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fa-headhoncho · 3 years

Text

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 1871 (ahaha, yea)

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers might be triggering??? idk

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to end my 141 part Wattpad Sebastian Stan imagine book and post on Tumblr instead :’), a happy day. Also, I’M SORRY THAT I LIKE SLOW BURN SERIES OK? Schedule for this series is every Thursday. ALSO IF YOU HAVE TITLE IDEAS FOR THIS SERIES, LMK! PLEASE

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

=====

The sound of your heels echoed throughout the dimly lit room as you make your way through the exhibit. The walls take you back in time, reading how Captain America came to be and all his past accomplishments. They even updated from the last time you were here, documenting the events on the Blip.

You didn’t even know where you were going, absently letting your emotions and feet lead to where it felt you needed to be.

“For a former spy, you’re not really good at sneaking up on someone.” Rhodes’ voice greets you once you open up the curtain to a different area. A small smile sneaks its way across your face seeing the two men in front of you.

“Bit out of practice.” You spit back, walking towards them. “It’s nice to see you again, Rhodie.” You open your arms out to him and he gladly takes the hug. “Hopefully life’s been treatin’ you well.”

“For the most part,” He chuckles out while pulling away from the embrace. You move on to the other man, him happily wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrap yours around his shoulders.

Sam lets out a breath into the crook of your neck before pulling back. “You doing okay?” You ask, looking at his face for any sign of emotion. He nods but there was something in his eye that told otherwise.

You open your mouth to push him for the real answer but Rhodes cuts you off, “Well, I have to get going. It was good seeing you, (Y/L/N), hopefully, we work together soon. Remember what I said, Sam.” With that, he leaves the room to leave you and Sam alone.

The room fills with silence as the two of you turn to the iconic suit and shield in front of you. You try to watch Sam from the corner of your eye but he just stands with his back straight and his eyes forward.

“You know, I’m sure Steve would understand.” You decide to say, clasping your hands in front of you. “I didn’t become as close as you did, but from my time with him during the Blip, he tried his best to help everyone. He had a lot of responsibilities and issues of his own along with having a whole country looking up to him...

“It was a lot… he opened to me about it one night before… you know.” You admit which makes him finally look at you. “He told me what he was going to do and all I could do is support him… I asked him what he was going to do with the mantle and he said give it to you.” Turning your head, you make eye contact with him. “I asked him if he was sure.”

He lets out a snort at that, shaking his head at you. “Really gotta do me like that?” He wipes his hand across his face then stuffs his hand in his pockets as he turns to face you. “I thought we were having a nice bonding moment and then you had to drop me like that?”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips at his whining. “I’m being serious, Sam, stop.” You hit him on the shoulder. “He said there was no doubt in his mind that you do what needed to be done with the shield. He trusted you and your judgment, Falcon.” You emphasize his hero name which he just rolls his eyes at you.

“Yea, I’m sure he did.” He smiles and then changes the subject, “How’s parole treatin’ ya, still got the collar on?” He gestures to your ankle causing you to lift your dress pant leg, flashing the electric bracelet around your ankle. He lets out a hearty chuckle at it. “Still can’t believe that they have you on a leash.”

“Price you gotta pay for freedom.” You shrug and drop the cloth. There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, both of you taking a glance back at the exhibit and the shield.

“Have you talked with Bucky recently?”

“No, I was going to ask you.” Your heart sinks at the realization. “We’ve been texting a bit but I haven’t seen him since I spent the weekend with him a couple of weeks ago.” You shyly admit and look down at your feet.

“Weekend, huh?”

“Shut it, Sam.” You knock your foot against his. “We didn’t do anything, he doesn’t like me like that. Plus, he wouldn’t even let me spend the night. I had to go to a hotel, he sleeps on the floor, Sam! I’m worried about him.” It took weeks for you to convince him to let you come over and you finally knew why when you step into his apartment. It made your heart sink, it looked like if a Hydra cell got a remodel. “He has two chairs and a tv.”

“Living modestly I see.” He snorts out, covering up whatever he was actually thinking. It’s now your turn to roll your eyes at him, frustrated that he isn’t willing to talk about this. “Hey, he’s still figuring stuff out, okay? He just got all his memories back and he’s still working on living with his past. You should know better than I do to give him time.” His tone is soft as he lightly scolds you. You hang your head at his words, knowing he’s right.

It took some time for you to come to terms with your past when you turned yourself in after Hydra and SHIELD fell. You took accountability for your actions during your years at Hydra and spent a few years in jail before Steve took action to help you get on parole. That didn’t mean you weren’t fully recovered.

“When are you joining me on the field, anyway?” Sam changes the topic noticing how you went silent and your eyes looked past him. “I could use you on some of my recon missions.”

A large smile forms on your face at the mention of your parole. “A couple more check-ins and I’m good, I think.” You excitedly inform, “They actually want to talk to me about something, and then it’s the last three months. Saving the world made my good behavior skyrocket.”

“I’m sure it did.” He smiles, “Well, let me know what happens. I’m heading down to Louisiana soon and my sisters want to meet you. She heard about your work with the soup kitchens in New York and she wanted some insight.”

“Really? Give her my number, you know I’d be happy to talk with her. I’ve been thinking about trying to get my officer to convince the big guys to expand my tracking radar so I reach out more.” You start to ramble about the ideas you’ve been having for more community service actions. During the blip, Steve got you into volunteer work and it sparked something inside of you. He said it might give you a new purpose and he couldn’t have been more right.

The two of you spend the rest of the day together, catching up on everything that’s been going on. You didn’t realize how much you missed his snarky comments and banter until he smothered you in it, “making up for lost time”, he said. He continues the bullying by texting back and forth for the next few days.

It was nice to have a friend after everything that happened over the last few years. Steve and Nat were gone so the friendships you built up during the blip were just a memory now. Yea, Bucky and you were friends but it was a bit more complicated than that.

It’s a few weeks after that and they’ve already named some prick the new Captain America. You were frustrated at Sam but you realized that he couldn’t have known that this was going to happen. Especially since when you reached out to him and he was more furious than you were. Bucky was a whole other story. When the press conference aired, he immediately called you and went off about Sam. You couldn’t offer answers so you just told him to talk to him about it. This didn’t involve you.

Now, you were sat at some random government office in DC. You were beyond nervous, leg bouncing and fingers tapping. Kevin, your sweet parole officer, had called you in for an emergency meeting. He didn’t mention anything about the content of it but he assured you not to worry. It didn’t help, though, your mind was scrambling trying to think of anything you could’ve done to break your parole or anywhere you could’ve gone that went outside your tracking radar.

“(Y/L/N)?” The familiar voice echoes through the lobby makes your head snap up. Kevin, your knight in a cashmere sweater, stands there with his hands in his pants pockets. He nods his head, gesturing for you to follow him.

He leads you down a long hallway, stopping at the end of it and holding the door open for you. You send him a grateful smile before entering the office. It was very different from his usual office. The tall windows lined the wall from floor to ceiling, making the already large room feel even more spacious. It was a bit unsettling compared to his close-knit office space located in an old house on the outskirts of DC.

Kevin moves you two to the large conference table on the other side of the room, having you sit before he does. He takes the chair at the head of the table, sighing as he opens the folder and takes a few papers out.

“Sign these.” He slides them over to you but you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re being released.” He announces, leaning back in his chair with a tight-lipped smile on his face. Your jaw drops and your heart picks up but you can’t help but question it. You quickly compose yourself and look down at the papers.

“Isn’t it a bit too early?” You ask while briefly scanning the papers. “I still have two months left, not that I’m not grateful but where is this coming from?” This was happening too suddenly, Kevin was good with warning you about the activities that go on behind the scenes of your parole and he didn’t even mention the thought of an early release.

The brunette man lets out a sigh, running his hair through his long hair. He then leans his elbows on the table with his head propped up on his palms, he opens his mouth to answer but is cut off by the office door opening.

The new Captain America and his sidekick come waltzing in, a few of his goons following as well. He didn’t need the uniform or shield for you to recognize him since his face has been plastered on every channel since they came forward with him. He’s all everyone could talk about.

“He released you.” You barely hear Kevin as your mind goes into spirals. What the hell did this guy want? Why is he even here? What the hell did he want with you?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #avengers imagines #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #tfatws #avengers fanfic #mcu #james buchanan barnes x reader

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owletstarlet · 3 years

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the grand deeds of great men, the smallest of gestures

"My hero."

An (extremely late) request of sorts from @taizi for some solid nishi content, involving Tanuma putting those childhood karate lessons to good use. Established tanunatsu.

Ao3 link in the notes.

“Your boyfriend,” Satoru announces without preamble, dragging Tanuma by their joined hands through the hotel room door, “is a badass.”

