs to mind her own business.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “The only way to stop her would be an interview.” At Ryan’s grimace, Luke adds, “It wouldn’t have to be with Vesper. Kate did one with her friend, Kara. The one that had the kryptonite.”

Ryan cringes at the reminder of nearly dying. Her shoulder might be radiation free, but the phantom ache still pops up every now and again. “I’d rather take my chances with Vesper.”

“You wouldn’t need to take any chances if you didn’t go out there in the suit.” Luke sets down the buff and strolls over to Ryan. She hits the bag rather than responding. “You could’ve put a target on the Center, Ryan. Or given Black Mask more reason to go after Sophie.”

She hits harder. “Black Mask already knows about Sophie. If he wanted to use her to get to me, he’d do it.”

“And it would work. Clearly. You haven’t even kissed her yet, and you’re losing it.”

Ryan freezes for a second. Barely a second, but the quietness is clearly enough for Luke.

He gives this conflicted, high-pitched groan. “Ryan!”

She grabs hold of the punching bag to steady it. “Hey, she kissed me!” Ryan returns.

Which is, probably the wrong thing to say. Luke's eyes quadruple in size. His questions fly from his mouth. “Are you serious? So she told you? You told her? Wait, as Batwoman or as you?”

Ryan can’t handle who’s telling who what. She answers, “As me. Us.” She hugs the punching bag to her chest, remembering the feel of the kiss. That wasn’t a casual sort of kiss. Ryan’s had casual. She’s seen Sophie have casual too. Even short, it felt like more. “That means something, right?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, it means you have to tell her who you are. Before anything else happens between you two.” Ryan hits her head on the punching bag. “Hey, I’m serious! She would want something real.”

Ryan groans. “Been there. Done that. Gone to Blackgate.”

He clicks his tongue. “Hey, no, it’s not right to compare Angelique and Sophie.”

“It’s not right to talk about my love life either.” Ryan lets go of the bag. “You’re the one who said we weren’t going to talk about girls. So, let’s cancel the therapy session.”

Her phone buzzes again, and Luke drops down to get it before Ryan can. “If you’re not talking, then you’re training.” He looks down as the phone vibrates again.

Mary to Ryan hello?? Ryan!

Luke types back.

Ryan to Mary It’s Luke. Ryan’s working out right now. She’ll look at these later.

Mary to Ryan ughhhh

Ryan to Mary Relax, I’ll make sure they talk about the kiss.

Mary to Ryan THEY KISSED!?

Luke winces. Ryan glares over at him.

“Tell me you’re not texting on my phone,” she says.

“It’s Mary,” he clarifies. Ryan relaxes slightly, so he barrels forward. “I might have told her about your kiss.”

“Luke!” Ryan rushes over to sock him in the arm. He winces at the punch. “You talk too damn much.”

“How was I supposed to know you didn’t tell Mary?” He rubs the sore spot on his arm. “ Remember when we talked about you opening up? Open, direct communication?” He huffs. “What am I saying — you probably ran from Sophie last night.”

Ryan’s phone buzzes again. He steps back to keep Ryan from looking at it. She mumbles, “I drove away, thank you very much.”

Mary to Ryan It's been two weeks...

Luke stifles a groan. “Yeah, that’ll make Sophie trust you.”

Ryan to Mary Nope, you started this

It’s already too much — balancing this conversation with Mary, plus the other with Ryan. The last thing he’s doing is adding in the fact that he and Mary threatened to tell Sophie about Ryan’s identity.

Ryan glances away from Luke. “If Sophie really wanted some of this, she would’ve been at the loft last night. But she wasn’t, so clearly it was a moment between friends.”

Mary to Ryan and you can finish it. Do it, Luke.

He snaps, “I don’t kiss my friends.”

Ryan does a full scale head tilt. Eyebrow quirked to the heavens, tone so incredulous that it makes Luke’s defenses sky rocket. She taunts, “You wouldn’t kiss Mary if she wanted to?”

“You wouldn’t kiss my ass if—”

Ryan cuts him off. “Ah, wait, really.” She motions for him to go on. “Go ahead and tell me what’s different between me and Sophie, and you and Mary. I’ll wait.”

Luke considers not going into the trap. Obviously she wants him to own up to having a crush on Mary. She wants him to point out that all of them are friends, and a few heated looks doesn’t change that.

But the thing is — and he says this — “It’s different. Mary’s never asked me out, Ryan. Never waited all night for me, or texted me all day, or kissed me ‘just because’ at the end of the night. It’s different.”

His voice is filled with muted emotion, but hopefully that means she can’t hear how upsetting it is for him. Ryan’s missing out because she’s being difficult. Luke doesn’t even have a chance. The only reason Mary’s even talking to him right now is because he picked up Ryan’s phone. This is…. It’s bullshit.

He deletes the last few messages in the thread with Mary and sends one last text to her.

Ryan to Mary I’m not doing this with her. Deleting these. You have fun playing matchmaker or secret teller. I want out of this.

Then he deletes that message from Ryan’s phone too. He hands the phone to her. She takes it softly with furrowed brows.

“What if she didn’t mean it? What if Sophie was just… lonely?”

They’re all lonely. He tells her, “There’s only one way to know what the kiss means.”

Her alarm beeps. Ryan turns it off. “Hold Up shift. Raincheck on the heart to heart. Can’t text and drive.” She heads for the Cave showers.

He yells after her, “You know you could call Sophie too!”

🦇

Ryan could call Sophie, but avoidance feels a hell of a lot better than getting rejected by the same woman on a different day. But Luke was probably right. Sophie’s not the type to just do things without a reason. Maybe she’s coming around.

Ryan also doesn’t have to put herself out there. Not when she has Batwoman. So Ryan takes her break in her manager’s office and pulls out the Bat Burner.

Unknown to SM Surprised I haven’t heard from you yet. Had to hear on the radio that you’ve got a thing for me….

SM to Unknown You could’ve heard it from me if you stuck around

Ryan feels that blow for more than just Batwoman.

Unknown to SM I’m a busy Bat Some night though huh?

SM to Unknown Most people just give me flowers.

Unknown to SM Didn’t take you for the basic type. This is how trust works, right? I give, you give? We come to expect it?

SM to Unknown so this is what trust looks like?

Is Ryan imagining it, or is there attitude in that text message? Is Sophie upset with her?

SM to Unknown When I give, you give

Unknown to SM Just like that

SM to Unknown Would you see a Ludacris gif if I send it? Does the burner have those capabilities?

Okay, cool, Sophie isn’t upset. She’s cracking Ludacris jokes. They’re still good. Ryan can push a little then.

Unknown to SM Idk. Maybe try a different type of picture first.

A knock on the office door. Someone needs Ryan, so she calls out, “One second!” Glances back down with nerves she absolutely shouldn’t have. “Come on, Soph. Say something.”

🦇

Sophie stares down at the text. That’s how Ryan wants to play it? Now that could have been a totally non-suggestive sentence, but Sophie can practically hear Ryan’s flirty voice. See the little tick of a smirk on Ryan’s full lips.

Sophie to 2.0 What type did you have in mind?

God that sounds so thirsty. Does Ryan imagine the rasp of Sophie’s voice as she reads it? Sophie can’t let the teasing come back to her.

Sophie to 2.0 Something like…

2.0 to Sophie Like…?

Sophie flips the phone over. She’s not doing this. She is not sexting with Batwoman.

🦇

Ryan puts the burner in her apron. It’s a generic phone. No one has to know who’s texting her on it. It’s there, so she can check between customers.

And when she goes to the bathroom.

And when she clocks out and goes upstairs, gets changed, gets into bed.

“Come on, Soph.”

Ryan closes her eyes and tries to ignore the pounding of her heart at the tone of Sophie’s last texts. But she can hear the natural raspiness of Sophie’s voice, the warmth of it, “What type did you have in mind?”

She knows good and well what type Ryan will have in mind now. Soft lighting, soft lips, those brown eyes searing into the camera.

Ryan checks yet again to see if Sophie has responded, then launches the burner to the other side of the bed.

🦇

Sophie still hasn’t finished her thought by morning.

Ryan glares down at the chat while brushing her teeth. She pops the toothbrush out of her mouth and swallows down enough of her pride to text Sophie back.

Unknown to SM You know I waited up to see what you’d send….

SM to Unknown I had to turn in early. These dating rumors got me in trouble.

Oh so Sophie is near her phone. She just didn’t want to go back to the picture talk. Fine.

Ryan’s seen the Twitter trends. She can talk about that. The worst tweets are the photoshopped Bat pictures. Someone put the Crows logo over the Bat symbol on one of her pictures. If this keeps up, Ryan might have to hire Parker to run Batwoman’s social media. And get Batwoman social media.

Unknown to SM Damn, I go to one dance, and they think we’re exclusive.

SM to Unknown Good thing we’re not. I got to dance with a friend.

Bingo. Natural chance to talk about Ryan.

Unknown to SM A friend, huh?

SM to Unknown A good friend. She’s adorable, a little short, braces that she changes each month.

Ryan grumbles. “Celeste.”

Unknown to SM Only the kids then? So no competition for me?

SM to Unknown Only if you’re the competitive type.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Ryan can hear Mary cooking in the kitchen, so she stomps out of the bathroom and over to her roommate. She drops the burner in front of Mary. Says, “Look at that. She’s flirting with her.”

Mary sets her spatula down to read the texts between Batwoman and Sophie. Ryan watches Mary’s face go from confused to flustered.

“You’re flirting with each other.” Mary’s eyes widen as she gets to the most recent. “I’m sorry, did you really ask her for pictures? What kind of—”

Ryan waves that off. “Don’t think about it.”

“I don’t want to!” Mary sets the burner back down. “Just text her as yourself. Oh, here’s an idea. Say, ‘Hey Sophie, did you know I’m Batwoman?’” Ryan gives a sarcastic chuckle, but Mary glares at her. “So you can kiss her but you can’t tell her who you are?”

“She kissed me.”

Mary scoffs. “As if you didn’t kiss her back.”

“Of course I kissed her back.” Ryan would’ve happily kept kissing her, if Sophie didn’t pull back. Sophie’s the one who initiated the kiss. Sophie’s the one who consistently changes things for them. It’s not that Ryan wants to be the girl who’s waiting around for someone else to make the first move. She’s a confident girl who’s done plenty of pursuing, but the last time she tried to make a move on Sophie, she got left alone on the rooftop.

At least Batwoman can hide her sadness behind the cowl. What’s Ryan going to do when it’s just her face in the cold?

Mary picks the burner up just to put it into Ryan’s hand. “Then text her back. As yourself, Ryan.”

Ryan huffs. “Fine.” She stomps back to her room to get her own cellphone and sits down on the bed. She’s a grown woman. She can be vulnerable.

She types: I had a good time at the dance the other night, then deletes it.

Tries: so you and Batwoman? Deletes that.

Tries: You can’t kiss a girl and then not say anything for two days, but that could also apply to her, so she deletes that too.

Mary calls out to her, “You need help?”

Ryan calls back, “I’ve got this!”

🦇

Sophie watches the three typing dots appear and disappear in her chat with Ryan. After the third time, Sophie figures Ryan might need a push. Maybe the Bat chat is where they need to be for a bit. Get some context. Build some confidence.

Sophie to 2.0 Guess you’re not competitive then. I’ll call up Vesper, tell her that you’re not interested.

2.0 to Sophie I’m sorry, I thought someone who said “I’m done” said something.

Sophie to 2.0 Well that was before you came to the Center for me.

It was reckless and silly, and it was also one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for Sophie. Plus, it made her look cool in front of Jordan and the kids. Even cringe vigilantes are better than Sophie’s normal partners.

Sophie to 2.0 I went to the roof after I left. I didn’t know if you’d show, or if you had some kind of emergency to tend to. Full disclosure: I wasn’t holding my breath.

2.0 to Sophie 👀

Sophie feels a bit silly, but if she’s going to do this, she might as well commit, right? Give herself fully over to being honest to Ryan’s other identity? To them talking to each other about each other as if they’re strangers?

Sophie to 2.0 Have you ever felt like you just had to kiss someone?

2.0 to Sophie That sounds romantic….

She squeezes her eyes shut.

Sophie to 2.0 Are you being sarcastic? Because I don’t mean “have to” as in “you’re obligated to.” I mean “have to” as in you need to. When you need to know what it’s like to feel their lips on yours, or hear your name on their breath.

2.0 to Sophie Oh you need it, huh?

Ryan’s voice would’ve been low to say that. She would’ve licked her lips as her eyes darkened just a little. There are a lot of things Sophie needs. But she can’t get them if Ryan won’t give them to her.

Sophie to 2.0 I did. We’ll see if she’s interested in doing it again.

2.0 to Sophie So you want to do it again? You want to go out with her?

What would a date with Ryan even be like? Would it be like the dance, where they’re having fun one moment and panicking over their feelings the next? Would Ryan kiss her and leave again? Would Ryan even kiss her at all?

Sophie to 2.0 Pretty sure it’s not up to me. She walked away after we kissed…

2.0 to Sophie So like you walked away on the roof ?

So it was payback.

Sophie to 2.0 I walked away from you because you don’t trust me. I can’t go back and forth with somebody who’s not interested in being honest with me.

2.0 to Sophie I’ll tell you anything you want to know — except my identity.

Sophie to 2.0 What else is there to know?

2.0 to Sophie Wanna come find out?

What the fuck is Ryan doing? Why is Batwoman asking Sophie out? Why can’t Ryan just grow up?

Sophie should ignore her. She should.

Sophie to 2.0 Name a time and place.

The response is immediate.

2.0 to Sophie What about the other girl?

Is this the game Ryan’s playing at? Using one identity to gauge her interest in the other?

Sophie to 2.0 What about her?

2.0 to Sophie So much for needing it, huh?

Sophie glares down at her phone as she types.

Sophie to 2.0 She hasn’t reached out. Needs can change.

Text me the info.

🦇

Buzz. Buzz.

Sophie shifts from one foot to the other. She turns her phone in her hand while she waits. The apartment door cracks, and Jordan cheeses up at her.

“Come in, come in.” Jordan whisks Sophie into the apartment. It’s messy, but the sort of messy that comes from being an overachiever. Books everywhere, lesson plans and half-filled grant applications.

Sophie toes off her shoes at the door. “Thanks for having me over. I needed to talk about something, but you have to promise me, Jordan, that you won’t make a big deal out of it.”

Jordan’s eyes sparkle. “Ooh, okay, spill.” The gossip. She leads the way over to her couch. Sophie glances down at the coffee table and cringes. Beside all the plans for the Center is an open tin case with joints inside.

“Weed. Really, Jordan?”

The younger sister rolls her eyes. “You’re not a snitch anymore, are you?”

Sophie would have to have a relationship with their mom to be a snitch. Or a relationship with her boss. Or with anyone. She drops down onto the couch. “I could probably use some of that.”

Jordan eyes Sophie. “You serious? ‘Cause I can get you so baked.”

“Not too baked, right?” Sophie shifts with a frown. “I’ve never actually been high before.”

Jordan snorts. “No surprise there.” She unpacks her joints, eyes shining as she selects one and closes back the small tin case.

Sophie tries to explain. “We couldn’t before. Drug tests. And well, I don’t like feeling… out of control.” It’s a vulnerable admission. Jordan’s face softens.

“That’s why we’re going to smoke, okay? Edibles would definitely overwhelm you. This one, you’ll just mellow out. I promise.”

Mellowing sounds good. Maybe if Sophie can mellow out, she can handle telling her sister that she’s got feelings for someone who won’t actually talk to her.

Jordan coaches Sophie on how to smoke properly. The first few pulls send Sophie into a coughing fit. She gulps at the water Jordan hands to her. Then Jordan patiently corrects her smoking technique. It takes a bit, but they manage to get Sophie high enough that she can close her eyes without seeing the moonlight against Ryan’s skin. Without hearing the whoosh of the grappling hook, or the thud of Ryan’s van door.

Getting high might not have been her best choice, but it’s better than staring at her texts, or updating her weird phone apps.

“You good?” Jordan checks. Sophie nods. “Good.” Jordan turns her own droopy eyes over to stare Sophie down. “So, what drove you to drugs?”

Sophie sinks back into the couch cushions. “Ryan.”

Jordan’s eyebrows skyrocket. “Oh?”

Sophie shakes her head. Smacks her lips. Her mouth feels dry. Is that the weed? Or the nerves?

“We’ve, uh, been spending more time together. But she’s… stressful.” Sophie chuckles at that. It’s an understatement. Ryan’s lucky to be alive. Ryan throws herself off buildings and into fights with guys so much bigger and badder than she is. She’s almost died. Once that Sophie knows of. Maybe more than that. And what happens next time if Sophie’s not there to help? Or if Luke isn’t in the Batcave? Or if Mary can’t stitch her up. Will she die? Will she die before she even tells Sophie who she is?

Jordan clears her throat. Sophie jumps at the sound. Jordan winces. “Sorry, you looked sad. What happened?”

Don’t say Ryan’s secret. Don’t say that.

“I know something I shouldn’t know,” Sophie says.

“About Ryan?” Jordan asks.

Sophie shakes her head. “About someone.” Great cover, Soph. She huffs. “But I know it, and they don’t want to tell me, and I don’t want to make them tell me, but I don’t know how to get them to tell me on their own.”

“That’s easy. You can’t.”

“But there has to be a way.” Sophie turns on the couch. She tucks one leg under the rest of her and reaches out like the answer to her questions might be in the air between them. “How can you keep something like that a secret? Like, how can you care about someone and not want to share things with them?”

Jordan nods. “Mhm, says the lesbian who didn’t come out until she was twenty-eight.”

“That’s different. I was…” closeted, ashamed, “afraid.” Ryan’s not afraid of being Batwoman.

“You still never told me. Mom told me. Mom asked me if I knew what you were doing, and all of this stuff, and like….” Jordan takes another hit of the joint. She holds in the smoke, and maybe holds in a thought or two with it. As she lets it out, she says, “I’m not gonna lie and say it didn’t hurt a little, but I also understood that sharing something like that could be a big deal. Maybe you were afraid it would change things, or that I wouldn’t love you anymore.”

Sophie reaches for Jordan’s hand. “I knew you’d love me. You’ve always loved me.” Jordan’s hand is small in hers. Ryan’s fits. It’s soft and warm and hers. “But she — she doesn’t love me.”

“But she cares about you, right?” Jordan waits. Sophie nods. Ryan’s said as much. Shown as much. “So maybe she’s afraid of losing you too.”

Sophie scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. You two are great together. You’re kind of gross actually. So swoon-y—“

“That’s not a word.”

“—and cute. You like each other. Don’t deny it.” Jordan squeezes their linked hands. Sophie’s cheeks feel warmer than they should. Can she still flush when she’s high? That doesn’t seem fair. “I am so glad to see my out and proud sis, but I couldn’t have made you be this person.”

But why not? “I’m happier now,” Sophie argues, and Ryan would be happier if they weren’t dancing around this secret.

“Yeah, but you’re happier because you shared when you wanted to. Look don’t fight me, but… you sound spoiled.”

Sophie’s voice drops. “Excuse me?”

Jordan’s unfazed. “Bratty might be better. Ooh, entitled! Expectant.”

“Okay, thesaurus.”

Jordan levels Sophie with a glare worthy of the Moore name. She even sets down the joint. “You’re acting like you deserve to know whatever this is, like you’ve earned it, but you don’t earn other people’s stories. It’s not a video game.”

But Sophie has earned it, hasn’t she? They’ve worked together, so Ryan should tell her. It would make their lives easier, so Ryan should tell her.

Jordan adds, “It’s not about what people should or shouldn’t do. It’s about why you think they should.”

Sophie knows that. “Because Kate—“

“Is Ryan Kate?”

She frowns. “No.”

“Then why are you treating her like Kate?” Jordan asks.

