#This is gonna be a miserable few weeks/months until I can find another job | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

SAFE AND SOUND

a/n: this one took a little longer to write, but im so happy its finally finished! its not what i originally planned, i started a whole different plot but hated it so started again, but i might go back to the first story, so maybe more bodyguard!harry content is gonna come! anyway, hope you’ll enjoy this one!

pairing: Bodyguard!Harry X Reader

warning: use of weapon (no one dies), mentioning of cancer (no one is sick), sexual content

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

“This is not up for discussion, Y/N. What you are doing and what you are about to achieve soon might upset a lot of people that hold great power. We can’t just assume you’ll be fine, walking around like anyone else in the world.”

Your boss, Julian explains it to you, leaning onto his desk, trying his best to keep his cool about your protest to get you a guard to watch out for you and keep you safe. It’s been an ongoing struggle and fight you two have been having these past weeks and it became a burning situation since you’ve made some major progress in your project.

“I’m not some kind of royalty to have security with me all the time,” you grumble rolling your eyes.

“Not just royalties have guards, Y/N. Just accept it, that you’re valuable, your work is very important not just to our company but to the whole world. Do you not realize how big it is? You are close to having the cure to cancer, Y/N! You can easily get a Nobel-prize for that!”

“I know that it’s important, but no one knows me, no one will see me on the street and know who I am or what I do!”

“It’s not about the people on the street. The world is a dark place, darker than you could imagine. Please, just… I want to know that you’re safe.”

Staring back at him with your arms folded on your chest you contemplate his words. You can see the rationality in his words, it’s just that you don’t want to break your routine, you don’t want people around you all the time, you don’t want to end your privacy like that. But Julian is right, your work is important and there have already been a few attempts to steal your researches, but they miserably failed. However that doesn’t mean they will be stopped the next time as well.

“One guard,” you speak up. “Just one. I’m not gonna have a whole fucking team,” you tell him raising your eyebrows. He lets out a relieved sigh, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Reaching out to the phone he presses the buzzer that signals to his assistant, Monica outside and a few moments later she walks in, accompanied with a tall, suited man, his green eyes immediately falling to you upon entering the room.

“Y/N, I took the courage to pick him out for you myself. This is Harry Styles, the best you can find in the city if not in the country,” Julian introduces him as he pushes himself away from his giant mahogany desk, walking closer to the man as they shake hands firmly. You stand up from the armchair you’ve been sinking into these past ten minutes and unsurely hold out your hand to the man.

“Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces himself, a thick British accent lacing through his voice and the way his green irises stare back at you, you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. Mr. Styles is undeniably the most charming and handsome man you’ve ever met, with his perfectly carved cheekbones and chiseled jawline, pink lips and those enchanting green eyes framed by his thick lashes. There’s something in his appearance, something feminine, but still, he holds so much masculinity at the same time, it’s hard not to be enamored by him.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you mumble your name, shaking his hand slightly before letting go of it.

“Details about your cooperation have already been discussed with the security agency and us, but of course, your word is what counts, so we’ll walk over the whole plan with you as well,” Julian explains to you and you nod shortly.

The three of you move to the conference room and the next hour goes by with working those so called details out, some of them are ridiculous, some of them you can get used to, at the end you are left with a somewhat bearable plan, but one thing is for sure. Harry Styles will be a big part of your life from now on.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The tiny pack of sugar tears open in your hands, but you put too much effort into it so the countertop is now covered with the content of the pack instead of ending up in your paper cup.

“Fuck,” you growl, dumping the empty pack into the trash before grabbing another one, hoping it won’t end up the same way.

“Let me help you,” a smooth, male voice speaks up next to you and Harry grabs the pack from your hands as he places his own coffee to the counter. You let him tear the pack open easily, pouring the sugar into your drink without problem before he puts the lid back to your cup.

“Thank you,” you mumble, closing your tired eyes for a split second. You’ve been overworking way too much these past weeks, it’s starting to shut your system down, but you don’t want to rest, not when you’re so close to finishing your project.

The past two weeks have been major, you finally made the progress you’ve been working towards for months now, letting you step into the last phase of your work finally. But it’s been a quite stressful time as you’ve been eager to finish as soon as possible, but that meant little to no time spent outside of your lab.

Harry shoots you a reassuring smile before you both grab your drinks and head out of the café in the direction of your workplace.

The past three months were one hell of a ride when it comes to Harry. You didn’t hide your dislike towards his continuous presence in your life, standing by your side wherever you went. It frustrated you, made you feel like you didn’t have your freedom any longer even though he never did anything to make you hate him. He was considerate, respectful and only wanted to do his job, yet you still gave him a hard time at the beginning, right until the need for his work was proved.

Two months ago someone broke into your apartment while you were out, they searched through the whole place, looking for something. Well, not just something, they were clearly interested in anything connected to your research, but luckily, you’re not dumb enough to just let these stuff lay around your home.

Even though you didn’t encounter the person responsible for it, the incident still shook your up. Knowing that someone could get into your personal space so easily, that they could have come at a time when you were home and vulnerable, it scared you. Harry was the person that eased the worry and fear in you, he took care of everything in an instant and upon his best advice, you moved to a new apartment with a higher security level. He even moved to the place next to yours so he could be as close to you as possible at all times. There was a much needed shift in your relationship after that and you didn’t see him as an intruder any longer in your life, but more as a hero.

“So would you like Italian or Mexican tonight for dinner?” Harry asks as the two of you enter the building, using your IDs you go through the massive security gates, the guards in post nodding in your way.

“Isn’t it your night to choose?” you smile at him sideways as you wait for the elevator.

“Okay, then Thai,” he smirks, making you laugh. “Hope you are not planning on eating it here again,” he gives you a warning look and you purse your lips.

“I have a lot to do, and—“

“Y/N, you need to rest sometimes,” he scolds you as if you were just a child.

“I do rest. Sometimes,” you answer with an innocent look as the elevator’s door slides open and you walk in with Harry following you right behind.

“Like once a week? Do you even sleep when you’re at home?”

“I do! Don’t make me look like I’m some kind of crazy workaholic!”

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” he sighs, giving you a hard look.

“Oh, Mr. Styles. If I didn’t know you better I would think you might have a soft spot for me,” you smirk at him teasingly before the elevator arrives to your floor and you walk out without a word. Harry just stares after you with a small smile tugging on his lips as he thinks about your words. It’s funny, especially because you both know something more than just a professional relationship has been going on between the two of you, only dancing around it as the situation is a little too complicated to address now.

It’s not like any rules are tying you down, but you would rather not mix up work with your private life. You might have feelings for Harry, but you refuse to act up on them until he is out of his duty as your personal guard.

Your days are usually the same. While you lock yourself up in your lab, working with no end, Harry stay either with you in there or he hovers around the door, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Just the thought of his presence never fails to bring you a sense of comfort, knowing that you don’t have to worry about your safety until he is near. It might seem nerdy, but you can easily get lost in your work. It doesn’t feel like a job, growing up with parents who were excellent doctors and pharmacists themselves, you were doomed to be a science enthusiast yourself from the beginning. Learning has never been a task for you but a gift, as you liked to look at it.

Working overtime happens often because you lose touch with time easily once you get down to work. Nothing exists outside of your lab and you hardly realize how late it is until Harry usually warns you.

“I didn’t joke when I said I didn’t want to have dinner in here,” he steps into your sanctuary while you’re in the middle of running tests for the millionth time today. Pushing your glasses up to the top of your head while the machines are buzzing and whirling, you look up at him with a tired smile.

“Let me just… finish this one last test and then I promise we’ll head out.”

“Alright, but I’m watching you. No more tests,” he warns, sitting on one of the stools while you finish what you started.

Harry never really asked you about your work, for a while you weren’t even sure if he knows what you’re doing and why it’s so important. It was never discussed at the beginning and he never brought it up later either. But judging from the time he spends near you at the lab he must have picked up a few things about it surely.

The machines stop working and the tiny beeping sound signals that the results are out. You grab the long printed paper and start scanning the data, chewing on your bottom lip as you hope to find what you’ve been looking for all day. The numbers are coming in great, but it’s been like this for a while, it’s the end that never matches up with your expectations. So when you get there and see the graphs showing the result that you’ve been dreaming of since the start of the whole project years ago, your mouth falls open in disbelief even though it’s what you’ve been working for all this time.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up in alert, jumping off the stool.

“I… I did it,” you breathe out, glancing up from the paper. “It’s my first time succeeding, Harry!” you start laughing, the shock taking over your whole body that you really did it this time.

“And what does that mean?”

“Come on, let me show you,” you tell him in excitement, pulling him over to the computer where you pull up all the data you’ve been working on. A virtual version of a cell comes up on the screen as you start typing, modelling what you want to show him. “This is a completely healthy cell, it’s what you are made of too, mostly,” you ass with a chuckle before another cell comes up on the screen. “And this is what cells that are affected by cancer look like.”

The difference is a lot more complicated than what you can explain to him in such a short time, but he can see it with his own eyes. The color, the shape, everything is different from the first one. Harry examines the screen and nods shortly, letting you know that he is following.

“I’ve been working on a substance that is able to not just detect the cancerous cells but it can also kill it effectively without hurting the healthy ones.”

You bring up the virtualized version of the substance you’ve been working on, a short animation showing how it can tell the two cells apart and only attack the cancerous one.

“I haven’t been able to get the numbers above 60% when it comes to succeeding in the process of selection so my whole project was about finding a solution to that. I’ve been trying to find the right substance to mix with our already existing one to solve the problem, but I haven’t been successful in it.”

“I assume until now,” Harry hum and you nod smirking.

“Yeah. The last test results came back very good, quite promising. It’s still not the end of the process, but it’s a huge step.”

“That’s great,” he smiles at you and though you know he probably understands just a fracture of the whole process, he can still figure out how important it is. “Congrats, Y/N.” “Thanks,” you breathe out, pride filling your chest as you shut the computer off. “I guess this is my cue to end the day,” you smile at him before packing up everything, getting ready to finally leave.

It’s not the first time Harry is spending the evening at your place. You often have dinner together, or watch a movie whenever you get home early enough to do that. Through the time you’ve spent together because of his job you’ve grown to be friends above everything. Good ones, in fact, which is a big deal for you since making friends has never been an easy task for you.

You bought takeout on the way home and as Harry set the table you poured yourself a glass of wine, knowing well Harry would never drink when he is on duty and he is basically working all the time he is with you, so you’re drinking alone. You both sit to the dining table, starting dinner together in a comfortable silence. It’s another thing you appreciate about Harry. He doesn’t try to talk when it’s not necessary, you hate small talk, you’d rather sit in silence than talk about something nonsense and Harry is a partner in that.

“When do you need to leave work tomorrow to get to the party on time?” he asks breaking the silence and you freeze. His eyes fall on you, examining your features for a moment before he smirks. “You forgot about it?”

“I just… thought it’s going to be next week,” you truthfully admit.

“We talked about it last week,” he smirks at you playfully. “And I told you it would be next week which is… this week.”

“I know how the days work, Harry,” you give him a look of ‘give me a break’ before you turn back to your food. “I just…”

“You just forgot it,” Harry finishes for you, and you just roll your eyes at him.

Glancing at him over the table you wonder if he’ll wear something different than is usual attire he always wears. Black suit with a white shirt underneath, the top two buttons left undone, giving you a tiny peek at the tattoos on his chest. You know those are not the only ones, you’ve seen him with the suit jacket off before, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his whole left arm is covered in ink and you wish you’ve had the chance to take a better look at them.

Harry is such an intriguing person in a lot of different ways. He definitely likes to keep things to himself, not one to ask for attention and it’s not just because of his work, it’s his personality. However he is good with people, interacting with them, being social. A skill you haven’t really mastered yourself yet and you probably never will. He always seems to know what to say, you’ve never seen him even the slightest bit anxious or nervous before, the confidence he holds is unmatched and it makes it hard to not think about him in ways you shouldn’t be.

After dinner he helps you clean up, just like he always does before heading out, but before he could leave he stops and turns back to face you.

“Oh, a friend of mine is visiting from the UK on Sunday. I already mentioned it to you before, but I was hoping I could get the afternoon off,” he wonders and you nod right away.

“Of course! I’ll be just fine at home,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he smiles back before walking out of your place at last.

Because of the party in the evening you are forced to stop working early the next day. It’s weird to leave the office in broad daylight, but you know today can’t be one of those days when you end up seeing the new day in the lab.

Harry was right yesterday, you completely forgot the whole party thing, meaning you didn’t plan anything ahead and you had nothing to wear, so through the day you called your sister, Mara to help you out. She was more than happy to lend you anything you needed. She meets you at the office, beaming to spend some time with you finally. It’s not that you don’t like her company, but you are quite different, is all. Your sister didn’t get sucked into the world of science, though she definitely has the bright mind to take up on any field she would want to explore. But she was more into the world of art, having written her first fantasy novel at the ripe age of twenty, she is now a bestseller author at only twenty-nine with a bubbly personality and basically every trait you never owned yourself.

“Harry! So nice to see you again!” Mara beams at the man as the three of you meet up at the lobby.

“Hi, Mara,” Harry smiles with a tiny nod.

“Alright, I have everything you could need so let’s head to yours!” your sister cheers before you make your way out to your cars.

Arriving to your home Harry splits from the two of you, letting you to get ready in peace and also to get ready himself. Mara didn’t joke when she said she has everything you need, the trunk of her car is basically filled with clothes and shoes, there’s no chance you won’t find something to wear tonight.

She orders you to take a quick shower as she unpacks everything she brought and when you emit from a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around your body and one on your head, Mara gets down to work.

“So do you have a date for today?” she curiously asks while she does your makeup.

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you huff ironically. “It’s just gonna be Harry and me.”

“So Harry is your date?” her ears perk up, but you’re quick to protest.

“Of course not! He comes with me everywhere,” you mumble with your eyes closed as she is doing something on your eyelids.

“But it could be a date,” she offers and you huff in disagreement.

“You know that’s not how it works, Mara.”

“You are making it more complicated than it is! No one would blame you if you just… went for it! Harry is obviously an attractive guy.”

“Then maybe you should date him,” you bite back bitterly. Growing up you weren’t the boys’ favorite, they always paid all the attention to your sister. It’s not that you blame her or them, she always had a more capturing and lively personality that attracted people naturally. But it made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, spending all your time with your nose buried in a book or doing researches for fun while Mara was out with her friends, living her best life. Even her published books were inspired by her personal life experiences.

“Y/N,” she sighs, her hands leaving your face so you open your eyes to look at her disapproving expression. “You obviously like him so I would never do that and besides that, he for sure likes you too.”

“What’s not true,” you deny right away, but then you look at her curiously. “But why would you think that?”

Mara smirks at you tilting her head to the side, seeing right through your act that you’re not interested in Harry. Of course you are, but you choose to keep it at bay for the sake of his job.

“Y/N, I see how that man watches every move you make. It’s written all over his handsome face.”

“Of course he watches my every move, that’s his job!”

“No, it’s different. You’ll see it sooner or later,” she smiles before ordering you to close your eyes again so she can finish your makeup.

Mara does wonders to your looks, the makeup look she does on you already makes a huge difference since you don’t bother to do anything on your every days. But she didn’t stop there, she made your hair look like you just stepped off of the pages of a magazine and the dress the two of you chose was the cherry on the top. The emerald green dress was tight around your curves, showing just enough of your body to be still considered modest, but also have some spice. And though there are a lot of advantages of the dress, your first and most important thought (to you at least) was how well it goes with the color of Harry’s eyes.

“I’m a genius,” Mara sighs satisfied with her work as you slip on the pair of nude heels and put your necessities into the little clutch you’re taking with you. Just when you’re gone with everything, the doorbell rings and your heart jumps in your chest, knowing that Harry is standing on the other side of the door.

“I’ll get it for you,” Mara smiles rushing to the door as you walk into the hallway, standing a few feet behind her so as she opens the front door and Harry comes into view, over Mara’s shoulder his eyes easily find your figure standing there, feeling a little awkward and self-conscious, like you are about to go to prom with your crush. Difference is that you are not a teenager anymore and you aren’t going anywhere together together. Tonight is just work for him.

But as his bright green eyes fall on your frame and you see his lips slightly part, you can’t help but allow yourself to think for a moment that it’s more than just work. That he feels the same way about it as you do. Though you don’t voice your hopes and just smile at him faintly, hoping you don’t look completely ridiculous in your outfit.

“Harry, come on in!” Mara invites him into the apartment and he walks in, wearing his usual black suit with the difference of having a tie on around his neck, his white shirt is appearing neat and crispy and his sometimes unruly curls are now gently combed back a little so his curls are not falling into his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile at him nervously fumbling with your clutch as he takes a few steps closer to you.

“Hi. You look… beautiful,” he smiles back at you a little breathlessly as he takes a respectful look down your body before his green irises meet your gaze again.

“Thank you. You look great too,” you chuckle softly. “Should we… head out?”

“Yeah, sure!” he nods, offering you his arm and you link your arm with his instantly, hoping you won’t trip in your heels. “Lock the door when you leave, Mara, alright?” you call out to your sister who is watching you smiling.

“Sure! Have fun!”

You wave at her one last time before walking out and shutting the door closed behind you.

This party is held every year at Pharma-Z, mostly this is the time when the brain meets the money. Investors and funders like to meet the people behind the million dollars researches from time to time and this is the occasion where both sides show up. Julian always asks you to be social and try to mingle, but the whole thing feels forced and painful for you. You’d rather just be left alone with your researches and projects without having to schmooze to the people who give you the money for your hard work.

It’s held at one of said investors’ luxurious penthouse, that doesn’t even look like someone’s home with the huge outdoors infinity pool, the spacious and modern interiors and the expensive looking decoration that was put up just for the occasion.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you are here!” Julian approaches you with a drink in his hands and you’re happy to see a familiar face in the crowd. You don’t really know others from work, only your little team you directly work with and of course, your boss, Julian.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” you chuckle giving him a short, friendly hug. Julian is far from a nightmare of a boss some people have to face at their job. He is an actually nice and very smart and intellectual person. The pharmaceutical industry can be harsh and dark, the competition between the businesses is way more intent than people think. This is why you need the protection. Some companies profit off of the fact that cancer has no cure yet. They make money from all the treatments that doesn’t even guarantee full recovery. A lot of big fish don’t want the cure, because that would make them lose a good chunk of their income and some of those would even go to the depth of hurting you for being so close to ruining their business with your invention. Pharma-Z is luckily a genuine company that wants to help sick people and that’s why you’re working there.

“You know how important it is for the company,” Julian sighs, but he understands how uncomfortable these events make you feel, though he can do nothing to help you. “Harry, nice to see you again,” he smiles at the man by your side.

“Julian, nice to see you too,” he nods, shaking hands with your boss.

“Mingle a little so people can see and meet you, alright?” Julian requests and you just nod silently before he moves on to the next group of people.

You get yourself a drink to ease your nerves a little as people start approaching you. Some of them you’ve met last year, but there are a lot of new faces. Your project has brought in quite a few new sponsors and investors and now they want to meet you and talk about the research their money is going into.

You try your best to keep a smile plastered across your face as you tell the people the same thing over and over again, receiving praise and compliments on your work before moving onto the next conversation just to start over again.

You can feel your social batteries running out, not sure you can put up with another conversation with a wealthy investor who wants you to know you have a job because they gave money for your project in hopes of you bringing more money to them.

Harry has stayed by your side the whole evening, and you didn’t notice but he kept examining you every few minutes to make sure you were holding up and he noticed how tired you’ve grown from socializing for so long.

“Y/N,” he softly calls out, his palm finding the small of your back. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?” he kindly offers and you immediately understand that he is trying to get you away from the guests and the overwhelming conversations you’ve been dealing with. Nodding you let him usher you outside, finding a spot where the two of you can be a little alone.

“I fucking… hate small talks and being nice to everyone,” you let out a long and heavy sigh, as you lean against the railing, paying just one short glance at the city’s bright lights under your feet. Harry chuckles shortly.

“I figured. You’ve been chewing your lips so hard I was afraid you’d start bleeding.”

Now that he has brought your attention to it, you realize you are doing it again, so you let go of your bottom lip from between your teeth and it brings out another chuckle from Harry.

“I’m just… not good with these… social stuff.”

“I disagree with that,” he hums, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh please, if you haven’t realized it, my number of zero friends is a tell, I think.”

“Come on, it’s not zero. You’re friends with Mara.”

“But family doesn’t count, she is kind of forced to be my friend,” you shrug, making him laugh.

“Okay, but I’m your friend too, aren’t I?” You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“You spend time with me because it’s your job.”

His eyes soften on you as he leans against the railing next to you, looking so effortlessly handsome and charming, you almost need to take a deep breath at the sight of him. And the cheeky smile on his pink lips is definitely not helping your case.

“I know you didn’t mean that. You’re a smart woman, Y/N.” Reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he inches closer a tiny bit. “I think we stepped over the line of just work.”

“So… you consider me your friend?” you ask shyly.

“If you have to ask maybe I’ve been doing something wrong,” he chuckles softly, making you smile too. Folding your arms a shiver runs down your spine from the cold evening breeze. “Are you cold?” Harry asks, but before you could even say a word, he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out shyly.

“Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, I think I might need another one,” you chuckle and nodding he tells you to just stay there until he gets you a new one.

Turning towards the view, you enjoy the lonely moments for a little, not too keen on going back inside and keep up the façade of interest any longer. You’d rather just head home, maybe have another drink with Harry on your couch while you watch a rerun of whatever show is on TV and then fall asleep after a hot shower. You’ve been working way too much lately and it’s just now crashing down on you. Next week you definitely should cut back on your hours at the lab, the project is already going amazing, it won’t hurt if you actually had some rest before you lose your mind.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you think it’s Harry returning, but as you turn around you are faced with a stranger, a man who is staring down at you with bloodshot eyes and… a gun pointed at you.

Your breath hitches, your blood freezing in your veins at the sight and your legs almost give up underneath you.

“What… who are you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, tears already flooding your eyes as you melt against the railing as if you had anywhere to go, but you have no chance against him.

One glance at the gun allows you to see that it has a silencer on, with the music coming from inside and no one around, if he shoots you, he’ll be able to get away before anyone realizes what happened.

The man doesn’t answer, just holds up the gun, aiming right at your chest and you close your eyes, thinking that this is it. This is how your life ends, in the middle of a posh party with no one around to help you. Your lips are trembling and hands are shaking as you hold onto the railing, waiting for the inevitable to come, keeping your eyes shut, not wanting to see your killer as the last thing you see before you go.

And then you hear the muffled gunshot, making you scream in fear, your knees turning into jelly, but the pain never comes. Instead, you hear grunting and growling as a body falls to the ground in front of you.

Your eyes snap open and you see Harry straddling the man, the gun lying near your attacker’s hand and he is trying to reach it, but before he could, you kick it away as Harry throws a punch at his face that stops him from trying too hard to free himself.

The next few moments are so busy and blurry at the same time. Your legs give up underneath you, making you fall to the ground, your whole body shaking in waves. In the meantime Harry gets the man into a position where he can be easily controlled and people start flooding out at the scene, helping Harry while security working at the party take the man, the police already on its way.

When Harry can finally step back from the attacker, his eyes fall on your figure and he rushes over to you, kneeling down next to your trembling body, cradling you into his arms upon seeing how shaken up you are.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s over, you’re alright,” he murmurs, holding you tight as your fists grab onto his shirt, your breathing is uneven, the oxygen barely makes its way into your lungs as you’re panting and gasping from the shock. “Come on, let’s get you inside, Y/N,” he gently tells you, helping you up from the floor even though your body feels like a pile of brick.

You can feel everyone staring at you, whispering behind your back as you try to hide in Harry’s arms while he walks you back inside, away from the man that tried to take your life. He walks you into one of the bathrooms and closing the lid he sits you down to the toilet while he grabs a towel and wetting it he kneels in front of you, tapping the cloth to your cheeks gently. You haven’t even realized that you’ve been sweating from the shock and the coldness feels amazing against your burning skin.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, but not even you are sure why.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he gently murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze as you shut your eyes closed. He grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and fills it with water handing it over to you.

“Thank you,” you mumble, bringing it to your trembling lips, but before you could drink it, your eyes snap up to meet his gaze. “And thank you for… what you did.” Your voice dies down at the end, the picture of the man pointing the gun at you still living so vividly in your mind.

“No need, it’s my job after all, right?” he chuckles softly, making your lips twitch the slightest bit before you start sipping on the water.

The police show up soon and they arrest the man who refuses to talk. They also request you to give your statement about what happened, but Harry manages to let you just give them the brief story and go in sometime soon to give them your full statement so you don’t have to spend any more time there. They are quite sure the man was hired by someone who doesn’t want you to finish your project, and it’s scary how far some people are willing to go just for the money, just to keep sick people in suffering for their own benefit.

Heading home you stay silent as Harry drives, staring out the window you let the nightlights of the city pass by you while you still see the same face, the face of the man that held a gun at you tonight. The gunshot is still ringing through your ears, it was so close, so real… of course it was real! All of it was real and your life was on the line. If it weren’t for Harry, you wouldn’t be here right now.

Arriving to your home Harry helps you out of the car and you cling onto his hand as you head up to the apartment. He keys the two of you into your home, flicking the lights on and looking around before you go further inside, just to be sure.

“It’s all clear, don’t worry,” he murmurs as you nod and make your way into the bedroom. Kicking your heels off your feet you sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath, feeling your limbs loosening up a bit for the first time in the past hour.

Harry moves around the place doing whatever before he joins you in the room, kneeling in front of you his hands find your bare knees and your eyes meet his worry-filled green irises.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he softly asks and you nod your head. “Come on, I’ll start the water for you.”

He helps you up from the bed and walks you into the bathroom. You stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do as he starts running the water in the walk in shower before he steps back to you.

“Would you…?” you ask, turning around, needing help with the zipper of your dress. Harry clears his throat as his fingers work on it and a moment later the fabric loosens around your frame as you hold it to your chest with your arms. Turning back around you peek up at Harry and you notice the slight blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll be outside at the door, okay?” He whispers, his fingers delicately touching your cheek as you nod before you watch him walk out and close the door behind him.

The hot water feels freshening, like it could burn away the memories even though it’s still so vivid in your mind. You stand under the running water longer than you intended, but it feels nice and needed. Once you’re done, you wrap yourself into a fluffy towel and walk out of the steamy bathroom only to find Harry sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting like a loyal puppy. When he sees you, he stands from his spot and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan over your body that’s barely covered.

“Alright, I’ll go now, but if you—“ “Don’t!” you gasp, panic taking over you at the thought of being left alone. One of your hands grasps his arm to stop him from moving and he freezes in his spot, staring back at your fearful eyes. “Please, stay here,” you plead, voice barely over than just a whisper.

There’s a heartbeat of a pause in him as he is watching you intently and for a moment you think he’ll say no, but then his hand finds yours on his arm and he gives it a gentle squeeze as he nods.

“Okay.”

You let out a long, relieved breath as you ease into comfort. He’s staying, he’ll be with you all night, protecting you from everything and everyone.

“Can I take a shower too?” he asks softly and you nod, stepping to your wardrobe to get him a clean towel. “Thank you. I’ll be back shortly,” he tells you before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door closed behind him.

You hear the water running again and you find yourself standing at the same spot as you listen to the noises coming from the bathroom. Harry is in there, soaking under the water naked and you can’t take your mind off of how badly you want to be there with him.

It’s not just because of what happened tonight, though it made you realize that you don’t have much time to waste. Nothing can assure that you’ll live another day and you don’t want to deny happiness from yourself. You want to be with Harry and as far as you can make it out, he feels the same way.

Upon a sudden decision, you pad your way over to the bathroom door and open it carefully, the warmth immediately hitting your face as you step inside and close it behind you. The glass of the shower is steamed up, you can only make out the blurry frame of Harry in there and you wonder if he heard you come in, but it doesn’t seem like that. His clothes from the night are lying on the floor in a pile, his watch that he always wears is carefully placed next to the sink.