Natsume looks up sharply from where he and Atsushi are huddled over a pile of rumpled travel pamphlets on the bed. But it’s Taki who’s on her feet first, closing the distance to the door with a pinched look and taking the shopping bag out of Tanuma’s hand.

Satoru’s grinning. Tanuma is very much not.

But they’re both shaking.

Satoru doesn’t let go of Tanuma’s hand until Natsume’s there to take it. Atsushi’s there to grab Satoru by the shoulders, and the five of them shuffle back as one towards the beds.

Natsume doesn’t press for the explanation until they’re all seated, he and Taki pressed up against either side of Tanuma, their knees bumping up against Atsushi’s and Satoru’s in the narrow space between the two beds. The muttered question is probably more directed at Satoru than at Tanuma, because Tanuma’s gray-faced in the lamplight, gaze a little too wide, breaths coming a little too fast. Both Natsume’s hands are wrapped around Tanuma’s slack one, and on his other side Taki’s hands are gentle where they rub his back, but her keen eyes keep darting over to Satoru, expression tight with all the same concern. Satoru, for his part, is practically vibrating where he sits tucked against Atsushi’s side, from nerves or exhilaration or both, Atsushi can’t quite tell.

“He flipped a guy!” Satoru declares, with a wide one-handed swoop of a gesture at Tanuma, sounding positively giddy about it.

Well. Whatever Atsushi was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that.

“What,” Natsume says, blankly, at the same time that Taki says, “…wait.”

And then they’re all looking at Tanuma. Who very much looks like he’d rather not be looked at.

“It was the actual best thing I have ever seen,” Satoru says, nudging Tanuma’s knee with his own, and there’s something fierce and warm in his eyes. “And he thinks he’s gonna go to jail or something for it, which he’s not, because the guy deserved it, so that would be dumb.”

“What happened?” Atsushi blurts, now well and truly alarmed.

And he tells them.

They’re in Osaka for a long weekend, because Natori had invited them all along for some premiere of a new period piece that Satoru had been gushing about for months. Natsume’s not exactly ecstatic about attending the event itself, but he’s clearly happy that Satoru’s happy—Atsushi gathers that that’s whole point of this—and even if Natori himself is all booked up with press events for the majority of the weekend, it’s a chance for them all to explore the unfamiliar city together.

Not thirty minutes ago, Satoru and Tanuma had volunteered to make a combini run for snacks, only about two blocks from the hotel. But once they’d finished and were through the door, bags in hand, Tanuma had realized he’d forgotten to get the ice cream Taki had asked for. He’d gone back in to get it, while Satoru stayed out front to sip at the cocoa he’d bought. They hadn’t really paid any mind to the group milling about out front. Salarymen, by the looks of them, three or four younger guys in tidy suits with raucous voices and beers in hand. Satoru had been making his way to the bench near the entrance to wait, not quite looking where he was going, and he’d bumped into one of them, causing some of his beer to slosh over the lip of the can and onto the guy’s blazer sleeve. From his place in line Tanuma had heard it, the sharp “Oy!” and the rumbles of displeasure from man’s friends. Tanuma’s not sure what became of the ice cream he’d been holding—maybe he dropped it, maybe he shoved it into the hands of the customer beside him—but the next thing he knew he was out the door, wedging himself firmly between Satoru and the man who now had him by the arm.

“And then he just…bam!” Satoru mimes the motion, as though he’s grabbing something heavy with both hands from behind, and twisting it downwards in front of him. “Like. Grabbed him. And just. Flipped him! Guy went down beer and all, and he looked super confused about being on the ground all of a sudden. And it was amazing, and I had no idea he took karate before.”

And with that, three sets of startled eyes all land squarely on Tanuma. Natsume taps his knee, like he’s trying to break him away from whatever’s got its grip on him behind his own glassy gaze.

“Karate?” Taki looks, at first, gobsmacked by this piece of information. But it morphs into something like slow-breaking delight across her features.

Tanuma’s nod is a single, tight bob of the head. “Just, um.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since walking through the door, and his voice is a ghost of a thing, like it might get swallowed up by the stale air of the room. “Until I was twelve. On and off. I don’t remember much.”

“You remembered plenty,” Satoru tells him, tone banking no argument, before clasping his hands together dramatically. “My hero.” His grin is so wide and irresistibly cheesy that Tanuma looks up, just for a moment, with the barest twitch of his lips before his gaze drops back down towards the stretch of flowery pink carpet beneath their toes. Natsume shoots Satoru a grateful look, even as Atsushi finds himself doing the same to Tanuma. Somewhere, during the course of the story, he’d found himself squashed up impossibly close against Satoru, arm tucked firmly around his shoulders. He seems genuinely excited, not distressed, but against Atsushi’s side he still feels wound up tight as a coiled spring. It’s definitely not lost on Natsume, either, judging by the glance he gives Atsushi. Atsushi nudges Natsume’s foot—he’s okay, I got him—and Natsume nods, once, though his gaze lingers a moment longer on Satoru’s flushed, still-beaming face.

“So you’re afraid someone saw?” Atsushi asks, while Taki fishes out a tea bottle from the shopping bag, uncaps it and presses it into Tanuma’s hand.

Tanuma doesn’t answer, but that touch of a grin from before has twisted itself into something distinctly nauseated.

“If anyone did see, they’d know the dude was fine.” Satoru shrugs. “Also that he deserved it, remember. We ran, anyways.”

Natsume blinks. “You ran here?”

And Atsushi can’t help but see the comedy in that being what Natsume seizes on, considering the truly impressive amount of times Atsushi’s seen him tearing through town apropos of nothing like he’s got a swarm of invisible hornets on his tail.

“Yup,” Satoru says, brightly, tapping Tanuma’s knee. “Felt like an action movie.” A pause, before he tacks on, not unkindly, “Y’know, if you’re not gonna drink that tea, then I will.”

Tanuma blinks down at the tea bottle, which had tilted enough in his hand to nearly spill onto the scratchy comforter as though forgotten about. He manages a couple measured sips before letting Taki take it back and cap it.

Natsume squeezes Tanuma’s fingers in his own, looking unsettled. Taki looks thoughtful, idly tapping the bottle in her hands.

“Were you thinking they had a security camera out front or something?” she asks.

Tanuma says nothing.

Taki leans into his side. “You know, even if anyone watched the footage, it’s like Nishimura said. All they’d see is that man getting exactly what was coming to him,” she says, fervently.

“And you being cool as hell,” Satoru adds. “Seriously, they teach twelve-year-olds how to do that?”

The way his shoulders loosen, just a fraction, feels like a win. “I don’t…actually know?” he starts, squinting like he’s trying to recall. “I was in this class for high-schoolers at the time, because there were nothing else available in the town I lived in.” A shrug, a sheepish glance up and away. “Usually I was just partnered up with my teacher.”

“That actually sounds kind of brutal, though,” Atsushi says, curious now. “Did the teacher demonstrate take-downs and stuff on you?”

“She did, but. Really slowly,” Tanuma replies, and it’s as though the warmth of Natsume’s and Taki’s shoulders pressed up against his has started, though incrementally, to seep into his voice, his eyes. “And I never really got the hang of doing any of it back to her. I’m surprised that worked, earlier.”

Precisely none of this explanation seems to have made Satoru look any less starstruck. Atsushi has to hold back his snort. “You should totally pick it up again,” Satoru’s saying now, around a mouth full of the lemon ice pop Natsume had fished out of the shopping bag for him. “What color belt did you get up to?”

“Um.”

Just that half-second’s hesitation is long enough to put a loaded look into Natsume’s eyes, for him to slot their fingers together properly and squeeze.

Tanuma lets out a breath, and there’s something years-old and lonely clinging to the edges of his smile. Atsushi doubts he’s aware of it. “None.” He shrugs. “I didn’t pass the one exam I took. I got pneumonia that year and had to quit after that, so.”

He looks faintly embarrassed, now, and Satoru opens his mouth as though ready to nip that right in the bud, but Taki beats him to it.

“Tanuma,” she says, solemnly, turning around to face him. “You have got to teach me how you did that.”

***

By the time the polite-yet-firm call arrives from the front desk, indicating a noise complaint from their neighbors in the next room and forcing them all to call it a night, things are better.

By then, Tanuma had been goaded into demonstrating some unwieldy modified version the maneuver behind his earlier takedown, executed on a poor unsuspecting hotel pillow because the entire room had immediately nixed Satoru’s offer to be the human test dummy.

