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queenvidal · 2 years

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No Means Yes

Negan x Reader (Rick's daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 6: Out Of Line

Chapter Summary: The new deadline of the Saviors forces you to act, but actions lead to consequences. Time is up but you manage to save your people in the last second - or do you?

Wordcount: 2684

Era: Season 7 - Part 2 of the The One And Only Series -

Note: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language.

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

BAM! BAM!

The metallic sound echoes through the corridors of the Sanctuary. Negan leans against the wall next to the door of the cell, lowering Lucille again. "Rise and shine, Dwighty-boy."

Muffled shuffling can be heard from the other side of the door. And after a moment, Negan leans his bat against the wall to open up the cell. A smile spreads over his face at the sight of Dwight's sorry state, crouched into a corner, avoiding the sudden light in his eyes. His face and arms are still covered in black and blue colors, which faded only slowly over the course of the last few days.

"Have you missed your own four walls, are they still as comfortable as you remember?" Negan asks with sarcasm coloring his words.

Dwight doesn't speak, nor does he look up at his boss. His eyes are fixed to the ground.

“Brought you breakfast,” Negan says, carelessly throwing the dogbowl in his hand next to Dwight. Having nothing to eat, but dog food once a day is enough to break anyone. If Dwight wasn't as useful as a Savior as he was, he wouldn't even have gotten that.

“Do you even know what day today is? Bet it’s not so easy to keep track of the time in the cozy pitch black corner of yours.” Dwight only shakes his head slightly. “Today's pickup day for Alexandria.”

Even after a long moment, there is still no vocal response from Dwight. Negan narrows his eyes at him, starting to get irritated. "You know, I thought about hanging you on the fence, but as of right now I can't afford losing more people. Not at the moment anyways.” Dwight is still not looking at him and it’s starting to really piss him off. “So I came up with another solution.”

This makes Dwight finally look up at him.

After a long moment of silence, Negan eventually asks "Who are you?"

"I'm Negan,” Dwight answers in a hoarse whisper, lowering his eyes again.

Not quite satisfied yet, Negan keeps pushing. "Do I kill people who don't deserve killing?"

Dwights eyes suddenly shoot up, "They deserve it."

Negan frowns at the other man, "Who? "

Dwight looks away again, taking a deep breath, "Rick's-” He stops himself at once, afraid of saying too much.

“What, his friends?” Negan looks at Dwight expectedly. “When you did, what you did, who where you hoping to fuck over, Dwighty?” Negan asks, already damn well knowing the answer. “Sure wasn’t Rick, you two have nothing to do with each other as far as I can tell. Maybe their fat lady? She’s without a doubt damaging their stock, not to mention quite the burden on the scavengers. Or maybe Daryl? God knows you hate his guts for some reason.”

Negan crouches down, coming to an almost eye level with Dwight. “No,” he whispers, his face as stern as can be. “It’s the daughter, right? Their scout.”

Dwight’s eyes meet Negan's for a split second, before moving to the ground again. Yeah, just like he thought. Negan narrows his eyes at the other man.

“You’ve fucked up a lot of times already, D.” He states. “First you stole meds from me, then you slithered through the gate with Sherry ‘n Tina. Got my hot ass hell soon to be fiance killed during your escape and what happened then, Dwighty?”

Dwight’s eyes dart up to meet Negans again, but he stays silent.

“You spent a few weeks in here and got your shit together.” Negan says. “You worked your ass off and impressed the shit out of me. So much so, that I offered you a position as one of my lieutenants, privileges and all!”

Dwight flinches at the rising volume of Negan's voice. The boss glowers at him. “No matter if Alexandria found enough damn cans or not, either way, all privileges will be revoked. We two start all the way back on square one again.”

Negan rises back to his full height again, his eyes not leaving Dwights. “When we come back and Alexandria’s actually managed to find that many goddamn cans, you’ll be back on the lower levels with the workers, busting your ass for points.”

“And if they didn’t?” Dwight asks in a small voice.

"If they didn’t and I have to kill someone in Alexandria today, thanks to your little vendetta, there is still the other side of your face that hasn't melted off yet."

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

“Fuckfuckfuck!" You curse as you speed through the suburb. Your eyes switch between the road ahead and the watch you’ve glued onto your dashboard. It’s almost eight a.m, meaning the Saviors are either already in Alexandria or about to arrive at any second.

Either way, you have to hurry. Thank God most of the snow already melted, giving you the opportunity to speed even faster back home.

As soon as the Saviors left last week, Rick immediately sent out all teams to loot around the area. Despite your loud protest, you had to stay behind. He didn’t want you in more danger than necessary. You saw him worried before but never like this. If the deadline is not met, someone’s gonna die - you both knew that.

And you stood put, as hard as it was. While the teams were out, you focused on your recovery. With small training sections thrown in between your guard shifts and studies, to regain some of your former strength and stamina back. And luckily you did, this little trip could have ended pretty bad otherwise.

Your muscles are screaming and your lungs are burning. Sitting around in Alexandria for almost two months really took a toll on your body. Your injuries might have healed but you're still not as fit as you hoped to be. Still, the little training you had came in handy. You had to run quite a long distance, carry several bags around and kill so many walkers, you’ve lost count over them.

You rub your eyes triedly with your bloody hand, before leaning your head on it. It's been a long night. All three teams were out to find cans for the Saviors but until last night only B came back and they had not enough. Daryl was adamant to keep you in Alexandria when you packed up your Mini, said ten cans have to be enough but you know it won't. After you two butted your heads for a while, he finally let you go. Of course he wanted to come with you but you shut that down immediately. He was injured and tried his best to play it down, but you knew he was putting on an act.

Also, you are faster on your own and right now, time is quite the issue here.

Honestly, you don’t think Negan would kill you. He told you that much already. But the others? Olivia? No, he will most likely kill her if they don’t have enough cans waiting for them at the pantry today.

Subconsciously you bite on your nail and cringe immediately at the taste of blood. You quickly take a look at yourself in the rearview mirror. Dried blood covers almost every spot of your skin and clothes. Of course not your blood, knowing you had only a few hours left to meet Negan's deadline, you raced towards Baltimore.

Despite knowing how dangerous the place is, you decided to walk among and raid an old apartment complex. A reckless decision, sure, but the filled up trunk of your car proves you right. Annoyed, you pick a piece of weathered skin out of your hair before looking back onto the street.

Finally the all familiar walls of Alexandria come into view. You can feel the tension in your shoulder slowly ease at the more than welcomed sight. Finally back home. You lean back in your seat more comfortably, watching the walls getting taller and taller the closer you get.

But something seems off. Suddenly you sit straight up again. Why is the gate open? Your heart rate shoots up. “Shit, what the hell?” Once you finally reach the gate, you slow down to an almost stop. No one is guarding the gate or patrolling on the wall, not a single person in sight anywhere.

But you do recognize two of the trucks parking on the street. “Shit, fuck!” The Saviors are already here. They must be at the pantry. You slam your foot onto the gas pedal, maneuvering your way through the trucks.

The streets are all empty and fear settles in your chest. Where is everyone?!

You drive further into the town. When you are almost at the pantry, you finally see your people. The Saviors gathered everyone around the pantry, guns aiming at them. Fuck, that’s going to be an execution.

Some Saviors turn towards the sound of your car as you come closer. You quickly cut the engine and jump out. With your fingers under your tongue you let out a loud whistle, gaining everyone's attention.

It’s deafeningly quiet all of the sudden. The Saviors turn towards you. Shaking from adrenaline and fear, you yell, “Your shit’s in the car!”

You’re about to move around the car, when you hear guns getting readied behind you. You carefully turn your head to see several Saviors aiming at you behind your back. Slowly you raise your hands as your eyes search the people for your family. Daryl is standing in front of Carl but your father is nowhere to be seen.

Negan emerges out of the crowd and when his eyes land on you, he stops in his tacks. His eyebrows raise as he takes in your appearance. Suddenly his whole demeanor changes and your fight and flight instinct kicks in. He looks pissed.

You try to calm your rapid breathing but then he reaches out his hand behind him. Simon appears swiftly, handing his boss the infamous bat. Daryl dashes forward but a few of Negan's men turn their guns on him, making him stop. You ever so slightly shake your head no at Daryl, pleading him without words to stay down.

Your eyes switch back to Negan, who makes his way to you.Your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Pissed? No, he is absolutely seething. While biting your tongue anxiously, you force yourself to hold his gaze.

When he reaches you, he narrows his eyes at you. While pointing at Lucille he almost hisses, “We three are gonna have a little chat.” Your eyes quickly jump to your brother and Daryl. Carl is pulling on Daryl's arm, desperately trying to get him to stay.

Negan turns around towards Simon and the others. “Anybody moves, anybody dares to speak, give the sidewalk a fresh coat of paint.” He turns around again to face you. “Move.” He snarls, as he harshly pushes you forward.

Still biting your tongue, you let him guide you towards the infirmary. What the fuck’s his plan, you wonder. If he wants to kill you, why not in front of everybody to prove a point? Is he even going to kill you? Your mind is spinning like crazy, you don’t know what to think anymore.

When you reach the infirmary, you open up the door and scurry inside. Negan is right behind you, slamming the door shut. You jump at the loud noise and your shoulders remain tense, when Negan rounds you. He stops at your desk, his eyes glowering at you.

Unnerved by the whole situation, you try to speak up, “Negan, I-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interrupts you immediately in a very harsh tone.

Stunned by his question, you just look at him. “Wh- what?”

“You’ve moved out eventhough I fucking ordered you to stay the fuck down for the time being.” You just keep staring at him, adrenaline racing through your veins. “Not only did you disregard my direct orders, you even have the fucking nerve to leave with nothing but a goddamn kitchen knife for a weapon?”

You look down at the knife holstered on your belt. There was not much time to think, when you moved out, you just hastily grabbed it, when you made your way to your car. With a frown on your face you look back up at Negan again. “And what exactly did you expect me to do?”

His eyes narrow at you, but before he can keep yelling at you, you continue. “Two of my teams are still God knows where and the third came back injured. I was forced to move out to meet your deadline and-”

“I gave you one order.” Negan all but hisses, leaning on your desk with both of his arms. “One very simple order.”

Anger’s slowly taking over, pushing your fear back to the far corner of your mind again. He isn’t even listening. “You wanted sixteen cans, we only had ten. There was no other option-”

“You are not the only fucking person in this community!”

“But the only one who’s capable of what I just did.” You defend yourself, your voice threatening to rise. “I found ten more cans in the span of only six hours, together with other kinds of food and even some alcohol. You’re more than welcome to even keep the rest.”

BAM!

You flinch involuntarily when Lucille smacks down at your desk. Negan snarls at you, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” He pushes himself from the desk. “Did you forget who I am?”

After a deep breath, you try to calmly explain, “No, Negan. I did not. That’s why I went despite your orders, because I was the only one available who’s capable enough to move through the dead and gather supplies.”

“Do you want to die?” Negan asks. “ ‘Cause walking through the dead with nothing but a damn kitchen knife sounds like a death wish to me.”

“So what, Negan?” You throw your hands up in the air in frustration. “I could have died but I didn’t and even if I did, then there would be one less mouth to feed. Something I can imagine would play right into your hands.”

“You dying won’t benefit me in any way.” Negan rounds your desk, slowly coming closer to you, “But on the other hand,” he trails off, coming to stand right in front of you. “Maybe I should reduce the numbers of ‘the people’ as you like to call them. Maybe then you’ll stay in line for once.”

“Oh, fuck you, Negan.” The words spill from your lips before you can stop them.

Negan raises his eyebrows at you. With another step he is right in your personal space. He glares down at you. “Wanna say that again?”

You crane your neck to glare right back at him and with venom in your words you tell him, “Fuck. You.”

Very fast the tension is becoming unbearable. Neither of you are moving, nor breathing. Just staring at each other, waiting for the other one to make a move.

Suddenly Negan is all over you and you all over him. Your lips collide in a heated and passionate kiss. He circles his arms around you, caging you against his chest, while you knott your fist into his jacket, pulling him impossible close.

His tongue forces itself past your lips and fire spreads through your veins, setting your whole body ablaze. You moan into his mouth, too overwhelmed by the pounding of your heart and sparks igniting in your abdomen. His salt and pepper beard brushes harshly against your skin, sending pleasant electric shivers down your spine. Your tongues work against each other so perfectly, your brain starts to fog.

His hands wander over your body, from your back to your hips and to your ass. Suddenly they move to your thighs and he picks you up. While not breaking the kiss for only a second, you automatically sling your legs around his hips, letting him carry you. He quickly moves to sit you down on the tabletop, already tearing at your sweatpants.

Her desk better be fucking sturdy.

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

Taglist: @starry-night-20 / @joceymoo / @srhxpci / @ladykxxx08

#The Walking Dead #negan smith #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan / reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #twd #twd fanfiction

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hankwritten · 10 months

Text

No Fuss No Muss No Coconuts

Soldier/Pyro 1K

Friday (July 7) : Vacation | Relaxation | Holiday

If Pyro wanted to find Soldier, all they had to do was follow the trail of destruction.

Usually. Except this time, when Soldier disappeared from base with no word, no note, no screaming match that could be pointed to as the inciting incident, there was no trail of destruction. Somehow, that was most concerning of all.

Consequently, it took them a while to track Soldier to the off-season beach town, a lonely stretch of coast that had taken weeks to get to by foot. Even then, they’d only happened upon it because a few loose tongues in neighboring areas had been talking about escaped convicts and a man supposedly on the FBI’s most wanted list—and only then because the locals weren’t confident about their assumptions due to his partially covered face. Eventually, one week past the Soldier’s disappearance, Pyro took off after him, despite their teammates warning them strongly against it, claiming the stray dogs always find their way home.

Soldier was no stray dog. Not anymore! The team was his family, and they had adopted him, and if he’d gone off voluntarily then something was terribly wrong.

When they found him, he was facing away, staring into the setting ocean with his fatigues rolled up to his knees. The water lapped leisurely against his shins, damp crawling up skin to turn the balled part of fabric a slightly darker color.

“Soldier!” Pyro called, worry forgotten, replaced by only the uncomplicated joy of seeing their favorite person.

Soldier didn’t turn around at first, so Pyro splashed through the surf toward him.

“Soldier! It took me ages to find you,” they hudda-hu’d.

“Did it?” Soldier replied. “Y’don’t say. Can’t imagine how abandoning my post, disappearing without a word, and marching to the middle of nowhere would make me difficult to find.”

Pyro was mildly shocked. They’d never heard Soldier be sarcastic—his frank, matter of fact way of speaking was one of the reasons they found him easy to talk to. Pyro didn’t do well with metaphors and mincing words, already finding normal conversation to be an exhausting game of Schrödinger’s genuineness. Add on top of that that, since mercenaries tended to be a bunch of surly, grumpypuses that couldn’t say what they were really feeling if Medic cracked them open and pointed at it, it was little wondered they gravitated toward the simple man with straightforward goals.

The anomalism made them uncomfortable. Their hands found their way to one another, wringing close to their chest.

“We all miss you, Soldier. And also we’ve been losing pretty badly without you.” When he didn’t reply to that, they tried, “Why’d you come out here?”

“…Needed a vacation.”

He was smoking. He was quite pretty like that, the ember in the end of his cigar like his own shard of sun, tapping the ashes into the sea that wanted to swallow him.

“Oh okay. Can I go on vacation with you?” they asked.

He paused for a moment, silently wrestling with something. Then he sighed, dropping his stogie into the water. “Sure. Why not.”

They got drinks at the local tiki bar. Soldier had obviously been here long enough that everyone was skittish of him, but not long enough to know that severing alcohol to the ole’ war dog is even worse than trying to cut him off. Pyro got something fruity served in a coconut. Soldier got a plain beer.

“So…” Pyro mused. “These roofs, huh?”

Soldier grunted.

“All made of dried palms and stuff. Looks really…flammable.” Pyro wasn’t so good at winking, but they could wiggle excitedly in their seat.

“I guess,” Soldier said.

Soldier? Not jumping at wanton property destruction? Everything was so wrong and Pyro didn’t know what to do about it. They felt a flush of frustration; at Soldier’s obtuseness, at the fact he made them track all the way here in the first place. And he was being hard to decipher again, which made them feel stupid for not getting what was wrong. They hated feeling stupid at the best of times, but Soldier was one of the few that never made them feel that way.

Usually.

Fed up with all this insincerity, they scooted out their stool with force, curly straw spinning round its coconut.

“If you’re going to be like that, then I’ll just go light all those fires by myself!”

Before they could take another step, they were jolted back, a hand clamped around their shoulder.

“Not so fast, Smokey!” Soldier said. “Do not go getting up to that on your own.”

“Why the heck not?”

“Because you could get hu-” Soldier cut himself off. “Because you’ll get in trouble.”

“So?” Pyro demanded. “Why do you care?”

Soldier’s mouth opened, then closed sharply, his hand ungripping their suit. “I don’t. Whatever. Get to it then.”

Now it was Soldier evacuating his chair, storming out of the bar and forcing Pyro to be the one chasing after him. Which wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t fun, and they chased him with muffled yelling all the way up the beach where the last of the sun had long since evacuated. They couldn’t get him to stop until they grabbed his arm with both hands and dug in their heels.

“Soldier! Tell me why you keep running away!” they demanded as his unstoppable force dragged them along behind him like a child’s toy.

Several feet of sand was excavated before Soldier finally whipped around. “You want to know why I am trying to get away, maggot? It is because this god-forsaken Team weakens me.”

Pyro dropped their arms.

“There is no escape from any of you! No relief in the intoxicating mother’s milk of battle, not when I am watching eight civilians running in blind and getting their asses handed to them! How can a man fight like this? How can a Soldier function when he is worrying if his strategy might get the men under his command killed? He should be able to sacrifice as many blood-brothers necessary! As many Lady Liberty demands for victory, and those blood-brothers should be proud to go!”