Your hands grab onto the edge of the towel around your body and you unwrap yourself, hanging it up on the wall before stepping to the shower. Hoping you won’t scare him, you open the door, the steam immediately hugging your naked body warmly and you see him standing there with his back facing you as you step into the spacious walk-in shower.

He notices your presence, you see him freeze mid-movement before he peeks over his shoulder, his eyes falling on you as he slowly turns, facing you completely. Standing in front of him completely bare, you feel more vulnerable than ever in your life. You’re scared that he is going to send you away, that he won’t let you get closer to him and if that happens, you’ll feel humiliated, but he just stands there in his naked glory and doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a chance to shoot your shot.

Reaching up your hands slide to his hard chest, up to the base of his neck as you push your front against his, skin to skin with the hot water running down your bodies. His hands find your waist and you could cry from the feeling of his touch on you. Pushing yourself up to your tiptoes your nose nudges against his as your eyes fall closed.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, stopping you right when your lips could meet. Opening your eyes you see the hesitation in his green irises that appear so much darker than they usually do.

“Do you not want it? You don’t want me?” you whisper.

“I do. It’s not that,” he sighs shaking his head slightly. “But you went through a lot today. I don’t want you to make decisions you might regret in the morning.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips at how considerate and protective he is over you, thinking that this might be just something that crashed over you in the heat of the moment, but it’s been in the making from the first day you met him. Despite all your protesting against him, you knew you needed him and not just as your guard. He is what’s been missing from your life all along, you just never realized it.

“There’s nothing I could regret when it comes to you, Harry. I needed tonight to open my eyes. Our days are counted, I’m done running from my own happiness.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath as his hands hold tighter onto your waist while your hands run up his neck until your fingers tangle into his wet locks.

“I need you. And not just because of tonight. I’ve always needed you.”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m all yours,” he breathes out before his lips smash against yours all wet and hard, but it’s the most heavenly feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You become a mess, tangled in each other, lips melting together as your hands explore naked limbs and torsos, bodies pressing tightly against each other shamelessly. Harry walks you backwards until your back hits the cold tile and you let out a whimper as you arch your back at the sudden feeling, just as his head dips down, lips attacking your neck, kissing and nibbling on the soft skin. Your light leg lifts as his hands wander down your thigh, your hips pressing together and you feel how hard he is, his cock pushed against your other thigh, making you moan at the feeling. Reaching down you blindly wrap a hand around the base, giving him a few slow pumps, earning a guttural growl from him before his lips return to yours, kissing you hard and filled with passion. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, ass, back and chest, as if he was mapping your whole body wanting to remember how every inch feels under his touch.

Without tearing his lips away from yours, he blindly reaches behind him, shutting the water off before urging you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you out of the shower, placing you to the counter next to the sink as he stands between your legs, his hands once again finding your breasts as they knead them, making you whimper and shake under his touch. It’s euphoric and addictive, you already know you won’t be able to go a day without feeling him against you like this.

“Bed?” he breathes out against your mouth and you nod eagerly. Reaching to the side he grabs a towel, wrapping it around you, tapping and squeezing you to dry you off, throwing fits of giggles when you grab it and wrap it around his body as well.

The towel falls to the floor abandoned and forgotten as he lifts you off the counter and brings you to the bed, laying you down and holding himself up above you with one arm. His other hand cups your cheek and turning your head you kiss his palm gently, eyes glued to his as he settles between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathes out, his lips dancing against your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“Yes! Harry, please!” you beg with a whimper, your whole body aching to feel him inside you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, love,” he kisses you as his hand leaves your heated face, runs down your naked body until his fingers reach your throbbing clit.

He slides two digits through your already wet folds, but just to work you up even more he starts drawing circles on your bud, turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. Your fingers dig into the lean muscles on his back, feeling them twitch from his movements and one hand sliding down to his ass, grabbing a handful of him while pushing him closer to you, his erection pressing against your core.

“Harry, I need you!” you moan, not able to contain yourself any longer. You need to feel him, you need him as close as possible.

Reaching over to your nightstand you grab a condom from the drawer, ripping the package open with your teeth before you carefully grab his erection and roll the condom down his length, ready to finally feel him inside you.

He flicks his fingers on your clit one last time before his hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps while his soft lips kiss down your jawline and throat, his face hiding in the crook of his neck. Your arms circle around his shoulders, your chest heaving from the sensation as he positions himself just right, the tip teasing your hole. Harry lifts his head up, his bright eyes finding your gaze just as he sinks into you, filling you up perfectly.

“H-Harry! Fuck—“ you gasp at the feeling, your walls stretching around his thick cock as he stays still for a few moments, letting you adjust to his size.

You draw your legs up, giving you more space to go deeper as he starts thrusting, sliding in and out of you oh so perfectly, inching you closer to your relief with each movement. You cup his face in your hands, staring into his eyes as if you could see his soul in them and for a split second, you feel like you actually do. His lips are parted and the cross pendant is grazing your chest while he fucks into you, never falling out of his rhythm.

You want to beg to him not to stop, to keep moving and moving, but no words can leave your mouth as your back arches, your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. You start grinding your hips in sync with his, allowing him to reach deeper into you, making your toes curl from pleasure.

“Harry, I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna—Ah!” You can’t make up one coherent sentence as your legs start shaking, feeling your orgasm taking over your body.

“I know, baby. Let it go. Let me make you feel good,” he pants, his lips kissing you everywhere he can reach, your lips smashing against each other in a messy kiss, your tongue meeting his in the middle just when you reach your high.

You moan and cry out his name, fingers digging into his flesh as you chase your release. Seeing you fall apart underneath him is enough to throw him over the edge, spilling himself into the condom as his mouth hangs agape, your name falling off his tongue as if it was the holiest glorification. Combing your fingers through his hair you hold him to your chest as he collapses on top of you, his head lying on your naked chest as you both try to catch your breath in the sudden silence that came over you without the sounds of your passion.

Rolling off of your body he slips out of you, an empty feeling taking over you right away, but he is quick to cradle you into his arms to keep the intimacy. You lay your head to his chest, a thin layer of sweat covering the both of you, but you couldn’t care less. You listen to his steady heartbeat as you draw one of the swallows on his chest with your finger, running it over the lines of the ink. You want to soak in the moment and stay in it for as long as possible, but you can barely keep your eyes open. As Harry’s fingers are gently running up and down your bare back you let your eyes close and the last thing you remember is hearing his soft whisper.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”

You wake up without an alarm in the morning and it’s the first time for that in a long-long time. You stir and groan before you open your eyes, your hands reaching out next to you, looking for the man that was next to you when you fell asleep, but there’s nothing and no one beside you now.

Panic rises in your chest as your eyes pop open and you frantically look around in the room, hoping to see him somewhere near, but you’re alone.

“Harry?” you call you as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest since you’re still naked. No answer comes and you can feel your heart rate rising instantly.

Getting out of bed you grab the nearest clothing item you find which is an old hoodie, and you put on a pair of clean panties before you carefully walk out of the bedroom, afraid of what you might find outside, but it’s completely silent and still, no one is around. Harry has left.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, feeling the lump in your throat growing as tears are forming in your eyes.

Where did he go? Why did he leave? Is he coming back? Is he gone forever?

You can’t stop yourself from going into depth you shouldn’t, just because you don’t find him first thing in the morning, but you still haven’t entirely recovered from last night’s events and before you could stop yourself, you are thinking about the worst possibilities there could be.

And then you hear the lock turning in the front door.

Blood rushes out of your head as you freeze, afraid it’s another attacker and this time you won’t be as lucky as you were last night. But as the door opens Harry walks in with a paper bag in his arm and you can’t help, but start sobbing at the sight of him.

“Harry!” you cry out, launching at him and he barely have time to put the bag down before he catches you, locking you in his strong arms.

“Hey! No need to worry, it’s just me!” he soothes softly, his hands running up and down your back and head. “I’m sorry I scared you, just wanted to get you something to eat, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as you try your best to hold back your sobs.

“I just woke up alone and I thought…”

“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have left while you were sleeping. But I’m back and I’m alright.”

You just nod, hugging him a little longer before you loosen your hold around him to lean back and look him in the eyes.

“So… you’re staying? With me?”

“If you want me to, yes,” he nods with a soft smile as he cups your tear-soaked face in his hands. “I’ll keep you safe and sound and I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

“Just be yourself and… be with me,” you shyly ask him and he nods, his smile growing into a wide grin before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet, intoxicating kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #bodyguard!harry

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nicekillchanceballs · 3 years

Text

Taste.

Genre: Smut Contains: NSFW (minors dni) exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving) Synopsis: You are in dire need of a hook-up after being swamped with work all week. You opened your Tinder and miraculously matched with Osamu. Word Count: ~1.9k A/N: Took me so long to post again because I was swamped with school works. I apologize for another porn without plot eyyy. (check out the master list here !!). -- quokka 😆

You were in dire need of a hook-up after being swamped with work all week. You opened your Tinder and the first profile that popped up was Miya Osamu, the hot owner of Onigiri Miya, whom you had been secretly lusting on ever since you moved into the area a few months ago. You're not quite sure if it was the onigiri or the cook that made you come back to the restaurant every day, but you had been a regular ever since. With the way Osamu flushed every time you gave him flirty remarks whenever you passed by his restaurant (“this tamago onigiri’s really good, it makes me wanna kiss the cook”), you had good reason to believe your feelings were mutual.

The notification on your phone which flashed “It’s A Match!” confirmed your suspicion.

All the times you had secretly peeked on Osamu’s biceps while he prepared your usual order flashed in your mind and you were suddenly charged with a powerful determination to have the man fall apart with pleasure from you tonight.

A ping! from your phone pulled you out of your lustful thoughts.

Osamu had messaged you.

But thirty minutes had already passed and there was still no sign of Osamu. The delicious knot in your stomach when you pictured Osamu in your fantasy earlier was now slowly fading away. You were starting to get conscious of the judging looks of a few passersby. They were probably wondering why you were standing alone in the dark, at 11 o'clock in the evening, in a deserted parking lot across Onigiri Miya. You wished you had a better reason for them other than "coz I’m motherfucking horny” but… eh.

You were starting to think he stood you up when you saw someone entered the parking lot. It was quite dark but you could easily make out Osamu's pretty face underneath the hood of his cap.

"What took you so long?" You greeted from the shadows, making him jump.

"Hm?" He replied while reluctantly making his way towards you.

"I've been waiting for you."

"Really?” Osamu replied with a quizzical look. “You're the new girl from the apartment across, right?"

"Yes. I’m your hook-up for tonight."

He smirked. "Ooh. You’re very direct, I love that."

"I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I moved here," you purred while pulling him towards you through his jacket. “So, you said you wanna do it here in this parking lot?”

"Oh, hell yeah I'd love that," he replied with unexpected enthusiasm. He hurriedly popped a mint into his mouth and let you lead him to a more secluded area.

Once free from the unwelcomed eyes of passersby, he immediately captured your mouth into his while pinning your back on the concrete wall. You pulled his cap off and raked your nails through his hair. His tongue traced your lower lip, asking for entry, which you eagerly granted, and the taste of fresh mint overwhelmed you at once. You passed the candy through each other’s mouths until it finally melted between your tongues.

You grabbed his hand and planted it on your chest, letting him palm your hardened nipples through the cloth of your pullover. He slipped a hand underneath your sweater and heard him hum in satisfaction once he confirmed that you were not wearing anything underneath. You miserably failed to swallow your moans as his fingers played on your already sensitive nipple. You worried someone might hear you but the thrill of getting caught only turned you on even more.

He hitched your sweater up, commanding you to bite its lower hem to allow him easier access to your breasts. He nibbled on one of your nipples while his fingers teased the other. Your teeth tightly clenched on the cloth of your sweater, desperately but miserably failing to muffle your whimpers.

He stood straight once again and planted a trail of wet kisses on your neck. “Try to keep your voice down, puppy,” he murmured while plunging a hand inside your shorts. “Mmm. You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” He taunted upon feeling your drenched panties.

“Oh god – yes, fuck” you cried out as he slipped a hand inside your underwear, his fingers swiftly finding your throbbing clit.

“Not bothering to shut up now, are we?” He panted against your ears, “you really wanna get caught don’t ya?” His fingers became more vigorous against your mound while his mouth continually explored the crevices of your neck.

You clasped a hand over your mouth, successfully stifling your cries. But Osamu suddenly sucked a hickey on your neck and you once again failed to bit back a moan. Your voice echoed into the deserted parking lot. You were worried someone might have heard you but was snuffed out of your thoughts when Osamu suddenly turned you around and pinned your front against the wall. You felt him thrust his hips against yours, his erection rubbing on your ass. He snuck a hand back to your clit while the other rubbed through your bare nipple. “Oh fuck – mmm” you whined before you could even stop yourself.

He planted another hickey on your neck. You bit the flesh of your own hand, successfully preventing a moan from escaping you.

“Good job, puppy,” he whispered before giving your nipple a pinch. The sudden sensation made you send out another moan into the night. He was certainly enjoying seeing you struggle to shut yourself up while he tortured you with pleasure, eager to see just how far you could go.

His strokes on your clit turned more vigorous, turning you into a whimpering mess, not even bothering now to keep your voice down, “fuck, fuck – ah, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop – fuck!” Your knees almost gave out as he finally drove you into a splintering orgasm. You let yourself collapse on the wall in front of you.

You turned around and put your arms around his neck. You let your foreheads lean against each other, your pants misting your lips.

“Now, let’s see how loud you can be,” you purred while stroking his erection through his jeans.

He buried his head on your shoulders, his breath tickling your neck. You fumbled on the button of his pants and massaged his dick through his boxers. He sucked on the thin skin of your neck to muffle his groans. You freed his erection and started stroking him slowly, determined to drive him into an absolute mess. “Shit,” he hissed into your ear, “I wanna fuck your mouth so bad.”

“Mmm, yeah?” You mewled while continuing to stimulate his cock painfully slow.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I’ve always wanted to have my cock sucked by those lips,” he panted while rutting his hips into your hand.

Unable to resist his pleas, you kneeled in front of him and gave his head a tentative suck. “Mmngh. Fuck,” he groaned. He leaned a forearm against the wall in front of him while his other hand rested on the back of your head. You put a hand on his base and started exploring his cock with your tongue, eliciting more grunts from him. You slowly took his length into your mouth until the tip reached the back of your throat, making you gag. “Jesus,” he moaned, not even bothering to muffle his voice. He ran his thumb on your lower lip as you took out his entire member, “make me feel good, yeah?” he purred, to which you once again readily obliged.

You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked on the parts of his dick that you could fit into your mouth while your hand stroked the parts that couldn’t. He thrust his hips against your mouth, hissing as he felt your fingers brush against his balls. His tiny groans of mmm fuck, so good, made you want to please him even more. You bobbed your head as you took more and more of him, gradually upping the pace that you’re pumping him. “Fuck – yes, there, just like that.” You gently rubbed your fingers again through his balls and felt him ram his dick into your throat, making you forcefully gag.

“Ugh fuck. Sorry. Are you alright?” He asked, trying to look at the reaction on your face but failing to do so because of how dark it was.

You didn’t bother to reply. You ignored the tears that streamed down your cheeks and wrapped your lips around his cock once more. He threw his head back and gave out a loud groan when you started sucking him deeply, his cock occasionally reaching the back of your throat. “Oh god, please I wanna fill your throat with my cum,” he mumbled as he rolled his hips against you, both of his hands tightly grabbing on your hair. Your jaw was starting to ache and more tears threatened to spill from your eyes but a sliver of light illuminated Osamu’s face, and the look of utter ecstasy on it only made you want to let him fuck your mouth even harder.

“I’m close –fuck!” He let out a deep groan as he jolted multiple times into your mouth. Your hands clutched the sides of his thighs, determined to swallow every bit of his cum.

“Fuck. Felt so good, pup,” he panted.

“Hey,” you panted, looking up at him, “me too.”

“What?” He breathed.

“I’ve always wanted to have you cum down my throat, too.”

You and Osamu decided to continue your hook-up in your apartment. As much as you both enjoyed going down on him in public, you both agreed that you could fuck each other more properly in the privacy of your own room.

He let you step out of the dark first since the cap he was wearing got lost while you were both making out earlier. “My brother’s gonna kill me if I lost it,” you heard him mumble while fumbling in the dark.

You were halfway across the parking lot when someone suddenly called you from ahead.

“Hey! I’m so sorry, I’m not usually this late but something urgent happened in the restaurant. I kept on calling you but you weren’t answering your phone.”

A barrage of questions flooded your brain as you watched a second Osamu, his brown hair bouncing, as he jogged towards you.

You quickly looked back and saw another Osamu, emerging from the shadows, twirling a cap around his finger. Only, this Osamu had blond wavy hair.

“Atsumu?! What are you doing here?” Exclaimed the brown-haired Osamu at the blond Osamu.

“What are you doing here?” Atsumu shouted back.

“I’m meeting with her,” Osamu replied while planting himself beside you.

Atsumu’s eyes shifted quickly between you and Osamu, a few seconds passed before realization dawned on him. “Oh god!” He cried out, “I swear, ‘Samu! I had no idea! I thought she just really likes me and uses weird pick-up lines to – ”

“What the fuck did you do, ‘Tsumu?!” Osamu replied, rage building up in his voice.

“Oh my god,” you smacked a hand to your head as realization also finally dawned on you, “I sucked off the wrong twin, didn’t I?”

“Oh no, honey, you didn’t,” Atsumu smirked, “you sucked off the better twin.”

Check out Five Senses Series here. Requests are open for hcs and drabbles! :D

#haikyuu osamu #osamu x y/n #osamu smut #osamu fic #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fanfiction

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

It's Yours - Chapter 9

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Fluff, Childbirth.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

You were in the last month or so of your pregnancy and you were miserable. The Peña men had you refined to your bed or the couch and you were grateful. Your ankles were swollen, your back was killing you and the babies weren’t giving you a minutes rest. With bed rest though came loneliness and with loneliness came overthinking and you were starting to overthink everything. So when Javi had told you that Connie had offered to come out and stay until the babies had arrived you were over the moon.

Today was the day she was arriving and you couldn’t wait. Javier had been busy getting the house ready for the babies. The nursery had been decorated, toy army arranged and furniture had been built. So now his days were spent getting the other house ready for his dad. Chucho was there to wait on you hand and foot when he could but he still had a ranch to run so you spent most of your days alone. Javier had driven to collect the Murphy’s from the airport. Steve was coming down for a few days before heading back to Miami but Connie and Olivia were going to be with you for at least the next month.

It was a little afternoon when they arrived.

You were settled on the couch watching a nature documentary when the door swung open and two golden heads came into view. Connie almost threw herself at you, arms circling your shoulders as she squeezed you tightly.

“You’re so big now.” She squealed as she cooed over your bump.

“I’m a whale.” You sighed, pushing yourself up a little so you could see everyone better.

“You are glowing Mi Amor.” Gushed Javier and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You have to say that Peña.” You grumbled, “You’re the one who got me into this mess.”

“She’s got a point dude.” Conceded Steve, flinching when Javier punches his arm "Mind Olivia." He moaned before the toddle slapped his cheek with her little hand.

"Seems like Livie agrees with me." Chuckled the agent.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you rolled your eyes when Javier leapt to your side and grabbed your arms in order to support you as you waddled along.

“I can walk Javier.” You snapped, sighing when you saw hurt flash across his face “Sorry baby. I’m just a little fed up. Not sure if I can go another month.”

“You know it's common for twins to come early?” Stated Connie and you nodded, rubbing your aching belly as you tottered towards the kitchen.

“Yeah the Doctor did tell us and I’m praying they do. I’m getting impatient now.” You chuckled, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge before plonking yourself down on one of the kitchen chairs, already exhausted from your short walk.

“You’re doing so well baby.” Said Javier lovingly as he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead “So proud of you, growing out little angels.”

Connie, Steve and Olivia were such a welcome distraction.

Steve helped Javier get the guesthouse finished and then had helped Chucho officially move in.

Connie took excellent care of you whilst Olivia and you played. She was fascinated by your bump and how it moved as the babies wriggled around inside. She loved to lay her little head on it, chuckling when she'd get nudged by a foot.

"You like that Liv?" You asked as she chuckled at you, clapping in delight.

'Ye." She squealed.

She'd started to pick up words. Now able to answer yes or no questions and you felt the maternal side of you overflow with pride and each milestone she'd hit.

"Would you like a little brother or sister Liv?" You asked as Connie popped your tea beside you before taking a seat in the armchair across from you.

"YE!" She yelled and she chuckled.

"Well, there you have it Con."

"Well actually..." She started before falling silent, grinning behind her mug and your mouth dropped.

"You're not?"

"I am." She nodded excitedly and you practically screamed in excitement, Olivia mirroring your reaction.

"What... How... wh-" You paused as you processed what she'd just told you "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, we wanted to wait till we passed the 12-week mark before we told people. You know how we've struggled in the past and we didn't want to jinx it." You nodded in understanding, knowing they'd lost a baby a few years back.

"And so everything's okay?"

"Perfect." She said as she pulled some images from her back and passed them to you.

"This is amazing Con." You said sweetly as you gazed at the photos "I'm so happy for you both." You finished as you smiled up at your best friend.

It was the last day before Steve was due to return to Miami and you had suggested that the men go out for dinner and few drinks. You were hoping for a relaxed evening, just you and Connie but you could tell that Javier wasn’t sure about leaving you.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” He asked, his big brown eyes making your stomach flip.

“Baby. We’ll be fine.” You chuckled “I’m in great hands here anyway!”

“Come on, you boys go have fun. Might be your last chance before the babies arrive.” Said Connie, giving his arm a friendly squeeze.

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

“Yes!”

“And you’ll take it easy?”

“Yes, Javier.” You groan.

“She won’t lift a finger for herself.” Stated Connie “Unless she needs the bathroom. There's a line.” She chuckled, eliciting a laugh from both you and Javi.

“Fine.” He said, finally giving in “You girls have fun.”

Little did you know that everything was about to change.

The first contraction was so mild you barely noticed it. Rubbing your belly, you groaned as you shifted in your seat in an attempt to get comfortable but as the evening went on they became more intense. You’d been warned that you might experience false contractions or Braxton Hicks so you’d decided to ignore them, convinced that they would pass.

It was around 6 when you realised that they weren’t.

“Con.”

“Hmmm.”

“I think I’m in labour.”

...

“I really appreciate you and Con coming out here.” Said Javier as he gave his friend a genuine smile “The Mrs has been really struggling the last few months so I know that she really appreciates Connie being here for the last leg of this. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. Even Olivia's doing a better job of keeping her happy.” He chuckled as he glanced at his pops “Seems like everything I do is wrong.”

“She’s growing two people inside of her Mijo.” Piped up Chucho, giving his son’s arm a friendly squeeze “She’s entitled to be snappy.”

...

“Your contractions are close together hun.” Stated Connie, holding your hand as another one ripped through you “How close is the nearest hospital?"

“47 minutes.” You panted “Timed… drive.”

“Right well I don’t think the you’re gonna last to the hospital hun.” She stated, “Do you know where the boys went?”

“NO.” You screamed, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you tried to breathe the pain.

She sprinted to the bedroom and grabbed a few pillows before making a b-line for the bathroom and grabbing some towels. bringing them to you in the lounge and arranging them so she could make you as comfortable as possible. Next, she grabbed the washing up bowl from under the sink and filled it with some warm water, knowing she’d need it to clean up the babies when they arrived.

“Right, sweetheart I need you to trust me.” She started as she pulled down your leggings and underwear “We’re going to have to deliver the babies here. I’m going to take a look and see how dilated you are.”

“SI.” You screamed and she looked at you in confusion.

“Odd time to scream for your ex.” She said before returning her attention to the job at hand.

“No… Call him… He could tell us where Javi is.” You panted out and she nodded in understanding, flicking through the phonebook beside the phone and dialling in the bar's number.

Silently grateful that Olivia's a heavy sleeper.

...

“Wonder what the girls are up to.” Said Steve as he took a swig of his beer.

“Probably watching crappy tv and gushing over all the baby clothes I spent a fortune on the other day.” Chuckled Javier “Si, reckon we can get another?”

“Sure thing.” Said the man as he grabbed two more beers “Another soda Chucho?”

“I think I’m good.” Said the older man “Will be bouncing off the walls.”

“Now that I’d like to see.” Chuckled the bartender as he walked over to the ringing phone and answering it, smile falling as he flicked his head towards Javier.

“What is it?”

“You need to go home.” He stated and Javier immediately started to panic.

“What's going on?” Asked Steve, pulling his eyes from the game on the screen and noting the now tense atmosphere.

“She’s in labour.”

‘Where is he?” You sobbed, contractions now so much closer together.

“They’ll be here soon sweetie. I just need you to breathe for me okay?” She instructed and you tried your best to do as she asked “I’ve called an ambulance too but hun…” She paused, glancing down before locking your gaze again “You’re going to have to start pushing real soon.”

“No.” You sobbed, shaking your head as tears stained your shirt “No I can’t.”

“You have to.” She said, stroking your hair away from your sweat-slick brow.

“I need Javi.” You wailed “Where’s Javi!.”

“I’m here baby.” Came a familiar voice and you sobbed “I’m right here beside you Mi Amor.”

Everything around you seemed to disappear and suddenly it was just you and him. Even the pain seemed to disappear and you cried as he pulled you in for a kiss but the moment was cut short when the worst contraction yet tore through you.

“Right hun you need to push.”

“No… I can’t.” You choke on a hiccup as you shake your head.

“Baby, if you don’t push then we won’t meet our babies.” Said Javier sweetly “You can do it, mi corazón.”

Connie ordered you to push and you did. Over and over until you were left limp on the cushions she’d so carefully laid underneath you.

“One more hun.” She said and you weren’t sure you had it in you “Come on he’s almost here.”

That was what you needed to make that final push.

With one more gargantuan effort, his cries filled the air and you let out a relieved sob as you watched her hand him to Steve so he could wash him. Not even noticing Javi cutting the cord. Chucho took his from the blonde agent after he was wrapped in one of the soft blankets you'd bought and bounced him in his arms, desperate to quiet him a little.

“How are you feeling sweetheart.” Asked Connie and you looked at her with a painted expression.

“Exhausted.”

“Well, you don’t have long sweetheart.” She said sympathetically “Your baby girl is on her way.”

She wasn’t lying either. It seemed like you had no time at all to rest before your baby girl started to make her entrance. The orders to push were repeated and you did. Pulling at whatever reserves you had left to push your baby girl into the world and when you made the final one you allowed yourself to ultimately collapse bonelessly onto the makeshift bed as you watched Javi cut the cord and hand her to Steve to be cleaned.

It took a moment for it to register.

You were so tired.

There was crying, but those were your son's cries.

She wasn’t crying.

Why wasn’t she crying?

“Why isn’t she crying?” Javier asked, staring at Connie as she checked over your newborn daughter.

She said nothing. She was calm as she waited for the tiny infant to show any signs of life but after a few minutes, she started CPR. Javier held you as the two of you watched the woman work, unable to control your emotions as fat tears started to fall. Chucho stood with your son in his arms and watched the terrifying spectacle, unable to help the few tears that slipped down his cheeks.

Then you heard the most beautiful sound.

“There you go.” Said Connie as she smiled down at the screaming infant “That's in sweetheart.” She said as she placed the wriggling baby in your arms.

“Don’t scare us like that baby girl.” Said Javier as he looked down lovingly at the tiny being in your arms.

“Don’t forget this little chap.” Said Chucho as he kneeled beside you and placed your son in your other arm.

You took a moment to stare down at your two tiny tots, forehead resting against Javier’s as you basked in the moment. Your whole body was shaking with exertion. You could smell what had happened as you pushed one of your children into the world but you didn’t care. No one did.

Your babies were here.

Everything else was irrelevant.

One Week Later…

You and Javier sat cuddled up on the couch, you holding your son and him holding your daughter. Connie was busy helping Chucho in the kitchen, still adamant that she stay a few weeks to help. The two of you had been struggling to come up with names. Nothing seemed to fit and you'd expected to have a little more time.

