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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years

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Three’s Company

Summary: Naomi goes to lunch with the newest member of the diagnostic’s team.

A/N: Listen, I will not rest until Tobias and Ethan are friends again.

~v~

“It’s not going to be as bad as you’re making it out to be, Ethan. Above all else, Tobias Carrick is a doctor and a professional.”

Ethan resists the urge to roll his eyes at his girlfriend. This situation isn’t her fault, and it’s not like Naomi can help the fact that she’s optimistic. He still huffs under his breath though. “Being a doctor isn’t synonymous with being a professional. Trust me, Tobias is nothing of the sort.”

The news of Tobias Carrick not only coming to Edenbrook but also joining the diagnostics team hasn’t been well received. On top of a pretty tense exchange between Bloom and Ethan, Harper also made it known that she wasn’t a fan, thankfully not as outwardly as Ethan had.

Naomi however, has remained neutral. She doesn’t have history with Tobias like Harper and Ethan do, only knowing him through their biased second hand accounts. Ethan grumbled that he’s arrogant–though the same can be said about him as well–and selfish, but Naomi isn’t one to judge someone without knowing them. And besides, he pitched in to help save her last year, so for the time being, Tobias Carrick has a few brownie points with her.

“You’re being dramatic. He’s been a doctor as long as you have, he went to the same prestigious medical school that you did–”

“He graduated at number two,” Ethan interjects.

At that dig, Naomi huffs. “You’re being ridiculous. And petty, for no reason.”

“Bloom went over our heads and hired him, so I’m automatically suspicious. I apologize for not believing this wasn’t done specifically to annoy me.”

Naomi can concede to it being a bit suspicious, but she isn’t going to admit to this conspiracy of all roads leading back to Ethan. She’s not going to needlessly feed into his ego and rile him up.

The two of them continue their trek throughout the halls of Edenbrook in silence, their fingers loosely interlocked the entire way there. Naomi revels in it, because she knows it’s the calm before the storm.

Before they cross the threshold to the office, Naomi stops Ethan in his tracks. She cranes her head back so they can look each other in the eye. “Listen, like it or not, Tobias is here, and until he does something that warrants your hostility, at least be cordial. Our patients don’t deserve us at anything less than our best.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose, and silently counts to three, attempting to steel himself.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Raising their joined hands, Naomi brushes a fleeting kiss across his knuckles. “Now stop pouting, Ramsey, we have work to do.”

Ethan untangles their hands only to open the door for Naomi. Once she steps inside she’s greeted with the sight of Tobias fiddling with Ethan’s coffee maker. He looks and flashes them a sly smile. “Mornin’, lovebirds! Ready to get to diagnosing?”

Ethan flashes Naomi a quick look. This is going to be a long day indeed.

~v~

So Tobias’s first day with the team wasn’t smooth sailing like Naomi wanted. Ethan and Harper made it clear that his former friend and roommate wasn’t wanted anywhere near the team, whether it be through passive aggressive eye rolls, thinly-veiled exasperated sighs, or outright aggression via Ethan that spiraled into a tense argument. Naomi remained neutral, corralling all of the attention back to the task at hand: helping their patient.

Naomi isn’t interested in spending another day babysitting these grown adults, so hopefully day 2 is a lot more smooth.

And so far, she seems to be getting her wish. Morning tasks were distributed without a fight, and after their morning huddle, Harper went downstairs to prep for a surgery she has coming up later. The remaining 3 members of the team are all in their own little corners of the office, Ethan typing away on his laptop, Tobias lounging on the couch, and Naomi sitting at their large desk, a pile of books and printed copies of online articles all spread out in front of her.

The words are all starting to blur together, her focus slipping away with each second that ticks on. Being in the office isn’t doing anything for her creativity or brainstorming power. She needs a break.

Naomi closes her textbook and pushes out of her seat, tired of studying. She makes her way over to Ethan’s desk, observing his hunched shoulders and the deep line between his brows. She rounds his desk until she’s standing directly in his line of vision. “You know what? I think it’s time to take a break. How about you and I get out of here and get something to eat?”

Ethan tears his eyes away from his computer screen long enough to look at Naomi. He frowns softly. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. On top of the actual work I have to do for this team, Leland is demanding that I put together a presentation for the board meeting at the end of the week.”

“About what?”

“About the team. Cost versus benefit, outcomes, methodology, etc. Basically, he wants me to sell the diagnostics team to him all over again.”

“Sucks to be the boss at times?”

“De facto boss,” Ethan corrects. “Remember, this team is supposed to be a democracy now. Anyway, I want to get this presentation done as quickly as I can so I can stop thinking about it.”

“I could go for some lunch,” the third person in the room speaks up. Naomi and Ethan both turn around and see Tobias staring back at them. “Oh sorry, am I interrupting the private conversation the two of you are trying to have in our communal workspace?”

“What do you want, Carrick?”

Tobias’s eyes bounce back and forth between the couple. “Naomi wants to escape these four walls and get food. You aren’t available, and I am.” He shrugs. “What are you in the mood for, Valentine? I could go for some Italian, and there’s a good place a few blocks from here.”

“She’s not going to lunch with you,” Ethan grits out possessively.

Naomi’s head whips around faster than she can stop herself. Since when did he get to make decisions on her behalf, especially when it’s not work related?

A small smirk settles on Tobias’s face. Naomi’s physical response to Ethan’s declaration does not go unnoticed by him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know your name was also Naomi Valentine. Whatever the case, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Naomi doesn’t–”

“Naomi doesn’t need an advocate to speak on her behalf because she’s an adult,” Naomi interjects sharply.

Whether she wants to accept or decline Tobias’s invitation to lunch, it’s her decision to make, not Ethan’s. His tumultuous relationship with Tobias is not her burden to bear, and he’s not going to force it upon her.

And just to prove it to him, Naomi turns around, her full attention back on Tobias, eyes alight with defiance. “You know what? Italian sounds delicious.”

~v~

20 minutes later, the unlikely duo is nestled into a corner booth of the Italian restaurant Tobias suggested. It’s a nice family owned joint that is currently experiencing a lunch rush. Every inch of the place is bustling with activity, the aromatic smell of sautéed garlic fills the air, soft music playing in the background. And while Naomi has yet to try the food, the restaurant is warm and inviting, and she likes it.

“You know, I’m really shocked you decided to take me up on my offer,” Tobias says, cutting into Naomi’s silent appraisal of their surroundings.

“I wasn’t going to turn down a free meal,” Naomi responds smoothly.

“A free meal?”

“Of course. You invited yourself, so you’re paying, Dr. Carrick. I’m thinking of ordering dessert, too.”

An easygoing smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she speaks, and Tobias laughs. “I meant it because loverboy wasn’t too happy with it.”

“As much as I respect Ethan’s opinions on things, they don’t dictate my life. His issues with you have nothing to do with me, and if you think you can use me as a pawn to piss him off further, I’d advise you to think again.”

This young woman is brazen and full of sass. Tobias likes it. “It wasn’t my intention, I swear. It’s no secret that I’m not a welcomed member of the team, and you happen to be the only one who doesn’t roll your eyes or sneer whenever I speak. You are the closest thing I have to an...acquaintance, I guess.”

Naomi’s defenses deflate slightly at his shocking display of earnestness. She was expecting some display of bravado from the attending, so this has thrown her for a loop.

Tobias is nervous. She picks up on that energy almost instantly.

“Well like I said, their issues with you have nothing to do with me. I try to give everyone a fair shake.”

“I can respect that.”

“But in the interest of said fair shake, you have to answer a question for me. What are you doing here?”

“Here, in this restaurant?”

“At Edenbrook,” Naomi clarifies. “Kenmore is a level one trauma center, it was saved from getting snuffed out when it merged with Solomon, you guys stole my research candidate which brought in a lot of grant money. You had a decent gig there, so why did you come to Edenbrook? Why did you accept a position on Ethan’s team?”

Tobias shrugs. “I hit my threshold at Kenmore. I was at the top of the food chain, I had seen everything there was to see, done everything there was to do. I was...bored and restless. Edenbrook got injected with new blood, everything is new and exciting. Bloom said he wanted to take the team to new heights, and he offered me more money than I know what to do with to be a part of the vision.”

“Okay so who’s to say you’ll be satisfied just being a member of the team? How do I know you won’t attempt to stage a coup and take Ethan’s position?”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gunning for your boyfriend’s spot.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. There’s no need to be condescending.”

“I apologize. But Ethan’s spot on the team is safe. I don’t need Leland breathing down my neck and micromanaging me the way he does Ethan.”

Naomi’s eyes roam his face. He doesn’t have any tells, no eye shifting or twitching, no sudden movements with his hands or mouth, he doesn’t fidget in his seat. She has no reason to believe he’s lying, so she takes him at his word. “Okay.”

“Any other burning questions?”

“Why aren’t you and Ethan friends?”

Tobias doesn’t immediately answer, opting to take his sweet time to think on it. He pulls his lip in-between his teeth, before shrugging. “We’re too similar. Too driven, too ambitious, too stubborn. Two people can only go on the same path for so long before a collision happens.”

“It got ugly because you two wanted the same girl?”

Tobias scoffs. The faceless woman that he was adamant that he was in love with is at the bottom of his list of concerns. “She was just the tip of the iceberg.”

That manages to catch her interest. Naomi sits up in her seat and leans forward slightly. “So what happened?”

Naomi can see the exact moment that Tobias withdraws from the conversation. His posture gets stiff again and he averts his gaze.

“Okay, riddle me this, Carrick,” Naomi continues. “Ethan told me he reached out to you after you had your falling out, but you rebuffed him. Is that part true?”

“He called and asked if we could talk, I said no. I didn’t hear from him again until everything happened with Leland last year.”

“You didn’t want to make amends?”

Making amends and having his old friend back did sound nice once upon a time, but being friends with Ethan again means being in his shadow again. And that’s what led them to this whole thing in the first place. Tobias sighs and scrubs his hand across his jaw. He came here to eat a plate of ravioli and maybe annoy Ethan, not pour his heart out. What is it about Naomi Valentine and those big brown eyes of hers that makes him want to twist himself inside out and spill his guts? Is she some sort of siren?

“Making amends means I’d have to own up to my wrongdoings. I’d have to swallow the fact that I torpedoed our friendship,” Tobias confesses before he even realizes the words are out of his mouth. “Admitting fault and being vulnerable isn’t my strong suit.”

She doesn’t mean to, but Naomi giggles. And that giggle turns into a laugh. A loud one that attracts the attention of a few patrons, a hard feat to accomplish in the middle of a bustling restaurant, but she does it with ease.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi says once she finally calms down. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “God, no wonder you two were best friends. You are just as emotionally constipated as Ethan.”

“Emotionally constipated?” Tobias’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the blunt statement. And once the shock wears off, he laughs along with. “Touché, Valentine. Touché.”

~v~

Across the way, at the bar on the other side of the dining room, Ethan watches as his girlfriend and his former friend carry on like two bosom buddies.

Ethan decided to follow them approximately 10 minutes after they left, sheer curiosity getting the better of him. Before he could stop himself, he was in his car and at the restaurant, seated far enough away from them so he’s out of their line of vision, but close enough to see.

Naomi is in the zone, talking excitedly and Tobias sits there, soaking it all up like what she says and does is gospel. Their friendly interaction stirs irritation in the pit of his stomach, but it’s when Naomi lets out a boisterous laugh does he reach his limit. Ethan’s grip on the small tumbler in his hand tightens, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up with a million tiny shards of glass in his palm.

What on earth has Tobias said to make Naomi laugh like that? And why is he laughing with her?

Ethan doesn’t like it one bit, for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t like other men being around Naomi–it’s ridiculous and sexist of him to feel this way, but Ethan is a possessive caveman, and he makes no bones about it. Seeing her actually laughing with Carrick of all people and enjoying his company makes him want to throw the drink ware he’s currently holding.

Deciding enough is enough, Ethan slams the glass down onto the bar and stands up. After dropping a $20 bill on the counter he makes his way over to Naomi and Tobias, unadulterated jealousy and alcohol fueling every step.

Tobias notices him first, and he jerks his head in Ethan’s general direction in order to get Naomi’s attention. She turns around and her eyes go wide at the sight of Ethan.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Now her eyes are narrowed. “You finished that big presentation you had to work on?”

Ethan sniffs haughtily. Leave it to her to throw that back in his face. “I decided that a break was okay.”

“And you coincidentally ended up at this restaurant?”

“Yup.”

Naomi stands up, muttering a quick “excuse me,” in Tobias’s direction and grabs Ethan’s hand, pulling him away. They nestle into a quiet corner of the restaurant, far away from the table, closer to the kitchen. The door constantly swings open and closed, as the waitstaff goes in and out.

Once they get a moment of quiet, Naomi glares at Ethan, the expression on her face nothing short of annoyed. “Are you spying on me? Because spying on me implies that you don’t trust me.”

“What? Of course I trust you!”

“So what are you doing here, Ethan?”

Ethan bites the inside of his cheek and rocks on the balls of his feet. “Okay, so I was spying.” Naomi opens her mouth to say something, but Ethan beats her to the punch. “It’s not because I don’t trust you! It’s him that I don’t trust.”

“Tobias has been nothing short of a gentleman,” Naomi says and Ethan snorts. “He’s acting a lot of a lot more mature than you are, I can say that much.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you treating him like he’s a criminal when he’s given you no reason to do so.”

“He’s given me plenty of reason, Naomi!”

“The last time we saw Tobias, I was near death and he helped save my life,” Naomi says, and that’s more than enough to get Ethan to shut up.

Ethan’s heart slams against his rib cage with enough force to make him think the organ is trying to leave his body. Months have passed since the assassination attempt, but the mention of it is enough to cause Ethan to go into a panic.

“And the time before that, we stole a patient right out from under him, and before that we got into a fight at a freaking hospital softball game,” Naomi continues. “You haven’t been all good, and he hasn’t been all bad, so stop pretending to have the moral high ground.”

“This past year, you made a lot of strides in your personal life. You battled a lot with your mom, but you came out of it, a more well rounded individual, so do not let Tobias’s presence cause you to backslide. I’m not saying he has to be your best friend, but I refuse to tolerate this type of nonsense past today.”

He takes a moment to digest what she’s saying, begrudgingly of course because he doesn’t really want to admit that he hasn’t been behaving like the mature, adult professional that he usually is.

Ethan nods and places a kiss on Naomi’s forehead, his lips lingering there.

“Are you listening to me?”

Ethan kisses the apples of her cheeks, inwardly smirking as he feels Naomi smile. “I promise you that I’ll keep myself in check from now on.”

“And if you don’t, I will.”

The threat causes Ethan to lose focus. She clearly doesn’t mean it in a seductive way, but he can’t help that his brain instantly goes to the gutter when she’s involved. Now he wants nothing more than to be alone with her, with any flat surface readily available.

“Yes ma’am,” Ethan murmurs before capturing her lips with his own.

Naomi doesn’t allow herself to get swept up in the kiss, because she knows Ethan is using it to distract her. She untangles herself from his grip and pulls away before he’s able to get any more leverage.

“Can we go back to the office now?” Ethan asks.

“Absolutely not. I came here to have lunch, so we’re having lunch.”

Ethan frowns. “You still want to go through with this?”

“I didn’t come here to teach you a lesson, and I’m actually enjoying Tobias’s company, so I’m staying. And you’re staying here too.”

“No.”

“You followed me here, you don’t have a choice.”

Ethan reluctantly follows Naomi back to the table, where Tobias is studying the menu. He doesn’t even look up when he hears footsteps approaching. “I’m debating on if I want the ravioli or the chicken parm, which one–” his voice falters as he sees Ethan.

“Look who’s decided to join us for lunch!” Naomi says brightly, steamrolling over the building tension. She pushes Ethan into an empty chair, not giving him a second to turn away.

Tobias opens his mouth to object, “But–”

“I’m going to head to the restroom,” Naomi says. “And one of you guys is ordering me a limoncello, because Tobias is treating.”

She flounces off, not giving either man a chance to respond or argue with her.

Tobias laughs. “Is she always like this? So bossy?”

“Naomi is unapologetically assertive,” Ethan corrects. “She makes no bones about it.”

“The scary part about it is I’m 100 percent going to order her a limoncello, because she’s not the type of person you say no to.”

This time it’s Ethan’s turn to laugh. It’s nice to know he’s not the only unsuspecting sap that cannot say no when Naomi turns on her charm.

Once the laughter tapers off, the former friends are plunged into silence. Ethan checks the time on his watch, watching the seconds stretch on. He needs Naomi to come back. Seriously, how long does it take to use the restroom? He spares a quick glance at Tobias, who’s pointedly not making eye contact with him either.

Eventually Tobias speaks up, “Look, I didn’t come to Edenbrook to cause any trouble. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that came with more money than I could count.”

“Naveen started this team with the most honorable of intentions,” Ethan says. “This was his life’s work, and he entrusted me with it. You cannot possibly understand the loyalty I have to him, so forgive me if I’m extremely protective over it and skeptical of your motives, which haven’t always been pure.”

“I’m just here to save lives, and work on the most fascinating medical cases of our generation. I know how important this team is, and I’d never intentionally disrespect Naveen like that.��

Ethan nods. That’s all he can really ask of Tobias. “Then I guess we’re good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Another beat of silence passes and Tobias awkwardly drums his fingers along the stem of his water glass. “So...you and Valentine?”

The question is out of left field and Ethan’s brows furrow in confusion. “Uh, yeah, me and Valentine.”

“I like her,” Tobias says definitively. When Ethan glares at him, Tobias rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Relax, I get it loud and clear that she’s off limits. Besides, I know you’re head over heels in love with her.”

A scarlet flush creeps up Ethan’s neck at Tobias’s matter of fact declaration. “Love? I’m...we don’t...I don’t–”

Tobias smirks. “Oh man. You’ve got it bad.”

That much, Ethan is willing to share. “Yeah, I do.”

“Naomi did say we’re both emotionally constipated, and that blubbering you just did proves her point,” Tobias teases. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The L-word has floated around in the back of Ethan’s mind for months, but he’s always been able to squash it down, locking it away in the deepest recesses of his brain. But hearing someone else say it is something entirely different. Ethan can’t run away from the thought.

Tobias has known since last year. He suspected something when Ethan came to defense during the softball game, but it was confirmed as soon as he saw them together after the incident with the senator. He had never seen Ethan so out of sorts, not even when they competed for the affections of the same woman back in school. Naomi is different. She has the power to bring Ethan to his knees.

“I hope you know that you’re punching way above your weight with that one,” Tobias adds teasingly.

It’s something Ethan thinks about constantly. Naomi could do so much better than him, but every day she chooses him. “Absolutely.”

“And for what it’s worth, she’s just as much into you. The woman gives you heart eyes whenever you’re around. It’s disgusting, to be quite frank.”

The sentence warms Ethan from the inside out. He’ll never get over knowing Naomi wants him just as much as he wants her.

