#and before you ask no me giving all my agents parental issues was not intentional | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years

Text

It started with a whisper

I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!

Ao3

(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)

————

Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.

Hey, baby, won't you look my way?

Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.

I can be your new addiction

Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.

“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.

Hey, baby, what you gotta say?

No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.

Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).

Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.

Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois

what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)

Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl

Replying to @TheBestBourgeois

I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!

All you're giving me is fiction

She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.

“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”

It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.

Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”

“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.

I found out that everybody talks

Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.

Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.

Everybody talks, everybody talks

What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.

It started with a whisper

“What is this shit?”

No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.

I can hear the chitchat

“There’s no way this can be real.”

“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”

Take me to your love shack

“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.

Mamas always gotta backtrack

“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).

When everybody talks back

Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.

Chat name: Alfred supremacy

BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!

BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!

BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI

LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN

Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat

Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!

Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!

Silent-but-deadly: agreed.

Timbo: YO DEMON

Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit

Timbo: are you being blackmailed?

And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”

The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.

After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.

Hey honey you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription

“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”

“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“

Too much could be an overdose

“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).

All this trash talk make me itching

Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.

Oh my my shit

“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”

Everybody talks, everybody talks

“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”

“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.

The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”

Everybody talks too much

“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”

“Bruce what do you want to do?”

“We’re going to Paris.”

She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.

She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.

Everybody talks

“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”

With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.

A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.

Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.

“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”

The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”

Everybody talks

Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.

The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.

“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’

Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.

Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.

She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?

Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.

The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.

“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.

“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”

Everybody talks

At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.

He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.

Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”

“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”

Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”

The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.

Everybody talks

But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.

“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?

Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”

Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

Everybody talks

“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”

“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”

What. The. Fuck.

Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.

“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”

Everybody talks... back

The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.

Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.

They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.

It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.

“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“

“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.

“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.” He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?

“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”

He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.

He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”

Was he...?

It didn’t matter.

She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”

Everybody talks

The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.

The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.

He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.

His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.

“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”

Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.

“I was with a friend.”

“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.

“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”

The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”

Everybody talks... back

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #batfam salt #batfam is concerned #Daminette #the aftermath of ‘Like I did with you’#everybody talks by neon trees #max kante has blackmail and will use it #Alix will bite if provoked #dc x mlb #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a meta?#supportive Dupain-Cheng parents ❤️

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wpdarlingpan · 3 years

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hello, just wanted to tell you how wonderful your work is, keep it up and keep rocking :) I was wondering if you could do a yandere Peter Parker x reader oneshot where the reader has powers and she's completely badass? But she kinda has self esteem issues and thinks her feelings aren't important. I'm sorry if I made you sad TvT

I will try my best! And thank you so much for the compliments ♡

Silent Shadow. That’s what she was. At least that’s what it was before the Avengers came. She was a assassin for a group called Hydra. Hydra was all she knew and that’s all she thought there was for her. She was there strongest asset, she was even able to rake down the Winter Soldier. She had beaten every hydra agent in a fight and she had many skills. You’d think she would just run away since she was able to overthrow them but Hydra made sure she would have no one to go to outside of them so they killed her parents and took her. She was alone. At least that was until she grew a relationship with her partner. A platonic one. She thought she had no one.

Until the day they showed up.

“Cap, how’s it looking out there? Need Code Green?” Bruce said from inside the quinjet.

“No, I think we are good Bruce. Tony is taking out the rest alongside Thor. Guess this base wasn’t as important.” Cap replied through the coms. It was true. It was a pretty easy mission, that was until they went towards the cells.

Bucky Barnes alongside Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver got rid of every Hydra Agent in the cells. At least the thought they did until they reach the very end cell with a complex lock. Bucky nodded at Wanda and she quickly used her powers to undo the lock.

Once inside they see a girl. She looked around 16 years old. Bucky froze.

Another assassin.

He knew her.

He rushed to the cyrochamber and opened it to the dismay of the team. They didn’t need another Hydra Soldier to deal with but he was not going to leave her in there. Steve walked into the room and saw him opening the chamber.

“What are you doing Buck?”

“I’m getting her out of here.” He spoke leaving no room for arguments.

“What if she’s dangerous?”

“I know her. She was my partner. She never wanted this. She always fought.”

“How do you know she will still fight?”

“I don’t.”

and finally it was open and he grabbed her then made his way back to the quinjet. The team that didn’t go to the cells were already there.

Tony was the first to notice Barnes carrying a girl.

“What do you got there?”

“...” Bucky didn’t respond. He wouldn’t explain back at the compound. He just wanted her to wake up. He wanted his little sister back.

Back at the compound

Her senses slowly came back to her and she woke up to her hand resting in somebody’s. She opened her eyes and saw.... Bucky! She lightly shook his hand making him shoot up.

“Doe!”

(I thought Doe would be a cute nickname since it forms from the only name they know which is Shadow.)

“Snowy!” She said happily. She was free. She was with her older brother. Everything would be okay.

And it was. For awhile. They took a blood test from her and found out she was Tony’s missing sister who was taken after the car crash with her parents. Her name was Y/N but some still called her Shadow or Doe in Bucky case. She didn’t blame Bucky but he sure blamed himself but he wouldn’t let himself cut her out of his life because of guilt. She developed relationships with the team. Tony and Bucky were her protective older brothers, Steve, Bruce, Clint and Thor were like uncles. Natasha was her aunt. Pietro and Wanda were like siblings. Then there was the day she met Peter. She had finally worked back up her courage and bravery, not to mention her cunningness. She was herself again, just more confident than before the accident. She walked around in stride, almost matching up to Natasha. She would work on her powers with Wanda and then make sure to spend time with her family.

He had come over to the tower after hearing about the new person at the tower from Tony. He had invited Peter to come over and meet his sister, Peter being addicted to pleasing his idol said of course and made his way over.

He was of course expecting a older woman since he knew Tony’s parents had died many many years ago, he was not prepared to see her.

Peter made his way up the elevator of the expensive tower after telling Jarvis what floor he wanted to be on. The elevator opened and there the team was in all their glory sitting on the couch waiting for him and the other guest to be ready.

“Hello Man of spider!” Thor boomed loudly as Peter stepped out of the elevator. Peter waved shyly at Thor and the others followed with their hellos. After a little more waiting Tony was impatient and called his sister to come down.

“Alright, Alright I’m coming! I didn’t even take that long! It would take longer to say your full title thing you like to say about yourself. Isn’t Genius, Billionaire Playboy, Kiss ass?” She smirked as she walked into the room. Peters eyes widened.

She was Tony Stark’s sister?

“Who’s did you want me to meet?” She questioned her brother as she smiled at him cheekily after forgetting the name of the person for the billionth time.

Tony rolled his eyes but he couldn’t stay mad at the sister who came back miraculously from the dead.

“Peter meet Y/N my little sister and Y/N meet Peter Parker aka Spider-boy.” Tony introduced and Peter stepped forwards almost in a daze and held out his when to shake formally.

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N said cheekily as he continued staring. He lightly shook his head and blushed embarrassedly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

She was more confident now away from hydra and he liked her personality.

And it truly was because that was the day that started his obsession with the one and the only

Y/N Stark.

He always came over to the tower to hang out with her as they had grown to be friends but Peter wanted more. Sometimes he came over and stalked her outside of the windows. Peter had hacked the tower from the inside to not detect him as Spider Man on the outside of the tower. Whenever he was in her room he’d touch everything he could and he secretly undid the latch to her window. He snuck into her room every night just to watch her sleep, watching as her chest raised and called from her steady breathing . He took pictures of her whenever he spied and had a secret collection of them filling his closest. He had even entered the room when the other Avengers had decided to run to the store for groceries dressed in their typical jacket, sunglasses, and baseball hats disguises. He cuddled into her blankets and breathed in her scene as he held into her pillow.

He was undeniably in love with Y/N Stark.

And he wanted her to be his.

His plan was soon put into action. He knew her schedules, wasn’t too hard she was required to stay at home as it was too dangerous because of Hydra.

One day he just got lucky, the team had to go out on a mission and she was required to stay home but Tony didn’t want her by herself so he called his trusted intern, Peter Parker. He was asked to go over to the tower to keep Y/N company and he immediately said yes.

And the day started off as usual for Y/N. She woke up and had breakfast, then sat by the tv watching her favorite show Once Upon A Time. She always like watching it because the character Jefferson reminded her of Bucky. She was halfway into episode 16 when Peter arrived in the Elevator.

“Hey Peter!” She called from the couch. She didn’t even look at him. It made him slightly mad. He should be her one and only. Not the stupid tv show.

“Hey Y/N.” He replied after he got over his anger.

“What do you want to do?” She questioned looking at him with a eyebrow raised.

“There are so many things I’d like to do.” He thought to himself but restrained from saying.

“It’s up to you.” He replied shortly continuing to think through his plan. He was confident it would go right if he followed each direction.

They went to the gym and she began to work on her powers while Peter watched her intently. He needed to know her powers if things were to go south with his plans. She first turned invisible then made force fields.

She continued to make the force fields bigger and Peter had to continue to back up to avoid getting hit with it. He began to get too far away. He also didn’t want her to thing that she could push him away like this.

“Y/N stop. You need to get food in you before you continue practicing. Your low on energy.” He faked looking concerned in order to manipulate her to feel bad. Of course she was usually defiant but she just wanted Peter to be happy. So she gave in.

“Alright.” He nodded in praise at her giving in. He knew how to get her now. She needed to please others. Probably a side effect from Hydra but it could be used to his advantage.

They then began baking... well more like Peter while she watched he made her sit down after he was worried about her burning herself. She needed to be taken care of. He also didn’t need her catching onto his plan, taking a pill out from his pocket and crushed it onto the cupcake he was going to give her. It looked like sugar. After being at hydra you’d think she would check her food before she ate. But she didn’t. She had to trust Peter of course. That’s what her brother wanted from her. She felt bad not being able to help around the tower. She felt as if she wasn’t contributing enough. Y/N thought it would help if she did what she thought was expected of her, not what she wanted. She wanted to bake. But if Peter didn’t want her to then she couldn’t deny it.

Then they watched tv but Peter hated it because again her attention was somewhere else. Halfway through Star Wars he turned off the tv and waited for it to work.

Just as he looked at her he could see her eyes be going to droop.

“Oh Y/N are you tired?” He questioned with fake concern.

“Oh, I am. Just a little bit. I slept well last night-“ she was cut off by a yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. I’m sorry Peter. I knew you came over to hang out.”

“It’s fine Y/N. Just got to sleep.”

Just as he said that her eyes shut and he smiled victoriously. She was his. And she wasn’t ever going to leave.

He picked her up bridal style and took her into her room and sat her down on the bed while he changed into his Spider-Man uniform and packed her some clothes. They wouldn’t be coming back here. After packing clothes into a small back pack he picked her up once again and they went swinging out of the tower with Jarvis not even alerted because of Peter hacking it before to not detect his suit.

He arrived at a small house in the middle of the woods and carefully opened the door and brought her inside. Peter glanced around the rooms just in case then sat her in the bed, attaching a chain to her ancle. The clasp part of the chain had a little padding so it wasn’t hurting her but it did keep her there. He kissed her on the head and quickly changed out of his suit. Then got into the bed wearing boxers climbing in next to the sleeping girl. He wrapped a arm around her waist and sighed content.

She was finally his.

The Avengers got back to the tower and saw no one there. No struggle. Nothing.

Tony Lost his sister. Again.

Bucky lost his little sister. Again.

And

Peter had taken the love of his life to be all his.

At least until they check the tapes.

Sorry it’s taken me forever to write this. This was my first shot at a Yandere and I hope it’s good. Sorry if I should have done less back story and more Peter but I hope you like it. Anyways thank you for the suggestion. ♡

#peter parker #yandere peter parker #bucky barnes #tony stark #spiderman #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker x Stark!reader

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makbarnes · 3 years

Text

A/B/O Bucky

“All I am asking is for you to stay with me in the lab today little sister, Don’t you remember the great times we used to have down in my lab at all hours of the night. You always eating cookie dough by the tub.” Tony pulled out a big spoon with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough and you chewed her lip in excitement. Tony for some reason wanted to keep you in his sight at all times today. You brushed it off as you ripped the lid off of the container and watched Tony work. Omega Siblings were rare but not unheard of. In fact some people would consider it to be a miracle that Stark had two Omegas with super human smarts then two Alphas with a taste for blood. Tony always protected you and since he had joined the Avengers, you had earned a strong Alpha brother in law, new friends and the safest place in the world to live. It helped that you got to save the world. Tony had come up with the Iron Man suit to secure his spot on the Avengers. You always saw him working on new equations with Banner or going off to Steve about how his experiment went wrong. You remembered the night Tony found out about your abilities. They became apparent when your first heat came on. Things flew all around your room and burst through the walls. Your life changed that night and from then on you was an Avenger. Tony and Steve helped train you and Natasha helped focus and not let an Alpha enemy take advantage of her in the field. You smiled reminiscing over memories of you and Tony side by side in the field.Taking down enemies and guarding each others back.

“{Y/N}?! Hello!?” Shaking your head you knocked herself out of the memories you saw Tony holding his hands under her mother’s picture. “Reminsining again?” You shook your head in response and took another spoonful of dough into your mouth. Purring happily on top of Tony’s desk you watched him intently as he typed a new code into a screen and went over to run a simulation. As you adjusted your oversized tee around your neck and dug deep into the container for a chocolate vein that ran down into the middle.

“I’m gonna go grab a soda.” Tony rushed over to the door and stood in front of you.

“Why don’t I ask...uhm...Adam to get us some hmm?” Tony tapped the glass and you saw a scrawny suited agent go up the stairs. Huffing softly towards him you went back to the dough for another spoonful.

“Tony?” You stabbed the spoon into the dough and walked over to his table. Tony’s eyes darted back and forth and you took in a deep sigh. “I need to know why you are keeping me down here.” Tony blew air past his lips and asked you to hand him a wrench. “Do not change the subject. You are usually all over Steve at this time, I can’t even leave the room? And when have you ever willingly given me a sugar rush?” Tony ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against his desk. “Fine. But you are staying away from him. Steve’s old friend Barnes is moving in tonight and I don’t want you near him. He killed our parents.” You rolled her eyes and threw up your hands.

“Ever wonder why I don’t have a mate?!” Tony shrugged his shoulder in reply as you growled loudly next to him. “You never let me. If I want to get knotted I'm damn well going to. This isn’t about who it is, its about me being an Omega and him being an Alpha. Mom was the same way, you got to go out with guys but no your sister has to stay home and learn how to do things around the house for her Alpha. Tony can go spend the night, Tony can go to the mall, Tony can do this. Even when I did get to do things, its Tony watch your sister, Tony keep her safe. Even now on missions, I’ve noticed it.I was very reluctant to move into this place. You let me have freedom and I didn’t think this was still an issue. I thought you saw me for the grown Omega I really am. Excuse me!” You rushed out of the room and up the stairs to your private room. Hearing Steve coming around the corner you quickly moved into a dark corner and waited, Ready to give Tony’s Alpha a piece of your mind. Seeing his shadow come across the floor you got into an attack position. Holding your breath you saw his broad shoulder come over the edge of the wall and threw your hand out to catch his shoulder but your throat was met with a metal hand clenched around it and your head made a dent in the concrete wall. Hearing a low dominant growl in your ear you felt a shiver go down your spine and felt your instinct take over. The smell of Peppermint, Cinnamon, Rose clouded your mind and you purred instinctively.

“Buck! Put her down! That’s {Y/N}. She’s Tony’s sister and isn’t supposed to be here.” Steve shook Bucky’s shoulder but his eyes were connected to your own and you felt as if you were flying. Feeling your feet fill with pressure, You caught the wall and shyly smiled. You could feel Bucky’s stare as you froze in place. Peering your eyes up, you chewed her lip at the controlling look in his eyes. You felt Steve pick her up from the floor and you could soon feel Bucky’s hot breath on your face.

“Omega.” His deep voice sent a heat between your legs and you pulled them together.

“Alpha.” You flirted back while inhaling deeply and felt yourself melting at his scent.Your knees felt weak and you could feel your breath getting caught in your throat. You felt the world stop and it was just you and Bucky. His crystal like eyes bore into your own and everything slowed.

“Steve! I said keep him away!” Steve gripped Bucky’s arm and dragged Bucky away from your sight. You cleared your throat as Tony moved you towards your room.. Feeling the rest of the world come back into view you could hear Tony’s complaining.

“You stay here. I yelled at Steve to protect you and if he asks I’m blaming you!” Tony slammed your door and heard him punch in a keycode in locking the door from anyone but him.

“You can’t keep me locked away like some princess who needs rescuing!” You sighed as you flopped back onto the bed and thought about Bucky’s scent that was stuck in your nose.Keeping yourself busy Your mind kept thinking about how ripped Bucky was under the black tank top he had stretched over his muscles. You felt his scent leaving your memory and quickly hit out a little hole you had in the wall behind your headboard. Taking out a small welding pen you sawed through the bolt that was holding the door to the wall and quietly caught it. Looking closely at the doorway you noticed two similar dots and snickered under your breath. Tony was always so predictable. You hopped over the threshold and followed the way you remembered Steve pulling Bucky in. Tapping your watch you checked the main areas with F.R.I.D.A.Y.S cameras and smiled as you found Bucky curled over a pillow rocking back and forth next to Steve. You quickly checked your surroundings and made your way to the bottom floor lobby. You could smell Bucky’s scent from the end of the hallway and felt your eyes dilate as if it was instinct. You controlled a little metal decor square off of a back table and threw it down the hall for Steve to leave the room. As he heard the thump he motioned something to Bucky and left down the hall. You took your chance and quickly moved into the room and jumped over the back of the couch to sit next to Bucky. Sniffing near him your felt your eyes roll into your head and bit your lip hard. Bucky didn’t move but you could tell he was holding himself back.

“Hi.” You cleared your throat and watched his muscles relax a bit.

“Steve said you were Stark’s sister?” Bucky’s voice was breaking from how hard he was holding back his instinct. Your scent of Honey, Rose and Lemon clouded Bucky’s senses and he couldn’t help but growl softly towards you.

“Does that matter?” You adjusted yourself closer to his neck and held your breath while your dark hair flowed over his shoulders. Bucky’s metal arm reverberated as he clutched the pillow.

“I killed your parents. Tony would kill me. I can’t!”

“Yes you can.” You moved closer to Bucky and saw his jaw clench.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t…I promise.” You pulled his face to look at you. Moving his hair out of his face you smiled brightly and slowly moved the pillow away from his arms.

“We share a scent…” Bucky pulled you closer to him as his eyes flicked to black. You moved until your lips were just inches apart. Watching his sight flick between your lips and eyes you sucked in your bottom lip and grinned.

“Do you want to kiss me, Bucky?” You held his shoulders with your hands and felt his arms come around your hips. His flesh hand came up to cup your face and you leaned into his palm. He pulled your lips against his own and it felt like a fire had been lit in your soul. An immediate feeling of comfort and destiny filled you internally. You twisted your lips to catch a breath before returning. Adjusting your hips to rest on his lap

“{Y/N}? Get out of here!” You gasped as Steve stood near you with crossed arms and rolled your eyes.

“To the lab!” Tony clicked a button and the window closed on her wall. She changed her clothes quickly to get rid of any of Bucky’s scent on her and hurried down to the lab. Rubbing her eyes to make them look irritated and tired as if she had just woken up. Throwing her long hair in a bun she messed it up a bit as the door opened and she cleared her throat.

Yawning as she entered the lab she stretched through the doorway to an obviously up-duped Tony. Steve adjusted his stance while she made her play and yawned in front of Tony as she took a seat.

“What’s up bro? Need a smart brain to help you?” You avoided eye contact with Tony as she saw Steve come behind her. Tony snapped his fingers and she made eye contact with him.

“I know that little stunt was to piss me off but you seriously have Barnes messed up. He can’t have such a strong Omega near him right now and We knew you could set him off.” Steve moved around the chair she was sitting and grabbed her brother's shoulders.

“Well that’s bullshit because I overheard you referring to Natasha training him tomorrow. So nice try. I’m guessing that you ran my biology with his own and tested how we would affect each other. Then you developed a plan to keep me down here and Steve stay with his “Best Friend”. Well Tony should have thought about bringing down some drinks beforehand or something or not forgetting that usually since Tony was born nine minutes before me I'm the youngest which also means I get what I want.” Makayla crossed her arms and turned away from them while smirking under her breath. She heard Tony growl with a quick reply from Steve, and felt the room's mood change and felt unsafe.

