#Because the first time around they were radio silent about what happened which led to him being so paranoid he cut them all off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

larrydempsey · 1 year

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“But I’m Feeling Much Better Now, Part Four”

One of the only things that helped bring me joy and ease my anxiety during my early and mid-teens was my newfound interest in listening to music. After having a couple small radios over the span of a few years, I finally got my first real stereo receiver and speakers. Tom came home from work that night and saw the new stereo system. Later the same evening, I overheard Tom telling my mom that he felt like throwing the stereo on a concrete floor and smashing it into a million pieces because he wasn’t the one who picked it out.

The jealousy eased up in high school, but the teasing remained. And I still couldn’t go to the bathroom in front of anyone. I continued to use my method of sitting down in one of the stalls, but there weren’t any doors in the stalls at this school (to try and deter smokers and potheads). That left me feeling vulnerable and exposed, never more so than one day when a large crowd of boys came into the bathroom when I was in the stall and proceeded to point, laugh, and make fun of me while I was sitting on the toilet. Another time, a couple of particularly evil students learned my routine of trying to get into the bathroom before everyone else. So one morning, they got into the bathroom before I did and smeared Bengay all over the toilet seat in the stall they knew I always used. Since Bengay is white and the toilet seat was also white, I didn’t see it. And I sat in it. My butt burned for hours.

Unlike in grade school and junior high, I wasn’t the only artist on the block anymore. There were two other boys who went to my high school who could also draw. One was in my art class, but he and I never spoke to each other. That was fine; he always seemed stuck up. As for the other one, we knew each other by reputation, but our paths never crossed until we finally met at the all-night post-graduation party at the fairgrounds. We got along surprisingly well. There wasn’t any competitiveness like with that kid in grade school. I don’t think we ever got together or hung out again after that. I don't know what happened to him.

There were times when my drawing activities occasionally got me into trouble. For example, I was drawing in my notebook in Biology one day while the teacher was talking in front of the class (I was constantly drawing in school, which must have helped me deal with my stress and anxiety). I heard the teacher, Ms. Steen, ask me a question (only because my name was attached at the end of it). I blurted out, “Nocturnal!” I have no idea what the question was, but apparently that was the wrong answer. Another day, this time in Economics class, I think I was drawing a Led Zeppelin logo, completely oblivious to what was going on around me or what the teacher was talking about. After a while, I noticed the room had gone completely silent. I stopped drawing, slowly lifted my head, and looked around. Every student in class was staring at me. I looked at the teacher, and she was staring at me, too. She asked me to stop drawing and pay attention. There was an art contest to draw a patriotic-themed picture. I entered, deciding to do a drawing of an eagle, the Liberty Bell, and the Statue of Liberty. I got the idea from seeing a drawing in an issue of TV Guide. I redrew the TV Guide drawing and then cut out each individual object with the goal of rearranging them into a new composition. But the more I moved them around, the less it worked. So slowly but surely, each piece eventually made its way back to the composition of the original drawing. So I went with it, and my final drawing was basically nothing more than a rip-off of the TV Guide drawing. But it was too late to come up with another idea. I won second place (the first-place winner did a collage of American soldiers in Vietnam). I was even given an award by a local patriotic society. But I knew I was a fraud and had won the award unfairly. I always regretted receiving the awards and accolades under false pretenses and not speaking out about my plagiarism.

As with junior high, gym class continued to be a big problem in high school. I kept getting heavier due to the stress of school work, bullying, and the tension at home. I remember one gym class where that day’s activity involved going outside to the track and having to do a 50-yard dash. The teacher set it up so two students competed against each other at a time. When it was my turn, I was pitted against a skinny kid. The skinny kid took off like a shot and finished quickly. Me, on the other hand, trying to compete but coming nowhere close, was encouraged (I’d even go so far as using the word “forced”) to try and perform at the same level as the skinny kid. Against my better judgment, I pushed myself harder than I should have, and I pulled something in my right side, injuring the area between my leg and abdomen (where a hernia might be). It wasn’t bad enough to see a doctor, but that area often hurts and bulges, even today. I always dreaded gym class the most when the weather was warm and sunny. That usually meant having to go outside and play sports. On one such day, we had to play a game of baseball. While I was good at hitting the ball, I wasn’t good at running. As with the 50-yard dash, I pushed myself too hard and hurt myself trying to run too fast. Also, I didn’t know all the rules. Apparently, you can run over first base when you reach it, but not second. I didn’t know that. I don't know the rules. I caught hell from my fellow students for that. I don’t know baseball. I don’t know sports. I hate sports. I guess it’s taken for granted that all boys are interested in sports and that they know all the rules. Well, here’s one boy who didn’t and wouldn't care if he did.

One of the big problems I now recognize looking back on my teachers and the education field in general is that they expected everyone to be exactly the same. Everyone should be good at every subject. Everyone should be social. Everyone should be outgoing. And in the case of gym teachers, everyone should be able to accomplish the same physical feats. (They expected a fat kid like me to perform at the same physical level as the skinny kids. For the life of me, I can’t imagine how they ever thought that was fair.) Anything different, anything out-of-the-ordinary, was wrong. Individuality and introversion were abnormal. Something I hope teachers will learn someday is not to try and change the students’ personalities. If they’re introverted, let them be introverted. Do not try to change them. I repeat: do not try to change them. Leave them alone. There’s nothing wrong with them. They don’t need to be “fixed.” They don’t need to be “brought out of their shell.” If and when they ever want to change, they’ll do it their own way and at their own pace. Don’t force them to behave as you think they should. It's your job to educate them, not terrorize them.

Not all my high school teachers were evil or tyrannical. I had a few I really liked and with whom I was comfortable. I liked my art teacher, Mr. Haus (junior and senior years). I liked both of my computer teachers, Mr. Bieber (junior year) and Mr. Brommer (junior and senior years). And I liked two of my English teachers, Mr. Peebles (sophomore year) and Mrs. (Miss? Ms.?) Sweney (junior year). I still use things I learned in Mr. Peebles class to this day, like how to write letters and essays. And the assignments weren’t too tedious. He also used a unique method of giving his students the answers to the test the day before the test (and even then, some kids still failed). As for Mrs. Sweney’s class, I signed up for Mr. Nelson’s English class but transferred out after a few days. I can’t remember why. It seems out of character for me to make such a bold move. I’m really glad I did, though. The class in which they transferred me was made up of students who also transferred from other English classes. The students were misfits and outsiders, like myself. It sort of felt like a real-life “Breakfast Club.” Even the location of the classroom was strange; it was in one of the peripheral buildings where the art, shop, and other “industrial arts” (i.e., arts and crafts) classrooms were. I typically didn’t get along with female teachers for some reason, but Mrs. Sweney was the exception. She was sweet, friendly, and likable.

My work started to suffer and my grades started to slip in the last quarter of my sophomore year. I don’t know why. Fear of the future? Stress at home? The first appearance of depression? All of the above? All I know is that I simply didn’t care anymore. But in the last month or so, I had a brief resurgence of energy and optimism, and I started to turn things around. I pulled myself out of a nosedive, motivated, most likely, by not wanting to repeat the 10th grade.

During my junior year, I took Algebra II. I was averaging a D. I hated that class with a passion. I hated math of any kind (especially “advanced” math, like algebra and geometry). However, at the end of the semester, I had the opportunity to transfer out of Algebra II and into Computer II. I did, and I couldn’t have made a better decision. That class, I loved. Apparently, I had a knack for computer programming. It was fun and came easily to me. It didn’t feel like work. And that makes a huge difference: If I’m interested in something, it feels effortless. Not long after, I was averaging 104% in my new class. In junior high, I was told that students who weren’t good at algebra couldn’t comprehend computer programming since it involved a similar way of thinking. Not true. I’m proof of that. Another reason I liked Computer II was because of the room it was in. It was in the most western section of the campus, in a corner far away from most of the other classrooms. And near that remote classroom, I discovered a bathroom that was rarely used. It became my new favorite bathroom (if someone can have such a thing). It was a long, thin room. The sink and mirror were near the entrance/exit, while a row of stalls were lined along the long wall, stretching away into the distance. I always used the stall furthest from the exit. Not once was I teased or disturbed in that bathroom. I finally had one less thing to worry about.

Other than the discovery of my new lavatorial oasis, a few more positive things happened to me in high school, believe it or not. All of them happened in junior year. That’s the year I must have peaked. One time, we played golf during gym class. Well, not golf exactly. Just putting. It was upstairs above the locker rooms, in a large, wide, open space behind the bleachers. There were a bunch of different activities set up. I don’t remember if we had a choice of which activity we wanted to participate in, but I played golf. I was supposed to use a golf club to hit a golf ball into a small drinking glass 10-15 feet away. I was the first one up. I hit the ball, and it went in the glass on the first try. Everyone was shocked and amazed – no one more than me. It took eleven years, but I finally impressed someone with something – and in Gym, of all places.

There were a couple times I entertained two of my classes by impersonating the teacher. I was always good at doing voices and impressions. These weren't planned. They just burst forth due to a spontaneous set of circumstances, done before class and before the teacher and all the kids got there. The first time was in Computer I. I was up near the blackboard for some reason. I started imitating the teacher’s voice (Mr. Bieber, whom I mentioned earlier). The kids who were there thought it was really funny, so I kept going. I imitated his walk and mannerisms, pacing back and forth. He was always full of energy, very animated, and swinging his arms around. So I did that, only more exaggerated. Then the teacher walked in and caught me. It was fine, though. Again, he was one of a handful of teachers I actually liked, and we got along well. And since he had a sense of humor, both about himself and in general, he thought my impression of him was funny, too. I did my “act” a second time, this time in front of my history class. Again, it was completely unplanned. I imitated the teacher’s low, grumpy voice and how he walked, all hunched over and lumbering, as well as his facial expressions: his brow furrowed and his jaw and bottom lip protruding. I must have done a good job because the kids thought it was hilarious. What prompted those outbursts of extroversion? Where did my confidence come from? I've never been someone who looked for attention or wanted to be in the spotlight. I was notoriously shy. Hiding behind a character and being someone else made it easy, I guess. Maybe I missed my calling as an actor.

My last and most memorable event came during the last month of my junior year. It was during a class called “Communications in Media” (or simply “Media”). I can’t remember what the details of the assignment were, other than that each student was supposed to have their assignment filmed/videotaped. I decided to make a parody TV commercial for a pretend product I invented called “Underarm Odor-Eater Armor,” which was sort of like maxi-pads for your armpits. I spent at least a week writing the script and then revising and testing it on my friends, trying to weed out the boring stuff and make it as funny as I could. Besides writing the commercial, I also cast it, narrated it, and directed it (not to mention designing and doing the artwork for the product and its packaging as well). On the day I filmed it, my lead actor dropped out (too hungover, if I remember correctly). So I had to recast on the spot. Luckily, the most popular kid in class agreed to do it. My project took up the entire period. We only had enough time to rehearse each shot once. I’d tell my actor where I wanted him to sit or stand and what I wanted him to do and say. After he practiced the line, I told the kid in the back of the room who was operating the camera where to point it. Then I’d tell him, “Go!” (instead of “action,” for some odd reason), and he’d press “record.” My actor said the line for the camera and did what I directed him to do. Then we’d stop the tape, rehearse the next shot, tape it, and keep going that way, over and over, until we got through my entire script. My actor got it right on the first take every time. Good thing, too. We didn’t have time for retakes, and there wouldn’t be a chance to go back and edit it later. It was all just one-and-done. After we were finished, the kid operating the camera asked me, “Do you want to be a movie director or something?” I smiled and replied that I did, which was the career I most wanted to pursue at that point. The class broke out in applause. That made me feel really good. It was easily one of the high points in all my years of going to school, if not the highest. Unfortunately, I never saw the finished commercial (or got my script back), so I don’t know how it turned out. But the final product wasn’t as important as the fun I had making it and the respect I received from my fellow classmates.

In the last few months of my senior year, while other students were preparing for college, I was doing the bare minimum to get by. I didn’t care about the future; I just wanted to get through it and get out. I even had an English teacher call me out on my lack of educational enthusiasm in front of the entire class once. From across the room, he yelled, “How long have you been lazy?” I replied, “For about five years.” Granted, it wasn’t my greatest comeback, but it was the best I could come up with under the circumstances. The reason my teacher, Mr. Partington, wondered how long I’d been lazy had to do with the class's final assignment: we had the choice of either doing a 15-page report (on what subject I can’t remember) or reading The Andromeda Strain, doing a report on it, but getting nothing higher than a “C” for the final quarter. I didn’t want to do a 15-page report, so I read the book, did the report, and got a C. I think the teacher was disappointed in me. No more so than I was in myself.

I must have done well enough to pass because I graduated. A week later, I walked across the stage at North Idaho College to receive my diploma, wearing a tie for the first of only two times in my life (the second time was for a job interview a year later, which I didn’t get). I wanted to do something memorable when my name was called, but the only thing I could come up with on the spur of the moment was giving the crowd the “peace” sign – nothing earth-shattering, yet better than nothing. But instead of smiling and holding up my hand (like a “normal” person), I inexplicably decided to scowl and point my arm outwards toward the crowd, slowly waving the two-fingered symbol over and across the heads of the parents and students in the audience (trying to look serious and intimidating, I guess?). I wanted it to be memorable, but now I hope no one remembers it – or worse, took a photo of it. I couldn’t get away8without doing one more embarrassing thing, could I?

To be concluded...

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 3 years

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Is This On?

Also on Ao3

Muggle things weren’t that complicated. If Potter could master them, then so could Draco. Refrigerators were a godsend and whoever invented the telly was a genius. He had figured out the function of a light bulb instantly, it was the electricity itself that he still hadn’t fully grasped. Where did it come from? How did it know when to work? Some things, however, didn’t make any sense no matter how many times it was explained to him.

The internet.

Draco didn’t understand where it began, where it was located or how it worked. All he knew was that he could ask questions to the phone Harry gave him and it would answer back. Sometimes the lady trapped in the phone would send him to the internet to provide information or other times to a little telly inside the phone too.

Which led him to his current predicament.

Harry sometimes used the internet to talk to Granger. There was a little camera on the computer. At least that’s what Harry said but hadn’t really ever showed him much more than that. Could he use it to talk to Harry?

Draco poked the little camera several times, trying to get it to work. He typed in the password that Harry wrote down hoping that would help. When he was met with a photo of the two of them, he tried not to be endeared. Potter would be such a sentimental sap.

“How does this work?” Draco muttered to himself as he stared at the little icons. He couldn’t remember the steps Harry had taken to talk to Granger. Would it even work if he had remembered? He didn’t want to talk to Granger, he wanted to talk to Harry.

“Internet show me Harry.”

Nothing happened.

Draco huffed. It had been a long shot anyway. Reluctantly, Draco pulled out his phone and hit the button that brought out the lady inside. “How do I call on the internet?”

She repeated his question to him as if that was going to help somehow before he was brought to a list of options.

“Skype.” Draco wrinkled his nose. That didn’t sound familiar. He set his phone down and opened the same icon on the computer that his phone had brought him to and typed in Skype.

The first thing that popped up was a little telly. Harry called them videos, but Draco liked that they were little tellies and didn’t care what Harry said. The little telly was boring and showed him too many steps to follow. What drew his attention were more little tellies that he could select from. Some were about Skype too, but others were about all kinds of things.

Make-up. Music. Food. Books. Sports.

There were too many to choose from. So he watched several different little tellies. A lot of them were boring and he ended up either leaving for another one or skipping to the good stuff. Some people weren’t the actors that they thought they were. Honestly, where was the charisma? The charm? He could do it much better.

Draco paused, thumb over the mouse as he thought about it.

He could do it better than most of the people in the little tellies. He had the charisma that they didn’t, he had the charm, the looks, the better smile. And his life was much more interesting than these people. Those with boring lives shouldn’t talk for an hour unless their aim was to put people to sleep. Oh, that was another thought. Were there little tellies to fall asleep? There were little tellies for everything. He rather liked the internet, even if it made no sense.

Draco watched a few more little tellies before he figured he knew enough to do it too. It wouldn’t let him make a little telly until he created an account, which he thought was kind of rude, but it was their rules. A lot of people didn’t use their real name, so he chose not to either. It took him longer than he wanted to find something that suited him.

Slytherin’s Heir.

Finding out that Harry and his idiot friends thought that he had been Slytherin’s Heir had been flattering. Oh, they hadn’t thought that, but they didn’t realize the kind of compliment it had been. What he wouldn’t have given to be Slytherin’s Heir. That kind of power and social status would have made him untouchable.

With his name chosen, it wanted a photo, but Draco didn’t have any photos of him on Harry’s computer. So he didn’t do anything, let the internet do a blank one. Draco’s foot tapped a few times as he realized his account was complete. Now all he had to do was make a little telly.

It took a few times to find the right succession of buttons to find the live option. He didn’t really understand what being live meant, but he did know that meant that he didn’t have to have a little telly already made, that he could create one right there.

“Is this on?” Draco asked, lips pursed as he poked the camera. “I’m not really sure if this is working. Honestly, I was trying to talk to Harry when I decided to make a little telly. Harry’s my boyfriend. Hi Harry.”

Draco waved at the camera with a small smile. He wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Harry’s actually mad at me right now. He’s an annoying prat who likes to think he’s right all the time.” Draco paused; one side of his face scrunched as the thought about what Harry’s reaction would be to his little telly.

“Maybe mad is an exaggeration,” Draco sighed, one hand pushing through his hair. He hadn’t slicked it back in a few days, too out of sorts to feel up to it. His hair fell into his eyes which was an annoying reminder of why he liked his hair slicked in the first place. “He’s more disappointed.”

Draco grimaced as he remembered the last time he had seen Harry.

“He loves me,” Draco whispered, hating that his cheeks were warm. “He says it all the time. At least he used to.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped as he slumped in the chair with wheels that Harry insisted on using even though Draco thought it was a safety concern.

“When I say all the time, I do mean all the time,” Draco grinned. “He didn’t hear that growing up at all and I think he says it so much because he’s trying to make up for lost time. I don’t mind. I like hearing it. Makes me melt a little bit to know that he loves me so much.”

Draco frowned, sitting up straighter.

“You better not tell him that though. That’s embarrassing.” He waved a finger at the camera in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“I didn’t hear I love you growing up either. It was rare to hear my parents say anything even hinting at love. But the thing is, I’ve always known they loved me. I could see it in the things they did. When my father would show me a new spell or help me with my hand movements. My mother would bring home my favourite sweets whenever she went out. They would stay up later than was presentable with me and listen to the radio.”

The smile on his face was bittersweet. As much as he knew that his parents loved him, it would have been nice to hear it more than they did.

“I guess I picked up their habit,” Draco winced. “I tell Harry I love him… sometimes. I try to tell him more, but the words don’t come easy to me. My parents knew I loved them, and they certainly didn’t need me to say it. But I try to show Harry too!”

Draco’s hands had begun to move in the beginning but were now thrown in the air.

“I make sure whenever he’s on a case to keep his plants watered, even if the one Neville gave him has it out for me and tries to kill me. When he’s having a bad day I make sure his duvet smells like mint because I know he’s going to collapse on our bed and not move for longer than is healthy and for some reason mint is his favourite smell. I don’t really know how to cook that well but the lady in my phone helps me order from Harry’s favourite restaurant and I do that when he’s feeling sad and sometimes when he’s really happy too.”

Draco’s lips turned downward the longer he talked. It bothered him that Harry couldn’t see that he was loved.

“I’m not a people person but I willingly go with him on what he calls adventures around London. Adventure is accurate because wherever Harry goes, trouble follows. Last month we had to run from people with sticks on horses. Harry said they were the law, but I feel like if you were lawmen then you should dress better but that’s beside the point. Then there was this one time we got kicked out of a library. That was more my fault, but Harry was the one who didn’t tell me that the books didn’t talk or yell. Who wants to go to a library with silent books? That’s like going to a gallery where the paintings don’t talk. What’s the point?”

Muggles were weird, honestly. There were a lot of things they did that were smart, and he wished that Wizards would adopt too. But a large amount of what Muggles did was boring. They lived boring lives and he felt bad that they didn’t have Magic to spice it up.

“I try to show with actions how much he means to me, and I thought I was doing a good job at it, but I guess not.” His eyes closed as he remembered the hurt expression on Harrys’ face.

“He told me he wished I would tell him I loved him more. I told him there was no point. Which in hindsight, I’ll admit was a mistake. I don’t take it back, mind you. But I wish I had explained better before he left. I meant there was no point in saying it more if I could tell him through actions. Which I have been doing since I realized I loved him. I thought he knew. I thought he could see how much I love him.”

Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. He wasn’t worried about their relationship, not really. Harry sometimes needed a few days to cool down when they argued. Only usually, it was anger that was the parting goodbye and not a heartbreaking sadness.

He looked back to the camera, hating that his eyes were wet.