Thankfully Naomi chooses that moment to come back to the table, giving the men something else to focus their attention on. She settles into a seat next to Ethan, and he immediately wraps an arm around her, his fingertips stroking her arm. Tobias observes the fleeting moment of intimacy with a private smile.

Naomi’s eyes flicker back and forth between the men. “Everything okay over here?”

Tobias and Ethan both look at each other, a silent moment of understanding passing between them. Ethan nods. “Everything is fine.”

Naomi smiles. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “Good. Now let’s flag down a waiter and get some food.”

~v~

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#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #tobias carrick

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snelbz · 4 years

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Light Up the Ice - 12

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Co-written with @tacmc.

A/N: No tag list tonight. This is the 3rd time I've tried to post this chapter and every single time, it's crashed before I can post or save. AKA I’m about to punch my computer and don’t want to push my luck anymore. Next chapter, I will be copying and pasting my old tag list, deleting the inactive blogs, and adding those who have asked. Enjoy!

It never failed to amaze Aelin how slow business got when the university took their breaks. It was only the second day of the University of Terrasen’s fall break and she’d already had enough spare time to reorganize the stock room, deep clean the kitchen and now, she was sitting at a table in the corner, staring at a print out of her menu.

She chewed on the end of her pen and then drew a line through another item. In the four years she’d had the café, she’d never changed a single menu item. It wasn’t that anyone was complaining about her food, but she was bored with it and wanted to add some new variety. She scribbled some notes in the margin of new recipes she wanted to try to replace the old ones, but the sound of the bell above the door distracted her. She was beaming before she even got out of her chair.

“Hey,” she said, approaching Rowan and Lorcan, pressing a kiss to the cheek of the former and keeping her distance from the former. “How was practice?”

“Good. Save for the fact that I’m still sitting on the bench,” Rowan said, sighing. “Coach said I can be on the ice from now on, as long as I’m still not running drills and agree to see the trainer every day.”

“That’s great,” she said, smiling. “You hungry?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, a lopsided grin on his face.

She headed for the cash register Elide had been sitting at a few moments before. She was now working on rolling silverware father down the counter, quietly humming along to the music that played in the café. “You want the grilled cheese and tomato soup again?”

“Please,” he said, smiling. He turned to his friend and asked, “You want the Reuben, Lor?”

Lorcan didn’t reply. He was staring back towards the door.

Back towards Elide.

“Lorcan?” Rowan said, again, finally getting his teammates’ attention.

“Reuben, yeah, sounds great,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet.

“Lunch is on me,” Aelin said, eyeing him, not liking the way he turned back to glance at Elide.

She didn’t like the way Elide was sneaking glances at him either.

As she walked behind the counter, Aelin cleared her throat, making Elide jump, her fingers dropping the silverware in which she held. It clattered against the counter.

“Care to give me a hand?” Aelin asked.

Elide blinked. “It’s just two sandwiches-.”

“If the bell rings, you can come back out,” Aelin said, taking Elide by the wrist and dragging her back toward the kitchen. She called back to Rowan and Lorcan, “Make yourselves comfortable!”

Once in the kitchen, Aelin dropped Elide’s wrist and began with the sandwiches.

Elide watched her friend, her boss, skeptically. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“You were practically drooling over him,” Aelin said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Elide.

Elide’s cheeks darkened and she hurried around to the other side of the kitchen to get Rowan’s soup. “I was not.”

“You definitely were,” Aelin replied, turning and dropping the grilled cheese on top of the griddle. She may have put more cheese on than she would have for a regular customer and melty, delicious goodness dripped out the surface of the cooktop.

Elide was standing in the alley of the kitchen, looking back through the serving window at Aelin. “And…? So what if I was? He’s hot.”

Aelin fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s a hockey player, El. Rowan has told me about how he spends his away games.”

Elide was quiet as she put the soup in the window to stay warm as Aelin finished their sandwiches. If her friend and boss’s back hadn’t been facing her, she probably wouldn’t have had the courage to say, “Wow, Ace, be careful. Your hypocrisy is showing.”

She whirled, pointing a spatula at Elide. “That’s a completely different situation and you know it.”

Elide lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Aelin’s lips thinned. “Yes, you do. At least, you should. Rowan and I… it’s different.”

“If you would have known he was a hockey player, you would’ve never started seeing Rowan,” Elide went on, trying to hide both her frustration and amusement. “The fact that Lorcan plays hockey is all you can see when you look at him.”

Aelin scoffed. “Wrong. All I can see is his jackassery.”

“Jackassery?”

“It’s a word,” Aelin snapped, flipping over the sandwich on the griddle. “And, again, Rowan has told me about his post game activities when they’re on the road.”

“It doesn’t make a difference, I don’t know why you’re even upset about it,” Elide muttered, coming around to the salad station and popping a cucumber slice in her mouth. “He’s Lorcan Salvaterre. He’s the captain of the team. He dates bikini models and actresses. I’m just a broke college student. I’m just…me.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she turned to one of her oldest friends. “That’s not true, Elide. You are a phenomenal, beautiful, smart woman, and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind. Including yourself.”

Elide’s cheeks darkened, slightly, as she tried to fight the smile growing. “I’m going to go finish my silverware. Holler if you need me.”

Aelin nodded and watched as she pushed through the swinging door to the dining room. She finished up the sandwiches before grabbing Rowan’s soup and carrying them out front.

While she and Elide had been in the kitchen, Fenrys had appeared, a fast food bag open in front of him. She chuckled as she sat down Rowan and Lorcan’s food. “You know I would have cooked for you.”

His mouth was full of a massive bite of hamburger, so Lorcan answered for him. “He also knows coach would kick his ass if he knew he was eating that. Yet he does it anyway.”

“It’s so good,” Fenrys said, his mouth still full, his manners shot. “What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Rowan snorted. “Tell yourself that when you feel like shit once the grease sets in.”

Lorcan stared at his sandwich for a long moment. Then, he mumbled, “Thank you.”

Aelin blinked. Even Rowan looked nearly surprised.

“Did you just thank me?” Aelin asked, perfectly still.

Lorcan didn’t say anything else as he bit into his sandwich.

A few more people trickled in and Aelin got back to work, the shock of Lorcan’s almost-kindness still shocking her. The dinner rush, even though slower with the college campus dwindled, still kept her and Elide busy, and by the time eight rolled around, Aelin was ready to close up.

Rowan, Lorcan, and Fenrys remained at the corner table.

Elide came out of the kitchen, having grabbed her purse and coat from Aelin’s office. “I’m gonna head home, if there’s nothing else you need me to do.”

Aelin shook her head. “Nope, you’re all set. Have a good night.��

“You, too,” Elide said, smiling, and Aelin noticed that her eyes slid to the table again, before she turned and was out the door, heading around the building to the small lot behind the café.

As she approached the table, Lorcan was standing and shrugging his jacket on. “Thanks for dinner. It was good.”

Aelin was still stunned by his niceties earlier that his words barely registered. “You’re welcome, I’m glad you liked it. I guess I’ll keep it on the menu.”

“You heading out, man?” Fenrys asked, finishing off the large plate of fries he’d ordered after his burger and first order of fries was gone.

“Yeah. Got some stuff I gotta take care of.” He said nothing else, but headed for the door.

Turning towards Rowan, Aelin tried to keep her expression in check as she realized that he, too, was heading for the back lot. Rowan, not fooled by her attempts, held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not getting involved.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, and Aelin rolled her eyes as she took his plate and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ve gotta lock up,” she called out over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweet cheeks!” Fenrys called out.

Even through the swinging door, Aelin heard Rowan smack him on the back of the head.

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

Rowan skated around the ice.

He was bored shitless, not even in his hockey gear, but sweatpants and a hoodie. His hands were shoved into his pant pockets as he circled the rink, close to the sideboards. The constant blow of the whistle was the only thing keeping him awake.

He didn’t even bother asking if he could practice, even though he felt up to it. He already knew what the answer would be.

And yet, he longed for practice to last. When it was over, he’d have to make his way into the locker room for Maeve.

And he was not prepared.

He’d felt her eyes on him since the moment he hit the ice, yet he hadn’t looked over at her once. Dorian was thankfully on the other end of the rink, so as he skated by at the beginning of practice, he was able to flag him down.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” Dorian asked, leaning on the half wall separating them.

“Much better, like it never happened,” he said, and the lie was barely there.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow and snorted. “Good try. You can’t practice today.”

“No, I get it, I understand that.” Roan cleared his throat. “But, uh, is there a different massage therapist I can see?”

Dorian blinked. “Did something happen with Maeve the other day? She didn’t mention anything-.”

“She’s my ex,” Rowan interrupted.

Dorian hesitated before nodding, slowly. “I see.”

“You can massage me,” Rowan said, quickly.

“As flattered as I am, I’m not a massage therapist,” Dorian chuckled. “I can talk to-.”

“No, don’t…tell anyone. If you don’t know of anyone, it’s fine,” Rowan said, the words rushing out of him.

“Look, I don’t know Maeve very well,” Dorian began, shaking his head. “But, she seems perfectly fine, alright? Has it been a while since you’ve been together?”

Rowan gave him a curt nod.

“Then give her a chance to be civil,” Dorian said, shrugging. “If she’s disrespectful, let me know. Otherwise, I have no reason to think she won’t do her job appropriately, and if she doesn’t, then you can leave.”

He sighed, nodding, and skated off.

He spent the next two hours dreading every minute that passed.

He heard Brello’s whistle blow and slowly glided across the ice, coming to a stop next to his line.

“Everyone was looking good today,” he said, looking at them one by one. “Take it easy tonight. The boys from Eyllwe aren’t going to go easy on us tomorrow night, especially since we’ll be in their territory. I want all of you in your best form.” He gestured to Rowan. “Whitethorn will be back on the ice next week.”

There were cheers and hollers from the team and Rowan couldn’t help but smirk as Lorcan shoved him.

Brello, to everyone’s surprise, smirked as well. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your time off, but relaxation time is over. You ready to go?”

“Aye, coach,” he replied, nodding.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

After a couple more announcements from the coaching staff, everyone was skating towards the locker rooms of the practice facility and Rowan felt like his nerves were going to snap.

He took his time removing his skates and grabbing his bag, before slowly walking down the hall leading to the training rooms. He was silently praying Dorian would be in his office, right off to the side of the therapy room, but he wasn’t.

There was only one room with a light on, and with a deep breath, he approached and knocked on the half-open door.

Maeve looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Come in, I’m ready for you.”

Rowan hesitated, but went in. Dorian was right. Maybe she had changed, maybe there was nothing to worry about.

Yet Rowan felt nauseous as he approached the blanket covered table.

“I’ll give you a minute to strip down and be back.” She left without another word, shutting the door behind her.

Rowan stared at the door before kicking off his shoes then lifting his shirt over his head. He only hesitated for a moment before kicking off his sweats and laying down on the table, pulling the blanket up to his waist.

A soft knock informed him of her approach, and he grunted to let her know he was ready.

When the door reopened, the lights suddenly dimmed and Rowan awkwardly shifted on the massage table.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Rowan was grinding his teeth as she worked on the muscle in his lower back that kept spasming when she said, “I have to say, I was surprised to see you the other day. Dorian hadn’t told me who I would be working on, but…” She paused and chuckled quietly, running her hands up his back.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

When Rowan was drafted into the EHL, it had been a pretty big deal in his city, but more specifically, his university. He’d dropped out of school to accept the offer from the lower level team and climb his way to where he was. And everyone in Wendlyn knew.

There was no way Maeve didn’t know he was playing for Terrasen when she took the job.

He gave her a small nod and a quiet noise that said he was listening. She kept going, taking that as a sign he was interested in the conversation.

“I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she sighed. “Things ended so...abruptly. I’m glad to see your doing good.” Another chuckle. “Save for the injury, of course.”

It was so strange to hear another accent from Wendlyn that was still somewhat fresh. Lorcan, Gav and Fenrys, they’d been in Terrasen so long, the accent almost disappeared sometimes. But the lilt of her tone, the way she phrased certain words… It both soothed and unsettled Rowan.

“Don't you care to know how I’ve been?” She asked, her voice low. When Rowan didn’t reply, she continued on, anyway. “I’ve been pretty good. Got myself a little place in the city. A dog. Little chihuahua named Fiona.”

Rowan blinked. He was tempted to say that he hadn’t asked, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve got some pretty wealthy clients, too,” she continued, continuing to work out that knot. “For the first time in ages, I’m secure, you know? Not just financially, just…secure.”

“Good to hear,” he replied, the words sounding more like a snarl through the pain, and she dug her knuckles into his back. The sound he made was halfway between a moan and a groan, he bit his lip to cut it off, but he noted the change in the way Maeve’s hands touched him.

Her touches became less like determined movements meant to heal and were more akin to petting, brushes along his side and a slow finger down his spine.

“And you?” She asked, pulling the blanket a bit lower on his back. He’d worn underwear for just that reason, not trusting her to not make an inappropriate move. “Are you living in Orynth?”

He cleared his throat and said, “Yep. Got an apartment down the road from the university.”

His answer was short and sweet. He wasn’t trying to invite more conversation.

“Not far from me then,” she replied, humming quietly.

Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but that just made her want to ease it away. His eyes closed and he remained quiet.

“What about your personal life?” Maeve asked, at last.

Rowan didn’t answer, he just took a deep breath.

“Not trying to pry,” Maeve said, at last. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m in pain,” he said, gently, the lie coming out easy. “Not really in a mood to make conversation.”

He could have sworn he felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

Her answer was curt. “Sorry.”

She stayed quiet for the rest of the massage, and when she finished, she told him to get redressed and left, heading back out into the main training facility.

He emerged a few moments later, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his silver hair. He was already heading for the door, giving her a nod of thanks, when she spoke up.

“Rowan, wait.”

He hated hearing his name on her lips. His steps slowed and he turned around to look at her.

She hesitated slightly, but said, “I was going to go get dinner in a little bit. It’s been a while, I didn’t know if maybe you-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mae,” he sighed. The familiar nickname slipped out before he had time to stop it. It caught him off guard. “I- I gotta get home. I’ll see you later.”

Rowan had grabbed his bag and was out the door before she had time to say another word

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

Aelin was at the stove, stirring a pot of homemade marinara sauce and humming quietly along with the radio when Rowan unlocked the door to her apartment and came in. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him before turning back to the cooktop. “Hey, you. How was practice?”

“My new massage therapist is my ex.”

The words came out in a rush and Rowan wasn’t even sure he consciously knew he had planned on saying them.

Aelin’s back stiffened and she set the wooden spoon on the trivet beside the stove. Silently, she turned and asked, “Your ex-girlfriend is giving you massages?”

Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Before you say anything-.”

“Did this just start today?” she asked. Her tone held no judgement, only curiosity. However, there was a slight edge to her tone.

“She gave me the massage in my apartment-.”

Aelin held up a hand, and Rowan’s words instantly fell into silence.

Silence, where the room remained for far too long. “Aelin-.”

“Who is she?” Aelin asked, one brow raised. “I’ll kick her ass.”

“Her name is Maeve,” he said, making his way into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter. “She was my girlfriend in college. We dated for a couple of years, but… It didn’t end well. It became more about who I was in hockey, how I was playing, than it was about our relationship.”

“Maeve,” Aelin repeated, turning back to the stove. “Maeve, Maeve, Maeve… Hmm.”

Rowan was quiet, not exactly sure what to say.

“And you have to see her? You don’t have a choice?” She finally asked.

He shook his head. “Brello told me to get over my personal issues. I’m sure I can book a personal masseuse, but-.”

“No, your coach is right,” she sighed, stirring the pot, before putting the lid on and walking over to where Rowan stood. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I don’t like it, but… that isn’t really my call to make.”

Rowan let out a relieved breath. “I know, it’s not mine either. Maybe you can give me massages here to help?” He smirked and, finally, Aelin’s beautiful smile returned.

“We’ll see,” she chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Looks like I’ll just have to come to your games and make my presence known.”

“Make your presence known?” He crooned.

“I like to mark my territory,” Aelin breathed, her eyes bright.

“And I’m your territory?” Rowan grinned.

“Whether you like it or not,” Aelin said, laughing softly. “Yes, you are.”

“Hmmm,” Rowan said, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t say that I don’t like that.”

He leaned down and kissed her one more time before asking, “So you aren’t mad?”

She stepped away, back to the stove, and said, “No, I’m not mad.” She paused and pulled a few spices from the cupboard. “Do I like it? Of course not, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Once I finish up this round of therapy, I won’t need it again,” he promised. “No more fights, no more getting slammed into the boards. I won’t have to see her anymore.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back to him. “You can’t make that promise, who’s to say what could happen?”

Rowan cringed. “That’s true. No more fighting though, I mean that.”

Aelin nodded, and he could tell she believed him.

He took a step closer and brushed her hair back. “You look beautiful.”

Aelin’s lips quirked as she said, “Trying to kiss my ass to get back on my good side?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and kissed her forehead, softly. “Is it working?”

“Hmmm,” Aelin began, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Not yet, keep trying.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. “Now?”

Aelin sighed. “Getting there.”

“Only getting there, huh?” He breathed, his lips still brushing hers.

“I guess you’re going to have to step your game up,” Aelin cooed, slipping her hands down his back and into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Rowan’s grin was positively feline as he picked her up and carried her back into her bedroom.

Dinner was forgotten about for quite a while.

#lui #light up the ice #rowaelin hockey fic #snacmc #snelbz lui #snelbz tacmc collab #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

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bubblesuga · 4 years

Text

Special-Tea

Summary: Yoongi’s always been a coffee man. When stuck at the studio in the early hours of the morning, he craves caffeine. The only problem with that is there’s no coffee shops open at three in the morning. So, he finds himself at the next best thing, a 24 hour tea shop where he finds you.

Warnings: cussing, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving)

W/C: 4,798

It’s too early for this.

Or maybe it’s too late.

Yoongi isn’t sure. In fact, he’s pretty sure his clock stopped working three hours ago. Unless the last few minutes have felt like hours, then Yoongi was on the verge of tearing every piece of equipment from the wall and smashing it into a million pieces.

Yoongi’s been working on this album for far too long. His fingers are cramped from continuously playing the same three notes over and over just hoping and praying that something will come to him. He’s confused more than anything. Before he had no problem spitting out 2 or 3 songs in a day, recording demos and having the studio ready to record for the other members the following day.

Lately, however, he’s lucky if he can even get a concept for a song down. It’s like his mind has been clouded over with writers block and he’s not getting anywhere. Like someone sucked his ability to compose music right from his brain with a straw.

He tosses the pen he had been anxiously tapping on the desk into his bag, along with his notebook, and he stands abruptly.

Scoffing at his phone, he glares at the black 4:37 on the screen while the elevator in the BigHit offices slides downward. There’s no coffee shops open yet, there has to be something though. He just needs caffeine, though he could really go for an iced americano with-

“Special-tea...?” He raises an eyebrow at his phone, Google holding up options for the nearest place selling caffeinated beverages. Rolling his eyes, he begins the short journey to the one 24 hour shop within a five mile radius.