Soldier dropped his fist. The helmet pointed at the ground, where midnight sand had gathered on his boots, his whole body slumping to point at them.

“A real Soldier shouldn’t care.”

“It’s…not permanent Soldier. Us dying.”

“I know that, maggot,” Soldier said. “And yet.”

“You don’t have to worry about us. We’re all always fine! Just come back with me and we’ll-”

“With you?” Soldier spat. “I can’t come back with you when you are the worst of the lot!”

Pyro took a step back.

“You never question me!” Soldier said desperately. “Whatever stupid, suicidal thing your commanding officer comes up with in the moment, you go ahead and do it! The others, they at least will stop sometimes when all I’m doing is dragging us into shit. But you…”

“I don’t question you because I trust you.”

“That is my point. You shouldn’t.” Soldier grit his teeth. “I keep trying not to care, and it keeps not working, and the thought of you being hurt…The one person who…”

He reached out, as though trying to take hold of Pyro more concretely, to dig his fingers into their suit and not let go, but he gave up. The fist closed, reaching on to air.

Before it could fall back to his side, Pyro lunged for it, forcing their fingers between his.

“I won’t get hurt, Soldier,” they promised.

“You do,” Soldier said glumly. “All the time.”

“But it’s like you said,” Pyro pointed out. “All those blood-brothers who are going to their deaths because of Mrs. Liberty: they’re doing it willingly. Because they want to. Because maybe because they want to burn some stuff on the way. And even if they die, we have to be okay with caring about people.”

“Easy for you to say. A Pyro can get caught caring. A Soldier shouldn’t.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Then say different!”

Soldier turned to his grit-cloaked boots again.

“Come home Solly, please.” Pyro tugged his arm. “Loving the team doesn’t weaken you. I promise it doesn’t. And when everyone sees you back, they’ll prove it to you.”

They could see how much he wanted to come back. That being alone out here didn’t suit him anymore. He wasn’t the lone wolf taking bitter relish in his own solitude that he had been when he’d first joined the team.

Still, it was a monstrous relief when he finally relented, loosening his hand enough to let Pyro clasp it fully.

“…I am sorry for going AWOL,” he said. “I will…come back. It was wrong to deprive the team of their lone tactical commander of any skill.”

“Good. And Soldier?”

“Yeah?” he asked as they began walking hand in hand in the vague direction of the closest teleporter hub.

“Next time we go on vacation, can we go somewhere that sells saltwater taffy?”

#rocketfire #solpy #TF2RarePairMini2023 #tf2 fanfiction

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paradisetemporarilymisplaced · 3 years

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So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

#the old guard #tog #tog fanfiction #tog meta #immortal family #nile freeman #mine #damn look at me contributing to a fandom! that’s new #pls reblog if you like this my self esteem could really use it #I just love nile so much and I’m being the nile-centric content I want to see in the world #it is just genuinely nuts to think abt how this situation would be perceived by anyone outside the narrative #she just mysteriously heals from a fatal injury and then VANISHES!!! this should be national fuckin news #also I do think there’s a major hole in the story when you think abt social media #like the only time it’s even hinted at is right at the very beginning when Andy erases that girl’s selfie #and the concept of fuckin Reddit is not even brought up despite Copley’s stalker board being analog Reddit #there’s just a lot of places one could go with this which is very much what we got here #1k

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Sheer | Kai Parker

Warnings; SMUT, ANGST, and FLUFF, mentions of death, mourning, loss, mentions of murder, trauma, swearing, unprotected sex,

A/N; sorta made up a whole storyline for this imagine, may be a teeny bit different and may have gotten a little carried away, please enjoy loves

It would not uphold, the weather held a grudge against you as you trudged through the pouring rain, cursing you for thinking that you would be safe on your lonesome.

Instead of a monster, the world wished for you to drown in its falling rivers, making you shiver down to the bone. It was too cold, but you had to go there, it was a ritual.

Since the death of your boyfriend, Aaron, who was killed by Damon, someone you thought to be a friend, you felt broken.

You had tried everything to bring him back, but without the power of a witch, it was deemed impossible, and Bonnie refused to help you, claiming that it was necromancy, and far from her beliefs.

It angered you, how everybody would dismiss the lost lives that Damon took. He got a free pass, he didn’t even regret his own invalid actions.

He was a monster, and you hated him. If you couldn’t bring Aaron back, then you would instead kill his murderer. That would not only give you a sense of revenge, but also make the world a safer place. There would be one less vampire making people’s lives a misery.

“Hi there.” You stopped in your tracks, the voice sending shivers down your spine. Whilst it sounded like a man, in reality it could be anything.

The skin of a human was a disguise the majority of the time, a bloodsucker or a wolf coping inside the exterior, thirsting to break free from the walls of bones and flesh.

“Kai.” He was not exactly human, he was a witch, the one thing that you needed. You had met him through Elena, who was luckily also angered by Damon’s actions, Aaron had been her friend.

And just like that, he had died. But she hid her feelings well, pretending all was fine because she was in love with the gruelling monster that you wished to execute.

However, even though you wanted to bring back your lost beloved, the time that had passed made your mind being up the idea of moving on.

The first person that sprung into your imagination was Kai Parker, the new sociopath in town. He was new, unaware of the traumatising past experience that lingered in your heart, and not to mention, his specimen was one of beauty.

Those grey eyes, ever so curious could bore straight into your soul, and you’d gladly let him mangle it, you no longer had a use for it anyway.

“Why are you out here y/n/n?” He asked with a tilt of his head that had your heart beating profusely.

Everyone knew of his effect on you, but they told you to dismiss it. It was cruel, that they’d rather have you mourning the loss of your partner than to move on with another.

To you, it didn’t matter if he were supposed to be the enemy, you no longer wanted to fight their battles. All you desired was to be in love, with somebody that felt the same.

And whilst you doubted that Kai knew how to feel such a strong emotion, some attention wasn’t the worst thing in the world. As a matter of fact, it worked well as a distraction, it made you almost forget the grudge that you held against the eldest Salvatore.

Almost.

“It’s nothing.” You whisked the direction of the conversation away from your deceased boyfriend, not wanting to talk about him to anyone, let alone Malachai Parker.

Even thinking of Aaron caused a void to open in the middle of your chest, it was unbelievably painful. You thought some people, such as Bonnie would understand, rather than think the loss as a regular occurrence.

To put it simply, the entire ordeal was completely fucked up, and you felt much more guilty for biting your lip at the expression that Kai pulled; his eyebrows raised, and his fingers carefully running down the side of his own jaw.

Oh god, his fingers. There were so many things that you could imagine him doing with those, and from the way he waved them on a greeting, he knew that he teased the thought too.

“Basically...” he began, rolling his grey eyes with what he liked to call modesty, and you classified as boredom, “you’re stuck out in the rain, and if I’m not mistaken, you live halfway across town.”

“Stalker much?” You sneered, crossing your arms across your chest, which only made his gaze wander down, and hold their movements for a dragged out moment. “What are you looking at?” You exasperatedly sighed, only understanding when you followed his peering.

He was focused on your chest, that through your white shirt, appeared almost bare. The lace of your bra was giving him a clear frontal, and so you adjusted your arms, so that they covered more and whatever they had pushed up to peak his intrigue.

“Why am I not surprised?” Shaking your wet hair, which was pointless considering that it was still raining, you realised that you felt the creeping of the cold.

You had been oblivious to it, thinking that it was a side guest to your tears, almost a consequence. But you were no longer tearful, mostly angry at the killer that ruined your future and acted as though it were no big deal.

“I thought you were supposed to be at college.” Kai quirked his brow, proud of the fact that he knew that. However you shook your head, and watched as he removed his jacket, clasping it around your shoulders, shielding you somewhat from the weather.

It appeared as no big deal to him, but it was to you, sociopaths weren’t famous for being kind and charitable. They always had agendas, their agendas, well they were obviously sociopathic.

But from the glazing of the witch’s eyes, you only saw a lost man. He was misinterpreted by all that he knew, they treated him like an outsider, alienated him as though he were a monster, and validly that was why he was seen as one.

“No.” You whispered, confused as to why you were so complied to correct the man. “My boyfriend was killed, I don’t want to go back there, it’s clear why.”

You attempted to give him a small smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. Just the thought had your mood drained, even more so since there was no route to resurrect him.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that.” He didn’t shiver in the rain, instead he seemed comfortable simply standing there, conversing with you in the rainfall. “Damon did it, right?”

Licking your lips, you hesitantly nodded, ashamed of the fact that you had once called the vampire a friend. From the start, you were always wary of him, but eventually you managed to become close to him. And then he ruined your chance of happiness, literally sucking the life out of it.

“What a dick.” Kai was blunt with his annotation, but you couldn’t deny that he was right about them. “Sorry for your loss and all that blah blah. We should get somewhere warm though, you can tell me more.”

It was a strange feeling, you felt pulled to the male, it was as though he was one side of a magnet, and you were another. And so you accepted his invitation, and followed him, breathing in the scent of his black coat. It was much sweeter than you had expected.

🏹

His so called home was an apartment, that you no doubt expected he had convinced someone with his magic to give him rent free. Or he killed them, either or you guessed.

But the thought of death itself was one that you weren’t too keen on thinking about, not now. Instead, you’d rather enjoy the company of someone that didn’t shame you for hating and desiring to kill the one and only Damon Salvatore.

Most of your friends didn’t take you seriously, they just barked laughter, not believing, nor willing to think that you could ever commit such a sentence. But they didn’t share your pain, if they did, you were sure that they’d understand.

Matt got it, he resented the vampire and a lot of the other blood suckers too. And your certainly couldn’t blame him, he had lost his sister, and there was no reason behind her change. It had all just been a game, a gruesome one at that.

Kai lightly removed his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it on a hook to dry. He almost appeared embarrassed, having you in such a private space.

But you didn’t want him to endure such a mindset as that. Instead you smiled, brushing your damp hair out of your face, grasping his hands. They were cold, and that made you frown. No one ever cared what he had gone through, instead they just wanted to rid the world of him.

Even his family had dismissed him, all because he had been different, and treating him as such had definitely had a mind mingling affect on him. It repented an unstoppable rage inside of him, one that ended in dead children and imprisonment.

“Thankyou.” The small example of affection had Kai tilt his head awkwardly and pull his hands away from your own. He wasn’t used to people even being polite towards him, let alone openly sharing contact with him.

You should have been scared of him. Or at least somewhat repulsed, but you weren’t, and it was a first for him. Most around him taunted him with blame, or pointed out his obvious flaws.

And so he ducked his chin downwards into his chest, taking a couple of steps back, mumbling something about retrieving you a dry shirt.

As you waited for him, you peeled off the sheer layer, dropping the ball of wet material upon the ground. Your bra had soaked into your skin, but you left that on out of modesty.

When Kai returned, his mouth gaped open, eyes widening at the half undressed sight of you. But he tried to avert your gaze, blushing at your lack of attire.

“It’s okay.” You jested to him , reaching out for the clean shirt that he had brought for you. “You can look, it’s not like I’m naked.”

“Yet.” He smirked as he allowed his stare to freely roam. His voice had been small, but you had heard it as clear as day. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be thinking like that, you’re in mourning and I get that you wouldn’t want to, yknow.”

His hand gestured between the pair of you , prompting what he was talking about. But maybe he was wrong, after all, it had been a while since you had any physical intimacy, and you’d be a fool to deny that there was chemistry between you and a particular witch.

“Don’t be sorry.” You put the dry shirt aside, walking closer to the brunette. “I am in mourning, but I’m going to get my revenge, and a distraction sure wouldn’t hurt.”

“And here I thought that you were just a pretty face.” Kai’s hand drifted to the side of your face, pulling you closer so that your lips were almost brushing. His breath ghosted over your own intermingling the fumes of lust and intrigue. “But it seems that there is a darkness in that mind of yours, I’m impressed with your plans to say the least.”

“I haven’t even told you any of them yet.” Your hand drifted under the band of his jeans, plucking teasingly at the denim, licking your teeth as you made strong eye contact with him.

“Tell me after.” He ordered, grasping your hips, and clashing your bodies together. Your lips worked hungrily against each other, both pairs of your hands grabbing all that they could, you and him both desperate to hold onto anything.

Kai shoved you backward into a table, trapping you against it as his lips fell downwards, and began to suck at your neck.

But at that contact, you pushed Kai away, freezing for a moment. Damon’s teeth had been on Aaron’s neck, sinking in and draining all that be worth.

“See Elena thinks I’m a monster, and she’s right.” You were unable to move as Aaron stood against the vampire, you had been compelled, and you wanted nothing more than to scream out for Damon to stop, but there was no audio in your throat.

There was no scream as Damon bared his fangs , nor when he sunk them into your boyfriend’s neck, instead you were holding back your tears, as you had been commanded to.

He held him to his mouth for a moment before dropping his body lifeless upon the ground. And you couldn’t help but stare at the sight.

Enzo wore a content smirk, and it sickened you to your stomach. Damon turned, his thirsty eyes boring into your form, that wanted nothing more than to crumble into a million people.

“You may now speak.” His pupils found yours, engaging with your soul, that felt broken and completely shattered.

“Are you going to kill me too?” A part of you was hopeful that he would, but as he came closer, you recognised the mischief in his stance.

He had plans for you, none of which you suspected to like. “Do it, show Elena how much of a monster you really are!”

If he killed you, you’d have liked to think that Elena would be furious , but it was expected that eventually she would forgive him when he put his humanity back on.

“Or instead...” you feared his humoured expression, eyes flickering between his feet that were walking closer to you and your dead partner that lay lifelessly a couple of meters away. “I could show her how much of a monster you are.”

He bit into his wrist, bringing it towards your mouth, and as much as you felt the urge to squirm, you could do nothing more but stand there and abide his compulsion.

“Are you okay?” Kai asked, brushing his nose against your own, wanting to know if you wanted to continue. He knew that you were a victim of trauma, and he understood it’s affects.

In regards to his past, his coping method had been inflicting it in return. But you had done no foul against him, and so he would not torture you or force you into something that you had no intention of continuing.

“Yeah.” You breathed, blinking to push the memory away, temporarily at least. “Bedroom.” You ushered, squealing distractedly as he hoisted you into his arms, wrapping your legs perfectly around his waist.

He dropped you upon the mattress, hovering over you, removing his shirt after you began to tug on the dark and rain pelted material.

Leaning your elbows, you unclipped the back of your bra, discarding it somewhere far from your memory, and Kai sunk down, his lips latching onto your nipple, playing with the other in his rough hands.

“Your fucking gorgeous.” He hummed around your breast, his fingers drifting down your stomach to the band of your leggings.

His compliment made you smile, and as he ripped off your pants, he slipped a hand inside of your panties, rubbing your sensitive flesh. But you groaned, frowning at his tantalising actions.

“Just need you inside of me.” You told him, and he was more than happy to comply, so he worked on his belt, as you slipped off your own underwear, and removed the torn fabric from around your legs.

When you looked up, you noticed that he was completely bare, and already had himself in hand. There was precum balancing on his tip and at the sight you licked your lips.

“You ready?” He asked bringing his head down to your chin, placing a delicate kiss upon the bump, and teasing his other tip against your opening, swiping through your wetness and using it to lube himself up.

“God yes.” You sighed, your hands finding refuge upon the back of his shoulders, your nails sinking into his firm skin.

And so, with consent, he pushed in, groaning at the initial tightness. “And I thought that it was wet outside.” He laughed, causing you to snort, he was funnier than you had expected him to be.

It almost made you swoon, but no, you couldn’t be interested in Kai, could you? Everyone thought you had been, even Bonnie had stated that you often undressed him with your eyes in the worst of situations, but it had never been a big deal to you.

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks, with a snap of Kai’s hips. All along you had denied any interest of another man, all because of the one that you had lost. And everyone already knew that there were sparks between you and the witch, before either of you had caught on.

“Shit.” He huffed, reaching down and biting your lips, causing your eyes to flutter sensuously, and dark veins to appear underneath.

At the feeling, you tried to bury your face sidewards into the pillow so that he couldn’t see, but he held you still as he gave shallow thrusts inside of you.

“Don’t look away, I think you’re beautiful.” Him saying that alone had you almost in tears. Despite trying to bring Aaron back you feared what he would think of you when he returned, or well, if he could.

Would he think you a monster, that stood idly by when he was killed? Because if so, you’re heart would literally break, and you wouldn’t be able to bare living any longer.

Living, funny. You hardly described what you were doing as such anyways. But currently, you did truly feel alive again, perhaps that was just the affect of having a dick inside of you.

But as Kai reached down and fiddled with your clit, you knew that you were done for. Your head fell back, eyes closed and mouth open, showcasing your fangs, your orgasm hitting you like a train.

He continued his movements until he felt he was nearing his point, and then he finished too, having no worry in impregnating you as you were well, to put it lightly , dead.

Both of you panted as he pulled out and fell beside you. Your eyes stared at the ceiling, your concentration eventually broken when Kai spoke.

“Damon did it, didn’t he? He turned you.” Your face had returned to its previous disguise, you looked human once more. But it was no secret that you were now a savage, a monster like Damon.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, trying not to cry at the thought. It was the last thing in the world that you ever wanted, but Damon knew that too. And so he had cursed you, for all of eternity.

“Then he deserves to die.” Kai stated, he was already against the Salvatores, but his hatred for them had just increased.

