#i've got red in my ledger
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D.E.A.N | Chapter 15 - Visit
Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive
Fandom : Original Work
(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)
AO3
A/N from the bottom of my heart, I am very sorry for taking this long to update. I swear I'm trying my best ;____; anyway here you go enjoy Mark indulging Nick's whims again
Wordcount: ± 4324
TW : Allusion to Past Sexual Assault and Forced Prostitution (noncon), Mentions of Drug Use and Drug Trafficking, Mention of Torture, Captivity
Summary:
The team’s charge is requesting a (literal) trip down the memory lane, and Mark chooses to grant it, much to everyone’s chagrin (and their eventual surrendered blessing).
This story is set in the last half of 2016.
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Once again, his team gives Mark disappointed and teasing looks.
He thinks that maybe this time, it’s warranted. Sort of.
Really, he can assure them that he is not illogical and can still function perfectly and objectively when needed. He is just very sympathetic with Nicky.
That’s why he ordered a perfectly disguised run-of-the-mill car with a supposedly full-body sticker typical of car advert (a fake company, of course) and fake plate number from their drop point agent. It isn’t their usual disguised SUV with tinted windows that they regularly exchange on every visit to avoid detection and recognition, either by hidden Helga member or civilian.
Horace and other agents have tried to convince him that it’s a bad idea, but since they’re nowhere near raid time yet (because changing information made tactical intelligence recommended delaying it), he might as well do what he is doing. After locking Nightingale in Nick’s room with food and water, of course.
“If Helga member caught you, killed you, and kidnapped Nick again, we’re not gonna fetch either of you or your body,” Don said before he and Nick departed three hours ago.
Luke, as disappointed as he is, told George to come with so that if the worst scenario happens, Mark is not going to have to hold off the danger alone with just inexperienced Nick.
He changed the SUV once he arrived at the drop point at around one and a half hour mark after three of them left the team’s headquarter. He left the double FBI/D.E.A.N agent looking at him in puzzlement with only “Don’t worry about it”. Then George, Nick, and Mark got into the disguised shitty car.
Now, they’re enroute to Oregon to visit Nick’s family.
Indirectly, of course.
Even if he likes to indulge Nick lately, he is still smart enough to not let him anywhere near his family to directly interact with them. That’s why he also ordered a new disguised car that doesn’t look like D.E.A.N’s typical vans, SUVs, or battle jeeps.
As he gives a slight look to his right where he sees asleep Nick’s head leaning against the window, Mark considers that maybe he needs to be a little firmer to the younger man.
He just doesn’t have the heart to do so, especially as he saw Nick’s pleading and sorrowful face when he was training his marksmanship.
“Can I….can I see my family,” Nick said with shaky and small voice, “please?”
Of course, he can’t say no to that face. How is he supposed to?
On the back, George is crossing his arms with irritated but alert look.
They’ve all been trained to always be on guard, especially outside of their headquarters so that they can anticipate sudden attacks. They are not really anticipating any as they’re going from Nevada dessert to Oregon suburban, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.
They’re planning to change drivers at four hours mark out of their projected eight hours drive (excluding the drive from the headquarter to their drop point that took around one and a half hour before), without including Nick.
They don’t know how well Nick can drive considering he’s been under Helga’s hold for almost four years. In that time, he was probably not allowed to operate any vehicle, so even if he’s had driver’s license at 16, he might be out of practice at this point. Or maybe, he doesn’t even have a driver’s license.
Mark has never seen any social media post displaying Nick driving or looking like he drives a car on his own. Maybe he can ride motorcycle, as shown by some of his photos on top of motorbikes, like his extended family members in South East Asia. That region is pretty famous for their abundant bike riders.
But car? Neither George nor Mark can trust him with it.
“So, what is he gonna do exactly once we arrive there?” George asks him.
He throws a look at the rearview mirror. “Probably just checking how his family is doing.”
“And how is he gonna accomplish that? It’s not like we can talk to them.”
Mark rolls his eyes.
If he hates it so much, why did he agree to go with him? He could have just told Lena to go instead.
“He can watch from afar. We’ve got all of his family members’ addresses, right? We can check them one by one indirectly.”
George shakes his head. “I can’t believe you really use your clearance to access confidential census database to gather his families’ data illicitly.”
“Well, it’s not like he minds. He doesn’t know where they live now since they moved after he was kidnapped.” He looks ahead again. “They don’t keep it secret either. Showing their home appearance and geotagging their location voluntarily on Instagram. You know how social medias are nowadays.”
George cocks his head to the side slightly with raised eyebrows as an agreement.
“Why is no one teaching anyone internet safety anymore? I never told anyone my full name or any real-life identifying info back in the 90s and early 2000s while in chatrooms.”
Mark throws a look at the rearview mirror again. “Yeah, me neither.”
“How do people even make money just by being pretty on that site anyway? They just use the same pose, same background, and same style, and same captions too, and somehow companies are willing to drown them in cash,” George grumbles again.
“I’m offended, Georgie,” Mark says with exaggerated look and a hand on his chest like a pearl-clutching lady. “I used to model for extra cash, too, remember?”
“Yeah, but you were, like, professional. Not like these…” George raises his hands to make air quotation mark, “‘influencers’, whatever that means.”
Mark chuckles.
“You’re just jealous because D.E.A.N agents aren’t paid as much.”
“Shut up,” the ginger agent rolls his eyes. “We’re paid almost 150k already. I’m not greedy. I just think their ‘jobs’…” he makes another air quotation mark, “…are stupid and don’t contribute anything useful to society.”
Mark laughs louder, agreeing to some extent.
“You want them to go into D.E.A.N instead?”
George rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please. Like they can survive even a day of our training anyway.”
“True,” Mark chuckles.
Two and half hours later, Mark pulls over, unbuckles his seat belt and walks to the back passenger side while George goes into the driver’s side. By this point, Nick has woken up and fallen back asleep again at least 10 times.
It’s probably because they departed quite early at 5 AM and Nick, with his sporadic sleep between nightmares, hasn’t gotten enough rest yet. Even in the car, he sometimes wakes up normally, and sometimes wakes up with a jolt and frantic look while whipping his head around in anxiety.
Both Mark and George worried in the beginning, but then they unfortunately end up waving it off since it seems to be Nick’s normal anyway. Even Nick himself seems used to it.
Eventually, nearly at 3 PM that day, Nick looks around the surrounding area with reminiscing and familiar look. This seems to be where he used to live before the rug was pulled under him. There is a smile on his face, but a sad one.
“Do you know where they live now?” the heterochromatic-eyed boy asks.
“Yeah. I’ve got the addresses marked on the satellite GPS,” Mark replies as he pokes his head between the front seats and fiddles with the encrypted satellite map screen.
“Whose address is that?” Nick stares at the red dot nearest to their own location as they pull over around a hundred yards away the house on the dot.
“Your parents. Or do you want to go to your sister first?”
“Um—”
“Dude, we’re already here,” George interrupts irritably. “Let’s just see the parents first.”
Mark rolls his eyes while Nick looks guilty and cowering almost in fear. George sighs at the expression on Nick’s face.
“Do you mind just checking your mom and dad first since we’re already here?”
Nick still looks demure while looking down, even if George sounds less annoyed and hands him a binocular. “I guess—I—yeah. Yeah, sure.”
When he looks out the window, he fortunately sees even his other family members there. There is a young woman maybe around Mark’s own age walking into the house with a man wearing baby sling on his chest going around his back. The woman hugs a much older woman and does cheeks kiss with her, then she hugs the older man besides who seems to be the young woman’s mother.
“Oh, my sister is here too,” Nick says while looking out with a binocular that George handed to him.
“Yeah, Alisa Conrad.”
Nick looks back to Mark questioningly.
“She’s gotten married, Nick. She’s no longer Belyaev.”
Nick’s face falls before he turns back around to looks out of the window.
“When?”
Nick’s voice is tight.
“Almost two years ago,” George now replies softly. “One of your sister’s posts on her social media says that she met the guy on a support group for missing people’s family.”
Nick’s bicolored eyes blink fast as they get glassy.
“I’m sorry, dude,” George tells him gently again.
Nick forces a smile. “I mean, at least she is happy, right?”
“She still does vigils and remembrance every 12th February. She hasn’t forgotten you, Nicky,” Mark tells him. “As do your parents.”
Nick’s Adam apple moves as he gulps deeply, trying keep his tears at bay.
“Are they—” Nick gulps again and inhales shakily, “—are they safe?”
“Yeah. D.E.A.N keeps an eye regularly on the families of the missing kids suspected to be taken by Helga,” George informs him. “From afar, of course.”
“That’s—” Nick inhales again with shaky breath, his tears finally falling from the corners of his eyes, “—that’s good. I’m, yeah, I’m glad.”
He raises his hands, trying to frantically wipe the tears falling on his cheeks.
“What else have I missed?” Nick shakily asks both of them.
George and Mark look at each other contemplatively.
“Um, okay. The guy? Next to your sister?” George starts, pointing at the house where Nick’s family are walking into. “That’s her husband. Tom Conrad. Thomas Isaac Conrad, to be exact.”
George looks at Nick to gauge his reaction.
“He is in the same support group for the surviving family of missing persons, as I said,” George continues to explain. “His older brother, I think he was named Lee Conrad, went missing on the 2004 tsunami when his family was going on holiday in Asia.”
Nick is still slightly sniffling as he watches George raptly, but more composed now. He responds, “That’s sad.”
“Yeah, but you know. It’s 12 years ago,” George then quickly adds, “Well. Almost, I guess.”
“That’s still horrible,” Nick replies with slightly squinting eyes.
“I mean, yeah, of course,” George hurriedly explains again, “but he’s probably more used to, or more adept at, dealing with the loss than your sister.”
Nick sighs shakily, an understanding flitting on his face.
“I saw…” Nick pauses, “I saw the guy—Tom, right?—wearing a baby sling.”
He doesn’t really phrase it as a question, but Mark understands.
“Yeah. Your sister has a kid with his husband just recently,” Mark explains.
Nick bites his lips again, seemingly with a new bout of weeping incoming.
“We had a pact, you know,” Nick sniffles shakily, trying to compose himself visibly, “that when either of us gets married, we will be each other’s best man and maid of honor. And we’ll also be each other’s kids’ godparent.”
Nick chokes again, and George awkwardly hands a box of tissue. Nick doesn’t even try to hide his messy composure and just roughly pulls out so many sheets of tissue.
“I wasn’t even on her wedding. Or the kid’s birth. I didn’t even know she had a wedding and a kid. I’m fucking terrible.”
He weeps again with face buried into his palms.
“Nick, it’s not like you wanted to miss any of that. You’re a good brother, I’m sure she knows that still,” Mark tries to touch his shoulder calmingly. “I don’t doubt that she still believes in you and your capacity to the best brother she could ever ask for. And the best uncle her kid can have.”
George just looks sadly and awkwardly as Mark rubs Nick’s shoulder gently to soothe him.
“She’s named her daughter after you,” Mark tells him again, hoping that it will at least cheer him. “You have a niece called Nikola Lee Conrad. Or Nicole.”
Nick gives a tight, trembling smile before choking out another sob as he pushes the heels of his palms against his eyes.
“You want…um,” George unsurely speaks up, “wanna see her pictures?”
Nick continues to laugh-sobs as he looks at George beside him. Both George and Mark feel somewhat serene but also uncomfortably puzzled about what Nick is actually feeling, and what they should do next.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” Nick finally announces as he finally manages to keep his weeping under control. “Where can I see it?”
George then turns around to the back to face Mark as Mark unbuckles the seatbelt that secures their highly encrypted mobile laptop. They always have one with them in travels or any occasion outside of headquarter, just in case they would need to access internet, database, or more complicated communication with other departments or agents that can’t be done with their barebone phone.
George opens the device and starts clicking, activating secure activity masking protocol on top of its already built-in safeguard. The screen flits around for a while before it shows an online page of Nick’s sister’s social media profile.
“Here. It’s posted on the day after the kid was born,” George explains as he turns the monitor to Nick’s direction and hands it to his lap.
Nick’s face, even wet with tear streaks, breaks out into a wide and loving smile as he stares at the screen. It’s showing baby Nicole in a swaddle with her slightly swollen face under a beanie and teeny palms covered by baby mittens.
Nick smiles affectionately still. “She’s beautiful.”
Mark doesn’t want to comment on how the baby still looks very much newborn, and like any newborn, her appearance is quite strange and… alien. In front of him at the left, George is also visibly holding his tongue.
However, Mark will admit that there is something more in her tiny body. It’s almost like Nicole is radiating sunshine at anyone who sees her. There is a power, in a way, that pulls everyone who lays eyes on her to cradle her and protect her.
On his other front, Nick cocks his head to the side gently as he coos.
Nick visibly looks down on the caption below the picture, where there is an extremely long text. He starts to read it.
Sometimes, life deals us unavoidable losses—losses that cripple our heart, our soul, our mind—losses that leave a gaping, aching void that can never be filled with anything but the ones we've lost. Sometimes, losses befall us in the most unexpected time and way, and we are left reeling with the sense of detachment from reality—because how can that possibly happen, our loved ones were just right there, next to us.
Mark can see his smile faltering slightly, but Nick continues.
In times like these, with the reminder of what we've lost approaching fast and passing by just as quickly, it can feel like we are stuck in a cold, paralyzing thunderstorm full of relentless lightnings that strike deep fear into our innermost selves. The downpour may also freeze us, leaving gripping chill in our bones and all over our skin for hours on end. But even the harshest rains will taper off, and afterwards follows a rainbow littering the sky with color, hope, and warmth. A new weather—new beginning arrives at last.
He chuckles affectionately. “Alisa has always been such a poet.”
Of course, the two bright young men now gone despite the long lives supposedly ahead of them—Leroy Hansen Conrad and Nikolai Khiem Belyaev—can never be replaced, ever, and their accomplishments forgotten. But the pain that has become a permanent fixture in our lives, creeping up deeper and tighter since the days our dear brothers left us behind, has never felt so manageable and the air so breathable since our little angel blessed us with her presence.