What kind of a name is ‘Special-tea’? Who sat in an office and thought, ‘ah you know what? Let’s name a tea shop but make it punny.’

“Stupid.” He grumbles to himself. He’s well aware that he’s far too tired to be having human interaction right now but he needs to get some progress done. At this point he’ll take a ghost of a song.

Stepping into the tea shop, he’s overwhelmed by the smell of flowers. Undeniably strong, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts before stepping all the way in. As the door chimes, he hears a gasp and a patter of foot steps.

“Welcome to Special-tea! How are you doing today?”

The voice is loud, echoing off of the various shelves scattered around the shop with loose tea for sale. He whips his head towards the register, spotting you.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He didn’t realize how sore his voice was from attempting to record backing vocals earlier in the day, but it came out gruff and quiet. A stark contrast to the bubbly barista in front of him, her nose dusted in flour and a messy apron protecting her clothes. Well, attempting at least, because Yoongi has to hold back a smile when he notices hand prints of flour on your backside.

“What can I get you this morning?” you question, leaning over the counter and causing Yoongi to blush when he notices the way you’re smiling. When you meet his eyes, Yoongi can tell you recognize him. For a moment he feels the need to brace himself, but soon realizes you’re calm.

Yoongi returns a smile, haphazardly running his fingers through his hair. “Dumb question, but do you guys sell coffee?”

“Coffee? No, but we do sell black earl grey. I’m told that’s a close comparison as far as bitterness goes,” You explain, turning to the shelf behind you and pulling out a bag of tea, “you’re welcome to smell it if you like.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward and sniffing the bag. He backs away quickly and watches you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, “It’s not exactly a new tea drinker’s type of tea.”

“I’m not really a new tea drinker,” he grumbles, wiping his nose, “I’m a tea drinker only in times of desperation.”

She smiles again, “What causes said desperation?”

Yoongi rolls his neck, “I’m trying to write another song. Get the ball rolling to finishing up an album.”

“BE, right? I’ve heard good things about the process,” you say softly, surprising Yoongi by your admission to being a fan, “I figured it would be finished already?”

His eyes stay trained on you as you turn back to the shelves, rummaging through various boxes of tea. It takes him a moment to realize what your question was, so he sucks in a breath, “Ah, yeah. It’s nearly there, we just need one more track because one of them got trashed.”

Why is he revealing so much to a stranger? Namjoon is going to kill him.

“Trashed? Why’s that?”

“We realized the song itself didn’t follow any of the messages we wanted to put out there.”

Damn it, Yoongi. Stop talking.

You finally stop rummaging and pull out a bag of tea without showing Yoongi. He tries to catch a glimpse but instead watches as you boil more water and begin steeping the tea.

“What kind of message did it have?” You ask, leaning backward against the counter and crossing your arms. Having expected a follow up question, Yoongi swiftly dismisses it, “What kind of tea are you making?”

“The kind you drink.” You smirk.

He lowers his gaze at you, “It’s kind of your job to tell the customer what they’re getting.”

You laugh, “Alright. Jasmine green tea. It’s subtle enough that it won’t get your coffee loving tongue in a twist, and has enough caffeine to keep you up to finish whatever you’re working on.”

Yoongi is happy with this response, taking the time to lean away from the counter and gaze around the shop. It’s small, something he’s definitely not used to from coffee shops. The earthy smells from earlier have dwindled down to a nice summery scent, lavender filling his nose the closer he got to the register.

As much as he tried to keep his eyes away from the cute girl behind the counter, he couldn’t help but turn back and watch you as you organize various things. Something about the way your hair slips from the messy bun it’s in and your charismatic way of helping him while also providing a sense of normalcy drew him in in a way he has never experienced before.

“Order up, Suga.”

He shakes his head from his gaze, walking back up to the counter and pulling out his wallet.

“On me,” you say, “besides... don’t want to make you pay for something you may not like.”

Yoongi nods, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ and bringing the cup up to his mouth.

Without missing a beat, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a 10000 won bill, stuffing it in the tip jar. He gives you a small smile, thanking you again as he turns towards the door.

“Wait!” you call, “What do you think?”

Yoongi raises his hand up just before he walks out of the door, “It’s delicious!”

The smile on your face was worth Yoongi’s little white lie.

~*~*~

“Alright, this is great! We’ll record tomorrow, yeah?” Seokjin speaks for the entire group as Yoongi plays them the demo of the song he was finally able to right. There were a few jabs here and there about the auto tune Yoongi likes to utilize, but other than that it was well received.

The only person he could think was you, though, because if he hadn’t have tasted that tea he would have never thought of writing what he did.

“How did you manage to spit out something like this in a night?” Jungkook teases, patting Yoongi’s shoulder softly.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi chuckles, clicking sound files around and creating a copy of his demo.

Jungkook grins, “Who’s the girl that made you think of that?”

“No girl,” he defends, “a good writer doesn’t need actual experiences. All from the imagination, young Jungkookie.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case at all.”

Yoongi shushes him, saving his project one more time before deciding to kick everyone out and lock the studio.

Of course they’re going to find out eventually what happened. Especially since Park Jimin follows Yoongi to the elevator. Once they’re the only ones inside, Jimin turns to his Hyung, “Tell me about the girl.”

Yoongi, knowing that no one else could read him better than Jimin, sighs in defeat. “She’s gorgeous. Her nose had flour on it, her hair was messy, and she was everything that I’m not used to. She has a smirk- god the way she smiles- it just makes me melt for her.”

Jimin seems pleased with this answer, “and you’re going to see her now?”

“Yep.”

The bell above his head is a welcoming sound. This time you’re not waiting in the back. Instead, you’re counting money at the register as he enters. This time you wore a purple apron, and it’s clean compared to a couple of days ago. You still haven’t looked up, so Yoongi walks slowly up to the counter and taps his fingers twice.

“Ah- Yoongi! Good evening, what can I get you started today?”

“The same as last time, please.” Yoongi grins, watching you carefully as you nod at him and turn on your heel and kick on the kettle. The way the straps of the apron tie right above the curve of your back has Yoongi’s mind beginning to wander. It’s been years since he even thought of looking at a woman like this in person, but for some reason when it comes to you he just can’t stop.

“So,” you break the silence, “how did that song writing go?”

“Oh,” his cheeks are a rosy pink, “it went well. I showed the other members the demo and we’re recording it tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.” You grin, pouring the water over the tea bags. Yoongi thanks you quietly and pulls out his wallet once more. You shake your head, “Nope. Your last tip was enough to cover your next 3 drinks.”

Yoongi nods, “Oh okay.” but then ignores you, slipping another 10000 won bill into the tip jar. Just as you’re about to open your mouth in protest, Yoongi sends you a wink and salutes on his way out before he closes the door behind him.

~*~*~

Your alarm is too loud.

It’s like a banshee screeching in your ear, like a baby crying, like a rooster crowing. You groaned loudly at the sound and threw your hand on top of it, rolling out of bed to drag yourself to the shower.

It’s been a few weeks since Yoongi became a regular to your work. The initial star struck feeling you got when you were around him had dwindled away, and now you feel you can call him a friend.

Your routine was as follows: Yoongi enters the shop, you make him his drink, and he stays and distracts you for a while. Much against everything you stand for, you drop everything to talk to him. It causes you to have to move much faster than usual on your prep work but you didn’t mind, because you loved seeing the way Yoongi would laugh at your jokes.

You feel like you know the man beyond the idol. The person who hides under the shadow of a stoic demeanor is bright. The way you perceived him prior to actually knowing him was wrong. He is, without a single doubt in your mind, the most interesting man on the planet.

When you arrived at work, your evening worker is already willing to go.

“I counted the safe and there’s some money missing. If Summer asks, it wasn’t me.” Flora says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Okay,” you raise an eyebrow, walking towards the back, “any orders?”

“Uh, yeah!” you hear her call, “chocolate covered strawberries for 6!”

“Awesome-- thank you!” You call back just as the door dings and Flora exits the store. You take a moment to walk through the kitchen to make sure everything is set up and then you pull your apron over your head.

The doorbell dings and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face.

“What’ll it be today, Mr. Min?” You still stand in the back, glancing in the mirror to make sure you look your best.

“Honey butter croissant,” he yells back, “how did you know it was me?”

When you’re happy with your look, you finally walk to the front and smile, “So we’re changing it up today, are you okay? You sick or something?”

“I just wanted something new,” Yoongi looks different today. He’s dressed in a cream cardigan and black jeans, the usual rose tint to his cheeks is a bit stronger today.

“Okay, I’ll have to bake some new ones. It’ll take about 20 minutes if you’re willing to wait.” You explain, with an unsure smile.

Yoongi looks around for a moment, “Ugh, I guess I can wait.”

“Awesome,” you speak, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

As you walk towards the back, Yoongi listens carefully to you humming along to a song that’s been stuck in your head for days. You pull out a couple of fresh croissants and prep a baking sheet. Sticking it into the oven, you brush the flour from your hands onto your apron and walk back to the front.

Yoongi jumps up from his phone when he notices you standing in front of him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, the freckles across your nose easing him into a sense of comfort. “Do you plan on telling me why you kept ordering a drink you hate?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Now why on Earth would you think that I hate it?”

“Welp,” you laugh, “you’re usually my only customer at night, and every morning I would check the outside garbage to see if it needed to be changed, yet the only thing I would find is a full cup of tea, with your name on it.”

For a moment, Yoongi was silent. He stumbles over his thoughts in an attempt to come up with some type of excuse. Something to hide why he had been coming here all this time. Yet, he couldn’t. So instead he looks up from his chair and smirks, “How else was I supposed to talk to the pretty girl at the tea shop?”

You swallow, your mind racing a million miles a second. Before you have the chance to respond, he stands. His body is close, and he smells so good. His cologne is expensive, herbal and earthy, and it makes you want to bury your nose into his neck and inhale. His eyes, the usual dark brown has turned into honey, drawing you in and keeping you there.

“You could have asked me on a date, we could have gone from there.” You shrug, feeling Yoongi’s calloused hand gently push away a stray hair behind your ear. He doesn’t move it afterwards, though, instead his thumb finds home on your cheekbone, stroking gently. His face has shifted, and he laughs. Almost bitterly, causing your heart to sink.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in the types of dates I get. You see,” his other hand slithers around your waist, “we get long walks in the park but we have to wear a mask and a hat. We get picnics by streams late enough at night that we know no one will be around. Sometimes we can slip away to another country where we pray that no one recognizes us, but with my schedule that thought is laughable at best.”

“What if I like long walks in the park with masks and late night picnics?” You breath, the look in your eyes stirring Yoongi’s heart.

“Then I guess we’d have to give it a shot, wouldn’t we?” He whispers. Your eyes flutter from his eyes to his lips, silently begging him to close the gap. You could sense his hesitancy, though. It blossoms from his chest and heats up his entire body but for some reason he’s frozen, completely still. He’s fighting, urging himself to lean forward and kiss you but he can’t move.

Good news for him, though, because you take a moment to lean up and press your lips against his softly. It’s gentle, easing him into the feeling of you so close to him. His lips taste of mint chocolate, causing you to smile into the kiss. It takes a moment, and for a second you’re hoping that you didn’t read the situation wrong until finally, he kisses back. It’s eager, introducing his tongue to yours and grinning idly into the kiss.

You allow him to back you up against the counter, boxing you in and surrounding you completely. His hands move down and pull your hips close to his, feeling the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“We’re entering dangerous territory here, baby.” Yoongi speaks, pulling away just a little bit. His eyes stay closed and his breath is hot on your face.

“How so?” You whisper, afraid of the answer but also intrigued. He doesn’t respond, instead capturing your lips and breaking the kiss repeatedly. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders and he smiles at the knowledge that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

A groan fills the air when you finally buck your hips towards him. In a feverish attempt to feel more, you wrap your legs around his waist and hang from his shoulders. Just as you’re about to slip your hand between your bodies, the timer on the oven blares through the building, shattering the small walls you built around the two of you.

“Fuck--” you gently pull away, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Quickly, you slip off the counter and rush to the oven. You pull out the croissants and douse them in honey butter from the fridge. You watch the butter melt for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

Did that just happen? Did that actually hap-

When you walk back out, Yoongi’s hands are clasped behind his back. He mutters a small thank you as you hand him the plate. He rips off a corner of the pastry, and pops it into his mouth.

There’s a beat of silence. One-- two-- then he speaks.

“It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I work hard on them.”

~*~*~

“And you just left her?!”

Oh god. Yoongi has never seen Jimin so angry before. The small man can yell louder than ever imagined, and Yoongi would be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared.

A mere 30 hours ago, Yoongi had his tongue buried in your mouth and he was the happiest man on the planet. Then it changed quickly once he realized what exactly this could entail. Even though he wanted nothing more than to bend you over the dough table and take you roughly while you scream his name, he couldn’t help but over think.

Standing in Jimin’s living room, he expected to be comforted and given some nice advice from his friend. Instead he’s learning that he pulled a bad move.

“You’re supposed to be giving me advice, not yelling at me!” Yoongi yells back, gesturing his hands wildly. Even though he’s scared, he can’t help but defend himself to a certain extent.

“Hyung, I thought you’d have enough intelligence not to kiss her and run!”

Yoongi groans and drops onto the couch, his face falling into his hands, “The things I was feeling scared me.”

“Oh my god, go to the tea shop!”

~*~*~

Yoongi spots a customer at the register. He opens the door quietly, the break of dawn just behind the mountains. This was different to Yoongi’s usual time and you know that, your eyes going wide in surprise while you finish ringing up the last customer.

Once Yoongi hears the heels clack against the tile and the door open, he rounds the shelf and walks up to you.

“I’m sorry I left so quickly yesterday. I just- I got scared. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation but after thinking over it I realized that I really need you to kiss me again,” Yoongi speaks fast, quicker than you’ve heard him before and it takes a moment for the words to settle in your mind, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You breathe out a laugh, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his again. This time it’s slow and soft, different but Yoongi loves every second of it. The minute you kiss him, you taste coffee. You hold back another laugh, pulling away with mock hurt, “You cheated.”

Yoongi brows furrow, “I don’t follow.”

“You drink coffee and then come try to sweep tea shop girl off her feet? Cheater!” You tease, putting your hand on your chest as though you’re in pain.

Yoongi grins, “You’re crazy. I would never drink coffee, not when I can taste you. You’re probably going to have to kiss me to make sure.”

You gnaw your lip, leaning upward and pressing a kiss to him again. He giggles against your lips, a sound that you will never get sick of. You pull away much to both of your dismay, “Let me take you back to my apartment. It’s small but it’s big enough for the two of us.”

He agrees instantly.

Yoongi waits in the car while your relief shows up and you clean up. He taps his feet against the pedals anxiously, the thought of what could happen exciting him. You have clouded his mind for a weeks now and as you skip out of the building and hop into Yoongi’s passenger seat, he can’t wait to get his hands on you.

He follows your directions, his hand resting on your thigh as he tries not to speed. When he pulls into the parking lot, you lead him up the stairs to your apartment.

Nervously, you toss your bag onto the couch, “It’s not much. . . but it works for me.”

Yoongi grins, “It’s quaint. Cute.” He reaches forward and wraps his arms around you in a back hug. You welcome it, craning your neck to kiss him.

“I need a shower. Join me?”

Yoongi nods, “Yes please.”

There’s a thumb in your chest louder than you’ve ever felt before. This is actually happening. Min Yoongi, is being lead to your bathroom and you’re about to shower with him.

Yoongi doesn’t waste much time once the door is shut behind you. He latches his lips onto your neck, tugging at the hem of your shirt and easing it over your head.

“I want to make sure you want this as much as I do.” Yoongi says breathlessly as he catches a glimpse of your bare chest. You don’t respond verbally, but you look him directly in the eye as you slip your pants and panties off in one swoop.

You stand in the shower, turning on the water and peaking your head behind the curtain, “What’s taking you so long?”

Yoongi moves fast as he tears off his own clothing, and you close the curtain so you don’t spot his body too quickly. Building suspense for yourself, you wet your hair under the warm water and feel your muscles relax after your long day of work. Although your eyes are closed, your ears are trained on Yoongi. He steps behind you, continuing his assault on your neck.

You sigh happily, but everything changes the minute Yoongi opens his mouth.

“Spread your legs, baby. I’ll hold you up.”

Instantly you feel your cunt clenching around nothing (unfortunately). You immediately allow Yoongi to guide your leg to the edge of the tub. He slides a finger in between your folds, collecting your wetness all while his lips trail kisses across your chest.

Finally you allow yourself to open your eyes, gasping at the image in front of you. Yoongi’s body is as rosy as his cheeks, his knees on the bottom of the floor and his face level with your heat.

“Ah, now you open your eyes.” He smirks, and doesn’t give you much warning as he licks a long stripe from your heat to your clit. You instantly moan, tossing your head back and bracing yourself against the wall of the shower.

He moves ruthlessly, consuming you like a starved man. The feeling of him against you doesn’t compare to the imagine in front of you. His fingers reach between your folds and pump in and out of you while he continues to nip and suck mercilessly at your clit. He looks up at you through his lashes, and you swear you feel him smirk against you as he speeds up his thrusts and sucks as hard as he can.

“You look so good like this,” you moan, “your tongue feels so good.”

Yoongi pulls away to let out a groan, “Fuck.” His chest is heaving and he reaches a hand down to squeeze his shaft for a moment of relief, then he stands.

“Think you can hold your leg up for a moment, baby?” Yoongi instructs, laying a kiss on your forehead as you spot his hand pumping himself a few more times. You nod silently, allowing yourself to relish in his glistening skin as he runs the head of his cock over your slit. You appreciate his concern, and you know he’s going to take care of you after he’s finished ruining you. You couldn’t be more excited as Yoongi’s cock continues to slip over you.

For a moment you feel him enter, both of you gasping at the contact but just as quickly as he enters, he slips out.

“No,” you shake your head, “please no teasing. Fuck me.”

Yoongi gives you a devilish grin, his hand holding up your thigh once again as he finally begins to push into you. He takes pleasure in the way that your lips part with every inch that he pushes in. Yoongi was proud of his size, and your reaction further fuels his ego. Finally, he bottoms out and you’re rewarded with being filled to the hilt with nothing but Yoongi.

He moans your name in your air after you adjust to his size, beginning to thrust faster. “So... tight. Fuck.” He sinks his teeth into your collarbone, relishing in the feeling of your nails scratching into his back. He can’t bare to leave your cunt for more than a few seconds, because the way you clench tightly around him was the closest thing to Heaven on Earth that he’s ever experienced. Every one of his thrusts is meant with a rewarding moan from you, your juices coating his cock more and more and fueling his pleasure.

“Ah,” you moan, “Yoongi. So good.” Your brain was absolute mush. You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“So good at taking my cock,” he laughs breathlessly, “I can’t believe how well you’re doing.”

You surrender yourself completely to Yoongi at his words, his encouragement pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m close.”

