#and she had an open bar and all the nurses from work were drunkenly going apeshit at the bar

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - intoxicated → she/her pronouns!

modern ceo au! what happens when miguel is drunk

It's extremely rare when Miguel goes out to drink with coworkers, it's rare enough when Miguel gets out to go anywhere in general. He's either cooped up in his office, glued to his work, or glued to you at home.

You suggested to Miguel earlier this week about getting out to a bar, along with a few of the other higher-ups of the company. It's healthy to get out, you said, even if all he's going to be doing is drinking alcohol and eating meat.

Miguel's only good with people in a more professional sense; he's not the best at being all buddy-buddy with people he usually works with. He's quiet the entire time he's at the bar, occasionally taking a bored nibble at a bowl of loaded fries.

He kind of regrets this; surrounded by loud music, loud people, TV's with sports games playing in the background. He just misses you, he wants to come home and make food with you.

One of his coworkers, nudged him in the side a bit, obviously gesturing towards the wide array of various drinks and juices.

"Might as well have a drink while you're at it." He says, and Miguel is just stone-faced the entire time. The man walks away towards the remaining group of coworkers, possibly to either go dance, or to stare at girls from afar.

Considerably, it's been a while since he's had a drink. One or two wouldn't hurt, especially as a last minute scrounge for enjoyment in this god-awful bar.

Slowly, Miguel nurses on a drink provided by a suspiciously sleek bartender, leaning his cheek into his palm whilst taking a couple sips. He can feel the wolfish eyes of various women & men staring at him, feeling somehow exposed in his tight white button-up and simple pants. If only you were here, to sit in his lap and run your little hands against his chest.

The thought makes his head spin, a violent hot warmth running up his cheeks, his mind being blurred like a smudge on someone's reading glasses. The room's almost tilting sideways, the thoughts in his head dissolving away. (miguelito is a lightweight because i say so)

Miguel's drunk, for the first time in literal years.

He doesn't like it; he feels out of control of his body, unable to think or function correctly. He feels like a different person entirely, his eyes replaced with jelly and the tips of his ears turning scarlet.

The drink tasted good and all, but Miguel's thoughts on you feel magnified, every feature, every action you do running through his head like a cassette tape. He misses you more, and he really wants to see you.

Cleverly, he pulls out his phone, sighing to himself on the counter. It takes him a moment to put in his phone password correctly, fingers drunkenly tapping on the screen until he can find your contact.

. . .

You receive a text notification at about 9:43. Expectedly, you knew Miguel probably wouldn't make it through the whole night, but you're proud of him for trying. You open up your phone, amidst watching a show in bed.

miguelito💞💓: My love, I am intoxicated.

The text makes you giggle a little, imagining him all red-faced and tripping over himself with his coworkers.

Conveniently, you receive another text, one from the person you asked to keep an eye on Miguel.

It's a picture of Miguel with his head leaned against the counter, lovingly zooming in on a picture of your face with his phone. His ears are red, and there's a half-drunken drink beside him.

james q: he says he misses you. want me to take him home? you: it's okay, thanks tho. i'll be there in 10 to get him. james q: 👍

Assuming Miguel's still on his phone, you shoot him a text.

you: i see u looking at me

You giggle to yourself, and Miguel is visibly both shocked and excited, peering left to right as if you were magically in the bar.

miguelito💞💓: Please pick me up. I hate it here. you: ok sweetie, be there in 10

. . .

Despite the hour, the bar is bustling as ever, populated with underage girls wearing slip dresses and drunk frat boys. You worm through the building, searching left and right for your husband through the cacophonous bar.

Finally, you spot him where the counter is, big head tucked into crossed arms.

Gently, you slip your hand onto his shoulder, warmly rubbing him awake. At first he flinches, staring at you as if you were a stranger. He relaxes a few seconds later, lovingly and drunkenly fixating on you.

"Hey hun, I'm here to take you home." You say, and Miguel feels so warm, so comforted in contrast to the rash environment of the pub. He wants to kiss you, but he's too drunk to focus.

Without a word, Miguel rises from his bar stool, arms and hands immediately inching around your shoulders. He doesn't realize it, but he's pressing more of his body weight onto you, leaning on top of you like a slug.

Seeing you roll away the finest, sexiest piece of man as if it were nothing makes the party around you fume, their thoughts of asking for a number shattered within a minute or two.

Miguel trails after you, gluing himself to your back as you maneuver yourself out of the stuffy bar. Finally, you're out in the cool air of the dark, muffled edm music booming from the block's other counterparts.

The sidewalk is somewhat barren, scattered with a few people smoking or walking.

"I missed you, s'much." Miguel slurs, seeing the outline of your car in the dark parking lot.

"I know you did, baby. Now you get to come home with me and we can do whatever you want, like we promised." You say, unlocking your car with the press of your key.

He smiles just a teensy bit, his heart warming at the thought of snuggling up to you in bed, or cooking a late-night meal of sorts with you while a show plays in the background.

Miguel's the passenger princess tonight, adjusting the seat backwards so he can actually sit. He stares at you the entire time through bleary eyes, watching you start the car as if it were the most artistic and most beautiful thing ever.

"I love you." Miguel says, and you can feel the gratuity in his voice.

"I love you too."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[readingslover]

Chapter 15

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After their evening activities, George and Amory flopped down next to each other, catching their breath.

“That… That was…” The girl stared.

“Great. Really great. Amazing.” The man said, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Yeah, amazing.” Amory let out a chuckle and turned to press a kiss on his lips, letting her head rest on his chest.

Before they could fall asleep in their blissful state their pagers went off. 

“911! We just worked a thirty-hour shift…” Amory whined, not wanting to get up.

“And I smell like… sex.” The boy said. They both got out of bed, hurrying to put their clothes on. Amory turned on the tv after getting a message from Cristina to check it out. “A massive train wreck occurred just outside of Seattle just minutes ago.”

~~~~~~

They both left the elevator that took them to the pit to find the rest of their friends whom they had left behind. Cristina as eager as always, Izzie looked as tired as the couple was feeling and Meredith drunkenly stumbled down the hall.

“I think I saw a pneumothorax. I hope I get a pneumothorax.” Cristina said as they put on their trauma gowns.

Just then Dr. Bailey arrived in a night dress and heels, making George let out. “Oh.”

“What are you looking at?” The resident complained.

“You look nice, Dr. Bailey.” The short girl let out.

“Thank you, Amory.” She turned to Alex. “Okay, you, go get me my shoes. Let’s move people.” She put on a gown and started walking to a door where Meredith was leaning beside.

“Hello!” Meredith turned to the woman. “I seem to be a little bit drunk. I was off duty…”

“So was I! Anybody alse half in the bottle?” The interns quickly shook their heads. “Alright then. Grey, just stay out of the way, I’ll deal with you later. The rest of you stick with me and wait for your assignment. I know you get all aquiver at the sight of blood and organs, but it’s gonna be a long night and you’re already tired. I don’t want any mistakes.” Once she finished, she opened the door to the ER, noticing the chaos that had erupted. Doctors, nurses, paramedics, and family members of those who got hurt in the crash were bustling all over the place. voices clashed together and there was not a single second filled with silence. More than two dozen people were bleeding and hurt, and more were still coming.

“I’m so not tired anymore,” Cristina commented.

“Me neither, I’m not tired.” George agreed.

“Tired? I was never tired.” Amory joked, her eyes scanning the room. People were groaning in pain and bleeding, hoping they could make it. The adrenaline in her form seeing all those wounded in the same room did make her feel less tired.

“Dr. Bailey, I’ve got a third-trimester burn victim here, I’m gonna need some help,” Addison informed and all the interns raised their hands.

“Izzie, go.” The woman told the tall blonde.

“Yes! Have a nice nap.” The model teased and Amory playfully rolled her eyes.

Tyler, from the bar, walked into the pit, still dressed in his casual clothes but when he saw Meredith he stopped walking. “Oh, hey! Joe told me to tell you that McSteamy came looking for you.” He passed on.

“You mean McDreamy.” Meredith corrected, a bit frazzled. “Joe said McDreamy came looking for me?”

“No.” Tyler shook his head, and for a second there Meredith deflated, but the rosa back up at what Tyler said next. “I’m pretty sure it was McSteamy, yeah.” He kept repeating himself as he walked away.

Just then, Derek entered the ER. “Does that mean he picked her?” George asked, confused.

“I don’t know…”

“If it does I’ve just lost 50 bucks,” Cristina complained.

“Cristina Yang!” Amory hit her friend’s arm. “What have I told you? We do not bet on our friend’s love lives.”

A paramedic rushed into the ER, human leg in hand. “I’ve got the leg!”

“I want that leg…” The Asian woman longed.

“Dr. Bailey, who do you got?” The Chief asked as he accompanied the man without the leg and, again, all the interns raised their hands.

“Cristina, go?”

As Derek walked by Meredith, he nodded to her. “Was that a nod?” George asked.

“Yes.” Both Meredith and Amory answered in unison.

“Do we know what it means?” He asked again, his hand on the small of Amory’s back.

“No.”

~~~~~~

As Amory got a page from Dr. Bailey, she entered the room. “Dr. Bailey, you paged?” Seeing two people impaled on a pole, she backtracked. “Oh.”

“Is this the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?3 The female patient asked her and Meredith, who was also in the room.

“Um… Yeah.” The short intern answered.

“Me too.” The patient answered, fear in her eyes.

George entered the room and the hurt girl called out for Burke who was standing alongside Bailey outside the room. “Excuse me?”

“Hi, I’m Dr. Burke.” The attending greeted when he walked in. “You shouldn’t move your head. You want to try and move as little as possible.” He advised.

“Oh, okay.” She slowly said. “So, are you gonna pull this pole out of us any time soon?”

“It’s a touch uncomfortable.” Tom, the other patient, admitted.

“I’m sorry, we can’t until we get a better look at what’s going on internally. But, I assure you we will work as quickly as possible.” Burke informed and Amory’s eyes roamed through the patients.

“Well, in that case, does anybody have a breath mint?” Bonnie asked, which made Burk smile while Tom furrowed his eyebrows in question at the woman in front of him. “For me, nit for you.” They both smiled. Burke already moved to exit the room again, but not before whispering something to Bailey.

“Uh, O’Malley, Madden, get them to X-ray.” The two interns shared a look of shock that quickly turned into one of excitement. Amory immediately gestured to Alex to untie her gown as Meredith untied George’s. “Move them extremely carefully.”

Amory nodded quickly and George seemed to panic slightly as he whispered. “They never would have picked me before the elevator…” Both Amory and Alex overheard this but only Alex responded to it by sending him a glare but neither George nor Amory commented and went ahead.

As they wheeled the patients through the hallways, Amory spoke up. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”

“They called my wife in the ambulance.” The man explained.

“And my fiancé.” The girl added. “They’re flying down from Vancouver together.”

“Normally Amanda would be a tad upset to find me pressed up against another woman, but in this case, I think I’ll get a pass.” The man joked, making both interns release a chuckle.

“You two aren’t traveling together?” George questioned once the chuckles died down.

“No… We just met.” The girl revealed.

“A but of an awkward introduction.”

“You have nice pores,” Bonnie said, making the man laugh.

Once they arrived at radiology, the interns noticed there was a long waiting live, so Amory walked ahead and cleared her throat. She got the intern’s attention, who looked at the patient and then allowed them to go ahead. Amory kept doing this until they were at the front of the line.

~~~~~~

In the X-ray observation room, Bailey, Amory, and George were standing next to each other, eyeing the many details on the scans. Burke was seated on a chair, looking at the scans on a computer screen while Meredith was standing off to the side with a banana bag IV connected to her arm, trying to sober up quickly. Amory wasn’t exactly sure why she was there, but she figured that Bailey wanted to keep her close in case she started wandering off in her drunk state.

“Is… is it going straight through her spine?” George questioned.

“It is. T8 is completely crushed.” Bailey answered, pointing at it with her finger.

Then, Derek entered the room and his eyes fell immediately on Meredith. The dirty blonde straightened and visibly tensed when she saw him. “What happened?” He asked, seeing the IV.

“Tequila.” She simply answered.

“I’m keeping an eye on her.” Bailey clarified before sending a look to the intern.

He moved to look at the scans and a surprised look took over his face. “Look at this… These people are still alive?”

“Still making small talk,” George answered.

“The pole is tamponading the wound as far as we can see,” Bailey informed the man as Amory leaned on the table to have a better look at the scans.

“It’s hitting the aorta.” Derek evaluated.

“Look at him,” Burke spoke up, looking at tom’s scans. “It’s right in line with his inferior vena cava.”

“but there’s a way to operate without separating them, isn’t there?” Amory hopefully asked although she should know better. She looked at everyone in the room hoping their expressions shared her hopeful one, but she realized there wasn’t a way.

Burke shook his head, while Dere actually said. “No.” Both of them shared the now mourning look that took over the girl’s eyes. George saw this and tried to comfort her by putting a hand on he shoulder and squeezing a little, letting her know he was feeling the same as her but also that he was there to talk if she needed to.

“If we remove the pole then…” George trailed off.

“They’ll both bleed out.” Bailey finished his thought.

“What if we don’t move the pole? What if we move on of the patients off the pole to get the saw in there? Then we can hold the pole steady on the other one. Move it very slowly and repair the damage as we go.” Burke suggested.

“Which one would you move?” Amory asked while Derek quickly glanced at Meredith who stared back at him.

“With her aortic injuries, her chances of survival are extremely slim, no matter what we do. But, if we move her, we have a real shot of saving him.”

“Well, I could argue since her injuries are so extensive we should move him. Give her the best shot we can.” Derek objected.

“So basically, whoever you move doesn’t stand a chance.” Everyone turned to glance at the dirty blonde, unsettled. “So how do you choose? How do you decide who gets to live?”

~~~~~~

“We have to make this call soon if we want to have a shot at saving either one of them,” Burke warned Shepherd as they walked through the hallway, interns, and resident behind them.

“I’d like to examine them before I weight in.”

“I’ll wait for your page.”

“Thank you.” The neurosurgeon turned to the interns. “Dr. Grey…”

“Dr.Grey needs to get herself a blood alcohol test before practicing any medicine tonight.” Bailey intervened, turning to the girl with the banana bag.

“What? No, I’m totally fine.” The girl started connecting her pointer fingers to her nose, making her blonde friend giggle. “See?”

“Right, okay. Dr. Madden, then.” The attending turned to the girl, which flashed him a smile back before they made their way to Bonnie and Tom’s room.

~~~~~~

Examining the two patients, Derek touched the girl’s foot. “Can you feel that, Miss. Krasnoff?”

“You’re a cute daughter.” She said, her voice sweet as ever, now seemingly a bit loopy. “Cute doctors can call me by mu name. That also includes you, Dr. Madden.” The girl smiled.

“Okay, Bonnie, can you feel that?”

“Can I feel what? Oh… I guess that’s a no.”

George entered the room, calling out for his attending for the day. “Dr. Shepherd? I’ve got the labs.”

“Great, thank you.” He thanked the boy.

“Can you wiggle your toed, Mr. Maynard?” He did it successfully, to which the female intern gave him a small smile.

“Are they moving?”

“tes, they are.”

The man laughed lightly. “Good. That’s good, right?”

“Yes, it is.” The neurosurgeon confirmed.

“What about me? Are mine moving?” The sweet girl asked hope filling her voice. George, Amory, and Derek looked down at her foot, but nothing was moving. Derek hesitated a little before answering with a white lie not wanting the patient to break down or lose her hope. “Yes, they are.”

“Yay, me!” The girl giggled in relief unknown to the looks that the doctors gave each other.

“Dr. Shepherd, is it?” Tom asked and at Derek’s nod, she went on. “Dr. Shepherd, Bonnie, and I… Are we gonna live through this?”

“Oh, that’s just morose, Tom.” Bonnie playfully scolded.

“I’m sorry, dear.” He looked back at Derek. “Doctor?”

“We’re gonna do everything we can, Mr. Maynard.”

~~~~~~

“Where are we?” Burke asked, entering the room with Derek, Bailey, George, and Amory.

“You were right. Vitals were erratic, pulse was weak, spine severed… I was hoping that it didn’t hit, but from that angle, it can’t have missed the aorta.” The neurosurgeon informed.

“What about him? Think he can live?” The resident questioned, looking over Amory’s shoulder.

“He’s got better ods.”

“Okay, let OR 1 know we’re coming.” The resident ordered George.

“And, O’Malley, close the gallery. We don’t need n audience for this one.” The cardio surgeon instructed.

The boy turned to leave but finally turned around. “She’s cracking jokes. How do you tell someone she’s gonna be dead in a few minutes when she’s sitting up cracking jokes?” He left, sighing.

“I hat this…” The small girl said shaking her head. “I hat that we have to choose who live or dies. It feels… wrong, counterintuitive.” She sighed, looking down to the floor.

“I know. But, sometimes, it’s the job.” Her resident put a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

~~~~~~

“This is hard because your body is in a certain amount of shock. It’s preventing you from feeling any pain, from feeling the extent of your injuries.” The neurosurgeon explained this to the patients.

“Dr. Shepherd? We have a metal pole cutting a path through out insides. I don’t know about Tom here, but I don’t expect to walk out of here anytime soon, so whatever it is you have to say, please, say it.” Bonnie pleaded.

“Okay, Bonnie. In order to operate on Mr. Maynard, we have to separate you two. In order to do that, we have to move you backward off the pole.”

“Can’t you just pull the pole out of both of us?3 Tom asked.

“No, if we do that, you’ll both start bleeding quickly. Making it much harder to work on either of you.”  Amory stepped up.

“Right now, the pole is plugging the wounds. Once removed, the organs will shift. And there is a great deal of damage.” Burke added.

“So, if you move me, I’ll die?” Bonnie tried to hold in her tears.

“Bonnie, we’ll do everything we can to…” The intern started talking but Tom interrupted her, and Bonnie’s tears fell. Amory moved closer to the table and held the girl’s hand tight.

“No. no! If anyone has to go it should be me. You just move…”

“Mr. MAynard.” Burke started. “Mr. Maynard, your injuries are less extensive. If we pull the pole from you, as we operate around it, we have a better chance at repairing the damage.”

“It’s not right…” The man whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not. But it is our, your, best shot.” Amory tried to explain, trying to not get too emotional.

“Tom, it’s not fair either way. “ The blonde reassured him. “Is, um… Is my Danny, is he here yet?”

“There are delays at the airport.” George informed her.” The storm…”

“We could wait,” Bailey suggested. “But the longer we do, the bigger right of infection for…”

“No, no,” Bonnie reassured, grabbing Amory’s hand tighter. “This is better.” She managed to smile through her tears. “Danny, he wouldn’t understand. I’ve had a couple of hours to even… process all of this, but if he… if he had to see me, talk to me like this… I just think it’d be too hard.”

~~~~~~

In the ER, Bonnie spoke to Tom, Amory still holding her hand. “Can I ask ou a question?3 The man made an affirmative noise and she continued. “Do you believe in heaven?”

“I do. Don’t you?”

“I want to.”

“Bonnie… I just want to say…”

“She shushed him. “I know, I know.”

“This is Dr. Addams, out anaesthesiologist,” Derek told them. “When you’re ready, he’s gonna put you to sleep.”

“So it’s not gonna hurt?” The girl asked, tears still in her eyes.

“No, it’s not gonna hurt. It will feel like you’re sleeping.” Amory told her, squeezing the girl’s head. Tears forming in her own eyes.

“That’s good…” The girl said softly. “Amory?”

“Yeah.” The girl whispered, trying her best not to cry in front of the girl.

“You’ll be there when they talk to my Daniel, right?” She asked, her voice softer than ever.

“yes, I will. What would you like me to tell him?”

As the patient whispered her message into Amory’s ear, she allowed herself to spill the first tear of the day, quickly wiping it away.

~~~~~~

After separating both patients and verifying Tom as stable, the team moved to work on Bonnie.

“Grey, Madden, get in here and retract.” The short girl moved to do her job.

“Retractor. Quickly, please. Give me some sponges. Lap sponges.” Derek said as the attendings worked.

“Her aorta is shredded. She’s gonna bleed out.” Burke realized, shaking his head, knowing there was a slim to no chance that she was going to live.

“Doctor, he’s losing pressure.” The anaesthesiologist monitoring Tom warned them.

“He’s bleeding, let’s go,” Derek ordered and everyone started moving from one patient to the other. It pained Amory to have to leave the girl bleeding out on the table, but she knew there was nothing they could do.

“What about her? We can’t just abandon her.” Meredith yelled as her smaller friend changed gloves.” We can’t just abandon her!” The dirty blonde refused to move.

“I’m going in. Scalpel.” Burje started on Tom as Amory moved to help the team.

“Let’s go Dr. Grey.” Bailey urged her.

“Meredith,” George called out.

“What about her?! We cannot abandon her! We have an obligation.” She seemed to panic slightly.

“I have her.” Amory moved to comfort her friend. “Mer, come on, there’s nothing we can do. There’s too much damage, okay? I know it’s awful but she’s gone, Tom’s still got a shot.” She tried to hold her tears.

“Time of death 3:49.” Dr. Bailey called out, referring to the girl.

“Come on, Tom needs us.” She nudged her friend with her elbow and both quickly moved to help out with the surgery.

~~~~~~

Several hours later, the surgery was over. Derek had offered to inform Bonnie’s fiance about her death, but Amory made a promise to the patient, which she fully intended on keeping.

“Did she suffer?” The fiance, Danniel, asked trying and failing to stifle his tears.

“No.” Amory answered instantly.” Her injuries prevented her from… no, she wasn’t in any pain.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Daniel, Bonnie… she asked me to tell you that…” Amory started, having to clear her throat as she held back her tears. “She asked me to tell you that if love were enough…” She felt tears well up in her eyes. “That if love were enough, she’d still be here with you. Um, excuse me.” The girl excused herself and strayed a bit from the group.