The ambulance had arrived a little while after you’d delivered and you were rushed to the hospital where they kept you and the babies in overnight. They were happy to discharge you the following day though and you’d quickly settled into a routine. You were sore, struggling to sit down on any chair that you had in the house. So you had almost sobbed when Si turned up with the most beautiful rocking chair you’d ever seen.

“Mae and I bought it when she was expecting and I dunno… I could never bring myself to get rid of it.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders as he placed the chair down “It’s supposed to be really good for breastfeeding and all that. You don’t have to keep it but…'

You stopped his rambling with a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s perfect.” You said sweetly, smiling when his eyes locked onto your son in your arms “Would you like to hold him?”

His eyes grew wide as he looked up at you with childlike excitement and he nodded eagerly, carefully taking him from you and cradling him with such care. You couldn’t help but swoon at the sight. The man would always hold a place in your heart but as Javier came to stand beside you, your sleeping daughter in his arms you swooned even harder.

“We actually had something we wanted to ask you.” Piped up Javier after a few minutes, Si looking up from your son to study you both.

“Well, we wondered if maybe, you’d like to be their godfather?” You said, watching him with hopeful eyes as he processed what you'd just said.

He said nothing. The tears in his eyes was all the answer that you needed and after a few more minutes of gushing over your son, he handed you back you little boy before stealing your daughter from Javier.

“You got names for them yet?” He asked as he bounced her in his arms.

“No.’ You grumbled, “Nothing feels right.”

“Mae and I were expecting a girl,” He said as he smiled down at yours “Had a name picked out as soon as we learned the sex.”

“What was it?” You asked as you sat down on the couch.

“Layla.” He stated, “Reckon she looks like a Layla.” He said with a watery smile, bringing her forehead to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there.

You looked at Javier. Sharing a mental conversation before he turned his head to the man and placed a friendly arm around Si’s shaking shoulders.

“She really does man.” He said, gently pinching her chubby little cheek “Layla Mae Peña.”

The man looked up at Javier and let out a choked sob before looking down at the tiny little being in his arms.

“If that's okay with you?” Javier asked and Si looked at him again.

“It’s more than okay.” The man replied.

“What about Luca for the other one.” Piped up Steve and you all chuckled, the soft moment broken by his eloquence.

“The other one?” You boomed.

“That’s my son Pendejo.” Javier jested as he gave his partner a playful punch on the arm.

“Luca and Layla.” You said, testing the names on your tongue “I think we’ve found their names.” You stated as you laid a gentle kiss on Luca’s nose.

“Does kinda sound like Luke and Leia.” Pointed out Connie and you chuckled again.

“I don’t see what the issue is.” Piped up Javier and everyone chuckled.

“Course you wouldn’t.” Teased Steve “Nerd.”

"You next Con." You said as you looked at the blonde who was cradling a sleeping Olivia on her shpoulder.

"Wait what?" Said Javier, confused by your statement "You're pregnant?"

"Mhmmm." She nodded, smirking at Javier's shock.

"Why didn't you tell me." He whined as he looked at his partner in shock.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction x reader #narcos fanfiction x you #narcos x you #narcos x reader #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #narcos gifs #narcos #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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mollymawkwrites · 3 years

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Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier: Geralt brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen and Eskel/Jaskier get their shit together first (communication skills!!) and Geralt comes to a Realization - dp/spitroasting - the turn of seasons, contrast of bright/dark, warm/cold

... this took way too long and I am so sorry about that. As an apology, here’s more than 5.5k of feelings, pining and misunderstandings, with a sprinkle of smut (as an apology, and not at all because I have zero self-restraint). Thank you so much for the lovely prompt, I hope this lives up to expectations 💖

I’ll post the link to Ao3 in the replies when this is beta’ed, sorry if there are any big mistakes!

CW: post-Mountain break-up, smut, Geralt’s Canonical Self-Loathing.

Falling in love with Eskel is the easiest thing Jaskier has ever done.

It happens slowly, but with a certainty that Jaskier has rarely felt before. Like sinking into a feather mattress, silk sheets caressing your skin.

It was never that easy with Geralt. Jaskier fell in love with him fast, sure, but he also fell hard, had to pick himself up afterwards, bruised and bloody.

The first day he arrives at Kaer Morhen, two weeks after his rescue from Nilfgaardian spies, Jaskier is miserable. The trek up the mountain has been hard on him, but harder even was his underwhelming reunion with Geralt, who barely acknowledged him, grunting that he'd be safer in Kaer Morhen before leaving Jaskier to decide by himself what he wanted to do.

His heart aches with two years of missing his best friend, finding he misses him even more now that they’ve been reunited. He'd always told himself he didn't hold any hope of his relationship with Geralt ever evolving into something more, but getting his heart broken on the top of a mountain had made him realise he'd somehow managed to fool himself too.

So he's prepared to spend a winter avoiding his former friend, though Geralt would probably not even call him that, holing up in whatever drafty room he's been attributed, and then he'll find a new name and dye his hair a different colour and hope it's enough to fool the Nilfs. It's a hard choice to make, renouncing the name he's made for himself, the reputation he's built over twenty years of hard work and songs he's still proud of today. But it's all tied too tightly to Geralt, and neither him nor his heart will survive it. Maybe, if Jaskier the Witcher’s bard is forgotten by everyone, his heartbreak won't be so obvious.

That pathetical plan is countered as soon as he steps foot in Kaer Morhen, and Geralt's brothers and mentor introduce themselves to him. They are similar, yet so different to the Witcher he's known for more than half his life.

They welcome him, if not with open arms, at least with warmth and smiles and, in Lambert's case, snarky banter Jaskier takes great pleasure in reciprocating.

Eskel doesn't draw his attention much at first. The dark-haired Witcher is friendly, tugging Geralt in a bear-like embrace as soon as they've passed the gates, and shaking Jaskier's hand with a kind, genuine smile Jaskier can't help but return.

But over the next couple of weeks, Jaskier spends more and more time with the amber-eyed wolf, discussing music and poetry and history as they execute their respective chores. After only a few days, Eskel is the one who searches him out when Jaskier is helping Vesemir in the kitchen or feeding the chickens in the courtyard. He shows him around the keep, more than the customary tour Vesemir gave Jaskier on his first day here. Eskel is full of stories from his childhood in the keep, and he is not greedy with the details. Jaskier can sense the underlying grief when the Witcher talks about the boys who didn't make it in the Trials, but Eskel doesn't linger in the sadness and makes sure to tell Jaskier all about his and Geralt's most imaginative antics.

The Witcher's company is a delight, and a nice distraction from Jaskier's heartache. When he can't take Geralt's silence and avoidance anymore, he seeks Eskel and his warmth, bathing in the man's attention. After a month, he finds himself dreaming of tanned hands and dark hair as much as pale skin and silver strands.

At first, he feels guilty about it. Eskel does not deserve to be someone's second choice. What he deserves is unconditional, untainted love.

But as days pass, frost a little thicker on the blades of grass in the courtyard every morning, the mountains losing their warm autumn colours to shades of blue and grey, Jaskier and Eskel gravitate towards each other until they collide, softly and without a sound. It happens so naturally, Jaskier almost thinks he’s dreamt it when he wakes up one day at dawn, and instead of his freezing room, he opens his eyes to a broad, golden-skinned chest. His cheek rises and falls with the slow breaths where it rests on one plush pec, a pool of his own saliva glistening in a smattering of dark hair.

He hasn’t felt that relaxed in years, and only part of it is due to the frankly fantastic post-sex bliss he’s still basking in. There is no anxiety, no second thoughts. Eskel made sure to make his intentions clear before they fell into bed together, shocking Jaskier into silence with how open with his feelings he was. The bard still can’t help but compare how completely different Geralt and Eskel are.

They agreed to take things slow, to enjoy each other for the winter and then see where things take them. Jaskier knows he’s falling in love with Eskel, but it doesn’t feel scary. He won’t be alone once the time comes to make a decision.

It takes another week for him to move into Eskel’s room completely. They don’t bother hiding their new… entanglement, to the others. No secret can be kept in a keep full of Witchers, and neither Eskel nor Jaskier cares to pretend.

Lambert gives them shit, to no one’s surprise, and Ciri squeals in delight, the gossiping princess resurfacing for a few moments. Vesemir claps Eskel on the shoulder, before reminding all of them that they have chores to do.

Geralt doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier didn’t expect him to jump in joy, he’s not sure the Witcher is even capable of such displays of emotion, but the white-haired Witcher doesn’t even look at them, only ushers Ciri outside to the training grounds.

Over the next few weeks, Jaskier only sees him at supper. He’s gotten used to avoiding Geralt, to keep out of his way, but until then they would still meet in the hall when the weather was too bad for the Witchers to train outside, or at lunch when they would accidentally come in for a bite at the same time. Eskel and Geralt spend a considerable amount of time together, and Jaskier would often find them together doing whatever repair was needed, but these days, when he manages to escape his chores long enough to seek his lover for a stolen kiss or a quick fuck, Geralt is nowhere in sight.

When Jaskier asks his amber-eyed wolf one evening after they retired to their room, Eskel confirms what he already suspected.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, no,” the Witcher rumbles softly, a hand tracing arabesques on the bare skin of Jaskier’s back. “He goes hunting alone almost every day. He does that, sometimes, when he’s upset, though I’m not sure what it’s about, this time.”

Jaskier hums, pensive. His heart clenches at the thought of Geralt avoiding his own family. Guilt creeps on him, its long, sharp claws burying themselves under his ribs. How dare he come to Geralt’s only home, his only place of peace and acceptance, and claim a place in his brother’s heart? He’s done a shit job of fulfilling Geralt’s wish of having him out of his life, hasn’t he?

A strong arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the furnace of Eskel’s body.

“What’re you thinking of that makes you smell so sad, songbird?”

Jaskier smiles at the endearment. His wolf is generous with his affection, and Jaskier is selfish. He wants it all. But does he have any right to it, if he is taking it from Geralt?

“Do you think it’s because of us?” He asks, turning his head to rest his chin on Eskel’s sternum. “That Geralt is keeping to himself, I mean.”

Eskel frowns pensively. “I… don’t know. I suppose, in a way. But I think he’s mostly wallowing in his own self-loathing.”

“When isn’t he?” Jaskier teases.

The Witcher huffs, a sad half-smile tugging at his scars. “I was afraid he’d be jealous, or upset, hoping maybe it’d help him pull his head out of his own ass, but I’m afraid it’s buried even deeper than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get between the two of you, but I know Geralt. He ain’t gonna do anything about it, and then he’ll regret it once it’s too late.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Eskel, there’s nothing between me and Geralt.” Well, that’s not quite true. “I wanted there to be something, for a very long time, but… well, turns out I was the only one wanting it. If anything, I thought I was the one getting between the two of you.”

“Songbird, there hasn’t been anything but friendship between Geralt and I since before you were born.” Sadness clouds Eskel’s eyes for a second, and the piece Jaskier has been missing clicks into place.

“You and Geralt were together?” He asks, voice tight with emotion.

“Not sure we can even call it that,” a bitter smile twists Eskel’s scars in a painful grimace. “We found… comfort, with each other, when nothing else could give us that. But it hasn’t been like that in a very long time.”

“Why?”

Eskel shrugs with one shoulder, almost dislodging Jaskier from his position. “People change, songbird. And when you live as long as we do, well… you can’t expect things to stay the same forever. I’m glad we stayed as close as we are, despite him not wanting us to be anything other than friends anymore.”

The Witcher kisses the crown of Jaskier’s head and flicks his wrist, snuffing out the candles, a clear sign that the conversation is over. Jaskier doesn’t push, conscious this is a sensitive subject, but that doesn’t keep him from staring in the darkness for a long time after Eskel’s breaths have slowed and deepened, troubled by this new facet of the two men he loves.

Geralt’s reaction makes more sense now, why he would act so uncomfortable around Eskel and Jaskier now that the two of them are a thing. If Geralt still has feelings for his friend, then… seeing Jaskier, the man he hates and despises, whom he holds responsible for his every trouble (quite unfairly, in Jaskier’s opinion, but still), taking his place in the arms of the man he’s been in love with for longer than the bard has been alive… well, Jaskier can understand why he’d be upset.

There’s just a tiny bit of pettiness coming from the selfish, ugly part of him, that sings at the idea. Geralt broke his heart on that mountain top, isn’t it simple justice that Jaskier breaks his heart in turn?

But that line of thought is quickly smothered by guilt, and, more upsettingly, love. He’s loved Geralt for half his life now. No matter how hurt he might be, all he wants is for him to be happy. Or as happy as a self-loathing Witcher can be.

And it’s so obvious that Eskel loves him, too, now that Jaskier thinks about it. There’s a softness in his eyes and the corner of his mouth when he looks at Geralt that isn’t there when he’s around anyone else, an ease and a trust that Jaskier used to attribute to long term friendship but can only come from two bodies knowing each other intimately.

Jaskier can’t put himself between the two of them, can’t bear the idea of robbing both men of the little happiness they can find in a world that doesn’t accept them. And if he was Geralt, he would probably let Eskel down gently, taking himself out of the way and hoping the other two would get their shit together and talk, but he’s not, and if there’s a way that the three of them can find even a little satisfaction in this mess, then he’s going to try his best and make it happen.

He only hopes Geralt will listen to him.

It takes him a few days to work up the courage to approach the sullen White Wolf, and then another two to catch him alone, one night after dinner.

Unsurprisingly, he finds him in the stables, brushing down a Roach who seems more interested in nipping at Scorpion’s flanks than in the brooding Witcher in her stall. A wave of fondness overcomes Jaskier at the familiar sight, and he has to shake himself to remember what he’s come here to do.

“Geralt,” he says, softer than he intended. The Witcher doesn’t startle, but he tenses visibly, his grip on the brush turning white-knuckled. Jaskier lets out a trembling sigh, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning away and finding shelter in Eskel’s arms to cry his heartache away. “We need to talk.”

Geralt doesn’t gratify him with an answer, like maybe if he ignores Jaskier long enough the bard will go away. How he didn’t learn that doesn’t work in the twenty years they’ve known each other, Jaskier has no idea.

“It’s about Eskel.” That, at least, has the merit to catch Geralt’s attention, the Witcher turning his head just enough to peek at Jaskier from the corner of his eye.

“He told me, about… about the two of you. What you were to each other.”

Geralt sucks in a harp breath. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

And Jaskier can see this is a lie even with the Witcher turning his back to him. His heart clenches, for his best friend, despite everything that happened, and his lover, who have not allowed themselves to have what they both so visibly crave. “It does, though. It does matter. I’m not… I have no wish to keep you from each other, Geralt. I… I love him.” Jaskier chokes out, and something painful flashes in Geralt’s eyes. “And I… I…” he almost lets himself say it, bare his heart for Geralt to see, but he’s gotten too used to protecting himself, to hiding his most shameful truth. “I know you do, too.”

Geralt hangs his head between his shoulders, face hidden in the shadows, the warm, low light of the oil lamp he brought with him playing in his pale hair. “You’re making him happy. The two of you… you’re good, together. I am glad you found each other.”

“Are you really, Geralt? Because you’ve been avoiding us for weeks. It’s hurting him.” It’s hurting me, Jaskier doesn’t say, because none of this is about him. “Listen, I… I know you don’t want anything to do with me, I got that loud and clear, but if there’s a way… for us three to… to find satisfaction, then maybe…”

“Speak plainly, bard.”

Jaskier exhales, nerves making his throat tight. “You know I don’t believe in exclusive relationships,” and Geralt doesn’t, either; Yennefer and him both had lovers on the side, it was no secret between them. “If you and Eskel wanted to… start again where you left things, I see no issue with that. I want him to be happy, too. I… I want you to be happy, Geralt. You’re still important to me, even after everything.”

He’s said more than he wanted to, and Geralt doesn’t even deign to look at him. That’s so familiar it hurts. Jaskier smiles, an ugly thing full of regrets and unspoken words, and turns on his heels. He’s done his part. It’s up to Geralt to make a choice, now.

“Jaskier,” a broken voice says as a hand wraps around his wrist. He startles, and turns to find Geralt watching him with pleading eyes. It’s such an absurd sight, it leaves him speechless for a minute, and Geralt takes it as an encouragement to speak. The Witcher clears his throat. “I don’t… You’re…” the way he interrupts himself in obvious frustration, brow furrowed and lips thinned, is almost endearing. “You’re important to me, too.”

Tears swell in Jaskier’s eyes, and he tugs at his wrist to free it. Geralt lets him go without resistance.

“Please don’t lie to me, Geralt. I can take the hurt, I can take the rejection. But I won’t take the pity.” He almost spits the last sentence, and a surge of bitter satisfaction warms his painful heart at Geralt’s flinch.

“I’m not, I swear. I… I’ve missed you, Jask, I’ve missed you so much.” His voice is husky, weighed by shame and regret, and Jaskier has no doubt he is saying the truth. Geralt is a lot of things, but a good actor is not one of them. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about what I said to you after the dragon hunt. None of it was true, I… I was furious, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.”

When Jaskier let himself dream of this moment, while walking down of the mountain or in the dark of the cell the Nilfargiaans kept him in, he’d imagined how he’d make Geralt grovel, how he’d tell him about every little thing Jaskier had ever done for him, to make his life easier, to show him how he could find happiness even on the Path.

As it is, Jaskier only stares at Geralt for a few seconds before tugging him into a crushing embrace. “Fuck, I’ve missed you too, you stupid Witcher.”

Geralt makes a wounded noise but lets himself be engulfed in Jaskier’s arms, tucking his nose in the hollow of his throat. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, warm breath humid against the bard’s skin. “I wanted to come looking after you, but I had to make sure Ciri was safe…”

“I am glad you did,” Jaskier says, petting the hair at the nape of Geralt’s neck. “But why didn’t you say anything once Yennefer brought me to you? Geralt, we climbed up those damn mountains together. It’s been two months since we’ve been here. I thought you didn’t… that you didn’t want me here.”

Hands twist in the back of Jaskier’s thick woolen cape. “I didn’t know how to. While we were still on the Path I was worried about Nilfgaard catching up to us, about keeping Ciri and you fed and safe, and I thought this could wait until we were here. But then…” Geralt makes a frustrated noise so familiar it has Jaskier smiling in the crown of his head.

“Words were hard to find?”

He feels more than he sees Geralt’s nod. “And once you and Eskel became… involved, you seemed so much happier. I thought I’d only make things worse, and that you deserved to move on. To… forget about me. But I do want you here, Jaskier. If I had any right to it, I’d want you by my side always.”

A breath catches in Jaskier's throat, and tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Those are words he's dreamt of hearing for so many years, and he's finally hearing them now, in a stable smelling of horseshit and hay. It's so simple, so mundane, and yet he can barely bring himself to believe this is truly happening.

And maybe it's because he is stunned, or maybe because he's done hiding, but suddenly it feels so important that he says the truth.

"Geralt, you… you must know…" he pulls back, putting just enough distance between them that he can see Geralt's suspiciously red-rimmed eyes, that he can see how the Witcher reacts to his words. "I would have followed you anywhere, until my feet could carry me no more. You know that, right? I've never been subtle," he laughs wetly. Geralt is looking increasingly confused, like he has no idea what Jaskier is talking about, and that just doesn't make sense.

Making a frustrated sound, Jaskier twists his hands in the lapels of Geralt's thick winter coat, tugging him forward slowly so the Witcher can stop him if he wants.

But he doesn't, and their lips meet, harshly enough that Jaskier hopes it'll carry his meaning even through Geralt's thick skull.

It must work, because next thing he knows, he is being ravished quite thoroughly by an enthusiastic Witcher, a hand at the back of his head and another at the small of his back, under the hem of his cape. A thumb rubs circles at the base of his spine, and he's slowly melting into a puddle of contentment, his only thought a constant stream of this is happening, oh my fucking gods this is happening.

There's little time for the realization to set in, though, as a draft of cold wind fills the stables, and a soft "oh" pushes Jaskier and Geralt to separate.

Just outside of the circle of light cast by the oil lamp, Eskel stands watching them, eyebrows drawn up in surprise. Jaskier's guts clench in guilt and he steps away from Geralt hurriedly. "Eskel, it's not-" what you think, he doesn't finish, because that is a lie, and Eskel deserves better than lies.

But there's little else Jaskier can say to justify how Eskel just found him, kissing his best friend and former lover passionately in the middle of the night, when he should have been back in their shared bed an hour ago.

He knew he'd fuck up somehow. That's so classic.

The three of them are silent for a heartbeat, the horses shifting in their stalls the only noise in the cramped space, and Jaskier wants to cross the space between Eskel and him so badly, but he knows he doesn't have the right to, and it's killing him.

Just when his agony reaches a peak, Eskel's mouth curls at the corner, softness blooming in his eyes. "I see you've gotten your shit together," he says. " 's about time."

This is so completely out of what Jaskier expected him to say that he doesn’t manage to find a suitable answer. Surprisingly, Geralt is the one to talk next.

“I’m not going to take him from you,” he says cautiously.

“I know,” Eskel grins. “I know that if I asked you you would never even look at him again.”

Jaskier spares a glance for Geralt, and a pit opens in his gut at the acceptance he finds in his eyes.

“But that would make the three of us miserable,” Eskel adds. “And I won’t do that to Jaskier, or to you.”

“Eskel, what are you saying?” If his soft-hearted Witcher is suggesting what Jaskier thinks he is…

“I don’t see why things between us should change, songbird, if you wished to spend some nights in Geralt’s bed. Of course, if you two want to be exclusive to each other,” the first glimmer of doubt insinuates itself in Eskel’s kind voice, but he keeps speaking bravely, “then I will not impose myself.”

“No!” Jaskier says, a little too loud, his hand shooting up to grip at Eskel’s wrist. Roach nickers irritably in her stall at the disturbance.

“I… I mean, if both you and Geralt are amenable, there is space in my bed for the two of you.”

Eskel’s dark eyebrow arches. “Don’t you mean in my bed?”

But his hand closes around Jaskier’s reassuringly, warm and soft as he looks at Geralt. “What do you say, Wolf?”

And Geralt is watching them both with equal part fear and want in his eyes, like his deepest desire is just in reach but he isn’t sure if it’s not going to burn him at the first touch. Jaskier extends his free hand, and he can feel Eskel tensing infinitesimally beside him, careful to keep a relaxed posture, but as worried as Jaskier that their white-haired Witcher is going to bolt out the door to a more familiar loneliness.

Geralt surprises them both by taking Jaskier’s hand with an air of firm resolution, crossing the space between them slowly until he stands close enough to share their warmth. Eskel raises his left hand, cupping Geralt’s jaw with infinite softness. Jaskier can see in his eyes the same pride he is feeling himself, at their white wolf’s bravery.

The air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a rush when the two men’s lips meet like they weren’t ever meant to part. The contrast of Eskel’s golden skin against Geralt’s milky one is the most beautiful work of art he’s ever been given to see, and the tight heat in his lower belly tells him he wants to see more of it, now.

The two Witchers kiss for a long minute, Jaskier watching them with naked hunger and want, but for once not in a hurry to claim the attention back on himself. He makes an involuntary noise when Eskel nips at Geralt’s lower lip playfully, and two burning golden gazes turn on him. It’s so intense, so heavy, that another breath leaves Jaskier with a wheeze. A grin is spreading on Eskel’s handsome features, and Geralt’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“What do you think, Wolf? Do you think the two of us will be enough to satisfy our little bard?”

And oh, Jaskier does so want them to try.

Jaskier often prides himself loudly and brazenly of his carnal exploits as an Oxenfurt student and travelling bard. He’s had sex with numerous people of all genders and races, sometimes several at the same time, and has been praised for being a generous and enthusiastic lover.

Never has he been so overwhelmed after only a few minutes of foreplay.

There’s a cock down his throat and fingers in his arse and he’s trembling all over. Eskel is soothing him with a palm to his side, murmuring praise as he pushes three thick, oiled fingers to Jaskier’s prostate.

Geralt is brushing a hand down his cheek, feeling his own cock through the stretched skin. Jaskier sucks and licks with single-minded focus, moaning and wiggling when Eskel executes a particularly well-aimed thrust.

“Look at him, asking for more even when he’s stuffed full,” Eskel smugly says to Geralt as he gives a sharp slap to the bard’s arse. Jaskier yelps and jumps forward, Geralt’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He chokes and gags but doesn’t relent, breathing through his nose expertly. Geralt wipes the tears from his cheeks, the tender motion in stark contrast with his curses and animalistic grunts. It’s a contradiction Jaskier is quickly becoming addicted to.

He's so focused on his worship of Geralt's glorious cock he doesn't notice Eskel's fingers slipping out of his hole before they are replaced with the fat head of his prick. He gasps, letting Geralt's hard length slip out of his mouth, resting his temple against his hip as he breathes through the intrusion. He still hasn't gotten used to Eskel's girth, the stretch leaving him drooling and dazed every time.

They're all still as Jaskier accommodates it, testing the sensation with little clenches of his arse that have Eskel grunting and squeezing the plump flesh of his cheeks.

"'m good, you can move," Jaskier mumbles in the dip of Geralt's hip, and Eskel pulls out to execute a few shallow thrusts, getting the both of them used to the new sensations.

When he picks up speed, a hand threads in Jaskier's hair, pulling him to look up and meet a painfully tender gaze. Geralt holds him with one hand, the other grasping his own cock and guiding it back into Jaskier’s begging mouth, smearing a trail of pre-come on his cheek on the way.

It's easy to lose himself into it after that. He is full, warm and content, and he wishes he could stay that way forever, pinned between his two lovers, pleasing them with his wet mouth and his tight arse. Used for their pleasure alone.

He's only human, though, and his stamina can't compare to two Witchers'. He spills almost as soon as Eskel gets a hand on his cock, his wails muffled by Geralt's.

Geralt is caring enough to let Jaskier breathe as he comes down, cradling the bard’s face in his hands, but Eskel doesn't pull out. They've talked about each other's boundaries at length, he knows Jaskier can take more.

He's brushing his thumb where Jaskier and him are connected, hole fluttering with the last spasms of his orgasm. Jaskier whimpers at the sensation.

"Damn, you always get so loose and sloppy when you've come… do you think you could take the two of us like this?"

Jaskier's chest swells with a sob at the thought, arms trembling where they struggle to keep him up. The fingers around his jaw squeeze lightly, demanding his attention, and he meets Geralt's gaze once again.

"Answer to Eskel, pretty lark," Geralt rumbles. "Is it too much? Do you want more?"

"Yes," Jaskier manages to slur. "More, please. I want… I want both of you."

Geralt's pupils expand impossibly larger, and he bends to kiss Jaskier languidly.

He's a very thorough kisser, grunting at the taste of himself on Jaskier's tongue. Tears well up in Jaskier's eyes as emotion seizes his heart. Finally, he thinks, finally, I get to have him.

He shouts in the kiss, breaking their connection, when Eskel's thumb slips along his cock in Jaskier's hole.

The stretch is intense, even with how relaxed Jaskier is from his climax, and his arms give out, his face squashing into the mattress with a moan.

Geralt chuckles above him before gathering the weak bard into his arms, shuffling them so Jaskier is propped against his chest, while Eskel keeps opening him from behind.

It’s too warm there, pinned between his two Witchers, but Jaskier doesn’t have any complaint. Geralt resumes kissing him to distract him from the almost too intense stretch, and it works. When his breath grows too ragged, Geralt frees his lips and lets him rest his head against his shoulder for a second, lungs expanding with deep gulps of breath. Geralt and Eskel talk in hushed voices, but he can’t focus on what they’re saying, his every thought gathering around the point where he is stretched wider than he’s ever been around Eskel’s cock and fingers.

He is manhandled without difficulty, until he is straddling Geralt’s lap, Eskel still buried hilt deep in him, Geralt mouthing at his neck, two pairs of large hands roaming his sides, his back, his stomach.

“You ready, songbird?” Eskel rumbles in his ear, the low timbre of his voice piercing through the thick fog in Jaskier’s fucked out brain.

The bard nods into Geralt’s shoulder, whining pitifully.

“Did you actually manage to fuck words out of him, Eskel?” Geralt says with a hint of humour, squeezing Jaskier against him affectionately. “Might have to give you a medal for that.”