#kai parker smut #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #kai parker x you #kai parker #kai x y/n #kai imagine #kai x you #kai parker one shot #kai smut #tvdreader #tvd imagines #tvd smut #tvd x reader #tvd x y/n #imagines #imagine #xreader

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veilder · 3 years

Note

"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

156 notes · View notes

masterofmunson · 3 years

Text

look after you (3)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: sexual themes, language, typical marvel violence, blood, death, murder, just to be sure that i cover all the basis this is 18+. minors dni

Word Count: 5.1k+

Author’s Note: Hello!!!! I am really sorry that this part took me forever to post. The last month has kicked my ass but now everything’s a little calmer. As always, enjoy and tell me what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are encouraged and greatly appreciated.

When you return to Latvia nearly a day later, you’re more than eager to get back on your feet. Despite the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion running through your body, you’re glad to be back at it with Bucky and Sam. You’re somewhat rested, and you take the opportunity to visit one of the refugee camps to see if you could find any information on Donya Madani.

When you enter the camp, you try your best to keep a low profile. You don’t draw attention to yourselves and try not to ruffle any feathers.

“We should split up, cover more ground,” Zemo stated.

Bucky glares at him, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’ll just take off.”

You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He looks over at you and you smile gently at him. “I’ll go with him,” you said.

His blue eyes stare into yours. It makes your heart race and your knees weak. Warmth spreads across your entire body. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and keeping a watchful eye on Zemo. It’s why he doesn’t argue.

The four of you split in two and you and Zemo begin walking in the opposite direction. You’re on high alert, watching the refugees carefully. They don’t seem too concerned with your presence and avoid you entirely when you speak and attempt to approach them about Donya Madani. Although you tried connecting with them in the native language, no one wanted to talk.

You’re silent for the most part, taking in your surroundings. You walk past a makeshift classroom and the teacher and his students hurry away from you. This wasn’t what you hoped and wasn't successful. It started to piss you off.

“Have you and Sergeant Barnes been together for long?” Zemo asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brows pinch together and you stop in your tracks. Zemo turns to look at you expectantly. You take a careful breath. The last thing you need is for Zemo to get under your skin in a place where no one trusted you and away from Sam and Bucky. You begin walking again and Zemo falls into step beside you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you justified with a calm tone to your voice, “but we’re not together.”

You feel Zemo’s smirk beside you as he looks over at you. You grit your teeth and squeeze the inside of your palms harshly. You can’t react. You have to lay low. Do not cause a scene. Don’t bring unwarranted attention. Do not stand out.

“But you care deeply for one another, correct?”

That much was obvious. You’ve always cared for each other. At the beginning it was because of Steve. Anyone Steve loved and cared for, by extension, you did too. It was also how you felt towards Sam when you were introduced to one another.

But something changed along the way. You sought each other out. You relied on him as he did with you. You’d grown incredibly close prior to the blip, and if it hadn’t happened, maybe things would be different. Bucky would always be there to help Sam, regardless of the indifference he shows towards him. You’re tired of fighting. It’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t do it anymore.

Bucky feels the need to repent and right his wrongs even though he was tortured and brainwashed to commit such heinous acts. He won’t stop fighting. He needs to help, to protect, to be good for the world. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it had been taken from him for so long.

You nod in reply. You say nothing else. You weren’t about to spill your secrets to the man that brought Bucky incredible pain. He is not your friend and you don’t owe him anything.

Thankfully, Zemo says nothing and you eventually regroup in the courtyard of the camp. You’d come up with nothing valuable and neither had Sam and Bucky. You would be leaving empty handed.

You watch Zemo approach a young girl as you stand beside Bucky. You feel his gaze against the side of your face. You don’t say anything. You’re still reeling from your conversation with Zemo.

Your heart beat picks up and the stress you feel gathers on your shoulders. Bucky whispers your name and this time you turn to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No, you wanted to say. He made your mind a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think clearly with him so close to you. He makes your body tingle with want and desire. You wanted James Buchanan Barnes to ruin you completely, if only for a night, consequences be damned.

You swallow the lump in your throat and push down the desire in your chest. The corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a soft smile. You nod, looking back over as Zemo rejoins the group.

“I’m fine,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster and take a step away from him.

Lie, you hissed to yourself. You’ve never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. It made your chest ache painfully.

What could you say? You make me feel like a fool. No one’s made me feel like a fool, not even Steve. But you didn’t want Steve. You didn’t desire him the way you do Bucky, dare you say loved him in the way you think you love Bucky.

Your mind races with imagination. The feeling of his hands on your waist. His lips pressed against the junction of your neck and shoulder. The contrast between his warm, calloused right hand and the coolness of his metal arm trailing along your body and pulling your clothes off.

You needed to get away from him, and fast. You can barely breathe with him beside you.

You’re the first to leave the camp and Sam, Bucky, and Zemo trail after you as they bicker at one another. Yet again, Zemo was one step ahead and holding the information hostage.

As you make your way back to the townhouse, you freeze in the middle of the street. The uniform is unmistakable. You’d seen it on posters, on television, and even on public buses. John Walker, the man you had no desire to meet, was approaching you with his buddy right beside him.

His voice thunders in the street, causing locals to stop what they’re doing to look at the new Captain America. He stops in front of you and looks you up and down. Just as you were sizing him up, he was doing the same to you.

“Is this the reason why you won’t return any of my messages? You’re too busy slumming it with Wilson and Barnes, as well as a known terrorist? I thought you knew better.” Walker asked.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m on vacation,” you said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just so happens that Sam and Bucky are in town at the same time I am. Crazy coincidence, right?”

“Watch your mouth, Walker,” Bucky growled at the man.

John’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, ignoring Bucky completely. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. Walker is an asshole. His eyes challenge yours, but you square your shoulders and stare him down. He doesn’t scare you. You don’t answer to him.

“We’ll take it from here. Zemo is coming with us.”

“No, he’s not,” Sam said. “We have somewhere to be and Zemo is the only one who can take us there. This is the only time that we may be able to reason with Karli, she lost the person closest to her.”

You resume your trek up the street and the boys fall close behind you. Bucky’s quick to join your side and Walker runs ahead to stop you from moving any further. His gaze flickers between you, Sam, and Bucky. You roll your eyes and let out a scoff.

“You’re really going to let your partner do this, Bucky?” Walker asked him, looking between the two men.

Bucky and Walker bicker back and forth and you and Zemo slip between them when you notice the same girl he had spoken to earlier. You follow her quietly through a back door and slip inside the building. You watch Sam disappear around the corner and you lean against a metal beam in the boiler room. You pick at your nails and ignore Walker pacing the length of the room, looking over at Bucky every now and then as he guards the door.

Walker huffs impatiently and takes a step towards the door. You stand up and Bucky shoves Walker back. You swallow the lump in your throat as the two men stare at one another. At the mention of the serum in Bucky’s veins, rage runs through you. He didn’t ask to be the Winter Soldier. He didn’t ask for the serum. The serum had taken so much from him. It’s not something that he’s proud of.

“Don’t you dare say that,” you hissed at him, shoving him away from Bucky. You were so close to clocking him in the jaw. “You have no idea how much he has lost because of the serum.”

There’s a glint in his eyes and he looks between you and Bucky. “What are you, his guard dog?”

“I can say the same thing about Lemar.”

“We’ve waited around long enough. It’s time to go.”

He shoves himself past Bucky and Lemar does the same. You and Bucky run after them into the main room where Karli and Sam are. Her brown eyes widen in panic and betrayal as she looks from Sam back to John. Sam attempts to reason with her again and you run straight between them in an attempt to block John’s attack.

Karli’s super strength sends you and Sam flying into the nearby table and she takes off. Bucky runs after her and you scramble to your feet. You split off from Sam and back track into the boiler room. The handcuffs are empty and you curse loudly before racing down a flight of stairs. Your heart feels as if it’s beating out of your chest and the adrenaline rushes through you. The ache in your shoulder is the least of your concerns as you creep up to the basement door.

With a gun in one hand, you reach for the handle and twist the knob. It doesn’t budge under the pressure of your hand as you attempt to jiggle it open. The sound of gunfire rings through your ears on the other side of the door. You point the gun on the lock and fire until there’s a hole in the door. You shove your body against the door and it caves under your weight.

With your gun raised, you climb down the steps before relenting at the sight of Zemo unconscious on the floor with John looming over him. You tuck your gun in the back of your jeans and look over the room. Shattered glass vials are all over the floor and you glance at Walker suspiciously.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Zemo shot Karli and destroyed the vials that contained the serum,” he answered before turning his back on you and climbing up the stairs.

Sam and Bucky join you several minutes later. You stare up at them against a cold metal crate beside the unconscious Baron. Bucky crouches in front of you and looks at you carefully.

“You okay? What happened?” he asked.

You nod your head and tell them what supposedly happened while you were attempting to get to Zemo and John Walker before anything worse happened. It made you feel uneasy and you have a gut feeling that Walker was lying to you.

“Do you believe him?” Sam questioned, looking over at Zemo.

You shook your head. You run a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “No. I don’t trust him. Something about the way he looked at the broken vials makes me nervous. I don’t think he was telling me the whole truth.”

Silence falls between the three of you before Sam speaks again. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll regroup back at the house.”

You nod and get back on your feet. Sam and Bucky pull Zemo from the floor and drag him out of the basement out of the camp to the main street. You return to the house and Zemo is placed on the nearest couch. Bucky disappears out the door once more and you join Sam at the kitchen counter. You fish around the liquor cabinet and pour two glasses of whiskey for you and Sam.

You take the time to shake off the stress and anxiety in your shoulders and enjoy the brief silence covering the room.

It doesn’t last long, and soon Zemo begins to stir back into consciousness. He groans loudly and grasps at his head. Sam wordlessly grabs an ice pack from the fridge and hands both the pack and the glass of whiskey over to him.

You sit down in one of the loveseats and kick your feet up on the coffee table. Within seconds, Zemo starts spewing his self righteous bullshit.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever shut up?” you snapped, downing the rest of your whiskey.

Sam smiles and a low chuckle from Zemo fills the room. You sigh softly and ignore him once more. Bucky returns several minutes later and practically rips off his leather jacket. It makes your cheeks flush and you watch him pour himself his own drink into a glass.

“There’s something wrong about Walker,” he said with a huff.

“You don’t say,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one, because I am crazy.” He takes a sip of his whiskey.

You bark out a laugh and Sam does the same. “Can’t argue with that.”

There’s a beat of silence that falls over the room and Bucky sighs deeply. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You jump to your feet and step between the two men. Your hand presses against his chest. “You know he didn’t give the shield to him, Bucky.”

A flash of hurt and anger appears across his face. You had never been on the receiving end of his hurt and anger before. It makes your chest ache as you look at him. He takes a step away from you and glares. Your heart leaps inside your throat and you attempt to reach for him again. He pushes your hand away. He had never rejected you so blatantly before.

“How can you say that? After all that Steve’s done for you and you’re so casual and flippant about the shield! How dare you!” he yelled at you, his voice thundering off the walls and into your ears. It makes you wince and you’re fighting back tears.

“He’s gone!” you shouted back. “Why should I care about something that was left behind by someone who abandoned me!”

His eyes darken as he stares at you. He shakes his head in disbelief and a bitter laugh leaves his throat. “Sam should have never asked you to come.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but I won’t abandon Sam the way that Steve abandoned me. I’m willing to sacrifice what needs to be done, even if it makes me unhappy. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to be here more than you do,” you hissed, your body filling with rage. “I’m more than happy to leave.”

“Good! Then go!”

“Fine!”

Just as you’re about to gather your things and storm out of the house, the doors burst open and John and Lemar storm inside. He points to Zemo and says, “He’s coming with us. Hand him over.”

Sam and John argue with one another and you step away from Bucky. You’re pissed and hurt and you have no energy to join their bitching contest. You cross your arms over your chest and just seconds pass before the Dora Milaje walk through the doors.

You watch with a smug smirk as Walker reaches a hand out to Ayo. You hold your breath as he places a hand on her shoulder. A split second passes and John and Lemar are both getting their asses kicked. You stand out of the way and gleam as they struggle against the Dora Milaje. One of the spears slices through the air and pins the shield against the kitchen table.

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky exclaimed.

If you weren’t pissed at him, you would’ve laughed. Sam says his name disapprovingly and Bucky rolls his eyes as he attempts to stop Ayo from doing anymore damage. Sam soon follows suit and you sigh before joining them.

You had spent several long months training alongside the Dora Milaje when you were on the run after the Accords. They had helped you perfect your technique and made you an ever better fighter. You block the jabs of the spear with the outside of your forearms and quickly side step out of the way as one of the women aims at your gut.

With all things considered, you were fairing far better than both Sam and Bucky combined, and you hadn’t been keeping up with your training regiment.

Another spear nearly sideswipes your face and your reflexes take over as you spin out of the way. You’re growing tired and out of breath, and they still haven't been able to get you to yield.

Soon you were overpowered and you fell on your back with a loud crash. The wind is knocked out of you and you see stars at the corners of your eyes. Your head turns towards the bathroom doors and you can see an outline of a sewage drain. Zemo had escaped in the middle of the fight.

John and Lemar are the first to leave, followed by the Dora Milaje. Bucky lends a hand down to you and you slap it away. You could be petty and angry too. You pretend not to notice the flash of hurt and surprise on his face as he adjusts to his metal arm again with a roll of his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

You grunt in response. “Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

You leave the house and trail behind Sam and Bucky as you walk down a number of streets with no particular destination. You’re silent and fuming as you listen to Sam talk on the phone. He stops up ahead and glances down at his phone.

“That was Sarah. Karli threatened my nephews. She wants to meet and said for me to come alone,” Sam said, staring at the coordinates on the screen.

“We’re coming with you,” Bucky said. There was no room for discussion and Sam didn’t argue.

You’re nearly out of breath when you arrive at the correct coordinates. You attempt to control your breathing as you creep up the stairs with Sam in front and Bucky behind. Sam yells for Karli and she steps in front of one of the white pillars. You stand beside Bucky just far enough that it doesn’t make it seem like you’re a threat. Her eyes flicker over to the two of you before returning to look back at Sam.

You shift nervously on your feet and the sound of Sharon’s voice rings through your ears. She had found John. Karli takes off and it takes a split second for Bucky to run after her. You cling to Sam and he takes off in the air.

“Brace yourself!” Sam shouted at you.

You cling to his back and use his shoulder for cover as he breaks through the glass ceiling. You shake off your legs and Sam squeezes your arm reassuringly.

Suddenly a body flies through the closest door and hits the wall with a crack. To your own horror, John walks up to the man, a man that has super soldier strength, like it’s nothing. It scares the shit out of you as you watch with wide eyes as Walker bends a steel pipe in half before sending the Flag Smasher to the ground once more.

You glance over at Sam and he’s just staring at John. “What did you do?”

You both know that you didn’t need him to answer to come to the right conclusion. Somehow John had managed to snag a vial of the serum. You were right back at the memorial. Something was wrong and it had been John all along. He had knocked out Zemo and stole the last vial before it could be destroyed.

You feel a sense of responsibility for it. If you had reacted quicker than you did down in the basement, maybe then Walker wouldn’t actually have the serum running through him. You could’ve stopped him and you didn’t, and it was all because of a locked door. You could hold your own against John without the serum, but now that he has it and he’s always so full of rage, you don’t know if you would be able to. He had the strength to kill you.

You follow the two men in a daze in an attempt to find Lemar. Everything was quiet and still. It sends you on edge. You step into an empty workshop. Tables are flipped on their sides, chairs everywhere, and scraps of paper and wood litter the floor.

Sam pushes you out of the way as a Flag Smasher jumps from the overhead balcony straight towards you. You stumble slightly before regaining your bearings and joining the fight. Your body screams in protest but you push through it. With every kick and punch finding its intended target, you’ve lived to see another second.

One of them kicks you in the backside, cornering you with another partner. The force of the kick nearly knocks the breath out of you. You shake it off and dodge a stab to the face. You quickly disarm the knife from your opponent and use their surprise to your advantage.

You may not have super serum in your blood, but you put up one hell of a fight. You easily avoided and stepped away as your attacker spins in the air. You wait for an opening and kick your leg up high, sending them backwards. You throw the knife down just inches from their head as a warning.

As you turn on your back, you quickly stumble as another opponent reaches to stab you. Bucky comes barreling in with an iron fist and the man goes flying and crashes into a nearby table. You have a split second to react as Bucky drags you back on your feet.

You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to fight, especially defensively. If any of the Flag Smashers noticed that you were favoring your left side more than your right, they would use it to their advantage and kill you. Your right shoulder throbs and you taste blood and sweat on your tongue.

You spin on your heels as you watch Karli barrel towards you, nearly taking your head off. You were tired, but you were still fast on your feet.

It feels like it happens in slow motion. Lemar miraculously appears and throws Karli off balance. For a brief moment, he was holding his own.

Until he wasn’t.

Karli punches him with so much force that the sound of the pillar cracking underneath his weight vibrates through your ears. Everything stops, even Karli and her followers stare at the man pinned against the pillar. A number of sounds and voices fill your ears as you watch John crouch beside his partner to try and find a pulse. He shakes his head but nothing happens. There’s no response.

Lemar’s gone. Lemar is dead.

Sam nearly drags you with him as John jumps out of the building at the closest window. Your legs burn, screaming for rest as you run alongside Bucky and Sam through the building towards the growing sounds of screaming in the courtyard.

Bucky stops you and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. There was nothing you could do but watch as John publicly executed someone with the shield. A shield that used to mean so much to the world was now and forever tainted. It’s legacy is gone.

The civilians that had gathered starred in complete awe with their phones out as they witnessed Captain America slaughter a man that wasn’t responsible for Lemar’s death.

He just stares off into the crowd, breathing hard and heavy as the blood from his victim stains the shield. He takes off, running away from the crowd, presumably to get away from Sam and Bucky.

You take a step, intending to run after him, but Sam stops you. “We’ll get him later. Right now we need to talk to the police and paramedics. If the countless videos aren’t enough proof of what John did was wrong, our statements will.”

