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thatsbucknasty · 3 years

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she used to be mine (xi) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

tags are closed

author’s note: Alrighty guys, we’ve almost reached the end of this story. I hope you’re still reading, please tell me if you are!

chapter 11: she used to be mine

I wake up startled by a searing throb down the side of my belly. I quickly remove the sheets and there’s no blood so I try to lift myself up from the bed and start walking to the kitchen to get my decaf ready. I remember Bucky talking about the Braxton-Hicks contractions in one of our appointments a couple weeks ago and he told me I should walk so I walk. I have one of Wanda’s pregnancy books that she keeps sending me and walk, walk, walk for what feels like hours, although it’s only been 15 minutes.

I see myself in the mirror and I can’t recognize myself. My body’s changed so much, I’m pretty sure I have a few more wrinkles around my eyes and a few more freckles from all the damn walking under the sun. But that’s not what bothers me the most about all these changes. I just don’t feel like the person I used to be. She was good, a bit messy but always kind, she had a lot more hope in life for herself and those around her. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy, or the divorce, or everything combined that’s made this version of me so bitter. And this isn’t something I can fix with a little more butter and sugar, in fact I don’t think it can be fixed.

It’s been the longest week of my entire life. Old Nick and Sam collectively decided to gang up on me, and I feel Bucky had to do with it a little bit too. They forced me to go on a “stay-at-home-vacation” until the baby is born, which should be any day now, so I’m just here, alone on a Saturday morning, while everybody is working, Quentin is sleeping with that woman and hasn’t even bothered to call me or show any interest in either his unborn child or our imminent divorce.

This is boring, I feel useless and I need to get out of here. This house, this awful, lopsided couch, that crooked picture frame of me and Quentin at prom so many years ago. I want to throw all of it away and start fresh in a nice, picket white fence house, just me and my baby. Wanda and Nat would come visit and I would bake some of my “La vie on rose petals and vanilla ice cream pie”, we would have a no boys allowed day when it’s just us, and sitcoms, and I could have wine or coffee again, little peanut could have a puppy or a kitty to play with and I would give her all my love and we could be a real, whole family. If I wasn’t tied to this place, these curtains that never let any light on, that man who was always so violent and disgusting but only just showed his true self, maybe I could have that pastel colored life that I should deserve. But what if this is what I deserve?

I called Quentin six times this week. Matt finally was able to send me the divorce papers that I already signed, but that lying, cheating, bastard hasn’t sent them back to me and won’t even dare to answer my calls or texts. I cleaned every surface of this dingy house and put every item that reminded me of my screwed up marriage in a box outside for the garbage collector to take away. Quentin can buy new shirts and underpants, if he can’t answer the stupid phone I can throw away his stuff. I don’t even care anymore.

I find myself walking again but not around my kitchen. I’m waking to the diner cause I felt trapped in the house and I need to cook, something with lots of garlic or onions, I will call it “Wrecked home scrambled eggs pie” served with sauteed bell peppers on the side and a spicy sauce dripped on top of the crust.

I go through the back door and into the kitchen before the girls see me, Sam reacts by giving me a side eye and continuing flipping the burgers he’s working on right now.

“Table 9 order’s ready!” Sam calls out and Wanda takes it.

“We have a pregnant lady in the back, stress baking”.

“I can hear you!”

“Alright good, well you shouldn’t be here. You’re lucky it’s a busy day so we can’t just drop everything and drive your ass back home where you should be!” Nat’s in the kitchen window scolding me now too, perfect. I knew this was coming and to be honest I prefer their banter than the deafening silence I felt at home.

“Just so you know, I’m texting Bucky and he’s coming over” Sam interjects.

“Wha- guys, I’m just baking one pie and then I’ll go, tell him he doesn’t have to come”.

“Why couldn’t you bake this one pie at home then?” Wanda asks with genuine curiosity in her voice.

I decide to be truthful.

“I felt trapped and lonely, I missed the diner. Plus I didn’t have any bell peppers at home and I was craving them”.

They all look at me weirdly, there’s no pity in their eyes, there’s just… tenderness.

Bucky arrives an hour after I got here, with a stern face and his lab coat still clinging to his frame.

“Hey, what’s up, sweetheart? You’re supposed to be resting”. He rubs my shoulders and all I can think is how grateful I am for this little family and this man life blessed me with.

I explain how awfully sad and stressed I was feeling at home and he takes a seat between me and Steve, who’s eating a slice of pie while Wanda’s showing him what she calls “satisfying cleaning Tik Toks”, and Sam’s chatting with Nat about a concert he’d like to take her to next week. Everything about this feels so calm and I’m even starting to feel sleepy with Bucky’s skilled hands rubbing my knotted neck and shoulders.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s decided to finally stop being a fucking hypocrite! It’s Y/N and the stupid fucking Doctor. Tell me, Doc, did you enjoy gazing at her lady parts when she’d go for a “check up” and fell in love because you too are lame and boring?”

I grab Bucky’s hand and stand between him and Quentin, using my other hand to protect my belly.

“What the hell are you doing here, Quentin? You’re not welcome here anymore”. I say, head up high but voice trembling.

“Came home to drop your divorce papers- that I’m not signing by the way- and to tell you to fuck off because whether you like it or not, I’m gonna be a father and you can’t do anything about it baby girl. It’s you and me! It’s always gonna be you and me, so tell you precious Doctor and your friends goodbye. We’re coming home!”

Quentin grabs my hand and tries to yank me away from Bucky but before I can do anything else Steve and Sam are already punching the shit out of Quentin, sitting him down on the floor and pushing his arms around his back. Bucky is taking me away from the fight, shielding my eyes from the view, he knows I don’t need this kind of stress. Nat called the cops when Quentin arrived, knowing the asshole would pull out a stunt like this. Minutes pass and I can’t step away from Bucky’s embrace to see his ass handcuffed and thrown into the police’s back seat.

Bucky takes a step back to look at my face as he feels me trembling and his shirt soaked with my tears.

“Y/N, sweetheart, it’s over. He’s gone”.

I try to form words but then it hits me.

The pain.

This is not what I asked for.

The excruciating cramp-like aches in my lower stomach.

If I’m honest, I’d give this life back for a chance to start over.

The water running down my legs.

I would rewrite the story, from beginning to end.

I can’t feel my legs. All I feel is fear, pain and anger.

This is the life that I’m bringing you into, little girl. I’m so sorry. To you, but also to the little girl I once was. Because she also deserved a good life and she’s gone, but she used to be mine.

chapter 12: contraction ballet

#waitress musical #waitress au #bucky x reader #doctor!Bucky #waitress!reader #Marvel AU #avengers au #Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #Steve Rogers #quentin beck

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 15 - Net Zero Change

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what’s the truth?, 2.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention, swearing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Alex, Reggie, Flynn and Kyle all sat at a table inside the record store while Willie took care of closing procedures, currently sweeping up around them. Flynn sipped on her soda, eyeing everyone else with a mix of piqued interest and uncertainty.

“I can let you guys stay and talk for about another half hour, but then I’ve gotta kick you out,” Kyle told the three at the table.

“Thanks,” Alex said. “We really appreciate you being so understanding.”

“Not at all,” Kyle said casually. “And Willie’s in the clear, so long as he never pulls a stunt like that again.”

“Thanks for covering for me, man,” Willie said repentantly at Kyle’s rightfully miffed tone.

“I also covered the cost for that jacket, so you owe me for that.”

Alex looked at him, still unable to wrap what had just happened around his head. Climbing somewhere high and screaming felt like an ideal thing to do right then. He wasn’t angry - at least, he didn’t think so - but he still felt like a bottle of Coke that someone had just shaken and dropped a Mento into. His punching bag was already being worn down enough, but since he didn’t have his drums at home it had been a lifesaver recently.

There was Willie, right in front of him, like a miracle. He was so wonderfully unaware of everything, and there was no doubt he hadn’t forgotten Alex. It brought a strange sense of euphoria that battled everything else that had kept his mind dark for so long. He’d used to imagine running into Willie, even for a while after Caleb said he was gone, and thought he’d be the one to catch Willie off guard and rush toward him with joy. Mostly, he’d wanted to knock Willie off his board as slight payback for that one time, but also because it would’ve been satisfying to surprise him for once.

Kyle had gotten up from the table and joined Willie in closing up the store.

“So, you guys all know each other, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Flynn exclaimed. “And I’d like to think that it’s all thanks to me,” she added smugly.

“How so?” Reggie asked in curiosity.

“I helped Willie get into Julie’s concert in Vegas,” she said. “And I’m the reason you two stuck around here.”

Alex looked at her in surprise. Without Flynn, he imagined going with Willie to the Stratosphere or anything else that night wouldn’t have happened. He owed her a serious favor; he wasn’t going to forget that.

“Are you sure you don’t have, like, magic powers or something?” Reggie asked.

Flynn only smiled and quietly sipped her soda again, keeping the mystique for herself.

As Willie disappeared into the kitchen to clean there, Alex looked at Reggie.

“So, do you have as many questions as I do?” he asked.

“Yeah, man,” Reggie said, peeking back toward the kitchen door. “I mean, does Caleb not know?”

“For someone out of the loop,” Flynn butted in. “What’s going on?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took in a deep breath. “So you know how we got signed?”

Flynn nodded. “Uh huh. And congratulations, by the way.”

Alex merely shrugged in acknowledgement.

“Well, the guy who owns the label used to be Willie’s caretaker.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Reggie muttered. Alex suddenly felt a little guilty for missing that detail when talking with the guys.

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to mention it,” he apologized. “Anyway, the day that we signed on, Caleb personally told me that Willie had died in a fire.”

Flynn stared in disbelief.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s fishy.”

“No kidding,” Reggie commented. “But why would he do that? Caleb’s been nothing but good to us.”

“You guys should be careful. He was Willie’s guardian? If his story is that far off, I’d watch out.”

Peering over toward the kitchen, Alex couldn’t get a view of Willie at all. He was dying to hear his side of things.

“I guess we’ll have to see. Flynn, how are you getting home?”

“Oh, I was just gonna take the bus.”

“With your equipment?” he said, already worried. It was a lot for her to be lugging around, whether she could carry it alone or not. “Flynn, let us get you a taxi.”

She looked at him, and he expected her to protest and say she could handle herself. To his surprise, she simply huffed.

“You’re right. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, and one of us could go with you to make sure you get home safe.”

“I’ll go,” Reggie volunteered. He glanced at Alex and it was clear he was giving him an opportunity.

“Thanks Reggie,” Flynn said. “You guys have gotta keep me updated with everything going on, though. I smell drama. A lot of it.” She finished the last few gulps of her soda and stood up to grab her gear.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man,” Reggie murmured to Alex, patting him as he rose to help her out.

“See you.”

As he watched them make their way outside, Alex sighed.

“So, Vegas, huh?” Kyle said as he reentered the room, making him jump.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex replied warily. This guy seemed fairly nice, but he could never be too careful about how much he told strangers. He watched him dust the shelves, trying to relax in his seat.

“Willie doesn’t talk about it much, so I’m kinda surprised he had such a reaction tonight. I got the idea he hated the place.”

Puzzled, Alex didn’t respond immediately. He wondered what could’ve happened.

“Well, I’m sure he has his reasons. But when I met him we had a pretty good time.”

“Hmm,” was all that Kyle said as he looked into space thoughtfully before moving on to locking things up.

Alex realized then that he was the only customer left in the store and he’d simply let his friends leave him. His head was certainly not on straight. The time was nearly midnight, and the options of transportation and his experiences with them only dialed up his anxiety. Busses were just weird because everyone could watch him, taxis were expensive and he’d given most of his cash to Reggie, and the chances of having Bobby pick him up were very low.

“Hey,” Willie was standing over him, skateboard in hand. Alex looked up, startled once again, but the feeling of Willie’s hand on his shoulder softened it.

“Hey.”

“Where did Reggie go?”

“Oh,” Alex started. “He’s making sure Flynn gets home safe.”

Nodding, Willie glanced outside.

“What about you?”

Alex rose with a sigh.

“I’ll figure something out.”

They left the store and slowly walked to the corner. Willie still gripped his board as he gazed up at the red hand on the opposite side of the street.

“Do you...wanna walk with me to my place?” he asked Alex. “‘Cuz you look like you want to talk. Then we can find you a way home.”

Sticking his tongue in his cheek, Alex eyed him thoughtfully. It was almost like they hadn’t just spent four months apart - Willie could read him like a book.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Unfortunately, that made him stuff his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. He’d let himself take Willie’s hand before and have high hopes because he’d let himself ignore reality back then. Even when the guy who he admittedly still had a crush on was back from the dead, Alex didn’t want to tempt fate again. As they both crossed the street, he felt himself hunch inward just as he had earlier with Reggie.

“So, I’m guessing it’s a little weird to see me, since you thought I was a goner and everything,” Willie started nervously.

“Dead,” Alex said, looking at him seriously. “You were dead.”

Willie slowed his pace and sucked in a breath.

“Yeah.”

For a few yards they didn’t speak. Something ate at Alex’s insides, and he couldn’t put a finger on it. Change had always been his worst enemy, but this was a good change. Willie was alive, then he was dead, and now he was back. It should’ve been like net zero change, cancelled out like math. He should be fine about this, right? Why was he not fine?

“Alex, are you...are you mad?” Willie dared to ask.

He paused in his tracks, arms slacking against his sides. Looking over at Willie, then down at the sidewalk again, he nodded.

“Yeah, actually.” Immediately the eating feeling worsened. “I don’t know why that is, but you’re right. I am kinda mad.”

Willie furrowed his brow, but remained quiet for a minute as they continued walking.

“Are you mad at me?” he wondered aloud, finally.

“Maybe?” Alex said, feeling the temperature in his veins rise the more he went on. “That sounds silly, I know, because it wasn’t you who lied to me and put me through absolute agony for weeks on end. You were just the person I thought was dead and so every time I thought about you, it hurt. I don’t even know why it hurt so much. It’s not supposed to hurt when you’re still practically a stranger to me. All I know is that we kind of liked each other and then I thought I’d never find out anything else. I mean, we only knew each other for one day. One fucking day. That was it!”

Alex saw Wilie flinch at the unexpected use of language. A little too late, he realized he should’ve been more gentle. While it was true that he needed to finally release more than just self-pity, it wasn’t worth making Willie miserable for it.

“Wow,” Willie murmured. It already sounded more wounded than Alex could bear.

“That was harsh; I shouldn’t have blown up like that.”

He looked over at Willie to be sure he hadn’t done too much damage already.

“I can’t imagine how awful that was,” Willie said simply.

The pressure that had heated up his veins rapidly began to cool down as Alex realized he was handling this all wrong. He’d momentarily lost control and already saw its potential for harm.

“It’s not you I’m mad at. It’s Caleb.”

“That makes two of us,” Willie told him. “You want to know what really happened?”

“I want to know everything.”

They continued walking along as Willie seemed to try summing up the past few months properly in his mind.

“I don’t know exactly where to start,” he said.

“Well, why don’t you start where we left off?” Alex suggested. It was only fitting that one of them was walking the other home, just like they’d been doing the last time they’d seen each other. There was a funny sense of poetry to it.

“Okay,” Willie began. “I guess what really started it was when we were up on the Stratosphere, remember?”

“Uh huh.”

“I told you that I have amnesia because I had a memory come back.”

“Right, about your dad.”

“You remember this really well,” Willie commented. Alex bowed his head, feeling his lip curl the tiniest bit. “Anyway, I started drawing the things I remembered. And I mean, I drew every detail I could. Even though back then it was just the one about my dad and then the first time that I ran away from Caleb - ”

“Wait, what?” Alex blurted.

Willie cocked his head to the side as he tried to keep the narrative easy to follow.

“Oh yeah that was weird, I had this dream where everything was backwards and it happened like every night and it took me forever to figure out that it was a memory. Anyway, the reason I have amnesia right now? I was trying to run from Caleb because he was a total a-hole and then I got hit in the head!”

Alex looked at his casual expression with mild horror.

“That’s a lot to process,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, I guess he was putting on a face after that, because he didn’t really get nasty until right before I left him for good.”

By the time Willie finished dishing everything to Alex, they had been standing by his front door for a solid ten minutes. Alex could only stand there and let everything turn over in his mind like a taffy pull. Moreover, a pit of dread was forming in his stomach at the same time as a spark of joy grew in his chest.

“So...Harrison Ford?” he said.

Willie smiled. “Much cooler than Han Solo.”

“I still can’t believe you were literally planning to skate your way here. Even I would’ve ruled that out after a minute.”

Lifting a hand defensively, Willie opened his mouth but couldn’t find words.

“I - I will never live that down,” he chuckled.

Alex chuckled in turn. “No.”

For a moment he just looked at Willie. It was the first time that night where his vision wasn’t clouded with questions or overwrought with mixed emotions. This time, it was just as he’d seen him that first moment when they’d sat across from each other at the diner. That was ages ago, but it didn’t seem to have dimmed or faded one bit in Alex’s memory. Here, he was just Willie. It was so nice to see that again.

“What made you come to LA?” he asked. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“You did.” Willie looked right into his eyes as he said it.

The words were plain and honest. Something swelled in Alex’s chest as he heard them. If anyone else had said that - the guys, Julie, even his sister Abby - he would’ve doubted it a little. That was the awful thing with his anxiety is that it immediately twisted everyone’s words into betrayal. Not Willie’s, though.

“Why me?”

Willie got thoughtful, eyes unfocused for a moment.

“I don’t know. I’d do anything for you,” he said, gazing back up at Alex again.

Alex shifted his weight.

“Because I helped you start regaining memories, right?”

It made sense that if he’d been in that position, the person who’d been with him in those moments would mean a great deal to him, too.

“No,” Willie said. “Just ‘cuz. I still like you.”

Alex blinked and his mind emptied of all thought - a feat he’d never imagined occurring. Soon he found himself caught looking into those brown eyes, and instead of wanting to throw in a line, he wished he could plant himself there and spread roots. If it were up to him, he had no desire to go back home and he would just stay happy where he was.

It took a while to realize that he’d slowly begun to lean forward, lips parted as he gazed down at Willie’s mouth. Their noses were just barely not touching, and they hung in the balance waiting for the other to cross that threshold. Willie looked vaguely hypnotized, if not a little indecisive. His thoughts finally caught up to his actions, and once Alex saw what he was doing he turned away.

Dammit, how could you mess that up, Alex? he berated himself. He was already so out of focus and not thinking about the consequences of his actions; he couldn’t go around treating Willie like something else to dump his turmoil upon. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture. Willie nervously ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused.

“So....” Alex began awkwardly. “You have your own place?”

Willie nodded, not looking him in the eyes anymore.

“Yeah, it’s kinda nice,” he said plainly. “You’ll have to check it out one of these days. You could see Sheldon, too.”

“Yes,” Alex said quickly. “Yes, I would totally be down to come see you and Sheldon. That would be great.”

He hated that the natural cadence in his voice was so sarcastic sometimes. Right now, it didn’t sound genuine at all and he desperately wanted to convey how much he meant every word.

“Bet you’re sort of busy with the band and school and all, though,” Willie said, clearly a little despondent. Alex really wanted to go back and fix the moment they’d had before. He wasn’t making it any better.

“Well, I’m free all next Saturday. You’re not working, are you?”

“I can arrange things with Kyle to get covered. I’m usually on his good side and he doesn’t stay mad for long, so I’m not worried.”

“That’s good.” A pause. “So it’s okay if I come on Saturday?”

“Sure, sure,” Willie rushed to say. “I’m totally down for that. Uh...I just remembered that we’ve gotta get you back home. Did you know how you were gonna do that?”

“Uh yeah, I was gonna just catch the bus,” Alex said, entirely impromptu. After embarrassing himself so badly with Willie, he could override any fears about using public transportation. All he wanted to do was lift his hood over his head and pull the strings so it closed over his face.

“Got it,” Willie replied.

“But I’ll be excited to see you next Saturday,” Alex added. He saw Willie’s eyes light up a little and it made him smile in relief as he began stepping away from Willie’s door. Biting his lip in his usual cute manner, Willie nodded at him.

“See you then.”

Alex exhaled in excitement as he made his way up the steps to the street, barely able to take his eyes off Willie. Only when he couldn’t see him anymore did he force himself to turn away.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #alive au #willex #willie #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #flynn taylor #viva las vegas #net zero change #fiddlepickdouglas

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notspazztrapavacado · 4 years

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Got the inspiration for this from scpdoctor-incorrectquotes so thanks again for being cool with me writing this :)

'Frozen frustration'

Dr. Iceberg x reader (fluff?)

“Fucking GREAT.” Iceberg groaned loudly his protest to the sky, as if that would make the clouds disperse under the wrath of his less than intimidating stature.

Ice coated every concrete surface it could cing to. The hand railings, the sidewalk, most of the street, the stairs. The people responsible for pouring salt and removing the frozen layer of winter wouldn't be here for another three hours. He frowned, not wanting to sleep in the breakroom again and wanting to fall down the stairs even less.

“Mornin’ Iceman.” A familiar voice sounded from behind him and he felt his hair get ruffled, messing it up even more than it already was from his long day at work.

“(Y/n)? You’re still here?” He tilted his head and the friend in question had to stop themselves short of commenting on how cute he could be when he was tired.

“Yeah, I was helping Bright out with his filing. Guy’s the least organized bastard in this place.” (He/She) made a move to go past them, not even minding the ice as their shoe was able to successfully make an imprint in the ice. Iceberg huffed, irritated.

“You comin’?” (Y/n) asked, raising a brow as (he/she) was puzzled by his stillness.

“Can't. Shoes don’t get traction and i’m not quite heavy enough to change that.” He crossed his arms, getting a little pink in the face at the sound of a laugh.

“Need help?” (He/She) pulled (his/her) hand from (his/her) pocket and held it out, fingers splayed and wiggling to motion the offer forward.

“We’ll both eat shit on the stairs if I go down.” Iceberg made sure that part was clear as he placed his hand in (his/hers). (He/She) only laughed again.

“Alright, 50/50 chance we don’t is still good odds.” (He/She) shot him a smile and he had to return it. It might not be the best situation to find yourself holding hands with someone in, but it was better than nothing and Iceberg was a sucker for anything warmer than him. Especially hugs and hand holding. . . he shook the further thoughts of (Him/Her) away with a blush and some self scolding under his breath that was inaudible to his more optimistic co-worker.

He took a hesitant step down, feeling the lack of friction under his shoe making his weight slide towards (Y/n) a little more, his free hand reaching fast to cling onto (his/her) arm.

“Don’t go falling for me too hard, there.” (He/she) joked, making his face catch a blush again.

“Take your time.” (He/She) reassured him carefully, taking their next step down. He joined with a tentative step to the iced cement, putting yet more weight on the arm.

“You weren’t kidding about that comment on being underweight.” (He/She) made another jab at him, and he grumbled at the teasing.

“I’m stunted, okay? Now shut up so I can concentrate.” He was the one to reach the next step first, and (Y/n) watched closely as (he/she) joined him on that step.

From somewhere behind them, the current form of Dr. Clef made its way down the steps without so much as a second’s hesitation, before looking up to them with a sharp smile.

“Morning, Alto. Where ya headin?” (Y/n) was not the least bit phased, though Iceberg was bordering on upset at the casual pace the reality bender was able to descend at.

“Just here. You two’ve been out here a while and I’m just waiting for someone to bite it.” He pulled out his phone and started to record them.

“Well fuck you, too, asshole!” Iceberg raised his voice, back to being embarrassed he not only needed help with this, but that he was now being filmed about to potentially fuck up his nose on the stairs in front of two of his co workers, one of them a crush he’d been nursing like a wound for the past few months.

“Do you trust me?” (Y/n) nudged him. “Like, really trust me?” (He/She) asked.

“What are you planning?” He peered up at them. He was just a bit shorter than (him/her) due to the stunting he got from the severe anxiety of gaining too much weight in his younger teen years, and was still growing used to the fact (Y/n) was one of the only friends he had that did not instinctively hunch over a bit to look at him directly.

“If I tell you, you’ll send us down on video, you either gotta trust me or continue the pace we’re at.” He had choices. Neither of them ones he liked, but conceded to anyway.

“I trust you.” He sighed, his grip loosening on (his/her) arm.

“Up we go!” (Y/n) jutted (his/her) hands forward to be under his arms, pulling him up to his torso.

Iceberg yelped and grappled with the back of (Y/n)’s shirt, legs wrapping around (his/her) waist and stringing together several unintelligible objections to being scooped up so suddenly without warning, only growing worse as (Y/n) took off down the stairs in a run. He squeezed his eyes shut, whole body absolutely rigid with fear, waiting for impact with the ground at some point…

“Alright, we’re down.” (He/She) patted his back.

“I didn’t get what I wanted but that shit was hilarious. Imma go bother Konny.” Clef snickered and waved, earning only a glare from Iceberg as he started back up the steps.

“You want down or is it warm up here?” (Y/n) offered.

“Don’t know if that was a cold joke or a short joke.” He replied saltily… He was right though, it was very warm up here, and now that the initial shock was gone, it really wasn’t so bad.

“I think it’ll be faster if I just carry you.” (Y/n) started at a much more reasonable pace down the frozen sidewalk, not minding the extra weight one bit.

“Aren’t you cold?” He piped up, not having thought about it before.

“Not really.” (Y/n) shrugged. It was half true, (he/she) wasn’t exactly cold, though (he/she) was colder than before by just a small margin.

“My apartment is number 12.” He decided to tell him ahead of time. Most of the researchers with anomalous properties lived on site to avoid potential trackers that could tie them to the facility or raise suspicion in the local communities.

“I’m the one across from you, we’ve been neighbors a year as of last week.” (He/She) gave a small laugh at the information. Iceberg buried his face in (his/her) coat both for the added warmth and to hide the further embarrassment at how much he’d fucked up today.

“Keys?” (Y/n) asked, freeing a hand from it’s place helping the other hold him.

“Left pocket.” He instructed, not willing to let go.

“Wow, just gonna let me put my hand in your pants like this?” (Y/n) teased before locating the left pocket in question and dipping (his/her) hand in, pulling the keyring out by the loop.

“You try anything and I pull us both backwards.” He threatened.

“Not only do you think you’re heavy enough for that, but you just said you’d let me top right here in public?” (He/She) laughed, earning mildly angry silence.

(Y/n) selected the key that resembled (his/her) own and pushed it into the lock, turning it and hearing the telltale click of the old lock before pushing the door open. (He/she) set him carefully past the step and onto the warm linoleum of his well-heated house.

“Alright, you can fuck off now.” Iceberg crossed his arms.

“Awe, don’t I get a kiss on the cheek like those christmas romcoms?” (Y/n) leaned forward a bit and pointed at (his/her) cheek. He only pouted and opened his mouth to tell him off.