As her resident and attending finished talking to the man, they entered the elevator. The silence was almost unbearable, as Amory closed her eyes and took deep breaths, attempting to calm herself. Suddenly, she felt the elevator stop and opened her eyes to see Bailey had stopped it, as Derek went to the back of the elevator and let his tears fall. Seeing the man in such a state was the last straw, and she let a few tears fall, before decomposing herself and wiping them away. Her resident placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort, as the neurosurgeon joined the group again.

“You okay?” Bailey asked both of them.

“Yeah.” They answered in unison and the levator started moving again.

~~~~~~

As she entered the locker room, she sat by her friends, right next to George, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a second, before the youngest girl spoke up, her voice cracking slightly. “I suggested it. I came up with the idea to save one of them… Is, is this my fault?”

“Of course not, Amy,” Meredith told her, reaching out to grab her hand. “There was nothing we could do.”

George pulled her closed into him and she nuzzled against the crook of his neck, as he kissed the top of her head.

Dr. Bailey enters the locker room to find a row of exhausted interns. “Better get cleanedup. Rounds in… five minutes.”

They all got up, leaning on each other for strength. Amory’s day had been awful, but at least she knew she had her friends with her.

[gazellion]

FIFTEEN

Words: 4044 [ Masterlist ]

AFTER THE LONG day she had, Skylar was absolutely exhausted. Even though all she wanted to do was fall into her bed, she and the other interns were still waiting to see if Derek would choose Meredith or Addison.

"When you tell someone I'll meet you later at a bar tonight, how long exactly does that mean you're supposed to wait?" Cristina wondered aloud as the group watched Meredith drink away her worries at the bar.

"Do you think he's really not coming?" George asked.

"It is getting a little hard to watch," Izzie added, tilting her head.

Cristina shook her head. "It was hard to watch an hour ago. Now it's just pathetic."

"You know she can hear you, right?" Skylar tiredly laughed.

"Who's pathetic?" Meredith questioned, turning around in her seat. Skylar gave them an 'I told you so' look. "You, who pretend to be my friends, are calling me pathetic, behind my back, in front of my face," Meredith slurred, glaring at the group of four. "Why don't you just dump the pigs blood on me now and get it over with?"

"Pigs blood?" George murmured to himself, putting his arm around the back of Skylar's chair. Neither of them noticed the look that Izzie sent the two.

"It's from Carrie," Skylar informed as he just made a noise in realization.

The bell above the door jingled as someone walked into the bar. They looked at the door for what seemed like a thousandth time that night, just to see Tyler, a nurse who worked at the hospital.

"He's really not coming," Meredith said to herself.

Suddenly, everyone's pager went off all at once. "Joe, turn up the TV!" Someone shouted as the news reporter spoke urgently. "A massive train wreck occurred just outside of Seattle just minutes ago."

Cristina looked at her pager. "911."

"We just worked a 30 hour shift," Izzie complained.

"I don't have any clean underwear," George added.

"You guys do realize there will be multiple traumas, right?" Skylar asked as she made her way toward the door. "As in, surgeries?" They perked up at her words, standing and quickly making their way to the hospital.

❰ ❱

Izzie, Cristina, Alex, George, and Skylar all left the elevator that took them to the pit. They all made their way down the hall, but in Meredith's case, she drunkenly stumbled down the hall.

"I think I saw a pneumothorax. I hope I get a pneumothorax," Cristina said as they put their trauma gowns on. Izzie and Alex were having a conversation about how Alex wimped out in the elevator and missed his chance to perform open heart surgery. Cristina, George, and Skylar were helping each other tie their trauma gowns. George accidentally hit Cristina in the head when he got his arm into the sleeve and he and Skylar had to contain their laughs while the brunette glared at them.

Their eyes widened when they saw Dr. Bailey walking up to them in a beautiful green dress. Nobody was able to look away since it was such a rare sight to see their resident in regular clothes. She grabbed a trauma gown while all the interns still stared at her. George even let out a gasp of shock. "What are you looking at?" She asked.

"You look very nice, Dr. Bailey," Skylar said with a cheesy smile.

"Thank you." Bailey walked over to Alex and handed him her jacket and purse. "Go get me my damn shoes. Let's move people." She put on a gown and started walking to a door where Meredith was leaning beside.

"Hello. I seem to be a little bit drunk. I was off duty," she added that last part as an explanation.

"So was I!" Bailey looked at the others. "Anybody else half in the bottle?" Everyone shook their heads. Skylar's eyes lit up in amusement when she saw George checking his breath to make sure. She slightly nudged him, and they both shared a look anybody else would describe as two people completely enamored with each other. "All right, then. Grey, just stay out of the way. I'll deal with you later. The rest of you stick with me and wait for your assignments." Cristina moved behind her resident to tie the back of her gown. "Now, you get all a-quiver at the sight of blood and organs, but it's gonna be a long night and you're already tired. I don't want any mistakes." Cristina was still tying up her resident's gown. "Come on, now!"

"I'm done. I'm done," Cristina replied but Bailey didn't reply. She just walked through the door and into the pit. It was chaos in there. Doctors, nurses, paramedics, and family members of those who got hurt in the crash were bustling all over the place. Voices clashed together and there was not a single moment of silence. More than two dozen people were bleeding and hurt and more were still coming. "I'm so not tired anymore."

"Me neither. I'm not tired either," George agreed with Cristina. Skylar nodded silently as her eyes scanned the room. People were groaning in pain and bleeding, hoping that they would make it. The adrenaline in her from seeing all those wounded in the same room did make her feel less tired. Meredith walked away to stand near a wall when she saw Addison with a pregnant burn victim.

"I've got a third trimester burn victim here, Dr. Bailey, I'm gonna need some help," Addison asked. Izzie, George, Skylar, and Cristina immediately put their hands up in the hair. Even though they felt bad for all the patients, they were still surgical interns who wanted nothing more than to stand in the operating room.

"Izzie, go." When Dr. Bailey said this, all the other's shoulders sagged. The blonde was obviously very excited.

"Yes! Have a nice nap," she teased and Skylar playfully rolled her eyes.

Tyler, from the bar, walked into the pit, still dressed in his casual clothes but when he saw Meredith he stopped walking. "Oh, hey! Joe told me to tell you that McSteamy came looking for you," he passed on.

"You mean McDreamy," Meredith corrected, a bit frazzled. She didn't know what to do now. "Joe said McDreamy came looking for me?"

"No," Tyler shook his head. And for a second there Meredith deflated, but then rose back up at what Tyler said next. "I'm pretty sure it was McSteamy. Yeah." He kept repeating to himself as he walked away. Skylar, George, and Cristina were all watching the exchange between the two. The three exchanged a look, not knowing what to do now.

"Does that mean he picked her?" George wondered.

"If it does, I just lost 50 bucks," Cristina complained.

"I should've known that you would bet on something like this." Skylar shook her head at her friend, who shrugged her shoulders. George shot her an apologetic smile when a paramedic rushed through the double doors.

"I've got the leg!" He yelled, holding a severed leg in his hands.

"I want that leg..." Cristina dreamily said.

"Dr. Bailey, who you got?" Webber asked and immediately the three interns' hands went up once again. They almost whacked Bailey in her face, but she ended up choosing Cristina. She joined the team that was wheeling the man with a severed leg away, while the remaining two were watching them go with a sad look on their faces.

As Derek walked by Meredith, he solemnly nodded at her. "Was that a nod?" George asked.

"Yeah," both Meredith and Skylar answered in unison.

"Do we know what it meant?" He asked again.

"No."

Then Alex Karev entered the pit with Bailey's work shoes. Another big emergency came through those double doors: two people were sitting on a gurney together with a metal pole sticking through their abdomens. They were facing each other, almost touching. They were being rolled into one of the trauma rooms, so they could be checked on. Alex, Skylar, George, and Meredith followed the paramedics into the trauma room.

George, Alex, and Skylar were standing to the side while Meredith was looking in amazement at the two people. The blonde woman, named Bonnie, saw Meredith's curiosity. "Is this the craziest thing you've ever seen?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Yeah. Me too." Bailey and Burke were still outside, but Bailey's all-knowing powers sensed something and she glanced at Meredith. The look on her face said that Meredith needed to stay away from the patients. She quickly scurried off to the side where her fellow interns were standing. Bonnie saw Burke and Bailey talking outside and was a little agitated.

"Excuse me!" Bonnie called out which made Burke and Bailey enter the room.

"Hi. I'm Dr. Burke," the attending quickly greeted. "You shouldn't turn your head. You want to try and move as little as possible," he advised.

"Oh, okay," she slowly said. "So are you gonna pull this pole out of us any time soon?"

"It's a touch uncomfortable," Tom, the impaled man, admitted.

"I'm sorry, we can't until we get a better look on what's going on internally. But I assure you we will work as quickly as possible," Burke informed and Skylar's eyes roamed through the patients.

"Well, in that case, does anybody have a breath mint?" Bonnie asked, which made Burke smile while Tom furrowed his eyebrows in question at the woman in front of him. "For me, not for you." They both smiled. Burke already moved to exit the room again but not before whispering something to Bailey.

"Uh, O'Malley, Kepner, get them to X-ray." The two of them shared a look of shock but that quickly turned into one of excitement. Skylar immediately gestured to Alex to untie her gown as Meredith united George's. "Move them extremely carefully."

Skylar quickly nodded and George seemed to panic slightly as he whispered, "They never would have picked me before the elevator..." Both Skylar and Alex overheard this but only one got mad because of it. Alex looked annoyed and glared at George. Skylar just patted him on his shoulder.

"Just leave him alone, Alex. It's not his fault you choked in the elevator."

"You always have to defend little Georgie, huh?"

"What is your problem? You know you can tell me anything, right?" He didn't respond but Skylar didn't have time left to continue asking him questions. She wondered what he wasn't telling her. She knew something was bothering him. And she couldn't help but feel like she wasn't doing enough to help through whatever he was going through. So she let out a sigh and followed George out the door.

❰ ❱

As they wheeled Bonnie and Tom through the halls, Skylar was desperately trying to find a way to cure their anxiety. "Is there anyone you'd like us to call?" She wondered.

"They called my wife from the ambulance."

"And my fiancé," Bonnie added. "They're flying down from Vancouver together."

"Normally, Amanda would be a tad upset to find me pressed up against another woman, but in this case I think I'll get a pass," he joked, making the girl giggle.

"You two weren't traveling together?" George questioned.

"No...we just met," Bonnie clarified.

"A bit of an awkward introduction."

"You have nice pores," she said, making the man laugh.

When they got to radiology, there was a long waiting line, so Skylar walked ahead and cleared her throat. She got the intern's attention, who, looking at her patients, allowed her and George to go ahead. They kept doing this until they were at the front of the line.

❰ ❱

In the x-ray observation room, Bailey, Skylar, and George were standing next to the scans, eyeing the many details. Burke was seated on a chair, looking at them on a computer screen while Meredith was standing off to the side with a banana bag IV connected to her arm, trying to quickly sober up. Skylar wasn't exactly sure why she was there, but she figured that Meredith needed someone after the whole not knowing who Derek chose debacle.

"Is—is it going straight through her spine?" George questioned.

"It is. T8's completely crushed," Bailey answered, pointing at it with her finger.

Derek then entered the room and his eyes immediately fell on Meredith. Meredith straightened and tensed when she saw him. "What happened?" He asked, seeing the IV.

"Tequila," she simply answered.

"I'm keeping an eye on her," Bailey clarified before sending a look to the intern.

He moved to look at the scans and look surprised. "Look at this...these people are still alive?"

"Still making small talk," George answered.

"The pole's tamponading the wound as far as we can see," Bailey informed the man as Skylar leaned on the table to have a better look at the scans.

"It's hitting the aorta," Derek evaluated.

"Look at him," Burke spoke up, looking at Tom's scans. "It's right in line with his inferior vena cava."

"But there's a way to operate without separating them, isn't there?" Skylar hopefully asked. Skylar looked at everyone in the room, hoping that the answer would be yes. However, it wasn't.

Burke shook his head, while Derek actually said, "No." Both of them were oblivious to how their answer caused the girl's expression to drop. George saw this and took his hand out of his lab coat and put it in Skylar's, squeezing just enough to let her know that he was there for her.

"If we remove the pole then..." George trailed off.

"They'll both bleed out," Bailey finished his thought.

"What if we don't move the pole? What if we move one of the patients off the pole to get the saw in there? Then we can hold the pole steady in the other one. Move it very slowly and repair the damage as we go," Burke suggested.

"Who? Which would you move?" Skylar asked while Shepherd glanced at Meredith, who stared back at him.

"With her aortic injuries, her chances of survival are extremely slim no matter what we do. But if we move her, we have a real shot of saving him."

"Well, I could argue since her injuries are so extensive we should move him. Give her the best shot we can," Derek objected.

"So basically, whoever you move doesn't stand a chance." Everyone glanced at the blonde, unsettled. "So how do you choose? How do you decide you gets to live?"

❰ ❱

"We have to make this call soon if we want to have a shot at saving either one of them," Burke warned Shepherd as they walked through the hallway, the three interns and Bailey behind them.

"I'd like to examine them before I weigh in."

"I'll wait for your page."

"Thank you." The neurosurgeon turned to the interns. "Dr. Grey—"

"Dr. Grey needs to get herself a blood alcohol test before practicing any medicine tonight," Bailey intervened, turning to the girl with the banana bag.

"What? No, I'm totally fine." The girl started connecting her pointer fingers to her nose, causing Skylar to chuckle at her. "See?"

"Right, okay. Dr. Kepner, then," the attending turned to the redhead, who flashed him a smile before they made their way to Bonnie and Tom's room.

❰ ❱

"Can you feel that, Miss Krasnoff?" Derek asked, squeezing Bonnie's fingers.

Bonnie drowsily smiled up at him, the accident beginning to take a toll on her body. "You're a cute doctor," she said, her voice very sweet. She seemed a bit loopy from the morphine that was keeping her pain away. "Cute doctors get to call me by my first name."

"Okay, Bonnie, can you feel that?"

"Can I feel what? Oh...I guess that's a no."

"Excuse me, Dr. Shepherd? I got the labs," George called out as he entered the rooms, labs in his hand.

"Oh, great, thank you," he swapped clipboards with George. "Could you try to wiggle your toes, Mr. Maynard?" Tom did it successfully which caused Skylar's lips to form a small smile.

"Are they moving?" He questioned, not being able to look down because of the neck brace.

"Yes, they are," Skylar told him.

The man laughed lightly. "Good. That's good, right?"

"Yes, it is," Derek assured.

"What about me? Are mine moving?" Bonnie asked, hope filling her voice. George, Skylar, and Derek looked down at her foot. They guessed she was trying to move it but it stayed still.

"Yes, they are," Derek lied, wanting to keep her happy and not have her break down in this situation.

"Yay, me!" She giggled in relief.

"Dr. Shepherd, is it?" Tom asked and at Derek's nod, he went on. "Dr. Shepherd, Bonnie and I...are we gonna live through this?"

"Oh, that's just morose, Tom," Bonnie playfully scolded.

"I'm sorry, dear." He looked back at Derek. "Doctor?"

"We're gonna do everything we can, Mr. Maynard."

❰ ❱

"Where are we?" Burke asked, joining the others in the x-ray observation room.

"You were right. Her vitals are erratic, pulse is weak, spine's severed...I was hoping that it didn't hit the—but from that angle it just can't have missed the aorta," Shepherd informed.

"What about him? Think he can live?" Bailey questioned, looking over Skylar's shoulder.

"He's got better odds."

"Okay, let OR one know we're coming," Bailey told George, lightly tapping him on the shoulder

"And, O'Malley? Close off the gallery. We don't need an audience for this," Burke instructed.

Something stopped George from leaving, he wasn't feeling right about choosing who got to live and who got to die. "She's cracking jokes. How do you tell someone she's gonna be dead in a few minutes when she's sitting up cracking jokes?" With that he left, sighing.

"I hate this..." Skylar trailed off, shaking her head. "It feels wrong to just choose," she sighed, looking down at the floor.

"I know. But, sometimes, it's the job." Bailey put her hand on her shoulder in comfort.

❰ ❱

"This is hard because your body is in a certain amount of shock," Derek explained to Bonnie and Tom. "It's preventing you from feeling pain. From feeling the extent of your injuries." They were back in their room, giving both of them the bad news, which they were bound to react badly to.

"Dr. Shepherd, we have a metal pole cutting a path through our insides. I don't know about Tom here, but I didn't expect to walk out of here anytime soon," Bonnie softly said, making Skylar frown. "So, whatever it is you have to say, just, please, say it."

"Okay, Bonnie," Derek started. "In order to operate on Mr. Maynard, we have to separate you two. In order to do that, we have to move you backwards off the pole."

"Can't you just pull the pole out of both of us?" Tom asked.

"Well, if we did that, you would start bleeding very quickly. Too quickly. Right now, the pole is plugging the wounds. Once removed, the organs will shift and there's a great deal of damage," Burke explained.

"So if you move me, I'll die?" Bonnie whispered, trying to keep her tears at bay.

"We're gonna do everything we can to—" Derek began but was cut off.

"No," Tom interrupted. "No. If anybody has to go it should be me. You just move—"

Burke sighed. "No. Mr. Maynard, your injuries are less extensive. If we pull the pole from you as we operate around it, we have a better chance at repairing the damage." Skylar's eyes began to water, but she willed them not to fall. George grabbed her hand, and Skylar squeezed it, needing to hold onto him like life support.

Tom shook his head. "It's not right. It's not fair," he whispered.

Bonnie sadly smiled. "Shh, Tom. It's not fair either way." She glanced up at Skylar and George. "Is, um, is my Danny, is he here yet?"

"There are delays at the airport," George told them.

"Because of the storm," Skylar added.

"We could wait," Bailey suggested. "But the longer do, the higher the risk of infection for—"

"No, no," Bonnie reassured them. "This is better." She managed to smile through her tears. "Danny, he wouldn't understand. I've had a couple hours to, you know, process all of this, but if—if he had to see me, talk to me like this, I...well, I just think it would be too hard," she rambled, a sense of acceptance washing over her.

❰ ❱

In the O.R, nurses were prepping Bonnie and Tom for surgery while Skylar held Bonnie's hand, trying to calm her down and make her feel less alone during this difficult time. "Can I ask you a question?" Bonnie asked. Tom made an affirmative noise and she continued. "Do you believe in heaven?"

"I do. Don't you?"

"I want to."

"Bonnie...I just want to say—"

She shushed him. "I know, I know."

"This is Dr. Addams, our anesthesiologist," Derek told them, entering the room. "When you're ready, he's gonna put you to sleep."

"So, it's not gonna hurt?" Bonnie asked, tears still in her eyes.

"Not a bit, Bonnie," Skylar responded.

"That's good. Skylar?"

"Yeah?" She whispered, trying her best not to let her tears show.

"You'll be there when they talk to my Danny, right?" She asked, her voice softer than ever.

"Yes, I will. What do you want me to tell him?" As Bonnie uttered her message to Skylar, she allowed herself to spill the first tear of the day, quickly wiping it away. She was always thinking of how the patient would respond, and the last thing she wanted to do was to get too attached, but she was sure that she already failed that.

❰ ❱

After separating both patients and verifying that Tom was stable, the team moved to work on Bonnie, wanting to give her the best shot they could.

"Grey, Kepner, get in here and retract," Bailey ordered. Skylar quickly moved to do her job.

"Retractor. Quickly, please. Give me some sponges. Lap sponges," Derek asked as the attendings worked.

"Her aorta's shredded. She's gonna bleed out," Burke realized, shaking his head, knowing there was slim to no chance that she was going to live.

"Doctors, he's losing pressure," the anesthesiologist monitoring Tom warned them.

"He's bleeding, let's go," Derek ordered and everyone started moving from one patient to the other. It pained Skylar to have to leave the girl on the table, but she knew there was nothing they could do if they wanted to give Tom the best shot they could.

"What about her? We can't just abandon her," Meredith yelled as Skylar changed gloves so she could operate on Tom. "We can't just abandon her!" The blonde refused to move.

"I'm going in. Scalpel," Burke started on Tom as Skylar moved in to help the team.

"Let's go, Dr. Grey," Bailey urged her.

"Meredith," George called out.

"What about her? We cannot abandon her! We have an obligation." She seemed to panic slightly.

"Meredith, come on," Bailey tried to stop her. "There was too much damage. There was never anything we could do. We have to let her go." As she tried to stop Meredith from pumping the poor girl's heart. "Time of death 3:49."

❰ ❱

Several hours later, the surgery was finally over, taking Bonnie's life with it. Derek had offered to talk to her fiance, but Skylar made a promise, which she fully intended on keeping.

"Did she suffer?" Danny asked, trying and failing to stifle his tears.

"No," she instantly answered. "Her injuries prevented her from...no, she wasn't in any pain."

"Good. That's good."

Skylar felt a lump in the back of her throat, and she'd barely even started speaking. "She asked me to tell you that, um, she wanted you to know," she cleared her throat and took a deep breath before looking at him directly in the eye. "Bonnie wanted you to know, that if love were enough, she'd still be here with you."

Danny sucked in a breath, sending her a small nod before standing up and leaving without another word. Skylar stood as well, not bothering to acknowledge the tears that were begging to break free and run down her cheeks.

Without saying a word to anyone, or bothering to smile at people she passed in the hall, she made her way to the locker room. When she got there, George immediately stood up from his seat on the bench and made his way over to her. He knew how much that day took a toll on her.

When he saw her face, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and cradled the back of her head as he whispered over and over again, "It's going to be okay," as she silently cried into his shoulder. And George realized that he would do anything to protect her from the dangers of the world that were bound to come.

[ Masterlist ] [ Fourteen ] [ Sixteen ]

[doctorstethoscope]

Fighting Crime || A. Hotchner & Reader

Back at it again with another one shot for @ssahotchswife ‘s soft Hotch Saturday! No smut this week sorry folks. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption, canon-typical mentions of kidnapping/violence, pregnancy, suggestive content

Word count: 1.7k

You finished your paperwork first, which wasn’t unusual. Gathering up your files, you trekked up the steps and knocked twice on the door to Aaron’s office before letting yourself in. 

“This is done,” you said, extending the folder towards him. “And luckily for you, I left out the logs of what exactly occurred in my hotel room between the hours of 12:38AM and--” 

“Trust me, my memory is plenty fresh on that.” He smirked up at you. 

“JJ and Penelope have called for a celebration of our heroism at the bar tonight,” you informed Aaron, who peeked over your shoulder at the clock hanging on his office wall. It was 4pm.  “We can have a couple drinks and still get Jack for dinner. It’ll be good to have some non-work related adult time.” You told him, 

“I think that if you refer to the log of what happened in your hotel room at 12:38AM, you’ll find my preferred non work related adult---”

“Aaron!” You cut him off with a laugh, and your smile seemed to relieve some of the tension in  his jaw.

“You go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll see what I can do here. Either way, I’ll come pick you up and we can get Jack together.” 

“Okay boss,” you smiled, leaving his office to go check on Spencer, who usually finished around the same time as you. 

“I’m going to be a little while longer,” he sighs. “Why don’t you go to the bar and grab our booth?” He suggested, and you took his advice. 

It had been a long case, but a successful one-- the unsub confessed, and none of the hostages were hurt, so it was one worth celebrating for sure. You walked over to the team’s normal spot, enjoying the warmth of the DC sun on your face. Jimmy, the bartender, spots you as soon as you make your way into the bar. 

“Hey, princess!” He calls out to you with a smile.

“Hi Jimmy,” you greet him as you slide into a barstool 

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” He asks as he slides you your usual-- a vodka tonic with lime.

“I’m just getting a headstart. The rest of the team will be here soon, so I’m going to grab our booth before it gets crowded.” You explain to him.

“Okay doll, I’ll be by to check on you in a little bit.”

True to his word, Jimmy swung by with another vodka tonic about fifteen minutes later, and JJ walked in shortly afterwards. 

“Damn, you beat boy genius!” You congratulated her.

“I know, it has to be a new personal best,” she agrees with a laugh as Jimmy reappears, placing two shots on the table for you both. 

“Cheers to a successful case” you smiled, extending your shot glass in her direction. She bit her lip. 

“Oh, I’m not drinking tonight, actually,” she tells you.

“You’re pregnant!” You exclaimed, downing your shot. 

“How did you know?” She asked, laughing as she passes you her shot.

“Well, I didn’t, but it was a good guess.” 

“I’m not really ready to tell the whole team yet.” She tells you shyly, and you’re quick to reassure her. 

“Of course, Jayje. They won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you. Now take that, because they’re coming and they need to think I drank it.” She says, gesturing to her shot. You downed it quickly before the rest of the team could make it to the table. 

“Ladies, ladies, you started without me?” Derek grinned as he slid into the booth next to JJ. 

You were pleasantly surprised to see Aaron slip in next to you. You took his hand and squeezed it in your own before kissing the back of it. “I thought for sure you’d be holed up in your office to avoid this,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, well, my girlfriend is a cute drunk,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek and taking advantage of the proximity to whisper, “and I caught you drinking for two.”

You and Aaron were coming up on a year of dating, and had told the team a few months back. There was a novelty to being a couple in front of the people you loved most, somehow even more exciting than the sneaking around them, that hadn’t worn off yet. Aaron wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you put a hand on his thigh as Spencer and Emily went to get another round of drinks. 

“No one knows yet,” You whispered back to Aaron, but you knew he would keep JJ’s secret. He was good like that.

You attempt to keep up with the flow of conversation, but between the cocktails and the shots, you’re beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, particularly on your empty stomach. Emily and Spencer return and pass you another vodka tonic, and you make a silent determination to nurse this one more slowly. You tilt your chin up towards Aaron, who is listening to Penelope tell Spencer about the new frozen yogurt place that opened up by her apartment.

“You okay?” He asked, lowly, so no one else would hear. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back up at him.

“You’re drunk.” He states, chuckling at you.

“Noooo,” you argued, drunkenly. Luckily, Derek saves you from yourself. 

“Hotchner, you can’t monopolize her just because she’s your girl now. We all remember who took care of her when she first got here.” He teases Aaron, and you laugh. It was true. Aaron had been hard on you at the beginning, but Morgan took you under his wing. He took good care of you. “Come on pretty thing, we’re dancing.” Derek extends his hand towards you, and you see Emily and Penelope waiting for you as well. 

You sat up, untangling yourself from Aaron before giving him a quick peck, grabbing your drink, and practically racing the three of them to the dance floor. It felt like college, in all the best ways. The job was so stressful, and you didn’t let yourself get away from it nearly enough. Throwing your arms up in the air with Emily, letting Morgan catch you when you stumbled, and laughing with Garcia as she brought you another shot of who-knows-what, it felt like the Friday night after you turned in a term paper. Total bliss, fuck the consequences. 

“Guys, we have a case. It’s urgent, and it’s bad.” JJ came to pull you all off of the dance floor. 

Well, so much for fuck the consequences. You put a hand on Morgan’s wrist, a silent sign for him to support you-- you weren’t even sure if you could make it back to the office without stumbling. He placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the bar, where the team was waiting in the street. You reached for Aaron and linked your arm with his. Even with his support, you stumbled at the brisk pace and the uneven ground of the cobblestones downtown.

