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chickenmcstucky · 3 years

Text

meet me in the hallway

Bucky Barnes x reader

Light angst, fluff || 5.1k

Your bad day gets worse when your less-than-friendly teammate catches you having a breakdown over your shitty morning.

A/N: So this is the second work I’m posting, but actually the first I wrote. Inspired by my own bad morning, lol. Nothing like a little cathartic writing. I’d love feedback!

You had to physically stop your whole body from tapping along with your impatient foot. If you didn’t get out of here and back to your sunny balcony soon, you might actually die of frustration. Sure, the whole sunny day stretched out in front of you, waiting, but it was the principle of the thing. Wasting sun is sacrilege to you. Still, the young woman behind the counter was only doing her job as she gathered your prescription and searched for the coupon you asked for. Why was healthcare so expensive?

As your body cooled from the workout you’d finished just before hopping over to the pharmacy, your thoughts wandered to the lazy hours of writing, tanning, and listening to music you had planned for the day. The team was between missions and somehow the stars aligned and your time off brought gorgeous weather and some much-needed you time. The thought relaxed you as the woman finally rang up your total; as you swiped your card you put your Starbucks order into the app and prepared to finally get home and enjoy your day.

That is, until the card machine gave a deep chirp and the cashier informed you your card wasn’t covering the entire purchase. You balked - how could this happen? The insurance debit was loaded up for the year, ready for any medical purchases. It rarely ran out so early in the year, and it was just April! Your brain scrambled to make sense of it. Had the account rules changed and some of your purchase didn’t qualify? No, that couldn’t be it, you’d done this same process just a few weeks ago.

Your cheeks bloomed with heat as you realized the declined card was the only one you’d brought with you, convinced it would be a quick errand and seeing no reason to bring your whole wallet for the short trip down the street from the Tower. Fuck. And there were people behind you; you shuddered to imagine what they might be thinking of you in your sweaty workout clothes as you stammered to the cashier you’d have to come back. Just fucking great. You felt your good mood at the prospect of a sunny day slipping as you left the store as quickly as you could, trying to save a little face.

***

Making your way around the construction - why did they need to close the entire sidewalk? - you hastily headed back to the Tower to grab your wallet from your personal quarters, wondering all the way how this could happen. Why do the simple things always have to go wrong? Rationally, you knew this wasn’t a big deal. You would just pay the balance out of pocket and deal with the insurance later. But it was embarrassing and annoying and just plain inconvenient. Sure, you had the time and the money to spare, but why couldn’t things just work how they’re meant to? Your swirling thoughts brought you through the private lobby of the Tower and to the elevators that led to the personal floors; angrily jamming the button for your floor, you whipped out your phone to check the balance on the insurance card.

Your jaw literally dropped as your eyes caught sight of the balance. There was more than enough to cover the charge at the store! Now you were really upset. Jesus, why was this happening to you? Stupid, simple nature of the occurrence aside, you felt tears of frustration welling to the surface as you berated yourself internally. Why did you have to be lazy and only take the one card? If you’d just taken your whole wallet and been prepared, you could’ve saved yourself so much humiliation and frustration. And time. You’d brought it on yourself, you always did. Your frustration with the pharmacy and your anger at the insurance company quickly turned to annoyance at yourself and your lackadaisical ways. Why were you like this?

You shoved yourself further into the corner of the elevator, letting your head fall back against the wall as it ascended to the personal floors. You could feel your face was still ripe with embarrassment, your throat thick with unshed tears. God, why did everything have to make you cry? Embarrassment, anger, and frustration brought tears to your eyes more often than not, while sadness rarely wet your eyes. Of course, no one else knew that and you felt like a dramatic cry-baby every time you got teary-eyed in front of your teammates and friends. You were an Avenger, dammit! As the elevator signaled your floor and the doors whooshed open, you could only hope the walk to your room would be deserted. You wanted to make a quick exit before anyone saw your despair.

***

The hope was short-lived. You walked out of the elevator with your gaze on the floor, and smack into a well-muscled chest.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, trying to scoot around the body without making eye contact.

“Walk much?” and if that wasn’t the last voice you wanted to hear. Of course, your card gets declined and you get humiliated to tears, and not only could the universe not provide you a painless return to your apartment, it also brought you face to face with Bucky Barnes. You were hardly in the mood to deal with him on a good day, let alone today. He rarely acknowledged your existence except to quip mockery at you, it seemed. At first you thought he was just like that, but you soon realized he was perfectly funny and friendly with the others, if quiet. So it was something about you; what, you didn’t know. And you’d accepted it. You didn’t need him to like you, honestly. His attitude towards you might have brought you to tearful rages sometimes, but only in the quiet solace of your room where you could freely wonder why he despised you so. His devilish good looks and killer smile didn’t help. Avoiding him was the best strategy.

“Can you just not?” you snapped at him as he blocked your way down the hallway, apparently hellbent on making sure you knew he was making fun of you. As if you weren’t painfully aware of how he felt about you. It didn’t help your girlish crush, the little voice in the back of your head always telling you maybe he was mean because he liked you. Bullshit.

“Whoa there, no need to get in a twist doll. Was just havin’ a little fun is all. What’s got you so worked up?” you heard the teasing lilt to his voice but the question forced your eyes to his anyways. God, the asshole was smirking, those gorgeous blue eyes glinting with mirth. Horrified, you felt tears welling up in your eyes again because the universe liked laughing at you, apparently.

“God Bucky do you ever fuck off? Honestly,” your voice broke on the last word as tears threatened their way out of your glassy eyes. “Just leave me alone, why do you always have to be so mean? What did I ever do to you?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, your anger and hurt getting the better of you.

Realizing your outburst, you floundered in the hallway as Bucky looked at you with a confusing mixture of shock and hurt on his face. Did he really have the audacity to be upset with you? After the way he’s treated you, so often making jokes at your expense? In the back of your head, you knew the jokes weren’t that bad, nothing more than you’d say in a harmless rib against your other teammates. But they were your friends; Bucky was a menace. Not knowing what else to say as the shocked silence stretched on, you averted your eyes from his now stony face and tried to will your tears - and your anger - away so you could get what you came for, finish your errand, and try to salvage the rest of your day. How did things go so wrong so fast?

You didn’t notice as Bucky’s expression morphed from hurt to cocky as he prepared to deliver his next blow.

“Oh, woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning I see, sweetheart.” His smiling tone grated on your nerves - of course he was still making fun of you even after you yelled at him for just that. He couldn’t just be nice, could he?

“At least I sleep in a bed,” you spat, meeting his eyes once more. You knew it was a low blow, immediately regretting it as a pained expression flitted across his face. You sighed - only you could end up feeling guilty for dishing his own mockery back at him after months of his unanswered jibes. “Sorry,” you muttered, your eyes falling closed in shame and frustration at your inability to contain your emotions.

“Yea, okay, I probably deserved that,” you stopped yourself from mocking his ‘probably,’ refusing to dig a deeper hole for yourself, though the eye-roll was unavoidable. “I guess I’ll get out of your way then,” Bucky acquiesced, his voice quieter now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his flesh arm reach out as if to pat your shoulder, but he jerked it away as if he hadn’t meant it to move. He hesitated as he half-turned away; why wasn’t he leaving, and since when did Bucky get so unsure of himself? Usually he moved with a sure swagger that riled you right up knowing he thought so highly of himself. Of course, you knew he probably didn’t do it on purpose; your inner feelings about someone had always colored your observations of them and Bucky was no exception - sometimes you manufactured your dislike, but it was inescapable. He infuriated you.

Your head swirled with anger, leftover humiliation, shame at your words to Bucky, and confusion at why he was still in the fucking hallway. You stuttered, mouth moving without your permission but no words forming.

Bucky glanced back at you, and your downturned yet clearly turmoiled face brought an unseen soft, caring look to his chiseled face. It hurt him to see you upset, though you were unaware. He didn’t know why his words to you always came out so biting. He knew how to act around the rest of the team but for some reason you brought out his inner turmoil and apparently his coping mechanism was to just make fun of you. Was he protecting himself? But what did his feelings matter when he had so clearly hurt you? His heart broke realizing that your lack of response to his mocking over the weeks wasn’t good-natured but instead was silent hurt. Fuck, he’d fucked up.

“Honey, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the softness in his voice was so foreign and surprising to you that you jerked your head up, meeting his eyes in shock. “Maybe…I can help,” he gestured awkwardly.

You must’ve pulled a face at that, because his head immediately rolled back as he quipped out, “what, is it so surprising I can be nice?”

“Well…yeah,” you half-whispered, your mouth once more speaking without your mind’s permission. Suddenly you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze falling anywhere but his soft blues. Once again you felt shame flood through you, even though you had told the truth - it was shocking to see Bucky offer kindness, at least to you. Had you somehow misread him so horribly? Fuck, there were the tears of frustration again. As if you weren’t embarrassed enough, this time a few actually fell, carving their way down your burning cheeks as your breath hitched.

“Shit. Okay, please don’t cry sweet girl, I’m sorry. I know I’m an asshole. I - I don’t -,” he cut off, not knowing how to explain. At his saccharine tone and the pet name - this time caressed with gentleness rather than thrown with cocky disdain - you broke as tears fell down in rivulets, your body wracking with silent sobs. Why were you such a mess today? Sure, you wore your emotions on your sleeve, but even you could control yourself more than this. Bucky’s sudden softness had caught you off guard. Where on earth was it coming from?

Unsure what to do as you exposed your raw nerves to him like this, you wrapped your arms around yourself as Bucky twitched in front of you, hesitating before once more reaching out to you, with purpose this time. He tugged at your shoulders until you were pressed into his chest, hiding your face in his faded blue henley. You felt the tension bleed out of you as he slowly brought his arms around you, his flesh hand running up and down your back in comfort.

“Hey there, it’s alright,” he cooed quietly, “it’s okay. We can figure it out. I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry.” It was tearing him apart, seeing you cry. You’d never reacted to his jokes like that, at least not to his face. He wondered how often you held your tears in until you escaped to your room, and his heart fractured. He hated who he turned into around you. He’d fix it, he had to. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t cry over a stupid guy like him.

You finally hiccuped to a stop, the tears no longer falling as his sweet ministrations calmed you down. Before more embarrassment over your breakdown could set in, Bucky grasped your shoulders and set you away from him so he could look you in your eyes.

“Now, you tell me what’s going on. I’ll fix it,” his hands gripped you tighter with his last words, assuring you. His sudden change of heart, while shocking, was strangely believable. You trusted his conviction that he wanted to help you.

Sighing shakily, you sniffled and began to explain. “It’s stupid really, Bucky. You don’t gotta worry,” you deflected, walls going back up even though you longed for his comfort, his friendship that you hadn’t allowed yourself to crave.

“Little darlin, it ain’t nothing if it makes you this upset. Please talk to me,” his soft eyes pleaded with you, the kindness floating in their depths piercing straight to your heart. Your resolve - built less from stubbornness now and more from niggling shame at letting him see to your core - crumbled.

“It was just gonna be a quick run to the pharmacy - I needed a refill - and then I was gonna come back here and sit in the sun and try to just enjoy my time off alone but my fucking card got fucking declined even though it has enough money and God, Buck, it was humiliating. And then I came back to get my wallet and -,” you cut yourself off, unsure, not wanting to accuse Bucky of making you cry. He had, but it was the whole situation that had really gotten you going. You didn’t want to point the finger at him when he was being nice for once.

Your sudden silence clued Bucky in to the rest of the story quickly enough, though he took sweet pause at the nickname that had slipped from your pretty mouth. He had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but continued on. “Okay, that’s not so bad then, huh? You can just go back and finish up, it’s still early in the day, plenty of time to relax,” Bucky assured you, thinking he’d figured this out pretty easily.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. “You weren’t the one humiliated in front of multiple people thinking you couldn’t pay. I mean I basically ran out of there, Bucky. Why am I so - UGHHH.”

He very nearly laughed, covering himself by clearing his throat - now that you were talking to him and his dumb brain was letting him be nice to you, he wasn’t about to ruin things by upsetting you again. He wasn’t going to push you away. He found it endearing how open you were with your emotions, wishing he could be more like you some days when his melancholy got the best of him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to suffer alone.

“I see…well I’m real sorry you had to face that. I’ve been there a time or two, it’s no fun. But it ain’t bad as all that - they weren’t paying you that much attention. It’s New York City, everyone is so self-absorbed I bet they didn’t even notice. That’s not to say you don’t deserve attention ‘cause you do - I mean - that’s not - …yea,” he trailed off, cutting his rambling before he really embarrassed himself. He met your eyes sheepishly, surprised to see a small smile there. His heart soared knowing he was the one to put it there, even at the cost of some embarrassment himself.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, I need the prescription today. And - fuck! Whyyyyyyy,” you groaned, your face scrunching as you whined. And damn if that wasn’t just the cutest thing, Bucky couldn’t help but think.

The lilting, light tone returned to his voice as he gently laughed at your groaning. “What is it now, then?”

You moaned, blood rushing to your face as you admitted the silly annoyance, “I forgot my drink at Starbucks. I ordered it while I was in line at the pharmacy, I was gonna grab it on my way back. God, it’ll be warm now - or gone. Icing on the cake, just what I needed,” you sighed, resigned to the wasted money.

Bucky smiled genially as he reached over to ruffle your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear with surprising softness. You weren’t sure you’d ever gotten this close to his metal appendage. Something deep inside you fluttered at the prospect of more gentle touches, exploring each other and - now where the hell did that come from? You were beginning to think this morning’s commotion had somehow addled your brain. You shook your head at yourself, emptying those thoughts and Bucky chuckled. This time, though, it felt like he was laughing with you rather than at you. That was….refreshing. Nice, even. You yearned to make him laugh more.

“Alright. It’s no big deal,” Bucky calmly spoke, again determined to bring that smile back to your face and maybe, just maybe, get to know you as a friend. Something about how you’d opened up to him gave him hope he hadn’t ruined things beyond repair with his boyish taunting. He’d treat you like you deserved, be a good man to you, if he could take this chance.

“How about this - you go back, get that paid for, and I’ll go get your drink. If it’s warm or gone, I’ll make them make you a new one. Then you can get on with your day, and I’ll, uh…get out of your hair, I guess,” Bucky trailed off, suddenly unsure. Would this truce be short lived, lasting only until you resolved your dilemma? He guessed he’d deserve it if so, but he couldn’t help but hope you’d stick around him. He’d just have to give it his best shot.

“That’s - wow Buck, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. It’s nothing, silly really, I told you,” you scuffed your feet along the floor, suddenly feeling burdensome. A fearful voice in the back of your head wondered if you were just giving him more ammunition for future joking.

“It’s no trouble darlin’. It’s…it’s the least I can do for ya. I guess I know it’s a miracle you even talk to me. I don’t know why I’m so..” he cut off again, still not sure how to explain without exposing his inner thoughts. “Now, what’s the order?”

“Oh, uhm…,” you balked, disbelieving at what you were about to have to say to Bucky. “It’s, uh, called a Pink Drink?” you let the name escape your lips uncertainly, waiting for the inevitable mocking. But to your surprise, the sweetest smile graced Bucky’s face, lighting up his eyes.

“Well, if that ain’t just adorable,” he gently joked to you as you gave a grudging smile. “One Pink Drink it is, honey.”

And wow, these sudden sweet names were getting to you. You felt your heart flutter as he winked at you before sending you on your way down the hall to your room, finally about to clean up the mess you’d made this morning. He even waited for you to get your wallet, escorting you back to the elevator and riding down to street level with you.

“Go on then,” he encouraged, seeing you hesitate again. “I’ll meet you back up there,” he nodded back towards the Tower.

You smiled softly, half at him and half at the ground you were once more staring at, before making your way back to the pharmacy.

***

You supposed the second trip was actually rather painless. Not a big deal at all, just as Bucky had assured you. Perhaps you could salvage your afternoon indeed, let the sun burn the frustration and embarrassment out of you. Though something told you your newfound confusion at Bucky’s kindness would soon take hold. You still couldn’t believe the gentleness with which he handled you, the kind softness of his words as he comforted you - was this really the same man who spared few words for you but for jokes and laughter at your expense? Something had…shifted. You pushed the uneasy, yet warm feeling away. No time to dissect that right now, you scolded yourself as you headed up the elevator once more, this time for good. You were determined to put this morning behind you and enjoy your rare sunny day off.

As you stepped off the elevator to head to your room, you absently wondered where Bucky was. Surely he had made it back before you - the Starbucks was much closer than the pharmacy. Yet he was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if you were bothered or relieved about that. Bothered that he might have abandoned his mission to help you, relieved you might not have to face him again. At least before, his unkindness was certain. You had learned to deal with it. Now, this new kind, gentle Bucky? Just what in the hell were you supposed to do with that? You didn’t know what to think.

***

These swirling thoughts stuck with you as you walked into your room; you were so distracted by your own internal monologue that the open door didn’t phase you, nor did the breeze coming in from the now ajar balcony door catch your eye. Absentmindedly you flitted around the room, putting away your wallet and goods. When the breeze coming in from the balcony caught a lock of your hair, blowing it across your face, you froze. Why was the balcony door open? You certainly hadn’t left it that way.

Peering out to investigate, you stopped right in your tracks at the sight that met your eyes. Your lounge chair was covered in one of your beach towels, bluetooth speaker already gently playing your sunshine playlist. And there on the table was your Pink Drink. You were flabbergasted - had Bucky come in and done this? For…you? The mere thought of him taking the time to set this up sent your heart soaring. But where was he? Perhaps your earlier thoughts were right - his sudden kindness had run out, and he was tired of being your friend already. Somehow, you couldn’t quite believe that to be the truth.

Determined not to let this chance go, because now that you’d had a taste of Bucky’s sweet side you would be damned if you couldn’t sink your teeth in, you set off in search of the brooding man. Wandering down the hallway, you steeled your resolve - you were going to thank him, and you weren’t going to get flustered this time. Maybe this could be a new start for both of you. Maybe he was more than you thought.

The door to Bucky’s room was open, and you heard the soft notes of Billie Holiday float into the corridor. You pushed your hesitation aside and walked in, not seeing him anywhere until your gaze fell upon a brunette head just peaking over the top of a chair on his balcony. Walking towards the glinting sunlight outside, you lightly knocked on the doorjamb to alert him to your presence, knowing he had probably heard you come in anyways.

“Hey,” he exclaimed softly, rolling his head to the side to glance at you. He seemed less…pompous than earlier, at least, but less energetic too. Like something had popped his bubble.

You stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, as if you were wary of startling him. As if you even could. Suddenly you were lost for words, the atmosphere awkward in a soft way. Unspoken words flitted between the two of you, both lost as to how to approach the new dynamic that crash landed in your laps earlier.

“Uh,” you started, lapsing into a giggle. “Thanks for the uh, for my drink. And stuff,” you finished uneasily, letting out a sharp laugh at your inability to articulate your appreciation for his earlier kindness. You still weren’t sure if there would be more where that came from, or if you had simply taken him aback with your tears and his sudden gentility was a stress reaction. You steeled yourself to be laughed out of his room, just in case.

“My pleasure, sweet girl,” he sighed, gazing out over the city. “Least I could do, really.”

“I - Bucky,” you heaved a deep breath and continued, “thank you, you really didn’t have to be so….sweet.”

He didn’t respond immediately and you wondered if you’d taken it too far, but before you could get too worried he spoke again.

“Darlin,” he started, the term of endearment dripping from his lips sweet like honey, “I owe ya a real apology. I never wanted to be unkind to you, but it felt like I couldn’t stop it. Whenever I see you I just…forget myself. It’s like I don’t know how to act, you scare the decency right outta me.”

Was this really happening? You gaped, “wha - Bucky, what?”

He held up a hand to stop you as he kept speaking, his words further shocking you yet sending a warm buzz up your spine at the same time. “I’m sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I like joking with people but it’s not right that it hurt you and I kept on. I’m sorry I made ya cry. It ain’t an excuse but girl, you really terrify me. In a good way, I think, but I didn’t let myself see that. I hope it ain’t too late, you know…to be friendly?”

You were sure he could see the astonishment clear as day on your face, and you watched as his own expression contorted with unease. It wasn’t hard to see this admission was uncomfortable for him. But why? Because it pained him to admit he was wrong, or because…he was as afraid of rejection as you were?

“It’s not!” you blurted before you realized you had even spoken. ‘“It’s not too late.”

Bucky looked at you with a small smile, hope blooming in his eyes. You couldn’t believe your shit day had turned into this - who would have ever thought Bucky Barnes, the asshole next door, could be nice. Could apologize, even.

An idea struck you and before you could lose your confidence, you spoke, “Do you wanna come sit out with me?”

You left the invitation hanging desperately in the air as you shifted from one foot to the other, hoping he would accept.

“Only if you let me have some of that drink,” he laughed as he got up and ushered you back inside, through to your own room and balcony. You smiled to yourself but stayed quiet as you sat down on your chair; Bucky got comfortable in the chair next to you as the tune of a love song permeated the thick, warm air around you.

Silently grasping your drink, you handed it to him. It felt like a peace offering.

His rosy lips wrapping around the edge of the cup mesmerized you, a rivulet of condensation dripping from the cup down his arm as he swallowed.

His low laugh snapped you out of your reverie. “Well?” you inquired.

His lips stretched into a smile, “sweet drink. Perfect for a sweet girl,” a husky tone to his voice as he handed the drink back to you, your mouth agape once more.

A laugh ripped its way out of your throat, loud and boisterous and before you knew it you gasped out, “who are you and what have you done with Bucky? So charming, jesus.”

“Guess I have my moments. Gonna try harder to have them around you,” he let out a breathy laugh, still unsure how to act around you. But this felt better, lighter. For the first time in a while, he felt at ease within himself.

“I think I’d like that,” you spoke surely. Then a streak of courage hit you and you went on, “maybe next time, I could go with you? I mean, you could go with me - together, uh..”

Bucky smiled then, wide, “you askin’ me on a date there honey?” he cooed, joking but in kindness.

This time, you were ready to dish it back. “If you think one drink and some sweet talking is enough to get a date with me you got another thing coming, Barnes!” you jibed. “I was merely offering to return the favor,” you turned your face up with false haughtiness, but your laughter and the way you averted your eyes told him the truth. Turning over a new leaf and all that, he guessed.

“Well, I suppose that’s a start,” he laughed, hope bubbling in his chest. “That’s a start.”