“I love him, so much. I could talk about all the things he does for me that I love. Like the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel loved and whole. The way he holds my hand too tight, like he thinks I’ll pull away. As if I ever would. Or the way I feel like I’m high on liquid luck whenever we’re together. But those are selfish to point out. I don’t want to talk about me when I bring up what I love about him. That’s conceited.

“I love the way he throws a fist in the air when he gets an answer on the telly right. I love his stupid hair that has to be sentient at this point, never lying flat. I love the softness in his eyes when he’s happy, the way they shine so brightly. Almost as bright as his smile. I love how kind he is. I know I give him shit for that, which I should, but there’s a goodness to him that isn’t common anymore, and I love that. I love how much he cares about other people.

“I love how hard he works—puts every ounce of himself into whatever he’s working on no matter how big or small. I love how smart he is, even if he doesn’t see it himself. He thinks of the world in ways that others don’t—a genius to him that fascinates me. I love how much he loves. He loves with everything that he has. He loves people in general. Wants to see the best in them, has a faith that never wavers. His friends are his family, his family is his world and the love he has for all of them is another extension of himself that is everlasting.”

Draco blinked through the wetness as he sniffled.

“I’m honoured to be part of that love. To know that he could care about me a fraction of what he feels for others is overwhelming. I know he loves me; Merlin knows that I do. How could I not? He doesn’t just say it, he shows it. And I just wish that he knew how much I loved him too. I know I don’t say it enough, and I try, I do, but I had hoped that he could see it. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I didn’t show it enough, maybe I didn’t try harder. Maybe I should have done more.”

Draco wiped at his cheeks hating that he let his emotions get the best of him. Especially on his first little telly!

“What hurts the most is that I don’t know how else I could have showed him,” Draco laughed bitterly. “I really don’t. I give so much of myself to Harry, perhaps that’s not healthy, but it’s true. I love him so bloody much and I hate that he doesn’t see that, that he doesn’t know. How could I not love him? Harry, how could you not know that I love you?

“I love you…”

Draco took a deep breath, wishing it wasn’t as shaky as it was as he twirled in the chair. That had to be the reason Muggles had such dangerous chairs, so they could twirl.

“My first little telly wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Draco smiled wryly as he placed his chin on his palm. “I was supposed to charm you all with my good looks and witty personality. And what did I do? Cry over my relationship issues. Like anyone wants to see that. Maybe I’ll tell you the story of how Harry and I fell in love next time. Or maybe the first time we met. Something happier than my tears. Pansy always said I’m an ugly crier—the jealous bitch—so no sad topics next time, I promise.”

Draco leaned forward; lips pursed as he tried to figure out how to turn it off.

“I’m not sure anyone is going to see this. Maybe that’s for the best. I just know I look like a cross between Doxy droppings and Weasley on a good day. I hope you all are having a better day than I am. I’m going to go as soon as I shut this off.”

Draco frowned, clicking a few buttons before he gave up and shut down the whole computer. The simplest solutions were for the best. He spun in the chair one more time facing the rest of their flat, wishing not for the first time that Harry hadn’t taken his happiness when he left.

——

Watching his little telly back was a painful experience. His charm and charisma were there, but it didn’t look as polished as some of the other little tellies he had seen. He’d just have to keep trying.

Draco was about to start a new one when he noticed that there were a lot more numbers than there should have been at the bottom. It had been two days since he had made it, and he expected there to only be his replay.

Not the 819,543 that stared at him. And every passing minute the number grew by the tens of thousands.

Draco double checked that he was on his little telly and not someone else’s before he covered his mouth. Did that many people see him cry? Merlin, what did he do? While the thought was horrifying, what truly scared him was that there were comments.

There were comments.

Oh no.

Draco groaned, already blaming all of this on Harry. And the internet, the internet could take the blame too. With one eye closed, he scrolled down.

NamelessHope 1 day ago Anyone else find this endearing? He’s like an old grandma that doesn’t know how the internet works.

Sorrymum 5 hours ago He’s so cute. Why can’t you be single?

Michael the Sexual Taco 2 minutes ago His partner is trash. It’s so obvious he’s in love. How could Harry not see it?

Bleach 2 days ago First!!!

CubesAreTriangles 13 hours ago Go bottom go!

Potatoes for Life 7 hours ago Nooooo don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to cry

Draco squinted at the comments. Why were Muggles so fucking weird? And what did they mean bottom? Did people just assume things like that? He liked to fuck and be fucked, thank you very much.

Meaty Meat 10 minutes ago Y r u gay

Draco snorted. Okay, maybe Muggles were entertaining.

Casey J 1 day ago I can’t tell if you’re just ranting or want advise. If it’s the former, then ignore me. But maybe Harry does know you love him. I think it’s obvious that you do, so he must know that. Maybe he needs it said too.

Randy Rants 8 hours ago You need couples therapy not the internet

ParsleySnips 2 days ago I totally cried

Pearl’s Pearly Pearls 2 days ago I want to be loved like you love Harry.

SwiperNoSwiping 1 hour ago If you two don’t break up you should do another video with him.

Draco scowled. They weren’t going to break up. A touch of hesitancy filled him at the thought. It had been 6 days since he last saw Harry. Not their worst fight, and he would’ve tried to find Harry and talk to him if it had been completely silent. But Harry sent a Patronus every morning that nuzzled him awake. The Patronus didn’t speak a message but the love he could feel was a message all on its own.

Karla S 1 day ago Am I the only one who caught that he said spell? Is your father a devil worshiper?

Gigi’s my Daddy 2 days ago Little tellies. That’s so cute. That should be our fandom name when you blow up.

Gay4You 20 hours ago I’ve never been invested in someone else’s love life this much. If you and Harry don’t make up I’m going to riot.

Draco looked through several more comments before he pushed away from the computer. There were a few rude ones and a lot more supportive ones, but all of it made him nervous. He didn’t like that so many people knew about his feelings. It was his own fault for making the little telly, but he didn’t think anyone was going to see it!

Part of him was panicking. He could delete it, probably, if he asked the lady in his phone how. But did he want to? Draco bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he deleted it, all those people who saw it would still remember it, so he’d only be stopping new people from viewing it.

Before he could go over the pros and cons of either option, the front door slammed open, causing him to yelp and jump out of the chair.

Hands raised, Draco glared at Harry, who was staring at him intently, chest moving rapidly.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco sneered. “I nearly came out of my skin. If you’re trying to kill me, you almost succeeded. Merlin don’t do that a—”

Draco cut off when Harry marched toward him, eyes still intense. His mouth was still open, ready so say something, but nothing came out when warm hands cupped his cheeks.

“Draco, I’ve always known you loved me.”

Oh no.

He closed his eyes tightly. Harry watched his little telly. How? Why?

“Hey,” Harry whispered, thumbs moving in a gentle caress. “Look at me.”

Draco shook his head. He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.”

That had his eyes opening before they widened. “What?”

“We’re so different,” Harry began with a wry chuckle. “Everything about us is different. And for some reason I forgot that. I assumed that our love language was the same. But the beautiful thing about languages is how different they are. I expected yours to be the same as mine and I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Draco hated that his voice wavered.

“You’re right, I do say I love you a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Draco hurried to explain. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”

“I know,” Harry shushed him, a thumb placed over his bottom lip. “I say it because I don’t want you to forget that I love you.”

Draco shook his head, wanting to tell Harry that he could never forget. How could he? But he didn’t want to interrupt.

“When I was little, I didn’t just want to be loved by my relatives, I wanted to love them too. But they hated me, and the feeling was mutual. I wanted to love someone just as much as I wanted to be loved. And I guess I say it so much as a reminder to never forget that. I love you, Draco and I can’t help but say it over and over again.”

“I know,” Draco parroted as he pressed a kiss to the thumb still over his lip. “I love that you say it so much. I don’t want you to stop. Lately, you’ve been saying it less.”

Harry’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry. You don’t always say it back and that hurts. I thought you didn’t want me to say it. I thought—”

“No,” Draco shook his head again, this time more violently. “Please no. I’m sorry. I want to say it more, and I promise I’ll try but please don’t stop saying it if I can’t.”

Harry shushed him again and if he wasn’t so close to crying, he’d probably have hexed Harry for treating him like a scared child.

“You do show me that you love me,” Harry said, eyes soft and full of the love that Draco wasn’t sure he could live without. “All the time and that’s your love language. You show me through actions, and I needed the reminder.”

“I want to give you the love you deserve,” Draco whispered, blinking rapidly, willing himself not to cry. “You deserve to hear it just as much as you give it. And I’m sorry I don’t do that.”

“I don’t need it,” Harry argued, eyes narrowed. “And don’t you dare presume to know what I deserve. I get to decide that, and I’ve already given you my heart. So it’s up to you to keep it safe.”

Draco inhaled sharply. Harry’s love was special. “I want to love you vocally too. I want to love you the way you love me.”

“The way you love me is exactly what I need.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like you’re settling.”

“Not your decision.”

“Harry—”

“Draco,” Harry began, flicking him in the forehead. “If you want to say it more, I won’t object. I’m just telling you that I don’t need it like I thought I did. We’re in love and it doesn’t matter how different we show it. The love is still there.”

“Okay,” Draco sniffled, wiping his nose on Harry’s shoulder when he was pulled into a strong embrace. After days of no contact, he basked in their combined warmth. A feeling he had missed more than he thought possible.

Draco turned his head, mouth near Harry’s ear as he whispered,

“I love you.”

If Harry held on tighter, and Draco felt a wetness on his neck, well that was no one else’s business.

~Fin

———

Short Extra

“Hi little tellies!” Draco waved at their new camera, one that Harry now manned, taking in Draco’s new hobby in stride.

“I had planned an intro like all the rest of them do but that’s so boring. Over here we’re better than everyone else. So I said fuck it and tossed it away. Let’s just get to the good stuff. You’ll never guess what Harry did yesterday. It was so embarrassing.”

“Do you have to embarrass me to so many people?”

Draco grinned, nose scrunching at Harry’s glare. He knew his followers wanted to see Harry, but Harry didn’t want to be in the little tellies like that. Plus, Draco kind of liked that it was just him.

“What do you mean?” Draco blinked, adopting an innocent expression that had stopped working on Dobby when he was three. “I’m just telling my friends.”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, eyes on the subscriber count that was rapidly increasing. “All 3 million of them.”

It still blew his mind that so many people wanted to hear him talk about his life. He had known from the beginning that he could pull it off. Had always known he had more charm than everyone else on the internet. His little tellies were clearly superior.

And to think it all stemmed from his love of Harry.

-----

This is a story for @rieraclaelin who I know has been having issues reading fic lately so please don't feel like you have to read this at all. I just wanted there to be a gift for you whenever you do feel like readings stories. I adore you!

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Youtuber Draco

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

Text

Life Without Colour (PART FIVE)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Note: ignore that i don’t even question bucky being able to get through security at the airport, i couldn’t think of how he would be able to get through the airport security bc of his metal arm so i’ve skipped that detail completely. i hope it doesn’t detract from the story!

this is nearly 6000 words!

Taglist: @domainoflostsouls forgetthisbull handon-h-art yourspecialcrush giulsgotmusic mrsbarnes-rogers luosymekawa linzeyzarcone forgetthisbull calamityreads talgra marina-darling btsforlif lamoursansfin classic1985 lovesicksofi fandomsfallnomore thebivirgin classygladiatorcupcake

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. You had long since stopped trying to figure out what state you were in and where you were headed. Bucky had been driving non-stop aside from two bathroom breaks at a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. You had stopped crying a long time ago, too drained and too tired to continue. You felt horrendous. You hated this, you absolutely hated this but you had no choice in the matter. The car had been silent for the whole way aside from the quiet chatter on the radio. Bucky hadn’t wanted to speak in fear of upsetting you further. He had been driving you out of state to go to an airport that would be a little harder to find. It had been Fury’s idea, to go to an airport that Hydra wouldn’t look for straight away. It gave you a little more time to get away without being watched.

You took a break from watching the blur of trees and roads to glance at the clock on the dashboard; 13:42. You hadn’t eaten yet, barely had anything to drink either and you knew that you weren’t far away from a dehydration migraine. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled loudly. Bucky, without speaking, reached behind his car seat and produced a rucksack and dumped it on your lap with a, “Here. There’s water and some snacks in there. We’ll get a proper meal when we’re at the airport.”

You dug through the bag, producing two bottles of water. You opened one and offered it to Bucky, he accepted with a nod, draining half before handing it back to you. You offered him a muffin but he shook his head. You dropped the bag to between your feet and began to have your water and muffin. It helped curb the hunger, at least for a while, and you felt a lot better once you had something in your stomach. After a while, you sank back into your seat with a yawn.

Bucky glanced over at you, “We’ve still got a few hours to drive, you can sleep if you want.” You looked at him and he gave you a small smile, “It’s okay. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

You thanked him quietly before closing your eyes. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep and your soft snores filled the car. Bucky looked at you for a couple of seconds, smiling to himself. Man, it’s gonna be a long few weeks.

It only felt like you’d closed your eyes for a few minutes when Bucky was saying your name, gently shaking your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to meet his blue eyes and it almost gave you a fright seeing them. Sometimes it still surprised you to see colour and especially when Bucky was around... colour seemed to be brighter and those deeper blue eyes seemed so bright in person.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling back quickly, not wanting to upset you by being too close. Bucky was very careful of boundaries, he always had been but especially after the Winter Soldier incidents. He knew what it felt like to not want to be touched or have your personal space invaded so he was always careful to not overstep.

“You’ve got the fake passports and stuff, don’t you?” You asked him, yawning and stretching in your seat.

He nodded and told you that they’re in his bag. In order to help the process of becoming anonymous, Fury had fake IDs and fake passports made for the two of you. They’d even gone so far as to create two new backstories for the pair of you just in case anyone ever questioned the pair of you. You and Bucky got out of the car, your legs ached from having sat in the car for hours upon hours. It was dark outside now, you didn’t know the time. Bucky grabbed the bags out of the car and handed you the two passports to hold. As you walked into the airport, you flicked to it. Miss Jane Smith and Mr John Smith. Two very common and obvious fake names but you hoped that it wouldn’t be picked up.

The check in process was much easier than you anticipated, the passports passed the ID checks and soon, the two of you were through security and heading for the food outlet. Bucky had told you to keep your head down for most of the time and to avoid direct eye contact with cameras. The airport was relatively quiet which was good in the sense you didn’t have to worry about people around you noticing Bucky. Bucky led you to a small café which was quiet and the two of you sat at the back. Everything was kind of passing in a blur and it only seemed like a few seconds until Bucky was back with your food.

You began to eat in silence and it was then you realised where you were going, “Estonia?” You asked quietly, making sure to not be overhead.

Bucky nodded as he took a bite of his burger, “Managed to find a secluded house, already furnished. The owner agreed to let us stay for a discounted price as well.”

“I’ve never been,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food, “Where are we right now?”

“Pittsburg,” he said, glancing around the café to make sure no one was taking notice of the pair of you, “Steve thought it would be a good idea to leave from an airport a few hours away from New York. Hydra and Rumlow would check New York airports first once they realise you’re out of town.”

You smiled sadly as you looked down to your food. Leave it to Steve to think of everything. Bucky told you that the flight would be leaving in an hour and it would be a long ass flight but it was okay because you were exhausted and you could absolutely sleep for a good portion of the flight anyway.

You sighed, “When can I take this stupid disguise off? I’m so uncomfortable!”

Bucky studied you carefully, “When we’re in the safe house.”

“Do I look stupid? I feel stupid.”

“You look... different. Not bad just different,” he paused before speaking again, “I prefer you as you are though, without the wig, contacts and flashy clothes. I think you look much better when you’re being yourself.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than a nod. It felt foreign and wrong to receive a compliment from him, even though it was a genuine, friendly compliment, it felt wrong. The two of you didn’t say much after that.

After eating, you and Bucky went to get some plane snacks. You grabbed some water and some treats, you also wandered to the book section and picked up a book. As you were walking to the books, you saw a little boy and girl pass wearing matching Captain America t-shirts. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched them pass. It seemed to hit you in that moment that this was real and this was truly happening.

“(y/n)?” Bucky asked appearing behind you.

You turned to him, “Sorry... I just can’t believe this is happening.”

Bucky nodded before gesturing to the check out, “Let’s get this all checked out and then hopefully we’ll be able to go to our departure gate.” He didn’t really know how to help you without overstepping or potentially upsetting you. He didn’t want you to get upset in public so he thought that he could keep you distracted and that would help ease your worries. It helped, having him there to guide you and distract you from possible sad thoughts helped a lot actually.

You found your airplane seats quick, the two of you were bang smack in the middle and you were both in a two seater section. Bucky let you go in first, saying that he preferred not to look out of the window when taking a flight. You sunk into it, keeping your head down and wrapping your arms around yourself to get warmer. As Bucky sat beside you, tapping his foot and his hand on the armrest impatiently, you looked at him curiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “Just... not a big fan of flying.”

You pulled out the magazines which were in the pocket of the chair in front of you and handed him them, “I find that reading the safety procedures always helps. Also reading the magazine where you can just check out the meal deals and the perfume deals help a bit.”

Bucky took them off of you and began to flick through them. In the meantime, you closed your eyes. As the plane began to move, Bucky tensed beside you and you opened your eyes to look at him, his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair, jaw clenched too.

“Hey, show me that,” you said, sitting up straighter and pointing to the magazine. He looked at you and then handed it to you. Bucky had been helping you out by distracting you from being sad, the least you could do is distract him from being anxious. You leaned over, probably a little closer than you would’ve felt comfortable with in normal circumstances. Bucky stiffened as he smelled your perfume when you came closer. You took no notice of the closeness.

“Look at that!” You said, pointing to the menu that they were offering that night on the flight, “What would you have?” Bucky shrugged and you rolled your eyes, “C’mon. I’d have the chicken curry and the cheese and ham panini and then I would absolutely have the tiramisu afterwards. What about you?” You held it closer to him for him to study.

“Uh... I mean, I suppose the lasagne sounds nice. The breaded mushrooms too, I like those. Never had tiramisu but it sounds nice enough so I’d give that a go too.”

“No way,” you said shaking your head, “I would order the tiramisu and you would order the chocolate and raspberry mousse and we’d share them both.”

Bucky snorted slightly, “Sure thing, whatever you want.”

You flicked through more of the pages, “Ooooh,” you said noticing the deals on the perfumes, “I love airplane and airport deals. I only ever buy my perfume from duty free, honestly. No point in buying it full price anywhere else.”

“I still find it crazy that there’s a shop on an airplane.”

You nodded, “I mean, it’s pretty weird but I’m not complaining about the deals. Some of the stuff you can buy is so bizarre though. I was on this flight once, going on holiday with my family when I was younger, and they were selling t-shirts with a picture of the airplane we were in on them saying ‘I rode in this plane and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”

“That sounds like it’s a total dad shirt,” Bucky laughed slightly. He looked a lot younger when he smiled. He was always so stony and serious but when he smiled or laughed, it knocked years off him. He was already a handsome man but when he smiled, he was just... wow.

You burst out laughing as he said it, “My dad did buy it and he wore it so proudly!”

Bucky laughed with you, finding his nerves easing up as he spoke to you. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about anything other than the fact you were soulmates so it felt rather nice to talk to you on another level. It was still prettty strange but it was nice. Steve always told him that you were easy to get along with so he wasn’t too surprised. As you continued to chat, you gasped audibly when you came to the ‘collectibles and merchandise’ page, “There it is!”

“No way!” Bucky grinned as he looked down at the picture of the t-shirt exactly like the one you described, “Oh, god, it’s hideous.” The two of you lapsed into laughter again, talking and looking at it before Bucky happened to glance out of the window, “We’re in the air?”

You looked out, “Yeah, we took off about fifteen minutes ago actually.” Bucky breathed out an impressed laughter, “My distraction technique always works. Keep the mind occupied on something else like the ugliest t-shirts in the world.”

Bucky smiled, “Thank you and thanks to the ugliest t-shirt ever-” it was then that a man wearing the exact t-shirt you had been slating got up from the seat in front of you and shot you a dirty look as he walked past, “Oh, shit.” It was hard to keep your laughter in but somehow you both managed it.

As you calmed down, Bucky sighed, “No, really, thank you for that.”

You smiled as you handed him the magazines back and sunk back into your seat, “And now, I sleep.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself to be sitting alone with no Bucky Barnes in sight. You looked up to see a flight attendant coming down the aisle, “Excuse me,” you said with a smile, “do you know where the man sitting next to me went?”

She smiled, the same warm smile that every flight attendant has, “Yes, your husband is in the queue for the toilet, he should be back in a few minutes.”

You nodded, she went to leave when you caught her again, “Sorry, can you do me a favour?”

When Bucky came back, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting awake, smiling at him, “Good sleep?” You nodded, “Don’t worry, you didn’t snore... too loud.”

Your cheeks burned as he teased you, “Shove it, Barnes,” you scoffed, “I bought us a present.”

