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joontier · 3 years

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Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.8k

g/n: decided on a bit of a filler for this one as a sort of prelude to future scenes 👀👀 ((likewise manifesting my plan to post another chapter this week))

[taglist]: @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

Jungkook locks his apartment door behind him, jiggling the doorknob afterwards for ‘double security’ as one would usually call it. He grabs his backpack from the floor and places one of the straps on his shoulders and heads on his way. As he passes by two of his neighbors who live in the same floor, he nods at them, adding a brief hum in greeting.

“Hey man!” One of the men, Jikwang (as what Jungkook believes this man’s name was), calls out just before Jungkook reaches the elevator. “There was this hot girl asking about you last night.”

Jungkook raises a brow. He hadn’t really met anyone recently, besides that one cute law student who was looking for a new tenant - and eventually turned out to be your neighbor this whole time. She was cute and all, but she didn’t seem like the type that was ‘hot’ to these types of people.

Jungkook racks his brain for anything, trying to remember the very few number of his one night stands.Surely,none of them would have gotten pregnant with protection on….surely? On top of that, he hadn’t really disclosed his address to a lot of people too, so there was no way someone would be looking for him, all the more a “hot” woman,as these two would claim.

“Did she say what her name was?”

The one beside Jikwang shakes his head, adjusting his beanie. He’d seen this dude a couple of times hanging around, but he never actually got his name. “Nah bro, I don’t think you’re the commitment type of dude…” he comments, dark eyes looking at Jungkook from his head down to his toe. Who was this guy anyways and who was he to judge whether Jungkook was the type to enter a committed relationship or not?

“She just...looked rich, rich. She had a driver... who helped her come down from a nice Benz.”

Jungkook feels his heart drop to the ground. No way in hell.

“I think her name was Hee something...Junghwa? I dunno man, I’m not good with names. But it sounds similar to that…”

“Was it Junghee?”

“Yeah I think that’s it…” bonnet-dude replies, tapping a finger against his chin as he approaches Jungkook. “You think maybe you can set me up? With you know…”

Jikwang knocks the back of bonnet-man’s head. “I got dibs first, shithead. “If she’s not already yours though,” he adds, delivering a wink aimed at Jungkook. “Her friends will do.”

Jungkook squints his eyes at the duo. “No. She’s my sister. And she doesn’t have any friends.” A chill courses through his spine as he replies, wondering how she managed to find out where he lived, and why would she even reach out? Why now, when she had so many years to do so?

Beanie guy simply laughs at him - if it was even considered laughing, when he was practically splitting his sides with laughter - like the thought of having a sister was hilarious to him. “You’re real funny, man. There is no...way...in hell… that that lady was your sister.”

Ah yes, this man is a health vice personified. Jungkook notes the discoloration of his teeth, the god-awful odor coming from his mouth, and they both reek of alcohol and drugs combined. From a safe distance, Jungkook watches their amusement over the subject that is his sister, thinking about why he even indulged these two in the first place. For all he knows, they might have been shitting on him the whole time.

“Sorry man. I mean...she’s rich and hot… and you?” Jikwang shrugs his shoulders.

‘And he?’ What about him?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Jungkook clicks his tongue silently, clearly taking full offense with Jikwang’s statement. Did they just imply he didn’t look rich and hot too? Well, compared to them though, they’ll obviously have way longer to go.

Jungkook blinks before equally returning their level of disbelief. “For real, bro?” These men diss him, won’t believe he has a sister whose aura dwarfs his by a million percent, and now they want him to set up a date with her? He shakes his head. Only crooks like these would say insane shit like this.

If only this wasn’t the cheapest and most convenient apartment he could find to accommodate his daily hustle, Jungkook would have moved out of this crap excuse of an apartment building a long time ago.

“Keep dreaming man.”

“Hey, this is what I get for selling you my bike for a good price?” Jikwang eyes Jungkook, taunting him.

“I owe you nothing. I paid for it ages ago.” Jungkook turns on his heel, leaving the two in the crusty ass corridor of their apartment building. He needs to get a new place. Quickly.

With a sigh, he pulls on his down jacket, keeping himself warm as he walks to the garage.

‘King Auto’

There’s a certain warmth that envelops Jungkook whenever he sees the garage, a place he’d rather call home than his terrible apartment building. It sits right at the corner of two busy streets, just six blocks away from his apartment.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t him who first found out about the garage but the other way around. Well, technically, the owner did. Lee Dongmin, owner and manager of ‘King Auto’ repairs and restores almost all types of cars and bikes alike, occasionally servicing high-end cars on lucky days.

Dongmin would usually see Jungkook pass by the garage in the morning on his way to the university or his part-time job.Well, being located at a busy street in the city of Seoul, there would normally be a lot of passersby but Dongmin knew these people either worked or lived around the area; Jungkook, however, always lingered when he walks past the garage.

It had come to Dongmin’s knowledge a few months later that Jungkook purposefully used a longer route on his way, walking two extra blocks just so that he could pass by the garage. Dongmin hadn’t initially done anything about it, as he thought Jungkook simply took interest in cars - especially when the shop had its fair share of servicing cars from the western market.

There was this particular day though one summer, that their paths would finally cross. Jungkook’s bike, the same bike he bought from sketchy Jikwang, broke down. Coincidentally just in front of King Auto too. Funnily enough, no one in the garage was familiar with fixing up bikes, but Jungkook simply asked if he could borrow a few tools and he’d fix his bike himself.

Ultimately, Jungkook became part of the King Auto family. He’d spend his spare time in the garage when he’s not busy with his part-time jobs and on occasion, Jungkook gets to keep a tiny commission whenever he helps out with the repairs.

Jungkook goes through the front door greeting the new receptionist, Clark, a good morning before heading straight to the garage. Jungkook spots a familiar shade of blue peeking through the scissor lifts, just by the end row. He practically dashes to the car in excitement, too thrilled to greet his favorite car he had worked on previously.

“My baby!” The boy exclaims as he rests his chin on the Porsche Panamera’s roof. “Kook! Get your hands off that! I just had it cleaned!” gruffs Mansik from the other side of the car, flinging his towel at Jungkook who mumbles a sorry but continues to cradle the car, a little more gently this time.

“If you continue doing that, you know a towel isn’t the only thing Mansik is going to throw at you.” Lee Dongmin’s voice is low, careful that the man he’s referring to won’t hear his words. “I’m glad he hasn’t resorted to tools yet...just a couple of smelly socks and a t-shirt that smells like it hasn’t been washed for months... “

“Fuckers.” True to Jungkook’s foreboding, Mansik does throw a sock ball from out of nowhere, one which barely misses Jungkook’s face. Dongmin simply shakes his head at his workers, who he has considered family at this point, Jungkook included. “I’m just glad none of that fell into my first coffee of the day.” Dongmin observes, drawing himself father from the Porsche and any flying objects later on.

“By the way, the owner is actually here to pick up the car. I may or may not have mentioned your infatuation with it.”

Jungkook almost instantly jumps to his feet, searching for the owner inside the garage, but disappointingly ending up with all the familiar faces at the garage. “Chill, kid. He just grabbed some coffee down the street,” Dongmin mentions as he takes a sip of his own. “Ah, speaking of the devil,” the latter states, nodding his head towards someone behind Jungkook.

“Seokjin-sunbaenim?”

“Oh hey! Wasn’t expecting to see you here...Jungkook, right?”

“Yes sir!” Jungkook’s pupils shake, animatedly looking back and forth between the garage owner and his upper-level resident. “So...you’re the one who owns this Porsche?” Seokjin raises his cup, adding a small nod in Jungkook’s direction. He internalizes his excitement, before confessing his love for Seokjin’s Panamera.

“And so, Dongmin here mentioned. Also said you were the one who fixed her up. Thanks man!”

Dongmin looks at the two of them, eyebrows creased in the middle. “You two know each other?”

“Seokjin-sunbaenim is a senior of mine at Woocheon.” Seemingly shellshocked at the new piece of information, Dongmin turns to Seokjin, “You’re a doctor?” The owner of the Porsche rolls his eyes fondly, “Yes, Dongmin. We can have lives outside the hospital too, you know.”

“Anyways, ‘Mera’s ready to go yeah?”

“Of course. Kook fixed it up just fine.”

“Alright. Got a shift today man? Need a ride to the hospital?”

Jungkook is tempted to give in, but merely fixing Seokjin’s car is enough honor for him and he can’t take advantage of his generosity. “No thank you, sunbae. I’ve already got a ride to work today.” Jungkook points to his bike on the other side of the garage.

Seokjin tuts his disbelief. “You’re kidding me right? In this weather?” The older doctor points outside, then rubs his palm against his down coat. “No way in hell, kid. Get in the car.”

“Really?” Jungkook mumbles, dimple on display as his lips form a thin line. Seokjin makes a hum of approval as he takes off his jacket while Jungkook dashes back to where he’d left his backpack. “He’s a good kid, Jungkook. Can be a bit of a delinquent sometimes, but he’s good. Take care of him, yeah?”

“Huh,” Seokjin smirks, “this handsome face got nothing he can’t handle.” Dongmin rolls his eyes this time, “Seriously doubt we’re the same age honestly.”

Jungkook returns to where the Porsche is parked, and Seokjin gets a spur-of-the-moment idea. The surgical resident throws his keys to Jungkook before settling inside the passenger seat. Jungkook, surprised as ever, simply stands there in surprise. “Well?” Seokjin asks, ducking towards the dashboard so he could take a look at Jungkook, “We’re gonna be late!”

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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Reluctant Vacation // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: The niece of the infamous Kenny Ortega had its advantages and disadvantages, you received insight on his projects but felt guilty saying no. Kenny seeing the exhaustion pulling you down invites to the set of Julie and the Phantoms where you rediscover your love with the field.

Warning: Swearing and fluff.

Words 2.2k

A/N: I do take requests. It may take a bit to get to them but I’ll post some.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!

Masterlist

The sigh came from deep in your chest wanting to drop to the floor for an exhaustion induced nap, but an airport wasn’t the best place. Large sunglasses obscured people from seeing the deep bags under your eyes on the way to the film lot. It was coming full circle, the change different from the frantic schedule you had had recently. When Kenny called you hadn’t hesitated in packing and buying a ticket.

“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice pulled you from your thoughts as a man holding a card with your name displayed. He was of Puerto Rican descendent with a young girl beside him with similar features, “I’m Ricardo. This is my daughter Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m-“

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Madison supplied with a beaming grin on her face having recognized you from your role as Sabrina in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina along with movies.

All you could do was send a fragile smile in response after a long sleepless flight to Canada.

Madison’s eyes saddened at the exhaustion you carried, “I can fangirl later. You looked really tired.”

“Kenny saw and asked me to come over the guise of help, but he knows I need a break. He’s lucky I don’t need to be on set for a few weeks.” You replied, covering a yawn as you found yourself at a car, the walk a blur.

Unintentionally you found yourself asleep in the backseat the moment you settled back there for the drive. You had filmed in Vancouver before, so it wasn’t a huge deal, and the Reyes’ duo didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

“We’re here,” Madison whispered with the back-car door opened. Your eyelids fluttering at her voice, giving Madison a closer look at your face.

Walking on set, you saw Kenny giving one of his pep talks before he cut himself off at the sight of you. The actors surrounding him furrowed their brows as the legendary director power walked to a person concealed behind Mads.

“Sweetheart.” Kenny beamed, pulling his niece in for a hug before leaning back to scan her features, “You need a nap.”

“I need to meet your new cast.” You snickered stepping around the man to the three actors he had abandoned to see you. You found amusement in their widening eyes at the sight of the Y/N walking to them.

“Oh, my shit.” Owen gasped freaking out as the actress co-starring in the new Spider-Man trilogy came closer.

Last night Owen, Charlie and Jeremy had hosted a movie night in the rented apartment the first two rented. They had quickly made their way through Captain America: Civil War before watching the following movies with Spider-Man. You had a cameo in Captain America: Civil War before becoming a star in Homecoming and Far From Home.

“We manifested her.” Charlie hissed frantically fixing his set costume growing a blush at the smile you wore. He could feel the hair stylist on standby glaring at his tousled locks.

The girl in question came to a stop before the three guys portraying the phantoms of the show in the second season. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expressions each one of them had.

“Hello.” You greeted flattered when the tall blonde one turned a blossom pink at the voice of an angel. Charlie and Owen had developed celebrity crushes on you.

In revenge, Tori, a returning choreographer and background character, saw Charlie’s expression along with a familiar girl. After filming season one ended the previous year you had stopped by during the filming process of CAOS to catch up with Kenny. Tori had been there and you two became friends.

“Hey!” Tori grinned, pulling you into a hug, “These three binged your MCU movies last night, and Charlie’s wallpaper is you.”

“Tori!”

“This is what you get for telling Booboo about the poster!” Tori called to the Canadian boy jogging out his area. Charlie’s cheek darkened more than Owen’s as your smile grew bigger.

“No worries Ghost. Luke definitely my favourite character and gotta say you should have been on Charmed more than two episodes.” You supplied walking backwards to Kenny once more yearning for a night’s rest after the flight.

“Holy shit.” Charlie choked smacking Jeremy’s arm repeatedly, “She knows me. Oh, oh, OH. She’s seen me-“

“-Getting it on for a scene.” Jeremy snickered as his friend grew more and more flustered, “That was tame compared to her and Tom going at it.”

Charlie’s face dropped being reminded of the explicit scene you had done with Tom Holland in the movie that came out near the end of 2020. The Devil All the Time was the only film out of the MCU you had done with Tom. You had played the promiscuous daughter of a devout, loyal churchgoer and close friend of the preacher.

“Didn’t they date for a few months?” Owen questioned thinking back to the media mayhem during the virtual press for the film.

Owen was correct with the chemistry between you and Tom it was natural you would do interviews together via shared video chats. Charlie watched every single one that came out with interest. He hadn’t even expected the film to do so dark and explicit, but you had a natural talent.

“English, handsome, actor-“ Charlie started to list off on the English actor with a far more extensive list of credits. Charlie felt like a Canadian child in the city of Los Angeles compared to your leading man.

“-runs a charity with his family.” Jeremy continued raising one eyebrow, “At least he isn’t tall. You’d be fully screwed.”

Charlie shoved his teasing friends away with a smirk of his own as the trio continued on to the film. Charlie put his feelings on the back burner to focus on the storyline and emotions of the scene.

“Spider-Man Three baby!” The English accent shouted from the phone with only an ocean separating the two actors. Tom hadn’t even greeted you before screaming at the news you both received; despite the scripts from a few weeks prior the sequel had fully been greenlighted

Your head tossed back at the childlike glee on the older adult, clearly displaying the two years really mean he was two years old. After meeting on the set of Civil War along with Harrison, you had become friends. Followed with the following MCU appearances, it had been a surprise to be cast in Devil All the Time.

“Insane.” You started making your way through the set to where Kenny had texted you from. It was closing to the end of your vacation.

In the few weeks, you had reconnected with Tori on her breaks along with becoming good friends with the cast members. Something clicked between you and the core four of the show even if Madison sometimes still got starstruck.

“Did you read the script?” Tom questioned quirking his infamous eyebrow his fans wholly adored. You found it amusing, to be honest, that every character he portrayed had the same eyebrow.

“Not fully. I’m surrounded by people, and unlike you, I prefer not to jeopardize my career with marvel.” You teased glancing up as Charlie and Owen made their way over, “I’ll be flying out in a few days for filming.”

Tom nodded his head, “I got get back. Jacob and Haz are visiting. Remember to film the announcement! Bye Love!”

You gave a thumbs up before Tom ended the facetime glancing up at the duo who each raised their eyebrows. Charlie’s mask nearly breaking at Tom’s goodbye. Charlie could feel the cover of his feelings falling more and more each day.

“Announcement?” Owen questioned, slipping his jacket on over his shoulders having changed from his Alex outfit.

“Nothing.” You waved it off, starting to walk backwards with a smile that Charlie thought made your eyes shine brighter than stars.

The boys followed behind on the walk to the house Jeremy and Carolynn had decided to rent during filming. You had been crashing there as Jeremy didn’t want Carolynn to be alone with his filming schedule. It also gave the perfect place for your plan. Last few nights you had binged the marvel movies again ending with Far From Home.

The living room was decked out by Carolynn with your help from earlier as she was the only know that knew. Everyone settled in the living room with Mr Reyes there as well who had quickly become a father figure to you.

“So, I wanted everyone here for a reason. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been reading a script and I have something to open.” You started thanking Jeremy as he brought in the package, he had no clue of the contents, “Now nobody says any spoilers for season two.”

You turned on the camera Paul Becker had supplied with a small smile having already filmed the opening sequence. You sat on the floor in the camera shot, opening the big box to hand out the smaller boxes to your friends. Charlie, Owen, Jeremy, Madison, Savannah, Booboo and every else glanced at the non-descript red box.

“Open them.” You urged grinning as the room went silent except for the tape ripping off the packages.

In each individual box was marvel themed candy, a plushie of Spider-Man along with signed cards from the Avengers actors and the MCU Spider-Man cast. At the very bottom, all it said was to look up at you. Instead of facing them with their looks of shock, you addressed the camera.

“Tom and I are so incredibly happy to announce that Spider-Man 3 is in the beginning process of filming.” You beamed at the camera listening to the intense noise of your friends screaming, “we can’t reveal anything else about the film, but the script is immaculate as usual. You’ll get to see Harper on the screen once more.”

“WHAT!” The collective scream behind you came as you waited a second before ending the video. You’d have to replay it before sending to marvel for the finishing touches with Tom’s version and then you could post it on Instagram.

“Surprise!” You spoke to the group behind you all in states of excitement, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to tell you guys! I got the script a few days before I came.”

“Holy shit.” Owen spoke, laughing at he shook his head, “You managed to get autographs from fucking Iron Man himself.”

“I got connections.” You snorted meeting the gaze of Charlie, “Nah, Downey’s kids came for a visit, and I kept them company. Downey offered to do anything, and I took the favour.”

The surprise wore off as the group mingled, but Charlie’s eyes stayed pinned to your form as you sent a message to Tom. Locking your phone to noticed his eyes.

“Hey Charlie.” You smiled, sitting on the couch next to him. His expressive eyes showing a silver screen of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in response to the way his name rolled off your tongue, sending his heart stuttering. A cold sweat appearing when you grasped his hand in yours in a confident manner.

“So, you leave soon?” Charlie murmured moving closer to hear you among the chatter of the group. Your lips turned down for a split second as you felt the sadness of leaving.

It was refreshing to be on set without the demands of makeup, costumes, filming and choreography. To see the action and magic but not be part of it was a definite change you had needed desperately. But to leave Charlie hurt.

“My call time is in three days. Need to get ready to bring Harper Osbourne back to the big screen.” You replied, loosening your grip on his hand, “I don’t really want to go back. I’m gonna miss you…and everyone else of course.”

Unaware to the eyes watching in anticipation you and Charlie conversed further on the upcoming months. To the great disappointment of the house began to clear out, Owen for an early call time. Savannah was meeting with her brother, and Mr Reyes was taking Madison home.

It left Jeremy and Carolynn to retire to their bedroom while you stayed on the couch with Charlie for longer. The emotions building from the prior weeks, bubbling to the surface. Hearts thudding in their chest Charlie leaned in glancing at your lips; yours glancing at his.

Who moved first couldn’t be known, but as your lips brushed together just barely you felt grounded and peaceful. If he leaned closer, you wonder what the kiss would make you feel.

“I’d like to kiss you.” Charlie murmured startled at the confidence he had gained, “But before I do. Do you have something with Tom?”

“Other than onscreen chemistry? Absolutely nothing.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper to the boy that had become so much more than some actor.

He was Charlie. The goofy boy that put a smile on anyone’s face with an impromptu concert in the middle of a crowded street. He lived life to the fullest without any regrets. He was passionate about his work, music and the environment.

Those thoughts evaporated when lips met another pair of lips in what might be described as the best kiss ever. No fireworks felt as Wattpad would say, but instead, it was the heady warmth of hot chocolate on a cold day; a warm shower after a long stressful day. It was home and perfect.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie #jatp fanfic #luke patterson imagines #caitsy and ash productions

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

If life gives you melons...

Ship: Loki x F!alt! reader

Rating: Explicit / word count 5,5k

Summary: You've heard about meet-cute, how about meet-ugly? Reader has tattoos and a tongue split. There's this joke that "bisexual alt girls go looking for a girlfriend and end up with sad, tall and skinny white bois" and boy did that hit home. Inspired by this cringy video of Hiddles [youtube link].

During a panel at a comic con, Loki notices reader and they go on a date, reader gets railed: top!Loki, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, all the good stuff. Open ending, with a bonus of reader and Loki pranking Clint.

x. I usually fancy they/them pronouns for Loki but seeing as it's a smut-shot, I decided to go along with he/him for the sake of simplicity. Loki's at least 6'4 tall and you can fight me on that. Also, I write like a Tony stan - I feel the need to apologize to Loki stans for that. I love you guys! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

The long line of people appeared to be neverending. Loki was an enhanced, as the government recently had adopted a politically correct term for Earth's non-human inhabitants, but even his enhanced endurance had begun waning due to sheer amount of people wanting a piece of memorabilia signed by The God of Mischief. Loki had gained a considerable amount of fans after doing his part in killing the mad titan Thanos and by extension, saving the world. It turned out, humankind was a sucker for a good redemption arc.

Loki's hands ached where they wrapped around the pen that he'd been using for nearly 4 hours to neatly place his name, written in neat runescript, on various pieces of merchandise that his fans (and wasn't that a strange thing!) presented to him. He used to think that he would have actually succeeded conquering the earth if he had a grasp on how to use social media and his charm; now, he just wanted the torture to end. An involuntary sigh left his mouth when he saw another print of himself in full battle gear being placed in front of him by a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Um, thank you," She stammered, giggling softly, and Loki spared her a painstaking smile, scribbling his name once again. The woman briefly caught his eyes. "Um, you're the reason- the inspiration for me. I became a stripper."

Loki blanked, feeling his eyes widen and blink on their own accord a few times. He wasn't sure if he heard the woman correctly, as the unusual statement made his brain freeze.

Loud snickering from behind the blushing woman interrupted the system error that he was experiencing in his head. It wasn't often that somebody managed to render him speechless. It looked like whoever was in line behind the stripper woman had taken advantage of that. Loki's eyes snapped to the short-haired person, who looked torn between cringing and breaking into embarrassed laughter.

The stripper left without a word, and as Loki picked up the cursed writing instrument once again, the short-haired person smiled at him kindly. "That was a little weird," They snorted, "And thanks, have a nice day Mr. Loki."

"When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic," Another woman, that appeared to be the short haired person's friend, deadpanned and gave a cynical side-eye to the departing stripper. Loki heard snickering coming from the short-haired person and quietly joined himself. The woman noticed it, winking at him as she collected the newly signed t-shirt. "Bye," She smiled kindly.

It was a split second decision, really. Something about the cheeky way she addressed the situation sparked Loki's interest. "Wait, you forgot something, darling," His baritone called out to the departing woman. She turned around, confused, and hastily grabbed the standard issue photo that he was holding out to her. With a final grateful nod, she smiled and left.

If Loki's smile had returned for the time being, none of his teammates made any remarks on it. Only his brother, Thor, gave a couple of knowing looks to the Asgardian sorcerer.

The woman in question didn't think twice about the photo that she stashed in her backpack along with the signed t-shirt. The Comic-Con had been full of people and the lines were unfairly long. The sheer exhaustion after attending a 3-day long convention had set in and she was eager to simply come home back to her apartment and crash on the nearest soft flat surface. Upon arrival, she did exactly that, flopping down gracelessly on the couch, her backpack landing next to her with a careless thud.

Unloading her trophies was a short time affair: a single white tee with a dozen signatures on it, written in what she hoped was waterproof Sharpie; one mug, shaped like an Iron Man helmet; one poster, showing Spider-Man on a picturesque NYC horizon and a signed photo of one Loki. Strangely enough, she did not remember requesting it - not that she was complaining. Free merch was free merch.

The front side wasn't signed whatsoever. Overcome by curiousity, she turned it around. A phone number was written on the back of it, the handwriting neat and the letters obviously being inked out by a thinner, more sophisticated pen than the one Loki had used for scribbling on the tee. The woman gaped silently, not believing her eyes. Did Loki himself had given her his phone number?

One margarita and a hefty helping of Chinese takeout later, the numbers persisted staring back at her mutely, the neat cursive being almost mocking in its quiet. The woman's smartphone had found a comfortable place right next to the photo, equally mum regarding the unusual situation.

An additional margarita was needed to gather the courage required to actually type out the number in the receiver box. Fruity alcoholic concoction in one hand and phone clutched in the other, the woman's eyes squeezed shut tightly as soon as the dreaded "Hey, got your number today! :)" read delivered. She'd typed and erased the message several times, groaning in embarrassment. How the hell does one approach an alien god?

"Hello! May I ask your name?" The response came after a brief moment - a moment the woman had suffered through by taking too haste sips of her drink, her common since screaming her to not overdo it and wait at least a full minute before replying. Everything felt awkward and misplaced.

In no time, she was sending the screenshots of the conversation to her girl-advice group chat that consisted of her closest friends. Chatting with Loki turned out to be surprisingly easy and he was great at upholding conversation, something that couldn't be said about all those Tinder matches she had had back in the day.

Even if using proper grammar during a text message conversation was something she had to reacquaint herself with, she was glad he wasn't just another boring, shalllow, condescending-ass white boy. Despite the cultural differences and his lack of knowledge of things like pop culture and music - something he said he was working on since New Asgard became a sovereign state on Earth - they bonded over music and tattoos and generally being rebellious against society's standarts.

The invitation to dinner didn't come as a surprise for the woman. She agreed happily, looking forward to continue their conversation outside of the internet - if Loki's part of the chat was anything to go by, not only was he charming, but also quite intelligent. And easy on the the eyes, too. They had traded selfies at some point and the Asgardian didn't look any worse in a hoodie and sweatpants than he did in his battle leathers. Loki had appeared to truly have had integrated into Earth's society.

The night of the date, the continuous text exchange did very little to calm her nerves. Loki texted as much as an overeager teenage boy: every now and then he would double-text and grossly overreact to her sending a simple meme. In fact, he smugly conveyed the fact he'd single-handedly started a meme war between the Avengers and even Steve was forced to participate; something that was, allegedly, out of character for the blonde man.

She didn't mind. Not like she had many friends to have so much fun with. Even if it took her twice the time to do her favourite eyeliner style, it was worth it. She hoped Loki would appreciate the bold, but classy make-up and the dress and shoes combo that accentuated her assets. Her date expressed curiousity about her tattoos and the difference between her preferred style and the humans he spent most time with. She guessed secret agents were not particularly fond of anything that made them memorable so she held out quite the hope for... Showing off some of her tattoos in a more private setting.

In other, simpler words, the woman came in prepared for both a friendly, leisurely stroll and a quality night. Either way, it would be a time well spent.

Loki's shiny, raven hair was impossible to miss as he towered over the rest of the people waiting by the restaurant's entrance. He wore tailored black trousers and a simple cashmere sweater, perfect for the evening's damp, cool air. Tall and lithe, Loki was mouthwateringly handsome.

"Come here often?" She wormed her way through the crowd, causing the man to smirk down at her. Her cheeks flared from the tiny gesture alone.

"Just waiting for a friend," Loki uttered lowly, extending an arm towards the woman, which she gracefully accepted as they made way towards the entrance. "Reservation for Loki," The Asgardian stated to the hostess, who, after a rapid doube-take, led them to a private, secluded area in the back of the restaurant.

Loki shouldered the slightly awkward interaction with grace, paying no mind to the girl. His focus was solely on his date and he was nothing but gallant as he took the woman's purse and held out the chair for her to comfortably sit down. As a prince, he was taught well, she mused.

"Usually I would ask 'what brings you to our little ball of water and dirt?' but I think we can skip that part," The woman stated with a sheepish grin, idly flicking through the menu and curiously eyeing the items that were unfamiliar. The desire to try something new fought with the possibility of accidentally ordering something too far out - like snails or other things that rich people fancied, for some reason.

Loki's greens briefly appeared over the top of his menu, grateful and sparkling. "I think it's best if we do just that," For a second, he looked away, before returning to the menu. "I can think of better things to discuss. I recall you didn't finish telling me about that college friend of yours, who was an anarchist... I'm dying to know..."