“You two are mad I get it. Look I will stay away the best I can but he is going to have to deal with it because I live here too.” Tony nodded in agreement as she stomped away from the lab. Pouting her lips together and tapping her foot while she waited for the elevator. Scratching her head she felt her heart sink as the elevator doors opened and a shirtless Bucky with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders was revealed. She quickly checked behind her and moved in beside him. As the doors closed she heard his breath get heavy and his metal arm adjusted again.

“Look, Tony said I have to stay away from you. I will do my best for a bit but I live here too and you aren’t about to change that.” She smirked his direction and suddenly felt herself pinned against the elevator wall. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. stop the elevator, cut the surveillance, Order by 32895.” She adjusted her breathing and chuckled down at him.

“I don’t want you to stay away from me.” Bucky brushed his nose by her scent gland and she shivered against his hot skin.

“I can’t hurt Tony like this. Bucky we are going to have to learn to deal with each other. You are intoxicating to me and I want to say yes...yes so fucking bad.” She cleared her throat as Bucky brought her feet to the ground and hovered over her face. His hair shielded most of the light from the lights and it was like the two were in a different world. She touched his stubble and he leaned into her touch. He nudged his nose along her neck and felt her knees buckle against him as his heavy breath hit her neck. She leaned her head over to open her neck to him wider as he buried his nose into her scent. “I want you.” Bucky clutched her tighter as F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted her to an elevator request from the Lab. She chewed her lip as she quickly hatched a plan.

“Steve is going to check on you again, more than likely. I can send an alert to your room when the coast is clear and take my watch in your pocket, I can guide you to my room.” Gripping his face and whining into his hair, Bucky slowly released her as the elevator quickly shot up to the rooms and the two departed ways. Going to her room she quickly tossed some clothes away and made her bed. Grabbing her phone she setup a playlist over the speakers and kept it on pause. Checking her stock of contraceptives she shot yourself with a special contraceptive Tony had invented and winced at the pain of the needle.She relaxed back as she carefully watched the time pass by slowly. Sending a quick message through her watch she couldn’t help but worry if Bucky received it.

(In Bucky’s room)

“Bucky you understand why you can’t engage her in any way. Tony will kill you” Bucky huffed as Steve explained the struggles.

“Why the fuck should he care. He’s already bonded. What, I can’t be happy?!” Steve sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Buck you know it’s not that. {Y/N}, she’s not for you. You can’t handle her like the Omegas in the past.” Bucky pushed Steve away and growled.

“Those Omegas were bitches compared to what I sensed in the few shorts seconds I had.” Bucky felt his pupils dilate and he slammed his fist into a wall. Steve growled towards him as a warning to calm down and he slammed himself against the bed. Steve smelled the gust of air that Bucky’s body had pushed towards him and he sighed in disappointment.

“Where did you see her?” Bucky ignored the questioning Steve as he felt her small watch in his pocket start vibrating. He covered it with his hand and avoided looking at Steve. “Buck? Come on.” Steve leaned over him and heard a small beeping sound. “Bucky, you realize I hear that right?” Bucky shrugged his shoulders and Steve took matters into his own hands. Pushing Bucky’s hand out of his pocket when he saw her small watch band fall out of his closed hand. Steve ripped it away from him and asked for F.R.I.D.A.Y to call Tony to Bucky’s room.

“You two are treating us like horny teenagers and I’m sick of it! {Y/N} is a consenting adult. I am a consenting adult. You two need to keep your dirty noses out of it.” Steve ignored Bucky’s comments and waited for Tony to knock at the door.

While her watch had been discovered she had changed into a bright red silk robe with a black lace bodysuit. Chewing her lip she hit her phone and sent an alert to her watch. She unlocked her door and signed into the cameras facing next to her room. She adjusted herself in her hanging chair and watched Natasha, Thor, Sam and Wanda go into their rooms. She noticed Tony coming out of Bucky’s room. ‘Great he got yelled at too. Thanks for the ramming tonight then brother.’ She adjusted her hair while she watched the time speed by, she had yet to see Bucky come out of his room and wondered if Tony was really that scary. Sending another alert to her watch she pouted as there was no movement in the cameras. Everyone had gone to sleep it seemed and you were raging mad at Bucky. Was he ignoring your calls? Did something happen? Was he just trying to rut with me? All of these thoughts clouded her mind until she cried herself into slumber. She doesn’t know what possessed her to cry, she just felt empty.

Let me know what you think and I can definitely post more.

#Bucky Barnes #alpha bucky #protective brother

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Scuffed Souls

Pairing: Midge Maisel/Lenny Bruce Rating: M Word Count: 2769

Summary: Despite her declared intention to go get herself a taxi, Midge can't seem to leave Lenny's hotel. Parts of it aren't so bad—the ocean view, the pool, Lenny. She could be persuaded into a little recklessness.

It’s the way he says it—“before I’m dead”—that has her twisting on the soles of her new shoes to turn back towards him with an equally twisted smile that can’t fully perk up to the uncomplicated amusement she usually feels when Lenny cracks a joke. It just didn’t sound like one.

And now she’s probably scuffed the black soles on the wretched, fine-pebbled stone of these slabs surrounding the pool of what’s otherwise a really rather sad hotel. He knows it, she knows it, and she can’t blame him for wanting her to come into his room, if only to liven it up for a few minutes. She wonders if anybody’s ever died here. Wait, she thinks, of course they have. It’s a gracelessly aging Floridian hotel. The count for patrons who’ve left unscathed is probably lower.

“Is that a long list?” Midge calls back to him.

Like the melancholy, reluctant romantic he is, Lenny’s still leaning in his doorway, watching her depart. Until a moment ago. Now he’s watching her stand here in kind of a weird realm: the post-date, non-overnight stay who issued a spoken plan to find herself a taxi like a big girl. She’s loitering. Then again, unlike at home in New York, you can do that here. Loiter your heart out. Cross that heart and hope not to die before you’ve slept with the woman whose martial status changes from minute to minute. Roll the dice! No, that’s Vegas.

Even from this distance, she can see Lenny cock his head in that way he has—playfully subservient as a child and publicly tactful as a monied, middled-aged woman. Some days, he could mirror her mother. What a gag that would be.

“Things you wanna do before you’re dead,” Midge explains with a tight gesture of her arm. Just the elbow down. God, is she nervous? She seems to be suddenly doing an imitation of Susie meeting Lenny for the first time.

“Not really. I think of somethin’ good from time to time and, of course, when I do, I can’t find the paper I started the list on and I have to get a new one… so it never really gets that long.”

“I just wondered. You know, how much time I have.”

“The length of the list determines my distance from death? This I did not know. Powerful,” Lenny notes emphatically, producing the same noncommittal smile from Midge. “I guess I better look harder for the next one I lose. Handy thing to refer to.”

“There’s that,” she agrees, “but also…” She takes a step back in the direction of his open doorway. The pool shimmers at her side. He’s right about the pool. Somehow, a pool at night looks glamorous no matter the courtyard. She hopes she looks half as good. “I wonder if there’s sort of an implication in there that—” Midge rolls a modest hand over the crassness she’d have no trouble blurting out on stage, no matter which of her relatives were in the audience. “—the quality of it would extend your life.”

He’s smiling wickedly at her. She’s gotten away with nothing and has no option remaining but to clutch primly at the handle of her purse with both hands.

“If anybody else told me that,” Lenny warns, “I wouldn’t believe them, but you I know to have been engaged to a doctor, and so I assume that any medical information you may have to offer vis-à-vis sex—” Spoken in a harsh stage whisper that nearly makes her (her) blush. “—comes certified by some type of professional board.”

“I didn’t say it was the truth, I said I wondered whether it were what you were implying.”

“Me? Well, you can’t trust that guy. Still, worth chancing, wouldn’t you say?”

Midge’s scuffed soles have brought her many steps nearer to Lenny than she remembers being in lucid command of. She’s slow-tongued as she stares at his impish expression. Flat-out flustered when he tips his head back with a smile to rest it on the doorframe.

“In there?” she asks with eyebrows arching like the next stop on this tour is St. Louis. She points sideways, where his bedside lamp glows. “On one hand, eternal life—on the other, whatever diseases are living in those sheets.”

“Oh, they’re very well mannered,” Lenny assures her with a casual brushing aside motion. “We split the rent fifty-fifty.”

“Hmm, then I’m not sure there’s room for me in that scenario.”

“The shower’s not bad,” he counters.

“Water pressure?”

“No, cleanliness. Haven’t you ever—” He employs the hand roll she should patent if it looks like that when she does it. Elegant. Prudent. Half what she wants to be and the other half what she has no hope of becoming. “—in a shower?”

Because Lenny’s looking at her like she’ll either sidestep (metaphorically—the shoes have suffered enough these past few minutes without risking anything more than a regular forward walk) or say no, she takes very great pleasure in smiling devilishly back at him.

“A shower sounds luxurious. Never done it in a bathroom with a shower before. You look scandalized,” Midge notes. “Do the diners in your neighbourhood have showers in their ladies’ rooms?”

“You had sex in a diner bathroom? I’m impressed,” he allows.

“Thank you. I needed that. I carry every compliment about the encounter back to my closet and console my wedding dress with it. Poor thing never did look the same after rubbing up against those walls.”

“Is this in your act?” Lenny demands, leaning towards her earnestly. “Why haven’t I heard this?”

“Put it in my act? Lenny, please. I’m a lady.”

“Hence the ladies’ room, I suppose.”

She giggles lightly with her lips pressed together. He earned that last line. Set her face on fire to get there, so she’ll let him have it. Speaking of letting him have it. Midge finds herself dropping her eyes so they don’t get into their second intense staring contest of the night. Can’t look straight ahead, can’t look to the right because that’s where his room is and the bed is highly prominent. Almost too eager. The bed is the bump in the front of a virgin’s pants on prom night when his date’s skirt brushes a little too close as they dance. Those crazy kids. Oh, to be young.

Midge looks left.

“The ocean,” she observes, and says, like an idiot. She even does another fucking gesture towards it, like he’d miss it somehow. “It’s… big.” Clever. Real sharp.

“Bigger than in New York? I think so too. Alligators though.”

“It’s ok, you’re talking to a fellow New Yorker. You can use the real term. Pre-handbags,” she prompts when Lenny gives her an inquisitive look.

He lets her have the wrap joke this time, but he’s more persistent about trying to catch her eye. She gets it. She is still standing here making alligator jokes when she was supposed to be in a car on her way back to the type of hotel it would be kinder not to tell this hotel exists. A hotel containing her parents, Shy Baldwin and his entourage, the boxer shorts Susie sleeps in and forgot to pack when she went to save Sophie’s ass. Hopefully Susie doesn’t need to cover that famous, demanding ass because she left the best equipment behind.

Lenny tosses his coat into his room and pulls the door shut, startling Midge.

“How ‘bout the pool?” he asks as he steps around her, arm extended to point. She swivels (damn, damn, damn, her shoes) and chases him. “You ever done it in a pool?”

“Actually, no.”

“I heard the pause and, trust me, I’m enthralled that you even had to think about it.”

“Did I mention I hit my head doing it in the bathroom? Pretty hard. All my memories before that day are hazy, so it’s really anybody’s guess.”

He gifts her an indulgent little smile and stops at the side of the pool. As she looks on, he removes his shoes and socks. Midge hears herself make the noise she makes when she denies Ethan a cookie only to see Zelda handing one over when she returns to the kitchen. The noise says, Is that wise? when her adult mommy brain knows for damn sure that it’s not. Lenny wets his foot and flicks water at her. The mommy noise had no effect on him at all.

“It’s nice,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “Warm.”

“Of course it’s warm. The air’s warm. Everything here is warm.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” When Lenny frowns, it’s tragic. The most tragic thing you’ve ever witnessed. “You see, I’ve been so cold since the end of our dance. I really may die if I can’t hold you against me.”

Midge tilts her head back and laughs.

“You’re worse than the guy I tried to scare off at the bar by mentioning dick jokes. And you’ll die? Really? All of a sudden, I’m the cause of your death rather than the agent of its postponement?”

Though he smiles, his eyes remain soulful. There really is something tricky about trying to be funny when he’s looking at her a certain way. She’s probably returning the look.

“Take a dip with me.”

“Why?” she asks, smiling.

“Because I want to admire you with that rose in your hair without the rest of it to distract me.” He nods down at her dress.

“My outfit is distracting? Terrific. Now I know I wore a distracting outfit on Brye Adler.”

Self-deprecating thoughts trickle away, accompanied by the gentle slosh of the ocean behind them. A rambling, improvised bit about what she’s wearing won’t change the fact that Lenny said what he said and she heard it.

“Are you going to call me a taxi if I keep standing here?” Midge asks.

“I had no intention of reminding you of that plan.” He rests a thoughtful forefinger against his upper lip. “But you do seem to be stuck. You won’t brave the room, but you also haven’t left.”

As though demonstrating how to do it, Lenny crouches and trails his fingers through the water of the pool.

“Still warm.”

He gazes up at her with needful brown eyes. The need feels equal to hers. She’s tired of being the only one needing.

“You have neighbours.” It’s between a question and a statement.

“Ah, they’re all either young and stoned or old and asleep.”

Midge makes a decision.

“Gimme your key. I’m going to change in your room.”

“Change into what? Do you have a bikini in your purse?”

She leans close to snatch the key he’s withdrawn from his pocket for the second time tonight and grins.

“Into nothing.”

Lenny takes a visibly shaky breath, not trying to hide it from her.

“Well, I’ll be here performing the role of guinea pig by stripping for any neighbours who may be watching. Should you hear wolf-whistles…”

“I’ll run right back out and join the audience,” Midge promises.

They smile at each other until Lenny tests the tension by loosening his tie. Her eyes drop to watch and she realizes she’d better go do what she said before he’s naked enough to make her lose her nerve. She hurries, high heels clapping on the stone.

His room isn’t quite as bad as anything she and Susie experienced on their first road tour, but it definitely isn’t anything to write home about. Not that he’d need to, seeing as this is his home ‘til Friday and likely beyond. Standing beside Lenny’s bed, Midge unfastens her dress. For the first time since Joel, she does it quickly. For the first time since splitting up with Benjamin, she does it alone. Beneath the dress, she’s cinched in pretty damn tight and she rubs at the red lines in her skin as she takes deep breaths that she lies to herself about—telling herself it’s the relief of being free of her undergarments. She lays her dress on his coral bedding. She positions her purse on his nightstand. Adjusting the rose in her hair, she slips her feet back into her shoes and dons Lenny’s carelessly-discarded suit jacket. Though it’s no beach coverup, it hides enough to get from here to the pool.

She spots the pile of his clothes before she sees him, head bobbing up through the surface as he slicks his wet hair back and swipes water from his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Midge teases to his stunned expression as he locks onto her approaching figure. “The shoes are coming off momentarily. I know they’re distracting.”

As if he’s even aware that she’s wearing shoes; his eyes are fixed on her legs as though she’s an exotic species of butterfly and his gaze is a mounting pin.

“That’s all I see when I look at you,” Lenny says, arms thrusting to propel himself backwards across the width of the pool. He halts at the far side and rests his arms on the stones, chest above the line of the water. “One big pair of shoes.”

Midge shoots him a coy smile as she steps out of them, wary to avoid treading on his watch. That’s what gets her: his watch. She stares down at it, resting there, the glass face catching the light, second hand ticking away. Before they’re dead.

“Aren’t you going to close your eyes or something?” she asks, standing in bare feet, Lenny’s jacket, and a rose. “Or are you only a gentleman when it comes to sharing a cigarette?”

“For you, I will go through the charade.”

He places a hand over his eyes. His mouth smiles below it.

Watching him, she swiftly sits on the side, dangling her legs in the water. With tentative fingers, she undoes the first button on the jacket. His hand doesn’t move. She undoes the second. Nothing from Lenny. Jacket open, Midge shrugs it from her shoulders. As she pushes off the wall, dropping into the pool, he lowers his hand.

“Hey!” she complains, spluttering on water, but he raises both hands helplessly, then goes back to holding himself up at the opposite side of the pool. “That was a dirty trick.”

“I would repent if I could find it in my heart to do so, but I just don’t regret it.”

Midge laughs, shaking her head and treading water.

“By the way,” Lenny adds. “The rose looks wonderful.”

She managed to keep all but the very bottom of her hair dry and can feel the flower still tucked between the strands. Fleetingly, she thinks of where she’s supposed to be tonight. What would Carole have to say about a situation like this? Maybe Midge can be the one who knows how a situation goes for once, without warnings or tips. Just… living it. That’s how she gets the material for her act, which what’s happening tonight could never be part of. ‘So,’ she imagines telling a crowd, ‘I finally fucked Lenny Bruce. Plenty of people already thought I had, so I doubt anybody’s still betting on it, but if you had money on it happening in a swimming pool in Florida, happy days!’

“Can you see it from way over there?” she asks coquettishly.

“A little.”

“Seeing a rose ‘a little’ won’t do. Do you think Shakespeare only bothered to see a rose ‘a little’ before writing that line about how sweet it smells?”

Lenny shoves away from the side and swims lazily in her direction.

“What does yours smell like?”

“Pool chemicals, probably.”

“An underrated scent.”

Midge’s heart surges and her throat seizes up, tongue awkward in her mouth as he draws nearer. With the glow and distortive properties of the water, his body’s nothing but a blur below the surface, as she’s sure hers is as well.

“It’s like a forcefield,” he notes. “I get close enough to you and, it’s not that the world stops being funny, it’s…”

“It’s that it becomes somebody else’s job to make the joke.”

“That’s it,” Lenny agrees softly as they begin to slowly circle each other.

Gradually, they work their way over to where it’s shallow. Midge’s toes skim the bottom when she begins to uncurl her legs. Her body gets used to the weightless feeling of the water, muscles relaxing, but her heart beats harder and harder. Finally, she cuts across their circle and wraps her arm behind Lenny’s neck as she presses her mouth to his. His hand cups her cheek, then shifts, knocking the rose from her hair.

#my writing #The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel #tmmm #Midge Maisel #Lenny Bruce #Midge x Lenny #the ongoing dick-measuring contest between me and the Palladinos #so what if they aren't aware of it? does that matter?#as a writer I'm really just here to fix the unsatisfying plot points of the Palladinoverse

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whetstonefires · 3 years

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Since you like the Hellboy...*perks up* Can I ask what you like about it? Does this need to be part of the ask game, if so, smash it in there. But opinions! I would love!

Ooh! Hm. This is actually surprisingly hard to articulate.

I’ve been ‘into’ Hellboy for like. Half my damn life now, and while I could have gone on at length about all the things about it I found fun as a teenager it was at its core very much a ‘this makes me Feel Happy’ thing. And now that glow is less intense but it’s bolstered by that habitual sort of attachment you feel to like. Family members.

Let’s see how far I can break this down lol.

I have never been able to much like most of the BPRD tie-in type materials and I was not at all pleased with the films, so to an extent I think I can say confidently part of what I like is the way Hellboy is situated in a superhero-comic-adjacent space while being very much coordinated by one overarching creative sensibility--like, other people were brought in to work on Hellboy a lot over the course of the run, but Mignola always had a unifying voice and even when I don’t actually agree with his taste or values that level of artistic...intentionality? Judgment? Presence? Something like that. Gives the work a sense of...integrity? Maybe just unity.

Anyway makes it feel less plastic than comics often do. This is a corporate product of course but it’s also just Mike Mignola hanging out doing whatever he thinks would be cool. Drawing rocks and monsters because that’s what he wants to draw. I like that.

Some of the higher-quality webcomics you get nowadays, when they don’t take themselves too terribly seriously but aren’t outright comedic, can land similarly in terms of voice, but even just fifteen years ago webcomics weren’t really at that point yet as a medium, and even now most are still amateurish as well as amateur. Which is fine, but different.

To get slightly less meta, I love the collection of genres that are smeared together for Hellboy--we’ve got a lot of detective noir stuff cut together with cosmic horror and like...the genre where people research folklore and then mostly punch it. Does that have a name? And then there are a bunch of other influences stirred in, sometimes for only a single issue, sometimes more.