He frowned, “A present?”

You grinned as you held up two t-shirts, the exact same one that you both said was the ugliest shirt in the world, “No way!” He laughed, clapping his gloved hands together, “Oh my god, they’re worse in person.”

You laughed as you handed him his, “You’re so welcome. I will make us wear these at some point by the way, don’t think you’re getting out of it.” You’d never seen Bucky smile so wide with pure joy radiating from him. It was nice to see; it made you feel a lot better about the situation that was happening. You and Bucky hadn’t broached the subject of being the other’s soulmates, you actually really didn’t want to have that conversation anytime soon, but it was nice to know that at least you got on a little bit.

The fact that the pair of you were laughing so soon felt wrong. It felt like you were betraying Steve for merely getting along but it was nice. You were scared of what was going to happen and Bucky had been anxious about flying so the pair of you had nothing to do but talk to each other. Sure, it wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation but it was something. It was still a little awkward and a little weird at times but you could look past that for a few minutes to just appreciate the fact that Bucky was doing this.

Soon, you were curled back into your plane seat, your own jacket draped across you, “Thanks,” you said quietly as sleep began to take over, “for doing this for Steve. I know that it’s not ideal and I know you probably don’t want to be stuck with me for weeks. I appreciate it, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded and didn’t say anything. I’m not doing it for only Steve, I’m doing it for you too. He watched you for a moment longer before closing his own eyes and resting into his own seat.

The rest of the flight went by in a blur, you slept some more, read your book and ate some food. It wasn’t long before it was time to land and Bucky could not have been more happy than in the moment the wheels of the plane landed on the runway. The airport was a relatively quiet which meant that security and getting your bags was a lot faster than anticipated.

Soon, you were waiting with Bucky in line to get a rental car. To your surprise, when it was your turn to speak to the receptionist, Bucky slid a wad of cash over the counter, “I want a car to keep and I want it off book.”

The receptionist, who was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, eyed Bucky with narrow eyes and Bucky stared right back at him. You glanced between the two men wondering who would give up the staring contest first. After a pregnant pause, the receptionist shrugged and dug around in the drawer next to him before pulling out a car key, “Grey sedan in Lot C, registration plate ends with RUS. It’s old and a little worse for wear but for this price, best I can do.” He glanced from left to right before sliding the keys across the table. Apparently he seemed to accept the bribe. You raised your eyebrows, looking between the man and Bucky.

Bucky thanked him with a nod before taking the keys and picked up his and one of your bags before walking away with you in tow, “Wait,” you said quietly, rushing to keep up with him, “You just bought a car?!”

Bucky nodded, “We needed a car. This one will do for a while, keeps us off of the radar for a while.”

Finding the car was easy, the hard part was trying to keep up with Bucky. He took long, quick strides that were hard to keep up with. The car was parked alone in Lot C. It was a little old, with some dents and scratches in the doors from previous bumps and accidents and some of the paint had chipped but aside from that, it seemed to be fine. Bucky loaded the bags in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat. You settled into your seat and Bucky said that it would be a forty minute drive but could do it in half the time if the road’s were quiet. Then, you both set off.

You couldn’t stop staring out of the window, looking at every single detail of Estonia. It seemed like a dream that you’d be waking up from any second now. Your hands fidgeted with your jacket sleeves as you stared out to the vast unknown. What would become of you and your relationship, you had no idea. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you had absolutely no clue where you would be going. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you as you tried to swallow down the nausea.

The drive seemed to simultaneously be the longest and shortest drive ever. Seconds felt like years and minutes felt like nanoseconds. You just wanted things to go back to how they were two months ago when things were easy and simple and life was without colour. You glanced over at Bucky, wishing that it had been anyone besides him that was your soulmate. Bucky was a decent enough guy from the short time you’d been with him, I mean, he was willing to take you to a safe house for god knows how long after meeting each other less than three times so obviously he was a good guy but... even if you and Bucky ended up friends, ended up falling in love... nothing could ever happen. You just couldn’t do that to Steve.

Oh, Steve.

You wondered what he would be doing just now. He would probably be in the gym with Sam, boxing his feelings and emotions about the whole situation out. That’s what he usually did when things were tense or when he was stressed, he would go to the gym and work out for hours. Sam would usually go with him, being his comic relief to make things less stressful for him. You had never been so thankful for Sam Wilson than in that moment of realisation. You had been so focused on what this meant for you and how this would affect you that you’d practically overlooked your boyfriend’s feelings.

Steve would be blaming your kidnapping on himself, even though it wasn’t his fault that Hydra were dickheads. He would be devastated that he’d had to send you off with your soulmate, knowing fine well that you could easily come back home in love with Bucky. It had been so hard for Steve to make that decision but it had to be done. He wished that he could’ve came with you but it was his mess to clean up and he couldn’t just let his friends do it. He wasn’t that selfish even though he wished he could have been. Steve would rely on Sam pretty heavily over the coming weeks. Sam had been such a good friend to Steve in the few years they’d known each other. Sam understood Steve, they shared the same values and same morals and that was something you liked about Sam. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand up and fight for what was right. You knew that Steve would be in good hands with Sam at his side.

Little did you know, Bucky was thinking of Steve Rogers too as he drove. It was surreal that he was driving with you, through Estonia, to a safe house where you’d be for weeks, potentially months. It scared Bucky, honestly. He liked you, not in a romantic way (yet), but he had heard all about you from Steve. All of those months that Bucky was in Wakanda, Steve called every week to check on him. Every week, Steve would talk about you. He remembered the things he would say about you. ‘She’s great, Buck. She’s got this smile, this really wide smile that I’ve only seen a handful of people have in my life. You know the one I mean. That genuinely happy, makes you smile when you see it smile.’, ‘You gotta meet her, Bucky. She’s everything I’ve been looking for and even though we’re not soulmates, we are.’, ‘It’s crazy. After Peggy, I never thought I’d fall in love again but (y/n) came into my life when I needed her most. Every day, I wake up thankful for her. My god, you have to meet her. You two will get on so well. She keeps my on my toes and is hilarious.’

Bucky glanced at you, a familiar pang of guilt shooting through him. You were his best friend’s girl and he could never do anything to pursue you because he cared about Steve too much. Steve was the one person who had given him a chance and had stuck by him through everything. Steve deserved you, Bucky didn’t.

It wasn’t long before Bucky pulled into a driveway. You looked around, realising that you were deep in the woods. It was an off road cabin that seemed to be pretty far from civilisation, “This is it.” Bucky cut the engine before getting out of the car. You stayed put, staring at the cabin in front of you. From the outside, it looked a little run down but very liveable. It was made with a dark oak wood which blended in well with the trees. Passers by would have to do a double take at first because of how well it blended in.

You got out of the car, grabbing the rucksack that had been by your feet. Bucky appeared beside you, carrying all of his and your bags, “Ready?”

You didn’t look at him, eyes stuck on the cabin in front of you. This was it. This was your future. You were unusually terrified as you stared at it. As soon as you stepped into that cabin, your future would change forever. Everything would change. Life as you knew it with Steve would completely change as soon as you walked into that cabin. With your heart beating fast, you took a breath and nodded, following him up the stony path and to the front door. He unlocked it and swung the door open before disappearing inside. You hesitated at the front door, staring at the line on the floor to mark the cabin’s entrance.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered before stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind you.

The cabin had an old musty smell to it, the smell of emptiness. Clearly, no one had lived here for a long time. The décor was simple and pretty outdated but it was nice. Bucky had flicked the lights on throughout the cabin and was checking each room just to double check. You wandered through each room. The living room was simple with a couple of recliners and a small couch with a small TV on an old coffee table. You’d be surprised if the TV still worked with a thick layer of dust coating it. There was a large fireplace in the middle of the side wall which would be nice on a cold night. The kitchen was nice with everything that the pair of you would need to get started in the wooden cupboards and on shelves. It had a small table in the corner of the room, looking out of the window. Bucky told you that tomorrow, he would go get some shopping and food supplies until then you had the water and a few more snacks.

Next, you ventured into the bedrooms. Yours and Bucky’s separate bedrooms were adjacent to each other. Bucky had dropped his bags in the slightly smaller room. You went to object but the look on his face told you not to even bother. Bucky’s room was smaller yet still spacious enough for a double bed and a wardrobe. Your room was pretty much the same though as well as a wardrobe you had the chest of drawers as well. The shared bathroom was beside your room and it was... well, it was just an outdated bathroom. And that was it.

The cabin wasn’t particularly big or luxurious but it was much than you had expected. You seriously were expecting to sleep on the floor on a bug infested hotel but Bucky had done pretty good. You’d long since abandoned your disguise, feeling much better when looking like yourself. As you wandered around again, checking cupboards, finding extra duvets and pillows in the wardrobe in your room, you remembered something important. You dug around in your bags until you found it; a picture frame. Bucky knocked on your bedroom door. You turned to him, “You don’t need to knock,” you said.

“Come so I can show you something.”

You followed him into the living room as you held the picture frame in your hands. He stopped in front of a painting on the wall moving the painting to reveal a safe, “Oh, wow,” you said surprised.

“I got this safe installed and I’m putting this gun inside it, okay?” He told you, taking a gun from his back pocket. You jumped slightly, not expecting him to wield a weapon in front of you, “This is for emergencies, got it? I’ll teach you how to use it but for now, I’m locking it up in here, okay?”

“I don’t want to use a gun-”

“Neither do I,” Bucky said, cutting over you, “but I have to at least show you how to use it just in case, okay? The code is 0407-”

“Steve’s birthday.”

Bucky faltered before nodding and continuing, “Yeah, Steve’s birthday. Type that in,” he typed it in, “and it’ll unlock.” He dropped the gun inside of it before closing it over, “Re-type the code and it locks. Got it?”

You nodded.

“I always have at least one weapon on me at all times, okay? I have my gun and I have my knife. I’m only putting this here and showing you just in case, okay? We’ll probably never have to use it but it’s just in case something happens, just so I know that if I can’t get to you, you can have some way to protect yourself.”

Again, you nodded. Bucky eyed you carefully, making sure that you were okay with this. You didn’t really know how to feel about it. You weren’t surprised that he had weapons but it scared you the thought of you having to use them. Hopefully it would never come to that though. He could see the toll this was taking on you and you’d barely been gone a day. He was about to ask what you had in your hands when you wandered over to the fireplace and put the photo atop. It was a photo that you had once upon a time hated. It was you and Steve laughing as you posed for a picture in front of your Christmas tree. Nat had taken it on Christmas Eve. You wore a dress that hugged your curves a little too tightly for your liking but Steve had loved to see you in that dress. He always said the colour complimented your complexion so well and now that you could actually see colour, you could see where he was coming from. You loved that picture now, you remembered the night fondly where he twirled you around, telling you how beautiful you were every other minute. So yeah, you could see your protruding stomach and your bigger arms but you loved it. You smiled as you looked at Steve’s smile, heart soaring as you looked at him. Steve could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. With him, you truly believed it. Your weight never defined your worth, you defined it.

Almost instantly, Bucky lunged for it, grabbing it and almost tumbling into you, “What the fuck?!” You hissed, leaping backwards. You hadn’t expected the dark haired super soldier to lunge from across the room, almost knocking you off of your feet to grab the picture frame down.

Bucky released a sharp breath, “The window,” he said gruffly. He pulled the curtains shut quickly, “We can’t put any photos up.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

He rolled his eyes, Steve had warned him that you could be stubborn, “In case we’re being watched. If someone’s tailing us, they might look through the window and have our identities confirmed if we put photos up.”

You rolled your eyes, “If someone’s tailing us then I’m pretty sure that they know our identities already. Give me it back.”

“Fine but you’re not putting it there,” Bucky said.

You glared at him as a bubble of anger boiled in your stomach, “My god, how am I meant to stay here with you for weeks if you’re such an arse over a photo?!”

“Yeah?” Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t have to come here, (y/n). I came because Steve asked. I came for you.”

You were breathing heavy as you glared at each other, “Yeah well maybe I don’t want you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be here!”

“Keep the stupid picture.” You turned on your heel and stormed into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You knew that you weren’t angry at Bucky, you knew that the two of you were tired and hungry. You knew that you were a flurry of emotions from having your life flipped upside down. You knew that Bucky was looking out for your safety but you were pissed and he was the only person near you so he would have to deal with it.

Bucky sighed heavily as he fell onto the couch, pursing his lips and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Steve, she’s fucking brilliant.

It was hours later when you rolled over with a huff. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. You were still too pissed off and because you were still so pissed off, you were only getting more annoyed. You knew that if the anger faded, you’d probably end up crying and you didn’t know which was worse so you just stayed angry. You wished that Bucky would’ve just been able to talk to you normally instead of treating you like a child. You would’ve absolutely understood the picture fiasco had he not leapt over the table and yanked it like a dog stealing someone’s dinner from the table.

You sat up in bed. Usually, if you couldn’t sleep you’d watch TV or go on your phone but you didn’t feel up for watching the tiny TV in the living room and you obviously didn’t have a phone so you couldn’t do much than think. You’d need to see if there was a cheap CD player and CDs in town so that you could at least have some background noise. The cabin was eerily quiet at night. It was a different surrounding in a different country and everything just felt a little uneasy. You were used to New York where the hustle and bustle was part of every day life but the woods was so quiet aside from the rustling trees... it would take some getting used to.

With a huff, you grabbed your dressing gown from the bag on the floor and made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass and filled it with water before taking a long drink. You didn’t know why you wandered into the living room but you found yourself venturing in and it was then you noticed, in the dim light from the moon, you saw a note and the picture of you and Steve that sat on the coffee table in front of the TV. You picked up the note.

I’m sorry about freaking out over the picture, it’s been a long day. Steve warned me you were stubborn but I wasn’t prepared, I guess. Let’s not put it on the fire place until we’re absolutely sure that no one’s tracking us. Until then, it can go here where it’s not facing a window. Hope that’s okay. It is a lovely picture of you and Steve... Again, sorry. - Bucky

You smiled slightly as you read it before slipping the note into your dressing gown pocket and going back to bed. So Bucky Barnes was decent after all.

#reader insert #life without colour #lwc #plus size series #plus size reader #reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes/reader #steve rogers/reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #marvel #avengers

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yourwildsimp · 3 years

Text

sweet confessions

includes: aizawa, y/n

warnings: mentions of nightmares

length: 1,986 words

summary: with neither of you able to sleep, trapped words are finally allowed to slip like melted butter.

Four in the morning was not the time to be up, especially on a work night. Well, a workday at this point. You should be in bed, surrounded by the fluffiest, warmest blankets on the softest mattress you could afford.

And yet? Here you were in the bathroom, washing your face with warm water, for what was the third time in a row. It was as if you were trying to slowly drown yourself. A yawn left your lips, strong enough to rock your body with violent yet satisfying shudders. You cursed your insomnia. You knew you were tired, so why couldn’t you fall asleep?

Something clattered in the kitchen, a hushed swear which broke the stillness of the shared apartment soon followed.

Was he up, too?

Your face heated up at the thought of your roommate. There had always been a spark between the two of you, but both of you dodged any confrontation. It was like fate danced you both around each other, curious to see who would take charge. Who would finally end this little game of cat and mouse? You didn’t think you had enough confidence to be the one to put a stop to the games you were playing and admit how hard you’ve fallen for him.

However, as life tugs you both along, curious things unfold.

You cracked open the bathroom door to peep out, holding your breath in case he was just outside. This was new to you, as Aizawa was typically asleep for as long as he could be. His record is 19 hours straight after a hard mission. Your record was nine hours, and you were damn proud of yourself for it, too.

You carefully stepped out after turning off the light, trying to creep back to your bedroom without getting caught. It’s not like you wanted to avoid Aizawa, you just didn’t want him to catch you up this late again. Though as soon as you took your first step out into the hallway, he spoke, the words making you freeze like a deer in headlights.

“What are you doing awake at this hour?” You swallowed around the lump in your throat as you stood straight.

“I thought you didn’t know I was up,” you said with a grin, but Aizawa could see how tired you were.

“I’m a pro-hero,” he hummed, a coffee mug warming his hands. “It’s almost insulting that you thought I didn’t notice you. Now, why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Pro-hero,” you retorted, earning a worn chuckle. The distant look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know to understand why he was awake as well.

Nightmares.

You knew all too well that Aizawa’s night terrors were a force to be reckoned with. On some nights he even woke up screaming or falling out of bed. Aizawa’s dreams were the only thing that could get such a strong reaction from him.

“Drinking coffee this late can’t be good for you,” you said, changing the subject rather quickly while you headed into the kitchen with your roommate. “Doesn’t a hero with your status need to stay healthy?”

“It’ll keep me up,” he murmured with a strange sort of solemnness infecting his tone.

You couldn’t stop the empathetic look from tainting your face even if you wanted to. You hated nothing more than watching as the hero business ate away at your best friend.

“Hey.” His voice took you from your thoughts. “We’re already up this late, and I doubt either of us will sleep soon, so. . .” Aizawa trailed off as you looked up at him. “So, come sit on the roof with me. Only for a bit.”

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor before you caught yourself and nodded. You hoped that you didn’t look too head over heels for him, but little to your knowledge, Aizawa found your reaction cute.

“Sure, alright,” you said with a small smile, trying to sound nonchalant. You didn’t, but Aizawa didn’t comment on it, sparing your pride. “Ah, wait, let me grab a hoodie-”

“Don’t bother,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear him.

A smirk tainted your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest and accusingly leaned towards him.

“Oh, so you want me to freeze? That isn’t very heroic, mister.” The way you raised your eyebrows got him to spill a chuckle.

“I do not. You can just wear mine."

Leaving the conversation at that, he turned away before you ever saw the pink hue that dusted his face. It took you a second to let his words process before you were following after him like a lost puppy.

It's not a big deal. He's just being friendly and giving, as always. That's the lie you've always told yourself.

“How do we get up on the roof?" You asked as he led you on the small back porch.

Your small smile dropped entirely as he jumped and grabbed the edge of the roof, pulling himself up with practiced ease.

"All right, asshole, not everyone is a pro-hero, so-" You cut yourself off as soft cloth suddenly wrapped around you, acting as a safety harness.

He lifted you to the roof without breaking a sweat. And to be honest, that boosted your confidence by a few points.

"Such foul language doesn't belong in a pretty mouth like yours," Aizawa murmured, his calloused hands carefully pulling his scarf off of your shoulders. He left the cloth on your waist for you to take care of, as he didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

The scarf was the furthest thing from your mind as you hoped the dark sky hid your heavy blush.

He said I was… Pretty. Aizawa… called me pretty.

"You, um…" You tried to start a conversation to distract Aizawa from the fact you weren't removing his scarf. "You got up here stupidly fast. Do you do this often?"

He didn't comment on the matter of his scarf, silently using it to justify why he was sitting this close to you.

"I'm a stealth hero. I'm always jumping rooftop to rooftop," he reasoned, heavy eyes taking in the ever so familiar landscape.

"That's not what I asked," you prodded gently. "Do you come up here often, this late at night?"

You wanted him to trust you, to tell you what was obviously plaguing his thoughts or what had scared him sleepless this time. You were well aware trust wasn't given easily, especially for someone like him. Someone who's been hurt time and time again.

His jaw shifted, and you were too concerned about his mental health to think of how handsome he was with his sharp features.

"Sometimes. When the dreams aren't incredibly terrible," he muttered after a thick swallow.

You hummed to let him know that you understood, your body shifting a minuscule closer to his warmth. He noticed, and without a word pulled his hoodie over his head. You two were sitting so close that you needed to lean to the side to avoid getting elbowed.

"Hey, what are you-"

He smiled gently as he set the article in your lap, and the sight alone shut you up. He was gorgeous, basking in the never-sleeping city lights.

"Didn’t I tell you? You can wear my jacket if you're cold."

Be still your beating heart, because if it didn’t soon, you were sure he'd think someone was knocking at the door with how loud it was pounding against your ribs.

With a painfully flustered chuckle to fill the silence, you put it on. And, God, you'd be content dying surrounded by his scent of heavy rain and the forest. A small thank you filtered off your tongue. Using the visual excuse of adjusting how it pooled at your hips, you shifted ever closer.

"You know-"

"Sometimes-"

You had both gone to speak at the same time, earning a soft giggle from you and a deep chuckle from him.

"You go first," you offered with a gentle smile.

"Only if you go after, no matter what," he playfully demanded.

As you agreed, you watched his eyes lingered on you, something indescribable dancing behind the walls of charcoal. With a deep breath, he faced the horizon.

"Sometimes when I drive, I'll turn on the radio. Just to have some background noise. I don't pay attention to it, though, because most of the music is shit," Aizawa started, something in his chest swelling as you chuckled at him. "But then, when I was sitting in the UA teacher's parking lot, something hit me as I listened to a sappy song."

"What? That you're getting old?" You teased, trying to break some of the tension in his shoulders.

"I realized that all of a sudden, every love song was about you."