“You can’t work like this,” he said once you were back in the elevator at Quantico. He wasn’t judging you or being mean-- but as both your supervisor and your boyfriend, he was concerned. “Maybe Jess can swing by and take you home, you can read Jack his bedtime story and sleep some of this off--” He said, as you all stepped out of the elevator and back into the office.

“Noo, Aaron!” You whined. “I want to fight crime!” You protested, pouting. If there was any doubt that you were drunk before, it was gone now. You heard Emily stifle a laugh from somewhere behind you. 

“Hotch, you’re going to send her home just to have her take a nap to sober up and then meet us out there? That doesn’t make any sense,” Morgan argues, but there’s no bite behind it. 

“Yeah, plus you need me to help you fight crime,” You add helpfully as Aaron directed you to your desk and all but placed you in your chair. 

“It’s a four hour flight. She can sleep on the plane,” JJ suggests as she brings you a cup of coffee, which you sip on gratefully. 

You could tell, even in your drunken state, that Aaron was torn, and you felt bad. As your supervisor, he knew he should send you home. As your boyfriend, he would certainly feel better if you were nearby, not to mention the fact that leaving you here meant you’d have to fly commercial to Montana the next morning, not on the safety of the team’s jet. He took a deep breath before making a determination. 

“You are going to eat something now, when we brief, and then you are going to sleep on the plane. You will not go into the field or to the crime scene until I say so. You will go straight to the police precinct, talk to no one, and start on the geographic profile with Reid. Is that clear?” 

“Yes sir,” you squeaked out, and the team erupted in giggles.

“Good girl,” he whispered for only you to hear.

45 minutes later, you had all but inhaled the fast food that Reid had brought you, and you were following Aaron out to the jet. You were the first ones on, and Aaron led you over to the couch, foregoing his normal spot for one where you’d be more comfortable sleeping. He pulled your favorite throw blanket out of your go-bag and covered you up, your head in his lap and your legs splayed out over the other end of the couch, 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, and he pushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he tells you. “You didn’t know we would be called on another case.” 

“I know. That didn’t make it any easier on you, though.” 

“You shouldn’t worry about me so much,” he’s quick to correct you. 

“Says the man who’s letting me sleep my drunkenness off on an FBI jet so that he doesn’t have to let me out of his sight,” you teased him.

“Well, you wanted to fight crime so badly. How could I say no?” He smiled down at you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Get some sleep.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.  

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?”  She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

-

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

-

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

-

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

-

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

-

[burytherosemarysprigs]

Oral Sadism and Literary Arguments

A/N : Ok, so, like enemies to lovers???? slow burn??? literature??? fuck me.

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: There’s probably only one thing worse than chauvinist literature, and that’s the sardonic boy who sits two rows behind in Lit class with his torn paperbacks and ineffable aversion.

“Well, I actually disagree with you,”

If you didn’t have that much self-control, you would’ve snapped the pencil you were holding in half, as you heard a deep voice speak up behind you, and before you could retort, Professor Gordon spoke,

“And why’s that Jason?”

“I think Bukowski was trying to present how men will hide their inner thoughts and feelings, really their sensitivity in that aggression as an attempt at protection.” Jason spoke up, his voice boiling your blood as the rest of the class stayed in relative silence, as you turned around to look at him as he stared directly at you,

“I’m sorry, protection? What part about misogyny and blatant objectification of women as only being sexual objects that can be discarded and picked up when he pleases passes as protection? Women that are empty and uncharacterised to the extent the reader begins to agree with Chinaski that yes, women are less. Women are not important. And women don’t require compassion and consent, what part of any of this reminds you about goddamn male – “

“All right, I think that’s enough for today.” Gordon interrupted your heated rant with a sigh, which you share and quickly turn around close your eyes to try and avoid the weight of Jason’s stare as Gordon begins to dismiss the class.

“All right everyone, I hope you took something useful from that discussion, though I’m not sure if you would classify that as a discussion,” He added sarcastically, before continuing, “I expect you all to have brief outlines planned out for next week, and please try to work as collaboratively as you can with your partner to do so.”

The last part was directed at you and Jason – though neither of you payed proper attention – while the rest of the class let out small snickers.

“Right then, class dismissed, and uh, you two, could you both please stay behind for a minute.”

Fucking great. You thought to yourself, even though Gordon didn’t specify both you and Jason, his tired expression tells you otherwise and you start collecting your notes and pens into your bag in a silent fury and made your way to the front of the class, where Gordon was leaning against his oak desk, watching both of you stand in front of him – not casting a single glance towards the other as you waited for him to speak. He sighs,

“I don’t think you both understand how frustrating it is when your top students both have it out for each other and can’t hold a single civil discussion before arguing like little children,” He begins, becoming more wary as he continues, “Which is why I paired you up for this assignment and I fully expect you both to work together, and I hope I can expect that from you?”

He looked at both of you with an expectant look, and Jason only nodded curtly as a response, and you did the same but decided to chirp in,

“That’s great that you think we’ll be able to work together, sir, but on a totally unrelated note, how would my grade be impacted if my partner was suddenly mauled by a car over the weekend and was unable to complete the project with me?” You spoke, voice deadpanning, as your professor barely restrained in a smile while Jason looked at you with an empty expression.

“I would say that would be a fail as you missed the premises of ‘working with a partner’, as well as some serious legal consequences.” He replied, somehow maintaining a serious look as he spoke.

“That’s great to know sir.” You spoke, nodding along before he dismisses you both, leading you to quickly walk out of the classroom, breathing out a sigh of relief as you see Barbara leaning against the wall, busy on her phone, waiting for you to come out.

“What took you so long,” She asks as soon as she hears your sigh, pocketing her phone, and linking her arm with yours,

“I swear to God, one day, I might as well skin him – “

“Look, if I had known before that you could be so dramatic, I would’ve told you to choose drama as your major.”

“Ha. So funny. It’s just – fuck him.” You say the last part under your breath as you turned around to see nobody in the empty hallway.

“You two are really something else.” She states, making you roll your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that you and Jason are really annoying. And petty.”

“Well, he’s the one that needs to contradict and compete against every single fucking thing I say, every single fucking time! It’s really fucking annoying,” Barbara only rolls her eyes in amusement. “And Gordon paired us up together for this project, and, God, I just can’t do anything with him without wanting to punch him in his stupid face.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why Gordon paired you both up, he really likes you both and he wants you both to stop having this weird rivalry between each other.”

“Wait. You knew?”

“Well yeah. I’m his daughter.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I like seeing you suffer.”

“You know, you’re a terrible friend.”

“Thank you,” She replies, with a small laugh, before she links her arm with yours again and whips out her phone to frantically shoot another text as she lets out a deep sigh. “Where is Steph? She took my car this morning and said she’d pick us up.”

“You let her drive your Bentley?” You ask, surprised she would give Stephanie one of her most prized possessions.

“Yeah, I know,” She spoke, absorbed in her phone, “But, she promised me that she would keep it safe, and we all know that I will kill her if something happens to it.”

“I do.” You reply, a small laugh escaping your lips before a blue Bentley pulled up in front of you both, causing Barbara to quickly pull open the door and shuffle inside, leaving you to chuckle to yourself before making your way to the back seat of the car, the blaring music making you wince as you enter the car but Babs quickly turns it off as both of you settle in.

“See! Your car is perfectly fine, just like I told you it would be!” Steph smugly announced, her blonde curls bouncing wildly as Barbara stared at her unimpressed, before both of them fall into their routine bickering as, this time, Babs begins to criticise her driving and apparent ‘mishandling of the most precious thing to me’, while you only roll your eyes at their antics before pulling out your phone to scroll through the messages you’ve missed throughout the day.

“Hey,” Steph’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you meet her eyes through the rear-view mirror, “What’s up with you today?”, her seemingly innocent question provokes a snicker from Babs – to which she receives a smack on the shoulder from you.

“What?” Steph inquires further.

“Nothing, why don’t you ask miss ‘I-fucking-hate-Jason-Todd’ here.”

“Fuck off, Barbara.” You grit out, glaring at her through the rear-view mirror.

“God, both you and Jason actually act like children,” Stephanie chimes in, “You’re both almost the same but you both compete against each other against every little thing – “.

“Are we done talking about Todd?” You retort, ignoring Steph’s comment, “I have better things to do than think about him.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Barbara winks at you and it takes a lot for you not to launch at her right there, in the car but Steph draws your attention away by babbling about some boy she met in her criminology class and the conversation in the car gradually fizzles out, until Steph asks,

“You guys heard about the party this weekend, right,” A matching ‘yes’ from you and Babs prompts her to continue, “Well, you’re going then, right?”

“I don’t know, but why’re you so pressed about it?” Bars questions, with a raised eyebrow.

“No reason, I’m just curious.”

“It’s Tim, isn’t it?” This time, you pipe in, and Steph almost yells,

“No. No, it’s not!”

“Oh my god. Of course it is.” Babs laugh echoes with yours as you eye Steph in the rear-view mirror, to see a blush dusting her cheeks as she quiets down.

“Whatever, are you coming or not.”

“After this conversation, yeah I am.”

“God. I hate you both.”

Standing in the corner of the party, nursing a red solo cup of something that burns your throat when you drink it, you regret not saying anything in the car against attending this party.

You’re currently standing alone, both Steph and Babs have completely disappeared into crowd, as Dick had shown up and quickly whisked her away as soon as you all entered the apartment, whereas Steph has promised to get you a drink about twenty minutes ago but never came back and as you try to block out the reverberating EDM music blasting through the room, you make your way towards the kitchen to re-fill your cup (the one that you went and got yourself), before something catches your attention in the peripheral vision.

It’s a wispy haired girl, her eyes smudged with mascara, backed against the wall of the kitchen – away from the main crowd, you could pick from her body language a sense of uncomfortability as she was drunkenly shaking her head at a man who towered in front of her, making you stop in your tracks to watch the scene unfold right in front of you, before quickly changing your course towards their direction, already knowing the identity of the man in front of the girl, without seeing his face.

“Hey, Cyrus, get the fuck away from her!”

As soon as you reach them, and the words leave your mouth, another raucous voice speaks at the same time as you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Cyrus and the girl in front of him stop at their hushed conversation, to look away from each other and face you both while you also look at Jason – with a shocked expression – standing next to you and before you can say anything, Cyrus lets go of his hold on the girl before turning to glare at you.

“I don’t see how any of this is any of your business?”

You restrain yourself from physically hurling at him and fist your hands at your sides before looking at him with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t see how any of this is your business either, Beck? Thought daddy said that he’ll pull you out of school if he had to deal with your stupid behaviour again, or did you forget about it?”

“I swear to god – “

He tries to step closer to you but Jason steps in front of you before he can do anything else, and mutters,

“How about you fucking walk away before something worse happens?”

Beck shrugs of Jason’s hold on him before walking away and pointing a finger at you.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?”

“Should’ve said that to your daddy when he said I was best fucking person he’s ever met.”

He looks at you wildly and is about to retort before one of his friends pulls his attention to a game of beer-pong happening in another corner of the party and the whole scene stops for a second. You watch with a held breath as within a fraction of a second, a cocky smile overtakes his face and his shoulders relax as he runs his hands through his dark hair, leaving with his friend and you quickly turn around to see the girl, still standing there, her arms wrapped around her body and a shocked expression on her face.

It takes you a second, but you manage to gently coax her to the hallway outside the apartment and Jason (unbeknownst to you) follows in your footsteps.

“Do you want me to call you a cab, or can I drop you off?”

She shakes her head and is about to say something before Jason interjects,

“I can take her home.”

Both you and the girl turn around and stare at him and you quickly shake your head, diverting your gaze away from him,

“It’s fine Todd, I’ve got this.”

He sighs.

“Will you just let me help her?”

“Well, I’ve already told you that I’ve got this under control, so I don’t see why you’re being so – “

“Oh - uh, you don’t have to worry about me, I can uh – go home myself.”

“No. I – uh mean, let us take you home just to make sure that everything will be okay.”

A meek smile overtakes her face as you squeeze her hand lightly and you offer a half-smile in return.

“Us?” Jason’s voice perks up and you turn around,

“Well, I don’t have a car. If you want, I can come with you and drop her off at her place but – “

“Yeah, sure. Come on.”

His voice is clipped as he moves past you both, turning around the end of the hallway, leading you both to quickly follow him as well.

“Wait. I never asked you for your name.” You gently rest place your hand on her shoulder, making her stop and quietly giving her name,

“It’s Anna.”

...

By the time you’ve left Anna’s apartment complex, the small talk in the car dwindles down as you both sit, unnerved in the dimmed light of the car, the silence suffocatingly awkward. It doesn’t change until he pulls up to the curb, facing the entrance to your apartment building.

“Thanks.”

It’s quiet enough that you didn’t expect that he’d actually hear you. Let alone, grab your wrist before you leave, an incredulous expression on his shadowy face.

“Thanks? That’s it. You’re not going to say anything about what’s just happened?”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well neither do I. Look. Thanks for dropping me off and Anna. That’s it. I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

He doesn’t say anything and let’s go of his hold on your wrist before you quickly slip out of the car, not realising the force at which you push, slams the door shut, making you internally wince. But in your peripheral vision, you can see he doesn’t look at you, with his face staring forward and grip tight on the wheel.

His car’s gone further and turned the corner before you’ve even made it to the entrance doors, and you breath in the cold October air, letting the wind whip across your bare skin, goosebumps rising while standing in a pathetically insulating satin dress, your thoughts pummeling through your mind without fully understanding them and you sigh again.

“What did you say to him after that?”

“Babs, I’m already – “

You stop midway through your hushed conversation with Barbara to see a disheveled Jason noisily weave his way through the shelves, towards the table at the back of the library you had occupied with Barbara.

“Sorry, I – “

“If you weren’t really going to care about this assignment, you should’ve said something before showing up thirty minutes late.” You deadpan, voice steely and brows furrowed.

“Will you fucking listen to me?” he breathlessly cuts you off from saying anything else as he drops his books on the table.

“I’ll head out now.” Barbara mutters to you, squeezing your arm and slinging her bag over her shoulder before quietly slipping out of sight. You rested your chin in your propped arm, waiting for Jason to continue,

“Well, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t have an excuse. I was caught up in call with my father, it ended up being longer than I expected.”

You stare at him for a moment, his eyebrows also furrowed and hair sticking in all directions as he breathes heavily.

“Whatever, just complete the outline of notes I made for you.” You replied, pushing pieces of sticky notes and highlighted papers, that you had been picking at for the past half hour, towards his direction.

In about fifteen minutes, you’re both working in relative silence apart from the occasional remarks on the thesis and clarification on handwritings. There’s also been the perpetual looks on Jason’s part, and regardless of how much you try to block them, it itches at you to confront him about his irritating tendency.

“What Jason? What do you want now?”

His expression is firstly, taken aback, and then he coughs before asking,

“Did you ever talk to the girl after the party?”

You nod slowly, eyes still trained on the table, curving letters on colour-coded sticky notes before replying,

“Yeah, Stephanie’s their R.A, so I went and checked up on them the day after the party, she’s doing fine.”

You think that’s the end of his curiosity, but the pit of anxiety in your stomach and his next question, makes you internally want to bang your head against the alder wood table.

“And, uh, what about Beck?

Now, you stop writing with your pen and look up at him instead, resting your chin on your propped hand again, with a bored expression splayed on your face to try and detract from the internal anxiety, for both yourself and him.

“What about him?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and for a moment you think he might snap like he did in the car a few nights ago, but he only closes his eyes in frustration as you cock your head to one side.

“If you’re wondering if he’s going to face consequences for what he does – then no.”

There’s no verbal response except for a quizzical expression and you almost roll your eyes at him.

“I swear to God Jason, do you live under a fucking rock?”

“I just – look if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, then fucking leave it.”

“Maybe if you’d like to stop yelling in the goddamn library, I can fucking say something.” You almost hiss at him, voice seething as you both glare at each other.

“Anyways, you probably know that Beck’s the son of the headmaster, yeah, yeah, anyways, he’s always been a fucking creep around parties, but he’s never like you know, ever gotten that far.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at your hushed whispers.

“Like, he just trails around parties looking to either fight someone or just annoy them the fuck out but usually someone stops him before he can do something worse. But, still doesn’t mean that he isn’t a fucking asshole anyways – and his dad and him have like the worst fucking relationship ever, he’s threatened to pull him out a bunch of times of school because he’s so shit.”

You lower your voice even further at the last past, that you’re not sure if he can even hear you.

“How do you know all this?”

You shake your head and trail your eyes back to the unfinished notes in front of you.

“That’s unimportant. He’s a whiny trust-fund brat and I don’t know why someone hasn’t punched him yet.”

That silences Jason for a moment. And the moment doesn’t last long before your phone’s alarm blares through the silence of the library and you quickly move to silence it and Jason eyes question you but you don’t respond, instead move to disorderly throw all the pens and highlighters into your bag and grab as many papers you could in one go before quickly whispering,

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait – “

“Look. I promised I’d help a friend out with something. I’ll let you know when I’m free again.”

Jason doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before you’ve flitted through the haze of bookshelves out of view.

“What happened to the guy your dad set you up with?”

“Darian?”

Babs doesn’t look up from her place on the vanity table as she touches up her makeup while you’re sat on the table with a plastic fork prodding the edges of one of the Halloween themed chocolate cakes Babs attempted to bake for the party.

“Yeah, the one with the hair, right?”

“The hair?”

She casts a pointed look at you through the mirror, but you only take in another forkful of chocolate icing before answering,

“Yeah, he had like the most voluminous hair I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Really? Well he had the most boring personality that I’ve ever fucking seen.”

She barely contains a smile at your comment while her own snarky comment elicits a snort from you but before you can say anything else, the frantic clicking of Stephanie’s (beloved) d’orsay heels against the linoleum floor followed by her quickly making her way into the dimly lit bedroom causes the room to fall into silence.

“You’re not ready yet?”

Her voice holds an accusatory tone and Babs quickly scoffs,

“I’m trying. But somebody keeps distracting me by asking unimportant questions.”

“Excuse me. I’m trying to be a good friend and keep up with my friend’s life.”

“Please. It sounds more like you want to know more about Darian.”

Before you can retort to her statement, Steph’s voice cuts in,

“Darian? Who’s that?”

“A guy I went on a date with a while ago.” Babs replies with a roll of her eyes, pulling out a scarlet lipstick tube from her make-up bag.

“ – That your dad set you up with.” You finish for her and Stephanie laughs.

“Since when is Professor Gordon a dating guru?”

“Since fucking never,” Babs replies, this time, twisting the cap of her lipstick. “It was just some guy in the forensic unit that he probably felt bad for being single and alone, but he shouldn’t have, ‘cause he didn’t have a fucking personality even if he tried.”

“Well that sucks. Anyways, are you both ready?” She pulls out her phone out of the bag she’d brought and starts typing.

“Or, you know, at least tried to be ready?” This time, she eyes you pointedly and you let out a noise of protest while stuffing another forkful of chocolate cake in your mouth.

“I’m sorry not all of us have devoted our whole fucking lives curating every Halloween costume known to man!”

This was something you’d noticed since you’d come back to Gotham and had been forced to attend Halloween parties – nearly everyone you’d encountered was practically obsessed with the celebration – and one of those people was Barbara. So much so, that every year she held a Halloween party and planned it more profusely than you’ve ever seen her do anything else. Her love also came with a heightened scrutiny for your enthusiasm – or lack thereof – for the holiday.

Which was why you were currently sat, dressed in a black boat neck dress with a flimsy witch hat resting on your head as you decimated one of Babs’ rejected Halloween cakes – yet the worst part was that it was currently early December (midterms being pushed back made it impossible to have it in October) and the last thing you’d wanted was to attend this party but Babs had personally threatened to drag you there to complete her and Steph’s wish of doing a group costume.

“It’s only you, you know.” Steph retorts, head cocking to one side and blonde curls hanging over her shoulder, “Now, let’s go, let’s go!”

About three hours later, you’ve found yourself nursing a cup of cheap bar (the number, you’re pretty sure that you’ve lost count of), eyeing a clique of literature students, who are currently in the midst of an argument while you stand in the corner of the room, trying to avoid them recognizing you out of their peripheral vision.

“What’re you doing?”

“What the – “ You quickly turn around to see a tall figure dressed in black staring down at you quizzically, and then you realize that it’s Jason Todd.

“Todd, what the fuck do you want.” You hiss – not at all in the mindset to have a conversation with him at the moment – while trying to remain quiet enough so that you don’t attract any unwanted attention.

“I should be asking you,” He taunts back. “You’re the one sulking around the party and hiding in places.”

You don’t try to reply to his response but offer another front of argument that throws all sensibility of your previous claim of not wanting to fight Jason out of the window.

“I don’t fucking understand, why can’t you just leave me alone?”  

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to talk to you and you’re blocking everyone’s way.”

“Well, I’m not moving. So, they can find another way.”

“Are you fucking serious,” His voice raises. “You’re actually acting like a – “

“Shut up. Will you.” You hiss, pushing both of you further into the corner, so the bi-fold doors hide you better from the view of the group.

“What are you – “

“Morgan and his stupid friends keep trying to argue with me about some shit literature and won’t leave me alone.”

“Why?” There’s an edge to his voice which you pretend not to hear by avoiding his eyes.

“Beats me.”

He falters at the hostility of the comment – or lack thereof and you don’t say anything else but instead move to carefully peer pass the maple doors to scan for the group you’ve been avoiding amongst the mass of people in the room and as soon as you can’t see them you quickly move past Jason, to the to the cantilever staircase, without registering Jason’s footsteps trailing behind yours until you’ve reached the top and the overwhelming music and yelling from the party subdues a little and you let out a breath of relief before you see Jason also reaching the top of the stairs.

“Are you fucking following me?”

“No. Barbara and Stephanie were looking around for you and I was helping them.”

That lessens your anger a little and then confusion settles.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologise to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and find yourself a little speechless.

“I – I meant why were they were looking for me but go on.”

“Oh,” You think you see his cheeks tint pink a little but with the dim lighting dancing shadows on his face, you’re not sure. “Well, I wanted to say sorry about the last class we had with Gordon.”

He takes a pause to slightly mess with his hair by running a hand through it.

“You were right about Bukowski – I – I don’t know why I said all of that shit.”

Looking back at this moment, you think it’s not your brightest because somehow his rather heartfelt confession falls almost deaf on your ears and somehow the narrative in your mind shifts to something else entirely.

“Is this some sort of joke, Todd?”

“What?”

“Did Morgan put you up to this shit? I know you and I don’t get along but siding with him is real fucking low, you know?”

“I – “

“I can’t fucking believe that you’re listening to all their bullshit and agreeing with them. It’s so – “

“No. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He cuts you off and his voice raises considerably. “I’m trying to fucking apologize to you and all your doing is being a bitch again.”

That silences you, but he continues.

“You know, I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything to understand what I did to fuck up with you, I’ve asked Barbara and Stephanie and – just, fuck, why did I listen to Dick?”

He mutters the last part, but you catch it anyway but still no response forms in your head at all, instead new questions pop-up as Jason runs another frantic hand through his ruined hair before quickly thundering down the stairs, leaving you…

You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling but cold is one of them as you pull the pathetic lace sleeves down your arm to try and warm yourself but nothing happens and maybe you feel your eyes too heavy to keep open as tears brim at the corners.

“Hey – are you okay?”

Babs’ voice causes your head to snap upwards as you watch her quickly scaling the stairs, eyebrows furrowed together, and you offer no response until she reaches the top and extends her arms to pull you into a hug.

“You were right. Halloween really isn’t your holiday.”

“Could you please stay behind for a moment?”

Gordon asks of you as you’re heading out of the hall, and the pit of anxiety resting in your stomach throughout the class, blooms further as you wait on the side until all the hall empties and its just you and Gordon.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, until he finally sighs and looks at you with a hard expression – one you’re all too familiar with from when you were little –

“Concerning Jason,”

You nod. Since your argument two days ago, you haven’t seen him, and the guilt seeped in farther when his spot well behind you remained empty the entire lesson.

“He’s pulled from your partnership.”

“W-what?”

“He came to talk to me, saying that he can’t continue to work with you anymore on any further projects, and the last one I paired you up on should definitively be the last.”

“Sir, I – “

“Look, I don’t like to meddle in the private lives of my students, but this situation is too tiring for me not to say that whatever problem you and Jason have; fix it. I always find both your work fascinating and that goes for the assignment you both submitted before and I simply cannot allow your own vanities to cloud judgment over the fact that you and Jason are paragons at literature and in my books, are too quick-witted to allow this talent to be lost amongst petty arguments.”

“I know, I – “

“So, I hope you’ll resolve this issue before next week’s lesson?”

“I – yes. Yes, I will.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

“Can I come in?”

The situation that you’re currently in rolls over you in waves of guilt and anxiety as you stand in front of Jason, in a beige coloured hallway as he idly stands with the apartment door halfway open, hesitant at your words or more so at how you’re standing in front of his apartment with worn boots and a heaving chest. You’d finally taken heed of the advice offered from Gordon, Steph and Babs and even consulted Dick and mulled it over with your own guilt before trekking all the way to his apartment.