As you watched the sun reach its midday summit, your mind wandered. What a day it had been already. You never thought you’d share such emotion with Bucky, that he’d be capable of handling it, or even sharing some in return. Maybe there was some truth to his words - you wouldn’t let the pain of his mocking slide so easily, but you felt he deserved the second chance he was craving. You deserved it, too.

You stole a quiet glance at him, your cheeks warming as you realize he’d been staring at you. He looked away quickly, but not before you caught a blush spreading across his cheeks. Perhaps, you thought, bad mornings weren’t so awful if they ended with afternoons like this.

***

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emilia3546 · 4 years

Text

All He Wanted - Nessian NSFW/ Gywnriel

Major ACOSF Spoilers!!!

Do not read this if you haven't finished ACOSF AND read the Azriel bonus chapter

Nesta and Cassian have been busy lately, with hardly a moment to themselves, when they finally have time to train, the mating bond becomes too strong to ignore.

*****

Nesta panted as she swung the sword again, the edge embedding itself into the target again and again, her muscles burned, and a bead of sweat ran down her temple but she kept going, just one more set, just one more swing. She froze as the sun's rays shone into the training ring, blinding her momentarily, and set the sword aside, how long had she been here? She couldn't remember when she had crawled out of bed, leaving Cassian still sleeping soundly, but it had been dark, and she now extinguished the faelights shining around her. She rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the ache there from the exercises, cursing Cassian's name for the workout she continued to force herself through, groaning at the tension in her sore muscles when she started stretching off. Even Valkyrie techniques weren't working to ease the soreness in her muscles, and she gave up, walking a few laps of the ring to avoid them seizing up.

The door squeaked on its hinges, and Nesta's head snapped across to meet her mate's eyes,

"You're too late, Cass, I've finished without you."

"Oh have you now?" He chuckled, "Not up for a bit of swordplay then, sweetheart?" Nesta couldn't halt the blush spreading across her cheeks, but merely glowered at him,

"By all means, we can spar before I cool off completely." She leapt back to her feet, catching the sword that Cassian tossed to her, rotating her wrist a few times before taking up her stance across from him. He smirked and she just manged to move to block his sword arcing through the air towards her, leaping sideways to avoid the follow-up blow,

"Bit rusty are we, Nes?" She flipped him off and launched her own attack, pushing him back, and grinned, as he stumbled. She didn't notice the mischievous glint in his eyes until too late, seemingly moments before falling, he stepped sideways and easily flipped her sword out of her hand, leveling his own at her throat, but before he could claim victory, she ducked under it and surged towards him, leaving him with little choice but to toss his own sword aside to deflect her attacks. He grinned, catching her wrist in one hand, her hand still balled into a fist, and pulled her against him, leaving her wriggling to escape his hold.

Nesta panted for breath, and twisted her wrist, trying to pull it out of Cassian's grip , but he lifted it high above her head, forcing her onto her tiptoes. She allowed herself to relax for a moment, to let Cassian think that he'd won, and slipped out of his grip the moment it relaxed. She grinned at him, but still didn't quite managed to dodge him as he tackled her to the ground, pinning her hands above her head with one hand, the other braced on the ground next to her head. She tried to kick out at him, but he pinned her feet down with his own. She wriggled again, but this time, she really was stuck,

"Lemme up," she complained, trying to shove him off, but he didn't move, still hovering over her, their breath mingling in the crisp morning air. She tried to steady her breathing, but with her mate's scent floating through the air, with him pinning her down, she couldn't. There was a fire burning in his eyes, a fire burning in her chest, and she couldn't help but raise her mouth to his.

The kiss was an explosion, both of them had been rushing about the past couple of weeks, with barely a moment in the same room, let alone any relief to the ache she felt at the mere sight of him. She moaned into his mouth, and opened, allowing him to sweep into her mouth, gently at first, then harder, claiming her mouth and all the sounds that she was making at the feel of him, as if he could keep them for himself. He pulled back and she tried to follow but he was still pinning her down,

"Cass,"

"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay." He released her feet, and pushed himself up to straddle her hips, one hand wandering down the front of her leathers, agonizingly slowly undoing each of the buttons before pulling them away. He released her hands to pull his own shirt off, and she immediately reached up to pull him back down to kiss her again. With one hand underneath her head, he slowly traced a finger along her collarbone, to hook into her bra, and slowly ease it off. She felt a rush of wetness at her core as he pulled back, and smirked, before kissing her neck, just below her ear, and worked his way down, dragging his lips across her skin, before reaching her breasts. She arched off the ground, pushing herself into his face and he chuckled, his mouth on one breast, his hand on the other.

When he looked up at her, her heart melted at the love in his eyes, and he swept a thumb soothingly over her ribcage,

"I'm sorry,"

"What?"

"That last couple weeks, I haven't even been here most of the time."

"I've been busy too-" she started but broke off with a moan when he pinched a nipple, then gently rubbed the pain away. "Cass, please," she whined, and grasped his hair, pulling his head up to meet his eyes, "I need you. I'm yours, and you're mine." That seemed to snap the leash that he had kept on himself, he wasted no time in pulling her pants off, and smirked up at her before swiping a finger through her core. She dropped her head back onto the ground at even that smallest touch, needing more, needing everything he had. She couldn't hold back her moans as his tongue soon replaced his fingers, carefully pushing her towards the edge, but waiting, waiting, "Please," she gasped again, and he pressed down on her clit at the same time as his tongue dove into her, and she shattered around him, climaxing so hard that it made her see stars. She was still gasping for breath as he worked her through her climax, only stopping once she had come another time and was trembling at his touch.

"Alright, sweetheart?" She nodded, unable to formulate words, and reached out for him, tugging him closer and holding on to his shoulders as he kicked his own pants off, and kissed her again, slow and gentle, before pulling her legs apart. Still, he waited for her little nod, that confirmation that she was ready, and pushed into her, holding her head to keep it from hitting the ground as pleasure washed over her. He gave her a few moments to adjust, kissing along her jaw, before he began to move. With each thrust Nesta clung on to his shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles moving beneath her hands, his lips on her neck. She had never expected to feel this with anyone, the need to have him close, all the time, and she pulled his head up, wanting to look at him as his hips moved against hers. She reached out along their new mating bond, the joy she felt flooding down it, and tears pricked in his eyes as she showed him everything she could never put into words, and everything she gave to him, he gave right back, until they both crying, and laughing at themselves.

She dragged her hands up his shoulders, to tug his hair out of the bun he'd pulled it into, leaving it to cascade around his face, and grinned again as her hands wandered down his back to find his wings. At the first touch, he drove his hips harder against hers, leaving her gasping, and clenching around him again, pleasure rippling through her entire body, with Cassian almost immediately following her, and collapsing onto his forearms above her. They lay still for a moment, panting for breath, frozen with his cock still inside her, Nesta rose up and kissed the side of his face, sighing in contentment, and giggled as he pulled out, and flipped them over to hold her tight against his chest. She let her head lay on his chest, his heartbeat thundering underneath her head, her own matching it.

Nesta lost track of how long they lay there, silent, unmoving, happy. She could have stayed there all day, safe in his arms, his wings curled around her protectively. She could never get enough of this, of the joy that being with him brought her, and she lifted her head to gaze at his face, leaning into his touch as he lifted a hand to cup her face. She whined when he finally stood up to carry her back into the house, lest Azriel find them still there.

*****

Azriel rolled his eyes as he walked onto the training ring an hour later, the air still heavy with the scent of sex. He chuckled to himself, and made a mental note to tease Cassian about it later, quickly starting his exercises, trying to avoid focusing on the lingering scent, but Gwyn wasn't ready, perhaps she wouldn't be for a long time. He was just glad that she was able to trust him, able to stomach even simply kissing a male after what had happened. He had wanted to tear those males apart with his bare hands, but he'd had to kill them quickly, he had gotten her out, she was safe, and she had learned to trust again. He could never thank Nesta enough, and Emerie, but it was Nesta who had suggested the priestesses train, he could never thank her enough for bringing Gwyn to him, for easing the fears that she still felt around males she didn't know.

He could still remember how she had smiled when he first asked if he could take her out for dinner. He had made sure that they were at a table away from everyone else, and she had slowly come to life, her eyes sparking as they talked. He remembered how nervous she had gotten the first time she had kissed him, how she had gone quiet, and then raised herself onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. That whisper of a kiss was still the best he had ever gotten, and he never wanted one from anyone else, all he wanted was her.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of silver flames #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #gwyn #gwyn acosf #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel #fanfiction #fanfic

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englishstrawbie · 3 years

Text

Serendipity (20/?)

Fandom: Station 19, Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Maya Bishop & Carina DeLuca

Summary: A chance meeting at a bar leads to these two idiots falling in love. Follows canon and fills in the gaps of their relationship that we didn’t get to see on screen.

Also @ AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

Acceptance

The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited or erased; it can only be accepted. - Anon

Maya is wide awake when her alarm starts to ring at six a.m. She must have barely had two hours sleep, her body too wired and her head too full of thoughts to relax enough to let exhaustion win. She rolls over and grabs her phone, hitting the red button and letting it drop onto the blankets without bothering to check for messages. She doesn’t jump out of bed like she normally does, but lies there staring at the ceiling – as if she hasn’t been doing that all night, replaying yesterday’s events over and over again in her head.

Her fight with Carina.

Her fight with Andy.

Her fight with Jack.

The sex with Jack. The betrayal. The look on Carina’s face when she told her.

She wishes she had stayed at the apartment instead of going for a run, but Carina kept pushing and Maya couldn’t listen to it any more. She wishes she had never stepped foot inside the station. She wishes Jack had left her office when she asked him to get out. She wishes… there is so much that Maya wishes but she knows it is a pointless feat.

She didn’t mean for it to happen. She didn’t go looking for it, she didn’t want it. She had felt herself unravelling and Jack just wouldn’t shut up and she had to make him stop, she had to take back control of the situation that was spiraling away from her. It is the most stupid and selfish thing Maya has ever done and she wishes she could take it back, but she can’t.

She feels raw, like everyone has peeled back her layers and exposed her for who she really is. The High School track star who used to run for fun until her father took over coaching and it became about keeping him happy. The Olympian chasing her father’s dreams instead of her own. The girl whose worth was measured by the number of gold medals hanging in her bedroom.

She has lived her life by the mantras that her father instilled in her during her teenage years. Always be the best; first place is the only prize worth winning. Don’t let anyone distract you from the goal.

Embrace the pain. Eyes forward at all times.

They are the building blocks of her life and she feels like someone has come along with a hammer and knocked those blocks down. She is falling and there is no-one there to catch her. Not Carina; not even the clouds to keep her safe.

Blinking back tears, Maya grabs the spare pillow on her bed and smothers her face, screaming into it, desperate to let out every ounce of frustration in her body. The release she gets from it is quickly replaced with memories of her ex-girlfriend as she takes a deep breath and inhales the scent of Carina’s shampoo that still lingers on the pillowcase. Her senses are flooded with memories that she can’t bear and she flings the pillow to one side, not caring when it falls to the floor.

With a heavy sigh, Maya rolls onto her side and swings her legs off the bed, pushing herself upright. She reaches her hands above her chest and stretches, the cotton fabric of her t-shirt lifting up and exposing her abs. The cold morning air causes her muscles to ripple, small goosebumps forming. She rolls her neck before standing up and wandering to the bathroom.

She takes a long, hot shower. She had scrubbed every inch of her body last night, washing off every memory of her tryst with Jack until she felt clean – on the outside, at least. She takes her time this morning, letting the water relax her tense muscles.

She dresses and makes her usual protein shake for breakfast, then jumps in her car, skipping her run to work. She doesn’t have the energy after yesterday’s run and workout, and she knows she can always make use of the station gym again if her body craves more exercise.

When eight o’clock rolls around, Maya sets the team to work on their chores, before hiding away in her office to catch up on B shift’s call out reports. It is a slow morning and no-one bothers her, and she wonders if they can tell that she isn’t in the mood for chatter today.

She tries to concentrate but it is hard, her mind wanders to Carina constantly. She wonders what Carina is thinking, how she is feeling, if there is any part of her that might forgive Maya’s betrayal. Except now Carina has seen her most broken parts and Maya knows she will never be able to earn her forgiveness, so what is the point of even trying?

Just after eleven o’clock, her cellphone rings. Maya’s first thought is whether it is Carina calling her, even it is just to yell at her, and her heart sinks when she sees the home screen light up with ‘Dad’. She lets it ring out and waits to see if he leaves a voicemail. She knows why he is calling and she can’t handle him today.

As much as she didn’t want to hear her mom’s accusations of abuse, she really doesn’t want to hear her dad’s excuses. Because he always has an excuse, he always has a reason for why he treats her the way he does and she is tired of it. She grew up wanting nothing more than his approval, because his approval meant love. This morning she had woken up, her relationship in tatters, and had realised that she didn’t need approval to be loved. She had Carina’s love without condition and she had ruined it by cheating and then throwing it in Carina’s face.

Her dad doesn’t leave a message and she is grateful for that, at least. She turns attention back to work and tries to get through the pile of reports that need to be signed off. The aid car gets called out a couple of times, but there are no fires and the morning passes slowly. She can hear the jokes and laughter of her team floating through the door from the barn and into the reception area outside her office, and she is envious of how lighthearted they are when her heart is so heavy.

Jack knocks on her door at lunch time.

“Are you joining us for lunch?” he asks tentatively, clearly not sure of what kind of welcome he’s going to get.

“No thanks,” Maya says curtly, keeping her eyes down. She is no mood to get into a conversation with him.

He is ignorant to her mood – again – and steps inside, keeping close to the door.

“Look, about yesterday…” he starts, but Maya cuts him off quickly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says. “It shouldn’t have happened.” She lifts her head and looks him square in the eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, no, I know,” Jack says. “And I won’t say anything. To anyone. Especially not Carina.”

If only she had shown the same sensitivity last night, Maya thinks to herself.

“Carina knows.”

Jack’s thick eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. “She does?”

Maya nods shortly.

“And you two are…?”

“Over,” Maya says, looking away so that he can’t see the pain in her eyes. “We’re over.”

She says it with an accusatory tone which she knows is unjustified because the only person she has to blame for getting into this mess is herself, but she doesn’t care because she just wants him gone. It works, too, and he backs off, disappearing up to the beanery and leaving her alone.

She skips lunch, in no mood to make conversation. Just saying the words out loud that her relationship with Carina is over leaves her feeling despondent and she so desperately wants to shake it off. Maybe this is what heartbreak feels like, she realises. It is unfamiliar to her and it knocks her off balance.

A call to a factory fire mid-afternoon distracts her from her thoughts. Her team make quick work of evacuating all of the employees, but the fire ravages the building and it takes all of her focus and attention to stop it from collapsing. It is hours before they arrive back at the station, tired and hungry. Maya’s stomach growls and she steels herself to join the team for dinner, glad that everyone is too exhausted to engage in much conversation. They all crash out afterwards, except for Maya whose body fights sleep. She has been better lately at sleeping at work, letting herself relax even though her head tells her to stay awake and alert and focused at all times. There were some nights when Carina would sneak through the front door when no-one was looking and curl up in the captain’s bunk with her, and Maya would find peace in the other woman’s arms. She craves that feeling again.

The engine is called out to a house fire at three a.m. and Maya jumps on the call, even though she doesn’t need to, just to do something other than be kept awake by her guilt.

She crashes out when she gets home. She knows it is going to screw up her body clock but she doesn’t care. It’s not like she has anything to do today anyway. Time that would usually be spent with Carina is now free time again. Maya used to love that, but now she hates the silence. She misses Carina’s laugh and her insane stories about work and the smell of her rich Italian food filling her kitchen.

Maya’s fingers graze over her cellphone every now and again, and she thinks about calling Carina, but each time she convinces herself that she is only setting herself up for more heartbreak. Instead, she wastes the day sleeping and cleaning and running errands, doing everything she can to quell the loneliness that starts to build up inside of her.

Her next shift is busier and Maya misses another call from her dad. She sends him a quick message to placate him but she knows she is going to have to talk to him eventually. Except she doesn’t know what to say to him. All the energy she used to have in defending him and his ways has been drained from her and she feels empty. She has always been her father’s daughter, that’s what everyone used to say, and she doesn’t know who she will be without his guiding presence in her life. All that is left is a person who hurts the only woman she has every truly loved, and she knows she doesn’t want to be that person.

It is a thought that plagues her mind over and over as she evades sleep once more. By the time the morning rolls around, she is exhausted again. Just after seven a.m. she goes in search for coffee and stumbles on the team helping themselves to the breakfast that the B shift have cooked, despite the objections from Finch and his pals. It doesn’t go unnoticed that they fall quiet when she walks into the beanery and Maya sees Ben looking shifty. She figures that word of her break up has got back to him via Bailey and she avoids eye contact, silently hoping that no-one will ask her about it. The smell of crispy bacon makes her stomach rumble and she tucks in herself, knowing that Finch won’t utter a word to her.

Travis is the first one to say something. “Hey Captain?”

Maya looks at him, wary of what he is going to say. “Yeah?”

“Party at Dean’s houseboat tonight,” he announces, looking at her expectantly.

Maya hesitates. She can’t deny that the thought of leaving all of her problems at the bottom of a liquor bottle is appealing.

“Come on, we’re all gonna let off some steam,” Dean says, refusing to take no for an answer.

Maya relents. “I’ll bring the tequila,” she says with a small smile.

Dean grins at her. “Alright!”

Maya spends the day alone again. She heads to bed as soon as she walks through the front door and sleeps until lunch time. When she wakes, she fuels herself with a protein smoothie before going for a five mile run to burn off some of her pent up energy. She wastes away the afternoon in front of the television until evening rolls around. After a quick trip to the liquor store, she arrives at Dean’s house just after eight o’clock.

“Nice of you to join us, Captain,” Dean says with a twinkle in his eye, shuffling back and welcoming Maya inside the houseboat.

Someone immediately shoves a bottle of beer into her hand and she takes a swig. It’s earthy and sharp, and maybe she is used to the delicate bouquet of wine since spending so much time with Carina, but it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth that she isn’t used to these days. She takes another mouthful, figuring she might as well get to used to something different, as she shrugs off her jacket and throws it onto the back of a chair.

Within minutes, Travis grabs her hand.

“Come and dance!” he cajoles her.

He is already a few drinks ahead of her, his body relaxed and his eyes shining. She feels envious of the happiness that exudes from him and lets him drag her to the middle of the room, where Vic and Emmett are dancing.

“Maya! About damn time!” Vic says, holding up her glass and grinning widely as Maya clinks her bottle against it.

They dance and Maya lets the stress in her body flow out of her. She closes her eyes as she moves, getting lost in the beat of the music, trying to clear her head of everything that has been haunting her.

Her dad. Carina.

She drinks a second beer and a third and a fourth, each drink burying her feelings further down. She ignores the way her heart hurts and allows herself to enjoy the company of her friends. They get silly, jumping and spinning around, and Maya’s cheeks ache from smiling and laughing more than she has in days, ignoring the guilt that weighs down on her.

“I heard you broke up with your hot doctor lover,” Vic says as they dance.

Maya feels a jolt in her chest at the mention of her ex-girlfriend and she remembers just how much she misses her, but she pushes it down again and pretends to shrug it off instead.

“I heard you broke up with yours,” she says in return. At least she’s not alone in nursing a broken heart.

“Yeah,” Vic says. “Yeah, we’re dumb.”

Maya doesn’t need anyone to tell her how stupid she is for destroying her relationship with Carina.

They party until the early hours of the morning until, one by one, they start to pass out. Maya waits until they’re squabbling about bedrooms and space on the couch before she orders an Uber and slips out unnoticed. She’s glad to curl up in her own bed except she is growing tired of sleeping in it by herself. She misses Carina’s body curled up against her, the warmth of her breath on her neck, and the softness of her hand slipping underneath her tank top.

Despite the amount she had to drink, Maya wakes just before nine o’clock the next morning. Her throat is dry and scratchy, her head hurts, and she regrets the tequila. She practically crawls out of bed and gets straight into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the night before.

She makes eggs for breakfast and wolfs them down, her hangover demanding food, quickly followed by a green smoothie because she knows she ought to get something nutritious inside of her. It is her day off and she regrets not making any plans, because she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She settles on the couch and flicks through her phone, smiling at the idiotic photos they took last night, until she scrolls back far enough to the last photo she has of Carina. It was taken a few days before their fight, they had gone out to dinner in downtown Seattle. It was a candid photo, Carina had been leaning against the railing overlooking the water as they had waited for their table to be ready. Maya had volunteered to fetch them drinks from the bar and, on her way back, she had been blown away with how beautiful Carina looked in that moment. She didn’t tell Carina she was taking the photo, she never even showed it to her. It was a secret that Maya carried on her cell phone.

It has been five days since she made the worst mistake of her life and she still doesn’t have the courage to reach out to Carina. She doesn’t know where to begin when it comes to saying sorry for what she had done, doesn’t know how to explain why she did it. So instead tries to convince herself that their relationship was another fling which just happened to last longer than the ones before it. She tries to forget just how much she loves Carina and how hard her heart aches every minute of every damn day.

She is exhausted and she drops her head on the back of the couch, closing her eyes and willing sleep to take her away from real life for a while. It is not long before her phone pings, jerking her awake and alerting her to a five alarm call. Within seconds the Battalion Chief is calling her, telling her there has been an explosion at a nearby hospital. Maya’s mind goes straight to Carina.

“Which hospital?” is her first question. “Sir? Which hospital?”

“Pac North,” Chief Sato answers. “Get your team here as soon as you can, it’s all hands on deck.”

“Yes Sir,” Maya says.

She rushes to the bedroom and pulls on the first pair of shoes she can find, then jumps into her car. It is only a five minute car ride and she pulls in behind Dean’s SUV just as the group from the night before, minus Andy, fall out of it looking worse for wear and just as regretful about how much alcohol they consumed last night.

“Explosion at Pac North,” she says as she gets out of her car. “Get into your gear and let’s go!”

They all jump into action, running to the locker room and pulling on her turnout gear in record time.

“Montgomery, take the aid car with Warren. Gibson, Hughes, Miller, take the ladder truck. I’ll meet you there in the engine.”

They nod at her and rush to the barn, while Maya takes a detour to the front desk to pick up the floor plans of the hospital that the Chief has asked her to bring to the scene. As she rushes through the station, she is surprised by the sight of her dad leaning against the front desk. Her stomach flips at seeing him. He looks solemn as he looks down at his hands, twisting his wedding band around his finger. He hears her coming and looks up, his frown turning into a smile when he sees her.

“Hey,” he says.

Maya slows her pace. “Dad… what are you doing here?”