“Hm. What about a kiss?”

Jaskier smiles groggily at the sounds of intense making-out next to his ear, turning his head to admire the view. Geralt and Eskel truly are gorgeous together, skins lit by the candles, sweat beading on their foreheads, a drop rolling down the crease of one of Eskel’s scars to where his lips join Geralt’s. Their kiss is all teeth and tongue, playful and nipping, fighting for a control none of them truly cares about. It’s a sight Jaskier hopes to be graced with every day of his life from now on.

But for now, impatience is making him clench and grind around Eskel, who breaks his and Geralt’s kiss to grunt. “We haven’t forgotten about you, songbird, don’t worry.”

He cups Jaskier’s cheek in his hand to meet his lips, tasting of Geralt and himself.

There’s a new pressure at Jaskier’s entrance and he gasps in Eskel’s mouth when he realizes it’s Geralt’s cock pushing inside him. The three of them moan in unison when it gets past the ring of muscles and slides besides Eskel’s prick. They stay still, panting for a few moments, until Jaskier garbles a “move” and Eskel complies, taking the lead. Geralt, carrying most of Jaskier’s weight, is slower at the beginning, but picks up speed, moving in counterpart to Eskel, never leaving Jaskier empty even for a single second. They hit his prostate with every thrust in, overwhelming him so quickly he’s only a ragdoll between the two of them after only a few minutes of the same treatment.

Eskel and Geralt lavish his throat and shoulders with soft bites and soothing licks, meeting for a kiss over him once or twice.

Jaskier comes quickly, his cock rutting against Geralt’s toned abs, the friction barely enough to have him tip over the edge, coating the rippling muscles in thick white come. Eskel follows him rapidly, his thrusts growing erratic until he spills deep into Jaskier’s ass, whispering his name reverently in the short hair at the nape of his neck. Geralt joins them after a few more thrusts, grunting his release into Jaskier’s collarbone, goosebumps breaking over the skin of his back.

The Witchers’ softening pricks slip out of his ass and Jaskier hisses at the sudden chill of emptiness. A dribble of come drips from his sensitive hole, gaping and fluttering, and Eskel takes a sharp intake of breath at the sight, fingers coming to brush the abused flesh. Jaskier whimpers in protest, too tired to move, and Geralt shushes him with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

They bring him down to the mattress, arranging his limbs comfortably. One of them - Jaskier doesn’t open his eyes to check which - gets up and brings back a rag to clean him up and a waterskin, bullying him to drink even though all he wants is to lie down and sleep.

Finally, they all snuggle up together on the bed that is slightly too small for three grown men, the room stinking of sex.

There will be a lot to talk about, tomorrow when they wake up, but for now Jaskier buries his nose in the crook of Geralt’s neck, Eskel plastered to his back, both their hands meeting on his chest, over his slowly beating heart. Content. Warm. Jaskier drifts off with a smile on his face and a new song in his mind.

#the witcher #jaskier #eskel #geralt #jaskier/eskel/geralt #geraskel #my writing #prompt fill #nsft #greyduckgreygoose

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scarletwidowaf · 3 years

Note

Imagine that no power AU where Natasha falls for this cute artsy girl and slowly finds out (to her horror) that Wanda's not just some random artsy crafts girl who plays guitar, but the (adopted) Granddaughter of the owner of the company Natasha works for. As in oh, oh no, that's Carter's grandbaby, Carter's gonna kill me.

baby carter

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff (scarlet widow \ wandanat)

warnings: cursing? Terrible grammar and writing maybe because my brain's having hard time.

A\N: soft scarlet widow- Natasha being awkward and charming and Wanda being absolutely adorable. also, I honestly don't know what I feel bout it - I think it's kinda messy especially compared to my latest work.

words: idk... a lot?

masterlist

Natasha's been working in carter's Law Firm for almost 3 years now, slowly climbing up the company's hierarchical food chain, yet not enough to get the well-deserved promotion she was aching to get.

Not that she was ungrateful, hell no. not long after she graduated she got the job in carter's, which was one of the best and strongest law firms in the market. This means that not only that she found herself working alongside some of the best lawyers in the world, she truly couldn't complain about the paycheck she was getting every month.

Natasha wasn't ungrateful, but she was driven and she knew she was great at her job, hell, she was the best young lawyer in her class, yet, after 3 years in the firm, she was still working under Coulson. Which naturally means, she did a lot of dirty work instead of representing her own cases. Working with Coulson was great, really, the man was nice, sweet, a bit nerdy at times, and of course, such a great lawyer. Looking back, Natasha should give him credit for many things she achieved in the last 3 years, and one of them was meeting the love of her life- the one and only Wanda Maximoff.

One Thursday evening, as she was just finishing up some paperwork at the firm's office in New York, she got a call from Coulson, who let her know they were cutting the day short following personal constraints.

Instead of going straight home to rest after the brutal week, as she probably should've done, she decided to text Steve and Tony to see if they were free. luckily for her, her two best friends were willing to sacrifice any plans they had for this fine Thursday night, to celebrate the rare occasion of Natasha getting out of the firm before 8 pm.

The bar steve chose was nice, rather quiet and chill. Naturally, tony didn't seem to be a fan of the blonde's choice, but since it was Steve's turn to choose a place there wasn't much he could've done about it.

"We should sit near the stage" Steve said as he spotted an empty table at the other side of the bar, near the stage.

"What's wrong with you rogers? Do you want us to sit near the stage where random people will try to squick their hearts out to a Celine Dion song?" Tony sneered out, his eyes shooting daggers at the blonde as they sat.

"It's not a karaoke bar, tony" Natasha defended steve's choice.

"Yeah, this bar hosts young talented artists, I think it's awesome and refreshing" the blonde explained.

"I still hate it" tony said.

"We don't care" Natasha said as a waitress came to the table.

Over an hour and a half later, 3 performances were over and two bawls of fries as well, the next artist got onto the stage.

The woman was young, probably younger than Natasha, and beautiful.

She was dressed rather simply compared to the other artists, just a plain white T and an old pair of skinny jeans.

Natasha noticed that some strands of her dark brown hair got stuck under her red guitar's strap.

The woman was smiling nervously as she introduced herself to the crowd and Natasha couldn't help but send her an encouraging small smile.

Surprisingly for her, the woman smiled back.

Tony and steve noticed it as well and they exchanged knowing looks.

The singer's voice was almost as beautiful as her.

Her fingers softly strumming on the frets- as almost as it was second nature, while her soft angelic voice filled the room, sending chills through Natasha's body.

Natasha smiled when she noticed how quiet the bar became, everyone seemed to be enchanted by the young singer.

When the singer finished her preference she smiled brightly to the audience, who cheered for her loudly- as she deserved, and got off the stage.

Natasha noticed the poor singer who was supposed to try and top her incredible performance. He seemed miserable.

"Earth to nat!?" Tony waved his hand in front of Natasha. The redhead blinked twice before tearing her attention from the singer and to her friends.

Steve was smiling at her, his eyes glittering in enthusiasm, while tony smirked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, what?" She asked.

Steve laughed and tony sigh.

"We said that she was really good" the blonde explained

"Not that you haven't noticed it, you've been practically drooling," Tony said.

"I was not" she defended herself

"You were," he said. "But we don't judge you Romanoff, its natural, she was pretty and you didn't get laid in a while. Plus- You always had a thing for the innocent looking ones" he explained and Natasha sent him her dirtiest glare.

If a look could kill tony stark would've been dead by now.

"Okay first, I wasn't drooling. Second, fuck you"

"Nice comeback" tony taunted her with a smirk, knowing full well he wasn't completely wrong.

"You should ask her out. You seem to like her"

Steve smiled at her and Natasha knew he meant it- he was was always the sweetest one of the three.

"Fancy her" tony corrected steve.

"She Like her" steve raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Fancy" tony taunted

"Li-" steve was about to argue again until Natasha cut the stupid argument off.

"Fuck off you too," she said and waved to the waiter, hoping that another beer might make the two less annoying.

When the waiter didn't come, Natasha got frustrated, her two friends started to argue over another idiotic thing: steve's lack of love life and tony's girlfriend's lack of taste In men.

"I'm gonna get a refill," she said as she got up. The two sent her quick okays before getting back to their bickering.

When Natasha approached the bar she noticed a familiar face.

The singer was sitting in front of the bar's counter with a glass of mojito. She seemed to be having a polite conversation with the bartender.

"Hey, I'm sorry to interrupt but can I have a refill?" Natasha asked the bartender. The man smiled at her and nodded before he replaced her empty cup with a new one.

The singer smiled at her softly again- Natasha smiled nervously at her.

"I'm Natasha" Natasha said awkwardly to the girl, her cheeks flushed.

Wanda smiled back at her "hey Natasha, I'm Wanda" Wanda, the singer said as she held out her hand for a handshake.

Natasha took her hand, praying to whatever god exist that her hand wasn't sweaty.

'What's wrong with me?' She thought as she mentally faces palmed herself.

"I liked your performance," Natasha said and Wanda smiled at her.

Natasha smiled back, happy she had the privilege to be the reason the singer smiled.

"Thank you" wanda thanked her.

"I saw you at the front line," Wanda said and Natasha nodded.

"Yeah, my friend likes this place. He chose the table" she admitted.

"That's nice, I'm guessing it's your first time in here"

"Yeah, it is actually. Was I that obvious?" Natasha joked and Wanda laughed.

"Just a little bit," Wanda said with a smile "what do you think about it so far?"

"It's really nice, honestly" Natasha admitted.

"Yeah, I think that as well. I come here often with my cousin and brother but its the first time I was on stage"

"Well, you were great. Seriously. You were" she started before gazing at the stage briefly, catching the sight of the young singer who went up after Wanda. "sorry, are- the best singer" she continued and Wanda blushed.

"Thank you it means a lot"

"Anytime," Natasha said back

"I should really go... It was lovely meeting you Natasha." Wanda said as she checked the time, a small frown on her lips.

"You too," Natasha said.

Wanda nodded at her before getting up and turning around from Natasha to pull her guitar.

when Natasha took a small sip from her beer she catches the bartender's eye.

The guy was giving her the 'are you kidding me?!' look- who was a well-known look she was familiar with from years of friendship with tony.

"Hey Wanda-" Natasha said to Wanda, who was about to walk away. The singer turned back around with a small confused smile.

"Yeah?" She asked

"Would you like to, maybe, I don't know.. go out sometime?" Natasha stuttered.

'Did I just fucking stuttered!?' She mentally kicked herself.

"Yeah.. id like that" Wanda said with a smile. The brunette took a pen out of her jeans pocket and scribble something on Natasha's arm.

"Call me," Wanda said with a smile before she smiled at the bartender, who tried to look busy with anything but them.

"Bye bucky" she laughed at his antics and left.

Natasha looked up from the scrabble on her hand, who was- of course Wanda's number with a small heart at the bottom, and exchange looks with bucky the bartender.

"That went well, right?" She asked him dumbfounded and he laughed before handing her a shot glass with vodka.

"Yeah it did.. friendly advice, don't fuck it up" he said as passed her a slice of lemon.

Natasha downed the shot, nodded at him as she took her beer, and left the lemon on the counter. Her legs taking her back to her table. both of her friends were staring at her with wide eyes.

"Hell yeah Romanoff!" Tony said excitedly.

Natasha smiled at tony before looking at steve with a chuckle "the bartender is your type" she said as she set.

Steve gave her a 'are you kidding me look before his eyes traveled from her to the bartender at the bar.

----------------------ᱬ----------------------

Not long after Natasha and Wanda met again, a few times actually. 10 minutes into their first date, Natasha knew she was in trouble.

Wanda was completing Natasha on almost every level she thought about.

Wanda was carefree and dorky as Natasha was a stressed workaholic.

Wanda liked homemade meals and cooking while Natasha was practically living on boxed mac and cheese or takeout.

Natasha loved to binge movies and random tv shows into the night while Wanda liked getting up early to watch the sunrise.

Wanda loved fruity alcoholic drinks while Natasha preferred it clean.

Wanda was a splash of color in Natasha's black and white life.

Not long after, Natasha asked wanda to be her girlfriend- it happened in a month and a half after their first meeting as the two women laid in Wanda's bed, naked and sweaty with their limbs intertwined.

She could've done it more romantic, but both girls truly couldn't give a damn about it.

Wanda's apartment was incredible.

The studio apartment was big and bright.

The apartment's walls color was cream and the tall window frames were covered with white curtains.

In the beginning, Natasha didn't really understand why wanda even bother to use these curtains since the sun would light the room either way, (she found out about this terrible trait when she first stayed over and found herself awake and cursing under her breath at 7 am) But, luckily for her, Natasha learned rather fast why the younger girl's windows where ALWAYS covered. It was simple, really.

Wanda had this habit to walk around the apartment half-naked, or completely naked on better days, and as much as Natasha was grateful for that (and she was), she truly wasn't the one to share, especially not the image of her naked girlfriend as she walked around the apartment or squirmed under her touch on the bed- or anywhere they chose, really.

"Nat?" Wanda whispered softly as she was playing with her sleepy girlfriend's hair and spread soft kisses on her back.

"Hm?" Natasha hummed, half asleep.

"There's something I need to tell you" Wanda said softly. Her voice barely a whisper.

"Is everything okay, baby?" Natasha asked as she turned around to face the taller woman.

Natasha's eyebrows were tightened together in worry and Wanda couldn't help but kiss her on the nose.

"Yeah" she whispered and Natasha waited patiently for her to continue "it's just that.. there's something I need to tell you... about my family"

"Okay.." Natasha encouraged her to continue.

"My family-" she started, but got cut off by Natasha's phone buzzing on the nightstand.

"Fuck" Natasha cursed before turning around to check who it was- and if she can ignore it.

The name on the screen was definitely a sight she could not ignore.

"Just a second baby, it's my boss" she said as she pulled herself up to answer the phone. by doing so, Natasha missed wanda's guilty lip bite.

----------------------ᱬ----------------------

That's how things went for another month. In this month Natasha got the promotion she wanted which meant she was enthusiastic for days later- and Wanda couldn't bear the thought of ruining it for her.

And that's how it went overtime.

Every time Wanda manage to muster enough courage to tell Natasha whatever she wanted to say, something happened and ruined it.

But jean Racine was indeed right: 'there are no secrets that time does not reveal', and unfortunately for both women, wanda's secret got revealed in a rather unpleasant and awkward situation.

It was a pretty normal day for Natasha.

Or at least it started as one. she spent the night at Wanda's again, which means she had a hard time leaving bed in the morning but she managed it so now, a few hours later, she was having lunch at a deserted meeting room with a few friends from the office

"hey, nat.. is that your girlfriend??" Sam asked, his eyes following a girl who passes near the glass door.

"Wanda?" Natasha asked him confused.

They weren't supposed to meet today for lunch, didn't they?

"Do you have another girlfriend I'm not aware of?" He asked

"Shut up Wilson, why would Wanda be here!?"

"I don't know Romanoff, she's your girlfriend. All I can say is that she seemed to be in a deep conversation with Sharon"

"Carter?"

"the one and only" Carol whispered and Gamora rolled her eyes at the girl.

"Will you stop being weird?" Gamora asked and Carol shook her head.

"Why would she have a conversation with Sharon fucking Carter" Natasha asked confused

"Maybe you should ask her...?” the man asked

"Oh shit I think they're coming over here, pretend to be busy," Carol said as she dived back into her salad.

The others do the same as well.

A few moments later the glass door was pulled open by Sharon.

Her smile wide.

"Hey guys" Sharon said as she opened the door and git into the room, wanda following behind-

Probably unaware of her girlfriend's presence until moments later when their eyes met.

Wanda looked like she was about to die.

"Wanda?" Natasha asked. Her eyebrows knitted together.

"Wait, You know each other?" Sharon asked as she turned to the brunette

"Yeah-" she started

"How do you guys know each other" Natasha cut her girlfriend off. Her eyes were still wide with confusion.

"We're cousins" the blonde explained and Wanda bit her lip.

Natasha stared at her girlfriend, hoping to get an explanation from her.

"Wait how do you to know each other"

"She's my girlfriend," Wanda said softly as Natasha got up from her chair.

Sharon's eyes were wide "didn't see that coming" she muttered

"Tell me about that" Natasha said, more to her girlfriend than to her boss.

"I'm going out for a smoke," she said simply before leaving the room.

"Nat-" Wanda started as she followed her, leaving the other remaining members of the room confused.

"Really?" Sharon asked again.

"Well, that was something," sam said and gamora nodded.

"That's classic," Carol said as she quietly laughed to herself

Meanwhile, at the elevator, things were going less smoothly for the couple.

"You're my boss's niece and you didn't think about telling me this?" Natasha shot at Wanda as the elevator door opened and the two went outside.

"I was trying to tell you, nat. I swear. That was the thing I tried to tell you about this whole month But every time I tried to something happened" Wanda explained as Natasha lit her cigarette.

"Why didn't you say anything when we started dating and got to know each other?" Natasha asked.

The lawyer wasn't sure if she was more hurt by the fact Wanda kept this secret from her or terrified by the fact she was dating her boss's niece

"Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you look at me right now" Wanda defended herself.

"How do I look at you wanda?" Natasha asked hurt.

"Like I'm no longer the same artsy girl you met at the bar" Wanda whispered

Natasha laughed bitterly

"Come on Wanda you know I don't give a shit about it. I love you and the fact you're a carter won't change it. You are the same artsy girl from the bar, who happened to be my boss's nephew. You should've said something."

"You're right, I shouldn't have kept this away from you. It was destined to get out eventually and the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you" Wanda took the cigarette out of Natasha's lips.

"I made a mistake and I can't change it."

Wanda continued and Natasha sigh

"I wanted you to know me, and I was scared you'll judge me or see me as a carter like most people do."

Wanda put her hand on Natasha's cheek and Natasha kissed her palm, encouraging her to continue her speech.

"Fuck, nat, I'm not even in this business- yeah they're my family but that's it. the only other connection I have to this firm is the fact I'm in love with one of its lawyers" Natasha's eyes lit up and Wanda blushed furiously.

"You're in love with me?" Natasha asked as she played pulled her girlfriend closer, A small cocky smile on her lips as Wanda rolled her eyes

"For someone so fucking smart you can be so dense sometimes," Wanda said and Natasha laughed "Of course I do moron."

"I love you too," Natasha said before kissing Wanda softly on the lips.

"Can you forgive me, then?"

"It depends," Natasha said with the best poker straight face she could muster.

"On?" Wanda asked with her eyebrow raised.

"Is there any other relative- who can fire my ass, I need to know about?"

Wanda smiled kissed Natasha's lips deeply.

"No!" She said when they broke away and the two laughed.

Natasha wiped away the younger woman's tears before kissing her lips again. This time softly.

"Good, now if you don't mind maximoff. My break's over and I should really get back before your cousin will fire my ass"

"Well technically.. she's my cousin in law, I'm peggy's grandchild, adopted one, and she's her nephew" Wanda explained

"Can she fire my ass?" Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well.. yeah..?"

"Then my point still stands.

"Shut up Romanoff! you and I both know Sharon won't' fire your ass' because you're the best lawyer in this damn place" wanda argued

"Who fucks her cousin..-"

"You're right.. she might fire you" wanda joked and took her girlfriend's hand in hers.

"Or murder me" Natasha continued as her girlfriend pulled her back into the building and to the elevator.

"Yeah" Wanda laughed when they got into the elevator and the doors closed.

Wanda kissed Natasha's lips softly before pressing the button of their destined floor. "Or murder you"

#Scarlet Witch #Scarlet Widow #scarletwidow #Black Widow #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wanda x natasha #natasha x wanda #Scarlett Johansson #Elizabeth Olsen #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #tony stark #sam wilson #gamora #Carol Danvers #sharon carter #peggy carter

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dilly-oh · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left.

He had to do laundry.

“Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

“You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

“It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.”

“Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

“They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

“I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

“Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

“Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.”

“Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever.

There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin.

Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be.

Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

“Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!”

Everyone immediately turned to look.

Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

“You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag.

“I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

“Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,�� Genma cooed.

“You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats.

Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back.

“Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.”

Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

“It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

“Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip.

Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

“Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

“Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

“I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

“Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

“Oh, I'm dead serious.”

The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads.

“Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

“It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave.

“But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

“So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?”

“Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-”

“See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock.

Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

“You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #naruto #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #laundry #laundromats #but seriously how else does Kakashi clean them little vests #i want answers

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years

Text

ok so like i had this idea for a while n it took me MONTHS to finish bc i was nvr content w/ my writing n whatnot yadda yadda yadda anyway,, this is basically a what if thing about the triads shooting trevor in ludendorff n michael realizing how dumb he is

(my apologies that it’s so fuckin looooooong but I didn’t wanna leave it on a short note that felt incomplete. hope y’all like it !!!!! sorry for any grammatical errors or if the formatting’s funky)

Why didn’t he realize it sooner? Was he stupid? No, no. He was just blind. Blind for the past 10 years. Who knows. Maybe even longer than that. Fucking Michael. It always came back to that venomous shithead, constantly ruining everything for him. Did he just... forget? Was he so focused on that bloodsucker when he was “dying” in front of him he completely forgot Brad got shot first? That Brad died first? He didn’t even really think about him when shit went down. Or care much about Brad in general for that matter. The guy was a dick who just worked with other dicks back in the day, eventually joining their motley crew. A fading memory more than anything. His primary focus had always been Michael, who he thought was his right hand man. Trevor always knew that there was something different about him. As frustrating as Michael could be, it still didn’t change how he felt deep down. Michael wasn’t like the others. Or at least, that’s what he had thought. The night he found out that Michael’s lie ran deeper than he led on was one he wouldn’t forget.

He arrived at Michael’s house in a short amount of time. Hopping up the steps he made his presence known, standing in the entrance of the living room. He plopped down next to Michael, who scooted away from him slightly, still not ready for close contact from Trevor.

“Family ain’t back yet, huh?”

“Nope.”

“She’s a Goddamn fool, man.”

Trevor was never one to hide his jealousy towards Amanda. The two had been going at it for years, and it was always regarding Michael. Catty behavior between two people who had complicated relationships with the man, in their own unique ways. Amanda was scared of Trevor, but was never afraid of talking shit to his face. It was never any serious threats whenever they shot petty quips at one another anyway. She knew Trevor would never kill or harm her, all thanks to Michael, who spoke up again.

“Despite all the chaos of these last few weeks, I think I finally figured it out… I know, it sounds ridiculous-“

To Trevor, the thought wasn’t ridiculous. He knew Michael would never change. He would always be a killer, a man of action through and through. He was wasting away on a couch, rewatching classic Vinewood every night. To him, it only seemed right for Michael to keep taking scores.

“You’re back man!” He proclaimed, emphasizing his next line, “We are back!”

With excitement in his eyes, Trevor went on to boast about the little clique they had formed, and how they only needed to bust Brad out to fully reunite. Michael looked solemn, shaking his head slightly.

“That’s not it. I got money, it just makes you miserable-“ Now it was his turn to have excitement shine in his eyes.

“I wanna make movies.”

“Great. That’s great… and uh, so where exactly does this leave me in the second act of your life?”

He felt his stomach sink somewhat, regretting having asked that question. Michael would always tiptoe around it, avoiding the inevitable. But he couldn’t run from the past anymore. It would always catch up to him.

“This is not a game to me! Alright? This is a fuckin’ way of life.”

“I got a fuckin’ family!”

“Yeah, well, I got nothin’! No one gives a fuck about me!”

There was a pause. A hesitation. Amber eyes looked sorrowfully yet savagely into pale blue ones.

“I do.”

Something in Trevor snapped hearing those words. He couldn’t stand the audacity of Michael saying that to him. Because to him, Michael didn’t seem to give a fuck about what happened to Trevor. No matter how many times he lamented to him about everything he went through.

“Oh… Fuck you.”

Trevor rose from his seat, beginning to pace around the room, stabbing a finger in Michael’s direction. He did nothing but stare between his feet, not bothering to look up at Trevor.

“I saw your grave. I mourned you. And then it turns out that everything I fucking thought about you was wrong. Everything! You’re not dead, and you’re not a man.”

Michael shot up from his seat, cool demeanor abandoned in a fit of anger.

“Well, what the fuck are you?”

“I’m your fucking nightmare!”

“Yeah, enough with your Goddamn threats!”

Trevor did nothing but scoff at him, backing away like he was about to leave the room. Instead, some kind of alarm went off in his head, urging him to stay and ask the question he pushed far into the back of his mind. The inevitable was happening, and he couldn’t ignore the need to ask anymore. If Michael himself stood before him alive as ever, then who the fuck was in Michael Townley’s grave? Then suddenly, and ultimately, it clicked for him. Fucking Brad.

“You treacherous piece of shit! You’re fuckin’ dead! You’re fucking dead!”

As it clicked for Trevor, it clicked for Michael.

“Oh, fuck! Trevor! Hey, T!”

He peeled out of the driveway in Michael’s car. God, it smelled just like that fucking prick. It made him want to cry.

“Fuck!” He screamed out to no one in particular.

He slammed on the gas and wiped away any forming tears. His phone began to ring and he saw an all too familiar photo appear. Michael. What the fuck could he possibly say or want right now?

“Fuck you.” He spat out.

“Hey, come on. Where you going?”

“You know where I’m going, fuck you!”

The fucking nerve of him to ask that. What was wrong with him? The rest of the conversation wasn’t any better. It sounded like some stupid break up between two teens, as if Michael had cheated on him with some hooker instead of lying about the past decade or so.

“Trevor, come on!”

“Fuck you Michael! Soon enough, I will.”

He was on his way to the air field, and dialed up Ron as soon as he could. He needed to get out of here before Michael could stop him.

“Trevor? It’s great to uh..”

“Is there a plane I can use? Get me across country?”

“Sure! Sure. We got one fueled up for a trip south of the border.”

“I’m taking it.”

“Is everything okay, man?”

“Everything is not okay. Nothing has ever been okay but I’m going up there to see it for myself. I’m going to see an old friend alright? If you’re where I think you are buddy...”

Trevor gripped the steering wheel harder until his knuckles turned white. Tears stung his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it out.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it. I guess.. I guess I didn’t want to. Fuck!”

He clutched his phone tightly as he spoke, cracking the already shattered screen more. His voice was faltering, and it became harder to speak clearly.

“Maybe I knew all along. I’m gonna find out for sure and I’m gonna... do something about it! God there was always something wrong with that job, what went down after I guess I-“

The tears made their way down his face. His voice trembled and threatened to crack.

“I guess I wanted to believe- Fucking.. Fucking flea circus!”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Too many things began to resurface. Seeing red, he just cried out to Ron, still on the phone patiently listening to him rant.

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

“I’m sorry Trevor...”

He slammed on the gas as he approached the airfield. Running over to the plane, he hopped in and began his journey to Ludendorff. As he left, storm clouds poured in and darkened the sky. A thick rain accompanied by the thunder and lighting combo shook the small plane he was in. He braced himself for the rest of the trip there and kept going.

Ludendorff was just like he remembered. Cold, empty, and super fucking depressing. Why was the midwest like this all the time? Sure, living it up in Sandy Shores wasn’t the most ideal but for fucks sake, at least it was warm. He pulled up to the cemetery shortly after landing, and hurried off to find that God forsaken grave. After glancing at each passing gravestone, there it was. The late great Michael Townley’s place of burial.

“Who you got in here..?”

He scoffed, knowing his answer.

“As if I need to ask...”

It took forever to reach the coffin. The wood was brittle, which meant it would be easy enough to pry open and see who was actually in Michael’s place. He had been so caught up in his digging he didn’t notice a set of steps coming at him.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Trevor was wasting his time? No, he was making perfectly good use of it. Michael was wasting his if anything. Flying all the way out here for what? No, don’t say it... Was it finally gonna happen? Was Michael waiting for the opportunity to finally take a pop at him and leave his carcass for good? To toss him right into the grave with Brad? He didn’t want to believe so but hey, it’s Michael. Who knows what he’ll do. He couldn’t bear to listen to another word that came out of his mouth, and knew he needed to get the jump on him.

“You reptilian motherfucker!”