“Sure,” His voice sounds removed – apathetic enough that you have to refrain from wincing, as he opens the door further to let you in. “Are you okay?”

You don’t hear him as your boots echo against the hardwood floor as you enter the apartment building and the sudden realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his apartment settles in as you eye the dimly lit space, with books scattered on the coffee – most of them are torn, something you’ve always found a little endearing, though you won’t admit it. The room is an oddly home-y mixture of warm beige's and deep browns that you would’ve kept staring at if he hadn’t called out your name again.

“What?”

“I asked, are you okay? You’re red in the face and panting.”

“Oh, oh, yeah, I walked all the way here and the elevator was out of service, so I used the stairs.”

“Why did you walk, nearly twenty blocks?” He furrows his brows and you let out of a puff of annoyance.

“I – listen, I don’t want to argue with you,” You take a step closer and calm yourself before starting. “You – you were right, I was being a complete and total bitch to you without reason at that party and before that. It’s just – “

You stop, and release a chuckle before awkwardly asking, “I’m gonna need a drink to get through this, do you have any?”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, not as drunk as you need to be, but enough that it gives you courage to finally stop beating around the bush and talk to him so you move to see him also standing facing the open windows to the evening sky, the sun setting against the horizon as dusk settles and you motion for him to sit on the floor as you are and he slowly complies.

“Look, I know I’ve been hostile towards you since – “

“Why?” He interrupts, not looking at you and you sputter a little. “Why have you been so hostile to me.”

“Well, you should know, none of it was your fault – well, not directly.” You sigh.

“College was my chance to start over. You don’t need to know all of the other shit, but I just thought that this whole experience would make everything okay and I wouldn’t need to fight for every single thing in my life just to end up being sub-par. And, it was going great.” You slightly chuckle to try not to choke on your words.

“That was, until you came along with your prodigal capabilities in literature and it felt like everything was falling apart again. Because somehow, suddenly, I wasn’t Gordon’s favourite anymore and I wasn’t at the top of the class – and somehow, I wasn’t enough.” Your voice is a little more choked now as you kept looking forward, even though Jason had started watching you now.

“It just was like my entire belief system just got turned upside down.” You release a breath and let the silence settle after your words.

“Fuck, I just unloaded a crap-ton of shit onto you, and you probably don’t understand any of it. I mean, I’m drunk so I don’t understand either.” You laugh and try not to cry, even though you’re pretty sure you will.

“No, I think I understand sort of, too,” He replies, voice softer than you expected and you’re more surprised to see a small smile gracing his lips. “You’re not completely wrong about the whole belief system thing there, you know, Gordon’s classes meant the same thing to me too and I just wanted to enjoy something without having to fight my way for it but boy, did you make that hard.”

A breathy chuckle escapes you as he stops talking and you both sit in the silence until he pipes up again,

“If we’re trying to mend this whole thing then maybe you should want this back too,” His voice is cryptic as you furrow your brows in confusion and stare at him with a lost expression as he stands up to walk away and disappear into the hallway, out of your sight before quickly returning with something clasped in his hand while you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You dropped this in my car when we were heading back from the party with that whole thing with Anna. Dick found it the next morning and had a whole field day about it.”

In his palm, rests a single earring piece shaped like an olive branch which you thought you’d lost in the chaos of the party and you almost laugh.

“You know, I’m gonna pretend this isn’t too creepy and thank you for giving it back.”

“I was trying to give it back to you but you never wanted to have a single conversation with me so,” You roll your eyes before picking up the earring and hooking it back through your ear even though you didn’t have the other one on.

“Right, I get it, I suck.”

That causes him to laugh as he settles back down again next to you and he doesn’t look at you before saying,

“No, you’re not as annoying as I originally thought.”

You echo a ‘hey’ and lightly punch him and the silence envelopes you both – softly, and there’s a moment of peace you think you’ve both settled in and it feels nice.

le fin

(pt.2 will come)

[the-iceni-bitch]

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more! 

Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!

“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

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[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 12: Dare

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Dare Rated: T (Drink responsibly my friends) A/N: Maribat fangirl went to Uni in the UK. Most people thought they could outdrink the Americans, and that American beer tasted horrible.  DC fanboy isn’t much of a drinker. Also we planned this earlier, but I saw this blog post from @ritacrow-blogrequesting something similar a few days ago, so here you go.  I don’t know if you’re a fan of the in vino veritas/drunken confession trope, so feel free to skip it if you aren’t.

“So, why are we doing this again?” Tim asked hesitantly, as they gathered in the Wayne Manor lounge. “Because Pixie Pop here issued a challenge, and I don’t plan on letting her win”, Jason explained with a smirk. “All she said was ‘American drinking laws are bullshit’, and it’s not like you don’t know the name of every single bar in Gotham that doesn’t card.” Tim retorted.  “She also said American beer tastes gross, so I don’t know why you brought Budweiser of all things”.

“She dared us to try and drink her under the table, and I’m sure as hell not backing down.” Jason hissed, and Tim decided that it was pointless trying to argue.  The whole reason Tim and Steph were even involved was because they had just turned 18, which meant they were allowed to take part in this little drinking competition.  Alfred was in the corner of the room keeping score, someone had to, considering the night they were about to have.

After they all gathered in the lounge, it was time for the challenge to begin.  Barbara quietly sipped her glass of wine, curling into Dick’s side as she watched the movie playing on the TV.  Jason and Dick had downed a bottle of beer each, waiting for Marinette to finish her first glass of wine.  Marinette rested her back against Jason’s arm as she watched the movie play out, the night had just begun and she wasn’t about to let them win.  She wouldn’t be able to look any non-American person in the eye if they knew she got out drunk by them. Marinette took in the soft glow of the lounge, alternating between leaning on the sofa or Jason’s leather-clad shoulder.  It almost reminded her of her home city at night. She looked around at the people she had come to know, fairly certain she had the dopiest smile on her face at that moment.  

She had arrived in Gotham City not long ago, and she was surprised to find that some of them welcomed her with open arms.  Not all of them, obviously, some were a bit more welcoming than others.  Bruce didn’t really trust her as a magic user, and Damian usually kept to himself.  Preferring to be alone with his pets, Titus and Alfred (the cat). The others assured her not to take it too personally, that they are like that with everyone.  With Jason, it was hard to tell what he thought about her.  Dick was like an older brother to everyone, and in some ways reminded Marinette of Chat Noir, alot.  While Barbara, Steph and Cass were like the sisters Marinette didn’t have.  Tim was at least somewhat curious about her powers and how they worked, hard as he tried to fight it in the beginning.

With Jason, it was much harder to tell at times.  He wasn’t quite as closed off as Damian, though sometimes she found him in the Wayne Manor library reading by the window.  They had each other’s backs in a fight, and the fact that she was much smaller compared to him earned her the nickname “Pixie Pop”.   They worked well together on missions, and there was plenty of friendly banter between them.  There was almost a veneer of sarcasm and bravado.  

The only time it showed any sign of falling was when his pit madness took over.  Even then she was more focused on asking Plagg and Tikki for help, seeing as it was their magic causing this.  There was no fixing it, but they had managed to help get it under control.  Marinette was almost frustrated when he woke up to find her waiting at his bedside, after working around the clock to keep the madness at bay.  The sounds of him screaming and thrashing around were still ringing in her ear, and the most that he could muster was “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there, Pixie.” he drawled.  

“Pixie, you there?” Jason gently poked her on the shoulder and she realised that she had been staring into her wine glass for a moment.  She took a large gulp before setting the glass down on the table, the night had just begun.  

As the night went on, Tim was not impressed with how beer tasted. “People actually drink this stuff for fun?” he muttered. He was starting to think Marinette might have a point about how American beer tasted. Sadly the old adage of “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear” meant that it was too late to try Steph’s approach.  Steph was nursing a Jack Daniels and coke as she watched the film, letting that light of the TV screen dance in front of them.

Later into the night, Tim was getting tipsy at that point. Considering this was his first time drinking, Marinette gave him a smile that said “you get points for trying”.  If Steph wasn’t drunk now, she was going to be feeling the effects very soon.  She mostly drank spirits chased down with soda and juice.  Barbara had already left after a couple of glasses of wine, deciding to leave the rest of them to this game.  Jason and Dick had beer bottles lined up in front of them, almost as if they were competing with each other first. Marinette continued to leisurely sipped her wine, knowing that she was their final boss at that moment.

In the end, only Marinette and Jason were left in the lounge.  Steph left had already left, and Tim followed not long after,  Alfred helped get Dick into bed after he nearly passed out on the coffee table.  “It’s you and me, Poxie Pip” Jason slurred, Alfred occasionally came in to check on them.  

Marinette, who at this point was slightly tipsy, leaned in close and whispered in his ear “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“There’s worse ways to go, Pixie, trust me.” he laughed, Marinette gave him a very sad smile.  He finished the last of his beer bottle before laying down on the sofa, resting his head on Marinette’s lap. Marinette was certain she could feel her face heating up, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at him.  

“Are you sure my teeny tiny legs can support your big head?” she joked. Great, now she was doing it too. she looked away in hopes that he couldn’t see the blush on her face.  She didn’t get Asian glow, but now she was really hoping she had that as an excuse.    

“I’ve seen you lift goons twice your size and throw them across rooms,” he laughed “besides, this feels kinda nice.” he mumbled.

“Yeah but that was me as Ladybug, it’s also what keeps me from tripping over air and landing on my face.” she explained.  She didn’t think her heart would be able to handle looking down to see one of the few times she saw him completely at peace.  She was used to people who preferred her as her alter ego anyhow.

“I guess you win this round,” he slurred, Marinette still hadn’t moved his head from her lap.  If anything, her free hand was working its way through his dark locks of hair.  He smiled, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the simple yet kind gesture.  “Serves me right,” he yawned, “getting drunk with a fairy princess.”

Marinette turned her attention back to the last of her wine, “there he goes again, making silly jokes like that.” she thought.  “Especially with one as pretty as you,” he laughed. Marinette was about to get up at that moment, now he was just being ridiculous.  “I like you...” were the last words he said before letting sleep take him.  

It was everything Marinette could do not to drop her wine class on the floor in shock.  Marinette thought she heard wrong.  She shook her head, what did it matter? I mean, she had called her friends pretty loads of times before, it’s not like he said he loved her or anything.  These were things that you said to friends all the time, right? At that moment, there was a knock on the door, Alfred came in and saw Jason asleep in Marinette’s lap.  “I was just about to leave could you maybe help Jason get back to his room? That would be great thanks Alfred.” she quickly spluttered before dashing out of the lounge and down the hallway in search of an empty guest room to sleep in.  

Jason tragically awoke the next morning with a hangover and a vague memory of what had happened the night before.  He thought this was probably the very reason why Bruce did not drink.  Alfred came in with a tray of chilli dogs and water, to nurse the hangover.  “Thanks Alfred,” Jason groaned, “do I even wanna know what happened last night?”

“If you must know Master Todd, you won second place in last night’s drinking competition.” He explained, Jason sighed, Marinette wasn’t going to let him live that down.  He still had to admit he was impressed with her. “Miss Dupain-Cheng seemed rather flustered after you compared the experience to  ‘getting drunk with a fairy princess’ and confessed your admiration and affection for her.”   It was all coming back to him now, and he was about to be sick.  He told her that he thought she was pretty and that he liked her. He wasn’t wrong, but it probably didn’t sound as romantic coming from someone who was probably very drunk.   He reached for the chilli dog, hoping that he would be able to keep it down.   “In vino veritas indeed, or in birro veritas in your case”, Alfred quoted.  Jason took a sip of water, still too stunned to speak.  “If you still hold such affection for Miss Dupain-Cheng, might I suggest telling her when you’ve sobered up?” he suggested, giving Jason a slight sympathetic smile.

“I’ll try, thanks Alfred” he replied as Alfred left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.  

A couple of days later, Marinette was sitting in her studio, drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate.  Jason hadn’t called her or spoken to her since the party, and she had hoped that he had just drunkenly forgotten his little drunken confession.  It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it just felt like there was no point in putting stock in something he said while he was so very drunk.  It almost made Marinette laugh a little at the thought.  Her phone buzzed, it was a message from Jason:  “Hey, you busy today? I’ve got something to tell you.  Sober, this time”.  Marinette smiled, maybe this time there was truth in the foul tasting American beer.

 BONUS: The next morning in the Batcave... Tim: That tasted like actual vomit.  Dick: It's an acquired taste, Baby Bird. Tim: Which is to say you were peer pressured into liking it.

[subbing-for-clones]

The Alpha and The Omega Part 2

Alpha Maul x Omega Reader

Summary: Darth Maul becomes Maul and has to figure out how to both survive and thrive in the galaxy on his own. It’s more difficult than he thought it would be, especially after being thrown into a mix of bounty hunters with a unique gene that he also shares that are more than willing to allow him into their pack. Can he learn to trust those around him after a life time of near solitude?

Word Count: 4.9k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death and injuries, hints to slavery. A/B/O dynamics. Maul’s injury is not the canon one

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  No.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

    Maul was falling, plunging into the depths of a reactor shaft on Naboo. He had killed a Jedi Master; finally, after all his years of training and harsh lessons, he had succeeded in this long-awaited trial. He didn’t plan for the Master’s padawan to be so strong and so quick. Right when he had started to celebrate his victory by taunting his opponent who had hung from the very shaft he was falling into, he was caught off guard. The padawan had leapt up, used his fallen Master’s saber and plunged it straight through his chest before kicking him down into the abyss.

    Maul could still feel the padawan’s rage billowing through the surrounding force, his pain and sadness and he took pleasure in it. The fact that he had cracked the padawan’s resolve was a consolation to his failure. He had failed his mission, he had failed himself, he had failed his Master; years wasted. His life, wasted. His eyes widened in a realization and harnessing his physical pain, Maul was able to take hold of an air vent, hoisting himself up and into the tight tunnels and calling the working half of his saber into his grip with a burst of fury through the force.

    Every time he had thought he was able to keep something from Sidious it was revealed that his master had planned his movements long before he made them. No, he had not failed his Master, he had followed his plan accordingly. Sidious wanted him to fall on Naboo; he wanted the Jedi to believe they had once again eradicated the threat of the Sith and take on a new apprentice. Newfound anger at his betrayal fueled him to climb through the ventilation until he finally reached the surface. The wound in his chest was not fatal, it had passed between both of his hearts but still ached and throbbed; the burning of the instant cauterization kept him from bleeding to death. He should have died from the impact of the fall.

    He had to leave, he couldn’t let the Jedi or his master know he had survived. Concealing his force signature like he had had to master years ago, he kept to the shadows. He feared the Jedi would recognize his ship; he knew his master would, so he almost regrettably left it behind. The citizens were still celebrating their false victory drunkenly in the streets so it was far too easy to steal a small ship and escape the planet since the blockade had been eradicated.  

    He made his way to the furthest reaches of the outer rim on the boarder of wild space to evade his master’s detection. He spent a year bouncing between planets, nursing his injury and keeping up his original training by fighting fearsome beasts. When he had returned to his full strength, he dared inch slightly closer to civilization. He had returned to Tatooine in hopes of gathering some supplies despite his almost empty purse.

    He had fallen into bounty hunting by accident. He came across a small moisture farm and with the intent to rob it, had found himself face to face with an utterly terrified Twi’lek male. Maul was about to unsheathe his weapon but stopped when the man before him dropped to his knees.

“Please! Please don’t take me back to Jabba! I know he has a price on my head but I can’t go back there!” sobs cracked through his words and Maul grimaced in disgust at the man’s weakness. “I- I don’t have much but I’ll pay you what I can if you leave me alone and forget you ever saw me. Please.”

     Maul did no such thing. With the promise of credits, he ignited his blade and took the man’s head in one fell swoop. Carrying his head over his shoulder by one of the Twi’lek’s lekku along with the credits he had offered him for his freedom, he made his way to Jabba’s palace to collect a reward. Sure enough, he was promised a handsome sum for killing the thief and presenting his head to Lord Jabba.

    He sat at a small table in the corner of the cantina while he awaited his pay. He scanned the room, taking note of every patron and exit while the band played music he didn’t care for. His eyes met the visor of who he assumed was a bounty hunter under Jabba’s employ. The Mandalorian warrior strode over to him slowly after muttering something to one of the servant girls. The man pulled the only other chair out from Maul’s table and settled himself down in it, followed quickly by the girl carrying two amber bottles. She gave a dainty bow before she trotted away, leaving the two men in a heavy silence.

    Maul could smell him; he didn’t feel like a threat to him per say as he could tell the Mandalorian wasn’t a force user, but he did waft a heady scent that made the flesh on the back of Maul’s neck raise up. He bared his teeth to the man and growled before taking a swig of the bottle; never taking his eyes off of the stranger in front of him.

“Easy there Alpha. I’m not here to start trouble.” Maul pretended like he wasn’t confused by the title he had been assigned. Some bounty hunter lingo perhaps.

“I haven’t seen you around here or around the guilds before. How long have you been hunting?” the man never removed his helmet to drink his beer, rather placed a metal straw in the opening and sipped it from under his helm.

“Not long,” Maul wanted to give this man as little information as possible without rousing suspicion. He had interacted with bounty hunters before and was under the impression they didn’t ask questions, unlike the Mandalorian. Maul watched intently as the man reached into his utility belt and pulled out a card before sliding it across the table in his direction. He quirked his brow ridge at the man waiting for an explanation.

“We tend to take care of our own. Guild Master on this card has a set up on Corellia. She’s a mated Omega, she’ll help you get started up, might be able to pull a few strings and get you into the Guild,” he rapped his knuckles once on the table and stood as a Gamorrian Guard approached with Maul’s payment. He took the purse quickly and made his way to the exit but not before shooting the stranger one last glance.

“Good luck out there brother,” he rasped through his vocoder and giving a lazy two finger salute.

      Maul made his way back across the desert as night was starting to fall, a relief from the blistering heat. He had some strange exchanges in his life but none that had left him so confused. Why had the man called him Alpha and referred to him as a brother? What in the name of the force was a mated Omega? He had never heard of that species before despite his Master’s thorough tutelage. He sat in the cockpit of his ship holding the card in his crimson and tattooed fingers, lost in thought. He hadn’t considered what his life would turn into with his newfound freedom.

    He knew he wanted revenge and the notoriety he was promised, how he would achieve it on his own he had no clue. He considered how he might be able to gain influence in the underworld and high contacts should he become a renowned bounty hunter. He had the skillset for it. He needed the credits too. Sighing, he punched in the coordinates to Corellia, confident in the idea that his Master was convinced of his demise and made his way there.

    He never much liked Corellia, he had been here several times before. Despite the fact that it was easy to get lost in a crowd, it was also difficult to perceive incoming threats if he dropped his guard. He wandered through the streets, keeping to the alleyways when he could with the hood of his black cloak pulled over his head, obscuring others’ ability to see his face. He glanced down between the card in his hand and the neon signs above the various businesses. Trying to locate a cantina called The Den, supposedly in Coronet owned by a Theelin named Zeni.

    Sure enough, after rounding a dozen corners he finally found a hole in the wall with a little sign that read The Den, in red lights. Two characters he didn’t recognize from any languages he was familiar with, unlit, one painted on either side of the basic neon lettering. He pushed open the heavy door and was pleasantly surprised to find it larger than it looked on the inside. The room was dark, lit by low glowing lights. Cigar smoke wafted lazily through the air but not so much that it made you choke. Various tapestries and flags decorated the walls along with photographs of people he wouldn’t have been able to recognize if he had cared to try.

Only a few patrons sat scattered around the cantina, their attention on data-pads and bounty pucks. He spotted a dark blue haired, purple skinned Theelin behind the bar chatting flirtatiously with a large Chiss male.

    A scent, different but akin to the one the Mandalorian had permeated the room, swirling with a strong flowery one. The odd pair’s eyes snapped up to him the moment the door closed behind the Zabrak. He took a bar stool a few seats down from the Chiss and stared straight ahead, feeling the man’s eyes narrow in his direction. The Theelin woman he assumed was Zeni strode over to him after patting the Chiss’s arm affectionately.  

“Don’t mind him, you know how Alphas get when unmated ones come around their Omega,” she was absentmindedly wiping down the dark bar with a damp rag before setting a glass down, “what can I get for you?”

Maul reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out her card and set it down on the counter.

“I was told you were the one to come to if I wanted to join the guild.”

“You got a sponsor? Proof of successful hunts?” she quirked a brow at him as the man he assumed was her mate kept a close eye on him. Maul was confused.

“I wasn’t aware you needed a sponsor to join the Guild.”

“Not the collective no, but if you wanna join this house you’ll need someone to vouch that you’re not an over aggressive Alpha or too submissive Omega,” the Chiss answered before Zeni could. Leaning across the empty space he extended a hand, “Call me Coth, Zeni’s Alpha.” Maul hesitantly took the man’s hand and gave a firm, curt shake, “Maul.”

“You’re unmated,” Coth stated, it wasn’t a question. Maul at least understood what that meant.

“I do not have a mate no. Is that important?”

“No,” Zeni cut in, “we’ve quite a few lone Alphas in our ranks, few unmated Omegas too, as long as you don’t give the girls too much trouble, we won’t have a problem.”

Maul was getting frustrated with the terms he didn’t understand, “What are these Alphas and Omegas? I’ve only heard of them over the last few days from another bounty hunter. Is this some kind of title?”

The mated pair exchanged a bewildered look, “You don’t know?” Coth asked. Maul simply stared at them while Zeni sighed heavily and reached behind her, pouring a massive amount of liquor into the empty glass she had placed in front of Maul. Coth had scooted over to sit next to him.

“He wouldn’t be the first,” he started, “do you remember when ‘Meg first came around with Bane? She didn’t know hardly anything. Terrified of every Alpha she smelled, poor thing.”

“Of course I remember, I wouldn’t let her catch you referring to her as a ‘poor thing’. She’s probably our best Omega, she does work for the collective too now, not just our house. Still don’t know where she came from. I think Bane knows but you know how he is. Moves around a lot that girl, just like he does.” Coth nodded at Zeni’s words before turning his attention back to Maul who was only half listening at this point as he nursed his liquor.

“Long story short, it’s a gene. It’s why you can smell me and my honey there. You’ve got the Alpha which makes you stronger, faster and a bit smarter than the rest of your species.”

Maul mulled over Coth’s words. From what he had learned, most of his kind from Dathomir had some kind of connection to the force, perhaps this added gene was why he was chosen to be Sidious’s apprentice.

“And what of the Omega?” he turned to Zeni and she grinned. “Same deal for the most part but we always fall in line behind our mighty Alphas,” she leaned over the bar pinched her lover’s cheek and gave him a playful growl before turning her attention back to the Zabrak.

“Listen I’ll cut you some slack, if you got this card, it means someone in our house gave it to you so you caught someone’s eye. Who gave it to you anyway?”

“I never got a name, he was a Mandalorian at Jabba’s palace.” Coth’s eyes gleamed, “Interesting, he’s never recruited anyone before.” Coth stared off into the corner of the bar while Zani spoke up again.

“Like I said I’ll cut you a break Maul, I can’t just grant you instant access to the guild’s bounty list; especially without a sponsor but if you can consistently turn in public bounties through us for six months and prove to be reliable, I’ll grant you membership and you can start taking some pucks,” she looked to her mate for a final approval. He gave her a curt nod and she refilled Maul’s drink with a pleased smile, “what do you say?”

Maul shot back the last of the liquor and stood, “prove my worth, join the ranks. Sounds reasonable..”

Coth also stood and retrieved a data-pad with a list of public bounties, “good, here. Take your pick, bring em back to us and you’ll get the reward through our broker.”

      Over the next two months Maul proved to be an almost mechanically reliable hunter. He only ever took bounties that were listed with the option to bring them in dead, made his job easier. He found that it wasn’t as lucrative as he had hoped but he was only taking public bounties at the moment. They tended to be cheap but there were a lot at his disposal. The jobs were too easy for him, he was a born hunter and a trained killer yet he was hunting down mostly thieves who stole from the wrong people. His strength through the force came to every advantage, he enjoyed toying with his victims; making them run, giving them a false hope that they would escape but they never could.

    To say he liked the other hunters at the Den would’ve been an overstatement but he didn’t necessarily dislike them either. Zeni was always friendly and welcoming when he came to drop off the bodies and collect his pay. Coth was as pleasant as an Alpha could be to another. He slowly started picking up social ques about the sub culture. Alphas were fiercely protective of their Omegas and although the Omegas were a force to be reckoned with all on their own; he realized how true Zeni’s earlier statement had been. They always fell in line behind their Alphas and their Alphas took great care of them. He still hadn’t met an Omega that wasn’t already mated and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to; the bond looked like an anchor, a distraction.

    After collecting a series of quarries, he returned once again to Corellia to collect. When he entered the familiar cantina, a new scent almost knocked him out with its intensity. It was soft and earthy, lightly floral but incredibly strong. Noticing that Zeni was preoccupied talking to a woman at the bar with Coth by her side he took a seat in one of the empty booths and started looking through the newly available bounties from the public database trying to push through the fog that clouded his mind. He could just barely sense an individual in his proximity that had a strong connection to the force and it made him bristle.