Because Ryan and Kate are wearing the same suit and playing the same games. Because Ryan keeps pushing Sophie away when Sophie only wants to get closer. Because Sophie doesn’t want Batwoman to come between what they’re starting to build. Yes, Batwoman is why they got closer. But what if Batwoman tears them apart? What if Batwoman gets Sophie suspended, or gets Ryan killed, or becomes some insurmountable obstacle in their relationship?

Jordan sighs. “You don’t tell everyone about your sexuality, or what happened with Mom, or Dad even. Some things are yours, and you choose who you share them with. It’s your right. So it’s hers too.”

But…. Sophie can barely say it. “What if she never tells me?”

Jordan uses their linked hand to pull Sophie into a hug. It’s a little lopsided, with Sophie tucked into her little, smaller sister. Sophie furrows into the hold anyway. Borrows comfort because the next words are going to hurt.

“Then she never tells you.” Jordan wraps her other arm around Sophie. “You have to ask yourself what’s more important — knowing her secret or knowing all of the rest of her.”

🦇

Sophie to Ryan Childer Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a bit. Maybe you’re doing the same thing I’ve been doing. Maybe you’re wondering how I feel, or if we should talk about the dance and the kiss. I’d love to meet up and talk about it

Then it’s Delivered, Read, and three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots, and finally —

Ryan Childer to Sophie Come by the loft? Mary’s gone, and I’ve got the night off.

Sophie to Ryan Childer Can we go to the bar? Kind of feel like we should do this there.

🦇

Ryan paces in front of her bed. “That’s a bad sign, right? Why won’t she come upstairs? She’s ending this, isn’t she?” She cuts her eyes to her laptop.

Luke stares back from the FaceTime call. His eyebrows have that furrow to them. Shit. He agrees with her. He fucking agrees.

“You have to start something to end it,” he offers.

“Luke!”

“Right, sorry.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “So she wants to go to the bar. That doesn’t mean that she’s choosing Batwoman over you.”

“Batwoman!?” Ryan squeaks. She didn't even think of that. Shit. Flirting as Batwoman just seemed like a better way to suss out Sophie’s feelings. She didn't mean to screw herself over with it. Ryan never even texted the Batwoman date details. But if that’s what this is — if Sophie is choosing that masked vigilante over —

“Ryan!” Luke’s voice cuts through her building panic. “Breathe. I didn’t mean that she’s choosing Batwoman. She wouldn’t do that. She likes you. There is only one thing standing between you and Sophie. Want to know what it is?”

She nods.

“You,” he says, “The both of you. Being stubborn assholes instead of actual, well-adjusted adults.”

Ryan glares at him, but at least she can breathe again. “Okay, that was rude.”

“And necessary. Now get your head out of your ass and go downstairs. There’s no excuse for standing her up or making her wait.”

“No excuse,” Ryan repeats. “Just talk to her.”

🦇

Ryan feels like she’s doing a funeral procession as she walks through The Hold Up. Her eyes scan the patrons and the tables. Everybody’s dancing and flirting, and then there’s her — dreading what comes next. Before she can get too deep into her panic, she spots Sophie at the bar. Taylor’s there too, sliding two drinks across the counter to Sophie.

Sophie picks them up and turns. Her eyes meet Ryan’s immediately. She smiles at Ryan, which must be a good sign. She motions with her head towards an empty table, and Ryan speeds up, even though it makes her look too eager. She gets there as Sophie places Ryan’s drink on the other side of the table.

There’s a margarita for Sophie. Like the night Batwoman stood Sophie up. When Ryan kept making Sophie drink after drink in an attempt to soften the blow. She’d looked so hopeful that night. So lonely.

Tonight, Sophie isn’t dressed to impress. Her floral top’s nice, but it’s not really date worthy. It’s not what someone would wear for a break up either. At least Ryan hopes not.

Sophie starts, “So—“

“What— no, sorry, you go.” Ryan picks up her drink for something to do. Sophie shoots her a nervous grin.

“Thanks. I.... I haven’t exactly been fair to you lately,” Sophie says. Her voice is lower than usual. A bit huskier, a bit more strained. “I’ve actually… been mad at you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do. What you haven’t done.” Sophie glances down at her drink. Ryan’s face scrunches while Sophie turns her glass in her hands. “But… it’s not fair of me to ask for more from you than what you’re willing to give. And it’s not fair to keep playing games because I’m upset that maybe you’re playing them too.”

Ryan shrinks back slightly. She really has spent the last few weeks playing games. In her defense, the games got her through recovery. They brought her and Sophie closer. They got them here, didn't they?

“Games can be fun,” Ryan says.

“When you’re the competitive type, yeah.” Sophie’s eyes flash with something, and Ryan’s heart stops beating. “But I don’t want to compete with you, Ryan.”

“Oh.” Ryan’s eyes feel heavy in an instant.

“I’m tired of guessing what a text means, or walking on eggshells. So here’s what I know, okay?” Sophie waits, and Ryan waits with what feels like a whole batarang lodged in her throat.

“Okay,” Ryan croaks around it.

Sophie swipes her thumb through the condensation on her cup. Licks her lips and sighs. Her eyes meet Ryan’s with a seriousness that legitimately takes Ryan’s breath away.

“I really like you, Ryan. Way more than I ever expected to.” She laughs, and her whole face lights up with it. A radiant glow that spreads through every eyelash and inch of skin. “And I don’t want to be your friend, or… your dance partner, or… just some girl you flirt with to pass the time. I want to be more than that. I-I need to be more than that. With you.”

Wait. Ryan tries to catch up. Tries to process over the pounding of her heart that Sophie isn’t pushing her away. This isn’t another rejection. This is a confession. This is a choice. And she’s choosing Ryan. Just as Ryan is. Would it be weird for her to cry?

“Ryan? Please say something.” Sophie reaches for her hand across the table, but Ryan leaps up.

Her chair nearly falls back at the force of her thighs against it. Sophie jumps too at the quick motion. While she lands back in her chair, Ryan rushes around the table to grab Sophie’s face in her hands and pull Sophie into a kiss.

Ryan’s lips can say what her voice can’t. Sophie pulled away the other night. Let Ryan kiss her properly now. Let Ryan kiss her for every time she should have. Like the roof after the club, and at the club, and at the bar when she first stood Sophie up. At the loft when Sophie took care of her, and on Coryana when Sophie held her hand, and every moment of the last three days.

Sophie slowly turns during the kiss to get her legs on either side of where Ryan’s standing. As her hands come to Ryan’s hips and pull Ryan closer. As the fact that they’re downstairs in the bar suddenly feels like a hindrance rather than an advantage.

The kiss breaks. Forehead to forehead, heaving chest to heaving chest, Ryan asks her, “Want to come upstairs?”

Sophie laughs and kisses her again. “God, Ryan, take a girl to dinner first.”

It’s a joke. It’s gotta be, but Ryan smiles down at her. “Okay. I’ll take you to dinner. Is tonight too soon or…?”

Another kiss. A blinding smile. “Do I need to change?”

Ryan shakes her head. “No. But you might need a stronger jacket.”

🦇

Ryan doesn’t show people her van. It’s not that she’s ashamed of it. Her van kept her safe and gave her the opportunity to keep Gotham her home once she got out of Blackgate. But her van’s also only ever been hers.

Tonight, it can be theirs. Their van smells like Chinese food and clean sweaters. Ryan keeps her winter wardrobe in here to free up closet space. With the windows down, their van has a chill and the low hum of flowing water as a baseline. The heater’s not on. Should Ryan turn it on?

Ryan wrings her hands on the steering wheel after they’ve parked. She can’t bring herself to let go.

Sophie settles her hand on Ryan’s elbow. Ryan tenses under her touch. Sophie apologetically pulls it back. Ryan lets go of the wheel to grab Sophie’s retreating hand.

Ryan shakes her head. “It’s not you. I-I’m—“

“Nervous?”

Ryan nods. She’s more nervous about showing this part of her than the plans themselves. “Probably not what you had in mind for a first date.”

Sophie glances around. Ryan follows her eyes out the windshield to the Gotham River under the stars. Back in to the soft lights that Ryan had installed for something cozy. Over to Ryan herself, who gives a weaker, more hopeful grin.

“It beats the view at Crispy Joe’s.”

Ryan kisses Sophie’s hand. She can do that now. Can touch Sophie when she wants and how she wants. Sophie peers over at Ryan with the softest eyes. She’s not going to run away. She’s not going to laugh, or mock Ryan, or… or try to take anything. They’re going to be okay.

Ryan unbuckles. The moment Ryan climbs out to head for the back, Sophie is right there, slipping out of her own door to meet her at the entrance to the rest.

The van’s not huge, not the sort of van life find that people post about on Instagram. It’s comfortable though. With a dining set up and curtains that catch the daylight well. Ryan ties them back so the moonlight can shine in freely.

They unpack the food together. Sophie scrunches her nose at Ryan’s vegan chicken substitute. Ryan takes the opportunity to find their usual rhythm again.

She sits on one end of the bench. “A lot of these substitutes are better than what you’re eating.”

Sophie sits on the other. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You say that now, but don’t come crying to me when you can’t eat what’s in the fridge.”

Sophie’s eyebrows raise. “Aren’t you presumptuous.”

Ryan smirks. “I’m manifesting. There are some crystals around here.”

Sophie groans. “Of course you’re one of those.”

“Don’t hate on the crystals!”

“What else do you have in here? Like what’s that?” Sophie points her fork. Ryan turns to see where it’s pointed, and her breath catches. It’s a yellow pot, once broken and very patiently refilled and resealed.

“That… is my mama,” Ryan says. Sophie’s eyes widen. Ryan quickly adds, “Not literally. She’s not a part of the pot, or anything, but that’s her pot. It got broken a few months ago when I was sick. But Mary and Luke saved the pieces for me. And I got it fixed. There’s some parts that didn’t carry over, but I don’t know, it’s nice to still have what I could of it.”

Sophie sets her fork down. “Ryan, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. That plant saved my life.” Literally, but Sophie doesn’t have to know that. Her eyes well like she gets it though. “I wouldn’t be here without her. But she belongs here in the van, so I keep her here with my old stuff.”

Sophie takes Ryan’s hand again. “She looks good here.”

Ryan averts her eyes from the pot to Sophie. Luke might later call this running away. Still, Ryan scoots closer on the bench. Lets her gaze drop to Sophie’s lips. “You look good here.”

“Ryan….” Sophie says it like a warning, but she licks her lips just the same.

“Sophie….” Ryan says back in the same tone. She scoots closer until her knees hit Sophie’s. She pitches up, and Sophie immediately tilts her head so she’s ready for the next kiss. If this is running away, then Ryan never wants to stop.

Not when Sophie’s tongue slips between her lips. Not when her hands find the bottom of Sophie’s shirt, find toned muscle and warm skin and a quick pulse beneath her fingers. Not when she guides Sophie down and straddles her without breaking their kiss. Not when—

Snap.

They freeze. Lips still melded, tongues together. Crunch. Someone’s outside. There are no animals over here. It’s part of why Ryan used to park here and Sophie used to run here. It’s peaceful. Quiet.

Ryan sits up. “Did you hear—“

Before she can even finish the sentence, the doors damn near burst in. Several men in tactical gear clamber into the van. Ryan and Sophie immediately try to fight, but they’re no match for the hands that haul them out into the night air.

They cry out as their faces meet the graveled ground.

Sophie shouts without looking, “You’ll regret this! I’m a Crow.”

But then familiar laughter fills the quarry. Heavy hands flip them over. Push and hold them again to the ground. Russell Tavaroff himself leers down at them.

“I hate to cut your little date short, but I need to talk to her.”

Sophie hisses, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Tavaroff laughs. “Not you, Moore. Her. Ryan Wilder.” He lowers himself to sneer in Ryan’s face. “You’re gonna tell me about Batwoman.”

Ryan’s whole world just shatters.

🦇

end author's note: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk to me! What'd you like? What are you feeling? What'd you think of season 3A? What do you think will happen now that Tavaroff has Ryan and Sophie?

#fic: i know you even if you don't want me to #wildmoore #jordan moore #ryan x sophie #batwoman fic #ryan wilder #sophie moore #mine

36 notes · View notes

kirishimaswife2819 · 4 years

Note

hi idk if this is anything u could rly write about but I thought of this like yesterday and I absolutely have to talk about it somewhere 💀 denki with a gn s/o whos like the complete opposite of him.. not necessarily shy but quiet and reserved, the type of person who'd call him something like darling? someone kiiind of like todoroki. maybe the type of person who would keep him in check and make sure he's not getting himself into too much trouble, someone who'd worry about his short circuits instead of treating them as a joke and brushing them off, but not that serious of a person to the point where they can't crack jokes with him. do you think it would work out? I say opposites attract !!

Them with a S/o That’s The Complete Opposite of Them || Kaminari

Masterlist 1 || Masterlist 2

↠Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you like this. I literally loved this idea, it would be so cute. Thanks for requesting! -Danielle <3

↠Characters: Denki Kaminari x Reader

↠Summary: What it would be like to date Denki if you were his complete opposite

↠Genre: Fluff

↠Word Count: 700

↠Warnings: None

↠Notes: None

Kaminari would one hundred and ten percent work out with a s/o that’s pretty much the opposite of him

People as chaotic and loud as Kaminari just need somebody quiet and calm to balance them out, and you cannot convince me otherwise

Nobody believed you when you came out and said that you and Denki were dating and you couldn’t even blame them, it was highly unlikely, but it still ended up happening

In the beginning, Denki didn’t even look in your direction, there was no way that you would go for somebody like him, and you weren’t really his type either, or at least he didn’t think that you were

He didn’t even start liking you until a few months after he first met you

You, him, and Kirishima were all working together for a training exercise and he ended up overusing his quirk and short circuiting

And he couldn’t really remember what exactly you said, but he did remember the concerned tone of your voice and the way you gently grabbed his arm and tried to guide him through the rest of the exercise

After he came back to his senses, he apologized, and his heart almost exploded when you replied, “It’s fine, I was just worried about you.”

After that, he constantly found his gaze wandering to you during class, he found himself wondering what you were doing when he wasn’t around, and he also started daydreaming about hanging out with you, and even dating you, and that’s when he realized that he had a crush on you

It actually took him a while to work up the courage to ask you out, he really didn’t want you to reject him like every other person in the class did, and it scared him that you were going to say no

But when he finally did ask you out, you said yes, and then the two of you became a couple, and you were a pretty good one too

Denki almost melted the first time you called him “darling” like he had this goofy smile on his face for the next half hour after you called him that (this also happened the first time you called him ‘”love”, except the smile was there for almost a whole hour)

Every time you show concern for him, he feels like his heart is getting one step closer to exploding, he’s just not used to somebody caring about him as much as you do, and he absolutely loves it

And he has no problem being the same way in return, Denki shows just as much concern for you as you do for him

He always tells everybody about how adorable of a s/o he has and how he’s so much better than everybody else because he has such an amazing and caring s/o

Since you’re fairly similar to Todoroki, his friends like teasing him about how if he wasn’t dating you, he would be dating Todoroki because you two are so similar, and it sometimes makes Kaminari really mad because he gets worried that you’re going to think that you’re replaceable or something like that (because he thinks that of himself sometimes and he doesn’t want you to feel like that)

He loves making you laugh, because you generally don’t laugh at the jokes that some of the students in class 1-A make, for whatever reason, so it makes Denki feel special that he can make you laugh most of the time

He also loves the way you get so concerned over him and try to stop him from doing certain things, in fear that he may get hurt or something bad may happen to him

He loves hearing your jokes, even if they’re dumb puns, he doesn’t care, if you made the joke then as far as he’s concerned, it’s funny, no exceptions (unless if it was offensive to a certain race, group of people, etc., that would be the one exception)

Overall, Denki would absolutely love a s/o that’s the opposite of him, you two would literally make the perfect couple

#denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari #headcanons #headcanon post #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #mha x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #mha #bnha #fluff

162 notes · View notes

bethansfandoms · 4 years

Text

vienna on instagram asked if i could do one where sirius asks remus to the yule ball.

sirius pushed open the door to the gryffindor dormitory, flopped onto his bed, and groaned into the pillow.

“so...” james said, hesitantly, “did it go... well?”

“i asked him to the ball if that’s what you mean,” sirius replied, words muffled by the pillow he’d decided to smother himself with.

“and he said...”

“he said, and i quote, yes, that would be cool—”

“well that’s—”

“i’m not finished. he said yes tha,t would be cool, i don’t have a date either.”

james inhaled sharply, “he thought you were asking to go as friends?”

“of course he fucking did! because we are friends and boys go to balls with girls, not other boys. i’m stupid.”

“so you didn’t correct him?”

“i— no, i couldn’t.”

“sirius,” james said, softly, “it’s remus. you can be honest with him.”

sirius grumbled and waved a hand dismissively. “how about you, did you ask evans yet?”

“if i’d asked evans, you’d have heard about it.”

sirius had been asked to the ball multiple times since then. he rejected all of them and said he was going with friends. although lily, to everyone’s amazement, had agreed to going with james. peter had asked a hufflepuff girl from the year below, so actually, he was rejecting all the wishful girls for remus.

he was half expecting somebody to ask remus so that he’d end up going stag. although, it would make a good opportunity for a stag pun.

to sirius’ surprise, nobody else asked remus, at least he assumed not, as the night before the ball, sirius asked if they were still okay to go together and remus had agreed.

he felt bad, really. remus was gorgeous and here he was, without a date and going with sirius. as friends.

sirius walked into the dormitory only half an hour before the ball started. everybody else had been getting ready for an inconceivable amount of time. he, as always, had left it until the last minute.

he pushed open the dormitory and was greeted by james, peter, and remus. all of whom were dressed. “cutting it a bit fine are we padfoot?” james asked, tugging at his hair in the mirror.

“looking very dapper, potter,” he replied, rummaging around in his trunk and digging out his dress robes. they were black and he had a deep blue bow tie to accompany them.

the very same deep blue as remus’ robes. “ah, moony...”

remus spun around to face him, “yeah?”

“people will think we matched...” he held up the tie.

remus laughed, “they will when they see this, hold on.” he went into his trunk and produced a black bow tie. they were wearing practically the same outfit with the colours reversed.

“aw cute,” james cooed. “i’ve got a green tie to match evans’ dress; you two will look the perfect couple.”

remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. sirius sent james a stern look.

“i didnt match with lucy... should i have done?” peter asked, desperately trying to attach his cufflinks. “ugh, how do your dress robes all look so... okay!��

“peter,” james said, clapping him on the shoulder, “you look very sexy.”

“i kind of wish you hadn’t phrased it like that but thanks, i guess.”

they met the girls in the common room as they had decided to all go down together. marlene and dorcas did not have dates either. sirius kind of hoped nobody suggested that he and remus fill the role.

all of them looked very pretty; lily’s dress did indeed match james’ tie but it also matched her eyes perfectly. she looked surprisingly happy that james was her date. maybe she had come around after all.

the hall was incredible. sirius had thought it was impressive at halloween but this was something else. it was hardly recognisable. there was a band and a large area filled with dancing students. there was also a bar which sirius couldn’t imagine served anything remotely alcoholic.

there were lots of small round tables dotted around, one of which they claimed. peter immediately went off to find his date, as did mary. james and lily got up to dance and so remus, sirius, marlene, and dorcas were left.

“so...” sirius said, awkwardly. “you two not find dates?”

they exchanged a glance and both tried not to laugh. “uh,” marlene began. “something like that, yes.”

“i’m surprised neither of you do,” dorcas added. “i’ve seen multiple girls ask the both of you.”

sirius whipped his head around and cocked an eyebrow at remus.

“yeah, well,” remus said quickly, “i don’t dance. i’d be a shit date.”

sirius let the small flicker of hope, that had insisted that he was the reason for remus rejecting those girls, die out.

marlene stood and grabbed dorcas’ hand. “come on, i love this song.”

“you two should get up there!” dorcas called as she was pulled away. “can’t be the only ones not dancing!”

they were left in uncomfortable silence. sirius wasn’t used to having nothing to say to remus, it was very strange indeed.

“why did you not agree to go with anyone, then?” remus asked.