Now, Satoru and Taki are a boneless, lightly snoring tangle of limbs on the far bed, one of Satoru’s arms thrown over Natsume’s whale shark plushie. (A surprise gift from all of them, Taki’s idea, after they’d caught him eyeing it more than once in the aquarium gift shop yesterday. If he’d walked out of the aquarium clutching it to his chest just like he might’ve done with his fat cat, currently hundreds of kilometers away, none of them said a word about it.)

Natsume himself is dozing in the other bed, but he lies facing Satoru—and Satoru’s fine, he’s unharmed and happy and completely safe, he is. But for some reason the longer the night’s worn on, Atsushi’s had to remind himself of these facts more, not less. He knows the dark cast to Satoru’s slack wrist is the lamplight-shadow of his sweatshirt sleeve, knows because he checked.

Still.

Tanuma’s in the bath, now. And he seems, well. Better than he was, certainly. But Atsushi had seen the taut-lipped glances he’d stolen at Satoru, and he looks about the same way Atsushi feels. At least the unwelcome scenarios and possibilities unspooling in his own mind have got to be more vague than whatever Tanuma’s imagination was serving up. Tanuma had seen it. Had stopped it.

Let Satoru wave it off, insist ‘til he’s blue in the face that it was fine, all fine, that he hadn’t been in any real danger. If it would put his friends at ease, he’d have said the same with a smile on his face even if he’d just been robbed at knifepoint.

Atsushi really needs to stop thinking about this.

He’d heard Natsume earlier, voice whisper-gentle through the bathroom door after he’d led Tanuma in by the hand behind him. Satoru and Taki had drifted off by then. Atsushi couldn’t make out the words, and heard nothing at all from Tanuma, aside from a few isolated, stuttering breaths. Tanuma had re-emerged dazed, red-eyed, but calmer than Atsushi had seen him all evening.

When the door opens now, Tanuma steps out in a halo of steam, wet-haired and barefoot in an old t-shirt. Atsushi’s on his feet and halfway across the room before he’s even really aware of it, the change of clothes for his own bath forgotten at the foot of the bed.

Tanuma goes still, when Atsushi pulls him close. Atsushi almost lets go, but then he feels the tentative hands come up to rest on his back.

“Thank you,” Atsushi mutters into his shoulder.

“I—“

“No. Listen.” Atsushi pulls back, hands shifting to rest on his upper arms. And god but Tanuma looks exhausted. “You kept him safe,” Atsushi says. “And don’t try to tell me you didn’t, because you did. Thank you.”

Tanuma opens his mouth, closes it again, swallows. He says nothing for a long moment, but he doesn’t look away. Finally, “…sorry for freaking out.” He smiles as he says it, but his voice snags on the words. He swallows again.

“Hey.” Atsushi waits until Tanuma’s now-dropped gaze returns to him. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for that, okay? Not with us.”

A sound like an inhale, somehow sharp and shaky all at once, and then it’s Tanuma that’s pulling them together again. A steadying breath, in-out-in that ruffles Atsushi’s hair. Stillness.

“Okay,” he whispers.

***

If he does go to jail, it's Natori who'll have to bail him out :)

Sensei didn't come along because I like to think Hiiragi, Sasago and Urihime have been taking turns watching over Natsume, which is more than sufficient, except for when it's *not* Natsume himself who's getting into trouble--

Fun fact, according to the most current iteration of canon, Tanuma's taken judo in the past as well as karate, but the bulk of this was written before that chapter came out.

All credit to taizi for the nice hug idea--

#natsume yuujinchou #kitamoto atsushi #nishimura satoru #tanuma kaname #tanunatsu #kitanishi #if you squint #natsume takashi #taki tooru #natsume's book of friends #taizi #owlet's fanfiction #natsuyuu

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brywrites · 3 years

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Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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astriefer · 3 years

Text

Let Me Kiss Your Bleedings Goodbye / Look Around And See How Much You Are Loved

Summary: Alastair just wants to listen to music in his room, but the world won't have it.

Word count: 5718

Warnings: alcohol, implied mental abuse, manipulation, toxic relationships, cursing, mentioned alcoholism, neglect, negative thoughts.

@littlx-songbxrd that one is for your birthday! You chose angst the other day so I just rolled with it-

Happy birthday!! You're an amazing, creative,talented and such a special friend! I'm glad I got to meet you ^-^

All Alastair asked for was to listen to music on his phone and mind his own business. But of course, the fates weren't happy unless Alastair has had a shitty day.

Cordelia knocked on his door politely. "Alastair?"

It was Saturday, so she had no reason to bother him. Lunch had already been served, and she was about to go out with her friends. So why come bother him now?

He made no move to unlock the door, and his annoying little sister repeated, "Alastair!"

She started to slam her fists at the door like some sort of a madwoman, and Alastair groaned and tore himself from his bed. "What?" he hissed as his bedroom door flew wide open.

"Mâmân wants you downstairs," Cordelia answered, backing away slightly. If she heeded Alastairs's pissed mood, good. She interrupted in the middle of his favorite song. The call of reason would say it was because they were almost nose to nose, and she was repulsed of his closeness as any other sibling would, but he liked the first option better.

"And that you couldn't tell me through the door because?" he snarled, and Cordelia rolled her eyes. He glanced at her and noticed what she wore - one of her favorites clothes Lucie picked up for her a few months ago. He arched a perfect eyebrow at his sister."Is there some special occasion?"

Cordelia's cheeks flushed red, and she decisively didn't meet his eyes. "It's nothing. Just going out with some-- That's none of your business. You're so irking. Oof."

She exchanged to the annoyed-sibling-defense-system mid-sentence. It was Alastair's turn to roll his eyes so he didn't waste it. "Whatever. Go play dolls with Lucie." Closing the door behind him, he ambled down the staircase to the ground floor, ignoring his sister's protest.

He entered the drawing-room, which he found deserted. All that laid there were a few magazines Cordelia left on the table and an empty cup of coffee. He didn't stall to wonder who besides him drank coffee in the house since his mother was pregnant - and it was unhealthy for the baby - and Cordelia didn't like it. He headed to the dining room, finding his mother seated on one of the dinner table's seats. In front of her, seemingly a pristine-white unopened letter.

"Dearling," Sona smiled at her son, the light not reaching her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he answered. He perched on the chair next to hers and took one of the pastries Risa brought the previous day that laid in a basket. She would occasionally check on Sona and them. Their aunt had assisted them in any possible way was able to in the past few months. And even before that, she volunteered to do things Alastair wished she wouldn't. She once contacted James Herondale, Cordelia's boyfriend, to give him the talk . It was hilarious as much as it was terrifying because while Risa picked fundamental English words, she had him by the arm to help her translate. And Holly Lord in the sky, he couldn't look James in the face for a month.

Sona just studied him for a few moments, before her features softened. "You always so self-reliant." she shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't need your mother to nag you."

Alastair inclined toward her, squinting. "Mom, I never said that."

"You seem peeved at me," she adjusted her deep green roosari - it matched the wide yellow and green dress she wore - before resting her eyes on the letter. "I would think it has something to do with puberty if I didn't have a second teenager in the house."

"I'm not angry at you." Alastair scoffed.

"Alright," Sona said.

"Are Cordelia and I in a competition of who is the worst teenager? Well - at least I'm on the lead. Cordelia should level up her game."

"Dear, it's not it," Sona lifted both her hands, like in a plea, before she dropped them on the table again. Alastair noted her eyes wandered around the room - deviated from how she usually behaved - and suspected he was going to be apprised of some news.

Brows furrowed, he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well-" she rubbed at her eyes, and Alastair noticed - not for the first time - the dark circles around his mother's eyes. Does he keep you awake at night? He wished to ask in worse days, to see if it hurt her as much as it hurt him. Or is he haunting you with nightmares?

Alastair long knew the figure Elias is in Cordelia and Sona's dreams is of some immaculate hero. One with kind eyes, a guiding beacon, a loving man. In their dreams, he would outstretch a comforting hand and still be young and caring. He's the best version of himself, a father and a husband that loves them. He is also the man that dwelled in his most horrifying nightmares - A drunk, nothing more. He was swigging vodka by the bar, with cold eyes and tousled white hair. This version of his father, he knew, would call him a brat, would complain about his mother pestering him to visit rehab. His father would hug his bottle and glance at him as if he was a nuisance to get rid of, and he would close his eyes and wish to be elsewhere. But he's small again, and just wants his father to leave the bottle to hug him goodnight, tucked safely under the blankets. But his father wouldn't come.

Was it foolish his heart still stung whenever he came across this truth?

She cut the pleasantries and readied herself. "Your father's lawyer declared he wouldn't waive the trial," Sona conceded, her shoulders sagged. His mother laid a protective hand on her belly, where Alastair's sibling has been growing in her womb for the past few months. "A letter was dispatched."