Your soft gasp sounded like a nuclear bomb to him and he screwed his eyes shut. He knew he should've stayed in bed.

"I..." Aizawa moved to stand. "I should go back to sleep," he finished rather quickly.

Your nibble fingers gripped his pants leg and he froze entirely, like a child who’d been caught eating candy past midnight.

"Hey… What happened to our little deal?" Your caring tone caused him to hesitate. "Please, Shouta, won't you hear what I have to say?"

Shouta. How pretty it sounded rolling off your tongue.

He swayed in the morning breeze, the very beginning of a sunrise highlighting his dark features. And then he sat, avoiding looking at you at all costs.

"As I was going to say before I was thankfully interrupted," you began, adjusting the sleeves of your (his) jacket. You took a deep breath, hyping yourself up to finally fess up as he did. "You know when you look at a kitten, you think of Shinsou? Or when you see candy apples, you think of Eri?" You asked, earning a stiff nod.

"Everything has started reminding me of you. From sleep bags to your favorite dark chocolates, and baggy clothes like the ones you rarely allow me to borrow, or a coffee mug you'd like. You're always running through my mind," you took a breath, needing to get some air after your fast-paced rant.

You both sat in heavy silence, the dew in the grass glinting from the rays of marigold that poured over the horizon.

"Can I do something stupid?" He asked quietly, shifting in his spot.

" 'Course. It's about time we swapped roles," you humored.

Smokey-colored eyes bored into yours as he faced you, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. You'd never seen him so… beautifully revealing.

Suddenly you were surrounded by warmth, Aizawa no longer looking at you. He hugged you so desperately, it was as if he thought you'd leave him. He scruff tickled your neck as he nuzzled into you, but you couldn't care less.

The way you didn't need to think twice about returning the hug made him smile against your skin. You both sat there on the roof, basking in rays of fresh morning sunlight, never letting go of each other.

"It was about losing you," Aizawa breathed, breaking the blissful silence. "My nightmare… In it, I had lost you forever."

You closed your eyes, one hand tenderly massaging his scalp with the other held him closer to you. "I'm right here, Shouta. I'm not going anywhere," you reassured, feeling his breathing pattern calm. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah…" He whispered, voice heavy with sleep and concern.

"Let's get back to bed, okay?" You murmured, feeling the weight of your feelings change from suffocating to soaring.

"Not yet. Please… I just wanna stay with you." Aizawa pulled you impossibly closer and you smiled.

"Whatever you wish, but don't blame me when you're sore tomorrow." You felt him chuckle as his eyes drooped shut.

" 'm always sore anyways."

#comfort #aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha fluff #boku no hero fluff #poor baby really just needs a hug

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bostongirl13 · 4 years

Text

Mentally tired

A/N: The story is based on my personal experiences from a few days ago. Even though I didn't have a person like Chris in my fanfiction, I still have a lovely friend who helped me. Please do not let anyone ever bring you to this state, because no matter what others say or do, YOU are the most important, YOUR mental and physical health is the most important and it is not subject to discussion. So remember that if something disturbs your well-being, cut yourself off from it if possible. Health is very important and nothing can replace it.

Summary: You always considered yourself a mentally strong person, but suddenly someone managed to break you in a way you didn't think you could. For the first time in your life you felt so many things at once and you were powerless, there was nothing you could do. Fortunately, there was someone in your life who, although only hugged you, made you feel that you had a place in this world.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: AGE GAP, angst, anxiety, depression state, fluff and happy end, mistakes

Masterlist

There's a kind of tired that needs a good night's sleep, and another that needs so much more. It’s like a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity. You always considered yourself a mentally strong person. Hardly anything upset you, made you cry from a feeling of helplessness or simply mental exhaustion. However, on that one day, in which very little happened, your strong psyche was broken. For the first time in your life, you felt that you were powerless and mentally exhausted.

You finished work late and tired as usual. All day on high brats, in a constant run and only half an hour to eat breakfast. A job that required so much of you was not the height of your dreams, but the fact that you needed money did not give you much choice. You had to accept what you had.

The air was sweet, the weather was fine even if there were clouds in the sky and you could feel the wind on your skin. You got in your car and turned on the radio. You should be on your way home, but suddenly someone flips a button in your head. You burst into desperate crying without knowing where you had so many accumulated emotions that led you to such a state. Tears ran down your cheeks, your hands clenched on the steering wheel until the knuckles on your palms turned white. Your lungs were running out of air, and your open mouth let out a silent scream that you wanted someone to hear, come and take what you felt.

You took your phone out of your purse and, with shaking hands, eyes still blurry with tears, you wrote a short message to the only person who knew he would be able to help you, or at least you hoped so.

"I can call?"

After a while, you received an answer: "Of course, Princess"

You pressed the button and after a few chimps, you heard Chris's voice.

"What's up? Everything's okay?"

You were silent for a moment and tried to control yourself, but it didn't help you, because the moment you opened your mouth to say something, another wave of tears flooded your mouth.

"I can't anymore, I don't want to work here. It's the first time I'm so mentally tired ... I ... I ..." you didn't even know if your gibberish and cry made Chris understand anything. “I…I'm so tired"

"Hey, take it easy. What's wrong, Y / N?" Chris immediately started to panic, he wanted to be next to you and beat everyone who made you cry so hard.

"Work. I can't work here anymore. Still, someone wants something, they move me from place to place, they treat me like a parasite, and the worst thing is that because of the number of fucked up rules, I have a headache" you cried all the time, unable to calm down "I eat breakfast on the run or not at all. Everybody expects me to do my 100% as if I've been working there for years. Nobody takes into account that I'm learning everything and I'm new here” you were crying on the phone.

"I know it probably won't work, but try to calm down. And tell me where you are, I'll come to get you."

"I'm trying, but I can't" you sniffed trying to breathe evenly and stop crying "You don't have to. I'm in the car and ...."

"Then take a few deep breaths and come to my place. I live closer and I won't let you be alone today. Not like that." he says firmly. You knew that a discussion with him would be useless because he was able to come to you, pack you and bring you to his home.

"Ok"

"Ok?"

"Yes, I'll be there in 20 minutes," you said and after a few words of comfort you hung up.

Even though you tried to stop crying, you couldn't. Salty drops ran down your cheeks whole way to Chris's house.

When you got there Chris was waiting for you with Dodger. You felt embarrassed showing yourself in this state and uncomfortable, but you still needed someone by your side.

"Oh my god, Y / N" Chris immediately hugged you to him, and you burst into a hysterical cry again.

"Please calm down. Everything will be fine. I promise." You knew Chris was trying to comfort you, but it was not successful. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks and soaking his T-shirt.

After a few minutes, you went inside where Chris gave you his hoodie and told you to go take a warm bath or shower. At first, you didn't want to cause him trouble, after all, you were just friends with a big age difference, and you didn't feel comfortable roaming his house like that. He, however, didn't mind and practically pushed you into the bathroom and went to order some take-out.

As soon as you got in the shower, you sat down on the floor and let the water wash off you all day. You didn't even know how long you've been sitting in the bathroom until Chris knocked to ask if you were okay.

"Yes" you yelled to him and grabbed a bottle of shampoo and shower gel to get a quick wash, then put on Chris clothes and went to the living room.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I ordered pizzas and Korean food. I remember how you used to say it was your favorite, but if you wanted something less spicy ..."

"You didn't have to" you interrupted him seeing how embarrassed he was because of such tinsel as eating. "Thank you", you smiled and kissed his cheek, and then you sat down next to him.

Chris froze at your gesture and it took him a few moments to get back to reality. He looked at you in his clothes, you looked cute in his oversized hoodie.

You ate practically in silence, except for the TV's on and the Dodger's soft snoring. You were no longer crying, but still feeling mentally tired. You didn't have the strength to go home or to work tomorrow. You wanted to run away somewhere where no one would find you. And so far that place has been Chris's house and the Korean food you chose.

"I don't know how you can eat something like this!" you burst out laughing as Chris drank a glass of water in one breath, "This is fucking hot"

"Not for me," you said, taking a piece of hot chicken to your mouth.

After you finished your meal, you sat down comfortably on the couch and played a movie. You covered yourself with a blanket and slumped slightly on the couch, pulling your knees up. You saw Chris want to ask you something, but he doesn't know how to do it.

"Bosses are assholes, and the amount of work you have to do in a short time is impossible to get done. Besides, there are no human conditions to eat a meal and the constant noise and crowds ..." you paused for a moment to wipe the tear flowing down your cheek "I can't explain it, just a red lamp lights up in my head and someone screams run, but I can't because I don't know where the exit is. I feel, I know I'm trapped and .. . "you started crying again.

You felt strong arms press you against the hard chest of the body to which they belong. You immediately hugged Chris and closed your eyes. And how by a magic wand you started to calm down. He stroked your hair holding his cheek against your head. When you got up and looked at Chris's blue irises, you felt very calm and safe. You didn't know what it is about him that makes your body relax when he touches you.

Chris placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped away your tears. You felt as if you were enchanted, but at the same time, they were doing what your heart and mind told you as if you still had full control over your actions. You bet your lower lip as your gaze traveled from Chris's to his lips and back to his eyes. And then you felt his lips on yours.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. His kiss is not at all the same as those you had before, but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lives in us all. You threw your arms around his neck and dragged him along. Chris didn't protest. He propped himself up on one elbow so as not to crush you with the weight of his body, and he rested his other hand on your cheek. In that moment of the kiss, you were in each other’s protective cocoon.

You felt his tongue gently move over your lip, subtly pleading for entry. You parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He took his time, slowly revealing every nook and cranny of your lips and letting your tongues dance at an unhurried beat. Your hands moved you from his neck to his hair, tangling your fingers in brown curls. Chris growled and moved his hand to your thigh, throwing your leg over his hip, then carefully placed his body on yours.

The feeling that accompanied it all was incomparable to anything else. It felt like you were just getting to know the world as a little child.

When you pulled away from each other to catch your breath, you couldn't take your eyes off you. Each of you has been examining the face of the other, trying to read feelings and thoughts.

Chris touched your swollen lips with his thumb and smiled slightly at which you smiled back.

"You are so beautiful when you smile. I don't want that smile to fade from your face. Never," he whispered.

Your cheeks turned red, you could tell by the warmth you felt on your face. But even so, you found enough confidence to answer him unequivocally.

"So don't let me be sad"

After these words, Chris's lips were on yours again.

tags: @patzammit @ivettt @mostannoyingbillioner @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @ozarkthedog @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sweetflowerdreams @worksby-d

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x reader smut #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x oc #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans sex #chris evans series #chris evans story #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fanart #chris evans angst #chris evans instagram #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

Text

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 3

Word Count: 4,050

POV: Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: Well I’m finally at home for a night and I definitely owe you guys a story. So since I had the next part of this one ready, I dediced to post it. When last we saw these two, they had decided to divorce, and our reader had signed the papers and sent them back to Jacob. Who had forgotten to sign them. Let’s see what happens now, though I think some of you have an idea. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It had been almost seven weeks since Jacob met you. For six of those, he’d talked to you every day, sometimes two and three times. It was just these last few days that you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts. Jacob was confused, to put it mildly. He wracked his brain trying to recall the last couple of conversations that you’d had, wondering if he’d said or did something to anger you, but nothing came to mind. In Jacob’s mind, he thought the two of you were actually starting something. Sure, it had been one of the most peculiar beginnings to a relationship ever, but the last several weeks' things had been nice, better than nice actually. He thought the two of you might have a chance at a real relationship. Of course, the distance between you played a part, but he thought the two of you could work that out; apparently, he was wrong.

Jacob knew the moment he stepped poolside, that you were something special. The longer he talked to you the more he knew he’d been right. If he was being honest, it was probably one of the reasons he suggested marrying you, even though that marriage would be over soon. Just like lightning striking in the middle of a storm, it hit Jacob then why you were pissed. He’d forgotten to sign the divorce papers. He’d had them for well over two weeks now. Rushing into the office, he started rifling through all the crap on his desk looking for the manila envelope that you’d mailed it to him in. He was just in the process of opening it when the front doorbell rang, so back on the desk it went, as he headed to the door to answer it.

Jacob was shocked to see you standing there. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. It took him a moment to recover before taking you in. There were dark circles under your eyes that made it look like you hadn’t slept in days, not to mention how puffy they looked as if you’d been crying. Jacob wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and make whatever seemed to be causing you this much pain go away.

“Hey,” you mumbled out weakly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you into his home. It was your typical bachelor pad. Walls stark and devoid of any real character that you knew Jacob possessed. He led you over to the couch in the living room, an enormous piece of furniture designed for his large frame. It almost seemed to swallow you whole. “(Y/N) is everything ok?” There was concern in his eyes and you knew he was probably questioning your presence there after you’d been radio silent the last few days.

“No.” The one-word answer was hard to push out without tears falling down your eyes. You could see how Jacob’s fingers itched to touch you and honestly that’s all you wanted right now, for him to just take you in his arms and somehow have all the answers, but he had to know the problem first. You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself for what you needed to tell him. “Jacob, I don’t know how to tell you this.” At that moment Jacob grabbed your hands and engulfed them in his giving you his support in just that simple touch. It gave you enough courage to blurt out the last part. “I’m pregnant.”

You felt his hands slip a bit on yours at the shock of the news; his mouth working trying to form a sentence yet nothing coming out. It took a minute but he finally found his words. “Wow, um…ok…I hate to ask this…”

This was the part you knew was coming, expected it really and you didn’t blame him at all. So, to spare him, you found yourself answering the unspoken question. “It’s yours.” He nodded but you felt the need to explain more. “I haven’t been with anyone since Vegas, and even before that, well, work was really busy, and…well let’s just say it had been over a month or longer.”

“You don’t have to say anymore, (Y/N). I believe you.” His hands tightened on yours, the shock of everything starting to wear off. “Plus, we didn’t use protection.” It was something you didn’t give much thought to when you were with Jacob, which was odd because you’d always been extra cautious with hookups, but then everything with Jacob was different than anyone else. “Do you…do you know what you want to do?”

This time you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I tried, Jacob. I really did.” He looked confused, unsure of what you meant by that. “I went to get an abortion yesterday.” He blinked hard but other than that showed no expression. “I was sitting there on the damn table in a gown just waiting for the doctor to come in and then I looked around. There was this damn chart that showed what the size of your baby is every week compared to fruit of all things. It’s a blueberry by the way. A damn cute little blueberry, like the kind they put in muffins and stuff.” Why it had to be an adorable little fruit like that you didn’t know. Why couldn’t it be honeydew? You hated that fruit. Well maybe not hate, but it wasn’t your favorite that’s for sure. “Anyhow, I was just staring at that poster and looking at each week and I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe.” Kind of like now, even telling him brought back all those feelings. “I started thinking about the doctor telling me that I could hear the heartbeat next week when she did the ultrasound, and I’m not sure what happened, but I couldn’t go through with it; so, I left. I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure if you were apologizing to him or yourself. This was something you didn’t want, at least not right now, or at least that’s what you always thought. Now, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You took a deep breath, composing yourself. “I booked a flight once I got home. I couldn’t tell you this over the phone or text. You deserved to hear it in person.”

“Thank you for that.”

You slipped your hands out of his, distancing yourself from him for this next part, but also pulling out the envelope you brought. “I’m going to keep the baby.” As if that part wasn’t obvious, but you somehow felt it needed to be said. “I had Aaron draw up some papers. They absolve you from any obligations to the child both financially and emotionally. All you have to do is sign them. You won’t even have to be listed on the birth certificate.” He took the envelope from your hands, glancing briefly at the contents inside. “I’m sure you’ll want to have your lawyer look it over.”

Jacob didn’t know what to think. Ten minutes ago, he was wondering if you were ever going to speak to him again and now you were telling him you were having his child. A child you apparently didn’t want him to be a part of. But did he even want a baby? He certainly hadn’t wanted a wife, yet here he was still married to you. He should come clean right now and tell you that he hadn’t signed the papers yet. That some indescribable feeling had taken over him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to sign them anymore. And now, well, now he felt like he shouldn’t sign them. Maybe this was all some force in the universe steering his life in a different direction; a route he hadn’t planned on taking until later, yet here he was on it. “And what if I don’t want to sign them?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you thought he’d say. You didn’t think this was something either of you wanted, but you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like the two of you had had this long talk about where you saw your life in five years. Hell, this wasn’t where you saw your life in five months, but here you were, on the verge of being divorced with a baby on the way. “Well, I guess we’ll need to figure things out then.”

Jacob got up and started to wander around the living room. You weren’t sure if he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to sign the papers or how he was going to be part of his child’s life. “Do you want a drink or something? I need a drink. Oh shit, you can’t drink, can you?”

“It’s not advised, but please don’t let that stop you. Though if you have a water that would be great.” He headed towards the kitchen, which gave you a chance to just breathe. The hardest part was telling him, all the rest you’d figure out. He was back quicker than you expected, a bottle of water in each hand. He handed one over to you and sat back down beside you. “You know, you can think about this if you want. You don’t have to sign or not sign them right now.”

He nodded and pursued his lips before answering, though not how you expected. “How long are you here for?”

“A few days. There’s a movie being filmed not far from here. I offered to drop off some of the specs for the campaign, as long as I was here, but it also gives you some time to make a decision.”

“I already have. I want to be in our baby’s life.” You don’t know why but it felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off your chest. It was nice to know that you weren’t in this alone. “But there’s a lot to figure out.”

“Yes, there is.”

“(Y/N), this is going to sound crazy, but I want you to move here.”

Pregnancy did weird things to the body and maybe your hearing things was one of them because you were pretty sure Jacob had just said he wanted you to move to Vancouver. “I’m sorry, you want me to move here, as in Vancouver?”

“Well, yeah but I want you to move in here, like in my house.”

He seemed dead serious and you weren’t sure how to take his suggestion or him at the moment. “But my life and my home are in LA. That’s where my job is.” Couldn’t he see that?

“I know, but moving here just makes sense. I’ll be able to help you then, not just after the baby is born but before as well. I have plenty of room in this house. There are three spare bedrooms; we can turn one into a nursery for the baby.”

How could go from finding out you were pregnant to a full out plan of attack in less than a half-hour? God, it took you a day to wrap your head around it when you found out and then another to make the decision about the abortion, and even then you still didn’t figure out you wanted to keep the baby until you were sitting in the doctor’s office. Jacob seemed to be processing everything much better than you were.

“I don’t know Jacob, just because we’re having this baby together doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Everything with Jacob was still in this weird transition phase like you went from being wildly attracted to each other, to being married, to getting a divorce, to now having a baby, and now he wanted you to live together under the same roof. You didn’t even know if the two of you would get along that great. Sure, the sex was amazing, well really better than amazing if that was even a thing, and you seemed to get along if your conversations over the last several weeks were any indication, but to live together; that could just be a whole other problem altogether.

“Look I know it’s a lot to ask and believe me if I could, I’d be willing to move to LA. It’s not like I can just ask to be traded there though. But I don’t want you to have to do this on your own.” It was awfully sweet of him to want to be there for you, and not just the baby. You’d just assumed that he’d want to see the baby on some weekends and maybe an extended time during the summer when he was off. “You don’t realize this yet, but there’s going to be a whole hockey family here for you. That’s just the way it is in this sport.” He grasped your hands then, the gesture one pleading in and of itself for you to see his side of things. “We can do this (Y/N), together.”

Together, it sounded so nice. You knew that if he had decided to sign the papers that being a single mom was going to be tough, but now knowing that he wanted to be there every step of the way eased some of the burden you felt. It was just hard to think about giving up the life you’d built for yourself in LA. You were already giving up so much as it was. “I get what you’re asking, I really do. I just…it’s a lot.” His thumb started to run back and forth across your knuckles, softly urging you to his side without him even knowing it. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course.”

“I mean we don’t have to decide everything tonight.”

“No, we don’t.” He smiled at you. The same one he gave you when you’d been in Vegas. It gave you butterflies in your stomach back then as it did now. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, I get a little queasy now and then; mostly when I’m hungry. I’ve learned to carry crackers with me everywhere.”

“Well, I could make you something or we could order.” The fact that he even offered scored points in your book and was definitely a check on his side of the box for moving to Vancouver, and you were kind of hungry.

“I mean, I haven’t really eaten.” He gave you a disapproving stare and you felt the need to justify why you hadn’t. “I was too nervous before.”

“Well, then let’s get you something to eat.” Jacob led you out to the kitchen, where he took out some chicken along with some vegetables to stick in the oven. The two of you worked side by side getting dinner ready. You were midway chopping up some zucchini when Jacob brought the baby back up again. “You mentioned something about the heartbeat. Were you able to hear it?”

“I have to schedule an ultrasound when I get back but they said that I should be able to.”

“Mmm.” You weren’t exactly sure what that little hum meant. Was that a good hum, or a bad one? You stayed silent waiting for him to say more. “Do you think you could record it for me?”