“oh. nobody i liked asked, you know?”

remus smirked. “oh, so you like someone, huh? tell me more.”

“i asked them here tonight, actually.”

remus choked on his drink. “you did? and she said know?”

sirius shrugged, “wanted to go as friends.”

“and that wasn’t good enough for you?”

“eh, it’s going alright.” he watched remus’ face as a look of realisation slowly dawned on him.

“you... who did you ask?”

“remus. come on.”

“oh. shit.”

“sorry if that was weird to say,” sirius said quickly. “friends is fine. great, actually. i guess i just wanted you to know.”

“so when you asked me...”

“don’t make me spell it out.”

“i’m such a twat,” remus groaned.

“remus, it’s fine. i— you can’t help it if you’re not... if you don’t want to be my...” he sighed, “date. it’s not your fault.”

“no, no, that’s not why i’m a twat.” he groaned into his hands. “okay, when you asked me, i only said as friends because... i thought i was getting my hopes up. i thoughts i’d say friends to see if you corrected me and when you didn’t, i was like, oh, so he wasn’t asking me out.”

“but i was...”

“yes. if i’d known that, i’d... i’d have said yes.”

sirius couldn’t quite tell if his heart stopped or went into double time. “you—” then he started laughing.

“what? what’s funny?”

sirius punched his arm playfully. “it took me so long to work up the courage to ask you! and you friend zoned me!”

“by accident...”

“you still friend zoned me.”

“i— i’m sorry,” he was smiling, though. sirius smiled back. “i’d be a crap date if i didn’t ask you to dance but... but there’s people.”

sirius nodded. “nobody’s watching now, though.”

remus glanced around. there were so many people but it was unlikely any of them were paying attention. “fuck it,” were his final words before he leant in and kissed him. it was soft and cautious and he pulled away almost immediately.

“you think anyone noticed?” sirius asked.

remus shrugged. “incase they didn’t?” he kissed him again. properly this time.

“wooo!”

they broke apart to see james pointing at them from the dance floor, giving sirius the thumbs up and cheering.

“bollocks,” remus muttered, “they definitely saw that one.”

#wolfstar #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar headcannon #wolfstar textpost #wolfstar oneshot #wolfstar prompt #wolfstar prompts #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar tumblr

161 notes · View notes

cherry-lipbalm · 4 years

Text

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer.

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again.

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own.

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

#criminal minds #dr reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid gifset #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds oneshot

230 notes · View notes

misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Secret Agent Bard (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here with a new chapter of the underground! Woo! I hope you are all doing good and staying safe.

So I actually have more to say today! That's a trip. I’ll have an author’s note under the line.

So that's it for now. Stay safe, take care of you and your loved ones, stay out of trouble, wash your hands, wear your mask, get vaccinated if you can and push to release the vaccine world wide cuz we're all in this together. Have a great week and thanks for reading. I appreciate it and feel free to tell your friends, reblog, drop likes and feedback i love it all. Bye for now and enjoy!

If you want an easier place to read the story cuz tumblr sucks sometimes here’s a link to the chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79541746

The First Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

and since you made it this far here’s a link to all my stories!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Byeeeeee!

Author’s note: Today’s work will be a little different as there will be singing. The chapter with the bard is gonna have singing? Go figure haha So if you see a sentence in Italics, that means someone is singing. Bold and italics represents various people singing as a group. The song in question is called twiddles. There's different versions of it but the one I chose is from the misbehavin maidens. Great group but all their work ranges from innuendos to straight up not safe for work so listen at your peril. I have now completed my responsible adult duties haha. here’s a link to the chosen song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1-_fKF5ug

Summary: Oliver has quite the task ahead of him as the group splits to achieve their goals. Leading Sel and Flora, the young bard will have to think quick on his feet to ensure this mission is a success. Luckily he's an old hand at this. Ironically the one person who could distract him may make a surprise appearance tonight.

-----

Oliver stood quietly, arms crossed and his mind thoughtful as the group prepared to go their separate ways. While ideally nothing would go wrong, that was a childish belief: Every person and robotic being here knew safety was not guaranteed in their line of work.

Even the old man knew the risks.

Oliver hated doing nothing. He thrived when he was busy, focused on whatever task required his attention whether it be being a better bard or upholding the Choir’s values. Too many ghosts and regrets lingered on the edges of his mind and he found the best solution was to simply keep occupied.

But that was his coping mechanism, not everyone else. He knew better than to rush his team: The party would last at least another few hours and beside the goal of getting Sel to the third floor, there was nothing else to do. No information to gather, nothing to review. Let them have their moment, it was good for morale.

Terri and Flora were sickeningly adorable: Hands clasped tightly with Terri tearfully asking her girlfriend to not poison everyone. Flora gave a halfhearted promise while as they shared a tender kiss. Terri noticed her less than enthused tone but refused to press the matter further.

Tyrell stood awkwardly to the side, his face twisted in a strange mixture of sick and excited. He fidgeted with something in his pocket, seeking comfort from whatever lay within. Given the shape of the bulge and size, Oliver guessed it was a knife.

Sel stood nearby, motionless in the shadows of the alley. They hadn’t moved in some time though he suspected the automaton was simply waiting for the next phase of the plan.

“Alright” Oliver spoke up, his voice firm yet gentle “Times up. You have your assignments?”

Uneven murmuring responded.

“Let’s go.”

Oliver, Sel and Flora went down one end of the alley, Terri and Tyrell disappearing in the opposite direction.

-----

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the main streets of the Merchant Ward and make their way towards the Brambleoak banking office. The crowds weren’t as thick as they had been during the day but Oliver knew everyone out and about did so with a purpose.

“Bard.” Flora asked without warning, breaking the awkward silence “Question.”

“Answer.” Oliver cheekily replied.

Flora glared.

Oliver coughed “Yes?”

“You are a First Chair Soprano correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet you are so young. How did you manage that? I thought First Chair ranks were only reserved for experienced or particularly skilled members. You don’t seem to be very magically powerful.”

Oliver paused for a moment, trying to best answer the question.

In a way Flora was correct in her assessment: He wasn’t particularly powerful as a spellcasting bard. Unlike Flora who clearly committed herself fully to nature and thus druidic magic, Oliver had only recently thrown himself into the magical arts.

Unless you were a wizard who studied the secrets of the universe with a very intimate and well versed knowledge of magic, most spellcasters drew their power from sources of existence: Clerics from their gods, Druids from nature, Warlocks from something beyond mortal existence yet not quite a deity, sorcerers because a family member fucked around with pure incomprehensible concepts. Magic was the fabric of the universe and the more you threw yourself into a source of power, the more the source threw itself into you, guiding your hand and your spells.

Of course each, wizards exempt, were limited in their spellcasting options. Clerics were powerful holy/unholy practitioners but couldn’t command plant life to save their lives. Druids were in tune with nature and the weather and all the lovely flora and fauna but ask them to superimpose an image onto something and they’d give you a dumbfounded look. Warlocks kinda just do whatever their sugar patrons felt like lending.

Magic bards drew their power from the arts: Drawing, singing, poetry, even witty and funny satire. Bards were in tune with life, with existence. Art could heal, could hurt, could make you feel happy and sad. It could make you feel like a whole new person or perhaps take you to a time and place you’d forgotten. Bards sung the song of life and Oliver was no exception.

However, Oliver still wasn’t sure what he could do exactly. His magical muscle was average on a good day and he could only cast a few spells before needing a good night’s rest. The basic healing spells and comprehension language he cast earlier today had taken a good chunk of his energy but he relied more on his wit than raw magical strength. He discovered creative and useful ways to cast his spells like amplifying dissonance noises to distract and disorient foes or temporarily place another person’s image over himself. Magic was as much about creativity as it was skill, pushing the limits of what you can do with your particular brand of spells.

“I’m clever.” Oliver answered honestly “The whole magic of the arts is new to me but I’ve been in the Choir for a long time now. I used to be Tenor like Sel here but more fast talking than breaking and entering. I guess they carried over my old position into my new one.”

Flora nodded, satisfied “That answers much. How long have you been a bard?”

“Few years now.” Oliver checked the street sign to ensure they were on the right path “The magic part is going on 3 years.”

“I see.” Flora scratched her chin “I’ve been a druid my whole life so it is a strange concept to be so new to the spellcasting arts yet hold such a high rank.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Not sure what you want me to say. We’re here by the way.”

The bank looked as unkempt as Oliver had remembered: Faded, peeling green paint with gaudy gray stone pillars. Two guards in green uniforms stood in front of the massive reddish brown doors that led into the bank.

“Lea’s mercenaries.” Sel pointed out “They are not letting anyone in.”

“Correction.” Oliver brushed off nonexistent dirt from his washed-out outfit “They’re not letting nobodies in. Luckily tonight we’re somebodies. Follow my lead.”

Oliver let out a tense breathe before strolling forward, his mannerism cocky yet unsteady. He reached the top of the steps when two sharp looking blades reached out to stop him.

“Halt” The elvish woman spoke with a hint of irritation “You lost?”

“Not at all!” Oliver beamed with a smile that was too wide to be natural “I’m here for the party. There is a party inside no?”

“No” The human man spat out.

Oliver gave a forgetful grin “Oh? I could’ve sworn Brambleoak was having some sort of charity event tonight. I’d show you my invite but I think I misplaced it.”

The elvish woman sneered “Right. How convenient for you having lost your special one of a kind invite.”

“Pfft.” Oliver scoffed “Special one of a kind invite? Reiner hands them out like candy. Probably find one in a gutter nearby.”

The guards shared an unspoken understanding with one another.

“Well.” The human began “Let’s pretend that is true.”

“It is but go on.”

The human’s eyes narrowed “Why should we let you in? You dress rather poorly for someone claiming to be in Reiner’s usual circles.”

Oliver let out an exaggerated gasp as he puffed out his chest “Do you know who I am?”

“Umm no.”

Oliver growled unhappily, his fist clenched tightly within his pocket “I am rich! I AM POWERFUL! AND I DEMAND ACCESS!”

As quick as lightning, Oliver flung a handful of gold coins towards the pair. The two reeled back in surprised as the money clanked onto the smooth marble floor. A moment hardly passed before the guards were shoving the loose coins into their tunic pockets like hungry dogs. They straightened up, eyes alive with greed.

“Of course sir” The elvish woman bowed her head in apologize “Deeply sorry for that.”

“Please go ahead.”

Oliver gave a self satisfied nod before moving past the pair only to stop as he heard the sounds of swords scraping each other. He turned backwards to see the guards barring access to Flora and Sel.

Flora looked back and forth between the guards, her eyes calculating and cold. Sel stood still but clearly at the ready for any sort of trouble.

“They’re with me.”

The Elvish woman shook her head “We said we’d let you in. These two? Definitely not Reiner’s usual prey.”

“They aren’t” Oliver admitted “But I need them.”

The human turned to him, suspicion in his eyes “Why?”

“She…” Oliver pointed lazily towards Flora “Is my street doctor.”

“Street doctor? As in….?”

Oliver gave a cheery wink “The fun kind.” And for give measure, he added a weak shiver to his act “Ugggggh I feel cold, are you cold? It’s cold.”

Before anyone could say anything, Oliver began shaking. He rubbed his hands for ‘warmth’ while swaying back and forth.

“Uh oh.” Flora spoke dully, pushing past the guards and holding Oliver steady “He’s crashing. I need to give him his umm medicine.”

“Medicine?” Oliver repeated, his voice soft yet manic “Yes medicine. I need it. I NEED IT!”

Folks began to turn their way, the guards shifting uncomfortably under the sudden attention they were receiving.

“And this one?” The Elvish woman gestured to Sel.

Oliver began to rock back and forth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Guard. Guard. Guard guard guard guard.”

The human threw up his hands in defeat “Bah! Get him in there and fixed! Any trouble and I’ll personally come over to beat your asses.”

“Thank you sir.” Flora murmured through gritted teeth. She guided Oliver and Sel through the doors and into the party within.

Flora sighed as Sel cracked the tension out of their fingers. Oliver straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

True to his expectations, the bank had been altered to be suitable for a charity event: Torches lined the walls, casting the building into a bright light. The desks normally found on the floor were gone as to allow a more spacious setting. Oliver counted a handful of guards scattered about, wandering about for any sign of trouble. All except for the lone guard beyond the empty elevated platform who stood in front of the stairway to the upper floors.

“What now?” Flora asked

“Split up. Sel stay close to the door, Flora and I will figure out a distraction.”

“Sounds good.”

And without another word, Oliver was swallowed whole into the crowd.

-----

It had taken an hour for Oliver to figure out what kind of distraction he would need.

The patrols themselves hadn’t been very difficult to plan for: They would move randomly about, keeping an eye on the party and each other. He counted about 6 of them total and each one of them was easily starstruck. At the sign of any disagreement, they would swarm in groups of three and quickly threaten any troublemakers into compliance. However, upon meeting anyone with even the smallest bit of fame, they would subtly motion to each other and make their way as one to the person in question, hoping for a glance or the chance for an autograph.

So the floor guards were no problem but the one standing watch over the door was much more difficult. Evidently Lea was smart enough to give the most important job to the most responsible of his idiots. The stairway guard or Stairy as Oliver labeled him, would not budge at the sign of any trouble. Loud arguments, agitated party goers, a waiter being tripped (sorry it was for science buddy). None of these would pull him from his post. Celebrities wouldn’t either. Any time his buddies motioned to a famous person, he would shrug his shoulders and stay put.

Oliver was beginning to wonder if Flora needed to poison Stairy until he noticed something about half way into his observations: Stairy was a music lover. Specifically a cute girl music lover.

His gaze would wander every time he caught sight of a pretty girl who happened to be too close to him. Oliver wasn’t sure at first so he decided to test his theory. With his pocket change lessened, Oliver noticed how often a girl would catch Stairy’s eye. His attention didn’t shift when they fell in front of him, obviously in distress, or walked slower allowing him to enjoy the view longer but Oliver caught him smiling and tapping his foot when the odd girl would sing. He even staggered away from his door a few steps at a time before catching himself and returning to his post.

So the best distraction would be a girl who could sing and have some level of fame attached to her name.

Oddly specific and Oliver hadn’t the slightest idea how he was going to mange that. He was attempting to solve this puzzle when something caught his ear.

“Get off me you mulched dirt licker!”

That rather unique set of cursing could only mean one thing: Flora.

Oliver turned to where he last spotted her and found the young druid being hassled by a tall man in an elegant uniform.

Oliver noticed the guards were looking about, not yet spotting the commutation but aware something was going on. He needed to act first if he wanted to stop Flora deciding to kill everyone in the room.

The bard quickly slipped into the crowd, darting and weaving between any and everyone he could. He saw Flora slip a small vial into her hand as the man towered over her.

“I jus wanna dance.” the man’s words slurred out of his mouth “A pretty thing like yo shou wanna dance”

Flora’s eyes narrowed angrily “For the last time you dried poop stain, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Flora pulled back her hand, prepared to throw the mysterious vial at the drunk’s face.

“Whoa!” Oliver cried out, tightly grasping onto Flora’s wrist “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve on my own.” Flora coldly glanced towards the drunken man.

“One sec.”

Oliver eyed the man carefully, absorbing every little detail he could.

He could see the muscles strain against the fabric of his light green tunic so this man worked in something physically laborious. The sheathed sword on his belt weight seemed to throw him off balance with every step. His gaze was unsteady and Oliver could see his pupils dilating wildly.

So this man was physically fit, armed with a sword in a charity event for the rich people and wearing light green tunic while currently drunk.

“You should leave her alone” Oliver said, sarcasm dipping from each word “You are so not her type.”

“So?” The man hiccupped “What’s the big deal?”

“So she’s got a girlfriend you idiot.” Oliver gestured with his hand “Besides you should go before your boss Lea gets here. I’m betting he won’t be happy one of his undercover mercs is currently drunk on the job. Of course I could always tell your captain what’s going on. That’s him over there right?”

Oliver gestured to the closest guard making his way towards the trio. He didn’t look any different than any guards but Oliver noticed his green was a shade darker than the rest. Lea probably used different hues to signify rank in his mercenaries.

The drunk’s face paled as he fidgeted nervously. He rose his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the two “Sorry.”

“Any trouble?” The captain approached, his hand tightly held around the hilt of his blade.

Oliver beaned cheerfully, trying his best to pull attention away from the fuming Flora “Not at all my good sir. This man simply mistook us for someone else, correct?”

The drunk nodded slowly “My bad. Forgive my intrusion.”

The captain gave a cold smirk “Apologizes. Mikey?”

The drunk flinched “Yes sir?”

“A word in private. Now.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief as the captain dragged Mikey away..

“You should’ve let me poison them.” Flora muttered darkly.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck tiredly “Night’s still young. Still might get your chance if I can’t figure a way past Stairy.”

Flora tilted her head quizzically “Stairy?”

“The asshole at the base of the stairs.” Oliver answered absentmindedly as he spotted a familiar streak of platinum blonde hair among the crowd of strangers “And I just figured it out. Can I trust you not to poison everyone here?”

“You have an hour. I get bored easily” Flora swirled the sickly purple liquid in the vial threateningly.

“You and me both.” Oliver patted her shoulder before chasing down his perfect distraction.

-----

Oliver’s heart began to thunder loudly in his ears, a nervous and uncontrollable energy overtaking his resolve. The mission was important but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Maria today.

Maria Thoreau was the daughter of a powerful, influential family. The Thoreau’s were more concerned with their standing in high society than any virtuous endeavors and thus each one of their children was trained from birth to excel in their chosen field. Maria’s older brothers were an aspiring politician and merchant respectively.

Maria’s path was to be a well famous singer and patron of the arts. She wanted nothing more than to sing for the people. Unfortunately, her father only saw a chance to further the family’s good name and tied his desire for power with her passion and dream. It was bittersweet really but nothing much could be done about it.

Yet.

Maria knew Oliver as a musical rival who thwarted her group’s attempts at winning local competitions which in turned derailed her father’s plans. So needless to say she was less than thrilled when she caught him making his way over.

“Ollie” she forced a smile while her hazel eyes narrowed, peeved “I’m surprised to see they let you into this exclusive event.”

Oliver gave a cocky shrug “Well your beauty caught my attention and I couldn’t resist trying to figure out a way in.”

Maria’s cheeks burned a pinkish hue.

Maria was the same age as Oliver with short, tastefully cut dark brown hair. A single streak of platinum blonde hair hung off the side of her face, giving her such a cute look. Her clothes were practical tonight since she wasn’t performing: A simple white blouse with a long flowing dark blue skirt that went all the way down to her feet. Her shoes were sensible dark blue flats designed for comfort over style.

Maria coughed into her hand, willing her blush away.

“So.” She cleared her throat “Is this your sad attempt to throw me off my game? You won’t win the next competition. We’ll be dealing with professional judges this time.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in false surprise “There’s a competition here? Fancy that. I hadn’t been made aware of that but since we’re both in town, why not have a round two?”

“Oliver….”

“I mean” Oliver went on, pretending not have heard “You are a much better singer solo than with those harpies you’re forced to keep around.”

Maria glanced to the side timidly “Don’t be absurd, the Melodic Maidens are a perfect, well oiled machine.”

Oliver scoffed dismissively “I suppose they’re nearby, listening in. Hardly leave you alone, don’t they?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond when a shrilly voice cut in.

“What do you know you two bit hack? How much did you bribe the judges last time?!”

Oliver gave a strained smile as the rest of the ladies forced their way into view.

“Lilly, Filly, Sally. You suck.”

The triplets snarled in unison, openly glaring at the bard.

Lilly, Filly and Sally were Maria’s chains: They were as much there to further her career as they were to report back to daddy to ensure the errant daughter stayed on course.

As triplets, they all shared the same features: Three pairs of dull green eyes and long messy black hair. Even their clothing were the same with each wearing a strapless dress that showed way too much skin and skirts that were way too short. The only reason Oliver could tell them apart was due to their preferred colors: Lilly in a shade of pink that was bright for her skin tone, Filly with a pale ugly yellow and Sally in seas of dark red.