It was all it had to take to ruin his day. He barely had the restraint to not leap on feet and scream at the cursed photo of his father, hung on one of the walls. Before it was all revealed, before it exploded in their face, and far before Cordelia became aware of their father's afflict, they used to do it often. To talk about what they would do next. How to protect Cordelia, how to help Elias, how to hide the appalling secret of their family their best. Now they did it for an entirely different reason.

Up to a few months ago, they were still a picture of a family in a broken frame. When the court exonerated Elias from any blame, they reunited and returned to posture like they always had been. Act, because that is all they could do. However, upon Elias's trial, Cordelia discovered the truth. Alastair was so exhausted from hiding it, he didn't perceive it until he let the lie collapse. He had blamed himself, he still did, but it changed nothing from the fact Cordelia knew about their father now.

She knew, and she was livid. At Alastair, at their mother and father, at the world. After all, she lived a lie. Who could have blamed her?

It was that day he confessed to her in a shaken voice the utter truth and let the wall between them succumb and burn to ashes. When he looked her in the eyes then, he saw the light in her eyes dimming, reality striking, the way he desires it never would. All those years he kept her safe from Elias were in vain. Although he received his sister back into his life, there was little Alastair could do but blame himself for shattering the delicate reality they threaded around her, the needless pain he caused her. She needed to comprehend, he told himself, what was behind the mask her father put in front of the world.

But if he never wanted to tell her, did it still count?

And his mother. She looked stiff, if not a bit tired. She held herself straight and proud, yet it was useless. Because what could she do? What either of them could do?

"He accuses me of Parental Alienation," Sona went on, caressing her belly delicately. She peeked at the letter again, and Alastair did as well. Now he realized the sign on the letter, and the fact it seemed unopened but in fact was. "The court is checking out at his claims."

Alastair exhaled through the nose, rocking his leg in rage. "That's nonsense. He's irresponsible alcoholism that can't take care of himself. He was tipsy on the day of the trial! Any feeling we have toward him, it's his own making." Throughout the very beginning of sending the Divorce Complaint to court, Elias had refused to accept he was divorcing. Alastair was awfully aware his father wanted custody over them, and he fought with all his unmighty power to prevent it. When he imagined his younger siblings suffering a fraction of his father's attitude, his nerves set on fire. He was aware his mother fought teeth and nails to proceed in this divorce even without this additional claim.

And Alastair was even more aware they barely had had the money to pay for this.

"What does he want?" Alastair growled. "He knows we don't have that money! He doesn't have the money to pay for this prosecution either!" His father, being put in jail, fired from his job, and wasting their money on wine, probably couldn't even provide Child Support.

"I thought it was going so well," Sona returned his stare, kind and calm. The giving sign she was upset was that rustling sound her roosari made when she fixed it restlessly.

"And Cordelia?" he made to quiet himself on the spot. He spoke in something similar to a whisper. "Bloody hell, she's upstairs. How can we tell her?"

"Language," she warned, then reached and rested her hand on his comfortingly. "She already knows."

He whipped his head in her direction. His mother didn't bat an eyelash. He managed only to let a strangled "What?" escape his mouth. He couldn't wound his mind around it. The father Cordelia looked up to betrayed her, over and over again.

His mother closed her eyes. Maybe she couldn't look at his desperate, fumed face any longer. "She was the one to fetch the letter from the post." Alastair held himself from swearing again and rose to his feet. It's good his mother didn't look at him - he wasn't sure he could look at her either. He was trembling with agitation, his vision red.

"He can't do that. He can't- get to win. Not after all the pain we've been through because of him. That's not fair. That's not fair." He was breathing hard.

"He wouldn't. Alastair, dear, look at me."

Her words were veracious, so was her voice. He couldn't manage himself to do as she said.

"Joonam-"

"I'm going for a walk." He declared strongly, hastily. "I need to chill out. Go and rest, Mother. You shouldn't work yourself out."

And with that, he took his leave. He ignored his mother calling him from behind. He brought no chattel but himself and whatever he bore that instant as he closed the door behind him and rushed down the street to disappear among the many passersby of London. Before even thinking about it, his phone was out, and he typed feverishly and pressed send without waiting to reread his text. He tucked his phone back into his trouser's pocket and took a deep breath.

His father wouldn't desist from haunting him, no matter how much he prayed it to come to an end. When his mother announced she wants a divorce, he - not lacking guilt - felt glad. Each day home was a misery. His mother was confined to bed, his father trailed the streets as if he didn't return from rehab just a month before. And this life was a cage he longed to escape, to set free from the crushing weight on his heart.

His father-

He came to a halt in the middle of the street, letting his head fall all the way back with closed eyes. He wanted to punch a wall or lash out at someone. When he talked with Jem the other day, his cousin told him bottling things inside would only result in a breakdown. He recommended he contact a person he trusted when it all felt too much for Alastair to bear.

Perhaps he should...

No. he shook as head, trying to toss this idea into an imaginary dump bin. There's no need. A nice, solitary stroll is a splendid solution. Alastair needn't anyone to look at his back worriedly like some ailing lost kitten. He didn't need it. He can be fine if he simply composed himself.

He let his legs carry him mindlessly, losing himself in his thoughts. He walked, and walked, and walked. It was a great aid to clear his mind. Even in a crowded London street in the afternoon, he felt the tight cloud of thoughts loosening around his mind. Not for long, however.

He walked near a club - a club he knew very well, but not because of his father. And in the entrance stood a freckled figure, with silken ginger hair and piercing green eyes.

The sight of his ex-boyfriend was enough to startle Alastair out of his thought. They locked eyes, and Alastair nearly lost his footing. Charles blurted something to whomever he was talking to and advanced toward the dark-haired boy. Alastair felt himself go stiff as if he prepared for a hit. Swiftly, he considered turning around and flee, and just as he was about to put this thought into effect, he felt a hand seizing his forearm. While Collecting his confidence, he turned to give Charles a blank glare.

"Alastair." greeted the older boy. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Why did his voice sound hoarse? "Let go of me," Alastair demanded.

Charles's grip on his dark skin did not weaken. It felt warm even though there had been a layer of cloth between them. Alastair attempted to break free, however Charles pressed his hand harder, not enabling Alastair to move. "Come."

And so Alastair was led by his redhead ex-partner to an alley, hidden from any of Charles's companions. Alastair had the sudden urge to laugh - still so furtive. Still so abashed. Charles shoved him into the alley, blocking his way out with his body. "Alastair. I haven't seen you in a long time."

However mad he felt, his voice came out calm. Cold. Indifferent. Like he practiced in front of a mirror when he was small. "That was the point of breaking up with you," he retorted evenly.

Charles ignored his remark. "You haven't answered any of my texts, nor my calls. I ought to speak with you."

A lump rose in his throat. "I can't fathom anything to be said to matter."

He dug his nails in his palm, then understood he'd been doing it and forced himself to relax. Charles had no authority over him. He couldn't reach him now. Yet, it felt far away when Charles studied him like a very interesting political certificate. He hesitated before lifting his hand to touch Alastair's cheek tenderly. Alastair, in turn, backed away. Which was a difficult talk considering Charles still held his hand around his forearm.

"Unhand me," Alastair almost spat. He felt his own shield build up. "Do you want any of your colleagues to see you so close to a man?" The dark-eyed boy knew it would work. Charles always aspired to appear pivotal, even when it was clearly pretentious of his side. Charles's grip loosened him and Alastair hastily put distance between them. Charles gave him a look - one Alastair could only describe as wistful.

"Had I known what I did wrong to make you stop caring for me, I would have made sure to keep you closer to me," Charles said softly.

At first, it sounded almost sweet. Almost. Rather rapidly it turned disgusting as the words sank. Keep you closer, toughen the chains, tell lies to a love-famished soul.

He felt fire spreading in his stomach. Not the good sort of fire - but the kind that consumes everything it touches, that destroys and demolishes and injures. "You didn't know?" Alastair's voice quivered as he spoke, barely tamed anger in every syllable. "Shucks, so what could tell? What could tell you did something wrong when I told you I was upset you were with Ariadne? And later on, when you went and pushed your tongue into Grace's mouth in front of my eyes to make everyone believe you're straight? Or perhaps that whenever I expressed any feeling that wasn't gratitude you grace me with your presence, you said I'm overreacting? "

Charles straightened. "I wasn't bad to you. I tried to give you everything I could."

"Damnit, Charles, not today," Alastair whirled in his place, his words hot and sharp. "That's not on you to decide if you were bad or good to me! You have no right to decide for me. You gave me what you thought would be enough so I won't talk, and I was a boy desperate to be loved." He exhaled slowly. "So no, Charles. You weren't good for me at all."