The waiter came and went, barely noticed by the pair, as they both poked at something that sounded the most familiar for both of them. Stoically, Loki admitted that Tony Stark did the booking for him and the woman reluctantly acquitted she wasn't very familiar with upscale establishments, being of middle-class background and working a middle-class job.

Interrupting the story she began telling hours ago, the woman took the time to point out the things she was familiar with on the menu and advised Loki to stay away from - like the aforementioned snails, and other things, slimy and salty things that she considered to be 'disgusting but rich people liked it for some reason'. The conversation slowly progressed into Loki telling her the mischief he got up to at the feasts Odin threw. The Asgardian shared the woman's disregard for influential people doing gross things to show off.

The food was good - it was really hard to miss with a traditional Italian lasagna - and seeing Loki shovel an obscene amount of food was an experience, but she didn't comment on it, tactful enough to consider his alien biology might have different dietary requirements that her human one. It was great, really, that she could order dessert and not feel guilty about it.

The gelato melted in her mouth like sweet ecstasy and she moaned with her next bite, only partly aware of how obscene really was the noise.

Loki's hand stuttered on it's way to his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared at her lips, at her mouth, where her tongue lapped up the small drops of dessert from the spoon. "Why the split tongue?" The Asgardian finally gathered his wits, having had a good look of what he was sure was a trick of the eye at first.

She grinned, acutely aware of the effect that particular body modification had on men. "I like being different. I embrace the weird." She giggled, not at all ashamed, sticking out her tongue and wiggling both parts of it teasingly.

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed; "Weird?" He raised his eyebrow, fighting to maintain his previous cool composure.

She nodded. "Weird," She retorted coyly. "I usually don't divulge the details at least until the third date. Wouldn't want to scare my potential suitors off," The playful wink was the proverbial cherry on top. He was hooked, his eyes darkened, following the plump arch of her lips as she took another spoonful of the treat and savoured it, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It was pornographic.

"Obviously, Midgardians don't know what's good for them," Loki scoffed in his usual bored monotone, fully aware of how fitful his attempt to conceal his excitement was. He sounded needy even to his own ears.

"And you do?" She pushed away the empty plate, chastely patting her mouth with a napkin. The raised eyebrow and the little smirk spoke volumes.

The grin he wore was hardly anything but feral; he asked for the waiter's assistance by flicking his wrist in an impatient fashion. Once the bill was paid and the woman's cardigan found its rightful place on her shoulders, Loki once again took hold of her arm, this time holding her smaller body against his larger one, taking care to slow down and keep his strides shorter.

She found the coolness of his presence refreshing in the moist, heavy air of the New York city.

"Where to, milady?" Loki asked her, looking down at the woman fondly.

"My place is a block away. Walk me, good sir?" She gave a delightfully easy smile in return.

He nodded, letting her lead the way, allowing himself to get a little bit lost in their shared presence, a little bubble of them in the middle of a busy city. It was as if someone had quickly turned down the volume of the honking cars and noisy pedestrians around them, leaving the soft breeze and the sun slowly descending below the skyscrapers. It felt far too short, partaking in the comfortable silence together, skin tingling under the thin layers of cloth where they were touching.

The sun was trapped in the strands of her hair as she smiled at him from her doorway, worrying her lip between her teeth. It was a bittersweet moment.

"A kiss good night for the good sir?" She asked hopefully, eyes darting between his face and his mouth.

Loki obliged, resting his palm flat on the door frame, towering over the woman as he gently slotted his thin, cool lips against her warm ones. The woman stood on her tippy toes, eager, placing a hand on his chest. The pair melted into the kiss - it had no business being this mind-blowing, brain-freezing for two people that have not met until that very day. The woman didn't refuse when Loki probed with his tongue, requesting entrance to her mouth; she licked into his own with fervor, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of his sweater.

With the hand that was free, Loki pulled the woman flush with himself, feeling the heat of her start a fire of its own inside of him. Her breathing rapid, the gesture only served to tighten her hold on his sweater, until a soft, barely audible moan slipped into his mouth, causing his brain to quickly reassess the situation.

Regretfully, Loki pulled away, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," He meaningfully looked at the array of doors around them.

"I thought you'd never ask," She retorted with a fond eyeroll, tightening the grip on his sweater once more, to pull him inside her apartment and shut the door behind her. The awkward moments were few and in between; neither knew who reached for the other first, mashing their mouths with less grace than before, clutching at the other's arms and hips with hunger.

This time, Loki didn't hold back his own muted groans of satisfaction, shivering when the woman's hands snuck under his sweater and the simple tank top he wore underneath. Blunt nails scraped along his abs.

Step by step, she pushed him further inside her apartment, determined in her small quick strides. There was no mistake of their destination; no mistake in her desire: she was as hungry and as impatient as him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, long arms extending to unzip the top of her dress to reveal a simple but tasteful black lacy bra covering her breasts. The woman barely noticed the action, stepping out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor.

He admired her. Inches of soft skin covered by intricate ink, some patterns bizarre and complicated, some beautiful in their simplicity. Loki couldn't wait to find out about the meaning behind every one of them, to trace the lines with his tongue and sink his teeth into the heated flesh.

The hands that were holding onto him for dear life tugged on his sweater and he chose to simply vanish it, too preoccupied with looking at the view in front of him. She gasped and her eyes met his: uncanny, magnetic emeralds shone with magic and power and desire.

"Fuck," She more mouthed than said, walking backwards in a trance until her shins hit the bed.

Loki grinned, advancing on the panting woman with the grace of a predator. "Darling?" His tone was innocent; his expression was anything but. His large hand encompassesed the side of her face, thumb running over her bottom lip in a possessive gesture that had her squirming in her place. He loved the way she just melted into his touch.

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was once again graceful and unrushed, allowing them to explore the softness of each other's skin, mapping the arches and valleys with gentle strokes of their palms. The broad expanse of Loki's back was uneven, riddled with scars and blemishes, and she mapped every single one, blunt nails raking down it as she pressed into him, arching into his hands where he held her.

The soft flesh of her ass, barely covered by a scrap of black lace, was shamelessly grabbed - the woman didn't doubt there would be marks left - letting her feel his arousal pressed against her belly, hard and twitching. She didn't resist her desire to ge handsy and palmed it, taking note of the gasp and the twitch coming from the man occupied with the clasp of her bra. In no time, it flew away, forgotten somwhere the very moment Loki's palms took over her breasts, running a careful thumb over each nipple.

"Fuck," She parroted her previous statement, equally breathy and considerably more aroused.

"That's the plan," Loki's chuckle was hoarse.

She huffed, biting her bottom lip before reaching out to swiftly pop the button of his trousers, smirking at the hiss the friction of her palm produced against his cock. It shouldn't have surprised her that Loki was a commando kind of guy, but still, she gasped, partially from the ministrations of his clever fingers, partially from the mouthwatering sight in front of her. The thick, flushed length made saliva gather in the corners of her mouth.

He must've heard the audible swallow. "Not so haste, darling," He tutted, giving her relaxed body a gentle push, causing her to land on her back, heated skin against the soft duvet of her bed. "Let me taste you," A thud; Loki had dropped to his knees, using his large palms to spread her legs, opening her up to his eyes.

If his previous work hadn't made her so pliant, so aroused, she'd have been rendered speechless; instead, the woman arched her back, presenting herself and the desire that had pooled down below. The Asgardian chuckled, fingertips soft against the scratchy lace.

"Tease," The woman moaned, outstretching her arm to guide him but quite unable to reach him. She had to settle for squirming in her place, receiving a fraction of the desired traction against her swollen lips.

"Am I, love?" Loki asked her sweetly, caving enough to dip a single finger to run along the outside of her slit. It glided easily thanks to all the moisture gathered there, lips parting easily before his touch. The panties were vanished away promptly, another finger joining in immediately to rub slow, precise circles around her clit.

She keened low and long, fisting the fabric in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Loki knew what he was doing. It didn't take him very long to slide his long digits to the welcoming heat of her opening, dipping them inside until she began to make the noises he so craved. His mouth followed after that, long agile tongue drawing senseless shapes on the inside of her labia and dipping deeper, where her clit stood out engorged and slick.

He could smell the bittersweet of her arousal, mouthwatering and hot.

"Loki, fuck," She moaned, only half-coherent and partially aware of her own hips following his every stroke, every flick. He only advanced, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every stroke; the sparks traveling up her spine quickened with each time she changed his name like a prayer. "Loki, Loki, Loki..."

He growled, attaching his mouth firmly to her clit, and she arched for the final time, coming undone, squeezing around his fingers and gushing in his mouth, the obscene sounds covered by her own scream of delight and his impatient growling. The growling that sent shivers of aftershocks throughout her body.

"Darling, you taste so sweet," Loki groaned, still panting.

She took the time to open her eyes: Loki looked comically out of place in her bedroom, he dwarfed her bed and made her feel small, but it didn't matter at all at that very moment. His erection stood out hard and proud; despite the leg-shaking orgasm just moments ago, she wanted more, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to feel him inside-

With unsurprising agility, one swift motion was all it took for her to rest comfortably against the pillows, his throbbing member resting against the juncture of her thigh. She tasted her own release on his lips, however brief, whispering a weak, "Please," aching to feel the emptiness.

"As my lady wishes," Loki's cool breath ghosted over her cheek. She waited with baited breath until the tip of his manhood breached her, exhaling a moan into his neck and immediately wrapping her lips around a patch of skin as he stretched her so sweet.

Loki's arms shook slightly as he waited for her to adjust. He kissed her, soft and sweet; there was something vulnerable in him, something as sweet as the ache he'd taken away. Once he began to move, slow and fluid, all there was left was an all-consuming need to feel. As graceful as dancer and with a deadly precision, Loki pounded gasps, moans and screams out of the woman's slack mouth, kisses turning hungrier and sloppier by the second.

"So sweet," He cooed, relishing in the snug grip of her cunt around him.

She only keened in approval, too far gone and unused to the intensity of the feelings from a man with centuries of practice and the power of a god.

His thrusts slowed gradually until he was rutting into her, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit. The gasps and screams turned into drawn-out, longing moans; her hips followed his, meeting in a slow, sensual motion.

Loki was not a patient man. He withdrew - she gasped in protest - flipping the woman over on her fours with ease, taking but a split second to admire the curve of her body presented on display for him. Just for him.

With that thought burning in his mind, Loki sheathed his cock deeply inside her spasming cunt. It was nearly unbearably stimulating and only his own desire to prolong the bliss held back his own impending orgasm. That, and his own ego; he was naught if not a generous lover.

She slurred something, quiet and incorrigible, fucking back onto his cock as eagerly as he was plunging into her heat. The hand he'd placed on her shoulder promptly wrapped around her throat in hopes of lifting her close enough for him to hear the words but instead, it sent a full-bodied shiver throughout her. Loki grinned, tugging her that much closer.

The arch in her back looked quite uncomfortable yet she didn't mind; it was the exact opposite, in fact, her cunt tightened around him, drenching his shaft down to his balls. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his thigh, the sting of pain going straight to his cock-

"Loki, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" She slurred, gasping for air.

He weakened his hold on her throat enough to let her gulp the so-needed oxygen. It was her undoing: was it the rapid pace of oxygenated blood traveling to her brain or was it his cock, mercilessly pounding against her g-spot - she was violently spasming around his cock, much like she did around his fingers not too long ago.

It felt like ages, her crescendo coming in waves with no signs of stopping any time soon. Loki's continuous thrusts, his hips slamming into hers, her skin feeling like molten lava.

"Gonna fill your sweet cunt with my seed," Loki moaned lowly, holding her up by the throat, the other hand leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the outside of her hips. "Mark you from the inside out," His voice had gone into primal territory, growling filling up the room.

"Please..." The woman rasped, oversensitive.

And he pleased, with a series of sharp thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt in her, the force of his release making her shudder and moan once against, going limp in his arms. Loki kept her in her place until every drop was inside of her cunt. Nothing was sweeter than that.

The Asgardian didn't bother with getting under the covers to hold her, conjuring a soft, comfortable throw in modest green, to cover their nudity. He didn't need the extra warmth but his companion was by far more fragile and sensitive to these things- Loki's fingertips traced the array of bruises he'd left in the wake of their passion, expression surprised as he found the woman smiling.

"Feels nice," She supplied meekly, eyes half-lidded, face trusting and open towards him.

He gave a small grin in return, placing a chaste kiss atop her head. "Yes, it does, darling."

Time after time, she didn't expect much out if their date. The sex was nice, nice enough for both of them to want seconds and thirds after their rushed first time - but it wasn't like she expected him to hand around. It was a pleasant change from the usual mutual ghosting she'd done with her previous partners, but Loki had texted again and they had resumed their conversation via text like nothing had happened.

No, that would be incorrect. Now, she had a wonderful friend who was a great conversationalist and an even better lover. There was no pressure to put a label on their relationship so the woman didn't bother with it; it didn't seem like Loki cared about the label, either, so she left the topic alone and enjoyed things the way they were. It wasn't like she had a line of suitors anyway.

She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face when she unlocked her phone and saw a video call request from other than Loki himself. She still had thirty minutes worth of lunch break to waste and this was a wonderful time to chat with a friend.

"Stark, hand it back or I swear to Norns-" Loki's voice sounded agitated and far away, accompanied by sounds of a struggle; the bearded, smug face on the screen was not who she expected at all. Only years of customer service and low bullshit tolerance combined stopped her from freaking out seeing none other than Tony Stark smirking at her from the screen of her phone.

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow, taking note of the anger of Loki's tone.

"Hi, I don't think I need to introduce myself," Stark babbled, eyeing her - disheveled and with a wall full of sticky notes and miscellaneous items acting as the background to her video. "Reindeer games refused to show you to us so we decided to persuade him," Tony's grin grew wider, muted whispers being rapidly exchanged in the background all the while Loki screeched "BROTHER!" and various expletives at the top of his lungs.

"You could've, I dunno," She paused, unimpressed. "Asked me to dinner, like a normal person. Instead of stealing, you know, like a thief," The eyeroll that she performed had the team worried her eyes would fall out of their sockets.

"I merely borrowed his phone, don't be dramatic," Stark huffed, and for a moment, she could see various other people trying to look at the screen and by extension, at her. "So, what is it that you do? Because Smurf over there wouldn't..."

"Oops, bad signal. Sorry, can't hear you properly," Her side of the call suddenly shook and in a moment, she ended the call, not at all willing to deal with people that lacked boundaries. Sure, it might have been Iron Man, but if he was planning on being a snooping asshole, she wasn't gonna go down with that easily.

Exactly five minutes after she had clocked out, an incoming call from Loki had her equal parts excited and mortified. What if..? But he was apologetic. And very angry, swearing in his native language - something that he'd promised to teach her at some point.

"So, Clint did it?" She sipped her beverage, strolling home with the phone pressed snugly against her ear.

"Most of it was his fault, yes," Loki grouched on the other end of the call.

"I vote we get back at him. Invite me over, if he's so inclined to see me, and watch him get humiliated in front of everybody," It wasn't a secret she had her own mischievous tendencies.

"As much as I appreciate your vigour, darling, I doubt the Widow will appreciate you verbally castrating the Hawk in public," He replied sourly, his voice still betraying the faint notes of interest.

"I have a backup plan!" She stated without a hitch. "He'll embarrass himself and I'll be your alibi."

"I'm listening," Loki perked up immediately.

They decided to not to stall and schedule the 'family dinner', as Thor himself dubbed it, for the next available weekend. Loki had made sure Tony's AI had been made aware the trickster would be gone all day, and it took him very little magic and effort to pop in and out of the tower for the five minutes that were needed to execute their prank.

His friend barely managed to keep the snickering at bay as they ascended the elevator to the common floor where the dinner was being held. Not only that, but the woman spouted an area of dark purple love marks, barely obscured by the low turtleneck of her blouse.

She made her introductions and they made theirs. "This affair could use some background noise," She remarked off-handedly, casting a meaningful glance at the TV.

Tony Stark was known for being a great host so he entertained her wishes, flicking on the huge flat screen with a flick of his wrist.

The team froze.

"I... -" The woman stared at the screen, mouth hanging wide open at the scenes that played out. "... am not going to kinkshame, but please turn it off," She stated in a small voice, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of tentacles commencing erotic assault on a woman's body.

Wordlessly, the TV shut down, immersing the room in stunned silence. Loki face-palmed, the slap of his palm against his face echoing in the eerily quiet room.

"Loki!" Captain America, red as a tomato, instantly accused the most obvious person.

Except, he had forgotten one thing. "Loki was with me all day," The woman replied, unkindly. "Do you need more proof?" She tugged on the hem of her turtleneck, exposing an inch of skin marked blue.

The good Captain's face changed the shade once again, venturing very well into beetroot territory. "Who was the last one to use the TV?" Rogers asked, now with a hint of anger, as he stared at a guffawing Bucky.

"I believe it was Mr. Barton," The AI piped up, mechanical voice sounding almost insinuating. Or, perhaps, it just appeared that way.

#loki x reader #Loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston #it's 4am y'all #we be THIRSTY

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

A Hand in the Matter

Chapter 12: Adopted by Strays

"So tell me about Garrett.” Silas said as he settled onto Richard’s couch. It was one of his rare days off and for once he wasn’t spending it at the theater, “What’s he like?” Richard rolled his eyes at the protective lilt to Silas’s voice, ‘Gavin.’ He corrected, ‘He Is Kind. Different From You And Connor. Rough Edges. Noisy.’ “You don’t normally like loud.” Silas remarked as Richard brought the drinks into the living room. ‘I Know.’ Richard agreed, ‘Something About His Noise Brings Comfort.’ “He brings liveliness with him.” Silas said, and then more absently, “Like Allen.” Richard paused. He hadn’t heard this name before, and he didn’t think he had been meant to now. Silas had let on that he made a new friend at work, but had never given a name. There was something in the way he said it. A reverence to it that he normally only reserved for Daniel. ‘Who A-L-L-E-N?” He asked. Silas froze for a moment, “Shit.” He scrambled to recover, “He’s just a friend from the theater, a new security guard. No one important.”

Richard stared at Silas over the rim of his mug. There was more to it than that. “No.” Silas responded, “Don’t you look at me like that. I’m here to talk about your newly acquired problem, not mine.” ‘Who Said He Was A Problem?’ Richard replied and Silas let out an annoyed huff. “Okay so I might be projecting a little.” He continued, “Anyway Gavin. Tell me about him. Starting why he was here for a whole fucking weekend.” Richard gestured to his now decorated apartment, ‘We Redecorated. He Is Friend From School. Very Kind. We Met At Cafe. He Has Cat.’ “There it is.” Silas said with a laugh, “He has a cat, that’s why you like him so much.” Richard rolled his eyes, ‘So Who A-L-L-E-N?’ “Fine.” Silas said with false annoyance to his voice, “I suppose it’s only fair that I tell you about my new friend since you told me about yours.” Richard nodded and waited for Silas to decide what things about Allen he wanted to share. There probably wouldn’t be much, but he clearly left an impression on Silas.

His brother was a private person. Both of them were really, but Silas did it oddly. Where Connor would avoid the topic or politely decline; Silas would give non-answers or selectively give information. Even though he didn’t typically say anything that helped to make it so someone understood the situation, they would feel like they did. He gave the illusion of transparency. It was the reason so many people thought they knew him well without actually knowing anything about him. There was a quiet sigh that marked Silas as being ready to talk, honestly, “He’s just a guy, there isn’t anything remarkable about him. Tall, brown hair, and eyes to match. You could lose him in a crowd without even trying.” He stopped and looked down at his tea, “But I always know he’s there. Even when I don’t see him. I’m hyperaware and I hate it. He’ s nice though, before you worry. Concerned for me not too unlike Daniel, but different at the same time.” ‘He Sounds Interesting.’ He didn’t really know how to respond. He wasn’t good with emotions, that was more of Connor’s thing. “He’s great.” Silas said it like a confession and Richard smiled.

‘I Happy For You.’ Richard said. Silas hummed, “Thanks.” They stayed like that for a while. Silas was back in his own thoughts and Richard let him be. He knew his brother had plans with Connor later so it was better if he got this out of his system now, otherwise Connor would go full big brother mode and that never ended well. “If you ever feel like it, you could introduce me to Gavin.” Silas said eventually, “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” Richard smiled, this was a small gesture but it meant a lot since he’d never had a friend of his own, ‘After Finals.’ Silas nodded and placed his empty mug on the coffee table, “Sounds like a plan.” He looked at the time on his phone, “I’m gonna head home for a smoke and a shower. Connor wants to go out and do something now that we both have the time.” Richard could understand that. He needed time to decompress before going out as well, ‘Have Fun.’ “I’ll try.” Silas remarked as he stood, “I’m sure it will be fun once I’m ready.”

He walked Silas to the door and they hugged before Silas left. He did the dishes and put the mugs away so he wouldn’t have to do it later. Richard took out his phone to see if Gavin wanted to hang out. His most recent message was from Gavin letting him know he had plans with friends tonight. Gavin talked about them a lot. Chris and Tina, he seemed to like them and Richard wondered what they were like. They had borrowed Tina’s truck when they took his closet doors to be recycled but that was the closest he had come to meeting her. Richard was perfectly content with just Gavin, but he would like to meet the people he thought so highly of. The people who responsible for that stupid shit eating grin that always meant that he caused trouble and had gotten away with it. To thank them, he supposed, for making Gavin so happy. He put his phone away and went into the room that served as his office. He could draw for a while and then he’d probably go to sleep. He and Gavin had plans to study tomorrow and one of them had to be in a good state of mind. He figured Gavin would probably have a hangover from drinking more than he should have.

The sketch unsurprisingly turned into another drawing of Gavin. He looked up sports bar interiors so he could do the piece justice. Gavin was leaning on the table in his usual manner, with one forearm resting on it to prop it up the other elbow resting on it with his free hand gesturing in the air as he spoke. It took Richard a while to decide what the drink would be, but he eventually decided on beer. Gavin didn’t seem the type to do fancier drinks. When he checked the time again it was two in the morning. What was meant to be a sketch was now inked and flatly colored which wasn’t anything that he planned on doing. It was in his personal sketchbook so Gavin wouldn’t have to see it. He didn’t want to run the risk of creeping him out. He sat back and stretched with a sigh. It was time to call it a night if he wanted to be able to concentrate while they were studying. He picked up his sketchbook and put it in its place on the shelf. Away from his other sketchbooks so he didn’t run the risk of mixing them up. After that he got ready for bed.

He woke up his usual time. He rolled to turn of his phone alarm and found he had a few messages from his brother.

Connor: Hey. The cafe is going to be closed for a while. Connor: A pipe burst last night and there is a ton of water damage Connor: You’ll have to have your study dates somewhere else for a while. Me: Don’t worry. Just be safe. Me: They aren’t dates

Richard knew it would be a while before Gavin woke up. He had gotten a couple of drunk texts he still hadn’t been able to decipher. He finished getting ready for the day and deiced it was late enough in the morning to text Gavin and see if they could figure something out.

Me: The cafe is close for a few days because a pipe broke. Me: Is there another place we could meet?

About an hour passed before his phone chimed with a reply from Gavin.

Gavin Reed: There’s a place near me called Pawsome Coffee. It’s a cat cafe if that’s okay. Me: That works. Can you send me the address? Gavin Reed: Sure!

The cafe was a little out of his usual walking range, but it was nice out so he figured he could try. If he left now he could make it there by their meeting time. The walk was pleasant and he had caught his breath by the time Gavin made it. He was a little late, but that was normal. The cafe wasn’t too busy when they walked in, but it wasn’t long after they had opened. They ordered their drinks and settled at a table by the windows. He was barely able to get his things out before he was buried in cats. It started with a weight settling across his shoulders and he looked to find a short haired white cat lounging there like it was normal. Two more hopped onto the table. They grey one pawed at him and the rust colored one seemed content to just watch him. A black one settled in his lap and he was officially buried in cats. Gavin took sympathy and went to get their drinks once they were up. “Well aren’t you Mister Popular.” He joked as he set the drinks down and grabbed the rest of what they would need since he was significantly less trapped, “Normally it takes them a few visits for them to warm up to new people.” ‘I Not Do Anything Special.’ He said then pet the grey cat that was still persistently pawing at him.

Gavin settled in at the table, “I think you just have that effect on cats and some people. Are you even going to be able to study like that?” ‘Yes.’ He replied as he stopped petting the now sleeping grey cat, ‘S-I-L-A-S worse.’ Gavin laughed, “There is that I suppose.” ‘Will You.’ He pressed. “Yeah.” Gavin said as he opened his textbook, “I used to study here all the time before I adopted Franklyn. She doesn’t like it too much when I come home smelling like other cats.” ‘Dirty Cheater.’ Richard signed in a deadpan. He wasn’t ready for Gavin to start coughing. Richard hadn’t seen him pick up his drink. That had been bad timing on his part. Gavin laughed as he caught his breath, “God damn it Richard, you can’t just say things like that when a guy is drinking his coffee. You could have killed me.” Richard rolled his eyes. He was being just as dramatic as ever which meant he was fine. They finally began studying, and Gavin had fewer questions than Richard thought he would. He was glad that Gavin had made so much progress. Especially since midterms started on Monday.

It only took him two hours to give in and pet the cats that were on and around him. Gavin had done well today and they both deserved a break. It was a stretch to justify his distraction, but it was the only way he could do this without feeling guilty. “Hey. So I have a question.” Richard looked up when Gavin spoke, he looked almost uncomfortable, “Chris and Tina were wondering if they could meet you. Apparently I talk about you a lot and they’re curious. Obviously if you don’t want to, just say so and I’ll let them know.” ‘Not Today.’ He didn’t have the spoons, ‘This Weekend Maybe? If You Not Busy?’ Gavin nodded, “How does Saturday sound? That’s Chris’s day off.” ‘Saturday Works.’ Richard said, ‘Can We Meet Here? Hand Brewed Hope Not Open.’ Gavin agreed an spent a little more time telling him about his friends. It was nice to know what he was in for. They sounded like fun and Richard was actually looking forward to it. They parted ways with plans to meet back at Pawsome Coffee on Saturday. He didn’t have the energy to walk back so he hailed a cab.

With meeting Gavin’s friends on the horizon Richard didn’t worry about his midterms at all. He was too busy worrying about making a bad first impression. He was a little odd according to most people and a lot of people didn’t take his being nonverbal very well. They always assumed that he was being rude. Gavin didn’t seem to mind it so he hoped his friends would be the same. When Saturday rolled around Richard wound up at the cafe before it opened. The walk had helped to clear his head but anxiety still bubbled beneath his skin. When the cafe opened he settled at the same table as last time. The same cats as before made themselves comfortable on him again. Chris was the first to show up. Richard noticed he had hearing aids and some his anxiety melted away. His being nonverbal wasn’t going to be a problem it seemed. He introduced himself and they went up to order their drinks. They signed to one another until Tina slid into the booth, then Chris began to interpret for him. It was nice. Gavin was the last one to show up, late again, but no one really cared. He set his drink on the table and picked up the cat that was beside Richard so he could take its place, “I swear you keep treats or some shit in your pockets.”

‘I Thought You Said I Have Captivating Personality.’ Richard teased. “With people as well as cats apparently.” Gavin remarked as he rolled his eyes. “Captivating personality huh?” Chris laughed. “Oh shut up Chris.” Gavin said with no real anger to his words. Tina looked a little bit lost, “So am I the only one that doesn’t know Sign Language then?” “Yeah.” Gavin shrugged, “But I’m still learning so don’t worry.” ‘I Teach You If You Want.” He offered. Gavin spoke for him, “He said he would teach you if you would like. Or we could add him to the group chat.” “Why not both?” She replied, “But it really sounds like he has enough on his plate with tutoring you so Chris can teach me instead.” She gave Chris a gentle shove, “Lord knows we have enough time with all the hours we spend on patrol together or at our desks.” “Thanks for asking T.” He responded dryly, “But we aren’t here for that.” “True.” She agreed, “We’re here to have coffee and a good time.” The conversation picked up some after that. It was a lot of reminiscing, and despite not having been there for any of it, he still felt included. He learned a lot about Gavin and it was nice.