Mignola managed to be significantly less offensive than average about the way he adapted world folklore into his weird groddy kitchen-sink fantasy system, which is pretty funny because he doesn’t come across as being careful about it at all. Not that I think there was no effort made, but also he just used research as a basis for narrative much more often than he started with a story premise and stretched the creature to fit, which by default gave him less scope for dickery.

Also I think the only god he ever fights is Hecate and she’s handled from a 19th-century-occultist angle rather than a Classical angle.

Also Hellboy fights Nazis and cyborg gorillas as well as like. Baba Yaga and vampires. The balance of schlock and gonzo nonsense to pathos and sensitive emotional bits is usually about where I like it.

The episodic format is really well used. It lets the storytelling style lean heavily on the late-19th-through-mid-20th-century short story genres that it borrows a lot from, and which honestly has always worked better for comics than end-to-end long-arc serialization. I like how the anachronic order of many sections of the series allowed for a lot of ‘building outward from the middle.’

Also it means the story can stay true to its roots and kill off a lot of characters in gothic excess without constantly sloughing main cast or having to do fakeouts.

...I can’t believe that since Hellboy isn’t really emotionally involved with the issue of his birth parents except inasmuch as it explains the world-ending stone hand, the single angstiest part of his backstory is technically when he went on a drinking binge road trip around Mexico in his teens and made friends with vampire-fighting luchador triplets but then the youngest one whom he was closest to was kidnapped by the vampires and Hellboy had to kill his best friend, and this is all established in a random side story that pushes the intentional genre absurdism to its breaking point and is equal parts comedic and grotesque.

(The second angstiest is probably the bit in volume 1 when he finds his dad murdered by frogs.)

I also just love characters who wear trench coats and are actually really clever and knowledgeable and kind but tend to resort, in extremity, to just hitting problems really hard. Okay? I like that. That’s a fave.

Hellboy’s whole character design is very strong, a bunch of dramatic broad-strokes decisions that contrast interestingly against one another, and then a lot of subtler elements layered in crosswise.

The way his relationship to the narrative ‘occult-fighting antichrist figure’ could be really straightforward, but keeps stepping a little sideways off the usual shape of the tropes in a way that creates depth.

He’s a giant red demon guy who stopped aging in the 50s; he’s never going to be able to be ‘normal’ or pretend he isn’t what he is--but also he’s a dude with a government job and probably a Social Security Number who goes and interviews people about the situation and says ‘I’m Agent Hellboy’ and gets called ‘Mr. Boy’ and is just this guy who knows his shit and can take a beating.

(This was one of the major things I hated in the first movie, that they decided to make him this weird secret cryptid whose dad keeps him locked in a vault when he’s not fighting.)

The way the identity thing is never reduced to comfortable binaries with him except by enemies trying to psych him out is just really satisfying. He fights monsters not because he hates them or himself but because he was recruited into this career young and he’s really good at it, and he feels good about helping people who are being victimized.

When something occult isn’t hurting anybody he’s down to chill, and if it turns out they secretly are after all he’s always so tired and disappointed, and if they really aren’t then he has a new friend. Whom he may never see again or may hit up for a game of cards next time he’s in town.

(I also like how he combines ‘being pretty private’ ‘being very casually friendly’ and ‘being an asshole who makes a lot of enemies’; it’s not that unusual a combo for his type of main character but it’s one I enjoy.)

When he breaks off his own horns as part of his rejection of being Anung Un Rama it’s not ‘choosing humanity’ or w/e it’s choosing not to be used for this. His name is Hellboy, which is an objectively awful name but it was given to him by people he loved and who chose him, not the people who made him or brought him to this world to be used, and he chooses it.

And that has weight. That has force enough behind it to carry a world.

Just in general in spite of all the identity stuff he gets swamped with he’s really good at self-knowledge and letting other people’s ideas of who and what he’s supposed to be just wash over him. As the story goes on and shit gets weirder his sense of identity gets shaken, but he never quite loses that anchor in the knowledge that he is the ultimate arbiter of his own identity.

His exasperation on being told via stabbing that he doesn’t get to be King of England even if he is the first male descendant of King Arthur since Mordred is so funny. Why is this a thing, says Hellboy. Why am I finding out like this. Why do I always find out this shit like this. Why would anyone think I wanted to be King of England. I already punched so many skeletons about not wanting to be King of Witches.

He’s got so much righteous anger that comes out when people are treated as disposable, or as less for being not human or less human or superpowered, and of course it’s founded in his own experiences and his own fight for respect but it’s not about him. It’s about the person who’s suffering now.

One time his combat one-liner before shooting something started with ‘The Torch of Liberty said I was the worst shot he ever tried to train’ that’s so funny! I love that!

He’s my boy okay.

#have this rant lol #hellboy #my opinions #fandom recruitment pitch #i have all 12 volumes and a number of very disappointing tie-ins #i almost didn't get them all because i was collecting at a leisurely rate #and then all the bookstores stopped stocking it because it had wrapped up #and guess what???#volume 11 of 12 ain't easy to find used!#comics #writing #identity #names and naming #beastenraged #ask #hoc est meum

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lorelylantana · 3 years

Text

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 1: Blindsided

Chapter rating: G Overall rating: G

Ao3

Calamity was soundly defeated, and the Kingdom of Hyrule was at peace, but King Rhoam knew something dark was afoot. He sat at his desk, eyeing the tray of incoming documents. Of all the missives and appeals, he had the sinking feeling that today would be yet another day passed without a request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. King Rhoam had many regrets for his actions toward his daughter, and he didn’t want to rush Zelda into marriage. He couldn’t undo the years of neglect, but he could do that much.

His resolve in the matter didn’t make the lack of suitors any less disconcerting. He was baffled. Even if his daughter was homely, which she most certainly was not, the King would have received several letters from young nobles and their parents eyeing the throne before Zelda even came of age. Before Calamity’s defeat, he figured it was another facet of the extenuating circumstances that darkened those years, and had expected a cascade of offers after things settled down. After losing sleep over it, he could only think of one explanation.

A coup was brewing. One intent on wresting Hylia’s bloodline from the throne.

The moment the thought ran through his mind Rhoam summoned the Sheikah forces, the researchers took center stage in the last decade, but the stealth units still existed. This meant that the crown still had a robust intelligence agency, which he wasted no time sending them out to sniff out the traitors and drag them out to face justice.

The Sheikah were efficient, and more importantly they were accurate, so when they returned empty handed, the King knew it was because there was nothing to find.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you certain?”

The agent nodded, “There’s nothing but glowing praise for the royal family in the wake of Calamity’s downfall, the recent events have highlighted the need to preserve the bloodline.”

Then what was it? Why didn’t anyone want to marry his daughter?

Confused and more than a little offended, he summoned the son of a noble house that was known to be particularly opportunistic.

“You wanted to see me, your Majesty?”

The young man squirmed under the King’s stare. Rhoam shuffled some papers around to look busy before beginning his ruse.

“You know my daughter, Princess Zelda?”

The man gulped, “Yes, sire.”

“And you know she is of marrying age.”

“Yes,”

“I’m considering Zelda’s groom to be, future of Hyrule and all that, and since you are fairly high on the list of prospects I want your thoughts on the matter,” King Rhoam said, staring at the young man as he shifted on his feet and looked down. As the silence dragged on he prompted him. “Do you want to marry my daughter?”

The young man took a breath to brace himself before looking the King in the eye, “No, Your Majesty.”

“Why not, then?!” Rhoam’s voice came out louder than he’d intended, offended on his daughter’s behalf. The young noble flinched at his tone. A minute ran long, silent as the man gathered himself and gave his answer.

“It wouldn’t feel right, sir,” the nobleman shrunk under Rhoam’s gaze, and he began to lose his thoughts, “It’s just, Sir Link saved my little brother’s life. I can’t betray him like that after he’s done so much for my family-”

“Wait,” the King held up a hand, baffled, “What does the Hylian Champion have to do with this?”

The young noble stopped, his face reflecting the king’s own confusion.

“He loves her, as I’m sure you noticed.”

He had not noticed. Yet this young man’s voice rang with the certainty of one talking about the blue sky or the chill of winter, and yet it gave the King a pause. He leaned back.

“Come again?”

“Sir Link is in love with Princess Zelda,” the young man said.

“And he told you this?”

He shook his head, “He didn’t need to, it’s as plain as day. Everyone knows, just ask around.”

With that the nobleman was sent away, and King Rhoam sent the Sheikah out to gather information once more. This time, his suspicions were confirmed.

Every single noble house in Hyrule received critical aid from the Hylian Champion, and subsequently held him in high regard. That verified one half of the young man’s theory, but what of the other?

As a knight bound by oath, Link adhered to a strict code of conduct that governed his every waking hour. He wasn’t to deceive frivolously, he was to extend a helping hand whenever possible, and he would never, under any circumstances, presume to declare his undying love to Princess Zelda. It was unprofessional, if not unethical. He was tasked with her safety, and that included sheltering her from the burden of his emotions. And so, Zelda was kept in blissful ignorance to the heart she held in her hands.

The chivalric code was strict, but it wasn’t unforgiving. There were allowances. Small things Link could do to express little shreds of his love, if only to keep from exploding. To keep from shouting out his devotion for Zelda, her fierce determination and her unbreakable spirit. He kept his silence for so long, he thought restraining himself would be natural, but then she would laugh, or look his way, or hum if he was lucky, and he was a beat away from saying ‘I love you’. It was too much to hold in. Too much to hide, so he began giving Zelda small tokens of his affections. Subtle gestures, unnoticeable, and easily misconstrued as a part of his duty to the Princess’ safety.

Link brought her flowers, but only those with medicinal purposes. To aid in her research, he insisted to those who questioned, to ensure she had medicine of any kind should she need it. He would take every opportunity to take her hand, only to ensure she wouldn’t fall.

The gesture that brought him the most relief, however, was simply bringing her hand to his lips and leaving a small kiss against her knuckles. It was perfectly acceptable because it was selfless. A kiss upon the hand was a show of respect, of reverence, and expected absolutely nothing in return. It was his greeting and his farewell When he first became Zelda’s appointed knight, she would rip her hand away as soon as was polite. Yet as the esteem she held him in rose she was much more indulgent of his wishes, reaching for his hand at times. He’d grown so bold recently, bowing over her arm no longer. Instead, he was reckless enough to raise her hand to his lips so he could look her in the eye.

It was no cause for scrutiny, of course. All very honorable and above board, so when Link was called to the King’s office one fateful day, he was fully under the impression that his affections were a secret to all but the knight himself.

Sir Link stood still and stoic before his King, looking for all the world like the hero he was. He’d been called into the King’s office a few times, all to report on his daughter’s wellbeing, so when the King asked his question Link was taken aback.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Sir Link. Do you love my daughter?”

Link didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The nobleman was right, it was plain as day. Written in the blush on his cheeks and the way his breath caught, highlighted by the slight panic in his eye.

Hylia save him, the boy wasn’t subtle at all. Quite surprising in the face of Sir Link’s reputation, but young love is a strange force indeed.

Although, now that Rhoam considered things, perhaps Sir Link’s blatant heart could help solve this issue quicker. The King wasn’t going to pass up a stress free wedding, without all the yapping of disgruntled nobles trying to match their own sons with his daughter. Yes, the king was certain that this was a very good sign indeed. His dear Zelda was the brightest of her generation, renowned for her keen eye and discerning mind. There was absolutely no way his daughter could look upon this young man and not be immediately aware of his feelings for her. This, along with how well she got along with Sir Link, could only mean that she accepted his feelings. Surely, if Link loving her was a cause for discomfort, Zelda would have sent him away. She had ample opportunity, and after her triumph Rhoam would deny her nothing.

“I- I assure you, Your Majesty, I’ve made no untoward advances. I swear on the sword I carry.”

The young man’s shaking voice snapped Rhoam out of his train of thought.

“What?” he asked before waving a dismissive and, “Of course, of course. Sit, Zelda will be here soon enough.”

Sir Link’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak before shutting it tightly. Sitting rigidly in his chair, the young man waited with bated breath while the King sent for his daughter.

She arrived only a few minutes later, never far from the library and the surrounding offices.

“You called for me, father?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She had just finished going over her itinerary, so she didn’t know what this meeting was about. The king gestured for the second chair across his desk. And waited for her to sit down before answering.

“We are here to discuss Sir Link’s love for you,”

In his seat, Link made a choking sound, almost hyperventilating. Rhoam pitied him, but he knew that the sooner Link learned of his place in Zelda’s heart he would feel much better. Zelda on the other hand, seemed to be caught completely off guard. Her cheeks red and hands brought to her mouth as she whispered. She looked at her knight, who sat still and resolute, yet blushing all the more.

“His what?”

Well, it was understandable that she would be a tad confused, after all, it wasn’t every day that one spoke of love so bluntly.

Link was mortified, but said nothing in his defense. This was clearly his penance for having impure thoughts of his charge. He had deluded himself into thinking the dreams that haunted him were out of his control, and thus undeserving of reproach. The present situation swiftly disabused him of any such notion in short order.

Still, King Rhoam had to keep the ball rolling. There was no use wasting time.

“In light of this recent discovery, and since you are of age to be married, I thought it wise to consult you on the matter, dear Zelda.”

At the mention of her name, she turned back to her father, still a bit disoriented in the face of her revelation, “Yes?”

Rhoam spoke plainly, as he always did, “Would you like to marry Sir Link?”

Zelda was frozen. She was completely unaware how Link felt about her, but now that she was told, everything fell into place. How she found her hand in his several times a day. The softness in his eyes. She’d thought them expressions of duty, but when she looked at the flush in his cheeks as he stared at the floor she knew her father’s words were true.

Before Zelda knew it, “Yes, I would,” fell from her lips, breathless and sincere.

Link’s head snapped up, looking up at her with a furrowed brow, disbelieving.

“Yes,” she said again, and her heart leapt at the way her knight’s skepticism melted into pure joy, smiling brighter than she’d ever seen him. She found herself giggling at the expression.

“Well then, it’s settled,” the King declared with a grin, “The two of you shall be wed in a year’s time. Now go, I won’t keep you two any longer.”

The young couple raced out of the room, and Rhoam heard the two explode into conversation, no doubt eager to celebrate their upcoming union.

#zelink #loz botw #botw zelink #link #zelda #botw link #botw zelda #loz aoc #engagement #rhoam bosphoramus hyrule #legend of zelda breath of the wild #legend of zelda #aoc link #aoc zelda #fic #aoc zelink #humor #botw

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sereisstuff · 4 years

Text

𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 J.JK

~ Jeon Jungkook was a lightweight champion a so-called minute legend, rising to stardom rather quickly while basking in wads of cash and pools of opportunity, therefore, leaving his right hand woman y/n to wallow in the shallows unforgivably with a relationship that pleads for more and a tension that tightens by the minute.

~ Includes - Angst, an angry Jungkook. Drug consumption and neglect. Tears, pain. Slight fluff and rough tension, foolishness, cussing and self doubt, slight kissing and mixed emotions.

~ This is my first long one shot.

~WORD COUNT : 4188K

Plus size reader

Jungkook was anguished, unable to comprehend the atrocities he just fulfilled in front of everyone. His anger often speculated multiple things but never did they assume they’re most beloved lightweight competitor had a source for all his rage. The fire he lit distinguished itself in his burning temper while his hand was thrust into a crowd of roaring spectators, not far from him a man laid bloodied and somewhat busted in defeat.

His opponent had muttered something about his best friend, how she would be fine under his fitted sheets with muffled moans and even if the trash talk was embedded within the arena, the amount of disgust he felt hearing those prudent words escape the man’s mouth had oiled something unforgivable inside of himself. You, of course, didn’t hear a word, unsure of your ground while you watched your childhood best friend curl his fist tightly before shoving it into the knockout zone of his opponents face, a gasp was withdrawn from your mouth and you abruptly stood with a cheer.

Yet jungkook had let a scoff escape his lips seeing the man behind him lay in his own pool of misconception, cocky it was to even consider being proud but he was nonetheless. However, this gained him the name one-minute legend, sounded like some sick perverted nickname a pubescent teen gift they’re former in hopes their self-esteem declines.

Jungkook had dashed from the stage into your arms eagerly, you both shared a heartwarming embrace as you shouted praises into his ear “You did it, kook!!! You won!! I knew you had it in you, god I’m so proud of you” his strong arms rested around your waist, tightening by the minute in fear that the spoken words his opponent shared would reach your ears. Yet that day was the destination for his publicity, gaining a name for himself also gained him a renowned position in the hierarchy of boxers.

This led to you having to constantly stick to his side like glue, he requested you be there as support and being his best friend how could you deny the luxury. Although this also led your minimal crush blossoming into something more and you couldn’t be more enraged with yourself then now, his fame was admirable but it shifted something within him.

“I assure you, their only childhood friends. It would be incompetent for him to settle so early” Yuna laughed whilst distracting the publishers of the minor county, her small glance wasn’t missed as she sorrowfully shot you a distant look. Yuna time and again proved herself worthy of managing Jungkook's matches and doing so with gratitude yet she was also your standing figure right now, Jungkook trained like there was no tomorrow and being careful of his enraged outburst they had called you in hopes of slowing his dedication down to a workable pace.

“How long has he been like this,” you asked, genuinely curious about the pertain able answer Yuna was about to give you, she seethed in an eager breath but hesitated towards the end “Yuna, I need to know. He hasn’t contacted me in days and for that to happen- I’m sorry just tell me how long he’s been training himself?” you continued once more, foot desperately tapping at the ground with anxiety filling every fiber of your being.

“He’s been going since 2 in the morning, a few hours after you left for work” she informed sadly, Yuna thought of Jungkook as a younger brother and to see him in such a distasteful state was heartbreaking for her, that and she hadn’t slept in the past two days due to the income of numerous calls and agents seeking interest in Jungkook’s formidable skills which were clearly shown in his iconic match a few months ago.

“He’s in there, right?” you countered, finger pointed to the door while waiting for Yuna to nod her head and gesture for you to go. Yuna waved you off as you walked tediously towards the door, finally able to grasp the heavy breaths and smooth punches escalating every running second just from the door which made you curious how beyond the solid wood looked?

You opened the door with a light push simultaneously you met the sight of Jungkook sweating pools of his own hard work, T-shirt disregarded to the floor and his wounds fleshing badly causing a small yelp to escape your mouth, the room was spacious, filling but a mere part of the building still, it was his to keep. Weights resided within every corner with a matte black for simplicity and not far towards the middle of the room sat a match ground with black ropes embracing it.

“Jungkook” you frowned, closing the door from the eye of the public as you walked towards Jungkook who was high in intensity, his curled fist hadn’t loosened and due to the number of overwhelming matches, he was presumably growing addicted to the adrenaline.

“No, I need to train” Jungkook grumbled, inhaling a deep long breath before he began punching the sand-filled bag once more, you removed the sneakers from your feet before stepping on to the mat respectfully“Jungkook, listen to me. You need rest and I’m not leaving until you stop what you’re doing and go home. Everyone is worried about you especially me” you pleaded heavily slowly approaching Jungkook.

His tattoos glistened under the gleaming light and the highlighted sweat, bicep tensing with every punch thrown chaotically “Go home y/n, rest or something. You’re coming to my match with me tonight?” his demanding question broke in exhaustion towards the end of his sentence, alike his notions you also cried for his attention “what if I said no, hmm?” This made him abruptly stop, a frown knitted between his two strong brows.

You’d never miss one of his matches, even as gullible children you attended every fight of his. Often going with his parents who kindly offered their protection and an escort to and from your parents home, Jungkook, however, couldn’t think about a day where you didn’t come with him everywhere, you were his best friend. The only person he willingly let succumb to his unearthly chaos, someone who could calm him on his cold nights because without you he wouldn’t be in a position that he proudly took today, literally.

“Exactly, now pack your shit Jungkook. You have a match tonight and god forbid you faint before you even reach the octagon” you spoke with an unbreakable tone, wishing to see that soft smile he once wore like a crown. The tips of his lips curled slightly but never did it fully reach his alluring eyes, he was reaching his peak publicity and you weren’t going to stop him.

Jungkook huffed using his injured hand to run through his thick, wet locks. He stood there, unclothed with a prominent aura as his tall body faced you with a perplexed look floating through his curious yet hooded hues “Come on kook, grab your things” your voice was soft and angelic, not too rough on the edges once you approached Jungkook who signed diligently to himself.