Nick’s face is unreadable this time.
We know that Lee and Nicky will forever stay in our hearts, and so, to commemorate and celebrate their lives—however short they were with us—and the marks they left on our own, we will let their spirit live on through our beloved daughter, Nikola Lee Conrad.
Nick pulls his lips in and bites them, then he lets out shuddering breath as another roll of tear falls down his cheek which his quick hand immediately wipes. Finally, he looks up at both Mark and George.
“When’s her actual birthdate?” Nick asks shakily.
“See this?” Mark points at the date of the post at the beginning of March. “She was born on 29th February this year.”
Nick chuckles, still frantically rubbing his face and wiping his tears. “A leap year baby. She must be special.”
Mark is sure she is.
Nick scrolls through his sister’s profile to see the other photos. There are quite scant pictures there. She doesn’t seem to post more than four or five times a year, but Nick finds a newer picture anyway of his niece at maybe around three months old.
“Awh,” Nick coos again, still in wonder and full of love. “She’s so chubby. I’m happy she is healthy.”
Mark agrees, and he is sure George does too. Unlike the other one, she looks very pretty and adorable in that photo.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” George comments with his own smile.
“She even has your eyes,” Mark comments absently to Nick. “Her eyes also have mix of brown and blue color.”
Nick chuckles at the picture before going back to forlorn look again.
Our little angel is getting bigger now! Before we know it, we’re going to send her to college 🥺
“They’re already content with each other. Without me,” Nick absently comments as he looks out again with binocular.
George looks somewhat sad and angry too, although not really at Nick.
“Dude, of course not! They still want you back. They still remember you,” the ginger says quite passionately, “besides, you’re asking to come here for a reason. You can’t possibly just give up and abandon your family now.”
“I just…” Nick bites his lower lip again, seemingly racking his brain for the perfect words to say, “they’ve made themselves at peace with just each other.”
Nick waits a while again before continuing, “I’m just gonna intrude if I come back and shake up whatever dynamic and relationship they have together.”
Marcus rolls his eyes and take the laptop gently from Nick’s lap. He clicks a little bit until it gets to a picture posted on August 7th that year, where it shows Alisa, her mother, her father, her husband, and some young relatives standing behind a kitchen counter with Nicole in baby carrier on the table.
Some of them still have their aprons while holding the baking rack’s edges with the macaron shells on top. Next to the baking rack, there are also some piping bags filled with colorful creams.
“Look, Nick,” Mark gently tells him as he puts the laptop back to Nick’s lap.
Happy 21st birthday, Nicky!!!! Remember when I said I would bring you to a club to drink yourself silly and dance with as many strippers as you want this day? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Apparently, Mom and Dad are quite the stickler for upstanding behavior in our community, so we’re just baking you French macarons instead, which you also love anyway, right?
Nick clenches his jaw and gulps, mixture or affectionate reminiscence and grieving regret visible in his bicolored eyes.
All of us have never stopped wishing for you to come home and eat these with us again, Nicky, or even bake with us—with me—like so many times before. We’ll never stop praying for your homecoming. Wherever you are, baby bro, I hope you’re enjoying as many macarons as you’d like (until you have cavity hahaha), but come on here sometimes, okay?
“They’re still celebrating your birthday,” George quips in, “and better celebration too than what we gave you.”
Nick looks up at George with a slight smile. “You guys gave me macarons and ice cream cake. It was really nice.”
“Yeah, but, we were kinda, you know…” George squirms in his seat, “mean to you on your birthday. And locked you in the holding cell. Which wasn’t very nice.”
Even Mark looks down slightly in embarrassment.
“It’s…okay,” Nick responds unsurely, “since you guys are, you know, indulging me nowadays.” Nick contemplates a little more. “Especially you, George, for tolerating Nightingale,” the aforementioned agent smiles lopsidedly, “and you Marcus, for bringing her to me.”
Mark feels that weird jolt in his heart again at Nick’s small but earnest smile and colorful bashful eyes.
“And also taking me here.”
Mark pulls his focus back to the present again.
“I know the others aren’t really cool with it, but you insisted for me. I hope they’re not gonna be too mad at either of you.”
Mark waves off Nick’s reserved words as he looks at Mark through his lashes unsurely. “They’ll get over it, don’t worry.”
Nick gives another small smile then looks back out the window.
The silence goes on for around half an hour as Nick repeatedly looks at the binocular and putting it down again. He finally turns around to face George and Mark again.
“Where do they live now?” Nick asks, “my sister’s family, I mean.”
“15-minutes drive from here. In an, um,” Mark replies, pausing unsurely to think about how to say the next thing appropriately, “affordable apartment. To say the least.”
Nick looks to the back at him in question, earning sad sighs from both agents.
“They sold almost all of their assets, both your parents and your sister,” Marcus starts, “to hire more private investigators around three or so month after you were taken. The police department lowered your case to less urgent level at that time to deal with more recent missing persons cases.”
Nick blanches at the explanation, slowly looking out again now with the realization that his parents’ house is much smaller and different—as also shown by his sister’s post on his birthday—than his childhood one. It’s also in a less than stellar neighborhood, even if the previous one isn’t too far or too extravagant either. But they were at least almost upper middle class before.
“They shouldn’t…” Nick’s swirly blue-brown eyes start getting glassy again, “they shouldn’t have done that. Why would they waste all of that for me?”
“Because you’re their family, Nick, and I told you before that they still want you home with them,” George says, uncharacteristically reassuring and sympathetic. “If I were in the same situation, and anything happens to one of my family members, I would give anything too to save them and bring them back home.”
Nick chuckles sarcastically as he still chokes on his sob.
“I don’t think they would want to anymore if they know how I am now,” he hoarsely says, “what I’ve done. What I let people do to me.”
Mark knows the implication, of course, as does George surely. It’s always been highly suspected that what the kidnappees inside Helga are going through aren’t just physical torture and forced drug uses or forced drug distribution jobs. It pretty much goes unsaid that what Nick went through are also more… violating.
“Hey, don’t say that,” George touches his shoulder. “Your sister just made birthday celebration for you, remember?”
“I know they won’t love you any less for what you’ve gone through, Nick.” Mark offers this time. “None of it is what you wanted or sought out, is it?”
Nick avoids looking at both of them. There is grief and humiliation on his face.
“I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye if they know what I had to do to survive, even just a little bit,” Nick mutters with trembles, more tears falling from his bicolored and glassy eyes. “Hell, I can’t even look at myself in the eye. I’m just…”
Nick pulls up a hand to frantically wipe out his tears again.
“Looking at myself just makes me nauseous and ashamed, you know? Like I’m dirty… and tainted. Not to mention—” Nick chokes out a sob again eventually, “—I hate my eyes now. They…” Nick shudderingly inhales, “those bastards, they kept making me look at my own eyes in the mirror, when…”
Nick clenches his jaw, unable to finish the sentence, although it isn’t necessary. They both, and especially Mark, know what Nick means.
“Fuck. They just kept taunting me, telling me that my eyes are what brought all of those shit to myself. I don’t have any dignity left anymore.”
Jesus, those fucking bastards don’t disappoint, do they? They truly are just as heinous as the worst prediction D.E.A.N and the entire government have of them, if not more.
“I can’t… I don’t want to know what my family thinks—how they’re gonna look at me, if they find out.” Nick sniffles again. “I don’t… I don’t want to come back. Not like this. Not after everything done to me.”
George and Mark give him some time for in silence, sensing that any reassurance will just sound empty to Nick. After a while, he eventually just gives back the binocular, signaling that he has seen all he wants to see and felt all the turmoil he’s willing to feel.
***
(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)
#whump#whumptober2021#whumptober#whump community#whumper turned caretaker#no.5#i've got red in my ledger#misunderstanding#OC#OC whump#multiple whumpers#recovery#enemies to found family#Original Work#D.E.A.N#whump prompt#prompt fill#noncon tw#nsfwhump#drug mention#torture#me#me write#writing#english#repost for whump sideblog
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as someone who loved the menu i never want to see another gifset with margot eating that burger for as long as i live ENOUGH
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Calling On You
Wanda Maximoff × Natasha Romanoff x fem!Avenger!reader
Summary: When your ex Natasha calls up needing your help, you come to her rescue like you always have.
Word count: 3.8K
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, anxiety/panic attacks, hurt and comfort, thigh riding, N calls R Mistress, R fingers N
A/N: I love this little piece. Also should mention this is hurt/comfort and smutty with a happy ending!
“Hey I know we haven't talked since we broke up, but I'm having a breakdown and I didn't know who else to call…” Nat talked into the phone, the answering machine. “I-” Nat was cut off by the answering machine beeping as she hung up, “I need you…”
Nat wasn't okay when her head got like this. When everything was quiet except for her thoughts that were overwhelmingly loud about how terrible she was for everything she had done over the years. All the red in her ledger was overwhelming. Natasha Romanoff is not a good person no matter how many good things she had done.
Natasha too wrapped up in her overwhelming thoughts didn't hear you come in as you ran up to her, dropping your bag and cupping the former assassin's cheeks.
Clearly in the middle of a major depressive episode, her eyes searching yours trying to figure out if you were in fact real.
“...you came…” Natasha whispered.
“You called.” It was a simple response, but one that resonated with Natasha as you pulled back slightly, opening up your arms for her to come crashing into. “I've got you Tasha. I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you, including yourself.” Natasha started crying, heaving sobs as she tried to breath properly. “Shhhh it's okay. I'm here. Can you tell me 5 things you can see?” Natasha still sobbing looked around.
“My bookshelf, my TV, your bag, my peanut butter sandwich, you.”
“4 things you can touch?”
“The floor, my shirt, the curtains, you.”
“3 things you can hear?”
“The cars outside, the neighbors TV, your breathing.”
“Two things you can smell?”
“My peanut butter sandwich, your perfume.” Natasha was nervous. The last one you were about to ask Natasha had only ever had one response and you could tell she wasn't sure if it would be okay now.
“One thing you can taste?” Natasha let her eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. You cupped her cheek letting your thumb pad rub her cheek.
“Y-you?” Natasha questioned, but to you it wasn't; it never would be. You leaned in and kissed your ex softly, your strawberry lip gloss getting transferred onto her own dry and cracked lips. You pulled away, leaning your forehead against Natasha's.
“Feel better?” You ask and Tasha nods. “Good now I know exactly what you need.” You stood up, helping Natasha up and putting her back in front of her peanut butter sandwich. “Eat please. I'm going to get everything together.” You kissed her temple before disappearing into the other room.
Tasha did as told and ate. She heard you shuffling around and then the scent hit her, popcorn, a smile spread on her face. Suddenly she knew what you were doing, a movie night.
The two of you were on the couch watching spy movies, Natasha’s favorites as she recited them word for word during her favorite parts which you always loved to hear. A smile on your lips as you watched her intently. Natasha knew you were watching her, of course she did. She's a trained assassin and spy, but having your eyes on her was always her favorite.
You don’t remember when it happened exactly, but Natasha was now laying on top of you with a blanket covering the two of you on her couch. John Wick forgotten in the background as your eyes closed along with her, running your fingers through her red and blonde locks.
When the two of you broke up her hair was short and dyed blonde for a new identity she had taken on. One you couldn’t be a part of, that was now two years ago.
Natasha never decided to cut or re-dye the blonde, but if you were being honest this was one of your favorite looks that the spy has pulled off.
Natasha ends up falling asleep on you and slowly you move until she’s grumbling, straddling your lap as you smile, “Shhhh milaya devushka.” (sweet girl) you coo as she settles into your body, fitting perfectly like she always did, face buried in your neck. You hook your arms under her thighs, picking her up easily thanks to your super-human strength.
Flashback
The first time you picked up Natasha she was surprised because you're smaller than her, much smaller. It was something that took her off guard when in the middle of a mission and you guys were ambushed, bullets flying you rushed to her side when one pierced her, picking her up without a second thought, holding her bridal style and yelling over the coms, “Natasha’s been hit, I’m getting her to safety!” Steve gave a quick reply that he could handle things.
You hadn’t been with the group long at that point and at that point besides Fury and Tony no one knew the full extent of your powers. You had told the group of having a stockpile power. The more you got hit the more you could dish back out, but you also had super strength, a speed boost, and super durability along with advanced healing.
“H-how are you doing this!?” Natasha asked as you ran quickly, dodging bullets and knocking out enemies along the way.
“I have super strength, speed, durability, and healing. Can we discuss this after I’ve gotten you to a safe place?” You ask, getting her in the passenger seat of a car, getting yourself into the driver's seat and peeling off.
“Fury. Agent Romanoff has been hit. En route to S.H.I.E.L.D’s hospital.”
“Is Cap and Falcon holding it down?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Update me in an hour.”
You did just that as you sat next to Natasha, they pulled the bullet out and stitched her up. “Tasha, you have to be more careful...” you spoke somberly.
“I do what needs to get done for the mission.” She replies.
“Don’t do that with me Tasha. Don’t go cold.”
“You know I’m not trying to be cold, but this is who I am. On missions I only think about that.” Natasha defends herself.
“Tasha...I love you so can you at least try?” The words catch her off guard so much so that she can’t even form words. You put your hand behind her neck leaning your foreheads together. “Please for me Tasha.” you whisper.
“O-okay...” You let your lips brush hers, waiting for her to reciprocate and when she does you melt into the kiss, into her.
End Flashback
You watched Natasha for a few moments, breathing evened out, lips slightly parted. Your attention is pulled away as your phone vibrates in your pocket, it's your girlfriend. You slip back out to the living room trying not to disturb her, but Natasha is a light sleeper.
"Hey, Wands. Sorry I rushed out the door earlier," You apologized, trying to keep your voice low.
"Where did you run off to?" Wanda inquired, her concern evident in her tone.
"Tasha called me," You admitted, knowing that honesty was the foundation of your relationship.