“Good girl, cum for me. Cream on my cock.” Yoongi praises, kissing your lips tenderly as you feel yourself clench tightly around him. White hot electric shocks rush through your body, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He breaks the kiss with a bite to your bottom lip, “Take my cum. Take it- fuck fuck-” Yoongi’s cut off by his orgasm taking over, and you open just in time to see his jaw drop as he rides out both of your orgasms with increasingly slow thrusts until finally, he slips out, the feeling of his release dripping down your thighs.

He rests his forehead against yours, suddenly hyper aware of the water dripping down your bodies.

You lower your legs onto the floor, Yoongi holding you up while you struggle to regain your balance. The two of you giggle, sharing kisses for a moment as you both work off the pleasure.

You reach behind Yoongi, squeezing shampoo into your hands and massaging it through your scalp as Yoongi takes your soap across your body. It’s such a simple move, but even though you’ve already had sex he still is taking the time to take care of you. It’s endearing, and it fills you with hope for something more with Yoongi.

As you both finish the shower, you step out of the bath tub and reach for a towel.

“Oh, by the way, Yoongi?” You say as he runs a brush through your hair. You bite your lip to hold back a giggle as he stops, “Yes baby?”

“I still tasted coffee.”

Yoongi laughs, “God damn it.”

#midway through this i lost everything and had to start over lmao #that was a fun journey but bc i could actually sit and write i wanted to get something out for y'all #ty for reading!!#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x you smut #suga x reader #suga x you

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lucycola · 4 years

Text

The Lone Survivor: Part 2

Spock x Fem!Reader

Premise: Fem!Reader accidentally bonds with Spock when rescued from her own starship crash. The Golden Trio realize the footage from the wreck could wrongfully incriminate the reader. They attempt to find a way out of this. PART ONE HERE

SLOW BURN. Eventual smut in later parts. More Bones dialogue than probably necessary but WHATEVER. Fatherly Bones. There will be more one on one Reader and Spock in part three. Right now it plays like a normal episode with build up because I’m stubborn.

WARNINGS: Movie amnesia, sexual themes if you squint, mentions of death, and implied one-sided matrimony.

Part 2: The Night We Met I Knew I Needed You So

There was no mistaking the final moments illustrated in the found footage from the Calvary. It was you assaulting the crew on the bridge-you setting a course straight to destruction on Toravalve 9.

However, Mister Spock had disagreed. He had reached into your mind and saw you in your own eyes. It couldn’t have been you.

After carrying you back to the medbay you were put safely back in your bed with a Doctor McCoy who hovered over you like a disgruntled mother bear. With the tricorder at your forehead you pleaded with him to relax.

Captain Kirk had been summoned to hear what you both, or rather, Mister Spock had to say. For some stranger reason Spock omitted the existence of the orange tape. He deliberated his own findings via meld instead.

“A copy of sorts, Captain.”

“And you’re sure you saw the Lieutenant looking...at her own self?”

“As unlikely as it may seem, it is was I saw. Although it was also demonstrated that the Lieutenant received a severe head injury before witnessing her own self attack the crew members.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t some kind of...” Kirk deliberated for a moment, “... out of body experience.”

“Also unlikely. Although it is perceivable Lieutenant L/N maybe have suffered delusions after cranial trauma I possess a suspicion that an illusion was made unto the Lieutenant and the crew.”

Kirk glanced at you for a moment and back to Spock, quizzically at first, but then with a dashing smirk. “A hunch, Spock? How very...human.”

Spock quirked a brow, hands still stonily behind his back, “All endeavors begin with a hypothesis.”

“You believe me,” you murmured, from your bed still although no longer in your white, medbay gown you were graciously presented with black Starfleet fatigues. Nurse Chapel had gently maneuvered your unruly waves into two pleats that were coming undone slowly.

A stark contrast to the pristine, polished head science officer.

The fingers on Spock’s right hand flexed at the sound of your voice.

He only turned his head to look at you, “Empirical data is what needs to be obtained-whether I believe what memories are buried in your subconscious is incidental.”

“They still don’t feel real,” you admitted. Not even your name felt real.

“Such an admission will not help your case and I advise you keep that opinion to yourself, Lieutenant.”

You felt like he was chiding you. Your ground your jaw slightly and you knew he could feel it: the aggravation, the impatience. Fear.

His right fingers flexed again, but his expression, unchanging as ever, gave nothing away.

The electric pool of warmth in the back of your mind hushed you, told you to remain calm. Diplomatic.

How could looking at your own self feel real? ‘She’ seemed so real. You had walked around the corner and met yourself, squaring you up instantly. She lunged for you and you wrestled with her, shocked at the fact that you had your own hands around your throat. They weren’t your hands. It was an imposter.

How? That was the real question.

“How do we find proof then, Mister Spock?” Kirk asked, reinserting himself.

“We locate the imposter and confirm my hypothesis.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Kirk replied.

“Indeed it will not be so. Commander Craft is aware of the meld that took place and will order me to testify my findings against the lieutenant. Until the Lieutenant’s sanity can be declared-”

“I’m sure I can help with that,” the doctor said, almost appearing out of nowhere.

“What is left is concrete evidence,” Spock added.

“The imposter,” Kirk finished, nodding.

“Who’s Commander Craft?” you asked.

He turned to look at you. You were made to feel the oblivious child with everyone in the room talking about you. However, you listened and you absorbed. You were careful with your input. Listen first, talk later, you thought to yourself. The presence in the back of your mind hummed in monotonic approval as if to say, good girl.

You wondered what those words tasted like on Spock’s lips. You shuddered in embarrassment and turned your head away.

Spock coughed uncharacteristically, “Commander Craft is the elected official heading the investigation crew from the Federation. We were contacted yesterday and were to present a full report of our findings and happenings.”

Which included the bond. That detail in itself was still above you, not fully explained nor understood. You could feel it for what it was and knew he was there. Not why or how, however.

“We must garner more time,” Spock continued to his captain, “And possibly keep myself from testifying.”

“We could declare you insane,” the doctor quipped earning another brow arch from his opposing.

“You’re asking for a loophole,” Kirk stated.

“Essentially, Captain.”

Kirk seemed to know there was more to it, the way he pursed his lips and put his fists on his hips. You knew yourself that if Spock testified against you with what he saw in the meld then there was no evidence against you truly-just what you yourself witnessed. However, Spock would be asked to tell the whole truth and that included the tape. If you were deemed crazy then your own experiences would be null and void.

Did Kirk already know about the tape?

Kirk sighed,” Spock, I...we’d be misleading not only Starfleet, but the Federation. This isn’t the first time you’ve-” he glanced at you, “-taken the unorthodox route to obtain justice.”

“Then I am asking for your trust, Captain.”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed then softened. He relented and with a sturdy tone which meant business as he relayed, “I suppose you already a loophole in mind then?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Spock paused, fighting to look at you.

“Well, aren’t you gonna tell us?” the doctor asked.

“Proposals are not so elementary to make on Vulcan, even when it is logical...but also yet not as it could fare unfavorable circumstances. Especially if one party is unwilling.”

It took Kirk a moment, and even the doctor even longer.

“You mean...?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You’re willing to marry her so you don’t have to testify?” he asked incredulously.

You were stupefied, impressed, but stupefied. The stoic Vulcan could play dirty. An actual proposal.

“You’re going to marry her?” Bones asked, mortified, “She’s a person...not a pawn! This is her life we’re meddling with. Marriage is a serious thing-”

“You’ll find, Doctor, that I am quite serious.”

“You could wreck her life.”

“I intend on saving it.”

Spock, your heart breathed.

“It seems like a reach for you, Spock,” Kirk said, “They would never believe the both of you, even if Y/N did agree.”

“It will be most believable as the Lieutenant and I have already made a bond.”

Silence befell everyone.

“You can’t be serious,” the doctor said finally, a fierce protectiveness in his voice. “At a time like this-”

“It was not intended as I am careful to shield my mind when partaking tactility with other forms-but, she called to me.”

And he had found you in the dark.

“She accepted it-although it is possible that may be due to the extreme duress she was suffering.”

“And you were there to save her,” Bones finished, a grave distaste in his voice.

“Such a bond can be mediated by a healer with moderate difficult just as a Terran divorce can be secured.”

It was a slap to the face. He was as willing to ‘save’ you as he was to dump you and leave you for dead. Red hot turmoil threatened in your core and you clenched your blankets. What was the point then?

Your crew was dead, your reputation tarnished, and everyone thought you were a murderer.

Let me die, you thought, just let me die.

“Certainly not,” Spock said quietly. Both the Captain and the Doctor eyed him wearily as this random statement.

“So you...negating your-”

“No, sir. I am simply waiting for Lieutenant L/N’s input on the matter.”

“There’s no way in hell she’d agree to this. The bond is clearly one-sided, Spock. How could you be so irresponsible?” Bones chided.

“A explanation escapes me.” He was still looking at you with smoldering eyes, with bright stars dancing behind them. Cold, but fierce.

What other shot did you have? How else could you bide time while searching for this monster? You wanted to give up. It would be easy.

Kirk leaned in to his second in command and suggested softly, “Perhaps you should ask more properly, Mister Spock. She is a lady. Bones is right. It’s her life.”

“Lieutenant-”

Kirk elbowed him.

“Y/N,” he corrected himself, “Will-”

“Yes,” you blurted in a hushed voice, “I will marry you, Mister Spock.”

You were left in your bed again under strict supervision this time. You reveled in the shock of what you’d just agreed to, and even the shock of the situation in its entirety. Rediscovering the monster that claimed your crew and your identity was still fresh and seeing it through your own eyes again with the meld drained the life out of you. You were exhausted, but your mind still raced. ‘It’ was on the ship-it had to be. They didn’t find a copy of you or anyone else in the wreckage. You wondered how recognizable some of your crewmates were and you had to still your frantic thoughts.

“What ever is going on up there it needs to stop. You heart rate is very high.” Doctor McCoy was already readying a hypo.

“That...thing. It might be here-”

“We’re on high alert, looking for any copies of ourselves. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened,” he tried to assure you.

“There are no red lights.”

“They get annoying after awhile. Whatever it is, it’s damn good at hiding. But we’ll flush it out. The Captain has a plan.”

“Did Mister Spock tell you the imposter can read your memories? That’s how it tricked me. Did he tell the captain?” you asked, wring your hands with the blanket.

“Your guess is better than mine.”

You thought back to Spock’s omission to the orange tape. Always flipping back and forth between elusive affection and monotonous professionalism. Marry me. Divorce after.

“He’s hard to place sometimes.”

“And you agreed to marry him.”

“I did,” you blurted stubbornly. “We’re bonded.”

Bones suddenly became eye level with you, bracing both hands on the rail. “But do you know what that even means?”

You arched a brown similar to Vulcan fashion, “Do you, good doctor?”

Bones shook his head and instead asked, “Sleep now or later? Does it help with the nightmares?”

“Yes, I think so. Now, I think. Doctor?”

“Yes, kitty?”

“Thankyou.”

Sleep was apart of the healing process and being roused from it interrupted that. That was at least what Bones tried to argue when the captain requested your presence in the conference room. Flanked by your fiancé and the kindly captain himself you were expected to hold an interview of sorts with Commander Craft via telecom before his arrival at the crash site. Several ships had already come to help clean up.

“What am I supposed to say?” you half pleaded with them, “I’m not good at lying.”

“You do not have to be deceitful. However, if you find yourself under duress the commander may suspect a guilt as I had sensed upon our initial meeting,” Spock replied, one arm linked on your good side.

Your other arm supported a crutch when had a nervous hand floating behind it via the captain.

Kirk shot a reassuring look your way. “I recommend the truth. Tell him what you told me, and you’ll be fine. He’s a bit of a stickler for rules and he’s tough on the stand-”

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“Or...a bit of theatrics couldn’t hurt if you get too overwhelmed. You did just lose your crew.”

“How could I forget?” Your lip quivered.

You three paused at the door.

“I trust my first officer, Y/N,” Kirk turned to face you, “As unorthodox as this has become, I put trust into his melds and by what he has told me you didn’t do anything wrong. That thing-that monster did.”

You couldn’t stop the tears dribbling. “Captain, I let my crew die.”

“Any death having occurred was unintentional on your part, Lieutenant, ”Spock said in his chilly tone, “As was demonstrated in your memory you tired to apprehend and fend off the creature, but to no avail. You did everything in your power. The human emotional phenomena your are experiencing is common upon singular entities having being spared from genocide.”

“That is?” Kirk asked.

“Survivor’s guilt,” you sighed, finishing the statement for you fiancé.

Commander Craft was not unkind, nor did he smile. He was neither young or old and his questions were fairly basic as the captain’s were three days earlier. You recounted all you could remember, and it was stressed by you and the captain that you had lost most of your general memory due to head trauma. Whether he seemed convinced was unknown to you. You tried to hold back in your distress. The warmth in the back of your mind wrapped around the little knot that pain and anxiety was birthed. It was squeezed it slowly, like the grasp of a hand. You delivered your answers calmly.

“The double of yourself, you saw. Did you see it transform from your father to yourself?” the commander asked.

“No sir.”

“Have you seen a copy of yourself since you boarded the Enterprise?”

“No sir.”

“And no foreign entity has been detected on the ship?”

“No sir,” the captain replied.

“Mmm,” the commander paused for the first time in what seemed like hours. “L/N, had you ever experiences delusions or hallucinations before?”

“I don’t remember.”

“And did you experience the trauma to your head before or after you saw yourself sabotaging the ship?”

“I...” you glanced, “I’m not sure. After?”

“Do you remember hitting your head at all?”

“I remember the copy throwing me hard against the wall and everything going black.” You tried to strengthen your voice, but it kept cracking. You heart continued to race. “And-”

It flashed.

“When I let my father on the ship. I went black there too. But I’m not sure if I hit my head that time.”

“And Mister Spock you were able to witness what Lieutenant L/N saw?”

“Affirmative.”

“But...through her point of view.”

Fuck. You had a feeling he would try to pull the crazy card.

“Were there any observation tapes recovered from the crash?”

“My crew obtained few, but to my knowledge they are still processing them,” the captain answered smoothly.

“Has any other information been made available to any of you?”

You could feel the edges of your vision blacken. You couldn’t make eye contact with him. Cold sweat had broken from your brow. A cold, steady hand placed itself to your brow. The natural warmth on your mind shimmered.

“She has a fever, Captain.”

“I won’t tolerate any nonsense, Lieutenant-”

“Commander, she has just lost four-hundred members of her family to a people-eating imposter!” Kirk bellowed lowly, “She’s kept it together well so far. I commend her efforts. You have the wrong idea about her.”

“Until I can find proof of this ‘imposter’ and until her psyche can be cleared by one of our doctors then we’ll see. This isn’t the first time the Federation has had to deal with the Enterprise’s shenanigans.”

“People eating?” you whispered in disbelief. Oh my god.

Spock caught on to Kirk’s unnecessary honesty. “It was discovered the imposter’s prime directive was to use the Calvary’s crew as sustenance.”

You toppled forwards and were caught and cradled by your fiancé.

“Take her to the medbay, Mister Spock,” Kirk ordered.

“Call for the doctor. I am not taking my eyes off her until we arrive!” the commander snapped.

“By the time Doctor McCoy arrives she will succumb to shock. I must attend to my t’hy’la in the most logical and efficient manner possible.”

Kirk fought the need to smile, not realizing that your theatrics weren’t really theatrics.

PART THREE

#spock #mister spock #mr spock #startrek #tos #star trek #spock x reader #spock x fem!reader #doctor mccoy #bones #jim kirk #captain kirk #kirk #oc #reader #slow burn #song lyrics of chapter is Be My Baby by The Ronettes

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all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Tricks & Treats

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Orion’s Halloween is quickly turning rotten until someone helps to turn her day around with a few sweet treats.

Warnings: N/A Unless you count a disgusting amount of fluff to be a warning.

A/N: A new Astrophile drabble! This is set in the very far future, Halloween 2042. Orion is 27 and it’s just the kiddos. No Beck or Bucky. This does have some bits (okay a lot of bits) of the the shared Price of Astrophile universe collab with Tara and if you haven’t read The Price of Gold you need to! Thank you to my beautiful @moonbeambucky for looking it over for me. If you have not read the series Astrophile, THERE WLL BE MAJOR SPOILERS.

Catch up on the series here!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!*

Halloween 2042

Today has been a disaster. A complete and utter nightmare. It started with spilling hot tea all over her copy of Star Lore and down the front of her favorite skirt, which forced Ori to settle for the little black number Cassie bought her as a Halloween costume. It’s supposed to be a cat but it’s really a dress accompanied by cat ears. It’s not that it’s awful, it’s not her usual taste. It’s a simple spaghetti strap dress, sweetheart necklace that doesn’t dip too low and cut just above her knee. As far as Halloween costumes go it’s fairly modest but it’s a little tight compared to the rest of Ori’s closet.

Little did she know that was just the beginning to her terrible day. This was the first day in months that Ori was running the store on her own. No mom to fall back on. Not that it hasn’t happened before. At fourteen Ori was working the floor by herself so none of this was new but, today has been a nightmare from the moment the doors opened. It was unusually busy for a holiday, especially Halloween. It wasn’t often that the store was packed with customers on a day like today and there were moments when Ori began to feel claustrophobic with the amount of people filling the tiny shop.

Half of the morning was spent on decorating the window display for a new series that was set to be released at the beginning of November. The copies were scheduled to be delivered today, but they never showed and when Ori called to check on their status, the man she was unlucky enough to be put in contact with screamed at her, explaining that it was a holiday and not everyone spent their lives working.

It was one of those days where she wished she was ten years old again and Bucky could swoop in and save the day.

By some miracle, there was a lull, and she was able to slip behind the counter where her phone is kept when she’s working the floor alone. She swiped away the missed calls from Cassie and ignored the texts from Leo. There was only one person who knew how to calm the swirling mess in her head right now and she knows how pathetic she looks, twenty-seven, and tears swimming in her eyes. She didn’t care because just hearing his voice would help settle her. Theo’s voice rang her ear and as happy as she was to hear it, part of her wished it wasn’t his voicemail.

“H-hey,” Ori’s voice cracked, she cleared her throat ridding it of the tears choking her. “I know you’re at work. I’m sorry I’m calling. Please tell me I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m so sorry if I did. I just… I needed to hear your voice. I’m having a really awful day. That party with Cassie is tonight. I don’t want to go even though Cassie says it will be fun. And this new series. This stupid dumb shipment. They said they would be here today and I spent all morning doing the window display between the mad rush of customers by the way, they never showed. When I called to check in they said they can’t get here because it’s a holiday and well, they yelled at me. Now, I have to find something to replace the window display and spend another hour fixing what I did this morning. The store is so incredibly busy. I haven’t even stopped for lunch. I’m hungry and tired and I hate this day. Great. Now, I’m whining. Did I mention that I miss you? Well, I do and-”

“Ma'am?” A deep voice grabs Ori’s attention and she turns around to find a man in a UPS shirt standing behind the counter, she smiles as kindly as she can and pulls the phone away from her mouth to answer him, “I’m so sorry. Can I help you?”