Hands caressing his cheeks while biting his lip in temptation “you can train tomorrow, you’re already doing amazing don’t overwork yourself.” Your soft touch slid down his forearm into his hands “Okay!” Jungkook looked down at you with an unreadable look composing with shivers running up and down his body as he repeated your words with a bright smile “Okay, chubs”.

He was a force to be reckoned with, founding his matches with the deepest temperamental attributes he could find within himself. He treated the ring with a mindset which he releases all his impending emotions out into the world, he had issues. Anger was only one soiling in his garden of mentality.

Almost every week you treated him to a few lunches, oftentimes he would reside in your embrace towards the end of the night where the sunny dues hollowed behind the hills and the callous moon shone with a luminescent light peeking through your barreled window cell. The lace depicted multiple floral patterns that when the moon was in the right place, shone against his warm honey coated skin in all its magnificence.

His skin was torn and rough yet held an undertone of purity, sheered in white but stained in blood. Night after night you focused on repairing his wounds, some were mild and others would be considered endangering, though it only got worse with time. Day after day his name was ringing bells on everyone’s doorstep, Jeon Jungkook the knockout champion was what they called him.

He was raised in the chain of renowned people, with this sudden title came money and fame. Jungkook earned a decent amount before but now, it was sickening. You were proud of him and discussed the sudden fame he tampered with, he promised nothing would happen. His attitude wouldn’t change yet that’s where you were foolish enough to believe his innocent intentions.

“The winner is, Jeon Jungkook the knockout king” was looping every match followed by cheers that could be heard miles away, Jungkook would embrace you every single game, although hours later he reeked of sweat and intoxication, the callous hand of money overwhelmed him to a certain point where he no longer understood what to do with it. Money, cars and homes all laid like dimes in his hands, so he extended his degree. Spending money on you like a little barbie doll, gifting some to his parents and splashing it on awful things.

That didn’t stop you from loving him endlessly, even when it hurt you more to do so.

You had been busy at the bar you worked at, taking up double shifts when the offer was placed not having the courage to face this new publicity seeking best friend of yours. The way he downed bottles of the substance that earned you a living was cruel, never did you think the craft he dedicated himself too would put him in such a position.

“Hey, your phone has been going off for the past hour? You should really answer it” Jihoon called, the phone you had bought was impenetrable in his hands. You shrugged off his advances for you to answer Jungkook's pleads, even so Yuna’s too and probably many more people seeking your company.

“They can wait” you replied dully, shoving a bright smile onto your face. It was almost like Jungkook had finally noticed your distaste for his actions. “Surely” Jihoon rolled his eyes not liking the disliking tone seeping from your venomous mouth, change was bound to come for you and Jungkook but never did you think it would be so soon.

“How’s your boyfriend been?” Jihoon cooed making you gulp at the name “he’s not my boyfriend Jihoon, he’s just a childhood best friend is all” you spoke through a tremble, you were soon succumbing to the desirable thoughts leaking past your mind every running minute. The hatred you felt knowing the love you had for Jungkook was only ever growing, it was like walking through a haunted forest, not knowing when you were going to be pushed away.

“Whatever floats your boat, darl” his tone was lavish, almost too lavish. Pointing a finger towards the answer button on your phone leaving no room for your pleads to comfort his brass decision. Jungkook sighed hearing the phone being answered, erupting a certain taste for whom wrapped his knuckles now. He missed you, not knowing the decisions he made were pushing you further and further from his reach but you couldn’t be too devious to believe he would let such a gem escape him.

He would be lying if he said tears didn’t escape his doe eyes every now and then, the parties, heathen bound air with a tinge of drugs seeping through his skin could never replace the warmth you offered him, comforting his insecurities in his darkest hours.

“Y/n” his breathing was uneven, erratic and almost death defying. He’d been running, training for hours on end hoping you would burst through the door claiming his acts as a monstrosity. Yet to his demise, the door rattled before the wind. Somewhat bringing comfort to his clouded mind “Hey, kook. What’s wrong? “You managed to say with eyes closed in disbelief towards your former workmate.

Jungkook whimpered as he laid alone against the wall of the gym, his eyes examining the promise ring he’d bought you “Kook?” you called again only meeting the short response of leveled breathing, worry was churning your stomach and heat raised to your cheeks “Jungkook, I have work. Call me back” and with that you impulsively hung up the line.

Jihoon shook his head, you dropped your phone onto the bench while grumbling “what?” Jihoon laughed, smiling towards another customer who took the drink leaving the bar empty for you both to conversate openly “Why don’t you tell him?” he asked.

“Tell him what? He can’t even talk properly without slurring cause he’s so bloody intoxicated all the time” it was a painful truth, to cover up his failure he chose a path of addiction and the side he would reside on your bed was left to wallow in the tender touch of winter.

“Tell him that you love him?!?” Jihoon shouted, gaining the eyes of the vigilant visitors. Some began to point to your direction constantly discussing your name very faintly, just like that you were known as his best friend. Something you’ll forever be and that was the painstaking truth.

“You know I can’t do that, Jihoon. No matter how much I love him, how reckless he is, I will always only be the best friend, his right hand girl. It sucks but there’s nothing I can do about it, because no matter how hard I wanna stop feeling, He’ll always have those alluring eyes staring at me, giving me hope” you breathed, tears brimming the edges of your eyes

…….

The sudden knock against your home door woke you from your sleep, glancing towards the broken clock sitting beside your bed as the time read 2.45 am. The knock rung continuously following a few sounds of metal being fiddled with, the struck noise made you rise tirelessly from your slumber, curling a tight hand around the minimal pocket knife placed under your pillow for protection.

The perpetrator groaned, wailing in agony for the door to relish under the mellow light once you turned it on feeling oddly familiarized with the tone. Hand brisking the handle with a tedious turn in your wrist, a heavy breath migrated from your throat with the knife heaving in your sea of worries. pulling the door open, following the broken wood came Jungkook's drunk state, his ear was solid against the door listening to any footsteps you might have produced through your journey, perching himself against the door towards the sudden pull.

“Have you been drinking, again?” you prompted first in worry, Jungkook was slurring through his words. noticing his car parked across your lawn and the door of his new BMW was opened, left to close itself. He was leant up against your door with an incurable pain in his eyes and a bottle raised to your face “why have you been ignoring me, chubs” Jungkook slurred tripping over his own feet, the hoodie seized on his ruffled hair almost sliding off with every harsh move he made. You ignored his incoherent whines, taking long strides to his car. The smell was revolting, almost like an intoxicating drug was thrown around carelessly wafting into the air of dampened clothes and alcoholic beverages. Not seeing your former for the past week only for him to come barging into your home at early hours of dusk

You turned his engine off and continued to close his doors safely, Jungkook had caught himself on the step lying face-first on the floor. The sudden impact caused an array of wounds to crack open leaving his beaten face bloodied in injuries “Come on, kook. Let’s get you cleaned up, alright” you gasped, lending a hand around his neck after he tousled on the floor with a groan.

Jungkook didn’t have it in himself to fight, shimmering under the bright light was a bed comfortable enough for him to fall into a comatose state.

“God, look at you. You're a mess” You reached behind your small cupboard grabbing a medical kit, leaning in unconsciously, hence being used to bandaging his wounds you began applying a decent amount of ointment and alcohol to his face after cleansing it gently with some water. Jungkook had slightly sobered up, yet he didn’t speak.

Admiring the proximity as you were inches away from his face, peeking from beneath his bangs at you tiredly apprehending his injuries with delicacy. It was all sudden, his strong breath hit your face as he spoke, this time clearly and fully demanding your attention “why have you been ignoring me?” he rumbled slowly

He clearly hadn’t been paying attention towards himself lately, there were multiple reasons as to why you no longer comforted him on his off nights “Just rest up” you replied, ignoring his silent plea which fell on deaf ears “No, y/n. I need answers, you stopped showing up to training. You stopped answering my calls and I’m lucky if I even get a reply to my messages. I’m sure if I had a match this week you wouldn't even show up. So tell me, I have the right to know why you're being so distant.” Jungkook growled, his overflowing bottle of ridicule was filling to a brim

You pinched the bridge of your nose tentatively examining his face “just look at you Jungkook, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore” the truth was weightless on your tongue, darting a tongue across your lips, glistening them in saliva causing Jungkook to stare down at your lips before darting his eyes back onto your face. His eyes wide in frustration “I could say the same for you” he scoffed.

“you show up to my house at quarter to three in the morning drunk off your ass. Thinking I’m gonna embrace you with all my love, you’ve been doing this for the past three months, Jungkook. Three!! Of course I’m gonna be worried about you but I can’t do it anymore” your heart hammered against your chest and the unreadable look on his face was horrifying.

Jungkook was lost for words, just about to defend his acts before you shut him up again “Remember when we were kids, you promised you wouldn’t hurt me, ever, now look at you. It pains me more to ignore you, but right now I can’t even look at you without wanting to cry” Jungkook had stood up with his intricate hair shielding his sight, ready to face the consequences of his actions towards the one he silently loved from afar.

“You said you would always be there for me now look, where were you huh? Where was that kookie who couldn’t even watch a romance movie without crying. You think ignoring you was the worst, you left me every single night to go get high off your kite only to come weeping back into my arms for me to face the harsh aftermath kook. I’m sick of it” Your voice was shouting, the clouded thoughts struck Jungkook harshly as his nostrils flared in anger.

You stood up, matching his posture. Your hand clasp around his chest with your head hung low “I love you Jungkook, but you can’t even be there for me. I’m tired and you don’t even notice, I’m just some punching bag for your emotions like a fucking idiot. But you know I won’t leave you and that’s the messed up part” your tears caressed your cheeks, rapidly seeking an output.

Jungkook leaned his head back suddenly feeling the weight of his loss crash down on his harder than ever, reaching around your nape to embrace your body in his. Seizing your fist in his open palms leading your struggling arms around his tiny waist.

He rested his head on top of yours, the hot tears pooling around his hoodie “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking y/n.” was all he managed to say, in all honesty Jungkook never let any harm befall you, recent times called for him to fall effortlessly in love with you yet you still managed to make him fall deeper, he’d always liked you from the beginning even as a child, you were his number one supporter, never leaving his side amidst the risk.

“Your so stupid, Jungkook.” Came your sniffle, you’d stopped crying a moment ago but preferred to relish in the memories of Jungkook's embrace, when was the last time he held you like this? It was warm, shaded by his cold outlook Jungkook was rarely what the media depicted.

“Look at me, y/n” Jungkook coeed leaning his head back a little bit enough for his hands to cradle your chubby cheeks in his large hands, your tear glistening eyes peered up at him “You deserve the world and if you give me a chance I’ll do anything to give it to you, let me make it up to you and I promise I won’t fuck it up this time” Jungkook words had knitted your frown together, what was he asking?

“What do you mean?” you questioned warily, Jungkook used his tattooed hand as a tissue wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb “I bought you something a while ago, I couldn’t find it in myself to ask you but now I feel like this is the only time I’ll have the courage to do it.” He proposed nervously, reaching deep into his pocket while one of his arms still tenderly embraced your waist.

Out came an indigo box, the sudden thought brought a gasp from your lips “will you take this promise ring? My love” my love? Everything was so freshen in abundance, you nodded your head in infirmity. Claming to the thin veil of hope that this wasn’t just a dream, the man you loved since you could first remember was suddenly laying his life and career on the line to promise you something you only wished for.

But was it the right choice?

Jungkook pulled you into a passionate kiss once you screamed a strong and prominent yes, too eager you were to gain his hand in marriage. It was all unfathomable, he’d also involuntarily moved you into his priceless mansion he adjusted to weeks earlier. You were still adjusting to calling him your boyfriend too, knowing a promise ring meant nothing but what was said in the word. A promise.

He made your Mondays more enjoyable, waking up to his exquisite beauty and oftentimes incoherent snores which you came to adore. Bopping his bruised nose while caressing his cheek, treasuring the moment. He yearned for an embrace to coo in and you gave that, the warmth you offered was his to grasp.

He also stopped coming home high off his kite, the alcohol abuse subsidized and you couldn’t be more happy to have the old kook back. Attending his fights every week with a new outlook for the media, notorious for protecting Jungkook and calming him down when others looked down at his abilities and even when they would make explicit detailed things to say to you in hopes of angering their former opponent.

“Just ignore them baby” you would say, holding his hand tightly in remembrance of your existence, roping him back to reality and soothing the red he was growing to see.

“I’m yours okay baby, don’t worry about them” You muttered after the incident, your dress rising up as you straddled Jungkook to gain his attention “ forget about him.” you continued, Jungkook had a dark look in his eyes. Gawking towards your position as his hands placed themselves on your exposed thighs covered in his markings he consciously made nights before “I’ll always be here okay, look at me. I’ve been here since the beginning nothing and I mean nothing will make me ever want to leave you”

Jungkook breathed, blinking rapidly as his head bobbed down leaving you to pick his chin up to face your worried face. The driver had already left the building and you both were off to his next event, yet even with a face as bruised as his own people still recognized him “keep your head high kook, I love you and I just wish the best for you okay” you were pecking his lips in reassurance and he managed to pull the ends of his lips into a simple smile.

“I’ll listen to you” Jungkook spoke, leaning his forehead against yours as you both shared a breath. Reminiscing the days where you cradled each other in friendship “I love you baby”

Nothing was ever harder for a boxer then the constant matches, yet being with one was probably the hardest task of all.

#jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #Boxing au #boxer!Jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #plus size reader #jungkook x plus size reader

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amlovelies · 3 years

Text

a discovery

chapter 14 of Just Another Liability

pairing: mason/f!oc (Serena Willis)

warnings: some angst and cursing. mention of childhood neglect/abandonment issues

words: 3k (I know! this is the longest installment I’ve written by far)

read on ao3

I wasn’t given a choice in the matter. Agent Greene needed me to meet her at the Warehouse, and by the tone of her voice I knew better than to argue. I could refuse to go, but part of me is nervous. I can’t think what would be so important.

The drive back to Wayhaven is stressful. It’s my first time returning, and I don’t know the roads very well. At least it gives me something to focus on. Something besides the gnawing worry about seeing Mason. It took me too long to decide what to wear and I’m sure Agent Greene will be pissed when I show up. I probably shouldn’t have taken the time to apply a little eyeliner and mascara, but I had to.

I need some sort of armor.

I waste even more time at the front door. Everything looks the same. It’s strange to think it’s been almost a month since I was here last.

They’re probably all in the living room; I move through the labyrinthian hallway on autopilot trying to focus more on what could be so important to have me come out here rather than seeing Mason. I mean really, I need to get it together and get my priorities straight.

Besides I should be used to people not loving me. My mom made it clear how much I ruined her life. My dad didn’t even care that I was born. On the scale of things, my fuck buddy not catching feels isn’t that big a deal.

Except it feels like a huge fucking deal when I turn the corner and find him walking towards me.

“Shit.” I feel my heart drop to my stomach. I think this is the first time we’ve been alone together since that night. I feel his eyes sweep over me and I’m glad I took the extra time to get ready.

“Took you long enough, swe—” he stumbles over the word. We both know what he was going to say. “Everyone’s waiting on you.”

“Yeah, well it’s not like I was given much of a heads up. Just a cryptic fucking call. I do have my own life you know.” That’s not exactly true. I worked a few days a week at an agency dispensary for supernaturals in the area, and while I was on friendly terms with the coworkers there, I didn’t have any social life to speak off. The most exciting thing on my calendar would be my bi-weekly visits to the facility to use their training room.

He shrugs, “that’s the agency for you.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” I won’t let myself meet his eyes as I move to walk past him.

He falls into step alongside me. Once or twice our arms brush, and I my skin itches with the proximity. I don’t know if he’s trying to put me at ease, to show me that everything can be normal, but it’s having the opposite effect. Which he probably knows because of his stupid vampire super senses. With any luck he’ll think I’m just nervous about his meeting. Sure, let’s go with that.

I enter the room first, and walk towards what used to be my usual chair.

“How nice of you to make sure Serena didn’t get lost in her old home,” Farah quips and I hear a low growl from Mason in response.

Please don’t let her be like that through this whole meeting.

Everyone is in their familiar places spread out across the room, but there’s a tension in the room I don’t recognize. It’s then that I notice the vaguely familiar looking man standing off to the side. He looks uncomfortable, always shifting his weight from side to side.

“So, what’s so important that I needed to come down here,” I ask as I settle into the chair. Out of the corner of my eye I can see where Mason has perched himself against one of the side tables. I’m torn between my desire to ignore him, to put a brave face on it, and my need to drink in the sight of him. To memorize the placement of every freckle on his face for my lonely days back in the city, but I won’t do that because that would be pathetic.

Dinah speaks first, “it’s my fault, Serena. I told Agent Greene we couldn’t continue without you here. This concerns you too.”

“As you know we took samples and did extensive testing when you first arrived here,” Agent Greene interjects and I stiffen in anticipation for what will come next. Is there something wrong with me?

“Well, that’s ominous. What do I have cancer or something?”

“No, no I can assure you that you are in perfect health,” the man speaks up. “You may not remember me, but I assisted with some of the testing when you first arrived at the facility.

“Dr. Franks also did extensive testing on me,” Dinah says from where she is seated next to Nate. She’s on the edge of her seat. Elbows resting on her knees and staring at me so intently I almost wonder if I have something on my face.

“I thank you both for your cooperation,” the man says before turning to face me. “It’s specially exciting to get to meet the first arrival from a new portal.”

A scoff from Dinah interrupts him and I see Agent Greene stiffen.

“Okay so I’m not about to drop dead, good to know, but that still doesn’t explain what’s going on.”

“Dr. Franks, noticed a pattern between yourself and Detective Greene.” I raise my eyebrow to hear her address her daughter so formally. “As of yet, no one outside of this room has been informed. We already know there are moles within the agency, and for her safety I would like to keep it that way.

“Right, it’s my safety your worried about,” Agent Greene pretends not to hear the outburst from Dinah.

“I was hesitant to include you, given your current status.”

“But Dinah insisted.” I finish the thought.

“Yes,” Agent Greene says as she clasps her hands in front of her and if I didn’t know any better, I would say they shaking. the look she gives me is not a kind one. I’ve never found myself comfortable with Agent Greene, but the effect is worse than usual today.

“So, what do I have crazy super blood as well?”

“No. Your blood doesn’t appear to have any amplifying effect.” Dr. Franks answers.

“Then what the fuck is it?”

“They think we’re related.” Dinah’s voice is soft and it takes me a second to process the words. “We are about a 25% match; it would be consistent with half siblings.”

“Okay, sure, and I’m also long-lost royalty.” I say with a roll of my eyes, but no one laughs. If anything, the tension in the room amplifies. Half siblings. One parent in common. God knows it isn’t my bitch of a mother, Dinah has her own one of those.

“This has to be some sort of mistake. I know who my father is. There’s no way. I’m not ever from this world.”

“Apparently you weren’t the first to come through that portal,” Dinah says her voice like ice and her eyes never leaving Rebecca.

Rebecca won’t meet her gaze. Dinah shakes her head and shakes off the reassuring hand Nate tries to place on her arm, “and I thought we were done with secrets.” She says with a bitter laugh.

“So, what, your dad was actually from my world? But I thought the agency didn’t have any records of other portals?” I ask trying to get all the pieces to fit together in my head. It feels like too much.

“Yes. You are the first person that the agency knows of,” Rebecca says her eyes sliding over to where Dr. Franks stands, “we are all shocked to learn about it. My late husband didn’t talk a lot about his past, and I respected his wish for privacy.”

I don’t believe her for a second. She knew. She knew all this time that I wasn’t the first. I run my hands over my face and try to wrap my head around it all. It’s bad enough trying to consider the fact that there might be other trapped here like me. I don’t know if I can even begin to grabble with the dad stuff. It’s not much of a loss discovering my father is not actually my father. He decided he didn’t want a daughter anymore when I was about four and I hadn’t seen or heard from him.

I remember seeing photos of Dinah’s dad in her office. He had an open face, always smiling holding her tight. Not just Dinah’s dad that could have been my dad.

“I will need to do further testing, but I believe that Detective’s Greene’s mutation may be caused by her unique heritage. If that is the case, there is a good chance that any children you might have would exhibit that same mutation.”