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Wanda spoke again. "She hasn't called you since you two broke up. What happened?"
You sighed, explaining the situation to Wanda. "She was having a really bad night. She needed some grounding."
"Will you be coming home tonight?" Wanda asked, her concern shifting to the practicalities of our shared life.
"I don't think so," You replied honestly.
It was quiet for a moment before you decided to be completely transparent. "Wands, I'm going to be honest with you. Natasha and I kissed. It was always a part of grounding her back, and you should know that because I'd never lie to you."
Wanda absorbed the information, and after a thoughtful pause, she asked, "Do you think anything else is going to happen?"
"I don't think so. She's sleeping now. We just had a movie night, watched her spy movies, a little bit of cuddling, but she was tired from her panic attack," you explained.
"Well, if anything does, you have permission," Wanda granted, her trust in our relationship evident.
"You're so cute, Wands. I know you'd want to be here for that," you teased, feeling the warmth of your connection even through the phone.
"S-shut up, Y/N/N. Just enjoy the rest of your night. I'm gonna see what Carol and Val are up to tonight," Wanda chuckled.
"Okay, pretty girl. You have fun too, okay?" You told her.
"Of course. Whatever I end up doing is going to be fun. I love you, Detka," Wanda declared affectionately.
"I love you too, querida,(dear)" you replied before hanging up.
With a Gatorade in hand, you made your way back to Natasha's room, choosing an old shirt of hers from the closet. The shirt was large on you, but you loved the comfort it brought. Opting to go without pants, you crawled into bed, wrapping your arms around Natasha.
She stirred, her eyes meeting your own in the dim light. "I thought you were asleep, meu amor," you whispered, pushing some hair out of her face and cupping her cheek.
You saw a shiver run through her, and a smile played on your lips as you settled in for the night, grateful for the warmth and connection that surrounded the two of you.
"You're still here..." Tasha whispered, barely audible.
"Yeah, of course. Wanda called because of how quickly I left the house earlier. She's going to go have some fun with Carol and Val," you explained softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Natasha's face.
Her emerald eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability lurking behind their depths. "What about you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you tightened your hold around her, drawing her closer to you. "I am going to stay right here," you replied, your voice low and reassuring. "And take care of you. Whatever that entails."
You felt her body relax against your own, her warmth seeping into your skin as she nestled closer. But you needed to hear it from her, to know that she wanted this as much as you did.
"So tell me, using those big girl words of yours, what is it you want out of this?" You asked, your voice deepening with desire. You knew the effect your voice had on her. It was a connection that transcended any physical touch, an enchantment that bound the two of you together in a dance of desire and longing.
"What can we do?" Natasha ask. A mischievous grin played on your lips as I watched Natasha's reaction, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at your teasing words.
"Anything, sweetie," You reiterated, your voice low and suggestive. "When I say Wanda's going out with them, I mean it in the dirtiest way that little brain of yours can imagine. Go on, imagine it. I love thinking about it."
You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her skin as you whispered into her ear, relishing in the way her body squirmed against yours in response to your words. The anticipation crackled between the two of you, igniting a fire that burned with desire and longing.
Natasha's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and arousal, her mind undoubtedly conjuring up all sorts of illicit fantasies. And as her blush deepened and her breath quickened, you knew that whatever you two decided to do next would be nothing short of exhilarating.
"You wanna know something?" You continued, relishing in the way her body responded to your touch. She nodded eagerly, her lips still caught between her teeth.
"There have been times where Wanda's gone off with Carol and them fucking?" You murmured, watching her reaction with a predatory gleam in your eyes. "It's like two universes clashing, their powers coming undone from each other. It's such a beautiful sight. Val and I love watching them collide like two stars."
As you spoke, Natasha's hips began to move against your leg, seeking friction and release. You smirked, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you as you continued to explore her body with your hands, each touch reigniting the passion that had always simmered between you two.
"That's a good girl," you whispered, encouraging her to let her fantasies run wild. "Keep thinking about it."
With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you surrendered to the heat of the moment, losing yourself in the sensation of her body against your own. It felt as though no time had passed since you last shared this intimacy, your connection burning brighter than ever before. And as your desires collided like celestial bodies in the night sky, you knew that this moment would be etched into your memory forever.
The intoxicating sounds of pleasure that escaped Natasha's lips only fueled your desire further, igniting a primal hunger within you that demanded to be sated. The knowledge that you had the infamous Black Widow submitting to you, surrendering herself completely, filled you with a sense of power unlike anything else.
With a firm grip on her hip, you let your nails dig into her skin, relishing in the way she responded with a soft mewl of pleasure. "Keep moving your hips, baby," you encouraged, guiding her movements against your leg. "Just like that. I can feel you all over me. Is that from thinking about Wanda and Carol?" you teased, your smirk evident in your voice.
Natasha's breath hitched as she struggled to form a coherent response, her body moving against yours in a rhythm that spoke volumes. But you wouldn't let her off that easily.
"That's not a proper response, sweetie," you chided lightly, your grip on her hip tightening slightly. "What's my name?"
Her hesitation was palpable, but her body continued to move against yours until you intervened, halting her movements with a firm grip. "Answer me," you demanded, your voice laced with authority. "Otherwise, I can leave you like this."
Her eyes snapped open, pupils dilated with desire and anticipation. "Yes, Mistress," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
A smirk played on your lips as you leaned in, brushing your lips against hers in a feather-light kiss. "Good girl," you whispered against her lips before claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony.
The sensation of Natasha's body writhing beneath you, her soft moans and desperate pleas echoing in the air, fueled the fire burning within you. With a wicked smile, you continued to dig your nails into her skin, guiding her hips as she rolled against you, her arousal evident in the slickness between her thighs.
"Mmmm, Mistress...need..." she murmured, her voice laced with desire as she surrendered herself to the depths of subspace.
"What do you need, baby girl?" You whispered against her neck, your lips trailing kisses along her skin as you savored the taste of her.
"Need you. Inside. Please, Mistress!" Natasha begged, her desperation palpable as she sought release from the tormenting pleasure that coursed through her veins.
Her words sent a surge of arousal coursing through you, your desire for her growing with each passing moment. With a predatory gleam in your eyes, you withdrew your fingers from her hips and slid them past the waistband of her shorts, reveling in the feeling of her wetness coating your skin.
"Gods, you're soaked, krasivaya devushka,(pretty girl)" you whispered, your voice husky with desire as you teased her folds with feather-light touches. "Tell me, what made you like this?"
Natasha's breath hitched as your fingers danced along her sensitive flesh, eliciting a chorus of gasps and moans from her lips. "Th-thinking about... ah... Wands... and Captain..." she managed to stutter out, her words punctuated by soft gasps of pleasure.
"Good girl," you murmured, your voice thick with lust as you continued to tease her, your fingers delving deeper and deeper until she was on the brink of ecstasy. "Keep thinking about it while I stick my fingers in and make you see stars."
With that, you plunged your fingers inside her, setting off a chain reaction of pleasure that sent her spiraling into the depths of bliss. And as she cried out in ecstasy, her body trembling against yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with passion and desire.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
As you scrambled to cover yourselves at the sound of the front door opening, Wanda walked into Natasha's bedroom with three coffees in hand, a smirk playing on her lips at the sight of us.
"Good morning. Did you two sleep well? Because I was kept up all night," Wanda teased, unfazed by your half-naked state.
She leaned in to give you a kiss, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her comment. "Did you even brush your teeth, you heathen? I can still taste her on you!" You called her out, earning a smirk in response.
"I know you love her taste," Wanda retorted playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Turning to Natasha, you asked if she had any spare toothbrushes, and she directed you to the medicine cabinet. You grabbed the coffees from Wanda, urging her to leave with a playful swat to her backside.
"Go. Now," You commanded, smirking as she yelped in surprise.
"Aww, still sore?" You teased, giving her ass another playful smack before pushing her forward. You could tell that despite her attempts to hide it, Wanda was finding it difficult to walk normally after her own night of passion.
As Wanda made her way out of the bedroom, you turned back to Natasha, a smile playing on your lips as you realized just how lucky you were to have both of these incredible women in your life.
"Do you deal with that everyday?" Natasha asks seeing how cheerful Wanda was in the morning and knowing full well you was never a morning person.
"Yeah, I deal with that every day," You replied to Natasha's question, observing Wanda's cheerful demeanor in the morning. "But I can tell she had a good time, so it's worth it."
Taking a sip of your lavender oat milk latte, you let out a content hum. "And when she comes home with coffee and breakfast from my favorite place, how can I be upset in the morning?"
Natasha took a sip from her coffee, realizing it was her go-to order. "Did you tell her...?" she asked, curiosity evident in her tone.
"Actually, I told her once, two years ago," You explained, recalling the incident. "I was getting us drinks and accidentally ordered yours out of habit for Wanda, and ended up with an extra drink."
"And she remembered?" Natasha inquired, surprised by Wanda's attention to detail.
"I guess so. It's never been brought up again," you replied with a shrug, impressed by Wanda's ability to remember such small details.
As you finished your conversation about Wanda's thoughtfulness, she made her way back into the bedroom, joining you two on the bed with breakfast in hand.
"I do have breakfast if either of you are up for it," she offered, looking between the two of you with a smile.
"Thank you, babe. You're always so attentive," you praised, watching as Wanda did a cute little wiggle, scrunching up her nose in response. I could see the smile it brought to Natasha's face, and my heart swelled with love for both of them.
"Is this what it would be like? This easy?" Natasha spoke quietly, grabbing a piece of turkey bacon.
"What do you mean, meu amor?" You asked, taking a bite of your bagel.
"This. Us. All three of us. This just feels so easy, like falling into a comfortable bed or couch after a long day," Natasha explained, her words carrying a hint of wonder.
You looked at Wanda and smiled, tilting your head, silently encouraging her to share her thoughts.
'Go on,' you spoke to Wanda telepathically.
"Natasha, this can be whatever you want," Wanda began, her voice soothing and reassuring. "Y/N and I are together, but we would both love to have you join us. If you want that. But you can always just be with Y/N, or you don't even have to define it as a relationship. You can just come and go as you please, and we'll always be willing to let you join in our fun, whether that be one or both of us."
Wanda's words held a comforting warmth, a sense of safety that enveloped Natasha like a protective embrace. Her ability to convey reassurance was remarkable, and you could see the impact it had on Natasha, who seemed to be considering the possibilities laid out before her.
As Wanda spoke, her words filled the room with a mix of vulnerability and sincerity. Your heart swelled with emotion as she confessed her feelings for both Natasha and you, recounting the cherished memories you shared during our movie nights and bonding moments.
"But what I'm trying to say, really, is through the little moments the three of us used to share, I ended up falling for both of you," Wanda continued, her accent thickening with emotion. You couldn't help but feel a lump form in your throat as she spoke.
"When Y/N told me about why you two broke up and how she still had feelings, I ended up spilling my own to her about you as well," Wanda confessed, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. "We talked it over for a long time and decided you would be the only actual fit to keep in our dynamic because we already had it before."
As Natasha set down her breakfast, wiping her hands on the sweatpants the two of you had managed to grab for her, her expression was a mix of surprise and tentative hope.
"I... I would... I'd like that... the three of us again," Natasha managed to say, her voice filled with emotion.
Without hesitation, Wanda and you both moved to entangle yourselves with Natasha, enveloping her in a tight embrace. In that moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and you knew that together, the three of you could navigate whatever challenges lay ahead.
"Eu amo vocês dois,(I love you both)" you mumbled against Natasha's shoulder, feeling the weight of your shared love in the air.
"Я тоже тебя люблю,(I love you too)" both Natasha and Wanda responded simultaneously, their voices filled with affection and warmth.
"I already have both of you conditioned so well. My good little baby," you remarked with a playful smirk, cupping Natasha's cheek tenderly before turning to Wanda and doing the same. "And my good little pet."
You leaned in to kiss Wanda's lips first, savoring the softness and warmth before turning to Natasha and pressing your lips against hers. In that moment, surrounded by the love of these two incredible women, you felt a sense of completeness wash over your body.
"My two beautiful girls. Mine, all mine," you whispered, sealing your bond with a promise of love and devotion. And as you embraced each other, you knew that together, the three of you were unstoppable.
#ley writes#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#wandanat x reader#wandanat#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff smut#wanda x reader#wanda x you
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Dagger Squad Starring in Marvel's The Avengers
Reuben Fitch as The Man Out of Time
You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing.
Jake Seresin as The Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist.
If we can't protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it!
Bradley Bradshaw as The Monster
"That's my secret, Captain. I'm always angry."
Mickey Garcia as The God of Thunder
"You want me to put the hammer down?"
Javy Machado as The Spy
It's really not that complicated. I've got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out.
Robert Floyd as The Archer
Well, I see better from a distance.
Natasha Trace as The Goddess of Mischief
"You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."
#why yes I have restored hawkeye to his pathetic childless comic book accurate glory. you're welcome.#dagger squad#the avengers#bob floyd#jake seresin#natasha trace#javy machado#mickey garcia#reuben fitch#bradley bradshaw#marvel#lewis pullman#top gun maverick#glen powell#monica barbaro#danny ramirez#tgm
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Fighting for good, one widow bite at the time: Black Widow's cultural impact
Critics scoff when I call the Black Widow movie a favorite, but hear me out. It deserved a better release window, maybe at an earlier time, when things would've been viewed differently. Sure, it doesn't rise up what it could've been, leaving so much lingering dreams in the hearts of us, fans. So much potential remains untapped, so many questions unanswered... but Natasha Romanoff? She rises above it all. If you doubt her power, think again, and as I said, hear me out.
Black Widow, the assasin with steely eyes that hide and protect a heart of gold, has transcended the screen to become a cultural icon. From her first appereance in the MCU in Iron Man 2 (2010) to Black Widow (2021), she truly went through a lot, took us with her, and thaught everyone some lessons on the way.