How did it end up here? Why was he pointing a gun at Michael? What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t want to kill him. He never did, even if he had a million justifiable reasons to.

“I didn’t want it to have to come to this.”

There it was again. The fucking lying. That same exact fucking lying that got them here to begin with.

“Yes you did! You just don’t have the fucking balls to do it! But I do!”

But Trevor was also a hypocrite. He didn’t have it in him to ever go through with killing Michael. No matter what the son of a bitch did to him, he meant too much to Trevor for him to ever consider killing the man himself. He didn’t want to think about being the cause of him dying for good.

“I’ve got more to lose than you!”

“Never a truer word has been spoken, brother.”

He said that with as much malice as he could muster. Michael was the farthest fucking thing from being a brother. This was a man he had loved. Hell, still loved, despite it feeling more and more like a stranger before him with each encounter they had.

“Now.. pull the fucking trigger.”

The air was too still. It was choking him, making him feel frozen. Sure, weather played a part in the feeling but this... was different. His blood felt like ice. He couldn’t do it.

“You ain’t got the guts.”

Neither of them could do it. Even if he fired he knew he’d miss. Michael had the upper hand here.

“Take the fucking shot!”

Wait. Was Michael... crying? No. No way the great Michael fucking Townley was actually crying over this. That motherfucker. He’s such a fucking fraud. A coward. Always running. Running from Trevor, his past, his problems, his family and his fucking emotions.

His train of thought had been interrupted when he heard snow faintly crunching not too far from them.

“What was that?-“

A noise shot through the tense air that surrounded them. Woosh. Fuck. No. It couldn’t be- Ow. No. No fucking way. He looked down in awe and there it was, a distinct bullet hole, pierced through his torso. It nearly missed his heart, but was most certainly in a spot to do enough damage to him. He looked back up at Michael, mouth slightly agape leaking with the blood that began to pool in his mouth. Peaking behind him, he saw two figures lingering far behind. The fucking Triads. Of course, how could he forget? It’s not everyday you slam the head of a Chinese mobster’s son into a post. Fucking shit. If only he hadn’t messed with Tao…

He was fucked, and he didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he felt himself wanting to collapse on the ground. Michael looked at him in pure disbelief, eyes wide enough to pop from his head. Normally Trevor would giggle at the sight, but any noise from him would be a gurgle of blood in place of it.

“…Trevor?”

That was enough to knock him to the ground.

“Mr. Phillips! Mr. Cheng wants a word with you!”

Michael whipped his head back, and began dragging the two of them to cover. Was that supposed to be a fucking warning shot?? The one who shot Trevor spoke in Chinese to the other gunman, then spoke in English to the duo.

“Phillips! You and your boyfriend cannot hide from us!”

Michael grabbed his gun and started firing back, clipping the two in the front instantly.

“Trevor… what the fuck did you get into?! What are they on about? I… I’m not…”

Trevor couldn’t speak. He could only murmur at the man beside him.

“Trevor, seriously, you better answer me because I’m pretty fucking lost here-“

He angrily turned his head back to find Trevor on the verge of slipping out of consciousness, his face dropping at what was before him.

“Ah, Trevor! Shit!”

Before Michael could help him out, a van burst through the gate to the left, and more yelling ensued.

“Get out the van! Go find them!”

Michael panicked, pushing his gun into Trevor’s limp hands so he could grab the dead Triad henchman’s sturdier gun. He fired and clipped a few more men, trying his best to keep an eye on Trevor. His breathing was shallow, and he attempted to prop himself up so he could fire at them too.

“Trevor, what the fuck is going on? Who are these guys?”

“It’s the fucking,” He winced, pushing himself onto his knees so he could grab the side of the grave they hid behind. He spit out some blood that leaked from his mouth, staining the snow beneath them.

“The God damn Chinese, sugar tits.”

“Why are they-“

“Ask questions later, I’m fucking bleeding out here.”

Trevor forced himself to fully stand, his legs wobbling slightly. He fired a few more rounds, face contorted in pain. Another bullet flew by him, grazing his side.

“Fuck! Ow!” He growled.

“T, what in the hell are you doing?! Get down!”

“Fuck off you fucking leech! I can-“ He spit out more blood.

“I can handle this myself!”

He groaned, keeping his aim as still as he possibly could, which wasn’t very still at all. Stubborn as ever, Trevor went in guns blazing. He used not only the gun Michael had forced into his hands, but also the one he had brought with him. Several more shots fired at him until he felt a hand yank him back to the ground. He fell with a slight thump, and pain jolted through him again.

“You crazy bastard! We’re getting the fuck out of here, but that can’t exactly be accomplished if you’re dead!”

“Oh please! You already want me dead you fat fucking snake!” He wheezed out.

“Jesus Christ- Trevor. I already told you-“

“Shit, Mikey-”

Before either one could do anything about it, a Triad that had snuck up on them pistol whipped Michael in the back of the head. Trevor scrambled backwards and attempted to get on his feet, but to no avail. In a last minute effort, he lifted Michael’s gun and fired. For someone who was labeled a lousy shot by his partner, he felt that Michael would’ve been proud of his aim at that moment in time. A clean shot, right between the fucker’s eyes. He grinned slightly, adrenaline still coursing through him. He barked out a laugh, forgetting how much of a chore it was to allow any noise to escape him. It caused him to break into a coughing fit, spitting up more blood onto the snow. He looked from the small circle of blood that formed in front of him, back to Michael’s limp body. He shoved him slightly, trying to nudge him back into consciousness.

“Mikey. Michael. Get up. We gotta go like you said-“

He heard another van pull up. Then another. Fuck.

“You gotta be shitting me..”

Trevor, disregarding his wounds weakening him to the point his vision grew spotty, swapped his handgun for the gun Michael grabbed. He tried his best to prop the other man up against a grave, well out of the Triad’s line of sight. He pushed through any pain he felt, still riding his adrenaline high, wiping the rest of them out one by one. He rushed back over to Michael, who was stirring awake.

“Michael, for fucks sake get up already! Jesus I’m still fucking bleeding and I have to save your ass right now? Come on!”

He was finally able to stand, and Trevor slung Michael’s arm around his shoulder, helping him regain his balance. They helped one another walk through the mess of snow, blood, and bodies to get to the rental car, which surprisingly was still in alright shape. Across the train tracks, one more van started to pull up, right before the nightly train passed through town.

“Haha! Thank you train for being useful this time!”

He forgot how much it hurt to laugh, clutching his side and muttering curses under his breath as the two raced over to the car. Michael hopped in the driver’s seat after placing Trevor in the passenger’s side. Trevor’s adrenaline rush began to die down along with the rest of him. Michael raced out of the cemetery, narrowly escaping the left over henchmen. Glancing over at Trevor, he realized how shit of a shape he was in. Despite not living in North Yankton in close to 10 years, he still remembered where all the nearby hospitals were. It wasn’t ideal, considering what they were doing up there and who they were and what not, but it was better than having Trevor die on the spot.

“Hey, don’t you fucking die on me right now buddy. There’s no way you ain’t surviving the shit show we just went through, which only happened thanks to you.”

Trevor asked himself why Michael was still giving him snide remarks about his unruliness. He figured now wasn’t the time to really argue, but still tried nonetheless.

“You… fuckin’ snake.. you think you’re so..”

“I’m so what Trevor? No you know what- Don’t speak right now, but try to stay awake, please?”

“Mmph..”

The ride out of Ludendorff was quiet. The radio was off, and neither one chose to speak. Michael of course was driven mad by the silence.

“…Look. Trevor I- I fucked up. There’s nothing I can do now to fix it, no matter how many times I apologize. But you do- You do know that I cared about you then, and I care about you now…”

Trevor did nothing but grunt in response, eyelids heavy. Michael sighed.

“We’re almost to a hospital. They’ll fix you up good, and- and you’re gonna be fine. You ain’t dying on me yet. I mean- you’ve survived worse? You.. I…”

He huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel tight. The rest of the ride was silent, save for Michael making sure Trevor was still alive and conscious. They made it to the hospital, with Michael carrying him fireman style, seeing as Trevor was very lanky compared to him. He called out for someone to help, using his gift of lying to say that Trevor was just shot by a random mugger, so the report back wouldn’t seem too suspicious. He patiently waited for word back from a doctor, eventually seeing someone come to him with a clip board.

“Are you… Franklin?”

Michael had been smart enough to give them both fake names, but he just blurted out the first two names that came to mind. Right now, he went by Franklin, and for all they knew Trevor was Lamar.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Your friend is in critical condition, but you got him here just in time. Any later and he wouldn’t have made it.”

The last sentence caused Michael’s ears to ring.

“He’s going to be out of surgery soon, the bullet wound was pretty deep.” The doctor narrowed their eyes slightly, getting ready to write the report down.

“You said that he was mugged?”

“Yeah. The guy fired at him and ran off. Didn’t get a good look at his face.”

“Hmm… well alright. I’ll let you know when your friend is ready for visitors.”

The rest of the night was painfully slow. By the time Trevor was out of surgery, he was still hopped up on morphine, allowing him to rest properly for the first time in forever. Michael sheepishly walked in, careful not to be too loud. He made his way over to Trevor’s side, sitting in the seat next to his bed. He hadn’t seen Trevor look so content like that in so long. Not since... those days. He spoke to himself, seeing as Trevor was fast asleep.

“You worry me so much you dumbfuck… why do you pull the shit you pull? I mean.. shit. I… I love you, man. I do. But what if you died without ever hearing that from me again? Is that the reason why you get like this? Shit. Right. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Besides everything about Ludendorff, it angered Trevor to his core that Michael could never admit he loved Trevor unless he was drunk or alone. In this instance, he technically was. Trevor was peacefully dreaming, while Michael felt restless. He proceeded to fumble around for his cellphone to reach out to Franklin, who had been wondering what happened to them. He knew Franklin would probably be up anyway.

Yo Mike, where u at? Trevor too, Lamar n I gotta do one last job wit him.

Currently in North Yankton kid. Trev found out about Brad. Some Chinese gangsters rolled on us, T got shot. Be home soon hopefully.

Oh shit. Stay safe out there homie. See u soon ig.

Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking back up at Trevor. He tried to think about what he would do next. Knowing that visiting hours were limited, he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d have to leave Trevor alone for a night after what happened. But it was late, and he couldn’t stay there overnight. He figured he’d have to bunk in some cheap motel for the time being. Just until Trevor and him were ready to leave North Yankton. He spoke to the doctor from before to let them know he would come back the next morning. When he arrived at the nearest shit motel, he still couldn’t find it in him to sleep. He was tired, sure, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to drift off. Even if he did, he would find himself jolting awake, the scene of Trevor getting shot playing over and over in his head. He’d almost been responsible for Trevor’s death once, he couldn’t let it happen for real. What would he do anyway if he did die? He quickly brushed the thought off, not wanting to consider the possibilities.

He returned to the hospital the next morning, half awake from the lack of sleep. Visiting hours were early, and he wanted to get them both out of here as fast as he could. Walking to Trevor’s room, he saw the man sitting upright looking out the window. North Yankton may have been cold as a bitch, but from time to time it had real pretty sunrises. He knocked lightly on the door, and Trevor turned to face him.

“Hey, T…”

He couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“I thought you left.”

“Visiting hours are limited, T. You should know that by now.”

He didn’t say anything in response, facing back towards the window instead. Michael sat down in one of the chairs across from him.

“You.. you worried me. I thought-“

“You thought what, cupcake? That I’d just die on the spot, and you could just leave my dead body there-“

“Trevor! For the last time that wasn’t my fucking plan!”

Their voices steadily increased above the normal level it should’ve been for a hospital setting.

“Then why did you have a fucking gun, huh Mikey?”

“I could ask the same for you!”

“Oh of course, turn the situation onto me again-“

“You brought a gun for what, Trevor?!”

“That’s not the issue at hand here!”

“Yes it is!”

A voice chimed into their argument.

“Excuse me. You,” A nurse who walked in pointed at Trevor.

“You need to rest. And sir, I’m not sure who you are, but if you want to stay as a visitor I suggest you lower your voice and behave.”

The two men looked at each other angrily before sitting back down. The nurse exited, most likely wanting to return later so Michael could discuss discharging him. Silence filled the room briefly.

“T… I meant what I said.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Trevor didn’t look him in the eye. His arms were crossed, and he just looked out the window.

“I could’ve lost you.”

The other man still said nothing.

“I could’ve lost you and you would’ve died not knowing I..” He trailed off.

Trevor turned back to look at Michael while speaking.

“Knowing what? You hiding something else from me, porkchop?”

“I…”

“Spit it the fuck out Mikey or I swear to God-“

“I love you.”

His felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, and his hands became clammy. He finally forced the words out, sober.

“I love you.” He repeated, shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Trevor while saying it. He chose to look at his feet instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I just.. kept thinking that you could’ve died not hearing that from me ever again.”

He didn’t notice it at first, but tears brimmed his eyes. Trevor’s scowl fell and his face softened.

“What?” Was all he could choke out.

“Don’t.. don’t make me say it again.” He said, face flushing red.

“You..” Trevor didn’t finish his sentence. He shuddered in his seat, ready to cry himself. He buried his face in his hands, muffling something incoherent.

“What?”

He lifted his head up, tears streaking his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For.. being like this.”

Trevor was a lot of things. You couldn’t just describe him in only one word. Michael tried sifting through the options of what he meant.

“I pushed you so hard back then I.. I thought I was losing you. I didn’t want to. All it did was make you want to leave even more.” Trevor kept sniffling.

“Trev…”

“Why Michael? Why do you do this to me?”

He wanted to ask him “Do what?”, but they both knew the answer. Michael never let his feelings be more than surface level. He was repressed and Trevor hated it. Trevor continued to cry, and the tears that Michael held in spilled.

“Hey.. don’t… don’t apologize, T. Please.”

“I..” He hiccuped.

“I’ve loved you for so long. Why couldn’t you have done the same?”

Michael kept his head down. He didn’t want to see the heartbroken expression on Trevor’s face. It only made him feel worse.

“You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you still did. Telling me that doesn’t change anything. You became another person in my life that I loved and then you left. Same as always for me.”

Everything Trevor loved was always out of his reach. Flying, his mother, Michael, Patricia… He could go on. Nothing was ever gonna be permanent for him.

“But I’m here for you now, T. I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally looked up to see Trevor’s sad eyes burning a hole right through him. His silence told him it’d be a long while before he could believe his words.

“Now.. uh. Let’s get the fuck outta this place.”

It didn’t take long for Trevor to be discharged. The doctors had told him he should stay for another day or so, but only got an irritated response from Trevor. Figuring the duo wouldn’t budge on wanting to leave, he was signed off for clearance. They eventually found the plane Trevor flew in on, and made their way out of the state. Neither one knew if this would change anything between them, but Trevor felt more at ease around him. It would still take time and effort for any left over wounds to heal, but for right now, Trevor was content.

#gta v #michael/trevor #trikey #fanfic #this is my first fic #i’ve never done this before #i really hope you guys like this despite how fucking long it is #sorry for any errors #or typos

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glenncoco4 · 3 years

Text

War Zone

A/N: Chapter 6. Some M.

••••

Present

If her eyes weren’t already closed they’d be rolling back in her head right now as his finger tips dig into her scalp, making her sink into the tub even further. Dear god she knew his hands were magic but this is euphoric.

“How you doing, baby?”

She feels his breath hot against her ear, if she wasn’t so miserable, and over 39 weeks pregnant, they’d definitely be using this tub for other purposes. “Why won’t she just come out already?”

The whine in her voice makes his heart sink a little. These last few days have been hell for her and he so wishes he could, but he can’t take her pain away. This warm bath was the only thing he could think of to help her relax at least a little bit, but that doesn’t seem to be working either. Helpless isn’t even the right word for what he’s feeling right now. “I think its because you made such a nice home for her over the past 9 months that she just doesn’t want to leave.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’ll come when she’s ready.” He huffs a laugh before getting up from the stool and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “In the mean time…”

Her brow furrows at the sound of his retreating footsteps. Lifting her head up from the tub, she opens her eyes and is suddenly alone. “So you’re just gonna leave me here?” Getting no answer, she rolls her eyes. “If this is your idea of a sick joke, I’m-“

As he steps back in the room, Marty’s unable to keep the smile from his face seeing her mouth open in shock. Closing the distance, he pulls the stool to the side of the tub, sitting down with a tower of her favorite treat, 13 to be exact. He sits the tray on the counter and then takes one of the yellow snack cakes, unwrapping it as her hungry gaze watches his movements.

Her eyes meet his as he extends the Twinkie towards her mouth, offering her a bite. If she weren’t already head over hills in love with him before, she most certainly is now. Yeah, being in this kinda pain sucks, but knowing he’s doing everything he can to make her feel better is one of the best feelings in the world. Leaning forward, she takes a bite, moaning in pleasure. “Mmmm, I love you.”

“What a difference 13 years make, huh?”

“I remember being less fat before I met you.”

“You’re not fat, baby.”

“I look like a beached whale.”

“A very beautiful beached whale.”

Her bottom lip begins to quiver at his words as she lays a comforting hand across her protruding belly. “Did you just call me fat?”

His eyes go wide in panic, realizing just how wrong the sentence that left his mouth sounded. “No, I mean…you just-“

••••

May 12th, 2009

Her body shakes with anticipation as she makes her way down the jet bridge. It’s been 4 months, 4 long and treacherous months since she’s seen him…well in person that is. When he got his assignment to Egypt right after he finished following her team they were both devastated. It’s part of their jobs of course, they spent most of their dating life apart but there’s something about being married that makes it even more agonizing. Especially since the longest they’ve been together since tying the knot is 3 weeks.

As her Navy issued boots hit the terminal floor the chatter of the people around her and the announcer over the intercom fade, her mismatched orbs immediately scan the room. His flight was due to land an hour before hers and he was going to meet her at her gate.

She’s briefly pulled out of her search at the sudden feel of tugging of her camouflaged dry fit. Looking down, the SEAL’s eyes meet beautifully innocent chocolate orbs, standing there with a shy smile on his face.

Sitting her bag down, Kensi crouches down, now eye level with the young boy. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She looks down at the small stuffed animal in his hand and then back up at him. “I like your puppy.”

His response catches her a little off guard as his tiny arms wrap around her neck in a tight hug and the words that leave his lips turn her into a big pile of goo. “Thank you for protecting us.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

“Is this where we get in line for the hugs?”

Her eyes go wide at the all too familiar voice. The the voice that up until now has been thousands of miles away from her. Pulling back from the little boy, she quickly spins around, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck for the death gripping hug.

The blonde smiles as his arms find their way around her waist, picking her up in excitement. To say he missed her would be an understatement. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi.” She pulls back a bit, her lips immediately finding his. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.” He goes to move the hair out of her face but catches himself when the plaster on his hand touches her.

Her brow furrows as he sits her down, now noticing the obstruction on his left arm. “What happened?”

“Oh, I was fighting some Transformers, you know the usual.”

She smiles shaking her head before bringing her lips to his once more. God she missed his sense of humor. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

She pulls back from their embrace, grabbing her bag and saying a quick goodbye to the little boy before they start heading towards the exit. As they make their way through the terminal, the SEAL wraps her arms around her husband’s uninjured one, hugging it to her body. “So what really happened there?”

“I was playing soccer with some local kids. Kens, we gotta go to Egypt one day. I mean it’s hot as hell but so beautiful.”

“I like that idea. Maybe for our honeymoon that we’ll get to go on one day?” Her mind drifts to a small quaint resort, and her shirtless husband feeding her grapes as they relax beach side in Attaka.“Speaking of monumental moments, do you realize what today is?”

As they step out into ground transportation area, he finds a lone pillar and leans up against it, pulling her body into his. “Of course I do, Nutty Fudge Day!”

Tilting her head back, her mismatched orbs meet his as she bites her lip, trying to keep the smile from spreading to her face. “I’ll show you Nutty Fudge Day.”

“Baby, not in front of the children.” His eyes go wide as they dart over to the two little kids watching them a few feet away.

This time she can’t stop the laughter from leaving her lips before placing a kiss to his once again.

He deepens the kiss, wishing so much that they were already in their hotel room. The sound of little giggling voices forces him to pull back, shaking his head, the photojournalist takes in his wife’s beautiful features. All the things they had plan to go out to do while they’re in the Big Apple are sounding more and more like a drag when he could very well have her all to himself in their luxurious hotel suite. The look in her eyes tell him she may be thinking the same thing, but he tiptoes around the subject just in case. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“I may have a surprise for you.” And oh, does she have a surprise for him.

••••

Present

She takes another bite when her eyes suddenly go wide at the sudden burst of warmth that fills the cooling water around her. The moan that escapes deep from within her throat can’t be helped as a new feeling shoots through her body.

“Woah, maybe I should just hop in there with you.” He smiles thinking that the noise was caused by her treat.

“How do you feel about delivering babies?”

“I’ve never done one myself but-“ His eyes quickly find the panic shining in her eyes, making his entire being freeze. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Um, my water may have just broke.”

••••

May 12th, 2009

Humming with excitement, he walks into their hotel room, bucket in hand. “Baby, I got the ice, now I’m ready to rock your-“ He stops in his tracks at the sight before him.

“Hi.” She smiles, her mismatched orbs darken with desire as she looks him up and down seductively, biting her bottom lip.

“H-hiii.” He gulps, his cerulean blues roam her body, every bare inch glowing in the soft light coming from the lamp in the corner. Then his eyes reach the lace…the oh so delicate cornflower blue lace that barely covers her beautiful breast and delectable pussy.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

“No, just waiting to wake up.”

“What?”

“I’m still in the hot Egyptian desert and just hallucinating. Yep, any moment now and that lamp over there is gonna turn into a camel.”

A grin spreads to her lips as she gets up from her strategic positioning and walks on her knees to the end of the bed. She reaches for his hand and pulls him towards her. Placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, his eyes darken as her fingers work their way down to the hem of his pants and slip into his boxers. Her delicate fingers wrap around his already hardened cock, earning a moan of pleasure, one she hasn’t heard in too long. “You’re very much awake, baby.”

“Thank god.” His lips find hers in a desperate kiss as she pulls him towards her and onto the bed.

A little while later as they both lay sated and out of breath, his head pillowed on her chest as her fingers work their way hrough his golden locks.“Why do you have so many knots in your hair?”

“Well, I’m a little disabled at the moment,” He lifts his casted hand and arm in the air for emphasis, “so I can’t really run my fingers through my hair in the shower like I usually do.”

“Ya, know…” Her fingers find his scalp and dig in a little, earning a moan of pleasure from him.

“Oh, god, that feels amazing.”

“I have two free hands and there’s an empty tub just a few feet away that can massage other things.”

His lips find her breast as his fingers delicately walk down her abdomen to find her already sopping wet pussy.“Well, it just so happens that I have a free mouth that can also massage things.”

••••

Present

She lets out one last groan as the little girl is fully free. Her tiny cries filling the air as Marty quickly cuts the umbilical cord before wrapping her in a towel and handing her over to his wife.

“You did it, baby.” He comes up beside her, his arm going around her shoulders as he pulls her into him. Yeah, moving to the bed was a good idea. Placing a kiss to the top of her head, he smiles as he gets a glimpse of his two girls…his whole world right in his arms. “I love you so much.”

She tilts her head back, eyes locking with his as he places a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

The tears that begin to form in her eyes, he can feel pooling in his own. “No, no, don’t cry. Cuz if you cry then I’m gonna cry.”

“She’s just so beautiful.”

“Exactly like her mama.”

“You think so? I thought she looked like you.”

“Well, I guess that’s good considering we’re her parents.” His lip curls into a smile.

Shaking her head, she gives him another kiss before her head finds his shoulder once again. “Touché.”

#Densi #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Kensi x Deeks #Kensi Deeks #NCIS: LA #War Zone #AU #Densi Fanfic

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elphiej · 4 years

Text

Be My Light: Chapter 1 Shadows from Our Past

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: Language, violence, gun fight, mentions of abuse, mention for drugs.

Author’s note: Hi everyone, here is chapter one. My editor and I had some conversations about the length; they wanted to shorten it and I wanted to leave it in tact for the sake of the flow. Let me know if the length is too long or not. Also, there are a bunch of easter eggs (bangtan lyrics, iconic outfits, ect. as we continue) let me know what you find. And, of course, thank you for reading and let me know what you liked.

Tag list: @lalalalaloo-blog, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine, @mrsfortune1306

The sun had just begun to fill the windows of the Lotus Apartment when you stepped out of your unit, coffee tumbler in one hand and bag slung over one shoulder , ready for a gruelingly long shift at Central Mercy Hospital. You let your eyes scan the corridor for any signs of life; no one else in their right mind would be up this early, yet anxiety had you checking the halls before you felt secure enough to fully exit your apartment. Taking out your keys, you pull your door shut and lock the two deadbolts that had become necessary in your mind.

And not just because of the active gang activity in this part of the city.

It had been close to three months since you had come to Central. And over four since you had left your miserable excuse of a ‘boyfriend’; The lying, abusive snake that was Daniel. Just thinking about him made your stomach churn. Your time in Central, alone in your apartment, helped you reflect on your relationship and how toxic it had been. At first, it was nice. He had been your friend. He had been supportive and kind. Then, he was your roommate, taking care of you and being your security in uncertain times. Then, he became your boyfriend. It was nice and normal, something you thought you’d never have. He was protective, at least that’s how you saw it at the time. Looking back now, it was controlling and manipulative. He would say things that you thought were sweet, but now you understood they were horrible things. He said he wanted an obedient, good girl; he’d tower over you and make you feel so small. And for some reason, you believed him. You stayed like that for too long. After you had taken a job, trying to help support the two of you, his behavior got worse. He started to drink, and his abuse became more physical. Afterwards, he’d always say how sorry he was, how much he cared about you, or how he only drank because he was worried about you. Somehow it was always your fault. He wanted you to quit your job at a small medical clinic near his secluded home, but it was your only escape. To make it worse, you found out he had been sleeping with another woman. And still, you stayed with him, because he had fucked your head up so bad that you thought you needed him. The final straw that snapped some sense into you was when you confronted him about the other woman. He had come home from drinking with her and went crazy when you said you were leaving. He screamed, threw you around the apartment, hit you. Then he trapped you against a wall and started choking you. Had you not been able to grab hold of a bottle he had left on an end table and hit him just right, you may not have made it this far.

You left that night with just your backpack full of clothes and the few personal belongings that you had with you, your cellphone, and the money in Daniel’s wallet. And you ran all through the night. You didn’t have a plan or destination but you just had to get as far away from him as you could. A small voice under all the doubt and fear that he had piled on you, cheered and drove you to keep going. You didn’t stop moving until you found a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. The driver had told you it was headed to Central, and something in that name seemed familiar to you. It drew you there like a siren’s call. Central was so large, it felt like it could have classified as a country. It was the perfect place to disappear. As the bus pulled into its terminal, that familiar feeling came back in as you gazed about the large buildings. But you chalked that up to remembering that you and your father moved around a lot.

It was one of the few memories you had like that.

Over the last few months, you had questioned why Daniel had changed so much. He had been the first face you remember seeing after the accident. And he had been the one to break the news to you. There had been a terrible accident, a horrendous car crash. You had been in the passenger seat when the car had broadsided by a drunk driver, sending the car rolling into a ditch. You had survived but your injuries were so severe that you had to be placed in a medical coma, and the trauma had affected your memory. When you woke up, you could remember very little of your past; You remembered that you had studied to be a nurse and recently graduated, that your father had been your only family, and that he had been a high ranking police officer. Daniel’s face was something that you sort of remembered as well, and you figured that was why you clung to him like an anchor. But everything else was wrapped in a dense fog, shattered like pieces of glass that couldn’t be put together. Daniel had, also, broken the news to you that your father hadn’t survived the accident. He stayed close to you for over a year, helping you through therapies, reminding you to take your anxiety medications, and wiping away the tears. He was perfect. But then, it changed. And any time you tried to talk to him about it, he would brush you off or say that he was stressed out, but that he loved you and just let him do what he needed.