“We have your delivery.”

Ori can feel the color drain from her face. She shouldn’t have that many boxes and the publisher on the clipboard being handed to her isn’t right.

“Wait… No. No, I didn’t order that. That’s not mine-”

“Orion Barnes?”

“Well, yes that’s me but,” She sighs, holding back the whimper that’s threatening to escape her. “Can you hold on just one second?"

Ori didn’t wait for his okay like she normally would have, she stepped towards her office and put the phone back up to her ear, “I guess my terrible, awful, no good day isn’t over. Talk to you soon? I hope.”

Orion had her eyes glued to a stack of invoices in front of her when the bell above the shop door rang. Thankfully, she was able to clear up the whole shipping mixup, but dealing with that set her even further behind inventory. It didn’t matter much. She knew who it was without having to raise her head. Ori didn’t have to look up to know her sister had arrived. Cassie skipped nearly everywhere, she has since she was old enough to walk and between the jingling of the bracelets on her wrist, the massive keyring on her purse, and the bells on her shoes (that had nothing to do with Halloween) it was easy to know when she arrived. The jingling came to a stop next to Ori, and a slight nudge to her hip that made Ori look up from the papers in her hand to find Cassie handing over a small brown paper bag from the bakery next door. Ori narrows her eyes at the gesture. Is she trying to butter her up about the party tonight?

“What’s this?”

“Cinnamon bagel from next door,” Cassie said with a certain self-satisfied taunt to her voice. “A certain boy texted me and said you hadn’t eaten today and asked if I could bring you something when I come by to pick you up for tonight."

Ori beams brightly as she peeks in the bag, avoiding her baby sister'’ suspicious and slightly giddy gaze.

“Question. Why is Theo texting me about your food needs and how does he know about tonight?”

She doesn’t answer, but this isn’t unusual. Like Bucky, Ori’s softer, gentler when it comes to revealing things close to her heart. There are some secrets she’s not ready for the world (or herself) to know yet. Cassie on the other hand is loud, in all things, but especially with what’s written on her heart. She loves just as deeply as Ori does but she’s quick to shout it from the rooftops, without a hint of fear.

Ori wishes she could be like that sometimes.

“Something is up. I can tell by the smile you’re trying to hide!”

"I’m smiling because I was hungry and it was very thoughtful of you both.”

Ori finally gets a look at Cassie’s costume when Cassie sheds her coat and she can’t help the surprised laugh that slips out. She’s in a white cotton dress that looked like it was made from one of those adult onesies, covered in glitter from head to toe and the rainbow leggings she has on matches the tail sticking out of the bottom of her coat and the mane on her hood she has pushed down.

“What are you wearing?!”

“What? I’m a sparkly unicorn. I look adorable!”

Ori grins.

“Yes, you do. You look beautiful.”

The bell chimes again and Ori greets her brother without looking, he’s never far behind Cassie after all. Leo looked pretty much like he always does, slacks and a button-up white collared shirt under his coat but he was wearing black square-frame glasses. He leans over the mahogany counter and presses a kiss on Ori’s cheek. Whatever Cassie was hoping to get out of Ori would never happen now that Leo was present. Ori laughed at the pout on Cassie’s face, picking at the bagel as she scans over the invoice in front of her.

“Ready for tonight?” Leo asks as he steals a piece of her bagel.

Ori shrugs a little, glancing at the clock and sighed when she saw it was nearing six. They would be pushing her out the door soon. It’s not that she didn’t like going out, she did. Things have been off lately and she hasn’t felt much like socializing, which is why her siblings insisted they have a party. If it turns out to be as terrible as she predicts it’s going to be, she can always call Bucky to pick her up because no matter what Bucky still drops everything to come to her rescue whenever she needs it.

“It’s going to be fun!”

“I guess. I’m not really a party person.”

“I know but you make the cutest cat ever.”

Leo’s brow furrows and the worry on his face has him looking so much like Bucky it almost makes Ori laugh.

“You’ve been working a lot. Skipping family stuff. When was the last time you came to family dinner and didn’t rush out the door? Mom said you’re working more hours than she is-”

“I should! She deserves time with dad and it’s not like I have a life waiting on me right now.”

It’s been a little over a year since she called off her wedding and ended things with Cole and while she’s happy that relationship has ended, she’s nowhere near where she thought she would be at her age. She had plans and lists, milestones she promised herself she would hit by a certain age and now she’s… floating. No purpose. No real path. Simply riding her mother’s coattails, managing a store she wouldn’t have without her mother and she has no idea where she’s going or what her future is going to look like. It’s terrifying. So maybe she’s been spending a little more time at work to keep her mind busy. Sometimes it doesn't quite calm the chaos in her head, but staying busy helps.

“That’s not true. You have us and, yeah, mom deserves a break but so do you. We thought it would be good to get out of the house. If you hate it I’ll bring you home.”

Ori smiles. Leo has always been their protector, ready to jump in and save his mom and sisters from anything that could cause them the slightest bit of discomfort. She couldn't be aggravated with him for wanting to help, he’s only following in Bucky’s footsteps.

“Yeah, okay. Today has been a mess. Give me a few minutes to wrap things up, okay?”

She’s barely had time for her eyes to focus on the words in front of her when Cassie chirps from her side, “The window display is a mess. What happened there?”

“Cassie!”

“I’m just saying. Want me to help you fix it tomorrow?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Ori snatches the brown bag with her bagel resting on top and heads back towards the office in hopes she will be able to focus there, “and yes. I would like help. Thank you.”

“I’ll watch the desk!” Cassie shouts behind her, getting an appreciative smile from Ori. The quiet doesn’t last long. The shop bell is ringing and Cassie is yelling for her before she’s managed to make it through one invoice.

“Ori! Get out here. There’s a delivery.” Cassie’s shouts are piercing her ears and she’s certain the entire bakery next door can hear her clear as day. Ori steps back out onto the sales floor, frowning and having every intention of reminding Cassie not to scream in the store, but she can’t because she’s staring at the largest bundle of lavender she’s ever seen.

“I-- this. What is this?”

“They are for you!” Cassie squeals but quickly stops smiling and looks at the older gentleman who is wearing a warm smile when he confirms that they are indeed for her sister.

“Yes, ma’am,” The man says with a chuckle, “If you’re Orion Barnes. These are for you.”

He passes the delicate bundle wrapped in brown paper in her arm and passes over a pen for her signature. She quickly scribbles her name and pulls the small white card out of the twine, grinning foolishly at what’s written.

“Who are they from?” Cassie begs, jumping up and down. “I already know but I need to see the card myself.”

Ori presses the card to her chest to keep Cassie from sneaking a peek, she’s not willing to share a bit of the sweetness written there. Cassie quickly gives up on the card and snatches the receipt before Ori can grab it, finding exactly what she was looking for.

“Theo Tucker! I knew it!”

The thin paper is pulled from Cassie’s hand by Leo, who is staring at the receipt with a deep frown as if he can’t process what he is seeing.

“Why is Theo sending you flowers? Where did he find a place that delivers lavender like that? More importantly… why is Theo sending you flowers?"

Ori can’t answer her brother, she’s too busy grinning like a fool and hiding her blushing cheeks behind the soft purple sprigs in her arms.

“What do you mean ‘Why is Theo sending her flowers?’ Because he loves her. Am I the only that’s been paying attention?”

"He loves you. It's the same thing and you don’t get flowers.”

“It is a hundred percent not the same thing, Leo.”

There’s the faint sound of the twins arguing in the background, “How is it different?” “Leo you can’t be serious. You’ve seen the way he looks at her!” She should probably stop their bickering but she can’t. She can’t focus on anything, not while she’s daydreaming about California.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst day, after all.

“So, are you going to wear a sprig of lavender as your catnip? Seems like it added a little spring in your step.”

“Cassie!”

Cassie had squealed when Ori asked her to draw a cat nose and whiskers on her face. If she was going to dress as a cat she had to go all out. The ears, while cute, weren’t enough to satisfy the perfectionist in her. Before they left her apartment, she sent Theo a thank you text and a picture of her all dressed up. The simple response, you look beautiful, makes her stomach flip and leaves her head spinning. It drops a fraction when Leo asks why she’s smiling at her phone with such a goofy grin.

No one is ready for that answer, so she tucked her phone in her purse for now.

The minute they arrived, Leo stepped through the front door and pulled his shirt open to reveal a giant S stitched onto his blue undershirt and he proceeded to do several more times throughout the night. Despite her reservations about the party, it wasn’t so bad. Or maybe she was simply in a better mood. She spent a better part of the night hanging around Cassie and Ariel, who was dressed as Tinker Bell and her lovesick Peter Pan never strayed from her side for long. Ori didn’t know a lot of the people currently filling Leo and Ollie’s apartment, so it felt safer to stick by family.

At some point a small group of people broke off from the larger party and started playing spin the bottle. It was strange to watch twenty year olds play a childhood game. There was bobbing for apples which didn’t seem all that sanitary if you asked Ori, which is why she declined rather emphatically when asked if she wanted to try.

Halfway through the night their mom texted asking for pictures, so she took a few with Cassie and Ariel, some of her and Leo and of course all of them posing together. She even sent the few of Ariel and Ollie off to the Tuckers. Another text comes in but it’s not a response from her parents, a very handsome Indiana Jones pops up and she can’t help the huge smile that forms. He looks adorable with that hat and playful smirk and she tells him so. Ori peered over her phone to find Cassie and Ariel smiling, she cleared her throat and quickly hid her phone back in her purse.

“Oh, look. There are some mummy cupcakes left. I better go grab one before they disappear,” Ori had muttered as she quickly tried to divert attention off of her.

There was every Halloween themed treat you could think of. The chocolate covered strawberries dressed up as ghosts, bloody s’mores, and candy corn rice krispy treats were gone first. When Ori asked how they managed to do all this, Leo admitted with a sheepish grin that their mom had done most of the baking and Cassie and Ariel had decorated. She should have known Ariel had a hand in the planning, it was too well organized for Leo and Ollie to handle on their own.

The party started to die down a little after one in the morning, Leo offered his bed but Cassie was already fast asleep and there was no way she was sharing with that human koala. After refusing to take Leo’s spot on the couch, Leo brought her back home with the promise to text him the minute he got back. There’s no way he would let her catch a cab back to her place all by herself.

It’s nearly three by the time Ori trudges up the stairs to her apartment. She’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. Not that she will ever admit this to Cassie but tonight was fun. It wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be, and a very important someone was missing but it wasn’t as bad as she envisioned. She slips out of her heels and drops her purse on the table by the front door, she can clean up tomorrow when she’s not struggling to keep her eyes open. Right as she reaches kitchen island where her bouquet is sitting in her mother’s chipped mint green vase, her phone rings in her hand and she can’t help but grin at the name staring back at her.

“Hey, you.”

Ori grins, dusting a finger over a stray sprig and she’s suddenly not feeling as tired.

“My day? You know, it wasn't so bad actually. It got better there at the end. Even better now.”

#Orion Barnes #astrophile files #Theo Tucker x Orion Barnes #Theo x Ori #the price of astrophile #poa #Astrophile

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years

Text

Forbidden Love Pt. 2

Pairing: Will Halstead x reader

Summary: Jay finds out that Y/N has been seeing Will behind his back and wants to discuss what has been going on, but a case gets in the way, which leads to some major emotions being let out

Requested: original storyline requested by @scarletsoldierrr, but new plot requested by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of getting shot

Word Count: 1,279 Words

Pt. 1

Will and I had been seeing each other for a few weeks now. It was hard keeping it a secret from Jay because we basically shared everything with each other, but I had managed to do it. Will and I had a great connection, and I wasn’t going to let Jay ruin that.

When I woke up, I realized that I wasn’t in my own bed. I rolled over and bumped into someone’s body, and that’s when everything came back to me. I had stayed at Will’s last night. I glanced at the alarm clock that sat on Will’s bedside table and groaned. I had to get to work. I climbed out of bed and grabbed my clothes from the floor, putting them on hastily. As I was grabbing my phone and other possessions from the top drawer of Will’s nightstand, Will stirred.

“Morning,” Will muttered and stretched his arms above his head.

“Morning,” I reply and stuff my phone in my pocket. “Sorry for leaving so early, but I’ve got to stop at my apartment before heading to work.”

“It’s all right,” Will mumbled. “We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Of course,” I say and lean down to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Bye Will.” After getting showered and changing into some new clothes, I sped off to the district. I parked my car in the lot, and then ran all the way into the district and up the stairs. Thankfully, when I entered the bullpen, I saw that no one had anything to present, and everyone was just lounging around.

“Good morning,” Jay said to me as I sat down at my desk.

“Morning,” I utter quickly. At that moment, Will walked up the stairs and entered the bullpen. I glanced him over, and seeing him in his scrubs made me ache for him. He always looked so hot in his work clothes.

“Hey, Will. What’s up?” Jay asked.

“I um, I’m actually here for Y/N,” Will stated and walked over to my desk.

“Uh, hey. What are you doing here?” I question. Will reached for his side pocket and pulled out my badge, extending it towards me.

“You uh, you left this at my apartment this morning,” Will spoke. Everyone froze as soon as Will said that. I took the badge from Will’s hand and set it down on my desk before looking between Will and Jay. I could see Jay’s hands clenching into fists, and the muscle in his jaw tick. Oh shit. Things were about to get messy.

“What was she doing at your apartment, Will?” Jay seethed.

“Jay, it’s not what it looks like,” Will shared.

“Oh really? Because what it looks like is that you’re sleeping with my partner when I explicitly told you to stay away from her,” Jay smoldered. “You two are done.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not your choice to make, Jay,” I retort and stand up.

“Like hell it is,” Jay countered.

“Hey!” Voight shouted and emerged from his office. “What the hell is going on out here?”

“Will was just leaving,” Jay announced.

“All right, well, our suspect was just spotted near a cluster of abandoned buildings on Kinzie, so gear up,” Voight ordered.

......................................

The ride to the factory lot was super awkward. Jay and I didn’t say a word the whole way there. However, as soon as Jay parked the car, and we stepped out, he spoke up.

“Why’d you go behind my back?” Jay asked.

“I really don’t want to talk about that right now,” I say and shut the passenger side door.

“Y/N,” Jay started.

“I said not now, Jay.” I hissed. That’s when I heard a gunshot, and then suddenly, I was on the floor, and it was hard to breathe.

“He’s got a sniper! Spread out” Voight yelled.

“Y/N,” Jay called out and fell onto his knees at my side. I tried to inhale some air, but it felt like nothing was getting into my system. The bullet must’ve hit a lung. Jay peeled off my vest, which was a painful process, and tossed it aside. Then, he pressed his hands to the wound. I could see blood staining his hands, meaning I was losing a lot. Too much to be good. “5021 George. 10-1. 10-1. Shots fired at the police. My partner’s been shot. I need an ambulance at the north block of Kinzie. We’re in the abandoned lot,” Jay spoke urgently into his radio.

“Copy that. An ambulance is on it’s way. ETA is 4 minutes,” the dispatcher responded. I gasped for air as my surroundings began to blur. I was beginning to lose consciousness, and I knew that if that happened, chances are I would die.

“Y/N! Y/N! Stay with me,” Jay murmured. Through my blurry vision, I could make out tears gathering in his eyes. I reached out and gripped onto one of his arms with as much strength as I could muster up, which wasn’t much because I was losing a lot of blood.

“This hurts like hell, Jay,” I groan. “I don’t know how you survived this before.”

Jay laughed weakly. “You’re going to survive too. Just hang in there.” After another few minutes, the ambulance finally arrived, and Jay helped the paramedics load me into the back of the vehicle. An oxygen mask was placed over my face, and my wound was covered with gauze and tape to keep any air from escaping, that way it was easier to breathe. When we finally arrived at Chicago Med, I was exhausted from staying awake, and I could slowly feel myself drifting away from the pain medication I had been given in the ambulance.

“Jay!” Will shouted and ran over to us. “What the hell happened?”

“Y/N’s been shot,” Jay informed him. “So I need you to do whatever you can to save her.”

“Y/N,” Will said and appeared next to me. “You’re going to be okay. We’re getting Dr. Rhodes right now to fix you up.” I brought my hand up and pulled the oxygen mask away from my face so that I could talk to Will.

“Please make up with Jay,” I whisper to him. “I love you both so much, and I don’t want to be the reason your relationship is ruined.”

“Hold on a minute. Did you just say that you loved me?” Will questioned with a grin on his face. I gave him a small smile and put the oxygen mask back over my face just as I was being transported to the operating room.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital room, and I could feel gauze taped to my chest. It was way easier to breathe now, and I didn’t feel like I was dying, so the surgery must have went well. Just then, both Will and Jay entered my room, and both of them were talking like they hadn’t just had a big fight this morning. I guess Will took my advice.

“Look who’s awake,” Will spoke. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible, but it doesn’t feel like I’m going to die anymore,” I joke.

“So,” Jay started. “Will and I have been talking, and I now realize that I was being a bit controlling by not letting you guys be together. If you love my brother, then I’ll let you be with him. But if it starts getting awkward, then we’re going to have a problem.”

I laughed. “Deal. I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too. Me especially. I love you, Y/N,” Will stated.

I smiled. “So, when’s the first dinner we’re all going to have together?”

Jay groaned. “Don’t even get me started.”

________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @i-like-sparkly-things

#one chicago #chicago med #chicago pd #will halstead #will halstead imagine #will halstead imagines #will halstead x reader #x reader #imagines #imagine #district 21 #jay halstead

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bonvoyagenoona · 3 years

Note

Hi Roomie,

Back at it with another ask because another important question came up. Can you please settle a dispute?

Which BTS member:

1. Shows up at your work to steal you away for lunch?

2. Shows up at your work and makes YOU lunch?

3. Wants to do either of the above but is too busy, so YOU show up at his work? Which do you do: bring him lunch or make him your lunch?

Ah, Roomie! Perfect timing, as I am now on my lunch break! 🤩 Come join me. I've ordered us some grilled cheeses and tomato soup with our boys on the side.

Q: Which BTS member shows up at your work to steal you away for lunch?

A: Jimin

That whimsical smile pops into frame, blocking out your computer screen. Giggles. Back hugs. "What are you doing here?" He'll tell you that everything was fine, and that he just missed you. You'll stroll down the sidewalk, hand not just in hand, but hands melded, your head resting on his shoulder as he talks about how he likes surprising you at work. That he likes imagining you laughing at your desk and helping out your team. But that you also need to be spoiled. Lunch is on him -- whatever you like. But like you told me, Jimin definitely greases the wheels with snacks, and you're never one to be fooled. When you get home later that evening, he'll be hungry for something else, and more of it.

Q: Which BTS member shows up at your work and makes YOU lunch?