Why did your heart just flutter when he asked that? Was it because he wanted to hear the baby or was it because you were realizing how much he would be missing when you went back to LA? “I will,” you finally told him, but then had an even better idea. “Though you know, I’m here for four more days. Maybe we could find a doctor that would be able to do it while I’m here.”

His face lit up, like a little boy on Christmas morning. “You would do that?”

“Yeah. If we can find a doctor to squeeze us in.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone, you weren’t sure if he was searching for gynecologists or texting someone, either way, it was adorable how he just jumped in at the first mention of being a part of this whole pregnancy. Again, he was showing you just how nice it would be to share this with him. Ten minutes later he had an appointment all set for you in two days.

During dinner you talked about how you had found out you were pregnant, telling him the story of how Kennedy was the one to point out your nausea wasn’t normal and that you should take a pregnancy test. She was the only one that knew you were pregnant. You swore her to secrecy, hoping that she wouldn’t spill the beans this time like she had about a certain movie star. Surprisingly, he wanted to know everything, though there wasn’t too much to tell. By the time you got the mess cleaned up from dinner, you were starting to feel the weariness of the day.

“I think I’m going to head over to the hotel. I still need to check in. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep better tonight, now that you finally know.”

“Stay.” The word fell out of Jacob’s mouth in almost an authoritative manner, which belied the puppy dog look on his face. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean you could stay here if you wanted. Sort of like a tryout or something.”

“You mean trial run?” Leave it to his athletic side to call it a tryout. It made you laugh.

“Yeah. We could just take the next few days and see how we do together.” It wasn’t a bad idea. “You call and cancel the hotel and I’ll go grab your bag from the car.” He was halfway to the door before you actually agreed.

As Jacob went outside, he contemplated with himself as to where he should put your things. Did he just bring your luggage to his room or should he give you one of the spare rooms? Despite the fact you were carrying his child, his body still wanted you as much, if not more, than when you were in Vegas. He just wasn’t sure where you saw things going.

You were just hanging up the phone when he walked back into the house and unbeknownst to him, you were wondering the same thing. However, your head kept telling you that if the two of you were going to make this work, you needed to keep things out of the bedroom, at least for now. Jacob must have had the same thought as you, for when he came in, he said, “Here, I’ll show you where the spare bedroom is.” The room was spacious but again, it wasn’t that homey, and occurred to you that if you decided to live here, you’d definitely need to make some changes. “Did you maybe wanna watch a movie or something, or are you tired?”

You could see he was struggling in this unchartered territory as much as you were, and while you were exhausted; you still wanted to spend time with him, to see if moving to Vancouver was even an option. “I’d love to watch a movie. Do you mind if I change first?”

“No, not at all.” He fidgeted with the back of his neck a bit, before turning to leave. “I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

You really wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed, but instead, you opted for just washing up quickly and slipping on a pair of pajamas you’d brought. It was still warm in LA, though the nights were a bit cooler. All you brought to sleep in were a couple pairs of shorts and some comfy t-shirts, thinking that you’d be in a hotel room by yourself. Now, you were wishing that you’d thought about it a little more and packed something a little warmer, if not more modest. Why you cared, you weren’t sure, considering this man had seen you completely naked several times.

Jacob had changed into some sweats by the time you got downstairs. He had bottles of water for you both along with a pack of crackers laying on the coffee table, and you had to admit your heart melted a little bit when you saw that. “So, what kind of movies do you like? I remember you saying no horror.”

“We don’t have to watch a movie. I know the Bruins are playing tonight and that you play them tomorrow. Why don’t you just turn the game on?” He looked surprised that you knew his schedule, but you did a deep dive finding out as much information as you could once you found out you were pregnant. He was going to be the baby's father, even if he would've decided not to be in your child's life, though now that he decided he wanted to be, the information was even more useful.

“Are you sure?” You nodded giving him the go-ahead to watch his opponents’ play. “Speaking of that, would you be interested in going to the game? I mean I know someone who could get you a ticket on short notice?” He looked so adorable when he asked you couldn’t tell him no.

“I’d love to.” You’d watched very few hockey games live, though ever since Las Vegas, you’d been following the Canucks, well, more like Jacob. It would be fun to see him in action.

“Great, I can leave you a ticket or have Erik’s fiancé come and take you. You’ll love her.”

Jacob really wanted you to jump in with both feet, didn’t he? You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to meet all his friends and teammates, but you supposed that if you moved here this would be a part of your life. “If she wouldn’t mind that would be great.”

“I’ll text him now.”

“Jacob,” you stopped him, just by saying his name. “Can we keep the baby our secret for now? I know Kennedy knows and I don’t expect you to keep it to yourself, but I don’t want to broadcast it either. At least until we know what we’re doing.”

He took your hand in his, the gesture reassuring. “Yeah (Y/N), we can do that.”

It wasn’t long before your attire got the best of you and you found yourself tucking your feet underneath you on the couch trying to keep them warm. You thought that Jacob was fully absorbed in the game, but he caught the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He scooted your closer to him, his large frame wrapping around yours. You weren’t sure if it was his body heat or him just holding you, but it was definitely warmer in seconds, though Jacob still covered you with a throw blanket that was on the couch. “Better?”

“Much.” It wasn’t long before you found yourself dozing off. The stress of the day and travel wearing on you. Your head fell softly against his shoulder and you sighed in contentment.

Jacob felt your body relax against him and he savored the feel of it. He’d honestly missed this closeness to another person in a completely non-sexual way and having you in his arms just felt right. He should’ve been paying attention to the game, scouting out his opponents but instead all he could do was watch you, even before you fell asleep. His fingers were idly stroking your bare arm under the blanket, slowly inching their way down to your wrist. He didn’t realize they’d made their way to your midsection until they were there; just lightly caressing you, scared he would wake you, but he had to touch you there. He’d been dying to all night but been afraid to ask as if it was almost an invasion of your privacy even though you were carrying his child. His child. The thought both terrified him and thrilled him. Jacob always wanted kids; knew that someday he would have them. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. He always assumed that he’d start his family after hockey was over, but here he was with a wife and child on the way. It was something he hadn’t bargained for and never saw coming. Apparently, what happened in Vegas was a lot more than he gambled on.

taglist: @iculyrea @fiveholegoal @raysofcrosby @leafs-lover @sexysidney87 @lovethepreds @miranda0102 @stbluesbrat21 @perrieeloise @mandypants95 @hockeyunits @liz96893 @golfergirl1982 @princessphilly @ajstylesworld @zinka8 @dontworrybeekappy @hiimana @meishaabae @heatherawoowoo @beauvibaby @hockeybabe87 @leafs-forever

#What Happens in vegas series #whivdast #jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom imagine #jacob markstrom imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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bvccy · 3 years

Note

Friend, if you are still open for request, can you please do Heliotrope with the Winter Soldier? 🥺 please thank you 💛💛💛

My dear 😭 I am so so sorry for how long this took! I just hope you can enjoy the fic. It’s a little bit spooky at the beginning, but WS is soft and so is our reader. And they get their happy-ever-after 💗

Thank you very much for this prompt also! 🌺🌺🌺

— PAIRING: soft!Winter Soldier x female!Reader — PROMPT: Heliotrope - walking in the sun, and losing each other — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

They had been living in darkness for months, and the oppressive cold that battered against the walls with fierce winds all day, and hungry howls at night — not that one could tell night from day in the sunless vastness, except by the ticking of the clock.

Hydra had installed that arctic facility at the mouth of a crater, covered by ice over the ages to conceal its dubious treasure. It was clear to the Soldier that the treasure was not made up of precious things, but it was only when the crew finished digging all the way down that he understood why all the scientists were there...

It was difficult for him to tell who the shuttle belonged to. It might have been some advanced technology from America, but then how did it get so deep down, so quickly? Maybe it was an old German prototype from the war, but it didn't look like any he'd seen before. Or maybe Hydra was just recovering their old property from past attempts... It didn't matter, he was just there to guard the scientists while they did the work.

The other soldiers stationed with him stopped taking the job seriously after the first three months, but he kept watch, and paid attention, and didn't miss the odd slimes that seeped across the floor out of those metal shells, nor the odd crunch as the scientists cut into something that looked soft and milky, but held like bone. And the smells, the cold metallic smells like iron dipped in silver... It sometimes felt like home, but he knew better than to let that grip him. And he kept watch.

The one chemist that doubled as the chef didn't make particularly good meals, but they were hearty, and if he was being honest, he was eating better at this isolated station than he did at the Base — felt freer too, almost in charge of his destiny, if one didn't count the frozen wastes he'd have to survive if he ever wanted to run. But the Soldier couldn't imagine why he'd ever wish to run.

Especially when she was here.

Studying the files of all the scientists on the mission, her portrait stood out as particularly sad, morose, with a bit of a death glare toward the cameraman. But when he actually saw her, she seemed sweet like a spring day and even happy to be there. She looked up into his eyes as she walked into the protected area to study their find, blinking up from beneath a mess of furs and protective equipment, but there was a smile crinkling around her gaze. As the months drew on and everyone got more bored with staying there, and loose with themselves, they'd sometimes play some music in the lab, and the Soldier didn't know why he liked it so much or felt the need to dance with someone.

The military staff initially had their own mess hall, a small room with a kitchenette where they could eat together, but then one of the doctors needed it to test the effects of temperature changes on some of the samples, and the place was... contaminated every since. Now, they all ate together. The girl who'd caught his eye tended to eat with her own team, the Geologists, but he could feel her looking at him sometimes, he noticed her lingering when he was around even if she was about to leave, and a few times she even dared approach him — under the excuse of getting the jar of sugar that was on his other side rather than reaching for the one next to her, or leaning down to get some plate she didn't need from right by his knees. It wasn't until she tried to reach a glass above his head, beyond her grasp, that he gave in and acknowledged her.

"Thank you," she said as he handed her the cup — the first time she'd ever said anything to him. Her voice suited her, but beyond its soft tones the Soldier was struck by being thanked at all. When was the last time that happened? What did one say in response?

"You're welcome?"

And he seemed so unsure saying it that he made her giggle.

She was inevitable after that, not because she was trying to be found but because he allowed himself to be around her, to guard her door while she chipped at stones and studied them, to sit near her during lunch — not right beside her, the Soldier still had a lingering shyness about that, but at least on the table opposite, from which they could look at each other if they wanted.

The long night was almost over, four months into their stay at this forsaken place, and the pair had taken to something really dangerous: in the small barn attached to the base, where some dry supplies were kept along with canisters of fuel, they escaped together while everyone else slept. He had led her there first, asking timidly whether she'd...

"Want to see something new?"

"Always," the girl grinned.

And so they found themselves piled on top of one another like firewood, almost not feeling each other beneath the layers of fur that kept them warm, but just being in each other's presence was... something. It was quiet without being quiet, with another real soul there, thinking its own thoughts in harmony with you.

The Asset wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep, though he did close his eyes sometimes and let the girl relax against him, and doze off, and during those times he allowed his arm to come down from where it propped his head up and wrap itself around her, holding her still — as if she were in danger of falling off some imaginary bed.

Nobody ever seemed to wonder where they both disappeared to, nobody noticed, which was why he was all the more surprised to hear shouting on that day. The Soldier didn't move, just tightened his arm around his little partner more. But when a bloodcurdling cry echoed through the vastness, he shook her awake.

"Wha—"

"Get up. The base is under attack," he muttered, reaching for the rifle laid beside him.

"That's crazy, who would attack us all the way out here?"

He didn't want to tell her what he thought, but only made her hide out in the shed while he went out to scout the area. Turning his radio on, nothing came through. There were no helicopters around, no trucks, no marks in the snow that anyone had attacked — at least, not from the outside. On the horizon, just the rays of a reluctant dawn were shining.

There was silence for a while, and then another symphony of screams rang out, muffled by the walls and the desperate shots of whoever was left inside, glass and metal knocked over, broken, and silence once again. Stepping away slowly, then more hurriedly, the Soldier returned to where he'd left the girl and picked her up by the elbow.

"Come on, we're leaving."

"Leaving where?" she cried out, confused and even slightly angry. "What's going on?"

"We're under attack."

"But our research..."

The Soldier dragged her to where the trucks were parked, and after the first flush of confusion she went along quietly. He gave her the rifle to hold while he looked in the back, making sure they had enough supplies for whatever drive awaited them — gas was there, some blankets too, and more ammunition. It would have to do. And without sparing another moment, he got in beside her and drove off. Against the rumbling of the engine as it drifted on the ice, a shrill scream cut through the frozen air and reached them, not sounding human nor animal nor like anything in the world, except perhaps a demon. The girl didn't look back, she wouldn't dare, she just looked quietly at the Soldier as she slowly understood. They drove into the sunrise as its rays burned away everything behind, and the snowdrifts buried it.

They didn't stop until the sky was bright as a midday, many hours later.

"Are we slowing down?" the girl mumbled sleepily.

"We're nearing a town," he said, eyes on the GPS. "Need to check that the road is clear. And that we are, too."

She stretched the shivers from her bones, but deep down she trusted the Soldier to keep them safe.

Getting out in what-felt-like days, frozen stiff, muscles aching from the shot of fear that penetrated down to her bones, the girl got out and reached for the sky with all she had. The air felt freer and fresher than ever before, even though it still hurt her lungs when it reached to their very bottom, but she loved such a pain — it felt like life.

The Asset walked slowly to her, just watching silently and smiling a half-smile at the sight of her all ruffled and soft, and safe.

"What do you think happened to the base?"

"Guess it's a mess by now," he hummed, bringing one gloved hand to feel around her head, her shoulders, down her arms, but always gently.

"We woke that thing up, didn't we?"

"You're the smart one, you tell me."

Her lips pursed — she never liked it when he teased her, but she tried never to reproach him for it, loving this sign of his personality shining through. "Are we far enough away now?"

"I don't know," he sighed, finally looking back into her eyes. "Are we?"

"The sun would kill it."

"How do you know that?"

She didn't answer but wouldn't look away either, and her determined gaze was enough for him. She did know more than he did, she'd spent months studying whatever that was, and that was fine by him. So long as none of it had managed to sneak on board.

"Stay close to me."

They walked around the car together and he checked the back, the wheels, then climbed on top and checked there too. Through the clearness of the day, he could even see the edges of a road that must've lead to that town. The car seemed clean, but they were close enough to a rescue that he'd rather not take any risks, and so picking up just a few useful things and one backpack, they started walking.

The snow got less deep and crunched beneath their boots, the wind was gentler downhill and even moved through the tendrils loosened from their hoods, shaking off the frost. In the distance, one tree stood tall, thin and dark and barren but alive, and over all of them the sun kept shining.

"We're almost at the road," said the Soldier, spotting a black snaking line a few meters ahead. He turned his head when he didn't hear anything back, but there was only the glint of sunlight on the snow.

Amorphous fog covered the horizons, and hills and dales of white, and suddenly the light felt very hot and burned his body as he turned frantically around and called for her. With mad fear, he traced back their steps up the snowy hill, nearly swimming through it as he called for her, terrified of the unthinkable.

Then, as if from the sea, a lone hand reached up and waved at him. Within one breath, he'd reached her, sitting in the snow just a few feet away.

"I'm so tired..." she huffed, burrowing like a rabbit. "Can't we rest a while?"

"You didn't rest enough in the car? Get up," he grumbled, pulling her up to her feet. He regretted snapping as soon as he saw her sad little face, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I was worried."

"I'm sorry too, for being so weak..."

Before thinking, he pulled her in and kissed the snow off her mouth. "None of that," he smiled as their lips parted. "Come on, we're so close. I'll carry you a bit if you want."

The girl shook her head mutely, face already flushed from frost but now truly heated. To be cared for, and worried about, and searched like that, and kissed... It put the life right back into her.

He kept his word and carried her in his arms at one point, but they both walked in the town together. Nobody knew who they were or where they came from and some had a few murmured questions, but by the time Hydra sent an extraction team for them, it didn't matter — they were gone, lost in the wind like two rays of sunshine.

#wint3r-h3art #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #mcu #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #Winter Soldier fanfiction #Winter Soldier imagine #Winter Soldier x reader #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots #bv;answers

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seonghwanotes · 3 years

Text

730 days | song mingi

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst

word count: 2k

a/n: i personally hate this piece so much, it hits a little too close to home but i wrote it decently and its still cringy gah dayum & there's no part 2 because some things are better off this way

You were in a relationship with Mingi for 2 years now and today was your anniversary with him. Lately, you could never get to go out with him on your monthly anniversaries since he was always busy with work which you understood and didn't mind about. So, you were exhilarated that you finally got the chance to celebrate a special day with him today.

You got dressed pretty early and drove to his house because you knew that he would be late or forget that you both had a date planned out since he hasn't texted you all day long.

While you were driving to his place, you turned up the volume on the radio and drove silently. The memories of when you first met Mingi flooded into your mind as you drove by the familiar street.

You fell in love with Mingi the second you saw him at a distant friend's birthday party. He was avoiding people at the party so it wasn't that hard for you to start a small talk with him. That night was definitely one of the best nights you've had, Mingi didn't even hesitate talking to you, in fact even when everyone had left, you both were still chatting away without realising it was late night.

You let out a small laugh as you drove into the street that Mingi lives at when you thought about the day he confessed to you. You had been talking to him everyday for a few months now and there was a misunderstanding between the two of you which resulted in a fight. Mingi being the gentleman he is, came to your doorstep late at night apologising and also, confessed his feelings for you.

And ever since, things have been going amazing between the two of you. Or so, you thought.

You reached the place and parked your car in front of his porch, turning off the engine before you walked to his doorstep. You felt nervous, as if it was your first date with him. Your hand reached the doorbell and clicked on it.

"Coming!"

You took a few steps back, knowing that his tall figure would accidentally bump into you by accident if he was about to walk out. Within seconds, he opened the door and came out. The smell of his cologne immediately flooded your surroundings, making you flinch a little, followed by a loud sneeze.

He was in the middle of locking his house door when his head turned to your direction, "Everything alright?"

You nodded, rubbing your nose. You managed to steal a glance at him, he was clad in a pair of light blue jeans along with an oversized white shirt, a denim jacket over it. You, on the other hand, wore jeans as well and a flowy blouse with your hair let down.

"You look pretty," He commented, making you realise he was done locking his door. You smiled at his compliment and returned one to him, "You look handsome as well."

"Where do you wanna go?" He asked, holding your hand as you both started walking. Everytime Mingi touched you, it would make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. This time, you didn't feel anything at all, not coming off as a surprise to you anymore.

"I don't know, I told you I didn't mind any place." You replied back.

"It's okay, it's better if you choose a place. I don't want to argue with you later about this." He said.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, wondering what he meant. Was he really going to argue with you before your date even started? That too, on your anniversary?

It took him a while to realise what came out of his mouth as he looked at you and tried to come up with an excuse. "I mean, I just don't want you to feel unhappy about it later."

You were obviously hurt from what he said earlier but you didn't want to show it to him, knowing that he would try to convince you to not feel this way. You hummed at his statement and looked at him, "Let's just go to McDonalds, I guess."

"McDonalds?"

"Didn't you tell me to choose a place?" You questioned him, starting to feel tired with his questions. You managed to catch him sigh and roll his eyes before he turned away, clenching his jaw.

Your relationship with Mingi was falling apart, that was for sure.

The first year together, everything was perfect and you had almost no arguments at all. You both went on dates a lot and took things up a notch. It felt like paradise whenever you were with him.

However in your second year, you felt like things started to lose its authenticity slowly. You began to argue with Mingi over the pettiest things and so did he. You've cried more during arguments with him than out of stress that now if you argued with him, you felt so numb and tired.

The relationship was getting toxic day by day.

"What's your problem now?" He finally asked, leaving a scar on your heart again with his blunt question.

"What's my problem?" You quivered, tears were starting to form in your eyes. You let go of Mingi's hand and asked him, "Why are you always arguing with me, Mingi?"

The look of fury turned into sorrow on Mingi's face as he heard your voice crack when you asked him that question. He knew that you had reached your point, you couldn't hold it in anymore. He had hurt your feelings to that point.

Yet, he didn't show any sign of pity towards you when he questioned you back. "Why are you like this? We've been fighting almost everyday."

You were on the verge of crying as tears collected in your eyes. "Why am I like this? Are you really asking me why I am like this? I've been trying my best to save our relationship every time it has been falling apart and you're asking me why am I like this? When are you going to realise that you have been screwing up our relationship, Mingi?"

He flinched at the mention of his name. You had never used his name before when you were together unless you were pissed or sometimes, jokingly. You had never used it when you were arguing as well. So it took him by surprise that his name left your mouth that day.

"Baby…"

Even him using pet names on you made you shiver, you knew it wasn't genuine anymore. He had stopped using pet names for weeks now, you didn't want to hear anything anymore. You looked at him in the eyes, hoping for him to tell you that it's okay and we would be alright. But he didn't.