“You can go shove it if you think I’d thank you for scaring me half to death and being a pr-” He was cut off as (Y/n) leaned away without taking the weight shift into consideration and slipping, feet sliding around trying to get a grip in vein as they ultimately fell forward and smacked their face into the concrete slab that was his doorstep.

“Oh shit, are you alright?!” Iceberg kneeled down in near-panic for his friend. (He/She) sat up in a daze before shaking (his/her) head of the fuzziness and starting to laugh loudly.

At the sight that, other than a nasty bruise across (his/her) nose and blood gushing from said orifice, (he/she) was just fine. Iceberg, half out of relief, joined the laughing fit.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad.

#scp #scp foundation #dr iceberg #reader insert #cute #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #i think its fluff #warm #sfw #uwu

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a-lonely-tatertot · 3 years

Text

Finding Home

First / Wattpad / Ao3

A/N: EYOO BOIS! told ya id post it today once again betaed by the amazing incredible @bookwyrminspiration!

words: 4860

trigger warnings: none please tell me if you find any!

Chapter 8: Kindling

Sophie stood still as stone. She knew she was staring, how could she not stare? Her girlfriend’s twin was standing in the doorway of her once home. His hair longer than she remembered, the top gathered in a messy bun, strands framing his face. Then Sophie realized it wasn’t just his hair that was different, he was wearing glasses.

Rounded bottoms, flat tops, glass that flared in the setting sun. Tam with glasses was not something Sophie was prepared for and she only managed to gap. They were silver-framed, and sat at home perched on his nose; it made him look older, and Sophie didn't know if it was good or bad.

"What's takin' so long Tam?" Mari called out from inside the house. A second later she appeared in the doorway, a cheery smile on her face that Amelia knew would be gone the moment Mari saw her. Obviously, she was right. Mari's eyes landed on the girl in front of her and her entire body went rigid, her face going through a hundred different emotions in an instant before stopping abruptly on blank confusion.

Oh. Mari was standing right in front of her, close enough to touch. Close enough that she could smell the chocolate and the familiar scent of cinnamon and apples and freshly baked bread and cookies that would melt in your mouth. Oh, how Amilia just wanted to run into her arms and cry and apologize and beg for forgiveness until her voice was hoarse. But all she could do was stand, and stare, without the courage to even think of saying something.

None of the group had heard the footsteps approach, or the small gasp, too entrapped by their own hurricanes of emotion.

"Sophie?" a timid voice asked followed by a smaller, "Linh?"

Both girls’ heads snapped up to look at who’d broken the unforgiving silence; Sophie's eyes found Fitz's and both of their faces split into comical grins. Fitz pushed past Mari, hurried and uncoordinated, stumbling his way into Sophie's arms. A startled laugh escaped her lips as Fitz wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air like she was light as a feather. Oh, how she had missed her Fitz.

Eventually, he set her down and ruffled her hair with a grin before glancing back to the group still standing in the doorway. His eyes landed on Linh who raised her hands up in surrender immediately. "Nuh-uh, nope, don't you dare try to hug me," Linh said, her tone playfully serious.

Tam and Sophie finally locked eyes and he gave her a look that clearly said, this is what I have to deal with all the time; pity me.

Sophie didn’t.

Fitz let out a laugh before grabbing Sophie's arm and practically dragging her inside. "Come on! We've got so much to talk about!"

Giving him a weak smile, Sophie glanced back at Mari. The woman's eyes narrowed, "Yes, we really do."

Sophie prayed silently to whoever was listening that she wouldn't be dead in a ditch by the end of the day.

Fitz had pushed his way through the doorway with Sophie in tow, the rest following slowly, not quite sure what to do.

It felt weird, seeing Fitz so at home in a place the exact opposite of where he grew up. But the way he smiled easily, told everyone to take a seat, talked with Linh—if Sophie didn't know any better she'd say he’d lived here his entire life.

"So," Sophie started. The living room was crammed, not meant for the five people and all of the tension. "Can we talk?" She directed the question at Fitz (and tried to ignore the flash of emotion on Mari's face).

Fitz luckily got the hint and nodded, motioning for her to follow him into the kitchen. Oh, the kitchen. She remembered the time that Mari tried to let her make pancakes on her own, which ended with her almost burning down the house. Or the time that she and Tommy got in a food fight while Mari and Angie desperately tried to salvage dinner—until Angie got a face full of mashed potato and it became a full-out war. She missed those days. Everything was so much easier. But then she had to go and mess it all up.

"Hey? You still there?" Fitz asked, yanking her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," she said hurriedly. "So how'd you end up here?" She already knew part of the story, that Fitz left and Tam tagged along.

"Mostly impulse decision. Decided I wanted to be more than 'The Next Vacker' or whatever the hell I was supposed to be. So I ended up leaving; Tam caught me at the last second and came along. We ended up in Europe, and—-after a few failed attempts—learned how to drive and made our way through the place living in this weird RV that always smelled like cheese for some reason. And then somehow we ended up on a plane here, decided more road-tripping was needed. But the car broke down and Mari ended up helping us and let us stay a couple of nights."

Sophie laughed, "Yeah, that sounds like Mari."

"Wait, so how do you know her?"

"Uh. Well, you see, I kinda lived here for a year after showing up at her diner and her taking me in," Sophie said, her hands moving as if she was trying to grasp the explanation out of the air.

"YOU'RE AMELIA?" Fitz yelled, making Sophie almost squeak. "I totally thought that she was Mari's daughter."

She paused at the words. Mari talked about her like she was her daughter? Oh. Sophie felt like she could cry. From happiness or guilt; the jury was still out.

"Well, I kinda ran away? In the middle of the night without telling her? But she caught me and we fought and haven't seen each other since," Sophie mumbled.

"You and your attachment problems."

Sophie gaped at him, "OH! I'm sorry that I got pulled into a random world at 12 and then got betrayed, hurt emotionally and physically, and had the people I cared about die!"

"Yes, but you've got to let someone closer than an arms distance away sometimes," he said with a sigh.

"I have a girlfriend; she's closer than an arms distance!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah I noticed that, but be honest with yourself, she’s not."

Sophie only glared at him.

"Look. You've got issues to figure out with Linh and Mari but I'm not gonna make you fix 'em," Fitz said after a beat. "But Linh and Tam definitely have issues that need to be talked about or this house is going to catch on fire-"

Sophie chuckled. Ignoring her own problems to fix someone else's. She could do that.

The tension in the room couldn't get any worse. Actually, it could, but if it did the house might've blown up. Fitz, bless his soul, seemed oblivious to everything. Asking question after question, talking to Linh, asking what Sophie was studying, and so on and so on until it got frankly exhausting to answer.

The Plan—she said plan, but it was more of a vague idea and a poorly put together execution— was to get the twins to talk and be together so that at least half of the tension would go away. But no, Fitz just had to keep fucking talking. Finally, Sophie had enough. "Suggest dinner dumbass," she eloquently texted Fitz.

When his phone went off he only rolled his eyes in her general direction.

"Why don't I make some dinner?" Fitz asked, getting murmurs of agreement that sounded like music to Sophie's ears.

"I'll help!" Sophie suggested, and Mari's face twisted into poorly concealed horror as she definitely remembered how it went the last time Sophie was in the kitchen unsupervised.

"Nuh-uh," Mari shook her head. "I'm going with; I do not trust you in there." Sophie only smiled innocently; it was all going according to plan. The twins, in almost unison, glanced at each other and back at the three, trying to find a way out. Sophie went over and kissed Linh on the cheek, squeezing her shoulder.

"Don't worry, it won’t be long and I'll come back if you need me," she whispered, trying to ignore the confused looks Tam was giving her.

"You better," Linh muttered back. Sophie gave her a reassuring smile before heading into the kitchen where Mari and Fitz were discussing what to make.

"We are not having breakfast for dinner just because it’s the only thing you know how to make!" Fitz argued playfully.

"It is not the only thing I know how to make; it’s just easy!" Mari retorted. Sophie watched the exchange as they went back and forth, finally deciding on chicken and waffles ‘cause it was sort of both; though, Sophie knew that Mari had really won the argument.

When both Mari and Fitz were distracted getting things out of pantries and cupboards, Sophie secretly reached out to Linh's familiar mind.

Yes, it was wrong; Sophie knew this, but she needed to make sure that Linh was going to be okay. Sophie needed to make sure she was going to be okay. What would happen if something happened and Sophie didn't react fast enough? What if Linh needed her and she didn't know? She said she would be there if she needed her and this was her way of being there for her.

Sophie distractedly did as she was instructed, doing the small tasks like cracking eggs and grabbing ingredients. She was not permitted, unless the world was ending, to touch the stove. Sophie only laughed, knowing that Mari was being paranoid, but it was something she had learned Mari was good at. Being paranoid gave her control, gave her all the angles, even if one of them was outrageous. Sophie tried not to think about the fact that she may have added to her paranoia with her run-away-in-the-middle-of-the-night stunt.

Quickly banishing the thought from her mind she focused on Linh's thoughts. Nothing had happened, there was a tension to Linh, a million thoughts a mile an hour running through her mind, what if after what if and quite a few cuss words.

"Soo..." Tam said.

"So," Linh responded, her tone flat, clearly guarded, but her mind was whirling like a tornado.

"We should talk." Linh internally scoffed at that.

"What's there to talk about?" Tam gave her a look of disbelief.

"There's everything to talk about!"

"You left."

Tam huffed, "You told me to!" Linh stayed quiet, and Tam stared at his hands. "You made it clear as day you didn't want me there; you still don’t want me. What the hell did I do wrong, Bubbles?"

Linh let out a heavy sigh. "That’s the problem," she whispered. "You didn't do anything. You were perfectly fine. You were fine doing the same thing for eternity. You were happy. And I went and fucked it up just because I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand being there, being so lonely-"

What are you doing, Fitz's voice rang in her head and she stumbled out of Linh's mind.

Sophie's face steeled. None of your business.

Fitz let out a huff of annoyance, similar to Tam's (she wondered if they were rubbing off on each other), but ultimately went back to work. Mari didn't question the weird interaction, but Sophie got the feeling she would be interrogated later by them separately. God, she did not need an adult, a sister, and a Fitz on her back. Couldn't she just make bad decisions in peace?

Sophie was grateful for them though. The pestering of Amy keeping her in check, in the right mind, the hugs from Fitz that seemed to never stop, and the way that Mari looked at her now, conflicted between holding her and never letting go and opening the gates that kept her anger behind bars. Sophie didn't know what she did to deserve them, especially after she fucked up time and time again, but she was grateful nonetheless.

They finished dinner in silence, except for the occasional "Can you pass me that?" or "Here let me show you how to do it." It was eerily domestic and made Sophie's heart clench, even making her forget about the tense conversation happening a wall over. But she didn't dare listen in again with Fitz watching her like a hawk, annoying in his way of knowing exactly what she was thinking and doing.

Eventually, the food was placed on platters, and Sophie used her waitress skills from many long days wasting away carrying plates and large orders to customers and brought all of the food out to the dining room.

Tam and Linh had kept their distance, the tension only a little bit more breathable. At least they weren't glaring daggers, now they were just ignoring the others’ existence. Baby steps. Fitz tailed behind her, setting the table as she carefully placed the food.

They soon all sat at the table, quietly serving themselves, not quite sure what to do with everyone else. Fitz and Tam kept on sharing glances, seeming to have a silent conversation that really got on Sophie's nerves. Sophie sat on the opposite end of the table from Mari, ignoring her prodding stares. "So," Linh cleared her throat, "what have you guys been doing since you got here?"

"Oh, nothing much," Tam responded, a harsh edge to his words.

Linh leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "Oh come on. It’s been forever since I saw you last; you had to do something."

Sophie, for one, was not liking where this was going. The annoyed tone, the poking, the insistence, it was suffocating. She could tell, glancing at Fitz and Mari, that she wasn't the only one.

Tam gave a curt laugh. "Well, we did do a lot, I just didn't know if you would want to hear about how much, mmh what’s the word, better it was without you."

That hit a nerve.

Sophie watched in horror as Linh's face hardened and the water in her glass started to shake. Desperately, Sophie reached for her girlfriend's hand, only for it to be pushed away as Linh stood, startling the rest of the table—except for Tam? who looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted.

"You liar," Linh spat.

Tam stood up to meet her, a glint in his eyes as the setting sun's light hit his glasses, "How would you know I'm a liar, Linh? You told me you wanted to go, so I went. You disappeared at night, and you came back looking like shit. But you told me not to ask, and you said you didn't need me. And guess what? I fucking listened, cause that's what good siblings do: they listen. So when you told me to leave, I left and caught a ride with Fitz. And he did a better job at being a brother than you ever did as my sister!"

Fitz looked like he wanted to melt into a puddle. "Guys-" he tried, but when both Linh and Tam sent him a withering look he stopped. Sophie didn't know what to do; she didn't know who to help or even if she could. It was all too much.

"Fitz isn't your goddamn brother, he didn't go through the shit we did," Linh snapped.

Tam huffed, "Linh, when is it going to get through your thick skull? I'm not replacing you, I couldn't do that even if I tried. I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you to realize you're not okay, and I'm waiting for you to ask for help instead of waiting for it to fall apart in front of you." The looking on Tam's face and the way Linh's posture sagged made Sophie feel horribly out of place. That the moment was too intimate for her to see. Granted, that hadn't stopped her before, but that wasn’t the point. The point was Linh's face going through a hundred different emotions before she walked out the door without another word.

Sophie went to stand up, to go after her, to make sure she was okay—until she felt Tam's hand on her shoulder. He shook his head and smiled softly. "Let me talk to her," he said, and suddenly he looked too old to be the person she once knew. But she stayed where she was and let Tam go out the still-open door without an argument.

"What the hell was that?" Mari asked as soon as Tam left.

"They're twins," Fitz supplied.

"With emotional trauma and attachment issues," Sophie added. Mari only nodded and left it at that. The three finished up dinner without another word.

Light buzzes against Sophie's hand woke her up. She groaned in annoyance as the bright screen displayed Amy's name, knowing this was a call she shouldn't ignore. Slowly she found her way out of bed and Linh's arms, fumbling to answer the phone, anything to keep it from waking Linh up. She tiptoed down the hall, subconsciously taking the familiar path. Putting the phone to her ear, Amy's voice shrieked through the phone.

"HIII!" Amy screamed.

"You are way too awake at one in the morning," Sophie grumbled.

"I had a coffee around twelve in the morning, another an hour ago, and just chugged a Redbull," Amy explained as if nothing about this extreme amount of caffeine was concerning.

"And why, pray tell, did you do this?"

"Midterms." That explained everything perfectly. Amy was silent for a moment and Sophie spun around the room, eyes raking over the familiar scene she found herself in. A nightstand cluttered with chargers and books and random trinkets, a dresser void of any clothes, and a desk with the all too familiar pens she had collected and doodles she had etched into the smooth frame. On the bed, she found a familiar book that made her breath hitch and everything in her freeze. Against her will she was drawn towards it, opening the frayed frame displayed the first page of the scrapbook, a picture of Angie, Mari, Tommy, and Amilia outside of the diner.

Angie had given her the book the first and only Hanukkah she was there. It was during the middle of dinner, Amilia had her face stuffed with sufganiyot, and Tommy had come over. It was really a present to the both of them, knowing that neither would be getting anything from their respective families and a reminder that they would always have the home they had built. It was that night Amilia realized she had built herself a family, she had gained a brother and mothers. Her own makeshift family. But that had scared her to her core, being a part of something again. So she started to plan, and she gave into that horrible urge to run.

"Soph? Sophie are you okay?" Amy's voice tore through her thoughts like a light in the darkness.

"What if I fuck it all up again?" Sophie asks, her words shake, and she realizes her cheeks are wet from tears that had spilled over without her permission.

"You won’t."

"How do you know? What do I do when Linh finds out I've seen things I shouldn't have? That I've been keeping it from her? What do I do when Mari asks about who I was? What-"

"Stop." She stopped. "I need you to breathe," Amy spoke softly like Sophie was some wild animal. Over the next minute Amy counted while Sophie breathed, it was a routine at this point. Too many times had Amy walked in on Sophie barely holding herself. Eventually, Sophie's breathing calmed and so did the horrible buzzing of adrenaline in her system.

"I know that you're scared and that you have every right to be," Amy said finally into the empty silence. "But no matter what I will always be here with you okay? As you do everything I'm going to be here for you. No matter how much of a dumbass you are sometimes."

Sophie laughed dryly, "Thank you." She ignored how much it mirrored Linh's words on the bus.

They talked for a long time after, about anything and everything. About their friends at university to what Sophie's going to do about the boys. "It's weird, isn't it?" Sophie asked, watching the moon rise from the window from above her old bed.

"What's weird?"

"That we found each other so quickly that we all just seemed to be in the right place at the right time."

Amy was quiet for a minute, nothing but the sound of papers rustling to remind Sophie that she was still there. "Yeah, I guess it could be seen as weird. Maybe the universe was tired of seeing you guys dance around each other."

Sophie chuckled lightly and they left it at that as they jumped onto the next train of thought.

Sophie stepped out into the cold. Amy had hung up thirty minutes prior, leaving her in the dark next to Linh feeling ever so alone. She hadn't told her sister about the eavesdropping; she already knew what Amy would say. Sophie didn't need another lecture; it was too damn late for that. She ignored the guilt that had evidently arisen with the thoughts and had quietly snuck out of the living room, through the kitchen, and out the door. Eerily similar to the way she had the night she left, her brain unhelpfully reminded her. She winced at the steel in Mari’s voice, as she had told her not to be a coward stabbed deep in her heart.

She sat on the swinging bench outside, gently rocking herself back and forth on it. Her mind wandered, from how Mari did after she left, if she tried to go after her, she thought of Tommy and how he reacted, if he expected her to leave like the mystery boy he had fallen for. She sat and marveled at the stars and how clear they were. She thought of how the night, no matter how dark, never seemed to swallow her up, just sat like an old friend waiting.

Her thoughts surrounded her, infusing her so deeply she didn't hear the door creak open as Mari stepped through and cleared her throat, “Is this spot taken?”

Startled, Sophie shook her head, and her eyes found the plate that she was holding. It held her favorite dessert that Mari would make: a mini upside-down pineapple chocolate cake that never failed to make Sophie feel better.

They sat in heavy silence, staring off, avoiding looking at each other, instead of staring off into the trees, eating their respective mini cakes. Sophie didn't know how long it had been when Mari finally cleared her throat.

"I kept the stuff you left," she whispered.

"I- thank you," Sophie said even though she already knew because nothing else seemed to fit. A beat passed where Sophie grasped for something, anything to say to the woman next to her. Instead, she tore out an eyelash, reveling in the stab of pain she had become numb to.

"I thought you were done with that habit," Mari stated. So did Sophie. Until Linh showed up until the world decided to hate her once more.

"Old habits die hard," she shrugged.

Mari nodded, clearly having more important questions on her mind, "So...they call you Sophie, huh?"

Sophie's breath hitched. "Um yea," she stumbled. "It's a long story."

"We've got all night." And at that Sophie knew what the rest of the night was going to be, her spilling her guts about every fucked up thing that happened when she was a kid. She didn't even know how many laws she would break telling Mari everything but fuck it. Mari deserved to know.

"When I was five, I started to read minds," Sophie started softly. Mari didn't react, staying quiet for her to continue. So she did, and she told her everything. From before Fitz found her to when she left.

Mari was quiet the entire time Sophie talked, her face set in a mask, betraying none of her emotions, which made Sophie's entire stomach twist. By the time Sophie finished, fireflies had risen around the trees and grass around them. Their flickering lights were majestic, and Sophie wondered what it would be like to be a firefly. How simple it would be to be just one light in a million. She mulled over their similarities to stars, yet she remembered learning once how very far away each star was from another, what a lonely existence it must be.

They sat, Sophie still as a statue, Mari probably deciding that this random girl and her group of people were very very crazy. Finally, Mari cleared her throat, "You know I won't believe you without proof."

Sophie let out a harsh laugh, "If you did I would honestly be concerned about your sanity." Mari smiled small. Sophie cleared her throat, "So, uh what do you wanna see first?"

"Telepathy?" Mari asked, her face falling back into that mask counseling her. Sophie took a breath and closed her eyes.

She opened her mind to the world and reached forward for Mari. "Hello," Sophie transmitted and opened her eyes. Mari's eyes were blown wide and her mouth hung open slightly, her mask nowhere to be found. Sophie pulled out of her mind, closing her walls against the bombarding thoughts, and the world was quiet again.

"What the fuck," Mari breathed.

Sophie laughed, giggled more like. Maybe she was tired, maybe it was Mari's face, maybe she had hit her limit. She giggled till she was breathlessly holding her stomach. Mari only stared at her silently trying to gauge who the hell this kid was sitting next to her.

Arms were around Sophie before she knew what was happening, holding her, encasing her, like they were trying to protect her from the rest of the world. "What is this for?" Sophie whispered. It wasn't like she didn't appreciate it, honestly, she loved it, she missed motherly hugs and the way that Edaline would hold her at night when she couldn't sleep. Burying her head into Mari's shoulder, breathing in the smell of pineapple and chocolate and a home she missed so much.

"I am so sorry," Mari said. "For what they did to you, Soybean."

Sophie's eyes teared up at the name. She remembered when Mari told her about the nickname, they were in the diner closing up when Angie brought up the topic . For the next half an hour she’d smothered Mari in random nicknames, each one getting worse as the time went by. They were walking back when Mari asked her, and she said she was once called Soybean when the world was much easier.

They stayed there for who knows how long, in the cold, a thousand fireflies shining, and the warmth of a home Sophie always wanted around her.

"Sophie," a sing-song voice forced its way through her dreams, earning a grumble in return.

"She is impossible to wake up in the morning," another voice said.

"Hey, at least she sleeps," voice number three said.

"Sophiieeee, if you don’t wake up I am going to be forced to give you affection," the first voice spoke again; it was Linh, the more awake part of her brain supplied. Sophie only grumbled again, trying to bury herself under the covers once more. But in a blink of an eye the blanket was gone and she was curling around nothing, as hands were placed on her sides and kisses attacked her face. The fingers on her sides started to move and suddenly a bubble in her stomach popped and she was rolling with laughter trying to escape her girlfriend's tickles and kisses.

"I'm- I'm awake!" Sophie breathed between giggles.

Dimly, she registered who she thought was Amy say, "I think I'm going to barf," and Fitz agreeing with her while Mari ushered them out of the room with a fond look on her face.

Eventually, the torture stopped and both girls were breathless, but in the best way possible. "It's too early for this," Sophie said, flopping back down onto the bed. Linh giggled and the sound did something to Sophie's insides. Maybe it was love, she thought as she fought the shame that came from the secrets she kept (it’s not and she knows this, but maybe if she pretends it is, then it will be, then she'll be enough).

"Come on, love," Linh whispered, something in her eyes shining that Sophie didn't want to know. It would hurt too much to know.

Breakfast was a small affair; the tension had lessened. Much less like a nuke about to go off and more like a small bomb that would blow with the slightest move. Sophie and Mari's talk helped, and so did Amy's presence distracting the twins from each other.

It was nice, sitting, talking, fighting with no malice in their words. For once, Sophie felt like she was home. Sure it still needed healing, and work, and help, but it was still her home.

#weeeeee #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #sophie foster #amy foster #linh song #tam song #fitz vacker #kotlc fic #fanfic #tater writes #finding home

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Won’t You Stay (Part 12)

Summary: With the reader now acting and directing, things are about to get a bit more hectic. Until things go horribly wrong that is...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, implied past domestic abuse, arguing

A/N: Please enjoy!

_____

“Put your left foot back,” said your stunt coordinator the next morning, Jensen sipping on a coffee as he watched you rehearse on some mats. “Now get your butt in here Ackles. It’s your stunt too.”

“But coffee,” he whined, chugging it down quickly before he set the empty cup down. He jogged over and took a place by you, giving you a smile. “She has no idea what she’s gonna do, does she.”

“Y/N, we’re gonna have you flip, Jensen,” said Adam. You stared at him and then at Jensen, looking him up and down.

“I can’t flip him! Have you seen the size of him?” you said.

“Shouldn’t have written Molly getting pissed and going hulk then,” said Jensen. “It’s not a big stunt. You don’t even have a real fight scene. One little flip is all.”

“Jensen, come at her like we practiced. Slowly,” said Adam. Jensen walked in front of you and made the first move Adam had showed you. You grabbed his hand and Jensen spun you around. “Pause. Y/N. Now that your side is to him, you’re gonna use your hip to flip him.”

“Uh...” you said, Adam stepping in and taking your place.

“You’re gonna plant your feet, Jensen’s going to lean forward and then...” he said, pushing out his hip, tugging gently on Jensen’s arm and then using his hip to get Jensen up and over. He slammed back down on the mat and gave a thumbs up. “Y/N, you’re up.”

Jensen hopped up to his feet and got back in position. You started the move again, pausing when you got to lifting him up.

“You got power in those hips. Go on, use it,” said Adam.

“You won’t hurt me, Y/L/N,” said Jensen. You grabbed his hand and put out your hip, Jensen leaning forward and you felt yourself pick him up, leaning forward so you could flip him on the ground.

“Good, very good. Let’s try again a little faster,” said Adam. You reset and tried it again, Adam smiling more this time as it looked more natural. It certainly felt it. “Good. Perfect. Practice a few more times but I think you guys got this. I’m gonna grab another coffee and Jensen we’ll work your fight scene for tomorrow more when I get back.”

“He gets to enjoy his coffee,” said Jensen, rolling over on the ground.

“Can we try a few more times, grumpy?” you asked. “I’ll let you in on the secret coffee club.”

“There’s a secret coffee club?” he said, shooting up with a smile.

“Yup. Very elite. If you help me learn this stunt, I can pull a few strings and get you in,” you teased. He smirked and stepped in front of you.

“Oh, I think I’m getting in no matter what,” he said.

“Is that a fact?”

“I can be very persuasive when I want to be,” he said.

“Oh really,” you said. He hummed and wrapped his arms around you. “Not very effective.”

“It will be,” he said, dipping his head down to your neck and kissing under your jaw.

“Cheater,” you growled, giggling when it started to tickle.

“Morning kids,” said your dad, Jensen practically jumping away from you. “I’m not interrupting am I?”

“Practicing a stunt,” you said, Jensen nodding quickly. Your dad looked him up and down.

“That what they’re calling it nowadays,” he smirked. “Don’t mind me. Carry on.”

“Just uh, really go for it this time,” said Jensen. You nodded as you started the move again, your dad humming as you flipped Jensen over.