You nod but don’t say anything as exhaustion takes over. Your knees buckle and Bucky nearly carries you to the nearest ambulance. A blanket is wrapped around you and you’re given a bottle of water. Bucky leans against the ambulance door and your eyes watch another team of paramedics take care of the body underneath the statue.

He’s placed on to a stretcher and a cloth is draped over his body to give the illusion of privacy, even in death, despite the number of people that watch.

A police officer approaches the ambulance you’re sitting in and asks if you’re ready to give a statement. You nod as you gulp down your water. You tell the officer everything that happened that led to the tragic event that followed just several minutes earlier. You leave out any mentions of the serum. The US government would find out soon enough.

The officer thanks you for your time as another one approaches to take Bucky’s official statement. His is nearly identical to yours, apart from the times that you had split up and separated over the last two hours. He’s gruff and fuming and his arms are crossed over his chest. If you weren’t still angry at him, you would tease him, but now wasn’t the time. The officer thanks him again before scurrying off.

Sam reappears and adjusts the gear on his arms before shaking his arms. “There’s a ping on Walker’s location. He’s at some abandoned warehouse in a wooded area in the outskirts of the city.”

You nod and slip the blanket off your back. Your exhaustion could wait. You jump from the ambulance and Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder. You quickly brush it off.

“You better think long and hard before you open your mouth, Barnes. If it’s anything other than “you’re coming with us,” keep it to yourself,” you snapped at him.

He stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips, and does exactly as you asked. He says nothing.

You walk in silence towards the outskirts of the city to John’s location. Your muscles burn with each step and you’re struggling to breathe, but you push through it. You have to for Sam and Bucky’s sake.

You hold your breath as you enter the warehouse. John’s back faces you and Sam throws an arm out in front of you to stop you from getting any closer. He turns to look at the three of you and you rock back on your heels.

“You don’t want to do this,” John said. His voice is casual and condescending.

Bucky rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, we do.”

The shield flies through the air just inches from your head. You double back as Bucky and Sam tag team against Walker.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight and sound of Bucky crashing into one of the electrical beams. He remains still and it sends you into a panic. You’d never seen him like that before.

You run straight towards Walker. You use your weight and momentum to leap up and choke him with your thighs, a move Natasha had taught you all those years ago. His fingers dig into the tops of your thighs with all his strength. Your own hands are too busy scratching and squeezing at his throat.

Walker throws his back into a steel pole and it makes you lose your grip on him. The force of the impact sends you crumbling to the ground. Now it hurts to breathe.

You land with a loud crash. You’re in a daze and can barely see straight. Black specks and stars cover the corners of your eyes as you fight off unconsciousness.

John stands above you, his arm pulled back with the shield in hand. He was going to kill you, just like he did to the Flag Smasher, and there’s nothing you could do to stop him.

You’re too weak and injured to fight. You’re on the brink of physical exhaustion. You can’t mask the pain any longer. You’re going to die before you have the chance to tell Bucky how you feel.

You throw your hands up, a futile attempt to stop the shield from blowing your brains out.

Sam knocks John off balance just as the shield moves towards your head. Sam uses the strength of his wings and jet pack to kick John in the stomach while Bucky knocks him from behind. For the first time, John’s on the floor.

Sam and Bucky use all their combined strength to rip the shield from Walker’s grasp. There’s a loud crack that fills your ears and he howls in pain as his hand loosens around the shield.

He swings at Bucky with his uninjured arm and Bucky punches him right in the face. This time John doesn’t get up and Bucky grabs the shield and tosses it beside Sam’s head as he lays on the floor near you. Several silent seconds pass as the three of you catch your breath and attempt to regain your bearings.

Bucky crouches in front of you and gingerly threads his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. You’re not bleeding anywhere on the top of your head.

Although you couldn’t see straight, you know his deep blue eyes find yours. Your head spins and you feel like you’re about to puke.

“The shield,” you slurred, “did you get it?”

His soft laughter fills your ears. He wipes away the blood collecting under his nose. “Yes.”

You hum in approval and your vision begins to clear up. You blink rapidly and Bucky carefully wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to your feet.

Yes, you were still mad at him, but the way he held you against his side as you walked out of the warehouse made your stomach flip. It nearly makes you forget about your argument just hours earlier.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #look after you #my writing

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

Lines Get Blurred

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Sometimes we don't understand our feelings, and that's okay. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Undefined Relationship, Physical Intimacy, Mild Anxiety.

{ Notes } Written for @sailormakoto. Usually, I'd wait longer to start another part to make sure people were interested, but they said they'd like it, so... Now you have to like it even though it's a dumpster fire rolling downhill fast. Reader isn't good with their emotions and it very obviously shows. It's really just messy and bad but I don't know what else to do or how to make a cohesive, logical plot. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 1,783

Childe’s guard nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a yelp of fright as you swept out of the apartment in a hurry. But in your rush, you hardly noticed him at all, the entirety of your focus was currently on your goal of escaping the embarrassment that was on the verge of consuming you whole. With your body moving on autopilot through the busy streets of Liyue, you retreated into your mind to wrangle your thoughts and gain some sense of control.

Why was it exactly that you felt such an overwhelming urge to run away? It wasn't that you didn’t like or want the kiss, it had been rather enjoyable for you. It had happened so easily between you, and that was the part that you found weird. You couldn’t understand why it felt so easy with him, things weren’t normally like this. It was certainly safe to say you had never wanted to kiss your other friends, and that’s what you and Childe were. Friends.

It’s not like you were in love with him, you were pretty sure you felt the same about him as you always had. Sure, it had been a few months and you’d gotten to know him better and found spending time with him more enjoyable, but ultimately he was still the same person he was when you first met. You got along with him, you laughed together and now sometimes you casually made out with each other. That was fine, friends could do that, right?

Perhaps you were blowing things out of proportion. A few kisses didn't change anything, really. It's not like Childe had confessed to having feelings for you or anything drastic. You two were just friends and everything was fine, things would eventually sort themselves out.

You hadn't even realized you had been mildly hyperventilating by the time you regulated your breathing back to normal and managed to get out of your head. With your focus now on your surroundings, you found yourself in Liyue's bustling market among the fresh produce. You decided it would be best to pick up some groceries while you were here, as you said you would. Picking out what looked best and haggling with the merchants over prices seemed like a good way to pretend your problems didn’t exist clear your head.

As it turns out, grocery shopping became infinitely more difficult when you didn’t know what was needed. It was clear Childe liked to cook but you didn’t know what it was he liked to prepare. Going back to get a list from him now would be incredibly awkward, so you decided to play it safe and buy a large quantity wide variety of ingredients. You decided you had enough when the bags in your arms felt like they were getting too heavy to carry. Fitting this much food into Childe’s kitchen was going to be quite the struggle. Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of your actions.

Dragging all your purchases back to the apartment was going to be quite the workout. You wondered if next time it would be possible to get one of the low-ranking Fatui to help you carry things. A few pedestrians gave you some odd looks as they saw your mountain of purchases, but no one offered you any help. Things only got worse once you remembered you had said you were going to buy some things from Bubu Pharmacy, too. You were going to be strong as fuck after going up all those goddamn steps.

The man at the counter wore a worried expression as he noticed the amount of bags you were dragging along with you. You brushed off his concern with something about how you were an adventurer and stronger than the average person, trying not to let it show that you were indeed struggling to carry everything. Even with superhuman strength, you had your limits. Unfortunately, the man accepted your words and busied himself with finding the ice packs you requested, along with an herbal tea you asked for because it had a divine aroma you noticed upon walking in. It's not like he was likely able to help you with the groceries, so you supposed it didn't matter.

By the time you returned to Childe’s apartment, your arms were ready to fall off and the scowl on your face must have been quite intimidating because the guard stationed at the door immediately did as he was told when you ordered him to open the door for you. He didn't say a word, not even giving you a nasty look for the first time. Despite the non-hostile treatment by the guard, you promptly kicked the door closed on him after entering the apartment, heading straight to the kitchen and letting out a sigh of relief after dropping all of the bags in the middle of the floor.

You hadn’t seen Childe on your way in and you couldn’t hear him moving around the apartment but you assumed he was home, the guard probably wouldn’t have been quite so willing to let you in otherwise. Even if you wore a scary expression. Not to mention, surely the Harbinger wouldn’t appoint a guard foolish enough to allow you in unsupervised, there were likely sensitive documents somewhere inside. You assumed it had been Fatui reports he was reading earlier.

Finding room for all the groceries you had purchased took your mind away from wondering about the location of your temporary host. Putting everything away proved to be a time-consuming task, but by the end of it Childe had yet to make an appearance, or even any noise indicating he was in the apartment. This was worrying, if he had left and gotten himself hurt you’d have to go out in search of him. After purchasing, carrying, and putting away all the food you had bought you weren’t sure you were up for tracking him down.

Taking one of the newly purchased ice packs to use as an excuse, you wrapped it in a towel before making your way to his bedroom. It seemed like the most likely place to find him if he was indeed still in the apartment. It was hard to imagine he'd have spent so much time silent in the bathroom. You felt strangely on edge as you stopped in front of the door, knocking softly three times.

No reply came but you weren't convinced he was truly not home, so you slowly pushed the door open, holding your breath. It didn’t make sense for you to feel so nervous about this, it wasn’t the end of the world if he wasn’t home. Maybe you were more worried about seeing him than not.

The sight of Childe sprawled out in the middle of his bed peacefully napping greeted you as you quietly entered. His blanket appeared to have been thrown off him in his sleep and his shirt rode up just a little bit. His room was tidy, but you were too busy appreciating the revealed section of his abdomen to take a proper look around. You were only granted a few moments to stare before he opened one eye, peering at you for just long enough to register that it was you in his room.

It was unsurprising that the Harbinger was a light sleeper enough sleeper to be woken by you entering his room, considering his line of work. Vastly more surprising was when, after determining it was you who had woken him, he closed his eye again and went back to dozing. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at this, a pleasant warmth filling you at the show of trust. Or maybe he was too tired to care.

Of course he trusted you, you were friends after all. The thought had your smile fading, but you weren’t sure why that displeased you. Pushing the thought from your head, you silently made your way to the bedside and placed the icepack at his side.

The sudden cold had ocean eyes fluttering open before focusing on you. You smiled playfully at his slightly disgruntled expression. That was much easier on your emotions than his prior vulnerability.

“Sorry, but it needs to be done.”

“Mm, whatever. Hey, did I make you uncomfortable earlier?” the Harbinger asked, causing your heart to pause. He certainly was good at getting straight to the point. You had to take a deep breath before answering him.

“No, not at all. I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I ran away like that,” you told him, the words rushing out of your mouth. Your heart was racing faster than you thought it should have been in this situation. It’s not like any of this was that big of a deal, certainly not the end of the world.

“Well if you’re not uncomfortable then how ‘bout you nap with me?” the Snezhnayan offered, and you were pretty sure it was almost entirely because he wanted to get back to sleep himself, “You look exhausted, you probably need it.”

High flags of color appeared on your cheeks at his words, you must not be looking your best for him to offer such a thing. It couldn't be that he was actually worried for you, but you couldn't reason out why he would offer such a thing. However, the prospect of rest was tempting, but you couldn’t help but think it would be easier on your heart if you just went to your room for it. Then again, if you rejected him it might seem like you had been lying about being comfortable with him.

“Stop thinking so loudly and just come here,” Childe said finally, opening his arms to you. You clenched your jaw, feeling even more embarrassed, but began climbing into bed with him.

“Fine,” you mumbled, letting him pull you close before covering the both of you with a blanket. He gently tucked your head against his chest before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, luckily for you, it wasn’t possible for you to get any redder at this point. Not that he would see considering he had closed his eyes and was already nodding off again, but maybe he was able to feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

“You worry too much. Relax and go to sleep.”

Despite your internal anxieties, you found yourself complying with his suggestion thanks to the fatigue already weighing you down and how comfortable it felt to be in his arms. All of it felt a little too intimate for being just friends, but you didn’t get much time to worry about it as you drifted off into unconsciousness.

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kabootarandishaan · 3 years

Text

Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 7

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/Female reader

A/N: Sorry for the wait I was going through a block. Hopefully ya’ll are still here love ya’ll! Enjoy!

Warnings: None

You looked up at him with pleading eyes hoping for him to stop this right here. He simply looked at Dio and spoke.

"Then a depraved lunatic I am, but you will apologize to her or else you will not leave this shop." His voice was steady and his words were spoken in a way leaving no room for misunderstanding.

You saw his nostrils flare as he closed his eyes. You feared what would happen next. The last thing you needed was for Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando to have a fight in the middle of your store. The news would spread around fast, people would talk and it could ruin what you and your father had worked for.

He gave a curt exhale, which you were not sure was whether out of amusement or anger and slowly turned his attention towards you. You looked down at the ground, trying to avoid anything that could instigate this situation further.

“What is your name, girl?” Although his tone seemed much more controlled you could still feel an overwhelming amount of apathy in his words. “Y/N. Sir.” You were able to regain composure and firmly respond.

“Y/N? A rather decorative name for an otherwise poor-” He was swiftly cut off by a reprimand from Jonathan. Dio rolled his eyes but it seemed the scold was effective as he never did finish his statement. “Y/N, I apologize.” Before Jonathan could intervene you quickly gave a response.

“Mr. Brando, there is no need for that. In fact, I apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you and Mr.Joestar today. Please let your father know that he is more than welcome to acquire his produce free of charge for the remainder of the month. If there is anything else I can do to lessen the impact of your delay feel free to inform me.”

Although giving a month's worth of free produce to your largest client would have an impact on revenue, you would do something to manage it. You always did end up finding ways to make it work.

“I would prefer if next time you could do your job more efficiently. It would only benefit you in the long run.” He turned to Jonathan. “Well, shall we? Or is there any other melodrama you would prefer to perform?” Before Jonathan could answer Dio had already made his way out the door.

Jonathan gave out a deep sigh. “Y/N you should not hav-'' You interjected before he had the chance to finish. “Mr. Joestar, I believe you are running late for an event and I also believe that it is in the best interest of everyone involved that you leave this shop.” You were not abrupt but exhausted.

All you desired at this point was to go home and enjoy time with Nila. Jonathan could hear the exasperation behind your words and felt a tinge of guilt in his chest. “I’m sorry Y/N. I failed to consider that making him apologize would make your job more difficult.” His words caught you by surprise, a feeling of slight guilt washed over you.

You went to say something but Jonathan held his hand before you and gave a sweet smile. He gave you a little nod and made his way to the door. He stopped, his back facing you, and spoke. “Do forgive my brashness but I must say, that kiss was wonderful. I am looking forward to another opportunity to experience it.”

With those last words, he left the shop, leaving you a flustered mess. You quickly closed up the shop and went back to fetch Nila. You saw her lying serenely against a pile of hay. You slowly made your way over to her and gave a gentle rub of the head. “Nila, it's time to go, wake up love.”

You saw her slightly stir before opening her eyes. She seemed to recover quickly as she eagerly lapped at your hand. You laughed and stood up shortly after that. “Look at my luck. I received two lovely kisses today.” You gave Nila one final rub before standing up, you brushed off your gown and slowly made your way home.

It was quite late by the time you had gotten home as you stopped by the market to gather a few things. Just as you entered, the rain that you had been anticipating began pouring down. You wished for nothing more than to head to bed but still had some tasks to finish around the house. After feeding yourself and Nila you tried to organize what little space there was in the home.

You thought to spend some time with Nila considering most of your time was taken up by the shop today. You wiped your hands on the rag by the sink and turned to call out to Nila. The storm had picked up rather quickly and you hoped she was fairing well with all the thunder going on.

“Good thing we made it back in time.” You called out as you were cleaning the dishes. Only hearing silence in return made you turn and you found her fast asleep. The sight made you chuckle, you made your way over to her and knelt down to gently stroke her head.

“I bet you were worn out from bothering that poor horse.” After washing up and changing into your nightclothes, which simply was an old shirt of your father's with a pair of harem pants, you took a candle and walked around to put out the lanterns. You had put out all but one before you heard a knock at the door.

“It’s half-past midnight, father wasn’t meant to come until four more days.” You suspiciously planted yourself in front of the door, carefully placing your hand on the knob. “What is your business?” Firmly projecting your voice to be heard over the aggressive weather outside, you also hoped the stranger on the other side would be slightly taken aback at your low tone.

“Y/N, It is me, Jonathan!” Your eyes widened in surprise. Quickly unlatching the door, the sight before you made you gasp. His otherwise kempt hair had been dragged down with the weight of the water. The white undershirt he adorned had gone almost transparent. As absurd as you found the whole situation you only knew to do one thing.

“Are you daft?! Come inside this instance! What on earth possessed you to come here at this hour in this horrendous storm?! You quickly ushered him inside as he simply gave you a timid stare. He looked almost like a child who had gotten scolded by his mother. “Stand here and do not move while I go and grab you a towel.”

As you quickly went to the cupboard and grabbed a towel you pondered how little it would help considering Jonathan was already drenched. Without putting too much thought into it, you quickly went into your father’s bedroom and opened the old armoire. After your mother’s death, your father had kept away many things that reminded him too much of her.

Some of those items included clothes that your mother had favored on your father. When she was alive your father had always worn brighter colored shirts, lighter blues, and greens. Now he strictly stuck to neutral colors, you couldn’t even remember the last time he had opened this. You grabbed a shirt and pair of pants, hoping that it would fit Jonathan.

There was only a slight difference in height between Jonathan and your father. He had lost some weight in the last few years so maybe they would not be too bad for Jonathan. You carried them back and handed everything over to Jonathan. He continued to only stare at you looking seemingly confused.