“Well, I figured I’d stop by and see my daughter the captain in action,” Lane says, watching as Maya collects her papers from the printer. “I’ve been calling you for days.”

Maya knows that tone – he’s mad, he’s just not showing it.

“I’m sorry,” she says on autopilot. “There’s been a lot going on and I have to go.” She backs away and into the barn. “But just hang here until l get back.”

“Sure kiddo,” Lane says, as Maya climbs into the fire engine.

She hates it when he calls her ‘kiddo’. Most people think of it as a term of endearment, but Maya knows it is his way of reminding him of who has the power in their relationship. Father/daughter. Master/servant.

“Hey?” Lane calls out after her. “Go Captain!”

He pumps his fist in the air at her and Maya shoots him a half smile as she closes the door, offering him a small wave as the engine pulls out of the barn and hurtles down the road towards Pac North.

They are greeted by Chief Sato on their arrival.

“I thought the hospital was closed?” Maya questions.

“Mostly,” Sato says. “ER is open, it’s transferring admits. Radiology on the first floor, research wing in the basement.”

“Gas leak?”

“That’s our guess,” Sato says. “Utilities are off…”

He doesn’t get to say any more before another explosion blasts out of the third floor. So much for a gas leak, Maya thinks. Her team don’t hesitate as they rush into the hospital, while Maya stays outside, pouring over the plans with the Chief and his team as they try to work out a pattern to the explosions. There is no way of knowing if and when another explosion might happen, so her team’s orders are simple: get everyone and themselves out of the building as soon as possible.

They are taking their time and Maya becomes impatient. “Gibson, I need all of my team out of that building now,” she demands through the radio.

“Copy Captain,” comes Jack’s reply.

Her momentary relief at hearing from him quickly dissipates when another explosion blasts out the first floor windows.

“What the hell,” Maya mutters, immediately spotting Cutler coming out of the building carrying a firefighter from Station 23 on his shoulders. He is followed by two more carrying an injured firefighter between them. There is no sign of anyone else from 19. “We have two firefighters from 23 with blast injuries,” she says down her radio. “19? 19 do you copy?”

There is an urgency to her voice that she can’t hide. The last few months have been full of so much loss and she can’t lose anyone else.

“Copy,” Jack says. “Explosion above us caused collapse of the hallway outside. Gibson here with Hughes, Miller, Warren, Montgomery and one patient.”

Maya breathes a sigh of relief at hearing from him. “Gibson, do you have egress?”

“Negative,” Jack replies.

“Dammit,” Maya curses. Before she gets chance to liaise with Chief Sato, Dixon turns up.

“Bishop, Sato, report,” he barks.

Maya takes the lead. “Third explosion and fire on the third floor. Weakened structural integrity causing partial collapse. We have two from 23 injured and five currently trapped in the basement research wing. Requesting USAR company to come in…”

“Chief! Chief Dixon! Over here, Sir!” come calls from the crowd.

Chief Dixon is immediately distracted by the attention of the press and saunters away as Maya is mid-sentence.

“Afternoon all, happy to answer any questions you may have,” she hears him address them.

She shakes her head in disbelief and has to bite her tongue in front of Chief Sato to stop herself from saying something she shouldn’t. “What’s USAR’s ETA?” she asks instead.

“He said five minutes out,” Sato answers.

Maya turns her focus back to the task in hand, desperate to get her team to safety.

Within minutes, Gibson is back on the radio. “Bishop, we have a suspicious device...”

He is cut short and silence falls. Maya waits for more but nothing else comes. “Gibson? Gibson?!” she calls for him, but he doesn’t answer.

“This is Pac North IC requesting SPD bomb squad code red response,” Sato demands through his radio.

“And we still have a news chopper and a drone,” Maya says, looking upwards into the sky. “Medivac’s still not cleared to land.”

Out of nowhere, a familiar voice grabs Maya’s attention from behind her.

“There’s my girl…”

Maya turns, immediately on edge when she sees her father in the crowd.

“…being boss!”

He’s smiling but it isn’t the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and Maya knows what that means. She jogs over to him nervously.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” she questions.

“Well, I saw you on the news, I wanted to watch you actually do something.”

His words sting and Maya doesn’t want him there. She has seen him like this before, he is wound up tightly and ready to uncoil – another bomb just waiting to explode.

“Dad, you can’t…”

She wants to tell him that he can’t be here and he should wait for her at the station, or at home, but he cuts her off.

“Don’t dad me. Go do something, Captain! Go!”

Maya shoots him a bemused smile, a discomfort spreading through her body. It is the same discomfort she used to have when she was a teenager, when her dad would watch her chatting to her friends in between laps, knowing that she would get reprimanded once they got home for resting instead of stretching or keeping warm.

Panic flares up inside of her as she walks back to the team and she pushes it down, knowing she needs to concentrate on her work right now with her team in danger. Gibson had said something about a suspicious device before going quiet. 19 are the best, she knows that, but right now they’re trapped in a basement with what might be a third bomb and no way out, and her stomach churns with fear. She knows she can’t let that fear overwhelm her, that it is her job to get them out of there alive.

“Bomb squad are nearly here,” Sato tells her when she rejoins him. If he wonders who the man in the crowd is, he doesn’t ask. “Any more communication from your team?”

Maya shakes her head. “No, nothing.” She pulls her radio towards her mouth. “Gibson? Gibson, do you copy?”

There is no answer and she tries again.

“Gibson?”

All she needs is one word from him and she clenches her jaw in frustration when she doesn’t get a reply.

“Chief Sato?” a voice behind her causes her to turn her head to see a short, stocky man brandishing a Bomb Squad vest.

Sato steps forward. “Officer Turner?”

Turner nods. He is flanked by a number of colleagues, each kitted out in protective gear. They shake hands but don’t bother with pleasantries, knowing that time is critical.

“This is Captain Bishop, Station 19. It’s her team inside.”

“Bring me up to speed,” Turner asks.

“We have 5 firefighters and a civilian trapped in the basement with what we think is a suspicious device,” Maya tells him. “And now we have no communication.”

“They switched off radios to avoid any electrical interference with the detonator,” Turner says. “It’s smart.”

It might be smart but it doesn’t bring Maya any comfort when she can’t communicate with them.

“Our crew is on the move…”

“Hey kiddo!” suddenly her dad is calling for her again. “Kiddo! Come here.” He gestures for her to come closer and he looks pissed. Maya’s heart sinks, but she scurries over to him obediently.

“Hey dad, you should probably wait for me at home,” she says, keeping her tone light, knowing it is a false hope that he’ll go away quietly.

“Your family’s falling apart and you’re playing fire captain?” Lane spits at her.

Maya frowns at his unnecessary insult. “I’m not playing anything, I am captain,” she says.

“Did your mother fill your head with drama?” Lane confronts her. “Hmm? Is that why you’re treating me this way?”

Maya’s instinct tells her to walk away, to get away from her father when he is in this mood. She never could when she was a child, but she has work this time and he will at least respect that – right?

“You know, Dad, I have to go,” she says, turning to leave.

In one swift movement, Lane lifts the tape and ducks under it, striding towards her. “Don’t raise your voice at me, young lady.”

Maya feels self-conscious, knowing that eyes are starting to turn to look at them as he gets riled up. Her heart starts to beat harder in her chest and she takes a deep breath, willing it to calm down.

“Dad, I need you to get back behind the tape,” Maya says, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Lane holds his ground, refusing to move as he glares angrily at her.

“Dad, interfering with emergency personnel is a crime, I’m not going to ask you again,” Maya says.

“Are you threatening me?” Lane asks, pushing his way into Maya’s space.

Maya takes a deep breath, summoning up as much courage as she can muster. “I am in charge and I’m ordering you to leave my scene.”

Lane squares up to her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” She turns to leave, refusing to argue with him in front of the crowd.

What happens next takes her by surprise and she is not expecting it when he wraps his hand around her ponytail, yanking it hard. She staggers backwards while she finds the strength to wrestle out of his grip.

“Get your hands off of me!” she yells at him as she pushes him away.

Maya feels herself suddenly surrounded by a mass of people from the fire department, bomb squad and police department. She glares back at him, unable to believe what just happened.

“Oh yeah, oh, you need your big strong men to fight your battles, huh Captain,” Lane taunts her.

Maya snaps. “No Dad, I don’t! I don’t need to win my gold medals for other people. Unlike you, I win them myself!”

Lane Bishop looks taken aback at the way his daughter stands up to him and he falls silent. He is restrained by an officer from SPD and doesn’t bother to struggle, he can do nothing but watch as Maya turns his back on her.

“I’m fine!” Maya barks. “Everybody back to work.”

Maya strides back to the scene, her whole body shaking as she tries to get a hold of her emotions. Her mind spins as she thinks about what just happened: the way her dad turned up at the scene to confront her; the way it turned physical out of the blue; the way she yelled at him in front of a crowd of people, something she has never done before. She rubs the back of her head absentmindedly where her hair was pulled so violently and she tucks her ponytail into the back of her turnout coat. She can feel her hands shaking as she moves, and she curls her fists to hide it. Her heart is racing and she takes a deep breath, desperate to calm herself before the team join her again.

‘Five things you can see,’ she thinks to herself, remembering the grounding technique that Carina taught her. A car, a fire engine, an extended ladder, a hose, broken glass on the ground. ‘Four things you can touch…’

She is walking through the steps as Sato and Turner approach.

“Bishop…?” Sato starts.

“I’m fine,” Maya interjects, softer this time. She doesn’t give them the chance to ask any more questions. “Still no word from 19. How long has it been since Gibson’s message?”

“About 25 minutes,” Sato says. “The team are inside drilling through the debris to get to the basement.”

“How long will it take?” Maya asks, impatient to get her team to safety.

“Hard to say,” Sato answers. “Five, maybe ten minutes.”

Maya nods. There is nothing they can do but wait, except Maya doesn’t have a lot of patience right now. As if the universe knows that she needs a distraction, something catches her eyes and she turns to watch as three police officers approach Chief Dixon, who is still holding court with the press. She can’t quite hear what they say to him, but watches as they cuff him and lead him away. She can’t help but smile as he passes, knowing it is about time he got his comeuppance.

Suddenly, from inside the hospital, there is a muffled boom and her stomach twists in knots.

“What the…” she starts to say. A voice comes through the radio.

“Explosion in the basement,” comes a voice through the radio. “Structure still intact, we’re about to break through.”

Maya lifts her radio. “19? 19, do you copy?” She gets silence again. “Gibson? Hughes? Montgomery? Miller? Warren?” She reels off their names, holding her breath as she waits desperately for one of them will reply to her.

She hears a crackle.

“Bishop?” she hears Jack’s voice.

“Jack! Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Jack says. “Our patient didn’t make it but the rest of us are okay.”

Maya lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Glad to hear it, Lieutenant. Not get your butts out of there.”

“You can proceed,” Chief Sato says to Turner and his team, nodding towards the hospital.

Maya nods her thanks to Turner as he leads his team inside, then turns towards Chief Sato, who is looking at her with concern.

“Listen, about earlier…”

“It won’t happen again, Sir,” Maya says.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Sato says gently. “I was going to say, if you need any assistance, the FD will support you.”

Maya blushes with embarrassment. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll be fine.”

Chief Sato nods and moves across the forecourt to the firefighters from 23. Maya picks up her radio again. “I want bomb squad to comb through every inch of that hospital. If there were four, who knows how many more there are.”

She turns just as the team from 19 emerge from the hospital. Maya has never been so happy to see them. They walk towards her, their arms full of boxes. She watches as they notice the police car pulling away with Dixon in the back seat.

“Is that…?” Jack wonders.

“It sure as hell is,” Ben says, offering a cheeky salute.

“I never want to forget this moment,” Vic says. “I want it etched in my memory forever.”

“Forever and ever,” Travis agrees.

“See? Told y’all,” Dean notes. “Sex offender.”

Maya revels in the sound of their banter. “Why are we carrying rodents, 19?” she asks them.

“Because we’re saving the lives of untold millions,” Jack tells her.

Maya smiles, bemused, as Vic leans in as she passes her.

“You know, like we do,” Vic teases.

Maya watches as they unload the items in their arms. She spies Jack speaking to a member of Station 23 and they both look towards her when they think she is not paying attention, and she guesses that Jack is being told about the incident with her dad. She hates being the subject of gossip but doesn’t have it in her to even shoot them a pissed look at this point.

With her team back to safety and the hospital evacuated except for the bomb squad who were inside looking for more explosives, Maya instructs everyone to head back to the station. She jumps into the engine with Vic, Travis and Ben, only half-listening to them as they recount the moment that Jack carried the bomb to the autoclave. Her mind wanders back to her encounter with her father. She hasn’t heard from him since – no phone calls, no angry messages – and she still feels on edge at what might happen next. It is not like Lane Bishop to back down from a fight.

There is a pulsing ache at back of her head where the force at which he pulled her hair still lingers. Her ponytail feels heavy and she twists her neck back and forth, trying to shake the feeling, but it won’t go away. She has an overwhelming urge to chop it off and free herself from its weight, and the thought sits with her as they drive.

“You okay, Bishop?” Ben asks, noticing how quiet she is.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just feeling the effects from last night,” she lies.

He seems to accept her answer and the conversation turns to the events from the night before, as Vic fills him in on their drunken antics.

They pile into the locker room when they get back to the station, squabbling over who is going to have the first shower. Maya stops by her office first and grabs the pair of scissors from her desk, then slips past everyone else and into the bathroom.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror, her face hard and sad – a far cry from the happiness that used to exude out of her when Carina was around. She wants to go back to the person she was becoming, the person who was learning to fill her life with more than just work. The person who was happy and in love.

Maya hesitates, the tips of her fingers tingling in anticipation of what she is about to do. Maya has had long hair since she was a little girl, when everyone would run their hands over her head and tell her how pretty she was. But the sensation of her father tugging her hair and pulling her backwards lingers and won’t go away, and she wants to be free of it. She wants to be free of him.

With a shaky breath, Maya loosens her ponytail, lifts the scissors and starts to cut. She hears the blades slicing through her hair and it almost makes her stop, but it’s too late now. She has to finish. She doesn’t know how long it takes, but it feels like forever until her ponytail comes loose in her left hand. She lets go of the breath she was holding as she takes in how short and choppy her hair is now.

She looks different somehow. Even though she is used to seeing her face with her hair scraped back, her new bob looks strange on her. It doesn’t really change how she is feeling. The pain and regret are still there, threatening to overwhelm her if she just gives them the opportunity.

Jack finds her a few moments later and she glances at him via the reflection in the mirror.

“I was so stupid,” she says bluntly. “Everyone saw the truth about my dad but me. Everyone.”

Jack leans against the doorframe, watching her. He can tell that she is processing what happened this afternoon and he hangs back, giving her the space she needs. “It’s how these things usually go,” he says with a small shrug.

“I ruined the best relationship I ever had because of him,” Maya says bitterly.

Jack doesn’t know what went down between Maya and Carina, but he knows that he has never seen Maya as happy and content as she has been these last few months, and he knows she’d be a fool not to try and make amends. “You could apologise.”

Maya drops her head sorrowfully. “It’s too late for that. Way too late.”

“You’d be surprised how far an ‘I’m sorry’ can get you,” Jack says pointedly.

Maya knows she treated him like crap that day, that she had been mean and had preyed on his weaknesses to get him to stop pushing her so hard. She had been so caught up in her own feelings that she hadn’t stopped to think about his.

She turns to look at him. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack offers her a small smile in acceptance of her apology. “We’re all going to the houseboat, gonna raise a glass to Dixon’s demise,” he says, inviting her to join them.

Maya smiles gratefully, but shakes her head. “No, I can’t. Have fun.”

Jack nods, understanding her reasons, and points at her hair. “Hair looks kinda cool.”

Maya smiles despite the tears that pool in her eyes. Jack turns and walks away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The truth is, she has been too scared to apologise to Carina. Too scared to admit how badly she hurt her, too scared to see the inevitable anger in Carina’s eyes. Too scared to admit that she made a mistake because she wasn’t ready to face the truth of what everyone had been saying and acknowledge that her childhood had been hard and exhausting. Too scared of Carina telling her that she will never forgive her.

Except if she never apologises, she will never know if she can earn back Carina’s trust, and she wants that more than anything.

Maya runs her hand over the ponytail in her hand and takes a deep breath, before heading out of the bathroom, knowing what she needs to do. She ignores the curious glances that come from her team as they take in her newly cut hair; she doesn’t see Jack shake his head at them, silently telling them not to ask any questions as she walks out of the locker room and towards her office.

She changes quickly, grabs her bag and heads out to her car. It is a short drive to the hospital and she has no time to think about what she is going to say to Carina when she sees her. She knows what she wants to say, the words have been swirling around her head all week so she is just going to wing it and hope that it is enough.

She pulls into the car park and jumps out of her car, heading for the front entrance. She doesn’t see Carina at first, too focused on her destination as she strides along the path, weaving in and out of the people around her, but the pale pink colour of her scrubs catches her eye as she passes her talking to a surgeon she doesn’t recognise. Maya stops and takes a deep breath, knowing it is now and never. She turns.

“Carina.”

#station 19 #grey's anatomy #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #FINALLY!#serendipity #my fanfiction

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kinnards · 3 years

Text

been here all along [fic]

Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k

Read on ao3

The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.

The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.

A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.

(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)

“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”

Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.

A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.

He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.

Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.

Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.

“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.

“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.

Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.

Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.

Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.

A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.

“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.

Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.

“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”

“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.

“I’m ready, Buck!”

With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.

“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.

It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.

Eddie falls.

#my fic #hey i wrote a thing #soft domestic buddie #pre relationship #buddipher #buck's love language is gift giving and acts of service #english is not my first language #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #be kind im nervous #oneshot

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

52 or 41 for the meet ugly? sternclay, nsfw if thats chill

Here it is!

52. you think I’m leering at you in the gym but really I’m studying your form and trying to learn how to make mine better Sternclay NSFW

This is the toughest part of Joseph’s workout, so he could do without the audience.

He first noticed the guy during his turn at the squat rack; taller than him, in a grey t-shirt and black shorts that show he has muscle to spare, with brown eyes that were on Joseph’s ass whenever he looked away. Were Joseph not in the middle of the kettlebell burpees sequence, he might even spare a glance of his own to see how he fills out the front of his shorts, but he’s tired and he’s been dealing with behind the back stares all day.

When he’s done, he takes a final look over his shoulder to see the guy still staring at him. Joseph locks eyes, watches his face flood with guilt as he becomes very focused on his shoes. He continues studying them, as if holding still might keep Joseph from coming closer.

“Okay, I sense you’re new here, so I’ll be polite: everyone checks people out at the gym now and then. But the rule is you don’t do it so fucking brazenly the other person notices.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t-”

“I counted you staring ten separate times, even when your workout had you facing away from me.” He crosses his arms, annoyed that the man has the gall to deny his blatant ogling.

“I, uh, I was studying your form” the newcomer rubs his wrist, sheepish, “I’m kinda new to, like, formal workout stuff, and you clearly know your shit, so I was trying to use you to figure out how to do my circuit without fucking up my spine.”

Joseph rolls his eyes; that’s the first lie anyone tells when they get called out for staring.

“I’m serious!” The man has the audacity to look perturbed. Joseph has zero interest in an argument but every desire to call his bluff.

“Well, if that’s the case, if we cross paths again you’re welcome to join me and I can give you pointers.”

With that, he heads towards the locker rooms. He doesn’t feel eyes on him once the whole walk there.

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

“Hey.”

Joseph looks up from setting his fitbit to see his not-so-subtle admirer beside him. The taller man smirks, “you didn’t think I’d take you up on it, did you?”

“No. But I’m not about to go back on my offer. Or modify my work out if you join me. Make your choice accordingly.”

“Okay. What’s first?” His smile is friendly, but there’s a challenge in it. Joseph, who's been bored the entire day, is more than ready to rise to it.

“Jump rope. Nine minutes total.”

They find a spare rope for the other man, but he keeps getting his right foot caught.

“Drop your elbows some, when they’re too high it’s easier for the rope to catch.”

“Oh, thanks.”

His new gym buddy is winded when they’re done, but follows him eagerly over to the mats for his core workout. He’s better at that, though Joseph still has to correct the position of his back the first time. They move through cardio, weights, and cool down with no conversation that isn’t directly related to body position or technique. By the end, the newcomer is soaked with sweat. And..smiling?

“That was fucking brutal. Can we do it again some time?”

If you, um, really want to?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Joseph smiles back, “I’m here every day after work. So you can come find me…”

“Barclay” the taller man fills in his unasked question.

“Joseph. Oh, and try to get some shoes with better traction soon. You’ll have an easier time.”

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

“You okay there?” Barclay looks at Joseph from the treadmill on his left, “you seem kinda low energy today.”

“I ate too small a lunch.” He hits the stop button, walks as the belt slows, “I’ll be fine once I fish my power bar out of my glovebox on the way home.”

“Or you could, uh, you could come get dinner with me? There’s a great spot two blocks from here; it’s my favorite stop after you put me through my paces.”

Joseph thinks about downing a protein shake while wandering his empty apartment.

“That sounds great.”

Barclay leads him to a diner, all yellow lights and red pleather. His friend orders a stack of waffles and fried eggs (“I’m not a big fan of syrup”) while he opts for a french dip and, on Barclay’s recommendation, a chocolate malt. When the server asks if it’s one bill or two, Barclay pays for both of them.

“Least I can do in exchange for the free personal training you’re giving me.”

“It’s not like I mind” Joseph offers him access to his french fries, “I like working out with you. I’ve, um, never had a gym buddy before. UP agents are considered weirdos at work, I’m considered odd for one of them, and, well, you’ve done my workout; it intimidates some people.”

Barclay looks at him across the formica, beard still a bit mussed from drying it after his shower, “Yo--uh, I mean, it is pretty intimidating. But like, in a good way. The kind that makes you wanna push yourself.”

Joseph allows himself a flirtatious smile, “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

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

Barclay: gonna miss workout tomorrow. Got a date. Promise I’ll let you work me twice as hard on Friday.

J.S: Have fun. And you know I will, big guy.

Joseph slips his earbuds in; he’s gotten so used to their easy conversation that his best of the ‘00s playlist is jarring in it’s place. But he falls into his rhythm, is halfway through his workout when a tall, familiar shape in grey shorts hurries through the door and drops it’s water bottle next to his.

“Is everything okay?” He pops his headphones out as Barclay shakes his head.

“Date was a bust; guy was so pushy I bailed after one drink. Figured if I caught up with you the night wouldn’t totally suck.”