Even though he put in more effort into your relationship compared to you, he was also the one hurting you the most that it was starting to drive you crazy. You loved him, you loved him with your whole heart and you didn't want to let him go. But in order for you to be alright again, you had to let him go.

Which resulted in you saying those words that you never expected yourself to say when you started dating Mingi.

"I think it's best for us to break up."

You both remained silent for a while, until you started sobbing and looked down. You hated this so much. You didn't want to show him that you were weak and vulnerable. You were at your lowest and you knew you couldn't hold it in anymore.

Mingi's hand reached to touch yours but you jerked away. "Please don't."

He immediately took his hand away and stood still in front of you. Seeing that he was quiet, you knew he was speechless and was thinking of what to say. You didn't want to look at him as well knowing that you would start to cry harder.

At the same time, you wanted him to ask you to stay. You wanted him to tell you that he was willing to fix things between the two of you. You wanted him to tell you that he loves you and he doesn't want you to leave him.

But he did nothing.

You didn't want to leave him, heck, it was stupid of you to even initiate the break up. but, you were not wrong. Mingi didn't even bother begging you to speak or wipe away your tears as he would.

You didn't want to assume things, perhaps he was hiding his pain as well as you did. Maybe it was going to take him some time to realise how fucked up the relationship was.

"Okay." He breathed out, a croak following along as he looked away.

You looked up at him, "Okay?"

"Yeah, let's break up." He said, making eye contact with you as you watched a tear roll down his cheek. You wanted to hold his cheek, wipe his tears and say that it was okay. You wanted to kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

But you didn't.

Instead, you started to cry. You covered your face with your hands as you cried in front of him. You didn't want to leave him, you knew very well you were still wrapped around his finger. You wanted to call him everyday, you wanted to text him good night and I love you everyday. You wanted to give him kisses every time he was sad after watching movies. But that wasn't going to happen.

You felt a pair of warm hands engulf you into a hug, hot tears dropping onto your blouse and Mingi held you tight for one last time. You dropped your hands and hugged him back, crying on his chest that you were starting to lose air.

You knew very well if you stayed in that position for a little longer, you would tell him that you were sorry and you would tell him to forget what you said. So, you pulled away from his hug. Mingi's eyes were red and puffy, he sniffed and looked up at the sky, holding back his tears.

You kissed him back for a brief second before he pulled away. His hand remained intact on your cheek, "It's okay Y/N, you don't have to apologise. I understand where you're coming from."

You couldn't help it. It broke you to see him in pain and you didn't want to see him in that situation ever. So, you opened your mouth to speak but Mingi stopped you by asking, "Can I kiss you one last time?"

Your eyes were glazed, you didn't know what to say. This was really it. This was happening for real and you had to accept it. You gave a subtle nod which led him to kiss you out of nowhere. You didn't move, you stood still as his kiss made you feel warm and content for one last time.

You looked down as he said that, shutting your eyes. You took a deep breath, telling yourself that it was okay and heartbreaks are normal. His hands took yours and he kissed them, before he talked to you.

"Just promise me that you won't give up on love because of what happened between us."

You had no words, you didn't even know what to say to him. You remained quiet for a while. He let go of your hands, "I love you Y/N, I always have and I always will. I'm sorry for hurting you all this while and not owning up to my mistake."

"I'm sorry too Mingi," Your voice croaked, you weren't able to tell the former cause it hurt too much in you to say it back.

"Just…" He paused, looking hesitant to continue his sentence. You could tell he wasn't going to continue his sentence knowing your answer, "Text me when you get back home."

After he said that, he walked back inside his house, leaving you alone at his porch - a crying mess. You got into your car and cried for a good 10 minutes. You wanted him to come out and kiss you, tell you to come inside and convince you to stay.

But you were both too egoistic for that. He knew you wouldn't bother his words, nor would you if he asked you to give him another chance. You looked up at his window, you saw his shadow through his sheer curtains and you could make out that he was crying as well.

No matter how much you loved him, you had to end your relationship before everything felt forced and fake. Before everything was merely a show. It was better to give your all in the relationship instead of giving only half or nothing.

So you drove back home.

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #kpop #ateez scenarios #seonghwanotes #kpop imagines #ateez mingi #mingi imagines #song mingi #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #mingi scenarios #730 days

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

Evidence

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: shooting

Word Count: 1,615

Request: Hi ! Can you do a jay halstead × reader where jay and y/n are dating secretly but one night jay left a hickey on y/n necks and on the next day y/n try to cover it up before work but can't and the rest of the intelligence team spot it and jay blush but she makes up a story but the intelligence team know and y/n and jay come clean and tell the rest of the team they are together ❤ thank you

All in all, you thought you’d done pretty well, giving your neck one last look in your rearview mirror before turning on the ignition and heading to the 21st.

Jay had left your place early, neither of you arriving at work at the same time so as to not raise suspicions, so he’d been heading out the door when you’d finally gotten out of bed, already driving away by the time you spotted the hickey on your neck in your bedroom mirror.

You were not impressed to say the least, what part of a secret relationship had escaped his mind? With an annoyed groan you got to work covering it up the best you could, applying foundation more skillfully than you’d expected as you got ready for work.

There would be time for words later.

You were still driving in when the call came over the radio, shooting nearby your location with officers in need of backup, one down. Quickly throwing on your lights you expertly did a u-turn and headed back up the street you’d just passed, noticing people running for covering in the opposite direction to where you were going, frightened with their heads down.

It didn’t take long to stop the suspect, mask over his head and gun waving about in his hands as he shot behind him with reckless abandon at the uniformed officer in pursuit.

Slamming on your brakes you dove out of your vehicle, gun out and ready to engage. “Hey!” You called, diverting his attention from the other officers as his gun swung in your direction, diving behind a nearby car just as the bullets began to fly.

You poked your head up after a moment, getting off a shot before he realised the odds weren’t in his favour and took off into the garden of the car behind him. Cursing you slid over the bonnet of the car you were behind.

“I’ll get him, you get your partner!” You told the officer, who nodded gratefully and ran back to his fallen colleague, his led badly bleeding.

“This is 50 21 Foxtrot responding to the 10 1 on West 47th, I’m on the tail of an armed offender fleeing the scene of the shooting making his way South-” you paused, a little breathless as you hopped a fence and quickly dived to the side, narrowly avoiding another bullet as the offender kept running. You gave your most apologetic look to the women screaming in the garden you’d just entered but kept going, you couldn’t stop now - “through the neighbouring gardens, we should be coming out onto West 48th soon.”

The sound of cars was getting louder as you ran, a tall fence looking like it separated the two of you and the main road as the offender opened for a narrow side path out onto the street.

You were gaining on him fast as he tried to climb over it, grabbing his coat and pulling him down. His gun fell from his hand and you kicked it away as he scrambled after it, punching him hard in the jaw as he turned back to lash out at you.

“Stay down,” you ordered breathlessly, gun out and aimed square in his direction as the gate opened behind you, back up coming through. “You have the right to remain silent...” you relayed, getting out a pair of cuffs as you read him his rights and passed him off to the unis to bring back to the 21st in their squad car.

And then you were off to work.

“Hell of a morning,” Trudy commented as soon as you eventually stepped into the district, pushing her glasses up onto her head as you approached, an eyebrow going up as you reached the desk, “in more than one way I see.”

Your brow creased, “pardon?” You asked, unsure of what she was suggesting with her tone.

“My mistake, you must have got that bruise during the chase,” Trudy said sarcastically, gesturing to her own neck. Your eyes went a little wide, your hand going to where you’d spent way too much of your morning covering up the hickey Jay had given you.

“Of course,” you hummed unconvincingly, rushing to the bathroom as Trudy laughed. All that effort to cover it up and your sweat had washed it away, hopefully you could cover it up again before anyone wondered why you weren’t upstairs yet.

Barging into the bathroom you riffled through your bag for the foundation you’d brought, just in case you’d needed to touch it up throughout the day, but in all the excitement of the morning you’d forgotten all about it. Oops.

You were putting the finishing touches on covering it up when the door swung open again, too late to hide what you were doing as you found yourself face to face with Burgess.

“Voight’s looking for you upstairs,” she relayed, clearly amused as you hurriedly shoved your things back into your bag, embarrassed at being caught red-handed.

You were going to kill Jay.

She didn’t say anything on the walk up the stairs, but you avoid her eye guiltily as she buzzed you both up and you made your way to the bull pen.

“Took you long enough,” Adam commented when you both emerged, a coffee in his hand as he leaned against the breakroom door.

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N was busy covering up a hickey in the bathroom,” Burgess replied non-chalantly, much to your emence embarrassment. Kev snorted out a laugh and Jay choked on his drink as you tried not to meet his eye.

“Was she now?” Hailey laughed, the others clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting.

“I er- no- it was during the call this morning-” you tried and failed to sound believable as the others laughed more, Adam being the first to notice how red Jay had gotten since the converation began.

“No one’s buying that Y/N,” Kim informed you as Adam clapped Jay on the shoulder.

“Well that’s interesting,” he commented, watching the way Jay awkwardly cleared his throat, not daring to look at you. The others picked up on it too, the both of you looking very guilty in a room full of trained detectives.

“Got something to share there Halstead?” Kev asked, Jay finally looking at you with apology in his eyes as he finally saw the pourly applied foundation covering the very visible hickey he’d left.

You both hesitated before answering - was there really any use hiding it anymore? A room full of your closest friends who also happened to be detectives weren’t exactly going to drop the subject, or believe whateve bs you gave them in the moment.

Sharing a mutual resigned nod Jay rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Okay, well, we’ve kind of...”

“...being seeing each other,” you finished for him, realising he was unsure how to put into words exactly what you’d both been doing. If you were honest, you didn’t know exactly what this was either, you hadn’t discussed labels, but you both had feelings for each other, that much you knew for sure.

“For how long?” Hailey asked, looking at her partner with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering how long he’d been keeping this from her more than anything.

“A couple months,” Jay said, glancing back up at you with a little smile.

“Months?” Adam was shocked you’d both managed to keep this a secret from them for so long, “and this is the first we’re hearing about it?”

“Well, we didn’t want to get our wires crossed,” you shrugged, gesturing to try and get your point across, “we work together.” That had been one of the first things you’d talked about the first time you’d spent the night together, keeping your personal and professional lives as separate as you could.

“Yes, you do,” you heard your Sergeant say, jumping as Voight emerged from his office, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Uh-oh. “Is this going to get in the way of doing your job?”

You swallowed and shook your head, “no, sir.”

“We’re good Sarge,” Jay said at the same time.

All the teasing and joking smiles from the unit had vanished, waiting for Voight’s reaction with bated breath as he mulled it over in his head.

“Good,” he nodded, much to your relief, though you knew the conversation was far from over, “because we’ve got a case to get back to.”

He was right, this was work, there’d be time to think and talk about this more later - right now you had a dead city official and a cop in the hospital.

Burgess winked at you as you made your way to your desk, picking up a scrunched up piece of paper you had lying around and throwing at her once Voight’s back is turned. He paused, shaking his head, but didn’t turn back around as he went back to his desk.

You rolled your eyes at her and settled into your chair, knowing you had a report to write up about this morning’s incident, your perp down in holding at that very moment.

Still, you couldn’t help but look over at Jay, who was looking right back at you, offering you a small smile which you returned in kind. Voight wasn’t the only one who’d want to finish this conversation later, you and Jay had a lot to talk about now too, given that everything was out in the open.

Still, as you turned back to your desk and tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to turn out okay.

#jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagine #one chicago imagine #jay halstead imagines #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagines #jay halstead one shot #chicago pd one shot #one chicago one shot #one shot

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nnightskiess · 4 years

Text

‧₊° 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲...

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“I’m going back, you guys.”

Her Slytherin friends raised their eyebrows.

“I’ve gotta study.” She quickly explained.

Pansy let out a snort and took a sip of her butterbeer. Of course Pansy would be able to see through her, but Y/N thanked her silently for not speaking up about it when their eyes met. If only Pansy knew the real truth behind her lie.

“Have fun.” She sang out teasingly, guessing Y/N was off to sneak around with someone she had a crush on.

Y/N’s feet dragged through the snow as she walked to the secluded part of Hogsmeade, to the Hog’s Head Inn. She crossed her gloved fingers, hoping she was on time and that they would actually let her in and let her listen to what Harry Potter had to say. Y/N didn’t fit the stereotypical Slytherin mould, but no matter how hard she tried to prove that, she seemed to always be considered like a bad guy. Sure, her choice of friends obviously didn’t help her case, but still, didn’t she deserve to not be judged because of that?

Y/N hoped this wasn’t just some way to make Harry believable after all that The Daily Prophet had said about him, or to share his stories to make him even more famous. But if Hermione Granger was there, then it must be serious. She didn’t know the girl personally but knew far too well how much the bushy haired girl detested Umbridge and her teaching as well— or the lack of her teaching, for that matter.

So when Y/N heard Zacharias Smith being persuaded by one of his friends to go to the meeting, she knew she needed to be there, too. If it was bullshit, she’d be out of there in a second. If it wasn’t, she hoped they accepted whatever kind of help she could offer. So, deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt, she marched up to the front door of the Hog’s Head.

Y/N silently cursed to herself when all eyes suddenly focused on her. How could she have been so dumb? Of course she should’ve walked in long before the rest, now they would obviously not say another word, too afraid she was one of Umbridge’s spies.

Harry pursed his lips, stopping himself from continuing. Ron looked mad and Hermione seemed confused... intrigued... impressed? All of the fore-mentioned? Y/N couldn’t quite tell.

“Bugger off, you!” Ron gave her a nasty look.

Y/N had been expecting this, but maybe not from Ronald Weasley.

When Ron noticed she didn’t make a move to leave and instead took off her green scarf and mittens, he stood up, his ears red from anger.

“Come on then, leave!”

Y/N tried to stay calm, not liking his approach, and held up her hands, taking a measured step closer.

“I’m not here to spy on you, trust me.”

He stood up, his fists balled up in rage, “I find it hard to believe a girl like you would just stop here to get a drink, on her own no less.”

“A girl like me?”

“Yes! Where are your bloody friends?” Everyone raised their eyebrows at Ron’s newfound hostility. No one knew, not even Y/N, but the hatred towards the girl was partially because her father had humiliated Arthur Weasley plenty of times at work.

“Ronald!” Hermione shook her head and pulled at his arm, trying to stop him.

“No one sent me. I’m here because of the meeting.” She looked around the pub, saw the man bandaged up in rags, the weird bartender who was cleaning the filthy glasses with an even filthier rag and then looked back at Ron, “I wouldn’t go here voluntarily.” She let out a breathy chuckle but realised everyone was still on edge. She clenched her jaw at the many disgusted looks sent her way.

“What meeting? We’re just chatting with each other.” Harry tried to play dumb but Y/N immediately rolled her eyes. How pathetic.

“I overheard some of you talk about it. You should really be more discreet, you know?”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, cursing whoever had been so careless and also hating the feeling how he felt like she lectured him, as if he was some child. When no one said a word and when they kept looking at her in disgust, her anger rose.

“Do you think I would spy for the woman who ruined my mother’s career, who made me carve words into my hand for detention and who fails to teach us anything and ruins the school a bit more every week?” Her rambled confession caught everyone off guard. “I might be a Slytherin but no one knows me here so why is your first approach so hostile? You wouldn’t have treated me like this if I was sporting a yellow scarf instead of a green one. Would you, now?”

Hermione admired how she had so fiercely tried to prove her case and suddenly remembered that Y/N had bought one of her S.P.E.W. badges the year before. She had been one of the few who had and remembered being surprised then, too. It was weird, but Hermione believed the girl’s intentions were true.

“She’s right.” She spoke, “Besides, we need all the help we can get.” She gestured for the girl to sit down, who took a seat at the back, trying to ignore the many stares still sent her way. Meanwhile Hermione tried to ignore the glares sent her way.

A week later, while Y/N was sitting in the windowsill of the Hogwarts library, trying to study for Potions class, Hermione hesitantly approached her.

“Hi, there, um- excuse me,” The Gryffindor cleared her throat, making Y/N look up from her book. She leaned in closer after making sure they couldn’t be overheard, “The first meeting is this Thursday on the seventh floor. The door’s a hidden entrance opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Just think of the meeting and the door will appear.” Hermione rushed out in a whisper.

Harry and Ron had both still been hesitant letting Y/N join, but after Hermione had scolded and lectured them about giving the girl a chance, they begrudgingly agreed. However, Hermione had to bring the news to Y/N. They still had their doubts about the Slytherin girl who was friends with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy.

Y/N smiled softly, “Thank you.”

After a week of radio-silence, she had come to terms with the fact that they hadn’t been too keen on letting her join after all, so this was a pleasant surprise.

“I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself— besides the awkward introduction at the pub.”

Hermione smiled meekly.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Hermione.”

The two shook hands quickly before Hermione excused herself, “I should probably go again. It might raise questions if we hang out together.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. Because she was a Slytherin? Because she was supposed to be a mean girl who would never hang out with a mudblood like her? Though Hermione probably hadn’t meant it in a wrong way, it hurt Y/N more than she would like to admit.

“Do you need that?” Hermione pointed to the book discarded at Y/N’s feet. Y/N shook her head slowly.

“Okay, then... let’s just pretend I came to borrow it from you. See you on Thursday.”

With one last look over her shoulder, Hermione had disappeared again behind the many bookshelves.

Thursday night rolled around and Y/N was on her way to the seventh floor. It was a long walk from the dungeons, so she had left long before 9pm just to be on time. Two Ravenclaws who she had seen at the meeting, walked in front of but Y/N decided not to join them, they probably still hated her.

“Y/N!”

Pansy’s loud voice echoed through the empty hallway, making the two Ravenclaws turn around. When they saw Y/N with Pansy, they immediately quickened their pace. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were scared of Pansy, or if they wanted to hurry and tell Harry Potter that Y/N was up to something, that they couldn’t trust her because she had been with Pansy Parkinson right before the first lesson. Contrary to popular belief, Y/N actually hadn’t told anyone and wasn’t planning on doing so either.

“Sneaking off again?”

An arm wrapped around her shoulder and Pansy gave Y/N a playful nudge in the stomach. Y/N let out a laugh and pushed her off,

“None of your business.”

Pansy gave her a look, the corners of her mouth lifted up into a smirk. “The dungeons are downstairs, you know? No need to slither your way through the seventh floor.”

“Look who’s talking!”

The raven-haired girl rolled her eyes, “I’m a prefect, remember? I’m allowed to roam the halls, even after curfew, and no one would be allowed to question a thing.”

“I see you’ve been taking advantage of it.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

Y/N shrugged, “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You didn’t seem to complain when I gave you ten points for doing my homework.”

The two laughed, “Fine, okay. It’s useful. Though I still think I deserved 15 points for that. You know how much I hate History of Magic.”

“Then you should’ve just said no.” Pansy let go of her arm and stopped walking, “I’m going back. Have fun.” She smirked again and left Y/N.

The Slytherin received a few confused looks when she stepped into the Room of Requirements. No one had believed Y/N had been serious or that the Golden Trio had actually dared to give her a shot. Some students seemed less hostile around her but Y/N knew they were still being careful. So it came as no surprise to her when everyone had to pair together, which led to her standing alone, along with Neville Longbottom.

The boy’s eyes widened in fear when he realised who he had to pair up with. He was already nervous enough, he wasn’t great at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and having to try and disarm Y/N lessened his shot at success even more.

Harry noticed the boy’s panic, quickly realising Neville needed a friendly face in front of him so he could relax and try and do his best. He waved Ron over and then left to watch the others, without another look at Y/N who still stood alone, playing with her wand to feel less awkward. No one seemed to notice, and if they did, they probably didn’t even care.

Hermione let out an irritated sigh when she realised what had happened and told the girl she was practicing with to join the Parvati twins. She made her way over to the Slytherin, still unsure how to approach her, but did so nonetheless.

“You can pair up with me... if you want to, that is..” She quickly added the last part, unsure if Y/N hated mudbloods as much as her friends did, they seemed to hate Hermione’s guts because of it.

Y/N let out a relieved smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione, and followed her so they could have more space.

They practiced in silence for a few minutes, both girls impressed by the qualities of the other, before Y/N opened her mouth to talk.

“I feel like a freak show.” She let out a breathy but awkward chuckle, making Hermione stop her movements. Y/N felt all their eyes on her, even if her back was turned their way. Hermione smiled sympathetically, seeing everyone glance at the Slytherin girl every few seconds.

“Just ignore them.” Hermione immediately realised how cliché and stupid it had sounded and tried to better herself, “I-I mean- It’s a compliment really... They... they must keep staring at you because you’re obviously incredibly talented and they feel challenged by that.”

Y/N smiled softly at the rambled reply, “I doubt it’s because of that, but it’s a nice thought. Thanks, Granger.” She knew the girl was only trying to make her feel better. And she had, she was the only one who had tried to accept her, after all. Even if it felt off or if the rest of her friends were against it.