 ~~~~~

      Your pupils blew out the moment the scent hit your nose. You had been around your fair share of unmated Alphas by now but you had never been so affected before. You turned away from Zeni to scan the bar and your eyes fell on someone you had never seen in the cantina before. A crimson Zabrak’s eyes bored into yours for only a moment before he turned back to whatever it was he was doing. Zeni had to wave her lilac hand in front of your face to bring your attention back to her while Coth chuckled, obviously aware of how you were affected.

“Who the fuck is that?” you asked nodding your head in his direction. Coth quieted down long enough to answer you.

“Name’s Maul. New to the game, Fett gave him the card but he doesn’t have a sponsor.”

“Never heard of Fett handing out your card,” you quirked your brow over to Zeni.

“As far as I know he never has. Maul must’ve had some crazy strong pheromones going off to catch that Alphas attention,” she chirped, “since it was Fett who extended the invitation and he’s obviously an Alpha I told him he can take public bounties and cash em in here for a while ‘till he proves to be a good addition to our pack.”

    You nodded pensively before downing your drink. His scent was heady, a strong woody and musty, lightly smoky smell that heated your muscles under your skin. You had finished your heat recently so you were confident that the only pheromones you were releasing were your normal Omega ones. Still, you felt his eyes on you and you could feel the dark side of the force surrounding him. Interesting.

“How’s he doing? Why doesn’t he have a sponsor?” you tried to ask nonchalantly while you looked through the pucks Coth had set out for you to take your pick from.

“He won’t ask for sponsorship and no one’s offered. He’s doing great considering he didn’t have a clue he was an Alpha when he first wondered in here.”

“He didn’t?” the mirrored déjà vu was not lost on you.

“Nope, but he’s taken care of the most dangerous thieves that have been posted publicly, finds em quick too,” Coth praised, “plus he’s left the mated Omegas alone, hasn’t challenged any of the other Alphas either. Keeps to himself, still doesn’t have a mate as far as I can tell,” he gave you a not-so-subtle wink and jab with his elbow.

You glared at him from under the rim of your hat. “So he needs a sponsor..” you turned your attention back to Zeni picking up three of the pucks and sliding the rest back to Coth.

“I’m way ahead of you ‘Meg,” she set two glasses with a few ice cubes in front of you and a full bottle of whisky; the spicy kind you liked, and turned her love sick gaze back to the Chiss she called her mate. You took the glasses and the bottle and turned to walk towards the strange Alpha.

    You watched a scantily dressed Twi’lek slide into the worn booth next to him and try to mutter something into his ear, you smirked when he made an effort to scoot away from her but this woman was persistent. She had no scent, she wasn’t an Omega, she had no business trying to woo an Alpha. Fucking Betas, you thought. They made up the majority of the population and couldn’t tell the difference between Alphas, Omegas and their kind. She didn’t notice you while you set the glasses down softly on the table; bottle still in hand. When you cleared your throat, she looked up at you with an annoyed huff. You swept your coat to the side, showing the blaster strapped to your thigh, “beat it bitch,” your voice was sultry and smooth but carried an authority only a respected Omega could.

    You watched her scurry away looking frightened and ignored the snorts of amusement coming from the bar. Every patron in the Den knew you and your reputation. You had no problem challenging anyone who stood in your way. Whether that came from the skills you had learned as a Jedi or an attitude you picked up from Bane; you didn’t know and didn’t care. It worked.

    The Alpha said nothing as you glided into the black booth opposite him and slid one of the empty glasses over to him; passing him the bottle once you had poured yourself a generous serving. You allowed yourself to enjoy the spicy malt liquor and watched as he also poured the amber liquid over the ice cubes in his glass. His scent was over powering, it turned your insides into butterflies; something the other Alphas had never done. The pheromones he released told you he was vaguely interested in your presence, welcoming it, almost. But his force signature told you he was wary, waiting to see why you had approached him in the first place.

    For a few minutes the two of you sat in silence, eyes locked on one another while you basked in the other’s aroma and sipped your drinks until you broke the silence.

“So, you’re the new Alpha in town,” you cocked your brow at him.

“That’s what I’ve been told, yes,” he poured himself a second drink and you hummed.

“I hear you’ve been taking up the public listings and doing fairly well for yourself,” you leaned back and stretched your free arm over the back of the booth.

“Is this going somewhere or did you just want to buy me a drink?” the corner of his mouth quirked up and his golden eyes narrowed slightly as he also leaned back, spreading his legs to a more comfortable and dominant position.

You nodded your head, respecting the fact that he valued his time. Still, you made him wait till you finished your drink and sighed. “I also hear you might be in need of a sponsorship.”

“As you said, I’m doing quite well for myself. Not so sure I need one.”

You poured yourself another glass and hummed again, leaning forward towards him and resting on your elbows with your drink clasped between your hands. “That maybe the case but without one it’ll be a while before your granted membership. Even then, new initiates only get last picks.”

“Are you offering me something?” he leaned forward slightly, searching your face for your intentions before you could speak them.

“As a matter of fact, I am. The hunter who sponsored me was high ranking so when I got in; I got better pickings by affiliation. I’m giving you the same chance I had by offering you, my sponsorship.”

“What exactly would I have to do?” he growled. Obviously not keen on the idea of owing anyone anything.

“Nothing you’re not already doing,” you placed the three pucks you had gotten from Zeni on the table and pulled a fourth out of your pocket you had gotten from a private hire. “Come with me and help me take care of these four, come back and collect fifty percent after fuel costs. Simple. After that you’ll have full membership and higher paying bounties to choose from. Few weeks instead of a few months, thousands instead of hundreds.”

    You leaned back and gave him time to look over the information each puck carried. Even if he decided to try to run off with the info and catch them on his own, no guild master would cash him out without a membership. You barely caught the slight widening of his eyes when he saw the cash reward. You felt his need through the force and smelled it from him. You knew he would accept your offer but you allowed him to drag out his answer for a few minutes while he mulled it over.

“Alright,” his voice was velvety, “I’ll play along. When do we leave?”

“Is your ship somewhere you can leave it unattended? We’re taking mine.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Good, meet me at the refueling station by night fall, docking bay number 7. I have to resupply. Bring whatever you’ll need for a few weeks,” you stood and collected your pucks, tucking them safely into the bag that hung from your shoulder, “don’t keep me waiting Alpha,” you cooed before sauntering out of the cantina.

    Maul poured himself a third drink from the bottle you left, he had more than enough time and was hoping to drown out the strange thickness your scent left on his tongue. The seat you left open was quickly filled by none other than Coth. He was grinning dumbly, wide and toothy; his red eyes gleaming.

“Did she offer you a sponsorship?”

“Yes, we’re leaving tonight,” he didn’t quite understand why he felt so comfortable talking to Coth. Perhaps it was because of the pack mentality this house seemed to have, maybe it was something to do with the unique gene they all shared. It could just be because he spent his whole life alone besides his master and although he would never admit it, he marginally preferred occasional company. He wasn’t a threat to this Alpha’s mate and thus Coth wasn’t a threat to him; so, he pressed on, “why is her scent so much… stronger than the other Omegas?”

“Who ‘Meg? She’s unmated. Hasn’t even been scented by another Alpha. Not that no one’s tried. Usually, Omegas are mated shortly after their first heat but she’s been around for three years or so now and she’s a force to be dealt with. Probably the least submissive Omega I’ve ever met. Cad Bane sponsored her and even he respects her.”

“Why did she turn down the others’ advances? I thought Omegas were supposed to be pliant.”

“They are with their Alpha. She’s especially headstrong though. I overheard her chatting with Zeni one time when she actually got pretty smashed, going on about how it would be an honor to submit to an Alpha but it had to be one worthy of submission.”

    Maul nodded and was pleasantly surprised with what he was told. He of all people could understand being willing to fall in line but it had to be to a greater power than the one possessed by the follower, not just anyone. He finished his drink and thanked Coth for the information and gave Zeni an uncharacteristic wave before he left the cantina; much to her delight.

    He made his way back to his ship and gathered a few pairs of extra clothes and the rest of his ration bars in his pack before paying the caretaker of the of the ship yard enough credits to dock his ship there for six weeks. He hoped that would be long enough, Corellia wasn’t exactly cheap to store your ship on for long periods of time. It would be worth it if he really could come back to better prospects. He never sensed that you had lied to him, neither through the force or through your scent. He took his time and bought a few meat kabobs from a vendor on the street before heading to the location you had given him.

    Sure enough, when he arrived at dock 7, he saw you chatting with a Quarren while one of his employees loaded a few crates into your cargo bay. He took a moment to admire you, your scent wasn’t nearly so intoxicating at this distance. He silently appreciated the way the glow from the setting sun lit up behind your silhouette and cast a slight shadow over your face under the brim of your hat but your eyes never lost their glow. How your posture was relaxed and friendly yet carried an air that demanded respect from those around you. You had smiled brightly at something the supplier said and let out a melodious laugh that rang through the cooling dusk. He felt a pang of jealousy that almost startled him. He had no reason to be possessive of you. Still, when you turned to him, a smile still across your lips and motioned him over to you he held a sense of pride with being beckoned to your side. He was utterly fucked, wasn’t he?

 As the two of you walked up the ramp and closed the hatch behind you, you turned to face him.

“You ready for some big game Alpha?” he nodded.

“Maul, my name is Maul.”

“Alright Maul, if that’s what you prefer. Call me ‘Meg.”

Yes, he was indeed fucked.

[ejlovespie]

Heartbroken (Pt. 1)

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader sacrificed herself to save Dean so when she comes back she is surprised and heartbroken to find him living a new life with Lisa and Ben. Will they be able to fix their broken relationship when they reunite?  

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1900

Warnings: Angst/Cursing/Depression 

A/N: I would love to hear any feedback you have to give. Any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)

You were on the outside looking in; in more ways than one. You stood with Sam, who was not himself, on a street of a nice suburb. You hid in the shadows and stared into a large front window on a house across the street. Inside the house, sitting around a dining table, you saw the man you loved having dinner with his new family. Sam had explained in a bored voice that the woman and the kid were Lisa and Ben, two people you had heard of but never expected to see. Sam was...off and you knew you should be concerned for him but at this moment all you could feel was pain. The sight of them all smiling and laughing together like they were in a Hallmark movie had your heart aching in a way that was so tangible. You felt like at any moment, it would give out and you would die all over again. To be clear, it wasn't the sight of Dean with them that hurt you so much; it was knowing how little he cared for you. You had died; no. You had sacrificed yourself to save him, to save the world from the apocalypse, and not even a month later he had moved on. He looked like he was finally happy. This is heartbreak you thought to yourself.