The trio surrounded Maria, their arms embracing her in an uncomfortable hug. Maria bit her lip, trying to hide her uneasy.

“Still wearing that tacky outfit huh Ollie?” Lilly eyed his faded clothing distastefully.

Sally let out an unfriendly laugh “Ollie always looks like trash. Not even prize money could buy an ounce of class.”

“Actually” Oliver brushed his shoulder dismissively “Class is cheap. No amount of money could buy an ounce of character. You can blow hot air at me all you want but nothing in this world could ever change the fact that the three of you are bitches.”

The trio clicked their tongues disappointingly, their normally plain faces twisted into unflattering visages of rage while they screamed as one.

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT US?!”

“YOU ARE SUCH A POOR TACTLESS MAN!”

“YOU FUCKER!”

Oliver casually waved his hand “All bark and no bite. I’m supposed believe you’ve gotten any better in two months? Last time I checked I won the last competition.”

“OH YEAH?!” The triplets yelled, furious.

Maria threw a suspicious glance Oliver’s way “Girls, I don’t think…”

“Come on Maria, we don’t want to have to tell daddy you backed down from a challenge.”

A shiver ran down her spine, the fight draining out of her face. Oliver felt a tinge of guilt but said nothing as the girls took their positions.

Maria paused for a moment, her breathing slow and calm. The murmur of the crowds grew louder and louder upon the recognition that the ladies nearby were the Melodic Maidens.

Maria pivoted on her heels, a bright warm smile gracing her lips. Oliver could feel his heart skip a beat at the sound of her soft, airy voice beginning to sing

“Oh you hear a lot of stories about the sailors and their sport” Maria gave a playful wink his way. His cheeks burned brightly at her playful banter.

“About how every sailor has a girl in every port”

Maria twirled, her steps mischievous and alluring as her dark blue dress chased after her. She gracefully held two fingers aloft for everything to see, her smirk cocky and assured.

“but if you added two and two you’d figure out right quick”

Maria backed up as the triplets step forward to join her, the group made whole and ready for the chorus.

“It’s just because the girls all have a lad on every ship”

Maria turned to throw a sultry look towards her rival bard but instead of finding a dumbstruck Oliver, she found a smiling one. His gaze was gentle and loving as if he was seeing utterly beautiful. A small smile was tugging at his cheeks. Maria could feel her heart thunder in her ears as, without warning, Oliver gave a thumbs up and mouthed an appreciative “Thanks” before ducking into the growing crowd.

“And it’s twiddley idle idle idle, twiddley idle aye.”

What was once a spattering of folks formed into a massive gathering. Most of the party goers and guards had come over to catch the free show the girls inadvertently given and thus all focus shifted onto them. What was an attempt to show up Oliver ended up being a very unnecessary showcase.

“It’s often times a man will leave you broken with dismay”

Boy was Maria feeling that dismay right now.

-----

Oliver’s plan worked: Stairy hadn’t been to resist the siren call of a beautiful woman and her singing. Luckily the harpies hadn’t ruined it with their imperfect pitches. Stairy hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Sel slipped in behind and began working at the door. It took a moment but one blink later and the automaton vanished out of sight.

Oliver let out a sigh when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Hello sir.” A guff, low voice in a less than friendly voice “Might I have a word? You’ve been acting rather strange all party long.”

Well fuck.

#Welcome to the Underground #My Story #Original Work #original story

48 notes · View notes

youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

Text

You are the soul of this Fashion Show

Marcela is still upset with Armando for not firing Betty, even though he did fire Claudia.

After Armando gives the opening speech for the fashion show he goes down and sit next to Marcela and places his hand on her knee and asks her how he did, if what he said was good. Marcela removes his hand from her and when she sees the models walking by leans to give him a kiss, now Armando is the one who doesn't want close contact with her.

Follow Freddy goes up to him and tells him that Betty and the rest are outside trying to get in, Marcela tells Armando that they're not allowed to be there, he stands up. Marcela angrily asks him where he's going to which he replies for her to let him be.

Marcela tells Patty that he won't step over her. Her tone of voice is angry.

Her behavior here reminds me a lot of how abusive people are. Often when they can't seem to moderate their emotions they will lash out in public however, if they know the situation plays to their favor they know they will get the public's sympathy, after all she is upset that he cheated on her with a model.

Outside Armando tells the girls and Betty that they can go in. Betty tells him that she didn't want to be there and cause more problems, especially problems with Marcela that could affect him. He tells her to hurry up .

I find it cute that as they are all going into the main room where the fashion show is Armando calls out to Betty and tells her to continue walking and waits for her until she's in front of him.

Now the breakdown is here.

Armando returns to his seat when Marcela asks him if he got rid of them. He tells her that he let them pass and Marcela gets mad and starts to hiss at him.

"Something tells me this isn't about the cuartel but that stupid Betty!" she hisses at him. Armando visibly gets angry, again, like he did the night Marcela started to insult her(this allows us to know that Armando doesn't like it when Marcela talks bad about Betty or insults her as even the night before he found out about Nicolas and all the implications that brought, he did the exact same thing. Not only that Betty isn't close enough to hear Marcela's insult so he shouldn't be worried that Betty will turns against them because of Marcela.).

Armando now starts to yell at her "Listen, Marcela, Betty isn't some-" he is interrupted by his parents shushing him.

He doesn't like it when Marcela insults Betty, especially when it's an attack on her character.

Mario proceeds to ask Armando what is worrying him. Armando replies that Betty is his worry and how Marcela was going to become obsessed with her and start to hunt her down "Do you have any idea what's awaiting me after this?" Mario watches the models walk down the runway and tells him "I know Marcela is important to you but Betty has to be more important. If you treat her bad there's someone out there who is willing to give her what you don't."

In the previous post I talked about Mario's art of manipulation and how he knows his victims well. Here he uses Armando's jealous of Nicolas as fuel to push the plan onto Armando. He knows if rationality won't work that his ego will. Armando is now in a competition with Nicolas to see who is the better man and the prize is Betty and Eco Moda. Therefore he uses his knowledge of Armando's array of feelings to remind him that if he won't make Betty fall in love with him, somebody else will.

The fashion show is over and Marcela takes the rest of the secretaries and Betty outside and starts to tell them that they are disrespecting her, going over her authority, and it's all because of Betty, who tries to explain herself but Marcela interrupts her.

Armando goes to defend the girls and tell Marcela that they are his guest. Marcela tries to fight him on it but Patty goes to tell her she no longer is preggers and they leave.

He asks the secs. to stay for him as his guest. He then asks Betty to go over to him so they can talk.

I mentioned before that Armando's tone gives him up. You can tell when he is being manipulative not by his words or body language but by his tone. When he is being manipulative you can tell he is forcing emotions out and when he is being genuine his tone is very natural.

Here he tells Betty that she more than anyone deserves to be at that launch since it was made possible because of all her efforts. Unlike before in the day where Armando was being tense and giving her a cold shoulder, now he is being warm towards her and Betty smiles at him and thanks him for his kind words.

To Betty it means a lot that he is taking notice of her professional abilities and celebrating her for it. However because of how much emotion we've seen coming from Armando in the past episodes regarding his feelings towards Betty, we understand that his words carry a lot of weight in meaning.

He truthfully is grateful to Betty for all she's done to help the company and it means a lot to him since it allows him to continue being president of the company.

Armando knows that Betty is loyal to him as he saw and heard Marcela accusing her of thinking she's above her and Betty didn't act out, disrespect her, or even complain about it to Armando. Instead Betty told him is was sad that Marcela didn't see her efforts so that the fashion show could happen.

At this Armando smiles at her and asks her "What's more important? What Marcela thinks or what I think?" Betty smiles and nervously tells him "What you think."

Here the tensions of the days have dissipated. Marcela can't ask for Betty's head anymore, Claudia is gone, the launch went well, Betty doesn't have a boyfriend, and for a moment, a short lived, brief moment Armando lets his guard down as Betty and him conversed and it wasn't related to any problems, better yet flattery but before anything else can happen Cata goes to pull Armando away(I notice that Cata was tugging at Armando slightly as he was saying his good-bye's to the secs.) and Betty goes to tell her friends what he told her.

She is proud that he takes notice of her job accomplishments and that he wants her there because of that.

Betty lives off of his compliments related to her work so they mean a great deal to her that he notices them.

The night for Betty ends when she gets picked up by her dad and Nicolas.

However for Armando the torment continues.

I will be discussing that in the next post.

#armando mendoza #don armando #armando ysblf #betty pinzón solano #betty la fea #betty ysblf #marcela valencia #mario calderon #yo soy betty la fea

23 notes · View notes

matbarzyy · 4 years

Text

Impossible

A/N: If you follow me on main you might know I’ve been obsessed with Impossible by Nothing But Thieves, so I tried to use it to write a fic. It definitely deserves a listen if you wanna have that playing in the background while you read. This is a best friends to lovers fic starting off a lil angsty but it ends well.

Word count: 4358

Love it stings, and then it laughs

At every beat of my battered heart

Something was wrong.

You couldn’t tell what it was just yet, but the way Mat was texting you wasn’t normal. He wanted to talk, he tried to keep the conversation going, but the texts were empty of content. It was so unlike Mat that you didn’t realise how worried you were until you tasted blood in your mouth from the way you bit your lip.

He was a ray of sunshine and a dork, always throwing jokes around and acting like an idiot. Seeing Mat sad was a rare occurrence.

You didn’t know what put him in that state but you guessed he needed something to distract himself, so you decided to call him.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” You spoke as soon as Mat picked up the phone. There was a sigh on the other end of the line and a ruffling noise before you heard him.

“Nothing,” He replied weakly, trying to hide a sniffle by putting the phone away from his face. You picked up on it anyway.

“Mat?” Your voice softened and your heart squeezed. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted, unable to give you a better answer as he lay on his bed without moving, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You took it as a clear no. The only times Mat ever called you to cry were after hockey games he lost, and that was only if he was too far for you to be with him. Whenever he played at home you came to see him and stayed to celebrate or cheer him up depending on the outcome.

“Where are you?” There was no need to ask if he needed you, the answer was obvious, you just had to ask where you had to go.

“Home,”

“I’m coming over, hold on, okay?” You slid into your sneakers as quick as you could, too rushed to undo the laces and put them on properly.

“Okay,” He whispered so low you barely heard him.

He went quiet on the phone and you hung up after promising him you’d be there in no time. You lived close enough to him that you could walk, driving was pointless unless you had a lot to carry. Mat had made you pick this apartment on purpose when you moved to New York, he argued that he’d be close if you ever needed anything, and you had never been more glad to be there.

He was your best friend in school when times were simpler, and he somehow remained your best friend when his hockey career began. Things were different with the distance, but you were the little bit of home he could stay attached to. He had been ecstatic to find out you were joining him in New York after your degree so that you could work on a masters.

Anthony had quickly become one of your best friends too, and you all got along well with Mat’s girlfriend. Lena wasn’t as part of the group as you thought she would be when you first met her, but you didn’t mind it too much. You liked spending time with just Mat and Tito, she was nice but always calm and calculated. It didn’t fit with the spontaneous crackhead energy you shared with the boys.

You often wondered why Mat always reached out to you rather than her. You could understand when he went to Tito, he understood him when it came to hockey and guy things you couldn’t wrap your head around, but you spent endless nights questioning where you fit in the middle of that. Mat never let you feel left out, no matter how invested he was in his relationship he always made time for you.

“I’m here,” You called out when you unlocked the door. You had a spare key from the moment you arrived, officially because he needed someone to have it in case he got locked out, unofficially because he wanted you to be able to come over whenever you wanted. “Hey,” You found him in his bedroom, dried tears on his cheeks as he looked at you with heartbreak written all over his face. “What happened?”

“Lena’s been cheating on me for four months,” Mat whispered, his eyes falling shut as he dug his teeth into his lip to stop himself from crying again. He had been rehearsing the words in his head since you called so that he could tell you, but they still tore at his heart.

“Oh my god,” You sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to engulf him in a hug. That at least explained why he called you. He needed comfort, and as sweet as Tito was he was also fiercely protective, you knew he’d go rip her apart if he found out now. Mat’s chest shook with small sobs while one of his arms wrapped around you, clinging to you for dear life. “Shit Mat, I’m so sorry,”

“I was- I was just going to surprise her,” He cried against your shoulder, tears beginning to soak your shirt. “And I found them,”

“Come here,” You breathed out as you slid onto the bed more comfortably, letting Mat curl himself against you. You had held him while he cried before, but you had never seen him look that small. “You deserve so much better,”

“I just-” He hiccuped. “I can’t believe she’s been doing this for so long,”

“I know… I don’t even know what to say,”

“Four years,” His words were so choked you barely understood them. He was the most broken you had ever seen him and your heart fell apart for him. No one should have to go through that, but it angered you more than anything that someone as sweet as Mat had to be the one to suffer from it. “I trusted her,”

“I know you did,” You nodded, gently running your fingers through his hair in a way you hoped would soothe him. On some particularly quiet nights at home when you were drunk with no one but him and Tito he liked to rest his head in your lap to make you play with his hair. It wasn’t something Lena really did for him, he had told you one day, but he never let himself be that close to you when people were around in case pictures circulated and she became unbelievably jealous again.

They had a fight about it once, and you wished you realised how horrible she was back then. She played it off on insecurities when it was pure misplaced jealousy, and you could now add hypocrisy to that. Mat was a good boyfriend, reassuring her and talking to you about it to make sure you’d know not to be too touchy when she was around.

It should have clicked in your head that she didn’t belong with him at all when he was forced to hide his affection for you and any other woman in his life. Tito might have been a bit smarter than you about it, he never even tried to take a liking to her while you made efforts to get along with her for Mat’s sake.

“I don’t want to fall in love ever again.” He sniffled against your shoulder, only calming down for a second before his sobs became louder.

There was nothing you could do except hold him through the rest of the night.

Somebody told me and I think they’re right

There is a change on its way tonight

It took a few months for Mat to feel better. He kept blaming himself, trying to find where he went wrong, and it took many pep talks from you to remind him that he was worth more than that. None of it was his fault, Lena was a heartless liar using him, and she didn’t deserve all of the tears he shed over her.

Tito helped too, joining your efforts as soon as he found out. Between the both of you Mat got plenty of encouragement and love, it was at least enough for him to appear fine to everyone else around him. Only you and Tito got his late night phone calls and texts when he got in his head and began blaming himself for everything that ever went wrong in his life.

Girls were still flirting with him, some of them asking him out on dates, but he turned them all away without a care. You thought he might get into a bit of a fuckboy phase to take his mind off things, but even that didn’t happen.

Neither you or Tito pushed it, he needed patience.

“You’re in love with him,” Tito accused you one night. He was the only one still sitting at the table you had secured in the bar for the rest of the team and their significant others. There was enough space that everyone was standing and mingling around the room. You were practically filling the whole bar anyway, there weren’t many other customers.

“That obvious, uh?” You gave him a weak smile, glancing in Mat’s direction.

“You’ve only been giving him all of your time and attention for the past year,” He shrugged. “I figured it out after I saw you turn down three dates the first month you were here,”

“Nice catch, I barely had it figured out for myself then,” You admitted, taking a weight off your shoulders. You had never been able to confess your feelings for Mat to anyone before. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Tito was the one to figure it out. “I just don’t want him to know yet,”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s too scared to fall for anyone again, or I would have told him already,” You saw him down the rest of his drink and laugh loudly at something one of his friends said, and that sound alone made a smile appear on your lips.

“He trusts you though,” Tito brought you back to the conversation. He had spent enough time with you to know, and he wished the two of you could see things as clearly as he did.

“Not to let himself love me as more than just a friend,” You sighed, your heart squeezing at the thought. “I know what he’s going through, well, not to that extent, but yeah, I know the kind of trust issues that come with it,” You had spent a long time getting over an ex who only cheated with a kiss, and you had barely been with him for six months back then. You could only imagine what it did to Mat to find out his girlfriend of four years lied to his face for four months straight.

“I honestly believe he already has feelings for you, he just won’t act on them just yet,”

“Maybe… Either way, all I can do is wait until he notices,” You could still give him time. You didn’t blame him for keeping his distance, as much as it hurt you had seen the damage his last relationship had done to him and you were willing to wait. You couldn’t see yourself falling for anyone else, Mat was the only one in your heart.

“Mat might act like an idiot all the time but he pays attention to people, he knows how much you care about him,” Tito assured you. You didn’t see it, but Mat was always looking at you and turning to you for everything. You were more than just his best friend and it was painfully obvious.

Mat wasn’t doing it subconsciously either. He was all too aware of your feelings for him, and he fought with himself trying to repress his own for a long time.

You were his best friend back home, but ever since you came to New York you had become so much more than that. Even when his relationship still held up you were the person he shared everything with. You and Tito were his favorite people, he constantly hung out with you without realising what you truly meant to him. Tito was like a brother but it was different with you.

Accepting his feelings for you while getting over his ex was a lot to handle, but he eventually got there. There was only so much patience you could have, he was scared it would wear off before he grew the balls to jump in and tell you the truth.

He could see you sitting with Tito while he was out there drinking, and he couldn’t help but walk over. There was no way for him to enjoy his night unless you did too.

“Come on, you’re missing out on all the fun,” He cheerfully grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the table, motioning for Tito to join.

“Someone’s drunk,” You chuckled when he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his chest. Drunk Mat was always extra needy.

“Only a little,” He grinned down at you.

His loud laugh echoed through the room when you took the opportunity to tickle his sides, and he jumped away from you with a squeal. It was the most beautiful sound, one you had missed for a whole month when he never let himself be truly carefree.

“See! This is why I can never bring you to work related stuff!” He tried to retaliate but you blocked his hands, wriggling around until he gave up and put his arm around your waist.

“Why, because I always make sure we have a good time when we’re out?” You laughed at the memories of all the stupid things you had done together when he was supposed to act professional. Granted, trying to see which one of you could catch the most olives in their mouth while the other threw them hadn’t been your smartest idea, but that dinner had been boring and the backlash had been worth it.

“More like because he can’t focus on shit if you’re around,” Tito muttered and you bit your lip in response, wondering if that was really the case. Mat was just Mat around you, but was he different when you weren’t there?

“Something like that,” The brown haired giant remained oblivious to his best friend’s words, too drunk and excited to notice. “But now you need a drink!”

“I’m driving you home, dumbass,” You laughed and resisted his grip while he tried to drag you towards the bar.

“We can uber!” Mat’s face lit up like the idea made him a genius, and you had a hard time not turning into a puddle at the sight. He was so cute it was unfair.

“And leave my car here? I don’t think so,”

“Tito, help me,” Mat looked to his friend, puppy eyes at their finest, to convince him.

“I only had one beer, I can drive,” The man sighed, rolling his eyes at Mat’s behaviour. It was the best compromise so that you wouldn’t have to leave your car and Mat could get his way.

If he could anything that might finally get you two together he’d do it. He was sick of watching you like this when you should obviously be a couple. As stupid as it was, he hoped the alcohol would help you loosen up and get closer. Mat hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and he was obviously lonely, there was a solid chance you’d at least be cuddling by the end of the night.

“You don’t have to,” You tried to ignore the hand that tugged on your arm, making sure Tito was okay with not drinking for the rest of the night. You promised you’d drive, you didn’t want to ruin his fun.

“I don’t really want to drink more, you’re good, go,” He gave you a gentle push, and a second later you were stumbling after Mat because he often forgot how strong his grip was.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke please,” He asked a little louder than he needed to, but the bartender clearly didn’t mind. The guys tipped well when they were out, and since the whole team was filling the bar you knew the whole staff was happily making more money than on regular nights.

“You really think you should be drinking tequila?” You laughed at his state, knowing he was only about to get worse. You didn’t mind it, he was always closer when drunk, clinging to you like a baby, and there was nothing you craved more than his hugs.