“We go out for drinks at a local bar on Fridays if you ever want to join us.” Tina offered as they got ready to leave. ‘Sounds Fun.’ Richard replied and Gavin let out a put upon groan. “We can cab together then I guess.” Gavin said with a slight smile. ‘Thank You.’ He was looking forward to it despite the fact that he didn’t drink. They went their separate ways outside of the cafe. Richard flagged a cab and felt his phone buzz.

Chris added Me to: Oh No! Its the Cops. Me: Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun. Tina: Of course! it was great to finally meet you. Chris: See you Friday! Gavin Reed: I’m in danger. Me: Only if you don’t take care of yourself. Tina: I like him Chris: Same

Richard smiled at his phone. For once he wasn’t nervous about having plans. He supposed he belonged to a group of friends now. It was funny how fact things could change. He still had his brothers, but now he had a group of friends of his own. There would be no more being passed between baristas and actors. Better yet, this time he wasn’t afraid. Even if he was, he had people he could turn to now.

#A Hand in the Matter #AHM #reed900 #dbh Gavin #dbh Nines #dbh fic #dbh

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years

Text

High School Sweethearts

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x reader

Summary: Y/N and Kevin dated back in high school, but decided to go separate ways once they graduated, and now, a case has brought them back together again

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of drugs, death and alcohol, depiction of a crime scene

Word Count: 1,459 Words

“What do we got?” I ask the patrol officer as I walked up to the crime scene.

“Two dead. One male, one female. Late teens. They were found over here by the baseball coach,” the officer told me and led me over to one of the dugouts attached to the baseball field. Inside of the dugout, I saw the bodies of the two teens. My eyes were drawn to the boy first. He was slumped over on the bench with his arm straight out at his side. His hair was a dark shade of brown, which contrasted with the light color of his skin. I then glanced over to the girl, who was laying against the floor. Her blonde hair was splayed around her face, and she looked almost peaceful.

“Did they go to school here?” I ask and gesture to the large building out in the distance.

“It looks like it,” the man replied. “We’ve got guys asking teachers and students questions, seeing if anyone knows who they are. They didn’t have IDs on them.”

“And the drugs? Did you find them?” I question.

The officer nodded. “Forensics took them already. I could get you the pictures if you’d like.”

“That’d be great. Send all of the pictures you’ve got over to Narcotics. I’m working under Sergeant Jacobs. We’ll take over everything from here,” I say. Once I had seen everything I needed to see, I drove back to my unit’s office. Inside, my co-workers were all staring at photos on their computers of the crime scene I had just come from.

“L/N, I need to speak to you for a moment,” Sergeant Jacobs spoke. I made my way straight into his office and sat down in one of the leather chairs he kept in front of his mahogany desk. “I’ve gotten word that Intelligence is chasing the same dealer as us, so the Superintendent would like us to work together on this one. I want you to head over there, talk to them about the new crime scene, give them the information we’ve gathered, the works,” Jacobs explained.

“Got it. I’m just waiting for an ID on our two vics, but I will head right over after I’ve got those,” I tell my sergeant.

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

When I entered the 21st district, I walked up to the desk sergeant, whose uniform read Platt. “Um, excuse me? I’m looking for Sergeant Voight.” The woman looked up at me and scanned me once over as if I were a prized pet.

“Atwater, would you please bring this officer up to Voight?” At the mention of that last name, dozens of memories hit me like a truck. I had known a guy whose last name was Atwater, and we had dated for a good part of high school.

“Uh, sure. Follow me Officer- Y/N?!” Kevin said quizzically once I turned around to face the man.

“Kevin? Oh my god,” I mutter and rush over to hug him. Kevin wrapped his arms around me, and being in them made me miss the old days when we were together. “So, you’re apart of Intelligence, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. And I didn’t know you became a police officer? I thought you were studying chemistry?” Kevin questioned.

“I was, but it got boring, and then for some reason, I really wanted to be a police officer, so here I am. Look at you. You don’t look any different from high school,” I exclaim and glance over him.

“I see you’ve still got your humor. Come on. I’ll take you to Voight. So, you’re working in Narcotics?” Kevin asked.

“Uh, yeah. I just moved back here from L.A. a few weeks ago, and I worked in a similar unit out there, so I was able to get into Sergeant Jacobs’ unit. It’s obviously not as elite as Intelligence, but we catch drug dealers, so we’re doing some good for the city,” I shared as Kevin pressed his palm to the palm scanner, which in turn opened up the gate leading to upstairs.

“After you,” Kevin spoke and moved out of the way to let me through the gate first. I thanked him quickly and bounded up the stairs until I made it to the main office of the Intelligence Unit.

“Hey Kev. Who’s this?” a man asked. The man who had spoken was around my age with light skin and dark brown eyes. His hair was a caramel brown color, and it was swooped back over his head to my right, his left. He also had a small beard growing out, which matched his flannel attire perfectly.

“Oh, uh, Adam, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my partner Adam,” Kevin stated.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say and shake Adam’s hand.

“Hold on a sec. You’re Y/N L/N, right? Kevin’s high school girlfriend,” Adam pointed out.

“Hold on a minute. Did someone say Kevin has a girlfriend?” a brunette woman asked and made her way out of the door on my left followed by another woman, this one blonde, and a guy who looked kind of similar to Adam, but had darker hair and sharper facial features.

“Y/N, this is Kim, Hailey, and Jay, the rest of the unit,” Kevin said and pointed to each person.

“Hey. Um, I’m his ex-girlfriend,” I stammer out. I was not expecting to be bombarded like this. “It’s uh, it’s not important. I’m here to speak to Sergeant Voight.”

“You must be Detective L/N,” a man, who I’m assuming was Sergeant Voight, noted. “I was told you’d be working on this case with us. Got any information on the recent victims you’d like to share?”

I nodded. “Yeah. A lot actually, so let’s get to it.”

A Few Days Later...

“Thanks for all of your help, L/N. I’ll be sure to tell your sergeant what a great asset you were to the team,” Voight told me.

“Oh. Uh, thank you, Sergeant Voight. It was a pleasure working with you guys. Maybe we’ll end up working together in the future,” I say.

“Hey, Y/N, Kim, Adam, and I are going to this bar called Molly’s after shift. Want to come?” Kevin asked me.

I smiled. “Sure. That sounds fun. Send me the address and I’ll meet you guys there.” After I had finished up the paperwork that needed to be done for the case, I put the address Kevin had given me into my car’s GPS and headed off to Molly’s. When I got there, everyone else had already arrived and had reserved a table near the back of the establishment.

“Kevin claims you like whiskey, but I think you’re more of an ice cold beer girl. What’ll be?” Adam questioned.

“Sorry, Adam, but Kevin is right,” I confirm. “Whiskey is, and always will be, my drink of choice.”

“So, you two were high school sweethearts, and based on what Kevin has told me, you guys seemed adorable together. Why’d you guys break up?” Kim asked. Quickly after that, she followed with, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. Uh, I got a full ride to UCLA to study chemistry, and Kevin wanted to stay here with his family, so we came to the decision that it would be better if we broke up,” I explain.

“You know, I never wanted to break up,” Kevin informed me.

“I didn’t either,” I reply. “I only decided that we should because I didn’t want to keep you from being with your family.”

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Adam spoke and grabbed onto Kim’s arm, dragging her over to the bar.

“It took me 2 years to really get over you. And even after that, I still couldn’t even look at another guy without remembering what we had,” I say.

“I haven’t been with anyone either. Maybe we should give us another shot,” Kevin suggested.

“Maybe. First though, I think we should see if we still have chemistry,” I murmur flirtatiously.

“I can agree with that,” Kevin responded and leaned down to kiss me. The moment our lips touched, it felt like I was back in high school all over again. I wrapped my arms around Kevin’s neck to bring him down closer to my height, and smiled against his lips. Yeah, the chemistry was definitely still there.

“So, seeing as you’ve lived here longer, I’m assuming that you know some great restaurants to get takeout from. Because after all of this alcohol, I’m going to need some food,” I tell Kevin.

Kevin smiled. “I know this amazing Mexican place right by my apartment. We could get some food and catch up.”

“That sounds great. I can’t wait,” I mutter and take a sip of my whiskey.

____________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13

#one chicago #chicago pd #kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater imagine #kevin atwater imagines #intelligence unit #district 21 #x reader #imagine #imagines

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stevenbasic · 3 years

Photo

Looking at the IG of one of the new applicants, Dr J thinks: What's this one's story?

About a year ago, huh..?

...

The reunion was in full swing, and Angie sipped the straw of her vodka tonic, alone for the moment at the edge of the crowd, watching him. She’d come into the evening like she did into most crowds: thinking she was the smartest person in the room. True, it’s not like she’d ended up top of her class - it’d been ten years since graduating from Middlesex High with these morons - or had found herself at a top-tier college. She totally could have, she always thought, if she had really wanted to. She just never put in the effort, it hadn’t meant enough to her. But she could have been valedictorian, for sure, right? And gone to an ivy-league? She just never set her mind to it, she told herself. Plus, back then, she didn’t have the tits...

Angie Wade was, certainly, what most people would call a “late bloomer”. Not only had her academic and career successes mainly come after her teen years in High School - she’d graduated with Honors from Bowling Green, got her Masters, and now managed two (soon to be three) branches of KLG Bank - but her figure had taken some time to come in, also. When she had graduated, she had been a mostly forgettable member of the drama club, the thin, unremarkable brunette with the big forehead. But, soon, things changed. Since high school she’d put on - haha - nearly thirty pounds, the majority of it generously deposited into the fleshy curves she’d squeezed into this low-cut black top and tight, tight knee-length white skirt. She wanted these people - him especially - to see what had become of Angie Wade, to realize what they had missed. And, the evening had gone predictably. Most of the girls, even some she’d been friendly with in school, either wanted nothing to do with her or treated her with snobby derision - fuck them. Because every guy she’d spoken to tonight had been very keen to chat. Most had given her at least a fleeting glance down her top, and many could barely keep from staring. But she hadn’t talked to AJ Shaw yet....

...and he was right over there.

...

AJ stood at the banquet hall’s bar, idly stirring his bacardi and coke, while Megan Rommety chatted animatedly in his left ear. He’d learned, among a prattling twenty minutes’ worth of other things, that she was a recent divorcee (“her decision”, to hear her tell it) She was trying to flirt with him, he had no doubt. He had been excited about coming to this thing, the 10-year reunion for his Middlesex High School Class. He still hung out, pretty regularly, with some friends from the football team; he’d even hired a couple to work on his construction team. He still touched base with old girlfriends from time-to-time, Facebook or wherever; it was cool to see them with kids and flirt with them behind their husbands’ backs. But maybe there’d be some people from out of town to catch up with. Like Megan here: they’d been in a couple classes together, she’d dated a friend of his, been on the tennis team. She was nice to see, for the first few minutes, but now she was beginning to overstay her welcome in the seat next to him. “...anyway, after I kicked Brad out, I sold the house and bought my own condo down by the lake,” Megan was saying, stirring the ice cube in her chardonnay, “sooooo nice. Real hardwood floors, a view. You just have to come see it! In fact, kids are at my mom’s tonight and…” WHoahhh...Who was THAT?

“Yeah, I uh….” he said Wearing a black, low-cut top that revealed an impressive bulge of soft, creamy cleavage, she was smiling over at him, from across the room. In fact, “smile” might have been too soft of a word. There was something dramatic about the look she was giving him, something….yikes. His stomach fluttered and everything Megan was saying was being droned out, dissolving to just a buzz on his left. Taking a sip of her drink, this woman held his eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, before she began to strut over towards him. My god, AJ thought, that is a strut. Straight back and proud, each step in her killer heels brought a new jiggle to her chest and an extra sway to her hips in her tight, white skirt. This was a woman who knew how to walk, he could see that for sure, and draw eyes to herself. Was this someone from his class?? He had forgotten that he was in the middle of a sentence, a conversation. Hell, he practically forgot where he was. He’d kinda found that happening, recently. Pretty women seemed to throw him off base more easily than they used to. Ones with boobs, especially. “Hiya, remember me?” she said, sidling up to the bar and unceremoniously boxing Megan out. He tried to keep his eyes up, on her face, on her wide, wide smile. He knew he would look like an asshole if his eyes dropped to her tits….but it was a struggle. “I…uh” he began, as his mind began to work. He was usually so good at this! He felt like he knew everybody from his class, or at least everyone important. Especially the hot ones! But he was having trouble remembering this one, her name. Her face was sorta familiar, but he certainly didn’t recognize those curves from high school. “Uhmmmm…”

“Angie Wade?” Megan interjected, from half-behind the newcomer.

Oh yeah, Angela Wade.

“Angie Wade?” AJ finally managed, lights beginning to click on, “You were in drama club, right?” “That’s me!” Angie beamed, biting her lower lip flirtatiously, “You DO remember me!” He...he did remember her, yes, Angie. But certainly not like this. The Angie Wade he remembered had been...skinny. Maybe not quite a dork, but not someone with whom he’d ever associate. If he recalled, his friends had told him she’d been an admirer of his. God, if he’d known she’d grow up into this...wow, she really grew a pair. “Excuse me,” Megan piped in, pushing her short, coiffed-blonde hair behind her ear, “We...were in the middle of a conversation?” Obviously annoyed, Megan could see how AJ’s attention had suddenly been drawn to Angie Wade and her big new tits. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Angie responded, not bothering to hide a note of condescension. She shifted to unblock Megan from the conversation, a move that just brought her closer to AJ’s left side, and in fact let her press her big right breast into his left arm. She felt him shudder, almost imperceptibly, but tried to keep her smile to herself.

Angie glanced Megan up and down with a coy smirk before turning back to AJ. “So...Nice suit! You look great,” she said, knowing men’s weaknesses for flattery, “Seems like you’re doing well?” “Um, yeah! Thanks!,” AJ replied, wincing as he heard the weird enthusiasm in his voice. He can’t come across as creepy, just talking to this girl ‘cuz she’s built. He knew he had to maintain himself, his composure. “I’ve been good,” he continued, “Staying busy with work and-” Angie cut him off. “Yeah, I saw that your company has a bid in to renovate the stadium downtown,” she said, letting her eyes sparkle in admiration. Men loved that. “That’s soooo great…” They also loved this bimbo talk, she’d learned. “Yeah well, it’s um… an exciting project,” He finished lamely, glancing over at Megan, whose glare had gone icy. What was he doing? This was rude. He should try to involve Megan some more, but found himself just really not wanting to. “But enough about me,” he said to Angie, admiring the dramatically dark makeup around her eyes, “How are you doing?” “I’m doing SO, SO good!” Angie sang, right hand reaching behind AJ’s back, resting on a shoulder. Megan scoffed, watching as her left hand then found his knee. What a tramp. “‘So so good’?” Megan finally snapped, the derision in her voice unmistakable, “Last I heard you were working at Hooters. Brad said he saw you th-” “Oh, did he? Brad, your husband?” Angie smiled, turning finally to address Megan, smile big and white.

“Ex...husband…” Megan said, voice quickly fading.

“Hm. Well, did Brad mention that he used to come in every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch, with guys from work, or sometimes just by himself?” Angie continued, a new edge to her voice, “And when I moved to just weekends, he started showing up then, too?” She smiled as she saw Megan’s eyes go wide. She loved doing this shit to prissy bitches like Megan, when they thought they could flex. “Did Brad tell you that he always asked to be sat in my section, and when I finally left he’d asked the other girls about me? Where I went? Asked for my number?”

Megan’s jaw had started to quiver, and Angie had to keep herself from laughing. She remembered Brad, though it had been awhile. Guys from their old high school had often come to Hooters to drool, whether it was over her or younger girls like Shanette or Missy. Brad had been no different. “I guess he just saw something he liked…. “ Angie concluded, straightening her shoulders and pushing her boobs forward - which drew a glance from AJ, she noticed. “Maybe something he didn’t have at home?” “Holy shit y-you bitch,” Megan sputtered, doing her best to sound appalled but glancing down at her own modest bust, unable to keep from feeling a little inadequate. Yes, Brad had been “a boob guy”... Ignoring the insult with practiced aplomb, Angie turned back to AJ, catching him looking down her top. “Besides, you don’t mind...do you AJ?” she asked him, squeezing her right breast more firmly into his nicely-muscled arm, rubbing his broad shoulder through his suit jacket, “That I used to work at Hooters?” “Um, uh, what?” he stammered, uncomfortable with the tense exchange that had just happened between these two girls, feeling weird that he’d just sat here, passively. How was he supposed to answer this? “No...not at all,” he managed, “I think, uh, service work is perfectly dignified…” “See?” Angie giggled, still rubbing his shoulder and rewarding him with an extra bit of boob, “Good boy.” Angie giggled again, so pleased with herself. Megan, for herself, looked aghast, watching AJ - who she always thought was a pretty well-put-together guy - fall for this bimbo’s simple little tricks. God, what a pair of tits can do... “I…” “..was just leaving” Angie finished for her, fixing her with a bright white smile and withering stare. She watched as Megan took her drink and stood from her stool. “You gonna go call Brad?” she added, for good measure, “Tell him Angie from Hooters said hello.” “Tell him yourself,” Megan sneered, and then turned to him, “And, AJ, nice talking to you. Have fun with the Titty Monster.” With that she stomped off, and Angie’s smile curled.

“‘Titty Monster’”, Angie repeated, chuckling to herself, “That’s rich. I think I’ll use that.” She bit her lip, narrowed her eyes. “So….” she began, turning all her attention back on AJ, her high school crush. She almost couldn’t believe it herself: here she was, little Angie Wade, proudly claiming Aaron Joseph Shaw for herself, just because she could. It was like wrapping him around her little finger. “Can I have a seat?” “Oh, uh, yeah,” AJ replied, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even said goodbye to Megan. “Of course…”

AJ half-stood, chivalrously, as if to help Angie up into Megan’s now-empty chair. He sat back, finally, and began to order them both a drink from the bartender with the dramatic mustache.

“Two vodka tonics, please,” Angie had insisted, speaking over him with a will that made his loins clinch.

From there, the flirting began in earnest, disguised by a conversation about their jobs. Angie avoided divulging too much about her situation, her successes at the bank. She knew the male ego could be a fragile thing, and she didn’t want to scare him away. AJ seemed to be a successful guy himself, in his own way, but boys tended to like their girls dumb, and she could play that up a bit when she needed to. So, no mention of the degrees, no mention of the awards. Instead, she had leaned forward towards him just enough to open her cleavage for his approval.

God, she has great tits, he thought to himself, marveling at their swell and mass, and I’m really getting to be a tit-guy these days. His eyes just could not keep themselves from falling down her top, and she seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, after their second drink together, her hand had found its way back to his knee and seemed to give him an encouraging squeeze every time his gaze strayed to her chest. She...she actually likes that I’m looking at her tits, he finally convinced himself, and had slowly started to relax.

After another drink, Angie finally sat up, stock straight, and slowly stretched her shoulders back to look around the room. Some of their old classmates had begun to leave, and the room was less abuzz than it had been. Predictably, his eyes had gone straight to her chest, and shot away before she met his gaze again. She waited for him to talk, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“So, it looks like things are starting to quiet down here,” he finally asked, “do you, uh, need a ride?”

Bingo. “No, I drove myself,” she answered, watching his face, seeing the old gears turning.

“Well, I was thinking about, y’know,” he began again, poking at the remaining ice in his drink, “heading back to my loft, downtown, if you wanted to, like, come with me…?” Angie smiled, and leaned in towards him, squeezing her arms together in a dramatic show of cleavage. “Hmmm, well,” she purred, watching his eyes struggle to maintain her gaze, “how about you come to my place tonight sweetie. It’s closer....”

At that, she leaned in to his ear, and whispered into it with a voice thick with seduction. “And I still have my Hooters outfit at home. I can try it on for you….see if it still fits?”

============================================

Angie attacks! A little GITJ tangent thread being co-written with AgeoftheGiantess, who you may know from GTScity. Look for her story to continue.

Next post, our first entry by new contributor Joyce Julep, available at my Patreon

#Growing Into the Job

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gellavonhamster · 3 years

Text

cold weapons

Suicide Squad (2016) || Captain Boomerang/Katana || post-canon

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2017 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.

“So, what do you think of them?” Colonel Flag asks.

Tatsu puts the folder containing the rap sheet of Waylon Jones, better known as Killer Croc, on top of three other folders.

“They’re complicated,” she replies after giving it some thought.

The materials in these folders could have formed her first impression about the members of Task Force X – or, as Lawton has aptly put it, the Suicide Squad. Could have, but did not, because they were given their first task earlier than expected. Which is why she doesn’t say “villains” or “scoundrels” or “worst team imaginable” – her first impression of them was formed in combat, and then in an empty bar in Midway City where they all drank together thinking it may be the last drink in their lives. She remembers all of this and says ‘complicated’.

“Very tactful of you,” the colonel chuckles. Then again, what kind of colonel is he now – an unwashed shirt, black circles under the eyes. Just another guy struggling with a deluge of work, a hard-hearted boss, and a troubled relationship with his girlfriend. “But yeah, they definitely aren’t simple,” continues Rick Flag, one of her few friends in the country that will never become her home, and Tatsu cannot suppress a tired smile.

“You like them.”

“They’re… tolerable,” Rick admits, and takes another sip of coffee. Lately he seems to be living only on coffee and whiskey and the verb “must” and (so Tatsu supposes, although they don’t talk about that) the hope that June Moone, who still hasn’t fully recovered from all the horrors she’s been through, will be all right – and will stop isolating herself and avoiding him. These means for not letting yourself just fall down and never get up are far from being reliable, but Tatsu herself lives mostly on revenge and duty and, for that matter, whiskey as well, to a certain degree, so it’s not for her to judge. “Most of them, at least. All of them minus the Australian.”

“At least he’s a good fighter,” Tatsu points out. This is the only good thing she can say about Captain Boomerang with full confidence.

“He’s not cut out for teamwork.”

“When we were fighting the Enchantress, it didn’t look to me like that.”

She does not put much meaning into these words. It’s just that at some point Captain Boomerang saved her, and she saved him – and good thing they’re even, because the last thing she needs is to owe a favour to someone so incompatible with the very concept of duty. She could have said much about the man who tried to escape at the very beginning of the mission and got a teammate killed (and for some reason stood up for El Diablo when Harley Quinn lashed out at him at the bar, and for some reason came back before the battle after trying to desert), but the only thing she’s sure of is that he’s a fine weapon; she can confirm that, being a weapon herself. At the end of the day, that is all that’s required from him.

At the end of the day, that is all that’s required from her, too.

***

It is possible that what she said about Digger Harkness sticks in Rick’s memory, because when the need to comb the area arises during the next mission, he sends the two of them to search through the same building.

“If he gets up to something, do whatever you want to him. No one’s gonna weep for him,” he flings off. This is in the heat of the moment, of course – Boomerang almost got into a fight with Killer Croc on the helicopter over some nonsense. Or rather, it was Croc that almost got into a fight with Boomerang after the latter provoked him. Complicated.

“You heard that, darl?” Boomerang addresses her with a smile so wide as if he hasn’t heard the last remark. “I’m all yours.”

Tatsu looks the other way and pointedly takes her sword out of its sheath – not completely, just a little. No further comments follow, and they part company – Deadshot with Croc, Flag with his team of spec ops, Tatsu with Boomerang – and go on a recce.

In the basement, they discover something that looks like a laboratory – if a place so far from being sanitary may even be called one. All their hopes to move without making a sound crumble as soon as they enter the room: the floor is covered with broken glass. Those who ran the place must have escaped in haste and couldn’t take the entire stock of the serum with them, so they opted to destroy most of it. Tatsu’s attention is immediately drawn to the object on the table in the middle of the room – a metal container with tubes going from it to several smaller vessels. She heads straight for the table, shards crunching underfoot. Boomerang follows her, apparently kicking the largest shards on purpose so that they fly in all directions.

“Looks like a hooch still,” he comments, having come closer, and gives a whistle. “Whoa, fuck, is that blood?”

Compared to the first task of their squad, this one looks almost effortless. Two gangs, the members of one of which possess the formula of the serum that grants superpowers to those who take it. A gun battle, collateral damage, the entire district on lockdown. If a few people weren’t noticed literally floating through the sky, the police would have been handling this. But this is an emergency, which is why they’re here, and the flying gangsters aren’t flying anymore, for Lawton is an exceptionally good shot.

As it turns out, the serum that sparked the conflict is based on metahuman blood – hardly donated voluntarily.

“I’ll contact Colonel Flag,” says Tatsu, eyes locked on the bloodied tubes, and then someone grabs her by the neck.

For the first time in her life, she really has to fight blindly – because her enemy is invisible.

Later, when the dead bodies gradually become visible on the floor like an eerie animated movie, it turns out there were four of them. Before that, Tatsu manages to lose her sword, recapture it, almost choke when an invisible hand squeezes her neck, slash one of the attackers in half, and plunge the blade into another’s stomach. Boomerang takes care of the other two, knocking over the container in the process.

Tatsu is listening to the silence that came after the fight, wondering if any other invisible foes are lurking around the corner, when she feels that something is wrong. Something is wrong with her – she just can't figure out what. Sometimes it happens that one feels unwell but cannot determine what exactly the problem is – she is experiencing something similar now. Until she realizes: the mask. Until she looks up and makes eye contact with Captain Boomerang, who is staring at her and grinning.

“You lost anything, doll?” Harkness inquires innocently, with an emphasis on the last word, and his smile grows even wider and cockier.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The invisible man she fought hand to hand tore off her mask, and she didn’t even notice. But her partner, blast him, did – and picked it up.

“Give it back,” Tatsu demands, hand outstretched. She feels naked. In combat, during the mission, she is Katana, a single whole with her sword. A cold weapon. No one needs to see her face. Truly, if she was wearing only the mask and nothing else, she would have felt less exposed – all right, this is an overstatement, and she doesn’t even want to imagine such a situation. Meanwhile, Boomerang is in no hurry to return the mask.

“What did ya call me when that fucker was about to stab me?” he asks. Tatsu clenches the sword hilt. There is no telling how many enemies drunk on the magic serum are hiding in this house, and he’s dawdling. “You said…”

Damn it, what did she say? She saw one of the invisibles creeping up on him while he was fighting another – a bloodstain was floating through the air. She shouted…

“I said ‘George’”. Isn’t your name George Harkness?”

“You bet it is. It’s just weird. Most people don’t call me George, y’know.”

“How do they call you then?”

“Digger. Boomerang. Boomer. That Prick. All sorts of things, but never George. But you,” he winks, “can call me whatever ya want. I liked the way you say my name.”

“Give. Me. The mask.”

“And the magic word?”

“I will chop your hand off,” as a proof of her intentions, she puts the blade against his extended hand that is holding her mask. In fact, she would face no consequences for doing so. No one’s gonna weep for him.

Harkness makes a helpless gesture and hands her the mask.

“Can’t say no to you, luv.”

The mask helps her conceal her identity, but what is more important is that it helps her conceal needless emotions. Tatsu really hopes that her facial expression isn’t giving away that she’s ill at ease now. This is a weakness; weaknesses are not to be demonstrated. She feels deeply relieved when she puts the mask back on.

“Let’s get out of here,” she commands, turns around, and heads for the exit. Harkness trails behind.

“It ain’t fair, by the way. You know my real name, but I don’t know yours,” he muses. “Care to introduce yourself, eh?”

He asks the same question at least three times more before they return to Belle Reve, and each time she ignores him.

***

A week later, he still doesn’t know her name – but he learns something else.

They do away with the last members of the recent gang on the outskirts of the city. Both wretches have overused the unfortunate serum, in keeping with the best traditions of the clichéd movies about superheroes and supervillains that Hollywood keeps producing for some reason, even though it is more and more often possible to see nearly the same thing on the news. As a result, one of them got puffed up almost to the size of the creature that Superman died fighting, and the other couldn’t control the flames bursting from his mouth. He burned half of the shopping centre with customers, retail workers, and guards. With teenagers in the bowling alley on the second floor and children in the playroom on the first.

Santana… wouldn’t have approved.

Both problems eliminated, they leave: the firefighters and the cops will take it from here. Flag’s spec ops stay behind, because officially it is their victory; the general public shouldn’t know about the existence of Task Force X. Through backyards, they retreat in the direction of the abandoned construction site on the other side of the street; a car has been sent to pick them up there.