A: Taehyung

Two quick knocks at your office door. Tie already swung over his shoulder. Playful, smirking eyes. "Where's the copy room?" You can't believe Tae borrowed a suit to make it look like he works there. And you can't believe Tae has gone through this pretense just to leave the door open as he eats you out. The thin, plastic paper tray of the copier slightly buckles under your ass as you involuntarily grind, and your feet squirm where they're planted on his shoulders. His thumbs slowly run over your ankles, back and forth, as his tongue swirls around your precious bud dripping and spilling faster than the toner cartridges you'd somehow broken and knocked over in your haste. His grip on your ankles tightens when you let out a whine that rises and falls into a grunt, and again, and again, rhythmic, like the ones coming from the machine below you. You fall flat on your back, shoulders to the ends of your locks dangling down the other side. It's then that Taehyung, knowing that you're spent and need a moment, finally releases you, taking a step back and turning toward the open door, walking up to it and wiping his mouth on Jin's borrowed suit sleeve. You feel so satisfied that you don't even care when you hear him say, "Oh, hey, Debra."

Q: Which BTS member wants to do either of the above but is too busy, so YOU show up at his work? Which do you do: bring him lunch or make him your lunch? A: Namjoon, both

I'm a "porque no los dos?" kinda gal when it comes to your asks, huh Roomie??

At first, I thought this would be Yoongi (again, when am I not thinking about Yoongi?). But Yoongi is organized, and he doesn't skip meals. When Namjoon gets busy, he gets easily distracted, because his thoughts are going a million miles a millisecond. He's also kind of terrible at cooking, or just generally taking care of the base of his Maslow hierarchy. Makes sense. He lives in his head, at the top of that pyramid. So it barely registers when you show up during what is technically lunch. Namjoon's been spending his days preparing for Yoongi's infamous all-nighters, and you've come to make sure he doesn't pass out or die. "Steak??" Namjoon asks with surprise. His eyes widen as they so cutely do when he takes bite after bite, inhaling the meal in just a few. He'll beam at you as you chat to occupy his mind with something light and irreverent for a change, offering him respite, as he so often does for you. But then you realize he's studying you with a gaze as calculated as the one he usually saves for his music. "What?" you'll ask nervously. "You didn't have anything to eat," he'll say, tacking on with an added growl, "And I'm hungry for more." You know something about the top of that pyramid, too. How much he loves creativity, especially spur-of-the-moment. "Then, I've got an idea," you say, prompted by the moment. Who knew 69ing in his studio would be just the thing to quench both your appetites?

More Important Questions

#important questions #bts imagine #bts fanfiction #bts drabble #bts x you #namjoon #jimin #tae #mochilatae #asks #your asks #I CANNOT WITH THIS!!#hope this makes you smile roomie!

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singledarkshade · 3 years

Text

Scarred By Time

Author’s Note: I'm procrastinating writing something else so I ended up picking this up once more. Another chapter will hopefully appear at some point. Hope you enjoy. Part One can be found here. ********************************************* Part Two The building sitting at the edge of the city loomed above them as they walked towards it from the parking lot.

Everyone had heard of TM Consultancy these days. It was a think tank which had a reputation for creative brilliant solutions to problems most people would dismiss as unsolvable. They had appeared from nowhere about two years ago and quickly built their reputation.

Sara Lance looked at the three people standing with her at the entrance, Ray Palmer, Nate Heywood and Zari Tomaz, three people who didn’t normally work together. She knew them through some mutual friends and the bar she hung out at some weekends.

“What do a scientist, a historian, a hacker and a martial arts instructor have in common?” Sara asked thoughtfully.

Ray grinned at her, “I think we’re about to find out.”

Sara watched the main doors open before them. Swapping confused glances, they walked in and looked around the spacious comfortable almost empty reception area.

“Good morning,” the woman who stood waiting for them said as they moved closer, she had long chestnut brown hair with storm-grey eyes. Her face had a pleasant but neutral expression while she held a tablet in her hand, “Miss Lance, Dr Palmer, Mr Heywood and Miss Tomaz, it is a pleasure to meet you. Dr Hunter is waiting for you. Please follow me.”

They stared when she turned and walked through the wall behind her. Looking at one another again, they shrugged and followed the woman. All cried out in surprise and pain when they walked into a solid barrier.

“Gideon,” a man’s annoyed voice came making them turn to see Rip Hunter, owner of TM Consultancy standing inside an elevator. He was tall, with sandy hair, neatly trimmed beard, intense green eyes and was dressed head to toe in black, the only part of his body uncovered was his face despite the fact it was the middle of summer but the thing that especially caught Sara’s attention were the leather gloves he wore.

The woman reappeared asking innocently, “Yes?”

“Stop it,” he stated before turning to them, “My apologies, she has currently developed a rather childish sense of humour since her recent upgrade.”

Sara could see the others as bemused as she was, “What?”

“Gideon is the AI who runs the building,” Hunter explained, obviously trying not to laugh as Gideon crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him before disappearing back through the wall once more, “Follow me and we can discuss why I’ve asked you here.”

“Thank you for coming,” Hunter said as they filed into an office decorated in neutral colours with a long dark wooden desk in the middle and the sun shining through the wall of windows, “I’m sure you’re all busy so I’m not going to waste too much of your time. The reason I asked you here is to offer you a job.”

“What?” Sara spoke up.

He gave a slight smile, “All four of you have very specific skills which would be useful in order for us to expand our business.”

“What work exactly?” Ray asked thoughtfully.

“We find solutions for problems that others can’t,” Hunter replied, “Each of you have the skills I am looking for to expand the team.”

Sara frowned before challenging, “Considering my skills, what job do you expect me to do?”

“You’re a leader, Miss Lance,” he said, “I want you to manage this team.”

“What wages and perks are you offering?” Zari asked, “Because we all currently have pretty good jobs.”

Hunter smiled slightly again, Sara wondered if he knew how to smile properly, before he told them, “Gideon has emailed you a copy of your contract as well as details of all monetary compensation.”

“And you can’t give us any specific details of what we’ll actually be doing?” Nate demanded.

Hunter mused for a moment before nodding, “I’ll send you some write-ups of our previous cases, but there is information that you will not be privy to unless you are working for us. I will say that your days won’t ever be able to be called boring.”

With that the meeting was over.

Rip stood in his office watching from the window the people, he had hopefully just hired, leave the property to consider his offer, stunned that he’d made it to this stage. ‘Time’ had confirmed that all those that were needed would be in the right place when required and Rip had been concerned that something would go wrong. It had been a long five years, three of which he’d spent alone and two more building up a business so that he had a way to bring the team together.

“I still do not believe that hiring them is a good idea,” Gideon’s voice made him turn to find her standing at his side.

“We need Sara to recant her wish now John and Mick have managed to capture the Djinn,” Rip reminded her, “But in order for her to do that then she must know about the fact she made it. If she’s working here, then we can ease her into the information. The other three will help with finding the information to convince her it’s real and not some kind of joke.”

Gideon rested her hand on his shoulder, the sensors in his clothes letting him feel her touch, “Then we need to get back to work.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Although,” Gideon noted, “You have not yet eaten this morning.”

Rip rolled his eyes, “I will get something just now.”

Gideon nodded, “Excellent. I will have something waiting for you in the dining room. I’ll meet you there.”

With that she disappeared, and Rip looked out the window once more at the four people walking away.

Part of him hoped this worked but he also knew if it did, then he would leave Gideon again.

And he hated that thought.

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

Gideon had been watching her Captain carefully over the past few weeks since he’d made the decision to contact the Legends in this version of the world. John had managed to track down the Djinn who had tricked Sara into making the wish that created this reality, trap it and it was currently being stored in the Waverider under several layers of security both technological and magical.

Although she knew that this was what Rip had been working towards for many years, she feared him succeeding because Gideon would lose him once more.

She never used her hologram and turned her cameras off whenever he was in the shower or changing because Gideon knew Rip hated anyone, even her, seeing the scars that covered every part of his body.

The reminder that to give the Legends time to defeat Mallus after they had blundered in without a proper plan, he had been ripped apart by the energy from the time core.

“Gideon,” he called, letting her know he was dressed.

Turning her camera and hologram back on, Gideon smiled to find him dressed and heading out the room.

“Yes?” she asked as she followed him to the elevator.

“Have we received a reply from anyone yet?” he waited as Gideon sent the elevator down to the sixth floor so he could have breakfast.

Gideon shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Rip. However, it has only been a few days and the remuneration package you are providing may be giving them pause.”

“Should I have offered more?” Rip frowned concerned.

“From what Mr Constantine has said,” Gideon noted as they walked the corridor to the dining room, “You may have offered them too much.”

Rip rolled his eyes, “Money has never been something that has meant much to me, not since I was a child, and I stole whatever I could get my hands on. The Waverider always provided what I required. I probably should have had Mr Rory work out those details.”

“His economic knowledge is quite surprising,” Gideon noted.

Gideon gently touched his hand and Rip took a hold of it. She was relieved he had agreed to let her put the sensors in his clothing, Rip needed physical contact of some kind and would never accept it from Mr Constantine or Mr Rory.

Gideon knew from when Rip and Miranda had been together how much just a simple touch of his hand or kiss on his cheek from his wife, comforted and made him smile.

Rip turned to her and rested his other hand on her cheek, “I’m fine, Gideon.”

“I’m not,” she whispered, leaning into his touch, “Because the closer we get to fixing the mess Miss Lance made with her wish, the day I lose you again draws ever nearer.”

Sighing, Rip shook his head, “I’ve been dead a long time, Gideon. It’s just going to take this time.”

“Captain…”

“I’m at peace with my decision,” Rip told her, “I only wish it didn’t mean leaving you once more.”

Gideon closed her eyes and turned her face to press a soft kiss to his palm, “We have time before that moment comes, Rip and I will treasure each moment.”

“Have you found anything, Mr Constantine?”

Swearing John jumped, “Make a noise, Gideon before you appear.”

“I am constantly monitoring all parts of this facility,” Gideon noted with a roll of her eyes, “I am always here.”

Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, John pulled over the book so she could see it properly.

“I think I can summon the corporeal version of ‘Time’,” John told her, “But what do we do then? We can’t threaten him to keep Rip alive after we’ve fixed things.”

“I am aware of this, Mr Constantine,” Gideon replied sharply, “However, I will not allow Rip to die again without trying something to save him. This way we have a chance to find out what we can do.”

John shook his head, “I know, Gideon. Look,” he closed the book, “I need to collect some stuff to do the summoning so I will start gathering them up. And we can work on what we offer.”

She nodded, “Thank you.”

“He’s my friend too,” John reminded her, “And I won’t let him go without a fight.”

Gideon gave him a soft smile before she tilted her head, “The Legends have replied to the job offers. I will leave you to work while I report this to Captain Hunter.”

As Gideon disappeared again, John mused over everything. It was only a few hours after he’d been resuscitated into this world that Gideon asked him to find a way to help her save Rip after he saved the world.

He knew Rip and Gideon were close, but the past few years a lot of the time John could see how close they truly were. Gideon had implanted every piece of clothing Rip wore with sensors allowing her to physically interact with him. John had been a bit weirded out by it at first but realised after a while that it was good for Rip.

John smiled slightly, thinking back to anytime he saw Rip and Miranda together. How she would always place a hand on his arm, or lean into him to look at something, she’d brush a kiss to his cheek whenever she left the room or would simply sit on Rip’s lap without even acknowledging him.

It always made Rip smile and relax, Gideon knew this too so, as always, was looking out for her Captain.

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

Sara stood with her arms folded as she stood just outside the TM Consultancy building.

“You know,” Zari said as she walked up to Sara’s side, “We only get paid if we go inside and work.”

Shrugging Sara asked, “Don’t you think this is a little odd?”

“A little,” Zari agreed, “I nearly passed out when I saw the salary we were being offered. Not to mention the bonuses for completed jobs.”

Sara nodded, “I know what you mean. It…” she hesitated, trying to find the words, “The job is amazing and so much better than the one I was doing but there is just something odd about it and Hunter.”

“His dress sense screams that,” Zari laughed, “Do you think he knows the all black outfit makes him look like a stick-insect?”

Sara chuckled, “It’s the fact every part of him was covered other than his face I found odd.”

Zari shrugged, “Maybe he just doesn’t like the cold.”

“We’re in the middle of summer,” Sara sighed, “Never mind. We’re due in ten minutes and I don’t want to be late on my first day.”

They started towards the gates and Sara mused over everything. There was something strange about this entire thing and she intended to find out what reason this guy had for hiring them. The money he offered them all was incredible, far more than she expected ever to earn with her qualifications.

Reaching the reception, they found Ray and Nate were already there, sitting on the plush couch just to one side of the desk.

“We were told to wait,” Nate told her, “I don’t think the computer likes us much.”

Sara and Zari took a seat as Zari asked, “Why?”

“Just the look she gave me,” Nate replied.

Ray shook his head, “You’re imagining things. She was very pleasant, and this time didn’t make us run into a wall.”

Zari chuckled, “Come on, that was a little funny. And the fact she’s an AI with a sense of humour, this job won’t be boring.”

“Boring is something I’m not expecting,” Sara mused.

“Are you ready for this, Captain?” Gideon asked softly as he stood in his office watching the video screen showing the four people waiting in reception.

Rip shook his head, “Honestly, no.”

Placing her hand on his back, Gideon whispered, “You don’t have to do this.”

Turning Rip took her hand, “I do. This world isn’t real. It is missing those who will step in and save it from dangers that normal people cannot.”

“Why is there no other way?” Gideon asked.

Sliding his arms around her, Rip drew her in for a hug, “Because there isn’t. Sara recants her wish, the world goes back to how it was…”

“And I lose you again,” Gideon sighed, her head resting against his shoulder, “Only this time it will be forever.”

Rip closed his eyes before he reminded her, “I made my choice, Gideon. I never wanted to leave you and I don’t but…”

“But?” she pulled back and looked at him with large eyes.

He let out a slow breath, “I can’t be selfish, Gideon as much as I want to. The world is wrong, and I made a deal to fix it. I made a promise.”

“You are far too honourable sometimes, Captain.”

Rip sighed, “You are probably the only one who has ever thought that.” He gave her a smile and rested his hand on her shoulder, “Let’s go meet our new employees.”

“I hope you ensure to remind them that I don’t take orders from them,” Gideon told him, turning on her heel towards the elevator.

Rip smiled and followed her.

The ding of the elevator made Sara jump to her feet along with the other three.

“Good morning,” Hunter greeted them, wearing basically the same outfit as he had been on the day he’d ‘interviewed’ them, except his polo neck was blue not black, “I’m glad you all decided to take up my offer.”

“Well,” Sara spoke for the group, “It was a hard offer to say no to.”

He gave a slight smile and handed Gideon who was waiting at his side the tablet he had been holding. Sara stared, feeling the others stunned looks as well, when the AI took it.

“How did you do that?” Ray demanded.

Hunter glanced at Gideon before replying, “Executive level clearance.” He turned and headed to the elevator frowning as he turned back to find them staring at him, “Please join me and we can start the tour.”

Sara took the lead and walked into the elevator with the other three joining after a moment.

“Before I show you your offices,” Hunter said as the doors closed, “I want to confirm to you the areas that are off-limits no matter what. These are the top two floors which house the apartments used by myself, Mr Rory and Mr Constantine. None of us will be happy if you wander into our private rooms. Secondly is the basement.”

“Keeping the bodies down there?” Zari asked with a chuckle.

Hunter gave her one of his slight smiles before replying, “Just filled with so much junk it’s dangerous and I don’t want any of you to get lost down there, it could take days to find you.”

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

John went through his checklist for the summoning spell. It had taken him a month to get everything together with Gideon constantly checking on him.

He had avoided the Legends since Rip had brought them in, it was just weird that they didn’t know him, and he knew Mick was also avoiding being around them. The former thief and Bounty Hunter had taken to working in a Think Tank, amazingly becoming their security expert with enthusiasm. When they’d joined Rip and started creating the business, Gideon had gone about reorganising the building so that it worked both for their business but also for a place for the three of them to live.

“Please tell me you’re ready, Mr Constantine,” Gideon’s exasperated voice preceded her hologram appearing.

John smiled to himself at her irritation, “I take it one of our new recruits has annoyed you.”

“Mr Heywood insists on calling me ‘computer’,” she snapped, “Honestly it is only due my promise to Captain Hunter that I have not retaliated.”

“Sorry, Gideon,” he sighed, “I’ll talk to him. Because the last thing we need is Rip to deck him for disrespecting you.”

A sweet smile touched her lips and John, not for the first time since he’d been woken in this new world, realised how little he’d understood just how self-aware and ‘human’ Gideon was.

“Before that though,” John pulled out the spell book, “Lock the door and we can try the spell.”

Gideon nodded and John heard the click of the lock as he pulled out everything he required for the summoning.

“Okay,” he took a breath, “Are we ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

John started the summoning spell, feeling the enormous power he was bringing into the room but it wasn’t the first time he’d interacted with something powerful and held his nerve.

Finally a man stood in front of him, or it looked like the shape of a man but John couldn’t quite see the features or anything other than a slightly grey shape.

“Not many people are brave, or powerful enough, to summon me,” the voice echoed off every corner of the room meaning John was in no doubt this was ‘Time’, “Why have you done this?”

“Rip Hunter,” John said, “I want to know what is needed so that he will survive once he gets the wish recanted.”

‘Time’ tilted its head, “Rip Hunter is dead. I was only able to return him to life because of the wish. He knows this.”

“He does,” John replied, “But he deserves something more than to die again once he fixes things for you.”

“He does,” ‘Time’ agreed, “But I could only give him life in exchange for another.”

“Then take mine,” Gideon spoke suddenly.

John spun to her, “What? No?”

“You are an AI,” ‘Time’ mused, “Offering your basic immortal life for a human?”

“For him,” Gideon replied, “Yes.”

‘Time’ moved to her, “Do you understand what you are offering?”

“I do,” Gideon nodded, “And I want to ensure if I do this then he is completely whole once more.”

“Gideon,” John snapped, “Rip would never agree…”

“Your offer is accepted,” ‘Time’ interrupted John.

John frowned, “No, wait.”

“The offer was made without guile,” ‘Time’ told him, “Without deceit. It was given freely and has been accepted.”

With that said ‘Time’ disappeared.

John spun to Gideon, “Rip will never agree to this.”

“He does not need to know until after Miss Lance has recanted her wish,” Gideon told him.

“And you think I’m not going to tell him?”

Gideon nodded, “I know you will not.”

Bright light filled the room and John blinked.

Looking around he frowned, before checking the book, “It didn’t work, did it?”

“No, Mr Constantine,” Gideon replied, “What you intended did not happen.”

Sighing John said, “I’m sorry, Gideon. I know how disappointed you must be. I can try again.”

Gideon gave him a sad smile, “It took you almost two years to track down that spell. It is doubtful you will be able to find another in time.”

John sighed as Gideon disappeared and he began to tidy up, disappointed that he’d failed.

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #john constantine #sara lance #zari tomaz #ray palmer #nate heywood #alternate universe

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aicsm-franchise · 2 years

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tallmantall · 2 days

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rmtndew · 4 years

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Begin Again ~ Chapter 3

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

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was for the best,” I agreed.