“The washroom is to the left of the kitchen. You may dry yourself off and change your garments there. I will go make some tea to warm you up.” He looked as if he were about to say something but you had already turned to go into the kitchen. As you placed the kettle on the stove you heard the door to the washroom close which prompted you to let out a sigh you had not known you were holding.

You had finished the tea and set the table all mostly muscle memory. You did not even realize that Jonathan had already changed and sat down at the table. You automatically turned to go grab some sweets to pair with the tea but Jonathan reached out for your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/N, please. There is no need for all this. Have a seat. I came here to see if you were alright after what happened in the shop. You had not shown up to the riverbed so I began to worry you were cross with me.” You could not turn to face him as you answered because you feared that he would notice the slight red that began to spread across your face.

“Ah...Yes! Uhh...I guess I am just accustomed to it.” You eventually garnered enough courage to glance down at his hand which was still lightly grasped around your wrist. In an instance, Jonathan quickly let go and placed his hand back in his lap before hurriedly apologizing. “Uh...Uh...forgive me Y/N! I…” You cut him by awkwardly patting his back in an attempt to cover your flustered state.

“I see that the shirt fits well! I will admit that I was slightly exhausted after the interaction at the shop so it had completely slipped my mind to go to the riverbed. It seemed Nila was also weary considering she had fallen asleep soon after we had returned. How do you take your tea? Milk, sugar?”

You realized you were rambling at this point and looked up to meet Jonathan’s soft gaze. You let out a soft sigh and pulled out the chair beside him to sit. You pulled a strand of hair behind your ear and nervously waited to gauge his reaction. You could see a slight upturn at the corners of his lips, he took a glance at the tea set out in front of him and cleared his throat before reaching out.

He placed a cup in front of each of you and grabbed the pot, pouring a generous amount in both. “I have been drinking my tea black since I can recall. They used to tell me that milk, sugar, or honey was too feminine.” He let out a low chuckle. “Can you believe how absurd that is? I think today I would like to try both, please.”

You felt a smile play onto your face without realizing it. Hearing him express his thoughts in front of you without the fear of consequences gave you a small sense of pride. You made him a cup of tea and placed two cubes of sugar. You mixed and placed it before him before fishing a cup for yourself. “I must say I am flattered at the fact you were worried about me. You tempered a storm to make your way over here. I cannot say I have seen anyone do anything close to that, especially not for me.”

“Well, we are no longer strangers Y/N. If I may be so forthright, we kissed one another. After an exchange of that type, I feel it would only prompt me to garner stronger feelings towards you. Actually, I have not been completely honest of my intentions for coming here tonight. I admit that part of the reason for my arrival here was fueled by worry but I must say that I wished to simply talk with you more intimately.”

You stayed quiet for a moment prompting him to nervously take a sip of the tea. “Oh my! This is quite nice! I should have my tea like this more often.” He anxiously smiled, avoiding your eyes before looking up as you lightly placed your hand over his. You leaned in closer and quietly spoke. “I would enjoy nothing more than that. But if I may, I have a question.”

He sighed and a satisfied smile played on his face. “Ask away.” He turned his hand so that he could grasp yours. “I wish not to sound skeptical or insensitive but my intentions with this are only honest. What is the nature of our relationship Jonathan Joestar?

#jonathan joestar x female reader #jonathan joestar fanfiction #jonathan joestar #jonathan joestar x reader #phantom blood #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba fanfic #jonathan joestar fanfic #riverbed

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Speak My Name In Tongues

1| 2(you are here) | 3 | 4

Summary: Bruce Wayne is determined to get his daughter to safety and aid (read: take over for) the Parisian heroes in capturing their supervillains of over six years. Unfortunately, these two goals are in direct conflict. (all of biodad bruce things can be read as stand alones but I do post in chronological order)

________________________________________________

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne is a persistent man.

When he wants something, he does not stop on the first or second failed attempt. It doesn’t matter if the world believes something to be impossible. It doesn’t matter if he fails spectacularly to achieve his goal multiple times, in fashions that would likely result in any man of lesser wealth becoming the laughing stock of the global community for months. In order for him to cease his pursuit, he must come to the realization that whatever he’s pursuing is not worth the effort. This is a very rare occasion. Most times when Bruce comes to this conclusion, his decision can be traced back to the trauma of his parents death and the subsequent consequences of his vigilante life style (read: not pursuing Jason’s death, letting Barbara get shot.)

Thus, when Marinette turns down his offer of a safer life, he will not take her rejection at face value. A lesser man might. But Bruce is not any such thing.

Anything that Marinette is involved in-- and he finds that she does a lot-- all oh-so-coincidentally happen to be things that Wayne Enterprises invests in as well. He marks down each and every charity event and gala that she is scheduled to attend and makes an appearance there as well. When he finds that she supports all of her collége friends in their pursuits, he attends too.

Somehow, she manages to skillfully evade being drawn into any long conversation with him and always ensures that there’s a third person involved when he even says hello. If Bruce weren’t trying so hard to have a talk with her, he’d say that her ability to do so was really quite impressive and spoke to the reach of her network. But again, Bruce is trying to convince his daughter that he’s not safe in Paris by herself when the League most likely has a bounty on her head. If Talia finds out that he had a daughter not borne by her-- she’s certainly changed in recent years, becoming more volatile and much less like the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

He half believes that with Marinette’s wit, intellect, and escape abilities, she may even be able to hold her own against the League. Unfortunate that the League has weapons training and she does not.

“Marinette,” Bruce approaches her at a Bourgeois evening party. She has friends in high places, that’s for certain. Chloe Bourgeois works at her company in the public relations department as does Adrien Agreste, which definitely turned a lot of heads in the fashion industry as nobody expected the boy to work for anybody but his father, nor did they expect him to stop his modelling career in the prime of his life. For modelling works, she turns to Juleka Couffaine and occasionally Olympic hopefuls Kagami Tsurugi, Alix Kubdel, Ondine and Kim Le Chien. Thanks to her connections to Rose Lavillant, she’s produced an entire line of scents that go with MDC’s evening wear. MDC is extensively covered by Aurore Boreale, one of the youngest talk show hosts in the industry, Alya Cesaire, a young journalist who’s won international acclaim with her writing, and Nadja Chamack, a Senior Executive producer of TVi. Though Bruce is rather impartial to the music industry, she’s well known for working with international singers Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and Luka Couffaine as well as an up and coming EDM artist named Nino Lahiffe. In the film sector, she works closely with Tom Astruc and Graham Industries, with Adrien’s cousin, Felix.

As the saying goes, Who you know is everything.

Marinette smiles, teeth bared. Even the way she stands is sharp.

It’s difficult reconciling the girl in front of him with the pictures he saw while doing background checks on her, or even the girl he saw at the bar just three nights ago. At least, it’s difficult for Bruce to reconcile her when she’s around him; Marinette seems to be very much the same girl around her friends, which is almost just as frightening. When she’s with Adrien or Alya of Kagami, it’s as if her parent’s death didn’t even happen. All smiles and sunshine and good will. She still attends all of the charity events she signed up for, has increased the amount of hours she spends volunteering at homeless shelters and akuma shelters-- and Bruce has no clue in hell how Paris’ supervillain situation has gone unchecked for so long, but he already has several agents tracking down Hawkmoth and the Miraculous team to no avail-- and goes to work on a normal schedule. Since Tom and Sabine’s death, she’s taken no time off.

In the presence of Bruce Wayne, however, there’s a great shift in her demeanor. There is nothing warm about her, and despite the fact that Marinette is his daughter and that she’s more than a full foot shorter than him, he finds himself wary of her. That says something, considering the types of people he faces down as Batman near daily.

For the first time, she allows him to approach without dodging him.

“M. Wayne.” Marinette begins to meander to a less public place, all while maintaining a pretty media smile and waving to acquaintances as she passes them. The moment the door closes behind him, a flip is switched.

“Leave me alone,” she growls. “I don’t want or need your protection.”

“Your parents were murdered.”

“You don’t think I know that? I was the one who found their corpses.”

“They’ll come after you, next.” The League of Assassins never leaves their jobs half done. Marinette is more of an achilles heel than Tom and Sabine were-- despite not being in her life, he cares for her. He can’t deny that if she were murdered, he’d probably get caught up in a fit of rage. The Lazarus Pits have not been good for his mental state over the years.

Marinette crosses her arms, sleeves fluttering around her. “You think you know who did it.”

“I don’t think I know; I’m sure who did it.”

“No,” Marinette says in a strangely detached tone. “You think you know who did it. You don’t actually know, do you, Dark Knight?”

Bruce’s stomach fills with dread. Something about her statement makes him feel nauseous. Queasy, even. “I do. The League of Assassins--”

“You think everything revolves around you, don’t you? Bruce Wayne and Batman are not the only ones with enemies.”

“You’re suggesting that you have enemies who would be willing to kill your parents?” Bruce isn’t sure how to take this. Marinette does have a fairly large following, runs in the most powerful and influential Parisian circles, and has money to spare. But as far as his research told him, she didn’t do anything to egregiously offend anybody, besides maybe one Lila Rossi and Chloe Bourgeois, though the latter of the two rectified their relationship eventually.

“I don’t,” Marinette denies. “But Ladybug does.”

“The superhero.” Is his age finally catching up to him?

“The superhero,” Marinette agrees, looking at Bruce contemplatively.

“Ladybug and I-- we’re close,” Marinette settles on. “Close enough for our bakery to become a safe house of sorts for the Miraculous team. Hawkmoth--no, Pavona. She either acted out of anger for her past with me or just wanted to strike a blow at the Miraculous team.”

Bruce feels a migraine coming on. It’s on days like this when he wishes he were a drinking sort of man. “Why would Pavona be upset with you?”

Marinette laughs, humorlessly. “World’s greatest detective, huh? Maybe you’ll figure it out eventually.”

He gets the feeling that their conversation is quickly coming to a close, and figures that whatever issue Marinette and Pavona have is something he can decipher later, “It doesn’t seem like Pavona has done much with this information. The Miraculous Team seems to be in high spirits, and there haven’t been any akumatizations in the past two weeks.”

Another dry laugh. “Wrong move at the wrong time. And besides Ladybug and you, nobody else knows.”

Marinette pushes past him, back to the door, back to the party. She pauses at the door. “I’ll put the two of you in contact. Until then, keep a lid on you and your operative’s emotions. I’m sure trained agents like yourselves can restrain yourself from feeling anger or sorrow for a while.”

Bruce is left with two horrifying realizations: Marinette is in a situation where she’s in over her head, and Sabine and Tom’s deaths have not been publicized.

Batman and Bruce have never liked magic or metas, and Ladybug seems to be both. It doesn’t help that she’s so high strung and seems to be inexplicably angry at him from the moment that he steps foot at their prearranged meetup.

“I sent you the ground rules if you want to operate in Paris. Forward it to your operatives. Follow the rules or leave.”

“I’m here to take down Hawkmoth,” Batman says with a bone-weary tiredness.

Ladybug crosses her arms in a fashion that’s achingly familiar. “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you and your people the ground rules and a chance. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be allowed here.”

“Ladybug, you and your team have failed to catch Hawkmoth for six years now.”

“You and your team have been fighting the same set of villains for over thirty years. I wonder which one of us is really worse off.”

Batman grimaces.

The heroine looks out at the night sky and sighs. “Look, this is a very stressful situation. Pavona acted out in one of the worst ways possible, and even though she and Hawkmoth seem to be MIA, it’s still not ideal.”

He remembers that Marinette said Ladybug and her parents were close. Batman stumbles over his words. He’s never been the best at comforting people, and healthy coping mechanisms simply don’t run in the family. There’s definitely a reason why he and all of his children take to vigilantism so well. “Tom and Sabine-- they were great people.”

Ladybug stills.

Batman doesn’t know how old she is, or how old any of the Miraculous team is, besides from Chloe Bourgeois, who used to be Queen Bee. Something in the way her shoulders hunch, how her jaw trembles, and eyes water makes Batman feel like she’s just a child. But she can’t be. Not if she’s been protecting a city for six years. If he had to guess her age, he’d put her in her mid to late twenties, maybe even early thirties.

“They were the most loving people I’ve ever known,” Ladybug says. “It was a privilege to know them.”

He’s not sure who made the decision to not release Tom and Sabine’s death to the public, but Batman recognizes it as a tactical decision. It only took a short amount of time to hack into security cameras near Marinette’s residence and filter through the sighting of the Miraculous Team at Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie, stopping to chat with Marinette or one of her parents, sometimes eating there, sometimes staying the night, using their living room as a gathering point. From there, it’s not difficult to realize that Marinette or Ladybug is keeping this information from the rest of their team in order to ensure that their civilian or superhero identities don’t get compromised by an akuma or a sentimonster.

In comparison to the Scarecrow, who makes his victims fight their worst fears, Batman can’t help but think that turning people into their insecurities and angers is worse. At least with Scarecrow, there’s a chance that people can win against whatever they’re fighting. Once a Parisian is turned into an akuma or sentimonster, they just have to hope that somebody else will come in and save the day. Victimhood with the cruelest twist, similar to when the Joker tried to make Dick into the Joker Jr.

“Pavona. What’s her deal with Marinette?”

Ladybug’s laugh is hollow and familiar. “Didn’t Marinette tell you to figure it out on your own?”

“I need to know,” Batman insists. “I want to protect her. I don’t want her to get hurt like that again.”

“You have noble intentions, Batman,” Ladybug says quietly. “A kind heart. But you are mistaken in thinking that Pavona can hurt Marinette anymore. Even if Pavona tries to, she won’t be able to. Tom and Sabine-- they were the weak link. Everyone else she loves is safe.”

Ladybug pauses, looks sideways at Batman, then stares out at the Parisian skyline again. “Everyone except for you. You’re not safe, here in Paris. You know that, don’t you?”

“She--” his mouth dries. There’s a lot of information to process, but he focuses on one thing. “She loves me?”

He doesn’t think he’s heard those words come out of any of his kid’s mouths. He knows that all of them do love each other in their own messed up ways and knows that his sons and daughters are more likely to show their affection in actions instead of words, but Marinette is a biological child that he’s never interacted with before this month. How can she love him when all he’s done is push her away?

“She loves you.” Ladybug closes her eyes. “But that makes her a fool. She’s clung to the hope that she’d get to know you for years. Look where that’s gotten her. She gets to meet you at the price of her parents' lives. So please, don’t mess this up. The best way to protect her is by making sure that you’re safe. Really, I’d want you to leave Paris and forget about her. She’ll be okay. We’ll keep her safe.”

Batman says nothing for a time. Ladybug is right in thinking that Marinette shouldn’t love him, but she’s not right in her belief that she can protect her. After all, Tom and Sabine are still dead. “But I can make sure no one hurts her. I may not be someone she interacts with normally, but I can’t see her die.”

Ladybug makes a keening sound in the back of her throat. “I know, Batman. We’re not as trained as you and your team. I know you want to keep her safe. That’s why I’m letting you and your team help us. Because we’re just not enough.”

“You’ve done a lot to keep this city safe.” He wants to be mad at her for involving a civilian family, but he can’t find it in him. She seems so young. Does she have parents? Do her parents know that she’s Ladybug?

“But not enough.” She wanders to the edge of the building, yoyo in hand. “When this is all over-- maybe the two of you can spend some time getting to know each other.”

Batman stares at the spotted heroine. “Maybe someday.”

“That’s not very convincing.” Ladybug turns so that he can’t see her face. “Be kind to her. She’s alone.”

“She has you. She has your team.” Neither Bruce nor Batman has been very good at comfort during a time of loss.

Ladybug fiddles with the chain around her neck. Two rings as a pendant. She clenches her fist around them and goes still for a moment. “We’re too similar to comfort each other. And we both agreed that telling the team… it would be disastrous. Tom and Sabine were parents to all of us. Pavona is scheduled to come back soon. If we tell them now, it might end in another mass akumatization. That’s something we have to avoid.”

Pavona is coming back? How did Ladybug even know that she left? How—

Batman stills. The muggy Parisian warmth is only alleviated by a brief breeze that makes Ladybug’s hair ties fly in the wind. Anger wells up in the back of his throat, and he feels the Lazarus in him spike, knows that behind the white film of his cowl, his eyes are turning green. “You know who Pavona is. Why hasn’t she been brought in yet? Why—”

Ladybug could have prevented Tom and Sabine’s death. She could have saved Marinette the loss of her parents.

Marinette could have retained her innocence. Been kept out of the world of superheroes and supervillains, been kept safely on the sidelines if only Ladybug weren’t so selfish, wasn’t so foolish to bring in a civilian family with no training and no background.

“Marinette and I have known for a long time,” Ladybug cuts him off, and he’s ready to put his hands to her throat, but no. Justice, not vengeance. He will make sure that Ladybug’s wrongdoings are brought to light. He will right her wrongs. “For four years, it was Hawkmoth and Mayura. Once Pavona showed up, we thought-- we thought that between her and Hawkmoth that she’d be the lesser of the two evils. We had no clue who Hawkmoth was, but we knew that they were working together. Pavona was left free to roam in hope that she’d lead us to Hawkmoth. That we could finally end the fight.”

Ladybug’s back straightens. She turns, and her eyes are all blue steel and pain. It’s then that Batman realizes that Ladybug truly did love Tom and Sabine with her whole heart.

“I see that I was wrong. Hawkmoth kills indiscriminately. But Pavona-- her grudges run deep. Mayura was the kindest of the three. The reason Pavona killed Tom and Sabine was petty.” Ladybug’s voice crumples, as do her legs. She hunches in on herself, hugging her knees. Batman watches on from a distance.

What was it she said? That she and Marinette were too similar to comfort each other? One day, Batman may find himself furious at Ladybug for making the decisions she did. But right now, all he sees is a child.

“I’m sure you’ve looked into Marinette’s past,” Ladybug starts.