There is a workers’ trailer still standing by the construction pit. The door is not locked, and Rick, Deadshot, Croc, and Boomerang go inside. Jones’s arm is broken: his inhuman strength notwithstanding, he still was no match for his enemy – not the fire-breather, but the other one. Tatsu leaves them to figure out how to make a temporary sling, and wanders away. Not far from the trailer, a piece of tarpaulin stretched over the fence has come off, and she can see the building across the street. Tatsu sits down on the ground, puts her arms around her knees, and stares at the dandelions growing by the fence.

In her head, flames are raging.

She doesn’t look up, neither when she hears the footsteps approaching, nor when Harkness – and it is him, no one else in the Squad reeks of the mixture of booze and cologne like that – sits down next to her and cracks open a can of beer.

“You want some?” he nudges her. What extraordinary generosity. It is, however, perfectly possible that if she says yes, he’ll reply along the lines of “Well, then go and buy yourself some.”

“No,” Tatsu replies without looking and, after a short pause, adds, “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

With a sigh, she accepts the can from his hands, and takes a sip.

“This is disgusting,” she whispers, and takes another.

Harkness just snorts and opens another one. For a little while, they sit side by side in silence, drinking each from their own can, and study the wall opposite through the mesh of the fence – like out of a prison window. Old advertisements that are half torn off, graffiti, a writing proclaiming that life fucks us all – plenty of things to stare at to avoid looking the person next to you in the eye.

“So what the hell happened to ya?” Boomerang asks, and suddenly she could do with some serum for invisibility or, better yet, disappearing completely. Naturally, it is a fleeting impulse; she has no right to disappear. She has obligations – towards Flag, towards Waller. Towards herself.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You zoned out, Flag shouted himself hoarse before you heard him. Like you were someplace else. Didn’t ya?”

Why do you need to know? Tatsu thinks. If she almost rushed headlong into the fire, it’s her own business. If it only seemed to her that someone was there, it’s her own business. If she’s going to see things that aren’t there for the rest of her life, it’s her own business. He shouldn't have spoken. There is something comforting about being silent together.

“Nah, you don’t have to say if you don’t wanna,” Boomerang assents, and takes another pull on his can. “I just thought that you, well. Might wanna talk to someone.”

And they fall silent again. Yet now Tatsu feels awkward, which makes her angry at herself. She’s not obliged to pour out her heart to anyone who shows something that looks like care.

This silence doesn’t make it any easier.

“I have… bad memories,” she finally says. Now it won’t be as awkward: she answered his question. It won’t be, right? “About a fire”.

Harkness nods, looking at her attentively.

“Someone you knew died, aye?”

“My children,” she hears herself say, and wishes to disappear again.

“Fuck,” Boomerang says, embarrassed, and – unbelievable – looks like he actually feels bad about starting this conversation. “I’m sorry, I… well, uh, I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” Tatsu says mechanically. Nothing is okay: she can still see Yuki’s tear-stained face, still hear Reiko’s voice, she is still watching the flames run up the curtains that she and Maseo picked together, she is still breathing in the smoke and still cannot believe she deserves a gulp of fresh air. She should have saved them. All of them.

Boomerang looks at her incredulously but doesn’t say anything, and bit by bit, the silence that she doesn’t want to run from returns – the kind of silence in which one is not alone.

Then there are footsteps again, and Flag approaches them.

“There you are,” he says with relief as soon as he sees her. Rick does not let himself overstep the limits of formality – they’re on a mission, after all – but he has obviously been worried. At the sight of Harkness, he frowns warily. “You! Quit getting on her nerves.”

“Who’s gettin’ on her nerves, Colonel? I was just tryin’ to help,” Harkness protests. It appears Rick’s words have wounded him a little.

“He was,” Tatsu says. “It’s all under control, Colonel Flag.”

Flag shifts his gaze to her and then to Boomerang again, and nods.

“Okay. In any case… follow me. We’re leaving.”

Tatsu gives her unfinished beer to Boomerang.

“Don’t talk about this to anyone,” she tells him. This might be an order or a request; she doesn’t really know.

He nods, and she thinks absentmindedly: who would have thought this man knows how to make a solemn face.

“Thank you,” she says again, hoping that he understands that this is not just about the beer or his promise to keep his mouth shut.

***

After a few days, Tatsu comes to visit him. In prison.

Actually, she comes to visit all of them, of course. Not more than fifteen minutes alone with each of them – Waller wouldn’t allow more. This request seems to have surprised her, but Tatsu is certain that Waller is already picturing the new threads she can use to manipulate her special operations puppets. So it is possible that one day this decision will blow up in Tatsu’s face – or in the faces of all of them. But she cannot shake off the feeling that she must do this – so that someone except Rick, who is already dealing with a lot these days, would notice in time if the inmates are treated with undeserved cruelty. So that she knows what’s on their minds, because it is safer to fight side by side with the people whose line of thought she can understand at least roughly. So that there is some kind of variety in their lives between the missions.

This is why she visits all three of them. Killer Croc, who looks like he’s not surprised to see her in the slightest and doesn’t really seems to care that she came, but doesn’t have any issue with that either. Deadshot, who looks like he is surprised, but doesn’t seem to mind answering her questions when she notices a stack of letters in the corner and asks him how his daughter is doing. And Captain Boomerang, who, when she enters his cell, looks like he can’t figure out if he’s dreaming.

“Katana?” he frowns perplexedly. He’s stripped to his waist, so she can see a couple of fresh scars he brought back from the last mission, and he’s got a black eye – when Tatsu saw him last, he had not. Must have quarrelled with the guards again. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

For a moment he seems not to understand what she just said. Then he breaks into a smile – or rather a grin, wide and pleased. Very pleased.

“Aha! Knew it would end up like this,” he pronounces in triumph.

“Like this?”

“You,” he looks like he’s just proven a theorem of immense complexity, “missed me.”

“I haven’t missed you, Captain.”

A very, very pleased grin.

“And still you’re here.”

“I visited Deadshot and Killer Croc earlier,” Tatsu says, and sees his facial expression change instantly. Not for long: the grin is quick to return, and she wouldn’t be able to tell right away that he’s disappointed.

“Did ya now? And how are our fellas doing? Better than me, I reckon?”

“So it would seem. Did you fight the guards?”

“Why do you care, gorgeous?”

Indeed, why does she? Most likely, he picked a fight himself – and got his just deserts.

“Make up your mind,” Tatsu says, “if you think that I missed you or that I don’t care.”

Harkness chuckles and really seems to ponder over this for a while.

“Beats me,” he concludes at last. “Care to throw some light on it?”

No, Tatsu thinks, I don’t get it myself and I’m not sure I want to.

Instead of answering, she comes closer to him – so close that she can smell his sweat – and studies his face. She has to look up to be able to do that, which must look comical. Then again, he’s hardly stupid enough to laugh at her height or anything else about her, especially when she’s armed and he is not.

“You lost a tooth. What happened?”

“Didn’t get along with one of the Wall’s watchdogs.”

“You could have tried not to look for trouble for a change,” all of a sudden, Tatsu realizes that she’s mad. Really mad at him. They might get dragged to another mission this instant; whether they like it or not, they have to be in good enough shape to protect the society that the most of them have to atone before at least partially. They shouldn’t spend their energy and health on nonsense. Black eyes and knocked-out teeth are nothing, but it mustn’t come to any of them being out of action when all of them are needed. All their powers, all their skills. All the anger they should rather aim at something other than the people who can just press a certain button at any point – and dispose of the wilful weapon.

Boomerang bares his teeth – not like Croc, of course, but still threateningly. He looks dangerous now – big, sturdy, more than a head taller than her. But he still isn’t more dangerous than her – and both of them are aware of that.

“And they could have tried,” he speaks through his teeth, “not to talk shit about my mother for a change. They wanna talk shit about me, they can knock themselves out. I’ve heard enough ‘bout myself, I don’t give a flying fuck about what else they gonna say. But they’d better leave my mother out of it.”

So that’s what it is. They have found a quick and easy way to infuriate the man who has “MUM” tattooed on his chest. In uneven letters, like a child's handwriting. Tatsu noticed that tattoo as soon as she came in but didn’t look too closely at it. Now she feels like she has the right to look, to let her gaze slip lower, at the ridiculous writing that heaves with each furious breath of his, and then to avert her eyes at once.

“They have power, and you have nothing,” she says. “Do you enjoy being their plaything?”

“Oh, so I’m a plaything, darl? And do I have much choice who to be now? In these four walls, and,” Boomerang points at his neck, at the place where a bomb is implanted under his skin, “with this crap in my neck?”

Tatsu looks up again, right him in the eye.

“You already know who you are,” she tells him. “You’re a weapon. Broken weapons get discarded. And you’re letting them break you.”

He stays silent, just looks at her in an odd manner, as if she’s speaking another language but he has a vague understanding of what she’s saying and doesn’t like what he just heard – because it is the truth.

Tatsu still doesn’t understand why she cares, and with each passing minute she has less and less desire to learn why.

“Also,” she continues, “if you call me ‘darl’ or ‘gorgeous’ one more time, you’re going to regret opening your mouth.”

“Yeah? And how should I call ya?”

“Katana.”

“What, and that’s all? Nah, we might be weapons,” and she probably ought to remind him that there is no ‘we’, but in this particular case he’s right. Perhaps that is why Tatsu feels drawn to all of them: they’re cut from the same cloth, “but we’re alive as well. So far. Seriously, what’s yer real name? You know mine.”

“I should not disclose that.”

“Oh, come on. Listen,” he breaks into a pleased grin again. Another theorem proven. “How about a deal? You tell me yer name, and I will try to keep my temper if anyone else decides to stir me up. What do ya think?”

“As if you’re going to keep your word.”

Boomerang makes a show of putting his hand over his heart.

“For you, ma’am… anything.”

For you. All at once, she recalls Rick’s words: do whatever you want to him. How many minutes of the visit she has already spent on this predictably fruitless conversation?

“My name is Tatsu Yamashiro,” she says, tired, and then he smiles – not the way he did before, but in a calmer and more sincere manner. Gratefully.

“George Harkness,” he offers her his hand with an earnest air. “Nice to meet ya.”

Tatsu hesitantly offers him hers. Her hand looks very small and fragile against his huge paw, and he must be thinking the same because the handshake comes out very careful. He could easily break her wrist. She could easily kill him with one hand afterwards. But he holds her hand gently in his warm, pleasantly calloused palm, and Tatsu hastens to take her hand away, because this is a mistake of an even worse kind than the time he saw her without the mask.

“So you promise not to fights the guards.”

“I promise to try,” Harkness assures, but he’s keeping one hand behind his back.

“Don’t cross your fingers,” Tatsu says sternly. Real mature.

With a sigh, Boomerang repeats his promise, this time holding his hands within her view.

“But I ain’t promisin’ not to call you gorgeous,” he declares in the end.

“You know my name now.”

“But you’re still gorgeous.”

“Time’s up!” shouts the guard outside the door, and Tatsu cannot help feeling relieved that she has to go. She doesn’t regret visiting him, but all of this is too strange and awkward, and both of them might be weapons, but her position is different from his, and it is better not to forget that.

“Can I do anything for you?” she asks him on parting.

“Well,” Boomerang smirks. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“With something I would actually agree to do?”

“Come again. Will ya?” This time he isn’t flirting; this time she can feel his insecurity, even shyness. As if he doesn’t like to admit to himself that what she answers is really important to him.

“I’ll try,” she says cautiously. She’s not going to make any promises: she asked Waller about one time only. She doubts if she’ll be allowed to visit them again – to visit him again.

“Try,” Harkness repeats, as if weighing the word on his tongue. “This means no.”

“This means I’ll try,” Tatsu says firmly.

And she comes again in a week. And the week after next. And a week after that.

***

“Why didn’t you walk away in Midway City?” Tatsu asks him once. “When Rick broke the control panel. You left then; why did you return?”

A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since the time Captain Boomerang dared to smart off Amanda Waller. Several successful missions, slightly more respectful attitude on his part – and his cell already bears a passing resemblance to a place for living, even if for living quite miserably. Now there is even a table, and a chair that she gets to sit on as guest privilege. Harkness is sitting on the floor opposite her. The question seems to catch him unawares, but only for a moment.

“Huh? Why did I return? Gotta live up to my name, that’s why. Have you ever thrown a boomerang, luv?”

I’m going to throw you somewhere one day, Tatsu thinks, yet without much irritation.

“And jokes aside?”

Boomerang attempts to feign an offended sigh.

“How do ya think? Plenty of options, all right. You gonna try to guess which one?”

Tatsu frowns.

“Is this a psychoanalysis session? Were you bitten by Harley Quinn?”

“Nah, Blondie didn’t bite me, I would’ve remembered. So don’t be jealous,” his voice gets playful again, and Tatsu stifles the urge to roll her eyes. “Lookie here… suppose I suddenly realized that I can’t leave you guys! ‘Cause you’re my mates. One for all, and so on. Don’t believe me?”

“You said something about plenty of options. What are the rest of them?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“We-e-ell… the second, ‘course, is that I wanted to save the world. Not that the world smiles upon me every bloody day, but I still wanna live! And for everyone an’ their mother to know that the bastards like us can also be heroes. Don’t you like being one of the good guys, eh, Tatsu?”

“I’m not ‘one of the good guys’”, Tatsu protests. “And it’s not me that we’re talking about. Any other options?”

“There was no point in leaving. That was still gonna be the end of the world, aye? So I’d rather meet it in battle and in good company than on the run. All the same it’ll be the end. There you go.”

He stops talking, and in the silence that falls Tatsu can hear the footsteps of the guards in the corridor. Once again she wonders what the duty attendants that monitor everything through the surveillance cameras think of their conversations. They must make for the strangest and most pointless reality show ever.

“The third one,” she says.

Boomerang looks a bit disappointed.

“Why?”

“Not the first one, because none of us meant anything to you then. You had just met us. And it didn’t seem like you were upset about letting Slipknot down,” Tatsu explains. She doesn’t intend to offend him – she’s just saying the truth. Once, he claimed it himself that they understand each other – here’s some understanding, he’s welcome. “Not the second one either, because you’re not stupid – no, stop smiling. You never believed that if people like us stop the Enchantress, someone would learn about that. Only the third option remains.”

Harkness nods slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and his eyes turn pensive, abstracted, as if he is there again, in the night city frozen in anticipation of the apocalypse. As if he sees himself – and makes a choice once again. “And that’s what happened in the end, didn’t it?”

“So the third option, then?”

“So it is.”

But something in his face makes Tatsu think that he was hoping for a different answer.

***

Time flies; weeks and months go by. Tatsu spends them fighting, spilling someone else’s blood, occasionally drinking with Flag at a bar or in his apartment – a bachelor’s home again; reading books – most of the plots seem too naïve and unimaginative compared to what goes on in her life, and that is even for the best, and visiting the members of the Suicide Squad in Belle Reve. Some people go clubbing Friday evenings, and she goes to prison Friday afternoons.

“Don’t get attached to them,” Rick scolds her.

“That is rich coming from you,” Tatsu replies, and he has enough self-awareness not to argue. Lest he gets offended, she chooses not to tell him that sometimes she and Lawton talk a little about him good-naturedly behind his back.

During one of her visits, Harkness raises a topic she has totally forgotten about.

“Hey, come to think of it, we never had that drink,” he points out. Tatsu doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, and it must be written all over her face, because he continues. “Remember I asked you out for a drink? In Midway City, before we fought the witch.”

Tatsu has to make an effort to remember: indeed, he said something of the sort, but it never occurred to her to take those words seriously.

“We had a drink,” she counters. “When… when you shared your beer with me.”

He shakes his head, dissatisfied.

“At the construction site? That’s bollocks. I’m talking a proper bar… nah, a restaurant! With crystal glasses an’ candles an’ shit… Like normal people.”

“Candles,” Tatsu mumbles. She tries to imagine the two of them at the table at a restaurant; the picture turns out pretty absurd. On the other hand, a lot of what has happened in her life during the past few years can be deemed absurd.

“Yeah. Candles,” echoes Harkness, and continues with a crooked smile, “well, that’s me jokin’ around. In the near future,” he gestures in the direction of the small barred window of his cell, “I won’t be able to take you even to a fucking McDonald’s.”

They don’t talk about the hypothetical dinners at a restaurant anymore, but the absurd picture stays with Tatsu, who still feels somehow indebted to Boomerang – for no reason, as she keeps telling herself – for that conversation at the construction site. She doesn’t like to feel the weight of unpaid debts on her shoulders – yes, that’s what it is about.

One day, she finds a way to pay that debt back.

***

She waits for him in the car outside the prison gate. She hears him first; she cannot make out what exactly he is yelling at the guards, but that surely isn’t ‘good evening’. Then the door of the jeep is open, and someone must have kicked him in the rear because he literally falls into the car. Tatsu shrinks back on instinct.

Then Harkness looks up – and notices her.

“Katana?.. Hey, what the hell’s going on? They didn’t let me take the boomerangs, didn’t let me take anything…”

“Close the door,” Tatsu tells him, and when he, still confused, obeys, tells the driver, “Let’s go.”

The car pulls away.

“I still don’t get what’s happening,” Harkness reminds her. “Sure, I’m happy to see ya, but… you weren’t ordered to take me to the woods and finish me off under the radar, huh?”

“If Waller wanted to get rid of you, she would have had you killed in your own cell, and that’s all.”

“Wow, thanks for honesty. So where are we going?”

“To a restaurant,” Tatsu says, and turns away. Yet again it crosses her mind that it is a terrible idea.

“A restaurant?” Harkness drawls quizzically.

“As far as I recall, you said that the beer at the construction site is ‘bollocks’.”

She should turn back to him, of course. The problem is that Tatsu is ninety-nine per cent sure that if she meets his eye now, she will blush. And she is by no means going to give him any sign that might be interpreted as taking an interest… of a certain kind. She has already blundered more than a few times.

Therefore she stubbornly keeps looking out of the window. Then again, she doesn’t even need to look to picture how his facial expression is changing now; she’s seen this rakish grin enough times.

“Holy cow. Tatsu, are you serious? We’re really just going to a restaurant? We’re getting outta this shithole where they only give us porridge with rat crap to gorge ourselves on lobsters and drink wine? Oh, fuck me sideways,” in the end, she turns to him and sees him throw back his head and burst into laughter, narrowing his eyes happily. “I’ll be damned! Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Pinch me.”

“I can assure you you’re not,” Tatsu says, and realizes that she is also starting to smile despite herself. She has visited him and the others in Belle Reve often enough to know that porridge with rat crap, unfortunately, is far from being just a figure of speech. After such a diet, a meal at a restaurant must seem like the pinnacle of happiness.

Boomerang shakes his head, apparently still unable to believe her.

“Holy fucking shit. How did you do that? How do you even do all that? I’ve told ya you’re unreal, have I?”

“Yes, you have,” Tatsu confirms patiently. And more than once – too often for her to attach great importance to it, too fervently for it not to please her at all. “Let’s put it that way: this is Waller paying me for a… favour.”

“A favour, then. I take it a lot of some poor suckers died?”

“No,” she shakes her head. And it is true – but there still was a lot of blood. Both the man Waller indicated and his bodyguards turned out to be worthy adversaries. The whole thing went not as smoothly as she wanted it to – not that she wanted to; not that she would kill another person she knows nothing about if she could help it. Nothing to assure her: this one deserves it. Everything turned out rather… nasty. She had to burn the bodies. Then she got home in a haze, tended to a couple of fresh wounds – or rather, just scratches. And then she went to the bathroom and spent a long time soaping herself, as if the invisible filth that bothered her the most could be washed off with shower gel.

Afterwards, she rummaged through her modest wardrobe and dug out the only dress she has about in America. Nothing special: wine red, below the knee length, sleeveless but with a pretty high neckline – very demure. The first and so far the last dress she bought after… after. If she and Rick didn’t have to accompany Amanda Waller to some event once, she wouldn’t have bought this one either. She put it on, combed her hair, still wet after the shower, with her fingers, looked at herself in the mirror – and flew into a rage, pulled off the dress, and could barely stop herself from tearing it to shreds. Restaurant or not, what does it matter? The last thing she needs is for him to think she dressed up for him.

So the situation might be a little less absurd than it could have been. Both of them look like they’re going on another mission with the others, only she isn’t wearing her mask – he has already seen her face anyway – and he isn’t wearing his ever-present coat. It is no wonder he wasn’t allowed to take it – Waller wasn’t going to let him out of Belle Reve armed, and to let him wear his coat would probably be as unwise as to hand him all his boomerangs. Tatsu has no doubt that everyone and their dog have already searched through the personal belongings of the Squad, but she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that somewhere in his inside pockets Harkness has as many boomerangs as he is listed as having officially. She witnessed this man produce from his bosom at least four different lighters, a massive stack of dollars, a pocket knife, small binoculars, flat-nose pliers, and a toy unicorn. She has to admit: sometimes she doesn’t understand how he even does all that either.

It appears that the thoughts of Captain Boomerang also turn to the contents of his pockets.

“Hey, how the hell are we affording this, though? Make no mistake, I’d stand treat, but my stash is in the coat, and these assholes didn’t let me take it, y’know.”

“Don’t worry about that. Waller is paying for everything,” she explains, unable to suppress a grin, because this part, possibly the most unbelievable part of the entire affair, gives her a sort of silly, spiteful joy. Task Force X is a comparatively recent project, but they’ve already cleaned up so much mess for Amanda Waller that Heracles and his labours don’t even come close. A dinner at a restaurant is the least thing she could offer them. So when Boomerang explodes with laughter and gives her a conspiratorial wink, she looks him right in the eye and smiles. Another mistake. Then again, this is not the first time they share a secret.

He puts his hand on her knee, and she shakes it off immediately; this is way too far.

“I see you took your sword with ya,” Harkness observes, not giving any sign that something didn’t go the way he wanted.

“I am to keep an eye on you.”

“Yeah. How about…” he leans in closer, and the smell of cologne blasts up Tatsu’s nose. She can only hope it is due to external use only, “we chop off his head,” he nods at the driver, “and drive the fuck away from this? Huh?”

The driver, who can definitely hear everything, doesn’t turn, but Tatsu notices him tense up.

“You’re kidding,” she says dryly. He may be, or he may be not – with Digger Harkness, one cannot always tell.

“Why kidding, doll? Zip, and done. There’s no way you enjoy working for Waller.”

“I do not. But if you pull some stunt,” Tatsu feels for the sword hilt, and Boomerang sees that – very well, it is good for him to see that, “I will chop your head off. I really hope it won’t come to that.”

“And what’s it to you? Scared of me? But I’m unarmed,” he claps himself on the chest demonstratively, implying that he has no weapons on him. “Why do you care if it does?”

“I just wouldn’t like to do that,” she says firmly, and it’s true. It works well; he doesn’t even mention running away for the remainder of the day.

This might be the strangest evening in her life.

Waller’s man drives them to a French restaurant whose name she cannot read but is almost sure that the phrase was chosen solely because it sounds impressive. They are let in through the back door, so no one among the other guests, who are sporting evening dresses and suits, pays any attention to her crop top and sword or to his… appearance in general. Their table is one of those located in alcoves, away from prying eyes, but Tatsu feels they are being watched. Which means Waller doesn’t trust her too much – well, she can understand that. She is part of a special team composed of deranged madmen, and she must admit she likes these deranged madmen more than she likes certain normal people known to her. Of course, she is Flag’s right-hand woman, but it is most likely that Waller doesn’t trust Flag either. It is doubtful whether there are any people in this world that she trusts at all.

Waller is rich. Their little feast will not shatter her wealth, all the more so since the restaurant she sent them to is not the most luxurious. But they still have a field day ordering loads of food and a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu.

“To honour among thieves?” she suggests, when they raise their glasses for the first time.

“Didn’t ya say yer not a thief?”

“That is true,” she admits, and adds inwardly, I’m a killer.

In the end, they drink to the Suicide Squad. Then to Lawton and Jones, currently languishing in their cells. Then to Zoe Lawton, who is acting in a school play next week. To a lot of things. He asks her about her life here, in America. At some point she finds herself trying to explain to him what taiyaki is, and him telling her about banana sandwiches, and she can’t remember why they started talking about this at all. The bottle becomes empty, and another appears as if by itself.

They don’t talk about the past. They don’t talk about the future, because there might be no future at all – they can’t know for sure, what with their way of life. That evening, Tatsu laughs and thinks: good thing I’m drunk – it almost gets easier for a while.

When it’s time to leave, Harkness gets pig-headed.

“Whoa, no, no, no. Already? It’s too early, are you kiddin’ me?” he booms out when they exit the restaurant. He protests, but she drags him by the hand and he stumbles along after all, treading heavily like a dancing bear. “Let’s go someplace else, luv. Look at the pretty stars.”

“We are already late. And you… you have to go back to jail,” Tatsu tells him. The stars are pretty indeed, but she regrets looking up at them, because her head begins to spin. Thankfully, she isn’t wearing high heels. Thankfully, she doesn’t have any high-heeled shoes at all, or she could have been possessed to wear them. “Sorry,” she adds when they get into the car and set off. “There is no other way.”

“Back to jail,” Boomerang repeats with disgust. Sprawling on the seat, he unzips his hoodie, and Tatsu is swept over by the smell of cologne again. Weirdly, it doesn’t annoy her as much as at the beginning of the evening. “I’m a fucking Cinderella. I’m not back by midnight, they turn me into a pumpkin.”

“Cinderella,” Tatsu echoes, and giggles: everything is way funnier now. The driver makes a sudden turn, and she is literally thrown at Boomerang. Her cheek presses to his chest – and stays there. Tatsu feels drunk and sated and drunk again, and sleepy too, and he makes for a decent pillow, and she can’t make herself move away.

“Oh, you think it’s funny,” Harkness mutters with mock offence in his voice. It seems he’s about to fall asleep too. “Well, go on, laugh.”

They drive back in silence, and through the drowse Tatsu feels the warm arm around her waist and thinks: good thing I’m drunk, I can pretend I’m asleep.

The road to Belle Reve is long, but it still feels like they reach it too quickly.

“Inmate,” calls one of the guards, “get out.”

Harkness, his eyes still closed, moans with discontent.

“Captain Boomerang,” Tatsu says softly, freeing herself from his embrace. “It’s time.”

There is nothing to be done. He’s already about to step out of the jeep, when he suddenly moves closer to her again.

“Hey, darlin’,” he says, looking her right in the eye. “Aren’t ya forgetting something?”

It takes her some time to realize what he means: he must be expecting her to kiss him. All at once she remembers everything that has happened this evening, and awful shame washes over her: it is no wonder he’s expecting that to happen.

“Inmate, get out!”

She shrinks back.

“Good night, Captain,” she tells him as dryly as she can. He looks wounded but says nothing, and almost obediently lets the guards escort him back to his cell. Tatsu closes her eyes and rubs her temples wearily. Tomorrow she is going to regret drinking so much. She already does – and that’s not the only thing she regrets.

She has to stop seeing him.

***

At first, she even succeeds. Next Friday Tatsu, as always, goes to Belle Reve to see the Squad – all of them save for Harkness. She feels sick at heart because if she did promise him anything, it was to visit him, and now she’s going back on her word because of her own stupid weakness. But there is no other way.

“He asked about you,” Waylon tells her a week later, when she brings him the latest issue of Playboy. Tatsu almost doesn’t feel weird anymore when buying it, and doesn’t try to imagine anymore what the news stand clerks think when she pays them for it. Such periodicals cause her a feeling of light disgust, but Croc, who gets let out of jail only to be thrown into another trouble spot, deserves at least some small joys.

“Who?”

Waylon, no doubt observant like all the quiet ones tend to be, bares his impressive teeth.

“You know who.”

It seems a logical solution to give up on these visits at all – but in that case she would betray all of them. Perhaps this little tradition is much more important to her than it is to the prisoners, but Tatsu is almost sure that it means something to them as well. She has no right to deprive the rest of them of this bit of understanding, companionship, normalcy because she wasn’t smart enough to stop the game she and Boomerang started before it became too late.

At home – not that the apartment she’s renting here deserves to be called ‘home’ – she, unable to fall asleep, unsheathes the sword and runs the tips of her fingers along the cool blade. A tender, habitual movement – like touching the cheek of a loved one.