“Nope, that’s all for you,” He handed a bill to the bartender to pay for the drinks. “You need to catch up,”

“You’re going to be the reason I die one of these days,”

“Promise I’ll make sure you get home in one piece,” His lips pressed against your temple and you melted into him. He’d always make sure you were safe.

You didn’t know what to do with the mixed signals you got from him. Tito was right, you were almost sure he had feelings for you, but you wondered if he would ever act on them or if he would only want to keep you as a friend. You could only have your hopes up for so long.

The shots were placed down in front of you before you could let yourself overthink things more, and you took both with a grimace under Mat’s stare.

He was trying his best not to let himself ruin a potential relationship with you. He knew he loved you, but getting with you before he was ready would be a mistake. You were more than a rebound and you deserved to be treated right. Mat couldn’t be the one for you until he fixed himself, but knowing that gave him the energy to be better. He let himself slip into the depth of the love he felt for you, allowing himself to fall a little further every day until he was so in love with you he knew he could never go back.

The night ended as predicted, you and Mat were so drunk you laughed constantly and could barely walk, Tito tried his best to be patient as he helped you both to the car.

“Guys,” He groaned as you stopped once again, doubling over into a fit of laughter at something he didn’t understand. He was mostly amused but had to act serious for either of you to listen to him. “Come on, hop in,”

“Thanks Tito,” You gave him a big hug while Mat opened the car’s door.

“Yeah yeah,” He rubbed your back with a chuckle. “Get in there and hug Mat,” He guided you to the backseat where Mat already was, leaving the passenger seat empty.

“Tito said I should hug you,” You leaned over to him and rested your head on his shoulder as you did so.

He only hummed in response, wrapping his arms around you while Tito started the car. It would be a short drive to Mat’s place, and the three of you knew there’d be no need to drive to yours. Tito’s car was at Mat’s because you had picked them up there to come to the bar, so he’d be able to drive home and leave your car where you’d spend the night.

Getting up to Mat’s apartment was surprisingly easy. Your energy had died down in the car and you were both just dying to get in bed. Tito had to fight a little to get you both to drink water while you complained you were hungry, so he promised to make you food if you both just went to bed.

“Alright, everyone comfy?” Tito had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when he found you settled under the covers together. Mat was shirtless and you were in one of his t-shirts, you couldn’t look more like a couple. “Here,” He let you both sit up against the headboard before handing you plates.

“You’re ‘e ‘est” Mat dug in and spoke with his mouth half full of his sandwich. You nodded after him, looking up at the blue eyed man.

“Drink some more water before you fall asleep, okay?” He chuckled as he thought that soon enough all of your nights would look like this. You might have thought that Mat needed more time but Tito could see he didn’t, he had already let himself fall for you, you just had to let it happen.

I could drown myself in someone like you

I could dive so deep I never come out

Dinner at Mat’s was common, but a homemade dinner at Mat’s wasn’t. You didn’t hide your surprise when you smelled chocolate brownies baking in the oven as you walked in on a Friday night. Mat rarely went through the trouble of making food himself when he could get it cooked by someone else who would know how to prepare it right.

He had texted you to come over early during the week, so you knew he had this planned and it wasn’t just another spontaneous night you’d spend together.

“You cooked?” You took a look at what was in the oven while he stood by the stove.

“Um, yeah,” He scratched the back of his head nervously, moving a pan off the heat while you smiled.

“It smells good,” You reassured him and earned a relieved sigh. You had teased him about his cooking skills hundreds of times, but he really had tried tonight.

You sat with him like everything was normal although the dinner and bottle of red on the table told you it wasn’t. Mat was a nervous wreck, glancing at the candles he had left unlit on a shelf because he knew it’d be too much to add them to the table.

You carried the conversation easily through the beginning of the meal, giving him some more time to say what he needed to. You could see he had something to get off his chest, but you didn’t try to push it until dessert. You could barely believe he was serving you a homemade brownie with freshly cut strawberries and your favorite brand of vanilla ice cream.

He was slowly turning quiet, obviously thinking too hard.

“What is it?” You bumped your foot into his to get his attention.

Mat finally looked up from his dessert, taking a deep breath in before letting the words flow out.

“I’ve fallen for you so damn hard,” He put his spoon down, looking at you with a slightly awkward smile. Mat was rarely shy around you, but there he was, knee bouncing under the table and running his hand through his hair too many times.

“The feeling’s mutual,” You abandoned the rest of your dessert to focus on him with a soft smile. You thought you’d feel butterflies or excitement when it finally happened, but Mat’s confession only brought warmth to you. It made you feel like everything was finally falling into place.

“I know,” He breathed out, reaching for your hand across the table. It wasn’t the first time he held it, but it was the first time he let himself get amazed by how small it was in his. “I just… I thought it was impossible, I didn’t want that again. But you’ve got more patience than anyone else I know and… and you made it all possible,”

“I knew you’d need time to come around,” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, looking straight into his eyes. Mat felt his heart melt at the sight, it was like you had known this would happen all along while he wondered if he was meant to be single for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t think I would,” He honestly answered, knowing he could voice his insecurities around you without fear of being judged. You had been his rock this whole time, his steady while he was a mess. “And I probably wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you. You’ve pulled me out of my head so many times, so thank you,”

“Come here,” You pushed your chair back and got up while Mat mirrored your movements.

He pulled you into a tight hug almost instantly, placing a soft kiss on top of your head while you rubbed soothing circles on his back. There wasn’t a lot you needed to say once you were there, holding each other.

“I love you,” He gave you a gentle squeeze, the words floating in the air for less than a second before you replied.

“I love you too,” You pulled away to look at him, cupping his cheek and feeling him lean into your touch. “And I know how much it takes for you to say that, so thank you, for trusting me,”

“I’ve always trusted you,”

The tip of his nose touched yours and you both smiled, letting your eyes fall shut before your lips finally met.

In all of the years you had known Mat you had never exchanged a kiss, not even during a dumb drinking game. You had only imagined this moment a million times, and now that it was finally happening you could barely think.

His lips were soft, the stubble growing on his face tickled your skin, and it all felt like perfection. Nothing could have ever prepared you for what it’d be like to kiss the person you were in love with.

“Wow,” Mat whispered as he pulled away, his hands trembling slightly.

“Yeah,” You chuckled before a frown appeared in your face. “Hey,” You got him to look at you rather than his feet. “What are you so nervous for? It’s just me,”

“Sorry, I’m, uh, all out of practice when it comes to that stuff,” He admitted, his hands coming to your waist to hold you.

“How about we clean up and get on the couch so you can get practice again, mmh?” You kissed his cheek and instantly got a smile back on his face.

“That sounds perfect.”

Please reblog guys! Feedback and comments are always super encouraging and help me write more

230 notes · View notes

justinalovee · 4 years

Text

Empty souls

0.10

Previous chapter

The forest was eerily quiet. The group of four had hardly spoken a word to each other as they searched for potential food sources.

Myles was walking slightly ahead of them as Jill trailed behind. She couldn’t get the secrets she was hiding out of her mind. Murphy had killed someone. Her Murphy, done that. Even the thought of it made her physically feel sick. Jill chose not tell anyone what she knew in case he was banished again, or worse. She was sure Bellamy would kill him if he found out.

Finn stepped back from Clarke and waited until Jill was next to him before walking again. “Hey, you seemed rather distant before. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” She gulped down. “I-I just need to pee really bad. I’ll catch up with you guys in a moment.”

Finn shrugged and caught up with Clarke, while Jill stepped behind a large tree. She just needed a moment to herself. Focus, she just needed to focus. Taking a deep breath she readied herself to join the others when she heard somebody yelling in pain. Slowly she creeped her head around the tree to see Myles laying on the ground with an arrow sticking out of his leg, just as Jill was about to help him grounders appeared behind Clarke and Finn.

Anya? Shit. Jill froze on the stop as she tried to figure out what to do. What could she do? She wasn’t a fighter and the grounders would easily kill her if she tried to attack, the best thing she could do was get more people. She blinked away tears while watching Finn and Clarke being dragged away.

A rustling sound coming from behind alerted her to someone’s presence. Without thinking she pulled her knife out, and spun and spun around. A grounder swung his sword at her, cutting Jill on the wrist. She let out a scream of pain as he kicked her to the ground, not knowing what else to do Jill stabbed him in the leg with her knife. When the grounder stumbled forward she removed the knife from his leg and stabbed him in the neck.

Jill watched in horror as the grounder fell forward, with blood pouring from his neck. He was dead. She had killed him.

She quickly started running back towards camp, praying she didn’t run into another grounder.

______

Soon as Jill got back to camp she ran toward Bellamy’s tent, and barged in unannounced. “Bellamy!”

The sight of a topless Bellamy and Raven redressing took her by surprise. Granted, she should have called out before entering, but Jill never would have imagined walking in on them post sex.

Bellamy stood with his mouth agape while Raven took on her friend’s appearance. She was covered in blood. “What happened?”

Jill took a step back as Raven tried to reach out to her, she shot the brunette a glare before turning to face Bellamy. “Me and Myles got attacked by grounders, while Clarke and Finn got kidnapped.”

“What?” Bellamy stepped forward. “Do you know where they took them?”

“No.”

“How can you not know?” Raven added. “You must have seen what direction they went off in.”

Jill clenched her jaw. “Unlike you, I was a little busy trying not to die.”

Bellamy sighed, “Jill we-”

“Don’t just don’t.” She spat, “once you're done screwing other people’s girlfriends you need to help me find them.”

Jill stormed out of the tent, not giving either of them a chance to reply. She took a few deep breaths before looking down at her cut wrist, she had ripped her jacket and used the fabric to try and stop the bleeding, unfortunately it hadn’t worked. The realisation of what happened suddenly stuck her like a ton of bricks.

She glanced around the camp while looking for Murphy. Regardless of everything that had happened she needed him. Not being able to see his face she started to panic.

“John!” She called out. “John!”

When Murphy didn’t appear she started to check the different areas. She was worried that he’d left after her to hunt for food. The type of panic she was feeling was nothing she’d ever experienced before. Tears stung her eyes while she began to feel dizzy, as her breathing became hitched. Stepping out of the water tent she saw Raven and Bellamy both giving her a worried look, she ignored them.

She scratched at her hat frantically feeling how itchy her head had become underneath with sweat, then the thought occurred to her. She hadn’t checked her own tent.

She sprinted towards it and swung the flaps open to see Murphy sleeping.

“John,” she said weakly before kneeling onto the ground.

______

Murphy stirred hearing a sobbing noise, opening his eyes he was surprised to Jill on her knees staring at the ground. She looked almost possessed.

“Jill what are you doing?” He asked, confused.

Rubbing the sleep from his eye he sat up fully and looked her up and down. He noticed the bloodied knife clenched tightly in her hand, and her bleeding wrist. He jumped up and kneeled next to her. “What have you done? Did you do this to yourself?”

Jill shook her head, Murphy placed his hands on her cheeks so she would look at him. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying. Jill mumbled something he wasn’t quite able to make out.

“What?”

Murphy’s surprisingly soft voice made her feel more guilty, “I killed someone.”

Not expecting that answer Murphy stared at her for a moment before taking the knife from her hand. He dropped it down next to him before pulling Jill into his chest. He waited a few moments before asking what happened, “how did it happen?”

Jill leaned back from him and cliched at her chest. “A grounder attacked me, he was trying to kill me...I...I didn’t want to hurt him but he was going to kill me.”

Hearing Jill's voice break as she spoke made Murphy’s eyes fill with tears. He hated seeing her in so much pain. Glancing down he saw the drops of blood landing on the ground. “Do you want me to get Clarke or Octavia to look at your wrist?”

Jill shook her head, while wiping away tears. “No, she’s gone. They both are, and it’s all my fault. It’s all my fault John.”

Murphy frowned at the comment, he had no idea what happened but knew none of it wouldn’t have been her fault. “Jill, tell me exactly what happened.”

“I ended up leaving with Clarke, Finn, and Myles.”

Murphy gritted his teeth at the thought of Myles being anywhere near Jill.

“I-I was fixing myself behind a tree when I heard a yelling, I looked over and saw Myles had been shot with an arrow, and the grounder taking Clarke and Finn. I panicked and did nothing, I should have done something.” She sobbed feeling terrible for not doing anything.

Murphy squeezed her good hand lightly, “you did the right thing.”

“A grounder attacked me and I ended up stabbing him in the neck.”

“Jillian look at me.” Jill finally looked up from the ground and into Murphy’s dark blue eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, you did what you had to. Did you tell Bellamy?” She nodded. “Good, now they have a chance.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Now, can I look at your arm?”

______

Murphy was relieved that Jill had finally fallen asleep, he had spent over an hour trying to convince her what happened wasn’t her fault before she passed out from crying. Murphy had cleaned her wrist up with a first aid kit that he stole out of someone else’s tent. The best he could tell the cut wasn’t too deep, but he’d rather someone else looked at it in the morning. Murphy was afraid he’d done it wrong.

Bellamy had got a rescue party together a few hours earlier. Murphy argued with Bellamy and Raven that he wasn’t waking up Jill to show them where the grounders took Finn and Clarke. She was too weak and probably wouldn’t be any help.

As he watched her sleep he couldn’t get the one thought out of his mind. Why did Myles go with them? Did he randomly pick them, or did he want to hurt Jill? It was no secret they hated each other.

He had been paranoid since he arrived back that he would be floated again. If it wasn’t for Jill he would have ditched the camp and took his chances on the outside. He would suggest leaving together, but Murphy knew she would say no. If they were going to stay in camp he would need to find a way to make it safer for them. Murphy groaned into his hands. Not only did he need to worry about the threats outside the camp, he had to worry about the ones inside it as well.

Out of all his problems he knew how to fix one. Myles had to go.

Next chapter

#the 100 #John Murphy #john murphy/oc #John Murphy x oc #john murphy imagine #murphy the 100 #the 100 fandom #the 100 season one #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 x oc #anya the 100 #Bellamy Blake #clarke griffin #finn collins #raven reyes #grounders

41 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 1)

for @evnscvll‘s 3k celebration challenge, I immediately broke the rules and took only one prompt: Love, Actually. then I made it into a series. oops. but she made me that lovely moodboard anyways!

summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention/description of infidelity, awkwardness, me teasing y’all by making this a slow burn

(quick note: I’m not fluent in romanian but I did my best to translate the dialogue as accurately as possible, rather than as literally as possible. if you don’t speak it I would recommend not translating seb’s lines so you get the full experience of having no idea what he’s saying just like the reader in the story but I won’t tell you how to live your life)

You usually trusted your intuition, but up until now you'd convinced yourself that you were being paranoid by worrying about your husband. Trusting him was more important than anything, and definitely more important than a strange feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

The sad thing is, you would've never guessed that he was having an affair with your sister. Not in a million years. All the sneaking around, the strange stories that didn't add up… you would've put your money on a secret gambling addiction (pun unintended but welcome), or maybe that he'd secretly lost his job.

But even with all your suspicion, all your low self-esteem, all your fear that he was too good for you… nothing could've prepared you to walk in and see him with his face between your sister's legs.

He didn't even do that to you; he said he didn't like the taste. You realized now, as you stared out the window of the train at the trees flying by, that that should've been a red flag from the start. For a man who had claimed to be a feminist, things were never really equal in your house. You both worked full time but you were saddled with more chores; you made more money than he did, but for some reason, you found yourself asking for his approval on large purchases; and of course, whenever you'd talked about children, he'd always just assumed you would stay at home forever and do most of the child-rearing. He told you that you'd need to handle them when he was too tired from work-- but what about when you were tired from watching them all damn day while he was working?

God, you needed to stop thinking about this. If you cried on this train people would probably look at you funny and you did not need that right now. You couldn’t take any more reasons to believe people dislike you. Even as much as you wanted to say that you didn't want or need your husband’s approval anymore, you still felt so shitty, so fundamentally worthless that he'd chosen your sister over you. He hadn't wanted to touch you in months. You wondered if it had been going on longer than that: when you'd blown him after that company party half a year ago, were you putting your mouth on something that had been in your sister's--?

"Something to drink, madam?" the attendant asked as she rolled by with her cart, pulling you from a very dangerous cycle of thought.

You jumped a little and looked over to her as she smiled at you-- no hint of judgment or confusion as you wiped a tear away. In her shoes, you would be nosy and want to know more about the woman crying on the train. Then again, maybe it was obvious to her: a woman, alone, who bought the last ticket just before the train left, carrying only a small briefcase and a few hastily-packed suitcases… a woman with nothing to lose, going nowhere as fast as possible. Could it be anything but her having been done wrong by a man?

"Tea, please," you nodded with a smile of your own-- weaker than hers, more awkward. You'd make a bad stewardess.

"Black or green?"

You didn't trust them to steep the green tea at the proper temperature, so you asked for black and nodded in thanks when she handed you the warm paper cup and rolled on by to the next passenger.

What really made your head spin, you considered as you sipped at your drink, was not your husband’s actions but your sister’s. You remembered when you were both teenagers and her boyfriend had cheated on her, she’d gotten so upset with the girl he’d done it with rather than him. You had thought that was ridiculous because the girl didn’t owe her anything. You understood better now, and of course, your sister did owe you something. You two had had your rough patches but overall, she’d been your best friend for most of your life. So much so that she was the one you went to when you were worried about your husband. She told you to give him space. You would’ve never imagined that was her way to get you to back off, to cover her own sins and give her more freedom to shag your husband in your goddamn bed.

Yes, that was the real betrayal. Lots of people have ex-husbands, but you couldn’t exactly turn her into an ex-sister. You were stuck with her, but you had no plan as of yet to face her again.

The night in the sleeper car was restless, literally. It was so dark out that you couldn’t see the trees or mountains anymore, but if you focused really hard and made sure to turn off every light in your room, you could just barely see the stars in the sky. You hoped that you would have plenty of time to spend looking at the stars once you reached your destination. As much as you’d loved the city lights of London for the past several years, you really needed to be somewhere that was actually dark at night. And where the air was clean. And, best of all, where nobody knew who the fuck you were.

You stepped out of the train and onto the platform, feeling very much like you were surrounded by people ending their stories-- reuniting with loved ones, finishing vacations-- while yours was just beginning. Well, you supposed it made sense that most of the people travelling from London to Nyíregyháza, Hungary were probably from Nyíregyháza, Hungary. Unlike you, who had only been here once while backpacking through the area in college and fallen in love with it. You were lucky that the owner of the secluded cottage you’d crashed at back then had picked up the phone when you called from the train; you were especially lucky that she was willing to pick you up from the station, you not being quite dressed or prepared for backpacking.

Exiting the station and finding the cobblestone street, you were nearly tackled by a portly old woman as she tried to get your attention.

“Mrs. Alberti?!” you asked with wide eyes.

“You should at least pretend I haven’t aged a day,” she frowned, her words coated with her thick Hungarian accent.

“I was just surprised that you’re still running the cottage! I figured you and Mr. Alberti retired ages ago,” you explained, following her back to her car and putting your luggage in the boot.

She seemed a little crestfallen, wistfully considering your assumption. “Well, it’s not quite what it used to be but yes, I am still the owner. Sadly, Mr. Alberti passed away several years back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you replied, hoping to be as comforting as reasonably possible, “he was such a sweet man.”

“Yes, but he had a long illness-- and before that, lived a very full life,” she smiled confidently, walking to the driver’s seat as you followed along the other side and got in the passenger.

“It’s too bad he won’t get to see you again, though,” she continued as she started the vehicle. Considering how old it looked, you were impressed that it worked on the first try. “He would’ve been amazed to have a repeat customer from somewhere so far away. I certainly am!”

“Yes, well, I have great memories from staying in the villa, and decided to go in search of some of the lust for life that I had back then-- chasing after youth never backfires, right?” you joked.

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a smirk.