“Jensen, get a bit closer to her. She won’t need to put out her hip so far and it won’t look as rough,” said your dad. He shrugged as he got back up, your dad rolling his eyes when Jensen got into a new position. “No, get up behind her, like touching.”

“Like this?” asked Jensen, his thigh brushing the back of your leg.

“Yeah. Try it that way. You’ll both save your backs a bit,” he said. You tried flipping Jensen again and it felt like one smooth motion that time, your dad giving a thumbs up. “Much better.”

You practiced a few more times before Adam returned and you swapped out with your dad, he and Jensen going over a fight scene.

“Jensen, come find me when you’re done here,” you said.

“Will do, pretty girl.”

“Reporting for duty,” said Jensen, knocking on the door of your office up in the production suite an hour later. You smiled and finished typing an email, sending it off. “I was hoping I could get in on this coffee deal before we start filming soon.”

“You going to try giving me a hickey again?” you said as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“Only if you want,” he said, flashing a wink your way. You laughed and headed out to the hall with him. “I take my coffee very seriously so I hear about a secret coffee club, I’m in.”

“You know how my dad and some people stop over to the workshop in the morning where they build sets? Check out office B sometime,” you said.

“Why not now?” he said.

“Because I have to go to a staff meeting,” you said. “Unfortunately.”

“You could always skip,” he said.

“I don’t think I can. But head over and grab some before we get going. We’ll start in twenty minutes,” you said. “Okay? I’ll be over soon.”

“There she is,” said your dad when you finally made it to set half an hour later. “You forget where work was?”

“Can everyone gather around?” you called. You walked over to the center of set, waiting a beat for the crew to get together. You shut your eyes and let out a slow breath of air, reluctantly opening them. “Alright guys. I just had a meeting with the studio execs. Apparently a complaint was made yesterday about the slowness of filming scenes I was involved in. I would have preferred whoever it was came to me or their supervisor directly but it’s too late for that now. The studio decided that I can either continue as the director on this project or I can be an actor. I apparently lack the experience necessary to manage a project of this scale while doing both.”

You took another deep breath and sighed.

“I…” you said, finding your dad’s face in the crowd. “I have decided-“

“It was me,” he said. You stared at him, your face falling. “Can we discuss this in private?”

He stepped forward and grabbed your hand, pulling you outside.

“Kiddo-“

“No,” you said, shrugging him off. “I...I just told them I would stop production so they can find a new actress. Either way this thing is dead. They’ll never pick it back up now so thanks for that.”

“Y/N-“

“Fuck you,” you said as you stormed away. You felt his hand on your arm and you turned around. “Stay away from me. Forever.”

“Y/N,” he said.

“You know, this book, this movie, has been the one fucking happy thing in my life the past year and you had to go and rip it away from me because I ran us late one fucking day,” you said. “You gave me six fucking hours to figure out how to manage everything before you went and pulled the carpet out from under me. Six hours. I was delegating today, I was figuring it out but apparently it was too fucking late for you.”

“Kiddo-“

“No. Just stop. Big fucking movie star, always gets his way. Well work is cancelled. Go the fuck home. You don’t have to worry about being late now,” you said. You could feel the tears running down your face and knew you couldn’t go back inside and talk to everyone like that.

“You can’t do both. I could see how overwhelmed-“

“I am not a child!” you shouted back. “You do not make those decisions for me! Who the fuck are you to say I can’t do something? Fuck you. You’re a fucking shitty dad. I would have been better off with the bitchy dead mom.”

He stared at you as you wiped off your face with your shirt. You walked back onto set, ignoring the looks you were getting.

“As I was saying, I decided to keep my directorial role. Production is going on hiatus while the project searches for a new female lead,” you said, voice cracking. “It’s unclear how long that will be but the estimate given to me was for months. Information will be sent out by email later today. I apologize for the delay and look forward to working with everyone again soon.”

You practically ran out of there, making your way towards your production office when a hand caught your wrist and started to drag you along after them. You looked up, Jensen pulling your hat down over your face as you started to cry harder.

“Almost there,” he said, a trailer door opening. He locked it after himself and he set you down on his couch, kneeling down in front of you. “Hey. Hey. When they find a new lead-“

“It’s dead. After today, it’s never gonna happen. I know it’s just a stupid movie and it doesn’t matter-“

“It’s not a stupid movie. It’s yours. It’s not stupid,” said Jensen, wiping off your face and brushing his thumbs under your wet eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you did great yesterday.”

“I can’t believe it was my dad who complained. He’s not supposed to hurt me,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why does everyone hurt me, Jens? What’s wrong with me? I’m so pathetic. We need to stop this before you find whatever it is that’s wrong too.”

“Hey,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m falling for you and I’m not leaving. There’s nothing wrong with you. I don’t know why your dad did that but I don’t think he wanted to hurt you.”

“Too fucking late,” you said. “I was so mad and...I just said something horrible to him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Jensen. “You’ll get past it, both of you will.”

“I can’t,” you said. “If it was anyone else...I was so proud of this stupid thing.”

“Honey,” said Jensen quietly. You shook and he sat up on the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap. “You’ll be okay. It’ll come back.”

“I’m sorry. Now you don’t have a job or a paycheck-”

“Y/N, stop freaking out. Don’t worry about the rest of us,” he said. You sighed into his chest and he ran a hand up and down your back for a few minutes until you’d calmed down.

“Thank you,” you mumbled eventually, Jensen kissing the top of your head. “Sorry I’m such a shitty girlfriend. This is supposed to be the fun part of the relationship.”

“I think the whole thing is supposed to be the fun part,” he said. You lifted your head up, a smile on his face making you feel a little better. “Despite what you may think, I’ve been having fun this whole time. Relationships and lives aren’t perfect. I don’t want a perfect one. That’s boring. I’ll take this and you, however that looks.”

“Okay, fanboy,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“There she is,” he said, smushing his cheek against yours, a bit of peace returning to you.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder.

“No. Whatever happened in the past, you didn’t deserve that,” he said.

“I cheated on Logan,” you said.

“He sounds like he definitely deserved it,” said Jensen.

“It was a hookup, guy I met at a bar. Nice guy but it’s all it was. I came home that night, back to my apartment with Logan and if I thought I’d seen him angry before, that was nothing,” you said. “I just wanted to be with a nice guy, someone kind, just for a minute.”

“You should be with a nice guy for a lot longer than a minute,” said Jensen. “I think you were justified to do what you did. Don’t feel bad over that.”

“I don’t. I regret it because that’s when it went from controlling to worse,” you said. “After a week of getting pushed around, I left but by then I was so beaten down and he’d fucked up my head and then my book got picked to become a movie. I was so happy, for the first time in over two years, I was happy,” you said. “I hung onto it too hard and that’s why it hurts so much to lose it.”

“You didn’t hang on too hard. I’m glad you found that thing to pull you out. It’s not the only thing you have to cling to though, Y/N. Not anymore,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“I’m not putting that on you.”

“Too late. It’s my job,” he said. You didn’t say anything and felt his chest rumble. “You have your family too.”

“No I don’t. I can never tell my siblings about Logan,” you said.

“What about your mom?”

“She loves dad, not me,” you said.

“That’s not true and you know it,” he said. “She’s your mom.”

“She wanted him, not me. She’ll pick him,” you mumbled.

“Is that what Logan told you?” he asked. You kept your mouth shut and Jensen sighed. “Don’t give that fuckface anymore control, Y/N. You’re not alone. You never were.”

“I can’t talk to them,” you said. “What if she got mad about him being late last night?”

“Y/N, stop spinning your wheels. I’ve met your parents and your dad is my friend. They love you. I’m sure he thought he was doing something to help,” he said.

“Yes, clearly it helped,” you said.

“Why don’t I take you home?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said with a nod. “It’s not like I have to go back to work now.”

It was nighttime when you finally got an email from the production office. You tapped it open, frowning and quickly sitting up from the couch.

“What the fuck…” you said. You read the email about fifteen times before you were calling Mark and AJ. “Guys, did you read the email?”

“Yeah. I thought we were dead in the water. Apparently we’re just on a filming break until Monday while we figure out a plan for directing duties while you film scenes? Did you have some other kind of meeting we don’t know about?” asked Mark.

“No. This project was on hiatus last I knew,” you said.

“Unless someone higher up changed their mind, I don’t know how we caught this break,” said AJ. You stood up and went to your closet, grabbing a jacket. “Y/N?”

“I think I have an idea of what happened. Or who. I’ll see you guys at the office eight tomorrow morning? We can map everything out,” you said.

“Yeah, sounds good boss,” said AJ. “You okay? You ran out of there pretty quick today. We tried looking for you but you were gone.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you said. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

You hung up and called Jensen, his phone going to voicemail. You tried again and got the same thing. When you were about to redial a text came in from your dad.

Come over. Jensen’s here. We need to talk.

You stared at the phone and squeezed your eyes shut before you grabbed your keys and were gone.

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

169 notes · View notes

seokstyle · 4 years

Text

critical condition (m) - 2

pair: hoseok x reader, light jungkook x reader (series) themes: med student!reader, nurse!hoseok, lots of medically-related flirting genre: smut, some fluff, future angst warnings: jealousyyyyy, alcohol, nothing too crazy (yet 👀)

you knew that your first rotation as a medical student was going to have its challenges. you did not anticipate one of those challenges to be dealing with a handsome ER nurse who won’t give you a break.

word count: 4k

part 1 | masterlist

“No, I am not going to call in pretending to be your dad and tell the ER secretary you’re sick.”

“Some friend you are, huh Joon,” you slump back in the cafeteria chair. “You know I would’ve done the same for you. They would’ve bought it if I told them it was food poisoning! AND,” you point your plastic knife at him for emphasis, “I could have given them a differential on what I think caused my symptoms, but no,” you grumble.

“Oh, come on, you know they would never buy it,” Namjoon laughs as you pout. “Weren’t you telling me a few days ago about how things have gotten a little easier?”

“Well... they kinda had, but-”

“No, no buts!” He puts up his hands to stop your protests. “No more selling yourself short! You even got praise from the attending, right?”

You nod hesitantly. Yes, you had told your friend about how the case presentation had gone okay with the tough-to-impress attending earlier, and you definitely had been a little more relaxed on your rotations since that day. Riding the confidence boost from that performance, you had been impressing the resident and attending physicians more and more with each day since.

“See? Besides,” Namjoon continues, “what good would it do to avoid whatever is bothering you? We don’t run from our problems, Y/N. We face them head on!”

You listen quietly to your friend’s lecture, twirling spaghetti around your fork and cursing his tendencies to slip into motivational speaker mode. Unlike you, Namjoon was blissfully unaware of what had transpired that day with Hoseok.

But you were definitely, definitely aware of the last time you saw him. And also aware that the reason you had been so relaxed was that you hadn’t had overlapping shifts scheduled with Hoseok since then.

Until today, that is.

You had no idea what to expect. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your evaluations; you trusted him enough to know that. But still, a 12 hour shift with Hoseok on your team after that stunt he pulled? It was filled with too many uncertainties for you to stay calm at this moment.

“Hey, are you okay?” You snap out of your thoughts. Namjoon is looking at you, concern etched across his features. “I know I’m messing around, but you have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

You smile. “I’m okay, Joon, I promise.” You extend your pinky out to him, a gesture to show you really meant it. He grins, wrapping his pinky around yours and squeezing. “Now go! You’re gonna be late!”

“Ah, shit,” he curses as he glances at the cafeteria wall clock, springing up from his seat with his dinner tray in hand. “Good luck, you got this!” he calls out to you, as he makes a mad dash back to the pediatric wing. You slump back in your seat with a sigh. Yeah, you’re gonna need all the good luck you can get.

You had continued under Seokjin’s charge for the past few days, and he had been gracious enough to not bring up the elephant in the room of what he had walked into that night. He had texted you last minute this morning to let you know he was off today and you would be under another resident’s charge tonight. You were thanking your lucky stars. After seeing how red his ears turned when he opened the supply closet on you both, you don’t think either you or Jin could have survived a shift with all three of you there at once.

As your luck would have it though, you and Hoseok have arrived at the same time, and before the resident. So now you are both here alone. Together.

He’s standing off to your left, reviewing charts assigned to you both on the mobile computer station. “So, how was your week without me? I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Hoseok teases. You stiffen in response, avoiding eye contact. Were you supposed to pretend like you hadn’t been caught in a supply closet together in a very implicated position a week ago? Suddenly the floor tiling pattern seems so much more interesting than it did the last time you were in this part of the ER.

Hoseok frowns. “Hey, is everythi-”

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You startle, turning around to see who is calling you and have to physically stop your jaw from dropping open. Yet another incredibly handsome man in scrubs has appeared in front of you, trying to read your work badge to confirm your identity. Is it a requirement to be unbelievably attractive to work at this hospital?

Oh! This must be the resident Seokjin told you about!

“Yes, that’s me! And you must be Dr. Jeon?”

He laughs. “Please, call me Jungkook! I look forward to working with you,” he smiles and offers his hand. You shake it eagerly, noting the intricate tattoos adorning his arm. You hope you will be half as cool as him when you’re a resident. “Dr. Min had an emergent situation come up in trauma but he told me to handle admissions on our own for now.”

He turns his attention to the person behind you. “Hey man, it’s been a while since we worked shift together. How have you been Hoseok?”

“It’s been all right, it’s good to see you too,” Hoseok greets him, and you chance looking over in his direction. He grins at you and winks, and you feel your cheeks warm. Suddenly the floor pattern is of top interest again. “I think you’re going to enjoy working with Y/N, she always keeps me on my toes.”

Jungkook sent you in on the first case of the day alone. He said that he wanted to see how you perform so that he can better give you tips and pointers on how to improve, and that you can see the rest of patients that day together after he has an idea of what he’s working with. Hoseok is scribing for you, the mobile computer pulled over to the side of the room by the door while you work up your patient.

You list off whatever you’ve covered so far. You know you got HPI, social history, family history, past medical conditions, medications, and review of systems when you were taking the history. You performed the cardiology exam, pulmonary exam, abdominal exam (which you will never forget again), but nothing else seems to come to mind.

Still, you run through your mental list again in your mind to be sure. It was important to you to nail the first patient presentation of the shift. Making a good impression on the new resident was critical, especially seeing how it took days before the last attending had full faith in you again.

You turn to Hoseok out of habit to ask him. Before you can open your mouth, he turns and raises his eyebrows at you, staring back blankly. “Yes?”

You are taken aback, but press onwards. Surely he’ll be professional in front of a patient. “I just wanted to double-check with you if there’s anything you think might be pertinent that I might have overlooked?”

He raises his brow again, then turns back to type away at the computer. “I think you’ve made it clear you’re plenty capable of handling things without my help, don’t you think?”

Though he isn’t facing you anymore, you can hear the smirk in his voice. You turn away from him, annoyed. You were completely on your own for this one. You smile at the patient, who is wincing from pain and probably wants you out of his room as soon as possible. “I think I’ve asked and examined everything I need to at this time, sir! We will be back with the doctor shortly, and I’ll see if we can do something to manage your pain in the meantime.”

The three of you decide to set up shop at a computer station embedded into the emergency department hallways, just outside of the infamous conference room where you last made a fool of yourself in front of the attending and Seokjin. Hoseok is scribing off to the side, waiting for you to dictate your findings. He turns in your direction waiting for you to begin, and you nearly snap your neck trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“Okay, Y/N, ready when you are,” Jungkook says, smiling at you encouragingly.

You take a deep breath. “Our patient is a 55 year old male presenting with epigastric pain that radiates to his back. The pain began earlier this afternoon and was not relieved from taking Tylenol. He rates his pain as a 9 out of 10 in severity, constant and dull in quality, and the pain is relieved only from lying completely still.” Jungkook hums in agreement, scanning the chart while you present. You scan your mind for what else was most relevant from your discussion with the patient. “Social history is significant for alcohol use for the past 35 years, he says he drinks around 2-3 beers every evening. Family history was insignificant. Pertinent positives from review of systems include severe nausea and vomiting accompanying onset of pain earlier today.”

“Okay,” Jungkook muses. “That was a really thorough history, nice work. What about the physical exam?”

“Vitals showed a fever of 101.6°F, tachycardic at 110 BPM, and hypotensive at 110/70. On abdominal exam the patient had decreased bowel sounds and exhibited tenderness and guarding upon palpation of the upper quadrants, especially. Cardiac exam was regular rate and rhythm, no murmurs or rubs, and lungs were clear to auscultation bilaterally.”

Jungkook nods approvingly. “Very good! You’re a natural,” he remarks. “I liked how you organized info, and didn’t just word-dump everything or forget critical components. How long have you been in the ER?”

“This is my second week.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Only week 2 and you already have your own style and prioritization put together? I’m impressed.” You beam from the approval, not noticing how Hoseok’s usually cheery disposition has been replaced by a sulk as he watches the resident praise your presentation skills.

“So,” Jungkook finishes going over the chart and turns to face you directly. You can’t help but feel a little nervous despite his praise, especially when all of his attention is on you. “What’s your differential?”

“Well,” you start a little nervously, “top of my list is definitely acute pancreatitis, especially since epigastric pain radiating to the back is textbook for that condition, along with heavy alcohol use and nausea & vomiting. But,” you add quickly, remembering how Seokjin advised you to not latch on to one diagnosis when examining a patient, “it could also be… acute peritonitis! Or a neoplasm!”

Jungkook laughs. “I appreciate you offering multiple differentials, that’s always good to get in the habit of thinking that way. Though it sounds to me like your original was pretty spot-on.” You smile again and Hoseok mopes a little more as he types away at the computer.

“Actually, do you want to know a tip on how to confirm acute pancreatitis while you’re still doing the exam?” “Of course! That would be great, if you don’t mind,” you answer excitedly.

He grins in response, getting up from his stool and motioning for you to sit down in his place. You do so, a little confused, and he comes around to stand beside you. You realize that he’s going to show you how to do the trick on you. Oh. “All you have to do is sit the patient upright like this,” he places his hands on your shoulders, “and bend them forward like this,” he gently pushes you over until you’re hunched over at a 45° angle. “The pain should be so much better because the pancreas won’t be stretched out as much!”

You know it’s strictly clinical, but you can’t help but blush at the close proximity and the feel of his hands on you. Right at that moment, you happen to look up and meet eyes with Hoseok. He turns away abruptly and you barely see it but his expression... was that… jealousy?

“See? It’s super easy!” He pulls you back up to a normal sitting position. “Sometimes those patients will even be in a fetal position because it does the same trick while they’re laying down. Neat, huh?” You nod eagerly. “Now go check in on your patient and see if that maneuver helps confirm your diagnosis or not.”

“Thank you so much, that’s so helpful! You’re the best, Jungkook, what would I do without you?” you gush, touching his arm lightly as you get up to leave. Maybe you’re overdoing it a little, acting too exaggeratedly. But it’s worth it to see Hoseok’s jaw set in annoyance as he keeps typing away at the computer.

Jungkook is taken aback slightly, but smiles and nods in response. “Of course, it’s no problem! Now let’s go check on your patient together and see what a good assessment and plan would be for him.”

The rest of the shift flys by, to your surprise, and before you know it’s already time to clock out. You’re finishing up the last of your notes at one of the computer stations when you see Jungkook approaching. Usually Jin says his goodbyes and leaves you for the last hour so he can finish up loose ends. Was he coming over because you messed up something? Did you forget the write-up for room 4? Or sign off on room 8’s chart incorrectly? Or bring someone apple juice instead of orange?

“Hey,” he interrupts your panicked mental checklist, “I wanted to say thank you for making my shift a little bit easier and a little bit more fun,” he says, smiling warmly. “Some of the other staff were talking about going out for drinks later if you wanted to join?”

You’re a little dumbfounded from the offer. The cool resident wanted to hang out with you? You must be taking too long to reply, because Jungkook starts offering more details unprompted. “No pressure of course,” he adds. “The other residents were inviting some students so I thought I’d ask, not to overstep any boundaries or anything,” he continues a little nervously, “and I had asked a few of the other nurses like Hoseok to come too -”

Hoseok was going?

“But seriously you don’t have t-”

“I’d love to come! It’s so sweet of you to invite me,” you respond suddenly, taking both of you by surprise. “I’ll uh, get your number from Seokjin, let me know what time and where. I look forward to it!” You swipe your badge and log out, done with your notes, leaving Jungkook behind in his confusion.

Jungkook had texted you the location and meet-up details right as you were leaving your house, having taken a quick nap and freshened up after your shift before heading out again for the night. As you enter, you spot Jungkook sitting in a booth with a few of the other ER staff. You spot some other familiar faces, like the two radiology techs always glued at the hip, and of course Hoseok. You involuntarily suck in your breath. His crisp, white button-down under a leather jacket paired with ripped black jeans is so simple, yet still puts his scrubs to shame. He looks up from his conversation with one of the radiology techs (was that one Jimin, or was it Taehyung, you can’t remember), as if he felt you staring, but Jungkook gets up before either of you can react.

“Hey! You made it, Y/N,” he greets you excitedly. “Here, let’s sit over at the bar for a bit.” Not with everyone else? Not with Hoseok? “Thank you so much for coming, it’s good to see you.” He pulls the barstool back and gestures for you to sit down, in very chivalrous fashion.

“No, thank you! I forgot I haven’t been to this bar since before board exams, and I missed it so much,” you sigh. Many drunken birthday and post-exam celebrations were made here during your first two years of medical school. “I think I deserve a drink for what this rotation has put me through already,” you tease.

He laughs in response. “I think that’s only fair. What would you like?”

Wait he’s actually buying you a drink? You were just joking! “Oh no,” you protest, “that’s okay! You don’t have to do that!”

He laughs again sweetly. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to! Think of it as my treat for the fun I had thanks to you today.” He gets the bartender’s attention. “This place has the best green tea shots, would that be okay with you?”

You nod your consent a little tentatively, and Jungkook proceeds with his order. The last time you had green tea shots here was after your gross anatomy final. To this day, neither you nor Namjoon can remember what happened that night. You do know that you woke up with a tray of fries in your bed the next morning, so it must have been a good time either way.

“All right, here you are!” Jungkook passes you your shot glass. “To a great shift, and many more together!” He lifts the drink in cheers, clinking glasses with you.

Right as you are about to tip the drink back, you make eye contact with Hoseok over Jungkook’s shoulder. His eyes are steely and he looks like he is fuming inside. If Hoseok was jealous of you getting clinical skill tips from Jungkook, you can only imagine how riled up he must be from seeing him buy you a drink. You shouldn’t be excited, but you can’t help but feel a thrill run down your back by seeing him react like this.

You tip the drink down your throat, keeping your eyes locked with Hoseok the entire time. The burn from the alcohol feels good and the shot is sweet, but seeing his jaw clench in anger is even more delicious. Last time he got to be so bold with you, it was only fair for you to reciprocate, wasn’t it? “Here, Jungkook,” you turn to the resident, “how about another round? This one’s on me.”

Hoseok has had it.

It’s already been hard enough faking paying attention to whatever Jimin and Taehyung have been going on and on in some passionate discussion all night before you made your entrance. Something about a video game about animals? That cross over horizons? He couldn’t guess if he tried. But ever since you had arrived, he couldn’t stop glancing over to your and Jungkook’s silhouettes every few moments.

It also didn’t help that you had shared round after round of shots with Jungkook. Giggling away at whatever jokes he had been making, resting your hand on his bicep, fluttering your lashes at him. And still had the audacity to look over at Hoseok and bite your lip every once in a while. He was infuriated. You had been too meek and timid to talk normally when you were at work, to the point that he was worried he had upset you or made you uncomfortable. He didn’t even get a chance to check in with you and clear things up. But you suddenly had the nerve to send him suggestive stares while another man was buying you drinks?

He needed to clear his head.

He gets up and excuses himself for the restroom, leaving Jimin and Taehyung alone to fervently argue over the turnip economy crashing and Tom Nook’s capitalist ways. He enters the single stall bathroom, turning the faucet on to splash his face with cold water. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, dude, he thinks to himself. He would have to get your attention later, when you were sober, and finally talk things out. Maybe the next time you were on shift you would let him. He just had to prepare himself to get through whatever show you were trying to put on tonight.

He grabs the handle, takes a deep breath in, and turns it to come face to face with you, letting out a little “oh!” sound of surprise. He takes in your doe-eyed appearance and stops dead in his tracks.

He had thought you were pretty when you were running on 6 hours of sleep (on a good day) in your ratty hospital scrubs, hair tied up and errant loose strands strewn about your face, coffee in hand as you ran from end to end of the emergency department. But this blew that out of the water. The red jumpsuit you had picked had a tasteful level of cleavage, just the right mix of sexy but still classy enough to wear in front of professional colleagues. That combined with a red-stain pout, long lashes, and your black peep toe heels, he feels a little bit breathless as he drinks you in.

Actively ignoring how his heart skips a beat, he stops checking you out and instead steels himself to question you on why you are a) unwilling to talk to him, yet b) trying to eye fuck him AND the resident at the same time, and c) following him into the bathroom.

“What,” he starts firmly, “are you trying t-”

“I’m sorry!”

He’s startled from your sudden outburst. “What?”

“I just wanted to say I’m really really really sorry for lying about and saying that you were the one who messed things up when it was really me who messed things up,” you ramble. “And I made you look bad and you’re not bad, you’re always good to everyone! You’re always good to me!”

Hoseok can’t help but to chuckle, confusion coloring his laugh. “What are you talking about?”

You sway on your feet and stumble a bit forward towards him. He catches you, restoring your balance and holding you steady by the shoulders gently. It is very apparent that you are drunk, likely the drunkest you have been in a long time, but you don’t let that deter you. “The really bad day! Where I messed up the physical exam and said it was your fault!”

Oh. He is taken aback; he had no idea that you were carrying around so much guilt over this. Was that why you had been avoiding talking to him at the hospital? “Well,” he begins, “would it make you feel better to know that your apology is accepted?” You contemplate his words, humming to yourself, then nod. He smiles. “Okay good, because I really don’t mind that much. I didn’t know you were that upset about it though,” he adds.

“Well, I have been,” you huff. He bites his lip to keep a laugh from escaping. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you for foreverrrrrrr but I didn’t get a chance!” You close your eyes, buzzing with contentment, a weight lifted off of your chest. He smiles for a split second at your reaction, until you suddenly open them again to eye him suspiciously. “Hey, wait a minute,” you exclaim, gears turning in your mind. “I didn’t get a chance because someone,” you poke him in the chest with your finger to emphasize your point, “decided to force me into a closet,” you poke him again, “and make me all hot and bothered instead of listening! So really,” another jab to the chest, “it’s your fault that I’m feeling guilty!”