Joseph grabs a second mat, lays it out, “I can’t do dinner tonight; since I thought you were busy, tonight is for running errands.”

“No big.” Barclay lays next to him, their fingers brushing for a moment before Joseph counts them down.

As the evening ticks away in sets and reps, he gets increasingly worried about Barclay; his friend begs off both squats and rowing, and doesn’t join him for the ten minute cool-down jog on the treadmill. He hopes it’s just a side effect of having a beer before working out and not something more dire.

The locker room is empty on their side, and he finds Barclay leaning his forehead on the wall outside one of the shower cubicles, taking long, deliberate breaths. His shirt is off, but he’s still in his shorts. When he turns, startled by Joseph asking if he’s okay, it’s immediately obvious why.

“Sorry” Barclay is doing his best to conceal his hard-on, “this is hella embarrassing.”

“It happens” Joseph aims for a pleasant shrug even as his own cock starts acting up, “lots of friction and, um, and all that.”

“It’d be less humiliating if it was that. I, uh,” Barclay is redder than Joseph’s ever seen him, “I put a plug in before my date and, uh, I was in such a hurry to come find you once it ended that I, I didn’t take time to pull it out.”

He forces his voice to stay gentle, to not reveal the heat burbling up from his stomach, “You could have just asked me to wait a second once you got here.”

“Didn’t think of it until I sat down on the mat and realized how much I could feel the fucking thing. Like I, uh, I said, I kinda had a one track mind when I got here. I” his brown eyes are Bambi-wide when they skitter from Joseph’s gaze, “I wanted to see you.”

Shoes squeaking on the wet tile, Joseph nudges him into the stall, “Is that really it, big guy? You went through all that discomfort just for a few more seconds of being near me?”

“Uh huh” Barclay whimpers, his big, broad frame shaking when Joseph presses him against the wall.

“That’s sweet. Do you know what happens to sweet boys when they’re good?”

His friend shakes his head, hair catching across his eyes. Joseph tips his chin up, lips slightly parted in invitation. Barclay groans and drops his head down to meet him. It is, without a doubt, the messiest kiss of Joseph’s life, all sweat and odd angles like his first time in his boyfriend’s den in the July heat. The parallel is heightened by Barclay instantly grabbing his hips and humping him through his shorts.

“Joseph, babe, please, please say this is okay.” His hands tighten their hold when Joseph licks a stripe up his neck; it’s sweaty, sticky, the kind of thing he hates in porn but damn him if the doesn’t want to lick and suck Barclay until he can taste him in his sleep.

“No, it’s not.” Joseph cups his face to keep the panic he sees there at bay, “because if you cum like that, I won’t get to show you the rest of your reward.”

“Re-reward?” Barclay actually squeaks, and what can Joseph do at such a sound but kiss him once more.

“Shorts off, water on. I’ll be right back.”

Water obediently patters on the tiles as he shoves his hand deep into his gym bag; god bless emergency laundry quarters and bathroom vending machines.

He strips, joins Barclay in the shower and discovers his cock is even more pleasing than it’s outline suggested.

“Lord almighty, you’re gorgeous.” He lowers to his knees, traces the path of droplets through the hair on Barclays stomach and chest. Then he removes the first condom from its pack, rolls it down the thick cock that’s just tempting him to abandon his plan, then slips the second one on his finger.

“Fuck, this has gotta be a dream, right? Because it’s the same one I’ve jerked off to for fucking weeks.”

“No, big guy, it’s not.” Joseph reaches between Barclay legs, “oh shit, you’ve been wearing this all night?”

“AHnnnuhhuh” Barclay moans as Joseph toys with the base of the plug.

“And you still did a huge chunk of our workout. I’m impressed, big guy, impressed and very, very, very pleased.” He kisses his cock on each very, Barclay letting out an “uhn” at each one. As he slides the plug free he continues, “To think, your date was so unpleasant he missed out on not only your charm and your handsome face, but the fact you were prepared enough to prep for him.”

“His loss is my gain ohfuck, Joseph, baby, please-” Barclays cock bobs in the air as Joseph teases his ass. When he presses in Barclay gasps, Joseph praying the droplets hitting the walls lend any escaping sounds an air of plausible deniability.

“Nice and open. Good boy.” Joseph slowly works his finger in and out, building up to two almost immediately. He nuzzles Barclays cock, “do you always bottom?”

“M-most of the timeOH, god” His head lolls back when Joseph takes his cock into his mouth, sucking lazily as he fucks him open, “I like it, makes me feel taken care of.”

Joseph eases in a third finger, let’s his cock fall from his mouth as water collects in his eyelashes. Barclay is staring down at him, hair several shades darker as it plasters to his face and eyes hopeful.

“In that case” Joseph times his upstrokes to his thrusts, “how about you come to my place on Sunday? I’ve got a whole box of cocks to choose from; we could work our way through them.”

“Yes, ohfuckyesplease.”

“We could play around with positions too” He can see Barclay’s muscles flexing in new ways as he begins bucking his hips, chasing the tender pressure of Joseph’s fist, “I bet you look great on all fours, and I know what you look like with your ass in the air already. You in my lap, that could be fun--oh, ohshit” he laughs as Barclay nearly fucks himself off his fingers, “you like that, like the idea of sitting in my lap like the big, sweet boy you are while I fuck you, like the thought of cumming on my cock and then going to fetch the next one, of me not letting you stop until we’ve been thorough and found your favorite because that’s what you deserve-”

“Fuck!” Barclay moans, hands slipping on the tile as he floods the tip of the condom. Joseph adds “get tested” to his mental to-do list while the other man slides down the wall like a slasher victim until they’re face to face on the floor.

“You okay, big guy?”

“Can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s just the lunges talking.”

“Please” Barclay kisses his shoulder, “please let me suck your dick.”

Joseph smacks the handle until the water turns off, scrambles to his feet and clings to the “no-slip” bar as Barclay shoves his face between his legs. He sucks his cock, occasionally opening his mouth enough to licks his folds. He’s so eager, even tries fucking into him with his tongue, big hands groping his ass while Joseph stifles his moans in his forearm. He’s going to cum in the gym shower, he’s going to cum from his first blowjob in years, he’s coming to cum from the astounding, impossibly hot man below him who he intends to dom into next fucking week-

He cums hard, the hand not bracing him on the wall dropping down to stroke Barclays hair. After a moment, he tries to grab his towel from where he tossed it, Barclay smiling up at him.

“Hey, Joseph?”

“Yes? Hah, got you” He pulls the towel in.

“I was staring at your ass that first day. I mean, I was mostly looking at your form but there was for sure some ass appreciation.”

“I fucking knew it.” Joseph begins drying him off, “just for that you owe me dinner again.”

“Thought you had errands.”

“Shit. How do you feel about a romantic, pre-dinner Target run?”

“I’d love it.”

#trans agent stern #sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly

21 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 2. The Contest.

Summary: Life at SHIELD isn’t always missions and seriousness, as a good natured shooting contest between Katie and Clint shows. The questions is, as the two dead-shots face off, who will be the winner? Steve has utter faith in his best friend, so much so he’s willing to bet money on her. But is this just another ten bucks he’s gonna lose?

Either way, both are left contemplating their feelings towards one another and fast come to the realisation that they run deeper than they want to admit

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language!!

A/N: A huge thank you to @angrybirdcr for her lovely little edit below of Katie and Clint. She’s kingly agreed to pull a few edits together for me in honour of my relaunch so keep your eyes peeled…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

Katie had no idea why she’d agreed to any of this. Actually, that was a lie, she knew exactly why she’d agreed to this, it was all down to Evans who had decided that STRIKE were long overdue a competition of sorts and had organised a shooting-slash-obstacle course tournament. Eight members had entered, going into random draws and competing against one another over the past week. Out of those eight, two now remained. Her and Clint.

A shooting contest between two Avengers was always going to draw big attention, so it was hardly surprising, therefore, that the SHIELD agents were running a book. Clint was odds on favourite to win, but Steve had so far refused to take part, that is until ten minutes or so before the contest was supposed to start. He was stood outside the shooting range, eyes focussed on Katie and Clint as they both stood checking their equipment, a crowd steadily gathering behind him.

“I know she’s good, but she really doesn’t stand a chance.” Natasha drawled as she stood at his side. Her matter-of-fact tone caused something in his chest to stir, the lack of faith everyone bar Evans and Lawson from the lab seemed to be displaying in Katie over Clint riled him and he turned to Natasha, a smirk flickering over his face as he repeated the words Katie had said to him the first night they’d met.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” He stuck his hand out.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, before shaking his hand “Alright Rogers, you’re on.”

His hands returned to his belt buckle and both Katie and Clint signalled they were ready.

Evans went into the room, it was soundproof unless you pushed the button to listen in, which Rumlow did, of course.

“Okay you both no the rules but I’m gonna repeat ‘em just in case. No pushing or shoving of your opponent because that’s just a shitty thing to do.” Evans said, his Texan drawl loud as his hand scratched at his ginger beard. “Perfect kill shots are an extra half-point. Twenty minute time limit is in force. If you’re tied on score then we’ll go to the number of kill shots made.” Evans looked at them and they both nodded, Katie licking her lips. “Now. To your starting lines. You may go when the barriers open.” Evans nodded and held his right hand up, three fingers extended “May the odds be ever in your favour…”

Steve had no idea what that was a reference too, but he heard the rest of the people around him snigger. Katie threw her head back in a laugh as Clint mimicked Evan’s hand gesture as the other Sniper left the room.

The two opponents both looked out over the room from their starting positions at the obstacles which were constructed out of crates and various other objects. Katie cracked her neck side to side as Clint raised his pistol again, looking down the barrel before he turned his head to meet Katie’s gaze. She put her gun back into its thigh holster and turned to her old SO.

“May the best woman win.” she smirked, as she felt the blood pounding in her ears. Then, with a loud klaxon, the barriers opened in front of them and they both shot forward.

It might have been a friendly competition, but Katie wasn’t someone who liked losing so she was playing to win, and that was obvious from the determination written all over her face. Steve felt a surge of pride as he watched her leaping from obstacle to obstacle, landing shot after shot. After she hit her fourth target head easily and ahead of Clint, Steve heard Natasha hiss through her teeth.

“Ok, so maybe she has a little chance…”

He didn’t reply, simply watched, silently willing her on.

As the minutes ticked on, the two continued, both making leaps, dropping into rolls, and ducking behind corners. Katie took another shot, and paused for a split second, if she was counting correctly there were two more to go and five minutes left on the clock. She looked up for her next target and saw Clint was blocking her way, knelt down, aiming at his own. Katie knew the sensible thing to do would be to wait, but then she was a Stark, being sensible wasn’t one of her main attributes. With a smirk she re-holstered her gun and sprinted as fast as she could, launching herself forward into a perfect front flip, catapulting right over the top of Clint before she immediately slid onto a knee and brought the handgun back up, aiming at the target.

Outside the room there was a lot of cheering and cat calls at her display of acrobatics.

Katie moved to her final target, back against a large crate, aimed but then missed and Steve closed his eyes- that would cost her.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, doubling over to catch her breath as at that point the klaxon sounded again to say they were out of time. She stood up, cocking the safety on her pistol before stowing it away as Clint walked over to her, pulling her into a hug.

“Sharp shooting, Nova!” He grinned, ruffling at her hair. Both of them turned as the doors open and a few agents walked in, back slapping them both as Evans collected the targets and went to tally up the points.

“That was impressive!” Steve smiled as he crossed the room. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, not bad Stark.” Nat added, appraisingly

“Thanks.” Katie nodded, taking a drink of the bottle of water Clint handed to her. She was red faced, sweating but absolutely thrilled, pumped full of adrenaline. She placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath

“And we have the results!” Evans said and Clint threw his arm round Katie as hers slid round his waist. “Stark you missed one giving you nine and three kill shots, taking you to ten point five.” Cheers rang around at the pretty damned good score and Katie grinned as Evans waited until the applause died down before he continued. “However, Barton hit each target, giving him ten plus four kill shots, taking him to twelve over all meaning he is the winner of this year’s STRIKE Shoot Off!”

“Damned it!” Katie groaned, shaking Clint’s hand as various cheers and complaints went up and people started to cash in their bets.

“You’re fired.” Steve heard a familiar voice say. Spinning round, he saw Fury handing over a fifty to an agent whose name escaped him and Steve bit back a smile. The Director had bet on Katie. That one mistake had been costly.

“Cough up Rogers.” Nat held out her hand and he turned to her, sighing and fished in his pocket for a note, handing it to her.

“You bet on me?” Katie looked at him, surprised.

“Course I did, Doll.” he said immediately.

“Yeah I didn’t, sorry Stark.” Nat took the ten-note off him “Clint’s never lost a challenge yet.”

“He nearly did.” Steve looked at Katie proudly before he glanced back at Natasha. “Was worth the bet to see you get so twitchy Romanoff.”

“Seriously?” Clint turned to Natasha. “You got twitchy?”

“I’ll admit at one point I thought Stark might have just shaded it.” Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve who simply shrugged, hands dropping to the front of his belt buckle.

“To be fair, there was one point where I thought that too.” Clint smiled, and Katie felt a surge of pride in her chest as he pulled the magazine out of his pistol. “Did good Nova, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Clint.” she smiled at him.

“So, who fancies a drink?” Barton looked around, clapping his hands together.

“I’m game.” Katie nodded as she stripped down her weapon.

Natasha hummed in agreement and then Steve realised they were all looking at him. He hesitated, he really did need to train as he hadn’t had a decent run that morning and he’d be restless all evening otherwise, but after that…why not?

"I gotta work out first but if you tell me where you’re going I’ll join you when I’m done.”

“Take a day off!” Nat drawled, examining her nails. Steve was about to reply but Katie got there first.

“If he doesn’t work out he’s a right crank! And no one likes a Cranky Cap.”

“You know what Stark?” Steve started but she simply stuck her tongue out at him causing him to roll his eyes, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

“Why don’t we try the new sports bar on the high-street, what’s it called again?” Clint suggested.

“Home Run?” Nat asked.

“Yeah that’s it.” he nodded “Couple of doors down from the Burger joint.”

“I’ll find it.” Steve said as Clint nodded, making for the door, Natasha following. Katie turned to Steve, smiling at him as he surveyed the room.

"You did a good job,” he nodded to the obstacle course “Did it take you back to fighting Aliens?”

“Not quite the same, you know? No returning gunfire… no life-or-death stakes… no Captain America cushioning my fall when we got blown out of a bank window,” she teased. He laughed, as she started to back up towards the door. “I won’t take up your workout time. See you at the bar?”

“You never take up my time, Honey.” He smiled back, honestly, before he felt the flush rise up his neck. What a dumbass thing to say. “See you later.” He nodded.

With that she took her leave, tugging her hair out the ponytail as she left, allowing the gentle waves to cascade down her back.

********

Half an hour or so later, after Katie had showered and changed, the three Avengers were making the twenty minute or so walk to the bar downtown.

“You know I still can’t believe I got to within a point and a half of you.” Katie nudged Clint.

“Me neither actually.” Natasha mused. “I thought it was gonna be a whitewash.”

“Nice to know you have so much faith in me, Widow.” Katie scoffed and Nat snorted.

“Tell you who did have faith, other than Rogers… Fury.” She looked at Katie who grinned from ear to ear.

“Hang on…the boss bet against me?” Clint stopped. With a heavy sigh he shook his head. “Damned, that hurts.”

“Don’t take it personally.” Katie shrugged as they reached the bar. With a loud snort, Clint opened the door to let the girls step in first and then he joined them, looking around at the new surroundings. It was low lit but piled with sports memorabilia held in various glass cases around the room and on the walls. They took the time to look at most of it on their way to the bar where Clint bought the first round. Drinks in hand, they headed to a plush, leather seated booth and settled down.

The three friends fell into an easy chat, and then the inevitable teasing about Rumlow fancying Katie started up and she groaned. Clint and Nat enjoyed ribbing her about him and she had to admit, he wasn’t subtle to be fair. He’d asked her out three times now and she’d politely declined but it didn’t stop her friends from enjoying teasing her about it. Clint and Nat took turns in trying to highlight Rumlow’s more endearing qualities. They managed a sum total of three when Clint leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s all I got. I’m out.” He grinned as Katie laughed, raising her glass to her mouth to drain the last of her beer.

“Yeah, he’s not relationship materiel.” Nat shrugged

“But you could just fuck him, get what you need and kick him out before breakfast.” Clint suggested causing Katie to choke down her mouthful of European lager and pick up the beer mat nearest her.

Steve chose that exact moment to walk into the bar. He watched as the beer mat hit Clint straight between the eyes, and Katie threw her head back in pure, unadulterated laughter. Something in the Captain’s chest stirred as he watched her, that wonderful smile and laugh filling her face.

“Hey.” He greeted them as they all looked up. “You guys need another drink?”

“Cheers Cap, three beers.” Clint motioned round the table and Steve headed off to the bar. Katie watched him go, eye trained on his ass which looked remarkably fine in those dark denims, then, realising what she was doing and who she was with, she let out silent groan as she turned back to see Clint and Nat exchanging a glance, a glance between two people who had just discovered the best secret ever.

“What?” she shrugged, trying to keep her face as straight as possible. “Girl can look, right?”

“Nova, you ain’t just looking, you’re practically drooling.” Clint grinned. “You soft on Cap?”

“No, I just happen to…” She hesitated as she stumbled for the words “…appreciate what my father had a hand in producing, that’s all.”

“Bullshit!” Natasha snorted as Clint roared with laughter. “You’re hot for Rogers.”

“No, I’m…”

“You know, considering you’re a secret agent your poker face is really shit!” Clint pointed at her

“Oh fuck off, the both of you.” She spluttered and the pair of them continued to chuckle, exchanging looks in that infuriating way they did, until Steve returned, setting down the four pints which he easily held in his hands and slid into the spare seat next to Katie.

Thankfully, Natasha and Clint decided to leave their teasing alone and the four of them struck up a conversation talking about everything and anything. A few more pints were drunk and when it came back to Clint’s turn to buy he came back from the bar, a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh, no I know that look!” Katie pointed at him and Clint shrugged, placing her pint down in front of her before he sat down.

“Yeah, she’s right.” Natasha eyed him. “What you up to?”

“I’m just in the mood for another challenge.” Clint leaned forward, his eyebrows raising up and down as he spoke.

“Like what?” Katie folded her arms

“Which one of you…” he said, waving his finger between her and Nat, “…can down a pint fastest?”

“Is that really wise?” Steve asked and Katie smirked.

“Not for Nat, no.”

The red head quirked an eyebrow, “I’m game if you are.”

Katie shrugged as Clint chuckled and pounded his hand on the table. “Alright then, Ladies! On your marks…”

As soon as Clint had done counting down Katie raised the glass to her mouth and chugged, draining it in four seconds flat before turning it upside down on top of her head. Natasha wasn’t even half way through hers before she groaned and set it down, trying to supress a burp.

Steve couldn’t help but look at Katie, his mouth falling open.

"What?” she laughed, shrugging as the Captain exchanged a look with Clint. “I spent three years at University, drinking with boys.”

“Yeah well I’ll stick to Vodka.” Nat shook her head “Fancy that as a challenge?”

“Not a chance.” Katie scoffed, “Although Cap could.”

“He could, but he won’t” Steve sternly shot her a look “Because it wouldn’t be fair.”

Katie rolled her eyes pouting.

“You do know I’m Russian, right. Well, I was.” Nat leaned back on the bench. “I was practically weaned on the stuff.”

“Yes, I know that, but I can’t get drunk.” Steve shrugged. “My metabolism burns it off too fast.”

“Cap,” Clint sighed, shaking his head, “that might just be the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

“Even sadder than when you heard you were shipping off to guard Thor’s hammer?” Nat asked. Clint considered her point for a moment, and shrugged.

“Hmmmm. Maybe the same level of sadness at learning I was about to head to Butt-fuck America for an undefined amount of time, yes.”

Steve choked into his beer. Besides him Katie laughed and as Steve looked at Clint, the archer snorted and shook his head.

“Cap. I’m serious. It was legit in the middle of the fucking desert. Nothing for miles.”

“Hey, what happened to that one eyed puppy we found?” Katie asked suddenly.

“Err, I took him to some friends.” Clint answered after a slight pause. “Their kids love him, he’s living the best life.”

Katie and Natasha shared a smile, both understood friends to mean his family and his own kids.

“Still eating Pizza?” Katie asked.

“Pizza?” Steve asked, frowning. “Who feeds a dog pizza?”

“Well he was a bit like you in that respect. Do anything for a double pepperoni with extra cheese.” Katie nudged him with her elbow

“As long as its New York style.” Steve drained his glass, matter of factly.

“Admit it, you enjoyed it when it took you to Second City” Katie eyed him.

“You been to Seconds?” Clint asked. “Thought you swore you wouldn’t go back after that waiter said he wanted to give you a real slice of Chicago to talk about?”

“He did not!” Natasha giggled.

Katie groaned “He did.”

“Now, I wish I’d seen that.” Nat grinned as Clint let out a loud snort.

“She went full Supernova in three seconds flat. Dragged him over the counter and everything.”

“You didn’t?” Steve glanced at her, although he knew the answer from the look on her face as she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Look… we had just got back from a week’s stake out in Saudi Arabia…” she sighed, shrugging as Clint and Natasha laughed “I was tired and fending off the advances of some greasy, 40 something year old man politely really wasn’t top of my list.”

“Why not? You do it every day to Rumlow” Nat smirked.

At the mention of his name Steve felt his eyes narrow. He hated the way the STRIKE leader blatantly eyed Katie up at every given chance. It was disrespectful.

“Don’t start that again” Katie rolled her eyes.

“He’s not a bad looking guy.” Nat persisted. “You could do worse.”

“You like him so much you fuck him!” Katie’s voice was snappy. Romanoff leaned back in her chair, eyeing her over half full glass, smirking.

“Touched a nerve, Stark?”

“No, you’re just talking crap, as usual.” she shot back, standing up. “My round.”

Steve moved so that she could get out from the booth and watched her head to the bar.

“Think we need to lay off the whole Rumlow thing.” Clint snorted, turning Nat. “She’s clearly not interested.”

“She’s obviously looking for someone a little less…” Nat pondered and Clint cut in.

“Of an ass hat?”

Steve snorted and Natasha shrugged.

“I was gonna say a little more of a gentleman but…if the cap fits…” Her eyes flashed to Steve and he looked at her, his eyebrows pulling together as he felt the heat flushing to his neck. She simply shrugged, in her usual nonchalant way before she changed the subject.