“I’ve lost my way, Maseo,” whispers Tatsu. The place where the souls of the people struck down by this blade are trapped is still a mystery to her, but she knows that Maseo will come as soon as she calls him – as a voice from afar, as nebulous shapes in the swirls of smoke, as the peace and safety granted by the presence of someone dear. “I’m afraid of my own heart.”

I know your heart, Tatsu. You have nothing to be afraid of.

“It makes me act rashly. Makes me succumb to false feelings.”

I know your heart, Tatsu, and it incapable of falsehood.

Only the ones that are already far away can speak so vaguely and with such unrelenting honesty at the same time.

“I will always love you,” she whispers ardently. Not because she doesn’t want him to think it is not so; not because she herself feels like it is not so anymore either. She knows for sure that she is always going to love him, for she loved him as a lover, as a husband, as the father of her children, as the only thing she had left after all her life fell apart, burned in that damned fire. He will stay in her heart until her last breath – even if she has to close her heart to the rest of the world. Once she used to think that after all she’s been through, it isn’t going to be an issue.

And I will always love you, her husband replies, and Tatsu blinks back tears with a deep sigh.

“I just wish you were alive,” she tells him for what must be the hundredth, or maybe a thousandth time.

If he was with her – not as smoke or a voice, but as flesh and blood – he probably would have kissed her gently on the nape of her neck, as he often used to do.

I just wish, says her husband – no, the soul of her husband, which is already rushing away, deep into the world she shouldn’t hurry to go to if she doesn’t want this sword to fall into wrong hands, that you were happy.

***

Literally the next day there is a message from Metropolis that some giant snake-like beast is terrorizing the city and devouring people. The monster was last seen crawling into the building of the opera – which is where their squad heads to after reaching the city.

“Look at that freak,” Harkness comments in a low voice. The creature is curled up slumbering on stage, and they are watching it from the catwalks above. “Not a family of yours by any chance, eh, ‘gator?’

Waylon steps towards him, and the planks creak under his feet, threatening to break.

“Say that again,” he growls.

Tatsu bares her sword and wedges herself between them. Waylon backs off reluctantly.

“Knock it off,” she tells Boomerang. It feels like everything has come full circle – the day Harkness picked up her mask, he also had a run-in with Jones. The day they were sent to fight the Enchantress, she also put the blade of her sword under his chin. Why did she even think something would change?

“Oh, so you’re talking to me after all?”

“Enough,” Tatsu hisses. She really wants to try to explain everything to him. Maybe if she tries to put her feelings into words, many things will become clear to her, too. But if he thinks they are going to discuss this now, he is mistaken.

On the neighbouring catwalk, Rick is looking at them in a rage, gesturing both of them to shut up. Harkness steps closer; now the blade of the Soultaker is within a hair’s breadth away from his neck. A single careless movement, and blood will be spilled. A wild idea crosses her mind: it looks as if he’s into this. Tatsu licks her lips.

“Y’know,” Boomerang begins, lowering his head a little so that it is easier for him to look her in the eye, “I think you’re scared of me. Or of yourself, hell if I know. Am I right?”

A loud rustle comes from beneath, and the next instant the monster bites through the middle of the catwalk they’re standing on, and both of them are falling down. Tatsu manages to grab some rope, but when she tries to climb it, her hands slip, and she comes tumbling down.

The fall is far from being soft, even though she falls on the tatters of the curtain, which the snake must have torn earlier. She is lucky not to hurt her head, but her left leg and hip are aching. Only the awareness that there is no time to lie around makes her summon up all her strength and get up. Her sword is nowhere to be seen, and Tatsu is overwhelmed by fury: now she is useless.

The snake roars and shakes its head, trying to shake off Croc, who is trying to bite through its scales. Rick is shooting at the monster from above, and Deadshot, who is already on stage somehow, is doing the same from below, dodging the blows of its tail. Tatsu sweeps her eyes weakly over the stage and suddenly notices a hole broken in it. At the very edge of the hole, the hilt of her sword is sticking out of the floor. Moving as quickly as it is possible to do that with a limp, Tatsu hurries there.

The moment she pulls the sword out of the stage, Harkness’s head pokes out of the hole. Not waiting for him to ask for help, Tatsu helps him get out.

“Are you…” both of them begin in unison and drop it immediately, because the snake has managed to shake off the bothersome little crocodile – who is hopefully just somewhere on the floor and not in its belly – and is moving towards them, slower than before but still pretty speedily. They scatter, and Tatsu charges at the monster with her sword drawn. Harkness throws a boomerang at the creature, aiming at its eye, but it dodges at the last second.

Eventually, with joint forces they manage to kill the beast. To be on the safe side, Lawton fires a round into its open jaws. The long body shudders one last time and falls still. For some time, the five of them stand there looking at it.

“Where could this thing even come from?” Rick mutters.

“Remember what the Wicked Witch of the West said when she tried to get us to join her? The world is changing, the time of magic has come, blah, blah, blah,” Lawton reminds him. Rick nods absentmindedly; these are not happy memories.

Jones kicks the dead snake.

“Maybe it meant no harm,” he points out in his deep voice.

“Croc,” Rick says wearily, “it ate people.”

“So did I.”

“But at least you didn’t chew the curtain at the opera like a disgraced diva?” Lawton asks, struggling not to grin.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Well, then it’s okay.”

Rick titters nervously, and the next instant all of them are shaking with laughter.

Tatsu is drinking water straight from the tap in the restroom, when Harkness comes in.

“This is a ladies’ room,” she says reflexively.

“Hey, I just wanna wash my face, is all.”

Without waiting for her to answer, he comes closer and starts washing at the neighbouring sink. Tatsu casts a sidelong look at him and notices that the water is turning red.

“Show me your face,” she orders.

“It’s not a bad face, what’s yer problem?”

“I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, but stands still while she examines his face, only wincing when she dabs at the cut on his forehead with a paper towel.

“Just a scratch,” he assures at once.

“Just a scratch,” Tatsu agrees. She scrunches up the towel and throws it into the sink. She would like to keep her hand on his face, pretending that she’s still wiping off the blood, but she’s done pretending.

“How about you?” Boomerang asks quietly.

“Fine. A couple of bruises. You were lucky today,” she says just as quietly, and takes off her mask. Tomorrow they might not be as lucky. “I’m happy for you.”

“And I’m happy you got out alive… darl.”

For a moment she wants him to ruin everything. To reply with a jibe, to crack another dirty joke, to try to grab and kiss her only to get smacked. Not to stand motionless in front of her like he’s afraid to scare her off. It occurred to her once that from the outside their relationship might look like an attempt to tame a wild animal. Perhaps this is a mutual process.

Do whatever you want to him.

She stands up on tiptoes and kisses him.

For an instant, Harkness freezes – possibly trying to figure out again if he’s dreaming – and then pulls her closer and kisses back. Drinks her hungrily, like this is both the first time and the last. Bearing in mind what their lives are like, it really might be the last.

Tatsu doesn’t immediately realize why she suddenly doesn’t need to stand on tiptoes anymore.

“Put me down–” she starts, but gives up and wraps her legs around his waist. Boomerang grunts with satisfaction and switches from her lips to her neck. His beard, fortunately, is softer than could have been expected.

“Stop drinking so much,” Tatsu breathes out, now that no one is trying to shut her mouth. “You taste like…” all English words slip her mind, “like… a beer cask.”

It tickles her when he laughs into her neck.

Someone simply must enter now – Rick, Floyd, Amanda Waller, the president of the United States, but no, no one is trying to stop him from squeezing her hips, to stop her from running her fingers through his hair. Weapon to weapon, blade to blade. Red-hot metal to red-hot metal. Melting until something new is forged – without fear, without regret, without the past, without the future.

Clearly, Maseo wants too much: she remembers what happiness is, and she is sure she’ll never ever be happy again.

But she can take a shot at being alive.

#suicide squad #katana #captain boomerang #tatsu yamashiro #digger harkness #kaboom #captain boomerang x katana #boomerang x katana #dc #my fic #gella talks skwad #talk talk talk #my magnum opus lmao #amazed i managed to translate this. i am not a woman i'm a god indeed #once again i still know nothing about the geography of the dceu!united states #and whether a city like metropolis could have an opera house

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renegadewangs · 3 years

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Van Zieks - the Examination, part 5

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It’s time to return to the first game for case 5, The Unspeakable Story!

Episode 5: The Unspeakable Story – Part 1

Prepare yourselves, this is a big one! So big, even, that I'm going to have to split it into two parts. Fortunately, we can skip over the entire Investigation segment, because virtually none of it is relevant to Van Zieks. In fact, we don't even learn Van Zieks is the prosecutor until we enter the courtroom and see him standing there. Somehow, no one thought to ask who Ryu would be facing. What we do learn during the Investigation is confirmation that McGilded was indeed a lying scumbag who murdered Thrice-fired Mason. He asked Gina to lie for him in a court of law, too. So indeed, Ryu backed the wrong horse in The Runaway Room and Van Zieks was right to suspect the defense of deceit. He was wrong in how he worded half his arguments, though.

An extra thing worth noting is that after the conversation in which the blood is found on Gina's coat and the truth of McGilded comes out, it's revealed that Gregson was hiding nearby in the shadows. He insists he didn't eavesdrop and only just walked in, but it's implied much later in the trial that he knew about the blood on the coat. This means that Gregson is, from this point on, holding the full knowledge that McGilded was McGuilty in the omnibus murder.

So into the courtroom we go, where it is shown we're facing Van Zieks. (And nobody is surprised, because who else would it have been? Auchi?) It is now two months after the Runaway Room and the two Clouded Kokoro cases, so immediately upon starting the trial, the judge basically asks Van Zieks whether he's gone insane- in his own words, that is. First he asks how many years it's been since Van Zieks retired, to which Van Zieks replies that it's been five. The judge notes that Van Zieks resurfaced rather suddenly two months ago, (then basically handled three cases in a single week,) and showed up again today.

HAH. I love how on the nose this judge is when it comes to dissing the prosecution. He goes on to state that Van Zieks used to deal exclusively in matters concerned with 'the highest echelons of society and government', yet today he's trying 'a simple case of burglary and murder'. We already learned this from Gregson in case 1-4, but it's nice to have it repeated again.

Van Zieks replies that there's two things he cannot abide: “Wealthy scoundrels who hide behind a mask of philanthropy-” (hi McGilded!) and... “Secondly- even more loathsome... Those wily scoundrels who masquerade as allies only to effect total betrayal in the final hour.”

So that settles it then. He's specifically taken on his three most recent cases because there were Japanese people involved. He's also outright admitting that which Ryu had already guessed: Van Zieks hates Japanese people and going by his wording (“betrayal”, etc.) he has some bad experiences. Ryu wonders whether that 'torrid look of hatred' in Van Zieks's eyes is directed at him or at all Japanese people. Frankly, I think that in a subconscious sense, it's neither. The way I see it, that torrid look of hatred is directed at a man who died ten years ago. But I'll get back to this when it's time to address the backstory. The judge finds that an “alarmingly scathing explanation”, but welcomes the Reaper of the Bailey back to court all the same.

I love the implication that Van Zieks can apparently just come and go as he pleases in terms of prosecuting. Retirement can just be upturned on a whim and he's allowed to choose any case he wants. Who even is keeping him informed on which cases are happening and who the defense is? Is there a Chief Prosecutor in play we don't know about or is Stronghart slipping notes into his letterbox? Or has Van Zieks been entering the prosecutor's office every day for the past two months, demanding to hear news of 'that Nipponese attorney'?

So anyway, Van Zieks lays out the opening statement, pours himself a glass of wine, accuses Ryu of jumping to conclusions and reveals that he has witnesses. Remember when he threw aside his cloak halfway into 1-3 and it was seen as a big deal? … Yeah. It's not much anymore, now. He gets rid of it before the first witnesses have even taken the stand. The guys called forth are literal criminals who happened to break into the scene of the crime and, according to Van Zieks, “will face trial in the very near future” for their “various trespasses”. Alright, so he's acknowledging he's called forth some sketchy witnesses, but considers the murder itself far more sinister than their burglary.

Ryu manages to prove the taller Skulkin brother fired a gun at the crime scene and in doing so, struck poor innocent (S)Holmes. (Ryu presents a picture of a blood-stained calendar with a bullet in it to prove this, yet ten minutes later, he'll present the exact same picture and the entire court will act as if they'd never seen it before. Awkwaaard.) Van Zieks pours himself another glass of wine, toasts to Ryu's incompetence and later has another micro-aggression:

Scumbag points! And also possibly hilarious foreshadowing if he's referring to either Asogi Sr. or Mikotoba here. Though it's hard to say how well acquainted Van Zieks was with (S)Holmes and his partner roughly 16 to 10 years ago. Anyway, Van Zieks flings another chalice and basically admits that he already knew these two criminals gunned down (S)Holmes, but made a deal with them not to get into that. Though technically, Ryu was the one who got into it by proving it in court, so Van Zieks didn't break any unscrupulous deals. And maybe he was even expecting Ryu to do so? Maybe that's why he was pushing Ryu to present evidence? Either way, Van Zieks now owes 'his Nipponese friend' a word of gratitude, since he helpfully confirmed the two brothers couldn't possibly have shot the victim. Only one bullet was fired from their pistol, after all, and if it hit (S)Holmes it couldn't possibly have killed Windibank.

Van Zieks proceeds to “take a moment to consider the aforementioned Great Detective, Mr. Sholmes” (KEEP THIS LINE IN MIND), and brings up the security cameras (S)Holmes planted at the pawnshop so that he can present a picture of the defendant waving a pistol at the victim. Why didn't he present this evidence immediately instead of asking two shady burglars to testify? Who even knows, man. He's being erratic, just as the judge said. The jurors have seen enough and vote guilty, so it's time for a Summation Examination! Van Zieks poured himself another glass of wine before Ryu even asserted his right to that, because he knew it was coming. He has to stand in silence and so he will drink.

(Juror No 1, aka Mr. Garrideb, proceeds to piss me off by oggling the maid juror. I thought the whole point of this character was that his wife misunderstood and jumped to conclusions; that she's been punishing him wrongfully since he does indeed love her and will stand by her side no matter what, but apparently not.) Some tomfoolery later, we require the prosecution's help to prove stereoscopes are just as cool as wireless telegraphy.

I honestly think it's hilarious that he's meant to stay silent but has broken that rule several times, so now we're taunting him by asking him a direct question during the Examination. So after it's been proven the two criminals moved some stuff around inside the pawnshop, four jurors vote not-guilty and the trial continues. The two witnesses get called back to the stand and---

… Okay. So he definitely is against perjury. He seems to hate it, even. He apparently keeps giving them the evil eye as they testify, intimidating Ringo into telling the truth. But I just can't shake the memory of him feeding a lie to Shamspeare in Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro. Also, the game very much caught me off guard during this testimony when I presented a piece of evidence which wasn't correct, but instead of leading to a penalty led me to a unique set of dialogue not found when presenting other wrong evidence. That is to say, I presented a picture of Gina holding the sole gun to disprove the testimony that both she and Windibank were wielding guns, which led to:

Isn't that what we often do in these games? Van Zieks clearly hasn't been paying attention. Anyway, the judge points out that so long as I couldn't prove that Gina was still holding the only gun some time later, when Windibank was shot, the evidence wasn't relevant. So I had to present the picture of Windibank's body (not holding a gun) instead. Ryu manages to point out through that picture that the Skulkin brothers were lying and-

OKAY OKAY. I GET IT. Van Zieks hates perjury with a burning passion and Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro messed up. The trial continues on to the point where Ryu manages to suggest that the Skulkin brothers shot Windibank and Gina then locked the door to save herself. At first Van Zieks is shocked at the notion, but after Ryu details his logic, he just puts his hands down on the desk and chuckles.

This is the first time we see something close to laughter from him, and it's not even really laughter. It's just a malicious, bitter little noise. In fact, we've never seen him smile. He's not even smiling now, as he cackles. That's a stark contrast from other prosecutors, who all smile/smirk as they gloat. Barok's facial expression barely changes at all. Are they building up to something? Anyway, the judge wonders why Van Zieks finds this amusing, as he found the argument quite persuasive himself. Van Zieks pours himself another glass of wine and says:

“But such blatantly malicious conjuring tricks amount to nothing more than inexcusable pettifoggery here. Because you see, it contains a fatal flaw!”

Scumbag points! He then proceeds to imply all the members of the jury are too dimwitted to count (as he flings his chalice). Bullets, that is. There were two bullets found at the crime scene and there were two guns recovered, each having fired one bullet. So if the Skulkin brothers had shot (S)Holmes, they couldn't possibly have shot Windibank as well.

Bye wine bottle, rip person sitting behind him. Van Zieks proceeds to slander Gina for being “far from a law-abiding citizen” and having “a past riddled with criminal misconduct”. To further illustrate his point, he presents a piece of evidence that the defendant attempted to steal the day beforehand, not with the subtlety of a pickpocket but by brute force and brazen impudence. Gregson loses it at this point, shouting out a loud “Hold it!” before losing his nerve and stammering his way through his protest. He mentions that there was a meeting with the prosecution service where it was agreed that piece of evidence wouldn't be used. Ryu is baffled and thinks this:

And now I'm baffled as well, because thinking back on it... Yes, Gregson has talked about Van Zieks before in Investigation segments and has been called in to testify, but as far as I can recall, he hasn't ever addressed Van Zieks directly. Fascinating stuff. Van Zieks says he's unaware of this meeting- probably because he found out Ryu's defending later on and snatched this case up at the last second. Perhaps even took it from the originally-assigned prosecutor with brute force and brazen impudence. Gregson insists that 'the government bigwigs' were very insistent about not using the disc as evidence, to which Van Zieks says:

Good gracious, Van Zieks is a loose cannon! … Or wait, maybe he's a reckless renegade? Or is he perhaps a prosecutor on the edge with nothing to lose? (Alright, put on a pot of coffee- we're gonna get to the bottom of this!) ...Either way, the prosecution thinks it's sufficiently made its case by establishing motive, opportunity and baseness of character.

OY! I thought you don't read third-rate detective stories! But Iris specifically wrote that line into existence, so he must have. Me thinks we've got a closet Adventures of (S)Herlock (S)Holmes fan on our hands, here. The jury buys into his slander, votes guilty, Iris accuses him of being mean and Ryu enters Summation Examination mode a second time.

Oh he knows what he's in for. He knows. Several minutes of talking about bullets later, the topic of (S)Holmes's waist pouch is brought up and Iris wonders whether perhaps the bullet hit one of the glass vials with flammable content. Van Zieks suddenly speaks up with an “If I may...”, catching the startled attention of Ryu in particular.

“I should inform the defence that I have the pouch in question in the antechamber outside the courtroom. As I understand it, when the police arrived on the scene and found Mr Sholmes injured, they removed the pouch in order to assess the wound. Since then, it has been in my safekeeping along with all other evidence relating to the case. I can personally vouch for the fact that it has not been touched since the incident occurred.”

This whole plotline cracks me up with how little sense it makes, considering the position of this pouch on (S)Holmes's outfit. But I'm not here to criticize plot-convenience of evidence, so let's move on and look at what's actually happening here. The defense is discussing possibilities with the jurors in hopes of changing their minds towards a not-guilty and instead of keeping silent, as he's supposed to during this moment, Van Zieks actively speaks up to admit he has a piece of evidence which may be of assistance. It's entirely possible that the pouch would have all three vials intact and thereby dismiss the theory that the bullet hit one of them, but... Regardless of whether he remembers seeing a broken vial with his own eyes, he's taking a risk by showing the pouch. He could've played by the Summation Examination rules, kept his mouth shut and then later when it comes out he had the pouch all along, just remind everyone he wasn't allowed to speak. That's what most prosecutors would've done. Naturally, it's revealed there was indeed a broken vial and some scorched leather, and even closer examination reveals a third bullet we can present to the jurors.

Scumbag point! So with all the confusion on the third bullet and the implication of there being a third gun, the judge does something pretty extraordinary. He doesn't wait for the jurors to change their leaning and instead actually suspends the Summation Examination until the matter is cleared up. This implies any judge has the power to overrule juror leanings, at the very least during Summation Examination, when they feel the case presented by the counsels is lacking important details. Anyway, closing argument on hold for now and the Skulkins return to the stand. Barok looks them straight in the eyes with his usual evil eye and asks them whether the third gun is one of theirs. When that's denied, he asks whether they had an accomplice, which is also denied. And it's kind of funny, because only a few minutes later when Ryu implies they had an accomplice, we get this line:

“Yet in all that time, there has been not a murmur of a third man. If this apparently wraithlike being exists...” pause for chalice crush... “The court must be shown hard evidence!”

But Van Zieks was the one who questioned the Skulkins about an accomplice earlier, so... Indeed, we don't have evidence, but the murmur was definitely already there. So now the prosecution wants two things: evidence there was a third person on the scene and their identity. The game prompts two options: Either present an answer to the prosecution's demands or, y'know, don't. Naturally I chose the latter option to see what happens and it goes about as well as you'd expect. Ryu stutters and trails off, Van Zieks notes the defense is unable to complete a sentence, let alone provide credible answers... Iris takes the place of Susato in telling Ryu off for faltering, so Ryu desperately tries to catch himself and push his argument. Van Zieks says: “So, my Nipponese friend, despite the swimming eyes you seem to think you have something to say...”

PENALTY FROM THE PROSECUTION, oh how I've missed you. Loading up the savegame and choosing the first option actually also leads to the exact same line of “so, my Nipponese friend, despite the swimming eyes you seem to think you have something to say...”, just with a slightly different posture and followed up with the words “this promises to be interesting.” Ryu presents the blood sample on the calendar once more and as I said before, the court acts as if they've never seen this picture before. Hilarious. Van Zieks asks why the blood is depicted as green and Ryu explains it's because of a new chemical (S)Holmes invented. The green blood is then linked to Eggert Benedict through the music disc. The court gets very excited, but much like the skin prints in case 2-2, this isn't admissible evidence. Van Zieks says “this has gone on long enough now. This flagrant ignorance of the mechanics of law.”

“The protagonist in a series of short stories for the vulgar classes. A god of detection or some such. And now you employ chemical substances devised by this fantastical persona in the highest court in the land? Do you expect us to take you seriously? The samples made by this plaything are not fit to be called evidence.”

These lines! I had a quick look at both Scarlet Study's and Taisa's scripts, and there Van Zieks outright accuses (S)Holmes of being a fictional character. He doesn't actually diss the stories themselves though, nor is there anything similar to that plaything line. He only says the chemical itself is 'rubbish'. What ultimately kills me is the “Yes, I’ve heard the name” as if this is the first time it’s being uttered in the courtroom. Let's be merciful here and take case 2-2 out of the equation. Yes, (S)Holmes is mentioned several times there, they establish the two have some sort of history and he even enters the courtroom at one point to address Van Zieks directly, but that case was developed after this one so accidental retcon is bound to happen. No, let's look solely at the cases in the first game. (S)Holmes has been mentioned several times throughout the course of this trial, even by Van Zieks himself. Even better, Van Zieks was the one to present photographs taken by one of (S)Holmes's playthings earlier on. OOPS.

Ryu enters despair mode because there really is no way to prove that the color green is unique to Eggert Benedict, nor would it be accepted as evidence to begin with. But that's okay, because much like the skin prints in 2-2, it was never about having it filed as official evidence. It was about influencing the jury and as Iris so smartly points out, the Summation Examination was suspended earlier. This means that technically, it's still going on. It doesn't matter what the prosecution or the judge thinks of (S)Holmes's invention, it only matters what the jurors think, as they now have the power to force the trial to continue. Naturally, the majority votes not-guilty. Van Zieks objects rather ferociously. “My lord, with all due respect, this is an outrage! The prosecution refuses to accept this decision!” (heehee, I really enjoy these lines. With all due respect, indeed.) The judge asks on what grounds the prosecution is objecting, and Van Zieks says:

“Then they are too ignorant to be trusted with the judgement of anyone's guilt!”

Gosh, he really doesn't enjoy how 'gullible' the jurors are, does he? Or rather, he gets frustrated when the jurors begin to think for themselves instead of taking the prosecution's word for it. The judge sets Van Zieks straight by basically reminding him that this is how the court works.

It is so satisfying to watch him squirm. Van Zieks wants us to play by the court's rules, so we're playing by the court's rules and now he's got no more comebacks. This is it folks, we're subpoena-ing Egg Benedict! He does indeed show up to court after a brief intermission and reveals his true name to be Ashley Graydon. Graydon expresses haughty dismay that the highest court of the land was swayed by some self-professed detective's homemade tincture. Van Zieks tells him it was the will of the jury, and their great British justice system demands that the jury's will is upheld. Graydon calls the jury members inept, as Van Zieks has done many times before, but agrees to testify. Ryu attempts to needle this guy several times by asserting he was definitely at the crime scene, but indeed, the blood sample doesn't count as evidence and Ryu doesn't really have anything else to back him up. Van Zieks oh-so-kindly reminds him that the obligation to prove the defense's assertion lies with, well, the defense. Eventually we do get there and Graydon starts making up some bullshit story about how he met McGilded in a gentlemen's club and bonded with him over unique music box music, so that's what that disc was. Van Zieks points out that Yard have indeed been gathering items believed to have been McGilded's property, presumably to aid their investigations. Gregson once again loses his composure here and tries to shut the conversation down.

Gregson and Van Zieks continue to banter back and forth about how Gregson is definitely not allowed to talk about these things and Van Zieks should also know better than to pry. Even Ryu thinks it's strange the two of them are bickering like that. Anyway, we're not allowed to discuss the McGilded stuff, so back to Graydon and his breaking and entering! Van Zieks asserts that if the police confiscated the disc beforehand and Graydon saw this happen, there was no reason for him to break into the pawnshop anymore.

Oooh, that's some tasty triumph over Van Zieks's ignorance! Ryu brings up the second item pawned by McGilded, a 'small box'. Van Zieks insists that no such thing was stolen from the pawnshop and he can prove it, since he has a picture of the shelves from before the break-in and one from after the break-in. You know, the pictures taken by that idiot detective's silly little plaything! Through the magic of stereoscopes (or the 3D Slider in the 3DS version), Ryu can see that a small box was moved.

It's absolutely hilarious that most of the court has to go cross-eyed to do the stereoscope thing and then there's Van Zieks, with a fancy stereoscope device that he just happened to have with him in a trial he couldn't possibly predict would require a stereoscope. He's so extra! Ryu asserts that if the box was moved, they have to raise the question of what was inside it and send the Yard to retrieve that thing at once. Van Zieks objects, saying that “some little box belonging to a man who died two months ago can't possibly be relevant to this trial.” The judge doesn't see it his way, though, and overrules his objection. Nice! So officers are dispatched to Baker Street to fetch the box and Van Zieks grumbles to himself about being hoodwinked by a farce.

The judge once again doesn't take kindly to Van Zieks's attitude problems and I love this. I can't wait for the prosecution to be penalized, because it feels like it's right around the corner here. Van Zieks elaborates that this whole thing is nothing but a smoke screen; a Nipponese specialty. Scumbag points for this one! I can't entirely connect this to Professor foreshadowing, I think it's just him being petty. Either way, he's going to jump through hoops now. Mere minutes ago he established that the Yard is still investigating McGilded's stuff and the 'aftermath' of his activities, but he's flipping it all over now. He begins to talk about how McGilded died two months ago, immediately after the trial in which he was found not-guilty.

“So I propose a toast. To my learned friend, and his most... insightful defense.”

So the logic being used here now is that McGilded was a fine, upstanding citizen and anything he pawned was truly innocent/ordinary, so why would someone want to steal it? The only way to prove that there's more to these items than might be apparent would be for Ryu to reveal that the acquittal was a mistake and the defense's argument was based on false information. They all suspected this two months ago, though. It was made abundantly clear that the only reason McGilded walked free was because nobody could say for certain whether the evidence was tampered with. Either way, Ryu's cornered now and wondering to himself whether Van Zieks knows the items in question are related to the omnibus murder. He probably does. He has access to the evidence, which means he has access to to the pawn tickets which hold some very specific dates on them.

The game gives Ryu an option whether or not to have Gina testify about what happened two months ago, but this option isn't real. If you choose 'leave it', Ryu still decides within two lines of dialogue that they have to uncover the truth. There's no penalty for stalling. So Ryu calls for Gina to testify and Van Zieks definitely knows what's up.