Shattering the mold of the damsel in distress: She's no sidekick, she's a strategist and a fierce fighter. She is a vital member of the Avengers, that's a fact we saw in the 2012 movie. After all, how many characters can you name that tricked the God of Mischief? Nat didn't only do it exceptionally, she is the first we saw doing this on screen.
Reclaiming Narrative: Unlike many superheroes defined by singular origins, Black Widow carried the trauma of a dark past, manipulated by the Red Room, a notorious spy program. Her movie explored this narrative, acknowledging the exploitation and abuse she endured. This resonated with survivors of violence and abuse, offering validation and representation. Her journey of breaking free from her past resonated on a broader level, highlighting themes of resilience, empowerment, and overcoming hardship. Furthermore, she hasn't always been a hero, an avenger. "Regimes fall everyday. I tend not to weep over that, I'm russian" and "I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out" show how she's not just using the power she already has, but has the power to change as well. This isn't about brute force, it's about internal struggle and choosing to become a better version of herself despite her history.
Sisterhood and Solidarity: Black Widow's story wasn't solely focused on herself. In "Black Widow," she teams up with other women who share similar experience, even if at first this doesn't seem to work, indoctrinated as they are in the Red Room programme. This depiction of female solidarity resonated with audiences, particularly feminist movements advocating for women's support networks and collective action.
Representation Matters: Black Widow's portrayal as a skilled leader and strategist challenged existing portrayals of Russian characters in Hollywood. They are often depicted as villains or stereotypes, but her complex identity sparked conversations about diversity and representation within the superhero genre.
Defying stereotypes: As the sole original female Avenger, Black Widow carried a unique weight. She didn't need superpowers or a revealing suit — her determination and arsenal spoke for themselves. That's true power. I mean, in some situations she only had two cool firearms, but did better than Captain America with a vibranium shield! I also love how her costume evolved over time, prioritizing functionality over sexualization. Ditching the impractical neckline in her solo movie? A much-needed win! It shows that Black Widow commands respect through her actions, not her body.
Her impact and importance punches like her combat skills, if you ask me.
So, the next time you see the Black Widow, remember, she's more than just a character. She's a symbol of strength, resilience, and the unwavering human spirit. Thanks for being a constant source of inspiration, Nat ❣️
#Marvel#mcu#black widow#natasha romanoff#nick fury#maria hill#the avengers#avengers age of ultron#wanda maximoff#wandavision#marvel bucky barnes#buckynat#scarlett johansson#florence pugh#sebastian stan#cate shortland
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Broken Prism
Chapter 13
Fandom: Red Hood
Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader
Warnings: violence, villain death, poison
Summary: Jason hears about something that puts YN in danger and springs into action
Notes: I found a flower that is poisonous and is used in blow darts for the flower in this chapter. I am by no means a botanist or a scientist so please forgive my ignorance if my information is way off. Also, realized I've been spelling Iceberg wrong for years because I, someone who writes a lot, cannot spell nor do I care about spellcheck apparently. I am a liar and a fraud. Very sorry. Thank you!
Jason sat in one of his safehouses in the Bowery cleaning his guns, again. He couldn't stop his mind running and the only things he could think to do was make sure all his weapons were pristine to keep his thoughts at least distracted by the task of not accidentally shooting himself. He didn't know what to do. It was the night Bruce said YN would be at the Iceberg Lounge getting information about Penguin. She was probably there right now. Should he go? He wanted to go, but he wasn't sure if it was safe. What if she got hurt because he showed up? What if she didn't want to see him? So many thoughts all against the soundtrack of a clown faced madman. He was just finishing his one of his sniper rifles when he got a call from his second in the Narrows. Mac was a reformed drug dealer who now just dealt exclusively in dirty money and he knew almost as much about Gotham as Jason did. He was great when the Red Hood needed to know underground information about some of the normally quieter villains. While he was watching Penguin's dealings at the moment, Mac was watching everyone else. He answered, making sure his voice modulating phone app was working.
"Ya?" he said. He heard someone laughing in the background and had to shake himself to drown out the constant Joker laugh that played in his mind. He had to concentrate.
"Hood, got some interesting information for you," Mac said, then fell silent, waiting to hear what he would get out of it. Jason almost told him he didn't care that night, but something made him curious. He didn't know why but he felt whatever this info was it was going to be life or death.
"You get a bonus for it my friend, 5k," he said. He heard a satisfied grunt from the other end of the phone and then the background was a little quieter as Mac went somewhere private.
"I heard that Poison Ivy is pissed at Penguin for trying to buy up that big ass park in New Gotham," he said. Jason remembered seeing about Penguin trying to make a deal with Bruce Wayne to buy the park that Bruce paid for and carefully curated as a rare flower sanctuary. You could go to any of a dozen greenhouses and see rare flowers from all over the world. It didn't surprise Jason that Ivy would want to keep that. "She's heading over to the Lounge right now, right when it's busiest, she wants to make an example of Penguin and anyone who supports him." Jason stilled, color draining from his face. "Hood?" Jason coughed, mind scrambling.
"Thanks Mac, you'll get that 5k tomorrow," he said before hanging up. He needed to get across town fast. If YN was still in the Lounge...if she...he stopped his mind from racing and looked at his gear. He grabbed his helmet, shoulder holster, and his jacket. The rest would take too long to get on, and he ran out of the safehouse, getting on his bike and breaking every speeding law in the city to get to the Lounge before it was too late.
You weren't sure why you stayed at the Iceberg Lounge after you had talked to your contact. You had what you needed. They had let you into a server room that doubled as an illegal organ theft cooler, taken your pictures and made copies of the digital ledgers that were kept there. If you were smart you would leave before someone either stole your purse or realized you weren't exactly dressed for clubbing and got suspicious. You had planned to sneak out amongst the crowd of dancers at the club, but something about the rough music, it seemed edged in anger that night, kept you on the floor. You danced by yourself, letting months of annoyance, worry, and stress out in a way you hadn't been able to. Sure you threw yourself into work once you realized that Jason wasn't coming back. You left his book on your nightstand, note still attached, but other than that you tried to push him from your mind, stop feeling his hand in yours or seeing that smile or hearing his laugh. You started just working. You got Two-Face caught, and even had given some interesting info on Joker that had him on the run again, you were doing so much that Jim, your friends, even Bruce, were starting to worry you were careening towards a cliff face and if you didn't stop you would fall over the edge. Maybe you would, but at this point you just wanted to feel like you were in control. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought if you could get all the villains that Jason wanted off the streets, get him his territory, get rid of Joker, maybe he would come back. But right now the music was loud, your body was barely functional, and your mind was starting to feel like something good was coming, so you danced near the edge of the floor, ignoring anyone who came up to dance with you, sometimes sending them away with a glare. You wanted to be alone. That was a lie, you wanted to be with Jason, but you couldn't have that. It didn't help that Red Hood had become a costume just like Batman, people walked around the clubs and streets wearing helmets from costume shops, some of them getting into fights with the idiots donning the cowl. It was like a constant reminder.
A guy approached you with a drink, offering it to you. He said he had something cool for you to see. You rolled your eyes but when you saw the cheap looking way too red helmet you threw the drink in his face. He called you a cunt and walked off and you took a shaky breath. It was time to go. You turned and crashed headlong into the person behind you. You grunted, almost falling, but were caught by a familiar arm around your waist. Your eyes shot up and looked at the very real helmet of Red Hood. You noticed he lacked the body armor, instead just in his undershirt and his leather jacket. You glared and shoved him back.
"Fine, you can be pissed but you have to go now, I have to get you out of here," he said. You barely could understand him above the music but you heard and felt the urgency in him. He grabbed your hand and you allowed him to drag you to an emergency exit door. Just as you got to it the music cut out and the wall opposite crashed in and vines started growing through the opening. "Go!" Jason said, pushing you out the door and closing it behind him. You banged on it, trying to get it opened from it locked from the outside. You screamed for him. He didn't have his armor, what was he doing there without it? You ran to the front entrance where people were desperately trying to get out. The blacked out windows broke as people tried to escape that way. Anyway to get in was blocked by terrified party goers trying to get out. You could hear screaming and gunshots. Finally people started to slow and you found a broken window that no one was currently coming out of. You grabbed a discarded jacket in the alley and put it over the shards, climbing inside, staying to the outside of the room, hiding behind upended tables.
Jason was still facing off against Ivy, guns aimed for her as she towered above him, her precious plants holding her aloft. She seemed to be entertained by him. Several of Penguins men were dead around her and Penguin himself was probably locked away in his office or had already ran to avoid meeting the woman face to face.
"Red Hood, you impress me, why don't we become allies? You get your territory but make sure they leave my precious parks alone," she was saying. Her voice sounded sweet and for a moment you were almost drawn in by it. She must be pumping some kind of pheromone into the room. You saw Jason take a couple steps forward and you almost cried out, but didn't want to distract him. What was he doing?
"That doesn't sound like a half bad idea," he said, lowering his guns. Ivy lowered herself to the ground, walking over to him. He didn't raise his weapons, they hung loose, almost like he was in a trance. You took a breath, scared that maybe he was infected by whatever toxin she was pushing to him. You moved trying to get a better look and fell, making plenty of noise. Ivy looked over and snarled, a vine grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you out onto the floor. You grabbed your switchblade and cut the vine, making her scream. Jason just stood there, but you noticed the hold on his gun tighten again. Shit, he had been luring her in and you had ruined it, stupid. A large white flower appeared in front of you.
"Stay put until I'm finished with my new friend here and then I'll deal with you. I hope you like a slow death," Ivy snarled before turning back to Jason, smiling again. "Now, how about that deal?" She came even closer. "We can seal it with a kiss?" He stood still until she was within arm's reach, then his gun pointed to her head.
"How about no?" he said and fired point blank into her head. You dropped down as the flower fired a poison dart before dropping itself. The vines around you died as their matriarch dropped, eyes staring lifeless. You got up from the ground and turned to see Jason on the ground, the flower dart sticking out of Jason's arm. He grunted, falling to his knees.
"Red Hood!" you yelled, running over, surprised you had kept yourself from calling his actual name. He was on his knees, breathing deep. He pulled the dart out and looked around. He grabbed a stack of napkins and wrapped the dart in them.
"I need...Alfred..." he got out, voice rasping even through the modulator. "Ivy...poison..." You nodded.
"I have a car out back," you said, sliding his arm around your shoulder and standing, staggering a little. Even without his armor he was solid muscle and that wasn't light. "You need to help me or I'm going to fall." He took a haggard breath and stood on his own, still leaning to you. "How much time do we have?"
"Twenty minutes maybe," he said. He let out an agonized cry. You reached over and grabbed his gun from him, keeping it ready in case anybody gave you trouble as you walked into the alley. You saw the line of parked cars belonging to the currently dead Penguin henchmen and picked the closest one, putting Jason in the back. You climbed in and got to hot wiring it. "Thought you said you had a car?"
"I do, I have any car I want," you said. "Now shut up and rest." Your voice was severe because even in this horrible situation you were still mad at him. He disappears for six months, comes back to get you safely away from an attack by Poison Ivy and then goes and gets poisoned? How dare he put you through this roller coaster of emotions. You got the car going and then, safety be damned, sped to Wayne manor. You crashed right through the gate and stopped by the door. Alfred was out the door, gun in his hand, dropping it only when he saw it was you.
"Miss YN, what..." he started until you threw open the back door and dragged the now unconscious Jason from the back. Alfred jumped into action, grabbing him with you and pulling him into the front hall. He locked the door and turned to you.
"What happened?" he asked as you removed Jason's helmet. He looked terrible, pale, lips barely having any pink to them. You told Alfred about the attack, about the poison. "What did the flower look like?" You were glad it had been aimed at you first, in your fear you had memorized its features.
"It was white, with red like tendrils and yellow inside," you said, closing your eyes to remember better. You knew that wasn't how it worked but right now you weren't thinking straight seeing Jason like this. You needed to stop seeing him before you lost control entirely. Alfred nodded.
"Her modified Medusa Flower, find the point of contact" he mumbled, getting up and running towards the kitchen where he kept the antidotes to several of Ivy's poisons. Luckily this was a common poison she used, having modified the flower to actually shoot the poison and the effects to be quick. He got the syringe ready, going to back and knelt down. You had found the puncture and torn off his sleeve so Alfred could get to it, displaying the frightening spread of the black poison through his veins. He injected the antidote directly into the wound. You wondered how long it would take to help him. Alfred frowned when he didn't open his eyes. "Sit him up." You did as asked, sitting him up. Alfred pulled his shirt up and over his head and you set him down, seeing poison. It was still moving, but much slower. "Do you have the dart?"
"Yes," you went through his pockets, careful not to sting yourself. You handed Alfred the dart and he frowned.
"She has continued modifying her poisons," he grumbled. "What I gave him has slowed the poison, let me get into the lab with Master Tim, we will be able to fix this. You nodded. Alfred touched a pin on his lapel and not even five minutes passed before Bruce, Dick, and Tim were all there in the hallway, asking a million questions. Bruce picked up Jason and you followed him upstairs to his old bedroom as Alfred and Tim went down to the cave. Dick followed, arm going around you as you finally started to cry.
#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jasontodd#jason todd#red hood x you#red hood x reader#redhood#red hood#red hood x y/n#brokenprism
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(lmao I was given an idea and decided to go for it. I had fun writing Shanks as a teen boy.)
pt i + pt ii + pt iii + pt iv + pt v + pt vi + pt vii + pt viii + pt ix
It wasn't Buggy and his captain that came through the door this time but someone else. A boy around Sunny's age with red hair and a strawhat on his head. He was with someone needing work done by Miss Pins, of course, why else would anyone come to the shop?
Sunny greeted them as she was told to do, asking what they needed help with as her boss came from the backroom. Just pants needing to be mended, length hemmed, and pockets needing to be fixed. Pants that have seen better days.
She looked at the boy who seemed to be watching her curiously. At this point Sunny was used to it.
"Do you need work done as well?" She asked politely. He shook his head, grinning widely as he leaned on the counter.