What was funny was that in the months since leaving him, a piece of a memory had resurfaced. It was of your father and how he didn’t seem to like Daniel all that much. You could only think of what your father would have said when he saw what his daughter had become. You did remember how he had taught you to be strong and tough, to stand up against the bullies. He would be disappointed now. You rubbed your neck where he had choked you, smelling his alcohol pungent breath as he said so many nasty things to you.

But you got out and for that, anyone should be proud.

Shaking your head from the bad memories, you shoved your keys back into your bag and down the dimly lit hall towards the elevator. You felt a tad silly looking over your shoulder, thinking one day he was gonna show up at your door and drag you back to that unsafe mind set, but you had learned from the support group you had been to that it was normal. Thankfully, you were about to have a long shift to distract you from all those feelings. The intensive care unit had been short staffed, and with the increase in gang activity, everyone was working extra hard. Central Mercy was the most active hospital in all of Central; the others were less willing to help gang members or those targeted for fear of retaliation. But once they came through the ER doors, it didn’t matter what they were. If they needed help, you would help. Even villains need help, and maybe your help can change them, your father’s voice had echoed from somewhere in the foggy parts of your mind. Also, Central Mercy was the main hospital dealing with the current outbreaks of drug overdoses due to a strange street drug known as U4-1A, a highly addictive and deadly substance that had been making its way through the city. Mercy was more equipped for trying to save the overdoses that kept popping up. You had only seen a few of those cases, but the doctors who had been on the front of those, had described it as a mix of “ecstasy, meth, and cocaine all rolled into one deadly substance”. You shook your head. You didn’t understand why people would do that to themselves. But, then again, who would stay with a person who abused you for so long? As you stepped into the small elevator, you really needed a distraction from all these bad thoughts and your best friend, Amber, should be on her way into work by now. You decided to try and text her.

Bless that girl, she had been a big part in getting you back into a functioning human being. When you had stepped off the bus in Central, you were overwhelmed by everything. You were scared, tired, and had nowhere to go. You had felt so lonely. You ended up falling asleep on a bench just outside the station. That is where Amber had found you. She felt sorry for you and took you to get some food. Once she had heard your story, though, she brought you back to her loft to help you. She had said she was in your position once, but never explained what she had gone through, and wanted to help turn you around. She had got you into therapy, got you to open up, helped you find a job in her department at Mercy, and found the woman you were sure you had been on track to be before the accident had set you back.

You hit the lobby button on the elevator, then reached in your work bag for your phone as the door shut. You felt your umbrella, wallet, extra shirt, and even your lunch, but not the phone. You prayed that you didn’t leave your phone in the apartment in your sleep deprived haze. It wouldn’t be the first time this week that it had happened. Your anti-anxiety medicine had finally run out, even after you spaced them out over the last few weeks. And your mind had refused to shut off and you had been plagued by nightmares all night. Finally, your fingers had brushed against the plastic case of your phone. You let out a sigh of relief. However, when you pulled it out of your bag, you wished you hadn’t. It had been the phone that Daniel had given you, and the one that Amber had been trying to get you to throw away for months. You remembered having a panic attack when she had taken it from you. It had been one of the only things you could call yours. She had returned it to you after messing with the setting. Amber didn’t want to take any chances of him tracking the phone, not that you thought he could think of that, and told you not to respond to him. He had sent a few messages in the first few days; he said he was sorry and how much he loved you, but you did as Amber had asked. There was a small part of you that wanted to reach out, in secret. Thankfully, the logical part of your brain kept you silent. Amber wanted to block his number for good, but you left it as it was. She had given you a new phone not long after so you wouldn’t be tempted. And you hadn’t turned the old phone on since then. It had been stuffed in a bottom drawer, only reappearing now when you had rushed to grab an extra thick undershirt and stuffed it into the bag without realizing it.

The elevator came to a halt and opened to the empty lobby. You knew there wasn’t much time to decide what to do. You needed a phone- a curse of modern society to not be able to go a day without it. If you decided to go back up to retrieve your real phone, you still had to find it from where it had fallen in the chaos of this morning. And by then, you would miss your bus and be late to work. Technically, this was a working phone. You hit the power button; if it turned on, you would just get on with your day. That was your decision. It sprung to life, still with a good amount of power despite how long it had been in that drawer. The home screen had a picture of you and Daniel. It made you cringe at the sight of those smiling faces. But it worked and that would have to work. Amber may not be too happy to see it, but you’d rather deal with her then your supervisor. Plus, you really had no desire to talk or see Daniel.

Though, that small, needy part in the back of your mind was still wondering if he had still reached out to contact you.

You got your answer as you stepped out onto the chilly, lamp lit sidewalk. Your inbox was full of text messages and voicemails. He must have sent two or three a day since you had run away. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear his voice. But, as you head down the sidewalk to your bus stop, you decided to read through a few of them.

-Y/N, I’m sorry. Please call me.

-I know you’re mad. You have every right to. I’m weak and dumb.

-Please, just let me know you’re ok.

-Honey, I love you. I’ll never drink again. I never meant to hurt you.

-Please let me know you see these.

-You mean so much to me. I’ll do better. I need you.

-Honey, that girl meant nothing. I can’t live with what I did to you.

-Please call me. Yell at me, hit me. Do anything you want, just come back.

His last message came only two days ago.

-Honey, you must be out of your medicine. Please, just let me give that to you. I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t need to get back together. Whatever you want to do, we can do it. Just let me bring it to you. You need it and I care about you. Please, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please, let’s just talk.

Wow, you thought, he seems really upset. That small part surged forward again, pushing you to respond since he seemed so sincere. But you shook your head. Amber had brought you to a counseling center she volunteered at where a survivors of domestic violence group met. And based on what they had talked about, and his history, you knew it was best to move on. Though, you were basically out of medicine. You didn’t know the name of it, nor had the prescription for it. Daniel had always taken care of it. There was a doctor at Mercy whom you were close with, Henry Na, who had offered to investigate it for you. So, you had given him the last generic, round, white pill. He had offered to prescribe you a basic anxiety medication to help you while he did some research. He had been a big help, just like Amber to getting you to the state of normalcy you had achieved. Hopefully, he had found something for you. You would wait to see what he had to say before making that decision. Or you could talk to Amber and she would slam the stamp of “HELL NO” on that whole thought.

Not wanting to continue this train of thought, you sent a quick text to your friend to say you were on your way to the bus, then locked your phone and stuck it in the pocket of your scrubs. You were determined to make the most out of this day. Even after a terrible night, you were going to be with your best friend, seeing some of your favorite patients, and being away from your troubles. You just needed to get to the bus stop and out of the chill of the early morning. You pulled your jacket close to your body and quickened your pace. Living at the far end of town, while cheap, had its disadvantages. There was much gang activity in the outskirts, the bus stops were sparse, and all the main shops were a long way away. At least, for the moment. Ahead, you could see the outline of the new shopping center the government had decided to build in hopes to revitalize this part of the city. And while you were excited that you wouldn’t have to go far to get essentials, you hoped it wouldn’t raise your rent anymore. Your bus stop was just beyond the construction. You hoped that today would prove to be just as exciting as the prospects of the new shopping center.

Little did you know, in the dim light of the dawn, just how exciting your life was about to become.

~*****************~

If the outside wasn’t foreboding enough, the inside made up for it. It was dark with only a few work lights scattered around the large, open space. There were tall, arching pillars and small openings along the sides that were meant for food stalls, and a large, empty fountain in the center of the concrete floor. Loose wires hung from the unfinished light fixtures, while high scaffoldings and boxed materials were randomly spaced about. A cold breeze swept through the open doorways, sending dust and debris swirling about Bangtan’s feet as they took echoing steps towards the elevator at the end of the floor. Above them, there were large cut outs in the floor so patrons would peer down at those below, all in interesting and modern designs. Once it was finished, it would be very fancy and high-end, the complete juxtaposition to the traditional and family owned buildings around it. It didn’t belong there.

Just like we don’t belong here, Suga thought as his eyes wondered about the dim area. Jimin was beside him, the sparse lights glittering off the studded shoulders of his leather bomber jacket. His face was sharp and serious, his eyes constantly moving behind his rose-colored glasses. And Jungkook was trailing behind, dragging the poorly trained spy with him. The bound and blindfolded kid had fought against the maknae’s grip as soon as they entered the construction zone, screaming unintelligently against the gag. It took a good smack on the back of the head and a threat of “knock it off before I knock you out” before he stilled and allowed Jungkook to lead him around. He, even, made an annoyed promise that he would not let him stumble or fall until they turned him over to his team.

V’s voice rang through the earpiece Suga wore, telling him where to go. The elevator would take them to the top floor, opening to a reception area. And beyond that was the event hall where Choi and his group of assholes were waiting for them. V didn’t see anyone on any other floors, which meant that their passage should be safe. Just as a normal drop should be. But Suga knew that it wasn’t going to be normal. With each step, the uneasy feeling grew. With the confirmation of the General’s presence, old feelings from the past made Suga even more on edge. But he hid it from his younger members. He figured this was a trap; he and RM had talked every conclusion out. They just needed to get in and out as fast as possible. V had set some helpful distractions up if they needed a quick getaway. But all Suga was focused on was dealing with Choi and keeping his dongsaengs safe. He took out his cell and texted a quick update to the leader.

“This place is huge! I didn’t realize it when V and I came here before. Let’s make sure we come back when it’s finished. Something this fancy looking is bound to have a Gucci store,” Jimin said, trying to ease the mood a bit. He brushed a bit of dust from his white Gucci shirt to highlight his point.

“I feel between the two of you, you have enough Gucci in your closets to open your own store,” Jungkook replied, though he had his own collection of name brands to rival theirs.

Suga gave little response as they reached the elevator. RM had texted him back, saying what they already knew; Get in, get out, and be safe. The leader had added ‘try not to antagonize him too much, hyung’. Suga had a gift of speech, known to the others as his ‘Tongue Technology’. He could talk circles arounds even the most versed debaters, and knew exactly what to say to break someone down. If he had ever decided to pursue a career in music, all of Bangtan was sure he’d be a master at diss tracks. When Jin had captured the spy, Suga barely warmed up before the kid broke from fear. And while he knew he should do as his leader asked, Yoongi knew that if Choi opened his mouth, he’d find it extremely hard not to challenge him. As all four crowded into the elevator, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his red coat and hit the top floor button. Jimin had started cracking his fingers and stretching out his limbs just in case he needed to be ready. Jungkook seemed to be bouncing on his heels with anticipation. A black face mask was resting under his chin. Suga reached over and pulled it up over the young maknae’s nose. He reached up, after, and fixed his black hat to hide most of his face. Jungkook was the only one of their members who Choi hadn’t seen face to face, making him the safest when he walked around barefaced. The boy had been quite young when he had joined them, and each meeting before the Generals had disappeared, Jungkook’s identity had been hidden. And Suga meant to keep it that way. Jungkook smiled at the action and nodded a ‘thanks’ to his hyung.

“Just stay behind us until the trade is made. Block the door. And keep your face hidden. We don’t need Choi knowing who you are, got it?”

Jungkook nodded again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

The elevator came to a halt as it reached the seventh floor and the doors slid open. It opened to a finished reception hall with an ornate, marble desk at the end near the large, double doors. Compared to the rest of the building, this was practically finished. The floor had a mirror finish, there was a small chandelier above the desk, and the walls were painted with a dark contrast to the white marbled floors. As they stepped off the elevator, a strange crackle sounded through the piece in Suga’s ear. With each step, it got louder. He could see the small red light from the CC camera that V had placed under the edge of the desk. He knew V had been monitoring them, as well as the Royals, and he tapped the earpiece to signal V something was off. He could hear the young man under the roar of the static typing away at his keyboard, letting out a few curses. The roar got louder and louder the closer they got to the doors.

“Hyung-…. Sug-…. Can you…” static “Wait they…. With them! Plea-…” static “Get-,” then a piercing noise overtook everything, and Suga ripped the earpiece from his ear. From what little he heard from V, and the tone he was using, whatever he was trying to say wasn’t good. Jimin and Jungkook looked at him, questioningly. It was clear that something wrong was just beyond those doors. But they were already too far to turn around. The Royals must have heard the elevator’s chime and their footsteps as they came up to the door. If they fled now, it would only be worse later. Suga gave a reassuring nod to his dongsaengs and turned towards the door. Jimin took his position beside him, a hand on his hip to give off the air of sass that his gang persona was known for. Jungkook pulled the spy close to him as he positioned himself behind them, eyes glowing with strength and determination.

And then, Suga kicked the double doors wide open.

The solid oak doors slammed against the inner walls of the large room with a big bang. Just as the lobby, it was practically finished, save for the large crates of fancy décor, some unfinished lights, some high work platforms, and a good polishing. The floor was the same marble and dark finished wall combination as the lobby, with large Roman pillars that gave the room a grand and expensive feel. There were high windows that lined one side of the room, showcasing a large section of downtown as it was bathed in the warm light of the dawn. Further into the space, two high metal scaffoldings had been constructed, high enough for someone to walk under and for painters to reach the vaulted ceiling in order to finish the commissioned watercolor piece; one was just beyond the double doors while the other was against the opposite wall at the far end of the room near the emergency exit. In the center of the room, surrounded by work lights, appeared to be a diamond shaped dance floor. There was a worktable there.

And sitting at the table was Choi. He stood out against the sea of black suited goons with his silver fur coat. Choi always had an air of intensity about him, especially when he caught you in a stare down. He was like a cobra; smooth, unpredictable, and ready to strike without warning. When Suga had first met the General, he had overseen the breaking in of the new “recruits”. And the look he gave was enough to warn the kids to beware his wrath. Choi leaned forward on his elbows; his tented, gloved fingers pressed against his lips. His crazed eyes tracked Bangtan as they sauntered into the room, stopping just before the first scaffolding so to keep some distance between the two rivals. The one holding his spy stopped behind the other two. He tsked in disappointment.

“Nice of you boys to show up,” he greeted in his deep, gravel voice. “I appreciate that you agreed to come to our location. Times have been tough for my troops, and this makes them feel more at ease.”

“Safe it, Choi,” Suga said, his tone even but methodical, “I don’t need you to put on this little act of yours. You’re not doing this for your guys. At least own up to the fact that you don’t want to follow the Accords.”

Choi made an amused noise. “Ah, Agust, I have missed that lip of yours.”

Out of the corner of Jimin’s eyes, he watched as Suga slid into Agust, a second persona Yoongi had developed in the early years before Bangtan. Suga was cold and intimidating, methodical and quiet. Agust was the opposite. He was more aggressive, ready to set the world ablaze; where Suga was the bulletproof vest, Agust was the machine gun and ready to pop off at whoever provoked him. While Suga liked to take his time, his second persona didn’t want to. The shift was subtle, but Jimin had seen the wicked smile appear across his lips as he cocked his head to the side, spilling his platinum blond hair across his eyes. Agust seemed to vibrate with mischievous energy. Jimin hadn’t seen this side of his hyung in an exceptionally long time; only people from Bangtan’s past knew of Agust or he hadn’t been pushed that far to bring out the wildcard. However, he knew Choi had a way of bringing the worst out in them. This would be interesting.

“Oh, I missed you too, Choi. But don’t worry, my aim is much better now. Can we just do this shit? I have better things to do and you are not one of them.”

The amused look on Choi’s face slipped. “Such disrespect for your sunbaenim. This is why I requested your leader. He seems to have taken my lessons better than you.”

“Sorry,” Agust pouted, bringing up his hands in a mocked apology, “but my leader has better things to do than play with a flea infested bitch like you. Wait, that was an insult to dogs.”

Jungkook was happy he had a mask on to hide his grin; he always enjoyed when Yoongi-hyung fell into Agust; it didn’t happen much these days unless he was extremely angry or overly stressed. So, this was a treat to see Agust tearing into Choi like he knew his hyung had always wanted to do when he was younger.

Agust continued, his eyes glowing with annoyance. “Seriously, can we move this along? We have your little spy here, all safe and sound. We even fed him, which is more than you could do. Let’s do this exchange before I get more annoyed. It’s past my Maknae’s bedtime and he’s gonna be cranky later.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh at that point. That drew Choi’s attention. A gleam appeared in Choi’s eyes that, even from that distance, Jimin didn’t like.

“Now I wasn’t expecting to see you, Sweet One. It’s been a while since we last met. How have you been doing? Had your fix recently?”

Jimin only glared behind his glasses, his hands clenched in a fist. He took a deep breath and tried to block him out.

Choi stood up and moved to the front of the table. “What, nothing to say? I missed that voice of yours. So sweet and addictive. You know, sometimes I can still hear your sweet moans and gasps echoing through my memories. Begging and pleading, so needy and desperate. Makes me wish I had taken a chance with you when I had the opportunity. I can see you’re shaking from here. I have what you need, baby. I can help you feel all better. You just need to come over and ask for it. I can take good care of that itch of yours. I’d love to hear how loud your moans can get now.”

Jimin felt something in him snap. He went to rush him, fist cocked back, ready to shut the bastard up. Suga threw out an arm in front of him before he could take a step. The look he gave Jimin told him to let him handle Choi. RM had asked Suga not to cause too much trouble. And since Agust had already made an appearance, he couldn’t risk Jimin starting something. Even if Choi deserved whatever Jimin had planned to do for bringing up such a dark part of their past. Suga’s reassuring hand gave Jimin a slight push behind him, which the younger man begrudgingly allowed.

“Seems like you’ve become the responsible one, Agust. Perhaps you’ve gone soft on me, despite the bite. Fine, we should get down to business. But first thing is first; lets make sure that you followed the rules I sent to your leader. No weapons were to be brought with you. Chen, Yao,” he called over his shoulder, “search them.”

The two suits stepped away from the pack and crossed over to Bangtan. Suga nodded to Jimin, who made his way to stand next to Jungkook in order to keep the spy between them as they were searched. The guards started with Jungkook, then Jimin. They searched Suga last. Both guards ran their hands through clothes, dipping into each pocket. So, of course, they found the small pocketknife Yoongi had slipped into the inner pocket of his red coat. Chen fixed the smaller male with a look, which was received with a nonchalant shrug. Chen was not amused by the gesture and grabbed him by his blond hair, yanking his head back. Agust grabbed hold of Chen’s wrist, twisting it as hard as he could before spitting in the thug’s face. Yao rose his fist to punch him, only to be stopped by Jimin, who had appeared next to him. Agust was intimidating on his own, but the look that Jimin transfixed on them was enough to send a message. Both suits backed away from the two before things got any worse.

“Agust,” Choi remarked as his guards returned to their space, “how disappointing. Do you see, boys? They have no respect for us. They bring a weapon to a tradeoff. And when scolded for breaking the rules, he acts like a wild animal. They don’t even have the decency to dress professionally. Instead of business attire, we are presented with ripped jeans, flashy and cheap clothes-,”

“Hey, I wore designer labels to this,” Jimin interrupted.

“And the one in the back,” Choi continued, “look at how they teach their Maknae. Black cargo pants, hoodie, and wearing a mask and hat. Like he’s going to a club instead of meeting with his betters. Take that off and let me get a better look at you, boy! The least you can do is give me a proper greeting.”

“Leave my Maknae alone.” Agust took a few steps forward, stepping into the primary focus. “He’s protecting himself from all the bullshit you keep spitting. You don’t need to see him for us to do this. Stop stalling. Where’s your goods? We took good care of your little rat. Now put up or shut up.”

“You keep demonstrating how low you can be, Agust. Do you think you’ll become as successful as us acting like a classless thug?”

Agust shrugged, tapping his long finger against his cheek. “I’m not sure about the secret to success. But I think I know the secret to failure and being an idiot. And that is to keep babbling like you. I’m really starting to lose my patients with you. Show me the fucking trade, else I’m leaving with your spy and I’ll do whatever I want to with him.”

Choi nodded to one of his suits. They pulled out a suitcase and opened it. It was full of cash and ammunition boxes. “Satisfied with that, Agust? It’s way more than his life is worth. But recruitment has been slow recently. However, before we trade, I need an apology.”

“For what, your appearance? You need to take that up with your parents,” Agust sneered, causing Jimin and Jungkook to start chuckle.

Choi slammed the case shut. “I’m over your bad attitude! You have disrespected me enough today. You show me respect, or I will demonstrate how I used to deal with you.” Choi reached around and brandished his ornate cane, smacking it against his hand. “You remember what I used to do to you. Now, apologize to me!”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Don’t get angry. Your mom will be upset if you lose your only asset- your health,” Agust mocked with a small bow, causing Jimin and Jungkook to laugh. The shocked expression from some of the suits added fuel to the fire.

Choi’s face took on a red shade. “Enough,” he screamed, his voice shattering against the empty walls, “You may appear brave and bold, but I know what you hide behind that smile, son!”

Agust took another step forward, unafraid by his little outburst. “If I’m the sun,” he said, pointing out the windows at the rising light, “then you are the moon; as I rise, you go down. Though, I’m sure I’m going to be more disappointed in your tongue technology than your cohorts are with mine.” The roar of laughter from behind him only increased and sent Choi further into a rage. He lunged at Agust and swung his cane.

Suga’s hands were almost as fast as his tongue; he grabbed hold of the cane before it could strike him. He pulled his face close to the General’s, his eyes cold and serious.

“I am not that scared little boy you locked in the dark. I will show you that I’m the king here. I’m the boss. And you will end up just like your vile, worthless Maknae.”

“You’ve gotten strong in my absence,” the taller man remarked as he tried to pull away from Suga’s grip. The younger held tight for a second before giving him a hard shove back towards his team. Choi took a grounding breath and ran a gloved hand through his frosted hair. “Remember Agust, our Maknae acted on his own. Against his boss’s plan. And you got your revenge on him for that. He damned himself, not his hyungs. Don’t keep using that to fuel your hate.”

“I have plenty without that.” Suga turned and walked back to his team. “I’m done playing with you. Slide that case over here. We’ll leave your man here as we exit out the door. And we will call this done.”

Choi shot a dark glare at the blond’s back, before waving a dismissive hand at him, accepting that he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted from the younger man. He gave a nod to the suit holding the case, who slid the case across the floor. Jimin stopped it with his foot before picking it up. He thought it felt lighter than he expected it to, but the want to leave outweighed his curiosity; he was still pissed about what Choi had said to him. He turned his back to the room and made after Yoongi.

Suddenly, Choi’s soft laughter filled the room. Yoongi remembered that laughter; the General had used it when he knew something they did not. Bangtan’s Second in command looked over his shoulder to see that Choi had a small remote in his hand. With a press, the double doors swung shut automatically. Panic rose within Bangtan. They were trapped! Jimin opened the case in his hands and discovered it was full of fake bills and empty ammunition boxes. Everything was a set up. Choi must have figured that they would have a surveillance too, and made it so he couldn’t communicate with V once they got to the meeting spot. Yoongi hoped that he hadn’t thought about a camera hidden within the room. Since V had been trying to tell him something before their communication was severed, he must have eyes in the room, at least enough to know he needed to get to them fast. Jungkook tightened his hold upon the spy, as if it was their only protection. He shot Suga a look. The elder shifted his eyes between both of his comrades, deep, stormy eyes narrowed in defensive thought. He had thought of this; he had many plans unraveling in his mind. Now, it was all a matter of finding the best one in order to get them out of there. The only unknown factor was Choi. Suga motioned for the two to keep calm as he turned back to the General.

“Honestly, Agust, did you really believe it would be that simple? That I would let you come in, disrespect me and my troops, and walk out of here like you’re the one in charge? After all that you and your little boy scout brigade has done. I was hoping to send a little message when I scratched up that smiling fool of yours. And yet, your leader couldn’t grasp that and sent you right into my hands. It should had been obvious that you weren’t going to get out without a struggle. There is no Hallowed ground here. You are in my territory with a member of mine that, for what anyone would see, you have kidnapped. Therefore, I can have my fun without any fear from the Accords and their rules.”

Jimin growled, “Since when do you care about the Accords? You already drew us here under false pretenses.”

“They’re not entirely false. As I said, you have my recruit,” Choi remarked, his voice in a mocked tone of concern. “He was given such an easy task. And he couldn’t even do that correctly. It would see that some more training is in order.”

Jungkook felt the kid in his grasp cringe and bury himself deeper into his hold. It was painfully clear that the kid had no choice in this life, much like most of members in the room. And from the stories he had heard from his hyungs, Jungkook was sure this kid had been treated much better in their care than anything in the Royals clutches. It wasn’t up to the Maknae, but he wondered if it was too late to try and take the kid with them.

“As you know,” Choi continued, “recruitment has been difficult on me. And all the rookies have little to no talent when it comes to the finer arts of the trade. They would benefit from some more one on one training. How do you think we can achieve this?”

“Well, when Ji just up and leaves like the coward he is and leaves his most useless General in charge, seems like a daunting task for you. Might as well just give up and disband,” Suga said in his methodical tone, causing Choi and the Suits to actively flinch at the mention of their leader’s real name said so offhandedly.

“Don’t you dare say his name! I will make you regret that. And you’ll be the example for my new recruits. Like I said, my boys don’t do well with their basic training back at the compound. They need some ‘on the job’ training, some action in the field. And what better place then here. Since we are not on Hallowed Ground, we can let them play a little rough. What a splendid opportunity for all of us; they get to have a real experience and you get a few broken bones to send a message to anyone who thinks that they are above the Royals in the food chain. Do me a favor, Bangtan, and don’t give up to fast.”

With that last smirk, Choi settled himself back against the table and snapped his fingers. Four of the Suits smirked and started to cross the room towards Bangtan. Jimin looked over at Suga. The steely member gave a sharp nod and Jimin pushed some of his honey locks out of his hair with a dark glint in his eyes. He heard Suga tell the youngest to ‘stay put’ as he set off at the advancing Suits. Out of Bangtan, Jimin was known as one of their best fighters. He had studied many different styles and always perfected his craft; from judo and taekwondo to kendo and target shooting, he was regarded amongst most gangs in Central as the most skilled. Jimin was, also, a well-versed dancer, having studied since he was a child. And that control and flexibility of his body only aided him when he decided to show off just why he was well known. As he was still seething with anger from Choi’s words, he decided to take out that frustration on whoever came near him. Jimin took off like a bullet and launched himself up to grab a high bar on the bottom side of the scaffolding. Using his momentum, he swung himself up towards the closest Suit, catching the young man off guard as Jimin wrapped his toned legs around the taller man’s neck. Before the Suit could recover from the surprise, Jimin let go of the bar and arched back into a backbend. Using his lower body strength, he pulled the victim over and down the ground with a loud thud. The shock knocked the air from the Suit and Jimin sent a sharp punch to the throat, to keep him down.

A yell from another Suit brought Jimin’s eyes up. He got up and tackled the second. The new opponent was sturdier on his feet than the first, easily keeping himself upright and throwing Jimin back. Jimin recovered quickly; he ran to one of the supportive, vertical legs of the scaffolding, grasping hold and using it to spin himself back to the Suit, his heels colliding with the goon’s chest. The Suit stumbled back, chest heaving. Jimin didn’t give him much chance to recover; he was instantly back in his range, throwing punches and sweeping kicks towards the taller man. Being as flexible as he was, Jimin had no issues dodging and sliding under the Suit’s attempt at a comeback. While the bastard was strong and aggressive, he lacked speed and foresight. And Jimin had much of that. They had been backed further along the scaffolding towards it’s beginning, moving rhythmically around the bars and legs. The Suit had managed to grab Jimin by the collar of his studded jacket as he tried to get behind him and threw him face first into the ladder that lead to the top of the scaffolding. He clung to bar for a moment, feeling his lip start to bleed and his head ringing from the sudden impact. He could hear the asshole let out a laugh before charging at him. Just as the Suit was able to connect his jab to the back of Jimin’s head, the smaller blond side stepped him, and let the Suit’s hand make a cracking impact with the metal bars. Jimin got behind him and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The other man thrashed against his grip, but his windpipe was being crushed. The Suit slipped onto his knees as his vision started to dot. And Jimin took the opportunity to release the Suit’s throat and use his knee to hit him in the nose. Blood spattered over the dark denim as the Suit screamed in pain. He was silenced when Jimin elbowed him in the back of the head. After the man fell unconscious, Jimin ran his hands through his hair and adjusted the rose-colored glasses that had managed to stay on his face.