“In particular, the impact it will have on the accused's standing... And indeed your own.”

So this is a warning, clear and simple. Van Zieks knows shit will hit the fan. Or, as he later phrases it, it will bring the court down around Ryu's ears. But Ryu insists upon the testimony, the prosecution agrees and Gina is put on the stand. The judge tells Graydon he can step down, Graydon promptly sees this as an excuse to leave and bids them all a good day, but Van Zieks tells him to wait.

Oh, this... I like this. By now, Van Zieks has caught on to Ryu's little trick of watching the reactions from other witnesses during testimonies. He's purposely making Graydon stand there and listen to Gina's testimony just in case he reacts in such an overdramatic way, Ryu can pursue it. Iiinteresting! Now it seems as if he's on our side, but we're not quite there yet. Before Gina can begin her testimony, Van Zieks reminds her that if it turns out she willfully withheld information two months ago, she'll be prosecuted for perjury. That's just an intimidation technique to get her not to reveal what she withheld. … Which is weird, because you'd think Van Zieks would want her to spill those beans. Either way, with some encouragement from Ryu and Iris, Gina begins to talk about the lies she told. Aaand we're ending the essay here for now, because we're only about halfway into this disaster of a trial and the plot will only thicken from here on out. Stay tuned for part 2 of The Unspeakable Story!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks #thank goodness #the consistency is back #BLESS

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Text

chapter two ➺ everlasting hatred

paring: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language

word count: 2500+

a/n: you guys might be a bit confused on why i haven't explained what the mission actually is, but everything will be reveled in the next chapter especially what happened in the building where the two of you were making a plan up, i promise everything will be explained in the next chapter, hope you guys liked this chapter though

summary: in which the rivalry continues, both finally in the loop of what is occurring, an agreement is formed on the perfect plan as you both grow closer along the week, maybe the two of you could be friends of some sorts?

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

“What do you two know about the Paranormal Liberation Front?”

It was unexpected and made both you and Bakugo stop in your tracks, he was the first to sit down you wanted to know what he was thinking but felt bad after what had had happened earlier on in the day to get inside of his head.

“It’s the League of Villains and Meta Liberation Army joined together.” There was hatred from the words. After the League had kidnapped Bakugo and you and Deku had been the forefront of the regaining of Bakugo, he would never admit how happy he was seeing your face and you would never tell him that you had been worried sick.

“Tomura Shigaraki as the leader, we both know you’ve had contact with him and that is why we want you to do this for the greater good.” You raised an eyebrow wanting to know more.

There was a fun in hearing it come out of peoples minds rather than reading what was in their head. You saw as she looked back outside, “we’re not asking lightly you both have a choice to make that could either further your career or lose any support you had.”

“Just spit it out.” Bakugo was getting frustrated at the cryptic messages and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t as frustrated.

“We need the two of you to…” Listening to her intentively, thoughts skimming through your head, weighing out the positives and negatives. “We will give you till tomorrow to make your decision.”

“I’ll do it.” Bakugo was quick to speak, your eyed widened at how easily he could subjugate himself to do something as tormenting as this.

“Y/n.” You got out of your thoughts looking at her, Bakugo stared up at you, you could see the fallen ash still in his hair. He hadn’t had a shower and you were distracting yourself with being worried about the dirt instead of the question at hand.

“I need some time.” She nods dismissing you both, you both walk outside the doors.

You needed to go outside, feel the air and puke up. The anxiety you felt over this situation was making your stomach go into a whirlwind. “How could you easily decide?”

“I became a pro hero to help people, this is helping people.” You stood in front of the elevator thinking about the comment. “You should think if this is really what you want to be if you can’t easily choose to do stuff like this.”

“I’ll be back.” You spoke, walking back to the office. He didn’t bother waiting for you as he stepped inside of the elevator. He hated how coy you were being about this whole thing; it should’ve been an easy decision but maybe there was something bigger than what was being asked and he didn’t know.

Whatever it was he didn’t care walking outside as he felt the breath of stifling air hit his skin, you had made him dirty with the soil and rubble in his hair. He hated the gross feeling of it all. A man had come running outside calling his name telling him about the steps forward from now.

You had gone straight to the office, without knocking you entered. “That was a quick decision.”

“I’ll do it.” You muttered half-heartedly.

She smiled with paperwork in her hands, “good, you and Bakugo will meet tomorrow morning at this address.”

You nod taking the paper with your quirk and it landing in your hand. She dismisses you again as you run out of the building, your leg shaking whilst going down the elevator. Where you seriously doing this because of Bakugo’s comment or was it to prove that you were a pro hero who deserved their rank and position.

You saw Bakugo talking to the man who had helped you up outside, he smiles at you as you smile at both. Bakugo giving a scowl at you, you rolled your eyes leaving the two alone. You didn’t care about the conversation only about what was happening tomorrow.

The early morning sunrise hits your skin; you heard the knock on your door as you were making coffee. There hadn’t been a time on the paper just an address, so you assumed anywhere between 8 to 9 was acceptable to arrive. Well, that’s what you thought anyway.

You opened the door in your oversized shirt and nothing else sipping the coffee that you knew wouldn’t be your last. “Hello.”

You normally used your quirk to see who it was, but you were tired from staying up researching and thinking about the Liberation Front. “Why am I not surprised you’re not even fucking dressed.”

The loudness of his voice boomed through the apartment, “good morning to you too Bakugo.”

He stormed inside without an invitation; you muttered some profanities before kicking the door closed. He eyed you up and down an unamused look on his face. “Get read quickly.”

“There was no time on the paper why are you being so goody goody.” You mutter sipping on the rest of the coffee as you leant against the kitchen table. He had sat down directly in front as it left little room to imagination with how your legs were on show. Even with him seeing your legs in costume that was your choice now it felt more intimate to be seeing your legs without anything covering them.

“Just fucking hurry up.” You roll your eyes skipping into your room. It was like this boy had some sort of everlasting hatred against you.

Bakugo only knew where you lived from the many times, he had taken you home from you getting drunk, even with being rivals there was still some friendliness outside of work. Well as friendly as it could get with Bakugo, he skimmed through his phone and messages not bothering to reply to the many.

You had walked back out the leotard around your skin, you were warm in the long sleeves but were missing your thigh-high boots that helped for easy mobility and landing. You hand your phone between your hands as you typed quickly. Bakugo raised an eyebrow eyeing you again, he could admit you had worked on your body amazingly, especially your thighs which were on full show for him.

“Eyes up here dumbass.” You mutter without looking up, Mina had been talking about the plans for the night out tonight, but you didn’t even know if you’d be available after the revelation last night. You say something had come up apologising but telling them all to go themselves.

You felt bad but you didn’t know how long this thing would last and knowing the commission who didn’t understand time they would keep you for a lot longer than they should.

“Fucking hurry up.” Bakugo was tense, he looked around your apartment, he had never seen it properly only in the dark when he left you on your bed but that was it. He left as soon as he came, but as he saw the pictures with the UA class even some pictures with him in them. He noticed one from the dance that had occurred in your last year, you and Bakugo hadn’t gone with anyone but did one dance just to have one memory and Kirishima made you both take a photo. It was framed next to some potted plants that looked fake.

He saw more photos from the three years spent at UA, the festivals, the missions, the training camps and the most recent one being yours and Bakugo’s first day at the hero agency. He saw it was taken for a newspaper and remembered how the first time you both were shown to the public, you both had been asked many questions. Which led to a photo being taken, he hadn’t realised how many memories you both shared, pictures with Kirishima and him, with Mina and Momo, you had it all.

You coughed to gain his attention, he hadn’t realised you moving to the sofa, your legs bare as you zipped up your boots, they were tight and almost suffocated your legs, you pulled the other boot on your leg as he saw you struggle. You knew what he was thinking how idiotic it was that it took you so long. His thoughts were always humorous mainly due to the comments he made in his head that were far worse than what came out of his mouth.

“Fucking finally.” He muttered walking towards the door.

“Be patient.” You hissed grabbing your phone and gloves sliding them onto your fingers before the necklace you wore was put on. You did it looking at the mirror Bakugo leaning against the door frame as he watched you.

“Is little miss princess done now.” He scowled, you glared before opening the door with your quirk, the movement jabbing the door handle into his sides.

“Now whose taking their time.” You smirked back walking out of the door. He followed with a heavy grimace at your action. He had imagined blowing you up many times and you had always read these thoughts easily which you mocked him even more for.

The drive was slow, and you didn’t bother talking feeling angry at not having a second cup of coffee in the morning. You both arrived at the destination, “we’re too far into the city for this to be the place.”

The building was tall and flashed brightly, “I thought this shit was supposed to be discrete.” He parked with ease, his arm going to the back of your seat as he looked back reversing. You always loved watching any man do this, it was a heavy turn on even if it was the angry boy doing it. You were glad you were the one able of telepathy as him knowing you liked this sort of shit was a sure sign for him to mock you even more.

You both stepped outside, it was empty due to it being half seven and the building was too tall for it to be anything to do with the Liberation Front mission. “You two are here.” You both stare at the man, he hadn’t come from the building but instead an alleyway. “Follow me.”

You both did as you were told following the man, you spoke inside Bakugo’s head wanting privacy, ‘what if he wants to kill us.’

Bakugo’s face scrunched in anger at hearing your voice inside his own, ‘we’re pro heroes y/n, did you just forget that?’

‘Oh yeah’ He could hear you laughing in his head his mouth twitching upwards but suppressing a smile before your laughter was no longer in his head.

“Come in.” The man spoke, the alleyway had led to a rustic building, it was one storey and looked like a take-out place rather than a safe place to talk about the mission.

You followed anyway, Bakugo leading the way, he wasn’t doing it to get in the way or make it seem like he wanted to see first. He did it to make sure nothing bad would occur so that if it did you weren’t in the firing line, but he would never tell you that and he prayed you hadn’t been looking at his thoughts.

You normally didn’t anyway, you had told him when you first met all those years ago you hated your telepathy quirk, you didn’t like always hearing people’s true opinions on people, so you rarely used it to listen in on people and used it rather to control and manipulate villains.

You both walked inside the building, being met with a figure you didn’t expect. The current number two hero was struck right in front of you, his red wings wide as if he had just flew in, a casual smirk on his face. “Nice to finally meet you both, I’ve heard good things.”

You were in awe, yeah, you’d heard Tokoyami talk about Hawks and you had seen him a couple times, but you were never important to meet him face to face. “I need a picture.”

You hadn’t realised you said that out loud in your awestruck. “Y/n.” Bakugo scowled as Hawks smirked.

“No, it’s fine, get your picture first and then we can get down to business.” He made you go back outside to get some light, Bakugo reluctantly taking a photo of you with the pro hero a pure shock running through your bones.

‘Bakugo did you see that I got a picture with the Hawks.’ You were back in his head, he scowled as you both walked back inside you flicking through the multiple pictures which you swooned at. You were getting these printed and putting them in your apartment.

“You both already know what’s going on, I used to be undercover in the Liberation Front, I obviously can’t be associated with you that’s why we’re in this dingy building. You two need to think of a plan is really what I’m here to tell you.”

“You couldn’t have just texted us this.” Bakugo muttered, you were more annoyed you came here only tunning on one cup of coffee.

“We need you two under surveillance, that’s why my good friend is here.” Hawks pointed to the man in a suit, he didn’t introduce himself and neither did Hawks. “I’ll be back at the end of the day, come back with a plan of action.”

You and Bakugo stayed standing, you hadn’t gotten a chance to look around it was a clean bare room, a table and a couple of chairs around but that was mostly it. The man in a suit dropped some pens and papers on the table as if you were in nursery doing arts and crafts.

“If you two need anything ask him.” Hawks smiled going to the window, “come up with a plan by tonight or we won’t be needing you if you don’t”

The malice in his tongue sent shivers down your spine as you both watched him fly away, “Do you two need anything I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Coffee.” Both you and Bakugo spoke in unison.

It was a long day with multiple coffee runs and by the end you both had thought of a decent plan, it would make a scene, show your true colours and most of all be live for the whole of Japan to see. You both assumed it be the best plan and as you proposed it to Hawks, the excessive hand gestures and pleading to make it a whole show.

He finally agreed after questioning some parts, he saw it as reasonable and said he would sort it all out. You both had used the power of technology and your popularity to get this plan into action, all you needed now was it to work.

You both were set free, stretching your legs as you both walked towards the tall building again, “you getting in.” Bakugo gestured to how you stood in front of his car like a deer in a headlight.

You nodded going into the passenger seat, one hand lowly against the window and the other against the steering wheel, you watched his movements on the wheel. His ability to lazily do something so simply perfectively. You were tired and it was common for you to easily fall asleep and as you rested your head against the window the soft music coming from the speakers as Bakugo hummed along made you drift away into an effortless sleep.

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lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Matthews

Spencer Reid x reader

summary: doesn’t ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes.

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 12; uhhh here’s the storm

The sound of Y/N’s phone vibrating under her hand woke her up. She lifted her head off of Amelia’s bed, not bothering to look at the caller I.D. and answered.

“Hello?” Y/N’s voice croaked, still full of sleep.

“Ms. Matthews,” a distorted voice spoke through the phone.

Y/N sat up completely straight in her chair, now high alert.

“Or should I say SSA Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Who is this?” Y/N asked, standing up from the chair and moving outside of the room. She knew exactly who it was but she needed to be sure.

“You know exactly who this is,” the voice responded.

“Landry Stephenson,” Y/N said with a stern tone. “What do you want?”

“Midnight,” Landry replied.

“What about it?”

“That’s what you have till before this beautiful gold ring becomes mine, along with your boyfriend.”

The line went dead after that. A small tear of fear pricked in Y/N’s eyes, the phone not coming off her ear as she stood there in shock for a second. She pulled the phone off her ear after taking her second, calling the only person she could think of.

“I got here as quickly as I could,” Hotch said, rushing up the stairs to his office where Y/N stood.

She couldn’t trust Strauss anymore, she needed to go straight to the people she knew would help.

Her team.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked once he came face to face with Y/N.

“I need to tell you where I’ve been,” she said with a shaky voice.

It felt as though she was injured, running off of pure adrenaline. And now it was starting to wear off because her voice began to shake. Hotch closed the door to his office and gestured for her to sit down.

“Strauss sent me undercover at George Town because they’ve been receiving letters about someone in the BAU being stalked. There has also been a recent string of ‘suicides’ that we thought were connected to the case, now I can confirm it is because one of the girls I’ve become close to was a victim last night…”

“Y/N I’m so sorry,” Hotch said sympathetically.

“It’s alright, she’s recovering in the hospital, she made it to my office to get help somehow.”

She took in a shaky breath and looked at the watch on her wrist.

“Okay, I’m going to skip some parts because we need to get the team here as soon as possible. Basically, this girl named Landry Stephenson has been sending letters to us about Spencer and I found out it was her yesterday when I went to Amelia’s dorm to look around and I found hundreds of pictures of Spencer in a small chest. This morning I got a phone call from Landry saying we have until midnight tonight to save Spencer.”

“How do you know it was Landry for sure?”

“Because she addressed me as Ms. Matthews, that was my undercover name.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath and lifted her hand and watched it shake violently. She was starting to have an anxiety attack, she hadn’t had that since the day of the bomb.

“Y/N,” Hotch said, making her tearful eyes look at him. “I need you to breathe okay, breath.”

She took in some deep breaths and let a few tears fall down her face. Her eyes closed and she took a minute to compose herself, letting all her emotions flood out of her so she could focus on saving Spencer.

“Okay, let’s get the team here.”

--------------

“Y/N,” everyone said as they walked into the bullpen, seeing the woman they all missed.

JJ and Penelope ran up and wrapped their arms around her, squeezing her tightly.

“Hey, guys-” she pulled away from the hug and gave others to the rest of the team- “I wish we had time to catch up but we have a problem.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Rossi asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Wait, shouldn’t we wait for Reid?” Penelope asked, noticing the Boy Wonder’s absence.

“That’s why we’re here. This morning Y/N received a phone call from Landry Stephenson, the unsub Strauss sent her to find who had been killing students at George Town and stalking a member of the BAU, that member was Reid,” Hotch relayed the information Y/N had told him to the team.

The team had slack jaws at the news.

“So, is he okay? Is he in protective custody?” JJ asked, her words quick and strong.

“When I got the call, Landry told me we had until midnight to find him,” Y/N said, her voice shaking again.

“Oh god…” Penelope muttered, clutching her hand to her chest.

“What other information do you have?” Derek asked assertively.

“Not much,” Y/N let her head drop in shame.

The team stayed quiet for a second, watching as Y/N sniffled as a way to keep in her tears. “I have a wealth of knowledge to be applying to this case right now about behaviors of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies-” she choked on a sob at her next words- “victim survival odds, things I know about the unsub. But I can’t keep a straight thought for more than four seconds at a time, so I’m the dumbest person in the room.”

The team watched in sympathy as Y/N cried during her speech. They knew he was the love of her life and she was his. They were Spencer and Y/N. “The greatest love I’d ever seen,” as Rossi put it. So they knew, this was tearing her apart because she was putting all the blame on herself.

“Please-” her voice cracked- “we need to find him.”

“This technically isn’t our case, but Spencer is a part of this team,” Hotch said as everyone stayed quiet. “This is going rogue not only for Y/N but for all of us, we could lose our jobs. Does anybody want to leave?”

No one answered.

“Good, then let’s get started.”

-------------

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while deeply loving someone gives you courage,” Y/N mumbled under her breath as she paced back and forth in Penelope’s office. She kept repeating the phrase under her breath like a mantra. It’s a quote by Luo Tzu that she found during her time away. It’s what kept her going from being away from Spencer and only being able to talk to him every so often.

“Hey,” Derek whispered, walking into the office that was only occupied but Y/N.

Y/N ignored him and kept repeating the quote under her breath.

“Y/N.” Derek stepped in front of her and grabbed her shoulders. “We’re going to find him.”

“Yeah,” she nodded and wrangled her hands together. “It’s just this is all my fault. If I had pushed harder, maybe Strauss would have gotten him sooner or even put Landry in custody and then we wouldn’t be here right now and I could be back on the team and everything would be great and be normal. Spencer and I would be together and would be happy and hopefully engaged-”

Y/N’s blubber of ‘what if’s’ was cut off by Derek.

“Hey, hey.” He grabbed her shoulder and gave her a slight shake. “Wonder Woman we are going to find him and stop this.”

She nodded and fell into his chest, just needing a hug now. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder and held her for about a minute.

“Let’s go to the round table room, we got all the letters that were sent from Strauss,” Derek said, beginning to lead her to the door.

“How did she take the fact I didn’t come to her first?” Y/N asked while wiping the last of her tears.

“Not well at first, but I think she understood eventually.”

When they reached the round table room, the team was sitting all around it, copies of the letters that were sent scattered between them.

“This is clearly a classically possessive stalker,” Derek said as he finished one of the letters he was reading.

“Yeah, one who craves validation and recognition,” Blake added.

“Yeah, she’s asking here ‘why won’t you see me?’, ‘do you think you’re better than me?’, within the five letters this comes up again and again,” JJ said as she flipped through her copies of the letters.

“Five?” Y/N asked from her seat across the table.

She had been silent for most of the time in the room. Her knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting on top of them.

“Yeah, there’s five,” JJ responded showing Y/N the letters.

“No, no, that can’t be right, when Strauss sent me out there was only four,” Y/N let her feet hit the ground as she reached for her copies of the letters.

Sure enough, another latter had been sent since she was undercover. It came in yesterday.

“This got here yesterday,” Y/N pointed out.

“How do you know?” Rossi asked, flipping to the same letter she had in her hand.

“Because this is talking about the attack on Amelia,” Y/N said as she kept reading the letter swiftly.

“Who’s Amelia?” Blake asked quietly, not wanting to make Y/N jump at anyone in her frantic state.

“She’s a girl I’ve been counseling undercover, we’ve gotten really close, yesterday she was attacked.” Y/N kept reading through the graphic description of the attack, trying to not let it get to her as she looked for ideas where Spencer could be.

“Here, here, she talks about how she did this for him,” Y/N blurted when she finished reading over a line in the letter, pointing to the spot. “She was killing these people so that the team would come and investigate.”

“Well, we have her motive for the killing, also probably for the suicide she’s also talking about,” Blake said as she pointed out another thing in the letter. “Here it says, ‘when I find you I’m going to kill you than myself’.”

“Murder suicides the ultimate ‘I love you’ to these guys,” Rossi remarked.

“Do you know when Landry started targeting Spencer?” Hotch asked, turning to look at Y/N.

“No, no, I just know she was in one of Blake’s linguistics classes, probably saw him guest speak, and…” she trailed off from there, not wanting to say the rest, knowing that the team knew it.

“Oh my god guys, I found Spencer,” Penelope blurted when a ping went off on her computer. “Well, not found, but I have video surveillance of him in Union Station last night, being drugged and carted away by the unsub.”

The team quickly crowded around Penelope’s laptop and watched the video. Y/N stayed rooted to the ground she stood on, not being able to watch the video.

“Alright, Morgan you and JJ go to the station where Reid was taken, see if anything was left as a clue, Blake and Dave, go to Spencer and Y/N’s apartment, see if there’s anything there,” Hotch ordered and the team began to stand up straight and grab their coats.

Hotch then turned to Y/N, still rooted in the ground and not moving. “How clear is your head?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, not really clear,” she stuttered, eyes staring at Spencer’s empty seat at the round table.

“I want to talk to Amelia about Landry but I need you there.”

Y/N nodded her head but didn’t move just yet.

“Y/N,” Penelope said, stopping her as she began to turn.

“He wears the ring you know, never takes it off.”

“I know.”

------------

“Amelia?” Y/N asked softly as she entered the hospital room.

Amelia looked up from the book in her hand to see Y/N approach with Hotch behind her. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Amelia, this is Agent Hotchner, he works with me at the FBI, um he needs to ask you some questions.”

“Hi, Amelia,” Hotch said, walking closer to the side of the bed.

Y/N took a step back to watch.

“Hi,” Amelia responded.

“So Landry Stephenson is your roommate correct?” Hotch asked, starting off his questions.

“Yes.”

“Does she have any place she would go beside your dorm?”

“She talked about her boyfriend’s place a couple of times,” Amelia answered after a pause for her to think.

“What’s his name?”

“Uh, I think she said it was Edmond,” Amelia shrugged. “She rarely talked about him, when she did, it was almost like she was imagining it.”

Y/N then had a flashback to when she walked into her’s and Spencer’s apartment one time. She remembered looking over to see a boy walking into his apartment a little down the hall, Landry by his side.

“Hotch,” Y/N stepped up getting his attention.

He turned his head to look at her.

“I know where the boyfriend lives.”

------------

“This bitch,” Y/N deadpanned as she walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building where her and Spencer’s apartment lived. She walked swiftly up the stairs and down the hallway, bypassing her apartment that Rossi and Blake had just been in.

“Y/N, slow down,” Hotch said, catching up to her.

“She was right down the hallway from us, Hotch, how the hell do you expect me to slow down,” she seethed as they came to the apartment of Edmond Rayes.

“Let us handle it,” Hotch put his hand up, stopping her from knocking on the door.

She nodded, still furious that she was this close to them this whole time.

“Edmond Rayes,” Derek said, pounding on the door. “FBI.”

Rossi pulled his badge out of his pocket and held it to the peephole. A second later, the door opened and revealed Edmond Rayes, with a stitched up forehead.

“FBI?” Edmond asked the common thing most people say when the FBI knocks on their door.

“What happened to your head?” Rossi nodded to the large gash.

“My ex pushed me into a mirror,” he answered, moving his body open to let the four of them in.

“That ex wouldn’t happen to be Landry Stephenson would it?” Y/N asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Edmond asked, clearly not recognizing Y/N’s voice from the few times she talked to him. He turned his head to look at her and then he recognized her, “Oh, hey Y/N.”

“Hi, Edmond.”

“Do you know where Landry Stephenson is?” Rossi asked, getting straight to the point.

“No, should I?”

“Well, that’s what we were hoping,” Rossi shrugged.

“When did you guys break up?” Derek asked the next question.

“Uh, about three weeks ago,” Edmond answered, pausing to think of the exact timeline.

“And when did you get that cut?” Hotch asked.

“Two nights ago, Landry came back ranting about something she left here.”

Y/N began to wander the apartment, looking all around at the different pictures and figurines adorning the shelves. She wasn’t listening to the interview going on anymore, it just became background noise as she looked at the walls.

But then her ears tuned back when she saw an orange envelope slipped between two books. To the untrained eye, no one would have caught it.

“Edmond,” Y/N said, bringing everyone’s attention to her. “What’s this?”

Edmond cocked his head to the side as he looked at the envelope with Y/N. “I’m not sure.”

He pulled the envelope out from between the books and opened it. He pulled out about twenty photos of Spencer and Y/N walking in and out of his apartment. “I think I found what Landry was looking for.”

Y/N took the photos from his hands, flipping through them to see them all. They went back a couple of months.

“Y/N,” Hotch said nodding to the door of the apartment. Rossi took the photos from her hands as she walked past and followed Hotch out of the apartment.

“This means you’re a part of her victimology now, you know,” Hotch said calmly to her.

“Are you pulling me off the case then?”

“No.”

“Then let me go back in there to work,” she said, trying to push past him into the apartment. Hotch stuck his arm out and held her back.

“We will but you need a second,” He told her.

“Hotch, I was practically stalked by Caroline for my whole college life, this isn’t new to me,” she reassured him and walked back into the apartment.

------------

“Okay we know numbers on female stalkers are minimal, only ten percent are female,” JJ said as the team sat around the round table again to regroup. Y/N took a seat on the couch behind the table, feeling like she needed to step back to see everything.

“All right, what tops the list of motivators?” Hotch asked.

“Prior sexual intimacy,” Derek debated.

Y/N barked out a laugh accidentally at the thought. Everyone turned to her with confused glances. “Sorry.”

“Erotomania?” Rossi asked, moving past the moment.

“Maybe,” Derek said. “You slept with me, I’ve built a whole life with us-”

“No,” Y/N butted in.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered.

“JJ I know Spencer, we all do, he would not cheat on me, or-or do anything like that.” They all looked at Y/N sympathetically, knowing she was right but they were just saying all the facts. “What’s-what’s the next one?”

“Celebrity stalking,” JJ answered.

“That one makes more sense,” Y/N said nodding her head.

“How? Spencer’s not famous,” Blake said shaking her head.

“But she was in your class Blake, and when he came to lecture, she became a celebrity to him,” Y/N said.

“That’s a stretch,” Rossi argued. “Celebrity stalkers are usually nonviolent.”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon, Rossi?” Y/N said standing up from her sitting position as she got angrier. “What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him? ‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided.’ Well, Spencer is somebody and-and this bitch is a nobody!”

Her sudden outburst made the room get quiet as she paced back and forth. They waited for a second for her to cool down.

“I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” she apologized as she continued her pacing. “My head’s too clouded, I need to leave, I’m not much help.”

“Y/N, yes, you can be of help,” Derek said, trying to make her calm down. “You have the most communication with the unsub and Spencer.”

“She probably revealed details to you of where she would keep Spencer since she knew who you were,” JJ said in a calming voice.

“I don’t have a memory like Spencer! I can’t remember every damn word she said to me, how-”

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through each moment with you to help you find out,” Hotch cut her off.

Y/N stopped pacing, looking at everyone around the table. Truly, she would pick Penelope but that wasn’t a part of her job so she settled on someone else.

“Hotch, please,” she said quietly.

“Okay, let’s go,” He said standing up and leading her out of the room.

------------

“This is where you want to talk?” Hotch asked as the two reached the park that had many chess boards in it.

“It’s where Spencer and I went on our first date, he tried to teach me chess. I need a spot that reminds me of him,” Y/N said as she took a seat at a table. She really sucked at chess, but she knew how to play because of Spencer, but she never beat him.

“Okay.” Hotch took a seat across from her. He then moved a pawn to begin the game. “Try to focus on the board and not my questions, just say whatever comes to your mind.”

“Okay.” Y/N moved one of her pawns.

“When you first think of Spencer what’s the first thing you think of?”

“Home,” Y/N laughed as she moved her chess piece. “He-he makes me feel like home. Warm, cozy, and safe.”