You knew you were getting close to the old house when the roads turned from asphalt, to cobblestone, to gravel, and finally to dirt. As much as you figured trees and grass looked basically the same everywhere, you appreciated that it somehow managed to look totally different than England. Maybe it was the scattering of blue wildflowers, or the way the wilderness was dominating the few signs of human existence rather than the other way around. Driving it was different than hiking it, certainly, and you wondered if you would find the time or energy to climb the foothills on the other side of the lake like you had before. Maybe you didn’t want to find out how much athletic ability you’d lost since college…

“Here we are!” she announced as she made one last turn and yep, there it was: a lonely stone cottage, with flowers all along the walls and pink wooden shutters.

You could tell it had aged since it had looked how you remembered, but if anything it had gained a quaint charm, with its moss and ivy and old trees which sagged under their own weight. Figuring you would have more time to take in the scenery in the indefinite time you planned to spend here, you decided to make good time and gather your things first.

As you opened the boot and reached in to grab your luggage, someone appeared beside you and pushed your hands aside, saying something that you couldn’t parse at all. You stepped aside and realized that it was a young man-- not horrifically young or anything, but certainly… strapping. He shot you a smile, and you couldn’t think of the last time somebody had looked at you with so much joy on their face.

“Oh, thank you,” you nodded, letting him lift your suitcases (which he did with ease, just to make it all extra cruel).

“This is Sebastian-- he lives here and does odd jobs for me,” Mrs. Alberti informed you, "Don't waste your time talking to him; he doesn't speak a word of English."

"Oh, he only speaks Hungarian?" You turned to him again; "Szia, hogy vagy?"

He shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

"No dear, he only speaks Romanian," Mrs. Alberti explained with a laugh. "Can't you tell I can only afford to run this place by using cheap immigrant labour?"

"Salut," he greeted. At least you could figure what that meant. You chuckled uncomfortably and looked to the ground.

You followed Sebastian and Mrs. Alberti into the house, admiring how little the interior decorations had changed-- it was all macrame and flowers in old-fashioned ceramic vases, with lots of oddball Hungarian trinkets to round it all out. Perhaps the only thing you could notice that was different was new floorboards.

“You like the new floor?” Mrs. Alberti asked, as if she were reading your mind. “Sebastian put that in for me.”

Sebastian seemed to perk up as he set your bags down briefly, clearly aware he was being talked about.

“Remember?” Mrs. Alberti addressed him, motioning to the floor. “You put in the new floor, huh? Új emelet?”

You wondered why she’d seemed to laugh at you for trying to speak Hungarian to him, when she was doing the same thing.

“Da,” he smiled, pressing his shoe down onto the floor to apparently demonstrate the lack of creaking. “Ți-am făcut un etaj nou.”

“Alright, go ahead and take her bags upstairs,” Mrs. Alberti instructed him, motioning to the luggage and then to the staircase. He nodded and picked them up again, starting to walk across the room. “He knows where your room is, just follow him,” she told you.

The stairs, unlike the new floor, did creak, and you weren’t sure how far behind you were supposed to be on the staircase to avoid having his ass right at eye level. You didn’t want to stare at it… but either the jeans were doing him a lot of favours, or Mrs. Alberti’s ‘odd jobs’ do a body good. Maybe a little bit of both.

He used his back to push open the door to your room, setting your bags just inside before turning to leave again, like he thought it would be rude to step inside.

“Wait,” you requested, but he kept going-- probably the whole ‘not understanding English’ thing. God, you were going to look so stupid at least a few more times trying to get through to this guy, you could sense it. Forced to get his attention another way, you reached out and grabbed his arm; not hard, but it was definitely a slightly aggressive thing to do anyways. It worked, though, and he turned around with an expectant look. “Could you help me unload?” you asked, gesturing towards the bags.

His brow knitted with confusion as he tilted his head. You sighed, not sure exactly how to pantomime this.

“One of my bags,” you began, pointing to one of them, “is heavy--” a lifting motion-- “could you--” you pointed to him-- “unpack it?”

That seemed to make more sense to him, and he stepped back into the room with you. “Voi încerca,” he said, somewhat to himself, as you opened the suitcase. Inside was your typewriter; he nodded with understanding and scooped it up.

“Unde?” he asked, and regardless of what it meant, you were going to show him where to put the typewriter anyways.

“Just over there, the table by the window,” you pointed to it. He nodded again and walked past you, setting it down, and even adjusting it a little to make sure it was centered.

“Thank you!” you piped up when he turned back to you. And just like that, you were plunged back into awkward silence. You pointed to him, and then the typewriter as you pantomimed typing. “Can you type?” He seemed to understand what you meant.

“Nu,” he shook his head, “când eram mic, trebuiau înregistrați anual.”

“...huh,” you mumbled, not sure what to do with that.

“Plec acum,” he announced as he started to step past you again.

You cleared your throat and let him walk out the doorway. “Right, um, have a good afternoon…”

He gave a little wave as he walked down the hall, and you sighed once he was out of sight and making his way down the creaking stairs. You impressed yourself with your ability to embarrass yourself constantly, even with total strangers. But, all that aside, you were finally ready to settle in and properly enjoy your change of scenery.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan rpf #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastan stan x you

638 notes · View notes

aboysbestfriendishismum · 3 years

Text

Chapter 58 - The deal, the name and the prince (Part Two)

In the previous chapter: Angie has a weird nightmare about her future, where she becomes the author of fantasy-themed chick-flick novels, and she’s awakened by a phone call by Eddie. He reminds her it’s finally Friday, that is the day they’ll finally tell their friends about their relationship. Ater disappearing for some time, to think about what Grace had told him, Stone shows up at her workplace to and they talk things out. Angie and Eddie kiss in he streets outside her condo and they believe Jeff, Mike and Dave, who were in the van waiting for them to go to the Ok Hotel for their show, saw them and now are surely talking about them. Once they get to the van though, they find out they’re discussing the latest episode of Twin Peaks.

***

Pink. They're turning pink. My purple highlights are slowly but inevitably waning into sad off-brand bubble-gum pink, whereas the blue dye is fading out completely to my old boring dark brown. I'm here, squatting over the toilet, examining the locks of hair falling in front of my face, lightedy by the buzzing light of the Ok Hotel's restroom. I flush the toilet and pull up my pants and then I can hear the sound of the club's music going up and down straight away, followed by chattering and laughing sounds of female voices. Somebody else got in so I'll just stay here some more. I don't know why but I don't like meeting other people when I get out of the bathroom, it makes me nervous. I have nothing against going to the bathroom in three, five, ten girls all together, but if I have to pee, I'm the one who always goes last and tells the others to go first and that she'll meet them later outside. I can't use this system with strangers, especially in public toilet rooms in clubs with never ending queues outside the door. What do I do then? Either I hold my pee or I give up, trying to avoid eye contact with the girl getting in after me, who surely doesn't give a damn about me and just wants to fuckin' pee. This time though, it's early, the show has yet to start and the restroom was empty, at least until these people got in. Who knows how many are they? From the voices they seem three, I won't have to wait for that long. I just hope none of them will start wondering why the door of my stall is locked.

“Have you already heard these Pearl Jam guys play?” my ears don't miss the question asked by one of them since I'm focusing on their conversation, until now only to understand when they'd leave, but now even more interested.

“Not yet, but Emma did, right?” another voice, a little higher-pitched than the previous one, replies.

“Yeah, and the singer is so fuckin' hot!” the third voice has a vague Boston accent, I can't decide if it's a real accent the girl's trying to hide or a fake one she's putting up on purpose, I don't know why. And the accent is the first thing that catches my attention, more than what she actually says.

“Well, you don't need to hear him sing to say that, you just need eyes to look” the first voice chuckles.

“Yeah, he looks fine if you just see him around but on a stage? He's much sexier. You'll see and you'll agree with me”

“He's not bad but I'm more oriented towards the bass player” voice number two chimes in again but her friends immediately drown it out.

“We know, we know!”

“You've been oriented like that since Green River, maybe it's time to change your orientation since you've been getting no chance in hell, what do you think?”

“He'll be single once again sooner or later, won't he? He won't marry Miss Perfection, I mean...” the harmless, and after all kind of flattering, nickname these chicks just gave my friend bothers me a little, unlike their appreciation of Eddie. Actually I'm almost... pleased? By what they say? Yes, pleased. Am I normal or what?

“Aim for the accessible single ones in the band, trust me” Emma-maybe-Boston tries to discourage her friend from her crush on Jeff.

“That is the guitar player only”

“Who? Stone? Hasn't he recovered from his fucked up relationship with Psycho Valerie yet? Or you mean the other one?”

“The other one. Stone has a girlfriend, he must have found a new trust in women”

“Or he's just keeping this girl at a safe distance from his guitars hehehe”

Ok who's Valerie? I must remember to ask Meg.

“So the only ones left are the lead guitar and the singer. You're taking the guitar player”

“The singer isn't single”

“Isn't he?” “Really?” the other two ask at the same time.

“No, he has a girlfriend back home waiting for him or who's about to come and move out here with him, it depends on how it goes with the band”

“Where is he from?”

“California, don't know where exactly”

“Los Angeles”

“Shut up. Do you believe someone who wants to make music for a living would leave LA, which is like the center of the world where everything happens, and come to fuckin' Seattle? I've heard he's from near San Francisco”

“NO, SAN DIEGO” in the heat of the moment I almost can't understand who the fourth voice belongs to, then here comes the realization: it's me, coming out of the stall, basically screaming.

“And you... how do you know? Who are you?” now that I look at the trio I see they're nothing like I imagined. Voice number one, who's sort of the gang leader to me, is as tall as me, skinny and all eyes, big beautiful green eyes, dark hair pulled up in a tight high ponytail, giant loop earrings. Boston girl looks like she just came out from an episode of Baywatch, blonde, blue eyes, body of a model squeezed in a black mini-dress. Jeff's fan with the high pitched voice is the tallest one, a swimmer's body with broad shoulders highlighted by a strapless tube top, dark eyes, hook nose that gives and exotic and charming air.

“I know because I know him” I shrug as I bend over the sink to wash my hands, focusing my whole attention on the fuckin' pink strands in my hair in the mirror.

“Wait... yeah, I think I saw you with Stone and Jeff's friend, the blond chick who works at Roxy's... how is she called?”

“Meg, she's my roommate” I answer to the boss looking at her through the mirror.

“Do you know Jeff? Does he still have a girlfriend?”

“Hehe yes, I'm sorry”

“See, I told you!”

“I'll fall back on the singer then, his girlfriend is in San Diego, it's an out-of-sight-out-of-mind situation, she'll never know”

“He's not with that girl anymore, they broke up when he moved here” I stop here before adding any more intimate and unrequested details, although I have a senseless and sudden will to give them all out to these girls.

“SEE? HE'S SINGLE THEN!”

“I knew that”

“Actually... he's dating another girl, a girl here in Seattle” and that would be me and it's like I'm desperate to tell them, but why? What's happening to me? Am I becoming jealous? I told Eddie his jealousy towards Jerry made no sense but at least that had some factual basis. After all Jerry's my ex, he came over looking for me and we spent some time alone in a small enclosed space. These are just some random girls who've only said Eddie's cute. Thanks a lot. He is. It's only natural they like him. Why am I talking then?

“And who's she?”

“Well, dating someone is not like putting a ring on their finger”

“What's his name anyway?”

“Yeah, right, what's his name?”

“Eddie”

“And what's Eddie like? I mean, as a guy, is he nice?”

“He's...” he's sweet, sexy, funny, shy, crazy, romantic, goofy, protective, quiet, clumsy, smart, passionate, practical, loyal, honest, reliable and other 800 adjectives more, which come to my mind and I keep to myself”... he's ok, he doesn't talk much, but he's cool”

“A hot guy who doesn't speak much: the perfect man” the blond girl states and all three of them laugh.

In the meantime I keep on washing my hands and if I go on like this I'll get webbed fingers soon. I turn off the tap and shake the water off my hands in the sink before heading up to the dryer hanging on the wall next to the door, feeling three pairs of eyes on me.

“Can you introduce us to him?” the beanpole asks me when I already have one hand on the door handle and I'm about to leave.

“Sure!” I smile at them and I'm still trying to decipher my behaviour when I get out of the bathroom, followed by the gang of three, and who do I find standing right there, one hand in his pocket and the other one holding a full glass?

“Hey, there you are finally! I was getting worried. Was there a queue?” he asks, noticing I'm not the only one coming out of the restroom. I walk up to him, my hands are still kind of wet so I rub them on the legs of my jeans, I'm conscious I have the trio's eyes still on me and then I do something honestly uncomprehensible: I throw my arms around Eddie's neck and kiss him like I had last kissed him last month and not twenty minutes ago, backstage, trying to get some kind of reaction out of Stone and Dave, who right at that moment were not looking at us though. What's wrong with me? Have I become a showoff?

“I was chatting with the girls” I back up from his lips, steal the beer from his hands and take a sip, then I turn around to face the trio of dropped jaws behind my back.

“He doesn't talk much but makes himself clear” the leader is the one who breaks the ice and makes her friends, and me I must admit, giggle.

“Very clear, I see” the tall girl adds.

“Haha come on, let's go. Bye Eddie, good luck with the show!” Boston vamp takes the other two by the hands and they all say bye and leave.

“Bye Eddie!”

“God, we made fuckin' fools of ourselves”

“Why? We said nothing bad after all”

“It was embarrassing though...”

I follow their conversation as long as I can and when the girls are out of my radar, I turn back around and find Eddie's perplexed eyes staring at me.

“Do you know them?”

“More or less. Come on, let's go, you're up next soon”

Eddie and I part ways after a kiss right in front of the stage, after we noticed Meg coming our way. Anyway when we end the kiss we see she's more focused on cursing against a guy, who's guilty of bumping into her and almost spilling his drink on her new t-shirt, rather than looking at us and noticing our public display of affection. Eddie shrugs, nods at Meg and goes backstage to get ready for the concert.

“You can stop pretending you know nothing about Eddie and I now”

“Really? Ok but that jerk really wasn't even looking where he was going!” she searches for the stranger in the crowd but he's already gone and disappeared.

“Yeah, we decided to tell everybody. I mean, to let people know. Stop hiding, you know”

“Uh! So is that why you're randomly making out all around the club?”

“Shut up!”

“Right, maybe you didn't stick your tongue into his throat right under the mixer station. And not even in front of the restrooms”

“Hahaha stop it! Anyway, ehm, it actually happened in front of the restrooms, also”

“HA!”

“Talking about that... I need counselling... with Dr Meg”

“Uhm”

“You know I don't like to take advantage of your psychology studies”

“Very poor studies”

“And of your great and not academic only enthusiasm for the subject but... I'm weird and I need you to tell me why I'm weird”

“Ok so, first of all thank you for your surely mistaken trust in me, because it must be huge if you think what I know is enough to solve the Angelina Pacifico's enigma”

“I'm being serious”

“And I'm also flattered, 'cause usually it's me intruding your private life trying to analyze you and make you reason BUT this time it's you asking me spontaneously. I feel tears coming out of my eyes”

“I acted strange earlier and I can't say why”

“Ok, shoot”

I ignore her sarcasm, even though I appreciate it, and tell her everything about the three girls I met at the bathroom, while she listens to me in unnatural silence. Unnatural both for her, 'cause honestly I don't think I've ever heard her keeping her mouth shut for so long, and for the place, a crowded bar full of people, voices and sounds, I mean, pure chaos.

“So? What's wrong with me? Am I jealous like Eddie? Is jealousy contagious? Or have I just become a bitch?”

“Is Eddie jealous?”

“Yep. Well, yeah, a little” I don't wanna talk about this right now, maybe next time.

“Healthy amount of jealousy”

“Healthy... I mean, what's healthy? Jealousy is not healthy, it's stupid. And it looks I'm getting stupid too”

“I don't completely agree with you about that. Anyway your scene has got nothing to do with jealousy, my dear”

“No?”

“OH no, that's not jealousy, I'll tell you what it is. It's three things”

“Three?”

“Number one: you're pedantic”

“Romantic?” I can't hear shit in the noisy crowd with the loud music on.

“I said PEDANTIC! You're pedantic, you can't help it. If someone says a wrong thing you gotta correct them, nothing can hold you back, not even your pathological shyness. Had it been a matter of jealousy, you'd have jumped out immediately, insulting them and telling those three to keep their hands off your man. Instead you just stayed there, locked inside that stinky stall listening to those girls drooling after your boyfriend until they've started churning out incorrect facts. That's when you lost it, you had to speak up and give them the truth”

“So I put myself at the center of the attention only to lecture them?”

“Not just that but also for that. In this you and Stone are the fuckin' same, let me tell you. You're scarily the same”

“Shut up, you give me the creeps!”

“Number two: you're seeking approval”

“Approval?”

“Everybody wants to be liked, but someone wants it more than others, especially those with a wobbly self-esteem”

“What's self-esteem?”

“If you were jealous, you'd describe those three like sluts or ugly monsters of both, but you didn't. It almost seems like you liked them”

“Because I did, I liked them”

“Exactly. Three nice funny girls who shared a common interest with you, without knowing. You told them you knew Eddie because deep inside you wanted them to accept you and approve you”

“Oh”

“Number three... well, number three is my favourite”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Because, Angie, my friend, I'm glad to tell you that at the venerable age of 18”

“And a half”

“Eighteen and a half...” she corrects herself rolling her eyes “... after all this time, you finally learned one of the main concept of life, as well as one of the most pleasurable feelings”

“That is?”

“Hahahaha showing off, of course”

“Showing off? I've never shown off anything in my whole life!” maybe just a couple of seconds, that infamous unlucky night, with the waitress of Canlis restaurant, waiting for Jerry. And see what happened next.

“That's why I said it took you a few years to get cocky...”

“Getting cocky for what then?”

“Because Eddie's your boyfriend!”

“And what's with me? It's not like I did anything, it's not a merit, it's not something one merits and shows off like a medal!”

“That's what yo say but your subconscious thinks differently. Think about it, you found approval from your new friends and when you saw Eddie you could have just introduce them to him briefly and just leave with him, but you didn't. You aimed right at Vedder and kissed him right in front of them, knowing exactly you'd have made their jaw drop. And don't even try to tell me it just came out like that and you didn't think for a second about their reaction because I won't fuckin' believe you”

“Well, actually, ok, yeah, I thought of it, a little...”

“You're with the guy they all liked, that's the ultimate approval, almost a consacration”

“I show off for no valid reason, what have I become”

“Don't overreact now, please!”

“I'm a horrible person!”

“Angie-drama starting in 3, 2, 1...” Meg counts down with her fingers inches from ny nose.

“Can't you understand? It means I treated Eddie like an object, like a bargaining chip”

“You're with a cute guy and you rubbed it in those girls' faces a little, it's not like anyone died or something!”

“A trophy to nurture my self-confidence”

“You're making it worse and bigger than it actually is. That is, as you always do”

“A decent guy gives a fuck about me and my head gets big all of a sudden?”

“A decent guy gives a fuck about you, you're a couple and you don't have to hide for any reason. When was the last time it happened to you?”

“Err... quite some time?” a normal relationship? I'd say it's been years. Anyway, have I ever had a normal relationship at all?

“You're with the singer of a fucking cool band everybody's talking about in town, I'd scream it at the face of everyone I meet. Listen to me: aren't you proud of Eddie and what he's doing with the band?”

“Yeah”

“So you're proud and your showing, like you showed those three”

“Sucking face with Eddie right in front of them?”

“Exactly. By the way, considering you're sucking face with him in every corner of this place, they'd have seen you anyway sooner or later”

“Not necessarily, especially if they're as watchful as our friends, who haven't noticed yet”

“Or maybe they noticed but just want to be discreet”

“Discretion? Stone?”

“Well, thinking about it...”

“Talking about Stone; who's Valerie?”

“OH MY GOD, VALERIE?? WHERE IS SHE?!”

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

“It's so weird to me that everybody hates the Kingdome. I mean, that's your stadium!” since I came here in Seattle I've never met a single sports fan who hasn't complained about the stadium or easily dismissed it as a simple location that's not so much loved by the citizens. Jerry is no exception, as we talk at the bar waiting for our drinks.