“See? That’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank goodness I dodged that bullet then.”

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

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

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

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

I nodded. “He was just leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

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

“What do you need me to do for you?”

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

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

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

He nodded. “Where do you want to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you need me to do?”

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

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

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

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

“Already in the kitchen,” Mom called back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marshall gave them to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She paused her cleaning. “What?”

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

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

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

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

“Then Marshall came in -”

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

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

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

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

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

I slept better that night than I had in months.

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

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friendlyfrat-boy · 3 years

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Kyle Dies Chapter 2

Grounded For Life

TW - Major character death, gore.

Characters: Stan Marsh, Butters/Victor Chaos, Kenny McCormick, Eric Cartman, etc.

Summary:

He was supposed to be saved. Stan was supposed to stop Clyde and everything would have gone back to the way it was always supposed to be. But reality was a cruel mistress, and with the twitch of a finger, everything ended.

With Stan still in the past, a paradox in time was created, forcing him to merge with his younger self in order to continue existing. But the cost was steep, and he wakes up forty years in the future, in a place that no longer resembles anything he has ever known. Faced with a world that could best be described as a dystopia, Stan has no choice but to attempt to return to the past once more in order to set things right, once and for all. But with Kenny on the run from a fascistic theocracy led by guess-who, he has no choice but to become a fugitive to avoid those he used to call his friends. At his side, his only real ally appears to be a certain Butters who can't make up his mind on who he's supposed to be.

Will they ever succeed in making the world right again, or should they just give up, even if it means dooming everything and everyone they once held dear?

They wouldn’t speak to him.

After they tackled him to the floor, they wasted no time slapping a pair of cuffs on him and bringing him over to one of the many helicopters they had arrived in. The flying vehicles seemed a bit old in design and make, but it could really just be that this world hadn’t developed as far as it would’ve without Kyle’s death.

Stan pulled his lips tight. Even now, it didn’t feel real.

Kyle was dead, and yet, it felt like it was just some unrelated kid. If it could even be called that. Stan had been torn out of the world before even a minute had passed since Kyle’s death. It felt unreal, just like this entire situation. Logically, he knew that he should have been more terrified. The fact that these black-ops people arrived only with the death of the Rabbi couldn’t have been a coincidence.

That Rabbi, Kyle’s monument…

Stan shook his head. And still, the thoughts lingered. Slowly, he shut his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to the feeling of the helicopter humming outside and the static of the Tzadik members’ comms. He tried to filter through the whirring and understand what was being said and copied and recounted, but all he got was more questions and more uncertainty. At least they hadn’t blindfolded or gagged him.

Opening his eyes again, Stan found his gaze moving to watch the outside. From high above, he could clearly see that the entirety of South Park was run-down. The mayor’s office, the school, the main street… Out of instinct, Stan turned his attention to the suburban streets he had grown up on.

…Not even his old house had been spared.

The helicopter quickly moved over the town, sparing no interest in the no-longer quaint place. The outskirts of the town were no different. Where cows had once grazed and crops had once grown, massive bustling brushes clawed and dominated. The houses stood empty - abandoned.

Absently, Stan recounted the names of the farmers who had lived in certain places. He hadn’t known them for long, but he had known them well enough. Once, his dad had taken him to a dance thing with all the other rural farmers since it was ‘good for business’ and that ‘maybe if you pick up some farmer chick we can get her dad’s land and do some expanding.’ That was obviously a bust - the farmers kicked them both out the second they set foot in the barn.

Just as a smile almost touched Stan’s lips, he noticed the house of their former neighbours, standing tall and proud. That would mean that Tegrity Farms should be nearby. Against all odds, Stan felt a small burst of hope run through his chest. After all, in this timeline, wasn’t there a fair chance that the barn hadn’t burned down? After all, he set fire to it, and in this world, he had been time-warped into the future.

Maybe Shelly was alive and mum was-,

Tegrity Farms reared on the horizon. At a mere glance, any such notions were quickly turned to ash.

The barn was burnt, leaving only charred beams standing like the skeleton of an ashen carcass. But it wasn’t just the barn. The fields were burnt black, the house likewise turned from loving home into dead ash. The only thing that still stood was the sign outside, though the wooden ornament had been hacked into two pieces.

But through it all, Stan found his eyes transfixed on a single spot. Just outside the doorway, all placed in a cluster, were three little black things. From so high up, they looked like ants, or stickmen. One large, clutching two smaller ones in its burnt arms. All three on their knees.

Stan could feel his heart stop, his chest growing tight and burning and frozen and horrible. Something in the back of his head screamed but nothing came out of his throat. Nothing but a single, pathetic whimper.

Across the helicopter, the eyes of an agent drilled into Stan even from behind his visor. Stan gulped, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat.

“Those who refuse The Heart,” the agent said smoothly, “meet only a swift end.”

The blood in his body froze to ice. Nothing would leave his throat - no sharp retort, no quick jab, and no easy breaths. He could barely breathe at all. The metal walls swam in his vision and he hadn’t noticed before how itchy and tight his cuffs were.

“Wh-, why…” He took a deep, ragged breath. With all the energy he had to muster, he locked eye contact with the agent in front of him. He had to keep his voice steady. Steeling his heart, he said, “Why?”

The agent stared at him blankly. “The will of The Heart is not to be ignored. Denying him for the simple reason of sentimentality…” A rare show of emotion; a sneer. “Some are better used as examples than pawns.”

A fire flared in Stan’s chest. He suppressed the need to strangle the man that sat before him. Instead, he said, “What about everyone else? What happened to-,”

A shake of the head stopped him from asking anything else. “It is not my place to know, nor is it yours.” Behind the visor, something gleamed. “Only know that you are not necessarily spared such a fate.”

Goosebumps spread across Stan’s back. Inside, he felt his meagre conviction stagger and crumble. His chest felt so hollow.

Moving with stunning quickness, the helicopter flew over South Park and through the nearby regions. At least they remained alive. It wasn’t all that much to look like, but there were at least people buzzing around. Unlike South Park. Damnit.

Why? Why spare these stupid-ass nameless towns only to leave South Park a shrivelling husk? If these bastards were to destroy, could they not do so equally?

On that note, who even were these people? The Heart this and The Heart that, unless Stan knew who he was actually dealing with, how could he possibly react with anything but horror and confusion?

At least, from so high up, he could get some sense of what the world was like.

Compared to the future he had arrived from, it was a lot more run-down. There were little bright colours on anything or anyone. Shops stood reserved and careful - billboards showing quotes and war posters rather than advertisements.

…War posters?

Hoping that he had finally gone cuckoo, Stan squinted at the nearest billboard.

“The Heart commands all able young men to stand their ground and give to Germany what they took from Us.”

He felt like rubbing his eyes. Instead, he glanced at the next one he could see.

“Loyalty makes a man.” This statement seemed to be a quote rather than a direct plea to join ’The War’, but it nonetheless suggested that being loyal to your country was key to being masculine. How outdated. Stan almost rolled his eyes, but if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to catch the name of the supposed man who had said it.

“-Victor Chaos?...” Oh, no. Oh god no. That had to be a coincidence. Closing his eyes, Stan absently rubbed the bridge of his nose. If Butters had gone that bad by the regular timeline, how bad could he have gotten with this? Right as Stan’s thoughts began to spiral into hopelessness, a voice chimed in.

“You’ve heard of the exalted General?” Stan barely had enough energy to open his eyes and glare ruefully at the agent. The man shook his head. “Of course. It is only a matter of time before you’re brought before him. After all, he is the one that decides whether you live or die. His words weigh as heavy as The Heart’s, for he is his throat.”

Stan had the feeling that if he made an indecent joke, it might be the last thing he ever did.

Wisely, he chose not to say anything.

The helicopter continued, leaving him with his own thoughts.

The Heart seemed to be the person with power here. Somehow, someway, Butters was on the same level. The real question here was whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Of all people Stan knew or had once known, Butters was probably the easiest to manipulate. He was naive and he was foolish and even innocent. Even as Victor Chaos, he still found himself manipulated by Cartman. It seemed it was Butters’ lot in life to always find himself ruled by another. First his parents, then Cartman, and now ‘The Heart’.

He was a pushover. It was as simple as that.

…Hopefully.

In truth, it was more of a delusion than anything. If Butters was as foolish as always, Stan might actually have a chance to get out of this with his life and freedom intact. Not that he’d even know what to do with the latter. What was there he could do? The whole world had gone to hell. Kyle was dead. His family was dead.

Was there even anything left to live for?

He shook his head dismissively.

Everything may have gone to hell, but that didn’t mean he had nothing left to live for! They’d gone back in time once, hadn’t they? If he could only go back again, then he could change it again. For the better. He could make sure Kyle and his family lived. Covid and everything else was just secondary. It didn’t matter. Not in the face of the world Stan saw so far below.

He just had to time travel again.

…All on his own?

Face it, on his lonesome, Stan had absolutely no chance. If Kenny had made a time machine in this reality as well he would already have gone back to set things right. But he hadn’t. Or was it because he couldn’t? For all he knew, Kenny might have already gotten killed by some bastards who wanted to keep the world as it was, no matter the price. And if not that, then Kenny might be on their side already, working for them.

Without Kenny, Stan didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding. And even with Kenny, it wasn’t as though he just made up the whole idea out of nowhere. It took years of research and tonnes of money.

There was no guarantee that this would work.

But he didn’t have any other choice.

Oh, assuming Butters didn’t stupidly decide he should die. But it was Butters. No matter the reality, he should stay about the same, right?

The flight continued for a few more hours, the majority of which Stan spent watching the cities as they passed below. He made out buildings and companies and billboards and everything in-between, and through it all, he came to a very strange realisation.

The Rabbi had said the right thing. This place, this country…

Somehow, in a mere forty years, it had become Jewish. Synagogues dotted cities and towns alike, easily beating out typical Christian churches, of which only singular examples could be found. It felt wrong. Such a change in nationwide religion should take hundreds of years, not to mention the intense societal backlash that ought to follow. It wasn’t as though all the millions of Christians in the country would just sit idle while synagogues replaced their churches.

…Or would they?

The Hebrew Theocracy. The title would suggest a fascistic country ruled by religion.

And that was exactly what he saw. From a bird’s eye perspective, Stan saw it all.

And then they reached Washington D.C.

With their descent, it was all-too-obvious that it wasn’t just part of the country, or a single state, but rather the entire nation that had been overtaken. Stan might have been more impressed if the idea didn’t frighten him so much. Could the death of a single child truly change so much? Was this the butterfly effect in place?

Lost in thought, Stan barely noticed how the helicopter touched down and the agents led him out of it. A group of men in military garb met him, led by two men clearly dressed as officers, distinguished from the others. Those two… Stan recognized them the instant he saw them. “Tweek? Craig?”

They somehow looked much older than they had been even in his present. Their eyes were hollow and empty, devoid of that spark the two used to share. Most eerie of all, Tweek wasn’t even trembling a little. Not only did the two share the same pair of world-weary eyes, but so too did they both carry a similar medal adorning their chests. If he’d been a bit more relaxed, Stan might have leaned in to see what they said.

Craig took a step towards him, looking him up and down and clearly finding him lacking. “Stan Marsh,” he greeted, though it seemed more out of formality than familiarity.

Stan nodded at him. “Craig.”

“The Heart has long awaited you.”

Stan shrugged. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.” Was exactly everyone going to tell him that? It was starting to get repetitive. “What does he even-,”

“You do not have the right to speak of him.” With that said, Craig turned around, showing his back. “Come. Your fate has yet to be decided.” Clearly leaving no room for debate. Just looking at the other officers and soldiers, it was clear that if he didn’t choose to join them, they’d simply force them to.

Mutely, he followed behind them.

Moving with militant swiftness, they brought him into the building that stood right in front of them. Stan had never seen it in his life, and the appearance of it brought Stan no questions. It really just looked like an odd cross between a bunker and a synagogue, with thick concrete walls and strange out-of-place religious decorations here and there. It was almost perverse in its worship, and now that he was actually on the ground, he was able to see many more of these strange examples.

Almost all men who walked by wore a kippah. Those that didn’t carried a pin showing some other religious affinity, though these people were few and far between. There were more billboards too, though they were too far away for Stan to read. Posters, flyers and murals all stoically implored the people to join the war.

Just before they entered the oppressive building, Stan caught a glimpse of a large banner flying outside. A banner of a yellow-haired man with a scar over his left eye.

He looked more serious than Stan had ever seen him.

That didn’t bode well.

The door before them was opened by a pair of guards, even though they should have been automated. Well inside, each of the officers touched a little post to the side of the door. It was similar to the one Stan could remember Kyle had in his home, but at the same time, it was far more extravagant in both design and make. Beyond the doorpost were more guards. It almost seemed as though the entire building was populated entirely by them in the form of squadrons patrolling hallways or standing outside individual rooms looking intimidating. Stan tried counting each guard as they passed at first, but he lost count around the 100 mark. And yet, the hallway just kept going.

Further and further inside, until the steel and concrete walls grew colour and the floor found itself a fancy carpet and all of a sudden they weren’t moving through a military semi-bunker, but instead what almost seemed like a presidential suite. Lit with crystal chandeliers probably worth more than anything Stan had ever owned, the walls that now carried apathetic landscape paintings held an almost angelic glow. There were just as many guards as there had always been if not more, but they carried themselves with a regality that couldn’t be found before.

It was a strange shift, made all the more obvious as they finally - after far too long - entered a room.

With this, all officers apart from Tweek and Craig left, leaving the three of them alone in the room. Well, not quite.

“You’re here to meet General Chaos, I assume?” He wasn’t even surprised to see Bebe sitting all posh and proper behind a desk fancy enough for the pope to use as a barstool. The room itself seemed to be a mixture of a waiting room and a secretary’s office, though the luxury of it all made both comparisons feel next to futile. Returning his eyes to Bebe, he found her cool eyes trained squarely on him. “Stan Marsh, I see. Well, better late than never. Colonel O’Connell is already there, but he’s always there, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

There was something about her eyes that Stan didn’t like. Time had its toll on everyone, but something in her gaze - something formerly hidden behind the icy blue irises was gone.

She poked a few buttons on her desk. After a few seconds, a beep resounded. “You’re welcome inside.” A soulless smile usually reserved for customers you didn’t like spread across her lips and Stan realised what she was missing.

All joy for life.

“Thank you,” Craig replied blandly as he opened the door. His eyes turned on Stan. “Enter.”

“You’re not-?”

He shook his head. “It is not our place.”

“Uh… Okay.” Warily, he stepped through the door and into the office. Compared to the waiting room outside, it was far more extravagant. And yet, somehow, it felt even more soulless. The portraits and bland landscape paintings that decorated the walls seemed more so picked by a designer than by anyone who actually cared. Chairs, desk and cupboards were all made of finest wood and craftsmanship, adorning the room with a pleasant humble smell.

It was oppressively ornate in the dullest way possible.

“Have you finished internally criticising my office, Marsh?” A voice as smooth as cyanide made Stan’s attention snap back to the desk. There sat Butters. The desk itself was clearly made of some fancy wood, its surface polished to the point where it almost looked like a liquid. Otherwise, the desk was rather simple, holding stacks of folders and papers and pencils and a phone, and… And now that Stan truly looked at it, there wasn’t a computer of any kind. The phone was old fashioned even by the standards of Stan’s childhood. Even the facility around them as a whole was more modern than this.

“I despise technology.” The voice cut through Stan like a knife rending flesh and Stan turned his eyes to the man who had spoken them. He had been unable to bear looking at him before, but there he was. Their eyes met and Stan felt as though a thousand needles were pressing into his body. Behind him, a red stained-glass window painted the room bloody.

If Bebe’s eyes had been lifeless, Butters’ were beyond dead. Neither interest, care nor presence shone in them - only an everlasting apathy. Struck by a sudden weightlessness, Stan stared at Butters’ left eye. A scar ran across it, leaving the pupil a pale, lifeless blue. Stan never had found out whether he was blind in that eye or not. He sure as hell wasn’t asking now.

“You are in the presence of General Chaos and you dare remain silent?!” someone shouted and Stan dragged his eyes over to finally notice the other person in the room - Colonel O’Connell. Or Dougie, as they had called him all those years ago. Now, such a tawdry nickname would do him no service. He was not an especially tall or powerful presence by any means, but something in his stance and face beckoned obedience. “Speak your-,”

Butters held up one hand. With only that, the colonel quieted. All authority melted from his face as he retreated into being little more than a simple background detail.

Stan gulped. “B-, Butters, I-,”

A single gaze shut him up as well. Silently, the man in front of him turned to regard one of the many portraits on the wall. “It’s Chaos.” He glanced back at Stan. “Victor Chaos.” Slowly, he shook his head. “Or do you truly believe me to be the same man you knew forty years ago?”

Stan felt a shiver take hold of his left hand. “No,” he said. “Of-, of course not.” Keeping the trembling out of his voice was harder than sustaining eye contact with the man before him.

Stan may just have critically underestimated his opponent.

Victor gazed keenly at him for a few moments before letting his eyes close. He breathed a sigh. “Your arrival was foretold by The Heart. With your presence, this glorious theocracy will enter a new era of rule, finally ending this feeble war with NATO as our wings unfurl.” Somehow, although the words he spoke were filled with passion and faith, the way he said it was much more like a kid reciting a speech their parents wrote for them than anything honest. “But surely the Rabbi already told you of this?”

Shaking his head, Stan tried to recall if the Rabbi had ever actually told him anything useful. “No, he just-, he…” The feeling of holding a body rapidly losing warmth and life filled his hands and he frowned at himself.

“...I see. That is only to be expected. His only purpose was to welcome you and toll the bell for Kyle.” Again, the words he spoke felt rehearsed. Like a formality rather than anything he actually believed. “For the moment, The Heart has deigned not to speak with you. He is a very busy man, I’m sure you understand. In the meantime, you will be kept-,”

His grasp on the situation was slipping. Much like the speech Victor was making, Stan was only there to listen. The situation felt artificial and unless Stan did something, this would be the end of it. Going along with the script was not possible if he wanted to get out of this unscathed.

And so, he did the most arguably stupid thing he could.

“-Butters, listen, you’ve gotta cut that out!”

The colonel bristled, but before he could shout something, Victor stopped him. In his right eye, something akin to amusement shone. “Indeed?” His upper lip twitched. “Don’t quiet now, Marsh. Do continue.”

“You-, you…” Suddenly speechless, Stan shook his head. He had to pull himself together! He curled his hands into fists. “This isn’t you. You’re acting really weirdly, but this is… You’re just acting! Did Cartman put you up to this or something? This is-,” Filled with feeble bravado, Stan gestured at the office with his cuffed hands. “-This room! All of this is just decorations, useless, needless decorations! What, did you look at military movies and copy one of them? None of this is-,”

Stan’s gaze returned to Victor and found that the meek glint of entertainment in his right eye had died, leaving behind only boredom. “Are you done, Marsh? Perhaps I had expected too much of someone like you.” He stood up, turning his back on Stan as though he had no reason to care.