You weren't sure how long you and Sam had stood there, watching them, before you both left, leaving Dean to live his new life. You thought back to the events that led you here. You, Sam, and Samuel had woken up when you should never have. The three of you were dead but someone or something had brought you back. The first thing you had done was go find Dean.

Next, you went to find Bobby and let him in the loop. You all had agreed to leave Dean out of the current events, so you had gone your separate ways. Sam decided to join his newly discovered family while you, in a heartbroken haze, decided to move on. In a car loaned from Bobby, you drove in a daze. You weren’t sure where you would go; you just needed to get as far away from Dean as possible. You knew it wasn’t true but you had hoped if you drove far enough away, you could forget everything. Forget him.

1 Year Later 

You were sitting alone in your motel room when you got the call. You knew this day would come, when Dean found out about you, Sam, and Samuel, but you had hoped for more time. You stared at your vibrating phone and Dean’s name flashing across the screen. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, answer it so you just stared at it until it stopped. He had called you three times before your phone chirped, letting you know you had a new voicemail message, then it went silent. Shit. Your phone buzzed again as a text message popped up on your screen. Shit. Shit. It had been a really long day and you were not ready to talk to him. You eyed the bottle of liquor you had bought from the gas station on the corner and decided to get drunk and face the music in the morning.      

                                                     -

You didn’t know how much time had passed, only that your bottle was half empty. At some point the dingy room had started to spin around you. You had hoped the booze would help you to forget about your phone and the messages you had yet to read. Why couldn't you forget him? You had tried so hard over the past year. Thinking about Dean Winchester living his new apple-pie life was bittersweet; heavy on the bitter. Knowing he was out of the life, safe and happy, was the only thing that brought you any peace. You loved him with everything you had. Hell, you died to keep him and Sam safe. Then you would remember how Dean always looked at you, like he pitied you. He knew your feelings for him and because he didn’t feel the same way, he felt bad for you. Dean’s face popped into your mind then. His green eyes, flecked with gold. His strong, stubbled jaw and full lips. His smile, which was so rare but would light up a room. You may be drunk but you could never forget the details to his face. 

A groan escaped your lips and suddenly you were desperate to hear his voice again. Picking up your phone, you pulled up the voicemail you had been avoiding. You clicked the play button and held it to your ear before you could change your mind. There was a short pause before Dean spoke, 

“Y/N..It’s Dean. I know everything; Sam filled me in. Call me back.” 

He sounded pissed. With that one short message, a slew of memories filled your drunken head and all of the pain you had been trying to bury hit you at once. The sound of his gruff voice, his unique smell of whiskey, leather, and the impala. His tall, muscular body, his strong arms and hands. A tear rolled down your cheek without your permission and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand. You checked your phone again and read his text message. 

Call me. Now.

You snorted and mumbled drunkenly, “Bossy...boss pants. How are you so sexy over text. S’not fair.” 

Grabbing the bottle in front of you, you poured some more liquor into your empty glass and nearly fell out of your chair when your phone started vibrating on the table again. Dean’s name flashed across the screen and you wanted to hear his voice so badly, even if he was pissed at you. You resisted answering...until he called again and you couldn’t take it anymore. You clumsily picked up the phone and brought it to your ear and listened. 

"Y/N?"    

Dean practically barked at you on the other line. There was a short pause and then he spoke again in a more controlled voice. 

"Y/N. I know you're there." 

He sounded...sad? Frustrated? You heard a sigh and then Dean kept talking. 

"Fine. You don't have to talk. Just listen...Sam told me everything. Apparently the three of you have been back for a whole year." 

His voice was getting hard, angry again and you could hear him take a breath before going on. 

"I know you guys wanted me to have a normal life but I know now okay? I'm hunting again and I need to see you...We need to talk."

You had imagined this conversation and what you would say to him when he confronted you. Your drunken brain tried remembering the rehearsed words but you couldn't remember. At some point tears had started to roll down your cheeks. You were horrified when you opened your mouth and a strangled, broken sound came out. Dean said your name again but you couldn't listen anymore. You thought about the night you came back and your heart broke all over again. You opened your mouth the words rushed out in a sob. 

"There's nothing to talk about. Bye Dean." 

Hanging up the phone, you broke down. Your phone rang for a while before you shut it off. You sat alone, drunk in a craphole motel room, and finished your bottle of cheap booze and cried, wishing you had never been brought back. 

6 Months Later 

You were in between cases, which you hated because it left you with too much time to think. Working kept you busy, kept your thoughts away from the Winchesters, away from the past. You were at the bar, nursing a beer, when you heard a fluttering behind you. You knew what, or rather who, it was right away. You took another sip of your beer before turning in your seat to face Cas. He looked the same as always. He was wearing the same brown trench coat, blue tie, and serious expression. Cas nodded at you and then took the open seat on your right. He sat for a long moment, not saying a word. When he finally looked at you, Cas surprised you by saying, 

“You’ve lost weight. Why?”

Deciding to ignore that comment, you answered his question with one of your own. 

“What are you doing here Cas?” 

Blue eyes stared at you like they knew all of your secrets and you started to fidget in your seat a bit. 

“Sam and Dean sent me to find you. I need to take you to them.”

“You’re supposed to be a powerful angel Cas. Why are you letting the boys boss you around like you're their bitch.” 

You snorted when his face remained stoic and he said nothing again for a minute. 

“I don’t know what that means but they need to talk to you. Apparently, your phones have been disconnected but I suspect that was on purpose.”

“You suspected correctly.”

Cas sighed and an irritated look crossed over his face.

“Y/N I don’t have time for this. We’re leaving.

Before you could react, Cas had grabbed your arm and you were zapped through space and time. One minute you were in the bar and the next you had blinked and found yourself in Bobby’s living room. Looking down, you realized your beer was still in your hand. You brought it to your lips and finished it before setting it on the coffee table. Shit. You looked around the room and noticed Cas had disappeared again. Traitor. You mumbled to yourself. Picking up your empty beer bottle, you walked to the kitchen to find the trashcan and froze in the doorway.

Dean was leaning against the counter, legs crossed in front of him, looking at something on his phone. This was the first time you have seen him up close in at least two years. He was just as gorgeous as you remembered. You swore you could feel your heart skip a beat in your chest when he looked up at you and straightened. Anger filled Dean’s eyes and his jaw started to tick. Putting his phone down on the counter, he stared at you and you stared back at him and waited for him to say something. Anything. It felt like an eternity passed before he walked over to you, plucked the bottle from your hand, and tossed it in the bin behind him. Turning back to you, Dean looked you over and you panicked internally. His expression became angrier, his nose flaring slightly and his lips pursed. With gritted teeth, he said, 

“Look who Cas dragged in.” 

His words cut you, even more than his glare. You knew he was beyond pissed. You tried to turn to leave when Dean’s large hand had reached up to grip your chin, turning you back to face him. He continued to stare at you and you stared back up into his eyes. Suddenly, his arms were around you, gripping you so tightly you were having a hard time breathing. Dean’s smell surrounded you and you felt his stubbled chin rest on the top of your head. You had never hugged each other like this. Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around Dean and breathed him in. You knew an argument was coming but right now you would just enjoy being held by the man you love.

To Be Continued... 

Dean Girls: 

@akshi8278​

[jeankirstein4ever]

The love I paid for : Strippers and Shiganshina

+ Pairing : Modern!Eren x reader

+ Genre/ warnings : Modern au, Hard core smut Low-key smut , angst , fluff. Tw alcohol use, cursing , drug abuse strippers and sexual topics.

+ Word Count : 1.53k

(Erens Pov)

"I can't believe you Eren, you fucking cheated." "It was just one time Mikasa," She was looking at him, disbelief burned into her face. "Do you even hear yourself right now? It doesn't matter if it was just one time", the sarcasm in her words evident. "You still cheated on me, you fucking scum."  "Okay, and what do you want me to do about it", sounding bored and somewhat nonchalant.  "I-I you're unbelievable you know what we're done. I'm sick of this, I'm sick of your bullshit and being treated like crap by you."

He finally turned his full attention towards her and away from his computer, "Fine but on your way out I need you to pack your things", his voice cold and flat. She was stunned. "You're firing me?" "It's in your contract darling, I'm the reason you have this job if you lose me you lose this job."

"You know what, that's fine I don't care, You're a dick and a shit boss anyway. "Mhm'', he said, returning back to the paperwork in front of him. Mikasa turned sharply, her heels squeaking against the cold tile floor, slamming the door on her way out. Only a few minutes later Jean slowly opened the door, "What was that all about?" "She broke up with me." "Jesus, Jaeger. I'm so sorry man." "it's fine don't worry about it, but I do need your help hiring a new assistant. "Oh come on really", Jean slumped down in the leather seat in front of Eren. Eren looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face. "I just mean that's all you care about, you just got dumped by a girl you've dated for five years and your first thought is getting a new assistant." "Your point being?" "you need to take some time for yourself or do something other than work." "Shouldn't you be doing something other than giving me relationship advice? " "No, I shouldn't come on. After work me, you, Armin, Connie, Levi, and Erwin should go out and get drinks."  "No." "Come on man, it's Friday night, and you have literally no reason not to." "I have a corporate brunch tomorrow."

"Oh bullshit, come on Eren. Come out with us, we'll get drinks and it'll be fun." Eren looked at Jean knowing that he wouldn't stop bothering him until he agreed. "Fine but if anyone gets wasted I'm not driving anyone home." Jean tried to hide the growing smirk but based on the death glare provided by Eren he realized he fucked up. "Jean-" "I'm leaving, I'm leaving." Just as Eren heard the soft click of the door his phone rang, echoing in his office.

"Yes?" "Hey Eren, it's Monica." Her velvety voice made Eren freeze, "How did you get my number?" "Elliot gave it to me. So when are we meeting again dear?" "Never, don't you ever come near me. I-" "Aww come on I heard that that plank of wood you were dating dumped you. You've got no reason to not visit me." "She wasn't a plank of wood", Erens's words mumbled harshly under his breath. "As I told you what we did was and will remain a one-time thing" "Uh, huh. Darling I-" "Goodbye Monica'', then he hung up.

The rest of the day proceeded, as usual, with endless paperwork and meetings. The idea of sleep was more alluring than anything else on the planet but Eren was a man of his word and he pretty much promised to go out drinking. So when Jean and the rest of those who agreed to go knocked on his door, he reluctantly collected his things and left with them.

"So where exactly are we going?" "There's a bar on 47th and then a few blocks away there's a Strip club" Jean answered Armin's question in a sing-songy voice only to be cut off by Eren. "We are not going to a strip club." "Aww come on Eren let loose a bit" "We're not going to a strip club jean", Eren repeated firmly. "Jesus I forgot how scary you are when you're angry." We're gonna have to take separate cars since there's six of us", Jean said as they descended the elevator.

"Why not just take someone's car", prompted Armin. "I plan on getting wasted tonight, I mean I think we're all getting drunk right?, he looked around at the group. They went silent. "Awww come on guys, it's no fun if you guys don't drink." "You don't have to get wasted to have fun, I think you just have a problem", Piped Connie. Jean proceeded to death glare Connie until they got to the parking garage.

After a few moments of bickering mainly between Connie, Armin and jean they decided on getting a cab. So when the cab got there they squished into the car, Armin was practically sitting in Connie's lap, "I still don't understand why we can't just get another cab." His voice was muffled in Armin's back. "Because, brat since you all seem to not understand that in order to use a cab you need to have money to pay the cab driver, I could not afford to pay for all you brats to be seated comfortably." Levi finished a certain snark in his voice. Eren grimaced at Levi's tone, despite the fact that he was Levi's boss he had always slightly feared him. It was only a few minutes drive between the time Jean gave the directions and the time that the cab driver pulled over to let them out into the bar.

Now when Jean had mentioned that he wanted to go out drinking, Eren had in no way envisioned something classy but this, this was on a whole other level of shitty. They were in the Shiganshina District, which was known for their frequent shootings and drug rings. "Why Shiganshina?"Armin questioned, his voice shaky. "Oh, calm down Armin it's not that bad just don't do anything too stupid. "You're one to talk, Jean" Jean snapped his head back at Eren but was silenced by Connie shoving him into the bar, everyone following suit. The outside of the bar was spotless compared to the inside. The carpet flooring was caked in years worth of vomit and alcohol, the occasional spot of blood here and there. "Tch", Levi's face obvious with disgust. "I know it's not the cleanest but it was the closest to the strip club." "We're not going to a strip club." "Uh, huh", Jean pretended not to hear Erens remark and proceeded to sit down in one of the booths before pestering one of the seemingly high waitresses for a round of beers.

Eren had finished 3 beers within the first twenty minutes of them being there but that was nothing compared to the likes of Connie and Jean who had both independently downed eight beers and were working on their ninth. Considering that Eren had only drank a few beers the effects of the alcohol seemed to be working pretty fast, he was starting to feel slightly fuzzy and his thoughts seemed to be muffled under the sound of his heart and the noise of the bar.

Armin was completely trashed on the other hand, Armin as long as Eren had known him was a lightweight, he had only finished one beer and was currently nursing his second but was in a complete array of emotions. For a solid seven minutes he was laughing uncontrollably about seagulls' looks when they fly which turned into him sobbing uncontrollably about how he missed the ocean. Erwin was going on an angry rant about how mismanaged government funding was , Levi sat there silently agreeing with him the whole time.

Despite the fact that it was probably a bad idea, they continued ordering more rounds of beer until Jean began a very drunken speech. "We are brought here in sorrow and in celebration of Eren Jaeger, while he has lost his girlfriend of five years -hic- he has newly entered the dating pool and that's a cause to cheer for." The chaotic overlap of the rest of the men yelling caused the rest of the bar to look over at them. Erwin tried to drunkenly shush the group but that only resulted in them yelling louder at Erwin, "Shut up old man." "Yeah old man." The bartender glared at them, practically yelling at them , "Hey if you assholes don't shut up I'm gonna kick you out." "Yeah Jean." "Thats it all of you out." "Aww come on-" "Now."

Everyone hurried out of the bar careful not to stumble over their own feet. Armin almost face planted into the concrete but luckily Erwin was able to grab him by the back of the shirt. "Well , where do you guys wanna go now?" "Home", whined Armin. Eren felt electric, like there was a fire going on under his skin and he didn't want it to stop, he wasn't ready for it to stop. It was like the words came spilling out of him before he could understand or even think about what he was saying, "Lets go to the strip club."

[heavenunderthemoon]

Drunken confessions- Luke Alvez x Reader

Summary: Luke has one too many drinks and wants to tell you a secret. 

warnings: alcohol, mentions of death, ? I don't think anything else

You took another sip of the single drink you had been nursing all night. The team had decided that after a rather tough case that week, they needed to follow up their hardships with a drink in hand. Luke had probably taken the worst of it that week.

The unsub hadn't followed the profile the team had given him, a strange deviation from what you all believed to be his endgame leaving you all in a dangerous situation that had made Luke have to make a final decision. His bullet had shot the unsub in the middle of the forehead, one of his first kills on the job, and you could tell each one pained him more than he cared to admit.

Luke Alvez was different that way.

He was a large, burly, intimidating man (were you getting off track?), but his personality differed. His personality was that of a large, walking, personified teddy bear that could practically live off snuggles and cherry lollipops (alright, maybe an exaggeration, but he quite enjoyed your cherry chapstick so it wasn't that far-fetched to assume.). Luke was kind and caring and gentle and loving and about a million other things that you had thought a million times over that you didn't quite deserve. You didn't deserve Luke Alvez, a claim that crossed your mind more often than you could count because you were just so different.

You had been on the team for five years before he came along and even in that time the team still hadn't seen you open up. They hardly knew anything about you apart from your coffee order and your favorite snack from the vending machine. Useless, mindless, careless things that didn't even really matter in the grand scheme of things because you just weren't that type of person. Or, so they had thought.

And, they were proved incredibly, horribly, and awfully wrong when the Alvez man had first walked through those elevator doors and your cheeks had tinted pink. When your hands went to scoop up stray hairs, or when you suddenly became more involved in team outings. They noticed when you chose to sit near him after plane rides, or laugh at his ill-conceived, horribly-timed 'dad' jokes- especially when they weren't even funny.

And, of course, they noticed when he started bringing extra jackets in his go-bag (you were perpetually cold but too stubborn to admit it), or how his eyes would scan the room when he entered, searching for your familiar head of y/h/c hair. And they especially noticed when he finally asked you out all those months ago, how you had bit your lip, eyes darting out to roam the filled seats of the jet, how their heads had all turned, eyes averting as if they thought you wouldn't see them watching you two intensely.

So, yes, you two were different. You were different in every way that didn't matter and loved each other in all that ones that did. And so, he had (after much insistence) heeded your advice when you told him to take a load off tonight.

'I'll be designated driver.' You had reassured, rubbing your hand on his back as you two got ready to meet the team at the bar.

Roxy was running around the apartment, too excited that her owner had arrived back home to sit still. You had only moved in a month ago, but the dog was practically already attached at the hip. 'Traitor!' Luke would tease her, as Roxy far too often opted to snuggle with you while the two of you unwinded after a long day of work. Her head would tilt, tail wagging as if she didn't understand, but a twinkle in her eye made you think she did.

'Babe, you suck at driving.' He had teased, but here he was all the same, four whiskies in and his cheeks flushed, a lazy grin on his face as he made his way over to you from grabbing another. His tolerance was lower than yours, something the two of you laughed about far too often. Many nights had been spent, wine bottles littering the floor as he drunkenly sang to you, probably some old song (Copacabana seemed to be his favorite), picking you up and twirling you around the kitchen. Despite your squeals for him to put you down he would catch sight of your smile and know that it was the last thing you wanted him to do and his arms would wrap around you tighter, only confirming that burning feeling of love that he tended to set alight inside of you.

The team watched amusedly as the former ranger arrived back at the booth you were all situated in, his eyes never quite leaving yours. His smile was easy- something you always admired. Even after hard days he never seemed to lose that simple, dopey grin that made you fall in love with him all over again.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

His breath smelled like cinnamon when he leaned in and you leant closer, eyes narrowing in confusion when his eyes glanced around there table, suspicious of the team watching his movements.

You couldn't help the smile that grew on your lips. It tugged at the corners and you bit your lip to suppress your giggles at his childish antics.

"Yes." You responded back. And the team watched in amusement because this was one of those moments that they knew your guard was completely down. That the y/n they met five years ago had been completely consumed by the man before her. No, not consumed, because consumed meant you lost a part of yourself and you hadn't. You hadn't needed to lose any part of yourself because Luke would never do that. No, Luke had helped you find the parts of yourself that you had given away before. The ones you had lost and expected to not ever be found. He helped piece you back together and then you had noticed that only one part remained missing and it was him.

His brown eyes had taken on a mischievous glint and he leant forward once more. "I really like you."

His words had you snorting in amusement, glancing down to the already half-emptied glass and scooting it away immediately before glancing back to the Alvez man. The man before you, a good, honorable, respectful man. A goofy, silly, childish man. A man who kept you safe, who loved you, who made you feel like you were enough. Even when he was seemingly too drunk to remember that ring on your finger, he hit on you because even a drunk Luke Alvez was hopelessly, eternally, and irrevocably head over heels for you.

"Well, good. Because I don't marry anyone who only just likes me. They have to really like me for me to say yes." You teased, and he pouted when the team chuckled at your response.

Luke cupped your cheek, your chuckles dying out upon his touch. His face had turned serious, as if you hadn't quite gotten the point that he so desperately wanted to make. "No, I love you, y/n. Really."

Your hand, clad in the ring he had proposed with only two weeks ago went to clasp the hand cupping your face and just like that your cheeks were warming, that love-sick grin only he seemed to be able to elicit form you peeking out from your glossed lips.

"I know." You said, your voice full of sincerity, and you were. You knew ten times over just how much Luke loved you. You knew it because he said it all the time without even having to utter the words. He said I love you by grabbing your keys and warming up your car during the winter so that you could avoid driving to work in a frozen tundra. He said it in sloppily scrawled post-it-notes plastered onto the fridges reassuring you where he went and when he would be back because he knew how much you worried. He said it when you would bake, his fingers dipping into the batter, showering you with praise over the taste.

And you said it non-verbally too. You said I love you by always making sure he was comfortable, Fourth of July an especially hard time for a veteran with PTSD. You said it by always taking pictures (he had never liked having his picture taken but he loved hearing you exclaim 'say cheese', your eyes scrunching when you smiled). You said it by grabbing him his favorite coffee flavors, even if you hated the taste, or when you would wake him in the morning with a peck on the nose. A gentle, delicate peck that made him stop breathing for just a moment in his sleep as he returned to the waking world.

And the emotion behind your eyes seemed to be enough because his hand dropped and that dopey, lopsided grin was back on his face in an instant. "I love you too, weirdo. Now, come on, let's get you home."

Your hands tugged on his muscled arms and he got up without complaint, shooting you a childish smirk. "Love me a woman who's straightforward." He winked, making the team chuckle as you rolled your eyes, bidding them good night before tugging on his arm once more.

"Oh, shut it."

[buckbarnesjames]

Chapter One (Updated)

Summary: “If I cannot get it right now, I don’t want it at all”.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: discussions of sugar daddy/sugar baby relationships. swearing. discussions of sex. 

Word Count: 2216

A/N: Hey guys, I’ll be back to writing this soon as inspiration has hit again, I’m just updating the previous chapters! I had to repost this one as I couldn’t find the original post to edit it. Please enjoy and as always, feedback is welcomed. The taglist is OPEN so feel free to ask to be tagged! 