"How about you give me a tour of the town?" He asked. Sunny looked at him funny before looking back at her boss who was reaching for her shotgun.
"I have work to do."
"Aw, well, what about after?" He asked. Sunny didn't want to do that either.
"I'm busy."
"Doing what?"
"Work." She told him as she flipped through a few pages of the ledger, looking for the Captain's name as Miss Pins took down details of what he wanted. Sunny glanced at the boy again. He was leaning on the counter, grinning at her. What was with boys her age? Why were so many of them dumb? She found the Captain's name. "I have a boyfriend."
"Oh really?" He grinned. "Where is he? I bet he's some wimpy Marine."
Sunny shot him a look. "He's a pirate. Now if you're done bothering me I have things to do."
She walked away after that, not bothering to look behind her as she went to the backroom. Why did she say she had a boyfriend? Nothing was official with her and Buggy, they... They were just friends. Friends who liked each other. He was a friend who she held hands with and kissed his cheek and she was wondering if she was falling in love with him.
Ohhh she wished Buggy would show up and scare the boy off. She didn't want to deal with this for a week.
~
He showed up the next day nearing the end of her shift and Sunny ignored him. He even introduced himself, saying his name was Shanks. She intentionally didn't tell him her name but when one of Miss Pins' assistants called for her, it was all over. The dumb boy knew her name now.
"Wanna get some food when you're done for the day?" Shanks asked with a grin. "I bet you know all the best places to eat."
"No." She told him firmly. "I'm not interested."
"Aw, c'mon, we can just be friends! It doesn't have to be a date!" He insisted. Sunny rolled her eyes.
"I'm not interested in being friends either!" She told him. "Besides, my boyfriend could show up any minute. I would rather spend time with him, got it?"
"Where's your boyfriend then?"
"I told you, he's a pirate."
"And? What's his name?" Shanks grinned. "Maybe I've met him."
Sunny looked over at him with a frown. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell him Buggy's name, but at the same time she didn't want him to know more than he had to. She sighed.
"His name is Buggy."
The look on Shanks' face was of shock, confusion, and sadness, one after the other. Sunny had never seen someone change expressions that fast. The boy leaned on the table, smiling half heartedly at her.
"Blue hair? Red nose?"
Sunny blinked and nodded. "Yea."
"How's he doing? We used to be on the same crew."
Sunny looked surprised. "Really?" She paused, thinking back to when she first met Buggy, how hurt he had been. He only told her so much, about losing his captain, his friend, and his sister so quickly. He never mentioned names but she wondered if Shanks was the friend he referred to.
"He's doing well. I see him every few months." Sunny told him. "I last saw him a few months ago. He's smiling more."
"Yea? I'm glad." He grinned. "So, he got himself a girlfriend. That's something I didn't expect."
Sunny felt her face grow warm. "Okay, I may have lied a little bit. We... Aren't boyfriend and girlfriend. I just said that to have you back off."
"Ohhh, so what you're saying is you're single?" He grinned.
"N-No! We-We still spend time together when he visits and- and you know, if I tell you to leave me alone you should just do it, you pest!"
"I'm just being friendly!" He laughed. Sunny huffed in annoyance. "So, you two kiss yet?"
"Excuse me?!" Sunny turned red. "What is wrong with you? Why would you ask that?!"
"I'm just curious what he's been up to! I don't know if I believe a pretty girl like you would be friends with Buggy."
"Well we are, okay?! For a year!" She shot back, turning redder. This boy was getting under her skin. Normally something like this didn't bother her but he certainly was. "And I care a lot about him even if we aren't dating."
"So are you going to kiss him?" Shanks grinned. Sunny covered her face with her hands and shook her head.
"Why are you asking me that?! I don't even know how he feels about me!"
"Aw, I bet he likes you." Shanks reached out for her and she started to take a step back. "That necklace you got on. Did he give it to you?"
"Y-Yes." Sunny told him as she touched it. It was a little too clunky to wear sometimes but Sunny liked the weight of it. The pedant was a locket, the design on the front of some kind of sea king. Buggy said he found it and wanted her to have it. He didn't have a picture of himself to put inside it so he just wrote his name on a piece of paper and stuck it inside.
"See, the Buggy I know wouldn't normally let go of fancy things like that, but I'm betting after a year he's changed." Shanks grinned. "He must like you if he gives you things like that."
"You think so?" Sunny lifted the pendant up to look at it. "Really?"
"Yea! So you should definitely kiss him next time you see him." Shanna insisted. "Let him know you're serious! He's probably too scared to say anything. He's never had a girl as pretty as you around him."
Sunny wasn't sure if he was trying to flirt with her while also encouraging her to date his old friend. Maybe she should tell Buggy how she felt. If he didn't feel the same way then fine, she just would be sure not to be in the shop any time after that. But if he did...
"What do I even say to him?" She asked Shanks. "I've never done this before."
"As far as I know he hasn't either." Shanks told her. "And you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen and I bet you he thinks the same, so next time you see him just give him a kiss and see what happens."
That seemed... Like an okay plan. Sunny just wasn't sure when she'd see Buggy again.
#mini fic#i need to title this#sunny x buggy#buggy the clown#buggy the clown x oc#buggy x oc#opla buggy the clown x oc#opla buggy x oc#opla buggy the clown#opla buggy#buggy's older sister au
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Anonymous OC question of the day!
If you could make a character real, which of your OCs would be:
your bestie
your spouse/partner
your secret lover!
your friendly rival
your enemy
BONUS: do this for other people’s OCs too!
Pass the game along (anonymously or not)
Hi Friend of Mystery! Thank you for this fun ask!
I gave it some thought and here's what I've come up with:
My bestie?
Juju (From Bite Me!)! He's fun and sweet and smart. I feel hanging out with Julian would be low stress and the conversation would be good. Especially if we're spilling tea about a certain vampire boss of his... But Terence (from Amaranthine) also. I love Terence- he's too good for this world: he's thoughtful, he's an artist, he's a gentle person and HE BAKES.
From someone else's story? @lynzishell's Atlas and Asher. I wanna hang out with both of them! They're so cool and interesting!
2. My spouse/partner
Such a hard question because I can't imagine my characters without their significant others! This smacks of betrayal...But let's not be dramatic. It's Gideon (From Darker). Selfless, protective, devoted, and giving Gideon.
From someone else's story...Ok, @cinamun's Charlie. He would be the most loving and dedicated and he is skilled -*ahem*- in other fields of knowledge.
3. My secret lover?
Lou. Like- no question. I wouldn't be so secret about it, either. Because the man is gorgeous and hawt.
Other people's? Hmm...I'm not sure...JUST JOKIN'! It's @alinelie's Ledger. He is so elegant and sexy and got them bedroom eyes... Or @pralinesims's Vale, who seems like a sentimental red flag, but red matches my outfit.
4. My friendly rival
Hmm...Someone who'd push me to do better, too? Probably Lee (From Tomarani Adventure). Lee is super smart and hardworking. Just talking about him makes me want to go fold my laundry.
Other folks': @simarcana's Alika! Alika's too fab. I'd have to seriously up my game to be anywhere half as cool.
5. My enemy?
TESSIE BEAULIEU (from Tact). Bitch.
Other folks' sims? @thebramblewood's Lilith. Like, your comeuppance is NIGH, you absolute psychopath!
Thanks again, mysterious friend! This was super fun!
#answered asks#tag games#love this stuff#and a chance to think about OCs beyond the story#thank you for thinking of me
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2024 Grimoire Challenge Review - January Week 1
Well, I had to wait until Wednesday to get out of the house and get a binder and some paper for my challenge grimoire this year, so I basically speedran all of the December prep and the first week of January, because I will never learn and never improve on this habit of mine.
Keeping in line with other grimoires I've used in the past (such as the Epsilon Ledger and the Delta Book of Tarot Spreads), this red binder has been named the Eta Binder. I wrote down my proper name (let's go, trans mages!), tacked @2024-grimoire-challenge onto it to remind myself that that's what we're doing, and gave it a date of working. Since I started on Wednesday, that's 1/3/2024 (because I'm an American) to an unknown end date.
I had to scramble to come up with a list of 52 plants and stones to work on. I just went through the list of herbs and teas offered by my local ("local" being half an hour away) spice shop and capped it off with some Missouri flowers. For the stones, I just flipped through Judy Hall's Crystal Bible (somehow both a really good and really bad reference book) back and forth a bunch of times until I had a list of crystals I hadn't already done dives about.
As for my magical study ideas, I mostly just threw shit down that I've been interested in or have just gotten interested in. I gave each deity I worship their own bulletpoint and also split up the specific areas of pop culture magic I'm digging more into. I made sure there was a blend of comfortable old stuff, brand new stuff that I'm not sure of, and things that are generally outside of my purview.
Through the power of "work had too many 3-ring binder dividers", I have split my binder into seven sections - 1 is Plants, 2 is Stones, 3 is Work-Related Notes, 4 is Spells Designed (if I complete any, they'll be moved into my spell binder that also houses all of my correspondence lists), 5 if Journal, 6 is currently blank, and 7 is Empty Pages.
Then I finally got started on the actual projects. For the plant and crystal prompts this week, I used an integer generator online to choose two numbers randomly and received caraway (aka Carum carvi) and muscovite (aka KAl2(AlSi3O10)(F,OH)2), so I used my normal research process for the two. It was actually pretty fun, if you ignore the fact that my hand hurt so much because it ended up being 4 pages (well, 2 pages but front and back) EACH of information drawn from books and digital sources that I was all but copying word for word.
As for the Work-Related Notes, that's where I've saved things like my Definitions page, Spellwriting 101 (in my practice), and a page about my Common Tools.
I will admit that I skipped the year outline, mostly because the passing of the year means near nothing in my craft. I don't celebrate any particular "magical holidays", I don't work by the moon cycle, I'm definitely not Wiccan and thus don't celebrate the Wheel of the Year, seasons just mean whether or not I have to wear a coat, and I don't care about matching particular workings to days of the week. I'm starting to think I'm just a deeply boring person, upon reflection.
Then we get to the Work Spaces / Altars page, and oh boy! I don't actually do...workings at my altars, so they're probably better described as shrines. I have my Primary Work Space (my wooden desk, the metal microwave stand I've stolen from somewhere, and the tiny red bookshelf under the microwave stand) that is an absolute MESS at every given point that holds whatever the fuck I'm working on, regardless of what project it is. I have a Thoughtform & Spirit Shelf (which is actually a partial shelf) in my big red bookshelf that holds the anchors for my thoughtforms but also my PokeFamiliar. I have five altars around my room that are currently holding seven deities, a candle for an eighth deity, the Lokifam, three spirits, the Unknown Benefactor, the symbol of an animal spirit I want to reach out to at some point this year, and Jasper's Casper (an adorable little ghost that my coworker and her daughter crocheted for me to celebrate the first anniversary of me working at the library).
Shit's a bit cramped in here!
And today, I'm writing about my Personal Practices that have made it into my craft. I'm actually working on this now, but I paused to write up this summary. It's pretty neat to think about all the stuff I've done that I still do.
Results: My hand hurts and my head is throbbing, but c'est la vie. This is a really fun challenge, and I hope it goes all the way through 2024, unlike when I tried to do the 2023 challenge and the host of that one vanished into the aether.
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D.E.A.N | Chapter 12 - Restart
Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive
Fandom : Original Work
(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)
AO3
A/N hi im back and i fulfill my promise to update to chapter 12 at most by this week. see. i’m a person of my words. pls enjoy and talk to me about my fic.
(also check out the newest oneshot from Nick’s perspective when D.E.A.N still beat him up>> tumblr ao3)
Wordcount: ± 4900
TW : Anorexia (low appetite), Depression, Allusion to Suicidal Ideation (heed to other tags on the overall summary in the masterpost)
The much-needed peace and the truce appear to be on the horizon for Mark, his team, and their estranged charge. Maybe. Hopefully.
This story is set in the last half of 2016.
------
“I can’t fucking believe you’re really making us buy some French macarons and ice cream cake. 40 miles, Mark. 40 fucking miles.”
Marcus chuckles in his passenger seat without looking at Luke, taking a slight peek to the back seat where the juxtaposing weapon and other mission supplies are sitting beside colorful boxes of the sweets.
“It’s your idea. You asked me the locations, and I just put them into our GPS tracker. You’re the one who is taking it seriously and actually driving there.”
Luke shakes his head with pissed off face.
“Maybe we all are having crush on him.”
“Well, congrats on your coming out,” Mark jokes flatly.
Luke giggles. “Fuck you,” he lowly says.
“Getting there fast, huh?” Mark smirks. “I took 7 years after being outed before I fucked a guy for the first time.”
Luke bellows a laughter while repeating ‘fuck you, Mark’ as a response.
There is a comfortable silence for a while, then Luke says with relieved voice, “I’m glad you’re making gay jokes again. Thought he shoved you back into closet, with… you know.”
“Fruity Ken?”
Luke chuckles again, a bit uncomfortable this time. “Yeah.”
“Honestly, ‘fruity’ is already being reclaimed nowadays. It’s kinda funny sometimes.”
Luke laughs loudly again. “Oh, thank fuck. I almost always laughed when he called you that, but I restrained myself ‘cause I thought it’s homophobic.”
“I mean, it is,” Mark gives an agreeing face, “but it’s also creative and hilarious.”
“Can I call you that from now on?” Luke asks with a teasing smile while he focuses on taking a turn, steering the wheel sideways.
“Absolutely fucking not. Reclaimed by me, not you,” Mark replies, looking at the rearview mirror out of habit to see if there are suspicious people following them. “Maybe I’ll change my code name to that on the field, though. ‘Fruity Ken reporting in. Over.’”
Luke cackles again at Mark’s exaggerated field voice until he is breathless while Mark just shakes his head lightly with his own chuckles.
“Honestly, you don’t even look like Ken doll,” Luke quips in absently afterwards.
“I’m blond and have blue eyes.”
Luke looks contemplative. “Yeah, but, I don’t know, man. Ken doll usually has pretty boy face, unlike you.”