Batman makes a noise of affirmation, but she clearly wasn’t looking for permission to go on. She was trying to collect herself in order to tell a story.

“There was a transfer all the way back in collège. She was very popular amongst her classmates. Beautiful, well connected, charismatic. There was no way people wouldn’t love her.”

Ladybug glances back at him. “Come, sit, Monsieur. I do not know you well, but I don’t bite.”

Bruce— Bruce does not want to sit with her. But Batman says that he has to hear her out. To give her a chance, at least. Batman has made mistakes over the course of his career as well, his actions and inactions affecting too many for him to keep track of. He would be a hypocrite if he didn’t let Ladybug speak, even if Sabine and Marinette are two people he never would have dreamed of involving. Still, he keeps one hand firmly on a batarang. The videos shows that not much damage can be done to the superheroes when they’re suited up, save for attacks with magic, but nothing is absolute. There’s always a way to bring an opponent down. “Is it that shocking of a story?”

“No. Not at all. If anything, it’s a typical story of teenage drama, except perhaps a bit more than that. But I need the reassurance that you won’t run off once I finish.” She lets the two rings go, gentle thud of the two rings pressing against each other and her collar bone. The rings seem familiar.

Batman sits, albeit warily and at least five feet away from his companion. Ladybug hasn’t proven untrustworthy so far, but she is still part meta and a magic user, from what he’s gathered. He wouldn’t put it past her or one of her team, particularly the one who creates illusions, to do something. He just doesn’t know what.

“This beautiful, charming classmate easily swayed Marinette’s class to her side.” Ladybug peeks at Batman through her bangs. “Understand that the classmates are children. Children in a class where power means that trouble and responsibility never stick. They learned that taking action meant you would be blamed.”

Batman wonders how Marinette and Ladybug met. Maybe it was through this very class she’s talking about now. If that’s true, it does not bode well for his perception of her.

“Marinette recognized this classmate for what she was. A liar. She promised all sorts of beautiful things-- things that played to their classmate’s biggest dreams. Working with their favorite artist. Meeting olympic athletes and musicians. Trips to impossible places. Perhaps if Marinette wans’t who she was, she would have believed her, too. But this classmate lied about two things Marinette knew were false. She lied about being a hero. She lied about me.”

“How do you and Marinette know each other?” It was incredibly difficult to find the video evidence of the Miraculous team going to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Batman had to call in a favor from Zatara and avoiding her questions as to why— he’d much preferred it if he were able to go through any normal channel instead.

“We’ve known each other since the beginning.” Ladybug fiddles with her yoyo, refusing to look him in the eyes. “Marinette tried to get her friends to realize the truth. But everybody wanted what she was saying to be real. It’s hard to say otherwise when everything they ever wanted could be found in a single person. And Marinette didn’t pick the smartest ways to try to reveal her lies.

“That beautiful, charming classmate didn’t like Marinette trying to debunk her entire persona. She grew to be very cunning. She hurt Marinette in so many ways. I lost track over how many times Marinette got suspended or temporarily expelled, only for her to be brought back at the behest of the one other person in her class who knew the truth. Her designs were stolen. The boy she loved grew into a shell in order to protect himself. Her friends drifted away-- not that they were cruel or anything, they were taught inaction above all else, to not say a word about whatever happened in class ever since ecole-- but Marinette was really lonely.

“It was sort of a blessing in disguise. During this time, a lot of the Miraculous Team went on a break of sorts, and it was only Chat Noir and I. We had to get stronger and smarter and Marinette and her family provided relief and moral support. If her friends were close to her during that time, things may have ended really badly. Hawkmoth may have caught on to more secret identities than he already knew.”

“Does Marinette know who you and Chat Noir are underneath the mask?” To put the weight of their alter egos on a civilian is cruel. It’s why his own was so closely guarded. He’s not a fan of Marinette knowing his existence as Bruce, let alone Ladybug.

“The more people who know our identities, the greater a chance Hawkmoth has at taking our Miraculous.”

A non answer. Clever wording on Ladybug’s part. Although he can imagine Sabine agreeing to put up a bunch of teenage superheroes in her bakery, he knows that it’s impossible for anything to escape from her eyes for very long. He’d bet anything that she figured out the majority of the team’s identities. And by extension, anything that Sabien finds out, Marinette is bound to find out as well; her past indicates that she has an equal, if not higher level of intelligence and creativity that Sabine had.

Had. They went for so long without patching anything up. Why was he so foolish? So Hard headed? She offered him so many chances to reconnect, to connect with Marinette, to be a second father to her. She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him left, that much he knew, what with how utterly in love she was with Tom, and he was happy for her. Happy that she found somebody more stable than him.

If he and Sabine were closer, could he have prevented their deaths? Would he have been clued into the situation of a magic supervillain in Paris sooner?

He can’t be mad at Ladybug. Not when Batman, a hero with decades of experience on her, failed to step in. Refused to look old problems in the eye. Let loved ones die for his own inability to communicate.

“For a while, Marinette didn’t fight back. She didn’t want the boy she loved, her best friend, to get in any more trouble than he already was, trying to protect her. She laid low. But the classmate was very interested in this boy as well. The classmate tried to break him to get him to love her.”

Ladybug smiles wryly. “You can imagine that was the end of her rope. Marinette thought that the only person the liar was targeting was herself. After three years of bearing the weight, she finally snapped. She started using the resources she had. And the wasn’t any grandiose thing, though in retrospect, perhaps it should have been. She wouldn’t have ended up in prison, no she’s too young, and one of the two main victims was under lock and key, and Marinette was never hurt to the point where the liar would face real consequences for her actions. All that happened was a restraining order and her removal from Marinette’s school.”

“The girl’s name is Lila Rossi. She was already a suspect for working with Hawkmoth at the time by helping him turn people into akumas. Then Mayura stopped showing up and Pavona took her place. Pavona was clearly targeting everything and anything near Marinette. I should have seen the signs, but I had years of experience on her, and the Miraculous Cure--” Ladybug breaks off. “From one point of view, even Hawkmoth is better than her, because at least he didn’t cause any irreversible deaths.”

The Miraculous Cure is cruel. It only reverses the damage done with a Miraculous or while Ladybug is transformed. When Tom and Sabine were murdered, Pavona and the Peacock Miraculous were nowhere in sight.

Batman can’t say whether Pavona is better or worse than Hawkmoth. But Lila Rossi-- he recognizes the name. He knows what she looks like, since her image came up when he was doing a background check on Marinette. It’s quite possible that she has some type of mental disorder. Now is not the time to think about that. Hawkmoth’s identity needs to be revealed, and quickly. “How did you connect the two with the magic protecting your identities?”

“I used a little magic of my own.”

Beneath them, more and more lights begin to flicker out. Even though Paris is nicknamed the City of Lights, due to the extensive drain on energy, shops are required to turn off their exterior lighting after 1AM.

“Please,” Ladybug says. “Please help me find Hawkmoth. Please help me put them in prison. I-- I’ve been fighting for so long, and it was a duty I didn’t even want for the longest time. I just want all of this to be over. I want to be able to scream and cry and mourn without Hawkmoth and Pavona trying to manipulate me. Please.”

Batman has never been one for physical affection, but he pats Ladybug awkwardly on her back. She launches herself into his arms, curling into him and sobs as he awkwardly rubs her back. He keeps his eyes trained at a distance, watching for any akumas or amoks.

“Please,” she warbles, eyes watery. “Be good to Marinette. Be a good father. Be someone for her to lean on.”

His muscles tighten. He’s never claimed to be a good father, let alone a good man. He tries to do right, but Marinette is different from all of the other kids he’s taken in over the years. She’s not from Gotham. She had parents who were kind and stable and normal. He doesn’t think he can be a good father to her.

Somehow, Ladybug guesses exactly what he’s thinking. “You just have to be yourself. It may be stupid and foolish, but she loves you. She really does.”

For a long time, the two of them stay on that roof, Ladybug buried in the crook of Batman’s arm.

_____________________________________________________

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip

also if i missed you please just lmk in the appropriate place again! and is it a me thing or a tumblr thing that some of these tags just wont WORK AUGH. thank you all for the support on the fics i’ve posted so far! i’m quite bad at posting regularly because all sense of time has been stripped away

hahahaha consistent chapter length? what’s that? (jokes on you these aren’t chapters just loosely related chronologically told one shots. what even makes a cohesive story a story)

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dad bruce #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #marinette is mdc #angst #hurt/comfort #bruce is an okay dad even when he doesn't know he's being a dad #miraculous ladybug #dcu #maribat

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thatsthetriick · 3 years

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How would Jjba characters survive a Slasher with their s/o?

Disclaimer: Mentions of death, blood, murder, attempted murder, getting wounded and hurt, moreover other violent actions or any violence, and also soft swearing hehe. Context: You're either in a random mansion/part of Morioh where you and other victims and the joestars and other characters attempt to survive the massacre in your area/house/room. How would they react?

Jotaro Kujo ✦ He would most likely be the one to check the area, for example if the lights went off or a noise is heard in a separate room/area he would be the one to check it and would tell everyone to stick in a group. ✦ Younger Jotaro would probably tell you to fuck off but Jotaro part 4 wouldn’t mind you tagging along but he does shield you and you just mostly follow him around while the two of you look for clues. ✦ When there’s danger nearby he’ll yell for you to not do anything and get back and retreat and to not attack at all and let him do the work ( like what he did with koichi while they had their first encounter with kira). ✦ Jotaro would be pissed off once the attacker gets away, he’ll try to chase them but he’ll be cautious and be careful everytime he enters a room/street/area since there is a possibility of traps and he would remind you to do the same. ✦ He would protect you when the attacker is targeting you only and attack the attacker immediately and afterwards would probably force you to stay in the group after that encounter. ✦ He wouldn’t doubt anyone but he will still on guard and observe everyone with how they act. ✦ When you get wounded by the killer he’ll quickly tell you to move back and retreat as he handles it, he rarely gets hurt or wounded by the killer. Josuke Higashikata ✦ He would most likely be in a group with Rohan, Koichi, Okuyasu, Yukako, Yuya, Mikitaka and you. ✦ There’s also a slight possibility that he’ll split up with the group and end up with Okuyasu only as everyone finds clues and tries to survive. If there’s any hint of a attacker he would immediately follow him without knowing the consequences. ✦ The more victims that get brutally murdered the more he’ll get angrier moreover determined to find the killer more, he slowly gets serious and more protective with his friend and the stricter he gets with his commands. ✦ When he sees you get attacked or witness you almost get murdered he would be angry and quickly use his stand to chase the killer off, his heart breaks at the thought of you becoming one of the murderer’s victims ✦ He would never doubt his close friends but stand users that he encountered before that attacked him would probably be a suspect in his list and would be careful around them and wouldn’t make it obvious he’s on to them. ✦ If you’re wounded by the attack he’ll quickly patch you up and though he sucks at comforting you he still tries. He also gets a few attacks from the killer himself. Koichi Hirose ✦ “O-oh, you wanna join us?” he would say as he scratches the back of his neck ✦ He doesn’t mind you joining him, he would most likely be with Yukako though but it’s better to stick together and be with someone in times like this, he would tag along with Jotaro or Josuke if he spots them in the house/area, and would talk about the killers and clues and hints they’ve got so far. ✦He’s too kind to doubt anyone in his friend group is the killer, even old enemies they’ve encountered before he would never consider them as a suspect which could be a weakness to him. ✦ Unlike Josuke he’s pretty much scared of this killer but he is also determined to put an end to this mess and would never get his fear get over him but that doesn’t mean that he’s scared from time to time especially when he’s alone with you or by himself which is rare. ✦ If he sees you almost get attacked by the killer he would let out his stand immediately, and though he is scared he will try to track down the killer, though he is quite clumsy and when he’s chasing the killer he forgets the possbility of traps around the area. ✦ It will be very RARE for Koichi to get hurt especially when Yukako would be with him 24/7, she’ll probably defend him and protect him so that he wouldn’t get hurt, if he’s alone with you he’ll probably take a few hits but you’ll also eventually protect him. Okuyasu Nijimura ✦ Okuyasu probably lighten the mood a lot for you, whenever he does something stupid you find it funny and he wouldn’t take it personally as well. He’d probably joke to Josuke about you and compliment you to Josuke and you would overhear these convos, usually Josuke would just tell him to make a move already. ✦ He would probably notice if you’re way behind, he always likes looking back at the group and he would be the one to see if you’re way behind due to you seeing a clue or seeing something else and he would usually be the one to get your attention, with an “Oi” or something. That way the group rarely splits up accidentally. ✦ He’d help Josuke find clues and he would most likely be the ones to find them and Josuke to be the one to put the pieces together. ✦ If he sees you being attacked he won’t hesitate and wouldn’t even call Josuke and would quickly attack, though he wouldn’t follow the killer and would just prioritize you, and though you all lost track of the killer it was fine to him since you are safe. ✦ He will most likely take a lot of hits and wounds from trying to attack the killer especially when he does things solo. Yukako Yamagishi ✦ You would see her following Koichi or besides Koichi, and both of them would find clues together, and she doesn’t mind you tagging along and would protect you as much as she does to protect Koichi, to her you were honestly just a chill person not a competition just a good friend to both of them. ✦ She is quiet but whenever she senses something wrong she would bring up to the both of you or would attack the threat that she senses. ✦ Aya Tsuji would probably hang around with you and Koichi and Yukako, this is probably because she only knows Yukako and no one else in the whole group. Yukako would be annoyed at her presence and would speak passive agressive to Aya so that she may get the hint to back off and to stop following them, but Aya doesn’t obviously take this personally. ✦ If she sees you get hurt or get attacked by the killer she’ll immediately attack from afar and would follow him along with Koichi and she’d suggest to the both of you to inform the rest of the group of what happened. ✦ She’ll most likely get a lot of hits by trying to protact Koichi and you, but in the end she’ll just get healed up and get fixed up after the attempted attacks. Rohan Kishibe ✦ If this man sees you or Koichi he’ll immediately stick around, but mostly he’ll go with Koichi. He’ll start conversations with Koichi and start stating on how this whole event will be great for a new chapter of his manga or a different separate brand new manga. ✦ He is very straightforward with everything and if he sees something he’ll for sure remember it and the details of it, he’ll probably also randomly start sketching about details or the clues themselves for future references. ✦ If he sees something he’ll quickly follow it but he’ll most likely fall into a trap and get hurt, same whenever he sees you get attacked, he’ll try to chase of the killer and will probably fall into a trap but he’ll always find a way to get out of it. ✦ He is a bit mean to you during the whole time since he’s a tsundere, moreover he’ll be attacked the most and be the one who gets hurt the most since he can be eaisly lured into a trap because of curiosity. Yoshikage Kira ✦ Let’s face it, he is the slasher killer of this movie, and he would obviously act like an innocent bystander, and a good one at that, he’s really good at playing innocent and covering his tracks. ✦ But if he gets hurt? or someone htis him he’ll start panicking because he’ll try to find a way to cover up the wound and the evidence, he’ll also start getting worried when people are on to him, he stresses out and acts more nervous but still maintains his image as a innocent office worker who got caught up in this situation. ✦ He would most likely target you because you either know something or he likes your hands, and he’ll attempt to get rid of you if you know too much or manage to get into information that immediately points out to him, thus why his attempted attacks on you. ✦ He plays smart so he’ll find ways to lure everyone in traps especially with his bomb object traps, he’ll mostly use that a lot and mostly on important evidence. He won’t get hurt that much since he plays smart. ✦ He will eventually reveal himself if he gets cornered by everyone else.

Would you survive a slasher? Thanks for reading! Feel free to request! :3

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queerbrujas · 3 years

Text

then it vanished away from my hands (part three)

pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro rating: T word count: 4k (10.1k total so far) warnings: angst (with no happy ending, though there’s a lot of comfort in this chapter). discussions about mortality and loss of agency. murphy trauma and flashbacks.

After discovering the reason why she can't turn, Eva tries (and fails) to come to terms with it.

part one | part two | read on ao3

this fic was originally meant to have three parts, but uh, that didn’t happen. current plan is to have it be four or five, depending on how the writing goes.

—

part three: my sense of self I lost somewhere

Eva’s eyes squeeze shut.

She’s all out of tears.

How long has she been sitting here?

This is—this is not working.

She can't be alone right now.

She can't be here right now, in this place that was once home to her and where there is nothing left that is familiar or comforting. Nothing but void, a shell filled with what’s left of the covered furniture she couldn’t get rid of.

The only thing here is—

is—

fuck.

The only thing here that seems alive and vivid is the image playing behind her eyelids of the apartment flooded with bright red smoke, the sounds of crashing and breaking, of Rebecca telling her to run, of Nate—

And a cold, cold voice that rings in her head, louder than every other sound.

She’s back outside in the rain. It soaks her to the bone, makes her shiver.

You are rather special, after all, Detective Navarro.

Why, why the hell did she think of coming here, of all places?

I do so prefer the quiet ones.

There isn’t enough air, she’s not getting enough air. She tries to gasp for it, to take deep breaths, but it’s not enough. When she opens her eyes the white walls of the apartment are closing in and her vision is blurred, hazy (not smoke, it’s not smoke, it’s not). A trapped scream tries to fight its way up her throat.

She wants to let it out. Scream. Thrash.

Tear her skin apart and climb out of her body.

This is not working.

This is not working—this won’t work.

She’s not going to be able to make it out of here on her own. Not out of the apartment, not off of the goddamn floor.

The sudden moment of clarity, tenuous and brittle as it is, spurs her into action.

Her phone. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her jacket: her hands are still shaking, and it takes her at least three attempts to get hold of it. Once she has it, it slips between her fingers and clatters to the floor.

She flinches at the noise. She’s going to start sobbing again.

She flexes her fingers. Breathe. Breathe.

Eventually, she manages it.