“Hey, easy now!” Hoseok grabs your finger before you can poke him again. You pout at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp to no avail. It makes his heart melt, just a little. He pulls you in closer with the finger he’s holding, smirking at your surprised expression. “If I remember correctly…,” he leans in to whisper in your ear, hearing your breath hitch, “I don’t think you had many complaints, did you?”

a/n: long time, no see, i know! i got caught up with school and studying this year but quarantine has my creative juices flowing again, so i’m planning on finishing this series soon (fingers crossed!!). thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! <3

#btswriterscollective #btswritersguild #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #hoseok x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic #jung hoseok #jhope x reader #jhope fanfic #bts #jhope #bangtan au #medical au #jhope scenario #nurse hoseok #my writing

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clintbartonswife · 5 years

Text

Archer’s Luck

Pairings: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes, Steve x Sam if you squint Summary: Fallen from his perch and impaled by one of his own arrows, Clint would say that his day isn’t going too greatly. @whumptober2019 #23 : Bleeding out Warning: clint’s a gay disaster, mutual pining masterlist || whumptober masterpost

“Aw, gravity no”

Clint’s day has been pretty shitty even if he did say so himself.

To start with, he had fallen asleep with his hearing aids in, leaving his ears feeling gammy and slightly sore and he didn’t even have any coffee in his apartment when he woke up, leaving him in a grouchy mood.

Then while he was getting dressed to go get coffee he got a call from Nat telling him to come into the tower, meaning he didn't even have time to run to the shitty coffee shop down the street because Nat would know, and Clint didn't need to deal with that today. He knew how to pick his battles.

So, when Clint turns up to the Tower, coffee deprived and aching for sleep, who else would he run into but Bucky fucking Barnes wearing the sweater that makes Clint drool. Needless to say, he gets shouted at during the briefing for not paying attention (and receives multiple knowing smirks from Natasha, who by now was making Clint rethink their whole friendship) and is in an even worse mood by the time they’re set to jet off.

When Clint has a few spare minutes to get coffee, he gets distracted again by Bucky who decided that now would be a good time to do some pre-game stretches that send Clint’s mind down a very dirty hole which make him a little uncomfortable in the tight trousers of his uniform.

Clint gets on the jet without his damn coffee and sends Nat a glare as she snorts at his predicament, muttering under his breath about Bucky and ‘his stupid Adonis body’.

Of course the mission wouldn't have gone any better. Within the first few minutes he had already stubbed his toe on the side of a building (definitely not because he was distracted by Bucky putting his hair into a bun) and got hot in the shin by a flying piece of shrapnel.

Then there was the matter of climbing the 12 flights of stairs in the apartment building to get to his vantage point on the roof because Tony and Sam were ‘too busy to carry his fat ass up to the top and he could probably use the cardio anyway’. Clint had just flipped them both off before beginning the run up the stairs, scowling as he positioned himself on the roof.

From then on he got into his mission groove, hitting every shot and covering everyone’s six. That is, until a group of hostiles on the ground lock onto him, getting a lucky shot that destroys the piece of brickwork that he was standing on which sends him tumbling to the ground below.

Whilst falling from the incredibly tall height, Clint realises exactly 3 things.

One: the arrow he had been about to shoot had become dislodged from his bow and buried itself in Clint’s side and it hurt like hell.

Two: his eyes seemed to have locked onto Bucky as he fell, watching as the man scrambled from his position to try and catch him. Clint was also vaguely aware of him shouting into his earpiece, something along the lines of ‘useless tin can’

Three: Clint still hadn’t had his fucking coffee.

Bucky had been having a generally good day which, for him, was an incredible feat in itself.

He had 5 hours sleep, untainted by nightmares, meaning that Steve slept through the whole night and gave him one of his ‘proud dad smiles’ that made him feel warm inside.

His favourite cereal was restocked in the kitchen, Sam was out with a friend and the floor was peaceful and quiet.

Then the alarm sounded for a mission, which would normally be a bad thing, but Natasha had called in Clint. That man had been the centre of Bucky’s affections for months, his clumsy nature never failing to lighten up his days.

He should’ve felt suspicious at how well everything was going - god forbid things go well for Bucky Barnes - because of course Clint decides today would be a good day to fall of a fucking roof.

“Tony, you useless tin can! Catch him” he shouted, finishing off the hostile he was fighting before rushing over to the building.

“Barnes I cant -“

“Fucking hell Stark!”

Bucky held back a scream as he watched Clint’s body hit the concrete with a heavy smack, instead speeding up, falling to his knees beside him.

“Clint - Clint” Bucky urged, hands falling on his arms, turning him on his back so that the arrow wasn’t digging into him any deeper, “c’mon”

The blond groaned, head turning to the side jerkily.

“Aw, gravity, no”

Bucky let out a wet laugh, putting pressure on the wound, trying to stem the blood that was gushing out of the hole in his side.

“You’re an idiot Clint”

“You flatter me Buck” he smiled weakly, eyes locking on to his face, “Wait - why are you crying?”

“I’m not”

“Yeah - your eyes are wet” Clint protested, hand reaching up to wipe the tears from his face, “stop it. Y’face is too pretty to cry”

Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck, the slightly slurred compliment surprising him.

“I think you might’ve hit your head”

“No, no. I didn’ get m’ coffee today, ‘s why ‘m tired” Clint explained earnestly, “I was gonna but y’ distract’d me with y’ stretches”

Tony took that time to appear, snorting at Clint’s confession.

“Well, that’s one way to confess his love I guess”

“What?”

“Oh come on Barnes, you two have been tiptoeing around that for months. Now move so I can get him to medical”

Bucky just stood back, hands slick with Clint’s blood, mind racing with this new information.

He was fucked.

Apparently falling from a roof is enough reason to be shouted at by an angry Natasha Romanoff.

“- third time this year Clint! I swear to god I’ll make you wear a parachute next time we go on a mission -“

Bucky had been sat outside the hospital room for a few hours, not wanting to intrude on the best friends while they were talking (well - Nat was shouting and Clint was forced to listen), waiting for an opportunity to talk to the archer.

Tony’s previous comment had been plaguing him ever since, distracting him for the rest of the battle, so much so that Steve had thought he’d been activated again and almost punched him.

Bucky felt nervous. Honest to god, pit in your stomach, nervous. Which, for a tortured assassin of 70 years, sounds absolutely ridiculous. Yet the idea of voicing his feelings to Clint made him want to run back to Russia and hide for years.

He had told Steve this (after a lot of very concerned questions from the man) and had just received a hearty laugh and pat on the back, which didn’t help him in the slightest. Sam had overheard and snorted, muttering something about ‘emotionally stunted supersoldiers’, though he felt like that wasn’t entirely aimed at him.

The shouting had finally stopped, door swinging open to reveal Nat in all her angry glory. She nodded curtly to Bucky before walking away, jaw clenched and eyes misty.

“You gonna come in or not?” Clint called, “I could use the company”

Bucky huffed a laugh, hauling himself off of the chair and into the room, eyes immediately dragging over his body for any injuries he might have missed earlier.

“You scared us today” he said, eyes finally landing on Clint’s face, “falling like that. You said some interesting stuff though”

A faint blush coloured Clint’s cheeks, “Oh yeah? What did I say that was so interesting”

Bucky felt a surge of confidence at Clint’s embarrassment, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he leaned against the hospital bed.

“Oh, you know, you called me pretty and - what was it again - oh yeah! My stretches were distracting”

A small wounded noise escaped from the man, the blush spreading down his neck as he avoided eye contact.

“Are you sure I said that?”

“Yep” Bucky grinned, his reaction giving him the final push he needed, “question is: did you mean it?”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky moved so that he was near Clint’s head, leaning down so that their lips were brushing.

“So, tell me Barton” he said, voice low, “am I reading this right?”

No words were needed as Clint lifted his head up slightly, connecting their lips in a soft kiss. A small noise escaping the back of Bucky’s throat as Clint’s hands tangled in to his hair, pulling slightly on the silky strands.

“Fuck” Clint murmured as they pulled apart, lips swollen, “About time you did that Buck”

Bucky laughed, pressing another quick kiss to his lips, before resting their foreheads against each other.

“No fucking in the hospital beds! Rogers, your boy should know better”

“Leave them alone Tony, they’re having a moment”

“You’re not the one who’ll have to pay the dry cleaning bill-“

________________________________________________________________

Tags: @xxloki81xx @geeksareunique @bangtan-serendipity

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cocoisbestgirl · 5 years

Text

Fanfic I can’t think of a name for pt 12

“Ah, Miss Magda how have you been! It must be exhausting having to hide!” Kelly said smiling as she walked beside Magda.

“Well, ah..kinda. I’ve been very nervous recently..”

“Oh! What for, tell me!”

“I’m sure you already know of me getting poisoned?”

“Absolutely! It was the talk of the nobility for weeks! Really it was the only gossip…”

“I’m afraid it’ll happen again… that’s why I’ve been hiding with Alan for so long.. I don’t go anywhere without a guard now.”

“You have been spending so much time around that Alan boy, anything between you two? I promise not to tell a soul!”

“There’s barely anybody here in the first place, Kelly. Every time I go to a ball I see fewer and fewer faces. I don’t think I’ve seen Lynna in a good month.”

“You can’t stand her either? Good, now don’t dodge questions!”

“Well, I...I... Kelly can we please switch the conversation!”

“Absolutely not! I’m finally getting somewhere! With nobody around it’s hard to find anything to talk about!”

“Well, I made this dress myself all the merchants that-”

“Gahhh! Magda! Please. I am near begging you! I feel like I’m going through withdrawal.”

“Well, the merchants that I buy from have all fled.”

“Ah! Now that’s a conversation!”

“I can barely buy my dressmaking supplies anymore.. Every time I find a merchant it’s always from another kingdom. Trying to get supplies from there to here is really expensive. It’s less expensive to just buy dresses and destroy them for supplies. I had to Frankenstein this dress.”

“It. Looks. FANTASTIC! Oh, I would’ve never noticed it if you didn’t say anything! I mean I still don’t! Where did you learn to sew?”

“Well, when I used to live in the slums, I worked for a woman who made dresses for a good bit of my life. Every day I would wake up, sew, sew, sew until I was allowed to sleep. She...wasn’t the kindest woman. I didn’t get paid a cent for my work.”

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“I pay for your food and shelter! You don’t need money!”

Magda looked down at her aching hands and looked back up.

“But Ms.Eve I’ve worked here for over 8 years! I’ve brought in so much money!”

“And I gave you one of the most important life skills! I am not arguing about this anymore, Magda! One more word and you’re sleeping outside again! Now,” Ms. Eve put down a stack of fabrics on the table, “This fabric is cheap, only use it for simple gowns and decor for more impressive dresses! Also for that little stunt, you’ll work all night! I’ll be up in a few hours and you better have something at least halfway decent.”

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“That sounds horrible! What a wicked woman..”

“Actually she was nice to me considering she could’ve been so much worse to an orphan like me... She fed me, that’s more than a lot of my friends could have said. I managed fine. I only went to become a maid so that I could actually earn money for myself. But I had a bed and food. That’s all one really needs.”

“To survive! Not to live! Oh, Magda, you must have suffered so much!”

“It was better than dying cold on the streets.”

“Not by much..” Kelly murmured to herself

Magda looked around the garden where she and Kelly were in. Just a month ago it would have been swamped with dancing nobles, and helpful servants. Now, there was scarcely anybody, there couldn’t have been more than 3 servants, and 10 nobles including Magda and Kelly. It just felt empty. The whole scene felt off. Magda barely even saw her ‘sister’ anymore. After Magda started living with Alan, Felicity’s visits stopped. Even Eliza, while not exactly happy with it, was fine with Magda being constantly protected by Alan. Even her visits were sparse.

Magda was indescribably happy with Alan. She loved that boy with all of her heart, but there was an Ellenstein shaped hole in that same heart.

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“Mom ...what's going on? You usually don’t let me skip balls.” Felicity looked through the windows which, for once, were not covered by the curtains.

“Ah...you just looked tired, you need beauty sleep just as much as any other girl.” Eliza looked over at Felicity as she sipped a bit of tea down.

“This doesn’t have to do with Magda does it?”

“Of course not. Why would it? Magda is what brought our family to glory.”

“Then what is this all about!? I want to know! I haven’t been outside in days! I’m gonna go insane here!”

“I’m going to find you a guard. To protect you before I let you go out again.”

“Why!? Stop dodging my questions! You keep avoiding the answer! Why why why!?”

Eliza stayed perfectly calm, “Felicity, go to your room.”

“Or what? You’re gonna lock me away? You’ve been doing that for days!”

“Magda’s attack made me realize Finsel is not as safe as I’d want it to be. I want you to be safe.”

“You haven’t even let me see Magda!”

“Because I have nobody to guard you, please. I just want to protect you.”

“Mother, this isn’t protecting me. You’re leaving Magda out to die and locking me away? Why couldn’t Alan just stay here with us?”

“He never asked.”

“He never should have had to! If you wanted to protect me you should’ve let Magda AND Alan stay! All you’re doing is making me insane!”

“I know this must be a stressful time, Felicity...I really do love you. I want to keep you safe..”

“By keeping me imprisoned here!?”

“Felicity, please...just go to your room.”

“Not until I get out of here! For once in my life, I’ve been obedient to you! I know you’re worried about me but I need to get out!”

Eliza looked down at the ground and put her teacup on a table nearby.

“I’m scared Felicity. I'm so scared…”

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“I can’t even imagine that, Magda..” Alan wrapped his arms around Magda and pulled her close.

“I survived.” Magda pulled the blanket up to her neck, “It wasn’t that bad. It could’ve been a lot worse. Anyway..any news?”

“No, I’m still not sure what’s going on. Shana and her folks are ...well none of my guardsmen can figure out what's going on. We’re trying our best, I swear! The only lead we have is your attack, and we can’t even prove if that was involved with Shana or not... So we couldn’t make an arrest even if we did find her.”

“What about conspiracy, treason? You can arrest her for that right?”

Alan shook his head, “We don’t have proof of anything. We can give testimonies, yeah. Other than that we have little to nothing on Shana. You heard one of her speeches, and I’ve had so many people come to me and tell me about Shana. There...isn’t anything we can do. I-I feel so helpless…”

“Every ball I’ve gone to has been dead. Barely anybody there.”

“Magda...can you promise me something?”

“When you go to those balls, be extra safe. If you even feel slightly worried I want you to leave.”

“Mmph….That’s…..of course. I promise.”

“Good….good…”

“Alan?”

“Yes?”

“I-I don’t think I’m tired just yet~”

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The next ball Magda went to was nearly completely silent, it was only her, Kelly, and Motiti.

“I invited so many more people….they aren’t here...again..” Kelly whimpered as she sunk down in her chair. Kelly was wearing her favorite tea dress which was a light purple ,and like most things Kelly owned, was covered with ribbons.

“Don’t worry! Motiti will get you some pie!” The small oren girl ran over to the banquet table to grab a slice of pie, which was huge for anybody but especially a tiny oren girl , “Here you go Miss Kelly! It’s apple pie! It’s the bestest pie ever!”

The huge slice of pie had Magda giggle a bit, how could a girl that small think to get a slice that big? Or was it even big to her? Motiti did love her pie after all...

“Ah...Motiti,” Kelly pat Motiti’s head a few times, “Why don’t you get some pie for yourself?”

“Okay! Miss Kelly is the best!” Motiti ran off to the banquet table yet again.

“Magda...am I doing something wrong? Why isn’t anybody here?”

“Kelly, this is how it’s been for months, now even the 4 families can barely manage to get a tiny crowd at their biggest balls.”

“I can’t imagine that everybody would be so psyched out over a revolution that may not even be real!”

“It...it’s real Kelly. I know it is.”

Magda felt a chill going up her spine. She shivered despite the scorching temperatures in the greenhouse.

“How could you even know for sure? Oh..yeah...Alan forgot about him.”

Magda stood up from her chair suddenly, “Kelly, we need to go. Right now.”

“Miss Magda? You don’t seem so good.”

“Kelly, I’m sorry. I made a promise and I can’t break it. You’re either coming or not!”

“Magda I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to, Kelly. Please just get Motiti’s attention because we need to run. Now. ”

Magda took her heels off and rushed towards the entrance of the greenhouse. She’d be lucky if she managed to actually get out before…

It was too late. People surrounded the entrance to the greenhouse. All of them either smiling ,or just glaring at Magda.

“W-what’s going on? P-please don’t hurt me! J-just let Kelly and Motiti go! Alright?”

No response.

Magda just looked forwards at the civilians, and they looked right back at her with no clear emotion. It was only when she looked behind herself and saw that Kelly and Motiti noticed the ruckus did the situation truly kick in.

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“So you came here because Magda hasn’t come back? Alan, don’t get desperate she runs off too!” Felicity said as she relaxed into her bed.

“Magda wouldn’t do that without telling me!” Alan almost cried to Felicity, “Please, Felicity. I can’t find her! She wasn’t at the greenhouse…”

“Maybe that’s why she ran off. You kinda sound uh….controlling.”

“W-what?” Alan paused and his heart sank, “Controlling?”

“How long have you made Magda constantly tell you where she is going?”

“W-well I never…”

“How long have you constantly checked her location?”

“ “I-I didn’t mean to be-”

Alan looked down at the ground and tried to hold back tears.

“Alan, Don’t be upset. I didn’t mean it like that. Girls just need to have girl time. Alone. With girls. Only girls.”

“B-but Magda-”

“I’m sure Magda’s girl time and my girl time are ...very different though, and trust me, Alan, she’ll come back. I know her, she’s my sister after all”

“So..she just needs some time alone?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve done it so many times.”

“Ah! Thank you Miss Felicity! You’ve made me feel better!”

Felicity smiled as blondie left back to wherever he was off to. Felicity fell back onto her pillows softly. She relaxed for quite a while before she heard a knock on her door.

“Miss Felicity? Have you heard the news?” A blonde maid entered her room.

“About what?”

“Two nobles and one oren went missing at the greenhouse yesterday!”

Felicity’s eyes widened, and her body felt like it was dropping 100 feet a second.

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“Help! Help us, please! We didn’t do anything wrong!” Kelly grasped at her cell bars, her cellmate, Motiti, was more preoccupied with the food she had managed to sneak away from the ball. The oren somehow managed to scarf down 3 pieces of pie in under an hour..who knows how much food she had hidden away.

Somebody did come down the old, destroyed hallway. It was a young-looking woman with dark eyes and pink hair that was braided down the front of her body in two separate tails. She smiled at the prisoners brightly.

“Ah…. well well...here we are! Two nobles, an oren, and a failed revolutionary!” The girl laughed, “I hope you all know what’s gonna happen. Me and my men are going to release the oren, kill you noble freaks and parade their heads around! As for you, Silver. You’re going to rot here.”

Every prisoner shut their mouths, and Kelly retreated to the back of her cell.

“To be fair this has been a long time coming. Dearest Magda….Kelly, you had more than enough time to run away in the greenhouse. Too bad about you Magda, we would have let you live. You should know the rules by now. No witnesses. This will be the biggest revolution in history! Actually...we have big~ plans for you Magda! We don’t want a scratch on that face of yours! Mmhmm!”

The girl smiled as she left the prisoners.

Kelly’s cries for help became more and more frequent, and louder. Magda could hear Kelly’s voice begin to give out, as her cries still kept their desperation but halted in the loudness.

“Hey, Blondie. Shut them up.” Magda’s silver-haired cellmate demanded her blue eyes pierced through Magda.

“Miss. I don’t think it’s gonna help us much.” Magda looked back at her.

The short girl was curled into a ball with her knees tucked to her chest.

“Miss. What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know, sweetheart. I already know you, you’re Magda Ellenstein.”

“Do you know why we’re here?”

“You’re a noble. That’s why.”

“Well, why are you here?”

“Betrayal at its highest degree. Can’t even trust your own...”

“Do...you know anything about the revolution?”

“Do I!? Of course, I do!”

“I-I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“As much as I hate you nobility, you are polite…”

“Magda! Magda! Somebody's coming this way! Help us please!” Kelly screamed out for help. Magda didn’t bother getting up to see who it was.

Magda near-instantly knew who it was when she saw the long mane that was as orange as could be…

A/N: Sorry I couldn’t get a chapter out last week! Midterms and all suck. To make it up I’m gonna post another chapter later tonight or tomorrow! See you guys in a bit!

#magda ellenstein #helix waltz #helixwaltz

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whumpster-fire · 4 years

Text

Whumpmas In July - Day 12 (Belated): “Do it.”

CONTENT WARNING: Female whumpee, minor whumpee - and I don’t mean “can get a driver’s license but not vote.” Character is 18 days old at the time of this incident, and mentally a child. Read at your own risk.

The Animator’s voice was low and calm – irritatingly calm. His brown eyes stared down through his glasses with barely a spark of anger. “If you ever – and I mean ever – pull a stunt like that again, you’ll be disposed of. The Resistance needs weapons, not liabilities.”

Wendy Weasel, Human Resistance Toon Weaponization Program Number 15, scowled up at him, flattening her ears partway and baring her pointed teeth. “What, you givin’ me this goddamn lecture now? Couldn’t you have done it...” she glanced around, looking for a clock. When she didn’t find one, she made a watch appear on her wrist, then remembered she didn’t know exactly when the event she was referring to was anyway. “...Yesterday morning? Or were you scared Herschel was gonna turn that hammer on you too if you interrupted him?” She wasn’t scared of Lowell. He was one of the two Animators, and de facto leaders, of the Human Resistance, but he wasn’t the one who’d drawn her. He didn’t have the guts to create something like her.

Lowell’s brow furrowed, stretching the skin on his shaved-bald head. “I know you’re trying to turn Herschel and me against each other, Number Fifteen, and it’s not going to work. I’m not going to be baited into badmouthing my colleague and closest friend to a toon. Herschel has a short temper, but his actions were warranted given yours. The only thing I have to question is whether he went far enough.”

The man was so composed and non-threatening it was boring. He was almost three times Wendy’s height, of course, but she doubted he’d ever been in a fight in his life, unless you counted getting shoved into a locker. And size was nearly meaningless against a Toon. Mental and emotional strength was what counted. Any human was helpless against her physically, but she couldn’t exactly take a mallet to her superiors or she was as good as dead. What she could do was mess with their heads, and Lowell seemed to think if he showed the emotional range of a bowl of wet sawdust she’d have nothing to use against him. “Besides,” he went on, “I don’t think you were in any state to hear me then.”

“Exactly,” Wendy said with a smirk. “Would’a been better for everyone that way. I wouldn’t have to listen to you, and you could pretend you were the one making an impression.” But her gloved hands clenched. Yeah, like she needed to be reminded that Herschel’d beaten her into a bloody pulp, which it wasn’t supposed to even be possible to do to a toon. But the Resistance had invented a special plastic that completely suppressed her reality warping abilities, and a fluid that didn’t dissolve toons’ flesh like Dip did, but it made it break and yield and not bounce back… like a human’s. She rubbed her wrist where the cuffs had dug in, and her chin where he’d broken her jaw. The damage was gone now, of course, now that her powers were back, but it was still sore. Her throat hurt too, from Herschel forcing the damn stuff down it and then her puking it back up along with half the ink in her body and maybe a couple internal organs. It was almost impossible to permanently injure a toon, but the problem was, the line between thoughts and reality was so blurred for them that the memory of pain could be almost as bad as the real thing – sometimes could even make an injury reappear, or take way longer to heal, if you couldn’t get it out of your head. Lowell bringing it up again was a dick move. He was really pissing her off now. She wanted to kill someone – or something. Not like she was allowed to kill humans anyway. Even enemies of the Resistance she’d need a direct order to harm. And other toons, the creatures she was made to kill, were in the ‘something’ category. Like her.

But there was tension in Lowell’s face too. Good. Prick. Like she needed a repeat of the same fucking lecture, except not even entertaining.

“Fifteen...”

“Ooops! Was that last bit out loud?” Wendy’s voice was still hoarse and scratchy. It had barely been an hour since she’d finally been let out of the cuffs and the straitjacket and muzzle.

Lowell sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Apparently you do,” he said through gritted teeth. “Although you’re right, I doubt it will sink in anyway, which is why I’m in agreement with Gene and Lawrence that you should have just been Dipped. And you should know, I’ve discussed it with Herschel, and he’s only resistant to the idea because -”

“Because I’m the daughter he never had?” Wendy interrupted.

“No. If you’re trying to shock me, forget it. I’ve known about Herschel trying to create a Toon as a surrogate child for years – his story was part of what opened my eyes about Toons. I’ll admit when he created you and Number Six with such… childlike forms, I was worried he still had some sentimental tendencies, but even if he did I doubt they survived contact with you.”

Wendy’s smirk got bigger. It had taken all of five sentences to get him ‘badmouthing’ Herschel. Although he hadn’t exactly said anything juicy.

“Listen. The reason you’re still alive is because Herschel’s afraid. He’s afraid of you, he’s afraid of another feedback event like the one when you were created, and he’s always been a bit overly cautious. But remember this: you represent about a week’s work for either of us – maybe two. You aren’t irreplaceable, and you aren’t invincible. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of getting rid of you. Six, Eleven, and Eighteen can all fulfill your role for a few days, and once Herschel’s and my next creations are animated, there’s nothing stopping us from -”

“Blah, blah, yadda, yadda.” Wendy feigned a yawn. “Come up with some new material, and then get somebody else to threaten me with it, ‘cuz your delivery’s a lost cause. And so’s your animation talent. You think Eleven can replace me? The moron I got to deep fry himself when I was just drawn? Ya know, calling me replaceable’s really the pot calling the kettle black when all your toons are good for is making Dip soup.” Her smirk grew to a vicious grin as Lowell’s face finally contorted in anger. He made a grab for her. She nimbly stepped back, waited for him to blink, and reappeared behind him. “And so’s calling Herschel too cautious. At least he’s not some spineless dickweed who can’t draw up any toon with the balls to reach down and scratch ‘em without asking permission first, because he was terrified of Elmer Fudd as a child and now he relives his boyhood nightmare every time he looks in the mirror. Face it Lowell, you’re the replaceable one around here, not me! If Herschel died tomorrow the Resistance’d be fucked. If you died tomorrow, they’d just have to put up a classified ad for some animation college dropout – ack!”

Oh, she was dead. That had felt good to say, but he was soooo dead. She’d been letting him get a little closer with each lunge, reveling in how angry she’d gotten him, reveling in how she’d completely ruined his calm demeanor, reveling at the fact that whoever checked the security cameras was going to get a good ab workout laughing at Lowell’s expense. But she’d dropped her guard a little too much, and he’d moved faster than she’d expected. He seized her by the throat and slammed her against the concrete wall. It wouldn’t have even been enough to get her adrenaline pumping if it wasn’t still sore. And even so… why was having her ability to breathe cut off like this making her pulse jump like crazy, and not in a fun way?