Mark doesn’t reply, giving a slight thought to how all the Ken dolls that he has ever encountered look like, not that he really cares. There are not many, so he doesn’t know how they look like, really.
“Like that famous male model, called Francisco something. Kind of.”
“Francisco Lachowski?” Mark offers.
“Yeah. Anyway, if anything, George and Nick himself look more like Ken dolls, but with different hair and eye colors. Maybe because they’re still older adolescent guys. But still, more similar, you know?”
Luke then gives a millisecond glance at Mark’s face as Mark raises an eyebrow in question before returning to looking at the road ahead.
“You look quite masculine. Like, uh…” Luke furrows his eyebrows, “…that actor in that Taylor Swift’s 40s savanna style music video. Dunno what the song’s called. Also the actor’s name. I think he is Clint Eastwood’s son or something.”
Mark furrows his eyebrows in disbelief. “You mean Scott Eastwood? The guy in that suckass Suicide Squad?”
“Is that his name? Whatever, him, yeah. But younger, I guess.”
Mark thinks on it for a bit. “Don’t know if I should feel flattered or not.”
Luke chuckles. “It’s not like I’m comparing you to the grinch, Mark. Take it as a compliment.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Mark finally responds with a slight smile.
After another silence lapses, Luke chuckles again before exaggeratedly exhaling loudly like he is so exhausted by the weight of the world.
“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into? Thought we were supposed to be special task force assigned to bring down international criminal syndicate.”
“Hmm.”
“Instead, we’re just talking about some fucking plastic dolls and buying pastries from out of state. What’s happened to us?”
Despite that, there is no sharpness in Luke’s voice. It’s more like an affectionate reminiscing voice parents have when talking about their kids’ childhood shenanigans.
“We’re still humans, Luke. The targets we’re dealing with are also humans, unfortunately. Whether we planned it or not, we’re gonna have to deal with human things eventually.”
“True.”
Luke concludes, followed by free and calm silence the whole ride back—the calm that they desperately need after the stifling and stressful atmosphere back in the headquarter lately.
***
Luke is awkwardly pacing back and forth in front of Nick’s bedroom while Mark tries to give him a reassuring thumbs-up to convince him. Anna and Don just shake their heads while Mary and Lena are surreptitiously watching from their spots with bated breath.
It is honestly so funny to see their usual self-assured and ballsy teammate like this. It’s so unbecoming of Luke.
“Mark, you do it!” he finally exclaims.
Mark raises an eyebrow.
“You bought the macarons. You do it.”
Luke frowns. He looks at another direction.
“Horace. You’re our leader. Set an example and give this to him.”
Their commanding officer furrows his eyebrows irritably.
“Uh, no. You came up with the idea.”
“Actually, you did, Horace, few weeks ago when we were looking at his twitter,” Anderson quips in absently as he is eating a piece of the ice cream cake while looking at lines of codes on his laptop.
“I wasn’t serious.”
Anderson slurps loudly as he spoons the melted part into his mouth. “Still.”
Luke perks up. “Anderson, you do it. You took a piece of his cake already. It’s only fair.”
Anderson whips his head to Luke’s direction with a glare. “Absolutely not. He’s probably not going to finish it so I’m just preemptively helping him.”
Luke looks around again to find another victim, then lands on George who is watching the surveillance to Nick’s room.
“You, ginger. You’re the youngest and closest to his age. Give it to him.”
Everyone looks at George with meaningful looks and slowly blooming mischievous smiles.
George raises his head and slowly looks around in confusion. “What? Why are you all looking at me?”
Luke rolls his eyes and walks to George confidently, seeing as he already finds his victim. The older man puts the box of macarons on George’s lap.
“Give it to him. He probably tolerates you the most.”
George frowns as he isn’t asked of his opinion. “But—”
“Come on. He is so depressed and hasn’t eaten anything in the last few days,” Luke tells him with intentionally gentle and pleading voice.
George stares at him with irritated look for few seconds, then sighs and stands up while holding the box to walk to Nick’s bedroom.
Luke punches the air in victory while exclaiming, “Yesss!”
George looks back unsurely at the room where his fellow agents are lounging around, then knocks the door.
“Hey, bud. Can I come in? We have some snack for you.”
Like usual, George doesn’t get a response, so he just softly opens the door and walks in. Everyone then turns to look at the surveillance monitor instead with bated breath again.
George is inside, his voice carries over in static voice to cajole Nick to get up and eat the snack at least a little bit. He tries a little bit more for a while, but Nick stays lying down with soulless eyes and dried tear streaks that he weirdly cries silently and emptily sometimes.
Eventually, George sighs and throws a little look at the surveillance camera before putting the box of pastries on the bedside table. Then he walks out and closes the door gently behind him.
Everyone looks at him questioningly while George just shrugs. A chorus of dejected sighs follows after.
***
The next day, someone draws a circle of with those anti-ant chalk around the box of macarons and the plate of food considering they notice some ants crawling around the bedside table.
Nick still just lays down, this time with tears flowing from his eerily unmoving face.
Mark just sighs when he puts down a glass of new water to replace the glass of tepid one from yesterday.
“I feel like maybe we need Doctor Lowe to prescribe him some anti-depressants or something,” Angie says to him as he closes the door behind him. “He’s starving himself, either because he really has no appetite or intentionally because he doesn’t want to live anymore.”
Mark rubs the bridge of his nose.
“He doesn’t even eat. How are we supposed to make him take anti-depressant? He didn’t even take his previous meds, even some of the antibiotics.”
Angie throws her hands in the air in frustration. “Well, what are we supposed to do, then?”
Mark slumps back against the door.
“Talk to him, maybe. I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t exactly talk back, Mark.”
He looks around to his teammates who are in the room with him. “I know, but we’re running out of options. Even anti-depressant will take weeks to take effect.”
Angie, Mark, and Luke then train their marksmanship in their makeshift shooting range to distract themselves eventually, the air still tense with concerns.
When Mark walks into the team room again—which is less of a room and more like a giant hallway functioning as their ‘living room’ where most of their other rooms are connected to—he sees Mary, Anderson, and Horace hunched over their digital touchscreen map on the high-tech table, and they also look distracted. Anna, Lena, George, and Don are nowhere to be found, probably exercising or training their martial arts with each other in the gym.
He looks again towards the door of Nick’s bedroom, contemplating shortly.
Maybe, like he said, they all need to verbally apologize to him and assure him they’re not his enemies to make him come out of his funk. So, Mark walks there firmly, continuously reassuring himself that he is doing the right thing.
He can feel the stares of his fellow agents, but he walks on until he is near the door. He inhales and knocks gently before opening the door.
Just as usual, Nick doesn’t react at all as he just lays down on the bed with his typical thousand-yards stare.
“Hey, Nick?”
Of course, he is not going to get a response.
“How are you feeling? You haven’t eaten anything lately. Aren’t you hungry?”
Mark then walks near the bed while pulling a chair to sit.
“Do you… do you not like the food? Is there something else you’d like instead?”
Nick doesn’t move or make a sound, just does a half-blink, probably instinctually because his eyes are getting dry.
Even with the colorful irises, his eyes look so dark and empty.
“I’m…,” Mark gulps, “I’m sorry. For my harsh words. I was… I was angry.”
Of course, he was. Everything rash he did lately was because he was angry. Maybe he should learn better anger management techniques.
“You’re not… you’re not a coward. You’re just reacting how anyone would react when treated so badly all the time. Anyone would be scared, but also bitter.”
He inhales.
“I mean, I don’t appreciate your insults to us. Some of them went too far, you know? I hope you don’t actually mean those. Would be a shame if you’re actually a bigot.”
Shit, why would he say accusing thing like that?
“I…I mean, I’m sure you’re not, right? You’re just frustrated and feels stuck and imprisoned by us. The only safe thing you can do to feel like you have control is verbally hurting us.”
He looks at Nick’s swirly blue-brown eyes that are so deeply etched in his mind by now. Either though guilt and shock after almost taking Nick’s life, or sympathy and sadness for him when he kept reading about Nick’s previous life before being taken. And, also for all the time he was trying to take care of Nick while badly ill.
Of course, he can’t forget the deep fury and also sorrow filling his eyes as he kept throwing stuff at Mark several days ago, when he finally hit the most vulnerable part in Nick’s heart.
“I’m truly sorry. I’ve forgiven you for your words because I understand why. I think the others are willing to do that too.”
Maybe, or maybe some of them still hold resentment despite being sympathetic with Nick. He hopes they’re still willing to offer an olive branch to Nick anyway.
“I hope you’re willing to forgive us too.” He contemplates a little bit more. “Forgive me too.”
There is something clenching his heart achingly when he stares at Nick’s surrendered and lifeless eyes. Those colorful eyes are supposed to be filled with youthful spirit and hope for the future, not soulless like this.
“I don’t want you to give up, whatever pain you’re feeling right now. I don’t want you to punish yourself or hurt yourself like this.”
Mark stares at Nick’s body for a while, then slowly and jerkily reaches out a hand to touch Nick’s shoulder to squeeze it slightly in reassuring manner.
Mark gives a slight smile. “Get better soon, okay?”
Somehow, what Mark did inspires the others to sneakily goes into Nick’s room in the coming days to give their own heartfelt words with wish for peace and reciprocal forgiveness.
He hears Luke says, “Hey, kid, I didn’t like your racist tone before, but even the most horrendous people deserve second chance, you know? I know you’re a good kid. Sorry if we pushed you to the point of saying something that horrible just to release your hurt.”
Lena says something quite similar, while Horace says, “I feel like I’m not being a good leader, especially since I can’t make you get better. Just give me one thing so that I don’t feel like our previous commanding officer chose the wrong person. Please.”
Mary and George try to playfully tease Nick, saying that they were very nice to him and took care at him really well, so can he please be nice to them both at least and not make them feel crazy for talking to themselves?
The next day, Anderson tells him, begrudgingly, that he is sorry for roughing him up before. “I feel like you’re the only smart person here who won’t make me feel like I’m an underpaid tech guy helping a grandma find a power button. Just hang out with me, okay?”
Angie is a little bit more stilted, but she still tries to be earnest in her apology.
And, of course, Don and Anna have to be pushed bodily into the bedroom to apologize. And even then, they only give begrudging kindergarten-kid style of apologies with only, “Sorry we were mean,” before getting out and hissing that they apologized already.
For a while, they thought it wouldn’t work, but as they lose hope, there is rustling sound from the surveillance monitor few days later. They all immediately turn their heads towards it.
They see Nick weakly pushing his own body up to sitting position as he stares at his bedside table. He stays still for a while before shakily reaching out a hand to grab the box with his arm that isn’t still in arm sling.
He stares at it again before putting the bottom part of the box against his left palm, then he slowly pulls the upper part covering the box with slight difficulty as his left arm isn’t as mobile as the other one. He winces several times while painstakingly pulling it.
Everyone is watching the monitor with bated breath and slight smile blooming on their face.
Nick finally opens the box and gently put the upper covering down next to his thighs on the bed. He stares a little bit at the content of the pastries box filled with slightly collapsed snacks, as they were left out uneaten for days.
Unexpectedly, Nick’s face scrunches up into weeping face and he chokes out sobs instead. He bows down his head to his bent right knee with an arm wrapped around his knee and his head, like his usual position when he was still in their holding cell. His shoulder shakes repeatedly in time with his sobs as he audibly cries.
“What?” Anderson exclaims.
Now they look puzzled.
Angie turns to Mark as they both have puzzled look and furrowed eyebrows. “I thought you said he likes French macarons.”
“Well, yeah,” Mark replies unsurely, “his social medias are filled with cats and French macarons. Besides coding and high school stuff. He even said he can bake it.”
“Then why the hell is he crying like he is looking at his dead family?” Luke asks pointedly.
“I…I don’t know.”
As their confusion goes on, Nick surprisingly takes one of the colorful pastries, even as he continues shaking and hiccupping in tears, then bites it carefully. He then sobs hard again.
“What the fuck is going on?” Don asks, puzzled and irritated.
“Does he have trauma with macarons or something?” Lena questions.
Luke blanches. “Shit, maybe we’re making it worse.”
Mark instinctively stands up and walks on to Nick’s bedroom, knocking gently like usual before opening the door.
Unlike before when Nick didn’t ever react, he now looks up with wet face and tearful eyes that make his swirly blue-brown eyes look more… ethereal and heartstring-pulling.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Are they bad? Do you not like it?”
Nick tries to open his mouth, but he is sobbing too hard to talk, so Mark walks slowly and sits on the nearest chair. He waits patiently for a while as Nick is visibly trying to control his sobbing, hiccupping repeatedly.
Finally, he says, “I haven’t had this in years.”
He tries to rub his face and erase his tears, failing miserably. So, he just keeps crying while looking at Mark.
Mark has never thought he would ever hear it from the boy, but Nick does say with tearful, but slightly smiling and grateful face,
“Thank you.”
***
Nick has started to eat the food brought to him, now going back to pureed food again under advisement of Doctor Lowe to prevent refeeding syndrome. They also put his prescribed multivitamins and other supplement to help him get better, along with some anti-depressant and anxiety medications that Nick now takes dutifully.
He still doesn’t eat much, probably trying to get used to normal food and its portion after getting starved for so long.
The half-Asian boy doesn’t talk much either, but he does give small smile every once in while as new food and medication are brought to him.
The environment seems a little less stiff now. Some of them even sometimes stay after giving him food and new clothes to tell him stories about their mission or absently explaining some intel to him, not really expecting him to understand or respond.
Sometimes Nick looks raptly at them, or he looks down almost close to tears again, which they now understand as him feeling a little too reminiscent of his time in Helga, so they change the subject to something domestic like talking about cooking, their dislike towards standard D.E.A.N prepackaged instant foods, or some chores they like to do.
Sometimes he still cries silently and has lower appetite again, or worse yet, he stares off into the wall with dissociated eyes like before.