“I don’t know what they all told you, but I promise that I mean well.” Y/N cleared her throat. “I know my house and my choice of friends alarms some of you, but we don’t always see eye to eye on most things... I don’t care that you’re a mudblood, for example.” Hermione looked up, taken back. “If anything, it makes you special. I would like to know more about muggles but my father doesn’t want me to meddle with that world. I just think the unknown scares him.” She continued when Hermione was still searching for a proper reply. She was intrigued by everything Y/N was telling her. “There are more like me, you know? But they’re just too scared to show their true beliefs or to speak up. Some have done it though, but they’re seen as the odd ones out. They are being bullied every time they enter the common room, mostly by Draco.”

Hermione rolled her eyes— of course. Y/N took notice of her reaction and immediately felt the need to protect her friend. “He’s not that bad. I mean, I know he bullies you but... in reality, I think all of us are just pressured to be or think a certain way by our parents and the moulds the other students put us in. It’s not easy being good when everyone treats you like you’re the bad guy.” Y/N’s voice died down.

“That’s still not a reason to bully someone.” Hermione’s voice was soft.

“I know.”

“I’m guessing you were too scared to speak up, then?” She guessed, since it came as a surprise to everyone that Y/N had good intentions and was one of them.

Hermione’s harsh voice hurt Y/N more than she wanted to.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But would you ever tell Pansy or Draco that?”

Y/N shook her head immediately, “No, of course not. I swore to never tell anyone about Dumbledore’s Army, everyone has sworn secrecy, right? Besides, they think I’m not serious when I say I don’t care about someone not being pureblood. They wave it away like I just made a sarcastic joke.”

Hermione looked down swiftly, realising she had lashed out for the wrong reasons.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N waved it off with her hand, “It’s fine. I’m sure more people will attack me for it in the future. That’s if they dare to talk to me first... do I have a tail or something?” Y/N playfully looked behind her and wiped her bum, “Horns?” She combed through her hair. “They keep on looking!”

Hermione shook her head in amusement. “You look more than fine, there’s nothing wrong with your bum.” Her eyes widened immediately, her cheeks turned scarlet, “Or your hair!” She quickly added.

Y/N laughed heartedly, signalling for Hermione to stand tall again so they could continue practicing.

*.·:·.☽✧

Y/N fumbled with the fake Galleon in her hand, waiting for the new date to appear. She was starting to enjoy the meetings of Dumbledore’s Army. Through the weeks, everyone had paired up with her at least once and they quickly realised she was no threat. She was finally at a point where they didn’t walk away from her. Instead, they now laughed at her jokes and smiled proudly when Y/N encouraged them. They still had to appear like strangers outside of the Room of Requirements. Y/N hated it. She had made new friends and wanted nothing more but to sit with them during lunch, or help them study. Hermione had done her best to make Y/N feel at home within the group, and Y/N couldn’t lie to herself— she had started to fancy the Gryffindor. Sure, she had found her very pretty before, when all she could do was sneak short glances at the girl during class, but she would have loved to sit in the library together, go to Hogsmeade and really get to know her. But that would raise too much questions, and she wasn’t sure if she could explain this one to Pansy, Draco or Blaise.

“That’s all, you guys. Have a nice Christmas break!”

Everyone left the Room of Requirements in little groups, as Harry inspected the Marauder’s map, waiting for them to arrive in their common rooms before checking if the coast was clear for another group to leave. Y/N could’ve joined the Hufflepuffs to the dungeons but Harry had advised against it. Seeing Y/N with them would for sure raise questions with the other students who didn’t know of the existence of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He would never admit it out loud, but he too had warmed up to the Slytherin girl. She was skilled and could help out the others when he needed a hand.

Hermione felt Y/N appear next to her, looked up and gave her a soft smile. They were waiting for the Hufflepuffs to arrive so that Y/N could go.

“Um-” Y/N started, “Did you know Umbridge told her High Inquisitors to try and find out our plans?”

This got Hermione’s attention.

“I mean, I only assumed... That’s why she named them in the first place, right?”

“Yeah, Draco, Pansy and the others talk about it all the time. How they want to catch you guys— especially Potter.”

“Oh...” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, realising that this might become a problem later on. Their luck would run out soon. “I’m sorry, it must be hard to sit there and lie to your friends.”

Y/N shrugged, “I knew what I signed up for when I joined.” She twirled her wand through her fingers, one of her habits, and hoped what she was going to say next wouldn’t be a wrong move,

“I could tell you what their plans are? Inform you when they are up to something, maybe mislead them... and that kind of stuff...”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, shocked that Y/N had the guts to go that far, to betray the friends she’d had since first year.

“I mean, that would be very useful but... Are you sure? If they ever find out-”

“I have to be careful around Pansy, she reads me like an open book, but I think I could get it out of Draco when he’s gloating about it again.”

“But when word gets out, you’ll be the only Slytherin, you’re the only one out of all of us who hangs out with them. They’ll know it was you.”

“If we do nothing, we risk getting caught. Besides, it would finally rid all of the doubts the others might still have about me. You know they’ll point at me the moment Draco or the rest finds out about this. They’ll think I finally caved and told Umbridge.”

“It’s not worth it. You don’t have to prove anything, not to me at least. I know you’re not like that now.” Hermione started to feel bad. “Your friendships and relationships with everyone in your house, or with your parents, should not be put on the line for that.” Hermione had a feeling that Y/N’s father would most likely skin her alive if he ever found out.

“I insist.”

Hermione saw the persistent look in her eyes, knowing she was not going to let someone change her mind, not even Hermione. Y/N was after all a Slytherin, and if she wanted to go for something, she gave it her all until she reached her goal.

Harry called her name and waved with the Marauder’s map— it was her time to go.

“Alright, just... be careful about it. Please?”

One curt nod sent Hermione’s way and she left the Room of Requirements, leaving Hermione with a bad feeling in her gut.

*.·:·.☽✧

“You’ve got me really curious.” Pansy opened the drapes around her bed in a flash, startling Y/N. “You’ve been hooking up with this person for weeks now and you won’t even give me a single hint.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought you liked riddles, go figure it out then.”

Pansy groaned in annoyance, falling back onto her bed as she stared at the ceiling.

“Can’t, got no time. Umbridge has us patrolling the seventh floor the whole night.”

Y/N froze immediately. Another meeting was about to start in an hour, they couldn’t be seen.

“Why?”

Pansy propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her friend, “To get Potter and his goons, of course?! Apparently this girl, Marietta Edgecombe, told Umbridge all about it.”

Y/N tried to mask her surprise and anger and realised she needed to do something quick to try and steer Pansy to a dead end.

“Are you sure it’s the seventh floor? I thought I heard gossips about it being near the Owlery, in one of the abandoned classrooms. No one goes there because Peeves roams the hallways.”

Pansy tilted her head, realising Y/N’s reply had been way too detailed.

“Don’t tell me you have another romantic meeting in one of the broom closets tonight on the seventh floor.” Pansy examined the expression of her friend but continued talking, “Don’t worry, we’ll be looking for a hidden room. I reckon we won’t be checking any broom closets tonight.” She gave her a wink, but saw that Y/N still seemed on edge.

“I need to go.”

“Go where?!”

But Y/N had already left their dorm room and rushed out of the Slytherin common room, trying to reach Hermione.

“Can you please get Hermione Granger? Or Harry Potter, or Dean or Parvati- really, anyone is fine!” Y/N needed to tell them or it was too late. But the Fat Lady pursed her lips and Y/N saw her eyes take a quick glance at her green Slytherin tie. She let out a huff and faced the other side.

“Please! It’s urgent!”

The Fat Lady started to sing to try and ignore her, but Y/N wasn’t going to give up so easily and started banging on the wall, hoping it would somehow be heard in the common room.

After half a minute of banging, the Fat Lady turned to her, annoyed. She was about to complain when a third-year Gryffindor student walked out. He looked taken back when he saw the girl stand there and was unsure of how to react.

“Is Hermione Granger in there? Or any of her friends?”

He looked her up and down, trying to see if this was another attempt at pranking one of the Gryffindor students. However, he soon saw the honest desperation in her eyes and shook his head hesitantly.

“No, I saw them all leave a while ago. You just missed-”

Y/N bolted up the stairs, she needed to stop them. Part of her was hoping Umbridge wouldn’t be able to find the hidden room, but she knew better. The toad would just wait long enough until they all left eventually. Hell, if it were up to her, she would probably sit there for days if needed, just to get the satisfactory that she had caught them.

But when she rounded the corner to the hallway, she saw Harry and his friends being dragged away by Umbridge and her Inquisitors, Hermione included. Y/N saw Draco and Pansy and immediately ducked back around the corner, but the sudden movement had caught Hermione’s eye. When Y/N peeked her head around the corner to see where they were taking them, her eyes met those of Hermione. She shook her head in disappointment, which to Y/N, was much worse than if she had been raging with anger. Y/N realised what Hermione was thinking right now and wanted nothing but to round the corner and tell them she had been trying to warn them, not rat them out. Though she had always told them she was not like the rest, something in Y/N stopped her from stepping out into the hallway. The realisation of losing her friends and disappointing her parents suddenly weighed heavily on her.

The doubts Hermione had had in the beginning, the ones she had just as easily neglected after getting to know the real Y/N, suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. This had been the bad feeling in her gut. Y/N had betrayed them after all, and Hermione had fallen right into her web of lies. What hurt even more than the tight hold Pansy Parkinson had on her shoulder and arm, was the realisation that she slowly started to develop feelings for the same girl who had now betrayed her.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

#hermione granger #hermione granger imagine #hermione granger imagines #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger one shot #hermione imagine #hermione x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #hermione blurb #hp imagine #hp imagines #harry potter imagine

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yukidragon · 3 years

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Our Life Snippet - Adrift

So... time for more first draft novelization clips from Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch. As always, I want to thank all of you who like these clips I'm sharing here, especially this lovely game's equally lovely creators. It's all so motivating for me to keep going with this passion project.

I noticed that there’s been some call in the tags for some fanfiction of Cove comforting Jamie, so I think I shall oblige that desire... by starting off with the hurt part of the classic hurt/comfort equation. After all, comfort isn’t as satisfying without showing why it’s necessary, don’t you think? ;3

Don’t worry, the comfort half will be posted soon. It’s just showing the whole thing at once is wayyy bigger the usual slices of snippet offerings I toss up here. It’s a lot bigger than usual even when sliced in half like this.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy my take on the moment from Step 2 that started me writing this novelization in the first place - Family.

...

The air in the house felt stifling. It wasn’t an overly hot or humid day, but the air felt too thick. The lack of oxygen made it hard to think straight. Jamie needed to go outside. She needed to get her thoughts in order. She needed someone to talk to about this, someone who could help her sort her head out so she could figure out what she could do about all of this.

She needed Cove.

Jamie returned downstairs. She caught sight of her mothers standing around at the kitchen counter while Lee sat awkwardly alone on the sofa, but her gaze slipped away from them quickly as she kept walking towards the door.

“I’m going out,” she said before worrying that the abrupt statement might give her family the wrong impression. “Just for a little while.” She threw her moms another carefully crafted smile, but still didn’t meet their eyes. “I’ll be back before it’s really late.”

Neither Noelani nor Pamela said anything, merely nodding at their daughter. They trusted Jamie to make the best call for what she needed right now. Jamie loved them for that.

“I love you,” Jamie said as she opened the door, but she didn’t give her parents a chance to respond in kind before closing the door behind her.

The walk to Cove’s house never felt so far. Jamie ached to see him. She needed to be with him. Right now. She was at a loss for what to do with her family, her thoughts adrift in a stormy sea. But if she was with Cove, somehow it would be alright. She was sure of it.

Jamie readied to knock even before she reached the front step, but a voice stilled her hand just above the door.

It was muffled, coming from inside the house, but she recognized the voice as belonging to Cliff. She couldn’t make out the exact words, but he sounded jovial, obviously having a good day. A moment later, a lighter, more tinkling voice answered with equally good cheer - Kyra.

Jamie took root on the doorstep of the Holden household. She wanted to see Cove. She needed to see Cove. Yet, in order to see him, that meant talking to his parents. His parents who only recently started being friendly to each other in front of him. She could just see them smiling at her if either one were to answer the door, oblivious to the turmoil in the Leimomi household, asking her about how she was doing and what was going on.

Why did that terrify her so much?

What if they noticed something was wrong? What if they asked her about it? She couldn’t tell them about what was going on with her sister. It was too personal. Yes, she liked Cliff and Kyra - they were great people, they were Cove’s parents, and their families were close - but this was a step too far.

Telling Cove that Elizabeth was heartbroken about losing the family she was born to was one thing, but Jamie couldn’t confide something so personal to anyone else.

Besides, things were already rocky at the Holden household. They were just starting to be alright again for Cove, despite the rough patches that hit this summer.

The worst of which being when Jamie herself opened her big fat mouth and told Cove about the twenty dollars.

Jamie dropped her hand, letting it hang limply at her side. She still ached to be with Cove, but she couldn’t, not until she could be sure she wasn’t simply tossing another emotional hand grenade in his lap just to make herself feel a little better.

Cove deserved better than that.

Jamie had barely dragged herself two steps away from the door when it opened behind her. She jumped at the sound of Kyra’s voice, no longer obstructed by the door.

“I’ll be right ba… Huh?” Kyra blinked, clearly surprised by Jamie’s presence on the way out to wherever it was she was going. She brightened immediately, however. “Oh, hi Jamie.” She smiled knowingly, not that the blue-haired girl could see it. “Are you here to see Cove?”

The words got stuck in Jamie’s throat as she panicked for a moment, scrambling for how to answer. All she had to do was say ‘yes’, but…

Jamie couldn’t handle the feeling of Kyra’s questioning gaze on her, piercing through her back. Kyra was expecting to see her usual smile and friendly demeanor, but she couldn’t be that right now. Her attempts at a smile felt too tight, too unconvincing, so she kept her face turned away from Cove’s mom, her eyes glued to the pavement as she forced herself to take another step away, then another.

It was hard for Jamie to sound normal when she finally forced words from her tight throat. “I… I’m just… walking.”

“Really?” Kyra asked, the disbelief in her voice clear as she watched Jamie walk away with a gradually increasing pace. “Okay then. I guess he’ll see you later?”

Jamie merely nodded as she forced herself to keep moving.

Time passed without meaning as Jamie focused on her feet as they led her forward. Where she was going, she had no idea. Her only plan had been to talk to Cove. Without that, without him, she felt as though she had been cast adrift in a stormy sea with no sign of land in sight.

Whenever a familiar resident of Sunset Bird gave Jamie a typical greeting as she passed them by, she pretended not to hear them, carefully avoiding looking in their direction. Their eyes lingered after her with silent questions she didn’t want to answer, she could feel them clinging to her skin even after she left the roads behind.

The eyes of tourists weren’t much better. There were so many of them when her feet crossed from grass to sand. Fortunately, the tourists didn’t care to talk to her, particularly to potentially ask her probing questions. They didn’t know her or suspect anything was going on with her. They would have no idea about what was troubling her or the turmoil happening with her family. They wouldn’t care to ask her about them. They were just there to have fun at the beach then leave. They were little different than noisy shadows she drifted past.

Except for their eyes. Jamie could feel their eyes following her too.

Jamie did her best to focus more on the sound of the waves crashing against the shore instead of the chatter of people enjoying the last few minutes of the sun’s rays, or the noise inside her head. Her thoughts came erratically, constantly interrupting each other and overlapping until it all garbled together into something like radio static.

Jamie kept walking. It was all she could do.

What did Jamie think she was going to say to Elizabeth anyway? ‘Sorry, sis. My parents are dead too. Do you want a hug?’ It was absurd to think she could’ve talked to her sister sooner when she couldn’t even think straight now.

What if something awful had happened to Elizabeth to make her want to see her biological parents?

What if Elizabeth wanted to be with her biological parents instead of them?

And what of their moms? They must have felt miserable because of how Elizabeth lashed out at them. They didn’t deserve that. Neither did Elizabeth.

Everything was awful. The world was crashing down around Jamie, and she had no idea how to help anyone. She couldn’t even do something as simple as see Cove, which came as naturally to her as breathing. A day like Cove was a day without sunshine. She felt cold, an empty part of her inside aching for him more than anyone else.

But Jamie wasn’t the one who needed comfort right now. She was fine. Biological parents weren’t something important to her. They had never been important. What was important was her family. Elizabeth and their mothers were suffering. She had to fix this.

The question was how. How? How?!

When the tourists thinned out, and Jamie could finally raise her head without risking catching anyone’s eye, she turned her gaze to the water as her feet continued to propel her forward. She watched the waves rhythmically crash along the shore, the water stretching out along the wet sand, her feet occasionally caressed by foam as she kept walking until finally she was sure no one would see her anymore.

The only one she wanted to see right now was Cove.

The water wasn’t blue, but instead a striking shade of pink shifting slowly to orange. Jamie watched as the orange gradually transitioned to purple. There were few things as beautiful as watching the sunset over the water.

Would she have ever seen a sunset like this with her biological family?

Vaguely, Jamie recognized the area her feet carried her to - it was one of the sections of beach the tourists rarely ventured, a place the locals enjoyed. Certainly, it was one of the more out of the way spots, one mercifully empty of anyone but her. It was one she had been to before with Cove when other parts of the beach were crowded. It was someplace that would be perfect to have fun together, just swimming, surfing, playing volleyball, or…

Would she even like those things if she wasn’t a Leimomi?

Jamie finally stopped walking. She focused on thoughts of Cove, but even those filled her with regret. She wanted to see him so badly. Why didn’t she just see Cove when she had the chance? All it would have taken was just a single word to Kyra. She had managed some, so what was one more? All she had to do was say so and things would be better right now, she knew it. Why couldn’t she even handle something so easy?

Why could Jamie never say what she really wanted? Why was it just so hard to say that she wanted to be with Cove?

If her original parents hadn’t died, she never would have met him.

Or her moms. Or Elizabeth. Or Lee. Or everyone else.

They would be strangers. Everyone important in her life would all be strangers. They wouldn’t know her, couldn’t love her. They wouldn’t even know she ever existed.

And… it would be the same for her towards them. She wouldn’t be able to feel anything for them just like she didn’t feel anything for her dead birth par…

Jamie covered her mouth and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, feeling her stomach roil in rebellion despite how empty it was.

When Jamie got the urge to retch under control, she took a deep breath until her lungs ached before letting it out slowly and shakily. She tried to quiet the screaming static in her mind by focusing on the scenery around her.

It was a futile effort, but it was all she could do.

Jamie kicked off her sandals, abandoning them somewhere in the direction away from the shifting tide. She focused on the cool, wet sand beneath the soles of her feet, squishing between her toes. The water caressed her, washing the sand away and pulled her towards the sea. The feeling was intimately familiar, almost playful. It tempted her to swim. The idea of floating in the water, letting her worries drift away with the tide felt so appealing to her chaotic mind.

But the last thing her moms needed was to deal with her coming back in soaked clothes covered in sand on top of everything else.

Jamie breathed in deep, focusing on the scent of saltwater carried on the wind. The ocean was soothing, it always had been. The way the color changed with the time of day was endlessly fascinating. It had become blue again once the sun disappeared completely, but instead of the beautiful greenish blue of the day that always reminded her of Cove’s eyes, it was the deep rich blue of night. The surface of the water, far off in the distance where the waves tapered off to nothing, was a mirror reflecting the sky as it settled into its final hue for the day.

She had to get herself together if she was going to be of help to anybody.

At some point, Jamie found herself seated on the ground, close enough to feel the waves caress her feet, but just far enough away that she wouldn’t get her pants or skirt wet. She could brush the sand off later so she wouldn’t track it in the house.

Was Elizabeth still in her room crying and wishing for a life that had been stolen from her? A life without her or their moms?

Were their moms beside themselves with worry that their family was falling apart at the seams?

Why was Jamie just sitting here when her family was suffering? She should be back at home doing… something at least. They needed her help, damn it!

Did she even deserve to be here at all?

...

Cove was having a great day. Despite the rough start to the summer and the rough patches that happened on occasion since, it had been like a dream for him to have his family back together, even if temporarily.

Today, Cove and his dad had the opportunity to show his mom many of the things about Sunset Bird that made living there so enjoyable. There had been a couple awkward moments here and there, but they had been few and far between, giving the three of them a rare day filled with smiles, sunshine, and laughter. Fishing, shopping, tennis, and even some time at the beach had left the three of them in high spirits.

Now they were back home together were back home, hungry and eager for dinner, which his dad was only too happy to provide. The conversation the three of them had while eating was light, as the tension that hung in the air between them faded little by little as they spent more time together.

The only downside to having a fun day out with his parents was not being able to see Jamie. Cove resolved to remedy that after dinner.

“You know, I saw Jamie earlier,” Kyra said in an off-handed manner.

Cove clanked his silverware against the dish. The timing made his face warm a bit, but he paid rapt attention to his mom.