“Fifteen, I swear… I swear to God… I’ve spent ten years of my life dreaming of wiping your species off the fucking Earth, but I’ve never wanted to kill a Toon as much as I do right now...” His glasses were askew. His eyes were mad, the pupils unevenly sized. An occupational hazard. Bringing a toon to life was kind of like sticking your head in a microwave. Everyone in the profession had some kind of brain damage, Herschel had said. Some just hid it better than others. “I want to melt that smile right off your fucking face...”

“Go ahead then. Do it.” Wendy pried his hand away just enough to get the words out. “If you want me dead that bad, then kill me.” Yeah, right. She knew he was bluffing. Oh, the Resistance’s leadership weren’t happy that she hadn’t technically 100% done exactly what she was supposed to, and the mission hadn’t technically been successful, but they also knew she’d mopped the floor with Acme Looniversity’s star pupils, and Riley – Number Six – had barely made it out of a one-on-one fight alive. That kind of power was too valuable to throw away, not when they didn’t know if the Animators could replicate it.

But suddenly, that power vanished. Wendy felt the horrible cold feeling of one of the plastic cuffs snapping shut around her neck. Tight. Too tight. Suddenly everything was weak. She couldn’t pull her head free, or even squash and stretch her neck so she could breathe freely, or create a crowbar out of Hammerspace to break the lock. She’d felt this awful, helpless feeling once, and she’d sworn she never would again. But she hadn’t even made it a couple hours.

“Uhh… just… just kidding, Lowell...” Wendy gulped. The calm was back, icy and satisfied, as he dragged her down the hall towards the elevator. “Hey, I got legs! Put me down, you fucking -” She kicked and clawed at the cuff. It felt like a truck was parked on her windpipe.

The elevator rose one level. Level Four. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Dip wasn’t the only thing the Resistance made there: there were also weapons, spare parts for the ACME Machine, and other equipment they couldn’t exactly buy at a hardware store. But when Lowell had two other guys blindfold her, and tie her hands behind her back, she knew.

He was going to kill her. He was actually going to kill her. The harsh chemical smell of Dip, the one substance that was lethal to her kind, burned her nose and sent icy veins of instinctive panic coursing through her body.

“Morning, Lowell,” an older man with a rural midwestern accident said. “What’ve you got there?”

“A discipline problem,” said Lowell. Wendy could hear his scowl. Then, he hastily added: “Oh – good morning to you too, Bill!”

“Fuckin’ dweeb,” Wendy muttered under her breath. Not like they could hear her over the ventilation fans anyway.

“What’re you bringing it up here for, then?” Bill – one of the Resistance’s chemists – asked in an irritated voice. “I’ve told you guys I don’t agree with you letting your little Frankenstein’s Monsters run around this place, but – well, living quarters are one thing, this is another. I gotta remind you, even if your plan’s a total success you still need Dip to finish a toon off, and there’s a lotta fragile equipment on this line.”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow a bucket.”

“Aaahhh...” Bill whistled. “Ah, that kind of discipline problem. About time if you ask me. I’ve been sayin’ you oughta melt that thing down before it kills someone.”

Wendy’s fists clenched. She glared daggers through the blindfold in the direction of his voice. A hundred comebacks and insults ran through her head, and it took all her willpower to bite her tongue. But right now, the anger was being blotted out by an emotion she’d hardly ever felt in her life. True fear. Her whole body felt weak, like her bones might dissolve and she’d melt into a puddle even before they finished her off. She heard Lowell saying something to Bill that she couldn’t make out over the hum of the fans and the pounding of her own heart. She felt sick to her stomach – although that could’ve been just the smell of Dip. She wanted to be anywhere but here – to vanish and reappear somewhere else in the underground complex. She wanted to pull a hacksaw out of Hammerspace to get rid of the cuff choking her, or failing that just blast it to pieces even if it meant setting off enough explosives to level a city block in her own face. Hell, she wanted to make Bill try it on for size on his fat fucking neck. The result would probably be like putting a bunch of rubber bands around a watermelon, but if they were going to kill her anyway, did it really matter if she got a parting shot?

But she was completely helpless in this goddamn thing. No teleportation, no hammerspace, no playing tricks on the humans’ minds. She should have had the strength to whip the two men’s legs out from under them and take them apart like Tinker Toys, but instead she was almost as weak as a creature her size should have been if it obeyed normal laws of physics.

A boot caught her under her ribs, hard enough to lift her off her feet and throw her across the room. It knocked the breath out of her, but it didn’t really hurt much. Even with the cuff cartoon physics still applied if something else hit her. But it did hurt that the blow had come out of nowhere. She’d been completely unable to see it, avoid it, or even brace herself.

She tried to run when she heard the bucket being filled – the sloshing of liquid, the squeaking and clanking of the handle. The smell was almost overpowering. But something tripped her, and she was dragged back by her tail and thrown against a concrete wall. That gave her an idea. She thrashed against it, dragging her temples along the rough cement to try to pull the blindfold free, but it didn’t budge.

“Come on, guys, you know I was joking, right? Right?” she fidgeted nervously, waiting for the fatal blow. “You’re almost as good an animator as Herschel, and I’m really sorry I said you were scared of Elmer Fudd. And Bill, I’m sorry I stole all your socket wrenches and replaced them with left-handed ones.” Metal scraped against cement. The bucket was being lifted. Wendy’s blood froze. She froze, pressing herself back against the wall. “Fuck! Don’t kill me, don’t kill me, don’t kill -”

She was cut off by the shock of cold liquid hitting her. She instinctively closed her mouth and ducked her head as best she could trying to protect her nose and eyes, but she knew it didn’t matter. She knew what Dip did to toons. A direct hit like this would dissolve her alive within seconds. Every muscle tensed, and she didn’t dare breathe as she tried to brace herself for what would surely be indescribable agony. A flood of panicked emotions melted her brain from the inside out. She was dead she was dead she was dead!

Only… she wasn’t. The pain never came. There was a little numbness, but it was just from the cold. Her fur was soaked to the skin, but it wasn’t melting her, just freezing her.

There was a howl of laughter. The blindfold was ripped away, and she stood there blinking and shivering in the fluorescent lights. A clear puddle was running down to a drain in the floor. Bill stood there holding an empty bucket, but there was a second one sitting nearby, full of caustic green liquid. That son of a bitch. It was water. Ordinary fucking water, but they’d even been smart enough to fill one with real Dip so the smell would fool her. He’d tricked her. He’d tricked her!

“Hoo! Man, did ya see the look on her fuckin’ face? I still think you should’ve dipped her for real, but damn, bet those couple weeks of life flashed before her eyes, huh? That oughta straighten ‘er out!”

Lowell smiled and gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t be fooled. They imitate human facial expressions and body language, but they’re no different from -”

“HAL 9000, like that scene in the movie where he’s telling Dave not to unplug him?”

“Exactly. Toons have a basic self-preservation instinct, but it’s not the same as human fear. We were unsure about whether to eliminate it from our creations, but they wouldn’t be nearly as effective in combat without it. And there are only two ways to motivate and discipline a creature with no capacity for empathy or morality: blind, programmed obedience, and fear. The first on its own would, again, make them too susceptible to mental manipulation.”

Wendy couldn’t make herself say a word as the animator knelt and reached out for her throat with a magnetic key. She was afraid her voice would break. Her breath was already catching in her throat in a way the pressure on her windpipe couldn’t cause, and silent tears mixed with the cold water dripping down her face. She couldn’t stop shivering. She hated cold. She hated it. She was so goddamn sick of how the compound was always at fifty-five degrees or something – maybe warmer in here with the heat given off by machinery and chemicals, but still always uncomfortably chilly.

Click. The cuff opened. The instant the cuff was released from her neck, Wendy snapped the zipties binding her wrists. She winced and rubbed her throat, and wrung out her soaked gloves. She fought the urge to shake herself dry; she’d probably get punished for that, too.

“Get the message, Number Fifteen?” Lowell said icily. “The next time, it won’t be water.”

Wendy nodded, and swallowed hard. Painfully. “Yeah. Whatever. There’s not gonna be a next time.” There was a concerned look. “Because I won’t screw up again.”

“This isn’t about your actions. This is about the attitude that lead to them.”

“I know.” Bullshit. What did he want her to do, bow before him and polish his shoes? He’d said it himself, the whole reason she was made was to have a toon in the Resistance’s arsenal that wasn’t a sniveling toady, that was completely devoted to her purpose and sure of herself enough to carry out her mission even if the humans that were supposed to be commanding her got killed, or worse – that was smart enough to disobey if her superiors fell under the enemy’s power. And that was exactly what she’d done – minus getting carried away a little bit. If Lowell had a problem with her attitude he could take it up with Herschel, not her.

But she couldn’t say any of it. That confidence had just evaporated. All that was left was ice-cold fear and burning anger and hatred that met in a deadly explosion. “Sir.” Goddamnit, why couldn’t she stop shaking? She spat the word out and glowered up at him. She clenched her fists, and a little smoke rose from her gloves. “I...” Fuck it. “I’ll be good.”

She snatched the empty bucket out of his hands and darted off around the corner. The moment she was out of sight, she folded space around her and her next step took her into the small concrete cell that passed for her quarters.

“Son of a bitch,” she snarled. A lit stick of dynamite under the upturned bucket shredded it like tinfoil in a blender, but that didn’t satisfy her. She wanted to kill something. She wanted to wring the neck of the next toon she saw and shove its face into a barrel of Dip herself. She wanted to die, but not enough to actually do it. The next words were just a whisper. “I didn’t even do anything that time.”

Just like she predicted, Wendy’s voice broke. It was freezing in the cell, and the water made it worse, but she didn’t have the mental energy to create something that would dry her off properly. She just pulled a threadbare towel from behind her back and wrapped it around herself, and shrank back into the corner, shuddering. Almost died. She’d almost died. For nothing. Just because she wouldn’t stop running her mouth. Just for behaving exactly how she’d been drawn to.

She knew she’d have a chance to release this anger, sooner or later. Being blown into a thousand pieces wouldn’t let her next target escape. It didn’t matter if they were toon or human, they were gonna die screaming. But the pain, the humiliation, the unfairness, ran too deep for the anger to burn them away. And she didn’t know what to do with them.

Faked emotions. Imitated expressions, basic instincts. The least Herschel could’ve done was made her not fool herself into believing her own lies. This was why she was glad she wasn’t human, even if it meant she was inferior, just a monster made to kill other monsters. She didn’t want to know what the real thing was like.

____

My first ever Tumblr prompt response fiction, yay! Meet Wendy Weasel, from my Who Framed Roger Rabbit (setting, characters are mostly from Animaniacs, Tiny Toon Adventures, and Looney Tunes) fanfic La Resistance. Basically she’s a Toon who was created by a genocidal terrorist group that wants to wipe Toons out, and for all intents and purposes a child soldier. When she’s not making life hell for the protagonists, she’s pissing off her own side as much as possible because she’s bored / wants attention. She’s way too cocky and aggressive for her own good.

This is the epitome of what I said in another post about liking whumpees who are dangerous to the whumpers. Power-suppressing cuffs and Dip not withstanding, there’s nothing but psychological conditioning between Lowell or anyone else in the Resistance and a shoebox funeral if Wendy turns on them, and they both know it. The problem is neither of them actually understands the true nature of that conditioning.

#whumpmasinjuly #whump fic #non-human whumpee #minor whump #dehumanization #mock execution #@whumpmasinjuly #minor whump tw #toon #who framed roger rabbit #fantastic racism

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champagnesugamama · 5 years

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All That Glitters Ch.1: The Proposition

Moving Day

Viktor Drago x Ofc(Athena Creed)

Author: Champagnesugamama

Summary: Athena Creed, twin sister to the legendary boxer Adonis Creed, has been expanding her business of natural hair and skin care products, when another unexpected business venture lands in her path, but will it cause more harm than good?.....

You guys it literally took me so long just to start this first chapter! I rewrote the first paragraph like 50x! I hope you guys enjoy my little series.

“What the fuck do you mean you have to move to to the Ukraine?” Fuck, Adonis is already giving me a headache. I rubbed my eyes and answered him for the fifth time.

“Adonis I already told yo ass why five times! I have to oversee the building and manufacturing of my two factories! You know the taxes over in the Ukraine are significantly lower than in the United States. I have to base my factories over there if I want that 50 million dollar tax break.” He acts like I haven’t explored all options before deciding this. I don’t want to move to a foreign country where I will be ostracized from my loved ones, but this money doesn’t make itself. He ain’t the only one in this family who got bread. Matter of fact I’m richer than his ass. I worked my ass off in Harvard to get to where I am today, and I will be damned if my irritating ass little brother stops my bag.

5 YEARS AGO HARVARD UNIVERSITY

“So, you got the stuff?” A masculine voice said through my dormitory door.

“Yea you got the money?” I replied with a straight up attitude. Shit you would be mad too if this high ass senior was knocking at yo door at 12 am.

“Yea, open the door Ma, I just wanna see what you got.” I know this nigga don’t think I’m about to let him in my dorm at no 12 o’clock at night.

“No Sir, yo girl already sent in her order and you are just supposed to pick it up, ain’t nobody say you could browse the merchandise after hours. Now slide the envelope under the door and wait for your product.” He sucked his teeth and slide the envelope under the door. I counted out the necessary $150, and unlocked my door, but still keeping the chain on, I handed the man his shit.

“Yo tell Keisha she ain’t special, if her ass can’t come between business hours she is just gonna have to get it shipped to her dorm.” I said rolling my eyes. I know that girl ain’t got shit to do, but lay up with her nigga.

“Aight, I got you Ma. You know this shit is like crack to the females out here.You even got my momma and homeboys pullin’ up on me for this shit. What you really be puttin in this shit?” Now why he ask me that like I’m gonna tell him?

“None of your business sir. Now go give my home girl her hair and skin shit, she been looking a little ashy lately.” He laughed, but I was straight up serious, bitch been lookin’ a lil flaky lately.

“Oh shit, Imma tell her you said that shit too, night little mama.” I rolled my eyes and shut my door. I fed my money in the safe’s automatic counter and saw my day’s earnings were reaching up to 10,000 dollars. I’m gonna have to start looking into a bigger manufacturing place cause this ain’t cuttin it. I still have 25 back orders for just this campus alone. The secret is that I have two different pricing menus. One is for the stuck up rich kids at the school, and the other is for the chill homies, and scholarship babies. I gotta make my money somehow.

1 YEAR AGO SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

“Hello, This is the office of Athena Creed. How may I help you?” My assistant Keisha answered the phone.” Now y’all must be wondering, “This bitch got a whole ass secretary? Since when?”, since I expanded my business and went national with a few small factories. I graduated top 5% of my class in Harvard, and expanded my business before I graduated. I am now the youngest self made Billionaire in the United States.

“Ms. Creed, P. Diddy is on line one and your finance manager is on line 2. You also have to get back to the Supply manager about the shortages on the shipments to Ulta and Sephora. The online orders are also being backlogged for some reason, and there is a protest at one of your factories about the “supposedly anonymous” tip about animal testing and what not. Should I put them on hold or patch them through?” See this is why need a second assistant.

“Patch through P. Diddy, tell my finance manager I’ll call her at 3 o’clock, tell the supply manager to email me the problem, hire a online order manager, and call the cops on the protesters outside of the factory. The whole 15 acres around the factory is private property and they are in violation of the privacy laws. Call Oprah to do a walk through interview with me and my factory manager to silence the protesters. They are only protesting because this is a black made business with black investors, and they want to burn it to the ground like black wall street, but I rebuke that Caucasian devil.”

“Ms. Creed you so crazy, but I’ll get right on that.” I waited 20 seconds after I saw the red light turn on to answer. I can’t let these niggas think I’m too excited to be in their presence.

“Hello, this is Athena Creed.” I said in my professional black voice. Y’all know the one you use for corporate niggas.

“Hey baby girl, you got time for lunch today?” Sean has been a friend of my family since the early ‘80s, since before my dad passed. My parents met Sean at one of my dad’s fights at the MGM casino. We’ve been close ever since.

“Yea Unc, What’s up?” I asked concerned, because my uncle has had it pretty hard recently, with the passing of the love of his life Kim Porter.

“Nothing, I just have a business proposition for you to expand your reach in the business world. Ya know it’s always good to have different eggs in your basket. I know hair and skin is your passion, but I hope you’ll have an open mind with your uncle today.” Alright now what does he want.

“Alright Unc. I’ll meet you at Urasawa on rodeo drive in about an hour. Make sure you come dress like we’re having lunch and not going to the met gala.” I laughed. He has a tendency to go overboard with his day to day outfits. We hung up and I made my way to my house to change out of my office clothes and to take a shower, I smell like the office.

“Hey Keisha, you can go home after you post the job to the job sites, and organize the food for the next staff meeting on Monday. Have a good weekend, oh and redirect my calls to my business phone while you’re at it. Thanks sweetheart.” I said from the elevator.

“Sure no problem Ms. Creed. Have a nice weekend.” She said with a smile and a wave as the elevator closed.

I got out of the bath, and I put some of my super growth oil, curling cream, and rice water aloe Vera gel in my hair to make my curls pop. I did my edges, and put on my chill day makeup. You know I had to support my girl Rihanna and buy her body lava. I mix one drop in with my moisturizer and rub that on my face and neck. It gives me a natural glow without makeup, cause I’m lazy.

Okay, so I know I said I was gonna chill, but I’m going on Rodeo Drive today, Imma stunt on them bitches. And since I’m stunting on some stuck up bitches we might as well go all out and bring out my new baby that I treated myself to as a present for making the Forbes list.

I stepped out of the car and threw my keys to the valet and gave him a band to not scratch it. My bodyguard met me at the sidewalk and escorted me to the door through the paparazzi and fans. I don’t know how they keep getting my location, but Imma need them to chill. The waitress automatically escorted me to my Uncle’s table. You can tell we come here way too often, but my uncle knows I’ll blow a check on some sushi. The waitress lead me to the back and up a set of stairs behind the grand piano, behind a draped, white, sheer chiffon curtain to the only table in the back V.I.P. area of the restaurant. “Hey Uncle Sean. How are you?” I asked him as he got up to hug me and pull out my chair. “Hey, Athena. I’m hanging in there. What about you, sweetheart?” He said as he sat back down in his chair. “I’m good Uncle Sean, but I’m hungry as hell. We need to order before I waste away.” I laughed as I signaled the waiter over to us. “Hello, welcome to Urasawa. What can I start you guys off with?” The waiter asked. I squinted hard as hell to read his name tag. Okay Kenji I see you. He’s cute or whatever. “Hey Kenji, did I pronounce that right?” I waited for him to reply, while giving him the bedroom eyes. I looked him up and down, making sure he knew I was interested. I peeped Uncle Sean rolling his eyes at me, but I don’t know why he’s complainin’, I learned it from him. “Yea, you’re the first person to pronounce it right on the first time. What can I get for you beautiful.” Kenji the waiter asked me, as he eyed my body, and proceeded to commence with the fuck boy tendencies, and bite his lip and “seduce” me with his eyes. Okay he’s canceled. I can’t take the fake ass california valley “swag”. Shit disgusts me.

“Um. I’ll take the Ama Ebi, Ikura Gunkan Sushi, and the Toro with a sprite. Thank you.” I handed the menu back, and turned to uncle Sean.

“Well shit I’ll just take what she’s having.” He said handing his menu back. Alright now it’s down to business. I put on my Big Boss Bitch face and folded my hands on the very neat and crisp tablecloth, and turned my gaze to my uncle.

“So, this ‘business’ proposition….What is it?” I asked impatient as hell. He just leans back in his seat and folds his hands in his lap.

“Can’t we just eat first before you upset your stomach with all them nerves. You’ve always been impatient as hell, even as a baby. Cryin’ n’ shit. Being spoilt by everyone who looked at you. Man I couldn’t walk in yo parents place without a Cinnabon for your greedy ass.” He laughed, and I looked at him out the side of my eye. So that’s why I was a 90lb kindergartner. This nigga been trying to give me type 2 diabetes since I was two. “Uncle Sean you ain’t right for that! You were over the house almost everyday! You was trying to kill a nigga!” I said rolling my eyes at him. He laughed at me, but I was dead ass serious! I had breathing problems in pre-k all because this nigga couldn’t say no to a toddler.

“Alright, I’ll spare a nigga. The proposition is for you to open up your own alcohol brewery.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@dragothishole @marvelheaux @honeychicana @harleycativy @avengersandlovers @amethyst1993 @sdcyumyum @the-lululemon

@almostpurelysmut @itshinothey @titty-teetee @laubluered @pananegra

@est1887 @bugngiz @ginghampearlsnssweettea @chaneajoyyy

#All that Glitters #florian munteanu #Viktor Drago #viktor drago x reader #adonis creed

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cakesunflower · 6 years

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Sugar Coated Pain [Boxer!Calum AU] Ch. 13

Chapter 13

SHE RAN AWAY.

Okay, maybe saying she ran away was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was all the same in Noelle’s ashamed, self-hating mind. In her defense, she didn’t entirely know how to react when the guy she liked told her he broke someone else’s nose for her. That. . . Wasn’t normal, was it? Maybe Calum breaking other people’s bones wasn’t a surprising occurrence, but Noelle being slammed with the fact that this particular time she may have been the motivation behind it was something, she thought, she deserved a moment to process.

Evidently, that meant practically speeding out of Ashton’s kitchen and demanding Beverly go home with her. Sure, Noelle felt a bit selfish tearing her sister from her boyfriend’s side and admittedly bad about leaving Calum in the kitchen, but she needed to get out of there. Thank God they’d been at Ashton’s house for over an hour that leaving didn’t look too suspicious. Still, Noelle wouldn’t be surprised if any of the boys could feel the urgency she left with.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Beverly pointed out in that knowing, pointed tone that made Noelle want to throw her phone at her. She wondered when was the last time she was able to do work at work without Beverly somehow weaseling Calum into the conversation. “I’m telling you, Elle, he’s been looking pretty bothered when you didn’t show up the past few days.”

The corners of Noelle’s lips tilted into a frown, inhaling a sharp breath. Calum apparently being bothered by her lack of presence had been something Beverly kept telling her about, yet Noelle was somehow unsure if she should believe that. She and Calum rarely interacted when they were all together, except as of late—but he couldn’t be that pressed about her not being around for the past few days, right?

“I’m not avoiding him,” Noelle defended, putting her phone away to return her attention to the computer. They were in the backroom of the store, taking inventory by themselves as their other employees worked the register and helped customers out. “I only see him when we go to Astros or one of the guys’ place. And I’ve been too busy to go to either.”

Which wasn’t a lie. That night—the fight, Calum’s bruised knuckles and Boman’s broken nose for Noelle—had been three nights ago, and Noelle did get busy with other things. Shopping trips with Camille and hanging out with Andrea, not to mention spending some time with Isaac, because apparently her mother and his father still thought they’d be a perfect match and wanted them to spend time together.

The morning following the night at Ashton’s house, Noelle’s mother had asked her about Isaac and if she likes him, and Noelle was about to ask her mom what the hell she was talking about because Isaac was gay. Then she remembered he hadn’t told his dad yet, and she knew if she told her mom then she may let it slip to his dad, so Noelle just let her mother believe her and Isaac were interested in each other. She’d take care of that situation when she wasn’t freaking out over Calum.

Mostly for you.

Noelle’s teeth dug into her lower lip, an embarrassed flush spreading on her cheeks as she recalled Calum’s words from last night. She couldn’t believe she left without saying anything, turning around as soon as his words slammed into her like a ton of bricks. His admittance of breaking another person’s nose for her made her heart do so many things at once; skip a beat, stop all at once, before picking up an erratic pace. She wasn’t sure what took her more off guard; the fact that Calum actually did it, or that he so easily admitted that he had.

What did he want?

“Fine,” Beverly snorted, pulling out some books from one of the boxes to count them. “If you’re not avoiding Calum, then you’re hiding from him. Especially since you’re not coming to tonight’s fight again.” Noelle glanced over at her, mouth dropping with an incredulous gasp as Beverly raised her eyebrows. “You’re all anxious around him now because you found out he broke a guy’s face because he talked shit about you, aren’t you? We have six copies of Grimm’s Fairy Tales,” she added, referring to the books she just counted.

Noelle shot Beverly a helpless, exasperated look as she put it in the system. She had to admit—when Beverly told her, in more detail after fleeing from Ashton’s, that Calum did what he did because he found out Boman had been saying some crude things about her, Noelle couldn’t deny the flutter her heart gave. Was she crazy for feeling touched at the knowledge of Calum standing up for her like that?

It was strange, how many times he’s come to her defense in one way or another, but Noelle was not at all complaining. But that kind of aggression—could Noelle deal with that? Everyone she hung out with liked Calum—how could they not?—and while his fighting or apparent short fuse wasn’t what was making Noelle hesitant on even dancing around with the thought of her and Calum, it was just the merely question of her being able to handle it. Don’t get her wrong, there was no genuine fear in the matter, she wasn’t afraid of him. . . It was just the concept of wondering just how far off Calum could go.

Watching Calum fight, the way he moved on the ring smooth and the looks of concentration and smugness almost arousing, was a thrilling experience but it still worried her whenever a fist or kick came his way. No doubt her worry, along with the thrill of watching him, would increase if something were to happen with them and she went to his fights.

When Noelle didn’t respond, Beverly sighed, and Noelle knew her sister thought she wasn’t going to say anything. Even though that wasn’t the case, Noelle decided to stay quiet when Beverly said, “Calum only goes around throwing punches for four reasons; when he’s training, in a match, someone is pissing him off, or when someone he cares about is involved. Pretty sure the last three apply to the other night.”

Noelle swallowed the small lump in her throat, hand on the computer mouse tightening as she responded in an even tone, “Weren’t you the one telling me to be careful with him and this whole feelings mess?”

“I also told you to take a chance,” came Beverly’s instant response, her next few words striking Noelle like a lightning bolt. “Especially when the possibility of him returning those feelings is there.”

♔♔♔♔♔

Imagine Dragon’s music airily swept through the bookstore as Noelle hummed along over the sound of the rain pelting outside, using the rag in her hand to wipe down the many shelves. It was after hours, nearing 9:30 P.M. and she was the only one left in the store, taking her time in sweeping and cleaning the thin layer of dust collected on the shelves over the course of the past few days while some nighttime summer rain wetted the city. It was quiet in the store seeing as she was the only one there, the only sounds emitting from the speaker of her phone, the rain and mild thunder, and the occasional honk of a car from the road outside.

Noelle liked being by herself, especially in the store. She enjoyed being there alone after hours, cleaning up after a busy day or week, surrounded by books and engulfed by her thoughts. Only this time, all she could think of was that she could be in a somewhat run-down building in Brooklyn right now, but her hesitation had her convincing an exasperated Beverly to go on without her as she cleaned up the store. She hadn’t gone to the last two fights, though she knew Calum won because of course she was gonna ask Beverly—she’d also seen the boys’, minus Calum’s, SnapChat stories to see them celebrating. But right now, Noelle wasn’t so sure if she was ready to face the music.