“Any what now?” I ask surprised.

“I would have to do further testing, but there’s a good chance that this is the source of the mutation. We couldn’t understand it before because we believed that Detective Greene had human parentage, but now knowing it is more complicated opens up other avenues of possibilities.”

He’s talking more to himself than us at this point and I tune it out. I run my hands over my face and try and keep above the swirling maelstrom that my thoughts have turned into. Knowing he wasn’t my father isn’t much of a loss. He stopped being a dad to me when I was four, but what did that leave me? Just the mistaken product of a one-night stand? I always knew I wasn’t planned, wasn’t wanted, the only reason for my mom’s first marriage. Was that why they got divorced, did he figure out he wasn’t my father? Maybe I really did ruin her life. It’s getting harder to breath and I think I might throw up.

A banging sound brings me back to the present and I look up to see Mason half way between the side table and my chair. Our eyes meet for a moment and against all reason I feel a little calmer. I lose myself a little in his grey depths and my racing thoughts begin to settle. There will be time to deal with my feelings about this. I say deal as if I won’t just bury it down like I do with everything else. What matters right now is what this means for us now.

“Okay, so say this is really true, what does it change?” I ask looking around the room.

Adam speaks up from the window, “I don’t think you should return to your apartment. I think for the time being you should return to the warehouse.”

I tense up at the thought, “I don’t really think that’s necessary. It’s not like my blood is super powered.”

“Perhaps not, but supernaturals have long lives. They may be willing to wait a generation to have access to the boost the mutation supplies.” Adam says with a grimace.

“Fine.” I concede and the tension in the room eases up a bit. “I’ll need a change of clothes and my stuff though.”

Adam nods, “make us a list and we will go grab them for you.”

“I will accompany Dr. Franks back to the facility and see if there is anything else, we missed in the test.” Agent Greene says signaling the end of the meeting.

Farah nearly knocks me over in her excitement to hug me. “You must be so excited! I told you Unit Bravo was a family, and now look it really is.”

I try and match her excitement. I really do, but it’s not easy.

Now that Agent Greene has left, Dinah is closer to her usual warm self. She hugs me for a long time, talking about how she always wanted a sister, that she had already thought of me as almost a sister.

It’s overwhelming. I think I say the right things. I think I look like I’m fine.

Dinah begins to tell me everything she can remember about her father, our father. How he was such a great dad, how much he cared, how much she misses him, how much she wished she had been able to know he better.

I feel like I can’t breathe. How different would my life had been if he never fell through the portal? What I wouldn’t have given to have a father like him, to feel loved and cherished even all these years later. What I wouldn’t give to remember a parent with love rather than bitterness, to have just one person in my life who looked out for me. But I didn’t get that. He fell through a hole in the world and Dinah got that instead. I feel so bitter I think I might chock on it.

I lie and say I need to go to the bathroom.

I don’t have a plan besides getting away from all the attention. I let me feet guide me and end up at the training room. Hitting something matches my mood exactly.

I fall into a rhythm. The sound of my fists hitting the dummy echoing in the empty space of the training room.

How did I ever get by without this before? Maybe my life wouldn’t have been so messy if I’d just let myself hit things.

I don’t notice him at first. Not until I stop to grab some water and I see him leaning against the door frame. If I wasn’t already winded from my excursions the intensity of his gaze would probably take my breath away.

I let myself look at him really look at him. Is it possible that I forgot how beautiful he is? I thought I could recall him well, the way the light catches in his eyes, the delicate spray of freckles across his golden skin, but my memories pale in comparison to the reality.

“Mason,” I say with a nod raising the water bottle to my lips.

He pushes off the wall and I watch his movements with rapt attention. He turns to face me in the center of the training mats before tying his hair back and sinking into a familiar position.

It’s an invitation.

Sparring with Mason isn’t a graceful dance. It is brutal, and it suits my mood just fine. Oh, sure he’s pulling his punches back, but even then, it still stings when he lands a hit. It still takes me a moment to recover when I land flat on my ass.

I manage to land a few hits, and I don’t know if it’s a testament to my skill improving, or if he’s letting me, but I don’t care. It’s still satisfying. It’s still distracting. It’s still what I need.

The next time he knocks me down I stay on the ground. I’m too tired to keep going, and the tangled knot of emotions in my chest feels less overwhelming.

“Better?” Mason asks.

“Yes, thank you.” I mean it. After all my stupidity, he should be the last person I want to be around, but I don’t know if I could stand being around anyone else right now. Between Farah and her excitement and questions, and Nate’s whole idolization of family ties, I’d felt like screaming.

“Dinah seems happy.”

“Yeah,” I say as I rise to a sitting position.

“but you’re not.”

I pull my legs in close and rest my head on my knees, “I’m too many things right now.”

If this was a few months ago, this would be the part where he offers to distract me. This is where he would say something crass like he’d be happy to make me cum too many times. But he can’t say that now, so he just shifts his weight from side to side looking uncomfortable.

“Thank you for the sparring, it helped, but you don’t need to do this.” I say with a sigh.

“Do what?”

“Stick around, check on me. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.” Except my voice cracks a little on that last syllable. Once I start crying it hits hard. I can’t even figure out what exactly I’m crying about, there’s just this needy little part of me that’s angry and sad and normally I can keep her under control, but today was too much. Today was too many memories and reminders.

I don’t expect the tentative touch to my back, the weight of his hand, the quiet reassurance that he is there. I don’t know why he is here, or what it means, but right now I don’t care. I just want. I lean against him and let his arms wrap around me.

We stay that way for several minutes, until my tears slow down, until I feel calmer. When he pulls away, he does so quickly. All too soon he is standing several feet away.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” I say with a wave of my hand.

His brow furrows before he answers, “I do though.”

Oh, my traitorous heart thrills at that. How little does that fool need to threaten to come bursting out of my chest and follow him as he walks towards the door.

tag list for the au (let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @lord-king-saint, @lilyoffandoms, @tracing-freckled-constellations, @vienocalledmebuddy, @freckles-spangledvampire, @utterlyinevitable, @whippedforethanfreakingramsey

#the wayhaven chronicles #just another liability #twc mason #oc: serena willis #fanficiton #lovelieswrites

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mandadoration · 4 years

Text

you’re a fine girl - i

summary: Agent Whiskey would really like you to say his real name for once, and you refuse, playing this little game of his until he finally makes you say it. The circumstances for it aren’t exactly ideal, though.

word count: 3, 758

pairing: agent whiskey (Jack Daniels) x reader

warnings: canon-typical violence (and then some), swearing

a/n: Don’t ask me how the layout of Statesman HQ works. I really don’t know, and I’ve watched the movie to try and glean some more info, but I’ve decided, like many things, to bullshit it. This will have a predetermined length of three chapters!

chapters: i

Read this on AO3

You think it’s hilarious just how stereotypically American the Statesman agency was. Besides the front of it, a Bourbon whiskey distillery that just happens to have racehorses (you never understood that part) on a large expanse of land and have a large influence on the liquor industry all over the US, the agents that were a part of it were just so in-your-face full-blooded American. Hell, even your equipment reflected that, with electric lassos and souped-up sawed-off double barrel shotguns, to cowboy boots with razor sharp spurs and Stetsons designed for stealth and espionage. Statesman was 100% committed to proudly showing off their roots. But you couldn’t really shit on them too much since you were one of their agents as well. That would be severely discrediting you and the work you do.

Even if some of the agents teasingly call you a city-slicker.

Although you were a Statesman through and through like your mother before you, you had been raised on the less… southern half of the country because of where she was mainly stationed. Good ol’ New York was a whole different territory than Kentucky. She had still made sure you kept up with your training and be ready at a moment’s notice to take over for her. Statesman were proud of their line of agents, names often passed down from parent to child. Built in loyalty, you supposed, and a good way to keep an eye on those who knew secrets. As the world expanded and keeping the peace grew harder by the minute, they’ve strayed far from that tradition, and the organization grew to include people that had no prior connection to it. Your mom had been insistent she at least stay true to that part of Statesman, and often showed you how to watch over New York from the high rise building to groom you for the position in the future until you graduated from your unofficial codename of Ice Tea. But you had moved south to live on a small ranch a few miles from the distillery after she had died on a recon mission instead of staying up north in the concrete jungle. You inherited her position and her moniker as Agent Brandy, supervisor of the intelligence part of the agency and relocating to home base at the same time, but Agent Whiskey had taken up position up in New York in your stead.

Speaking of Whiskey, there he was, sauntering up to you with a smile playing on his lips as you flicked through reports on your tablet. You spare him a quick glance and a polite smile before you turn your attention back to the reports and mission debriefs, hoping that was enough to leave you alone, but instead he leans against your desk and crosses his arms, and you try your damndest not to look at how his arms make the seams on his jacket strain.

There’s no animosity between you and Whiskey at all, and you’ve said as much when Champagne informed him he would be taking over the New York territory instead of you. You didn’t feel guilty or mad or anything really that you decided to move closer to Statesman because it was your choice, and Whiskey had taken it in stride. You two were just doing your jobs, and that was all. You would even go to say that you were close friends with him, giving him pointers about the secrets of New York while he told you all the gossip about the other agents. The work he did would make your mother proud.

But why was he so insistent on hanging around at the Statesman headquarters in Kentucky so much?

“Your mission debrief isn’t scheduled until Tuesday, Agent Whiskey,” you say, eyes roving over your calendar before swiftly swiping it off your screen to pay closer attention to Tequila’s report. That man was awful with writing. Did he even have the spell check on? You click your tongue and run the editing software, intent on letting that run in the background while you browsed through various agent requests (there was Gin asking if you could fashion a 200 proof liquor), but Whiskey puts a hand on your tablet and pushes it out of your view.

“I know, sugar,” he says in that damn Southern accent that manages to make your ears burn. “Just thought I’d come down here to see my favorite intelligence supervisor.” You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that threatens to split your face. You turn your tablet off and put it down.

“Do you know many intelligence supervisors?” you ask, but your efforts to get him to leave are already an afterthought at the back of your mind. Every time you hold a conversation with him, the amalgamation of your New York and Southern accent sounds crass compared to the honeyed drawl of Whiskey. Two completely different regions. You suppose he might feel the same whenever he’s in New York. Perhaps you two had more in common than you had initially thought.

You’re off track. It’s maddening how easily he is able to pull a smile or a laugh from you and completely derail you. Even on the worst of your days, he’s able to ease you with just a reassuring smile or touch. Whiskey shrugs and shifts where he sits.

“You got me there,” he laughs. “But that don’t mean I can’t come see you, does it?” You rest your chin on your hand as you fiddle with your tablet pen. He’s trimmed his mustache, you note.

“I suppose it doesn’t, Agent Whiskey,” you say. Anytime he flies over to the Statesman HQ, you usually see him the same day he lands, if not, you’re the first thing he goes to see. It’s sweet.

“What does it take for me to convince you to call me Jack, sweetheart?” Whiskey asks, nearly whines, really. He’s been insisting you call him by his real name in private recently, insisting that you were far past those formalities.

“When you stop calling me those pet names of yours,” you retort back. He looks mock-offended.

“That’s never gonna happen,” Whiskey says. You raise an eyebrow.

“Then there you have your answer,” you say simply, and go to pick up your tablet again when it chimes, but Whiskey stops you and pushes it back down flat against the desk.

“You work too much,” he says, as if that was a decent enough reason to interrupt your work. “Pay some attention to me instead.”

“And I’m starting to think you don’t work enough,” you sigh, and slide the tablet out from under his hand and you turn it back on and check over the editing software. “God knows you spend enough time pestering me.” You don’t tell him that you don’t mind. In the hectic pace in your lives, Whiskey is a nice constant that you find yourself falling back on.

The software has managed to fix most of the typos and obvious grammar issues, but it’s mangled the nuances of Tequila’s informal writing. You sigh again and swipe the report onto your computer screen to manually edit it before you can send it to Champagne. Whiskey hops off of your desk, and he walks around it to lean over your shoulder to skim the report as well.

He’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. Smoky, mellow, and warm.

“Why don’t you just send that off to Ginger to edit? Or Soda?” he asks, voice rumbling in your ear. “‘m sure you have other things to do other than grade Tequila’s piss poor work.” You clear your throat and try your best not to become too distracted.

“They don’t have high enough clearance to read this report,” you answer. “Nor do I think they have the patience to. Besides, Ginger is tech and Soda is medical. They’d either shoot themselves or shoot me.” Whiskey laughs and leans in a little closer.

“But I have the clearance to read this as you edit?” he asks, voice low. “You flatter me, Brandy.” You blink, then gasp, whirling around in your chair and narrowly missing clipping his chin with the back of your chair as you push him away from you and back around your desk, smacking him as you do.

“You are a menace!” you exclaim. Whiskey just laughs, humoring you and letting you push him when it would be frightfully easy to just stand there. He blocks your hits and eventually grabs a hold of your wrists to stop you.

“You love it,” he says, and your face flushes as you try to scowl at him.

“Get out of my office so I can finish this report,” you order, pointing at the door. Whiskey pouts, but makes his way to the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighs. He tips his hat at you. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, sweet thing,” he says in a sing-song voice, and the door clicks shut behind him before you can do some serious bodily harm to his person.

---

You don’t really know what constitutes being “a good girl”, and you don’t really have the chance to find out because you meet with Whiskey again a few hours after he had barged into your office when Champagne calls you up to discuss some technicalities that he had remained vague on.

It’s a short underground tube ride to the Statesman office building a few miles outside the distillery, and an even shorter elevator up to the top floor. Whiskey is already there when you walk in, so you go ahead and take a seat across from him, pulling up your notes in case anything important pops up. You give him a small wave, and he tips his hat at you with a smile. You turn to the man sitting at the head of the table.

“Well, Champ,” Whiskey says, “why’d you call us here?” Champagne fiddles with the lid of a decanter of whiskey before he smacks his lips together and leans back in his chair.

“Statesman is considering adding another location in California, and I need your expertise,” he announces. He motions to you. “Sent the plans to your tablet, Brandy, but here’s the gist.” The t.v. screen at the other end of the table switches from Statesman stocks to a blueprint of a high rise located in San Francisco, alongside some smaller buildings scattered over the city. “I’m planning on sending Chardonnay over to oversee construction, but this is only the third location to be located in such a large city.” You skim over the notes. Although they wouldn’t be building a distillery, there would be a sub-HQ over there, as well as some Statesman-sponsored bars to keep up surveillance. “The first one being New York, and the other in Nevada.”

“Is there something we should keep an eye on?” you ask, scrolling through various material requests. While the other could handle the usual materials, you would have to put in a special order for the military grade stuff. “What’s the occasion?” Champagne shrugs when you glance over your tablet.

“It’s been something I’ve been thinking about,” he says. “Stocks are doing good, and there's no looming threat- seems like a good time as any.” You nod.

“Then why us?” Whiskey asks. “I think Brandy is more than capable of handling this herself.” Champagne furrows his brows.

“You are in charge of our New York office, aren’t you?”

“Brandy grew up preparing to take over for it,” Whiskey says.

“Well--”

“He’s right, sir,” you pipe in. “Whiskey’s about to go in for a mission anyways. There’s no point loading his already full plate. I can handle it.” Champagne presses his mouth in a hard line, but eventually taps the table.

“Alright then. Brandy, I’ll let Chardonnay know you’ll be taking part in it so he can refer to you with questions. Agents, you’re dismissed.”

Whiskey moves for the door, but pauses when you don’t follow him. You wave him off. “I’ll catch up with you; just need to talk to Champagne about something.” He nods, and leaves. You back around to face Champagne with narrowed eyes. “What are you up to, old man?” He tilts his head and pours some whiskey into his glass.

“What do you mean?”

“Bringing Whiskey into this,” you clarify. “You know I can handle this project by myself; why try to rope him in?”

“Thought it be a good experience,” Champagne says, taking a sip and swishing it around his mouth before he turns to spit it out into the spitoon. You wrinkle your nose.

“For Whiskey?”

“For the both of you,” he corrects. “Whiskey gets to learn more about the technical aspects, you get to, well, spend time with him.” You raise an eyebrow.

“And I want to spend time with him because…?”

“Don’t you know?” Champagne asks. You shake your head.

“What? We’re good friends, but we’ve got different jobs,” you say. “So I don’t see a reason why I should be spending time with him outside of what’s necessary.” Champagne just hums with a pensive look on his face.

“Alright then, girl.” He waves a hand at you. “Off to work.” And Champagne doesn’t elaborate any further.

---

You are far too busy trying to sort out the semantics of some sort of stirrings of a coup on a Chilean website to go and debrief Whiskey when Tuesday rolls around, so you send Ginger in your stead. She accepts without complaint, but you can see how she frowns when you tell her so. You’ve never gotten the details as to why the two never seem to get along, but Ginger is the most capable person you can think of to take care of things when you’re not able to.

It takes you a solid 45 minutes to try and go through the Chilean Spanish compared to the Castilian variant you know, but you determine that the rumors of a coup bears no real weight and all it is are empty threats despite the traction it’s gained so far. You suppose you could’ve run the translation, but there were too many nuances and codes that couldn’t be translated over. Just to be sure, you set up a surveillance bot to continue to track the progress and alert you if anything significant happens. By the time you do, Ginger walks in, looking a little frazzled. You frown. “You good, Liz?” Ginger just puts down the debrief folder on your desk as she plops down in the chair across from you. You raise an eyebrow, but slide the folder over and survey the notes she’s taken during the debrief. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Whiskey complaining that he has to fly to Spain to deal with some black market firearms dealers that have gotten too confident. Apparently last time he was there, some sailors tried to swindle him. There’s some quotes of his with choice words in the margins saying so, accompanied by a doodle of him with an angry expression. “Whiskey give you a hard time?” you guess. She nods and takes off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I honestly don’t understand how you can stand him sometimes,” she says. You shrug.

“He treats me fine, if not a little persistent,” you note mildly. Ginger snorts and puts her glasses back on. “Hasn’t given me a reason to dislike him. Yet.”

“That’s ‘cause he likes you,” she says. Your stomach flutters at her comment. Then after a moment of pondering, Ginger says, “Think he was in a bad mood because you weren’t the one debriefing him.” You frown.

“Would it have mattered if I did?” you ask. “You’re perfectly capable.”

“It’s not capability,” Ginger sighs, leaning forward and resting her forearms on your desk. The motion jostles the cup of pens on your desk and you reach to adjust it back to its place. You click a few things on your computer to pull up the flight details for Whiskey. Scheduled for 5:50pm, an overnight flight that lands in a remote location in Madrid where then he would be promptly escorted to Andalucia.

You wonder if he’ll come visit you before he leaves.

You shake the thought out of your head before you go back to look at Ginger, who’s looking at you curiously. “If not capability, then what?” you ask, fighting to keep down the blush that’s threatening to overtake your face.

“You really don’t know?” she asks, almost critically. You furrow your brows. There’s that question again.

“Is there something I should know?”

Before Ginger can answer, a knock resounds at your door. You give Ginger an apologetic look before you call out, “Come in!” You don’t know why you’re surprised, but it’s Whiskey, again, with a bright smile on his face before his eyes darken at the sight of Ginger. She bristles.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, reaching over and giving your hand a small pat before she gets up to brush past Whiskey, and she closes the door behind you. Whiskey seems to relax at that, and takes the seat she was in.

“If you’re here to complain about going to Spain, Agent Whiskey, I can’t do anything about it,” you immediately say before he can get a word in. He takes off his hat and puts it on your desk, running a hand through his hair.

“I wasn’t here to complain,” Whiskey says, chuckling. “You wound me, Brandy.” He puts a hand over his heart and stares at you with a woefully sad face, looking at you with big, warm brown eyes, akin to a kicked puppy. “Missed my favorite intelligence supervisor at the debriefing.” You throw a pen at him, but he just catches it and puts it in with the rest without breaking eye contact.

“Doubt you’re here just to see me,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your flight?”

“I’ve got time,” Whiskey says. “If I remember correctly, it’s not until 6:00. Gives me a little under 2 hours until I gotta leave.”

“5:50,” you correct him automatically. “So less than that. You’ll wanna leave in an hour or so to account for traffic.” The grin that spreads across his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

“You keepin’ track of when I’m ‘bout to leave?” he purrs, leaning forward. You scoff, but think in the back of your mind that there’s some truth to that.