"You wanted me to out myself for you when I wasn't ready?"

He was never going to be ready, Alastair thought. "If you think I was upset with you because you weren't out, you don't know me at all." A mirthless laugh slipped Alastair's lips. Did Charles even listen to him?

"Don't say that." Charles objected. "I know you better than anyone else. You know that too." he huffed and loosened his tie. "No, that's not it. Do you not love me anymore?"

It was ridiculous. "No, Charles, I don't." The smell hit his nostrils, and the realization dawned on him. Charles's mouth stank from Alcohol, despite not smelling it on his clothes at all.

Ah.

"You're drunk," Alastair condemned. It was almost an accusation, spoke so offhandedly. But he truly didn't care enough for it to be an accusation.

"I drank only a drink or two." Charles dismissed, and he looked so ugly at that moment, Alastair wanted to flee from his presence. "If you didn't want me, don't blame me for why this relationship broke apart. I try to make things right."

It was comedic to watch Charles exculpate himself and put the blame on Alastair, had it been another day. Now, it only pissed Alastair furthermore.

"Stay away from me," his words sounded like acid in his ears. "I am not fond of drunks. Or ex-boyfriends. And you seem to be both."

Charles made a comical face, one in another day Alasair might laugh at. Distantly, he realized now why Cordelia and Sona were so reluctant to break him the news. When it came to this case, and to his father, Alastair was always on his toes. He is still too easily riled by the words and deeds of others sometimes. When he had to tell the court about his deeds revolving around his father - the late-night walks outside to pubs, the frequent help; the fear someone would find out - he poured all of his being to try and help his family. Defend them from Elias. But seemingly it had no use, and all Alastair was left with is his contempt with nowhere to pour it into. It slipped from the cracks of his armor like Lava.

He passed Charles, who no longer blocked the alley, and Charles perked up and said, "We haven't finished talking."

His phone buzzed repeatedly, signaling Kamala had received his previous message. "We are done," Alastair growled, loud. These green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. To shush him, most probably. However, blood boiled in his ears and his words demanded to be heard. "Unassuming, quiet, dark," Alastair snapped. "A bloody puppet, that's what you want. And I refuse to be your puppet any longer. What is in my words unclear to you? Stay. Away. Should I spell it for you?"

Charles glanced at the sides nervously, looking for leery eyes even though there were none. Alastair couldn't believe it. Charles still tried to subdue him. It made him smirk ruthlessly at the older boy. "But you can't take no for an answer, do you? You think you deserve everything."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," The redhead scoffed, squinting at him. "If you're angry at something, don't take it on me."

"Oh, I will do whatever I want to do," His grin widened viciously." All I do is tell you exactly what I think of you. Does it hurt your white-man-superiority complex?" he mocked with a false sad nod. "Too bad."

His phone started to ring, and he could already tell it was Kamala, worried about what he told her. She was straightforward when she told him once to never hesitate to call her if her help is required. In some of his worst days, it was his best friend that contributed to preventing him from knocking his head in a wall. Moreover, Alastair told Kamala everything about the lawsuit and what they'd been through - the Carstairs saw her like family - and she was nothing but understanding. It took every gram of control in Alastair's body to clasp his phone and say, "I must go."

He didn't wait for an answer.

His phone went quiet in his hand. He pressed a few buttons and gripped the phone close to his ear.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Our place," Alastair's voice was strained. It felt like it came out from far, far away. "Now."

With adrenaline still driving through his system, he headed to his hideout. When life would be too much, he used to wander around town or find his escape in the calm of nature. And if this meant hunkering down next to a fence in Hyde Park, that's his business alone.

His phone raged up, and he felt stable enough to answer. The first thing Kamala said over the call was, "Love, I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Alastair mumbled darkly. "Me too."

Eventually, they hung up, and he sat on the ground, so his legs were against his chest and his arms surrounding them. For however long it'd been, he rested his head on the fence and let his overloaded mind take a break. When it didn't work and his head still throbbed, Alastair kicked at the ground in frustration, raising a cloud of dust. Then he sounded the low noise of feet against the sand, and a long figure climbed the fence he leaned on.

He stared at what Thomas was securing at his hands before he made a noise of annoyance. "Hell with this," he reached his hand, "Bring it over."

He grasped the can of beer, opening it with a loud pssh-pop! The can was cold in his hand, as if fresh from the store, and he took a sip. Then he lowered the can, revealing again the image of Thomas in a hoodie and pajama pants. He looked like he put random combination clothes and went outside, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Alastair didn't have the power to hum appreciatively.

"You sounded like you were crashed by a motorcycle, and then was chewed by the cats and dogs of the neighborhood," Thomas offered. "Thought you might need it."

"No shit," Alastair mumbled. "Thanks." He cradled it to his chest and looked away. Thomas looked a bit worried, but he said no words. As silence as a cat - no, Thomas was better described as a tiger - he went and sat next to Alastair. He opened his own beer can, gulping the drink in big sips.

Alastair had not opened his mouth, and Thomas didn't pressure him. For long moments that stretched even longer than they should, none of them uttered a word. They set together, side by side, surrounded by trees and leaves and the sun sinking from the west. With a big 'Ugh', Alastair dipped his head and slipped into Thomas's arms.

"I don't want you embroiled in this," Alastair murmured, not moving as Thomas started tracing circles on his arm.

Thomas sighed softly, resting his chin on top of Alastair's head, not before he planted a kiss on the line of his hair. "Alright. But you know you can tell me whatever you want, yes?"

"I do," Alastair fell silent for a few seconds. His cheek was against Thomas's pulse point, where he found himself calming down with its steady beat. "I met Charles today."

"Charles?" at this sole word Thomas went rigid, ultimately relaxing as Alastair captured the hand on his arm and intertwined their fingers. "What has happened?"

"Nothing," Alastair answered and he knew without looking Thomas had his adorable face twisted in bewilderment. Therefore he added, reluctantly, "The usual."

Thomas moved to eye him suspiciously, but Alastair's head was still tucked under Thomas's chin. "I wouldn't think you call me if it was nothing."

"I call you for all sort of things. It doesn't have to be because my toxic ex is a dipshit."

"It feels like a low bar."

Alastair chuckled. "It really is."

Silence ensued and the presence of his boyfriend made everything brighter. Later at night, he would wonder how one man could make it so much better, yet now he just felt blessed to have Thomas by his side. A few minutes passed with Alastair closing his eyes and melting into Thomas's hug, while Thomas stroked his back comfortingly.

"Alastair?"

"Mhh."

"Alastair. "

He dug his fingers at the cool ground, taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. "What?"

He pushed Alastair back gently, and the short boy complied so they were face to face. "Are you alright?"

His dark eyes refused to meet with Thomas's hazel ones. There had been a quiet, "I'm not sure."

Thomas picked at a loose string of his hoodie, and Alastair made a mental note to steal his boyfriend's hoodie and sew it. He sat next to Thomas and reached for the beer, gulping the content of the can. He turned to Thomas, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He furrowed his brows when his boyfriend looked at him oddly, but it soon disappeared from Thomas's face.

Alastair fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and his eyes were yet low on the ground. He sounded rustling by his side and glanced at his boyfriend as he took off his hoodie. Alastair cocked his eyebrow, and Thomas huffed at him with flushed cheeks. He handed him the hoodie. "You - might be cold. It's rather late, and you wear nothing but a T-shirt."

He scanned Thomas's underneath jumper and deemed it not much warming. "And you?"

"I am big, I make a lot of heat. Cellular respiration and all that."

Alastair snorted, shaking his head. "You daft med student."

He found solace in the warm hug of his boyfriend. And wearing his hoodie was almost the same, although he missed the heat. Yet, it was soft and familiar and all Thomas. His smell was enticing to Alastair, and he put it on and sniffed it -indistinguishably - even if Thomas was just a few inches away.

As the sun set, it tinted the forest around them orange.

"You're doing the thing," Alastair commented, causing Thomas to blink.

"The what?" the tall boy asked.

"The thing. That you do." he poked Thomas's side. "You get all pensive and thoughtful and furrows your brows in that adorable way of yours. You caress your rose compass tattoo."

Thomas gave him a slight smile. "Genie has been ecstatic ever since Kamala agreed to join our family trip. I'm afraid my father is going to ask you himself if I won't."

"Ah."

"It's a bad timing, though," Thomas cackled nervously. "Sorry, never mind."

"That's fine, I don't care," Alastair said. "What family trip?"

"We thought to visit mom's country last year, but this year we want to visit some rural parts of England. Uncle Will keeps telling us how visiting North Wells, where his family lived. Eugenia keeps threatening to steal my sweets."