Hotch stayed quiet as he smiled at Y/N. Of course, he knew about their relationship, the whale team did, but they were very private about it. They stayed professional most of the time and no one would assume they were dating if they saw them on the job. This was the first time he really heard about how she really felt about him.

“So if this is a case of celebrity stalking, why do you think she didn’t go after you to get to Spencer?” Hotch asked as he made his next move.

“I’m not sure, to be honest, I wish she did take me instead of him,” Y/N moved her rook. “Maybe she was devolving and her desire to get to him first was too strong so she just...went for him.”

“Maybe,” Hotch moved his knight. “But why would she choose Spencer, in her mind, they must connect somehow.”

“But how?”

“Maybe Spencer said something in a lecture that had her make a connection?” Hotch moved another pawn.

“Could be…” Y/N moved her other knight.

“When you spoke to Landry, did she mention any of her classes?”

“No, she didn’t really talk much, she would answer yes or no to my questions…”

“Landry, do you have anyone special going on in your life right now?”

“Well, I sent in an article to someone I admire again, and I’m hoping they get back to and like this one more than my last.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N muttered as she remembered the conversation.

“What?” Hotch asked.

“Months ago, Spencer was helping some students with thesis and articles they wanted to be published. He then asked for input on a ‘Journal of Behavioral Psych’ article. This one student sent in a theory that was completely improbable and stupid, but I couldn’t even tell you what it was. But that same student kept sending in more stuff like it, and Spencer kept politely rejecting it,” Y/N rambled.

“It was Landry that sent in those articles,” Hotch realized. “She wants to be accepted by him.”

“She told me once a couple of weeks ago that she sent in another and was hoping it would get accepted,” Y/N looked up at Hotch with teary eyes. “I didn’t make the connection until now.”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N, okay, come on let’s get back to the office.”

-------------

“Landry Stephenson, along with being a major in Linguistics at George Town, she was working on getting her psychology degree online,” Penelope said as she pulled up a photo of Landry on the screen.

“Do you have the articles she sent to Spencer?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, and like Y/N said, they’re waka-doodle,” Penelope answered.

“Looks like when Spencer rejected her last article, she dropped out of her online classes,” Rossi said as he looked at the papers Penelope handed them.

“Correct,” Penelope said, taking a seat at the table. “I also found an off campus apartment that looks like she stays at on the weekends.”

“Dave, you, Y/N, and JJ take the apartment. Blake and Morgan, take the campus dorm,” Hotch ordered.

“What was the last article about?” Y/N asked quickly before they could leave.

“It says here, ‘How the behaviors of cells change when suicide is inevitable’,” Derek read from the file.

“There’s her suicidal ideation again,” Blake remarked.

“Except that’s not true, why is she so obsessed with it?” Y/N asked. She now understood why Spencer was rejecting her articles, if they were all like this, they were related to her emotionally.

S.W.A.T. busted through the door of the apartment, breaking it off its hinges. They walked in quickly, making sure all the rooms were clear before they could relax and begin their search.

Y/N, JJ, and Rossi began to look around the apartment. Their eyes landed on a wall covered in family pictures and a newspaper clipping about a double suicide. Of her two parents.

“Is this a shrine to her dead parents?” JJ asked as she looked at the wall.

“Her parents committed suicide,” Y/N muttered and pointed to the clipping. “That wasn’t in her file.”

“Uh, guys,” Rossi called from a back room he wandered to. “You might want to come to look at this.”

JJ and Y/N walked to the room quickly. When they entered Rossi had pulled open a small closet door, revealing a bunch more pictures of Spencer.

“Oh dear god,” Y/N muttered as she looked at all the pictures. If Spencer wasn’t kidnapped by this girl right now, she would probably find this humorous.

“She’s watching us,” Rossi nodded to a camera in the corner of the room.

JJ and Y/N turned to the camera behind them to see a green blinking light flashing. JJ quickly pulled out her phone and called Penelope.

“Garcia,” JJ said when she heard her answer.

“What you got, Mama Grizzly?”

“There’s a webcam in here can you hack the feed?” JJ asked.

“Ohh,” Penelope groaned as she tried to hack the feed. “She’s spoofing the IP address and she’s encrypted the feed.”

Y/N searched around the room, finding a piece of paper and marker. She quickly wrote ‘me for him’ on the page and held it up to the camera.

“What are you doing?” Rossi asked as he watched Y/N write.

“Making a deal,” Y/N responded, finishing the message. The two agents watched as Y/N held the paper up to the camera.

Y/N prayed that this would get her in to find out where Spencer was because they were running out of time now.

After about thirty seconds of Y/N holding up the message, the apartment phone began to ring. Y/N set down the paper and rushed to the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Spencer’s voice said back through the phone.

Y/N let out a breath of relief that he was still alive. “Spence, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Spencer stuttered. “I’ve got a concussion and some bruising, but I’m okay.”

“Can I speak to Landry?”

She heard Spencer take in a sharp breath. “No, she’s listening.”

“Good, I need to meet her, I need to talk to her,” Y/N said, hoping she was playing her cards right now.

“She has a message she wants me to give to you,” Spencer spoke softly, clearly uneasy as his words were slightly slurred.

“What is it, bub,” she hoped using his nickname would give him some strength.

“The message is, she left you a present and if you want to find it, it’s easy as pie,” Spencer’s voice was slurred, almost like he was falling asleep.

“What does that mean? I don’t get that,” Y/N said, rubbing her forehead as she tried to think.

“Neither do I,” Spencer mumbled. “Y/N don’t come, it’s a trap! She’s gonna kill you-”

The line went dead.

Y/N thought for a moment, then she had a thought. “I need a map of D.C.”

------------

When Y/N, Rossi, and JJ arrived back at the BAU, Y/N had plenty of time to think about the riddle and decipher most of it.

A map was set up on a board when they walked in. She quickly picked up a blue marker.

“We don’t have a lot of time so I’m going to make this as quick as possible.” Y/N took the cap off the marker then began marking things. “This is Landry’s off-campus apartment- this is the nearest tower her phone call to me pinged off of, which means this-” she used a compass to draw a circle around the spots- “is the circle that Spencer was telling me about.”

“What circle?” Hotch asked.

“It was a clue in Landry’s message, finding her would be as easy as pie, but she wasn’t talking about the food, she was talking about the number Pi.” Y/N wrote the first three digits on the board.

“Pi,” Penelope said and turned back to her laptop to start some calculations.

“Why would she give you a clue?” Hotch asked.

“Spencer has a doctorate in mathematics, so of course she would use math to lure us in because she wants Spencer to think she’s just as smart as me and him,” Y/N relayed the conclusion she had come up with on the car ride back.

“All right, assuming that Landry has a secondary location, wherein the circle would she hold Reid?” Hotch nodded to the circle she drew on the map.

“She’d need a building that would allow for privacy and control, a closed garage for prisoner transfer…”

“If she’s trying to insert herself into Spencer’s life, maybe she has it close your apartment,” Hotch suggested.

“There’s nothing in Landry’s name,” Penelope said after searching with the suggestion.

“Try Y/N’s or Spencer’s,” Hotch said, turning around to look at Penelope.

“Nope.”

“What about Landry’s parents?” Y/N squatted down next to Penelope as she typed.

“Yes, yes,” Penelope said excitedly as she got a hit. “Landry rented a loft across from your’s and Spencer’s apartment building in her parent’s name.”

“Y/N,” Hotch said, bringing her attention over to him. “I can’t let you be a part of this takedown.”

“We don’t have a choice if I don’t go in there. Spence's dead,” Y/N said, her hands moving aggressively as she spoke.

“And if you do you’re dead,” Hotch told her.

Y/N shook her head. “Hotch, we’ve known from the beginning she’s on a murder-suicide mission, but we didn’t stop to ask why she’s on that mission. We know now, it’s because she wants recognition, the type she believes Spencer can give her and if I go in there I can let her believe she is getting that.”

“How?”

“Because I’m going to break up with Spencer to do so.”

--------------

The team pulled up to the building with the sirens blaring. S.W.A.T. had already arrived at the scene, ready for instruction from the team.

The team each hopped out of there respected vehicles, guns drawn and ready to save Spencer.

“Hang on, I got a box on the steps,” Hotch stopped everyone, carefully approaching the box.

“That’s the gift,” Y/N said, holstering her gun and walking up to the box.

She picked it up, looking at Hotch to be sure it was alright who nodded. She pulled back the blue lid to reveal a small black velvet box. She pulled it out and opened it, seeing a beautiful ring inside of it.

“Is that a ring?” Derek asked as he inspected it from a distance.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Landry’s voice said through an intercom by the door.

Quickly, Y/N began to strip the vest off her torso and handed her gun and the ring to Hotch.

“Now come in Alone.”

“Y/N,” Hotch tested, but Y/N didn’t look back at him.

She opened the door carefully and slowly walked up the small set of stairs to a platform. When she reached the top, Landry rounded the corner and cocked her gun.

She walked over to Y/N slowly and grabbed her shoulder, placing the gun to her side. “Walk.”

Landry pushed her down into a chair roughly. Y/N shifted uncomfortably and took a breath, trying to keep a cool front.

When she looked in front of her, she saw Spencer strapped to a chair. “Hi, Spence.”

“Hi,” he whispered back.

“I was hoping you’d figure out my riddle,” Landry said as she moved behind Spencer, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, I knew you would-” she snaked her hand under his shirt- “The fun was just how fast you did it.”

Y/N watched as Spencer stiffened uncomfortably under her touch.

“It took me a while, if I’m honest, I was kinda distracted by your article you sent in,” Y/N said, hoping she was right about her plan.

Landry pulled her hand off of Spencer and looked at Y/N. “You read my article?”

“I did, the one on the behavior of cells during suicide? I couldn’t agree more,” Y/N lied hoping Spencer, even in his out of mind state, would be able to play along.

“Flattery is not going to get you out of this, because I know what’s waiting for me outside,” Landry said, pointing to the window with her gun.

“I’ve arranged for your freedom,” Y/N bargained, again with a lie.

“The feds don’t make deals with people like me,” Landry stated matter-of-factly.

“Not true, if you have something to help them; Nazi scientists helped with the manhattan project, Mafia bosses are put in witsec, if what you have is valuable enough, they’ll take you,” Y/N corrected her. “That’s why Spencer didn’t want to accept your article because he knew you were right and he was upset he didn’t come up with it first.”

Spencer’s eyes lit in that realization moment that Y/N recognized. He was catching on to the game.

“It’s true after I read it, I was upset I couldn’t figure that out sooner, so I rejected it out of jealousy,” Spencer added, hoping that hearing him say it would allow her to believe it. “And what you have, is valuable.”

“And what do I have?” Landry asked, using her gun to make Spencer’s face look at her.

Please Spence, please say the right thing, Y/N plead internally.

“A brain that doesn’t work with normal societal rules.”

Right on the money, good doctor.

“I’m here because Spencer deserves someone like you, someone with a brain that’s as big and smart as his,” Y/N said, making her move to get Landry to hopefully let her guard down.

When Landry had no response, she spoke again. “Spencer, I’m sorry I don’t love you, I’m breaking up with you.”

Even though it was a lie, it hurt Y/N to say those words. It physically pained her.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I understand, because I chose Landry,” Spencer played into the lie.

Landry whipped her head around to Spencer. “You’re choosing me over her?”

“Yeah,” Spencer whispered.

“I don’t need her anymore,” Landry said, bringing her gun to Y/N’s head.

“Kill her and she won’t have to live with the fact that I chose you over her,” Spencer said, stopping Landry before she could shoot. “Let her live with her irrelevancy.”

“Fine,” Landry said, getting ready to push her out of the chair and out of the room. “But I just want her to see one more thing.”

Landry walked over, undid the zip ties, and connected her lips with Spencer’s. As best as he could he tried to play into it, but it felt too wrong and he barely even moved his lips.

Y/N just hoped Spencer could play it off long enough to where they could get her outside and arrest her.

“Liar,” Landry said, pulling herself away from Spencer. “Liar!” She pointed the gun at Spencer’s chest but quickly Y/N stood up and reached around her to pull the gun up as Landry fired a shot, missing Spencer completely. Y/N had got the gun out of her hand and it was thrown on the ground.

Landry quickly grabbed a knife off of a table next to her and held it to Y/N’s throat as the rest of the team entered when they heard the shot go off.

“Stay back! Stay back!” Spencer yelled as the team entered the room.

Y/N breathed in deeply as Landry held the knife to her throat. “Landry, Landry, remember what I said, I broke up with him, he’s choosing you, it’s going to take a second for him to be completely ready to kiss you or-or be with you.”

“Landry-” Spencer tried to plead.

“You didn’t want me!” Landry screeched, the knife coming off of Y/N’s neck slightly.

“I didn’t,” Spencer told her honestly. “But we can still arrange for your freedom.”

“No, you love her and I’ll never be her.”

Y/N quickly reached up and wrestled with Landry for the knife. Somewhere along the line, the knife ended up and Y/N’s abdomen.

Y/N sucked in a breath of pain as Landry pulled the knife out.

A shot sounded off from JJ’s gun and hit Landry in the chest as she turned around.

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice echoed in the room as he ran up to her body falling on the ground.

“We need a medic!” Hotch’s voice boomed.

He caught her and helped bring her down to the ground, hand pressing on the wound on her stomach.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she whispered, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek.

A tear rolled out of his eye, and that was just the beginning of them.

“Hey, bub, I heard you wore my ring,” she said, trying to bring him away from the fact she was just stabbed.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he choked. He grabbed the hand that was holding his cheek, kissing the back of it, and showing her the ring still on his finger.

“I-I think you got me a ring too,” she whispered as she remembered the ring Landry left for her at the front door that she gave to Hotch.

“I did,” he whispered back, holding her hand clasped against his face.

She smiled softly, beginning to feel her eyes get heavy.

“Hey, hey, sweets, keep those eyes open, the paramedics are almost here,” Spencer begged as he watched her eyes get heavy. “I love you.”

The paramedics pried Y/N out of Spencer’s arms and brought her onto a board, but Spencer kept trying to grab for her.

His sobs racked his body violently as JJ and Derek held him back from running to her unconscious body. JJ shushed his sobs and cries for Y/N as she was taken out of the room and into the hospital.

-------------

“Spencer,” JJ’s voice echoed in Spencer’s head. “Spence.” She shook his shoulder.

Spencer stayed still, not having moved from his position on the ER bed all night as he stared at the same linoleum tile. Y/N had been in surgery for hours and his physical exam to see his injuries had been long done. He came out with a minor concussion and a few bruises like he thought, but his heart was in need of fixing.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe without knowing if Y/N was okay. If she was alive.

JJ kept saying his name but gave up after her fifth try and had no answer. She settled with placing the ring that Y/N gave to Hotch beside him on the bed.

He glanced down at the ring in its box, then back up at JJ. His eyes watered and then he let the tears fall as he picked up the box.

He needed someone right now to give him a sense of hope, to give him something to hold on to. Because if he didn’t have something, he might lose everything.

“I’m scared,” he admitted to JJ in a whisper.

“Oh, Spence,” she said sadly, wrapping her arms around his shoulder from her standing position. “She’s going to be okay, she’s too strong to die.”

Spencer let out a sob as he hugged JJ back.

In the waiting room, the rest of the team sat anxiously. Derek muttered some prayer to a God he struggled to believe in, in hopes that he might grant some mercy for Y/N.

Rossi prayed to a God he did believe in.

Blake closed her eyes and just hoped.

Penelope sat staring at a random tile on the floor, muttering “She’s gonna be okay” under her breath repeatedly.

Hotch paced back and forth in the room.

Spencer was told by a doctor he was allowed to go to the waiting room with the rest of the team. It wasn’t really a suggestion though, the ER nurse gave JJ a pleading look because they needed the bed for other patients.

“Spence, let’s go see the rest of the team,” JJ cooed, coaxing him up with one arm and leading him to the waiting room.

When they entered the room, each one of them looked up and gave Spencer a sad smile.

Penelope stood up from her chair though, walking over and standing in front of him. She was about to say something, her mouth opening, and closing while she struggled to get the voice out.

But Spencer knew what she meant and just nodded.

Penelope let out a sob and wrapped her arms around Spencer tightly. Her tears were full of fear for Y/N and sorrow for Spencer.

“Family of Y/N Y/L/N?”

Everyone faced the doctor that walked into the room.

“How is she?” Rossi asked, being the only one who could voice the question.

The doctor let out a breath that was anything but reassuring. “She coded, but we were able to bring her back. She’s out of surgery now but we don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

“But she’s okay?” Spencer asked, needing to hear those words so he could breathe again.

“She’s okay.”

Spencer took in a breath, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

“Can we see her?” Penelope asked.

“Yeah, follow me,” The doctor said and began leading the group to the room.

In the bed laid Y/N, connected to many I.V.’s and an oxygen tube up her nose. But she was there. Alive and breathing.

Spencer rushed to her side, grabbing her hand and lacing it with his. Tears of joy escaping his eyes.

---------------

Five days. That’s how long Y/N had been asleep for now. Hotch had given the team time off if needed, seeing as Y/N would need them as soon as she woke up.

Each day, a different member of the team would come in and hang out with Spencer. Who stayed there full time. He may have left once to take a shower and a couple of changes of clothes. Other than that, he hadn’t left Y/N’s side at all.

Penelope had brought many flowers, balloons, and baskets in for Y/N. She brought her favorite muffins for when she woke up, pink roses which were her favorite, and many balloons. So many balloons that when Penelope brought in more one day, he made her take some out so the new ones would have room.

Today was Rossi’s day in the rotation for visitation. He had been there a couple of times before, but only for an hour or two, today was his whole day he got to spend there.

“Hey, Kid,” Rossi greeted, handing him a coffee he brought.

“Hey, thanks,” Spencer said, taking the warm drink from his hand.

“No problem,” Rossi smiled, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of Y/N’s bed. “Has there been any changes?”

“No, doctors still don’t know why she hasn’t woken up,” Spencer sighed after taking a sip of the coffee. He looked up to her peaceful face. “I even called London, her best friend who’s a doctor and one of the best hospitals in the US, and she and her colleagues can’t figure out anything.” He took his hand out of her and brushed a piece of hair that had fallen in her face away.

Rossi smiled at Spencer’s gesture, hoping that she woke up soon so he didn’t have to watch Spencer torment himself anymore with staying there.

“How are you holding up?” Rossi asked, concern for the young man who he hadn’t seen outside this hospital in days.

“Alright, I guess,” Spencer answered truthfully.

When a comfortable silence fell between the two, the sounds of beeping coming from the heart monitor beating like a slow metronome in the back, Spencer began to laugh at a thought he had.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s not funny at all actually,” Spencer admitted and kept chuckling. “It’s just, um, on day three of her coma, I got mad.”

“At what?”

“At Y/N,” Spencer laughed, clearly needing sleep. “I was mad because when she left, she left me a letter and a ring, promising me she would come back safely, and now.”

Spencer's laugh soon faltered into a sob. “And now, she’s like this.”

Rossi looked at him with agony, he had never seen Spencer like this. So broken, so upset, so..unknowing.

“Spencer, I know it’s really hard to think of right now, but you have to push through,” Rossi told him, leaning forward in his seat. “You and I know she’s too competitive to die, she won’t let it beat her. Think of it as a time out in the game, she needs a second to figure out her game plan so she can come back and win.”

Spencer smiled at the analogy, reaching for Y/N’s hand again and squeezing it like he had done many times before. What surprised him this time about this time was, she squeezed back.

Spencer’s head jerked up to her eyes to see if hers were open. And low and behold, there they were, sparkling like they normally do and making his heart melt.

“Y/N…” Spencer whispered, standing up from his chair and sitting on the bed. His left hand reached up to caress her head. “You’re awake.”

“She is,” Rossi said with a bright smile, standing up from his seat. “I’m going to go get the doctor.” He reached his hand over the edge of the bed and squeezed her ankle before leaving.

“Thank you,” Spencer said and turned back to Y/N. He let out tears from his eyes as he looked down at the woman he loved with all his heart.

“Hey, don’t cry,” she soothed, wiping his tears away that fell down his face. “I’m okay, see.”

“I know, I know,” he laughed with tears.

He reached down and let their lips mold together. He poured all the emotion he could into the kiss, letting go of her hand so he could use both hands to hold her face. Her arms reached up to the short distance so her hands could cup his neck. His lips tasted like coffee, but they were a pain killer for anything Y/N was feeling right now.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, his forehead resting on hers when they parted.

“I love you too,” she mumbled with a smile.

“Marry me,” Spencer blurted, pulling his forehead off of hers.

“What?”

“Marry me.” He dropped to one knee at her bedside, fumbling with the ring in its box as he pulled it out of his pocket. “I know that we have an inconvenient job, and terrible luck-”

“We have the shittiest luck,” Y/N agreed with a laugh.

“We do. But I believe...I believe that with you, I am the luckiest man alive. And there’s no way I could spend my life without you because you are the love of my life Y/N Y/L/N. Every moment I didn’t know you were okay, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I-I just can’t imagine me without you.”

Y/N had tears pouring out of her eyes now, she loved this man with all her heart and soul.

“So, marry me,” Spencer finished, opening the box to reveal the ring Y/N had seen the other night.

“Yeah,” Y/N whispered, nodding her head furiously. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer’s mouth formed a wide smile as he pulled the ring out of the box and placing it on her finger. She reached up, grabbing her face and connected them in a loving kiss full of smiles and tears of joy.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #Criminal Minds #criminal minds meme #criminal minds imagine #criminal mids fic #best years series #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss

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sothatmyocshauntmealittleless · 3 years

Text

No time to die - part 1/2

->part 2

author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.

~1800 words

I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.

She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.

Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”

It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.

“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.

When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.

“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”

She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.

“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.

“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”

“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”

“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”

“People change Riley.”

And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.

I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.

“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.

//end of part 1

->part 2

#so this is the first piece of writing that I'm posting online and I'm a bit nervous but also excited about it #anyways I hope you enjoy it #writing #authors #writrblr #writers on tumblr

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 8

Releasing two chapters today in honour of my birthday! I am officially 23 years old. Oh my God, what the fuck? I feel ancient.

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: I started writing this for porn and now? Look at all this plot. Disgusting! Featuring: the Hulk, more Bruce fluff, and DISASTER PARENTS. It's gonna get worse before it gets better y'all.

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings is the Peter to my Tony. Love you 3000, baby.

The beeping startled me awake, the haze of my recent memory made me very unsettled. Last thing I remembered was laying down on the couch and Peter's admission - the little! Guy! Was! Spider-Man! Holy! Shit!

Beeping intensified and I heard grumbling and shuffling coming from the side of me. A warm sensation engulfed my right hand and I smiled. I'd recognize that hand anywhere. Bruce was in the room with me so I was definitely in a safe place.

Me eyelids parted meeting a set of oddly fluorescent green eyes. Holy fuck, that was no Bruce, it was... But how? His form was slouched in an uncomfortable position over the bed, crease marks on his face. It was Bruce's body, Bruce's face but who held control over it - he was no Bruce Banner.

"No worry, Princess is safe," The voice that left his mouth was much more primal, with an unmistakable growl underneath. He watched me, alert, scanning my face with unblinking eyes. "Bruce asleep now. I keep watch."

I swallowed the unease. "Hi, Hulk, and thank you," Squeezing his hand very, very gently. "Nice to meet you, by the way."

He grinned, all teeth and sharp canines. He looked like a wolf. The look was so out of place on usually gentle Bruce's face that I had to study it, had to memorize that stark difference between Banner and his alter ego. The smile faltered slightly as he closed his eyes. "Bruce waking up now. See you soon." And with that, his head fell onto his arm, dead weight and limp.

His hair was tousled, a curly mess, and he wore the same shirt I remembered him in. Upon closer inspection it still bore minor stains of what I assumed was my blood. It was probably the only time I would get to look at him, really look at Bruce without the fear of being caught, being weird or getting misinterpreted. He was really handsome, the five o'clock shadow silver on his usually neatly shaved chin, his jawline was firm and... He really was beautiful.

His eyes slowly blinked open, the usual colour brown. Noticing me awake, Bruce immediately perked up. "Morning. How do you feel?" He asked, voice croaky and sleep-drunk.

It sent shivers down my spine. "I'm good, nothing feels amiss besides the left part of my face. That's kind of puffy," I admitted, failing to describe the full-and-pulling sensation I was currently experiencing. "I met the Hulk. He was nice." I added as an afterthought. Thought he should know.

Bruce frowned. "He does that sometimes. Sorry."

"No, it's okay. I think, I think I'd like to meet him properly one day," I admitted my biggest curiosity. After all, I've already met real aliens.

Bruce seemed speechless for a moment. "Are you sure?" He stuttered. "He's...a bit much," He parroted my previous comment about my house, much to my amusement. "You sure it's not the concussion talking?" Banner squinted at the monitor at my bedside, avoiding my eyes.

"I'm very sure," I squeezed the hand I was still holding in quiet affirmation. "Besides, he promised to see me soon."

"Oh did he," Bruce muttered darkly but I could see his face brighten nonetheless. "Right, so I'm going to call in Strange and we can see about unhooking you from all these things," Bruce gestured to the various wires and monitors.

True to his word, Strange waltzed in no more than ten minutes after Bruce called him. Seeing me, the usually stoic man began snickering, unsuccessfully attempting to hide his amusement by swirling his cape in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. I was not impressed, Bruce was not impressed and neither was Tony who walked in shortly after all the wires were removed from my persona.

"So... Is someone going to tell me why is Dumbledore so joyful this fine morning?" I crossed my arms under my boobs.

"You don't remember?" Tony snorted at my negative head shake. "Before you passed out, you demanded cake and said Wizard here looks like Benedict Cumberbatch. To be fair, I see the resemblance, but you...." Tony paused to snicker multiple times. "You managed to butcher up the guy's name multiple times, I swear to Thor, what came out of your mouth was..." The engineer laughed, making a broad and vague gesture with his hands. "What did she say? Bubble-butt Orgy-pants?" He asked Bruce who was as unsuccessful at hiding his laughter as Strange himself. Even the wizard's cape was bouncing.

I wheezed, suddenly coming to a realization. It wasn't a concussion induced lucid dream, I had actually said that. "It's really bold of you to assume I can pronounce and remember his name while I'm sober," I said. "I just call him British-guy Funny-name." Tony cackled at that, giving me a hearty thumbs up and ungracefully plopping down at the foot of my hospital bed.

"How do you feel, Buttercup?" He was looking earnestly at me now, his sparkling brown eyes big and round and worried.

I had to distract myself to keep from literally face-planting into his lap then and there. "Good, actually." Tony nodded happily, and I raised my finger. "But for the record, Doctor Strange..." I addressed the man who turned to me expectantly. "Please don't get pissed off, I have a request..." He nodded warily. "Don't shave? I mean, now that I can clearly see the resemblance between him and you... Please don't shave off the beard or you'll look like an angry aardvark."

The men in the room gaped, most of all, Stephen - his face was somewhere between resigned suffering and surprised disbelief.

"Angry... Aardvark..." Tony fuckin' WHEEZED. "Fuck a duck..." The engineer clutched at his stomach in an obnoxious fit of laughter, Bruce was snorting too. "The fuck is an aardvark?" The lone word seemed to have a magical effect on Tony, increasing his laughter with every time he repeated it out loud.

"Duly noted," Stephen nodded with as much seriousness as he could before cracking a reluctant smile. "I see that the healing technology Tony developed has worked well, if judging only by your sense of humour returning. Good," With that, he waved his hands about and the puffy feeling from my face disappeared. "I took some liberties and added a healing spell with Loki's help." Seeing my raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "Loki was deeply touched by your kind gesture towards his teammate and offered his help. You should be good to resume your daily activities by nightfall although I recommend you take it easy. And call your mother, she stopped by and instructed me to request you communicate at the first comfortable opportunity."

The mild pity and disdain on Strange's face told me that he was the one who had actually spoken with her. She must've been especially icy and bitter considering I had interrupted her daily routine with getting punched in the face. How inconvenient.