“It's not like we hate it, it's just it could be better, you know? Surely it doesn't suck as much for footbal as for baseball. Or maybe it's just a matter of different point of views: if the Mariners didn't play like shit, it would be the place of the heart, like Wrigley Field for Chicago hehe”

“Sacrilege! I've never been there yet, I gotta go and see” I playfully push him away and grab the glass the barman has just given to me. Cantrell does the same and says thanks with a nod since I buyed him the drink and keeps on talking.

“I walked into the field, actually I ran on it! Six years ago, no, seven, when the Seahawks beat Raiders 13 to 7 at the Wild Card Game and the supporters stormed the field at the end. The following week we'd fuck it all up and Miami would destroy us but in that moment we believed we could make it! Anyway the people is what makes the Kingdome good”

“The twelfth man, right?” I nod and as I look around I casually make eye contact with Angie, who's not so far.

“Yep, other than that and the adrenaline, the field itelf sucks, it seemed to walk on concrete covered with green carpet”

“Wrigley though, I'd sleep on that field...” I look the same direction as before but I can't see my girlfriend anymore “On the bleachers too”

“At the Kingdome you can sleep well too, the roof protects you when it rains. Some parts of it might break and fall onto your head but how bad can it be?” Jerry chuckles and sips his whiskey but he almost chokes on it, and I do too, when someone casually appears between us from out of nowhere and basically yells into our ears.

“HI GUYS! ARE YOU HAVING FUN??”

“Jesus! Hey Angie, uhm yeah, sure” Jerry gives her a perplexed look whereas I instinctively put my arm around her shoulders.

“WHY?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean, uhm, you know, what for? What are you talking about?”

“Baseball” I answer probably with star-shaped eyes, just like every time I think about my favourite sport.

“And football” Cantrell adds then drinks up his whiskey with one last sip.

“Sports uh? A typical conversation between male friends...”

“Not necessarily betwe-” I'm about to argue with the idea sport is an exclusively male interest when my colleague interrupts me.

“Now I think I gotta go and find Sean. I saw Layne with Demri before so I think they made up and he'll go to her place so I probably have to go home with my drummer. See ya!”

“See you!” I say bye as he leaves with his hands in his pockets and Angie does the same but in a louder voice.

“BYE! Ok, what's going on? What's wrong?” she addresses me right away with an extremely serious expression on her face.

“What's going on? Nothing's wrong”

“What were you talking about for real?”

“What do you mean? Sports, we told you”

“Sure. And I'm Doris Sams” she folds her arms and gives me a side look.

“Are you a secret baseball player as well by any chance?” I let go of her, I fold my arms too and look at her suspiciously.

“No”

“I can't believe it! We gotta go out and throw a ball sometimes”

“I can't play! But I know the game and I know a couple of history facts, I remind you my dad is a fan of basically all the sports”

“I don't know... you're very good at pretending not to be able to do things, aren't you?”

“And you and your friend are very good at pretending nothing's happening and changing the topic of the conversation at the right time, aren't you?”

“My friend?”

“Jerry... well, friend, sort of...”

“We were really talking about the Kingdome”

“Sure. And the debate was so animated you even shoved him”

“Haha I gave him a little nudge, as a joke”

“Oh you were just kidding, of course”

“Angie, I don't know what's going on in your head and I don't know what you saw but really, we were just making small talk”

“Small talk?”

“Yes”

“You and Jerry talk?”

“Yeah. As you know, human beings are social animals, they interact with each other and-”

“Cut the crap! You know what I mean...”

“It's not like we're best friends or something but we know each other so we happen to have a chat from time to time” I shrug and on one hand I find it funny that Angie came here running, fearing for an upcoming duel between me and her ex, on the other hand I think he'd actually deserve a couple of punches after all.

“And you didn't talk about anything else?”

“No, what would we talk about?”

“I don't know, maybe you told him something about the other night...”

“Why would I?” I thought Angie would tell me to fuck off after that fuckin' scene I made but we made up the next day instead, problem solved. Why would I rock the boat?

“Well, I don't know, maybe because you threw a fit at me!” she retorts and suddenly she almost looks disappointed.

“That's different, I'm with you, not with him...”

“Ok but you almost ate me alive on the phone. And with him? Nothing? He just gets away with it like that? A chat at the bar like two old friends?”

“Sorry Angie, I don't understand. One second ago you were all alarmed because you thought I had told him something and now you're offended because I didn't. Is it that I'm limited and I just don't get it or does it make like no fuckin' sense at all?”

She opens her mouth as if she's about to answer, then she shuts up and looks around like she's looking for the right words through the crowd. In the end she admits, almost mortified: “It doesn't make fuckin' sense at all, I don't even know what I mean honestly”

“Hey, it's alright, ok? Jerry and I are on normal decent terms as two colleagues. And who gives a fuck about Jerry anyway” I take her face between my hands so she's forced to look at me as I smile to reassure her and let her know she's getting worried for nothing.

“Ok. But how do you do it? I mean, like, when you talk about me”

“Easy: we don't talk about you. Do you want something to drink?” I answer straight, turn back towards the bar to get the bartender's attention and order another round for me only, since Angie shakes her head no.

“Ok, right, but what if it happens?”

“It doesn't happen. Not even coke? Or juice?”

“No, thanks. But how can you be sure? What if my names comes up during a conversation, what do you do?”

“We don't do anything because that can't be, Angie... Windbreaker?”

“Wrong answer. Anyway the fact it hasn't happened so far doesn't mean it can't happen in the future” Angie smiles at my casual attempt at guessing her second name but doesn't let go on the topi.

“I'm 100% sure it can't happen. Jerry and I don't talk about you, we just don't”

“Never?”

“Never. We have a deal” the last bit slips out of my mouth and I regret it one second later, as soon as I see Angie's face as she registers this piece of information.

“You have... WHAT??”

“We made a non-aggression agreement that satisfies both parties” ok, I'm not 100% satisfied, and Jerry neither for sure, but it's working now.

“You made a deal with Cantrell? About me? And when?” after every questions she takes a small break that lasts a couple of seconds, in which I shake my head yes. But the third question requires a more articulated answer.

“In San Diego” kind of articulated.

“SAN DIEGO? You told Jerry about us when I left?”

“Actually, before that...”

“BEFORE??”

“And it wasn't me telling him anyway, it was the other way round” Angie doesn't look convinced or maybe she's just confused. So I tell her about the little quarrel Jerry and I had at the Yates Club, about how Jerry had figured it all out and got mad at me for not telling him.

“Wait, correct me if I'm wrong: you mean he did everything he wanted when he was with me but he had the nerve to get angry because you hadn't let him know on advance that you were interested in his ex girlfriend? The ex girlfriend he treated like shit? Why would you show him this courtesy? And how did he understand we liked each other anyway?”

“Maybe he's a good observer.” or maybe I just suck at hiding what I feel but I don't say that because she sucks as much at understanding other people's feelings and I don't wanna hurt her “Anyway he was right to some extent, we were on tour together and from time to time he asked me about you and confided in me and I could have told him or just talk about something else. Instead I just stayed there listening to him. So I was kind of an asshole too”

“He confided with you?”

“Yes”

“And what did he say about me?”

“Why do you care? Is it important? And then, well, can't you imagine?” if I got so jealous the other night is also because I know he's still into her.

“No, but I'm curious to know: 1) how he's still alive, 2) how you held back throughout the tour”

“I don't know, maybe it's just because of a certain promise I made to a certain special person about not kicking the ass of a certain ex and keeping a certain secret and not starting any trouble in general”

“Wow, you're a man of his word then”

“I'm someone you can trust”

“Will you make a deal with me too then?”

“Sure, anything you want princess”

“The deal is... we won't talk about Jerry anymore”

“Uh”

“Like never, ok?”

“Well, I mean...”

“I won't mention him to you and you won't mention him to me. It's not like we can erase him from our lives, we simply won't actively have any more conversations about him, what do you think?”

“It's not that simple...”

“Well, if you can make an agreement with him, I can't see why you can't make the same kind of deal with me, since I'm also your girlfriend” she folds her arms once again and from the look she's giving me I know I won't get out of this alive if I don't accept this fuckin' agreement. The only thing I can do is trying to get the most out of it.

“In fact I can do it. I'm in...” I hold out my hand for her to shake it “on one condition”

“What is it?” she lets go of my hand and looks suspicious, I think she really don't know where I'm getting at.

“That you finally tell me your second name” she rolls her eyes and barely hides her smile, maybe she was expecting something worse.

“Ok, agreed” she shakes my hand again and I'm all ears.

“So?”

“You know I'm giving you the most powerful weapon, right? You'll make fun of me as long as I live for this”

“I bet it's a beautiful name, I can't wait to know, I'm super psyched”

“Just like my parents when they chose my second name, like I'm pretty sure they were literally under the influence of psychedelics when they decided to call me like that”

“Call you what?”

“Angelina... Something Wind Pacifico”

“But if you're a W. it can't be-”

“The other half of the word starts with a W too”

“Whirlwind!” I say straight off and for an immediate word association the lyrics of Like a hurricane by Neil Young start running in my head and I can already picture her as the perfect main character of that masterpiece of a song.

“No, it's all together but actually it would be a separated word”

“Oh” are you sure? Because that name was pretty perfect.

“It's an adjective” she points out while, in my daydream, I leave the hazy bar and close the door behind my back.

“Windy Wind?”

“Hahaha fuck you, Eddie!”

“Ok, I'm serious now. Warm wind?” I think about the warmth of her hugs and her presence in general but she shakes her head no.

“My mother was... is a fan of Nina Simone. So?”

“Uhm...”

“Maybe I can help you a little more if I tell you Station to station by David Bowie”

I mentally run through the album's tracklist until I get to maybe one of Bowie's best vocal performances ever, right at the end of the record.

Wild is the wind

“Angelina Wildwind Pacifico”

“Guilty as charged”

“It's fucking cool!”

“Ok but... wild wind? Me? Can you picture me with a name like that?” she blushes and shakes her head and hides her face behind her hands.

“Actually it suits you perfectly”

“Sure, it suits to the most boring and average person on the planet”

“No, it suits to the strongest and most unpredictable and most breathtakingly beautiful person in the world. At least, in the part of world that I know, which by the way is the only part I care about because you're there” Angie removes her hands from her face and looks straight into my eyes without opening her mouth and for a minute there I get the illusion I managed to leave her speechless or, at least, in the condition of being forced to take a fucking compliment for once.

“Hahaha well, it really is a shitty world!” she cracks up all of a sudden and hugs me, so tight.

“How fuckin' stupid are you from 0 to 10?” I hold tighter.

“I don't know but I'd say we have a deal now, right?” she looks up and gets free from my embrace just to stretch her hand towards me and seal this agreement for good.

“Right, deal done” I shake her hand, then pull her back to me to kiss her and seal this pact my way.

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

Time to take a ride, time to take it in a midnight eye

And if you want to go, get on below

“Ok, where the hell are those two now? Dave and I have to unwrap our presents!” we all more or less managed to bunch up around a couple of tables at the Ok Hotel. I tap Krusen on the shoulder and he suddenly awakes. He zoned out completely when the Sonic Youth's song started. Or maybe when the whole evening started.

“I kind of saw them earlier at the bar” it's the drummer's wild guess and considering he basically spent the whole time at the bar, before and after the show, he could have seen Angie and Eddie any time. They could as well be in Mexico by now.

“They're not at the bar anymore, that's where we're coming from” McCready and Staley join us with two fresh beers in their hands, talking of people who should tone it down a little.

“Huh they must be tongue-kissing around here somewhere” Stone is sitting right in front of me, keeping one hand on Grace's shoulder and waving the other hand in the air while he speaks, as to brush it off like an unimportant thought.

“Who? Eddie and Smurfette?” Cornell Gazette from the other end of the table couldn't miss the breaking news and both Stone and Grace nod.

“They've been doing nothing else all night, they're on the edge of public indecency” Mike enriches the gossip story some more, followed by Ben and Kim, who put up a show and got us all bent in laughter.

“I've never seen anything like that”

“At some point we timed them”

“We were bored”

“Twelve minutes and a half of tongue”

“Contjnuous, uninterrupted tongue. I mean, with no breaks whatsoever”

“They looked like two fuckin' 14-year-olds”

“Well, Angie's still a teenager after all, it makes sense”

“Ok but what about Eddie? And how... just on a practical level, I mean, I don't get how they could fuckin' breathe through all that”

“They must have gills, fuck if I know”

“Hahahaha you're such assholes!” my girlfriend scolds us all but only slaps me on the nape.

“Well they're just making up for lost time and you're just jealous” Meg joins her in defending the two lovebirds.

“I get it but TWELVE MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS” Kim repeats punctuating every single word about the record timing.

“Jealous and peeping Toms!” Graces chimes in too.

“They were on top of the stairs, it was impossible not to see them” the guitarist shrugs and his bass player nods.

“From every view point and corner”

“Twelve minutes and a half on the stairs?” I playfully add fuel to the fire, the two musicians look at me and their arms flap out.

“Yes!”

“Then the record is that Angie didn't fall down the stairs on anybody, given her history” Chris snickers under his moustache.

“God you love that story so much!” Layne almost chokes on his beer then laughs at Cornell's face.

“Ok ok, anyway, you're shit guys, this all mess for some P.D.A.s? Just because they loosened up a bit, it doesn't mean they're living 24/7 connected at the mouth li- Oh wait, yeah, there they are, they're kissing next to the door” Meg abruptly interrupts her speech and it's kind of comic because we all turn around together at the exact same moment and among those in the back there's someone standing up, getting closer or stretching their neck to give a better look at the not-so-new couple. Even strangers passing by turn the same direction to see what the fuck we're looking at.

We don't know if it's been more than twelve minutes and a half since the beginning of their laters make out session, but those two break away from their kiss and Eddie looks right towards us. We turn the other way around and in a second we're back at talking, well, pretending to talk as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't caught us red handed. Out of the corner of my eye I see them coming over and I casually lift up my voice.

“Alright, I love Goo too, it's a hell of a record, it goes without saying. What I meant is that putting it on in a club and just playing it front to back for two or three times, letting it go, it just gives me a sense of... sloppiness? That's how you call it, right? I'm not saying you have to pay a dj or some fucking guy just to put records on and select music, but they could at least take some time to make a fuckin' mix tape or something and put that on, even on repeat, it doesn't seem so difficult to me. Oh hey guys, where have you been?” I address Stone and Dave first, who look at me weirdly, then to Andie and Eddie walking up to the table.

“Round here. Have you already opened your presents? There's mine left!” Angie rummages into her bag looking for something, then picks out a not so small package.

“Cool, a new brush set, thank you!” I cheer as I unwrap it.

“A little bird told me you needed new ones...” Angie looks up playing dumb, exactly like the bird I know very well who's standing beside her. These two fuckers belong together.

“Oh and this is mine” the little bird sticks his hands into his girl's bag and takes out another package, which turns out to be Subway art, a photobook about graffiti art I've been wanting to buy for ever.

I can say this was a lucky birthday for me, with strings, cords, tool kits, acryic paint set, a couple of gift cards for Easy Street Records, which I loved quite as much as the supermarket voucher Meg gave to me. All useful presents but I loved the (apparently) less useful ones too, like the Marshall jack rack key holder with four plug key chains: thanks to the Alice guys!

During the whole presents and wishes exchange, Eddie and Angie are sitting in a corner and basically being the special observed ones, since everybody watches them like you watch a documentary about animals during the mating season. The couple takes part to the conversation and just ignore the rest, yet they whisper something to each other from time to time.

“By the way, Angie's got something to tell you” Eddie comes out of nowhere with this, in a moment we were all silent, catching our breath after a joke by Stone, who suggested Touch me, I'm Dick as the title of the stand out song of our fake band in Cameron Crowe's movie. By the way, who knows if Chris has already wrote something for the songs of Cliff's solo demo? I gotta remember to ask him.

“What?” Meg asks first, since nobody's speaking, not even Angie, who first gave Eddie a nasty look, then turned pale as she looked at us one by one.

“Is it about the movie?” Layne asks.

“No, it's not about the movie”

“Are you quitting college?” Dave tries.

“No! Why should I?” Angie denies it firmly.

“Is it personal?” if I didn't know him, I'd say Stone is trying to put Angie at ease and help her spit it all out. But since I know him too well, I can say without a shadow of doubt he's just enjoying himself playing with the poor girl.

“Well, yeah, but... mmm... it's not just about me, you know”

“Who else then?” I inquire.

“Eddie” “Me” the two lovebirds reply at the same time.

“Oh fuck, are you pregnant?” McCready stands out as usual for his caution and sensitiveness.

“OH MY GOD, NO! WHAT THE HELL, MIKE?” Angie stands up in shock while Eddie simply laughs.

“So? What's the news?” Cornell is all ears and right now I'm picturing him armed with a pen and notepad as an old-time reporter.

“What Angie's trying to say is that-” Eddie wipes his eyes with he sleeve of his shirt and tries to give an answer but the girl is faster.

“We're together”

“...”

“Eddie and I, we're together”

“...”

“We've been for a while”

“Almost a month” he suggests to her in a low voice.

“Almost a month” she repeats and she looks into our eyes searching for something she can't find and apparently she's just concluded the best thing to do is to keep adding details or to repeat the same concept with different words until she'll find it. Or until any of us opens their mouth.

“...”

“Something more than three weeks”

“...”

“We're basically a couple”

“...”

“I mean, he's my boyfriend and I-”

“And she's my girlfriend” Eddie ended the sentence for her.

“Wow, what a coincidence!” Stone can't hold back and I hide my face between my hands not to show I'm laughing.

“What do you mean?”

“Ok. You're together... and?” Mike tries to investigate some more and if he asks her if she's pregnant once again I swear I'm gonna laugh so hard that I'll fall out of my fuckin' chair.

“And nothing, that's it” Angie replies and sits back down.

“And that'd be great news?” Kim asks keeping a straight face.

“Why? What's wrong with it? Is it because you think I'm too young for him? Look, I know, we know. We talked about it actually, I understand tha-” Angie's about to launch herself into a hornet's nest with no way out but her roommate stops her and we all finally crack up.

“Totally unmotivated Angie-drama in 3, 2, 1...”

We all, but Angie of course.

“Why are you laughing? Is ther something I don't know?”

“What you don't know is that now everybody knows that what you believed none of us knew was actually well known by everyone” Stone answers in his style and Mike's face tells me he didn't understand shit.

“Huh?” exactly.

“He means we're laughing because we already knew what the news were about” I explain and the lightbulb in his head lights up.

“Uh!”

“You saw us then, I mean, tonight? Because, well, you didn't say anything...”

“Who do you think we are? We're discreet people!” Cornell states and it almost looks like he believes it.

“We knew before tonight anyway” Ben adds without thinking.

“You knew before? How? MEG?? You told them, right??” Angie stands back up and roars against her friend.

“How could she tell if she didn't know?” Eddie asks puzzled his now official girlfriend.

“No! Right! She didn't know! But... I don't know, maybe she figured it out. DID YOU FIGURE IT OUT?”

“I figured it out” Meg confesses.

“THAT'S IT!”

“But I didn't tell anyone, I swear” she holds up her hands, Angie believes her and looks at us one by one, before aiming straight at her boyfriend.

“YOU TOLD THEM!”

“No, I can assure you I kept my mouth shut, as you asked me”

“How did you know then?”

“Stone told me” McCready's voice of innocence out of nowhere.

“Stone told me too, because I was there as well that night. And Dave too” I confess and the drummer nods.

“Stone told us too, but it was some other time, at least I think so” Chris looks at Kim and Ben who shake their heads yes.

“For obvious reasons, he told me too” Grace raises her hand and shyly admits.

“Jeff told me because Stone told him” Laura chimes in.

“Is there someone Stone didn't tell anything to?” Angie blurts out.

“Me! I figured it all out by myself! I'm a genius!” Layne raises his hand and waves it around, as happy as the winner of a tv quiz.

“And you, how did you know, genius?” Angie turns to Gossard snarling at him but he answers calmly.

“I believe I knew even before you that you'd end up together, Smurfette”

“What do you mean?”