"She certainly would still all your snacks," Alastair speculated. He flapped mindlessly the sleeves of Thomas's hoodie to himself, which were too long for him. Thomas sent him a soft side smile.

"She will," agreed Thomas in false despair, resting his head on the fetch they leaned on. "She's like some sort of sweets monster. The only way to calm her down is to sacrifice our food."

"I know," was Alastair's response. "She's my friend. My very own short chaotic, havoc-causing, maniac goblin friend." It startled a laugh out of Thomas, and he went to rest his hand on Alastair's knee.

"Dad keeps joking he will cancel the trip if not all of the honorary lightwoods join as well. But honestly, I'm not sure he's joking any longer."

"Honorary Lightwoods?"

"He adopted y'all the moment you steeped a foot into our house. You know that." Thomas's voice sounded almost longing. He added, with a good laugh, "I think he favors you over his own children."

Alastair didn't know why he had to be this way, but it caught him off guard. It made a weird pang in his heart to think Gideon Lightwood would consider him his son. Even more so, when he knew his own father would prefer to engage in a foreign bar than to eat with him. Alastair's throat felt thick all of a sudden, and it was hard to breathe. He made a shaky inhale, as soft and thin as paper. Thomas captured that, of course.

"Baby," Thomas whispered. He acted cautiously, like he was afraid to scare Alastair away.

"No," Alastair chocked out. He hid his face in his elbow, struggling to take another breath. "Nope."

It was silent for at least a minute before Thomas piped out, "Alastair joon."

Abruptly, Alastair lifted his head and turned to his boyfriend, a spike of anger ignited."I should be stronger," Alastair burst out, heat in his words, like flames. "It shouldn't - why does it affect me like this? This isn't - nothing has happened, so why-" he cut himself off, watching Thomas's countenance. He was the epitome of calm, deep understanding eyes and soft around the corners. His lips were pressed, and he was utterly handsome. Ridiculous.

Thomas swooped him into a hug, and Alastair didn't accept it. He fought to break loose and jumped on his feet. Raving fear and outrage and agony all mixed together on the tip of his tongue. He felt angry at himself for reacting this way, at Thomas for having such a perfect family, at the world because there was no one to blame for his situation. "A few months ago I still searched for my father in pubs to return him home safely. Now I look for my father from the other side of the courtroom and watch him try to take away my sibling. And my mother - she wouldn't admit it but I know she's stressed. She probably can't even sleep at night without my ass of a father to haunt her! And Charles wouldn't even realize he's in the wrong, because as always, it's just my fault it all broke apart. Mine. Mine alone."

"And Charles is still a jerk, and Mâmân is still unwell, and my goddam father is the worst father of the year," Alastair gritted his teeth. "And I feel so useless. Utterly useless. because I can't do anything about it. The court will prefer my father's white ass to my brown skin. They would think he's a better fit to take care of the child, even it's crystal clear he isn't. He wasn't for us, he will never be. And this poor child - it deserves a real family. And my drunken father is nothing of what it deserves. So how can he try to get custody over it, Thomas? How can they let him? "

"Alastair," his name sang on his boyfriend's tongue was like thick syrup. "You are not useless."

The shorter man flashed at him with a growl. "I couldn't help my father with his problem. I can't help my mom in court. I can't even be a good sibling to Cordelia, so how could I be a good one to the baby-?"

He was shuddering, he perceived, even though the night wasn't very cold. Was he sobbing? he couldn't tell. It was like he felt everything detached from afar. He felt bulky arms close around him, and he didn't protest this time. He tried to catch his breath, albeit it kept escaping him.

"None of this is your fault, Azizam. Life can be unfair to fair people. But you mustn't question yourself because of it." Thomas grazed a big, warm hand on Alastair's cheek, sweeping his tears. "And your love is so profound, it can build bridges. It's so selfless and raw and pure, can't you see it? It's all your heart, all of you, aching because you want those you love to be well. And they will be well, Alastair. They can move mountains because it's you on their side. They are lucky to have you." His voice lowered to a whisper.

"This is just too much," Alastair shook his head. "I just- want to be out of my racing mind. I want some quiet."

Thomas gave him a sad look. "I can't tell you it will pass soon. But you're not alone, Alastair. You have many people to hold you when you feel you're about to fall. All you have to do is look."

They set there in their hideout, and Thomas leaned in and left a gentle kiss on Alastair's lips. A promise.

Alastair tilted his head and closed his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"If anything, it's the opposite. You're spectacular," Thomas leaned in again, so their foreheads and noses touch. It startled a bubbled giggle out of Alastair, and Thomas smirked. He repeated it again and again and again. Until Alastair started to believe his words.

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lizamango · 3 years

Text

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 6/?

A/N: Hi loves! Long chapter ahead! Watched Shang-Chi this weekend and wowowowowow go see it if you haven’t!!

We are now in the AGE OF ULTRON phase; I wanted to finally start building the foundations of your friendship with Wanda this chapter!

And Agents of Shield cameos!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies, @yaszx

Word Count: 2705

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Warnings: cursing, slowest fucking burn oml

Chapter Summary: You meet the Maximoff twins and the Avengers on your search for Sergeant Barnes.

Chapter 6: I’M NICE TO MEET

“Another bust,” I say into my comms as Fitz, Johnson, Ward and I exit the base, leaving knocked out or restrained HYDRA agents for the local authorities to find.

“Copy that,” Fury replies.

“You know, this is like… we’re vigilantes, right? This isn’t legal anymore? We have no jurisdiction anywhere,” Fitz says.

“SHIELD did what SHIELD wanted,” I shrug. “Now it’s our turn.”

“That’s true, SHIELD never followed the rules, not even their own,” Daisy added.

“Excuse me, did you forget that you were on the line with the Director of SHIELD?” Fury defends.

I chuckle. “You mean former right? Because Fitz has a point, if we get caught we go to jail too.”

“Well, good thing we still have access to a quinjet,” Fury says as he lands right in front of us.

“Very smooth,” we climb in as the ramp comes down and take a seat. I sigh, “gone are the good ol’ days.”

“I never even got to experience them,” Daisy shrugs.

“They weren’t that great for us. She had it good, being Level 7,” Grant comments.

“You’re Level 6! I’m still Level 4!” Fitz exclaims, offended.

“The system collapsed when SHIELD fell, I can make you unofficially Level 10 if you’d like?” I offer as I go to the mini fridge to take out a… “who ate the mozzarella and prosciutto wrap?” I say, closing the door and looking at everyone disappointedly.

“Wasn’t me,” Daisy and Grant say.

My eyes shift to Fitz. “I’m sorry, did it have your name on it? Because it didn’t so…” I pick up an apple and throw it at him. “Ow ow ow what the hell!”

“Behave,” we hear May through the comms.

“Sorry, May,” we all say as we take out seats, buckling up to meet Fury.

He’s typing away at the computer when we enter his makeshift underground office. It’s still hard to get used to being based here and not some fancy DC high rise.

“We’ve stormed two bases and found nothing. The Avengers have cleared four and they haven’t found the sceptre either,” Daisy recounts.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Fitz says.

“We have two computer geniuses, tactile and operations experts and we can’t find a magical space stick,” I say, frustrated but this mission isn’t the only thing on my mind. It’s been almost a year since Steve asked Sam and I for help and we still haven’t found anything solid. The HYDRA bases haven’t revealed anything helpful either.

“On a lighter note, HYDRA is six bases down! I see that as an absolute win,” Fitz smiles.

“I’d say you all take a break. I’ve not found anything as of yet so… go back to your lives for a little bit. I’ll send directives if I find anything,” Fury orders.

“You know… you’re not the boss of us anymore, right?” I raise a brow.

“You’re dismissed.”

I go home with the intention of getting some rest but there’s something grating at my mind. It seems too easy that we’ve taken down six bases in the span of a year after HYDRA had been hiding in the shadows for decades… I go to my laptop and map out where each base was found. Huh… They arrange in a line of six and when the order of discovery is taken into account it seems that each base gets farther and farther away from one country. Sokovia.

I pack a bag with disguises that I still kept around, a photostatic veil and more subtle weapons in the place of guns. Time to go into the belly of the beast.

I look at my phone and assume the identity of a scientist that I see is on her way into the base. Before she gets too close I knock her out with a an electric disc. I drag her unconscious body to a place with cover and scan her face with my phone, syncing it up with my photostatic veil. Once it uploads, I put it on my face which has now taken hers. I style my hair similar to hers and replace my clothes with hers. I tie her up but inject her with a sedative that should last long enough for me to gather intel. I go through her bag and read through her diary and tablet to see where she should and shouldn’t be, to prevent suspicion.

I sigh. “Ideme na to,” here we go, I practice my Sokovian.