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Bucky spent the rest of Friday afternoon mulling over how to broach the subject with you. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable in the work environment, but he had secretly always dreamed of having a more personal relationship with you and it wasn’t as if he was new to the sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamic - in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Eventually, he decides to let it go for now and think more about it over the weekend. Meanwhile, whilst Bucky is preparing to spend the weekend overthinking his predicament, you’re preparing to spend time with Nat and Wanda.

Saturday evening you meet them for drinks at a popular nightclub. “Hey, sugar baby” Nat teases you. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at her. “Enough of that, Natalia. I told you to drop it” you sass back at her. After a few more minutes of teasing from Nat and Wanda, they finally drop the subject. The waiter approaches your table and you order a round for you and the girls - a Cosmopolitan for Wanda, a white Russian for Nat and a Daiquiri in your favourite flavour for yourself. After a few rounds, you’re feeling brave enough to hit the dance floor.

You and the girls dance close together, the feeling of the bass pumping through your ears. You feel a pair of eyes watching you but brush it off and continue to dance. Halfway through the next song, you feel Nat’s hands on your waist as she leans in close enough that you’re able to hear you, “Hey...isn’t that Mr Barnes?” she says, tilting her head in the direction of the bar. Sure enough, there he is and he’s watching you rather intently. “Let’s give our boss a show, shall we?” she says before spinning you around. You throw your head back laughing, the alcohol probably clouding your judgement, and try to scold her in between giggles. You and the girls dance for a while, with Nat periodically confirming that Mr Barnes - and his friend - are indeed watching you.

Eventually the dancing wears you out, and you all head back to your booth. The waiter approaches again with a fresh round when he notices you all taking your seats. As he places the final drink down, he points towards the bar where Bucky and his friend previously stood, “The gentleman over there would like a moment of your time” he says, smiling knowingly. You look over to see that he’s still there along with his friend, who you now recognise is his business partner, Steve Rogers, nursing glasses of whiskey. As if he can sense your eyes on him, he looks up at you and smiles.

“I’ll be back in a moment” you say to Nat and Wanda. They look between you and Bucky in surprise before Nat drunkenly declares, “Uh oh, you’re in trouble” and giggles. Wanda tries to shush her whilst motioning for you to go as you stand there nervously tugging your dress down, which you now feel is way too short, and taking a long sip of your drink.

You approach Bucky and Steve, “Mr Barnes, are you trying to proposition me?” You joke, the fresh drink in your system giving you a little confidence. If only you had an idea of the thought that had swirled around his mind all day. He had originally called you over to discuss the conversation he had overheard, the alcohol in his system impairing his judgement, but now that you’re standing in front of him he can’t get the words out so instead chuckles at your joke. “Of course not, Miss Y/L/N. I just wanted to offer you a drink, you've worked hard this week” he smiles at you and awaits your answer as you try to ignore your brain suggesting that he’s also referring to the little dance show earlier.

“I appreciate that, Mr Barnes, but we were just about to leave.” Bucky looks a little disappointed at your reply. “Maybe another time though?” you smile at him brightly before realising what you had said. You could feel embarrassment coursing through your body. You had no idea why you’d suggested grabbing a drink with your boss. You excuse yourself quickly after that and head home with the girls, missing the way Bucky smoothes his tongue over his lips. You looked good in that dress.

“Is that the girl you were talking about? Your assistant?” Steve interrupts the tirade of dirty thoughts racing through his mind, and he’s grateful. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. The whole sugar baby/sugar daddy thing was a ridiculous idea, a momentary lapse in his judgement. He nods at Steve in reply and downs his whiskey, ordering another one as he places his glass down on the bar. “You have it bad, dude” Steve laughs and Bucky scowls at him. “I can see why, but I prefer redheads” Steve continues joking, looking to the exit as you, Wanda and Nat leave. “Nat would eat you alive, pretty boy. She’s ruthless and that’s why she’s head of the finance department” Bucky bites back. Steve laughs and proudly declares that he could handle her, to which Bucky continuously denies for the rest of the night as Steve tries to convince him to give him Nat’s number.

You arrive on time to work on Monday, your car having spent the weekend in the garage, and the next few days pass by in a blur of meetings, business proposals and coffee making. You don’t see much of Bucky through the week but put it down to the time of year and not the encounter you’d had with him Saturday night. You knew he was probably planning the end of month gala to celebrate acquiring an important business deal. Before you know it, Thursday arrives.

Bucky is working late again. As usual, you’d order him some food and placed it on his desk. You’re packing your bag to head home when Bucky enters the office, closing the door behind him. “Miss Y/L/N, could I talk to you for a moment?” he says, his tone serious and you begin to worry that you’ve done something wrong. “Of course, Mr Barnes. Is everything okay? I haven’t messed something up have I?” you ramble on. You couldn’t afford to lose this job, the pay was great and allowed you to live comfortably in a decent Manhattan apartment. “Y/N,” Bucky interrupts your inner monologue, “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about a conversation I overheard the other week.” Your stomach drops. Oh, shit. He’d heard you, Nat and Wanda.

You look to the floor, embarrassed. “Mr Barnes, I can explain…” Bucky interrupts you again, this time by placing his finger under your chin and lifting your head so your graze meets his. You gasp at the contact. Bucky had never been this informal with you before. “You’re not in trouble, Y/N. In fact, I found the conversation rather interesting.” Bucky says, removing his hand from underneath your chin once he’s sure you won’t break eye contact. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this for the past week and I don’t want to overstep any boundaries but well, If I don’t ask then I’ll never know.”

“Thinking about what, Mr Barnes?” You look at him in confusion, your head tilted slightly to the left. Bucky finds the action endearing. You look so innocent. He takes a deep breath before speaking again, “Look, you know as well as anybody around here that If I can’t get what I want right now, then I don’t want it and well right now… I want you. I want you in the capacity that you and your friends were talking about on Friday.” Bucky hears as you sharply inhale. “You mean, you want me as...as your sugar baby?” you ask, your voice an octave higher than usual. Bucky chuckles softly at your nervousness. “Yes, Y/N. You’re free to say no, I’ll never broach the subject again and we can continue to work together in a professional capacity but...I’d really like it if you were to say yes”.

“Why me?” you ask. You don’t know why but it’s the only thing you can say. For some reason, your feet aren’t carrying you out of the office and home as fast as possible, like you’d wished when this conversation had begun. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you’d secretly fantasized about your attractive boss since the moment you began working at Barnes Industries. “I have more money than I have sense, Y/N, and if I’ve gotta spend it on someone other than myself then I choose the beautiful girl who has sat at the desk across from me for the past two years”. Bucky watches you, surveying your reaction. He was pushing the boundaries so far right now but god, he hadn’t been able to get this idea out of his head all week. “Beautiful?” You ask, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had said in the last five minutes. “Beautiful” he says firmly.

“How would this even work, Mr Barnes?” you ask, the wheels in your head are spinning a thousand miles and hour and you can’t stop yourself from entertaining the idea. BUcky smiles and you see him visibly relax. He pulls a recognisable Tiffany & Co box out of the pocket of his suit pants. “Well...if you were to agree, I’d love for you to accept this gift and wear it every day around the office.” He opens the box to reveal a drop pendant with five, shining stones. You gasp at the simplistic beauty of it. “And what then...if I accept?” you whisper. You had no idea why you were whispering, you knew that you and Bucky were alone in the office. “If you were to accept, I would take you on an initial spending spree and buy you whatever clothes, shoes and products you desired. I would then give you a weekly allowance of an agreed upon amount” Bucky says, his tone similar to the one he uses in business meetings. “And what would you require from me?” you ask. He knows what you’re implying. “You wouldn’t have to do anything you were uncomfortable with. I’d require your company at any events I have to attend and I would love to spend time with you outside of the work environment, taking you to dinner and things but that would only happen if you wanted it to” he answers, watching as a mixture of emotions flash across your face - surprise, confusion and relief. It stings a little when he recognises the look of relief on your face, he’d always been attracted to you and hoped the feeling was mutual.

“This is all so sudden, James” given the situation, you address him informally. His heart flutters at the way you say his name. “I know, and you don’t have to agree but if you decide this is something you want...then text this number before eight tomorrow morning and I’ll send a car for you” he says and he hands you a card with a cellphone number that you don’t recognise.”It’s my drivers number” he answers the question he can see formulating in your mind. You smile, knowing he’d given you that number because his personal phone tended not to be charged unless you’d done it. “I’ll let you go home now and think about things,” he says, taking a step back from you and giving you some breathing room. You silently pick your bag up and make your way to the door of the office, with shaky legs. You turn back to look at him offering him a small smile and a “Goodnight, Mr Barnes”.

You toss and turn all night, mulling the idea over. It wasn’t like you needed the money, Barnes Industries paid you well - probably above the national salary of an executive assistant - but the idea of spending time with Bucky in a more personal way was gnawing at your mind. It was no secret between you and your friends that you had always harbored a little crush on him, and now he was practically on his hands and knees in front of you offering himself - and his money - to you. You get out of bed at seven AM, deciding there was no point in lying around any longer. You get dressed for the day quickly and attempt to eat some breakfast but the nervousness in your stomach doesn’t allow you to eat much so you just drink a coffee and eat a few spoonfuls of oatmeal. You pick up your phone and the piece of paper Bucky had given you last night and take a deep breath before typing out the words that would change your life forever.

I thought about it, Mr Barnes. You type out, clicking send immediately after - giving yourself no chance to change your mind for the millionth time. And what did you decide, Miss Y/L/N? The reply is instant, as if he had been waiting around all morning for you to come to a decision. You quickly type and send your reply.

Yes.

[plaidbooks]

Could you do an imagine of having a fling with Carisi and getting pregnant?

Fling

A/N: Hey Anon! Heck yes I can do that! Remember peeps, if you’re gonna  have a ONS, be safe about it! Hope you enjoy

Tags: alcohol and bad decisions, mentions of smut, mentions of vomiting

Words: 1726

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

It had been…a long day. You were the owner of a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore, and three employees had up and quit on you. You had scrambled to find replacements, and while the new kids were working out well, they were still new, and needed a lot of handholding. So, on Saturday night, with the shop closed on Sundays, you went to the bar, hoping to just drink until you could forget about your worries for a little bit. What you weren’t expecting was for the ridiculously cute man, his suit jacket over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up, to buy you a drink. You were already pretty drunk, your inhibitions low, so you chatted with the stranger, who also seemed pretty far gone.

“Why don’t we take this party back to my place?” you eventually asked, and he agreed, a lopsided smirk on his face, his bright blue eyes clouded with alcohol.

In the back of the cab, you had drunkenly kissed him, and he kissed you back, both of you exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. Pulling up at your place, you dragged him inside. Once the door was closed, he had pushed you up against the wall, his mouth biting and sucking at your neck. You grabbed at his gelled hair, pulling soft groans from him as he marked you. You both eventually made it to the bedroom, naked, and you pulled him on top of you as you collapsed onto the bed.

“Fuck me—give me all you got,” you purred at him, and he growled, shoving himself into you roughly. You moaned as he thrusted into you hard and deep. When you came, clenching around him, he was right behind you, spilling his release deep within you. You passed out soon after that, his arms draped over you.

 *******************

When you awoke, the man was already gone, leaving no trace of himself behind, except the marks on your neck and a small, handwritten note on your bedside table.

Last night was incredible. Sorry I left so quickly—I had work. Maybe we can do dinner sometime? – Sonny

He had written his number after his name, and while the sex—from what you remembered—was great, you really didn’t want a relationship right now. It was just a fling, a one-night stand. So, you crumpled up his note and threw it away before getting in the shower.

 ******************

The new employees were finally settling in, and life was getting back to normal. Though, you were still stressed with everything going on—it was the summer months, which meant tourists, which meant business. And while you were grateful for the profits you were bringing in, you really needed to hire on some extra help. You vaguely noticed that your period was late, but that was probably from the stress—it had happened before. Besides, you didn’t remember when you had it last month, so you weren’t positive how late you were, really.

You decided to sleep early that night—you had so many interviews the next day. So, setting an alarm for 6am, you went to bed, hoping for a full night’s sleep. But you tossed and turned all night, your stomach killing you. At 3am, you got up, sprinting to your bathroom, barely making it before you puked your guts out. Oh God, you could not afford to be sick at a time like this. You couldn’t sleep after that, still feeling nauseous, and vomiting once more after eating a light breakfast. Groaning in pain, you sent a mass message to all your potential employees, asking for them to please reschedule, and then you called your doctor.

“When was the last time you had your period?” she had asked, running an ultrasound.

You shook your head. “I don’t know, last month? I’ve been…too busy. I honestly don’t remember….”

She put the machine down, letting the nurse start disinfecting it. She gave you a small smile. “Well, you’re pregnant.”

“I-what? But…but I haven’t had…” you trailed off, remembering the drunken night in the bar, the man you had taken home. You didn’t even remember his name, let alone the phone number he had scrawled underneath his message. And that was weeks ago! That paper was long gone.

The doctor nodded knowingly. “You’re about six weeks along. Come back to the examination room; I’ll give you pamphlets, answer any questions you have.” You nodded, hopping of the ultrasound table, being extra careful now—you had life inside you!

 ****************

The doctor had talked for you for upwards of an hour; you wanted to keep the baby, that was definite. But how would you make time for it? Pay for it? You were so conflicted, so incredibly happy yet so incredibly stressed, lost. You had family you could talk to, and you were sure they’d help you, too. But you were going to be a single mother. You struggled to remember the man’s name; it was something light and fun. Benny? Sammy? That wasn’t right. You didn’t even know what he did for a living; hell, you vaguely remembered what he looked like. Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes.

And besides, what was the point of finding him? Did you think he’d want to be apart of this? Or would he laugh in your face and run, determined to not have to pay child support? Giving up on the idea, you decided to just do this on your own—outside help from family and nurses, of course.

 ***************

Six months later, you were well into your pregnancy, your belly swelling in front of you. Jury summons clutched in your hand, you waddled your way into the courthouse. You couldn’t be a juror at this time, but when you had tried to call the number on the paper, it kept saying disconnected. So now, here you were, pissed and exhausted, making your way to whoever could postpone your summons until after you gave birth.

“Here, lemme get that door for you,” a man’s voice said. He rushed in front of you, holding the door open and you froze, staring at him. He furrowed his brow at you, scanning your face in confusion—not because you had stopped moving, but because there was the faintest hint of recognition. “Have we, uh, have we met before?” he asked.

Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes. He was obviously a lawyer, coming to work. But how were you going to bring this up to him? “Ah, no, sorry sir. Thank you for the door,” you muttered, shuffling past him.

He watched you walk by him, then fell into step next to you, easily keeping pace with his long legs. “Are you sure? You look so familiar….”

“Positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find where I can postpone my jury summons,” you replied, your voice flat.

He stopped in his tracks, letting you walk away, and you let out a sigh. But you didn’t make it far before he shouted, “wait!” He jogged after you, catching up quickly. He grabbed your elbow, leading you away from the crowded hall. He dropped his voice. “Did we…meet at a bar? This would’ve been months ago—I understand if you’ve forgotten me.”

He really didn’t get it, did he? “Yes, we did.”

The man nodded, his forehead crinkled as he thought. “I’m not gonna lie; I was a little sad when you didn’t call,” he joked. “But I’m glad to see you’re doing well, and that you found someone.”

His smile was so genuine, so sincere…he really didn’t get it! He figured you didn’t like him, that you had found someone else, settled down. “Uh, thanks. I’m still painfully single though,” you replied, forcing a smile.

You turned to walk away, leaving him stunned. Following the signs, you quickly found your way to the window you needed, negotiating a new date in another six months for your jury duty. Having that taken care of, you made your way out of the bowels of the courthouse. You had almost made it to the front doors when the man from the bar had tracked you down once more.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I-I have to know….” His voice dropped to a whisper, “is it…mine?” His bright blue eyes flickered to your belly, then back to your face.

You could’ve said no, denied it and spared him. But something must have shown on your face, because his eyes filled with such sadness, such regret.  So, you had no choice but to say, “yes, it’s yours.”

He took a shuttering breath, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I…I’m so sorry. I-I should’ve used a condom.” He ran a hand through his hair, tears really springing up in his eyes now. “Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“Look,” you said, trying to stop his self-hating streak. “It takes two to make a baby, okay? I’m…just as irresponsible as you.” That made him let out a soft sob, and you switched to trying to make him feel better. “I’m not due for another two-ish months; why don’t we…I don’t know, get dinner one night? I mean…if you want—”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “I…I want to be in my baby’s life, no matter what happens between you and I. Please.”

He was desperate, and it was hard to say no. But you also needed to know him first. “Okay. Let’s start slow, get to know each other. We can figure out everything else later.”

He nodded. “Why—why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just confused, wondering why you would choose to keep this from him, to do this on your own.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I, uh, threw out your note and I’ve…forgotten your name. I had no way to find you. And besides, I was…afraid you’d be upset about it, afraid you’d ask me to t-terminate—”

His eyes went wide, “no, I would never!” He took a deep, shuttering breath. “Let’s…let’s start over.” He held his hand out to you. “My name is Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny.”

Smiling, you took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Sonny. Now, if you don’t mind, my feet are killing me, and I need to sit before my legs collapse.”

[honey-dewey]

Finding the Right Voice

Frankie Morales/Mute and chronically ill Reader

Word Count: 1,804

Warnings: Reader is both mute and has gastroparesis. Reader throws up once. 

After much pestering from the boys, Frankie reluctantly signs up for a dating app, intending for it to be a joke. Until he falls in love. You and him text daily, getting to know each other so intimately despite never meeting. At least, never meeting until Frankie wants to take you on a date. So how the hell are you going to explain to him that you are constantly ill and will never speak again?

Frankie had always thought dating apps were a waste of time. Who the hell actually met the love of their life through the Internet? 

Frankie Morales, that’s who. 

Of course, he’d been hesitant to tell the boys he’d found someone, mostly because he knew they’d give him shit about it. And they did, of course. But now, months after meeting someone, they realized Frankie was genuinely happy and toned the teasing down. 

“I’m just worried!” Frankie said, staring at his phone. “They haven’t responded in days.” 

“Dude,” Benny said, gesturing with his beer bottle. “They’re probably just busy. Or out somewhere with shit cell service. I dated a girl like that. She went on vacation with her parents and didn’t call for like. Two weeks. Thought she’d died. But when she got back.” He leaned back, smiling drunkenly. “The apology sex was mind blowing.” 

“Okay!” Santiago interjected, throwing an arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “You think they’re on vacay, Fish?” 

Frankie shrugged, grabbing his own beer. “I dunno. They aren’t the vacationing type.” 

William snorted from across the table. “Just like they aren’t the phone call or meet in person type?” 

Immediately, Frankie knew where this was going. “Ironhead.” 

“I’m just saying!” William pointed out. “How do we know that Catfish isn’t being, well, catfished.” 

Frankie sighed into his bottle. “I don’t wanna talk about it Will.” 

Santiago, who was somehow the voice of reason here, nudged Frankie. “You texted yet today?” 

“No.” 

“Why don’t you?” Santiago suggested. “Then leave it alone for a while. I doubt they’re meaning to leave you, they seem too nice.” 

Frankie picked up his phone and opened his texts. Aside from the group chat he had with the boys, the aforementioned number was the last one he’d texted. 

Frankie: Hey, haven’t heard from you in a bit. You doing okay? 

Twenty miles away from the bar Frankie was in, you were leaned over the toilet in the hospital, hurling away what little applesauce you’d eaten for dinner. 

Sitting back against the cold tile of the hospital bathroom wall, you sighed deeply upon hearing your phone ping. Who the hell wanted to talk to you right now? 

Of course, it was Frankie. 

Settling down in the bathroom, you unlocked your phone and texted him back. 

You: I’m so sorry Fish. I’ve been a bit sick. 

Fish: You don’t have to apologize for that. Are you feeling any better? 

You snorted softly. As if. 

You: Not really. It’s just gotten worse. Spent most of today throwing up.

Fish: You’re drinking water, right? Gotta stay hydrated. 

You snapped a photo of your half full water bottle a nurse had brought you and sent it to Frankie. 

You: Yep! Gotta finish this before I go to bed. 

Fish: That’s good

Fish: Wait a second. Are you in the hospital? 

You swore silently. How the fuck? Unless he frequented the same hospital as you, how the hell did he even know where you were from that blurry water bottle photo? 

You: Yeah, I got here today. Nothing too serious, I was just too dehydrated

You felt bad lying to Frankie, but you really didn’t want to tell him the truth. The truth was too long, too complicated. Frankie would probably leave if he learned the truth. 

Fish: I’m not too far away, if you’re at the hospital I think you’re at. Want me to drive you home when you leave? 

You: Nah. I’m staying with family rn and it’s a haul to get out there

Another lie, another stab of pain through your heart. 

Fish: Okay. I still wanna take you out though. We could get dinner and walk around the park. 

You almost started sobbing. 

You: Oh Frankie. I wish I could. 

As soon as you typed the message, you deleted it. Best not to let him think anything was wrong. Instead, you took a minute and finally replied with, 

You: That sounds lovely Fish. 

Fish: But?

You: But I don’t think I can.

Back at the bar, Frankie was slumped over the table, staring at your tiny message of rejection. 

“Dude, that’s hard,” Benny commented. “I’m starting to think Will might be right.” 

“I’m sorry?” William said, coughing as he swallowed wrong. “Say that again?” 

“No.” Benny leaned over the table and patted Frankie’s wrist. “I got nothing dude. Nothing.” 

Santiago sighed. “Why don’t we stop giving Fish a hard time?” He said, seeing the hard lines in Frankie’s face appear. “They said they were in the hospital, so maybe it’s really bad.” 

“You think?” Frankie asked, looking up with wide eyes. 

“Maybe,” Santiago said. “They might not want you to worry about them.” 

Frankie looked back at his phone, at the waiting message. He picked his phone up and typed one more message before shutting it off and pocketing it. 

Frankie: I just wish I could get to know you. For real. 