“That you both suck at playing the oblivious lovers. You're made for each other” I translate it all in Jeff-language and everybody nods in agreement, Eddie included.

“Were we so obvious?”

“Noooo”

“Not that much”

“It's not that”

“It's just Stone's a very good observer”

“It's just Stone doesn't mind his own fuckin' business”

These are just some of the answers we give in no particular order just not to make her feel little Angie like shit.

“Come on, it was clear from the beginning they had a connection. Since the first time they met at the Off Ramp, I realized it at my own expense since I had bet on it, do you remember Mikey?” I like the fact that Stone, just like me, remembers old memories based on bets we placed.

“Right! I lost ten bucks too because I thought you wouldn't talk to each other, yet you got along immediately, it looked like you already knew each other”

“I'm gonna ignore the umpteenth bet you made over your friend's head but... actually we already knew each other somehow” Angie reveals and the alarm goes off in my head.

“WHAT? REALLY? HOW?”

“Jeff?” Stone calls me immediately as I keep on trying to disguise the truth clumsily.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW EACH OTHER? THAT'S SOME NEWS!”

“I had met him at Roxy's the previous night, he came over to eat”

“NEWS AS IN IT'S A NEW THING, A NEW FACT I'VE NEVER HEARD OF BEFORE”

“So you didn't know about it Jeff?” Stone doesn't let go and by now it's obvious I got caught, I'm fucked.

My shit show at least has one merit: the following little bickering between Stone, Mike and I about the twenty dollars, which they think I owe them back, moves the attention away from Angie. Now she's finally free from the awkwardness and can sit back and enjoy the show of our friends kicking my ass, holding hands with her new boyfriend.

#fanfiction #grunge fanfiction #grungefic #grunge #eddie vedder fanfiction #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie edder #jerry cantrell #jeff ament #stone gossard #dave krusen #mike mccready #layne staley #chris cornell #ben shepherd #kim thayil #soundgarden #alice in chains #chapters

29 notes · View notes

ikleesfiction · 4 years

Text

Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 3,762 words Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3 🞂 Part 4 🞂 Part 5 🞂 Part 6 🞂 Part 7 🞂 Part 8 🞂 Part 9

Part 10

It's been almost 6 months since you left Chicago. You spent those months working yourself to the bones as a way to forget Jay. It certainly was not a successful attempt, but at least you were too busy to think about him. You accepted Alex's idea to make a duo project and lazily named it "alex&y/n". You both started doing gigs at various clubs around the world. Pyramid, Alex's record company where you work for, continuously releases new sounds that you discovered. You keep writing and producing songs after songs. Really, your career is flourished. But deep inside, you're empty.

You never had a chance to go back to Chicago. Part of you was relieved that you don't have to deal with it yet. The other part of you was missing it so much. You might only stay four months in Chicago, but somehow the city (and its people) have marked their place in your heart.

You love Amsterdam. It's still your home, but its charm hasn't called you as it did before. Sure, you have your parents here. But you only got to meet them twice a week at best. Your work and their jobs don't leave lots of time to be together. Also, even though you have most of your friends in the city, you don't get to hang out with them all the time since you travel a lot for work. You get to make new friends along the way instead, just like you did in Chicago.

Case in point, you are currently in Norway, working on a song with Oliver Dahl, the number #1 DJ in the country.

Oliver's home studio is one of the best places you ever work in. The studio setup is practically the same as the one Pyramid has. But Oliver has a baby grand piano on one corner where through the window, you can see a tranquil lake with a green forest on its side. The view is calming and inspiring. So although Oliver is a much better pianist than you, you park yourself there and relegate him to a Korg keyboard.

"Hey, it's almost dinner time. Let's take a break," Oliver suggests to you. He guides you out from the studio and moves downstairs to his kitchen. The glass-paneled dining room has a door that leads to the back porch. You thought the view from the studio was great, but the view from down here is even better. You sit on a swing at the porch, take a deep breath of fresh air there.

Oliver comes out with two bottles of beer and hands you one, which you gladly accept. You switch your phone back on since you didn't want to be disturbed when you were working. It relentlessly buzzes once it's on. "Well, somebody is famous," teases Oliver.

You peek at your phone screen before grimacing at him, "Sorry. Nick needs something. I gotta call him back." You walk a few steps away from the porch. Without the roof over your head, you can feel slight drops of rain on your face. "Hey, boss. How's the meeting in Brussels go?"

"Infuriatingly slow. That is why I'm calling. I was hoping you can help us," Nick replies. He didn't sound too worried, so you thought it's going to be an easy request, "Sure. What is it?"

"Alex was supposed to have a phone interview with one of Chicago radio show, to talk about the new single of alex&y/n. Since our meeting here runs longer, could you do it in his stead? I know you don't like doing an unprepared interview, but I promise it won't be long, 15 minutes max."

"Alright, I'll do that." It's not like you can say no anyway.

"Great! I'll set it up. It's going to be in an hour. So don't mute your phone." Nick reminds you.

"I won't. It probably falls during our dinner here. I can keep my phone on."

"Thanks, y/n," Nick hangs up the call.

◢◤

Joe Cruz walks into the common-room of Firehouse 51 with his phone on hand. "Guys, Chicago Top 40 is interviewing Y/N right now!"

"Turn the volume up. I cannot hear it from here," Mouch complains from the couch as he mutes the tv. Joe pushes the side button of his phone and sets the volume to the max. Everyone continues doing their things quietly as they listen to the interview.

"We got one half of alex&y/n on the phone with us here. Dare I say the prettier half. Let's say hi to Y/N!" They hear the radio host cheers from Joe's phone.

"Hi, how are you doing?" you chuckle and greet back.

"We're all good here, thank you. So please tell us more about the latest single of alex&y/n? How did you guys come up with it?"

"We started writing this song probably about 8 months ago. I was in Chicago at the time actually," you start to explain.

"Oh, really? I didn't know you were in town," the host shortly interrupts.

"Yeah, it was back before we had any idea for this project. Alex came up with it when we made this song. It was supposed to be the first single of alex&y/n. But when I came back to Amsterdam, we wrote "Void" The team decided that it fitted better as the first single. Hence this song "Fiery Love" got pushed to be the second one."

The conversation regarding the song and the duo project goes on for another ten minutes before the interviewer wraps it up. Joe is about to close the radio app when he sees Jay Halstead and Hailey Upton step into the common-room of Firehouse 51.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/N," says the host on air. "What time is it anyway in your place right now? I haven't got a chance to ask where you are,"

Joe's thumb stills above his phone screen. "It's almost 7 PM in Bergen, Norway," you inform the radio. Jay stiffens as he hears your voice.

"Oh, you got a gig there tonight?" the host asks curiously.

"No. Just a bit writing and studio session," you answer vaguely.

"It must've been in a studio with a view, unlike our four wall booth here," the host retorts.

You snicker quietly, "If I could, I'd trade you in a heartbeat,"

"Oh, stop it! You're too kind," the host says, thinking you're jesting.

You let out a tiny laugh, "But no, I'm serious. I wish I didn't leave Chicago," you admit candidly on air. Totally unbeknownst to the strained atmosphere in the Firehouse 51 common-room.

"Come visit soon. We'll show you our fancy dig here," the radio host returns jokingly. Joe finally decides to close the radio app, as Matt Casey addresses their guests. "Detectives, how can we help you?"

Jay looks at his partner, neglecting the fact that everyone in the room is watching him, "Can you handle this by yourself? I.. I think I left my phone in the car," Hailey is sure that Jay didn't leave his phone, but she gives him an understanding nod.

"We need to see Chief Boden," Hailey answers Matt. He then guides her to the Chief's office. When both detectives are out of range, Hermann asks the room, "It was a bit awkward, wasn't it?" Everyone ignores Hermann's comment and back doing things they did before. Kelly Severide determinedly stands up from his seat and goes outside. He finds Jay standing in front of the squad truck.

"Hey, man," Kelly greets him. Jay just nods to acknowledge him. After a few moments of silence, Kelly breaks first, "She always asks about you whenever she calls."

Jay scoffs his disbelief, "Yeah, right."

"She is not a brave girl, Jay. But she really loves you. She still regrets hurting you." Kelly tells him. Jay stays silent, taking in Kelly's words. "I don't think she's doing well out there." Kelly continues. Jay glances at him before opening his mouth to say something. But at the same time, Hailey comes out with Matt. "Let's go," she tells Jay. He nods at Matt and leaves with her without saying anything.

As both detectives walk away, Kelly shouts to Jay, "Will you pick up? If she calls you?"

Jay halts and looks over his shoulder. Not sure what to answer, he just shrugs in response.

◢◤

The following week, you find yourself working alone in Alex's studio. You go through some demos, try to find a song that you'd like to work on. The door is suddenly opened and reveals Alex and Nick coming in.

"You planning on going home tonight?" Alex says as he hands you a mug of hot tea. It's not unusual for you to stay all night working. While it was beneficial for the company, your well being is still his priority.

"Maybe," you just shrug as you accept the mug. "Thanks. So what's up?"

"I got an offer for alex&y/n gig for an EDM festival," Nick starts. "What do you think about it?"

"Cool, I guess.." you answer indifferently.

"Yeah?" Alex tries to reconfirm your agreement. You never play a festival before, so far alex&y/n only do club gigs. Even though you're basically doing the same thing, the stage and crowd size sometimes could be overwhelming, especially for someone who doesn't like to perform live.

"Uhuh," you nod before sipping your tea.

"Don't you wanna know where it will be?" Nick pushes.

"No," you say in disinterest, already looking back at your laptop. Nick raises his eyebrow questioningly towards Alex, which he answers with a subtle nod. "Alright then, I'm gonna go home now. You two get some rest. We'll talk again tomorrow," Nick informs you before leaving the room.

Alex drags a chair and sits next to you. "Talk to me. Please"

"There's nothing to talk about," you reply to your cup. Alex nudges you. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Stop it!" you scold him as you roll your chair away.

"You know I can do this all night until you talk to me," Alex says as he slides closer to you.

You exhale loudly in defeat before quietly tell him, "It's just... I'm exhausted."

Somehow he knows that you're not only talking about your body. "I'll talk to Nick. We can cancel the rest of alex&y/n gigs,"

"You know we can't," you rebuff his idea.

"We might be able to do that if I offer to take them instead?" Alex offers a solution.

"And let you be the one who burnout? Hell no," you deny his suggestion. You tiredly rub your face with your palm, "It's alright, Lex. I should have just suck it up and do it,"

Both of you stay silent for a moment. You pick your tea mug from the table when Alex unsurely speaks again, "That gig Nick talked about is in Chicago," You freeze up until Alex prods you, "Still wanna do it?"

"What do you think?" you weakly ask for his opinion.

"I think we should do it. It'd be fun. We can try to arrange a few days off. You can take me to your favorite places in Chicago, meet your friends.." Alex tells you. It sounds nice, makes you want to say yes. But you still have doubt in the back of your mind. "It's been months, y/n. Time for you to face it. Face Jay." Alex continues as if he knows your thought.

"I can't!" you shake your head in resign. "And why is that?" Alex pushes further.

"Because I still love him!" you forcefully drop your mug on the table, the tea splashes out of it.

"Then tell that to Jay! Don't make the same mistake as you did before!" Alex yells back at you. You instantly feel like you've been slapped.

Avoiding Alex's stare, you start to pack up your things from the table. "I think I need to go home now. Don't think I can work on anything tonight." You grab your jacket and hastily walked out of the studio.

A couple hours later, Alex comes by to your place with a canvas bag on his shoulder, "I got a box of chocolate and a six-pack of La Trappe Tripel here,"

"I don't think they can help me feel better this time," you quip as you open the door for him. Alex pulls the beers and chocolate out from the bag and puts them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He reaches again to the bag, "Don't worry, I come prepared. Got jenever in here too," He sets the bottle next to the chocolate. You go to the kitchen and bring out two clean glasses.

"Are we starting right away?" Alex asks you in confusion.

"Are you waiting for something else?" you start to open one of the beer bottles.

"Don't you want to eat dinner first? Or maybe have bitterballen to snack on?" Alex suggests to you. You open the chocolate box and pop one candy into your mouth. "There, I ate something," you declare sarcastically before sipping the beer in your hand.

"Okay then," Alex accepts his defeat. He goes to your kitchen and sees what you have on your fridge. "You don't mind if I finish this leftover stew, right?" he hollers at you as he puts the container in the microwave.

You snort your answer, "Go ahead. It's not like you need permission to raid my pantry anyway,"

Alex comes back with a bowl of stew and sits next to you on the couch. You fiddle with your phone for a bit before a ballad song playing on your home speaker. Alex starts to talk about various things as he eats, updating you about his sister Sara, his meeting in Belgium. He even lets you know what he had for lunch today. He keeps talking because he knows you're not gonna say anything.

Alex cracks open his second beer while you finish your third one and start to pour the gin into your glass. "I'll Be Over You" by Toto is playing on your speaker. Alex exasperatedly rolls his eyes, thinking that his best friend could really be dramatic sometimes. You sprawl on the couch with your feet on top of Alex's lap. "What if he's moved on?" you say after long contemplation, ready to tackle more serious conversation. "Ready" as in drunk enough to talk about it.

"Well, you face that with head held high and moved on too," Alex replies. "Easier said than done, I know."

"Big chance he doesn't want to see me anyway," you mutter to yourself. But Alex still answers you, "Maybe. Maybe not. You'll never know without going there,"

◢◤

It's been 7 months since you left Chicago and Jay Halstead still kept your last voicemail on his phone. Even when he's so mad at you, Jay never had the heart to delete it. Because somewhere deep inside, he could hear your sincerity. Jay is desperate to believe that you honestly love him and care about him.

Before Severide approached him the other day, nobody ever talked to Jay about his ex-girlfriend. Jay never apologized for pushing Adam. His friends guessed that his relationship ended, but no one ever said anything about it. His brother always abruptly changed the radio whenever your song was played on-air, acting all annoyed. But he knows Will is secretly still a fan of your music, just not in front of Jay. He thinks they're all worried that talking about you would raise his temper. But the truth is Jay misses you.

After his anger passed by, Jay could understand your position. You were left alone, befriending strangers in some city that far from home. While Jay understood that you missed home, he's still disappointed over the fact that you didn't tell him sooner. But it already happened, you made your choice. Now Jay is left with a bruised heart and silently pined over his ex.

Jay is lost in his thoughts. He jolts in surprise when he feels something cold and wet on his cheek. Jay looks up to find Will, who hands him a glass of beer. "How is the game going? Anything interesting happens when I'm gone?" Will asks Jay as he sits and looks down to the ice rink. They are at the United Center arena, watching a Blackhawks game.

"Nah, you don't miss much," Jay tells his brother. "Thanks for taking me here, man."

"It's nothing. I want to do something for your birthday, but since I have to work double shifts tomorrow, we just have to celebrate early." Will raises his glass for a toast. The brothers shout wildly during the game, chant together with other spectators in the stadium, basically having a good time. When the game is on a break, Will and Jay trade a light banter between each other. The jumbotron above plays adverts that they ignore.

"This summer, coming back to the Soldier Field Arena. We proudly present, Spring Awakening Music Festival! Featuring..."

When they hear the ad's narrator mentions "alex&y/n" Jay spontaneously looks up at the jumbotron. There was a picture of you and Alex, standing back to back, staring hard through the camera. Even with the cold gaze and unsmiling face, Jay still thought you look good. The announcement was certainly a surprise. Jay remembered when you told him that you don't like to perform in front of crowds. Now here you are, headlining a big stage. Time's changed, he thinks to himself.

Jay keeps looking at the gigantic screen, even though now it's showing another ad. If anyone asks him, Jay cannot tell what this new ad is about. His mind is busy thinking about something/someone else. Will glances at his brother and notices the tightness of Jay's shoulders. "I won't come to see them, even if they give me free tickets," he remarks wittily. Jay burst out a laugh and elbow his brother, "Thanks, man." he is grateful for his brother's understanding.

◢◤

Jay wakes up late the next morning. He spent the night listening to your podcasts and fell asleep with your voice on his ears. Seeing you on the jumbotron made him missed you more. His phone battery was drained, his alarm didn't ring. It's only because of habits from his ranger days that he woke up and gets ready in time to go to work.

Just as he walks out of his place, a delivery man is stopping him. "I got a package for Jay Halstead?"

"Yeah, that's me," Jay says distractedly, trying to recall if he orders anything online. The guy hands him a bag and a receipt form. Jay skims the paper before signing it. On the shipper box, it is stated, "Belgian Chocolatier Piron, Inc." He returns the signed form to the courier. "Thank you. Have a nice day, Sir", chirps the man. Jay pauses slightly, looking at the bag, before running to his car once remembers that he's late for work.

Once Jay arrives at the district, he puts the suspicious package on his desk. He opens the bag cautiously and pulls out a golden cardboard box with a black bow tied around it. He digs deeper into the bag but finds nothing more, no notes or cards, just this golden box.

"You got a box of Piron?! Can I have one? Please?" Jay hears Kim Burgess squeals at him.

"What the hell is a Piron?" Adam Ruzek asks loudly from behind her. Kim starts to pull the bow, but Jay moves the box away quickly. "I don't even know who it's from. We should be careful. I'll send it to the lab.."

"Is that Piron?!" Hailey Upton shrieks as she steps closer to Jay's desk.

"What? You know about this Piron too?" Adam baffles even further.

"They are like one of the best chocolatiers in town." Hailey impatiently explains to Adam. "Is it yours, Jay?" She sounds rather demanding than asking.

"Yes, it's Jay's. And he wants to bring it to the forensic lab. Unbelievable..." Kim says disapprovingly.

"I don't even know who send it! Aren't you worried if it turns out to be a bomb or a deadly virus?" Jay tries to reason to his teammates, who are now circling around him.

"What bomb?" They all jump in surprise when they hear Voight from behind them.

"Ah, it's nothing, Sarge. There are no bombs anywhere. At least not in the city of Chicago... Maybe..." Jay rambles.

"Are you gonna open that box, Halstead?" Voight cuts him off, pointing at the innocent box.

"I'm not sure, Sarge," Jay meekly admits. Voight pulls the black bow that was half undone because of Kim and opens the box gently. "Oh no, it's a bomb," Adam whispers as he hides behind Kevin Atwater but peeks over his shoulder. The girls are excitedly bouncing on their heels, seeing the rows of chocolate inside the box. Voight takes one and confidently bites into it. "You should never waste good chocolate. By the way, happy birthday, Jay." He pats Jay's shoulder before stepping toward his office. Jay gives Voight a small smile, though he still confounds about the situation.

Jay looks at the rest of the team. Hailey bites a candy on her right hand as she picks another with her left. Kim got half-bitten chocolate on her fingers. Her eyes were closed as she savors the taste. Adam's hand hovers above the box, cautiously looking at his teammates, "You girls feel okay? No dizziness, nausea, anything?" His questions were left unanswered since the girls were too busy munching.

Kevin offers Jay a handshake and continues with a quick hug, "Happy birthday, bro!" Jay clasps his shoulder, "Thanks, Kev,"

"So someone sent you this as a birthday gift, huh? Quite special, isn't it?" Kevin picks one candy from the box.

"I guess. If only I knew who sent it..." Jay wonders. He also takes one piece of chocolate and nibbles into it. The bittersweet taste suddenly reminds him of a particular someone. At the same time, his phone chirps on his desk. Jay checks his phone and finds a voice memo from an unknown, international number. He moves to a quieter place and listens to the message.

"Hi, Jay," Jay holds his breath, recognizing the voice on the other end. "It's me, y/n... I just want to wish you a happy birthday... Hope you enjoy the chocolate," He waits as you hesitate to continue. "Err... Stay safe, alright? I love you." As if just realizing what you've said, Jay hears you curse in panic, "oh shi.." and the message briskly ends.

Next on this fic : Part 11

+x Taglist +x

@shipshipshipau @itsdesiree86 @thevelvetseries @annaallicce

66 notes · View notes