“It was right before dinner,” Kyra said. That meant it was only half an hour ago at most. “It’s funny, I thought she was coming to see you, Cove. She was right outside the front door, but I guess she was just taking a walk on this side of the street.”

“What?” Cove said, his eyebrows raising.

That was strange. Why didn’t Jamie ask him to join her if she stopped by the house?

Cove turned to Cliff. “Did you hear her knock, Dad?”

Cliff shook his head and threw his son a grin. “Nope, and trust me, I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Kyra gave Cove a knowing look, her smile taking a teasing bend to it. “Oh, I already asked Jamie if she wanted to come in,” she said before her smile faded a little. “But I guess she was really set on taking that walk. She said she’d see you later though.”

It shouldn’t have struck Cove as strange as it did, but he knew Jamie better than that. If she was just going on a walk and already at his house, there’s no way she wouldn’t have asked if he wanted to join her. If she was busy with an errand or something like that, then he would understand, but just a walk? It wasn’t as if she could’ve mistakenly believed that he wasn’t home if his mom thought she was stopping by to visit.

Something about this didn’t sit right with Cove, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was just overthinking things. It made him that much more determined to stop by and see Jamie as soon as possible.

With his dinner finished in record time, Cove was quick to excuse himself to head next door. He pretended not to see the looks his parents gave him and outright ignored the comments they threw his way that held a teasing note to them.

It took a little longer than Cove liked before someone answered at the Leimomi house. Pamela stared at him after opening the front door, startled by the sight of him, but a moment later she managed a smile, though it was feeble and forced.

“Oh, hello, Cove,” she said. She sounded tired.

“Hi, Mrs. Leimomi,” Cove said with an awkward smile of his own.

“Sorry, but Jamie isn’t here right now,” Pamela said before Cove could even ask the usual question.

Jamie was still out on that walk? It was already after sunset.

“Did she say where she was going or when she’d be back?” Cove asked, with growing unease.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Pamela looked past Cove to the street for any sign of Jamie returning home, but there was no sign of her absent daughter. “No,” she said eventually, though she was still looking past him. “Sorry, we don’t know where she’s gone.” She sighed and shook her head. “Don’t feel like you have to sit around waiting for her. We don’t know when she’ll be back.”

That set Cove on edge. “What?!” he blurted out, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “Why?”

Pamela hesitated, reluctant to speak. She glanced back at the house towards the kitchen where Noelani was holding a mug of something hot and soothing. Their eyes met, and although her wife was too far away to hear the conversation, it wasn’t hard to figure out what it was about. She waited for Noelani to nod at her before looking back at Cove.

“Jamie… needed to get away for a while,” Pamela said, the words coming out slowly as she chose them with care. “She’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

Every word was like a lead weight that sunk into the pit of his stomach, and for a moment Cove could only stare at Pamela, scarcely breathing. The word ‘probably’ stood out in particular, prodding into him with its sharp edges.

Something happened to Jamie today, something bad.

Something bad enough for her to not want to see him, not just today, but maybe tomorrow too.

Cove was off like a shot. He didn’t even think to give the usual parting pleasantries to Pamela before he was running. He had to find Jamie.

The first place Cove went was poppy hill. It was the obvious choice. Jamie had been coming here practically every morning this summer to play her guitar, but there was no telltale sound of music on the wind. The hills were empty.

Next was the playground, but no one was there either. Cove practically would’ve welcomed seeing Jeremy there at this point, if only to ask if the crabby boy had seen Jamie at all that day.

Cove shot down going to the shopping district or any location deeper in the heart of Sunset Bird. If Jamie was trying to get away from everything so badly that she was avoiding even him, then she wasn’t going to want to be around people right now.

That left only one real place left to search. Cove took off sprinting along the beach as fast as his legs could carry him. There was a lot of ground to cover.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Jamie Last #Cove Holden #Pamela Last #Noelani Last #Lee Last #Cliff Holden #Kyra Preece #My Writing #Jamie Leimomi

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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.4k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week.

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent. He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you. Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #javi x you #javi x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos netflix #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #pedro fandom #the rules of engagement #better love #angst #slow burn #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #smut

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anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 17

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Angst, violence, suspense, kidnapping

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Nat kept a watchful eye on Thor when he came back to the waiting room. He was twirling his phone in his hand when his eyes connected with hers; He shot her a hard glare before shaking his head. She grimaced, letting out a scoff and stood up a little straighter. She turned her attention back to assist Clint with asking routine questions to Bucky, Carol, and Val. Bucky’s eyes connected with hers, and he reached out, taking her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. She nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

Nat tried to focus on doing her job, but she was too close to this. You were one of her best friends, and she was scared for you in this situation. She wanted to believe what Thor was saying about Jig and Billy being the same person, but she needed proof or some sort of evidence, pointing them in that direction. Steve’s phone was the key to this, but she couldn’t go through it in case they needed it to use against him in court. She didn’t have a problem with lying, but if the defense found out what she did, she would be screwed and possibly lose her job. Billy deserved to be locked up for everything he did to you, and that cell phone would be another reason on a long list of reasons to lock him up. She wanted to protect you like Thor did, but it needed to be done right.

“Natasha,” Thor shouted, forcing her head to snap in his direction. He was heading their way with Sam behind him. “Sam can confirm Billy and Jig are the same person. He met Jig once.”

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Is this true, or are you making it up?”

“It’s true,” Sam nodded. “I met him one night at Happy’s. It was a quick meeting, but you don’t forget that white boy’s pretty face.”

Nat’s mouth dropped open, covering it with her hand in shock. Bucky was beside her, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. She looked over at him with tearful eyes as her mind drifted to the worst-case scenario. Bucky pulled her into a hug, and everything around her became white noise.

Billy got to you; he abducted you and almost killed Steve in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Bucky closer. How did this happen? How did he even find you? How long has he been here? What was going to happen to you? All these unanswered questions flooded her mind until everything went silent. This was what she needed, evidence to find you and bring you home safe. Her eyes snapped open, pulling away from Bucky. She smirked at him, and his blue eyes narrowed at her.

“Keep me updated on Steve, will you?” She whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks.

He nodded. “As long as you do the same with YN.”

She kissed him, turning around and catching Thor’s eye. “Thor, let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?” Thor was looking between everyone as if asking if they had the answers.

“To find your sister, but we may have to ask for a little help.”

“But, I thought you weren’t technically on the case?”

“Small technicality. Nick will forgive me; I’m one of his favorites,” she winked, and Clint nodded in agreement. “Besides, I’m also a concerned friend of the victim, and I’m just following a possible lead. It could lead to something, or it might not.” Nat shrugged, looking over to Clint. “Cover for me?”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Let’s go get this bastard,” Thor stated, giving Nat a forgiving nod.

__________

The soft melody coming from the radio woke you up, but you didn’t move. A breeze hit your face, and the smell of the ocean hit your nose. A calm sensation came over you as you moved ever so slightly, feeling your hands bound, restricting your movement. Taking in another breath, a hint of familiar cologne came to your senses. You gulped, turning your head to what you hoped was a window. A sharp pain hit the side of your face, making you wince, causing your eyes to flicker open. The car sat parked near the ocean, and you could see the sun rising in the distance, cascading a soft glow over the landscape. You glanced at your hands, seeing a zip tie wrapped around them. You gulped, looking over to the driver’s seat to find your ex-husband wrapping his wrist. Your eyes widened as your mind flashed to him on the other side of the door, Steve laying motionless on the ground, the struggle in your condo, Cosmo attacking, and a punch to your face that knocked you out cold.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“What… what did you do?” You stammered, feeling tears start to form in your eyes.

He smirked, taping the gauze on his wrist. “I think the better question is what did you do?” You narrowed your eyes, wincing as a sharp pain traveled alongside your face. Your hand shot to your face, touching the tender area between your eye and cheekbone. “I warned you what would happen if you left. People would get hurt, but you didn’t listen.”

“Is he dead?”

“Who? Steve? Would it make a difference if he was?” He quirked an eyebrow as your bottom lip trembled, staring out the window at the ocean. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

“Why did you do that?” Your voice cracked as a sob escaped from your mouth. “He was a good man.”

“Steve was a great guy. I didn’t want to hurt him. I liked Steve. He was one helluva pool player, and we were friends,” he paused, your head snapping in his direction. “But, when he put his hands on you. I wanted to kill him.” Billy clenched his fists, shaking his head. “Steve doesn’t deserve you. He was never good enough for you. Hell, he was just using you to get over his dead wife.” He let out a breath, his dark brown eyes connected with yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you stayed home and didn’t leave me, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Steve wouldn’t be dead because of you.”

Your stomach dropped, with tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes shut as the sharp pain radiating from your cheek was welcoming compared to what you were feeling inside. You swallowed down a sob, but your shaky breath didn’t dissipate. Your head clouded up, blocking out any other sound besides your racing heart. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to blink the tears away, but a few escaped down your cheeks and landed on your jeans. You stared at the wet droplets, unable to move, only being able to concentrate on your breathing. You sniffled, clearing your throat. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Does it matter?” He arched a brow at you. “I will give you some credit though, leaving that note saying you and Loki took an impromptu trip together. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I mean, you two are attached at the hip, so I knew you would be back in a few days, but you never did come home. Even after I saw Loki’s posts about being back home, but still no you. ” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“The most frustrating part of all was that you never returned my calls, which led me straight to Loki, and he told me you were staying with him for a few more days. I thought, ‘Alright. I get it. You want some time.’” He sighed, shaking his head. “After a few more days of no new texts and no returned phone calls. I decided to sneak into Loki’s and quickly realized you weren’t staying there. In fact, it looked like you were never there. Then I proceeded to go to your work, which I now realized I should’ve done to begin with because I discovered you quit.” He paused, hitting the steering with your palm, making you jump in your seat.

“It was embarrassing to find out your wife left you in front of her co-workers.” He clenched his jaw, staring daggers at you. “This led to me tracking your phone, but it never did tell me where you were.” He smirked. “I am almost positive it involved an anti-tracker app. Smart play.” He nodded. “Nice to know you learned a few things from me during our time together, but I’m surprised you didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“Who's to say I didn’t,” you countered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He cackled in the seat next to you, shaking his head, and in one quick motion grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. You tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold. All the mischief in his eyes was gone, replaced with his harsh gaze. He clenched his jaw, making you gulp and stare into the depths of his emotionless eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Running off to your big brother, thinking he would protect you. It’s cute really, but deep down, he didn't do his job the first time, let alone this time. He didn’t protect you. He didn’t keep you safe. It’s comical, just how easy it was to get you back.” He scoffed, licking his lips. “And Loki’s all the same. They’re both egoistic, self-absorbed, and out for themselves. It’s poetic, how you were always there for them, but they were never there for you like I was.” He reached over and dragged his fingers against your cheek. You clenched your jaw, pulling away from his touch.

“What do you want from me?” You mumbled, observing him from the corner of your eye.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to come home where it is safe. Come home to someone who actually cares about you. My god, YN, you have no idea how much I have missed you and….and I’m sorry,” he confessed as his voice cracked. Your head snapped in his direction to see him running a hand through his hair. “I was an asshole for how I treated you, and I can’t believe I became that person.” His gaze caught yours, noticing his lips trembling. “I told you I would change, but I didn’t, and I don’t know why.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I want to change, but I don’t think I can do it without you. I need you. You have always believed in me more than I believed in myself. I don’t want to lose what we have together. Please come home to me. I forgive you for running. I want to start over, start fresh, start that family you always wanted. Anything; I will do anything,” he begged with tears on the verge of falling.

You swallowed, staring wide-eyed at him, not knowing what to say. Billy has always been a confident talker, telling you what you wanted to hear and making all the right promises. He could coax you into coming back every time you left him with his caring apologetic words. You believed you could trust him time and time again. He could persuade you into getting what he wanted, not what you wanted.

You rubbed your lips together, knowing what you should say or at least what he wanted you to say. But, you didn’t need him anymore, like he needed you. You moved on, and in this moment, he couldn’t control you anymore. “I want to start a family, Billy.” His shoulders sank in relief as a smile crossed his features. “But, I don’t want it with you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Our relationship is a repeating pattern that causes both of us pain. I can’t do this with you anymore,” you breathed, your eyes flickering to his; they changed from sincere and honest to dark and destructive in a matter of seconds.

He brought his hand down his face, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say when this is over. I do.” He let out a deep breath and slapped you across the face. You yelped, sending a shooting pain down your same cheek, bringing tears to the corner of your eye. You leaned away from him, reaching for the door handle, and tried to push it open, but he grabbed a hold of you and held a knife to your throat.

“STOP MOVING,” he grunted through clenched teeth. You quit squirming and stared at the blade against your throat. “It didn’t have to come to this. ” He clenched his jaw, grabbing the passenger seat belt and strapped you in. He leaned forward, his breath fanning against your ear as he whispered, “I have a plan, but unlike yours, it will work.”

____________

Thor and Nat walked through the doors of your dispatch center. Thor’s eyes scanned the many individuals typing away at their screens and talking into their headpieces. It was a different scene than what he was used to. It felt calmer and less hectic, but on the other end of the calls, he could only imagine what people were going through.

Bruce made eye contact with them, holding up his pointer finger as he helped one of the dispatchers at their desk.

“Bruce, busy man,” Thor chuckled, and Nat hummed in agreement.

“Thor, Nat, hi. Any news? Have the police found anything?” Bruce asked, walking over to them.

“Don’t get me started on the police. At YN house, they were walking around finding clues and placing their little yellow numbers by them, and taking pictures. Like, what is that going to do? They should be out looking for her since I already told them who abducted her, but no one believed me.” Thor shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Calm down, big guy, it’s called procedure, and we were finding evidence.” Nat patted him on the shoulder before turning to Bruce. “Anyways, we came to ask for a favor, and we think you could help us with it.”

“Name it,” Bruce nodded, putting his hands in his pockets.

“We need to track this number, but the fastest way without a warrant is to go through dispatch, or so I heard,” Nat hinted, raising her eyebrows.

“What is it? Landline or cell phone?”

“Cell phone.”

“Cell phones are trickier since we don’t get an automatic address like we do with landlines. Our system has to digitally request the phone’s location from the cellular network. I will have to put in a manual request, which won’t be a problem, it will just take some time,” Bruce stated, going over to one of the computers. “What’s the number?” Thor read the number off his phone as Bruce typed it in and quickly filled in the necessary information.

___________

Billy pulled into a gas station and parked the car behind it. He reached behind your seat, hearing him shuffle around and come forward with a scissor, wet nap, and a baseball cap. He cupped your face in his hands, using the wet-nap to wipe your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the pain on your cheek. “There’s my girl, all cleaned up.” He lifted your head with his finger and tilted it in all directions. He grabbed ahold of your bound hands, cutting the zip tie from your wrists. “Put this hat on, and just know, if you run, you don’t want to know what I will do.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. He squeezed your hands before getting out of the car and coming around the front to get you. He opened the door, instantly putting his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you. You tensed up, smelling the all-to-familiar cologne that sent your nerves firing in warning. It was a cologne you loved, having picked out for him when you first started dating, but now it filled your head with many unpleasant memories.

“Loosen up, hon, you can trust me,” he whispered in your ear, hitting the bill of your hat, making you readjust it.

You gave him a hard nod, forcing a tight smile. He let go of you as someone was walking out, holding the door for the two of you. You looked the man straight in the face, hoping he would take a look at you and help in some way, but Billy mumbled a quick thanks and took your hand. You glanced at the guy behind the register, but he stared down at his phone while Billy dragged you to the drink coolers.

“What do you want?”

“Can I run to the bathroom? Can’t pick anything on a full bladder,” you smirked, squeezing his hand.

“Of course, make it quick,” he nodded, letting go of your hand.

You walked back up the aisle and down another, glancing at the man behind the counter, who was still staring down at his phone. Keeping a watchful eye on Billy, you snatched a set of permanent markers from the shelf and hid them in the front of your pants and under your shirt. You took one last peek over your shoulder to see Billy’s eyes following you and opened the door to the ladies restroom.

You locked the door and leaned against it, taking in your surroundings, but there was nothing that could help you. It was a single stall bathroom with no windows. How come the only bathrooms that ever seemed to have windows were in the movies. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. There weren’t many options left: leave a note and hope someone sees it and gets help. It felt silly, but what did it hurt? You pulled the markers from the front of your pants and grabbed a brown paper towel, scribbling out a message and placing it by the sink along with the markers.

Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, you let out a deep breath, staring down into the semi-dirty sink. You removed your hat, running your hand through your hair, and looked up at your reflection in the mirror. It was like you were right back to where you started, staring at the fragile woman you thought you left behind. The color around your right eye was changing to a dark black and blue, your cheek was puffy, and there was a small cut on your lip.

“You can get through this,” you reassured yourself, splashing cold water on your face. “Someone is looking for you.” Splash. “Someone will find you.” Splash. “Steve isn’t dead because of you.” Splash.

You stared at the water flowing out of the faucet as images of Steve started filling your mind. His signature smirk, his chest-grabbing laugh, his caring yet determined personality, and how he... Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. You squeezed them shut, sniffling, before opening your eyes to your reflection. “No crying; not yet at least; first, you need to make it out.” You cleared your throat, promising yourself with a nod. You slipped the hat back on and opened the door, jumping in surprise to find Billy waiting there.

“Grabbed your favorites,” he grinned, holding them up. You forced a smile, following him to the register. Billy placed the drinks, snacks, and a few wound cleaning supplies on the counter. You smirked, remembering Cosmo’s rescue efforts. The front door jingled, pulling your attention to a mother and her young daughter walking in.

“Okay, Monica, run to the bathroom, and I’ll grab us some snacks.” You let out a small sigh of relief, smirking at them going their separate ways.

“We should start a family once we settle into our new home,” he whispered into your ear with a smirk on his lips.

“New home?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It’s part of my plan.” He wiggled his eyebrows, paying the man with cash. “You always wanted a family; why not start now.” He shrugged, leaning into you. He smiled at the clerk, grabbing the bag and holding out his other hand to you. You took it, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

Billy dragged you back out to the car and let go of your hand. He opened the back door while you headed for the passenger side door. “Wait, don’t get in; we’re switching cars. He should be here any minute.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure the police already have the make and model of this car through surveillance video or the license plate number from the note you left in the ladies room.”

“What note?”

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not an idiot, besides why else would you be smirking at a mother and daughter,” he sneered while a car pulled up beside them. “Speak of the devil, right on time.”

A Rolls Royce Wraith pulled up, forcing you to roll your eyes. This was his getaway car, more than a quarter of a million-dollar car, and he expected to get away with you. It was the same car he owned in New York, but this one had updated California license plates. A bald man got out of the driver's side, coming over to you and Billy. It was hard not to be creeped out by him, with a milky left eye and a scar underneath it.

Billy’s phone buzzed once more in his hand. He looked down at it, letting out a quiet snicker. He read off the abduction alert, including your name, what you looked like, and what you were wearing last. “Turns out you got someone looking for you after all. It’s a shame they aren’t going to find you.”

You gulped, noticing the bald man smirking. “As requested, your new phone--” he handed Billy a flip phone while Billy handed him his smartphone “--with a few contacts that you can trust and help you if it’s necessary. And everything you requested is in the back seat, but knowing you, Billy, you two have already disappeared.”

Your breathing quickened at his words, your eyes darting between the two men shaking hands. Billy had the perfect plan, and you were stepping right into it. You were going to disappear, become a ghost, and no one was going to be able to find you. Your defeated eyes caught Billy’s, not missing the amusement dancing in his. You bit your lip, staring into the distance, hoping the daughter saw your note and called the police. But it dawned on you that help wasn’t coming, which left you with two options: start over and try to be happy with him, or adapt and overcome.

“Thank you for your help, Agent Orange. I’ll owe you one.” Orange nodded at Billy, walking over to the previous car before getting in and driving away. “Well, get in, honey. It’s time to go on our road trip.”

___________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 17! This doesn't sound like it will be a fun road trip, and from the looks of it, Billy seems to be one step ahead of her with every move she makes. How is she gonna out think him? If you haven't noticed already, Billy is a real piece of work, and I'm hoping he came off as a psychopath in this part. If not I tried my best, it's hard to tap into a dark mindset like that! Haha! I will say though, Ben Barnes, who plays Billy Russo, is an attractive man, but I will admit his brown eyes can get scary dark sometimes. Like when he's mad, you can just see it in his eyes, so I tried to play off that. And it seems like he has a buddy helping him, Agent Orange, I wonder how they know each other? Also, we kind of have a better understanding where Nat's head was at at the end of the last part. She was worried about her friend and wanted everything to be done right, and put Billy away for good. And what do you think of her and Thor teaming up to find her? And can't forget that little assist from Bruce, but will they be able to find her before she disappears forever or will something worse happen along the way? Is Steve gonna pull through? And man, I sure hope Cosmo is doing okay! Until next week, thanks again!

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