With that, Stephen left me with a parting pat on the shoulder, taking Tony with him - the engineer managed to squeeze a whole hug out of me before being bodily (magically?) dragged behind Strange. I was really uncomfortable with all the attention I was receiving wearing only a thin hospital gown and I told Bruce exactly that - promptly, Natasha arrived with a bag I recognised as my own, an ostrich Birkin that held a cute, soft cashmere loungewear set, some basic toiletries along with a set of underwear and a pair of slippers.

Evidently, my mother packed this bag. Never in a thousand years I would wear a $1200 worth of leisure clothing at a hospital. Even Natasha whistled when I first examined the bag's contents.

"Yeah, yeah, my mother's a bit much," I said, immediately cringing at how obnoxious that sounded.

"No shit," Natasha rolled her eyes. Something told me she'd met her too.

"Wait 'til you see my dad," I replied in an identical tone, disappearing behind the door to the bathroom. It was all very luxurious, extra and overall very Stark. Friday's voice coming from the ceiling made it known that I was still in the tower, the AI informed me of the date, time, weather and the further instructions to follow Natasha after I was done freshening up.

Showers had never felt so good.

I was greeted by muted cheers and a hefty brunch on the common floor. Lots of hugs, too, even Loki paused his brooding to give me an awkward, albeit very genuine embrace. I whispered a thanks for the spell which made the moody god considerably less moody - in fact, he smiled like a child on Christmas Eve. Suddenly, I felt much less out of place with my disaster self.

The pleasant part was done and I geared up to call my own personal curse.

"Hello, mother, it's kind of you to pick up," I started the usual. I could literally feel the confusion and concern of the people in the room piercing my back. "Sorry for interrupting your meeting. Yes, I am quite well now. No, Josh can keep running your errands, I will stay at Mr. Stark's for the time being. Tomorrow morning, probably, don't wait up. I will, absolutely. Oh, is he? Wow, that's amazing. I'm so happy," I chirped. My face was one of the suffering kind. "Yes, dinner on Friday night. Okay-I mean, yes, I will ask. He's actually right next to me." I paused to turn around and look at Tony, mouthing 'she wants me to invite you for dinner'.

Tony's speed was breaking the laws of physics as he snatched the phone right out of my hand. "Hello, this is Tony Stark speaking. You know, maybe you should come over to Stark tower. Yes, the whole family. Thanks, bye." He promptly pressed the end call button right as mother had started her goodbye-have a nice day-live long and prosper speech. "How the fuck do you put up with that woman?" He started at me with a mix of concerned incredulousity.

"She's an acquired taste," I groaned. "You just wait. My dad. I..." I literally had no words to describe the upcoming disaster. Tony had no idea what he just had condemned all of the tower's inhabitants to. "Why am I like this? Why are they like this?" I raised my head up to the ceiling as if the AI living in it could give me all the solutions to my life's problems.

"Get some rest, Princess," Bruce was kind enough to spare me any more misery as his warm, broad hand steered me towards the elevator by the small of my back.

As he dutifully fluffed my pillows and handed me a glass of water and my smartphone, I unashamedly basked in the soft attention I was receiving from the older man. I still felt somewhat groggy; best case, I'll fall right asleep and if the dreamland avoids me, I would browse tik tok and Instagram until something else would strike my fancy. The gentle murmur of him describing the latest lab incident I missed out on and the hands combing softly through my hair were the best sleep aides I could have ever asked for.

Bruce is too precious for this world. Too pure.

Friday rolled in with the force of a pissed off rhinoceros. Dad had flown in on a Thursday afternoon, stopping by the house to drop off his suitcase and happily dangle the keys of a brand new Chevrolet Corvette in front of my face before briefly stopping to ruffle my hair, kiss mother on the cheek and drive off into the sunset to "catch up with people at the studio". Jetlag wasn't a word in that man's vocabulary, he probably snorted a line or three as soon as he stepped out of the airport.

I could carry my groceries in the bags under his eyes. He just waved off any of my attempts to get him some rest only showing mild interest when I spoke about my friendship with Tony Stark, absolutely disregarding the rest of the team sans Captain America and the billionaire himself.

I might as well have been in front of a trainwreck, watching it happen second by second. The moment all three of us stepped out of the elevator onto the tidied up common floor, I had the sudden realization of exactly how much we weren't a family.

We were the exact opposite of that.

My mother, tall and slim and perfectly posed in a sleek blue dress with diamonds glittering around her chin, neck and fingers, her obnoxious greed proudly on display. My father, in his early fifties, well-groomed and fit, in his tight designer pants and a plain white t-shirt under a stylish tweed blazer. He looked ridiculous. Only Tony could pull off something like that (I shuddered. Sigmund Freud sends his regards!). And me, little old me, in my $900 jeans, $1500 Gucci sneakers and a mesh crop top I got at Hot Topic. At least, amidst this mess, my eyeliner game was on point.

I smiled sardonically at Steve who came to greet us. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

"Captain Rogers," My father greeted him with his Hollywood smile.

"Steve," An equally fake and toothy grin came from the superhero as he gallantly greeted my mother and swept me into an unnecessarily tight hug.

Point one, my father smirked. Somewhere in the corner, Wanda made a gagging noise - quietly, of course, I only knew about it because she did her telepathic mumbo-jumbo to make me aware of her stance on this particular matter.

Point two, my mother loudly announced she was vegetarian while simultaneously praising the catering services that Tony used. Clint had enlisted Bucky and Thor to help him cook and now all three were smiling awkwardly as mother spoke about the "incredibly talented immigrant workers".

Point three, dad made it his JOB to brag about my skills and achievements as if he was the one encouraging me to pursue them. It was fair, I suppose, since he paid for it but alas, it sounded a lot less like he was a proud father and more of a "look at what my puppy can do". I had to tip my proverbial hat to Tony and Bruce there, they both began to describe our lab work in such unnecessary detail, using so many long words, even Loki began quietly chipping in with totally random, long, difficult words. Confusion was beginning to seep through the eternally cheerful facade that my dad wore.

Or maybe it was the coke and Adderall wearing off. Who knew.

"Peter?" Came the dreaded question from my mother. I shook my head in quiet despair as Peter visibly cringed at my mother's voice.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"That vile boy has been taken care of," I could absolutely see Natasha saying the same thing and the only difference laid in the fact that I knew my mother wouldn't actually kill a person. She would hire someone to do it for her. "It's really unfortunate my daughter got in the middle of that sort of situation."

Wow. My mother just called Peter a coward. Wow. Tony briefly went cross-eyed with anger.

"Baby, why you bein' so quiet?" Dad, the mitigator that he was, intervened before a real shit storm could start. Which meant, as usual, putting me on the spotlight. It was me between a rock and a hard place: nothing, and I repeat - nothing I ever did or have done was good enough for both of my parents at the same time.

"I'm fine, dad, just chillin'," I replied, pushing my food around on my plate. He hated it when I ate too much, which was really anything more than two glasses of water and a salad. Being around models on a strict avocado and coke diet really skewed his sense of normal.

"Nah, baby, you're brooding," His teasing tone could've fooled anybody. Just messing around with a teenager. "Come with me tonight, there's a party, Billie Eilish is going to be singing. Not my style but you like that weird goth shit, might cheer you up a lil'," Dad joked and everybody around the table smiled happily at last. Everyone except Tony that was - his press-tour smile was still glued to his face. I hated it. It was unnatural.

"No, dad, you go have your old people fun," I rolled my eyes.

"Jesus Christ," I heard mother mutter on my other side but she kept quiet beyond that.

"C'mon, don't be a spoilsport," Dad insisted.

"Actually, we have a project planned up in the lab..." Tony trailed off, attracting confused looks from his teammates and friends. Pete looked at me in pure envy.

"Alright, alright, dad, I'll go with you, jeez," I mumbled, flushing from the sheer amount of embarrassment flowing through me. Partying with your own father, how sad and pitiful is that?

"I'm very upset at you ditching me," Tony poked a fork in my direction but didn't press the matter further. I avoided the looks of my friend's friends. I avoided the hell out of Bruce who kept making his perfect, round puppy eyes and radiating so much kindness and support I nearly choked on my intermittent sips of water.

"Alright, we will be waiting downstairs with Josh, say your goodbyes," Mother announced as she subtly towed my father towards the elevator. He'd had a whiskey too much and felt particularly chatty much to Tony's displeasure. "Thank you again for your hospitality."

As soon as the doors closed behind my parents, the group of superheroes erupted into a confused debate. I saw Tony blankly staring at the ceiling. Bucky cursing. Thor overly calmly talking with Loki.

Beyond caring about anything, my face flamed as I made a beeline for my dad's latest, untouched glass of whiskey (single malt, neat, double) and downed it in one go. The conversation stopped promptly, people eyeing me with visible concern. Steve was outraged.

"No," I announced, stopping any and all questions, slamming the glass on the table and departing towards the elevator that had made its way back upstairs. "Just no." Were my parting words as the doors closed once again on a startled and disgruntled group of superheroes.

Please check your blog settings before requesting to be added to the taglist. I can't tag some of y'all.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01

#party favours #bun writes #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #LMFAO BEING A DISASTER RUNS IN THE FAMILY

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rpf-bat · 3 years

Text

Rocking Out Just For The Dead

Pairing: Frank Iero x Male!Reader

Genre: Romance, Drama

Summary: Requested by @kpopchangedmylifesstuff. You’re playing Download Festival 2007 with your band, Paramore. My Chemical Romance are headlining the festival. After your set, Frank invites you onto his tour bus, for a friendly battle of Guitar Hero 2. But, when the hanging out turns into something more, your bandmate, Josh Farro, threatens to destroy whatever you and Frank have.

You found yourself in Donington, England, playing your band’s brand new single, “Misery Business.” Okay - technically, Paramore wasn’t your band. You’d had no part in composing their new album, which would be dropping at the end of the week. But, their rhythm guitarist, Hunter, had recently quit, to go get married. Your longtime friend, Hayley, had called you up, and asked you to fill in for him, and you had jumped at the chance.

You had done this once before. Paramore’s bassist, Jeremy, had randomly quit in 2005 - right before the start of Warped Tour. You weren’t sure what had caused him to leave, but you played bass and guitar equally well, so Hayley had asked you to join her and the Farro brothers on tour. You had the time of your life that summer. You had been eighteen then, and had felt more than a little star-struck, when you met people in “bigger” bands.

Now twenty, you thought yourself older and wiser. You were determined to be a professional this time around. No petty fights with your bandmates. No acting like a fanboy around the guys playing the Main Stage. Download Festival - the final stop on their Europe tour - was going to go off without a hitch, dammit!

Jeremy, now back in the band, stood to the left of you on the stage. Josh, the guitarist, was on your right. You tried your best to keep your guitar playing in sync with them, as Hayley belted out the final chorus:

Whoa, I never meant to brag

But I got him where I want him now.

Whoa, it was never my intention to brag

To steal it all away from you now.

But God does it feel so good,

'Cause I got him where I want him now.

And if you could then you know you would.

'Cause God it just feels so...

It just feels so good…

Zach played the final drum beat, bringing the song to a close. The crowd cheered. You took Hayley’s hand, and took a bow. She grinned at you, before addressing the crowd.

“THANK YOU, DONINGTON!” she bellowed into the mic. “YOU’VE BEEN AN AMAZING CROWD! GOOD NIGHT!”

“It’s not really ‘night’ yet, you know,” you laughed, as you and the rest of the band walked off the stage. The sun hadn’t even set yet.

“Yeah, I know,” Hayley sighed. “They put us on this super early time slot.”

“Because nobody knows who we are,” Josh pointed out.

“Yeah, the headliners get the later time slots, because they’re more famous,” Jeremy nodded.

“Well, I think the crowd loved us,” Zach smiled optimistically.

“He’s right,” you agreed. “Hal, I think you really killed it out there!”

“Thanks,” your friend smiled, brushing her sweat-soaked orange hair out of her eyes. “I really appreciate you coming on this tour with us, Y/N. I know it was really short notice.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you smiled back.

“I thought your guitar playing was great tonight, man,” Jeremy complimented you. “A perfect grand finale.”

“Thanks, dude,” you beamed, as you grabbed a water bottle. These summer shows were way too humid.

“I don’t know about that,” Josh mumbled, as he wiped his face with a towel.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” you frowned, setting your water bottle down.

“I thought your timing was off during ‘Emergency’,” Josh said critically.

“Oh….I’m sorry,” you frowned. “I tried to keep up with you…..”

“You should’ve tried harder,” Josh snapped, walking away from you, back towards the bus.

Wow, you blinked. What’s his deal?

The elder Farro brother had been needlessly rude to you, since the tour began. You honestly had no idea what you had done to get under his skin. But, you knew better, than to pick a fight with him. Zach was his brother, and Hayley was his girlfriend. You were just an outsider - a temporary, touring member of the band.

“Are you coming back to the bus with us, dude?” Zach asked, snapping you out of the thoughts you had gotten lost in.

“.....Nah,” you shook your head. “I think I’m gonna, um, walk around for a bit.”

“Oh,” Hayley frowned. “Okay. See you later, Y/N.”

You were pretty sure that she hadn’t heard what Josh had said. You saw no reason to tell her. It would just be starting drama.

She seemed oblivious to a lot of the tension between you and Josh. He was always on his best behavior, when he knew she was paying attention. But, if it came down to it, you doubted she would side with her guy friend, over her boyfriend.

It doesn’t even matter, you told yourself. This is the last show of the tour. On Monday, I’ll be heading home to Nashville. He won’t be my problem anymore.

You began wandering aimlessly around the festival grounds, with no real destination in mind.

‘Hey!” a voice called out to you.

You looked up, and saw a face you recognized - Frank Iero.

You had met him on Warped Tour, two years ago. His band, My Chemical Romance, had been headliners, playing the main stage. Tonight, they were headlining this festival, too. His band had gotten even more famous after the release of The Black Parade.

“Hey!” you greeted.

“Remember me?” Frank grinned. “I know it’s been a while.”

“How could I forget?” you chuckled. Your heart had been racing the first time you met him backstage, but he had just shook hands with you, like the difference between your bands, was no big deal. You’d had to remind yourself that you were there to play a gig, not ask for an autograph.

“How have you been, Frank?”, you asked, trying to play it cool.

“I’ve been good, Y/N,” Frank smiled. “How about you?”

Oh my god, you gulped. He remembers my name.

“I-I’ve been great,” you stammered, hoping he couldn’t tell you were blushing.

“I watched your set earlier,” Frank said cheerfully. “You were really good, dude.”

“I-I was?!” you gasped. “You don’t think I was playing too slow, or….?”

“Huh?” Frank blinked, confused. “No, you were amazing, bro. Your whole band was.”

Ha, you thought. Suck it, Josh.

“Thank you,” you said politely. “I’m probably going to go check out your band’s set, later, too.”

“We’ve still got a couple hours before we go onstage,” Frank shrugged. “Since your band already played, you’re free for the rest of the day, right?”

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, willing yourself to stop thinking gay thoughts about his new haircut. How did he get even better-looking after Revenge era? This is not even fair.

“We have a PlayStation on our bus,” Frank revealed. “I was wondering if you’d like to play some video games with Mikey and I, for a little while?”

“Oh, sure!” you accepted his offer, trying not to sound too eager. You remembered playing a Donkey Kong bongos game with Mikey a couple years back. You’d lost pretty quickly, and he’d gone to find Zach, hoping that the drummer of the group would give him more of a challenge. You were determined to look less lame this time.

You followed Frank to My Chemical Romance’s tour bus. He opened the door for you, and you followed him in. Mikey sat on the couch, holding a game controller.

“Hey, Mikey,” Frank greeted. “You remember Y/N, right? From Paramore?”

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Mikey smiled. “Long time, no see, man!”

“No kidding,” you laughed. “How have you been, dude?”

“Pretty good,” Mikey replied. “The new record’s doing pretty well.”

This was perhaps the understatement of the year. The Black Parade had sold more copies in its first week, than Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, had sold in two years. You weren’t sure if your own band would ever have that level of success.

“I bought a copy,” you confessed. “The day it came out.”

“Aw, thanks, bro, we appreciate the support,” Mikey smiled, sounding shockingly humble.

“When’s the new Paramore record coming out?’ Frank asked.

“June 12th,” you replied.

“Oh, wow, so in four days,” Frank realized.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But, um, I didn’t help compose it.” You were just a touring member - not a full part of the band, as he was in his.

“I’m still gonna buy it,” Frank shrugged.

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly.

“So,” Mikey cleared his throat, “you’re gonna play Guitar Hero 2 with us, right, Y/N?”

“He just finished playing half an hour of guitar onstage,” Frank laughed. “You think he wants to play more?”

“I don’t mind sharpening my skills some more,” you shrugged.

“Whoa, you’re dedicated,” Mikey said, impressed.

Nah, you thought. I just wanna prove that Josh is wrong about my playing being shitty.

“Here,” Frank said, handing you the guitar-shaped controller. He pulled up the game menu, with the full list of songs. “We can do any track you want.”

“You’re going to play against me, in two-player mode?” you realized.

“Yeah,” Frank smirked. “What’s the matter? You scared of a little challenge?”

“No way,” you smiled slyly. “I bet I can take you.”

“Oh, wanna bet?” Frank raised an eyebrow. “Name the song. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

“How about this one?” you decided, making a selection on the screen.

“Um, Y/N…..” Mikey’s eyes widened. “That’s ‘Dead’.”

“So what?” you smirked.

“So, that’s our song,” Mikey pointed out.

“I know what it is,” you said certainly.

“Wait, Y/N, are you serious?” Frank stared, mouth open in shock. “Of all the songs in the game, you want to challenge me with that one? The one I fucking wrote?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, staring boldly into his hazel eyes. “You scared I’ll beat you at your own game?”

“As if,” Frank snorted. “I’ll tell you what, Y/N. If you can actually play ‘Dead’, better than the guy who plays it for a living, I’ll give you one of my fuckin’ guitars.”

“Seriously?” Mikey gaped. “You’d give one of those away?”

“He’s not gonna win, dude,” Frank said, with an air of certainty.

“You wanna bet?” you challenged.

“Okay, it’s a bet,” Frank decided.

“If I lose, you can have my guitar,” you wagered. Unlike him, you only had one. But, the tour was over, you considered. It wasn’t like you were going to need it again in the immediate future.

“It’s a deal,” Frank nodded, extending his hand to you. You shook on it.

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Mikey said warily, as he handed Frank the second controller.

“What level do you want to play on?” Frank asked.

“Expert, of course,” you grinned. “We’re professionals.”

“Alright,” Frank grinned. “Just don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

“You’ll be the one crying when you have to give up your guitar, Iero,” you bantered, feeling cocky. You played Guitar Hero with Jeremy and Josh all the time, and you never lost. It always seemed to drive Josh fucking crazy.

He hit START, and an animated guitarist in a top hat waddled onto the screen. You heard Gerard’s vocals begin the song with a scream.

And if your heart stops beating

I'll be here wondering

Did you get what you deserve?

The ending of your life

And if you get to heaven

I'll be here waiting, babe

Did you get what you deserve?

You focused on the fret buttons on your controller. Your Rock Meter started at yellow, but the dial quickly went up to green. You didn’t miss any notes, but, of course, neither did Frank.

And if your life won’t wait, then your heart can’t take this….

You glanced at Frank. He waggled his eyes at you suggestively. You reddened. If he was trying to throw you off your game, he was succeeding. You told yourself sternly to focus. Then, the chorus kicked in.

Have you heard the news that you're dead?

No one ever had much nice to say

I think they never liked you anyway

Oh, take me from the hospital bed

Wouldn't it be grand? It ain't exactly what you planned

And wouldn't it be great if we were dead?

“Fuck!” you swore. You’d forgotten how fast this part was. Frank’s fingers were, of course, dancing over the “strings” with no problem. You knew you had to catch up to him.

You noticed your Star Power meter was almost full, so you waited for just the right moment.

Tongue-tied and, oh, so squeamish

You never fell in love

Did you get what you deserve?

The ending of your life

And if you get to heaven

I'll be here waiting, babe

Did you get what you deserve?

Just before the second chorus kicked in, you titled the neck of your guitar upwards, activating your Star Power. This meant you would get a quadruple bonus for whatever points you earned. You gave it your all on the chorus, and watched your score go up and up.

“Whoa!” Frank gasped, seemingly thrown off. To your surprise, he missed a note.

“Oh, man,” Mikey groaned, from his spectator spot on the couch.

It was still a pretty close match, when you got to the bridge. But, by the time you got to the outro, Frank seemed to be sweating. As Gerard’s prerecorded voice sang his final “la-la-la”s, the outcome became certain to you.

If life ain’t just a joke, then, why am I dead?

Oh, dead!

PLAYER ONE WINS!, read the screen, in bright, flashing letters. You realized, panting, that you were player one.

“I….I did it?” you gasped.

“Holy shit,” Frank gasped, dropping his controller in shock. “He actually won.”

He sank down onto the couch, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Are you….mad?” you frowned, wondering if you should have talked less trash.

“No, that was amazing!” Frank praised you. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

Despite your bravado, you hadn’t really been expecting to win, either. Whatever confidence you’d lost when Josh critiqued you, had been regained tenfold. Mikey gave you a slow clap.

“Well, a bet’s a bet,” Frank said finally, standing up, and walking to the other end of the bus.

“Where are you going?” you blinked.

“Getting this for you,” Frank smiled, handing you a gorgeous, white Epiphone guitar.

“Frank, you don’t have to….” you gasped.

“No, I’m a man of my word,” Frank insisted. “I’ll even help you carry it back to your bus.”

“You serious?” you asked, incredulous.

“Hey, man, you earned it,” Frank shrugged. He put the guitar in its case, and then put the case on his back. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks for hanging out with us, Y/N,” Mikey waved. “That showdown was pretty fun to watch.”

“See ya, Mikey,” you waved back. “Thanks for having me.”

You still couldn’t believe this had happened. They seemed so much cooler than you.

Frank was quiet at first, as you walked back to the Paramore bus. You felt awkward, unsure what to say to him.

“So,” he asked, “do you think that your bandmates are gonna be impressed, when they see the guitar you won?”

“I’m sure Hayley will,” you replied. “Josh….maybe not.”

“Why not?” Frank asked. “He’s the lead guitarist of your band. Wouldn’t that make him more impressed?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I feel like he’s never impressed with anything I do.”

“What’s his beef with you?” Frank asked, looking annoyed on your behalf.

“I’m not sure,” you confessed. “Maybe it’s because he’s super Christian.”

“And you’re…..not Christian?” Frank guessed.

“And I’m gay,” you confessed.

“.....Oh.” Frank stopped in his tracks for a minute, seemingly taken aback by this.

Your face went red. Fuck. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that out loud.

“Do you, umm…..do you mind that?” you asked nervously.

“Pfft,” Frank scoffed. “Dude. You think I ‘mind’ gay guys? Have you missed the part, where I’ve spent half this tour, making out with Gerard, in front of thousands of people?”

“Are you and Gerard…..together?” you asked uncertainly.

“Oh, no,” Frank shook his head quickly. “I’m totally single.”

Your heart began to beat more quickly, as you noticed he said I’m single - not I’m straight. Were you reading him wrong? You wondered if you had the balls to make a move.

This is the last night of the tour, you told yourself. If I don’t say something right now, I won’t get another chance.

“Frank….”, you said, taking a deep breath, and telling yourself to man up. “I, um, I think you’re really cute.”

“Really?” Frank said, stepping closer to you. You felt the hot metal door of the bus against your back. “Y/N, I think you’re pretty cute, too.”

“Y-you do?” you breathed, your cheeks going hot as he leaned in. Was this real life? Or had the June heat made you start hallucinating?

“I do,” Frank smirked. “How about you give me my guitar back, and I give you a kiss instead?”

“Sounds like we have a deal,” you purred, and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a kiss hotter than the summer sun. He responded, eagerly, pressing you harder up against the door as his tongue found its way into your mouth. You moaned….

But, just then, you were launched violently forward, as the door swung open behind you. You and Frank hit the ground, as Josh came storming out of the bus.

“You guys are disgusting!” he growled.

“Dude, what’s your problem?!” Frank demanded, getting up, and brushing the dirt off his pants. He gave you his hand, and helped you up out of the grass.

“My problem is the display of perversion, that you two are putting on, in front of God and everybody!” Josh cried. “Do you have to do that in front of my bus?!”

“You think we’re perverts?” you gasped, shocked and hurt by his words.

“All gay men are perverts,” Josh sneered. “What kind of image are you setting for the band? A lot of our fans are Christian. They won’t buy our new record, if they see you behaving like this, Y/N!”

“Not every Christian is a homophobic piece of shit like you,” Frank snapped, putting himself between you and the irate guitarist.

“What did you just call me, you nancy boy?!” Josh hissed, and threw a punch in Frank’s direction.

Frank caught the punch in his hand. “I called you a piece of shit!” he repeated, before throwing a punch of his own. Unlike Josh’s, it connected, sending your homophobic bandmate down into the dirt.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Iero!” Josh yelled, wiping the blood from his nose. He tried to get up, but never made it off the ground, as Frank kicked him in the ribs.

“Frank, stop!” you cried. “That’s enough!”

“No, it’s not!” Frank said angrily. “You said it yourself, right, Y/N? This guy has been being a dick to you all summer, just because of your sexuality! That’s bullshit!”

He aimed another kick in Josh’s direction. You were surprised, how defensive Frank had become of you, despite knowing you for such a short time.

“What the hell is going on here?!” cried a familiar voice. You turned, and saw Zach approaching the bus, with Hayley close behind him.

“Hal and I leave for two seconds to go get snacks, and some asshole starts beating up my brother?!” Zach gasped.

“Josh, oh my god, are you okay?” Hayley gasped, running over to check out her boyfriend’s nosebleed.

“He’s not an asshole,” you explained. “Guys, this is Frank, from My Chemical Romance.”

“I don’t care what band he’s from,” Zach said angrily. “Why is he kicking Josh?”

“Because Josh called me a pervert,” you explained.

“A pervert?” Hayley repeated. “Why would he say something like that?”

“I said it, because this freak had his tongue down Y/N’s throat!” Josh explained.

“Wait, what?” Hayley blinked.

“We, um, yeah, we were kissing,” you admitted, embarrassed.

“You, um…..you like to kiss guys?” Zach asked awkwardly.

“Um, yeah,” you said, feeling uncomfortable. You had never come out to him. You knew he was a devout Christian, too, and had assumed he would hold the same views as his brother.

“That doesn’t make you a pervert,” Zach said, surprising you.

“But, what will the fans think?!” Josh demanded.

“Some of our fans are gay, too,” Hayley pointed out. “And there’s nothing wrong with it. I can’t believe you would call Y/N names, just for something like that.”

“Yeah, Josh, I’m really disappointed in you,” Zach frowned. You were stunned. You never expected him to take your side.

“You don’t think that what he and Frank are doing is a sin?” Josh asked.

“I think God loves everyone,” Zach said plainly. “And only He can judge Y/N. I’m not going to.”

“You guys can’t be serious!” Josh gaped.

“I’m seriously reconsidering your position in this band,” Hayley said, narrowing her eyes. “And in this relationship.”

“What? Babe….come on,” Josh pleaded. “Y-you wouldn’t dump me, and fire me, just because of this stupid fruit…..”

“Call him a fruit one more time,” Frank snarled. “See what happens, pal.”

“Frank, it’s okay,” you said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I have my band on my side now, and that makes….all the difference.”

You were touched by their support. You had stayed silent this whole time, because you didn’t think you would have it.

“Y/N, I’m sorry that my brother treated you like this,” Zach said quietly. “I want you to know, I support you, and your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you shook your head. “We just kissed for the first time today, and….”

“I could be your boyfriend,” Frank said softly. “If you want me to.”

“Wait, what?”

“Do you want me to?” Frank asked, smirking at you.

“I….I’m supposed to be going home to Tennessee soon,” you hesitated. “And you live in New Jersey, so….”

“I’m in the most famous band in the world,” Frank said smugly. “I have a private jet that can take me wherever you are.”

“......Oh,” you blushed.

“So,” Frank repeated, leaning in closer again, “do you want me to be your boyfriend, Y/N?”

“....Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I do.”

You pulled him into another kiss, not caring that the rest of your band was watching. Or how much it pissed Josh off. The tour was ending, but your once-in-a-lifetime romance was just beginning.

#frank iero x reader #male reader #frank iero imagine #fuck Josh Farro's homophobic bitch ass #homophobia tw

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