Some of them, like Don, Anna, Angie, Anderson, and George, don’t really have the patience to sit through Nick’s crying fit and dissociated state, so they stop going to his room to talk to him and are just back to doing whatever they were doing before as they entrust Nick’s wellbeing to the rest, including Mark.
At some point, when Nick looks less sad, they look at their fridge randomly. They find that they still have some of their ice cream cake left. So, Mark, Lena, Luke, Horace, and Mary impulsively decide to bring it with some candle—their usual one for emergency or blackout which is the only ones they have, so it’s pretty big for the cake—to Nick’s bedroom.
Nick is looking down at his fiddling fingers, now that his arm is out of the sling, but he looks up in surprise to see more people than usual at once.
“Happy belated 21st birthday!” they all exclaim to him.
Nick looks surprised but he unsurely and slightly smiles.
“You don’t… you don’t have to burden yourself like this.”
Lena says with beaming smile says, “Nonsense. It’s a 21st birthday. It’s supposed to be special.”
“Yeah, but sorry, we ate some of it. We haven’t had sweets in a while in the mission,” Mark tells him absently.
“Anderson mostly ate it, though, not us,” Luke quips in.
“I heard that! Asshole!” they hear Anderson from the outside yelling at them, presumably listening and watching the live feed to Nick’s surveillance camera.
Nick giggles a little, the sound sending a jolt of… something delightful in Mark’s heart. He brushes it off.
“Oh, that’s a lot. I can’t finish them,” he says with small voice, seemingly still not confident and calm in their midst.
“Well, there are 6 of us here,” Horace says. “The others don’t get to eat some, though. They didn’t want to come in with us.”
“Happy diabetes, then, bastards,” Anna exclaims this time.
Ignoring the cynic, Lena puts the plastic covering on the bedside table as they open the lid and pulls a plastic knife with some paper plates. They cut the remaining cake, thankfully still over a half of it, to six roughly equal pieces.
“Here, the birthday boy gets it first.” Lena hands one piece on a paper plate to Nick.
“I think… that was a long time ago already,” he quietly murmurs.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still the birthday boy,” they reply as they try to steady Nick’s slightly trembling hands. “OH! Wait!”
Everyone looks at Lena in question.
“Make a wish and blow the candle first!”
Nick looks questioningly at them with unsure face, staring warily to the candle.
“Um, okay.”
He still stares unsurely a little bit, some slight fear even visible in his eyes that makes the others look doubtful about the candle. Maybe he has some traumatizing memory with candle.
Still, he eventually inhales deeply before leaning forward anyway with shaky smile, then blows the large candle. He has to blow several times as the air he blows is quite weak, up until the third blow that completely snuffs the flame.
“Yay! Congrats, here is to a better 21st birthday celebration and so on!”
Nick smiles again at Lena, now finally receiving the cake piece completely in his hands. Everyone follows suit one by one to receive the cake piece. Few of them gently sit on the side of the bed due to lack of chairs.
“You guys really don’t have to do this. I feel like I’m taking important time for your work.”
Mark looks at him with genuine smile. “It’s for us too, to be honest. Sometimes it's so tense and stressful. Having a nice fun time like this every once in a while is something that we need.”
He hears a chorus of ‘Yeah, true’ from his fellow agents.
After a while of comfortable silence, Nick puts down his plate on his laps with some of the slightly melted cake left. There is contemplating and slightly frowning look on his face.
Everyone looks at each other before pausing their eating.
“I’m sorry, for being vile to all of you.”
There is soft look on their faces.
“You’re right,” Nick looks particularly at Mark for a bit, “that I want to take out my years of frustration, and you know, those two weeks frustration too,” he chuckles a little but schools his expression again when the others look uncomfortable, “on someone, anyone. I just, kept it all in for survival, but I was dying to get it off my chest for once.”
Mark and his teammates look serenely at Nick.
“I was so bad to all of you, trying to find what hurt all of you the most. I was just so sick of being hurt that I want to do it back to someone.”
He is silent as he thinks more, so they wait patiently.
“It’s ironic, actually, what I said to four of you, specifically,” He looks at Luke, Horace, Lena, and Mark.
“Not that what I called you isn’t bad,” he quickly adds facing Mary.
“But, you know, I’m half Vietnamese—also, half Russian, in case you can’t tell from my full name—and I had other kids telling me to ‘go back to your country, you ugly communist!’”
“Ouch,” Horace responds emphatically.
Mark looks forlorn on behalf of Nick at his exaggerated voice reminiscing his childhood bullying. Then, he furrows his eyebrows.
“Wait, why ironic with me and Lena?”
Nick spoons around the melted cake absently as he looks down.
“Are you gay?” Lena asks, sounding slightly shocked.
“Not gay,” he mutters, “Bi.”
Mark smiles smugly and surreptitiously at Luke. Luke just rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, you have a good gaydar, yada yada yada,” Luke jokingly says.
Nick looks at Mark through his lashes. “You knew?”
“Just got the vibe from your last tweet.”
Luke interjects playfully, “Because he has crush on you and is trying to find out if he has a chance with you.”
“Shut the fuck up, Luke. I’m not that unethical.”
They all chuckle, as Nick just smiles slightly, giving a millisecond look at Mark.
Mark blinks and looks away with a gulp. Of course, he is not going to be that unethical.
Right?
“Anyway,” Mary quips in, “I know you were trying to be mean with me, but I’m not too offended, actually, because my family used to call me barbie. You know, as a way to call me pretty.”
He eyes Mary a little contemplatively.
“I mean, yeah, you’re very pretty for a specialized task force agent,” Nick jokes.
“Thanks,” Mary beams. “I’m just offended you keep confusing me with Angie, sometimes you called me Plastic Barbie One, but sometimes Two. Makes me feel very forgettable.”
Nick looks down in shame. “Sorry.”
“I’m kidding.” Mary giggles.
Something comes up in Mark’s mind.
“But, you do know the difference between Mary and Angie, right?”
“Um,” Nick spoons the melted cream a little more frantically this time, “I know you both have different hair length. And you’re the younger one.”
“Oh, it’s fine. It’s not like we’re ever formally introduced ourselves. I’m Mary,” she points at herself, “and this one is Luke,” she points at the older man with dark skin, “and this one is Horace, our commanding officer,” she now points at their tall Latino leader, “and this—”
“Wait, I thought the captain is you,” Nick interjects while looking at Luke.
Everyone is suddenly feeling awkward and uncomfortable with the unsaid contention that Nick now blatantly points out.
Luke raises his hands as a placating movement, saying hurriedly, “Oh no, not me. Horace is our commanding officer. Also, he is older than me anyway.”
“Oh sorry, I didn’t know,” Nick says apologetically and widens his eyes, before continuing, “I think I remember vaguely something about you being chosen by the previous one. I forgot, I’m so sorry!”
Horace gives a smile, even if there is something forced on the edge, “It’s all right, kid. We’re all supposed to be equal teammates anyway.”
Not really, not with Jackson before, Mark thinks but he keeps his mouth shut.
“And you’re Lena, I remember that. You’re the one who takes care of me often,” he finally looks at Lena, earning a wide smile from them as they realize Nick acknowledges them the most.
“You know who his name is?” Luke now asks, pointing at Mark.
“Something starting with M, I think?” he says, cocking his head to the side.
Mark is too focused at staring at Nick’s colorful eyes that he has to have Luke elbow him to refocus his attention.
“Your name,” Luke says with meaningful stare.
“Uh, yeah. Marcus. Or Mark. Whichever really.”
Nick looks a little bashful, making him appear… sweet. Kind of.
What the fuck is happening to him?
“Um, hi. Mark. Sorry I threw stuff at you.”
Mark waves it off, partly to pull his thought out of his musing. “It’s fine. Wasn’t too bad. It stopped aching like two days later.”
They continue eating the cake, lightly commenting on the taste and how much or little they like the dessert. They also ask Nick if he likes the macarons, which he does, but he says that he likes his own baked pastries usually, even if the ingredients are expensive.
Eventually, they all finish their cake and are starting to stack the plates and cutleries to throw out the one-time-use items and bring the rest to the kitchen sink. Nick offers to help, but they insist that he just rests instead.
He seems to want to insist anyway, but his eyes look half-lidded, so they tell him to just nap, then they leave him to sleep in his room on his own.
Ten minutes later, Mark sees from the surveillance monitor that Nick’s eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls steadily.
“‘Wasn’t too bad. It stopped aching like two days later,’ huh? Trying to impress him with your strength or something?” Luke teases him.
Mark just shakes his head with a ‘fuck you, Luke’, which the older man responds with a cackle.
***
(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)
#whump#whumptober2021#no.5#i've got red in my ledger#misunderstanding#OC#OC whump#whumper turned caretaker#multiple whumpers#recovery#enemies to found family#Original Work#D.E.A.N#whump prompt#prompt fill#starvation#torture#whump community#me#writing#english#repost for whump sideblog#whumptober#me-write
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Any idea who the female companion is on the back of his bike?
https://www.elvis-collectors.com/candid-central/040376riding.html
thank you for the ask <3 !!!
as for the mysterious female companion… that would be Tori Petty, a 20-year-old college student and cheerleader from Oxford, Mississippi (which btw was a 75 mile commute to Memphis… Elvis would be worth it tho 🤭). She met Elvis around 1975 after his 40th birthday and we know they dated for about a year (possibly more) as these photos below were taken on April 3, 1976 ⬇️
George Klein introduced Tori to Elvis after she participated on his "Talent Party" show. Elvis most likely saw her appearance on the show and asked George to set him up, as he did with Cybill Shepherd and Gail Stanton, who both appeared on "Talent Party" and were immediately asked to be seen by Elvis. This is why many of the MM refer to George Klein as Elvis' pimp 💀, as he was the one responsible for setting Elvis up with women
And like many of the women in Elvis’ life, Tori was involved in beauty queen pageants and held the title of “Miss Ole Miss”. I believe she also occasionally modeled for clothing catalogues while being a student
According to George Klein, Elvis began dating Tori while Linda Thompson was staying at the apartment he had leased for her in Los Angeles, California. This goes back to the ask I answered a few days ago regarding Linda and how Elvis would create physical distance between them so he could date other women. Naturally, Linda was upset when she learned about him and Tori 🤧 ⬇️
(excerpt from “Elvis: My Best Man” by George Klein)
And, while Tori has never been formally interviewed for a book like "Baby Let's Play House" by Alanna Nash or "Careless Love" by Peter Guralnick, she has openly spoken about Elvis to a few newspapers and may have appeared on a talkshow in the early 1990s ⬇️
Newspaper from August 11, 1994: “Elvis would fly me back and forth from Memphis to Oxford in a little private jet I was certainly impressed," said Petty, now of Dallas. "I wish I could tell you that he was a sweet, down to earth, ordinary man. He was sweet and he was down to earth, but he was extraordinary." One April afternoon, they went for a ride on Elvis' Harley. They were being followed by a woman in a car, who was working on a pictorial book about the star. "At a red light, Elvis said, 'Look at her give her a good picture, and she'll leave us’ So they did. And, it was in focus, from inside a car, with a Kodak Instamatic. The picture appeared in Betty Page's Got Ya, Elvis, I Got ya, published in 1977. Some time after the Memphis ride, an acquaintance told Petty he saw a picture of her with Elvis and put her in touch with the woman who took it. Petty got a print. "It's framed and depending on what else is going on in my life, I either put it in the closet or hang it on the wall." - Interview with Tori Petty
(courtesy of “Clarion-Ledger” on newspapers.com)
As for the possible television appearance, according to this newspaper⬇️, Tori Petty and Gail Stanton ( the playboy model Elvis dated) were interviewed on Geraldo Riveras' talkshow which was set to air on January 8th, 1991 for Elvis’ birthday. I've searched every archive site I know and haven't been able to find the episode 😭 !! In fact, I don't even see the episode listed on Geraldo’s archive which has every season and the names of its’ episodes, so I'm wondering if it ever even aired
Newspaper from December 29, 1990: What would you have to do to wind up being interviewed by Geraldo Rivera? For Memphian Gail Stanton it was nothing deviant or even horrible. That distinction was saved for the interview itself, her grilling by the king of the naughty interview is scheduled to air Jan 8 (10 am on WHBQ-TV). Geraldo was kind of conniving said Ms Stanton ,36, who holds the distinction of being the only Frayser woman who has been a Playboy Playmate of the Month. That was in June 1978 when she followed in the footsteps of Mississippian Stella Stevens with a nude Playboy pose from sea to shining sea. That piqued Geraldo but his real interest was in another distinction. That was Ms Seventies fling with hometown boy Elvis Presley. It was Elvis's Jan 8 birthday that inspired producers to delve once again into the things from drugs to gossipy stepbrothers to girlfriends. The show taped last week included Ms Stanton who was a Shelby County computer programmer before she turned centerfold spread and Tori Petty a former Ole Miss cheerleader who also dated Elvis. Ms Stanton said Geraldo seemed to give short shrift to other guests such as Charles Thompson coauthor of The Death of Elvis spent quite a bit of time- (illegible). Geraldo knows how to turn those questions around, Ms Stanton says, “I think he was trying to get us to say something like whether we'd been to bed with Elvis and of course that's our personal information”. As for Elvis, Ms Stanton volunteers memories such as how he was a Southern gentleman, “There aren't too many men today who open doors for you or are polite and he was. He didn't blast away TV sets in her presence or talk incessantly about mama or even act moody or strange”. She says “He played the piano for me and sang. How many people can say they have been serenaded by Elvis Presley?" - Interview with Gail Stanton
(courtesy of “The Commercial Appeal” on newspapers.com)
And lastly, I found this book that briefly mentions her and the jacket that was given to her by Elvis <3 ⬇️
(courtesy of “Rock & Roll Memorabilia” by Hilary Kay)
#if anybody happens to find the Geraldo episode that she is in#I will love you forever !!!#I wish we could have heard more from her 😭#her being dripped out in pink and on the back of Elvis’ motorcycle is so iconic 😩#tori… how did it feel to live my dream ?!#elvis presley#elvisaaronpresley#elvis#tori petty#gail stanton#george klein#linda thompson#big daddy elvis#elvis history#elvis fans#elvis photos#elvis asks#70s#70s elvis
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How You and I Became We
Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader
Warnings: Light mentions of the red room, Natasha having PTSD, a lot of tooth rotting fluff of reader helping Nat through things and being her rock
Word count: 885
A/N: I felt bad for making Nat the bad guy and had to make up for it. So here she is, being baby and soft.