****

A few hours later Clint and Nat decided they’d had enough and left to grab a taxi. When Clint was in town he always stayed with Nat, prompting Steve to wonder if there was anything going on beyond the platonic friendship. He pondered it for a moment, deciding to just ask the question.

“Is there something between them?” he nodded to the pair as they left.

“No.” Katie shook her head “Absolutely not.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t be pissed I haven’t told you before…” she said, pausing “Clint…he’s married, has two kids.”

“What?” Steve choked on his beer.

“They have a place, somewhere, I don’t know exactly but it’s off SHIELD’s books and no one knows bar me, Nat and Fury.”

“Huh.” Steve pondered the information for a moment and Katie took a deep breath.

“Look, sorry I didn’t tell you but…”

“It’s okay.” Steve smiled. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bit disappointed she hadn’t told him before, but he understood, she was loyal to a fault. “I get it, he’s your friend.”

“Yeah I know but he’s not my best friend.” she batted her eyelids at him.

“Hmmm, stop buttering me up.”

“Has it worked?”

“Yes.” He deadpanned, draining his glass and she grinned “Same again?”

They had a couple more before Katie decided she was one pint away from being drunk and Steve found himself a little bit disappointed she wanted to leave. He was enjoying spending the time with her. It felt different to their usual trips out, she’d been more relaxed than he had seen her in a long time, enjoying the gentle touches she made to his arm and leg when she was teasing him.

His mind flicked back to Natasha’s little comment before and he found himself wondering if the red head knew something he didn’t. Was there something there on Katie’s part too? As he studied her for a moment as she pulled on her jacket, talking to him, he shook himself out of it. No, why would someone like her look twice at someone like him.

He managed to tune back into what she was saying, telling her no way was he giving her a lift home on the back of his bike without a helmet, causing her to pout and bat her lashes at him in an outrageously over the top manner causing him to snort.

“That ain’t gonna work either.” He shook his head and she shrugged.

“Worth a shot.” She chuckled as they made their way to the door. “And speaking of shots, you really shouldn’t have told Nat you can’t get drunk and whooped her ass at a vodka necking contest.” Her arm linked into his as they walked, and she leaned into him a little, her head laying against his upper bicep.

“Now that would have been dishonest. “Steve smirked. “Surely you’re not saying I should use my enhancement to my advantage in such a situation?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” she nodded.

Steve laughed, sticking his arm out to hail a cab for her.

“But then you’re a very honest kinda guy.”

“I have my moments.” He turned to face her

“Moments? Nah ah, you can’t lie for shit!” she grinned at him.

“No, I can’t lie to you for shit, Sweetheart” He rolled his eyes “You know me too well.”

“Hmmm, true.” she nodded in agreement as the car stopped at the curb and Steve opened the door for her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Steve asked, not particularly happy she was cabbing back alone, it was times like this he wished he had a car. “I can walk back for my bike.”

“I can handle myself, I’m a trained killer remember?” she raised her hands and made gun signs at him with her fingers. He shook his head, smiling.

“You’re an idiot.” He snorted a laugh.

“But you love me!” She grinned, standing on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. “G’night, Soldier.”

“Call me when you’re home.” He instructed “And if I ain’t heard from you in twenty…” he raised his voice so the cab driver could hear.

She shook her head, smiling as she climbed into the taxi and waved as it pulled off.

It wasn’t long before she was home and once she made her way into her bedroom, Katie kicked off her boots, flopped down onto her bed and pulled out her phone, better do as Captain Badass instructed or knowing him he’d turn up and kick the door in.

“So I’m home Old timer…” she said, when he answered and from his sigh she knew he would be rolling his eyes.

“Less of the old” he retorted, the clinking of cutlery and plates rattling in the background.

“What you doing?” she asked.

“Making food.”

“You can’t cook.”

“Yes I can.”

“So why have you never cooked for me?” she asked indignantly, feeling somewhat annoyed that she always did the cooking for the two of them.

“Because you’re better at it.” He replied, simply. “And I’ve made you grilled cheese before. And soup. Now drink some water and go to sleep.”

“God you’re so bossy.” she grumbled.

“Someone has to be, you’re a law unto yourself.”

“If I say it will you do what I said?”

“Maybe, probably, definitely maybe” she shrugged to herself.

“Then you’re awesome. Goodnight, Doll.”

“Night Stevie.”

****

Steve cut the call, placing his phone down on the counter as he thought back over the day, waiting for his food to heat up. For the first time in a long time he actually felt completely at ease. Ease with his life both in and out of SHIELD.

Up until a few weeks ago it had still felt slightly confusing, and it still did with the STRIKE team sometimes. At first he had been tentative, not trying to step on Rumlow’s toes but that had quickly settled and the two of them had fallen into a pretty good working relationship. As much as Rumlow could rile him, Steve knew that the man was good at his job, and Steve was equally good at his. He was the tactician, Rumlow organised the troops. But sometimes, well, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Sometimes he felt interest, but it was often coloured by the lingering disillusionment that his team were merely humouring him as the blue eyed all American hero he had been painted to be.

But never once had he felt like that with Katie.

And then his apartment seemed to blur in front of him, causing him to realise this went way beyond some daft crush. He was really falling in deep. The heat travelled up his chest into his neck and he felt his palms become sweaty. He dropped his arms to wipe them on his jeans as the fizzy feeling left his body, but stayed by him, swirling around until he could practically hear it. This really, really wouldn’t do. She was his best friend, a work colleague, the daughter of one of his friends from the forties…and then there was Peggy.

Not for the first time Steve delved into the reasons he’d been drawn to Katie, comparing her to Peggy. Both women had strong personalities, an unwavering sense of justice and ethics, a deep well of compassion, loyalty, and the air of authority that put more than one man in his place, including himself. They were both incredibly beautiful, filled with passion, devotion and ambition…

Abandoning his food, his appetite lost completely, he threw the remains into the bin and headed into his bedroom, intending to do what he did best when it came to women.

Stick his head in the sand and hope to God it all went away.

****

Once she’d cleaned her face of make-up and pulled on a pair of pyjamas, Katie collapsed into her pillow, thinking about what a good day it had been. She hadn’t disgraced herself at the contest, had a good evening in the pub afterwards, and to top it off Fury and Steve had actually backed her in said contest.

At the thought of Steve, it reminded her she needed some water. Heading to the kitchen she grabbed a glass, filled it, and then made her way back to bed, this time snuggling down under the covers as she smiled to herself.

It was kind of nice to have Steve looking out for her, even if he was a bossy bastard about drinking water. It showed he cared. And it wasn’t just that, it was the way he was so comfortable with her. The gentle touches to her arm and lower back, the fact he called her doll or sweetheart. The smile that he flashed her that could light up his entire face, and those eyes, those god damned beautiful eyes that could drown her in seconds.

Her stomach was suddenly crawling with those damned butterflies, the same ones she had been feeling on or off around him now since Thanksgiving. And they fluttered from her stomach to her chest

“You’re hot for Rogers…”

Natasha and Clint had both hit the nail on the head, and that nail was getting harder and harder to ignore. She had feelings for Captain fucking America. Her dad’s friend, her best friend.

Groaning, she rolled over and shoved her head into the pillows. “I’m so fucked.”

**** Chapter 3

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #katie stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic

107 notes · View notes

divinerivals · 4 years

Text

Of Proposals and Petrichor

Written for @the-lion-witch (Sorry it took a bit hun!)

Prompt: 25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain

No triggers, just fluff

This wasn't how this night was supposed to go. Far from it. Cassian had planned this anniversary date for weeks. Working tirelessly to make sure even the tiniest detail was held at the utmost satisfaction. From the gondola ride just as night set in Velaris, where the stars twinkled brightly overhead. To a four-course dinner, he handpicked with Sevenda. She would wait on him and his love of three years, Nesta. In a secluded candlelit spot, a balcony on the third floor of her restaurant that overlooked the entirety of the city. Cassian went to the lengths of a hiring musician for the evening. A cello player that would play a soothing, classy melody. Truth be told he didn’t care what song it was. Just for the cellist to play something light and tender, to fit the mood in furthering his relationship. When they had finished their courses, Nesta would smirk licking off the remaining mousse. Slowly swirling her pink tongue around a silver spoon the way she knew it drove him crazy. Cassian would push thoughts of that wicked tongue away. Opting to curl an arm around her waist, slide fingers in between hers and just be. Simply sway to the music for a beat or two, till he broke away and dropped to one knee. Awaiting the answer that would make his life or crush his heart.

And yet with a roll of thunder, a crash of lightning lit up the sky like a match, and the downfall of rain fit for a drought destroyed it. He snorted at the irony of it all as they ran from the heavy fall of rain. To make matters worse, the water was more like droplets of ice. Chilling their skin at each touch. His only saving grace was the hotel room he booked was only a few blocks away and he prayed that Sevenda noticed his message. Asking her to stop whatever meal preparations she was doing.

Cassian slid his onyx blazer off his arms, pulling Nesta close as he held the wet jacket over her. Not like it helped much, her pinned back auburn tresses were coming undone, and her hair began to hold a slight frizz to it. The lengthy mascara she chose that evening had begun to stream down her face. Frustration flashed in grey-blue eyes.

"Did you think to check the weather?" She questioned gritting her teeth

"All part of the plan, princess," he winked at her grinning. Nesta's features turned into a glare that could turn a man to stone. There was no anger behind her stare, only disbelief.

During the day, Nesta noticed how nerve wrecked he seemed to be. She couldn’t place a finger on why. This wasn’t the first time he planned an evening for them. Cassian loved spoiling the cauldron out of her. Which included lavish, romantic evenings. Such as the one she believed should be happening right now. Instead of running through the heavy fall of rain. This one night had him in a frenzy and it frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t figure it out. When the rain came down a mere twenty minutes ago, she didn’t miss the look of annoyance that crossed his ruggedly handsome features. Cassian seemed as if the unexpected shower single-handedly wrecked the evening. Though it was their anniversary she would have been content in their home. With her bare feet settled over his lap as she read a book. Cassian gently massaging the balls of her feet.

Her heels clicked along the slick pavements that shimmered from the moonlight and the rainfall. Nesta tried to keep up with her boyfriend. As much as she appreciated him keeping her close and shielding her from the storm, it made things difficult. Her hands busied picking up the skirts of her drenched gown as it clung to the shape of her body. The emerald dress adorned with intricate beadings, like morning dew drops on blades of grass seemed to only become heavier with each step. It only aided in her frustration. Her legs ached and her chest burned running at his pace. He was the fitness one in their relationship, who could jog or workout for hours at a time. Though Nesta joined him on gym trips, when it came to running she was always a few steps ahead. At this moment, she felt pity for any actress who ran in heels.

“Cassian,” she called out between breaths, “ You have to slow, ah fuck!”

Nesta’s silver heel caught in between the cracks of the pavement. The whole world seemed to slow as Nesta outstretched her arm reaching for him. Fingertips grasped his arm, taking Cassian with her falling onto the sidewalk, splashing into a pool of water. lovely. Nesta and his blazer receiving the brunt of the fall. Nesta could feel her dress absorbing all the wetness. Her ankle began throbbing as soon as her body hit the slick ground. She wanted to go home. This evening turned from bad to worse at a moment’s notice and Nesta was done with it. The only thing she cared for now, was the comfort of her couch, warm clothes, and Cassian tending to her throbbing ankle. Not the four-star hotel, or exquisite dinners.

Cassian quickly pulled himself off her, hair black as night sticking to him as water poured down from his forehead, dripping off his eyelashes and down his strong cheekbones. Hazel eyes looked over Nesta, wrought in concern and sympathy.

“Nes, are you okay?” he asked knowing the answer, but her furious stare bought him time to double-check his pocket. Making sure the small box hadn’t tumbled out when they crashed down. To his relief, it remained secure, tucked in the depths of his slacks.

“No Cassian! I’m pretty fucking far from okay. I just want to go home. I don’t care about the hotel or anything else you planned. Take us home,” she was silent for a beat, “Please,” He nodded hiding his glance of hurt at her request. They were right there. They were so close to the hotel where he could still save this night. She tried to stand when he offered her his hand. She winced collapsing to the ground again, “ My ankle. I think I twisted it,”

Cassian scooped her up in his embrace, sliding an arm over her back resting beneath her breast and the other under her knees lifting her with ease. Nesta wrapped her arms around his neck. Burying her face into the soaked collar of his button-down. Shielding her face from the oncoming downpour which seemed to pelt them harder with each step. The scent of amber, patchouli, and sandalwood surrounding her. Nesta always relished in the scent of his cologne. No matter how stressed she was in the moment. His scent always seemed to ease her. It’s why she bought him more bottles than any man could ever need. Tightly he held her running towards a coffee shop with a large canopy above the front door. He settled her on the dry ground underneath it. Carefully pulling the silver high heel. Nesta whimpered as he did so. Her ankle had already started to swell. With a featherlight touch, he pressed into her bruising skin, feeling the tender spot. Her face twisted in agony as she turned her face away. Cassian undid his silken tie the color of her dress, wrapping her sprained ankle within it. It was the best he could for now. Gingerly he kissed the fabric. He sighed in defeat, running a thumb from the tip of the cheekbone to her mouth, sweeping over the bottom lip. Wiping away the wetness as he pressed his lips against her soft and welcoming ones. Chilled by the cold rainfall. He didn’t care, he only pushed his warm mouth further into hers as if the kiss alone would be a blanket of warmth. Her fingers laid on his slick grey button-down pulling Cassian down to her. He laughed against her.

“We should get that ankle taken care of before we finish this,” he commented smiling down at her. Soon as the smile came it had faded into nothingness. Cassian knew this was a risk to push the subject., “Nes, I know you said, you wanted to go home. The hotel is right around the corner. It’s closer.”

She sat there studying him, pushing away towards the wall behind her, “Cas..” she warned.

“I can mend it faster,” he rushed out, rubbing the back of his neck with not one, but both hands. Cassian stared at the floor, his eyes darting along the sidewalk. Like he was trying to think of a plan and quickly. She hardly has seen him this worked up a few times. This wasn’t her normal Cassian, “Give you a foot rub minus the ankle, hot food, the champagne you like is chilling and waiting,” pressing his lip in a thin line, working his jaw back and forth, “but if you want to go home-

“Why are you pushing this so hard? By now, you would have given up and called an uber home. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s not. It wasn’t supposed to be,” he muttered out so lowly she barely heard him over the rain beating on the canopy above and thunder roaring through the skies.

“Hey,” she took his hand in hers, a thumb tracing along his palm, “what are you not telling me?”

They never kept secrets from each other. Her heart matched the thunder above as panic seeped into her bones. Cassian stayed by her side, silent as a shadow yet sickly and pale like a ghost. His hand fumbling in the pocket. Nesta couldn’t tell if he was shaking from wet clothes or nerves, “Babe? You’re worrying me.” Nesta tried to rattle her mind thinking of what he could be hiding. They shared everything. A home, their dogs, phone plans, and bank counts. Even Cassian’s clothes and Nesta’s face care. Practically married in every way, but marriage itself. Her eyes went wide at the sudden realization.

Marriage.

“Cassian?” his name off her lips came out in more of a sob, as her mind truly grasped what she came to the conclusion of.

Cassian looked at her. Gods even with her hair soaked and a mess. Strands sticking out here and there. Her makeup running, gown twisted around her legs and most likely ruined. She still took his breath away. He hadn’t even realized his hand found itself back in his pocket fiddling with the small box. His heart hammered in his chest, beating wildly like a bat in a cage trying to break free. His palms were sweating and he swore he was going to vomit on the slick pavement. Before this night was ruined he had everything planned, even a speech. Right now all those words he had memorized about how long he loved her. How she saw him for him and not the goofy guy everyone else did. how she walked into his life stubborn as hell like a boulder crashing through walls he had around his heart. Just as he knew he was the fire to melt the ice around hers. And other romantic shit he just couldn’t think of right now. Before he could stop himself the words came out, easier than he thought possible.

“Marry me.”

Only the sound of rainfall and thunder around them made any noise. Nesta couldn't breathe, her chest tightening while the question ran through her mind. Marry me. Yes, they loved each other, but she never thought in a million years he’d do this. Soon she had prepared he’d walk out of her life. They all do, even her mother had. Her father always prized her sisters. Her sisters never understood Nesta causing a rift between them. But Cassian, he wanted to stay. To take the next step. From the first day they met, he saw through her cold exterior. When her depression hit, he never shied away how others did. It was like he was made for her, her best friend, her soulmate. Even still, she couldn’t believe anyone would love her enough to marry her.

She blinked slowly, “You. You want to marry me?”

Cassian didn’t speak as he pulled the black box from his pocket. Almost as if he was in a daze, flicking the box open, showing her the ring. She gasped looking it shimmer under the soft glow of the sign in the window behind them reading now closed. The ring itself. She marveled at it. He truly got her. Nesta was no ordinary woman and no center diamond would suffice. He never once asked her what kind of ring she’d like. Nesta felt her body swell with emotion. That someone took their time and learned her from the inside out. Nesta stared at the ring in awe. By the dim light's glow, she could tell it was a rose gold band. Small diamonds lined each side of the center oval shape gem, alexandrite. It was a perfect blend of them. One could argue it was their favorite colors. But she knew the symbolism behind it. Ice and fire. A gemstone for the two of them.

His confidence in his expression waived but his words held firm as he repeated it, “Marry Me, “ His eyes met hers, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. A shaking hand takes her own, “Nesta Archeron I love you more than words can say. You’re my equal, my strength, my soulmate. Marry me.”

Nesta looked at the ring again then back up at Cassian, she could see the glossiness in his eyes. The fear and anticipation displayed prominently in those stunning marbled orbs of pine and amber. Funny cause she felt the sting of her own as her eyes brimmed with tears. Her lips trembled as a shudder ran through her veins.

“Please say something.”

Nesta braced the pain of ankle searing through her as she moved closer to him. Only in her wildest dreams did she think this day would occur. Yet here it was. Under a canopy in the middle of a thunderstorm. She rested her palms against the drenched freezing fabric of his clothes. Leaning up she brushed her lips against his. She poured her answer onto his soft, wet lips. Her hands clasping the sides of his face as she did so. Nesta pulled away. Sliding back a strand of his hair. She could feel the sting of tears pouring from eyes melding with the wetness already on her face. She didn’t care. The pain in her ankle, the tears down her face, her shivering body, none of it mattered. Inside she was alive with warmth and love or her boyfriend, or fiance for that matter. Whom she realized was still waiting for an answer. Nesta touched her forehead to his.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” She heard the breath he’d been holding let go before she crashed his lips to hers. Nesta wrapped her arms around him kissing him soundly. Tasting the saltiness from the soft trickling of tears shared between the two. Cassian pulled the ring out from the box. Slipping the band on to her finger. She laughed against his lips, “You know. I think I’d like to go to that hotel now.”

A boyish smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, “oh?”

“I’d like to hurry up and celebrate with my fiance. He told me there’s champagne, and hot food, something about a foot massage.”

Cassian slipped her second heel off, placing the pair over her belly. Once again taking his future bride in his arms. Carrying her the same way he would in a soft flowy gown of pristine white, and not drenched in a emerald one.

Check it out on ao3

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian fic #my fic #the-lion-witch #becca writes #tumblr prompt #kissing prompts #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas

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hajimes-erect-ahoge · 4 years

Text

Postmortem- Chapter 15

Kokichi, Shuichi and Kaito go to the store and do some more training! ao3

The first thing Ouma registered upon waking up was that it was cold.

It wasn’t a blistering cold, but it was an absence of warmth that left him huddling under the covers in search of more heat. He vaguely recalled crawling into the lower bunk with Saihara last night, their bodies just barely close enough for them to feel each other’s body heat. Speaking of which, where was that body heat right now?

Groggily cracking his eyes open, Ouma sat up in bed and cast a quick glance to either side of him. Nothing. Saihara was gone and, upon inspection of the other bed in the room, Momota had risen as well.

Ouma yawned, interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms in front of him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but froze when he heard faint voices from the living room.

“Are you sure, Momota-kun?” Unmistakably Saihara’s voice asked, “He’ll find out soon enough, you know how he is.”

“Ouma doesn’t need to know!” Momota argued, “Besides, he’s still sleeping! I bet we’ll be back before he even wakes up!”

Both of them froze when they heard the creek of the bedroom door opening, revealing a less than pleased Ouma standing over the threshold.

“O-Ouma!” Momota stammered, “Uh… How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” Ouma frowned, sticking his nose in the air haughtily. “I can’t believe you two were making plans without me, right in my own home! How rude!”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Saihara spat out, panicking. “We were only trying to protect you!”

“Psh! I don’t need protecting! Who do you think I am?” Ouma crossed his arms, pouting. “Now out with it!”

“Fine…” Momota gave Saihara a quick look before continuing, “Me and Shuichi were thinking out heading to the supermarket to pick up some groceries and other necessities.”

“That’s it?” Ouma asked, perplexed. “What’s the big deal about that?”

“We figured you would probably want to come with us, but, uh…” Saihara scratched at the nape of his neck nervously, “We’re not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Ohhhh, I see!” Ouma clapped his hands together excitedly. “Just kidding, I totally don’t get it. You were saying?”

“Listen, I know you don’t see it this way but you have enough on your plate already and we don’t want to give you even more to deal with.” Momota answered, “People probably aren’t going to react so greatly to seeing you out in person, especially after… you know…”

“We just don’t want you getting harassed or anything for what you did during the killing game.” Saihara explained, “I… I don’t want to see you get hurt, Ouma-kun.”

“Aw, how sweet!” Ouma grinned, “I appreciate the thought and all, but I don’t need you two protecting me from harm! I’m a big boy, I can handle myself!”

Saihara and Momota exchanged a worried glance, sensing Ouma’s stubbornness.

“Ouma-kun, please-” Saihara practically begged.

“It’s fine!” Ouma rolled his eyes, demonstrating his growing boredom. “I’ll show you that it’s no problem at all!”

“...Fine.” Momota gave in, not wanting to argue with him. “We leave in five.”

“Yay! I’ll go get ready!” Ouma gave a small cheer before running off, leaving Saihara and Momota standing awkwardly in the living room.

Both of them were clearly displeased at this turn of events, not having expected Ouma to wake up and interfere with their plans. But nonetheless, there was no taking back what had just transpired, so they simply prepared themselves for the inevitable.

After a short amount of time, Ouma returned to the living room to meet the other two once again.

“So what store are we even going to?” Ouma asked curiously.

“There’s a supermarket a few blocks from the apartment complex.” Saihara answered, “It’s pretty nice out so I figured we could walk there.”