“G-, General Chaos, how can you let him-,”

“Colonel, will you please leave the room?”

O’Connell blinked at him. “S-, sir? Please, I just-,”

The room grew three degrees cooler. “Leave us.” His words dripped with cold venom. The colonel began to tremble before finally pulling himself together and giving a hasty, feeble salute before scampering out of the room. Leaving the two of them alone. Well and truly alone. Stan’s heart pounded in his ears. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Wh-, what?”

Victor turned his head, letting his one good eye wash over Stan like a bucket of ice water. “Or are you simply ignorant?” In a movement that oozed authority, Victor turned around fully. Stan hadn’t seen it while he was sitting, but his uniform - ignoring all the frivolous details and extravagant designs - was absolutely covered with medals. From the smaller, simpler ones to the larger ones that tattled of military accomplishments impossible to fulfil from behind a desk, they all came together to form a bundle of clinking, jingling instruments of power.

“Why would I-,”

“I’m not an idiot. We both know all-too-well the kind of person ‘Butters’ was.” His eyes, now brimming with life and fire, turned distant. “He was the kind of kid picked on by everyone, but too stupid to realise it himself. No, not stupid… Naive. Yes, he was naive, and for that, he was punished. A poor little child whom nobody loved, not even his parents. Isn’t that tragic?”

Stan couldn’t bear answering.

Victor watched him for a few seconds, eyes seething. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t see it that way, Marsh.” With assured steps, he moved closer to Stan. He wasn’t much taller than him, but there was an air about him, a way in which he moved, that made Stan absolutely certain that he was far from a simple office-pusher. “Neither do you understand that people can, indeed, improve. Tell me, Marsh. Have you improved?”

His throat felt so dry. “I-, I have done-,”

“We have all done our best, Marsh. There is nothing special in doing what you can. But did you ever try to go beyond that? To put your past behind you and become more than anyone had ever expected you? To break the confines you made for yourself - to expand at any cost?” He was so much more than Stan had ever been. “Tell me, Marsh - are you willing to kill?”

“I-, I…” Silently, thoughtlessly, Stan slumped to his knees. His eyes fell to the wooden floor and the booted feet of the man before him.

Victor turned away from him. “I thought so.” Then, quietly, with a non-saying dejection only barely hidden, he moved over to his desk and pressed a button on his comm system. “Mrs Stevens, will you call in The Two to escort Marsh to-,”

A fire burned in the back of his head. Shame, anger, despair, sorrow, uselessness all coalesced into a black sludge that filled his brain and his skull and almost spilt out of his eyes. But in that muddy swamp of memories, he remembered something. Something about a time beyond this one, of a world wherein Victor Chaos was a very different person. A person who likewise had not been loved. A person who, after the pandemic, had found himself in a situation comparable only to a death sentence.

Had this timeline been different? How had this version taken it? Would it work? Was it true?

And yet, somehow, Stan found himself taking the chance.

“Butters,” he whispered. The ever-stoic face of Victor Chaos turned to him, ready to sneer, ready to say something derogatory, anything, but… “You’re not grounded anymore.”

And for once, Victor was at a loss. “...What?”

More certain of himself, Stan lifted his face, affixing Victor with a gaze brimming with the fire of life. “You’re not grounded.”

The man before him began to breathe faster. “What are you saying? Be quiet before I-,”

Stan stood up, placing himself on Victor’s eye level. “You’re not grounded.”

A sneer dragged itself across Victor’s face. “Ridiculous. You think I’ll be fooled by some pathetic attempt to-,”

“Forty years ago, a little kid got grounded, even though he hadn’t done anything.”

“Shut up,” Victor breathed, his eyes growing frantic.

“His parents left to go to the movies. They were only supposed to be gone a few hours, but-,”

“Shut up!” Victor crossed the room in three large strides, his hands grabbing a hold of Stan’s collar like an iron vice. But Stan wouldn’t back down now.

“They-, they didn’t return, did they?”

Mere inches from his face, Stan saw how Victor’s eyes trembled. He swallowed. “N-, no,” he said in a small voice. “They didn’t.”

Stan nodded. “How long did they leave you there, Butters?”

Slowly, gently, Victor’s eyes fell to the ground, to some undefined spot far away, in a time much different than this one. “Six years. To survive, I had to… At first, I considered leaving my room. There was food downstairs, but I was grounded, so I couldn’t go there. Not while my parents were out. So I ordered food via Uber. But I ran out of money, so I had to… I made people buy NFT’s. Made some money that way. And-, and for some reason, even when I had all the money I could ever want, I just kept going.”

“And one day, The Heart realised it. He hadn’t converted the whole nation yet, just a few nearby states, but his reach was enough to notice the countless people losing their money. So he came for me. When he realised it was me, he decided not to kill me, but instead to-, to recruit me. But I was still grounded. And he told me-, I remember it like yesterday, he said, ‘Dude, only Butters is grounded. If you aren’t Butters, you’re free to go.’” He gave a hoarse, weak laugh. “S-, so, I became not-Butters, because not-Butters was free!”

Stan stared at him. “But you aren’t grounded anymore.”

Victor blinked at him. “How-, how can you say that? My parents are-, by this point, they’re both probably dead! Butters is grounded for life, you hear me?!”

Shaking his head, Stan resisted the urge to smirk. “Butters, have you ever seen an adult ground another adult?”

“N-, no?”

This time, Stan really did smile. “You’re an adult, Butters. Only a judge and jury can ground you at this point.” The grip on his collar loosened as Victor staggered back. “You’re free, Butters. You don’t have to be Victor Chaos anymore.”

“I-, I…” Stumbling back, Victor collapsed to the ground, his wide eyes staring out into the nothingness. Then, slowly, his eyes fell close. When they opened, they were full of life and seemed approximately forty years younger.

“Huh?” Butters blinked and glanced around the room. “What is…?” Then his eyes fell on Stan. “Oh, hi Stan! What’re you doin’ in here?”

Unable to restrain himself, Stan threw his arms around Butters.

#stan marsh #south park #south park fanfiction #south park post covid #victor chaos #butters stotch #tweek #tweak tweek #south park craig #bebe stevens

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cassiecasyl · 4 years

Text

I bit off more than I could chew when I looked closer

Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas‘s spn content creator event!! For today’s prompt, AUs, I decided to try my hand on an AU that has been in my head for months.

This is meant as an introductionary piece to the concept/idea of the AU, and thus I expected it to be relatively short, like around 500 words. I ended up with over double that amount. Whoops?

this AU is based on the MV of Obey by Bring Me The Horizon & YUNGBLUD ship: Destiel additional tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Mecha, Dystopia, Brainwashed Castiel, Memory Loss, Flashbacks read on ao3

Castiel maneuvered his suit through the city, the metal feet stomping heavily on concrete, but he was careful not to hit any cars. The people knew to avoid him and evacuate the streets he walked through, and it was rare that he had to stop so he wouldn’t cause a fatal accident. He was proud to be the angel with least civilian casualties.

It wasn’t often they patrolled through inhabited areas anyway. But ever since Micheal lost his sword as he lovingly called his suit - a name Castiel never really got -, heaven was worried. They suspected it to have been stolen by the resistance, which would give them a fighting chance. Outwards, they remained calm of course, but Castiel noticed the stress his superiors were under.

The whispered rumors that became loud enough to reach heaven’s ears only added to this. The Kingslayer would return, they said. It was an old legend, and Naomi put it down to simple propaganda of the resistance, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel like something was happening.

Castiel let his eyes wander from his view over the city through the glass wall of a skyscraper next to him. Momentarily, he was entranced by the humans bustling through the busy office, so caught up in their own lives. It always fascinated him how different they were. Yet, they shared the same burden of heaven’s cross on their shoulder. Castiel shook his head to shy the blasphemous thoughts away. Heaven was a blessing, he reminded himself. A human spotted him from where they were standing in the office and waved at the angel with a big grin. He nodded to himself. They were happy. No need to worry.

Just as he raised the suit’s heavy hand to awkwardly wave back, there was a familiar clank behind him. He frowned. It was characteristic for fledgling’s to cause this noise while walking, being not as used to their suits yet, but he was sure he’d have heard about it if the Academy had a field day in his sector. As far as he knew, the graduation class was far from that point, especially in the current state of things. Though he wasn’t exactly close to any other sector, he prepared for a familiar face.

The suit in front of him was nothing like he’d ever seen. Its metal was more brown than the usual gold of angel armor, whether it was due to dirt, rust, or something completely different, Castiel couldn’t tell. The iconic silver of Michael’s elite group shimmered through in some places, sending dread down his nervous system. It was a perfect patchwork, wistfully constructed despite the differing materials. Above its green-tainted eyes, it bore the symbol of the resistance - a star within a sun - instead of the usual cross of the angels.

He couldn’t remember the last time the resistance dared to show their face. Still, there was something about it that seemed so awfully familiar. Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this face. But how?

“Castiel, do you copy?” Uriel’s voice buzzed through the intercoms, breaking him out of his thoughts. Quickly, he pressed the button that allowed him to speak.

“I do,” he answered. His finger lingered on the button for a minute, but eventually, he let it go without further words. Why didn’t he say anything? He was right in front of him. They could catch him and rid the resistance of the suit and maybe even an important member. Why did he remain quiet?

“We’ve got bad news that the resistance got a suit somewhere in the area. Have you seen anything?” Uriel continued and Castiel let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. All would be good.

“I have,” he said, anxiety still trying to catch his tongue. Where did he know this face from? “In fact, I’ve got contact. It’s standing right in front of me.” He regarded the suit before him once again, giving it an once-over and halting at its green eyes.

“Good. Stay there,” Uriel instructed, “We’re-”

Suddenly, a ray of sunshine blinked through the grey sky and landed on hills of green. His opponents eyes gleamed mischievously, and he tilted his head as if he had winked at him. It was unreal.

“What’s the word, Cas?” the man asked as he approached, an easy grin on his lips. Castiel turned around, letting it warm his freezing body. The sunlight transformed his eyes into a breath-takingly beautiful mossy green, and all he wanted was to get lost in it, while they slowly indulged in secret kisses. He blinked.

“It’s a shortened version of my name,” he deadpanned, delighted in the annoyed eye-roll he got in response. He knew this man. The image of a patchwork suit flashed before his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckled. The warmth in their faces was more than the sunlight shining down on them as they sat on the outpost. Castiel drank it in like a flower that’s been trapped in the dark, like Dean was the sun freeing him from winter. Dean. Who the hell was Dean?

“All quiet,” he answered, only going along with the script being laid on his tongue. He didn’t know what was going on. The man, Dean, nodded.

“Castiel. Do you copy?” Naomi’s voice trilled through him, reaching him in whatever dream he was caught. He frowned in fear. When had Naomi come here? When had the voice changed from Uriel to her?

“I copy,” he answered, his voice weirdly shaky. A tear rolled down his cheek and he shook his head to get rid of it. He didn’t want to cry. Not with his superiors on the coms and heaven counting on him. What was even happening to him? The resistance’s suit was still standing there in front of him, unmoving, and somewhere in his mind Castiel registered it as odd.

“Do you still have contact?” If she was relieved about Castiel’s answer, she didn’t express it.

“I do.”

“Initiate combat,” Naomi ordered sternly, leaving no place for arguments. Castiel nodded, more to himself, looking down at the controls. He knew what to do. Then why couldn’t he move?

“Attack him, Castiel,” she clarified. He could sense the edge in her voice sharpening. But, he couldn’t. What if it was Dean? He thought back at the warmth he felt there. No, he shook his head. Dean didn’t mean anything.

“Castiel.” The command cut through the air, frazzled by the coms. His breaths came out in short, panicked gasps, his brain short-circuiting while he still couldn’t bring himself to move. What was happening?

Dean. The word had such a familiarity to it. It was family. Warmth. Love. He blinked, trying to grasp the definition of the word.

“Fight him, Castiel. Kill him if you must.” Naomi was losing patience fast.

I won’t hurt Dean Winchester. The phrase tasted strangely like a deja-vu on his tongue, but he couldn’t fathom why. He never had reason to say them, did he? Why would he? Dean was nobody, a fragment of his imagination. He didn’t exist as far as he knew.

“Raphael is on her way to you, but if you won’t fight, you’ll be in major trouble,” Naomi warned. Castiel shuddered as pain stabbed into his temples alongside the words. He wanted to scream. Instead, he nodded.

We saved you, Castiel. Don’t you want to compensate us for the trouble we went through? He remembered Naomi saying so long ago when she asked him to become an angel. Though he couldn’t remember where they rescued him from - Naomi had explained that the memory loss was a trauma response - he knew it was true.

Finally, he answered, “Initiating combat.”

Please let me know if you want to read more of this AU!! I’d be more than happy to return to it!

tag list: @aniridescentdreamer @nightmare-in-plaid @gnbrules @luciferstempest @castiel-for-lunch

#dailydestieldelights #destiel #destiel AU #deancas #obey #bring me the horizon #yungblud #science fiction #mecha #this was so hard to tag on ao3 #not me writing this all afternoon instead of working on uni stuff

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shooting-starry · 4 years

Text

My heart died with you

Akaashi Keiji x reader

Summary: Akaashi Keiji. A very successful man. If you were to ask anyone about him they would say that he has a good job and a beautiful wife. Or had a beautiful wife.

Word count: 1338

A/n: I already posted this but I am just copying it here! Please reblog if you link my work!

Warning: Alcohol, character death (reader), suicide??, ANGST, post timeskip

One year. It had been one year since the day that he lost his light, his laughter and his love. One year since Akaashi Keiji lost you. You were the love of his life. He loved everything about you, from the way your eyebrows would wrinkle when you laughed to the way you said his name. Today, you were all his friends talked about. Bokuto, you best friend was more depressed than usual, even Tsukishima seem to miss you. That day going to work was both the best and worst decision. It helped him keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of whether you were in a better place or if you still watched out for him, but those looks of sadness and sympathy from the faces of his co-workers made him feel sick with regret. He left the office early that day to head to the bar across the street from his office. Now Akaashi was not a heavy drinker, whenever you would go out for drinks, he was always the designated driver. He never even thought about letting the alcohol touch his lips, but when he walked into the empty bar, he just hoped that he would be able to make his way home after a few drinks. Taking a seat at the counter, he orders his first drink

“Whiskey neat, please.”

———————————————

It had been 5 shots, no 6. The world around him was just starting to get slightly blurry. The quiet bar was now bustling with customers looking for the same high as he was. They were all looking for a way to forget what was right outside the threshold of the bar doors. As Akaasi finishes yet another, a woman comes up to him, everything she does reminds him of you. The way her hair fell around her face and the way she walked was so stupidly similar to the way you would when you were drunk. Sitting on the bar stool next to him, she crosses her legs and leans forwards seductively.

“Hey,” she slurred, in a manner that was so similar to the way you would take when you had a little too much to drink.

“Hey,” Akaashi replied. The large wave of nostalgia washing over him like a tsunami. Everything about this woman in front of him was exactly like you. Well almost, she had the look of lust and mischievousness in her eyes, while you always had a look of innocence and kindness. But that difference wasn’t enough to keep Akaashi from indulging in a dream, even if it was just for the night. “Do you want a drink?”, he finishes. The smug smile on the woman’s face was enough to answer his question.

——————————————

They lasted 2 drinks. 2 drinks before he let the succubus like woman pull him outside to an alley by his tie. The kiss they shared was sloppy as both ends intertwined their tongues in a fight for control. One of her hands was busy lacing the fingers through his dark curly hair, and the other was working on the buttons of his shirt. The passion was nothing but a pure illusion, but one that brought the drunken man some comfort. The kiss deepened with each passing second, becoming more and more intimate. Suddenly, as her cold hands touched his bare chest, in the way you used to do, did his eyes flash open. The coldness was uncharacteristic of you. Your hands were always had warmth. These hands feel like those of a dead body. In a panic, the man that you loved so much pushed the woman that mirrored you almost perfectly. Both people were silent at his sudden opposing movement. The woman moved closer to him caressing his muscular chest with her cold, dead hands.

“Keiji, what happened?”, she asked with lust dripping from every word she spoke.

“I am sorry, I can’t do this. Especially not today.” Akaashi answered. “And it is Akaashi to you.”, he answered with a sliver of hatred in his tone as he buttoned up his shirt and readjusted his tie, all the effects of the alcohol now gone. Before he walked away, leaving the woman alone in the alley, confused and alone. He wished he could say that he hated her for what she made him do. But he couldn’t. It was his fault, his fault for betraying his loyalty to you, and letting that woman take advantage of him. He could hate her because he was too busy hating himself.

The walk back to the apartment was long and full of shame. The thought and memories of you bombarded his mind. He wanted nothing more than to be held in your arms while you told him everything would be alright. Your warmth was always able to pull him out of his thoughts. It was like you were his life line. Pulling him out of the deep and mysterious ocean and into the safety of your arms.

When he arrived at the apartment that the two of you used to share, he was met with emptiness. No warm meal, no hug, no hello, and no you. Sighing, he loosens his tie and unbuttons the first few buttons on his shirt. Walking through the gloomy, dark and empty kitchen, one that was once filled with laughter and happy memories, he makes his way to your favourite spot in the entire apartment, the fire escape. You would sit there at night with a cup of coffee and a fluffy blanket to talk to the sky. “The night sky knows everything about everyone!”, you used to explain excitedly to Keiji. “All the stars and the moon that make up the night sky always keep their promise and all of your secrets.”. You were so happy back then. It made him wonder when it all changed for you. And why didn’t he notice. He was supposed to be very observant, but he couldn’t even notice the spark in your eyes dull as your smile slowly shrink. Grabbing a cup of coffee, your old blanket and the photo of the two of you on your wedding day. Settling down to sit on the fire escape, Akaashi stared at the photo of the two of you, both frozen in time and forever young. You looked so beautiful that day he thought that you were definitely a goddess. Your dress had long lace sleeves and a low scooped neckline that perfectly suited you. He wore a classic tux with dark blue accents you could only see if you looked long enough and a blood red rose which adored his breast pocket. Everything about that day was perfect. All of his dreams came true of a beautiful wedding with an even more stunning bride. He wordlessly ran his along the picture, pausing when he got to your face, a wide beautiful smile on your face and your bridesmaids and Bokuto surrounding you, and Akaashi holding your hand with a rare smile on his face as well. The generally calm and composed man broke down into tears.

After what seemed like a hour of crying, Akaashi looked up towards the night sky, some of the stars were present, and a crescent moon hung above his head, the noise of the city fading behind him. Wiping away the last remnants of the tears, he spoke to the night sky, hoping that maybe you could hear him too.

“Y/n,” he began, voice shaking, “I am sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I know in your letter you told me to move on. I went on a date with a girl, but I couldn’t move on. If you are watching over me, you probably know what happened at the bar today. The woman I was with. I couldn’t help myself. She reminded me so much of you. I thought that maybe I could give my heart to her. But I couldn’t. How could I when my heart died with you?”.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi oneshot #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi keji x you #akaashi angst

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