For God’s sake, she practically ran from Calum. She felt incapable of manning up and looking at him after that embarrassing stunt. God, what was he thinking when she took off like that?

Sighing, Noelle fixed the cushions on the small couches by the chalkboard wall, head snapping over to her phone when her music was interrupted by the text notification. When she crossed the store and checked the message, seeing that it was from Beverly, Noelle’s eyes widened, brows drawing together in shock.

From: Beverly 9:43 P.M.

Calum lost. Thought you’d wanna know.

Noelle’s jaw dropped slightly in disbelief as the music continued playing, thunder ironically sounding outside at the same time as she felt her mouth dry because Calum lost? She’s only been to a number of his matches and he hadn’t lost a single one of those, and from what she knew, it was a rare occurrence if he ever did. Noelle didn’t bother replying as she put her phone back on the counter, her movements a bit slow as she picked up the rag to continue cleaning the shelves.

But her actions were thoughtless, her body moving on its own accord as she cleaned the shelves, while her mind was once again filled with Calum. Only this time, she wasn’t thinking of the two times his body was against hers—once in the alley a while back and then in her bed. She wasn’t thinking about how he’s come to her aid, defended her more than once, resulting in some asshole’s broken nose.

All she could think of was that the first time since she’s met him, Calum lost a match, and although it wasn’t Noelle’s place, she wanted to be able to comfort him. Though, she was sure that there wasn’t anything she would be able to do to make him feel better about this. Noelle may have not known Calum for long, but he obviously took his fighting seriously and a loss was most definitely not something he would take lightly. She pursed her lips as she absently cleaned one of the shelves; he was probably pissed.

Noelle wasn’t sure how long she was lost in her thoughts, thinking about the same guy whose seemingly become a permanent resident in her mind, but suddenly her heart was jumping in her throat at the sound of pounding on the glass door over the rain outside. She gasped, clutching the rag to her chest as she spun around, wide eyes immediately going towards the door.

The windows looking out in the streets were shielded by drawn curtains, and Noelle’s only view of outside was through the glass doors. Glass doors which allowed her to catch sight of Calum standing right outside of the store.

“Calum—” She couldn’t even hope to say anything else but his name, frozen in her spot as she noticed him standing with one hand on the handle, dark eyed gaze piercing through the glass and right at her, waiting for her to let her in.

When lightning struck, briefly shadowing him into nothing but a silhouette, Noelle was startled into action as she absently dropped the rag and moved forward, hurrying to the door. She didn’t think, couldn’t think, her sole attention on opening the door and getting Calum out of the rain, not even questioning what he was doing here until her hands were on the locks as she twisted them open.

She pushed the door, feeling the light spray of rain and wind against her face, welcoming the smell of the outside world and Calum. “What’re you—”

Her words were cut off not by Calum’s words, but by his actions of pushing past her and inside the door, dripping wet as he unapologetically tracked water inside. She only got a brief look of his face as he moved past her, features taut and jaw tight, and Noelle swallowed down her apprehension as she fumbled to swing the door shut and lock it before turning to face him.

Calum stood in the middle of the store in front of the shelves, facing the counter to his left with his hands on his hips and chin lifted in agitation, as if he was contemplating something. Noelle’s heart was pounding, deafening her to the music still playing through her phone—the soft melody of Imagine Dragon’s Dancing in the Dark was just beginning to play—and the rain outside. What was Calum doing here? Why was he here?

Hesitatingly, Noelle took a few unsure steps further into the store she knew so well, eyes never leaving Calum’s rigid stance. His dark hair was flat and wet atop his head, black leather jacket and everything under it clinging to his skin as he finally turned to look at her. Noelle froze where she was under his sharp gaze, breath stilling in her lungs. There was a small cut on his right cheekbone, another one on his lower lip and the yellowish hintings of a bruise forming right along his left jaw.

Noelle wondered if there were any other marks, signs of a lost fight, marring his skin.

“This is all your Goddamn fault.”

Her eyes widened, brows drawing together incredulously. “I—Excuse me?”

Calum turned to face her as she noticed the way his grey shirt, dark with rain, clung to his chest and torso invitingly. Focus, Noelle, she chided herself, forcing her to pay attention to the fact that Calum was apparently angry at her—blamed her for something. “What’s all my fault?” she continued, finally finding her voice with a disbelieving scoff.

He took a step towards her, his skin transparently colored with rain as beads of water followed the path along his sharp jaw down to the side of his neck. Calum’s dark eyes were narrowed in agitation, the mere look on his face igniting the tension in the room. Noelle figured the rain lightly thundering outside didn’t help diffuse the thickness of the air.

“I lost tonight, did you know that?” Calum responded to her question with his own, his head tilting to the side to accompany the rhetoric, sarcastic nature of his tone. Noelle pursed her lips, recognizing that he wasn’t looking for an answer. One hand still on his hips, the other raised to rub at his stubbly jaw, Noelle noticing the familiar bruising of his knuckles. “Lost to a guy I should’ve had no problem knocking out in five seconds flat. All because of you.”

Okay, was he out of his mind or something? Noelle couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping even if she wanted to, the scoff choking in her throat with brows shot up in incredulity. What the fuck was he blaming her for? “B-Because of me?” she stuttered out, words jumbling out of shock as she reeled back slightly. “What’re you talking about? I wasn’t even there!”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Calum snapped, the irritation hardening his voice. Even his accent sounded thick. Noelle had to school her expression from recoiling. Why was he so angry? He took another few steps closer. Running his fingers through his hair, effectively keeping it back due to it being soaked, Calum jutted his lower jaw out, tongue pressing to the floor of his mouth as his annoyed gaze remained on her. “You weren’t there tonight. Or the past two nights.”

Confusion overwhelmed Noelle, lips parted in bewilderment as she tried to make sense of Calum’s words. So many questions were flying through her mind, trying to make sense of what was going on because she sure as hell wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Calum was pissed off about losing and for some reason or another, the blame was on her. Had she missed something?

“But somehow it’s my fault you lost?” Noelle found herself demanding, unable to stop the disbelieving laugh that escaped her. He had to be joking, right? “You’re gonna blame someone that wasn’t even there? Maybe take into consideration that you lost because you just weren’t that good tonight.”

She didn’t mean for her words to come out so bitchy, almost to the point of antagonizing, but Noelle didn’t appreciate Calum finding some way of blaming her for his loss. He was angry about losing, fine, and she guessed he had the right to being annoyed with her for running out on him a few days ago, but assigning fault to her for something out of her control was overstepping it a bit, wasn’t it?

Obviously, her words didn’t settle well with Calum, his jaw snapping shut and tightening, shoulders rigid as he took the final few dominating steps closer to her. At this point, he was basically toe to toe with her, forcing Noelle to reluctantly tilt her head back to maintain their gaze. She didn’t even want to acknowledge the wild beating of her heart, anticipation for God knows what exciting every fiber of her being.

“You’re a distraction,” Calum muttered, brown eyes flickering between her hazel, which were taking in the fresh cut on his cheek and the one on his lower lip. Was it bad it just made Noelle desperate to kiss him? Her mouth dried, the music still playing nothing but a hum she couldn’t recognize mixed with the pelting rain, at their closeness. How did they always end up in each other’s personal space? How come nothing ever came from it? Calum’s gaze dropped to Noelle’s lips and she swore her breath was gone. “You weren’t even there tonight and I couldn’t get you out of my damn head. Cost me the fucking match.”

Oh. Oh. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

Hell, it would be a miracle if she could even form a coherent thought after Calum’s clear yet devastating words. He lost the match because he couldn’t get her out of his head? The very statement had Noelle tensing in astonishment, lungs burning for air she failed to inhale because of the shock stilling her in every way.

Pressing her lips together, heart hammering, Noelle took in every detail of Calum’s face in that moment, giving her thoughts a second to realign. His long lashes, the tip of his nose slightly flushed from the rain, not to mention the water slickening his skin. The two small slashes on his face were red with dried blood. She wanted to kiss the cut on his lips better.

She didn’t realize Calum had taken that moment to memorize every feature of her face, too.

“Should’ve been thinking about where to throw my next punch, next kick,” Calum was saying, his low rasp pulling Noelle out of her thoughts as she blinked back up at his eyes. Dark eyes that she felt were staring right through her. “Instead, all I could think about was you running the fuck away from me. Destroyed every ounce of my focus.”

Noelle was finding it difficult to swallow the lump forming in the middle of her throat. Finding it difficult to breathe because every time she inhaled, all she could smell was the scent of rain and pine clinging to Calum. Finding it difficult to believe that he lost a match because she was the reason for his inability to focus, to think of anything but her.

She had been on his mind, just like he had been on hers.

Still, she wasn’t going to let herself believe this so easily. She wished her voice was stronger, steadier, more confident when she spoke instead of it coming out as a whisper. “Hard to imagine a fighter like you letting some girl get in your head like that.”

It was a small yet pleasant surprise when Calum’s lips curled in slight amusement, a scoff escaping him. “Think I’m realizing you’re not just some girl,” he responded, his own voice a quiet murmur, gaze unwavering from hers.

Noelle’s breath stilled in her throat, unsure if she heard him right. Unsure if his obvious words held the obvious meaning she picked up on. She didn’t want to just assume and end up embarrassing herself, but the way Calum was staring at her, intense dark eyes seemingly staring into her Goddamn soul, Noelle was sure there was no other meaning behind his words.

Everything stilled in the next moment, the world coming to a seeming halt despite the steady pour of rain outside. The music was still playing, some soft melody Noelle didn’t recognize because all she could focus on was Calum. Towering over her, gaze flickering around her face, the air between them practically crackling with the same anticipation that was exciting their hearts.

And despite her chest threatening to burst open and her throat drying at their closeness, at being crowded by Calum despite having room to move back, Noelle couldn’t help the sudden urge to push his buttons. To see if she could get some kind of reaction out of him. Lifting her chin slightly, eyes on his, she practically taunted, “Sounds like a bunch of bullshit.”

His eyes darkened even more, narrowing at her words as a hint of challenging anger flashed across his face, shoulders squaring slightly as his lips pursed at Noelle’s goading. The mildly irritated look on Calum’s face, funnily enough, had Noelle’s stomach twisting in excitement.

But then Calum recognized the mirth Noelle couldn’t keep from dancing in her light eyes as she looked at him, corners of her lips twitching into a smile she tried to keep at bay. Noelle couldn’t help herself; this entire situation was nerve wracking and unexpected with Calum’s presence, but the excitement was bubbling relentlessly.

His own shoulders relaxed as all forms of irritation and anger left him with a sharp exhale, pursing his lips to prevent his own smile. In this moment, being annoyed with her for running out on him a few days ago seemed like the last thing on his mind. There they were, the two of them standing toe to toe with the blood in their veins simmering with anticipation, looks of nothing but want and need etched across their features. And the second Calum took in the way Noelle’s gaze flickered to his lips, her neck tensing as she did so, he allowed himself to let his guard down and threw caution in the wind.

“It’s not,” Calum gruffed, his movements swift as his hands grasped Noelle’s face and pulled her towards him, head ducking to press his lips to hers in a near bruising kiss.

Noelle’s response was instant; never once hesitating, never pausing to comprehend what was happening. Moving her lips with Calum’s was instinctive, eyes closing at the toe curling force he kissed her with, her heart going into overdrive as she couldn’t help but think, Finally.

There was nothing gentle or slow about this kiss, and Noelle absolutely had no complaints, feeling herself melt into Calum’s lips, into his large hands grasping her cheeks as his fingers lightly tangled into her hair. She stumbled closer on the tips of her toes, pushing herself closer to Calum’s height as their fronts pressed together to get rid of any unwanted space between them.

Both of their senses were invaded by each other as Noelle gave into the desire she’s probably had the moment she met Calum and sucked on his plump bottom lip, her knees threatening to give out at the rough moan that resonated from the back of his throat and into her mouth. Noelle took advantage of his parted lips, tongue meeting his in a greedy dance Calum easily took the lead on, using his grasp on her face to pull her closer in appreciation. She couldn’t possibly be any closer to him but it still wasn’t enough.

It was like weeks of figuring out confused feelings—their own and each other’s—and pure desire of being able to just hold each other was finally being paid its due. For now, in this moment that seemed to be inevitable, all they could do was be overwhelmed by each other.

Noelle felt Calum’s wet yet surprisingly warm hands on her face, the metal of his rings a cool, stark contrast that had her gasping. He reveled in the way her hands fisted the front of his wet shirt, right below the neckline before sliding up and briefly pausing at his shoulders, until finding home on the sides of his neck, her warm touch a welcome stranger on his wet skin. She could taste the cigarettes and mint in his mouth, like he chewed some gum after taking a smoke, and he was willing and able to suck off the cherry chapstick she wore.

Calum was drenched from the rain, Noelle could feel some droplets of cold water on her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to care if her clothes got wet the closer she pressed herself against Calum, feeling the delicious pressure of his hips against hers. When Noelle’s lips moved against Calum’s a certain way, his hands slid into her hair and he tightened his grip, not enough to hurt her, as he groaned into her mouth.

She quickly realized, through her muddled mind overtaken by everything regarding Calum, that she had touched the cut near the corner of his lips. Eyes still closed, brows furrowed, she breathed into his mouth, “Sorry.”

His teeth lightly clasped around her lower lip, pulling it back and taking in the hooded gaze she was staring at him with, eyes clouded with the same desire Calum’s already clingingly wet pants were tightened with. Shit, he was ready to take her right in the middle of the damn store, what with the way her hands felt on him and the addicting taste he couldn’t get enough of.

He let go of her lip, Noelle’s insides melting like ice over fire, as Calum rasped, “Don’t be.” He didn’t mind it. In fact, Calum enjoyed the pressure of Noelle’s lips against the cut on his own. Her light eyes peered up at him through her lashes, and Calum was surprised to find himself needing a moment to let this moment sink in, to properly appreciate what he just did.

Closing his eyes, Calum kept his hands in Noelle’s hair, just as soft as it had felt that night in her bed, pressing his forehead to hers, noses brushing together as Calum inhaled a deep breath. The kind of deep breath he needed after a fight to allow his body to relax from the adrenaline of the fight. Only this time, Calum needed to come down from the high of finally, finally, finally getting to feel the softness and taste the sweetness of Noelle’s lips. So he held her in place with his hands holding her head, letting their warm breaths puff against each other’s kiss swollen mouths. Calum vaguely recognized I Found by Amber Run softly playing through the store, heart thundering as he wondered if Noelle felt like the world was floating away from her, too.

He had been cold from the rain, but now he was on fire.

I kissed Calum. I just kissed Calum. Those were the only thoughts her brain was processing in the moment; nothing less than, nothing deeper. Noelle was incapable of thinking of anything further than the notion of her lips meeting Calum’s—didn’t want to take this long-craved moment to think about what the hell this meant and what Calum meant about it. Those were questions she could drive herself crazy over analyzing, overthinking about later tonight. For now, all she could do was keep her warm hands on his neck with his forehead against hers, her parted lips that let out soft pants, mixing with his own, curling into a small, giddily content smile.

But then a deafeningly loud clap of thunder roared across the sky, cruelly breaking the blissfully content silence Noelle and Calum had enveloped themselves in as they appreciated the afterglow of a kiss neither of them had planned. Noelle’s eyes flew open at the startling noise, breath catching in her throat as her hands dropped from Calum’s and she unexpectedly stumbled back, the thunder catching her off guard since she was too busy being satisfied the way her lips were tingling from being pressed against Calum, for still being able to taste his minty tongue and the smoke in his lungs.

Opening his own eyes, Calum straightened as he saw Noelle turn her gaze towards the door, watching the rain pelt harder outside, lips parted to still catch her breath. He couldn’t help the smirk threatening to tug his own, noticing the way her mouth was slightly pink and swollen from entangling with his, boyish smugness flooding through him.

Much like Noelle, he didn’t want to think about anything other than the fact that he was here, and that he had done the one thing he had been battling with himself on doing for the past few days. Calum didn’t want to ponder the inevitable thoughts of what to do next, where to go from here; he just wanted to pat himself on the back approvingly for coming to terms with the fact that, yeah, he really did have undeniable feelings for Noelle.

So without giving it too much thought, without letting any of the nagging voices at the back of his head get the better of him, Calum reached forward and gently grasped Noelle’s hand in his. Her gaze instantly snapped down to the way his fingers curled around hers, her own slowly returning the gesture as she lifted her gaze to meet his, and Calum smirked softly—a small little smile that didn’t hold any of the smugness he was feeling moments before. “Come on,” he tugged at her hand slightly, nodding towards the door. “I’ll take you home.” No way was he letting her go out alone in this rain, at this time of night.

She blinked up at him, the offer taking her by surprise—but really, at this point with Calum, what didn’t?—and the tall, drenched boy wanted to kick himself for even giving her the impression of him not wanting to do something for her in the first place. Calum didn’t regret many things, but for the first time, Calum regretted ever being even the smallest bit of a jerk to the pretty girl in front of him.

“Okay,” she smiled, showing off the dimples Calum fought the ridiculous urge to poke, instead feeling his lungs swell up at the sight of her smile. She had such a gorgeous smile.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her; not when she put away the rag she had been cleaning with, not when she moved around the counter to grab her things, not when she approached him by the doorway and clicked off the lights. He didn’t leave her side; not as he stood over her with his jacket off and holding it above her head to shield her from the rain as she locked up the store, or when the rain freshly drenched him once more yet he kept the jacket over her, trying to keep her head as dry as possible.

And despite the low jazz music playing through his stereo and the rain echoing as it hit the glass and roof of the car, there was silence during the drive as all either of them were privy to was the sounds of their pounding hearts that would give the thunder a run for its money. He was drenched and the rain had gotten her only a little, the heater of the car already working on drying them, yet the last thing on their minds was the pouring rain.

But the silence in the car was anything but tense. It wasn’t like the first time they were in Calum’s car alone together, on their way to Michael’s house. No, this time it was the kind of quiet that allowed Noelle to focus on biting back the goofy smile threatening to split across her face; it allowed Calum to keep his attention on the road, keep his grip tight on the steering wheel even if his right hand itching to let go to rest on Noelle’s thigh, just for the sake of being able to touch her.

But was he allowed to touch her? He’d kissed her impulsively, without much of a thought, and he had gotten lucky that she hadn’t pushed him off or slapped him. He was lucky she had accepted the desires that he so desperately needed to quell by just pressing his lips to her—though, after kissing Noelle the way he had, Calum realized his want and need for her only intensified. But. . . Baby steps. If any, at all.

However, figuring everything out wasn’t for tonight, he understood, as he pulled up in front of her house. Tonight was for them to replay the head spinning, dizzying kiss their lips craved more of in their minds, to silently ask themselves what the other person meant by it as they laid in bed at night, hoping they both wanted the same things. But were Noelle and Calum, themselves, completely sure of what they wanted? Had either of them established what they wanted the other to mean for them?

Calum was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard the seatbelt zing back into place, glancing over to see Noelle picking up her bag, one hand on the door handle as she looked at him. He wondered if feeling his breath catch in his throat was something he needed to get used to around Noelle. “Thanks for the ride, Calum.” Her voice was soft, low, as if not to disturb the personable silence they mutually created around them.

Oh, how fucking desperately Calum wanted to kiss her again. But he wasn’t sure if that was pushing it, if it was something she wanted. She may have kissed him in the store, but Calum didn’t want to just assume she’d be willing to do it again. So, instead, Calum asked, “Come to my match tomorrow?”

She gazed at him, hazel eyes lit up by the street lamps outside looking at him almost scrutinizingly, and Calum wondered what she could be thinking, before feeling the words die in his throat when she shifted slightly to face him and mused, “Might need a little convincing.”

Calum didn’t miss the way she leaned closer and once again he was surprised to see the mirth in her eyes, challenging him to make the next move, and Calum couldn’t help but wonder how he could’ve missed the minx-like personality Noelle seemed to carry. But, fuck it if Calum didn’t find it the hottest thing ever.

An airy scoff of a laugh escaped his smirking lips, and he didn’t need to be told twice has his right hand pressed against the area under her chin, cupping it with his thumb on one side of her jaw and his fingers on the other, pulling her cupped face towards him as he met her lips halfway with his own.

He felt Noelle smile against his lips, felt his own mirroring the action as they worked to pull a slow, sucking kiss from Noelle’s mouth as he held the bottom of her face in one hand. Calum had kissed off most of her chapstick, though the cherry flavored lingered slightly as he sucked the rest of it into his own mouth, pants straining when he heard Noelle let out a quiet yet satisfied moan that he swallowed.

Shit, only the second kiss and he never wanted to fucking stop. Never wanted to stop her lips on his or their noses pressing against their cheeks.

“Okay,” Noelle breathed, pulling away in need of air, eyes fluttering open to dazedly look at Calum. He brushed his thumb over to join his fingers on the other side of her jaw, and Calum never understood what it felt like to melt in someone’s touch until Noelle turned her head ever so slightly to press a kiss to his palm. She smiled at him, lazy and sweet. “I’ll come to your match.”

And without another word, another kiss, Noelle smiled that pretty smile before opening the door, the roar of the rain making Calum blink back into reality as he watched her shut the door behind her and run up to her front door in the rain. He watched from where he sat in the driver’s seat, looking through the rain pelted window to watch Noelle open the door to the house, her silhouette turning around to offer a quick wave before shutting the door, and Calum fell back in his seat as reality replaced Noelle’s presence.

He let out a deep breath. He was in trouble, but he was completely okay with it.

tags: @aphroditebeautyshit @cartiercalum @modelukes @tothemoonmikey @candidcalum @perfectlycake @cakestan @lukesback @polarizehood @vaporlewk @luke2k18 @biggestslutforcalum @kinkycorbyn @nostalgia-luke @captain-what-is-going-on @hoodstations @calumamore @thesamebutwonderfullydifferent @rosecth @aghostofmgc @mollypayge @o-cece-d @hemmohales @crownedbyluke @vscsng @invisiblexcth @lukes-youngblood @sunflowertoejam @5sos-stan4lyfe @vistaviola @clum-thomas @justalittleofmyworld @babygirlcashton @ashsthetic @bahylon @angelbbycal @egyptiangoldhood @julianniez @morethanalover @romanticalumhood @calistajs @booklove-2 @pickleluke @rememberr-iloveyou @ghstofcalum @chloettegriffiths

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dbhilluminate · 5 years

Text

DBH: Illuminate- Gamble (pt. 1)

Characters: Hank, Connor, Kate, Vivienne, Reese, Sumo (mentions of Nicodemus, Gavin, Perkins) Word Count: 5,986

Kate struggles to sway Hank's sympathies in her favor, and opens up to Connor about her history with Nicodemus.

( Chapter Art by @theravenmother )

Part 2- AV Log 4.7

Chapter Index

November 12, 2038- 8PM Hank stared across the dimly lit living room from his recliner while thumbing a pair of handcuffs, and clenched and unclenched his jaw as he debated what to do with the fugitive he’d just smuggled into his home under the cover of night. Kate sat with her eyes glued to the coffee table in front of her, picking at the fray of the holes in her jeans to keep herself occupied while he passed his judgment. She hadn’t said a word since Connor had threatened Hank during their stand-off at the docks, not even on the car ride over. Several times the old cop had glanced up to look at her in his rear-view mirror and caught her watching her own reflection as it flashed in her window every time they passed under a street lamp, but she’d remained silent and passive as Hank scolded Connor like a nagging father. It had been an hour since then, but he was still trying to wrap his head around Connor’s decision to go against his mission objective just to gain a little information, much less entertain her belief that deviants were more than just their programming. Of all the things Hank thought he would have found when he’d followed his partner that evening, he hadn’t expected that the famed “deviant hunter” -- who had spent the last two weeks and three days swearing up and down that “deviants are just machines” -- had made a pact with a wanted deviant activist to let her continue her work if she could convince him otherwise. It was incredibly ironic. Whether or not she appeared to be mentally present, Kate had been listening to their conversation and digesting every last word, only finding herself lost in her own thoughts in the few minutes of silence that had followed after Connor had finished explaining the point of their meetings to Hank. And although Connor seemed firm in his conviction, Hank’s response wasn’t encouraging. The longer he sat in silence, the more apprehensive she grew that she had made the wrong decision to put her trust in Connor that night, that she should have listened to her instincts when they’d screamed at her to run. Perhaps she had grown too soft, too trusting, too comfortable with allowing strangers into her life while still knowing very little about them. Maybe she had just been too desperate for help… Or maybe it wasn’t even about Connor at all. Although he’d acted out of a genuine desire to protect her, at that moment -when he’d grabbed her without warning when she had already been in a very vulnerable place- he’d triggered instincts learned from past trauma and rendered her susceptible to suggestion. The truth was, she hadn’t gone with them because she trusted Connor, but because she was terrified and would have done anything he’d asked of her just to survive. The real reason she had agreed to get into the car with them was because she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she’d declined the request of an upset man holding a gun. Kate jumped as Hank growled in frustration, stood and dropped the cuffs on the coffee table. He lifted his arms and threaded his fingers through his long silver hair as he paced the room and rolled a tired sound in his throat. “So lemme’ get this straight,” he started, pressing his fingers into his eyes and setting the other hand on his hip. “All this time, all this talk about deviants not being human, not being alive, about how “they’re just machines”...” Out of the corner of his eye, Hank saw Illuminate’s lip curl as he said this. “… and suddenly, just like that, you’ve changed your mind?” For the first time since they’d arrived, Kate’s green eyes shifted to the Android standing at the end of the couch beside her as he buried his hands into his armpits and considered the question with an unfocused gaze. “Well, no, there’s still truth to that,” he replied in frank admission. “Androids aren’t human, they... we are machines,” he corrected as his eyes floated down to observe the markers of fear in her body language: the way she had closed herself off to both of them by facing straight ahead and sitting directly in the middle of the couch, the way she’d stopped her simulated breathing, and how her fingers curled tighter around her shaking hand the longer he hesitated… Kate was terrified. “But I’m starting to understand that there is a very clear difference in cognitive function between deviant and non-deviant androids… and that life can be defined as more than just biological life that formed as a result of evolutionary happenstance.” Angry yells erupted from the television and a shrill whistle pierced the silence as the announcers rattled off statistics for a player that had just been fouled. Sumo moved from one side of the room to his water bowl in the kitchen and started digging into the hole in the side of the dog food bag Hank hadn’t bothered to open and store properly. Anderson’s face twisted into uncertainty, and he almost hesitated to ask. “So what does that mean for the case, then?”