For just a split second, she considers calling, then decides against it. That won’t do. She doesn’t trust herself to speak without bursting into tears again.

I'm at my old apartment. Can you come over?, she writes, hits send. Then a second text: Please.

The reply comes before she’s had time to lock her phone again: there in 2 seconds.

She loses track of time again after that, closes her eyes and would not be able to say, later, how long she spent like this. What is left of her rational brain tells her not more than a few minutes can have passed before Farah is already there in a whirlwind.

Alarm is evident in the way her eyes shoot wide open as soon as she sees her, in the way she's kneeling down by Eva's side faster than her (human, human) eyes can register.

“Hey, hey.” The words tumble out of her quickly, blurring together. “Eva, what happened?”

Farah has seen her cry before, she’s seen her desperate and distressed and upset, but she’s never seen her like this.

She examines her, the way she’s sitting on the floor with her knees held to her chest, the sorry state of her—clearly looking for signs of physical injury. When she seems satisfied she’s found none, she takes a breath: the alarm fades, but the concern deepens.

“What’s wrong? Did something—” Farah interrupts herself, purses her lips and waits for Eva to answer.

Eva’s throat feels raw; her thoughts scrambled, paper-thin. Connecting them, stringing them into something so complicated as language seems a monumental, almost impossible task. Just the thought of it makes her throat start to close up again.

She shakes her head. “Don't want to talk about it.” Speaking hurts, physically—even more than she thought it would.

Farah nods, as though having been expecting it.

She knows her well, after all.

They all do.

Farah reaches out, slowly, and lets her hand hover just over Eva’s knee. She doesn't touch her, knows better than to touch her, but it's close enough that Eva feels the warmth through her clothes.

“Do you want me to just sit here with you for a while? We don't have to go back home yet.”

Eva barely manages to choke back a dry sob at the mention of home, but unexpected relief washes over her all the same. Relief and gratefulness to Farah for putting into words what she certainly wouldn't have been able to think of. Not now.

She gives a quick nod. “Please,” she croaks.

Farah attempts a smile that manages to be warm despite the evident strain in it. She moves then, with a grace that Eva has envied before and which makes something in her chest constrict now, to settle more comfortably on the floor, legs crossed under her, facing Eva.

“Then we’re not going anywhere until you say so,” she says.

Soothing. Calming. Farah always knows how to be comforting.

“Thank you,” Eva sighs. Farah hums her assent.

With her here, real and solid in front of Eva, the red smoke and the crashing sounds and the voices seem to fade little by little into what they are: a distant memory, years old by now. Not real. Not something that can hurt her now.

(Except it lives under her skin, the consequence of it, the result of it, she’ll never be free of it—

Stop.

Stop, stop, stop.

Stop that thought dead in its tracks.)

A while later, Eva’s breathing still hasn’t gone back to normal. It’s still quick and ragged, shallow.

“Hey,” Farah speaks quietly, a low whisper that barely breaks the silence.

She waits for Eva to open her eyes—when had she closed them? How long has it been?—before speaking again.

“Give me your hands?” She says it as one would a question, extending her own, palms facing up.

Eva hesitates for a second—but only for a second.

The hesitation is instinctive, but the action is conscious. She places her hands in Farah’s, and Farah smiles at her.

With the warmth of the touch she’s reminded of the few times she’s done this before, in other circumstances.

Farah taking her hands and teaching her to dance, despite her initial, half-hearted protests.

Farah dragging her to celebrate her birthday because it was on the same day as hers and of course they needed a celebration; no, sneaking away with Nate to the library did not count, what part of it’s our birthday and we should have a party did she not understand?

Farah helping her stand up after a bad injury she’d sustained during a mission, the fear in her eyes eclipsed by the quick resolve to get her away.

She’s reminded of this, of all this. Of Farah’s liveliness and warmth but also of the way she always seems to understand how she feels, long before words are spoken.

Eva doesn’t quite manage to return Farah’s smile, but her lips twitch a little.

“Good,” Farah says. Her thumbs rub circles on the palms of Eva’s hands, and something soft in her eyes seems to make them glow golden, brighter than their usual amber. Something soft and sad and old, because as young as Farah seems, Eva is all too acutely aware (especially now, especially here, with a sting that doesn’t seem to go away) that she is still close to three times her age.

“Breathe with me?” Farah asks, before Eva’s thoughts can spiral too far in that direction.

Eva nods.

Farah breathes. Eva breathes.

It’s a deeper breath than any she’s taken since she got here.

They spend a while like this, until exhaustion finally settles in, weary and bone-deep. Until she’s staying here out of pure stubbornness, and when Farah quietly asks “home?” Eva does nothing but squeeze her hand and nod.

—

She tries then, she tries to adjust to the new information.

To move forward.

It’s what she’s always done. It’s the only thing that can be done.

She lets the rest of Unit Bravo know about the results (thinks for half a second about not saying anything, but she could never hide anything like this from them) and then refuses to discuss them at all.

It is what it is. If there is nothing that can be done to change it—and it has been made very clear to her that there is nothing that can be done, not about this—then there is no point in wasting time and energy thinking about it.

Because if she starts thinking about it, she’s not sure what she will do.

If she starts thinking about it, it’ll be back to the apartment, back to the rain, back to that other warehouse.

And if she starts thinking about it, she’s going to have to think about how all the reasons she had for wanting to turn in the first place are still there. They have not gone anywhere, except that now she has no way to deal with them.

She’s not sure if she feels numb or if she only wishes she did.

She thinks about it, anyway, whenever her gaze falls on the faint, jagged marks on her wrist, paler than the light brown of her skin.

For years she’d almost forget the scar was there, the memories associated with it pushed back to the deep corners of her mind. Now it seems to exert a gravitational pull of its own, drawing her sight to it without her permission.

She thinks about it whenever she remembers—and she remembers it often these days, can’t seem to pull the thought from her mind—that the blood in her veins is not her own. The whole of her body has been made into a foreign object; unrecognizable, enactor of violence upon itself.

The nightmares are worse than they’ve ever been.

—

It takes three days for Nate to bring it up: he’d been waiting for her to do it first.

He does it as gently as ever, as softly as ever. With a kiss to her forehead and hands seeking her skin, brushing down her arms. Perhaps hoping his touch would soothe the sting.

He seems almost apologetic, as though she could break at any moment.

Who’s to say she won’t?

“Joonam,” he whispers. “Will you tell me what’s on your mind?”

(Joonam, he calls her.

He calls her many things in many different languages, but this is the one he always, always comes back to.

Mi vida, she calls him.

Not as often as he does—she was never one for pet names—but often enough.

The thought forms before she can crush it: it seems almost cruel, now, that they’ve dug so deep to call each other my life when he will outlive her by an infinite amount.)

And the look in his eyes makes her want to cry all over again. He’s pleading with her, keeping the emotion from his voice but it’s clear in the way he looks at her.

Fuck, this won’t work.

She can’t keep doing this. She can’t do what she always does, not with this.

Because being with Nate has never been easy.

It has been many things—it has been love and passion and comfort and truth, but it has never been easy or painless. It has never been natural or effortless or uncomplicated.

They don’t fit together like that.

What it has been is a choice, constant and conscious. A choice to go against her instincts—her instincts that tell her to hide, to never stop moving, to raze what’s left and never look back—and open herself up in ways that leave her raw and exposed but so vibrantly, painfully alive.

(A choice that she’d been willing to make for the rest of eternity, even if it never got easier.

A choice that he makes for her, too.)

Poke around in the wound to dig the bullet out.

Her instincts tell her to pull back, and there are words on the tip of her tongue that she swallows down.

Slowly, she takes one of his hands in hers, brings it to her mouth to brush a delicate kiss against his knuckles.

“I will,” she says, eyes closed. If she opens them the words might not come out. “We’ll talk about it, I promise. Just—give me a little time, please. Just a little time.”

Nate breathes out a sigh that sounds like relief drowned in concern.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything you need.”

—

The water in the bathtub has cooled around them; the steam dissipated long ago.

Even in the cooling air, they have not moved in a while: Eva leans back against Nate’s chest with her eyes closed, his arms wrapped loosely around her as he presses sweet, barely-there kisses to the birthmarks on her shoulders. He follows paths he has mapped and memorized countless times before, ones that feel familiar on her skin.

Ones that should be soothing.

As slowly as ever, Nate lets his kisses trail up the side of her neck. They are soft, featherlight; his lips ghost over the multiple marks that have accumulated there before lavishing her with an attention that makes her shiver.

For the longest time, this was something he would not allow himself.

For the longest time, he would shy away from Eva’s neck as though burnt, and the first time he let her see the fear in his eyes as his fingertips traced the line of her throat is a moment that remains imprinted on her mind.

(She took his hand and pressed it more firmly against the side of her neck, against the beating pulse there. Gentle, almost as gentle as he always was with her—and always offering him the choice to draw back. He almost stopped breathing, but his eyes never left hers, and that single instant stretched out into moments, into something she still struggles to name.)

A lifetime seems to have passed since then.

He does not shy away from it now. Not now.

“I wish we could stay like this,” Eva murmurs.

Just this, right here.

A single moment, endless. One where nothing else matters or even exists. One where the thoughts that have been plaguing her have no power or importance.

“We can,” Nate whispers in return. His breath is warm, still close to her skin, and he follows it with another kiss directly over her pulse. “As long as you want to.”

She lets out a sigh. It would be so easy.

God, so easy.

So easy it’s terrifying.

The temptation to never talk about it again hasn’t gone away.

But thoughts become corrosive. They seep into every last piece of her sanity that she’s tried to keep safe. Into every dream and every waking moment until nothing, nothing remains untainted.

The way she flinches when she sees the scar, when she barely paid attention to it before. The way she looks at herself in the mirror and finds flaws she hadn’t noticed, the way she sometimes wants nothing more than to open her skin and drain out the blood to get it all out. Maybe that would help.

No, it would not be that easy.

“Not that long,” she forces herself to say. The words are always stuck in her throat, and they will not come out on their own. “Not forever.”

Nate’s kisses stop, and the briefest moment of tension tightens his embrace—something Eva might not have noticed if she didn’t know him like she does. But he speaks into the crook of her neck, tenderness the only thing in the softness of his voice. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

It has only been a few days since he’d mentioned it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to talk about it,” Eva admits. “But I have to stop acting like it’s something we don’t have to talk about.”

She sighs again, sinking further against him. Her own hands come to rest on his arms, wrapping them more tightly around her. “I just don’t know what to do. Where do we go from here?”

Nate hums, a soft sound she’s come to recognize as a contradictory mix of subtle exasperation and patience, tempered by love and concern. She’s been on the receiving end of it more than a few times. “We’ll get to that part. Let’s take it one thing at a time.”

Unspoken: For now, just tell me how you feel.

Also unspoken (because it has been spoken too many times): You don’t have to solve everything by yourself. You don’t have to solve everything right away.

He knows her too well.

It makes her want to cry, that he knows her this well.

“I just never thought about this.” Didn’t think it wouldn’t work. “I didn’t even consider it.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Small. So fucking defeated.

Because if she can’t do anything—

“None of us did,” Nate says, and that cuts deep, too.

He does not have defeat in his voice like she does, but the barely concealed pain is enough to make her eyes sting.

The fact that he’s trying to conceal it at all.

For her sake.

Dammit, Nate.

Because if she can’t do anything, then what’s left?

(“Nate, I don't get to have a normal life.” She’d been trying not to raise her voice, to rein in the tremor in her words. Trying, and failing. “Not with this blood, not with these scars. Not with everything that's happened to me already. Do you think anyone can be normal after that?”

One of the many times they’d argued about this. He had tried, wanted to show her value in humanity that she could never see.

He’d turn back, he’d choose to be human, to be mortal, if only he could.

“Even if I could have that,” she’d added, more quietly. “I don’t want it. If this all went away, what do you think would be left of me?”)

She shifts in his arms, turns around until she can face him.

“I wanted this, Nate.” She lifts a hand to close her fingers around the pendant that hangs from her neck, the one she never takes off, the one he gave her. She closes them so tightly her nails dig into her palm. “I wanted us, like this, forever. I wanted it so much I don’t know how to be anything else anymore. Nothing else makes sense even if I try.”

Nate covers her hand with his own, both closed around the pendant. He hesitates before speaking, examining her with eyes that betray the depth of feeling in them, but eventually, he does. “I know nothing can dull the pain of having the choice taken from you,” he says, careful, too careful. He’s been through this. “I know that. I would give everything I have to spare you that hurt.”

“But I’m—” A soft breath escapes his lips, something that is not intentional, something that is far less controlled. “I’m not going anywhere. I will make that promise a thousand times over. It will still be… it can still be forever, for you. You still have us. You still have me.”

“And you’ll just watch? You’ll watch me get older, weaker, god knows what else? You’ll be okay with that? With watching me die?”

The questions leave her mouth like bullets, one after the other.

Harsh. Too raw. The things neither of them wants to hear.

She’s the one panicking, now.

She’s said this before.

And Nate flinches, flinches at the bluntness of it—she wants to take it back at that, even when she knows it has to be said—but it does not make his voice waver when he speaks. “I love you,” he says, as though that answers all her questions. “Nothing can change that. Every second you’ve chosen to give me has been something precious, something I have treasured, and it will continue to be, no matter what.”

One of his hands moves to tangle in the wet locks of her hair. To hold her in place, staring into the depth of his brown eyes, eyes that reflect back the same hurt she feels even if he will not say it.

“Before we talked about this, before you decided to turn, I—I knew I might not have you forever. I didn’t dare to hope I would, didn’t dare to think of it. But loving you is worth any pain that might come from it.”

Her throat constricts, and the emotion in Nate’s voice dulls the edge she’d imparted to her words. Of course Nate would say this. Of course he would think this, would feel this.

He would break himself to keep her.

He would break himself for her, without even a hint of hesitation.

(I won’t do that to you. She’d said that.)

She looks away, blinking to get rid of the tears that prickle at her eyes. She fixes her stare on the edge of the bathtub: gleaming, burnished copper misted over with condensation.

Instead of following that line of thought—she doesn’t trust herself to—she grasps at something else. Something that stabs with equal force at her chest.

It sounds like someone else speaking when she says, “I don’t want to be less than you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way he frowns.

“Being human doesn't make you less, Eva.” Nate is resolute, his voice firm even in its warmth, echoes of a recurring argument neither of them had ever won.

“But it does,” she counters, voice cracking and desperate, turning her face back to meet his eyes. “Don’t you see it? It does, and it will always feel that way. I already have to try so hard just to keep up. What happens when I can’t anymore? What happens when my body gives up, when I'm too slow, too weak to go on missions?”

Why won’t he see it?

She has tried. Tried to make up for her lack of abilities, for her humanity. She has tried to attenuate it, to make sure it does not become a burden.

She has learned combat from Morgan and Adam, spent hours upon hours in the training room with them until she can barely stand, until Adam smiles at her after a well-placed hit, until Morgan throws a towel for her to catch and there’s nothing but pride in the look she gives her.

She has studied the supernatural world in every way she can; submerged herself in it, let it coat every cell of her body and every neuron in her brain.

It is what she breathes.

And she’s been forced out of it.

“That still wouldn’t make you less, nothing could.” The affection, the love in his voice burns. “There is so much more to you than what you can do.”

She shakes her head.

“I swore I wouldn’t be a burden to this team. And you know how I am, Nate, I couldn’t bear—I don’t want to get left behind. And I will. You’ll keep on being who you are and I… won’t.”

The tears aren’t pricking at her eyes anymore. They are falling.

The words aren’t stuck in her throat anymore.

“Everything I told you I didn’t want, all of it, that’s going to happen and there’s nothing I can do about it. And I have this thing inside me that’s making it all happen and my body isn’t mine anymore. I don’t get a say in any of it.”

She leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his touch even when it won’t, it can’t be enough. Not for this.

She is instantly enveloped in his arms, drawing her closer against him.

“I’m sorry, mi vida,” she whispers against his skin. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he answers, quiet, almost too quiet, into her hair.

And there is a thought.

Because if there is nothing she can do—

But this is one she refuses to even entertain. To acknowledge.

I won’t do that to you.

She’d said that.

#the wayhaven chronicles #nate sewell #oc: eva #qbwrites #qbwritestwc

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

since you're open to write for Max Phillips now, how about 21 with him? 🥺💖

Hi, my love, anything for you! I hope my first time with Max isn’t too horrible! 🥺

21. Birthday

»»————-　♡　————-««

Max was...a lot of things. Arrogant, loud, demanding - all consuming really. When he entered a room it was like he was suddenly taking up all the space and you could focus on nothing but him. And it wasn't just the hypnotic gaze that reserved for others either. He was just...everything.

And it was his birthday. You doubted that he even remembered telling you the date, something only mentioned in passing, and even more so, you doubted be cared. He'd even made it a point to dismiss the importance of any sort of dates. After all he would remind you, what was so important about a little thing like a birthday to a man that was immortal?

But unlike your boyfriend, you were a mere mortal, a little fact he often reminded you of. You continued to mark birthdays with each passing year because you would continue to age and eventually you would be old and fragile as he remained evergreen. It was a harsh reality that you had chosen to ignore until now, a simple fact of consequence that would need to be addressed eventually.

At least that's what Max insisted upon because whenever you'd bring it up lately he would immediately push it the side and bring up another topic. But it had been on your mind nonstop, almost as loud as the tick-tock of the clock in your silent office.

But you had a plan, you always did. If Max Phillips was prepared and had a plan for everything, then you were him tenfold. Polar opposites in many ways, but well working counterparts more often than note.

Sighing lightly, you picked up your phone and dialed Max, deciding to put your plan into motion before it got too late.

"Well, well, well honey," he drew out his petname as you heard the creak of his chair as he sat back and put his feet on his desk, "to what so I owe the pleasure?"