While Suga wasn’t as graceful as Jimin when it came to fighting, he was able to hold his own with the rest of them. He was scrappier, more calculative in his actions. The remaining two Suits had come at him at the same time. And just like Jimin, he used his height to his advantage, easily dodging under the sweeping arms of the two. The closest Suit had backed Suga up against one of the Roman pillars with his advancing punches, his back flushed against the cold stone. The bastard set an upper cut, which Suga caught and turned back upon its owner. He looked over the goon’s shoulder to see the second had a picked up a crowbar. Oh, fantastic. The second Suit raised the bar and brought it down in a hard motion, only to hit his own comrade when Suga grabbed the first one and used him as a shield. The goon swung again and Yoongi moved behind the pillar just as it made contact, sending dust flying into the air. When he came back around, he caught hold of the bar with both hands and struggled to push back against the brute’s strength. The first one had recovered from the hit and caught him from behind, locking his arms around the thin gang member’s body. Suga threw his head back and knocked against the Suit but his grip only tightened. He struggled hard as the second guy advanced on him again. Thinking fast, he brought his legs up and kicked the second Suit hard in the chest, sending him to the ground. He thrashed harder against the taller man behind him. He was swung around until Suga saw the white pillar in front of him. He ran up high enough on the pillar and kicked back with all his strength, sending him and the Suit to the marble floor. The arms around his chest loosened enough to slip one out of the hold and use a reverse elbow strike to the goon’s face, hard enough to send him to the very edge of consciousness. Suga scrambled up to his feet as the second Suit barreled at him; he moved just enough to grab ahold of the Suit’s jacket and propel him into the pillar. Suga grabbed hold of the Suit’s shaved head and slammed it as hard as he could into the pillar as many times as it took until the guy slumped down, blood decorating the white stone. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the General, smirked before giving the Suit at his feet a good kick to the stomach.

“That all you got, you son of a bitch?” Agust was out of breath, but still had enough snark in his voice to fill the room. “You couldn’t teach them how to fight their way out of a paper bag. I didn’t even need to bring out my tank over there,” he pointed at Jungkook, who smiled behind his mask and gave a little wave. “What were they supposed to do again? Teach me a lesson? Make me into the example to what happens when your fragile self-worth is questioned. If that’s how you teach your boys to fight, you should change your profession because your ability to make yourself look like an idiot is extraordinary. Your title should be ‘Moron Extraordinaire’ instead of ‘Washed-up Mafia Kingpin’. What you want to throw at me, now? Clearly, we can take you. And when I get out of here, you can guarantee that it’s going to be open season on you. I don’t care if your punk ass leader decides to show his fucking face. I’ll gladly spit in it and let him know how this little ‘bapsae’ took his place.”

Choi looked down at the Suits, most of whom were still unconscious at Bangtan’s feet. His eyes flicked up to meet Suga’s cold stare. He gave a deep sigh and shrugged the fur coat from his shoulders.

“Oh Agust, I really do wish one of my men had the foresight to break your jaw. That way I wouldn’t have to hear you anymore. I’m growing tired of this game. I would have hoped you would’ve gone down easier. It would have boosted the moral of the boys instead of their medical bill. Guess we are going to have to do this the old fashion way.”

Choi reached behind his suit jacket and brandished a chrome revolver. Behind him, the rest of his guys pulled out theirs and pointed them at Bangtan. Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to get bigger as he took in the site before him. Jimin looked concerned as well, but tried to keep it internalized so not to feed their egos; his eyes were darting across the room, looking for places to shield himself should shoots be fired. Suga refused to break eye contact with Choi. The older General gave at laugh at the fronted courage. He cocked the gun and raised it eye level.

“I have wanted to do this for a long time. When I was away, I had dreams of shooting you right between those cold eyes and wiping that fucking smile off that face. I remember when my brothers and I brought you under our wing; we had high hopes for you if we could break you. But you are just as stubborn as the rest of your ragtag crew. I hope your efforts were worth it in your mind.”

Choi’s finger moved towards the trigger. And Suga didn’t move, just stared him down. Before Choi could pull it, a loud gun shot rang out in the space! And a bullet hit Choi’s weapon and sent it ricocheting across the marble floor. Choi spun around, looking for the source of the shot. Suga let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. Jimin rushed to his side, eyes searching for an explanation, as if Yoongi had some how done something. But the second-in-command was just as shocked; his eyes darted about the room, just as the Royals were making a commotion looking for the phantom gun.

A deep chuckle filled the space, bouncing off the shadowed walls that made it seem like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Stop going on about ‘effort’ and more ‘effort’,” the deep voice commanded. “It’s makes my skin crawl when you say things like that.”

Drawn by the voice, Suga finally caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and red pants perched atop the second scaffolding behind the Royals on the opposite wall. V was squatted on top of the platforms, gazing down upon the scene like a gargoyle, one elbow resting against his knee. The other arm was stretched out with his emerald green gun held tight in his grasp. Suga was half impressed that V had hit his intended target; the other half was annoyed he had taken that chance.

“About time you decided to show your face,” Suga remarked. “What, did you take the scenic route?”

“Sorry Suga-hyung,” V responded, his voice like black velvet. “They scrambled my signal so I couldn’t contact you. Not even on your phone. And, of course, I had the guys at the cars to deal with. By the way,” he moved his steely eyes to Choi, “your henchmen weren’t a fan of my ‘Vante’ mark on your tacky car. So I left them giftwrapped in the trunk. They didn’t play nice so they’re a bit bruised. Hope that’s ok.”

V brought his hand up to flash his signature ‘V’ sign and winked at Choi. The General just stared back at him, his gaze disbelieving and furious. Then, he turned to his Suits.

“Unbelievable,” he said, the hand V had shot the gun out of balling into a shaky fist, “the empire I helped create is being spit upon. And its members are just letting this bunch of misfits walk all over them. This isn’t even all of them! You are supposed to be the most feared, strong, aggressive men of the Mafia families. But you let a pretty boy, a shadow, a whore, and a foul-mouthed baepsae fuck you over time and time again?! I should just shoot you all myself for being so useless! Do you know what’s going to happen if you continue to let the Royal’s name drag in the filth of these fuckers?! I will make sure every single one of you begs for death before I’m finished! Is that what you want? Or are you going to do something about it?!”

“Whoa, watch that temper, Big Boss,” V said, while smacking on a piece of gum. “Your face is turning a bright shade of red. It’s clashing with your suit. Not a good look for someone of your age.”

Choi had had enough; he gave a sharp order to Chen who whipped out his revolver from a hidden hoister. He raised it at rapid speed and took aim at V. But while Chen was fast, someone was faster. A loud shot sounded from behind them, and the bullet cut across the captain’s arm. His arm spasmed at the contact and dropped his gun before he could even move to the trigger. Choi whirled around, eyes wild and enraged. Behind Suga and Jimin, both of whom were wearing a smug smile, was the shadow who Choi had dismissed, still holding their hostage in front of him. Jungkook had his arm balanced against the hostage’s shoulder, with his metallic purple handgun on full display. Even with his face hidden behind a mask, all could tell he had a triumphant grin spread across his lips.

Choi grabbed his captain by the arms, uncaring of the bleeding wound his hands covered. “I told you to search them for weapons! Can you not do one thing I ask?!

“I did, Boss! I swear,” Chen cried as Choi fingers dug further into his gunshot wound.

It was Suga’s turn to let out a bemused noise, letting his head loll to one side. His hands came to rest on his hips, and he clicked his tongue in a disappointed fashion. “Oh Choi, you think you’re the smartest person in the room. You think you’re the only one with secrets. See, we’re not as naïve as you like to believe. We have the genius leader after all. We planned for every eventuality you could think of. You’re not as slick as you boost yourself up to be. But we played our part well to make you believe that, didn’t we? Since your boys lack the brains to think of creative methods beyond your orders, I’ll let you in on my little secret. Your boys did search us – they didn’t check your little rat.”

As quick as he brandished his own piece, Jungkook pulled Jimin’s and Suga’s weapon from under the rat’s oversized sweatshirt and tossed it to them. Jimin’s was a polished gold, while Suga’s was a studded black gun. Both caught their respective piece as if they had rehearsed the moment. Now, they had four barrels pointed at the Royals. Bangtan was outgunned, but they were widely known for their accuracy and body count. That reputation alone was enough to worry the newer Suits. Suga’s cold stare drilled into the General as he held is gun steady.

“Even after all your shit, Choi, I’ll let you decide how we do this; either let us walk out like nothing happened or we start shooting. You’re already down a few men,” Suga said, motioning to the four men still on the ground from their earlier rumble, either still unconscious or too scared to sit up. “Do you really want to risk losing more? After all this, I can’t guarantee that we won’t hit anything vital like with Chen there. So what’s it gonna be, Jackass?”

Choi stared at the younger man; his face was blank and unreadable. Suga wondered if he was going to have to repeat himself, or if they could use that silence to back away before anything happened. But then, a crazed look appeared in the General’s eyes and a wicked smirk cracked his face. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders before taking a step back behind his Suits.

Then, he snapped his fingers.

The Royals opened fire with an onslaught of bullets. Bangtan scattered behind whatever cover was closest. Jungkook pulled his hostage behind a large crate and shoved him to the ground, ordering the kid to ‘stay down and don’t move if you want to live to see adulthood’; he had protected the kid so far, he wasn’t gonna let him get shot for a stupid reason. The poor kid was too scared to do anything but shake and do as he was ordered. Jungkook leaned around the box and fired a few shots to try and cover for V. The gray-haired boy was running across the scaffolding, yelling out ‘one shot- two shots’ as he fired down into the Suits. He vaulted from edge of the platform and scampered behind one of the pillars where Jimin had shielded himself with. The smaller Bangtan member was an impressive shot and was managing to keep the Suits from advancing upon him. Suga was across from them, behind another pillar. From his position, it was difficult to get a clear shot at anyone and he was pinned down behind it. There was a crate a few feet from him that would give him a better vantage point to lay out the Royals. It would be a bonus if he would break down the human shield Choi had surrounded himself with, and stain that blue suit of his. Running away from the pillar into the sea of smoke and ammunition, he rapid-fired at the Suits, hearing at least one of the Suits call that he had been hit. Jimin and V were moving to a new cover, alternating cover shots over each other’s shoulders. Suga knew they needed to get out of there; no matter how good of a shot they were, they would run of bullets before the Royals would. He needed a plan, and fast. He looked behind him at the door Choi had rigged; there was a red light from the mechanical device that had shot and locked the door. The lobby had some decorative things that they could use to bar the door once he could destroy the mechanism. There were the emergency stairs just behind the Royals that they could use if they could keep their distance. Or both to split up the group.

Behind him, Jungkook had slid a new round of ammunition into his gun that V had slid to him. He had moved from the very back of the room closer to the rest of his team. One of the Suits came running at him from along the side of the room. He easily showed him why they referred to him as Bangtan’s tank; he blocked the Suit’s punch before pistol whipping him, sending two strong jabs at his gut, and a final uppercut that sent the suit falling backward and his gun flying from his hand. Jungkook easily caught it in his empty hand and sent double the shots at the rest of the Royals. He ducked behind another set of boxes and looked to Suga.

Three more Suits had been hit and were scrambling for cover. Those still shooting had changed weapons and released a new spray of bullets that pinned Bangtan where they were. Choi stood in the middle of it, almost as if he were a statue, with a confident grin still on his lips. He gave an order for the Suits to advance. Suga knew they needed to get out now. He rose up and fired, hitting two Suits and bringing them down. He gave a signal to Jungkook to come to him. The Maknae rushed over, both guns firing and keeping the Royals ducking for cover. Suga looked over his shoulder at the other two and called out. He gave a pointed look to the door and V followed his gaze. They had all worked together long enough to not need much to understand what the other needed to say. V looked back and nodded, knowing Suga meant for them to leave that way on his signal. Jungkook laid down some cover as the blond turned from the battle and fired four shots at the mechanism, destroying it. He turned back to see Choi look stunned at his actions, before ordering his men on.

Suga grabbed Jungkook and leaned close. “Get to the back stairs. I’ll cover you and be right behind you.” He looked behind and called out to Jimin and V, “Get to the car! If we’re not there, just drive. We’ll meet up at the safe zone!”

V and Jimin nodded and took off towards the double doors, Jimin kicking them wide open before V turned and slammed them shut behind them. Choi yelled out for a few men to follow them. Three of the men who had lost in their hand-to-hand battle with Bangtan, jumped up from their positions on the floor and ran towards the closed doors. They pushed against it but it was wedged closed. The blond smiled, knowing V had thought of the same things he had about securing the door to help give them time to get away. It held just long enough for the two to escape the lobby. Suga gave Jungkook a shove and the young man took off around the outskirts of the room towards the emergency door in the back of the room. Shots continued to whiz by him as he ducked and weaved between pillars and boxes, having a few close calls as he neared the back end of the room. Suga trailed behind him, pausing at each cover to fire back at the Royals. He managed to bring down two more of the Royals before he ran out of bullets. Jungkook finished the clip in the stolen gun and threw it, hard, at an advancing Suit, nailing him in the side of the head. Chen, still bleeding from his arm but determined to win favor from Choi again, had seen where Jungkook and Suga were heading and stood in front of the door. Jungkook ran at the captain and got locked in a hand-to-hand fight. Chen was one of the few present to offer a challenge to the Maknae, even injured. Chen grabbed one of Jungkook’s fists, as he went in for a cross jab, and twisted the young man’s arm behind him. Jungkook twisted, trying to get his arm free, but Chen held tight. So, he shoved them both backwards until the captain’s back slammed against the wall, throwing his head back to crack against the taller man. Chen let go, and the two were back to exchanging punches, jabs, and dodges.

Suga was almost to Jungkook when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Choi moving towards one of his new recruits, one who was a terrible shot. The General snatched his gun from the Suit’s hand and rose it. And it was aimed at Jungkook in a fatal angle. The Maknae was trapped with Chen and couldn’t see what Choi had planned. Suga cursed and ran. Everything happened too fast.

Jungkook had landed a sharp punch to Chen’s face, causing the captain to stumble back stunned.

Choi fired the weapon with a clear target.

Jungkook noticed Choi, as Suga shoved him out of the way.

#bts fic #bts imagines #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #yoongi x reader #bangta boys #ot7 x reader #min yoongi #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bangtan fanfic

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

Bad (4): Moral of the Story

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: Your divorce with Ransom is finalized and some changes, good and bad, occur for the both of you.

A/n: Sorry loves that I’m slow with getting out chapters! There’s just a lot going on lately, so I apologize that this one is kinda short. Next chapter will be better!

Also, many thanks to those of you who voted! hehe I might have been a little biased and wanted Andy in the story too...

Warnings: mild profanity. more angst.

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist

On November 12th, a life you once knew was officially left behind.

That was the day a judge signed off his judgement and you and Ransom were officially divorced.

After all the hell he put you through, one would think you’d be happy. But honestly? You were still unhappy. Of course you’d never left him back in your life, yet your heart was still broken.

It wasn’t supposed the end this way.

You weren’t ever supposed to be sitting in your car, alone, letting your confident facade fall, as your shoulders racked with heavy sobs.

Unfortunately, life is just always full of surprises. Good and bad ones.

Today seemed as if it were just the perfect day for a divorce, if there was ever such a thing.

Rain heavily fell from the ominous-looking clouds, such as your tears uncontrollably streamed from your eyes. You were thankful for the dark lighting, making it impossible for the others parked in the dimly-lit parking garage to see your distressed state.

Behind your tears, the radio quietly played, and you took a second to listen to the song, reaching forward to turn to volume up, just the slightest. Its lyrics spoke to you, and somehow you knew things were gonna be okay.

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end it's better for me

That's the moral of the story

Once your emotions made their much needed escape, you took a deep breath, as if you were starting afresh. This was your life now, and from here on out, you’d make the calls. Ransom was no longer looming around the back of your conscience and it was nice. He was of the past, and currently you were preparing for the future. Even your little one knew it, as they lightly kicked you, almost as if they were saying, ‘it’s gonna be okay.”

And you knew that was true. You had a baby on the way, and that was more than enough. A precious gift from the heavens, who would be making their appearance in a little over a month. Just the mere thought brought a smile to your face, one you caught in the rearview mirror. Analyzing the smile, you realized that it wasn’t forced and that you were finally, truly, happy.

A few weeks had passed since the divorce, and you were functioning just fine, some would even say incredibly. For you, the dark clouds of your divorce and past love life had moved on, but for Ransom, it was quite the opposite…

Ransom was miserably laying on his couch, legs propped over the armrest, head lazily laid on a throw pillow, half of his mind focusing on the tv, while the other half, imagined a time when you were there with him.

“Ransom, have I ever told you how much I loved you?”

You hand rested on his soft and clean-shaven face, gazing happily into his never ending blue eyes. The man pretended to think, shaking his head then leaning forward to capture you lips in a kiss. Ransom pushed your back against the couch, as the two of you laughed, although still lipped locked.

“Ransom…”

The man’s eyes may have been glued to the tv screen, but instead his mind was replaying the memory of you. He could even hear your voice, as if the daydream was nothing more than reality, until another voice cut into his mind. A higher pitched one, if you will.

“Ransom!”

He didn’t respond to the girl, the call of his name being mixed with two voices. Blair’s and yours. It took everything to hold onto to your voice and ignore the other.

“Ransom.”

Finally, the woman’s voice, who was actually standing in front of him, broke through, shattering his memories and pushing him into reality.

Ransom quickly sat upright, to act as if nothing happened, allowing the smiling woman to sit in his lap, while peppering kisses over his jawline. Her kisses were nothing like yours. You kisses were filled will love and not lust.

“Oh Ranny. How did I get so lucky?”

He plastered a fake smile on his face, leaning into to kiss her nose, instantly repulsed by his own actions.

“You know, I already did some wedding planning today.”

The words that left the woman’s mouth made Ransom’s constant thinking freeze. He had been so eager to getting over you that he blindly proposed to this woman, who was obviously no better than himself. She was going to put up with his shit, unlike you. That was definitely something he didn’t need in this new marriage. Actually he didn’t even need a marriage.

“Blair, I’m sorry I just can’t.”

Her eyes grew like the size of saucers, as she hopped off of Ransom’s lap, standing tall and towering over the sitting man, clearly ready for a fight.

“Can’t what, Hugh?”

“Get married.”

The scoff she let out was loud enough to be heard in China, before her pitchy voice started yelling at Mr. Heartbreaker. She really was overreacting, this was Ransom Drysdale after all.

“You asshole! Is it because I’m not (y/n), huh is that it? Newsflash! She won’t take you back. You’ve fucked up Ransom and now you are losing me too!”

At the mention of your name, a fire ignited inside Ransom. Yes, he screwed up, but he didn’t need anyone, especially Blair, to tell him that.

“Yeah, I screwed up, but you know what? We are both fuckers who ruin the lives of the ones we love. You knew damn well I was married, and seeing what I did to her, you knew what you were getting yourself into! I’m not blaming you, cause it takes two to tango, sweetheart!”

Blair stared daggers into Ransom’s eyes, him doing the same, as both of their chests were heaving from their screaming match. The man had made a great point, although self-deprecating yet true. When he was married, he was so willingly ready to cheat, it was a sign that Ransom would never be ready to commit to anyone, even when he thought he was in love.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be arguing and drunk, though, while even sober, Ransom’s mind never functioned properly. Not after you left anyway.

Their argument continued into the night, with Blair leaving behind her rock of a ring in the palm of Ransom’s hand. And truth be told, that when woman angrily strutted out the door, Ransom felt at ease for once. He had finally put a patch on his sinking boat that rocked in the large ocean of his fuck-ups. When the bed was empty that night, it felt nice. Why he ever traded you for Blair was beyond him, and he hated himself for it. But no, he knew you’d never take him back, you were too good for him. Hopefully, you’d find someone else who’d love you better than he treated you. For once, Ransom put your needs before his. If you were to show up on his doorstep tomorrow moring with an engagement ring, and a man at your waist, he’d hoensly congratulate you. As much as it would pain him to see you move on, he knew no amount of pain could weigh up to the heartbreak you felt.

This was his punishment.

It really did take all the physical restraint in Ransom to not run up to you, fall to his knees and beg when he saw you those weeks ago in court. It took everything in him to not call, and apologize for the hell he put you through. Because as much as you deserved an apology, he knew you’d never forgive him and it would hurt him even more.

For you, as the time to your due date got closer, you suddenly realized that one income might not be enough. Bills after bills can bleed one dry. So, last Saturday, you saw an ad online for a personal assistant, the requirements were slim and the hours were as needed. After four long days, you finally received a chance for an interview, which unfortunately occurred during your work hours. Lorraine, the sweetest woman on the planet, offered to work your shift, giving you the time to rush off to the DA’s office. Newton wasn’t too far of a drive, and at this point you’d travel across country just to give this precious life inside of you, a good beginning. Being eight months pregnant, probably ruined your chances of getting the job, but when you met your “hopefully soon-to-be boss”, he seemed to not care. Actually, he was willing to give you the jobs, but was concerned it would be to much for you. It took a few tries, but you finally assured the man, leaving his office only to see him again tomorrow.

You came to know your boss as Andy Barber, a man with a heart of gold, and his worries always about you. It was endearing, and you started to unintentionally drift closer to the man. One late night in that very November, Andy had decided to work well past his usual hours. It was pitiful to see the man all alone in the building as the only source of light was at his desk. Thanksgiving holiday was coming up and Andy begged for you to go home and start your holiday break. For minutes your both “bickered” back and forth, until you finally left, giving Andy a sense of relief. He really did care about you, although he never said so. Your were his employee and he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. Well, until tonight anyway.

Just as Andy thought he’d sent you home, you came back ten minutes later, a small pizza box in one hand, while the other held a liter of soda. A grin spread across Andy’s face, as he stood up to take the box from you, clearing off room on his desk for the two of you to eat. While enjoying your makeshift dinner, you and Andy started to open up to each other even more, carrying on small talk, that led to something else.

“So how far along are you, (y/n)?”

“About eight months.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise, while also admiring you for your dedication.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I can’t even imagine how hard all of this is for you.”

Your boss motioned to all of the paperwork on his desk, to which you just shook your head. It really wasn’t an inconvenience at all.

“Oh, it’s not that bad. I’m the only one making a home for this baby, so I do what I can.”

Your eyes trailed up from your belly to be met with Andy’s sympathetic smile.

“I wouldn’t have known, but I do know this baby has the best mother of them all.”

At the compliment you let out a small laugh, a sound that made Andy beam, as the two of you continued to work on some files. To keep the night from falling silent, you continued to talk with the man, not missing a beat in your conversation.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. My husband, err, ex-husband, Ransom, cheated on me, but he did leave me this precious gift.”

For some reason, you felt compelled to tell Andy your story, like you needed to get it off your chest to someone other than Lorraine. Come to think about it, Andy was the only other person you trusted, Lorraine, of course, being the first. In the two weeks you had worked together, the man had made an everlasting impression on you.

Oh good god, why did you just spill your guts to the man? He probably doesn't care for your sob story--

“Ransom? As in Ransom Drysdale?”

You nodded your head, preparing yourself for some spew of judgement.

“That’s right! I’ve heard of him... and you. The two of you seemed in love. I’m so sorry (y/n), you didn’t deserve it, honey.

Not only were you shocked that Andy did genuinely care, but the pet name sounded like it was a second nature to him, which seemed to make your heart swell.

“Thanks. It’s led me here though! To this amazing job with my lovely boss.”

Feeling a surge of confidence, with hopes that maybe Andy felt the same way, you shot him a playful wink. Your eyes dazzling in the yellow light of the desk lamp, making Andy view you almost as an angel. Thank the heavens he wasn’t standing, because your adorable wink made his knees weak.

If Andy was going to become close to you as he hoped, now was the time to come clean about his past, and serve it on a platter as you had done. A good relationship always starts with trust.

“Well if it makes it any better, I went through something similar. My wife left me years ago, with my son too. Last year, I went to go visit them, only to find they’d been in a car accident-”

A stray drop of a tear fell onto the paper underneath Andy, and it broke your heart to see him this way. It was obviously hard for him to tell the story, and you’d heard enough. Deciding to make a bold move, you moved around the desk and wrapped your arms around Andy’s shoulders.

The man solemnly turned towards you, his chair swiveling around along with him, giving you the space to sit on his knees, while holding him close. His beard tickled your neck, as silent tears were shed. Your hand soothingly ran along his back, as you placed soft kisses to his temple. Andy’s arms were at your twisted waist, the baby bump slightly in the way, although you had turned your body to accommodate the man’s large figure.

The two of you stayed locked in each other’s embrace for a long four minutes, until Andy pulled back, his arms still around your waist. Slowly, you brought your hand around from his neck, and to his cheek, using your thumb to wipe at the dry tears. Andy leaned into your touch and smiled contently at you. He was a broken man, who needed some love. Exactly the kind you’d shown him.

Without second thought, you pressed your lips to Andy’s, noticing how his lips felt different than Ransom’s, his beard making you giggle just a bit. After what seemed to be forever, you and Andy reluctantly pulled away from each other, blissful smiles on your faces.

From that night forward, you and Andy Barber started dating. Dinners out after long nights of work, or movies at home. He reminded you so much of how Ransom was in the beginning, except this time, you knew that this man wouldn't break your heart.

For Thanksgiving, you invited Andy over for dinner as the two of you were all alone this year, no family this time, and your friends had their own lives.

Dinner started out great, you and Andy bought a small Turkey, basting and then roasting it, along with making some side dishes, most of them being microwaveable. Honestly, the food had tasted delicious regardless of the way it was cooked.

Just as you were about to dig into the feast before your eyes, a text message rang through on your phone. Who would be texting you at this hour, especially on thanksgiving?

Ransom- I know this isn’t the time, but I was wondering if tomorrow you’d like to go out for lunch. Not as a date or anything, but so I can apologize to you and explain. I’m not looking for forgiveness, but you deserve to know.”

Your face looked as if you had seen a ghost, the expression scaring Andy as he had peeked up from his plate to see you not eating, and instead staring into the void of your cell phone screen.

“(y/n), what’s wrong?”

Reaching across the table, Andy grabbed your free hand, slightly startling you from your deep thoughts.

“Uh. Ransom. He texted me. Asked for lunch tomorrow to explain everything.”

The man, still holding your hand, shook his head, prompting you to continue on with the story.

A part of you wondered why the events of the past had happened, and to get closure, you needed answers. Maybe it wasn’t in your best interest, but the curiosity inside of you was piqued. Now that you knew Ransom was willingly ready to talk, you also knew that if you didn’t take this opportunity, it would instead eat away at you. Something that you definitely didn’t need.

“Andy, what should I do?”

“Oh honey, I know you want to know what happened , so go. But if you ever feel uncomfortable, call me and I’ll be there to kick his ass.”

You laughed at Andy’s protectiveness, and lightly kissed his hand that was enclosing yours. Looking down, you felt a tiny yet powerful kick. A sign from the little one that his or her father still didn’t know about their existence. The ending of Ransom’s text flashed in your brain, the irony of it all laughing at you.

You deserve to know.

Ransom was an asshole, that’s for sure, but in the end he fathered this child, and deserved to know that much. The same went for yourself, as you were entitled to the story that destroyed your marriage.

Tomorrow is definitely gonna be one for the books...

another a/n: If you’ve made it here (the end) I applaud you very much, but while you’re here, I apologize for this chapter. The writing style is that of a fifth grader, and I am forever ashamed that i actually posted it haha.

Anyway, the next chapter should hopefully be better!

taglist (series and in general tags): @kiwihoee @buckybarnesthehotshot @memissbee @tricereads @tonystankschild @coffeebooksandfandom @ria132love @what-is-your-wish @maan24 @bval-1 @jemimah-b99 @turtoix @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @l-u-n-a-m @lexeeehhh @hc-geralt-23

lemme know if you wanna join, be removed, or if i tagged the wrong person!