You stared at your phone, tears sliding down your face. Frankie would never know, if you could help it. He’d never know that you were so sick all the time. That you couldn’t eat anything without hurling it up hours later. That you hadn’t uttered a single word since you’d turned sixteen. That you’d never speak another word again. 

Putting your phone away, you abandoned the water bottle and shakily crawled back into bed, sobbing silently into your pillow until you fell asleep. 

The next morning, a team of nurses checked you over and deemed you okay to leave the next day. You nodded numbly, absently fiddling with a small stuffed toy as they started your laborious morning routine. 

“This came for you last night,” a nurse said as everyone left your room. She placed a worn out baseball cap and a folded note on your bed. “From a very nice gentleman who seemed rather heartbroken.” 

The nurse left, leaving you to grab the cap and the note. 

The cap was worn out, the edges all frayed and the logo on the front nearly illegible. The note was in much better condition. 

Hey. 

So, I’m sorry about what I said last night, and I feel like a text wouldn’t have made it better. This is my favorite hat. It’s seen some shit, just like me. And just like you, I think. 

Look, last night, I sounded like a dick. I want to make it up to you, I really do. But I don’t know how to take you on a date or anything. I sure hope it isn’t because of me that you don’t want to meet. I know my nickname is Catfish but I promise I’m who I say I am. 

Tomorrow, I get off work early. If you’d let me, can I pick you up and take you out? Or at least take you back to my place for a movie or something? Please. 

Love, your Frankie. 

You ran your fingers over the lettering, memorizing how Frankie wrote every single word. Maybe, maybe it was time to open up. The worst that could happen was rejection. 

Scooping your phone up, you texted Frankie back. 

You: Tomorrow at 4, that’s when they discharge me. Get here early tho, I have some stuff to explain.

The next twenty four hours were hell for the both of you. You were both plagued by so much anxiety it was hard to do even the most basic of tasks, but you managed. Eventually, you received the text you’d been dreading all day. 

Fish: I’m here. Visiting room B. 

You took a deep breath. All your personal belongings were in a drawstring bag you put over your shoulder. You headed out of your room and slowly down the hall, towards the visiting room. 

Opening the door was the hardest thing you’d ever done. 

Once you’d opened the door, you stopped in the doorway, taking Frankie in. 

He looked exactly the same as he did in his photos. Tall, handsome, kind. He smiled upon seeing you, and you swore your heart stopped. 

“Hello,” Frankie said, moving towards you and holding out his hand.

Hello you signed, waiting for Frankie’s reaction. 

He paused, his hand falling to his side. “Mute?” 

You nodded. 

Frankie simply smiled again. “So that’s why you don’t like phone calls,” he said. “It’s okay. I know some ASL.” He paused, taking you in. “Can I hug you?” 

Yes please.

He wrapped you in a warm hug, allowing you to collapse into him. Months of text messages and listening to his voice mails were nothing compared to this. 

Eventually, he pulled away, and you two sat on the uncomfortable couch. 

“So what’s with the tube?” Frankie asked, gesturing to your face. 

You pulled a whiteboard out of your bag and began to write, going slowly so you spelled everything right. 

I have a condition called gastroparesis. My stomach is paralyzed and won’t move food to my intestines. I “eat” through a port in my side and this tube in my nose leads to my stomach, so whatever I drink can be drained out. I went mute before I got diagnosed with this.

“Oh.” Frankie blinked a few times. “So I guess dinner is off the table too.” 

You snorted, laughing as best you could with no voice. No dinner. you signed happily. But a movie would be nice.

“A movie it is,” Frankie said, standing. “C’mon. I’ve got a bunch of movies at my place. And I think the boys are coming over tonight.” 

You stood, following Frankie to his beat up old truck. He talked your ear off about all sorts of things while he drove home, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled into the driveway that you’d remembered his hat. 

Close your eyes. You signed, digging around in your bag. 

Frankie did, laughing when you snuggly placed his hat on his head. 

“Thank you,” he said, taking your hands. “I was really worried you’d catfished me at first. I didn’t know what to think when you didn’t want to call or meet. I dunno, I just thought you weren’t, y’know, you.” 

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. I wouldn’t dream of it.

Frankie smiled. “I love you.” 

I love you too Fish.

That night was the happiest you’d been in years. Frankie’s friends were all amazing people, and all three of them immediately overlooked your muteness and illness. You were happy and Frankie was happy. To them, that was all that mattered. 

“So Fish,” Santiago said, leaning across the couch to nudge Frankie’s bicep. “Aren’t you glad we forced you to download that dating app?” 

Frankie looked at you, curled up under his other arm, sipping water and waiting for the feed bag with your dinner in it to finish draining into your port. You looked up at him, smiling and nestling closer. 

“Yeah. I am.”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I A VENOMOUS INTERLUDE

Did y'all know symbrock is canon? Well, now you do. Reader's favourite deadbeat surrogate uncle is in town and he brought a... Friend. No warnings, just a boatload of crack and fluff, as usual. Reader being mouthy. Takes place a little bit into the future - around after chapter 32: spoiler alert is useless because we already know a tonybrucestrange/reader quartet is the endgame. 💖💝✨

"What," I had to pause for a second for my brain to catch up with my eyes. "The fuck?!"

It was truly a miracle I could say anything out loud, at all. Words weren't valid enough to describe my shock and confusion. The scene unfolding in front of me resembled and unholy cross between a B-rated horror movies about demonic possession and some deep-sea Eldritch monstrosity.

The eight-feet tall black, oozing dude in front of me? Yes, you, with the teeth. Ctulhu called, he wants his tentacles back.

The creature honest to god rippled, like some nightmare-fuel goth Jell-O, rapidly shrinking in size within seconds. As more of the black tar-like substance receded, a much more human form started to appear under it. Worn jeans, leather jacket, ungroomed beard and the look of a biker gang member coming off a serious bender.

"Uh, Princess?"

"Eddie. Fucking. Brock. Uncle Idiot." I punctuated each word with an increasing widening of my eyes. The world was fucking nuts. Two and two did not compute - Eddie might have looked threatening to some people - like white suburban Karens - even without the... Gooey squid-on-steroids thing he had going on. The man was built like a fucking brick shithouse, but I knew him way too well. Eddie couldn't be that badass to save a life.

"You two know each other?" Tony shrieked indignantly, a coarseness in his voice that indicated only one thing: my boo was well into his third drink. Hell, I didn't blame him - that gaping toothy maw was fucking gnarly.

Hands on my hips, I caught myself slipping into a mute rage, storming over to the 200lbs worth of pure dumbass and knocking him right in the face. "You! Didn't tell! ME!" A black tendril wrapped around my wrist, carefully but firmly securing it and preventing me from causing my non-related uncle any more physical damage. Although I must admit, my knuckles probably were more affected than his jaw. "You! Are! A MUTANT!!! HOW COULD YOU?! How could you NOT tell ME?"

I trusted the man with my soul and most embarrassing drinking stories. Hell, I called Eddie in a stoned haze the very same night I lost my v-card. I just thought we were bros, you know? I saw his whole fucking life implode more than once and personally flew to California to ice his injuries and his hurt ego countless times. I was done dirty in the worst way.

"I'm not-" Eddie's sigh was long-suffering. "I, uh, I have a parasite..." He sounded meek, in the same way he used to describe his drunkenly misconduct when I made our family driver bail out his ass outta jail in the morning.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" A deep gravelly voice thundered, seemingly coming out of his chest?

"Okay, okay," Eddie smiled. It was strangely soft and un-eddie-like. The only person he smiled like that was... used to be Anne. "This is Venom. They're an alien and we're, uh, a thing. It's a recent development." The tentacle unwrapped itself from me as I took an involuntary step back.

Even barring the fact that Eddie was dating an alien, this was way too fucking weird for 3 o'clock on a Sunday. I always knew the reporter was, for the lack of a better word, a little weird but he really took it to new heights. With Thor and Loki looking... Like that, I could see a human dating some sort of a hot alien. But with Ctulhu looking the way he did just minutes ago? Did Eddie seriously let all of those teeth in close proximity of his dick?

I had a "ERROR 404, common sense not found" hanging over me for the longest time. The others were quiet behind me, too, even Tony - one of my boyfriends, the most likely to cause utter chaos, was hanging back and expecting me to do something.

"Venom," I clarified, just to fill the silence with some noise while my brain processors re-synced.

"WE ARE VENOM." The tentacle that was sleek and black now had two completely white eyes and a smaller-scale version of the toothy grin that had drooled all over the common room carpet. Their voice had an interesting effect: it was so deep, the air around them vibrated slightly when they spoke.

I tilted my head examining the appendage. It was considerably less terrifying when it wasn't five times my size. "What are you?" And most importantly, are you a threat to my favourite non-related family member? I left that statement unspoken although it was obvious I was ready to fight it? Them? If need be.

"A SYMBIOTE," They replied, swaying the head-tentacle slowly. "WE LOVE EDDIE AND KEEP HIM ALIVE AND HEALTHY." So, they understood the actual question.

"Which is fucked up because Klyntar usually behave in the opposite way." Hearing Thor swear was, perhaps, even more unsettling than finding out about the symbiote-alien-boyfriend thing my uncle had going on. The thunderer himself was nursing a jug of golden liquid. The good Asgardian stuff, he must've been really fucking bamboozled.

"Okay. So anybody wanna fill me on the details before I beat up my favourite idiot?" I sighed, pointedly looking at Tony.

"I thought I was your favourite idiot!" He immediately retorted, hurt, but nonetheless opened his arms to give me a grounding embrace. We may have sucked face for a few seconds, because why the hell not, Tony was an amazing kisser and his tongue down my throat was very calming.

"Hold up, what the fuck?" Now it was Eddie's turn to act all offended. "Aren't you a little too young for him?"

"You and your most likely carnivorous goth space pudding can fuck right off if you're not going to be supportive of my very inappropriate, very polyamorous relationship with three incredibly hot boomers," I shot back, slipping into some resemblance of normalcy. Me and Eddie go way, way back and shitting on each other's bad life decisions was the founding stone of our bromance. Hell, he was the guy who showed me the wonders of sarcasm at an early age! Wonderbaum!

"There's three of them?" Eddie's voice pitched and he gaped, palming his face.

"SHE HAS A POINT, EDDIE. WE EAT PEOPLE. BEING UNSUPPORTIVE WOULD MAKE US LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE." Eddie's buddy stated, sounding almost fed up. So, they were sentient enough to recognize how much of a pain in the ass Eddie could be. I could work with that, disregarding the cannibalism comment, of course. What the fuck was up with that?

"Yes, Eddie, I also periodically bump uglies and trade disgustingly sweet text messages with the Hulk and a badass wizard," I rolled my eyes at the reporter's following gasp and angry muttering. "Venom, I like you."

"WE RETURN THE SENTIMENT. YOUR CHOICE IN MATES IS VERY WISE, CONSIDERING YOU ARE A WEAK MORSEL. THEY CAN PROTECT YOU."

"Shut up, Squid. I'll still kick your motherfucking ass if you hurt Eddie."

The emo space goo laughed, a terse scratching noise, showing way, way too many teeth for me to feel comfortable but I allowed myself to be placed on the couch between Tony and Eddie nonetheless. The initial shock of seeing a talking octopod with fangs passed quickly - I've seen Stephen's "trophies" he brought from his otherworldly journeys and Lovecraftian horrors were, honestly, pretty low on the gross/creepy scale.

"Both of you, explain. For the love of fuck," Tony sighed, emotionally exhausted and drained of his usual bravado.

"Eddie was my dad's friend until he moved to Cali, I've know him for fifteen years, give or take. He taught me how to ride a bike and bake the best pot brownies," I shrugged. There wasn't much to say. "I visited him whenever I could but you know, with school and then you guys, there wasn't that much time to iron out the details." I have Eddie a death glare, pointing to Venom's floaty head with my eyes.

Eddie nodded. "What she said..." And then launched an elaborate tale about some company called Life Foundation, some evil dude named Drake and his own alien pudding named Carnage, who was one ugly motherfucker judging by Eddie's and Venom's combined "ew" face, their aching need for human brains to survive and other, more trivial things, like mental breakdowns in a lobster tank and getting dumped by a fiancé and eating their way through a HYDRA base after being captured and tortured. What a wild fucking ride.

"Sounds like you had a rough year," Everybody's dumbfounded silence was ended by Tony who took a slow swig of his whiskey before speaking.

"Yeah, no shit," Eddie muttered, twisting his black coated fingers in elaborate but frankly pretty shapes. His alien wrapped around his neck like a tube scarf and additional tentacles appeared between Eddie's hands, gently prying them open and enveloping them in a sort of a hug? It was hard to compute, the black mass appeared to be totally amorphous.

"How's your anxiety?" I asked, damn well knowing Eddie's mind tended to run like Tony's: zero to sixty in point five with no clear destination. Having an alien inside of him must've really thrown Eddie for a loop.

"It's, uh, better. Venom helps," The reporter admitted, still staring at his hands but the crease between his brows had disappeared and the expression he wore was kind of fond.

"Good. You know, Venom," I thoughtfully addressed the definitely sentient creature. "Eddie is a bigger dumbass than me, which is saying something. You ought to keep a really close eye on him. If not for me, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning, like, years ago."

"WE ARE AWARE. WE CAN ACCESS EDDIE'S MEMORIES." A head manifested itself on a thicker tentacle, floating over to look me in the face but maintaining a respectful distance and staying out of my personal space bubble. "AND WE ARE THANKFUL. EDDIE IS THE PERFECT HOST. WE LOVE EDDIE."

I felt the corner of my mouth tilt upwards at the alien's proclamation. It was child-like in its blunt honesty but carried a certain weight with it. It told me whoever tries to separate those two in any way would get eaten faster than they could say "SIKE!". And honestly? I would help Venom hide the evidence.

"I literally had you for thirty minutes but I would kill everybody and then myself if you two got hurt. This is too soft, I can't." I snorted, extending a curious hand towards Venom. They looked so shiny. I had to touch them.

And they let me. Venom butted their head into my palm and let me gently run my fingers over their slightly cool, slippery flesh. It felt like putting my hands on a surprisingly sturdy yet bouncy piece of flubber. I purposely avoided the small maw and the endless rows of sharp teeth but managed to accidentally brush against something rough and scratchy - as it turned out, the Symbiote had a very long, very dexterous tongue. And didn't that give me a bunch of interesting mental images.

"Oh my God, NO!" Wanda moaned from somewhere, the voice mortified and disgusted.

"Why are you touching the people-eating alien?" Bruce yelped, entering the room with several people in tow. The scientist looked worried, a little bit green around the edges. The tablet in his hands beeped periodically, signifying the ongoing sciencing bender he was in process of.

"WE WOULD NOT EAT THIS HUMAN. WE ARE FOND OF THE MORSEL." Venom defended, well, venomously. Eddie wisely choose to stay silent, trading a knowing look with Tony.

Stephen Strange sighed, briefly closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with a jagged movement. "One day, Princess, one day you will stop collecting people that are obviously bad for your health and your future. That, or space in the tower will simply run out." With a deeper, calmer sigh, the sorcerer landed in front of me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and subtly begging for a head scratch. Which meant just placing his always neatly trimmed curls under my free hand. His jealousy was about as subtle as a foot in the face.

"I'll just ask Tony to build more floors, duh," I rolled my eyes with force at the obvious solution, giving into Steph's demands, beginning to card through his hair. It was calming both of us, really.

Bruce came over to give me a kiss and my other boyfriends didn't even grumble about the scientist placing himself in my lap, crawling over both Tony and Stephen to get comfortable.

Our dynamic was unconventional and more than a little weird, but it worked for us and the rest of the team most certainly didn't complain about the vast decrease in conflict that came with the territory. Come to think of it, all of us were more tactile than just a group of friends sharing a house and I was very much on board with that. None of us except select few (looking at you, mister doctor) were hugged enough as children and we were making up for it in spades right fucking now.

"Girl has a type," Wanda remarked, like the messy little shit she was. I stuck out my tongue in retaliation.

The Avengers' brain trust began talking about Venom's slightly inconvenient diet that directly resulted in multiple felonies for one Edward Brock, and as much as I tried to follow the flow and make my own, however feeble, contributions to the scientific side of the conversation, the new life form was much more interesting. I asked Venom several questions and they deemed them acceptable enough to answer - which evolved on both of us absolutely geeking out over the differences in our physiology. The space pudding didn't hold back one bit, insulting the inferior human biology with gleeful gusto.

"They need a chemical called phenethylamine," Bruce sighed, having deduced it through discussion since Venom and Eddie both protested aggressively against any kind of invasive testing. "I can synthesize it. No more head-chomping, no more murder."

It made perfect sense. Except it didn't. "Brucie-bear, you're a brilliant fucking scientist but a shit psychologist." I interrupted whatever came next. "Venom is a person, like me and you and, yes, even Hulk. Tell me this: if you found a way to get rid of Hulk, would you stop sciencing in the gamma radiation field?" I looked my boyfriend straight in the eyes, hoping for a spark of common sense. "Do you see my point? You science, Tony engineers, Steve draws and Clint bakes. Venom hunts. It's who they are, you can't give them a pill to make it go away."

The weight of my word landed in the room like lead, heavy. The only source of sound was the TV, playing the news quietly in the background for the longest time. Those few minutes felt like hours until Thor expectantly turned towards Eddie/Venom.

"IT IS SO. WE ARE AFRAID WE CANNOT INFLUENCE OUR INSTINCT TO HUNT PREY. KLYNTAR ARE APEX PREDATORS." The little black goop sounded almost apologetic. It was hard to hear undertones with their voice being so deep and grating. "BUT WE CAN TRY." Okay, I could totally hear the hope. Finding out the Eldritch horror could make puppy eyes was... Terrifying, to be honest, because they fucking worked.

"Got any better ideas?" Tony asked me sarcastically.

"I do, actually." I leveled a look with Natasha. She understood. "HYDRA goons. The aliens that, for some reason, keep invading New York every month or so. Stephen's adventures in Hell. Do I need to continue?"

"Wait, hold on," Steve raised his palms. "We don't kill HYDRA, we deposit them in SHIELD custody."

I snorted at the naïve Captain. "And what do you think happens to them there? Did you honestly think they just let torturing, murdering, world-domination planning psychos back on the streets?"

Steve frowned in confusion. "They go to prison?"

Natasha choose that moment to step up. "It's not uncommon for them to possess certain enhancements to be deemed too dangerous to be released back into society. Some of them are low-tier mutants and inhumans. Trust me, Steve, the lethal injection is a much more humane treatment than solitary life imprisonment in a ultra-high security prison." Romanoff stated with a trace of compassion. "And some mutants, we can't contain for prolonged periods of time." She added quietly, looking away.

Rogers was staring blankly into the wall, mulling over the information in his head. His intensive thought process was plainly visible on his face. I heard about some kind of fiasco with HYDRA agents suicide-bombing a city in Europe few years ago and Steve was there, along with Wanda and Sam.

"Venom is a whole person, and even if they look like they could be the main character in Call of Ctulhu video game, we can't just disregard them like they are some kind of badly behaving pet. They're my honorary uncle's boyf-sorry-significant other, for fuck's sake," I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Y'all should know I don't fuck with people who give shit to one of my own. Don't disappoint me like that." I finished, feeling more tired than I had in months. I didn't regret giving into the found family dynamic, however I didn't exactly sign up for hard choices like them vs my long lost uncle, y'know?

Great, now I had a headache and three very concerned boyfriends glaring at me for unknown reasons. The urge to pace always manifested strongly within me as the emotional atmosphere rose in the room. With Bruce dangling off my lap, I couldn't do even that and I felt the restlessness blossom into irritation more and more with each passing second of my existence.

Eddie remained silent, looking down. Venom had mostly receded into the reporter's body, save for a few tentacles tightly wrapped around Eddie's palm.

"Alright," Steve suddenly said. "We can work with that."

"Princess, you look like you're either going to cry or yell any second," Bruce said softly, squeezing my shoulder and pulling me closer.

I immediately hid my face in his chest, taking several deep, shaky breaths. "Eddie is family. Y'all are family. It's terrifying to have to choose between the two." I said, after a brief moment of hesitation.

The reporter made some sort of a choked gasp, quickly masking it with a cough - I knew him way too well to miss the way he was fighting back tears of his own. Bruce understood, he really did understand me - hopped off my lap and let me hug Eddie properly, my happy-sad tears soaking through the collar of his tee.

"You're, uh, welcome to stay. I'll have a guest room prepared." Tony cleared his throat, passing his half-finished glass to Stephen who swallowed the liquid in one gulp. My boyfriends were so fucking emotionally illiterate. Disaster humans.

Huh, I really did have a type.

Later that night, I made the mistake of barging into Eddie's room with a bottle of really fancy whiskey I liberated from Tony's overstocked liquor cabinet. Visiting my uncle and boozing and smoking on the balcony, for old times sake, was my plan and...

I failed the mission successfully.

I didn't bother knocking. As soon as I saw a pair of bare feet, my eyes traveled further up on the couch on their own volition. There were so many tentacles, a writhing, oozing silky black mass and Eddie was making sounds, unmistakable noises-

"UNSEE. UNSEE. OH MY GOD, UNSEE, UNSEE." I stumbled back into the common room shivering.

"What happened, is everything okay?" Bucky stood up as soon as he saw me enter the doorway with my face scrunched in a grimace of regret. I felt like I've gone through the five stages of grief in the shortest time possible for a human being.

Somwhere, I heard Wanda's sudden moan full of pain and misery. "Please, stop THINKING about it!"

"Brain bleach, oh my God," I cringed. "Where's the Clorox?! I have decided I don't need my eyeballs-"

"Oooh," Tony's proverbial lightbulb lit up. The engineer sounded like he was about five seconds away from building a space ship and permanently moving to another planet. "They're together-together..." Tony intercepted me nonetheless, doing the most effective thing to make me stop speaking and thinking bullshit. He kissed me. With lots of tongue.

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