You met Natasha after she defected from Russia, claiming she wanted to do better and be better. Fury assigned her to you and Barton. Field missions she'd head out with Clint then report back to you.
Slowly you learned things about Natasha especially since you two shared an apartment. Fury had asked if you could take her in since she had nowhere to go and it would take her a bit to save up for her own place.
It was your first night together when you learned about her need to handcuff herself to the bed. You tried to reassure her that she didn't need that and she assured you that she did.
You compromised with her by holding her wrist through the night. You got little sleep that whole first week, but you'd slept worse before.
Slowly you were able to let go of your grip until she didn't need it anymore though you found her still seeking out your touch to help her fall asleep, it usually became your hands intertwined and eventually you'd start waking up with more than just your hands intertwined.
Over time you had learned Natasha's habits and you find her seeking out your office for its comforting atmosphere. The soft yellow lights, soft lofi music, comfy couches, and snuggly blankets. She'd come in quietly, if your desk hadn't faced the door you probably wouldn't even know she'd slipped in as she grabbed a blanket, wrapping herself up and laying down.
She'd start talking in Russian assuming you didn't understand, but you knew several languages. She'd complain about various things, especially the red room. You had learned a lot from her file that Fury gave you and you knew about the Red Room and the horrible things that had gone on there. Natasha only confirmed them as she spoke in Russian.
“Krasnaya komnata isportila vsyu moyu zhizn'. U menya v bukhgalterskoy knige stol'ko krasnogo, i ya ne znayu, smogu li ya kogda-nibud' eto ispravit'... YA ne ponimayu, pochemu ty tak dobr ko mne…(The red room fucked with my whole life over. I've got so much red in my ledger and I don't know if I'll ever be able to fix it...I don't understand why you're so nice to me…)”
You looked up from your paperwork. She wasn't looking at you, just staring off, as she tugged on a loose string of the blanket. You had heard her say a lot of negative things since you had met, but she had never brought you into it so you figured it was time,
“YA dobr k tebe, potomu chto ty mne nravish'sya, Natal'ya. YA dumayu, ty khoroshiy chelovek. Prosto potomu, chto oni kontrolirovali vas tak, kak oni eto delali, vy reshili uyti, chtoby stat' luchshe, potomu chto vy luchshe. To, cherez chto oni zastavili vas proyti, bylo obuslovleno vami, no eto ne znachit, chto eto vy. (I'm nice to you because I like you Natalia. I think you're a good person. Just because they controlled you the way they did it was your decision to leave, to be better because you are better. What they put you through was conditioned into you it doesn't mean it is you.)” you leaned back in your chair, she shot up, blanket falling off of her.
“You can speak Russian?” Her voice wavered as you nodded.
“The whole time?”
“Yes. I didn't want you to stop venting, but I don't want you questioning why I'm nice to you. It's not because I have to be. It's because I want to be. I actually genuinely like you Natalia.” You stood up, making your way around your desk until you were in front of her. She stood a few inches taller than you as you looked up into her striking green eyes.
“Why…?” You shrug.
“Why do we like anything? Or anyone for that matter? Emotions are weird and complicated, but that's okay because there doesn't have to be some big hidden meaning behind why I like you. Do you like me?” Natasha nods, making you smile and slowly reach out for her hand, she allows you to intertwine your fingers. “Then that's all that matters, don't you think?” She looks away and down and everywhere, but at you until you take your other hand and gently cup her cheek which brings her attention back to you. “It's okay to feel this way Tasha. No one is going to stop you, especially not me.” You barely had time to blink before her lips pressed against yours softly.
You let your hand move to the back of her head so she couldn't pull back too quickly as you kissed back, letting your lips dance for the first time.
You let her go, pulling back only to have her chase your lips, gripping your cheeks and pulling you back in as you fall against the couch, her now straddling your lap as she kisses you with a fever like she's suddenly addicted to you and can't get enough until you both need air. Breathing heavily, feeling her hot breath against your face. You grip her hips pulling her closer.
“I do hope that you don't leave me all hot and bothered with just your kisses.” You breathe out, kissing her jaw and neck.
“Wouldn't dream of it.”
#ley speaks#ley drabbles#ley writes#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha x you#natasha romanoff x gn!reader#natasha romanoff fluff
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HA days 4 and 5 complete at 6.4k. That's a little much I gotta scale it back.
But I hope it's fun!
(Sky&Wild, whumptober 2021 prompts 4 and 5, "trust fall" and "I've got red in my ledger." Sci-fi au)
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"The Lover's Quarrel" ~ S. Harrington
Summary: Steve gets beat up, Reader has to clean him up, and then they tell each other "I love you" for the first time.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader (only one use of Y/N)
Word Count: 535
Content Warning: explicit language, Billy makes derogatory sexual comments about Reader, mentions of blood, Steve do be injured, mild mention of food, lmk if I missed anything!
Genre: Angst to Fluff? idk whatever "taking care of each other" falls into 🤣
Extra Notes: yeah crappy summary as per usual, i know 🤩
Based On the Prompt: "I've Got Red In My Ledger" - broken nose (from 2021 Whumptober Prompts)
Originally Written: 10/23/2022
Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold
honeysuckleharringtons main masterlist can be found here!
honeysuckleharringtons whumptober masterlist can be found here!
"You gotta stop doing this," I commented, placing the ice pack over Steve's now blackened eye.
"He was asking for it," he mumbled, wincing at the coldness.
I turned back to face him, dabbing at the blood sliding down his lip. "What did he do this time?" I asked, already knowing Steve's answer.
His non-black eye narrowed sarcastically. "It's Billy Hargrove. Do you really have to ask that?"
"OK, I understand the guy's an asshole, but at least tell me you had a reason for him to break your nose this time."
He gasped, his eyes filling with sadness. "Did he really break it?"
"Yes, Steve. That's what happens when you keep getting into fights," I scolded as I placed a Band-Aid on his cheek.
The room stayed silent, save for the winces Steve would let out whenever I'd touch a sensitive spot on his face. The air was cold, causing him to shiver as he leaned back against the cabinets, his long legs dangling over the kitchen counter where he sat.
I was the first to speak again. "So what really happened?" I asked, more sincerely and less sarcastically than earlier.
"He, uh…" Steve hesitated, his eyes screwing shut as I placed another bandage on his cheek.
I swallowed, knowing by the expression on his face that I wasn't going to like his answer.
"He was talking shit about you."
My eyebrows raised in slight disbelief. "He what?"
"He was saying all sorts of shit about you and saying you were easy just because you're with me… so I punched him."
I kissed his forehead, practically the only spot on his face that was left undamaged. "Well, thank you. But I promise, I'm no reason to break your pretty nose and bust those luscious lips."
He let out a light huff, cracked a small smile, and took my hands in his. "I promise you, you are the only person I'd be willing to get a broken nose for. Well, OK, maybe Dustin if it was for a good enough cause."
I laughed quietly, running my hand through his hair. "Well, I don't know about Dustin, but I appreciate your kind gesture."
"Always. Anything for the person I love most."
I was taken aback by his use of the word love. Neither of us had ever really used it, outside of one bantering use in the sentence, "I love you so damn much," when I brought Steve ice cream at work once.
"You really love me most? Out of everyone in your life?" I inquired, my stomach doing a loop-de-loop as I processed his words once more.
"Of course I do. You're beautiful, kind, you put up with shit like this at 2 a.m. on a weeknight," he chuckled, "and most importantly, I love you most because I know you love me most."
My lips turned upward as I leaned into him, basking in the feeling of his hands resting on my back. "Well, you are right about that. I do love you most. More than anyone has ever loved someone before."
"Well, that's where you're wrong, Y/N Y/L/N," he chuckled, "because I love you more than anyone else has ever loved someone before."
Um... so obviously this isn't what everyone was expecting...
I know, I missed some Whumptober posts, but I have a plan to make up for it!!
As most everyone knows, next month is nanowrimo! That being said, i was going to take a short break posting on here to work on my novel during nano. But, my plan now is to (as far as fanfics go) only allow myself to work on the Whumptober fics i missed, and everything else I write will be for my novel.
So, you guys will be getting all the Whumptober fics I missed, just not during October.
I do apologize for not writing those yet. I wish I had an excuse but tbh, I don't really know why I stopped writing them.
Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed my next Whumptober installment!! 🫶🏻
-> Taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-is-dead-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh
#imagine#imagines#one shot#one shots#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington one shots#steve harrington whump#steve harrington hurt/comfort#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things imagine#stranger things imagines#stranger things one shot#stranger things one shots#stranger things whump#stranger things hurt/comfort#fanfic#fanfiction#hurt/comfort#whump#whumpblr#whumptober#whumptober2022#honeysuckleharringtons
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Redemption
Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader
a/n: I just wanted to write a quick little something for kate, so enjoy<3
Kate sprinted across the rooftops, dodging obstacles and leaping from building to building in an attempt to escape the pursuing figure behind her. Sweat dripped down her forehead. She reached the edge of a tall building, panting heavily. She turned around slowly, coming face to face with her determined fate. The figure slowly approached; eyes fixated on each other.
The figure made herself known by stepping out of the shadows. She backed up, her feet precariously close to the edge, no place left to run. The wind howled around her, and the city stretched out far below.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
“Please! don’t do this.” she pleaded “Come with me and turn yourself in.”
“You don’t understand” you answered. “My ledger, its dripping red. You really are naive if you think the others will welcome me after what I’ve done.”
She cowered as you took a step closer to her figure. “I don’t understand why you work so hard to ‘save’ me. It's a shame your efforts will all be for nothing.”
“I know you're not a bad person. I believe you can be better, that you can make a change.” She said with tears in her eyes.
“God, you really are delusional Kate!” you huff out. “I’m the bad guy, remember. I don’t do good.” you stepped closer to her figure, slender fingers wrapping around her throat. Her body tilted over the edge of the building.
“You can. I've seen the good in you, even if you won't admit it to yourself.” Kate pleaded with you in desperation.
“I don’t have time for this. I can’t let you keep getting in the way of my plans.”
“Then why are you hesitating?” she daringly asked you. “Why don’t you just kill me.”
There was a short pause. She could see the doubt in your eyes. “I know you care about me.” She spoke softly in a sudden burst of confidence.
“I Do Not Care About You!” you lashed out at her, venom dripping from their tongue. Your hand squeezing tighter around her neck and hers clutching your forearm as to not fall down a 50-story building.
But even though they were screaming, they loosened their grip on Kate’s neck, pulling her slightly away from the ledge. She looked at you and silently pleaded. Your eyes softened, and you dropped your knife to the ground. She could see the tears form in their eyes, a lost look on their face. Then suddenly, the villain got pulled into a tight hug. The stiff body eventually relaxed under her touch, and she felt two arms hugging her back.
#kate bishop x female reader#kate bishop x reader#kate bishop#hawkeye#wlw fanfictions#wlw fanfic#mcu#marvel
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thinking about how if all of Loki and Natasha's conversation in Avengers 1 was projection instead of just most of it it implies so much about what was used against him by Thanos.
Yes, the idea of sending someone with a way out "as a balm" after trying torture to make him cooperate.
"I'd say I've expanded his mind" as if Loki asked what the scepter did, what it was doing.
"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?" when she wants to know if Clint will be intact after it's over, a refusal to answer when Thor may wonder the same of him and not like the answer.
"And what will you do if I vow to spare him?" we already know Thanos would use Thor's life against Loki. We already know Loki's bargain included sparing Midgard from Thanos, but not Asgard.
LOKI: Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?
NATASHA: Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that
LOKI: What is it you want?
Could Loki have faced a choice for Asgard and chosen only Thor? A direct parallel, including however Loki does/doesn't identify as Asgardian, and his mindset in conquering. He's not got conviction and she mirrors that nonchalance here.
Loki asking "Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?" and listing her crimes is another line usually understood as projection. Loki has his list too, and doesn't think great of it. "Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic!"
"You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers." is a pretty apt description of Asgard. But could it describe Sanctuary too? What did Loki have to do to prove his loyalty to Thanos before being judged worthy of the scepter, of a bargain at all, and to retrieve a whole infinity stone for him at the cost of one?
"You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!" This is generally understood as blanket guilt/regret but he says it so angrily it's often dismissed in favour of just snitching on HYDRA within SHIELD. Re: What did Loki have to DO while under Thanos?
LOKI: I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you! Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear! And when he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!
Assuming Thor is the one Loki would bargain to save, is this a threat that has been made to Loki before? Is it what Loki knows would come of a successful bargain with Thanos? Being hurt by Thor is what he's feared before, but does it hold true even after the events of Thor 1? The idea of Thor being used against Loki being an intimate way to kill, while also acknowledging that Thor might not want to do it and might realize what he's done and hate it?
#''No. You brought the monster." is interesting because it happens right after Natasha refers to Loki as a monster#it helps support that Loki was projecting but the idea that the monster was brought#rather than already there#so could also be read as a reminder that Loki has enough awareness to define a monster for actions committed#rather than just his race in Thor 1#Loki refers to Hulk as a 'mindless beast making play he's still a man' but like Hulk is known for destruction at that point#and there's nothing saying he knows Banner to be the other form iirc#idk I've just been thinking about the ''Not until I make him kill you! Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear!'' line#like bruh that's so SPECIFIC#what did Thanos DO#what was Loki THINKING during Thor 1#*shakes bars* TELL ME#headcanons galore i reckon#too bad the MCU didn't try to cash in on ANYTHING
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