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x y/n #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction

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nbrook29 · 4 years

Text

So a few weeks ago, @foxsake5 sent me one of those dialogue prompts, and at the time I wasn’t taking them anymore but since she’s the sweetest I just couldn’t say no 😌💖

I’m sorry for the wait, I hope this isn’t awful :)

Therefore, ladies and gentlemen:

159. [text] Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.

***

The hopes he had late last night of waking up with all his symptoms miraculously gone vanish seconds after he wakes up and gets aware of his surroundings.

His head still feels like it’s full of cotton, eyes sting and itch at the same time, and his nose being all stuffy is the proverbial cherry on top of his misery. Before he can fully grasp this truly pathetic situation he’s in, he feels the beginnings of a sneezing fit brewing in his nostrils and sure enough, a moment later all hell breaks loose.

When he finally finishes, his chest aches with the effort and he drops his head back onto the pillow, whining at the unfairness of it all.

Every year, it’s the same story. Spring comes, trees and flowers release tiny grains to fertilize other plants and Robbe is doomed. He’s so fucking doomed. April barely arrives and he turns into a sneezing, itching, coughing, swollen mess. It’s not pretty. Far from it actually.

He curses himself for being stupid and believing he was cured after last year’s very mild case. Thinking about it now, it was probably due to being forced to stay in the house for the entire month more than anything. All his hopes of battling this fucking thing forever are now officially gone. His disappointment is immeasurable, his day is ruined.

And, Sander’s not here.

Why is he not here.

Why isn’t he lovingly stroking his brow to ease his sinuses pressure like he did last night.

He’s gonna have to have a serious conversation with his boyfriend because this is just unacceptable behavior.

Tugging the duvet tighter around himself to prevent the chilliness of the room from touching on his toasty warm body, he reaches for his phone. When Sander’s beautiful face welcomes him from his screen background, he yearns for his comforting presence even more. Yes, he’s being a tad dramatic, but sick Robbe has always been a drama queen, needing care and attention. Mama Ijzermans always laughs at him, saying he turns into a five year old when down with a runny nose. There may be a bit of truth to that statement, Robbe is a man enough to admit that. He just really hates having to blow his nose every ten seconds and all that, okay? Sue him.

Just as he’s about to start typing, his eye catches something flickering in the sunlight on Sander’s pillow. Frowning, he shifts closer to inspect it and discovers sprinkles of glitter covering the bottom half, and it’s honestly barely detectable, but for Robbe’s skilled eye it’s no hardship.

Weird. Unless he somehow missed the fact that Sander turns into a sparkly unicorn every night at midnight in the last year and a half, there’s no reasonable explanation for glitter being in his bed.

He decides to leave it be for the time being and goes back to the job at hand.

R: Where are u and why aren’t u here

S: Hello to you too, love of my life, light of my day

R: ☹️

S: I had to run home cause I forgot I promised my mum I'll be there when the couch delivery comes

R: That's a very elaborate excuse for you abandonning me

I won’t hold it against you if you decided to leave me after being faced with my gross snotty self :(

S: You’re not gross

R: I don’t believe you

S: Okay you’re a tiny bit gross rn but I'm not afraid of your snot 💪🏻

I'll be back in 40 minutes x

R: I'll try to survive til then 🥺

I miss you 🥺

I need your cuddles 🥺

I miss your fingers in my hair, my head hurts less then 🤧

S: You're so sweet when you're all sniffly 😂

R: That's cause I need you to get your butt here faster

S: I'll try my best

R: Okay :(

Hey sander?

S: Yeah?

R: My bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall

S: 😶

R: Why is there glitter in my bed

S: Idk

R: I hate glitter

S: Maybe it's the allergies making you see things

R: 😠 what did u do why is there glitter in my bed????

S: Gotta go the delivery guy is here love youuu

R: SANDER!!!

***

When he wakes up next time his head is still stuffed, but the feeling of warmth coming off Sander’s body and his hand playing with his hair makes it that much bearable. Scooching closer, he wraps his arm around his waist and buries his face into his black t-shirt, hoping the graphical form of Freddie Mercury in the front of it won’t mind much if he messes it with his runny nose by accident.

“I bought croissants on my way over, and there’s hot lemon tea waiting for you in the kitchen. Do you feel like getting up?” Sander asks in a gentle tone, hand stilling where it felt so good on Robbe’s scalp.

And no, he doesn’t really feel like it. So he decides to use the power of his eyes on Sander and rests his chin on his chest, giving him a pleading look that he knows his boyfriend is far from being immune to.

“Bring it here?”

Sander regards him for a second like he’s searching for a strength inside him to say no to him, but very quickly he gives up, head shaking at himself as his fingers resume the ministrations in Robbe’s hair.

He lets out a deep sigh. “I’m such a pushover, aren’t I?” And Robbe knows he won because there’s a smile tugging at Sander’s lips and a moment later, he disentangles himself from Robbe’s grabby arms, heading to the kitchen for their breakfast.

They eat in bed, sitting side by side, shoulders brushing as they keep reaching for the goodies on the tray balanced on Sander’s thighs. Robbe has his feet tucked under his calves, his extra clinginess during sick time coming out in all force, but Sander doesn’t comment on it, just smiles and kisses his temple, looking like he doesn’t mind to be his personal teddy bear for the time being. He lets Robbe lie half on top of him when they watch silly youtube videos and draws mindless patterns on his back as his arm is probably asleep from being stuck in the same position. His fingers make goosebumps rise all over Robbe’s body and he must be thinking the shiver is the result of cold because he then meticulously tucks the comforter around him, making sure Robbe is burrito-like and safe from cold.

It’s the first time Robbe has been somewhat under the weather since they got together and he melts at every caress and gentle touch that Sander provides without even thinking about it and just in general being this five star on booking.com thoughtful boyfriend.

So yeah, Sander is passing this when-in-sickness exam with flying colors, Robbe thinks, as he leaves a few kisses on what looks like Freddie Mercury’s hair, reveling in Sander’s content sigh.

It’s an all around peaceful afternoon, except when the peace is occasionally broken with sneezing, blowing (only nose, damn it) and groaning in displeasure. Sander is taking it all like a champ, teasing him only a little and handing tissue after tissue, his face twisting at the grossness of Robbe’s state only a few times. Mostly, he just squeezes him tighter, scratches his back in that way he likes, kisses the pout out of his face despite the gross factor and makes him a fresh tea.

He even cooks him a soup when Robbe naps out of things he finds in Robbe’s mom fridge, leaving Robbe himself gaping at him in astonishment, more so when the soup actually turns out good, because he had no idea Sander could cook something more than croques.

The confession earns him a light jab in the ribs, light because Sander is still considerate of his state, but jab indeed because he will not stand for Robbe disbelief in his cooking skills, hell no. Robbe then keeps moaning in pleasure at the taste of every single spoon of the tomato soup to show his gratitude (and because it’s really good) and Sander rolls his eyes at him, but there’s a pleased smile on his face that lets Robbe know his ruffled feathers have been smoothed.

When they get back to just simply lounging around in bed with Robbe breathing (wheezing) loudly as he plays with Sander’s fingers, he remembers something.

Propping his head with his hand, he narrows his eyes at Sander. “So what about that glitter?”

The guilty look that immediately blooms on Sander’s face leaves him with no doubt that it was his fault. He thumps his chest in frustration.

“I’m sorry! I just, I was kinda bored after you fell asleep so fast last night, and, um, I bought some new paints yesterday,” he explains, wincing at Robbe’s growing frown. He scratches his head before he continues as if to delay the fallout. “And I wanted to try them out a bit and some of them might have contained, um, glitter in them?” he ends in a squeaky voice, waiting for Robbe to blow up, because he’s well aware of his burning hate for glitter.

It’s like herpes. Once it’s on you, it never goes away.

“I can change the sheets later?” Sander adds wide-eyed, buttering him up as he leans in to kiss him once, twice, three times, until the scoff on Robbe’s lips melts completely.

He could get mad, but Sander has been so sweet today and he’s looking so apologetic now, like he’s actually afraid Robbe may throw him out the door for this unfortunate incident of bringing that abomination into his house. The idea is so ridiculous it makes him giggle, and at first, Sander’s confused, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Robbe doesn’t stop, he scoffs at him and pouts.

“Ugh, you made me believe you’re gonna yell at me and put a ban on sex for a month or something, jerk.”

He folds his arms all petulant as Robbe keeps rolling in bed, laughing, but then the sneezing fit abruptly stops Robbe’s fun and he sits up straight, letting out one sneeze after another, losing count after the eighth one. He thinks he got to twenty in the end, his new record, and when it’s finally over he feels so miserable and achy he doesn’t feel like laughing anymore. His eyes are so watery it feels like they’re gonna spill out any second now, nose rubbed so red it’s painful to even breathe and cheeks burning hot from the congestion.

Sander keeps handing him tissues, holding the waste bin in his other hand, and Robbe must look really awful because all signs of sulking are gone from his now sympathetic face as he gathers him into his arms, whispering sweet nothings into his hair as Robbe hides his face in the crook of his neck to keep his frustration tears at bay.

Sander is graceful enough to not say anything when a few escape anyway.

“Maybe you should see a doctor, huh?” he suggests after a while, hand stroking Robbe’s arm. “Maybe he will give you something?”

Robbe shakes his head, his voice raspy when he replies. “It’s no use, the doctor is gonna give me stuff that’s gonna make me drowsy. I just need to get over those first few days, it always gets better afterwards.”

He gets a lingering peck to his forehead. “Okay.”

“Thanks for being so amazing.” Robbe looks at him with sincerity from under his droopy lids, thumb sweeping under his eye in caressing motion. Sander just smiles, shaking his head a little as if Robbe’s gratitude is silly.

“You’re always there for me when the situation is reversed, right?”

And they both know he’s not talking about allergies, of course he’s not. No more words are necessary as Robbe considers him for a few seconds, love shining in his bloodshot eyes before he shifts closer to place a kiss on his chin and then snuggles to him as close as humanly possible, his heart full when Sander does the same.

Robbe’s eyes sting too much for them to keep watching anything on their phones, but they’re also too lazy to get up and actually do something and they’re not yet hungry enough to think about preparing dinner. So to kill time, Sander quizzes him about Bowie and his lyrics, the year and a half of them being a couple pretty much skyrocketing Robbe’s knowledge about this man, so he knows the answers to 3/4 of the questions, Sander's eyes gleaming with pride as he pretends to wipe the imaginary tear making Robbe giggle and forget about his state for a while.

Eventually, Sander’s calming and sweet like honey voice lulls him to sleep, and the last thing he registers as he’s losing the fight to keep his eyes open is Sander chuckling as he promises him quietly to paint him in all of the intense colors of those glittery paints he owns soon and there’s nothing he can do to stop him.

#wtfock

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friendandphoe · 4 years

Text

okay the formatting on this is gonna be a lil weird bUT!! have this figuring it out/something to last revamp that’s been sitting in my brain for the last few weeks @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There’s no way in hell she’s ever looking Professor Keelson in the eye again. “I’m sorry,” she croaks for the thousandth time, and finds a tissue being pressed into her hand.

“Quite alright, my dear,” Professor Keelson says soothingly, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his round belly. “Wipe your face, now, there you go. I’m — well.” And he rubs the bridge of his nose, just under his round wire glasses. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this, unfortunately.”

She nods numbly, ice trickling down her spine.

You ruined everything.

“I’m sorry,” she tries again, because it’s all she can think to say, but the professor waves her off with a weathered hand and pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he makes his way to the mini fridge he keeps under the bookshelves.

“Now, now,” he says, almost scolding, and pulls out a clementine, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of water. “Don’t you start that with me, Ms. Ochoa. This is not the first time I’ve had students crying in my office, I daresay it won’t be the last.” And he sits heavily back down in his chair, setting the snacks in front of her. “Eat, drink. Now, I won’t press on what’s been troubling you, but you know, these tired old eyes of mine do still catch a few things here and there, and I have seen you — well. I don’t like to use the word struggling, but you know, perhaps it is a bit more apt than anything else I could think of.” And she knows he’s looking at her, knows those beady black eyes well, but just focuses on unwrapping the chocolate bar as quietly as she can.

What makes you think we want you around?

“You’ve had a rough time of it, this year.”

It’s not a question, but she still finds herself nodding confirmation. “I don’t know what happened.” She says hoarsely, and reaches for the water bottle.

Leave us alone.

“I’ve been wanting this for years, I worked so hard to get into this program, I just—” and she has to press her mouth shut to keep the lump in her throat from escaping.

Leave us alone!

“Some… stuff. Uh, came up, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a minute, then softly: “The human mind is a wonderful, confusing little thing.” Professor Keelson says. She dares a glance up at him, finds him — thank god — staring out his office window. “It tends to block out anything unpleasant we might not want to hear, and often that negativity will build and build and build until, one day, the weight becomes too much to bear.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his short white beard, messing the hairs out of their orderly style. “And then we must face the unfortunate truth that sometimes what we thought we wanted is, in actuality, not at all the path we should be taking."

She drops her gaze back down to her bouncing knee. “Is it stupid?” She blurts out, watching her leg blur under her rising tears. “I just — this is a good school, a good program, and I’ll have so many job opportunities when I graduate—”

A weathered hand stretches out across the desk, just reaching to where her pinky would've been. “And yet,” Professor Keelson murmurs. “It won’t make you happy.” He sits back in his chair, looking every inch the benevolent Santa Claus his students know him to be. “And given how miserable you’ve been this year, Ms. Ochoa, I daresay your ultimate happiness is worth far more than any graduating job offers.” His smile drops for a half-second. “Though I can’t say I won’t be sorry to see you go. You’re already one of my best students, you know.”

You're an embarrassment to my name and reputation.

A wet little giggle chokes out of her throat, and she wipes down her face one more time. “Don’t tempt me, I’m half-considering staying,” she admits. “Even with all of this.”

“Ah, but if you do, what sort of state will you be in once you graduate?” Professor Keelson says, raising a bushy brow. “All you young folk are the same. You’re young, you have that wonderful, limitless energy, but you must learn to take care of yourselves now, while you have the space to do so. Won’t do you any good to drive yourselves into the ground every night when you’re my age, you know!” He looks at her appraisingly, then smiles wide. “And you know, my dear, there’s great strength in being able to admit you were wrong. I’ve always admired people who are strong enough to chase their dreams instead of following the easy path. Do you have an idea where you’re going, yet?”

Don’t ever come back here, you little—

“There’s a performing and visual arts conservatory,” she says hesitantly. “River Park, downstate. They’ve got really good photography and filmmaking programs, and, um.” She pauses, unsure how to explain how right it had all felt when she’d been reading about it online. “Well, I have an interview on Wednesday, so.”

Professor Keelson’s smile widens. “River Park! My partner studied illustration there, years ago when we were both young. You’ll do wonderfully.”

She can’t help but feel like his faith is ever-so-slightly misplaced —

I didn't want you.

— maybe it’s just the existential crisis talking, who knows —

Do you understand me?

— but she can’t quite bring herself to argue against the sparkling excitement in the professor’s eyes. She lets him press another chocolate bar and tissue combo into her hand as he shuffles her out of his office, with strict, cheerful instructions to come see him before she leaves for her interview.

You were a mistake.

Tuesday night comes in the blink of an eye; she’d barely dumped her meager wardrobe back into the suitcase she’d kept under her bed and her sticky notes are still haphazardly slapped to the wall above her desk. She’s not exactly sure where the time went — it’s not like she went to any classes. Or ate much. Or was sleeping, really. Granted she did try, but the third time in the same night she woke up sobbing because her blankets had twisted around her leg, trapping her in an all-too-familiar heat vortex—

window won't break it's too hot it hurts to breathe window won't break it's so fucking hot she can't think window won't break but it'll slide get out of this goddamn heat get out get out crunch fuck ow hurts hurts ow fuck hurts her toes shouldn't be ow fuck fuck fuck pointing that way hurts hurts fucking hurts can't feel her knee fuck fuck where's papá—

— she kind of gave up. She doesn't even bother pulling out her shitty, half-broken headphones to try and watch something on Netflix to try and pass the time, she just lays in bed and listens to Rebecca softly snoring five feet away. The ceiling is infinitely more interesting than anything else she could’ve been focusing on, anyway.

Except maybe her portfolio. Which. She hasn’t really. Looked at.

She’s so fucked.

Still, she drags herself out of bed nice and early at 7 am Wednesday morning, beating her alarm by the customary 4 minutes, and actually manages to gather the energy to sift through her remaining clothes to dig out something — well. She doesn’t really have anything “nice,” per say, but she does have an oversized sweater that’ll pass as a dress once she puts on some makeup and a belt and ties her hair up, and that’ll have to be good enough.

You show up to my door looking like that?

River Park is going to laugh her right out the door.

Everything she might need is already shoved unceremoniously into her backpack — wallet, keys, wrist brace, student ID, laptop, flash drive (in its place of honor in the tiny pocket), knee brace, fruit snacks, water bottle — but her eye catches on her DLSR just as she’s finished tying the laces on her most comfortable boot, and she hesitates. She hasn’t really looked at her portfolio much recently — she knows she’s got some old pictures from Manhattan, and maybe some from various campus events that might be good, but it’s been a little hard to go out and take nice shots when she’s been drowning in depression soup for the past four months. Four years. Whatever. Either way, she doesn’t have much to show for herself, and inspiration hasn’t really hit lately.

But River Park is — well, she has no idea, really, she hasn’t seen it in person yet, but the photos online are gorgeous, all glass-and-brick buildings framed by forests and gardens. Very much a college town, from what she can tell, the campus map isn’t really a map so much as a general directory pointing out which buildings were associated with the conservatory, but there was something that felt weirdly homey about seeing those pictures. Maybe it was the layout of the buildings, maybe it was the way they described their classes and professors, maybe it was just the simple fact that everyone in those pictures was genuinely smiling, but she’d gotten this weird, longing ache just below her collarbone that had made her close down all her other college-related tabs and email River Park’s photography and filmmaking department.

Something feels good about that campus. And maybe, if she gets there a little early, she can—

You don't get to come into my life and — and ruin everything I have here.

It’s only seven forty-two. Her interview’s not until one, and the train ride downstate should only take an hour. She’s got time.

Which is how she finds herself knocking on Professor Keelson’s office door, DLSR hanging around her neck, about two hours earlier than she’d been intending to be there, praying to who and whatever might be listening that he’s actually in and she didn’t just horribly fuck this up like she’s been fucking up, oh, who’s to say, just about everything she touches these past few months.

You’re not a part of this family. You never will be.

“Come in, come in!” She hears just beyond the door, and she cautiously peeks in to find the wizened old professor crouching over his printer, staring at it suspiciously as it slowly spits out some document. “Hello, dear. Wasn’t expecting you this early!”

I think you should leave.

“Sorry,” she manages, hovering in the doorway. “I just — change of plans.”

Professor Keelson nods, collects his papers, and creaks over to his desk. “Yes, very good.” he agrees, shuffling the papers into two piles. “Take a seat, I promise I won’t keep you very long. You look nice, by the way.”

She sits, already relaxing in the warm familiarity of Professor Keelson’s overstuffed office. Maybe this is why he’d wanted her to visit before she went, just to make sure she wouldn’t vomit on the interviewers. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Now,” he says, stuffing one pile of papers into a folder. “These are all your important documents: transcripts, transferable credits, disability accommodations, et cetera. Pardon my overstepping, but you did seem a little, ah, frazzled, shall we say? Last you came to speak with me and I was almost positive that you wouldn’t have thought of pulling the paperwork together.”

Which is absolutely true, she hadn’t, and she can’t even bring herself to feel insulted that he’d assumed she wouldn’t. “Thank you very much,” she says, trying desperately to seem calm and cool and collected and not crush her very expensive, very precious camera in her white-knuckle grip.

A mess. You're a mess.

Professor Keelson’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re very welcome. You’ll be happy to know that, since you’ve already completed all your core classes and general requirements, all of those credits will easily transfer between the schools. There may be a class or two you’ll have to make up, but you should be able to jump right in with your major-specific classes. Now, this,” he says, folding the other papers into an envelope. “Is your letter of recommendation. I’ll put it in the folder with everything else, but I wanted you to know that you had it.”

Oh, fuck, she might start crying again. “Professor—” she starts, but he’s already slid the folder across the desk to her.

“Ms. Ochoa, if I may.” Her mouth snaps shut, and he continues: “Our time together has been short, yes, but you have been one of my favorite students to ever come through these doors. Barring your obvious intelligence, passion, and work ethic, you’re also relentlessly kind, despite everything you’ve gone through.” His gaze fixes on her cheek for the briefest of moments, tracing over the lumps and bumps of her scars, but his eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. “I don’t presume to know your history, but I know bits of your present, and the person I’ve seen would make a valuable asset to any school she goes to. If you approach your new classes and projects with as much determination as you did mine, I’ve no doubt your new instructors will be as proud of you as I am. I let them know as much.”

...

She numbly takes the folder, desperately blinking back tears. “Th-thank you, sir.” She manages, thick in the back of her throat. “I-I’ll do my best.”

Professor Keelson takes up his customary position, hands laced neatly over his belly. “You will.” He agrees, smiling. “Now, you should be heading out soon. I’d hate to make you miss your train, especially if you want to get there early.”

“Yes — yes.” And she gets up on autopilot, sliding the folder into her backpack as carefully as she can manage. “Thank you. Thank you so much, professor, I can’t — I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She’s halfway out the door when she hears him call: “Ms. Ochoa, one more thing?”

She turns.

The professor smiles benevolently at her from his chair. “Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started.”

And with that, she’s on her way.

Get out.

So, update: maybe deciding to take her portfolio pictures on her way to her college interview was a stupid idea, but to be fair, a lot of her stupid ideas have worked out pretty decently before, so. It’s fine.

Probably.

She definitely doesn’t almost miss the train by snapping shots of the mostly-empty station, but in her defense, the morning fog hadn't quite dissipated yet, and the spooky air of possibility that the tracks had been extending and disappearing into was just begging to be captured. And she absolutely doesn’t continually hop seats throughout the hour-long ride to get different angles of the seats, the blurry towns and roads whizzing past, or even a couple of self-portraits here and there. It’s not like there are people around for her to bother, anyway, so it’s fine. (Probably.) It’s a little hard getting a satisfyingly dramatic shot of her staring out the window, but she thinks the one where they’re passing through a tunnel and she’s locked eyes with her shadowy reflection might be a winner. She won’t really know until she opens them up on her computer, which will probably end up being just before the interview, with her luck, so. Who knows, she might just be wasting her time and battery life.

It’s the most fun she’s had in a while, though.

And. Fuck, maybe it makes no sense, but she's still got that feeling in her chest. It's creeping up to her ponytail, at this point, tugging on the ends of her curls, ordering her to pay attention.

Capture this.

It's important.

Last time she felt like that, she won an award, so. Y'know. Fuck her if she's going to ignore it.

She cuts herself off when there’s ten minutes left in the journey, just to be sure she’s not scrambling to put herself together as she’s pulling up to the station, but ten minutes, it turns out, is both much longer and much shorter than she thought it’d be. Just enough time to run down the list of all the possible ways this could (and would) go wrong, but not enough to steady her racing heart before the train’s slowing down.

You're delusional. This isn't one of your little fairy tales. This is — it's not going to happen.

Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started, she remembers, taking one last breath to steel herself, and swings herself up onto her feet and out the doors.

The station is nice enough, but not terribly different from the one she’d started in besides being a little cleaner, so she shoulders her backpack and makes her way down the stairs and into the town proper.

Which.

Wow.

Maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, maybe not, but all the buildings she can see are draped with hanging lights, and even the curving street lights have extra strands hanging over the sidewalks. She almost wishes she’d scheduled her interview later in the day, just to be able to get a shot of those lights against the dark sky, but contents herself with snapping pictures of the incredibly aesthetic sidewalk and shops. She spots an art supply store with a cheerful blue door sandwiched between a movie theater and an apartment complex that frames up nicely, and there’s a coffee shop with swirling, festive winter-y designs painted on the window with pots of poinsettias framing the corners that’s a — no pun intended — picture-perfect paragon of coziness. She stops maybe a little too long to zoom in on the red leaves and flawless paint, making sure to keep the actual inside of the shop out of focus, because as cute as the beanbags and mismatched armchairs are, she doesn’t really feel like going in to ask if it’s alright for her to take pictures of the small handful of people both in front of and behind the counter.

One last shot of the poinsettias and she moves on, turning her lens to the last few, dying flowers in their garden beds, then to the display window of a bookstore that proudly announces its support of the LGBT community with various painted flags, then to the churning river that cuts through the town and the elegant bridge that arcs proudly above it.

There’s not a lot of people walking around right now, but she can definitely see kids around her age up the street, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their breath puffs out in front of them. A cute dog bounces over to say hello before its owner tugs it away with a sheepish smile, and even without their leaves, the trees interspersed along the sidewalk stand tall, proud, and lovely.

She’s got that weird ache in her chest again — stronger this time — that indiscernible pull that draws her to stay, and she puts her camera down, puffing out a shaky breath.

What made you think we want you here?

“It doesn’t matter.” She tells herself sternly, leaning up on the sides of the bridge. “It doesn’t matter unless you get in.”

Speaking of. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, fully intending to double check the email she’d been sent with instructions on where to go, but her eye catches on the time.

Twelve forty-six.

So. Maybe not the best idea to go gallivanting around a campus she doesn’t know, especially when she has an extremely important interview to get to, but even as she’s scolding herself, she knows the pink flush in her cheeks isn’t just from the cold, and she’s got more energy now than she’s had in months, so.

Worth it.

Thank god E.A. Archer Hall is straightforward enough to find; Google Maps tells her it’s a seven minute walk in a mostly straight line from where she is on the bridge now, which she just about manages even though it’s cold and her stump is starting to ache. The building is emblazoned with the name right on the side, so it’s impossible to miss, but she needs a keycard to get in, and somehow she thinks her current school ID isn’t exactly going to fly here.

But someone, somewhere, is smiling on her, because she’s only just gotten to oh, shit before a tall woman with vitiligo and long box braids strides towards the door, pushing it open.

“Alejandra Ochoa?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says as smoothly as she can behind her chattering teeth, and the woman smiles.

“You're right on time. Come on in, let's get started."

#I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT FIO/STL WOULD GO NOW SO IM REWRITING IT #i dont wanna spoil things bc i am in fact working on the next bits but here are some minor thoughts:#1: alexa starts out as an architecture major then switches schools to go into photography/filmmaking spring semester 2nd year #((not to toot my own horn but the way her major reflects her emotional arc is actually very clever of me if i do say so myself))#2: alexa and jaimey are half siblings through their dad and there will in fact be more Jaimey/Juno development than ive ever done before #((i have a lot of thoughts about their relationship and how it would grow and develop over time so. lowkey Jaimey redemption arc))#3: alexa obviously nails this interview and she hangs out on campus for a lil while afterwards to take pictures #((3.5: she does end up going into the coffee shop and there is in fact a Very Cute Barista and she gets Nervous))#4: the little interjections are things that have been said to Alexa somewhat recently but not all by the same person #thats about it i think anything else would be spoiler-y #n e way i cant wait to loredump all my new thoughts on yall im so sorry in advance for all the notifications you're about to get #im workin on some AU stuff too but lately ive been wanting to write about Normal Kids doing Normal Kid Things so here we are #i hope you enjoyed #movie house #alejandra ochoa #alexa darmond #my writing #shut up phoenix

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

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dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl.

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else.

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil.

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it.

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed.

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?”

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?”

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face.

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that.

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing.

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home.

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour.

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully.

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?”

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move.

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’.

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else.

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support.

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while.

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence.

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off.

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment.

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.”

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him.

“Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago.

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.”

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens.

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word.

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.”

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space.

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk.

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps.

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away.

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him.

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy.

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe.

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint.

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle.

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets.

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face.

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note.

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car.

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking.

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands.

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort.

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more.

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home.

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation.

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly?

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform.

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter.

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response.

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving.

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door.

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street.

#nikki sixx #Razzle Dingley #Tommy Lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #nikki sixx x oc #razzle dingley x oc #tommy lee x oc #dirtbags #the dirt imagine #the angry lizard writes

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