“I’m the one that booked your flight with Triple Sec,” you say dryly. “Be weird if I didn’t know what time exactly, Agent Whiskey.” Whiskey hums, but leans back in his chair and spreads his legs in an almost obscene matter that leaves you thrumming in your skin.

“Jack,” he says.

“Hm?”

“My name is Jack.” You laugh.

“I know what your name is, Agent,” you say. “It’s kinda my job to know everybody. Feel like we’ve already talked about this about a million times by now.”

“Still, it’d be nice to hear you say it,” he says, almost absentmindedly as he picks at his nails, brows furrowed in a vulnerable expression. Your face falls at his soft tone. To be honest, your refusal to say his name was more because you perceived it as a game. Whiskey would press you to actually call him by his name, and you would coyly refuse, and he would leave with a promise that he would get you to say it one way or another. But something is clearly bugging him.

You reach a hand forward, towards him, touching the other edge of your desk. Close enough for him to reach for it. His gaze snaps to your hand, and something tells you that Whiskey wants to. There is some kind of longing in his eyes that the firm, hard line of his mouth is trying its hardest not to betray. “You okay?” Whiskey’s fingers twitch. Something holds him back.

He clears his voice, forcing a smile on his face, and the moment is broken. “Right as rain, sugar,” he says. “Pre-mission jitters, I suppose.” You suppose that’s not totally unwarranted. Whiskey would be going on into the field on his own due to the delicacy of the mission, the only backup available being Triple Sec piloting the plane. And, well, Whiskey didn’t exactly blend in with the typical Madrid population with his loud voice and louder personality. Statesman didn’t have a base out in Europe either. You give him a reassuring smile, and you try not to think too hard at how the tension seems to melt out of him at that.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” you soothe. You retract your hand, and honestly at this point it seems as though Agent Whiskey has taken up permanent residence in your mind because you swear you spot some sort of deep emotion as his eyes trail after it. “Just like you always do, Whiskey.” The muscles in Whiskey’s jaw work as he clenches his teeth together before he claps his hands and stands up, that same charming smile on his face but not quite reaching his eyes.

“Well I suppose that is some improvement!” he says. You tilt your head.

“What do you mean?” Whiskey pulls the flask off his belt and takes a swig.

“Got you to say my codename without all the preamble, now, didn’t I?” he says, winking at you. You stammer and flush red with embarrassment. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Now before you start wailing on me like last time,” he says, “I’ll see myself out. Like you said, I still need to pack. I’ll see if I can bring back a souvenir for you while I’m across the pond.” You cross your arms.

“That won’t be necessary.” Whiskey shrugs and heads for the door.

“Can’t stop me, can you?” You smile at him.

“Guess not,” you say, almost to yourself, then your gaze falls to his hat still sitting on your desk. “Wait, Whiskey, your--” He holds up a hand.

“Hold on to it while I’m gone, ‘kay?” he asks. You nod. “Good girl. Give me something to look forward to when I come back.” You make a motion to grab a pen, bursting out laughing when he moves to catch it when you feign a throw. He smiles, too, more genuinely this time. “See you in a couple days, darling.”

And you can’t help but start to miss him when the door clicks shut behind him.

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey reader #agent whiskey x you #whiskey x reader #whiskey x you #whiskey reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels reader #jack daniels you #kingsman reader #kingsman #agent whiskey #whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman the golden circle #my writing

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foster-fan-club · 4 years

Text

So I have been talking with @sophies-earbuds for awhile about sokeefe vs sophitz and I’ve wrote a little about it before, but now I really want to analyze each character in this love triangle madness->starting with Fitz:

[before I take off into the madness I would like to add a disclaimer: this is not meant to prove one ship “superior”, but at some points it will lean in favor of one or the other or both->it’s just meant to add some character analysis to the whole thing (message me if you ever want to talk more about these ships)]

Fitzroy Avery Vacker:

Fitz starts off as being an easily lovable and very cute character. Sophie falls for him, we all fall for him, and soon enough we are on the edge of our seat to see if Sophitz will happen. But just as we start saying he is our favorite, Shannon gives us a look into a trait that will soon define his character in a whole other way.

Alden’s mind breaks.

Shortly afterwards Fitz is left angry, broken, and feeling enormous loads of guilt-wishing that he could’ve been there for his father. Fitz starts to unload his frustrations onto Sophie and that is the first time Sophitz is truly questioned (besides the moment we learn how handsome Keefe is).

His anger issues are not resolved and he never truly finds closure or comes to terms with it. Instead this anger boils over into Alvar’s betrayal, Keefe’s betrayal, almost killing Alvar *twice*, the whole unmatchable drama, and more.

People argue that Shannon ruined Fitz to make Sokeefe happen. But in my opinion, she didn’t ruin him, instead she has now set him up for self growth and redemption.

By the end of Legacy, Fitz is finally adjusting to the changes in his life, he’s slowly realizing that Alvar is beyond his control, and he is working towards finding closure for his friends.

I feel like Sokeefe will eventually happen and that will present another obstacle for Fitz to endure. But Fitz has already hit his lowest point in Legacy, in my opinion. So now he is going to endure the greatest change. I feel like Fitz and Sophie both have a lot of personal growth they still need to go through apart, before they can even try to start dating again. Part of Sophie’s growth will most likely fall along the lines with Keefe’s recovery/new ability and their newish relationship. Fitz needs to refind himself and spend some more time with his family to help him heal. He will obviously depend on Sophie throughout this time and vice versa, but I don’t expect it to be in a relationship way.

Fitz Vacker is not a villain, even though some people paint him out to be. He is just as confused and as hurt and as betrayed as Keefe. He just deals with it in a not so great way. But Keefe also dealt with his guilt in a not so great way in the beginning too (I mean trying to play double agent against the Neverseen is not the smartest). Fitz and Keefe share many characteristics in common and they both have the potential to essentially make each other’s mistakes. But they don’t, instead they learn from them. They learn together, as best friends (wow I’m tearing up bc of Feefe/Kitz [idk their ship name]).

My prediction for Fitz is that he will start to branch off from the group and find his own way. Only once he has grown as a person, will he have a chance at winning back Sophie’s heart. If he does succeed with it all, Sophitz will end with a lot more value than it had in Flashback and Legacy.

So that was my overall *breif* analysis, but if you want more, just keep reading!

The change in Fitz was explained indirectly and perhaps some people missed it. Guilt is a major theme in the kotlc series and plays a big role in each character’s life. It is said multiple times after Alvar’s betrayal how getting angry is a way Fitz’s guilt is expressed. Just like how Alden’s guilt caused him to lean a little harder on his classic “no need to worry” standby. Brant’s guilt caused him to slowly go insane. The guilt Sophie felt for her human parents, eventually led her to a state of numbness. Keefe’s guilt causes him to be reckless. Grady and Edaline’s guilt caused them to shut out the world after Jolie’s death. Eventually each character finds a way to deal with their guilt. Alden eventually admitted that he was wrong to perform the memory break and was provided closure when Della and him helped Wylie and Prentice recover. Grady and Edaline adopted Sophie as a way to fill the emptiness in their home. Even Brant found closure by facing Grady and Sophie (although by then he was already too lost). Keefe is slowly finding closure by coming to terms with his dad, accepting that he isn’t responsible for his mom, and no longer trying to be the hero. He isn’t fully there yet, but Sophie is helping him get there. (This is very important for why sokeefe is such a strong ship but I already said a lot on that earlier) Fitz has never truly found closure and I think that is why he was so upset that Sophie and Keefe let Alvar go. Fitz feels responsible for being played by the Neverseen under his own roof (similar to Keefe). Fitz feels responsible for the shame he brought on his family’s *now questionable* reputation. [That is probably another reason why he wasn’t too happy about the whole unmatchable thing- not because he didn’t love Sophie but because he couldn’t bear hurting his family any more]

His direct family doesn’t blame him, but other members of the Vackers still look down on him. But most importantly, Fitz blames himself. He really wanted to be able to just finish Alvar, not because he is some dark, killing machine- but because he sees it as the only way to ensure Alvar doesn’t hurt the people he loves anymore. To me this is actually a sweeter side of Fitz that is often overlooked as just a creepy trait. Fitz would risk his own well being, he would risk breaking his mind, he would risk living with the burden of killing his brother- just because he believes he can protect his family, his friends, and Sophie. Now as creepy and weird of a justification that is- it is still a valid reason why Fitz would turn into who he is now so quickly. To me Fitz still has the same intentions in mind, but he is so guilt ridden and traumatized that he has gone to extremes.

When you hear him blaming Sophie for bad things that happen to him, it ends up actually being Fitz blaming himself. But Fitz doesn’t have the humility to admit that yet. I used to watch this tv series as a kid that I still love now that had a character who was very guilt ridden. The character was told that to become who he really is he must let go of his feelings of guilt and shame. The character responds *very hotheadedly similar to Fitz* “I’m not guilty or shameful- I am as proud as ever!” He is then told that pride is not the opposite of shame but it’s source. That has stuck with me through reading kotlc because it pretty much describes Fitz.

Fitz is PROUD to be a Vacker, he is PROUD to be a telepath, even in the beginning of the first book he gets defensive when Sophie makes fun of Foxfire because he is PROUD to be a Foxfire prodigy. All this pride can also result in tons of shame and guilt. He feels that he can not make others proud, he can not truly earn his titles, without leaving around loose ends that could tarnish his reputation. When you think about it, Fitz is as proud as ever. He just took elite level tests and will find out soon if he will get in. He figured out how to transmit long distances to Silveny. Sophie and him have strengthened their cognate connection after getting past their feelings. He found the moonlark. He is able to get past Sophie’s blocking. He has accomplished so much, but still feels guilt. His pride causes him guilt and shame, because when something that is out of his control happens- he does not have the humility to admit it. Instead he wants to hunt down Alvar, he wants to be angry for not being there when Alden’s mind breaks, he gets mad at Biana when she gets her scars from Vespera because he wishes he could’ve taken the hits for her. He really does try to be Wonderboy and sometimes he even shocks me with how skilled and smart he really is. But he is still learning how to admit mistakes and move on. This has been his characters biggest guilt related flaw throughout the entire series, it is nothing new. Each character has their own flaws that develop throughout the series.

When Fitz apologizes to Sophie at the end of Legacy, that is when I see his first true act of humility. He apologizes to her before, but this time it just felt so much more genuine because he finally is starting to realize what his actions are doing to those who love him. This is new self growth is where I see Fitz’s character heading. The end of Legacy has given him a chance for a sort of redemption arc. He was never a bad character or evil, he just needs to grow to be his true self. Fitz needs to let go of his past grudges to be able to move forward. He needs to admit that Alvar is out of his control and that he might not be able to be the hero (similar to Keefe again). I feel like when he says he is no longer looking to kill Alvar and hunt him down, but instead is looking for information about his best friend- that really made a difference to me. He is starting to move past it and work towards the greater good. Maybe post-redemption Fitz will have another chance with Sophie. But for now we are all rooting for sokeefe to have a standing chance.

I am so sorry that this is so much to read, but I was going to post all of this eventually so I decided, why not just spam everyone at once??

Soon I will be posting analysis for both Keefe an Sophie, but it will probably *hopefully* be a lot shorter because there is already a ton of great posts about their characters and I don’t want to be too redundant. My asks are always open if you ever want to send in your own opinions/feedback and/or other characters and plots you want to see more of on here!

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just-another-romantic · 4 years

Text

How to Date a Broken God - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Honest Apologies and a Sparring Match

Series Summary: After too many years of pain, a mortal teaches a god how to feel again. Maybe she can learn from him.

Warnings: ngl (Y/n)’s just rude in this one, language, sad Loki, fighting

That night, Loki threw up. After (Y/n)’s confession, the god quickly excused himself from the room, and barely made it to his bathroom before puking up everything he had within the past century. He hadn’t been ill since he was a child, and here he was: knelt over on the cold tile, head in the toilet bowl and clammy hands holding on for dear life.

Last time he had been ill like this, his mother had scooped him up in her arms - despite his protests - and tucked him into her bed, pulling the silk blanket up to his chin. He tried to recall how her hands stroked his hair in comfort as he pushed a stray lock from his face.

He was sick at himself. The once vain god now looked in the mirror and hated the face that stared back at him. He hated his heritage, Odin’s lies and abuse that lasted centuries, and he hated the spiral the truth threw him into once it was unveiled. He hated Thanos with his mind control, that he was weak enough to fall into it - costing thousands of innocent lives, including that poor girl’s parents.

Loki let out an audible groan of anguish, his head dropping lay on his land clutched to the toilet bowl. He hated her...well, not exactly. He hated how his heart twisted at the mere mention of her name. How his heart burst at the melody of her voice or, Odin forbid, her laugh. How she was not a normal mortal, that she stood her ground and held a knife to his neck the second he dared test her. He hated that in every aspect, (Y/n) was what Loki wanted in a lover.

She could never love you, he remembered. You’re a murderer, a cold-blooded killer. A monster, like the world...like your own father and brother think of you. Who would ever want to hold your crimson-stained hands?

Shakily, the unbreakable god stood up from the bathroom floor, quick to splash water in his face in attempt to refresh himself. He looked into the mirror and a monster looked back at him. If asked, he would deny it, but that night Loki fell asleep with tears running down his cheeks.

The morning wasn’t any better. An awkward heavy air still lingered above the Avenger’s heads, leftover from last night. Loki entered the kitchen nook of the floor around seven, grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and maroon t-shirt contrasting against his pale complexion. The golden rays of the still-rising sun fled into the room, enveloping the god in what one could only describe as a halo. Of course, Loki was tired and disoriented from sleep; the only thing he felt like was disheveled. No one noticed the beauty of the waking deity, no one except (Y/n), who promptly choked on her hot coffee.

Bucky was laid out on the sofa, the morning news drowning out his soft snores. James Rhodes sat at the dining table, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Sat on the ground by the television, Peter started on a new Lego set of the Avengers Tower, mumbling about the minor mistakes there were in the tiny architecture. Loki was worried he’d convince Pepper to sue the company.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Sam called from the barstool, cup of coffee in hand. His eyes traveled from Loki, to Wanda and the pans of scrambled and fried eggs and the pot of boiled eggs, then the pile of bacon next to her. “I hope you like eggs. Don’t really know what you guys eat on different planets.”

Loki stifled a yawn. “I’ll get myself a bagel. But, Birdbrain, yes, we have eggs on Asgard. I just don't eat them.”

“Oh my god is he vegan?” came Peter’s small voice.

Loki chose not to respond to that question and only walked into the kitchen in search of the toasters. He found them pretty quickly, (Y/n)’s small form serving as a landmark. She looked snug and smug, giving Loki the once over as she sipped her coffee, her feet dangling from where she sat on the counter. She looked innocent enough, cozy and clad in sweatpants and an oversized Star Wars shirt, and though she was barefooted, Loki had no doubt she was hiding another dagger somewhere.

“Good morning,” she chirped sweetly. “Don’t worry, I don’t have another dagger on me.”

Well, there’s one question answered. He gave her a smile in greeting. There was a bit of a pause before she raised her eyebrows as in ‘Aren’t you getting something?’ to which Loki quickly grabbed the bagels from the breadbasket.

After putting the two slices into the rack, he found himself suddenly interested in his cuticles, while it had been a bad habit he picked up when he was only a child- that constantly got him ratted out by his mother for it. The once suave god that had women falling at his feet lost his tongue in the presence of a mortal girl. “(Y/n)-”he began, before getting cut off.

“Don’t. I know what you’re gonna say.” He gave her an inquisitive look, to which she only rolled her eyes. “The air’s still heavy from last night.”

Loki felt his cheeks heat up. “(Y/n)...I give you my sincerest apology. And I’m well aware that a simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t even close enough to covering it.”

She shrugged. “I loved them. Still do, with every ounce of myself. My parent’s were my best friends. But you know what they always taught me?” Her burning stare locked with his. “That there’s two sides to every story, and even the monster thinks he’s the hero.”

Her voiced echoed monster in his ears and left an impact in his gut. “I’m sorry darling but I’m not seeing your stance on this...are you offering forgiveness?” His mouth dried up and he found himself unable to speak more than one sentence. He couldn’t even think.

(Y/n) scoffed, swinging down from her perch on the marble. “Oh no. Not even close.” She stepped uncomfortably close and Loki was intimidated, though she barely came up to his nose. “No. I hate you,” she seethed.

His stomach rolled in his belly at the venom in her voice, the words she spewed stinging like hellfire.

“But I will never wish you bad intentions. Like they always say, ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’.” She flashed him an innocent smile, the façade immediately building back up. “We’re teammates, we have to at least tolerate each other.” Tolerate. Enemy. “And for the record, don’t call me ‘darling’, darling.”

Loki gulped, feeling as though his throat had filled with cement, stepped down from his stance with her, and quickly grabbed his food before retreating to his room without another word.

Throughout the entirety of (Y/n)’s accusations, the newest Agent's voice had grown tremendously in volume, drawing the attention of the rest of the room’s occupants. There was a sweet moment of silence and (Y/n) turned to enjoy her coffee in peace, but Sam was too blunt for a Saturday morning.

“Don’t you think that was a bit...I dunno...harsh?”

“If it was, I don’t care.”

“You should,” said Bucky from the coach, his face stony and serious. “It’s how the whole Civil War ordeal started.”

“That’s completely different,” she snapped. “They had their reasons, Stark was being ignorant to the truth, as always it seems-”

Coronel Rhodes’ voice boomed through the kitchen, “Hey!”

(Y/n)’s head turned as the silence fell over the room. Rhodey’s eyes narrowed in on her. “I suggest you watch yourself, little lady,” he said. “You are the new comer, you have absolutely no right to waltz in and talk bad about the man who saved the universe, saving your ass as well.”

“Loki killed my mother in cold blood! My brother! My sisters and my father! And I had to watch!”

“Stark’s weapons killed my family, sweets,” spoke Wanda, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Her slender fingers interwove with the agent’s own, soothing and warm. “And I forgave him. In a matter of weeks.”

“He had no control of who used his weapons, Wandie.”

“I killed his parents,” mentioned Bucky. “He forgave me.”

“You were brainwashed!”

Rhodey leaned against the counter, arms crossing and face stern. “Loki was too.”

Agent (Y/L/n) felt her heart drop at a sickening speed. “He was...what?”

“It was all a part of Thano’s mastermind plan or some bullshit,” explained the Falcon. “He sent people to collect all of the infinity stones, but that ended up going south and he took it into his own hands. One of them being Loki.” Sam’s brown eyes fell to the ground in a silence, and the extremity of the situation hit the girl like a truck. “He found him, floating out there in the depths of the universe, took him, and convinced him to go on a killing spree. Basically.”

(Y/n)’s mind was going a million miles an hour and everyone in the room could practically see the wheels turning in her head. All the blame, all of the hurt, she had cast onto the wrong man. Her voice was shaky and breaking, “So...my parent’s death was - was that raisin’s doing?”

“Thanos killed millions before the Blip,” said Bucky gently.

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Jesus, I really am an asshole, aren’t I?”

Rhodey laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “You have a few things to learn before we put you on the field, that’s for sure. Gotta control those anger issues, but I think we can whip you into shape pretty quick.

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

And boy, did they whip her alright.

Hesitantly, (Y/n) agreed to beginning her training early on Sunday, instead of waiting for the work week to start. First, it was a three-mile run with Sam and Bucky around the compound at the crack of dawn, nothing she hadn’t done before or couldn’t handle. After breakfast, there was weights with Rhodey, then yoga with Wanda. Thankfully, she caught a break with Banner in the lab in between sessions, talking about the design of her new suit and how the tech that she didn’t understand would work. Now, she laid flat on her back, thrown for the fifth time in a round of sparring with Bucky.

“C’mon doll,” he taunted in his Brooklyn drawl, “get your butt up. Or do you need help? Do I need to phone 911?”

“For an old man, you sure do know how to talk shit, Granny.”

His black brow quirked in amusement. “That was the best you could come up with?”

Shakily, the agent denied the hand he offered and pushed herself up again, resuming the fighting stance. “I’ll work on it.”

The brunette supersoldier smiled at her, wiping the minimal sweat off himself with a towel. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m giving ya someone that’s more so your size this round.” He called off behind his shoulder and low and behold, Loki took his place on the mat, looking unpleased.