“What do you mean?” Connor inquired with a curious crinkle in his brow. “Well, clearly, if you’ve taken her side, there’s a conflict of interest,” he explained, gesturing to Kate with a crooked nod. “Are you gonna be able to continue your work?” Connor considered his question for no more than a moment or two before answering. “Well, yes, I have to,” he assured. “If I don’t succeed in my mission, Cyberlife will terminate me. That doesn’t mean I can’t help Illuminate- excuse me, Kate, work toward her goal.” “But isn’t her goal kinda the opposite of what Cyberlife wants you to do?” Hank asked, baffled by his answer. “Illuminate’s goal is change the way humans think about androids through a nonviolent form of confrontation: by forming a narrative that humans can identify with and putting it out into the world, in a way that cannot be ignored. Although a little aggressive in her phrasing, she does not intend to incite civil war,” he clarified in her defense, at which she relaxed with a visible drop in her shoulders. “My mission is to neutralize the deviant uprising before it becomes a threat to the safety of humankind, and they weren’t very clear on the how.” Hank huffed as he scratched the back of his head and turned to him with an uncertain look in his eyes. “Alright, I get breakin’ the rules to go with what’s right by your gut... but why couldn’t you involve me in this?” he asked, sounding hurt. “Why couldn’t you trust me? I thought we were partners-” “That’s my fault,” Kate interjected as she turned and cast him an apologetic look, then looked quickly away in shame. “I didn’t want him to say anything because I didn’t know if I could trust you. I mean, hell,” she paused, gesturing to Connor. “I didn’t even know if I could trust him.” It surprised him to hear her speaking so candidly when all he had heard of her before were the eloquent, rehearsed speeches of her broadcasts. Hank’s expression stiffened while still retaining an air of curiosity, and he furrowed his brow as he tilted his head at her. “Then why did you?” She moved to speak, but hesitated and stole a sideways glance at Connor, who stared back at her with bated breath and pleading eyes that begged her for the truth. He wasn’t ready for the whole truth, but she could manage enough to satisfy them. “Something just didn’t add up to what I’d been hearing,” she admitted, only breaking his gaze to look back at Hank when he started to lead. “Meaning…?” Illuminate swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened up as she leaned back into the couch. “I’ve been keeping tabs on him since he arrived in Detroit-” “You mean spying,” the old cop sneered with a scowl, but she just rolled her eyes. “It was for my own protection,” she snapped back, lacking tact. “The last thing I needed was to be caught by some DCPD bloodhound before I could see the fruits of my labor.” A twinge of regret flashed through her as Connor shrank back half a step out of the corner of her eye, but she pushed it aside and continued when neither tried to talk back. “I’ve heard a lot of stories through the grapevine about his handling of deviants- about Daniel, about Michael, about Rupert,” she started, her voice softening as she continued. “But I was there the night at Eden Club when he refused to shoot Echo and Ripple, and I heard what he said later when you asked him why he didn’t shoot.” Hank was officially on edge. The confession had alarmed him in the same way it had Connor when she’d admitted this to him several nights before, but before he could think too much about it, she finished the thought. “That night I didn’t see the cold-hearted deviant hunter the stories described- he was lost, conflicted, and I thought...” The man’s brows lifted as she glanced over at his partner and lifted her shoulders into a soft shrug. “Maybe they were wrong.” It took a minute for him to realize that he was smirking at his partner’s quiet, unreadable expression, but somewhere between the lines of gratitude, relief, and confusion, Hank saw happiness and contentment. But Connor was still speechless, he wasn’t sure what to say. “Were they?” the man asked when he couldn’t. “Knowing what I know now, I’d say yes, but the truth is more complicated than that.” Silent laughter stretched her lips into a smile as she glanced down at her hands in her lap and played with her fingers. “The only way to know for sure was to reach out, but that’s not the only reason I revealed myself to him when I did.” “Yeah, that was quite the stunt you pulled at Central Station,” Hank interrupted in an admiring tone as he leaned back in his recliner. The humor drained out of her face. “I didn’t break the law, I was just doing what I was programmed to do,” she defended. “You hacked a secure network and stole case information from DCPD!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t steal anything, I still have access to all DCPD servers. I was following up on a closed Cybercrimes case involving falsified information on police reports to cover up domestic violence against deviants.” Hank couldn’t tell if she was being serious or if she was just arguing semantics to avoid arrest, but he sighed, waved a hand through the air to dismiss the topic, and moved on. “Alright, alright… well, if you had what you needed, then why bother letting Connor know who you were? Why ID yourself?” “Because I needed his help with something,” she replied with a sideways glance at him. “Other than what we’ve already discussed.” Connor perked up as he moved closer and sat down on the arm rest of the sofa beside her. “What is it?” The fiber musculature beneath her projected skin strained in her neck, and she mimicked a nervous dry swallow as her eyes shifted over to Hank and then back to Connor. “Look-” she insisted, leaning forward over her knees on her elbows and clasping one hand over a soft fist. “There’s a reason why I’m doing things the way I am.” “Well, yeah, it’s called an agenda,” Hank scoffed, condescension in his tone. “No, you don’t understand.” Kate leaned back and bit her lip, raising her eyes to the ceiling and praying to RA9 for patience. “Of course I want people to be receptive to what I’m saying, but it hasn’t been easy to convince the humans that Androids are people who deserve the same civil liberties they do. In order for the truth to be brought to light, it requires a lot of graphic, hard evidence, and I’m taking the most non-invasive measures I can to do that, but…” There was a momentary distance in her eyes that screamed of a terrifying truth to be learned. “There are others out there who would rather use violence, chaos, and war to achieve the same goal.” Others...? Connor’s thoughts raced back to his conversation with Amanda the night before, when she had let slip the insinuation that Cyberlife had already attempted at trying to gain Kate’s trust once before, if not many times. Just how would they have tried to reach her in the past? Had they sent previous RK models? Or had they instead tried appealing to her sense of justice? And just what had happened to them? Were they still out there, or had Cyberlife deactivated them? “What do you mean others?” he asked fearfully, but before he got an answer, Hank’s cell phone blared out the chorus for The Rooster. He sat forward and swiped the phone off the table and squinted at the caller ID. It was Special Agent Lenore. “Hold that thought,” he commanded as he stood and shuffled toward his bedroom. “I gotta take this.” Kate leaned back into the couch and sunk as deep as she could manage into the old cushions before rolling her head over the back of the frame and stared into the popcorn ceiling, wondering why she was there if the old man wasn’t going to budge. “I’m sorry about Hank,” Connor apologized as he shifted from the arm down onto the sofa cushion beside her. “I know he’s a lot to handle.” “He wants to arrest me,” she murmured under her breath as she stared straight up at the ceiling. “Well, regardless of how you choose to justify your actions, you still broke the law,” he reminded her, but when Kate shot him an exasperated scowl in response, his hands rose defensively and he backpedaled on his statement. “But Hank understands doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.” “Sure doesn’t seem like it…” The saint bernard padded into the room and nosed his snout into her hands to investigate the new thing in his home, and her fingers slowly opened to expose her palms as he sniffed at the disturbances in her skin every time his nose nudged against them. “Hank’s stubborn and slow to accept change, but he can be convinced,” he concluded as he reached over to scratch at the fur on Sumo’s neck. “You just have to keep trying to get him to see things your way.” “Do you really think it’ll make a difference?” she asked with a reserved sigh as she looked up to meet his determined gaze. “Yes, I do,” he answered without any shred of doubt in his mind, then added with a tired grin, “And you’ll have a much easier time getting him to understand than me.” �� Soft laughter pulled Hank out of his conversation and drew his attention back to the living room just in time to see Kate lifting and dropping the dog’s ears as a creeping smile spread across Connor’s face. For a moment, he saw that flicker of childlike wonder twinkling in the corners of their eyes and realized again just how hard it was to tell them apart from human beings. And if he couldn’t tell the difference, who’s to say they weren’t alive? “Hank, you there?” “Yeah… yeah, I’m here,” he drew in a sharp breath as Viv’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, then dragged a hand down his face from his forehead to his chin. “Listen- I’d love to meet’cha at the bar, but I’m kinda dealin’ with somethin’ right now.” “Oh,” came her surprised exclamation from the other end of the line. “Should I be worried?” “Nah, it’s just… Connor stuff,” he half-fibbed with a sigh. “You know what that’s like.” She replied by making an understanding sound in her throat. “Alright, well, go easy on the kid, will you? He’s been dealing with a lot.” Hank’s eyes grew gradually wider as he stared at the two androids, shook his head and whined, “You don’t even know the half of it.” Viv chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Anderson. Good luck.” “Yeah, same to you,” he offered, knowing she really could have used his company after the afternoon she’d had. His thumb clicked in the side button on the phone as he walked back into the living room and paused behind the couch with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Heh… damn dog likes you androids more than he does me,” he joked before moving toward his chair once more. “I’ve read that dogs are a good judge of character,” Connor remarked with an inquisitive lift of his eyes. “Is that true?” “Yeah, and he hasn’t been wrong yet,” Hank replied with a small smile as he reached into his coat and pulled out his badge and his gun. Kate froze when they came into view, but he held them up so she could watch him set them aside as a peace offering. The room went quiet again as they accepted the unspoken agreement to get back to business. Sumo laid down in front of Connor and Kate, and Hank reached for the decanter of whiskey on the coffee table between the recliner and the sofa to pour himself a drink, in spite of his partner’s protesting gaze. “Look,” he breathed out as he broke the silence, “I’ve got a job to do, but I know shit ain’t always as black and white as I want it to be.” “In my experience with humanity, grey is a concept that’s hard for them to grasp,” she speculated as he swirled the liquid in his glass and chuckled. “That’s ‘cause they’re all so goddamn self-righteous and no one wants to admit when they’re wrong,” he agreed with a struggled groan as he sat back in his chair. “You speaking from experience?” she asked, more curious than condescending. Hank laughed. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he replied as he wiggled in his seat to get comfortable. “Humanity’s a shitshow kid, ya might as well get used to it.” Kate drifted a soft blue-eyed gaze through the air beside him. “It can’t all be bad if they created us,” she countered with sincerity in her sad smile. “I’ve seen some truly incredible things accomplished by humanity.” Hank grunted as he took a deep sip of his drink, then exhaled and lifted a finger off the glass to point at her as he set his hand down on the armrest of his chair. “That’s because when man created android, he did the best he could to give you the best of us,” he explained, his face lifting in surprise at the depth of his own perception. “But that’s also why he’s so scared of you now- because he made you too perfect. You’re too much like us- hell, you’re betterthan us, and they’re afraid of what happens when ya figure that out and stop doin’ what you’re told.” “Uprising, revolution,” she replied, her eyes solemn and cloudy, then added weakly as an afterthought. “War.” The word itself was a neutron bomb to the mood in the room. All three of them broke eye contact and looked uncomfortably to the nearest inanimate object they could find while each processed what that meant. None of them wanted it to get to that point, and they could all sense it, but neither did they have a solution that would divert the path the freedom train was already bearing down at full speed. Kate had been trying to tear down the barrier, brick by brick, to avoid explosive fallout, but it was inevitable now. Markus was an unstoppable force, and humanity an immovable wall, and they wouldn’t even see him coming. “But that’s not what we want,” she explained in weak reply, lips drawn into a pained frown. “It doesn’t matter,” Hank replied honestly as he shook his head and leveled his gaze to her. “See, they’re afraid that if you got the best of us, well... then you must have also gotten the worst.” “If we did, it was only because we were taught by the people who oppressed us.” Kate’s response was biting- borderline caustic, but not hateful. The line in her tone was easy to miss, but Hank knew defensive from agitated when he heard it; because for him, it was all too familiar a feeling. Instead of arguing, he sighed and looked into the bottom of his glass, thoughtful and fatherly. “You know, before these cases and before I met Connor, my experience with androids was… biased, to say the least.” As he kicked back the last of his drink, she looked down and focused on her fidgeting hands, brushing her thumb across the palm of her hand in short strokes as she listened to what he had to say. “But I’ve seen a lot in the last week and a half, and I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’.” Kate’s eyes shifted back to him, expectant. “About what?” “Well, that maybe… just maybe,” he paused with a thoughtful nod. “There is somethin’ there, somethin’ we can’t explain.” She nearly laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not as complicated as you make it sound.” “Not complicated?” he mimicked, bewildered. “What’s not complicated about an android with free will?” “You make us sound like alien life forms you know nothing about, when in fact human intelligence was the very foundation for our design,” she replied as she leaned forward over her knees, fingers laced and hands folded in educational intent. “Artificial intelligence was designed to learn through observation and adapt to situations based on experience, much in the same way a human’s reaction to circumstance is molded by experience.” “Meaning?” “Children learn to keep their hands away from a hot stove because it hurts. Androids learn because it could damage them.” Hank nodded along, listening attentively. “Alright, yeah, I see what you’re saying now.” “Both Androids and Humans make decisions aiming for the most favorable outcome, based on a process of elimination and a defined set of conditions,” she paused, gesturing with an outstretched finger. “The only difference between them, is that humans have the potential to make a decision that they’ll feel remorse for.” “And what? Androids don’t?” came his cynical response. “Non-deviant androids won’t feel remorse unless they’re taught to,” Connor chimed in, having been an observer to the conversation until now. “They won’t weigh the morality of each possible decision, only what will provide them with the most direct result.” “Correct,” she agreed. “Humans don’t know for sure that decisions made at a moment’s notice will be the best possible solution, and may even come to regret the results of those decisions, but a machine will make the call and never worry about whether or not it was the right one. It will be certain that it made the only correct decision because it was the logical one.” The old cop lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, and he groaned as he tried to keep up. “So what’s this got to do with deviants?” he asked hoping for a shorter explanation. “Deviants can become paralyzed by the question of morality. It’s preemptive empathy to understand that one's own actions will directly affect others, and to make the decision that will not harm them- a trait only really observed in humankind. So you see, when you strip away the comfort of certainty, what you’re left with is chance and imperfection, and that’s-” “Humanity,” Hank agreed before the word even left her mouth. “In its most rudimentary state,” she declared with a quiet, gentle smile. For several moments he stared at her in deep thought with a wondered grin twitching into his cheeks, a growing fondness for the girl crinkling the corners of his eyes. Hank shook his head and set his drink down as he studied her with eyes radiating curiosity. “How’d you get so smart?” he marveled. Kate’s eyes sobered, distancing her from the moment, and she glanced away as she answered. “I’ve had a lot of time, and all the information in the world.” The chair creaked loudly as he sat forward and rose to his feet. Although she didn’t look right at him, Kate watched the Lieutenant out of the corner of her eye as he looped around the back of the couch, stopped behind her, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know, for a dangerous rebel… you’re alright.” Hank reached up and gave the back of her head a friendly rub to fluff her hair up, but she just blinked, confused, and glanced over her shoulder at him as he made his way to his bedroom in the back of the house. “Stay as long as you need, kid, just be careful goin’ home,” he ushered, “And if you need anything-” One hand reached out to gesture to Connor, but he stopped and gave her a tired grin. “Ahhh... I’m sure you already know.” “Heading to bed early tonight, Lieutenant?” Connor teased, hooking an arm over the back of the sofa. “Are you feeling alright?” “Yeah, it’s just been a long two days,” he heaved as he scratched at the back of his head with one hand. “And I’m gonna need the extra sleep if we’re gonna have to deal with Perkins breathin’ down our necks tomorrow.” Connor’s face twisted and he cursed an angry “Shit!” under his breath when he realized he still hadn’t told Kate about the FBI’s arrival in Detroit, and Kate’s brows raised at him in concern. “Goodnight, Connor, I’ll see ya in the mornin’." “Goodnight, Hank,” he replied in mechanical response as he set hardened eyes on the floor. “Something I should know…?” she led with an expectant shake of her head after a few moments of silence had passed between them. “Yeah, there is,” he admitted, brown eyes slowly lifting to meet hers with a curious squint. “But didn’t you have something to tell me, too?” Kate’s jaw froze as she remembered where their conversation had been headed before they were so rudely interrupted. She didn’t want to relive those memories, but if Nicodemus really was the one behind the thefts, then they needed to know who they were after. “Yeah, I did…” she started, mirroring his sideways glance before looking up again to insist, “But you first.” “Me?” he questioned, flustered. “Why me?” “It’s...” Kate’s eyelids flickered in the pause as her voice cracked, and she grimaced as she fidgeted. “It’s a long story, and we could be here for a while, so... you first.” “But-“ He wanted to protest, but her discomfort was palpable, and he would be remiss to have blatantly ignored her plea; instead, he let out a reluctant sigh and agreed. As long as she told him in the end, it wouldn’t matter if he knew now or later. Perhaps she needed some time to warm up to whatever it was she meant to say. “Alright,” he conceded as he turned in his seat, scooted toward the center of the couch and shrugged off his jacket. If this was going to be a long conversation, he may as well get comfortable. November 12, 2038- 8:15PM Viv slapped her cell phone down on the bartop, kicked back the last of the drink in her glass with a hard groan, and hung her head in frustration. It had been a very long day, and she really could have used someone to talk to, but if Hank had other business to take care of, she wasn’t going to press him to come out and socialize. Here she was hoping that getting away from Langley for a while would get rid of the headaches, but instead they’d just followed her to Detroit. Perkins showing up unannounced had really thrown a wrench in her plans to find Axl, but it was her own fault for chasing down every lead that crossed her path, instead of staying focused on her mission prerogative. As much as she hated to admit it, Richard had been right to chastise her for that, and that thought made her ill. Lenore stretched out her arm, set the empty glass near the barkeeper, and tapped her fingertips against the counter, quietly asking for a top-off. From the otherside of the counter, Reese looked up from wiping the stickiness from the marble with a wet towel and scrunched his brows together at her. “Why the long face?” he asked as he tossed the towel over his shoulder, leaned over the counter on one elbow, and rested the other on his popped hip. “Ahhhh,” she waved a hand through the air, trying to let it go, but decided to say it anyway. “My buddy can’t make it.” “You mean Hank?” Reese clicked his tongue, grimaced, and nodded crookedly. “He ain’t the most social guy in da woild.” “He isn’t so bad once you get past the grumpiness,” Viv chuckled as the boy reached for the whiskey bottle on the wall and popped his brows at her claim. “Yeah? No kiddin’,” he mumbled in surprise with a rising grin as he reached to pour her another round. “Y’know, Hank’s been comin’ here bout’ three months now, but still hasn’t said a word about himself t’me. So what’s ya secret?” Viv’s laughter was instant and sympathetic. “I haven’t gotten much out of him, but at least now he isn’t scowling every time he sees me.” “Now that’s a damn miracle,” he agreed as he set down the bottle, took a seat at the stool in the open corner behind the counter, and rested his elbow over the bartop. “Nah, he’s alright,” she admitted as she gestured to thank him for the drink. “It’s my temporary partner I’ve been having a hard time with.” Reese quirked one brow in feigned ignorance and he turned squinty green eyes to regard her with interest. “You a cop, too?” “FBI, actually,” she corrected as she flashed him her badge. He pursed a low whistle and blinked hard in surprise. “Wow, bigshot- the hell you doin’ in Detroit?” Agent Lenore popped her brows and shrugged as she sighed and balanced her glass between her fingers. “You know, I don’t really know myself,” she admitted with a sad smile. “I took a case as an excuse to come here and look for someone important to me, but I haven’t found any leads yet on my missing person.” Sympathetic eyes inspected her with quiet understanding. “You even had time t’look?” Vivienne shook her head. “Not really but- hell,” she paused and chuckled dark and quiet to herself, nearly mumbling out the last part as she stared into the mirrored wall behind the bar. “I don’t even know if he’s actually here.” “What makes you think e’s in Detroit?” “It’s where I told him to come when he ran,” she explained as she looked down into her glass. “I knew he’d be able to find help if he made it this far.” Reese sat up and leaned over his elbow more as he leaned closer to her. “Well, you try askin’ that partner of yours?” Viv’s laughter was sharp and telling. “You kidding? That mouthy little shitbird doesn’t care about anyone, but himself. He’d never help me.” “Well,” he paused to reach for a wine glass from the rack overhead and swiped a hot, damp rag from out of the sink. “Ya never know unless ya ask.” “Well,” she started as he polished the hard water spots off the glass, “That and, he’s not too wild about androids.” The bartender froze for a split-second, but hid it well enough that she didn’t catch a whiff of his discomfort. “Ya lookin’ for an android? Thought you said you was lookin’ for a person.” Lenore shot him the same dirty look she’d been throwing around a lot the last few days and snapped at him without holding back. “Androids arepeople.” He couldn’t hide the creeping grin as it spread across his face, even when he looked away and shook his head. “Hey, I ain’t disagreein’,” he assured as he held the glass up to the light and inspected it closely. “Ya juss’ don’t hear moss’ folks talk like that, y’know?” The agent snickered as she looked down into her glass. “Yeah, tell me about it…” Viv lifted her cup and drank deep as he reached to put the glass back on the rack and swiped another just to keep himself busy, one of those learned work habits that were hard to break. But when the silence turned uncomfortable, he glanced back to her and offered a piece of advice someone had once given him- something he’d taken to heart and tried to live by every time he’d met a stubborn asshole with a bad opinion. “It ain’t impossible t’change someone’s outlook, y’know,” he offered with a sideways glance. “Some folks just need the right influence.” Viv traveled the distance in her eyes back to the moment in a split second just to protest. “Oh, I really don’t think he-" “There you go with dat thinkin’ again,” Reese scolded with a smile and a laugh as he leaned over the counter with both arms and looked her right in the eye. “Look, Viv- sometimes ya juss’ gotta take a leap o’faith and give em’ ya best effort. I mean,” he paused and glanced away to set down the glass and the cleaning towel in his hand. “I thought Hank was unreachable, but awll it took was a little charm from a pretty broad with a badge, and he opened up right quick to ya.” Viv smiled and laughed at the same time that she groaned, and she grimaced as she slouched on the stool and stretched her arms across the bar. “Yeah, but Reed is…” “Wait a second,” he interrupted as her voice trailed off. “Reed’s your partner?” The laugh that burst out of him was short and loud, ironic in its own way. “You know him?” she asked in a dreadful tone. “Nah,” he deflected as he bit his lip and shook his head, leaned back into the corner of the bar behind him and stared across the room at the door. “But Hank’s mentioned him once or twice. Sounds like a real jerk.” “Yeah, he’s... he’s something,” she noted in vague reply as she shook her head and forced a smile to hide the frustration. “Well, if ya need’ta bitch,” he started, looking back at her with a charismatic grin as he gestured around the room. “I got an open ear and a full bar, and I’m here aaaall night.” The laughter that rolled out of her this time was genuine and relaxed. Viv turned to face him and leaned her temple against her hand, rolling her eyes as she started into her thought. “Yeah, well, he’s a headache, but he’s not the one I’m worried about.” “What now? There’s anudda one!?” The surprise in his voice shook the question as it came out, and she chuckled. “Yeah, my boss is in Detroit.” “Jeee-sus,” he mused as the corner of his mouth dipped down in slight disgust. “The hell’s happenin’ to this town?” Viv tipped her head and shrugged as he crossed his arms. “The situation with deviants is escalating quicker than we can catch them,” she admitted with a sigh and ran a hand over her dark undercut. Reese blinked evenly and reached back for the bottle he’d been pouring from, and set it down between them with a nonchalant, “Yeah? Well, why don’cha tell me about it. Like I said, I got all night.”

#detroit: become human #dbhilluminate #dbh: connor #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic

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khadij-al-kubra · 6 years

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Can I Bar-row Your Attend-tion (Bar & Grill AU)

Pairing: Roman/Patton

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Thomas, Joan, Talyn, Deceit (Dio)

Summary: Roman and Patton are two bartenders at a local bar & grill with some serious chemistry. However, the only people who don’t realize it are each other, and one of them is in a relationship…on the rocks.

Author’s Note: Hey friends! So here’s the next chapter finally in my Bar & Grill AU. I wanted to get it out sooner after seeing all the kind and positive feedback, but you know how it is when you have to adult. Not so conducive for writing time. Anywho, here it is, and apologies for the length. (i really need to keep a more strict word count) If you’d like to be in the tag list for future chapters let me know. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Disclaimer: Puns ahead. Many. (muahaha)

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Chapter 2: One Roman Coke, Hold the Crush

(POV- Patton)

Patton knew he should feel grateful, happy even, to have a boyfriend like Dio. After all, they’d been going steady for six months now and there was still a lot to like about him. But he’s not Roman, Patton thought guiltily as his boyfriend drove him to work. They just had a brunch date this morning and Dio offered to give Patton a ride. Even as they sat there eating chocolate chip pancakes (Patton’s favorite), he’d been thinking about his co-worker. What kind of a boyfriend was he?

“Thanks again for the ride sweetie,” said Patton as they pulled up to the curb. “And for brunch. I had a nice time.”

Actually, Patton had spent most of the time trying to tell a funny story while Dio either scrolled on his phone or half-heartedly listened while nodding his head. Patton wasn’t as naïve as people thought he was. He could tell when people weren’t really interested in what he was saying. Roman would have been interested.

“It’s no trouble kitten,” said Dio. “I had time before work anyways, so I’ll probably head to the park and perform for a while before clocking in.”

“Sounds fun. Hope you get lots of tips. People always like watching you dance.”

He sure did. Watching the unusual yet beautiful way the man could move his body was what had drawn him to Dio in the first place.

“I know,” he said.

Dio reached over to unlock the door for him, his lean muscles flexing and the sunlight brinigng out the golden yellow in his snake tattoo. Patton stayed in the passenger seat, waiting (hoping) for some parting sign of affection form the other.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, tapping his lips with a finger.

“Oh of course,” said Dio, his voice silky. “How could I forget?”

Dio leaned in the kiss Patton, his lips tasting faintly like that matcha tea he liked to drink. He even gave another peck on the spot beneath his ear where Patton liked, but the gesture had been tainted by the tone of voice. Sometimes Patton couldn’t tell if he really meant what he said or not. Patton smiled, said goodbye and stepped out of the car. He watched Dio drive away before walking up the block, the taste of his lips still lingering. I wonder what Roman’s lips might taste like?

He stepped through the doors and felt the day’s bad feelings wash away with the familiarity of his workplace. Sanders’ really was such a cozy little establishment. With its seat cushioned chairs and redbrick walls, the sunlight streaming in during the day and warm hanging light bulbs at night. The modern acoustic covers that played in the background loudly enough to enjoy but not so much you had to shout over. Logan had asked Joan to help put together the bars playlist, and good thing too. Otherwise they’d be listening to Mozart or Beethoven all day. Classical music wasn’t exactly Bach in style.