“Okie dokie!” Ouma smiled, innocent as ever.

The trio then departed, making their way to the local supermarket.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few blocks later, the three boys arrived at the store. It was still quite early in the morning, thus the store was sparsely populated. This was the first time being in a public space since the killing game for all three of them, so it was agreed on that they should try to minimize their exposure to people for a bit. Ouma immediately took to observing the inside of the store, inadvertently making eye contact with a particularly sour-looking saleswoman. Paying no mind to it he quickly looked away after giving a sly smile. He was determined not to let anything get to him, solely focusing on getting in and out of the store.

The store was neither too large nor too small; It was big enough to house all of the supplies they needed yet small enough to seem cozy. Upon entering, the three boys decided it would be best to divide up their tasks, each of them searching a certain area of the store. Saihara was to stock up on food and drinks and Momota was to search for toiletries and other basic necessities not provided for them already, leaving Ouma to look for any other miscellaneous items. It was really a two-man job, as Saihara and Momota were covering both main areas of items that were needed, so Ouma took the opportunity to relax and browse the store for anything that seemed entertaining.

While Saihara and Momota occupied the first few aisles and middle of the store, Ouma took to the back shelves filled with various knick knacks and other goods. There were arts and crafts kits and board games suited for children, brightly colored with words that popped off the packaging. Travelling left led Ouma to discover a variety of puzzles, including a few milk puzzles. After a few moments of consideration, Ouma selected a puzzle that had the best chance at entertaining him, as well as a deck of cards and a mystery themed board game.

After scouring the remaining aisles for anything else that may have caught his attention, Ouma approached the register, noticing that the only open register was being run by the same lady that gave him a not-so-friendly look before. An awkward tension pierced the air as Ouma set his things down on the counter, sliding them forward.

The exchange was painfully silent as Ouma swiped his card, carefully stacking his items while sliding the receipt into his pocket. Mumbling a half-assed thank you, he gave the woman one last look, carefully observing her features.

The scoff that she gave almost went unheard by Ouma. Almost.

Narrowing his eyes, he stared back at her with more vitriol than before, though it hardly rivaled the look of pure disgust on her face.

“You’re lucky I even touched your filthy items, what with the horrible things you’ve done and all.” She spat, a haughty tone coating her words. “The other two I could deal with, but you’re really something else, you know? Walking in here like the whole outside world doesn’t hate you, acting like you’re above it all. It’s disgusting. I’m surprised you even got those two to tolerate you.” She gestured to Saihara and Momota, who were waiting outside of the store with their backs turned to Ouma, completely unaware of what was going on.

Ouma simply stared, processing the words that were just spat at him. He could deal with one person hating him, but the whole world outside of the killing game? Was he really that despised?

...Did his sacrifice mean nothing to them?

“I’d be careful if I were you.” The lady continued, ignorant of Ouma’s inner turmoil. “Or else you’ll end up back in the hospital where you belong.”

Eyeing her cautiously, he stepped backwards, slowly making his way to the exit. He had no idea how true this woman’s words were and he had no intention of finding out. Forcing the most obnoxious smile onto his face that he could muster, Ouma responded:

“Have a wonderful day, and thank you so much for the kind words. I truly appreciate it.”

The look of horror on the woman's face was most definitely worth it, Ouma thought.

With a quick turn of his heel he walked out of the store, meeting Saihara and Momota where they were standing outside.

“There you are!” Momota turned to him, “What took you so long?” He cast his gaze downwards, observing the items in Ouma’s hands. “What did you get?”

Ouma proudly showed off his items as they walked back to the apartment complex, describing each one with an unnecessary amount of detail. Momota then proceeded to call his purchases “childish” and “a waste of their money”, to which Ouma produced a waterfall of crocodile tears. By the time that Saihara was able to calm him down they had arrived at the apartment complex, the day still young.

Once they had arrived, they went about dispersing their newly purchased items into their new locations. While Saihara and Momota busied themselves with organizing things, Ouma simply threw the games he bought in the bedroom and went to go watch some television. For the time being he was content with just relaxing, the words of the woman from the store having been shoved to the back of his mind for now.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, that’s enough stretching!” Momota declared, standing up straight. “It’s time for today’s workout!”

The sun was rapidly setting, the glowing orange tint of the sky fading into a purple-black. Soon enough, they would be engulfed by the darkness of the night.

“So what’s the workout for today?” Saihara asked, finishing up the last of his stretches.

“A run!” Momota announced proudly, messing with a few of the buttons on his new watch. “Fifty laps around the apartment complex!” With a loud beep of his watch, Momota took off running in the direction of the apartment complex, located just across from the park.

“Should we follow h-” Saihara turned towards Ouma, who was already sprinting away after Momota. With a sigh, Saihara began to jog after them, careful to conserve his energy.

Momota, who was already by the apartment complex, gave a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he saw Saihara lagging behind. When he turned back forward, however, he yelped in surprise as he saw Ouma jogging slightly ahead of him.

“Nishishi!” Ouma giggled, noticing Momota exclaim in shock. “Momota-chan must be pretty out of shape if he can’t even keep up with me!”

“Huh?! You little-!” Momota sped up, chasing after Ouma. “I’ll show you who’s out of shape!”

“I’d like to see you try!” Ouma sprinted even faster, feeling surprisingly good. All of that running away from Momota that he did in the past was proving useful, he supposed.

Ouma and Momota remained in a stalemate for quite a while, each of them refusing to give in and slow down, even if that would be beneficial to them in the long run. Fatigue quickly settled in and they each began to slow down, though they stubbornly kept going.

Then Ouma tripped.

“Woah!” Momota came to a halt, crouching down besides Ouma. “Are you okay?”

“...Momota-chan…” Ouma whispered weakly, eyes downcast.

“...Yeah?”

“You’re so gullible!” Ouma took off in a sprint once more, barreling ahead of Momota.

“Damnit!” Momota tried, but failed, to catch up with Ouma, who had benefited greatly from the headstart he gave himself.

He ran and ran, but eventually Ouma disappeared from his line of sight, blurring into the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma had been running for what felt like hours, though in reality he knew it had probably been closer to about fifteen minutes. The apartment complex was already relatively large in perimeter, and doing laps around it only made him realize how truly large it must’ve been. It was completely dark out by now, the sun having dipped fully below the horizon. The moon was shining brightly, casting a shimmer of moonlight over his face.

Arriving at the entrance to the apartment complex, Ouma took note of how many laps he had completed. A quick check over his shoulder let Ouma know that neither Momota nor Saihara were nearby, giving him the perfect opportunity to take a break. He bent over, hands on his knees, panting. After staying like that for a few moments, he did a quick stretch and stood back up, letting out one last breath.

Staring into the distance, Ouma saw two figures approaching from the opposite direction.

“Saihara-chan! Momota-chan! There you guys are!” Ouma shouted, “I was starting to think you guys got lost or something!”

No response.

But Ouma could’ve swore he saw the two figures speed up.

Panic started to settle in as the two figures got closer and Ouma realized that they were, in fact, not Saihara and Momota. Forcing himself to move on shaky legs, he realized that he would stand little chance in a fight against two men significantly larger than him, especially with how winded he was from all the running he just did. With no other option but to run, Ouma forced himself to turn around, barely seeing the two mysterious men break out into a full sprint.

Two strong hands gripped his shoulders, jerking him backwards despite his attempts to get away. Before he could even turn around, something heavy and metallic connected with his head, sending a blaring pain throughout his skull. One hand breaking his fall and the other clutching his head, he could barely make out the two faces of the men right in front of him. He felt another sharp pain in his head, the arm supporting him giving out and causing him to crash into the ground.

The sound of two men laughing was the last thing he could remember before going unconscious.

#postmortem #my writing #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #shuichi saihara #oumasai #saiouma #kaito momota

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clarosowrites · 4 years

Text

Mistletoe (Adam x f!Detective)

Adam stood at parade rest against the wall, dispassionately watching the other attendees of the Wayhaven Holliday Party. Most of the town was here, mingling in the festively decorated Mayor's mansion. A jazz band played Christmas music in the next room.

He had thankfully avoided any sparkles in the outfit tonight. His simple red button down and black suit was extravagant enough for him, though Felix disagreed, trying to force him to wear a sequined tie. He easily spotted the youngest member of the team in his glittering silver suit. He was kneeling next to one of Mr. Verde's children, smiling as she showed him her dredile.

With any luck, that would keep him busy the rest of the night.

Mason was...somewhere. Probably skirting the edges of the party, like him, or drinking. And he knew Nate planned to make rounds with Agent McClaran, socializing with the citizens.

Their handler claimed being at the party would help their reputation, which was apparently less than stellar. Adam thought it was pointless. Unit Bravo had been in Wayhaven for over a year, the town's opinion of them was likely set by now. It didn't matter anyway--they didn't need anyone's approval to protect the town.

Suddenly, the sound of a single heartbeat reached his ears.

His shoulders dropped. Even through the music and the noise of the crowd, he'd recognize her.

Adam fought back a smile as warmth flooded his chest. It had only been a week since they saw each other last, but he'd felt the Detective's absence acutely. A week was nothing, a blink of the eye to him usually. Yet, in the two months he and Catherine had started courting--he refused to call it such an insignificant term like dating--time had stretched in odd ways. A day with her seemed like barely five minutes. Every day apart was spent waiting for the next.

He turned to the entrance. His fingers tapped a nervous staccato against his arm as he scanned the crowd for her.

The mass of people parted and revealed Catherine like clouds parting for the sun.

Red fabric hugged her figure. The dress dipped low in the front, flowed past her hips and flared around her knees. She seemed to glow under the twinkling lights, her already statuesque figure even more noticeable in red. Her hair curled around her face, soft and loose in a way that made his fingers itch to touch--

He cleared his throat as she approached. "Detective."

Her smile was strained as she slipped her hand into his. This close, he realized she wore heels--she stood several inches taller than him and he had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes.

"I'm never letting Tina dress me, ever again." She hissed through clenched teeth. Her lips were painted red to match the dress. "I look like a big red elephant."

"That's absurd." He said and pulled her a step closer.

Catherine ducked her head, turning away from the crowd. She pulled at the dress's neckline. The material was practically molded to her skin, though, and she gave up with a frustrated huff.

"Adam, this dress is way too revealing for a work party!" She gestured up and down her body. "And I shouldn't have to wear heels!"

It was less modest than her usual outfits, true, the Detective preferred turtlenecks and long sleeved shirts most days, but he'd seen several women tonight with more skin on display.

She always looked perfect, even in her messy workout clothes. But he was biased. Besides, he'd asked if she looked appropriate, not his personal feelings on her appearance.

"You look..." He swallowed down the breathtaking and stunning that strained at his throat, "nice. And the height is appealing."

"Really?" She picked again at the dress.

He took her other hand to stop her fussing and smiled. "Are you calling me a liar, Detective?"

"No." Catherine admitted. She pursed her lips. "You're sure I look okay?"

Far better than okay, he thought. "I promise. It's appropriate for the occasion."

"Just what every girl wants to hear." She said sarcastically, the tension easing from her.

"I apologize." He squeezed her hands and smiled up at her. "I'm out of practice in giving compliments."

"Lucky for you, I'm not used to receiving any." She grinned. "I think we'll get along just fine."

A sharp whistle grabbed his attention. He turned to see Tina, grinning next to Felix in a sequined gold dress and pointing above their heads.

...where a tiny spring of mistletoe hung.

Adam's mouth went dry. For everything they had shared, confessions and open souls and lazy afternoons, they had yet to go any farther physically. She would press her lips to his cheek as a goodbye, occasionally, or to his hand as she held it, but they hadn't kissed. Actually kissed.

"Come on, Adam, plant one on her!" Felix called.

He snapped his head around to glare at him, trying to ignore the warmth flooding his cheeks.

Cat sighed. He stiffened as she place a hand on his shoulder and dipped her head to brush her lips across his cheek. The touch burned like it always did, like hot wax pressed onto his skin. His breath caught in his throat.

She walked towards Tina without glancing at him. "Happy?" She asked.

He didn't hear her response as they moved away, focused on his evening out his breathing. He did, however hear Felix's laugh.

"What." He snapped at the younger vampire.

Felix grinned even wider. "You look like you just face down a stake to the ribs instead of kissing the girl you like."

"She is not--"

"What?" He arched an eyebrow. "A girl? Who you like?"

"You make it sound so juvenile." He scoffed.

"It is juvenile if you act like your girlfriend has cooties." He gestured to the Detective's retreating figure. "Do you even want to kiss her?"

"We are taking this slow." He grit out.

"There's slow and there's glacial, Adam."

Nate appeared at Felix's side with a smile. "I think Mason's going to spike the punch. Felix, can you keep an eye on him?"

"Sure, boss man!" He saluted.

Adam sighed as they watched him wander off into the crowd.

"You realize Felix is only going to encourage him."

"Yep. I thought I'd rescue you, actually."

"And not interrogate me about my love life at all, correct?"

"At least you're admitting it exists! Finally!" He laughed. Adam couldn't help but grin.

Over his short relationship with Catherine, Nate had been his sounding board for practically everything. Planning dates, dissecting conversations--anything at all that involved Cat--Adam had applied himself with a military precision and Nate had helped. No matter how ridiculous his request, he'd helped

Nate nudged him with an elbow. "Really, though. You couldn't ask for a better set up than mistletoe on New Year's Eve. Why the hesitation?"

"Besides having a crowd?" He asked. "I need more time to plan it."

"Whenever you get around to it, its not going to be perfect."

"Perfect is what she deserves." Adam said defensively.

He shook his head and laughed. "I think you're just scared."

"Scared."

Creatures more ferocious than Nathaniel Sewell have cowered under the glare that Adam gave him. Nate just smiled.

"Yeah. Chicken?"

"Are you daring me to kiss the Detective?" He asked incredulously.

"It is working?" He grinned and clapped him on the back. "Carpe diem, old friend. No time like the present."

Adam cursed under his breath as his best friend walked away. He was right. He was scared, more scared since he met Catherine than he'd been in the past 900 years. Scared of himself and terrified of the uncertainty that haunted every interaction.

But when did that stop him from doing anything?

"Damn it."

After a military acquisition of a certain decoration and ten minutes of searching, he managed to find the Detective in the kitchen, away from the rest of the party.

"Catherine?"

She looked up at her name and smiled. "Hey Adam."

She perched on the granite counter, swinging her bare feet under her. She fanned herself with an old magazine.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Those heels are killing me." She nodded to the black shoes on the floor. "And...there's a lot of booze in there."

"Ah." He frowned. "I cannot assist with that."

She shrugged, pushing her hair back and off her shoulders. "Its okay."

He took a steadying breathe and forced himself across the kitchen. Standing in front of her, he saw the uncertain tilt of her head and the way she unconsciously leaned into him.

"Catherine." He said again.

"Adam." She grinned. "What's going on?"

He cleared his throat, his mind suddenly blank. His fist clenched around the greenery he held.

"What's that?" She brought his hand up and he opened it, revealing the mistletoe.

Confusion flashed across her face. It transformed to delight and amusement as he slowly lifted it above their heads. He took the final step to close the gap between them, her knees pressing into his thighs.

She smiled, and god, he could loose himself in that smile, adoring and open and everything he doesn't deserve. And then she slid one hand up his chest, the other curling around the back of his neck, his skin burning underneath her touch, even through his clothes. His eyes fell shut--blocking out everything else but the feel of her hands.

At the first brush of her lips on his, Adam shuddered. At the second, he leaned into her, the mistletoe falling from his hand so he could cup her jaw. Fuck--if he thought her touch before was burning, then this was a brand. Her kiss seared into his lips and he wanted it to, for her to leave her mark on his skin that matched the one on the inside of his chest and--

She pulled away. He moaned at her absence, some small, broken thing that he couldn't bring himself to care about.

He chased her mouth, only halted by the hand pushing on his shoulder, a silent stop.

"We..." She said unsteadily, and he opened his eyes just to see her wet her lips and swallow. "We should..."

He nodded. "Get back to the party." It would be less than impressive if someone found the Detective in a compromising position, as much as he wanted to create one.

He dared to press for one more kiss, firm and swift, before lifting her from the counter. As he set her on her bare feet, she looked dazed.

"Right." Cat straightened her dress and slipped into her shoes. "Do I look okay?"

"You're beautiful." He said. "I should have said that earlier. Stunning."

"You big flirt." She accused, smiling broadly.

Her fingers curled around his collar. "I only have to stay for another hour or so. Maybe we could...go back to my apartment and hang out."

"I would like that." He murmured, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Okay." She stepped back. "Stay out of trouble until then."

"I will." He promised, dropping her hand reluctantly.

"Bye."

With a final wave, she slipped out of the kitchen and out of his sight. He leaned against the counter and sighed happily. He could rejoin the party in a few moments--for now, Adam closed his eyes and let himself follow her heartbeat.

#Detective Catherine McClaran #Adam du Mortain #A du Mortain #A #A romance #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven #Adam x Detective #Adam du mortain x detective #female detective #twc fic

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pretendrocketships · 4 years

Text

What Am I Now?

A/N: I suck and so do guys so this has been floating around in my head so lets go

About: How do you explain a relationship you don’t even understand? The one where being away from each other hurts but staying together isn’t what it used to be. 2.5k, Lil thing, part 2? angst warning

Song: Falling by Harry Styles

The sun was hot and unforgiving, and the heat did nothing to help your mood. It seemed like everyone was out. People littered the cafes along the sidewalk of the city. Everyone toasting to whatever and laughing about jokes you probably wouldn’t find funny. Scents of pizza and pasta wafted through your nostrils. You swatted at your nose to remove the scent, and lingering flies, from your area. It always seemed like everyone around you was at their best when you were feeling your worst. Isn’t that something? You rounded the corner with a purpose, to get away from everyone who was making you feel more shitty then you felt when you left your house.

It wasn’t anything particular, just a bad mood. Yup, that was it. Just the wrong day on the wrong side of the bed. That’s all. There was nothing in the world that would make you admit that the headlines kept cycling around your head, that you didn’t skim, but read the full articles. “Harry Styles Seen Sneaking Girl Out Of Bavel Late Last Night,” “Who Could Style’s Girl Be? Here Are Our Guess,” and your favorite “Are You Harry Styles’ New Girl? Take Our Quiz and Find Out!” It was a circle. Headline after headline popped into your head. Snippets of articles flashed before your eyes. They were saying they haven’t seen a girl on his arm since you. They were saying she was the new you. They were saying that she was replacing you. Then, articles stopped mentioning you all together. That hurt. You felt that.

Another block zoomed by. You wanted to wear yourself out, to the point where your mind could only think about sleep and not stories you’ve read. The run keeps your mind everywhere but where it wants to be. One foot in front of the other. Don’t step on that crack, might break your mother’s back. The beat of this song is really good for keeping my mind off -- fuck. The next half a mile was a constant battle, to turn round and go home, giving up on a weak attempt at a distraction, or to power through and hope the next mile would keep your mind off your thoughts. By the time you reached the next stoplight, you were over it, submitting to your thoughts and turning home. Head down, feet to the floor you flew yourself home, desperate to get back to safe space where you could let yourself feel hurt.

“I’m allowed to be upset.” You kept mumbling those words over and over to yourself on the way home. “I’m allowed to be hurt and upset.” Tears threatened to fall. You ignored them. “I choose when and how long it takes me to heal.” The bastards fell. Oh like a flood, they fell. ‘No Crying in Public,’ a rule you actually had framed on your wall, was already broken. So, once you locked your door, you let the tears flow as freely as they wanted. For five minutes. Five minutes to mope then get up and go. The little saying seemed even stupider when you were upset, but you needed a reason to stop crying and get up. And that’s what you did, got up, got in the shower, and started the pile of work you’d been avoiding all week. A shower is usually your restart button, but with a desk full of papers that held no meaning, you couldn’t focus. You shook your head, rolled your shoulders and pressed your pen to the paper and attempted to “just get over it” like every friend who offered you unwarranted advice said. If your professors didn’t care about heartbreak, why should you?

It took a while, an hour and twenty-four minutes to be exact, to get your first assignment done, wandering thoughts occupying most of your time. The stack beside you was still overwhelming, much like your mind at the moment. You wagered a deal with yourself. Ten minutes to think through the situation, then twenty minutes doing work, a back and forth deal that appeased your mind.

No, he technically wasn’t in the wrong because technically he didn’t do anything since you technically aren't together. That was too many technicals. You always thought you were special. Special enough to think the whole “friends to lovers” thing would work out for you and a mildly famous popstar. Fuck, were you wrong. You remember laughing in your kitchen. Sunday morning and teasing him. Calling him “mildly” famous was always your thing. You would grab at his belt buckles and pull him closer, or brush past him to start the Keriug and remind him how much you loved your “mildly famous boyfriend”. Your rationale: making sure his ego didn’t get too big for your shared apartment. A place only you two shared when you were both in the city. He would laugh. A big one. The kind where his eyes were squeezed shut and one, or both, of his large hands were gripping the counter. Soon, he’d be wiping tears from his eyes and pulling you flush against his chest, whispering about how he loved his “little star.” The memory stung, like a fresh paper cut; the moment was small, but the pain mighty.

This is how your days went, seemingly productive until you got hit with the past. The smallest things could set you back months, stuck seeing a replay of what you thought was the greatest love story ever told. While coming back from grocery shopping, you remembered when you backed into the garage door and left your mark on Harry’s first home with a sizable dent. You told Harry about your accident, nervous as hell, while he doubled over in laughter, wondering how anyone could not forget to open the garage door whilst backing in at 25 miles per hour. You get into your garage and you’re attacked by the memory of Harry yelling up into the house that he found the succulent he’d lost, and that it was in the corner of the garage surrounded by boxes you’d been meaning to go through. He came upstairs, sheepishly holding a very much dead cactus. “Those things are so hard to kill, so tha fact that ‘ve managed to do so, quite impressive on my part, dont’cha think love?”

As days turned to weeks and weeks to the following weekends, you felt yourself less and less haunted by memories of what used to be. Going out for a run was starting to be just that, a run, not an escape from a mental prison you and your past love created. Things felt right --

HARRY STYLES SINGLE. CONFIRMED

This. This is why you hated twitter. Four words threatened to pause your progress. I mean, if this were a movie, he would’ve confirmed this weeks ago. And you would’ve been back together and everything would have been perfect. But this isn’t a movie. You logged out of twitter and deleted the app. You never liked it anyway, so why let it suck you back into a place you just crawled out of on your hands and knees? You can’t lie to yourself and say that he didn’t pop into your head late that night while you were surrounded by pillows on all sides. You weren’t sure if you missed him or the feeling of comfort his arms provided. Did you really need someone or were you just being weak. Did you need someone to hold you at night, or did you just want it. Your heart was racing with the possibility of any of this being your fault. You needed to stop. You needed to sleep. So, you turned on a podcast specifically about sleep and forced your mind to be filled with stories about someone else.