The first thing he said was the simple, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I doubt you would,” she replied, masking her nerves with a stern voice. She shot a glare at Bucky, who sat off to the side with a grin that could beat the Chesire Cat’s. “’I’m pairing you with someone more your size,’ he said! ‘It’ll be fun,’ he said! Bullshit, Buchanan!”

“He’s your size!”

“He’s a god!” (Y/n) looked the mischief maker up and down. He was scrawnier than his blond brother, but his stance and build clearly stated he’d be a difficult opponent. He stood a good half-a-foot above her head, and she doubted her own strength could outmatch his.

“If you haven’t noticed,” Barnes began matter-of-factly, “Loki isn’t built the same as Thor. He’s less jacked and smaller.” Loki’s muttering was heard but disregarded. “However, he’s still one of the strongest of the universe.”

“Then why the hell are you putting me with him if he could squash me between his fingers? I’m human.”

“Yesterday morning, you seemed to be out for his blood, I’m giving you what you wanted.”

Heated shame crept up (Y/n)’s chest and face and Loki’s smirk rendered her speechless.

Bucky ignored her redness, continuing, “He uses his brain, his cunning, his agility, and his speed. Along with his magic, he become’s a dealy combination. You could learn a lot from him, which is exactly why I’m pairing you with him. But for a fair fight, no magic.”

“You’re no fun, Sargent,” the god complained.

“Unless (Y/n) has a trick up her sleeve, no magic.”

Loki looked at her with hopeful eyes, to which she only shrugged. “I only know party tricks. Sorry.”

The mix-matched pair stepped onto the mat, both hesitant. The moment Bucky’s voice rang “Start!” throughout the room, (Y/n) swung a punch, that was quickly deflected and brought behind her back. His body pressed against hers, heat and electricity in-between the two bodies. The agent writhed, brining her elbow hard into this side, then looping her legs around his own.

“That’s it, (Y/n)!” Bucky praised, and (Y/n)’s face flushed under the compliment and the god’s mighty stare. The applause fueling her, she had Loki down a moment later, sitting on his upper thighs, her own straddling his waist. His arms were pinned helplessly against the floor; she smirked.

Loki’s eyes were blown wide, breath heavy, but he smiled back. “You okay there, Silvertongue?” (Y/n) cooed sweetly. She had won.

“Loki,” Bucky called from behind the ropes, “quit holding back!” and the agent’s blood ran cold.

Instantly, her back slapped against the mat, the positions now reversed. Pinned, despite how hard she struggled and fought against his strength. Loki’s eyes locked with hers and her breath caught in the base of her throat, mouth running dry.

“Never better, petal,” the god answered, whisper of breath crossing her face. The heat left her body as he got up, grabbed his duffle bag, and exited the gym.

(Y/n) sat on the floor, heaving and images of the bluest eyes flashing through her mind.

AUTHORS NOTE

Holy shit. The first month of 2020 has been kicking my ass. Lord help us all. I’m so sorry for the wait, guys. I hope I can make it up to yall.

TAGLIST

@cosmic-souls-and-stardust @rinthehufflepuff @electroma89 @madshelily @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @acf2510 @daddylouislittle @fanartdom @iam-a-painted-whore

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #Loki Angst #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #loki headcanon #loki drabble #loki fluff #Avengers #avengers endgame #endgame spoiler alert

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Reek-Cat

...but satisfaction brought it back.

Have roughly 3k of Brykar ft. Bry backstory. :)

---

It would come as a surprise to most people, but it was actually possible to get bored on Carrick Station. If you gave it enough time, or had no use for some--most--of the services on offer.

Both of which were currently true for Jonas Balkar. An unconventional extraction had left him stuck there until Trant could arrange acceptable transportation back to Coruscant. Jonas almost asked why he couldn’t just figure something out for himself, but there had already been a few clue this assignment was a bigger deal than it looked on the surface. So he nodded, and agreed to wait for whatever his boss considered “acceptable” transportation.

It was taking long enough he was most definitely starting to get bored. It might’ve helped if he was free to move between the ships--particularly the Gav Daragon; there was a whole museum there(granted, Jonas would likely be more interested in the people visiting the museum than the museum itself)--but Trant had told him to stay on the main station. None of the levels had anything particularly exciting aside from the cantina, and some were even closed off to non-essential personnel.

Nine hours into waiting, Jonas got bored enough to take that restriction as a challenge. Slicing may not be one of his strengths, but charm was. Between that and his ability to appear unassuming and nondescript(”Not with those cheekbones,” Bry would tease if she were here. Of course, if she were here, he probably wouldn’t be bored in the first place), he found himself on the mission departure deck fairly easily.

Truth be told, he hadn’t really planned what he’d do when (if) he succeeded, so it was almost a relief when he caught a glimpse of a familiar red jacket in one of the ops coordination rooms; it gave him something to investigate. Even if it made him do a double-take. Thought Shan was on Corellia...

Clearly, he’d thought wrong. As he edged closer to the room it was very obvious one of the figures--the pacing one, of course--was Theron. The other, a soldier, from his armor, was bent over the holotable in the center of the room, studying the pale blue clusters of shuttles it projected. Both looked very intent and eager. Whatever they were overseeing, it must’ve been a big deal.

Curious as boredom had made him, Jonas knew better than to be caught snooping on something that had SIS and the military both salivating like a hungry nexu. He’d started to slowly make his way back toward the elevator when the soldier’s voice growled out and he froze in his tracks.

“Alright, Nerai, your turn for insertion, he said gruffly. “Be ready for a fight.”

Jonas’ brow furrowed. Bry’s already on an assignment, how’d they get her-

“Understood, Colonel.” That was not Bry’s voice over the comm in response. It was softer, mellifluous and gentle. “I am ready to defend myself, but hope to avoid undue violence.”

“Nerai, you are in their heart,” the colonel growled back. “All violence is due violence. You do what it takes to achieve the objective.”

Her image flickered on the holo and Jonas barely bit back an audible grunt of surprise as he eavesdropped. Definitely not Bry. Longer hair, different tattoos, but there was something familiar about her eyes and the curve of her jaw.

“I will not shirk from defending myself, Colonel,” she replied, poised in the face of his bristling. “Nor fail to complete what I promised. But neither will I go out of my way to inflict harm. That is not how I do things.”

“This is no time for Jedi morality-” the colonel started to snarl, but Theron held up a hand.

“Darok, she needs to concentrate if we want this to be a success,” he cut the other man off. His gaze drifted toward the doorway before he looked up at the holo. “Good luck, Master Jedi.”

She smiled--”Thank you, Agent Shan”--and her image flickered and faded.

Remembering his intention, Jonas turned and made for the elevator.at what he hoped was an inconspicuous pace. The hand that settled on his shoulder before he was halfway to his goal said it wasn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Theron hissed even as he tugged Jonas off to the side so they wouldn’t be visible from the ops room.

“Just passing through,” Jonas replied with an innocent shrug. “Waiting for a ride.”

Theron arched a brow skeptically. “What, the shuttles running every hour on the hour not good enough for you?”

“For me, yeah.” Jonas shrugged again. “Not for our boss.”

He saw the three or four potential next sentences come to mind and be discarded in Theron’s eyes before he sighed and reiterated, “But what are you doing here? On this level?”

“Nothing. Wandering to stave off boredom. Even I can only stomach so long in the cantina before I need something else to do. Got curious what was on the other levels of this place.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that saying, goes something like ‘curiosity killed the reek-cat...?”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Jonas countered, lips twitching in a smirk at the attached memory. He kept talking before Theron had a chance to growl at him again. “What’re you doing here? Aside from meeting pretty Jedi, I mean.” Who bear a startling resemblance to my fiancee.... “What’s the story there?”

If it was anyone else from their entire office, Jonas would’ve sworn Theron’s ears went just a little red at the insinuation. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he shot back, glancing toward the ops room. “She’s helping with our mission, which is classified, so you’re damn lucky I’m the one who spotted you, not Darok. Man’s jumpier than a Kowakian monkey lizard about this op. Might wanna make yourself scarce before he has you arrested for espionage or something.”

“My job, you mean?” Jonas deadpanned, but Theron didn’t so much as roll his eyes. This op must be a really big deal.

“I’m serious, Balkar.” Theron let go of his arm with a small shove toward the elevator. “Get lost before you get caught. And-”

“Keep my mouth shut, I know,” Jonas cut him off. “I know how discretion works, Shan.” A really big deal.

Theron just nodded curtly, no smart remark in return, and headed back to the ops room. Jonas did as he’d suggested and made his way back up to the main level of the station, now with much more to keep him busy until his ride got here.

---

When the shuttle finally showed up, it was an uneventful ride back to Coruscant. Gave him a chance to start figuring out how to begin the conversation he was now very interested in having for Bry. Questions about hidden family members were tricky to broach, even if they were fueled by curiosity rather than hurt. He assumed. He’d never had to do this before.

He wound up with a couple more days to mull it over before Bry got back from her assignment, and no closer to an appropriately delicate opener to that conversation.

You could just leave it alone. If it was important, she’d have brought it up by now, his thoughts pointed out. Or snoop her records, find out without bothering her.

Neither of those sound like me, Jonas retorted. He was pretty close to just leaving it alone through sheer lack of a good way to start, though.

All the internal debate was rendered moot when Bry got back, flopped on his couch with her legs--as always--across his lap, and asked. “So, do anything fun while I was gone?”

Jonas laughed and ran one hand through his hair. “Funny you should ask...” He rubbed her shin as he gave her the sanitized version of how he’d wound up on Carrick Station and what lengths boredom and curiosity had driven him to, then hesitated, hand going still against her leg as he gambled. “Bry...any particular reason you’ve never mentioned having a sister?”

She stiffened ever so slightly. “B’cause there’s about half a frangin’ ton of baggage involved I didn’t wanna drop on you,” she said glibly after a long pause.

“Bry.” So that had been her sister. Not a cousin or some more distant relation.

She looked at him, let out a long sigh, and swung her legs down to sit up and sidle closer to him on the couch. “Alright. First off, it’s not any reason about you that kept me from sayin’ something. It’s not a trust issue or dirty secret or anything. I just... never mention her to anyone.”

It was clear from her expression and the way her gaze stayed fixed on their knees that this was a serious, difficult subject for her. Still he couldn’t help himself. “Why wouldn’t you mention a sister?”

Bry looked him dead in the eye. “Because it never felt like I had one.” His confusion must have shown, because she sighed again and briefly buried her face in her hands. “Okay, starting at the beginning.... You know I don’t really talk to my parents.”

It wasn’t a question, but Jonas still nodded. “Yeah.”He reached for her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away.

In fact, she seemed to appreciate the gesture. “Vica’s why. She’s four years older than me, was found to be Force-sensitive and taken in by the Jedi Order when she was three. My- our parents decided that given we never met, it made perfect sense to never tell me about her. Easier to pretend I was an only child than inevitably wind up explaining to a four year old why her big sister didn’t live at home and we couldn’t visit her.”

Jonas winced at the hurt and sarcasm under the words. For once he held his tongue and simply squeezed her hand in support.

“So they didn’t,” Bry continued, shooting him a faintly grateful smile. “Never breathed a word. Told me I was it, and they were happy that way. I was seventeen when I found the one memento they couldn’t bring themselves to give up--isn’t that how it always goes?--the first family holo from when Vica was born.” She gave a sharp laugh. “That’s what tipped me off; I came almost two weeks early. Dad was off-planet for work and missed my arrival. They’d told me the story a dozen times, so I knew that baby couldn’t be me. When I confronted them about it, they told me the truth easily enough. Said they did it to protect me. To keep me from feeling hurt I lost out on the sister I’d always pestered them for because the Jedi took her before I was born.” Bry pulled her hand free, ran both through her hair, and tipped her head back against the couch. “Stars, I need a drink.”

“Coming right up.” Jonas squeezed her knee as he pushed off the couch. It only took a minute to pour two whiskeys and return to sit next to her.

“Thanks. Bry slugged back half of the one he handed her in a single swallow, winced, and wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist.”This is a good one, sure you wanna waste it-”

“If you need a drink, it’s not a waste,” Jonas cut her off. “Especially since you need it ‘cause of me in the first place.”

She snorted, swirled the remaining liquor. “Always knew you’d drive me to drink,” she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Just didn’t figure it would be like this.” She sighed, ran her hand through her hair again, then leaned forward to brace her elbows against her knees.”Let’s get this over with..... So. Seventeen, just found out my parents had been hiding a Jedi big sister from me my whole damn life. I was pissed. Didn’t talk to them for weeks. Only reason I didn’t just leave is Sayna pleadin’ their case. That was part of why I joined the military soon as I graduated,” she admitted. “The recruiter had already been sweet-talking me an’ a couple other kids pretty hard. I might’ve done it anyway, but getting away from people who’d lied to me for near on two decades was the final nudge that made it too good a deal to pass up.”

“You ever talk to her?” Jonas asked, mimicking her posture.

Bry shook her head and snorted a bitter laugh. “Jedi aren’t allowed attachments like that, remember?”

I feel like I’ve had this conversation before... Jonas thought wryly. Theron was markedly less bitter about it than her--unless he was really drunk--but the general tone was familiar. “Right.”

She raised a brow at the no-frills reply. “You’re being awfully... taciturn. For you,” she commented, draining her glass.

He shrugged and swapped her empty tumbler with the full one he held. “I don’t know enough to really comment, beyond saying that while I see where they were coming from, I absolutely disagree with how your parents handled things.”

Bry bumped her shoulder against his as thanks for round two and scoffed. “Oh, I see where they were coming from, too. I get it. I may wonder time to time if it was more for themselves--not having to explain or deal with the questions I would have asked, but I get it. Getting it doesn’t make it hurt any less that they lied to me for seventeen years, Jonas. Every time I asked why I didn’t have any siblings, every time I grumbled about being an only child.... They could have told me, and they didn’t, and that stings like hell.”

“I’ll bet,” he nodded.

Bry flashed an apologetic grimace as she sipped the second whiskey. “Sorry for ranting. I warned you it was a lot of baggage.”

“Eh, you’re entitled, I think.” Jonas rubbed her back.

She relaxed slightly and her grimace turned to a relieved, genuine smile. “And you’re sweet.” She raised one hand to curl around the side of his neck, just below his ear, back towards the nape, and pulled him in for a whiskey-flavored kiss.

“I signed up for the whole ride,” he murmured against her lips, “not just the smooth sailing. It not being official yet doesn’t make me mean it any less-”

Bry kissed him again and he chuckled as he obliged, leaning into it.

“You’re sweet,” she reiterated when they parted. She sat back and handed over the whiskey. “We can share.”

“Or I could get another, if I wasn’t being lazy,” he pointed out as he accepted the tumbler and took a sip. Bry chuckled softly, and they sat in comfortable silence for a handful of seconds, shoulders pressed together, before Jonas spoke again. “Not to keep digging at the wound, Bry, but did you ever try...?”

“Getting in touch despite knowing it;s a long shot?” Bry finished with an almost derisive snort. “Yeah. Once. Just before I went to Ord Mantell.” She slouched enough to put her feet up on the low table in front of the couch. “Got some clearly rehearsed apology that the individual I sought was off-planet and unavailable, but they could pass along a message. Didn’t bother; felt wrong for that to be how she learned I exist. After that... I dunno, I was busy. Lost my nerve, I guess. Or convinced myself it wasn’t that important we get to talk. At least enough to kill my curiosity.”

“Speaking of curiosity...” Jonas turned sideways on the couch, one foot still braced against the floor. “I’d like to apologize for mine making you dig up memories that hurt.”

Bry chuckled dryly and reached up to grab a handful of the front of his shirt. “Eh, you’re cute so I’ll forgive you.”

Jonas laughed and didn’t resist when she pulled him down for another kiss. “One of my favorite sentences,” he teased.

“Dare I ask what the others are?” She arched a brow and maintained a loose grip on his shirt when he straightened.

“Drinks are on me for one. Hey there, handsome...” he grinned at the look on her face. “You asked.”

“Teach me to be curious...”

“There is one more recent addition,” he said with faux-innocence. “I love you.” He wrapped his hand around hers grasping his shirt, rubbed his thumb over the diamond and chevron tattoo on the back of one finger. “But only when exchanged with one very specific gorgeous blue-eyed badass who currently has her feet on my table.”

“What, that’s not why it’s there?” Bry said playfully, tugging on his shirt. “I love you, too. Even if you are a nosy bastard sometimes.”

“Can’t help it,” Jonas smirked, leaning down to kiss her again. “You’re just so fascinating I want to learn everything about you.”

“Charmer,” she laughed just before their lips met.

“Yep,” he replied, stealing another kiss before shifting to sit in a similar position to hers, though he didn’t put his feet on the table. “Thanks for satisfying my curiosity, gorgeous.”

Bry nodded. “Welcome, handsome. I prob’ly would have told you eventually, might as well be now.” She wriggled closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Now that that’s done”--she raised an inquiring brow and he nodded--”what should we do to relax?”

“Did you get to do anything fun while you were gone?” Jonas joked, balancing the whiskey on the arm of the couch.

“Freeze my ass off,” she said glibly. “Deal with stuff that got way more complicated than it should’ve.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

“Heh, point. It’s behind me now, and I’d rather leave it there. Do something else.”

“Fair.” Jonas had a suspicion this most recent mission was not all she meant. “In that case...” He trailed his fingers lightly up the inside of her forearm and grinned when she bit her lip. “I might have a few suggestions...”

“By all means,” Bry matched his grin as her hand drifted toward the inside of his knee. “Satisfy my curiosity.”

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

It’s been my headcanon for a while that in the Nerai Sisters canon Vica’s The Outlander(TM), so she does all the Shadow of Revan etc stuff since she, y’know, romanced Theron and needs to interact with him. BUT since even the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order can’t do EVERYTHING, while Vica was running the Assault on Korriban/reclaiming the Jedi Temple Bry was doing Ilum.

Also: since Bry A) is not a jewelry person and B) can’t really wear it with her job, she gets a tattoo on the back of her left ring finger when she and Jonas get engaged, and then adds to i(a LOT; my girl is not subtle at all) when they actually get married. :D

#queens fic #briyoni nerai #jonas balkar #brykar #otp: better company #GOD I LOVE THEM #and bry made it another whole oneshot without calling him jo #what's going on????

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heartslogos · 4 years

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newfragile yellows [842]

“Is your request for leave because a certain anniversary is coming upon us?” Solas asks. Mahanon resists the urge to fidget, arms straight at his sides as he stares at a point just to the left of Solas’ head. “Oh for the — dismissed. Yes. I mean it. What’s Captain Lavellan going to do? Leave.”

Mahanon waits until he hears the sound of footsteps retreating, the door closing, and then another solid minute.

“Are you going to go check that they don’t have their ears pressed to the door as well?” Solas sighs. “Your suspicions would be commendable if you didn’t constantly use them to avoid answering honest and sincere inquiries.”

“You? Honest and sincere?” Mahanon replies. “Are you going senile? Better get to it naming an heir while you can still be considered legally sound of mind.”

Solas’ lip quirks up at the corner, briefly, before leveling again. “Tell me honestly. Are things well between the ducal couple? Are things moving as planned?”

“That’s what I’m planning on seeing for myself,” Mahanon replies, moving to take a seat in front of Solas’ desk. “Honestly? You and I both know my sister. There’s two ways this is going to go. One is according to plan.”

“And the other is she got attached,” Solas shakes his head, folding his hands together and pressing his fingertips to his lips. “It would be one thing if he was only around for the marriage and made himself scarce the rest of the past year, but.” Solas closes his eyes. “They’ve been through a remarkable amount together. For just a year.”

Mahanon fiddles with the end of his braid. “My real concern is the Iron Bull. If he also gets attached — if he is attached. Then what?”

“If it’s reciprocated on both sides there’s no issue,” Solas says. “They’re already married. And personally I don’t care. As your king I have concerns about bringing a former Qun agent in as a member of one of the most prominent families in the Dales, but the aren’t particularly strong concerns. Again. They’re already married. It’s over and done with.”

“But if it isn’t reciprocated,” Mahanon pauses, eyes closing. “If it isn’t reciprocated we’re in trouble. On either end.”

“What do you think is going to play out here, Mahanon?” Solas asks. “Your sister has a tendency to lie when she writes to me.”

“Hm. I wonder why?”

“Mahanon.”