I enter the base. Doctor Kovak seems to be reporting to sub-level 3 according to her diary. I follow the signs quietly but the staff here seem to be too busy with their own tasks to mind me.

“Doctor Kovak,” I turn to the source of the voice. Wolfgang von Strucker, of course. “How are the test subjects?” he asks.

“I’m checking on them now, Herr Strucker,” I respond. He nods and gestures for me to walk with him. He leads me to two rooms with one sided glass. HYDRA’s still experimenting on people… There’s a man in the cell to the left who looks healthy enough and a woman in the cell next to him, sat on her knees looking at blocks of wood. I raise a brow but take out Dr. Kovak’s tablet, tapping around to find something.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?”

I find a tab on SUBJECTS and tap it, leading me to 16 more tabs labelled FAILURES but two SUCCESSES. This brings me to the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda. The doctor’s newest entry was from last night. “The male has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis,” I say. “His vitals look normal, for someone going through this,” I add as I look to the monitor on the wall of his side. “The female has exhibited abilities of telekinesis.” I stop myself from frowning… they’re human?

“Keep an eye on them. I want to know more. I want to know how they survived the powers of the sceptre while many others did not. What makes them special, doctor? We are running out of bases to feed the Avengers.” He walks away before I can acknowledge his orders.

So the sceptre is here and they were just trying to keep themselves out of our radar. My stomach sinks slightly in disappointment as there was the possibility that what HYDRA was hiding was Barnes… maybe he’s still free then. Hopefully.

I look at the twins files for more information on why they would volunteer for such experiments. Native Sokovians, orphaned at ten years old and only having each other since then. I look up and notice that Wanda is staring at me. Or, correction, she’s staring into my soul.

I need to find the sceptre but that can wait at the presence of two enhanced individuals that have chosen the opposing side.

I open Wanda’s cell. “Miss Maximoff,” I greet. “Good morning,” she doesn’t reply. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”

Her head tilts but she doesn’t say anything.

“What made you want to volunteer for this… program?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I believe there is something special about you and your brother. We’ve of course taken biological samples but I like to take a more… holistic approach to find out more.”

She looks at me and I swear her eyes glow red.

“I just want to help.”

She blinks and her posture relaxes as if she believes me. “I lost everyone but my brother. There’s so much wrong with the world. We just want to change it.”

“That’s why you agreed to be experimented on?”

She nods. “My turn. What did you do to the real Dr. Kovak?”

I look up sharply. How could she possibly…? Wanda doesn’t seem to want to alert the other scientists and agents of my presence so I clear my throat and straighten up. “She’s safe. I just needed intel.”

Her brow raises. “On what?”

“Can’t ask me two questions in a row, Miss Maximoff.”

“I could just… read your mind.”

“You can do that?”

Her brow quirks as an answer. “Have you been withholding information from Strucker?”

“Yes.”

I hum at her honesty. “Good. You can’t trust him.”

“And I can trust you? A strange woman who is wearing someone else’s face and clothes,” she counters.

“Compared to anyone else here? Yes.”

She is about to say something but alarms sound. I leave the cell, closing the door with a last look at Wanda. I’ll get her out, I promise myself.

“What’s happening?” I ask, tucking the tablet away.

“We’re under attack.”

“Who?” Strucker asks.

“The Avengers.”

Shit. I sneak out and hear Strucker giving out orders. I find a server room and start downloading what intel I can about HYDRA’s plans and remaining strongholds for any clue on Sergeant Barnes’s locations and slip out. Rogers doesn’t need to know I was here with no back up.

The cold air greets me as I climb out of the base and start to discreetly make my way back to the town to catch a train to the next city to catch a flight back to DC

I feel someone behind me and I sharply turn, dodging their hold and kicking them in the knee by instinct. I stop when I see who it is. But he doesn’t as he goes in for a punch, I dodge and use his shield to propel myself backwards to get some distance between us.

“Steve! Don’t sneak up on a spy like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” I reach a hand down and he takes it as he gets back up on both feet.

He frowns under his helmet but there is no recognition in his eyes. I remember than the veil is still on my face so I peel it off and undo my hair.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug.

“Did you come in with a team?” he asks concerned as he places his shield on his back. “Y/N where is your team? Did you not have back up?”

“I went in alone, okay?”

“Why would you do that?” Someone in his comms must have spoken because he turns away briefly. “I’m dealing with something but south west is clear.”

“It was just intel retrieval. Nothing big.”

“It’s you vs HYDRA, that’s not enough. Did you even have an extraction plan?”

“I was gonna take a train to Bucharest and then a plane back to DC.”

He gives me a what the fuck were you thinking look. “You ride back home with us. But for now… care to join us?”

I smirk. “How could I refuse?” We enter the compound to take down more HYDRA agents. As Steve kicks down an agent Strucker runs into us.

“Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug,” Steve says, circling the man.

“Technically I’m a thug for SHIELD,” he retorts.

“Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?”

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” he surrenders immediately. Suspiciously.

I frown and see the flowing red eyes in the shadows.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there-”

“Cap!” I warn but it’s too late as Wanda hits him with a red surge of energy that knocks him down the stairs.

I’m ready in case Wanda comes for me but she doesn’t, just exiting the place and closing the door behind her.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage,” Steve says into his comms as he runs back up the stairs.

“You’ll have to be faster than that–“ I hit Strucker with a disc and he convulses as he falls.

“I love those things,” I remark.

Steve chuckles then picks Strucker up. “Guys, I’ve got Strucker.”

“Want me to keep looking for the sceptre?” I offer.

He nods. “I’ll take Strucker, you find Tony. Nat and Bruce are still on the field but Thor and Clint are on the jet.” At my confused look it’s like he read my mind. “Clint got hurt. But he’ll pull through.” He turns into his comms. “Tony, Y/N’s coming to you.” Steve gives me his communicator and leaves with Strucker.

I go back to the level where the twins were to start looking for Stark.

“Mr. Stark this is Agent – well former agent Y/N L/N, are you able to give me your 20?”

“Well, I found the sceptre. Bringing it up with me now. I was at the south corridor and I found a secret doorway.” I follow where he says, remembering the map I saw on the tablet. “Nice to meet you, former agent.”

“I’m nice to meet, Mr. Stark.”

“I like you.” He taps something on his bracelet and his armour envelopes him.

“Is that it?”

“Yep. Pretty underwhelming, huh?” he seems out of breath… shaken.

“Are you alright, Stark?”

“I’m fine,” he responds all too quickly.

“Let’s get to the jet,” I follow the coordinates that Steve sent me on my phone and the Avengers are all there waiting.

Natasha smiles as she sees me. “What a surprise,” she says going in for a hug as Stark hands the sceptre to Thor and starts up the engine.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way out here?” Clint rasps.

“I could ask you the same thing old man,” I lightly joke, weary of his injury.

“Who you callin’ old? We got a thousand year old and a hundred year old on board.”

“Alright, ease up before you hurt yourself even more,” Natasha says as she gives him a sedative.

Once Clint was passed out and secure I take a seat with Nat next to me.

“So what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Same as you.”

Raising a brow she sighs. “Don’t tell me Fury’s still working you?”

“Of course he is. We have to take down the rest of HYDRA.”

“That’s our job, now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing great just invading countries that already hate you and wrecking historical sites. Top notch spy work.”

“Not a spy anymore, Y/N and neither are you,” she retorts.

Steve enters our conversation, standing tall with his arms crossed. “What do you mean?”

“See, you don’t even do your research before you go in. What happened to knowing your enemy?” I ask them both.

“Last I checked our enemies were people we thought were friends so I think we know them pretty well,” Steve replies.

“The two enhanced?” I counter. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you?” Stark asks.

I smirk. “So nothing?” I pull out the tablet that miraculously did not take any damage. I turn it on and find the file on the twins. “They’re called the Maximoff twins; Wanda and Pietro. They were orphaned at 10 years old when a shell hit their civilian apartment in the Novi Grad Bombings. Sokovia has been in the middle of a rebellion for years now. They don’t like you guys very much. Wanda has… special abilities. Neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation,” at confused faces I simplify. “She can move things with her mind and read yours. The latter, she has kept from Strucker.”

“So how do you know about it?” Stark asks.

“Because I spoke to her,” I shrug. “I know she can read minds because she knew I wasn’t the doctor I took the identity of.”

“You got in proximity with them?”

I nod.

“You know how dangerous that is, Y/N? You could have gotten killed, going in there like that, all alone. Did anyone else know where you were?” Steve demands.

“Okay, one, I wasn’t alone, I had my weapons.” He rolls his eyes. “Two, that’s classified.”

“There isn’t a SHIELD anymore, Y/N. Information isn’t classified.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because you’ll yell at me.”