Last night threw you off. You had to admit that. It wasn’t the end of the world, wasn’t the end of weeks of progress, but it just made you realize you needed a schedule. Something to stick to that wouldn’t fail you. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Free. You needed some freedom to breathe and not follow order, but the repetition kept you sane, kept you going. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Go Out With Friends. Shower Sleep. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Drinks with The Girls. Sleepover. Sleep. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Family Game Night. Dinner. Sleep. Wake up. Work out. -- Answer the Doorbell?

Sticky. Sweaty. Gross. Your run felt good at the time, but left you itching for your shower as soon as you stepped inside. Whatever telemarketer or Jevhovah’s Witness that was at your door was about to get a version of you you didn’t even like. You contemplated just letting them ring the doorbell until they got the hint, but the chimes kept ringing through your house, now following by incessant knocking. You wanted to pick up speed so the noise would stop, but another part of you wanted to walk as slow as possible torture whoever was behind the door.

You should’ve peeped. You shouldn’t have just swung the door open thinking it was someone just trying to take your money or your time. You should’ve listened to every muscle in your body screaming no, because it wasn’t just from the workout. It was your body trying to protect you from someone who was trying to steal your heart.

“What the fuck.” The words fell from your mouth before you could even register the whole situation. He looks up, hands shoved in his pockets. That sheepishly smile he usually wore was plastered across his face, only this time the corners of his mouth twitched with nerves.

“Hi, (Y/N).” You laughed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing was funny, but it was almost comical how he thought he could come to your house, as if seeing him didn’t make you sick with emotion. You could almost feel his discomfort, or maybe it was yours, who could say.

“So again, why the fuck are you here?” You could feel your stomach bubbling, like a witch’s cauldron. You felt yourself getting red, hot, angry without any way to control it.

“I have three things to tell you, then I’m gone,” he blurted out quickly. Smart boy. You squinted at him, trying to guess what he would say before he could say it, so you could avoid a conversation all together. He sensed your hesitance. “Just hear it from me, I owe you that much.” Did you catch a whiff of Harry admitting his faults without you prompting him? The words were sickenly sweet to your ears. You moved aside, barley, admittedly finding joy in his large frame squeezing into the small entry you provided him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He stepped in and looked around, taking in all the changes since he was last there. Your TV was bigger now, funny considering you always said he was the only reason you used your TV. The couch was pushed up against the back wall, instead of angled facing the tv. You moved around the loveseats. His favorite blue and white bean bag chairs were no longer hidden behind the couch. Harry had a bad habit of sitting too close to the tv, so you bought yourselves bean bag chairs, insisting he didn’t sit on the floor. He saw all the cook books he bought you from every country he visited no longer called the coffee table home, instead you had autobiographies of various artists, world leaders, and celebrities surrounding your candles and coffee mugs. His gaze landed on every single detail that changed since he last called this place home, your voice pulling him out of his trance.

“And you waited so long to come here… why?” Your attitude, the one he learned to love so much was oozing out of every word you spoke. He wished you would just drop the act and open up to him, but he also knows he deserves it. He wants to laugh and see the corners of your mouth twitch up into a smile, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that.

“I don’t know. --” he started.

“No, don’t. Don’t do that!” Your hands were up in the air. You were frustrated. The anger was radiating off you in waves, far enough to reach every part of the house. You knew him. You knew he had an answer he was afraid of saying. You turned to him, your eyes pleading with him to just let you hear the truth.

“I didn’t think you saw them, didn’t think you cared,” he mumbled, playing his favorite game: tracing the patterns on the brown, granite countertop while avoiding the impact of his words.

“You didn��t think I would,” you laughed, bitterly, humourlessly, “didn’t think I would see it?” Your voice got lower, and he got scared. Scared because he knew it meant your anger was not dissipating. You didn’t have to name drop the articles. You both knew what you were talking about, the emotion in your voice making that clear.

“I didn’t think you still kept up with me. I didn’t. . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know whether or not he should say it, because if he did, it would make everything he’d felt these past few weeks real. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

“Didn’t think what.” You whispered this. To be honest, you were tired. You were tired of just how much you cared, tired of what feeling anything for him did to you. To hate him meant you had to harbor all of this anger and remind yourself of everything he did to piss you off. You had to keep that hatred bottled up inside you, shaking up your feelings every now and then so the feeling never died out. To love him? God. To love him you had to reach inside yourself and pull out the months of sheer adoration; the nights in the sheets; the blood, sweat, and tears that went into your most beautiful relationship yet. Everything and anything you felt for him took pieces of your heart you just wanted back. You wanted to feel again, feel anything that didn’t have to do with him.

“(Y/N)....”

“We have to talk, for real this time.”

#harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #fan fic #harry styles drabble #harry styles drabbles #styles #hs

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deathsteel · 3 years

Text

This Ain't a Scene Its a Goddamn Drag Race

~Part Two~

Castiel woke up the next morning to the sound of the show's security guys stationed in the hallways changing shifts. He tried to block out the sound of their chit-chatting by burying his face in his pillow, but ultimately failed when they burst into raucous laughter right outside his doorway. With a groan he dragged himself out of bed and towards the bathroom; might as well get a run in before the production staff descended on them so they could film the reaction shots to last night’s elimination.

There wasn’t much about being on a reality show that Castiel would call ‘glamorous’, but filming the practically scripted confessional segments after each elimination and mini-challenge was probably the most degrading thing that Castiel had ever done in his entire life. And he’d once been talked into ripping open bags of trash all over himself during a show by his drag mother. Needless to say, performance art and lying to the public at large were not his favorite activities.

He’d gotten into a huge fight with one of the producers early on about how staged some of the things on the show were and it was probably why he’d been struggling his way up from the bottom since the very first episode. But luckily Gabby was very adamant about preserving what he called “the integrity of the process” and basically ignored the producers when they tried to steer him towards favoring a certain contestant.

That didn’t mean that the host was around all the time so the execs still got their dose of drama to satiate the audience, regardless of whether the rivalries between the queens were genuine or not. In actuality, Castiel liked most of the others, even Luc and Michael at times had been funny when the cameras were off, but he wasn’t about to delude himself into thinking they were best buddies. Not even Balthazar who had quite obviously been flirting with him the night before right in front of Charlie, one of the less anal PAs, who had been assigned to watch them for the evening. And definitely not Kevin who only lived an hour away in Olympia and treated him like the drag mother he’d always wanted.

Not to say it wasn’t tempting, both Balthazar’s lasciviousness and Kevin’s overtures of friendship, but Castiel wasn’t going to be the next Willam or Latrice Royale; being a slut and a saint hadn’t gotten either of those two queens the crown. And that was what all of this was about, right?

He was plagued by these thoughts as he headed down to the hotel’s indoor gym and put a couple of miles behind him on the treadmill, staring at his own reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls because he wasn’t allowed to turn on the T.V. that was mounted in one corner of the room. Castiel honestly would’ve done it just to spite his contract if he could (because he was dying to find out about some gossip that was centered on anyone besides himself) but Hael, one of the show’s interns, was there with him; ‘keeping an eye on him’ while really tapping away at her phone.

If Hael was a man, Castiel would flirt a little, trail his fingers up the inside of a thigh and BAM! He’d have instant access to being able to call his mom or text his sister or god above, check TMZ. He just knew in his gut that Rihanna had done something since he had been locked up in this rhinestone studded prison for the last month.

But Hael was a woman and even though she eyed his biceps when Castiel was doing half-hearted pushups as part of his cooldown, the thought of whoring himself out for five minutes with an iPhone kinda made him nauseous. Or that could’ve been the mini bottles of vodka he’d been slamming back with Raphael, Kev, and Charlie last night as they’d eaten delivered pizza in Kevin’s hotel suite. Balthazar had stuck to nursing a beer, amused by their antics, but otherwise aloof in the way that Castiel thought only took away from the other man’s attractiveness.

Now that his head was pounding from both his workout and his hangover, Castiel understood why the Brit hadn’t indulged like the rest of them. That strategic, wormy, sexy bastard.

By the time Castiel had made it back to his room, he could see a room service tray being delivered to Luc’s room and another on the floor already outside of Balthazar’s, so at least the other queens were up and about. They’d probably have to leave soon to go back to the studio and Castiel resigned himself to a fast shower and a shave instead of the long, leisurely one he’d intended to jerk off in.

Whatever, he’d just do it later.

Today they’d just be shooting reaction scenes based on last night’s elimination and doing the mini-challenge which wasn’t exhausting, but they never knew what the mini-challenge was going to be so you definitely had to have your wits about you. Castiel definitely did not have much of anything about him at the moment, but he planned on phoning it in for the mini-challenge since it wasn’t likely to affect him too much if he lost whatever little advantage the win would get him.

By the time he had finished changing into a well-loved pair of dark wash jeans and a faded black polo shirt and popped his medication, Castiel was already exhausted. So when one of the PAs pounded on his door and called a ten minute warning for him to be ready or else, Castiel just sighed at the dark circles under his eyes and his messy unstyled hair before shrugging and snagging some sunglasses and a baseball cap out of his suitcase and heading out the door with his shoes untied.

Castiel rode in sullen silence with Luc again mostly because he was the last one to make it downstairs to the waiting towncars, but also because he was the only one of the queens who could stand Luc’s morning routine of picking at his fingernails and muttering obscenities under his breath.

As soon as all of the queens were herded into the studio, wardrobe descended on them like a plague of locusts; tugging at their street clothes and strapping mics around their waists until all of the queens were dressed in their ‘confessional outfits’.

When Castiel had finally gotten the official word that he had been chosen as one Drag Race’s contestants, he had been mailed a two inch thick envelope containing a contact that Castiel had signed without even reading, a list of “suggested” items that he needed to bring for the challenges, and instructions to bring at least two to three weeks of casual clothing to include one outfit that would be used for filming purposes.

At the time Castiel hadn’t known that he was going to be parted from his favorite blue cardigan for literal months, not even allowed to take it back to the hotel with him because the wardrobe crew was scared he would spill something on it that they couldn’t get out. If he had, he would have just let them film him in one of his thrift store t-shirts and cut offs. But now he had to wear his most beloved, comfy cardigan along with a grey button down and skinny jeans two to three times a week, every week, to record his thoughts about the competition’s goings-ons.

The wardrobe crew didn't ever mess with his hair and they mostly didn’t bother putting makeup on any of them unless they looked REALLY rough, but most importantly, the outfits never ever changed. Today, Castiel got some concealer for the bags under his eyes and blush for the pallor that had settled over him due to his hangover.

It took Kevin an embarrassingly long time to understand that the reason behind wearing the same outfit for every confessional was because the producers wanted to splice footage from different days together so that they could create drama by taking things out of context. Castiel had no illusions about the fact that he probably looked like an asshole to most of America right now based on some of the things he had said during confessionals. A witty asshole with a penchant for lighting-fast one liners, but a dick nonetheless.

Castiel was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as they set up the footage for him from the last few days, everything from the main challenge to the elimination runway to the behind the scenes or “Untucked” bits where they forced watered-down cocktails into the queens’ hands and then had them be gossipy bitches or start catfights. If the producers were feeling particularly sadistic they would get one of the contestant's homophobic family members to record a heartfelt, ‘private’ message that would then be played in front of everyone.

It was voyeuristic in probably the worst possible way and Castiel had decided that he would sooner get his wig snatched off by being shady than cry off his makeup if they managed to get his estranged father to apologize for calling Castiel a ‘fucking f*ggot’ when he was ten and had caught him with purple nail polish on after having a friend over to play.

He usually just read people during the Untucked segments and so far that’s what he had been doing during the confessionals as well; the camera girls seemed to think he was funny and the producers hadn’t caught on that the Drag Race version of Holly Cummunion was a sarcastic, shady act so he’d keep it up until Gabby or someone else called him on his shit. This week though, he had been uncharacteristically honest- probably because he was tired.

He even complimented Luc’s runway outfit for Christ’s sakes so he must have been feeling extra charitable.

The only good thing about filming the confessional scenes was that nothing else was being filmed at the same time. It meant that at least three of the queens could be filmed doing confessionals all at once because it’s not like the cameras were busy filming anything else. With so few queens left they finished filming everything by lunchtime and after a quick change back to their street clothes and a stop by craft services the queens were scattered casually around the workroom by the production assistants and then left to wait until Gabby showed up.

One time the host had arrived an hour late with Starbucks and a hickey the size of a mid-sized principality on the underside of his jaw. The queens had shared amused looks before going on to do the funnest mini-challenge of the season so far; a matching game that used the butts of the Pit Crew as cards. Castiel suspected that he hadn’t been the only queen flustered by the glistening abs and generous bulges of the Pit Crew in their speedos, but for the sake of Sam and Zeke (Gabby’s two regular Pit Crew men who’d, of course, participated in the challenge as well) Castiel had tried his best not to ogle too much even though he was going through the driest, dry spell of the century.

After being allowed back into his comfy polo and jeans by wardrobe, Castiel let himself be placed at one of the workroom tables with Raphael who was filing his fingernails in the most bored way possible. Castiel kept his sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt just in case the studio lights made his already throbbing head any worse, but after glancing in a mirror he decided his hair was fucked no matter what he did so he discarded his ball cap on top of his makeup case and let it be free.

The production assistants were distracted by last minute adjustments so Castiel snuck a glance at Charlie, who was coaxing Kevin and Luc into sharing a mirror since they were both plucking their eyebrows, before he quickly fetched one of his styling heads; the one sporting the ratted up platinum blonde wig that Castiel had styled for the white-trash chic challenge a couple weeks before. He planned on using whatever downtime he had to finally brush the snarls out so he could use it again for something else.

“Alright guys, everyone good?” Charlie asked, doing a thumbs up around the room as she tugged the headphones that she usually wore while filming back onto her ears. “Great, Gabe should be here in five so you all know the drill. Chat, look busy, just act natural.”

Raphael let out a derisive little scoff under his breath but otherwise continued shaping his fingernails and acting like Castiel didn’t exist. But that was pretty natural so Castiel didn’t bother questioning it, instead choosing to joke loudly with Balthazar from across the room about what the upcoming challenge could possibly be.

“Maybe Gabby’s interested in checking out the tightness of our tuck,” Balthazar quipped, winking in Kevin’s direction when the younger queen started giggling.

“Oh, well bless Connie for leaving then,” Castiel replied, referring to another queen, Connie Lingus, who had bowed out of the competition due to medical issues. “That girl had the meatiest tuck I’d ever seen.”

“Well, did you ever see her dragged down?” Raphael interjected, still focused on his nails. “Gave the phrase ‘hung like a horse’ a whole new meaning, baby.”

“I think Gabby has more important things to worry about than our tucks,” Luc drawled in a bored, disinterested kinda way.

He was making conversation to get air time and all the assembled queens knew it; Castiel just barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes and that was only because there was a cameraman hovering at his elbow as he brushed out his wig.

“Hells yea she does,” Kevin piped leaning back from the mirror to smooth down both of his eyebrows with a critical gaze on his reflection. “Like check out the tightness of the Pit Crew! Can I get an ay-men!?”

All the girls let out an ay-men, some less enthusiastically than others, but it happened to coincide perfectly with the now tell-tale sign of Gabby’s impending arrival. Well, it probably wasn't a coincidence, nothing about TV ever was.

‘Ooooh, gurl!’ The hidden speakers in the workroom blared to life with the sign for Gabby’s message that would contain a hint about the upcoming elimination challenge. ‘You’ve got she-male!’

#fic writing #destiel fanfiction #spn fanfiction #rpdr au #gd drag race

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yodawgiherd · 4 years

Text

Red flag pt.3

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Soon brothers.

Just not yet. :D

In the following week, Mikasa learned more about sex than she ever did before. While the internet itself was a fickle teacher, giving facts and hundred and more opinions from anonymous users, Eren was an endless well of knowledge. It was her who asked first too, he didn’t even try to talk about it before Mikasa brought it up. And how could she help herself, with such an insane bomb being dropped on her!

First things first – she googled the name of the agency he worked at, just to be sure that he was not bulshitting her, but everything he said seemed to be true. The website was there, displaying the “ wide variety of services done by long-term professionals”. Although Eren’s name was not there, he told her that he is listed as Master E, a thing she immediately questioned. Over messenger, of course.

Master E? Damn that’s lame.

You wound me :(

I mean seriously, couldn’t you be something cooler?

Such as?

I don’t know! Master Evil. Dungeon Master. Lord of the Night?

Yea, I’m sure that dungeon master would be turning heads

….. Orgasminator?

Mikasa pls

Lord horsecock

Stoooooop I beg you!

Fine fine, you’re just jealous I’m that much better at naming than you

Sure am.

When he didn’t continue, Mikasa took the initiative.

Sooooooooooo, gonna tell me where the Master E came from?

Simple. Annie wanted to be Mistress A so I just latched onto her vibe

Uh-hu. So you are just that much unoriginal

:( sadly

Just imagining Eren pouting at his phone made Mikasa’s evening that much brighter. She wanted to see more of it.

Latching on Annie, you do that a lot don’t you?

Why is that?

Well, she’s the one who introduced you to this whole thing and even today she is the best at your agency, most advertised one too. Playing catch up your whole life? Maaaaaaster E? :P

Hey, it’s not my fault that men are bigger pervs than women.

Excuses

To be honest, I don’t mind being behind Annie, she’s good at this. Also, don’t tell her this, but she scares me sometimes

Scares you how :O

Annie can be really brutal when she gets into it. Nothing the clients don’t ask for, mind you, but still. If you’d see her victims….. the wounds……

Mikasa’s breath caught in her throat.

Are you serious?

I don’t know…. Am I?

Dork.

She frowned at her phone, but still looked when the answer pinged in.

I am partly serious though. She can be a nightmare, sometimes I feel like she’s on a one-woman crusade against the male population. And she’s getting paid for it too!

She sounds like a hell of a woman.

You bet :)

Master E also had several scenes online, to be bought and watched, and a few times Mikasa almost clicked the button and spent her hard-earned cash on kinky porn. It was the promise of a live show that stopped her from doing so. She didn’t know if she’s going to go yet but buying a video of something she could watch happening in real time was a waste of money. No, she wouldn’t spoil that surprise.

She learned much anyway, way too much even, things that made her blush and hide her face, things that made her quickly hide her phone. In moments like these, she was grateful that the communication was being done over the internet, as Eren was way too intense of a person to be talked about this face to face. Here, hidden behind her screen, she could pester him for ages, joking and making fun of whatever he gave her. And, during these conversations, she learned another important thing.

For a guy who was more or less a professional perv, Eren used a lot of emojis in his messages.

It caught her off guard, how normal and easy to talk to he was. She didn’t think that he was a monster or something, but Eren was right when he said that her opinion of him changed fundamentally once she found out about his job. Mikasa found herself texting to him, a lot, and he texted back, snapped photos until she started doing it too, and overall just had a great time. Levi was giving her sidelong glares when he kept catching her while she stared at her phone, grinning like a maniac, but she simply ignored him. How was she supposed to not laugh when Eren just sent her a photo of his cup from a coffee shop with a crying emoji. Apparently, they spelled his name wrong again and kept calling him Aaron.

What’s the most common thing they ask you to do?

She half hid her face in the pillow, already dreading the answer. The three dots that appeared in the corner indicated that he was typing an answer, and soon enough there was a ping.

I feel like I’ll disappoint you here.

Most of my clients are easily satisfied - basic bondage/dominance stuff works wonders

They could do that with literally anyone else

Like their boyfriends and stuff

Mikasa frowned, typing an answer.

Why don’t they then?

Ping

Sometimes it’s the professionalism I bring to the table, and then I understand them.

But often it's just a lack of communication

You’d be surprised how many things can be solved if two parties talk to each other.

I usually advise it too, tell them that they could be doing this with someone they love and not me

You undermine your own clientele like this? Mikasa wrote Why would you do that?

A few dollars ain't worth if they could be happier. Then again, not every one of them takes my advice, it's difficult to open up about things like these.

That gave Mikasa a perfect chance to poke at him.

Not for you, apparently :p

Ping

:D true, but I work in the business

The range of things they discussed was wide. Save for her past, which she did not want to talk about, and made it crystal clear too, Mikasa shared a lot. She told him all about her brother and the gym, sent him snaps from her workouts and then typed back angry emojis when he called her sweaty tryhard. His overall ignorance towards something that was a big part of her life did raise a question. Grabbing her phone more firmly, she quickly typed it out.

Haven’t you thought about doing any martial art yourself?

You deff got the figure for it.

A ping later there was an answer.

Bold of you to say that when you never saw me shirtless :P

But nah

I’m a lover, not a fighter

Plus, you’re just trying to recruit me to your gym, aren’t you?

Levi promised you a bonus?

Spill your beans, Ackerman

Damn spammer. Yet Mikasa was smiling again, which made Levi, who just happened to be passing by, groan.

“Don’t you have a client coming?”, he asked.

She shook her head.

“In an hour, I’ve got plenty of time to get cleaned up.”, she made a gesture with her hand, “Now shoo, I’m having a conversation.”

“With Sasha?”

“Huh?”, she looked up, puzzled, “Why would it be Sasha?”

“Cause I never saw you smiling this much before.”

One week turned to two, and suddenly the day of Eren’s show was here. He remained true to his word, never bringing that event up, keeping it completely in her hands, if she wanted to show up or not. Mikasa was uncertain. The mystery pulled her in, she wanted to see these things for herself. Watching it on the internet is one thing, but live show….

All the stories Eren told her only fueled such a flame. He always omitted names and such, for the discretion of his clients, but he didn’t hold back on the details. To be fair, Mikasa did ask for those.

Sasha wasn’t much help in her decision process either, because Mikasa didn’t want to share all the details about Eren yet. She told her friend that the guy from the bar invited her to a strange-looking place, and wanted to know if she should go.

“Did you two fuck?”

Mikasa frowned, realizing that Sasha can’t see her over the phone.

“No Sash, we didn’t. He’s a friend.”

“Oh, okay.”, there was a crack on the other side as she probably munched on another potato chip, “And is he a friend-friend, or friend-you-would-like-to-fuck?”

“Why is that the question?”

Sasha giggled.

“Dunno just wanted to ask.”