"Happy birthday, Max," you told him softly as you nervously twirled your pen in your fingers. You heard him sigh heavily, a steadfast habit from his human days, "before you say anything else, I love you."

"Its not..." he trailed off and you heard him shuffle something before coming back to you, "oh."

"What are you doing this evening?” you tried to change the subject, although not entirely, which was of course, unbeknownst to him. Your simple question seemed to shift his mood immediately and you could practically hear his spirits lift.

“Well, I was hoping it would be you,” you could just tell there was a smug little grin on his face as you jokingly scoffed at him, “I’m just joking, sweetheart, more or less. What did you have in mind?”

“Come over to mine?” you asked softly, trying to keep your tone even and balance in order to avoid rousing his suspicions, “I was thinking dinner, a movie, you. Have you fed lately?”

“It’s been a minute,” he admitted quietly, as you realized your plan was going to fall into place much easier than you had originally anticipated. But you knew he wouldn’t ask; for as much of an arrogant ass as he could be, he rarely, if ever, asked to feed off of you. It was often times you that had to persuade him that it was okay and you really didn’t mind, “but-”

“Perfect, come over tonight. Does six work?” you interrupted him, deciding it was best to stop a Max train of thought before it could get too derailed.

“I’ll see you then,” he agreed softly, “is everything alright?”

“Of course, Max,” you lied insisted, “see you this evening.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

As you studied your outfit in the mirror you wondered if it was a little too on the nose; red lace lingerie covered by the little black dress that you knew Max adored on you. Whatever, you quickly concluded, it was his birthday and you wanted to do this for him as much as you.

“Honey?” you gave yourself a quick nod of approval when you heard him walk up the stairs, quickly dashing to meet him in the doorway and pose as seductively as you could. He was softly singing under his breath to himself but as soon as he spotted you he stopped dead in his tracks, “hello there.”

“Hi Max,” you wasted no time in reached for his face and pressing your lips to his, kissing him gently but with a sense of purpose, “happy birthday, handsome.”

“Hello to you,” his dark eyes raked over your form and you could practically hear the gears turned in his mind as he realized something was up, “I told you it doesn’t matter. Today is just like any other day.”

“Shut up, Max,” you tugged on his tie and pulled him into your bedroom, making quick of pushing him onto your bed. He could have easily stopped you or fought you, but he acquiesced to your touches and desires, “if I say it’s important, it’s important.”

“Fine,” he held up his hands in mock defeat before reaching for your hands and pulling you into his lap. You sat on his thick thighs as you faced him, wrapping your arms around his neck before carding a hand through his dark locks. His large hands found purchase on your waist as he tried to figure out what on earth was possibly going on, “honey.”

“Max,” you kissed him quickly, just a peck, nothing more but to quickly punctuate your point, “you know I love you, right? More than anything?”

“Of course,” his brow furrowed slightly as he watched a small smile cross your features, “okay, out with it, what’s going on?”

“I want you-”

“I want you too,” his grin was nothing short of cheeky as he reached up and put his hand under your chin, tilting your head as his nuzzled his nose against your pulse. A small content sigh escaped your lips as you tried to keep him from derailing your plans completely, “especially looking like that. Wearing my favorite dress...and the little red lace set?”

“Max, listen for once,” you reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes, “I’m trying to be serious and for once, I want you to listen and not talk.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed in content, “serious business, huh pretty girl?”

“Max,” your voice was laced with venom as you tried to get him to look into your eyes, “can I have one serious moment?”

“I’m sorry,” he gave in when you noticed that you were indeed not messing around and clearly something heavy was on your mind. He took his hands off of your hips and set them at his side, as if to prove his point that he wouldn’t interrupt anymore, “go on.”

“I’ve been thinking...a lot actually,” your eyes raked over his as you felt your heart pound in your chest, sure he was able to hear it easily,”especially since it’s your birthday. And I know we haven’t really talked about it much because a certain vampire keeps changing the subject, but its something we have to address.”

“We don’t have to right now-” you cute him quickly by clamping your hand over his mouth. You should have know better than to expect Max Phillips to try and keep quiet.

“Yes, we do,” you insisted, “we can’t skirt around the issue forever. You have forever and I have...limited time. Limited time until I am older than you and until I die. And I...I want you to turn me.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” he gently reached for your hand and pulled it away from his mouth, but not before pressing a kissing to your knuckles, “I would not turn you into...this until you know what you’re saying. Forever sounds good in theory, but forever is a long time. Do you really want to do this forever?”

“Well I wasn’t thinking this would be some sort of temporary relationship,” you joked, “I was always all in from the smart, before I knew what you were and even after. Besides, Max, who else is going to is going to put up with you for the rest of eternity?”

“Honey,” his eyes softened as he watched to look for any sign of remorse or reluctant. But when he discovered nothing but honestly and truth in your eyes, his gently cradled your face before placing a kiss on your forehead, “are you sure about this? It’s not like picking what’s for dinner...”

“I know, Max, and yes,” you promised, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now. I know what’s it like for you, and I don’t want a life if you’re not going to be in it. Even if we get another thirty years or whatever, I want you, forever.”

“It’s going to be a big change,” he stated the obvious as you laughed lightly, wiping away from of the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “you’re positive?”

“Yes,” you promised, “as long as you’re okay with it. You’re going to have this warm body to keep you company at night or a fresh meal on demand. Are you okay with that?”

“If you’ll be with me always,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours, “of course. There’s no one else for me.”

“I love you Max, you’re an insufferable asshole of a bastard sometimes, but you’re the only for me,” you laughed before kissing him, “make me yours. Feed off of me one last time and then turn me.”

“Is that what the whole dress and lingerie thing is about?” his hands skimmed the tops of your thighs as started to push your dress higher and higher, almost as if to see if you were doing to stop him. Naturally, you didn’t.

“I mean it is your birthday Max,” you whispered in his ear, “I wanted to give you a little something. One last night with a warm body, and then you’re stuck with me for eternity.”

“Eternity sounds perfect,” he agreed as he kisses along your jaw before working his way down your neck and grazing his teeth over your pulse, “but first I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #one word prompts

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

- Chapter 5 -

“Wen Chao is missing again,” Wen Ning said, and reached a hand up so that he could bite his nails.

Nie Mingjue caught his hand and brought it back down again. “Missing again? What do you mean?”

“He’s been going missing,” Wen Ning explained. “Right before classes, or training, or – or dinner. We make excuses or find him before it becomes a problem, but he’s getting better at hiding. And eventually…”

Eventually, one of the teachers would tell Wen Ruohan.

Or worse, Wen Chao would miss a dinner, and it would be one of the dinners Wen Ruohan attended. The consequences of that would be unthinkable.

“Has he explained the reason?” Nie Mingjue asked, frowning when Wen Ning shook his head. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Wen Ning gave him a look that suggested that the broken bones might have something to do with it. Even though there was only one that actually broke.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“We don’t even know where he is.”

Nie Mingjue did not let that stop him. He was mostly able to walk by now, anyway, and it didn’t take long for him to track Wen Chao down to one of his favorite places to go hide – one of the unused rooms in the family quarters, so long abandoned that there was dust over every surface. There were women’s things scattered all over the place, and Nie Mingjue suspected that the room had once belonged to Wen Chao’s mother.

“A-Chao?” he called, his voice low.

There was a strangled sob, and Wen Chao appeared from behind the bed, his eyes red. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he scolded. “What are you doing here? Go back, go back.”

“A-Chao, why have you been hiding away?” Nie Mingjue asked, sitting down on the bed instead. “You haven’t even come to visit me.”

Wen Chao’s lower lip trembled. He was only a little boy, in the end – only ten years old. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

“What’s me getting hurt have to do with you?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled as always. How did these Qishan Wen people think, with loops and layers and circles turning in on themselves? “You didn’t do it.”

“I’m stupid,” Wen Chao said. His voice was small and pained. “If I’d been smart enough to play along, pretend you were talking about someone else, the way Huaisang-xiong and A-Qing did…”

“The only one to blame for me saying stupid things is myself,” NIe Mingjue said firmly. “And the only person to blame for hurting me for saying them is Sect Leader Wen. And I wouldn’t have thought to come up with a cover story, either – are you saying I’m stupid?”

Wen Chao sniffed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re probably right,” Nie Mingjue acknowledged, and patted the bed next to him. Wen Chao flung himself forward, curling up into Nie Mingjue’s arms as if he’d been missing them – he probably had been, too, the little fool. “But neither of us are going to get less stupid if we keep missing classes. So let’s try not to, okay?”

“Okay,” Wen Chao said, and rubbed his head against Nie Mingjue’s chest. “Nie-ge?”

“Mm?”

“I wish you were my big brother instead of Huaisang-xiong’s.”

Nie Mingjue fought a smile. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Have you considered the possibility of me being a big brother to both of you? It’s not necessarily one or the other.”

Wen Chao’s arms tightened around him. “Maybe I want you to myself.”

“Maybe you need to learn to share.”

Wen Chao snickered. A little wetly, but still.

Wen Xu and Wen Chao had the misfortune of being born relatively close together in the year. That meant that there was always a single party, nominally held in their honor, that invariably turned into a political event, with all the subsidiary sects flocking to the Nightless City to pay their respects to Wen Ruohan. The sect leaders brought their children along, particularly if they had one around Wen Chao’s age, but that was just a cover; their presence was a homage to the dominant power to which they paid allegiance, the party in no way about either of the two heirs, and that was just as Wen Ruohan liked it.

The other Great Sects usually sent gifts but did not attend – Nie Mingjue certainly had never gone – but this year the Lan sect broke custom and sent a delegation, with the stated purpose of presenting Wen Chao with an invitation to go take classes at the Cloud Recesses in view of his exceptional performance at the discussion conference.

“Exceptional performance,” Nie Mingjue mouthed at Wen Chao, who turned bright red.

The invitation was in fact issued, but it was probably more accurate to surmise that what the Lan sect really wanted was to get another look at the two Nie heirs and assure themselves of their continued health. Still, Nie Mingjue thought he had a good enough read on Lan Qiren’s personality to conclude that his old teacher wouldn’t affirmatively invite someone he didn’t think had potential, not even for ulterior motives. His reputation as a teacher of any type of student was famous throughout the cultivation world, and being invited to his lectures – as opposed to sending your children there on the basis of a political arrangement, as many sects did – was considered to be a great honor. Even Nie Mingjue had attended on the strength of his family, not himself.

As a result, the invitation was a compliment, and Wen Ruohan liked compliments. The Lan sect delegates were of course invited to stay at the party, and the visiting child – Lan Wangji, who at a year older than Nie Huaisang was a year younger than Wen Chao and thereby a more reasonable a guest to send than Lan Xichen would have been – was sent to mill around with them.

He looked miserable.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t really blame him, especially given how Lan Xichen had once spoken to him at length about how little Lan Wangji liked parties like this. Unable to watch his suffering, he asked Nie Huaisang in an undertone to go distract him a little, maybe find him a quiet place to stay.

After a while, Nie Huaisang returned to his side, Lan Wangji now in tow, and Nie Mingjue frowned at them. He hadn’t meant for Nie Huaisang to bring Lan Wangji here, since Nie Mingjue was supposed to be keeping his head down and avoiding people – Wen Ruohan hadn’t said anything explicit on the subject, but they all knew better than to risk embarrassing him in front of his guests – but he supposed there was nothing for it now.

“Lan Wangji,” he greeted, forgoing the usual intimacy of addressing him only by his courtesy name – he had done so when he was Lan Xichen’s friend, which he thought he still was, but just because Lan Xichen would overlook his current situation did not mean that others would, and Lan Wangji loved rules more than most. “You look well.”

It was a bit of a lie. Lan Wangji was ashen-faced, his fingers trembling a little even as he hid them in his sleeves. It seemed like a bit of an overreaction to the party, unless he suffered from a more severe form of social anxiety than Nie Mingjue had anticipated based on Lan Xichen’s descriptions.

“And you look terrible, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice a little sharp, more poisonous than his normal cheerfulness. “You’re more colorful than a rainbow.”

Nie Mingjue’s bruises were indeed at that unfortunate stage, and there were enough on his face and hands that it was difficult to conceal them for very long, even with powder. There was a reason he’d gone out only briefly to greet people – acting as proof of life – before retiring to the back of the room.

“Yes, well,” he said, shaking his head and giving Nie Huaisang a stern look. He didn’t want to air out their business in front of guests. “How is your brother, Lan Wangji?”

“Well,” Lan Wangji said. His jaw was working, and Nie Mingjue wondered briefly if what he had thought was social anxiety was in fact barely suppressed rage. “Would you come to the Cloud Recesses as well, if we invited you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him, surprised out of his gloomy thoughts. “I’ve already attended one round of lectures, Wangji. You remember, surely? It was two summers back – was it three? – when I was thirteen, at any rate.”

“There are always new things to learn,” he said vaguely in return, and it was such a Lan Wangji thing to say – such a Lan thing to say – that Nie Mingjue barely managed to keep himself from cooing and calling him a good little cabbage. “Would you be allowed to come?”

“Probably not,” Nie Mingjue said regretfully. “But if you could take Huaisang when he’s old enough, it would be a good experience for him.”

Possibly not for Lan Qiren, given Nie Huaisang’s issues with memorization, but certainly good for Nie Huaisang.

“He doesn’t have many friends here,” he added. “It’s just A-Chao, A-Qing, and A-Ning…have you met the latter two? Huaisang, if you haven’t, you should introduce them.”

“I will,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge, are you sure you can’t find a way to go?”

Nie Mingjue realized that his brother was trying to get him out of the Nightless City, likely in his own efforts to deal with what had happened to him. He sighed, reaching out to touch Nie Huaisang’s hair lightly. “I’m the heir of Qinghe Nie, Huaisang. He’s not going to let me go until he feels confident in controlling me.”

And that would not be soon, he didn’t say, but anyone looking at the marks on his face or the careful way he held himself could put that together easily enough.

Lan Wangji’s lips were pressed tightly together, but Nie Huaisang sighed, yielding to logic, and took him away again. Nie Mingjue returned to his corner, hoping that the shadows would help conceal his bruises, and sank into meditation, trying to not to fantasize about the world in which he could take that offer of help, well-meant as it was. A world where he could take Nie Huaisang and all the Wens – even Wen Xu, who was a nervous wreck underneath his apparent arrogance – away to the tranquil peace of the Cloud Recesses and never come back.

It wouldn’t help to think of that world. It wasn’t this one.

Wen Ruohan held court from his throne in the main hall and from a simple chair in the dining room, but he was equally terrifying in any location. His questions had only gotten harder as time passed, and everyone kept their heads down and answered to his satisfaction, even Nie Huaisang.

His questions were easier than everyone else’s, and after dinner ended Wen Ruohan touched Nie Huaisang’s hair and told him with a smile that he was a pretty but useless bird, a lovely ornament to their house, and that they couldn’t possibly do without him. The eyes of all the Wens slid straight to Nie Mingjue, each one filled with terror at his reaction, but Nie Mingjue for once held his tongue.

He hadn’t really expected Nie Huaisang to be able to leave, not this year. Perhaps next year this little interaction would be forgotten and they could try again.

(He wanted to break every one of Wen Ruohan’s fingers so that they never touched his brother ever again. He wanted to make it so that Wen Chao didn’t look wistfully envious even as he shivered in terror at the thought of his father’s attention, make it so that Wen Xu didn’t look dull and resigned in anticipation of endless pain, make it so that Wen Qing and Wen Ning didn’t look so close to tears.

He wanted to be home in the Unclean Realm again before he forgot what it was like.)

Wen Ruohan smiled at him, probably reading his thoughts from his face. “Walk with me, Mingjue,” he said. It was not a request. “I would hear about how you are adjusting to life in Qishan.”

Nie Mingjue left frightened faces behind him, and held firm to the thought that it would be politically inconvenient for Wen Ruohan to kill him.

(The fact that he didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve it - this time, anyway - was irrelevant.)

Nie Huaisang found him later that night, sitting on the stone floor next to his bed unmoving, skin cold and clammy with shock, and there was a small and quiet but extremely frantic whirl of activity that resulted in everyone crowding into Wen Xu’s bedroom, it being the biggest, trying to warm him back up.

It was more or less one big swirl of noise and movement, and Nie Mingjue only briefly surfaced to catch a few snatches of conversation –

“– did he do to him? He was only gone a shichen or two –”

“– physically seems fine, but I don’t like what his vitals are doing. Maybe we should call the sect doctors –”

“– if we do that, he’ll find out we did that –”

“– better brother than you ever were!”

That last one sounded like Wen Chao, making trouble again, even though it really wasn’t Wen Xu’s fault that he’d fallen for Wen Ruohan’s divide-and-conquer tricks when he was even younger than Wen Chao was now. It was how he’d been raised, Qishan Wen style, and anyway he’d been doing so much better lately, actually paying attention and joining hands with the rest of them to resist and distract and care about each other.

Nie Mingjue wanted to say something like that, knew that he had to speak, that it was his responsibility, a duty voluntarily assumed in having taken the role of older sibling for all that he wasn’t actually the eldest, but all that came out of his mouth was a low whine, pathetic, and he remembered that right now he really just wanted to die.

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare –”

“– need to get his body temperature up. His golden core is exacerbating the effects of the shock –”

“– did you hear what he said –”

“– tear that motherfucker’s heart out –”

“– leave my grandmother out of this –”

“– not a real doctor! I’m just an apprentice, and I’m trying –”

“– how could you possibly say that?! Of course I care! Before him, nobody – nobody ever – listen, if I wasn’t nearly five years older than him, I’d be calling him da-ge right alongside the rest of you, okay? Shit, I have half a mind to do it anyway, and fuck anyone who thinks it strange –”

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and sobbed.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen ning #wen qing #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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