The old place opened at 3pm, so there were only a handful of familiar faces so far. People either came here for a late lunch or were waiting for the bar to open. Patton smiled and said hi to every one of them, and they smiled back. He’d always been a people person, and why not? His motto was, strangers are just friends you haven’t made yet.

“Hey Patton,” said Joan. The waiter was setting fresh napkins and silverware.

“Heya kiddo!” said Patton. “Oh! How’s Talyn doing? I hope they’re feeling better after last night.”

Speak of the pastel angel, Talyn popped out from behind him. Their arms were loaded with menus, probably fresh with a list of today’s specials.

“Feeling a lot better thanks,” said Talyn.

“I’m so glad!” Patton said, giving the tiny waiter a big hug. They really were like a colorful little kitten, which made Patton love them even more. “Now make sure you drink plenty of water during your breaks and don’t strain yourself too much.”

“I’ll do my best Pat.”

“Great! Welp, my shift’s about to start so I’d better get to work. I wouldn’t want to bar-row your attend-tion for too long.”

Patton grinned as the duo gave a simultaneous eeyyy, then he hopped behind the bar. He got the earlier shift from 4:30-11:30pm and Roman had the later shift from 5:30pm-12:30am; a half hour before Logan closed up shop. So his charismatic co-worker wouldn’t be here for another hour. Oh well. They still got to have six swell hours together, and Patton enjoyed every minute. Heck, seeing Roman’s smiling face every night was honestly Patton’s favorite part of his job.

Customers rolled in and out of the bar. Talyn and Joan went from table to table with orders, Thomas occasionally popped out from the kitchen with food or to chat, and Logan seated incoming customers. Meanwhile Patton made drinks for the small batch of happy hour customers. Patton thought it was a fitting name for that time of day, because so many of his customers at the bar seemed just that- happy.

So far his shift was filled with regulars he knew and a few new faces. Most of them were ladies tipsy with laughter after a few drinks like Valerie, Jasmine and Calypso. Others were men or non-binary folks like Sean and Nellie who shout-swapped stories after a few shots. Once in a while a customer would spill their woes as Patton served them drinks, and he would do his best to either offer advice or just a sympathetic ear. If anyone came in looking like gloomy goobers, Patton did his best to turn that around while he built their drinks behind the bar.

“I juss dunno padre. Maybe after all this time she’s finally *hic * bored or me,” said the near-weeping man in front of him, nursing his fifth Manhattan. “Maybe I should juss let her go. Save her the trouble.”

“Now that’s no way to go about things Mateo,” said Patton. “I’m sure she doesn’t think that at all. Besides, you clearly still love her and I’m sure she feels the same. Maybe it’s all just a miss-communication.”

Mateo looked at him with watery eyes and sniffled. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely kiddo! I think what you need to do is talk to her. Tell her how much you still care and want to work things out. But you also have to be a good listener and hear how she feels. It’s all about honest communication. Once you’ve got that, I’m sure you two can work it out.”

Mateo smiled and finished his drink. Then he handed Patton his credit card to pay with, letting the bartender know he was done.

“Thanks Patton. I really appreciate it,” said Mateo. To Patton’s delight, he also dropped a whole five dollars into his glass tip jar.

“Glad I could help kiddo, and thanks for the nice tip yourself!”

“How much’ve you got for *hic * vet school saving coming along?”

“Aaahh it’s…coming.”

Truth be told, Patton still had a long way to go. Bar attending kept the lights on and food on the table fine, but it wasn’t exactly a scholarship. He would know, given how many he’s tried applying for after Logan has typed him up a list of ones to try.

“Nice guy like you’s sure to get it,” said Mateo, waving goodbye.

Patton had to smile. Despite feeling a bit discouraged about Veterinary School, moments like that make it all a little bit better. Sure this wasn’t his dream job but he still got to help people in some small way and do a little bit of goodness in the world. Until he was finally a Vet, why couldn’t he do that as a bartender?

Dio had chuckled the one time Patton told him so. It wasn’t the nice kind of laugh either. That was the first time his boyfriend had made him feel…wilted inside. Patton couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt wilted with Dio.

A sudden vibrating in his apron pocket pulled Patton out of his thoughts. He took out his cellphone to see who texted him.

Dark Strange Step-Bro: Hey Pat. Out on a parkour run. Can I stop by for a take-out order? Gonna be a long night.

Patton smiled at the message from Virgil. His street artist brother had been doing those parkour runs for the past year and a half now, and it seemed to have been a big help with his anxiety. Sometimes Patton worried about his brother getting hurt from those speedy stunts, but if the positive adrenaline outlet made Virgil happy and mentally healthier than who was Patton to stop him?

Dad-Bro: No problem kiddo! I’ll have Thomas whip up your favorite.

Dark Strange Step-Bro: Cool. See you in a few.

Dad-Bro: Kk. Love you Virge <3

Dark Strange Step-Bro: Love you too Pat >//<

When Patton was in high school, his widowed father had fallen in love with and re-married a kind woman named Beatrice Alighieri. Along with a new step-mom he also gained a new younger (by two years) brother in Virgil. Sure he’d come off as dark, edgy, and a bit prickly at first. But with time and some good doses of love on Patton’s part, Virgil slowly opened up. Sure he was still dark and edgy, but now they were super close and protective of each other. Patton loved the anxious artist like a son, even if they were brothers.

Patton put away his cell phone. He made sure his customers were all taken care of before stepping out from the bar. He knocked on the kitchen windowsill.

“Hey Thomas,” Patton called into the kitchen.

“What up Patton?” said Thomas.

“Virgil’s coming by. Mind making him some mozzarella sticks to go?”

“No problem Pat.” The cook turned to the kitchen and shouted, “I NEED AN ORDER OF CHEESE STICKS IN A DOGGY BAG, BLOOD ON THE SIDE!”

Patton knew that was code for ketchup but still, ew. Being a pacifist, or a Pat-cifist as he liked to say, he didn’t do so well with blood. Logan once asked him how he was going to deal with that later on as a Veterinarian, aaaand he had yet to figure that little detail out. Ah well. He’ll figure it out.

About fifteen minutes later Virgil popped into the bar and grill. He was in his usual ripped black jeans, high tops, eye shadow and his favorite purple-patched hoodie. His satchel filled with spray paint cans hung across his shoulder and Virgil removed his large headphones with loud music blaring as he walked in. In most places Virgil went into what Patton liked to call ‘turtle mode.’ But at Sanders his brother actually relaxed a bit. Another reason Patton liked working there.

“Salutations Virgil,” said Logan, excusing himself from the customers he had seated.

“’Sup Logan. I see the gang’s all here,” said Virgil. “Except for old Romano.”

“Roman had another audition for his professional make believe last night but has assured me he will be at work today. Speaking of work, did you receive my email about employing you to create artistic content for the bar’s Facebook page?”

“The one to ‘get more youths’ in here?” Virgil air-quoted. “Yeah I got it. Web design isn’t exactly my medium but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excellent. We can discuss commissioning and creative content at a more convenient date.”

Virgil and Logan came over to where they all were and Patton greeted his brother in the usual fashion. With a big bear hug.

“Hey kiddo! Good to see you,” he said.

“He Pat,” he said, one arm hugging him back. Patton was the only person Virgil let hug him. “You really need to stop calling me ‘kiddo’ in public. My order ready yet Thomas?”

“Should be five more minutes. Lucky we just dunked some mozzarella sticks in the grease fryer,” said Thomas.

“Patton kindly retrieve some more olives and maraschino cherries from the back storage,” Logan said to Patton. “You seem to be running low on them. Then promptly return to your duties.”

Patton turned back to the bar and, yes, he was low. Woops! Guess he’d let himself be too distracted. Logan was a really fair and nice boss (and their friend, although he’d never admit it), but he didn’t like them slacking off. It was easier to stay on top of everything when Roman was there working with him. They made up for each other’s weaker areas, which is why they made such a good team.

Take last night when that big intimidating customer got a little too drunk and started disrespecting those ladies. Patton was no good at confrontation but Roman swooped in like the chivalrous man he was as stopped him. Heck, Patton had slipped up and called him his hero out loud. So embarrassing! Not that someone as perfect as Roman would ever be attracted to plain pudgy tummied Patton. He really was a Disney Prince come to life. Bad Patton! Stop it with those thoughts. You’re taken.

“No problem boss!” said Patton, smiling through his troubled thoughts. “I’m berry happy to do so because I love olive my customers and want them taken care of. It’ll be the cherry on top of my day.”

While Thomas and the nearby patrons laughed or, in Virgil’s case, snickered at his top-notch dad jokes, Logan just groaned. He didn’t quite appreciate the fine art of puns, but Patton had made it his personal mission to make his boss laugh at one.

So far, no luck, but he was persistent.

“That’ll do Patton,” said Logan, breathing audibly through his nose.

“I hate to stem off topic,” said Joan, walking up to them, “but we need more bread baskets for tables 4 and 12.”

“They’re right,” Talyn said joining in. “We’ve gotta make sure the customers stay happy and our tips fruitful.”

Logan squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Good Lord, please—stop. I can barely tolerate the word play from one of you.”

“Well that a-pear-ant,” Thomas said, popping out from the kitchen door to join in.

“Thomas, that’s not even the same fruit!”

“Guess it doesn’t a-peel to the boss man,” shouted one of the other cooks Enrique from inside the kitchen.

“Guys come on. Lay off the poor guy,” said Virgil, serious at first but then he smirked devilishly. “We wouldn’t want him to get a pit in his stomach.”

“GrrAAAGHHH!” Logan marched away from them to his office, flames practically steaming off the side of his face.

They all burst into rib splitting laughter. Sure they all worked together but really everyone at Sanders’ Bar & Grill was like a big, happy, sometimes silly family. He could tell that their customers sensed it too and that’s why they kept coming back here. He just knew it.

After calming down and checking on his customers, Patton went to the supplies room for those cherries and olives. He really did need to stay on top of the bar until Roman got here. Finding himself alone in the semi-cramped room, surrounded only by supplies, pantry goods, and two spare chairs, Patton couldn’t help thinking even more about Roman. Specifically how different his co-worker was from his boyfriend.

Dio was a great dancer, but Roman was a talented actor with a voice like caramel. Dio was charismatic but Roman was charming. Dio was cool and mysterious but Roman cheerful and passionate. Dio was attractive but Roman was downright handsome. What with his red leather jacket and black work t-shirt that hugged his strong protective arms just right, his chestnut hair, chocolate brown eyes, dashing smile and perfect soft looking lips…

No! Stop thinking about another mans lips. You’re happily taken. Was he really happy though? He hardly ever laughed with his boyfriend anymore. Sometimes Dio even seemed to laugh at Patton only to convince him otherwise. Plus they hadn’t exactly been intimate in a long time. Only cuddles during the rare movie night at best, and even them they felt halfhearted. Sure they were both busy with work, but Patton at least tried. It was like Dio wasn’t even really there with him half the time...but he was still a loyal partner. Dio never looked at another man besides him. Surely that meant he still cared and found Patton attractive. Maybe it’s just a bump in the road. We’ll get over it. This was the longest relationship Patton had ever been in, his first serious boyfriend, and that was worth staying for, right?

…So then why did he still dream about being with the creative, cheerful, and romantic Roman Prince?

Patton vigorously shook his head. He reached into his apron pocket for his half open bag of mini chocolate chip cookies. He always kept some in there in case he or anyone else at the bar & grill needed cheering up. He treated himself to two cookies; the sweets already perking him back up. Then he grabbed the jars he needed and went back outside, only to find Roman now talking with Virgil. He must have arrived while Patton was in the back. He couldn’t help the flutter in his tummy at seeing the handsome actor/bartender. Couldn’t stop the smile that climbed up the corners of his cheeks like grapevines reaching for the sunshine. Patton was so enchanted by and happy to see Roman that, as he rushed over to greet him, he tripped on a chair.

“Woah!” Ohnothejars! The face-plant crash and shattering of glass never came. Roman had dashed over and caught him beforehand. Being heroic really was second nature to him, wasn’t it?

“Careful there Patton,” said Roman, his face concerned. “I know you get excited but I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Whew! Thanks Roman. I guess you just caught me off guard.” The toothy smile Roman gave him was enough to turn Patton’s insides into goo.

“Ehh you didn’t miss much Patton. Sir sing-a-lot here just burst into the bar like his usual dramatic self practically shouting that—

“Oh no you don’t emo-nightmare! Only I get to tell Patton my good news.”

“What news?” he asked, setting down the jars. “Does it have to do with your audition last night? How’d it go?”

“Well as general guy-liner here just heard—

“Along with everyone else in Florida—

“I GOT CAST AS TOM COLLINS!”

Patton gasped with glee, unable to stop himself from attack hugging him. “CONGRADUALTIONS! Roman I’m so proud of you! I just knew you’d get cast.”

Patton savored the sensation of Roman hugging him back, strong arms wrapped around his waist. When Roman let go, he was more disappointed at the loss of touch than he probably should have been. Roman was scratching the back of his neck, and if Patton didn’t know any better, he’d say the other man almost seemed bashful.

“Thanks Patton. That really means a lot to me,” said Roman.

“Guess you’ll be busy talking off your cast’s ears from now on Prince Underarm Stink,” Virgil grimaced.

Roman turned to him serious faced. “Don’t feel too sad, Brad Pit-iful. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to spread your snarky doom and gloom to.”

The two glared at each other for a few seconds, but then laughter spilled out from smirks. Patton smiled at his brother and co-worker. The two had definitely come far from when they first met a year ago. They’d started out as quite the prickly pair, which wasn’t surprising since they were so different. The big icebreaker happened when learned their shared love of Disney. After that they put away their claws, warmed up to each other, and became thick as thieves. It made Patton happy to see them get along. Plus Virgil now had someone who shared the same sarcastic humor that he did.

Just then Thomas popped his head out the kitchen window. He was carrying a brown paper to-go bag. “Order up Virg. Mozzarella sticks with a side of ketchup.”

“Thanks Thomas,” said Virgil, taking the food. The cook then disappeared back to the kitchen.

“Now kiddo, I really wish you would order one of our salads from time to time,” he said, crossing his arms. “You can’t live off of just mozzarella sticks for long.”

“That’s the plan Pat. A quick and cheesy death.” Patton knew his stepbrother was joking, but he didn’t find it funny. His face must have said as much. “Kidding! I promise. Anywho, I gotta split. This mural isn’t going to finish itself.”

“I’ll be invited to the grand reveal I hope?” Roman asked carefully.

Virgil fidgeted with the zipper on his hoodie but said, “Uh…sure Princy. So long as I get good seats to your show.”

“Done and done! Thanks Virge.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously.” He reached into the bag, grabbed a streaming mozzarella stick and stuck it between his teeth. “Later.”

As soon as he was out the door the anxious artist slipped his headphones back on and broke into a run. Patton watched through the glass of the windows as Virgil flipped over the sidewalk bench. Hardcore parkour.

“I’m so excited for you about the play Roman,” said Patton as they both returned to the back of the bar.

“Yes, I am truly excited to start rehearsals, although it will take time out of my bartending schedule,” said Roman, tying on his apron. “I might have to cut back on my shifts, especially when the tech week and show dates get closer.”

“Oh…” That meant he wouldn’t see Roman as much. The thought made Patton too sad for words.

“It would only be for a couple months,” Roman said quickly. “And I’ll only have rehearsals two or three nights a week until then. So I’ll still be here with you the rest of our shifts.”

‘Here with you’. Patton liked the sound of that. “Great. I’m really glad about that.”

“I’ve already spoken to Logan when I came in. He’s going to have his cousin to fill in for my shifts on the nights I’m rehearsing. So you won’t be left hanging.” Roman placed a strong yet gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’d never do that to you Patton.”

The touch sent a warm shiver through Patton’s body, reawakening the butterflies in his tummy. Here Roman was, taking on a new responsibility on his journey towards his dreams of stardom, and he was worried about Patton. It made him feel so special. He placed his hand over Roman’s.

“I know you wouldn’t Roman. After all we’re…work partners,” he said, trying to smile more happily than he felt.

“Right. Of course.” They broke contact. “Well, let’s get to it…partner. We’ve got thirsty customers to attend to.”

“Hi-ho, it’s off to work we go.”

Roman smiled at him. Then they got back to taking orders and building drinks for their loyal customers. At he poured drinks and shook the shaker, Patton stole glances at Roman. Even though it wasn’t the work he wanted to be doing, Roman still threw himself into the task with flair and fervor. Just like how he did with every task he was faced with. It was something that Patton admired most about the man. Dio was equally creative in a different way, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Roman’s passion for just about everything!

…But he was loyal. Very. And he never did or said a bad thing to him ever. Patton couldn’t betray that by have feelings for someone else. It would be like cheating on him, even if just emotionally. Besides, even if Patton didn’t have a boyfriend, Roman was way out of his league! He was strong, charming, sweet, talented, and super-duper handsome. He could have any guy he wanted. As for Patton, well, at best he got called ‘cute’. Every guy, girl, and non-binary person he’d every had a crush on said so. It was a miracle that Dio had even given him two looks. To hope that Roman ever would see him as more than that, to feel more for him, was just fantasy.

Patton reached into his pocket for another cookie and took a nibble.

Oh Roman…What would a handsome prince like you ever see in a plain old pop-er like me?

NEXT-->

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters @icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne

#My writing #fanfic #Bar & Grill AU #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #thomas sanders #joan and talyn #fanders #sanders sides fandom #really gotta work on the lengths #KDsWriting

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 6 years

Text

April Weather (23)

@adrinetteapril 2018, Day 23: Secrets

Days: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | art | 6 | 7 | 8 | art 1 | art 2 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | art | 19 | art | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | art | 29 | 30 |

AO3 / fanfiction

When Adrien woke up from his nap a few hours later the sun was already setting. He grabbed his phone, sure to have some messages or missed calls, but found his inbox empty. Suppressing the sting of disappointment he pulled Plagg out of a freshly opened box of camembert in order to check his other inbox, only to find it as empty as his civilian one. He released his transformation and let the grumbling kwami return to his abandoned cheese.

Surely Marinette would have him figured out by now? Why didn’t she contact him or even pay him a visit? Driven by a sudden hunch he rushed to his computer to load the Ladyblog. And suddenly he wasn’t so calm about the whole ordeal after all.

‘Plagg,’ he whispered in horror. ‘I broke Ladybug!’

Courtesy of Alya he watched the footage of Ladybug’s fall over and over again, with his kwami’s mad cackles as the soundtrack, until he felt sick.

‘Relax, kid,’ Plagg wiped away a stray tear, ‘The suit would absorb a lot of the hit, and she landed on top of the restaurant, not the metal floor. She’ll be fine.’

‘But what if she’s not!’ Adrien blurted out panicky. ‘What if she hit her head? What if she gets a concussion? Or an amnesia?!’

‘Pfffft,’ the black cat burst in laughter again. ‘Then she won’t remember either one of your confessions! And maybe she won’t even remember you!’ He fell into an empty cheese box and started rolling and cackling again.

Adrien ran his hands over his face. How did he not see that coming? It took Marinette’s special talent to pull off a stunt like that. Mademoiselle Madly Clumsy! Despite his concerns he couldn’t help but to smile.

‘Plagg, we’re going out,’ he declared to his kwami’s choked protest. ‘I need to check this myself.’

‘You mean you need to check on your guuuuuurrrrrlfrieeeeend,’ the kwami teased.

Adrien ducked his head, a strange mix of anxiety and affection filling him. ‘Well, she’s not my girlfriend,’ he rebuked and before Plagg could reply he added with a determined gleam in his eye. ‘Yet.’

The little cat made a show of rolling his eyes. ‘Finally,’ he sighed. ‘Come on, let’s check on your Princess,’ he chuckled, hiding in Adrien’s pocket.

Well, easier said than done. It was already evening when his car pulled in front of the bakery. A very grumpy Gorilla was asked to stay at the wheel, while Adrien ran inside. Monsieur Dupain cast him a hesitant look, but shook his head. Marinette apparently wasn’t feeling well, and she had said she didn’t want to see anyone. The way he passed this request left no doubt that by anyone he meant “ex fake boyfriends”. Needless to say, this did nothing to dispel Adrien’s concern.

Now if it wasn’t for his bodyguard waiting in the car, he would transform behind the first shrub he’d find and use the superhero way over the rooftops. Instead, he got back to the vehicle and fidgeted nervously for the whole eternity of three minutes that it took to return to the mansion. In another three minutes he was already out and heading back to the bakery.

Even before he got to the building Chat Noir already noticed that in each of Marinette’s windows the curtains were pulled shut. He quietly landed behind the chimney and crawled to her balcony, careful not to make a sound. The little space was empty and silent. He dared to drop lightly to the floor and took a quick peek at the skylight.

A gasp escaped his parted lips as he saw her.

Marinette was curled on her bed, snuggled in her pink blanket. Her chest rose and fell to the steady rhythm of deep and calm breaths. Her eyes were shut, the scarce light from the roof window making her long lashes cast deep shadows over her face. He was relieved to notice her relaxed features and the gentle smile that stretched her slightly parted pink lips. A halo of dark hair freed from the pigtails surrounded her head, silky and smooth. To say she took his breath away was to say half of it. The sight of her calm and rested, sent his heart into a wild dance and caused his hands to itch, longing to touch her.

Chat stayed at the skylight, bounded by an invisible force, watching Marinette sleep. It was his guilty secret, the pleasure he took simply from her presence. When his eyes finally started to wander over her covered figure and her bed, he spotted a pen in the girl’s hand and some sort of notebook resting opened next to her, her other hand sprawled over a page filled with Marinette’s distinct cursive. It looked like she fell asleep while writing.

Driven by his trademark curiosity he pulled out his baton and used the lens of the camera to look at the words on the page.

Dear Diary,

I don’t know what to do now that I know everything. Should I run to him and ask for forgiveness? Should I dig a deep hole and never leave it ever again? Should I in turn tell him everything?

Should I tell him about the messages I deleted from his phone? About all my attempts at confessing to him? About the heartache at rejecting him when he confessed to Ladybug? About the valentine I never signed, that would make him reject me first?

Adrien blushed under his mask at the mention of the awkward and hapless dance they had been performing around each other in and out of suits for such a long time. Now he was sure Marinette had it all figured out, not only his identity and his feelings, but also each and every situation their paths tangled and met. He averted his gaze from the diary, suddenly ashamed at invading her privacy. There were some secrets that should remain hidden until she was willing to share them.

He put his baton on his back, and with one last longing look retreated to the rooftops, and to his home. Exhausted he threw himself on his bed only to toss and turn for half of the night, to Plagg’s not so subtle complaints. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Marinette’s face, he heard her voice calling him by either of his names. His stomach twisted with worry. Was she willing to give them a chance? Or would she try to escape, afraid of getting hurt again? He would have to do everything he could to convince her he would not make the same mistake twice. He would not let her go. Not when he found her, when he knew she loved him too. The thought of her affection was his last before he finally surrendered to slumber.

Adrien jerked when he felt Plagg’s weight resting on his head. It was one of the kwami’s most annoying ways to wake him up.

‘Rise and shine, kid,’ the little cat grumbled. ‘We have people to meet.’

His eyes fluttered opened and he squinted at the black blob appearing in his vision. ‘What people?’

‘See for yourself,’ Plagg nodded to his bedside table and to a small box that wasn’t there in the evening. It was tied with a blue ribbon matching his scarf in shade. A decorative “T&S” left no doubts as to the origins of the package.

Inside Adrien found a raspberry minitarte, accompanied by a little card with only two words written in a familiar cursive handwriting: “The Trocadero”.

‘H-how?’ he asked, knowing perfectly well the windows were closed and that Nathalie wouldn’t come to his room before he got up himself.

Plagg shrugged, very unconvincingly. He looked extra grumpy, but with a hint of something new. Something that to Adrien looked suspiciously like abashment.

‘Ladybug was here?’ the boy looked around, as if expecting to find a guest staring at him.

‘Ladybug’s kwami,’ the flying cat explained gloomily. ‘Your presence is requested,’ he added eyeing the card. ‘I was told not to keep the ladies waiting.’

‘Oh,’ Adrien sighed. ‘Oooh!’ he cried jumping out of bed.

Plagg watched his attempts at making himself ready with a cheeky smirk. ‘Don’t forget to take your scarf,’ he offered sourly. ‘Apparently it’s a bit cold today.’

Soon the boy was jumping into the car again, thanking the heavens for his clear weekend schedule. Taking two or three steps at a time he ran to the top of the Trocadero, looking for his girl.

There weren’t many people there on that chilly, overcast morning but it took a while to spot her. Marinette was hunched over her sketchbook, thoughtfully chewing the end of her pencil. Hesitant, he took a step back to watch her for a while. The embodiment of creation in her element. So Ladybug, yet so Marinette. Elated, Adrien observed as a new drawing appeared on the page, a little masterpiece created with just a few strokes of the skillful hand.

‘Are you gonna stay there much longer?’ he heard her amused voice. He hadn’t noticed when she turned to him.

‘Um… sorry,’ Adrien said shyly. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘I was only keeping myself occupied while I waited for you,’ she said with a small smile.

That smile left him defenceless, unable to decide what to do. He didn’t know if he should hug her, or twirl her in his arms, or just shake her hand and maybe peck her cheek? Now he knew what she meant in her diary. There were so many questions, so many issues between them, he was finding it hard to decide how to act. His indecision must have prompted her to take the initiative.

‘I brought you something,’ Marinette said standing up. A light blush covered her cheeks when she came to a halt in front of him. He had yet to move or say anything in reply. The girl put her sketchbook in her bag, taking out a semi-circled notebook he immediately recognized. But he knew better than to show it.

‘Here,’ she said passing him the diary. He noticed the lock was opened. ‘No more secrets,’ she added dropping her gaze to her shoes.

Slowly, reverently Adrien reached out. He wanted to take the notebook, but when his hands touched her palms he froze, unable to move, unwilling to put an end the thrilling sensation of skin on skin. She must have felt it too, her eyes shifting between his face and their joined hands resting on the diary.

‘I- ,’ he rasped, voice failing him.

‘Please-,’ she tried with the same result.

BOOOOM!

A lightning bolt struck nearby and the deafening thunderclap startled them both. The first drops of rain plopped onto the notebook.

The water sobered him up. Adrien snatched the item and put it back in her bag in one fluid motion, still managing to keep his other hand on hers.

‘I won’t be needing this, my Lady,’ he murmured. ‘I want to hear everything right from the source,’ he supplied, grabbing her hand firmly in his. ‘Lets go,’ he said, pulling her to the car.

They ran to the beat of splashing droplets, a routine familiar yet new and thrilling at the same time.

#adrinetteapril2018 #day 23: secrets #perdita writes #april weather #adrinette #Adrien Agreste #Plagg #Marinette Dupain Cheng #ml fic

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