“You’re not helping at all….”

“Because it's easy! You either trust that guy and go or don’t trust him, block his number and never see him again. Boom, solved!”

If only it was so simple.

Yet when the day rolled around, Mikasa woke up with a decision in her mind. She’s going to go there. Eren was a great friend, and she was curious about this whole thing. She will be masked, anonymous, and if there is something she won’t like, the door will be there. This raised another question, however, of what does one wear to a BDSM club.

Mikasa, in her vanilla life, did not feel the need to buy anything made of leather or latex and wasn’t about to start now. There was one pair of leather paints she used to own until one day a completely random guy on the street told her that her ass looks really good in them. Mikasa threw those pants right out that evening. Public exposure was something she was NOT looking for. So, she had a small variety to choose from anyway. Mostly jeans, one or two skirts and a single dress that she wore to prom and that probably wouldn’t fit her anymore. Standing in front of the wardrobe, she contemplated calling Sasha again but ultimately decided against it. Mikasa Ackerman is a grown woman. She can choose her own clothes, damn it.

In the end, it was just a simple shirt and jeans combo. She reasoned that it added to her secretiveness, as anyone could wear what she was wearing. Satisfied with her completely basic appearance, she headed for the door, grabbing the keys and popping her head into the kitchen.

“I’m heading out.”, she announced, “Borrowing the car too.”

“Oh? And you tell me now?”, Levi tsked, shaking his head, “Damn brat, you really have no manners. When will you be back?”

“Later, maybe tomorrow. Don’t wait up.”

The words were already forming in Levi’s mouth, but Mikasa spoke faster.

“I’m an adult, so please. Just don’t.”

And, to her surprise, he didn’t.

“Fine. But if there is even a single scratch on the car, I’m taking it out of your paycheck.”

“That’s fair. I’ll see you later then.”

“Later.”, he was already half-turned back towards the Tv, before he added, “Drive safely.”

And that’s how, an hour and a half later, she was standing in front of a completely unassuming building. The door was just like any other, with a small sign and everything, not strange in the slightest. The security guard might have been a bit of a giveaway. He was tall, wide and dressed in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly. When Mikasa approached, he sized her up and down.

“I’m afraid that this is a members only club.”, he spoke in low barytone, “Do you have a card?”

“I uhh... I was told that I can come in. I’m a friend of Eren, my name is Mi-…”

The guard raised a hand before she could finish.

“No names, please. We pride ourselves on anonymity.”

Seeing Mikasa nod, he continued.

“Mr. Yeager did tell me that someone might be coming and that I should let them straight in. So I will do just that.”, he stepped aside, “Once you enter, the masks will be to your right, and after choosing one please don’t forget to return it. Enjoy your stay.”

Mumbling her thanks, Mikasa dipped inside, finding herself in a small room. There were the masks, just as the guard said, and another door that led to the club itself. She could hear muted music coming through. First things first, she stepped closer to the selection, casting an inspecting eye over it. There were several types, all possible shapes and sizes form full hoods to tiny eye-masks. After a bit of healthy consideration, she grabbed a black one that covered the upper half of her face, more than enough to remain anonymous. It was not likely that she would meet anyone that knew her anyway, let’s be honest. Masked, ready as ever, curious and wanting to see more, Mikasa took a deep breath and entered the door, stepping right into Eren’s world.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #see you in 2021 #maybeh

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onemistresstorulethemall · 5 years

Note

Sports Beel Anon: No that was a typo. It's a her - I definitely want a her. Thank you so much for noticing and asking!

Hi, baby! 💕

I'm so fucking sorry it took me so long! I hope I managed to do a good job. I tried my best to snap out of my writer's block. ✨

Training session

"What do you mean I can't?", your displeasure was easily visible.

"You can't join the team, y/n. This isn't a normal school. You can't just put on a uniform and hope for the best. You'd be playing against demons. And with all honesty, I'd let you play just so you can see what you're actually dealing with, but that would lead to you getting injured if not killed. So, naturally, I can't let that happen.", Lucifer was clearly irritated with your lack of common sense.

"But that's not fair! I worked so hard and-"

"I'm sure Levi would love to discuss this with you. But, unlike the rest of my brothers, I have work to do. Now, if you'll excuse me...", he gestured towards the door of his study, demanding you leave already.

With an irritated grunt, you turned on your feet and left. As soon as you closed the door behind you, tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, but you didn't want to cry, so you looked up and the celling and formed your hands into fists, pushing your nails into your skin slightly until the sensation of crying went away.

In order to forget about this for a while, you made your way towards the kitchen. Maybe you'd find some sweets Beel hadn't already eaten or even better, some alcohol in the cupboards.

However, before you were able to go snooping into the kitchen, Beel greeted you with a half full mouth.

You tried to make some small talk and be on your way, but Beel wouldn't have it.

"You're sad.", he simply stated.

"No, Beel, I'm fine.", you lied.

You weren't a good liar.

"What happened? Is it cause I ate the last burger? I'm sorry, I was hungry...", his expression made you melt and your anger dissipated.

"No, it's not that..."

"Then what is it?"

"Lucifer won't let me join your team because he thinks I'll get hurt."

For a second he didn't say anything, as if pondering you just said.

"I have to agree with him on this one. Demons don't play nice."

Oh, so he wasn't just saying that to piss you off... But you could hold your own! Or... could you?

"If you want, you can train with me! And then I'll play some games against you. How does that sound? Would that make you happy?"

"Yes, Beel. That would make me very happy."

His whole face lit up to the sound of your words.

"Great! Then meet me in my room in half an hour. We'll start training then!"

That gave you enough time to change into some workout clothes, tie your hair in a bun and drink a protein shake. Eventually, the time was up and you excitedly knocked on Beel's room.

"Come in!", he raised his voice so you could hear him through the door.

Surprisingly, his twin brother was nowhere to be seen. You just stared at the empty space on his bed.

"He's napping in the attic if that's what you're wondering.", your answer came, "He usually sleeps there when I work out."

With no time to waste, you both started to warm up before you could get to the real training.

"I don't know your workout schedule, but for me today is leg day. Is that okay with you? Or would you like to do something else?", he asked.

"No, no. Legs are okay."

It was all laid back and chill, until it came to your favorite exercise, squats. But not just any squats. No, you were doing barbell front squats. It was the type of squat where you place barbell and weights on the trapezius muscles at the back of the neck. It was your favorite because it didn't only work out your legs, it also helped your butt.

However, you were spent. Working out with a demon was a lot more exhausting than anything you've ever tried before and although you hated it, you had to admit that you were starting to agree with Lucifer. If only training was tiring you so much, then actually playing against demons would be...

"Hey, y/n, you're not doing it right. Your form is all wrong.", he grabbed ahold of the barbell as if it was weightless, "Let me help you.", the request seemed innocent enough.

He started explaining you how to correctly do the exercise, but you couldn't concentrate on any of his words. His chest was pressed against your back and his crotch area brushed against your butt. He was hot and sweaty, but he smelled so goddamn good. You couldn't focus. It felt as if the room was getting hotter and hotter by the second.

"Are you even listening, y/n?", he lifted the weights and put them on the floor, "Is everything okay?", he turned to face you only to be greeted by your blush.

Too embarrassed to say anything, you closed your eyes shut, wishing you could just teleport out of there.

"Y/n... Did I do anything wrong?", he came closer and cupped your cheeks.

His actions made your eyes open instantly and when you saw how close his face was to yours, his lips inches away from your own...It made you, unintentionally, moan.

Taken aback by your reaction, his eyes widened, but in an instant, a soft smile covered his face. He came closer and pressed his lips onto yours, gently, as if afraid not to hurt you.

"If you wanted to train like this you should've told me..."

You didn't even think of the possibility before, but now that it was presented to you...

He was just as excited as you. You could clearly see that through his shorts. So, naturally, you kneeled and pulled his bottom clothing down to his ankles.

"You move fast...", he smirked.

Suddenly, you were feeling hungry, hungrier than you ever been and you started to understand Beel better. You felt closer to him.

With soft slow licks you covered his length in saliva before taking his head into your mouth. The ginger demon's hands grabbed ahold of your hair as you started to move your head up and down his member.

The heat was getting unbearable and your arousal was getting too much to ignore, so you used your free hand to slip into your panties and start massaging your sensitive spot. As pleasure was building up, you stated to suck fasted, using more tongue. But when you felt his cock twitch, he pulled you by your hair away from his member. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his length.

"I want more of you if that's okay...", he said through heavy breaths.

Your reply was wordless. Sitting up, you discarded your shorts and panties in the process and made your way to his bed afterwards. Down on all fours, you awaited Beel's next action.

Much to your surprise, instead of getting filled up, you were getting teased. His tongue played with your wet folds as two of his fingers toyed with your entrance. As your moans got louder, he knew he found the right spot and kept gently rubbing that area. You were getting wetter by the second, so he felt it would be the right time to give you a taste of what's to come. One of his fingers made its way inside you, which made you grab the sheets and bite onto the pillow in front of you to muffle your moans. It hit just the right spot inside you.

"M-more... Give me more..."

Your pleads were heard and he inserted another finger. It curled up inside you just as deliciously as the previous one and moved at an agonizing speed. So slow you stated to grind your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers.

"Please fuck me...", you whispered hoping he'd hear you.

"Hmm? I didn't catch that.", he stopped teasing your nub.

"Please fuck me!", you said quickly.

"Gladly.", he smirked.

His fingers were soon replaced by his cock, which stretched you regardless of the previous preparations.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?", his hands massaged the small of your back as if easing you into it.

After giving you a bit of time to adjust to his length, he started moving slowly. Your walls clenched around him and eventually you had to speak up.

"Faster, please..."

Beel picked up the pace and his grip on your hips became stronger. Not strong enough to hurt you though.

Unconsciously, your hand started rubbing onto your clit, in the ecstasy filled search for release. Soon, your legs stated shaking and you were lingering on the edge.

"Beel, I'm gonna..."

"Go ahead and cum, y/n."

As if he pushed a button, your body follows his command. Pleasure induced spasms took over you and soon after you whole body felt as if it was floating. Your kind was blank as Beel continued to thrust into you long enough for his own orgasm to come.

He pulled out and crashed onto the bed next to you, turning you around and holding you into his arms as his warm seed dripped out of you.

"How about you train with me next week as well?", he kissed the top of your head.

#obey me! shall we date?#one master to rule them all #shall we date #obey me #obey me beelzebub #shall we date beelzebub #smut

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essaysbyciara · 5 years

Text

Old Habits Die Hard| Part Six: Just & Righteous

Warnings: Languages, brief mention of police brutality, lightweight mentions of sexual situations

Almost at the end of this thing, whew. As always, you can read on Wattpad as well. Thank youuuuuuuu for the likes, reblogs, comments and commentary. Y’all bring so much joy. Peace & love.

JUST & RIGHTEOUS

It seemed as if history repeated itself. Minutes, hours, day, weeks, even months passed without hearing a word from Dave. He sent no DMs and leveled no texts your way. He left the text message containing your phone number on read and left you feeling waves similar to what you felt last summer.

But it was the sweetest dismissal you ever could receive. Truth be told, you didn’t need to hear from Dave at all. The fact that you sent him your number as you sat in the passenger seat of Yahya’s car was the lowest of low. Yahya was nothing but great to you. He didn’t deserve your betrayal. You were happy that the Universe conceded on his behalf -- and blocked yours.

As the months eclipsed between that unfortunate reunion with Dave and the date of your wedding, you tried your best to hide the glow of the what-if’s involving Dave. How would you even pull this off if Dave did reach out to you? You felt bad for imagining the many ways to do just that.

Your reality inched closer and closer to you as the day of your wedding dress fitting approached. As you sit in your mother’s living room the day before the fitting, you look over at a framed photograph of your parent from their wedding day. Your mother, Jackie, saved her billowy couture gown with the miles-long train just for you. Thankfully you were a bit too thick in the hips to fit into that 1980s extravaganza of a dress.

It took your father’s passing for you and your mother to become close. You were a Daddy’s girl through and through and as much as Jackie didn’t want to feel bothered by your daughterly allegiance, she felt hurt by it. You would beg to stay at your Aunt Jerri’s cramped rowhouse every summer even when your Mom’s side of the family had the house not too far away with the extra bedrooms and the basketball court. You’d rebuff your Mom’s invitations to sorority events and balls to watch college football with your Dad. You even pledged her rival sorority.

It was as if you were doing everything in your power to spite her.

The truth wasn’t that. To you, Jackie was regal. She was the epitome of a queen. You always admired the way your Dad would stop everything to take a look at her, his attention so rapt that you had to nudge him back to reality. No hair was out of place, even her eyelashes curled with perfection. She was the epitome of “it” and you wanted to be her. Jealousy enraptured both of you.

But once your Dad died, that jealousy had no more blood left on to feed. It did have your father’s side of the family, who chose the funeral’s repast to air out their decades-long grievances with each other concerning your Dad.

A bottle flew in the air and almost hit your mom’s sister. In the midst of that chaos, your Mom grabbed your hand and asked if you were okay. Accusations were flying around that made your Dad either look like an angel or the devil incarnate. The same people that loved hard on you -- including your Aunt Jerri -- dogged your father out in front of everyone. Jackie gave a damn about you when the people around you both were worried about the “ principle” of it all. You and your Mom had no more reasons to fight. You became a united front, so strong that you both proceeded to curse out everyone into submission. Aunt Jerri even apologized to you since she “didn’t know both y’all bougie asses could go off like that.”

You made peace with your Aunt Jerri. Jackie was a different story.

“Is Jerri coming?” Jackie asks as she pours blistering hot water into her coffee mug.

“Yes, she is. She’s staying at my house … don’t you start.”

“Start what? I have no problems with that woman. As long as she knows her…”

“Both of you need to stay in your place. No disrespect, ma.”

Your Dad was a graduate of the North Philly streets. Your Mom was a first-year grad student at the University of Pennsylvania. Somehow your Dad made his way into a fraternity party on Penn’s campus and got a glimpse of Jackie, or ‘J8’, strolling in a circle with all of her sorority sisters to “Curious” by Midnight Star. He found a reason to linger around the house party at the defiance of his friends, waiting for the right time -- and right slow jam -- to get Jackie away from her girls. No such luck because somehow your Mom got out of the house and on her way home before your Dad could get a chance to dance with her.

But your Dad had collegiate connections -- your would-be Uncle Terrence, who willed himself away from those same streets and into Temple on a football scholarship -- who knew when the next party would be taking place. Your Dad waited and, sure enough, he laid eyes on Jackie again and this time, he’d get the slow jam he wanted.

It didn’t matter to your Mom that your Dad wasn’t on his way to a doctorate. It didn’t matter to your Dad that your Mom came from a well-off family from Chestnut Hill. Jackie would hang out in those same North Philly streets as her man with ease and your Dad would stroll around Penn’s campus like he belonged there. To everyone around them, they had no business with each other but they didn’t care. So much so that they eloped right after Jackie graduated, pissing off both sides of the family especially your Aunt Jerri.

Truth be told, Jerri and Jackie should be two peas in a pod. You’ve seen your Mom at sorority events and, without question, she could out-party your Aunt Jerri. In theory and practice, Jackie and Jerri should be on some seven-day cruise getting drunk together but alas, they both sit around with unresolved beef involving your Dad, the person who isn’t around to tell them to cut it out like he did in the past. His passing wasn’t enough to get them to bury it.

“I’m still your mother, watch it…”

“You sound like Jerri right now, you know that…” you joked, bracing for the coffee mug to travel from your mother’s hand towards your face. “Look, I’m only asking for you two to keep it church cute for two hours, if that. You can do that. At least for your husband, God rest his soul. And for me.”

“I will … and I’m praying for your future husband because I know Jerri is driving him insane.”

Aunt Jerri is indeed doing just that but Yahya doesn’t mind. Yet.

Aunt Jerri constantly reminds herself that Yahya is her future nephew-in-law. Yahya is so much like recently deceased husband -- Uncle Terrence -- that she can’t help but erroneously fall in love with your man. Aunt Jerri tries to curtail her lust enough as Yahya walks into the house fresh from the gym.

Yahya tosses his gym bag onto the vestibule floor with aims to run upstairs and grab a quick shower but Jerri prohibits that plan.

“What do you think? Do you know of anyone in Philly that could help?”

“I mean, I do but this is nuts…”

Yahya read the entire court case that Aunt Jerri handed him as he ran on the treadmill. What looked first like a false arrest turned into a case of police misconduct and judicial overzealousness. He’s seen judges level exorbitant bails on suspects before but this amount of bail was way beyond the standard. The way the police treated the suspect made Yahya so angry that he twice hit the treadmill’s emergency button to stop himself from running off of the exercise machine and into a wall.

He promised you that he wouldn’t take on any new cases this close to the wedding but his heart couldn’t let this one slide. His good heart couldn’t pass this over to someone else who he wasn’t quite sure could handle a case of this magnitude. But he wanted to practice fairness and ask you how you would feel about him picking up a case just months before the wedding. Yahya was running up the steps to take a shower and mull over what to do.

You aren’t right on time as you walk into the house just as he stands in the kitchen with sweat dripping off of his body from his run and the idea of you going off because he wants to play hero at the wrong time. He walks up to you and kisses your cheek. You implore him to get upstairs and wash away his workout before you three go out for dinner.

“You okay, Aunt Jerri?” You sit on one of the stools next to the kitchen island not rushing to tell Aunt Jerri about the conversation you just had with your Mom.

“Yeah, I am. Yahya and I were talking about some fucked up shit happening back home.”

“What’s messed up?”

“That wack shit that happened to Dave…”

Dave walked down Ogontz Avenue to blow off the steam of seeing your face for the first time in a year -- and the man that earned your love after he abandoned yours. He remembered the final night of your two-week stay last summer. You drove with him out of the county to what felt like the middle of nowhere. You sexed each other so deep and hard in the backseat of your car that your body heat had to escape through the tailpipe.

You were coming down from your high when you asked Dave to come back to DC with you. He could stay with you and then later visit you on his off weekends. Dave, so deep inside and into you, did not hesitate to agree. He wanted to wait until he was off from work to visit you first, not risking the job that Trace got him on the fly. Dave was on the way to becoming a supervisor at the warehouse and he didn’t want to mess up the grind.

You agreed and waited but Dave never came.

He sent that text after seeing you drive off with Yahya. He wanted you to know that he messed up, that fear of the unknown stopped him from making the move that his heart wanted to make. Hood dudes don’t drop everything for women, at least that’s what he saw around him. Dave still reveled in being revered in the streets. A new city with a woman he barely knew outside of the sex they created and the one date they shared wasn’t worth throwing away the relationships he built up north. But instead of telling you that he wasn’t ready for that, he ghosted. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He did more than that.

He grieved his decision as he walked down the street to grab some Backwoods before walking back home. There he was met with four police officers ransacking the corner store looking for a suspect related to a shooting that took place just blocks away. Dave was too deep into his thoughts to stop himself from walking into the store and what would happen next. Dave fit the description of the suspect: tall, tattooed with ahki beard. He didn’t have time to plead his case as the police slammed him up against one of the coolers and onto the floor, breaking his jaw.

Because Dave had a record and the victim was a five-year-old, the judge set his bail beyond even what his Mom could put her house up for in collateral. His lawyer, a public defender, told Dave to plea. A witness said she saw a man matching Dave’s description walking down Ogontz after the shooting. Dave was nowhere near the shooting, rather he was sitting on Aunt Jerri’s porch, ruminating about losing you but the lawyer didn’t want to hear it. So Dave sits in jail until his trial date and the neighborhood stewed in disbelief.

Aunt Jerri told Dave’s mom that she knew a civil rights attorney in DC that could help. She hoped that Yahya would take the case up himself, not thinking about the awkwardness of her niece’s fiance representing her niece’s ex-flame in court.

It hits you once you hear the story: that’s why you didn’t hear from Dave after you sent that text. He was sitting in PICC away from his friends and family. But you quickly wondered why you are now hearing about this from Aunt Jerri -- and how Yahya became a part of this conversation. Aunt Jerri quickly answers you.

“I was hoping Yahya knew someone up there that could help Dave.”

“Oh, because I know he’s not taking the case.”

“I was hoping that he would…”

“No the fuck he isn’t, Aunt Jer-.” You stop yourself from letting out more words that you both could handle. Despite the precedent set by you at your Dad’s funeral, you respect Aunt Jerri enough to reel it back in. “He can’t. We made a promise to each other that he wouldn’t take any cases from now until the wedding.”

Aunt Jerri stands bewildered as she hears you dismiss Dave’s need. She knew you were upset about what happened but she didn’t think you would react this way.

“I know Dave dumped into you and ditched you but this ain’t the way to get your revenge.”

“Excuse me?!”

Your rage boils as you listen to Aunt Jerri use your resentment toward Dave as a reason to keep him in jail. There’s a million lawyers in Philly, Dave didn’t need Yahya. You also didn’t want Dave and Yahya to ever meet, for Yahya to even know Dave’s existence. You were able to dodge a meetup when you were in Philly months prior. No need to plan one now. “First of all, you were the one that told me to get with him. And secondly, what you think it would look like if your new man is reppin’ your old in court. That’s foolish.”

“You were foolish in how you handled that Dave situation. I told you that boy didn’t want you…”

“Yeah, just like Uncle T ain’t want your ass either.” You could swipe low blows with the best of them.

“I know my brother loved you but don’t think I won’t…”

“Do what? I’m not my Mom. You can’t punk me.”

Yahya turns the corner of the steps to see you and Aunt Jerri almost eye to eye in the kitchen. He knows your faces of anger, catching it a time or two from you. He knows something is wrong and he fears that Aunt Jerri told him about the case. He knows what you don’t want him to do.

“Y’all good? Y’all ready to head out to dinner?” Yahya tries to break up the detente happening in the kitchen.

“I think so.” You cut a look at Aunt Jerri that could cut through steel. She grabs her purse and heads to the front door. Yahya passes her to meet you in the kitchen. He grabs onto your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You rebuff him at first but like always, your body sinks into his without much hesitation.

“You okay, babe?” Yahya braces himself to kiss you again if you ask about what Aunt Jerri brought up to him.

“What’s this about a case?”

“Someone from the neighborhood got himself in a lousy situation with the police up there and she wanted to know if I knew of anyone up there that could help.”

“I’m sure you do because you promised me that you wouldn’t do anything else…”

Yahya doesn’t want to tell her that as he showered, he made his decision: he is going to represent Dave.

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#dave east #yahya abdul-mateen ii x reader #yahya abdul-mateen ii #Old habits die hard

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