“I think,” Mahanon traces his finger on the chair’s armrest over the embroidery of a flower, “I think that she has feelings for him. And I think that, perhaps, he has some feelings for her. The depth of his feelings towards her I’m not entirely certain of. I’m not in regular contact with my good-brother and I haven’t seen them for a significant amount of time away from public view since the wedding itself. I have ideas. I’ve seen glimpses. But I can’t be certain. Not yet.”

“Which is why you’re asking for leave now.”

“If things go poorly my sister will need me with her,” Mahanon says. “Whether that be as an ear to listen, shoulder to lean on, or sword to be held in her defense remains uncertain. I. I can’t help but think, though. Perchance he does feel deeply for her. Something with more complexity and texture than a regular friendship. Something that runs through blood and spirit. And if Ellana would feel the same — I worry that this may not be realized in time.”

“You go to play matchmaker?”

“I go to do whatever needs to be done to ensure my family is safe,” Mahanon replies. “From the glimpses of them I have seen I have my doubts that their affection for each other is all an act. But — how much of it is real, I cannot say.” Mahanon sighs, digging the heel of his boot into the floor. “Solas, I’m not trying to obfuscate this time. I genuinely don’t know how this will play out. But I’m not going to bet on this going according to plan. I’m just not sure how it will fall off script. I just know that I need to be there for my sister, however the cards fall.”

Solas turns his head to look out the window into the sky.

“You know that in this matter we are of like mind. I know that you and I have our differences, and the relationship I have with your family is complex. But at the root of it all I hope you know that I sincerely care for you and your sister. I agreed with this plan for both you and her, after all. It’s out of this concern that I reach out to you like this. I worry that your sister may do something foolish and unnecessary,” he admits. “And the reason I called you here was to, hopefully, alleviate me of such concerns. I had hoped that you had some more insight or clarity on the situation than I do, considering that your sister is much more candid with you than she is with me.”

“Surprise, my sister has changed in some respects.” Mahanon follows Solas’ gaze to the window, voice softening, “Since taking on the mantle of heir and now finally rising to her title, my sister has become more guarded. Even to me. Ellana’s…opacity on this matter isn’t just because of who you are. She’s withholding information to everyone and I don’t think it is out of any malicious intent. I think she just feels responsibility differently. I think my sister feels that as Duchess she should hold her problems separate and away from us, that she is no longer someone who can ask for help but someone who can only give it. I don’t know how to change that part about her. I’m not sure it’s possible.”

Solas leans back in his chair, eyes closed. “The two of you make me feel like a parent. Grandparent, possibly.”

“I’d say doting uncle but when have you ever doted on anything in your life?” Mahanon brushes his knuckle against his lip. “If it makes you feel any better the both of us have looked to you as a grandparent of sorts. Ellana does not keep secrets from you out of some protective sense. Ellana keeps secrets out of a misplaced sense of duty and love.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 5 years

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The Smile - Chapter 3/7

A Pairing: Loki x OFC

Summary of the story: She was a mutant with healing powers. Avengers were her family and she did all she could to protect them. She always tried to see the good in others. The smile. Beautiful and unique one was something she noticed in Loki and fell in love with. But not every love story ends the same way, and not every prince comes on his white horse and the story ends with a happy ending… Or maybe?

Story Warnings: Angst, a bit of violence, psychological issues like low self-esteem, depression, anxiety; swearing, eventual fluff and smut - maybe.

A/N: This is my first Loki story I have written, so I am quite excited. I planned to post it as a two-chapter story, each with around 10 000 words but assumed it was too much, so I will divide into 7 parts. I portray Loki as a bit of a dick here, so I hope you will bear with me and despite all this will enjoy reading this story, as much as I do writing it :)

If you want to be tagged to this or any other of my stories, please send me an ask <3

Words: 1626

She came to the Avengers level from time to time to join them at the dinners. She watched movies with Barnes and let Rogers talk to her about new painting exhibitions he'd love to see. She cooked with Wanda and Vision and made sure to bake some extra cookies for Tony and Sam. Always getting some extra chocolate or peanut butter. She was present on the level but she wasn't really there. The smile she was giving them was fake, and there were no jokes from her. Those terrible jokes that made even Steve laugh.

She was always at the bay ready to help and always stayed in her room after all was done, to gain her energy back. She was hiding from people more and more. Getting her food from her own house, not to have to go to cafeteria. After all she was a freak. And everyone who were at the party knew that.

She hasn't seen Agent Smith since the party, but she hoped she got her money back. She doubted Loki wouldn't give them to her.

Well she hasn't talked to the God since the encounter at the corridor. She saw him at Stark's dinners, or where she came to cook for the team, but never spoken to him, neve looked his way. She decided to give up. If he hated her she would not force him for any unnecessary encounters. She was a big girl, she couldn’t help her stupid little broken heart. She was a freak and freaks did not deserve to be happy. She promised herself to show the Avengers the support. They deserved it, but her happiness? She didn't care about it. She was always alone, after all.

She frowned and looked at her computer when she got a notification. The Avengers didn't go on any mission, which meant one of the normal agents got really hit. It was already her after hours but she just shrugged, not like she got somewhere to go.

She took her medical equipment and headed to the med bay. When she went through the doors she froze seeing redhead on the bed. There was a lot of blood and her partner was holding her hand. She must have fainted as there were no screams. Maybe better. Liz took a step and jogged to the bed.

"What happened", she asked one of the nurses, who was preparing the agent. Her partner apparently recognised the doctor from the party as he tensed.

"Three shots. One on the shoulder one on the stomach and one near legs. We think she may start bleeding internally very soon." Liz nodded her head and frowned looking at the other agent.

"We need you to leave the room. I will come and talk to you when we're finished." He clenched his jaw and looked her in the eyes.

"Listen, what happened at the party..."

"Doesn't matter. Please leave and let me do my job" her voice was calm, despite the nervousness she felt. He nodded his head and left. This gave a woman a way to take a deep breath. She turned towards the wounded and looked through the information the nurse gave her.

"I will need help with that", the nurse nodded and started preparing. "I know its after hours, but I won't be able to do it alone. And well I don't want to wake doctor Banner..." The young woman smiled and shook her head.

"No worries doctor Call, I'm happy to help", she answered putting on her second glove.

"I'm gonna control her blood flow and I need you to take the bullets out. Can you do that?" The nurse nodded and they got to work.

The last bullet was the hardest. Being close to the lungs made the control of the blood flow too difficult. She cursed herself for not sleeping enough. She was slowly losing conscious. The whole procedure was now taking over three hours and she was slowly getting weaker.

"Doctor?" The nurse asked, seeing her getting more and more pale.

"Keep going. I need you to be extra careful now. If we messed this up she may lose too much blood." The nurse gulped and nodded slowly trying to get the bullet out.

"Hey princess, how are you hanging?" She smiled to herself hearing the billionaire's voice from the observing room.

"I need to focus now so no talking, Tony." She looked up at the Avengers who were gathered in the same room as Iron Man. Apparently they heard about the operation.

"What do you need?" The doors opened and Bruce walked in, all in scrubs and ready to help.

"I thought you were not that kind of a doctor", she joked, making him chuckle.

"Anything for you Liz."

"Ok, can you change our lovely Rosie here? She had done an amazing job!" The nurse looked at her in surprise. "Go rest. Take a day off tomo... well today" she laughed quietly, and waited for Bruce to get in the position.

The nurse only nodded, knowing that arguing now would not be a good idea. So she left, giving a reassuring smile to the doctor.

"What an irony" Bruce muttered under this breath. She raised her brow in an asking manner. "You think she'd agree for the freak to treat her?" Banner was never the mean one, but apparently her comment punched him in the guts as well.

"Not now, Bruce. She's just another patient. Plus..." her eyes travelled up to meet with the green ones of the demigod. "Her boyfriend is watching." She didn't care all of the fact that he probably hear her. She was tired and in pain. Using the powers not only exhausted her but also brought her enormous pain. The longer she was using it, the bigger the pain she felt.

She coughed and cursed under her nose, when she felt blood in her mask. They needed to hurry up. Banner noticing the slight change into her expression quickly deducted the reason for it. So he started to take the bullet off. More professionally than the nurse and way quicker at the same time. It wasn't ten minutes when the metal hit the metal bowl and Liz was slowly getting the agent’s blood level into standard.

She coughed one more time, before walking away from the agent. Banner could handle the closing up. She has done her job.

"Princess, sit down!" Tony's voice boomed from the other room, but she had more and more issues to hear it. The black dots appeared in front of her eyes and was only able to whisper a quiet sorry before fainting.

He was pissed. Annoyed the entire time he was watching her curing the one person that was so terrible for her. And there she was. Pushing herself to the limits for a stranger.

He did not understand what was in her head but he couldn't help but just go through and catch her at the last second before her unconscious body hit the floor. He frowned seeing her heavy breathing. He carefully took the mask off and widened his eyes. It was all in blood. She must have gotten herself way beyond her limits.

"Banner", he started, getting her up to his arm. "When you finish with Smith take a look at the idiot in here", and before Bruce was able to make a comment, Loki left the operation room. He noticed Smith's partner and raised his brow when the man got up and looked between the God and the doctor in his hands.

"How is she?" He asked, his voice shaky.

"I don't know I'm not a doctor. Now move she needs some rest." And with no care whatsoever, he just left the poor guy alone to his own thought. He looked at the girl, when she winced. She must be in pain. He cursed under the nose, annoyed with her stupidity. How could she go so far for someone who was so awful to her.

"FRIDAY, take me to her room", he ordered in the elevator. He also just now realised that she was really light. She must have lost some weight. Was she eating well? He flinched at his concern. He left the elevator and went straight into her room. He put her gently on her bed and looked around. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the almost complete lack of decoration did surprise him. Even Romanoff has made her room, her own. And there he was in a room very similar to his before the redecorating with only two pictures on the stand. One with her and the Avengers, and one with two people he has never seen before. He took the frame in his hands and turned it around. It said: '1987 - parents'.

"As much as I hate you for treating her like trash, I need to thank you", Loki looked up from the picture and clenched his jaw seeing Captain America at the doors. "She went a bit too far, again. I think I need to talk to her. " He said in a joking manner. The demi-god put the picture back on the stand and was about to leave, when a hand on his arm stopped him. "Stay away from her. She went through enough in her life, to be treated like you treat her." They stood there, staring at each other with anger in her eyes.

"I have no intention on spending time with her." He hissed and pulled his arm away from the blonde's grasp.

"Good." he answered and walked into the bedroom, closing the doors. Steve walked to your bed and sat softly next to you, taking your hand in his. "You have an awful taste in men, doll."

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years

Text

Blood, tears and sea breeze.

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 5: Walls made of love

The diaries started as a joke, and Alec Could see Y/N was not taking her assignment seriously, he could even imagine Dr. Florence exasperated expression reading them, as much as he remembered the way she looked at him when talked about his own dreams. But every now and then there was some real opinion about her life.

Monday, April 8, 2019

08:00 am. I get to school and I didn't take breakfast, I had a boring morning, as boring as this bloody activity. Sorry doc, but you clearly fail on this one.

10:00 am That was rude I know, but what else you want me to tell, I had a boring lunch and I have a call from Jonathan's mother, I get it the ring was important and I know how much she doesn't me to take away her son, she doesn't have to be that bitchy about it.

By the time he reach the last five days he listened to the tape as he was reading, there were just little more details about what she ate, barely anything, and the people she talk around the day. One detail call his attention, apparently Paul was indulgent enough to let her drive for brief moments in straight lines, and Hardy was not sure if it was relevant for the case or not.

Then he finally found the recollection of the night she went out drinking with Ashley, she usually put on hours before writing so the doctor would follow better her descriptions.

2:30 - I just came home and took a shower, I'm sorry Doc, you will be receiving this one way late than usual, and please don't worry, I went for drinks with Ash as I told you yesterday I would, do you actually read this? I would hate to imagine a woman like you sitting at home alone waiting for my poor written crap. Anyway, I'll tell you a secret I didn't drink today, we were at the club at 10 but stupid Jonathan called me to tell me that I shouldn't be going out with, I told him where he could put his opinion, but I listen and took only mocktails, Ash didn't notice I think, she was so funk I even drove back, thankfully the streets were empty, I hope she didn't eat me out with Jonathan, and I will apologize to him lateer in the morning, I will tell him: I can't wait to be doing this for the rest of our lives.

I haven't told hin about your plann of putting me on medication, I will surprise him with it when he gets back, that would definitely make him happy.

"Hardy, Paul Coates is here, he wants to talk to you" One of the agents said and he immediately pull the papers behind some other files, they felt like something private not sure why.

"Sure, tell him I'll be out in a minute" He said and once he was away he move to close the blinds and the door of his office.

But if I'm completely honest I'm not sure if he actually wants me to get bettr or just wants me to be what he wants, as you said we all put on walls, and as I tried to move on from mine and from the memory of parents stopping me from getting out of Broadchurch I let Jonathan trapped me in litral walls in our huse, and the walls made of love that I built to keep me from telling him that I want to drive, that I need to work, that I'm capable, anyway have a nice night or morning or whatever time is you are reading this, I'll send you the next entry tomorrow.

Alec checked the time when Dr Florence received the document 2:53 am, so a few minutes after she wrote it, wich was obvious since it had several misspellings and missing letters.

He had already checked the traffic cameras around her home and all her movements checked out, there at 1:52 am just a few miles before the dirty road to her cottage he identified the car that should belong to Langford, and then the same car leaving at 2:05 however the first time he didn't notice that she was the one driving, and then Ashley driving back, apart from that her story checked out.

He stood up and walk to a waiting room where Paul was sitted , he respected the reverend but sometimes his good intentions could be too much.

"DI Hardy" He said always polite standing up to shake his hand "I'm sorry to bother you but is about Y/N"

"Do you have new information about the case?" Hardy said dryly, and sitedin front of him "I believe Miller already talked to you this morning, and I don't have more to say apart from that"

"No, I already say everything I know, is just I figured since Y/N is not going to be able to go back to his place because of ... the investigation and that" he frowned thinking about Jonathan's body "I thought maybe she could stay at the church, we always have a spare room and well since her family is not around I figured ..."

"How did you know she is getting free?" Alec interrupted him.

"Well I don't think she is responsible for anything" He started clearly surprised that he questioned that.

"Ah, you think you can do my job better than me?" Hardy said, clearly about to loose his temper.

"I just think, or at least I like to think I'm better at knowing people" Paul was more serious, and Hardy was shock by that, maybe it was the years of tragedy he had face with the town, or maybe it was something more personal.

"Oddly how things turn out isn't it? The fiance is gone, and now she goes back to you, and you even want her to live with you. And you are no longer with Becca do you? All seems way too convenient don't you think?" He said looking for something in the priest face, but there was only indignation.

"What are you suggesting? Really? You are going to questioning me?" He said and Hardy just remained silent with her arms crossed "Fine if I you need to know, and I'm surprised Ellie hasn't told you yet, I know her ages ago, her, Ashley we went to school together, and we were together for about one year, I don't know she was 26 at the time. And we broke up because I was busy with the church and we have been friends since then." He said quickly and Alec nodded.

"And you were friends with Norbury?" Alec asked not sure on why he wanted to know.

"I introduced them, a few weeks after he move here he began helping me at the church, and she often volunteers to watch the trouble makers, she must have watch Tom and Danny a couple times back in those days" a shadow of sorrow crossed his face remembering the young kid, something that happened often in broadchurch "I actually forgot to tell something to Ellie" He said remembering suddenly "I don't think is relevant but anyway, I am I meet Jonathan at a AA meeting, and that's why he started helping at the church. He had troubles with drinking at London that's why he came here."

"Did he ever relapse?" Alec ask suddenly with all his alarms on "Like recently?"

"Not that I know, he didn't want Y/N to know about it, and I ask him to talk to her before the wedding, I'm not sure if he did" The sad look was back now for his lost friend.

"She'll be out in fifty" Alec said standing up, and walking towards the door "You can wait for her here"

"What? Oh thanks, she has been trough a lot already, I hope I can help her out on this at least."

"You said her family is not around, what ever happened to them?" He said suddenly stopping at the door.

"They died, in a car accident ten years ago, she was about to leave town, she was not living with them anymore, she was the youngest and they care for her a lot, but after that she felt guilty I guess, she started coming more to church and her problem got worse for a few weeks, I hope that doesn't happen again".

"Sure" Hardy said and walked fast to the interrogation room where Y/N have spent the night. He found her sitted in the same place, and she had clearly been crying, he felt sorry for her, but he had to get things clear first.

"You lied to us" He started siting in front of her. "You drove home on Friday morning out of the bar" She only nodded and took a sip of the water bottle she hasn't touched yet.

"I'm sorry" Y/N said with a throaty voice "I did, I know I'm not supposed to but I actually can drive very well, and I haven't drink that night it, I thought it was safer if I take the wheel than Ash, but she was stubborn enough to drive back herself"

"Any particular reason on why you don't drink?" He asked not giving it much importance.

"I really don't like it that much, and it worsens my anxiety, so I may take a glass of wine here and there, I think that's why I blacked out so long two weeks ago I did drink a few more shots than my usual three" she said putting her hair behind her ear "He was in AA" She said biting her nails "Or at least I think he was, someone left a voice message about changing the hour for the meeting" She face Hardy with red eyes but she didn't cried, not anymore.

"Do you ever saw him drinking?" He asked and his mind was still in the coroner report trying to remember what he said about the content of the stomach.

"No, also he always had "Boy's night" with Paul on the day I knew he had his AA meetings, is weird how any of them thought I will figure it out" She had a sad smile on her face "I always thought he was a terrible liar because of it"

"You can leave, reverend Coats, amm Paul is waiting for you" She gave him a surprise look.

"Why is Paul here?" She asked then putting up her hands so he could uncuffed her.

"You can't go to your own place, we are still looking for evidence there" Alec said avoiding her gaze.

"Detective Hardy, do you believe me?" She asked caressing her wrist, they felt numb after all that time.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" He asked looking at her straight in the eyes.

"No, but earlier it felt like you thought it was me" She said.

"I don't have to believe you or not, I make questions and I follow evidence, and evidence doesn't suggest you did it" He avoided answer her directly.

"Then can I ask you a favor?" She said standing up. "When you find who did this to us, and I have faith in you to do it, if is someone I know, please don't tell me" Her voice was low and almost imperceptible and he had to bend over the table to listen better.

"Why?" He asked in a whisper almost as quiet as hers.

"Because I would hate them, and I would want to kill them, and I don't want to be that kind of person" She said and he could see the fear and sorrow in her eyes, and felt grateful that another officer entered to take her way from him. He went back to his office trying to forget that look when Miller walked in.

"Did you let her go? Paul told me on the way out she would stay at the church, that seems fine for now" She said looking at him but he was apparently not listening. "Ready to go see his apartment?"

"What does the coroner said about his stomach?" He asked suddenly leaning back on his chair.

"Vodka? Whiskey? Some sort of alcohol, why?" She asked curious.

"Yeah, something like that, come on Miller we can't lost more time" There he is, Miller smile when he put on his coat again and start walking outside. "By the way, I haven't told you this" He turned at her with a odd expression in his face "I am in therapy with Dr. Florence, I have been there for a few months now, is not important, I just thought you should know" He nodded and kept walking.

"Ok, sure, fine. That's great" Miller said against her impulse of asking more, she was glad he shared that of course, but she knew how hard must have been for him to admit it. "Anyway Becca Fisher owns the apartment where Norbury lived, she gave me the key"

They walked out and Alec started telling her about Jonathan's problem with alcohol, and a few other details he learned that morning but leaving out all about the diaries. He was sure as much as Ellie that Y/N was innocent but that only made things more complicated and he was hoping for a new lead to appear at the apartment, Please don't tell me her voice resonated in his mind and when he closed his eyes he could see her face. This was getting more and more difficult every minute.

I wasn't sure if people was actually reading this, but I'm glad they are, so if you want to be in the tag list just say so and I would gladly add you.

@allonsymexgirl

#broadchurch fic #broadchurch #broadchurch fanfiction #detective inspector alec hardy #di hardy #ds miller #alec hardy x ellie miller #ellie miller #alec hardy #alec hardy x reader #paul coates #alec hardy imagine #alec hardy fanfiction #david tennat #crime drama #crime scene #crime / law / justice #romance #angst

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