Steve presses two fingers on the bridge of his nose and huffs, knowing the answer.

“What about the other one? Pietro?” Stark asks.

“He’s just really fast.”

We land on the helipad at Stark tower and Helen Cho and Hill take Clint to patch him up. Steve asks about Strucker and we get the news that NATO has him and it’s all in all mission accomplished.

💖

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading everyone!

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader #series rewrite #reader insert #you #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x platonic!reader #wanda maximoff #best friends with Wanda #winter soldier

43 notes · View notes

imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 15/?

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name.

Thinking about making parts longer so that I can at least finish a semester of Jason knowing Y/N before I do fic 2 of this continuity. Give it a better name, probably. I dunno

Warnings: Eludes to sex, Takes about Injuries, Mentions of Trauma, Refusal to acknowledge pain, Swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

She could find herself lost in the way Jason walked for hours. He thought she was asleep when he threw on his slightly ripped boxers so he could walk to his desk. She didn’t know what it was that drew her in, maybe it was just the way that even after he had been stabbed that he could act like he owned the room.

She thought he was really, really, attractive. Like, really. She couldn't think of times where she wouldn’t get lost in how he looked. His personality made it a lot better, too. She really liked how he chose to carry his personality, how he chose to carry himself.

He turned to his bed after plugging in his laptop, it would take a while to charge, when he noticed she was staring.

“Your eyes will dry out looking at something so hot, Y/N. I’d be careful,” he joked, letting a large smile slip by.

“I’ll need heat-resistant goggled to keep this relationship going, damn.”

“Bruce can buy you some.”

“I think after his freak-out bout our situation, he wouldn’t be keen on that one, darling.”

He smiled at her, “What makes you say that? He clearly likes you.”

“That doesn't mean he wants to spend that much money on me.”

“I would spend that much money on you,” he grabbed the water bottle sitting at his desk and twisted the cap off.

“You have spent that much money on me.”

“Pretty girl, gets money, gets the pretty man,” he said before seeming to chug the entire bottle.

“You would probably find a way to drown while drinking water, honestly.”

“Ha, ha, baby. Funny.”

“You don’t have to tell me I’m funny for me to know I’m funny, Jay,” she joked, “Are you coming back to bed?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What the fuck, man.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have work to do for Wayne Enterprises,” he said.

“I just want to cuddle,” she jokingly wined at him.

“You’re a temptress, but I really have to do this.”

“Doesn’t your laptop take time to charge?” she asked.

“Yes it does, why?”

“Come here then.”

He sighed and looked at his laptop before smiling and coming over to his bed, “You’re lucky it’s charging slowly today, baby.”

He climbed into the bed beside her, she thought he forgot that she was naked but he didn’t. He knew she was naked, he just didn’t want anything from her, he didn’t want a ‘fun night’ with his girlfriend, he just wanted the cuddling on a Thursday morning.

She had a headache, a massive one, and Jason noticed her wincing a lot and holding her head, he had seen these signs before, in Time Drake, his baby brother, who had a severe caffeine addiction.

“You alright?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder.

“Headache,” she answered and winced again.

“Caffeine or medication?” he asked, trying to make certain that is was caffeine and not anything else.

“Caffeine.”

“I can always make you some coffee, Y/N.”

“If you're willing to leave this bed, could you?” she asked.

“I could, I could. I don’t want to leave this moment, but I guess” he said, sarcastically.

“I’ll owe you indefinitely,” she said as he got up and walked over to his dresser, scavenging for a pair of pants so he didn’t walk downstairs and possibly expose himself to his siblings.

“Do you want anything else while I’m down there?” he asked while putting on his pants, “I can always make you breakfast,” he said.

“No, no, the coffee is more than enough, I swear.”

“You just want to spend more time with me, you simp.”

“That is true, that is so true.”

“I’ll be back in bed before you know it,” he walked over to her and kissed her forehead, taking in the bedhead and the way her eyes drowsed when she was tired, “Don’t pass out on me.”

“I can’t make promises I may not keep.”

“Then just keep me positive.”

She laughed and he walked out of the room. You could feel the way he was giddy about her as he walked out, from the way his grin wouldn’t fall to the way he bothered to get dressed, even if it was just pants.

No one thought they’d see the day that Jason Todd, the Jason Todd, would walk out of a room with a girl in it with pants on.

“Master Todd,” Alfred said as Jason walked into the kitchen, “One of these days, I ask of you, you and Miss Y/N should eat breakfast with the rest of us. And, it’s nearly 10:00, sir. You should be up sooner.”

“I can always count on you to parent me, Alfred,” Jason joked, “One of these days she and I will come down for breakfast, I swear,” he turned on the coffee machine.

“You don’t drink coffee, Master Todd.”

“No, I don’t. But she does.”

“My god, you’re whipped!” Tim exclaimed at his big brother.

“You’ll understand one day when someone you like this much is in your bed, Tim.”

“You didn’t even call me on my shit, who are you and what did you do with my brother?” Tim joked.

“I sold him to the devil in exchange for his rocking body and a beautiful girlfriend, moron.”

“How is your stab wound, Master Todd?” Alfred asked.

“Painful,” he said before looking in his foresight for Alfred’s reaction, when Alfred frowned, it broke Jason’s heart, he loved Alfred, “It’s gotten better, I swear. But it’s not ideal, either.”

“Master Richard says he should have watched you closer.”

“I don’t think he could have stopped it.”

“I could have tried,” Dick chimed in.

“Have you been listening in?” Tim asked when he turned to Dick.

“Are you that surprised? But Jase, you could have died, I could have done better, I could have stopped it if I just-”

“How many times do I have to say it isn’t your fault, Dickie?” Jason cut him off.

“I just promised to always protect you, and I failed my job.”

“You’re starting to sound like Dad, Dick,” Jason joked, trying to liven up the mood and stop his brother from crying. He needed to just distract them all from it, he didn’t want to deal with it, to talk about it all.

“Jase,” Dick paused.

“Dick, c’mon. I’m not dead. No one died. We’re all okay.”

“Jay, he has a point, no one is ready to lose you again, man,” Tim jumped in.

“To say the least,” Alfred finished.

“I love you guys, I do,” he said as he poured Y/N’s coffee, “And I get you’re scared that I’m going to die again,” he paused and sighed, “I don’t really know what to say, really.”

“You said really twice,” Tim joked.

“Listen here you little, literally, shit,” Jason retorted, holding his hand above Tim’s head like he was comparing heights, “I’ve enjoyed this, really. I can’t give up family bonding for anything, but you guys understand-”

“Are you ditching us for the pretty woman?” Dick asked.

“You would do the same, Dick.”

“Because I’m serious about Barbara.”

“And?” he joked as he walked off and back to his room.

Opening his door, he saw her, half-awake, laying in his bed. She had gotten up at some point to put on one of his shirts, it was cute. He liked the fact that she was wearing his shirt. He stared for a bit.

“Whatcha doing, Romeo?” she joked.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked as he walked towards his nightstand and put down the coffee before looking at her.

“Yeah, it is. If you mind, frankly, I don’t care.”

“Ha, ha. I don’t mind,” he said as he crawled back into bed with her while she sat up to drink the coffee, “Hope that makes it a little nicer to be here.”

“It’s already nice to be here.”

“I’m sure the headache made it suck a little, though.”

“Well yes but no.”

“Yes but no is my personal motto.”

“Is it now?”

“Well, ‘Should you do this, Jason? Dad will be mad.’ followed by yes but no is literally everything I do, ever.”

“Is this how telling your dad that we’re dating went?” she joked.

“Oh yeah, he just hates you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“If your partner’s parents don’t hate you then are you even their partner?” she retorted.

He laughed and buried his face into her chest. She laughed between sips of her coffee and she stroked his hair. She thought he liked it when she did this, and he did, she was right. He could feel each of her fingers running through his hair, massaging his head. If love languages are a thing, she could speak his fluently.

She was scared, scared that the attacks against her were related, scared that her friends weren’t going to get out of jail, scared that her escapade of drinking had brought her back to alcoholism, there was a taste she could never get off her tongue, the cravings she couldn’t quench. And it scared her. She hadn’t been this far down in a while, mentally.

It never seemed like the moment that she could bring that up to Jason, her fears. She wanted to open up about it but she just couldn’t.

Jason wanted to bring up the nightmares to her, but it was never the moment, He wanted to open up to her about it but he too, just couldn’t.

When she finished her coffee, it was unfortunately the time that Jason had to work, she audibly groaned and sighed when he left her side. He laughed and kissed her before he left the bed, and she, jokingly, tried to pull him back onto the bed.

Mundane life, day-to-day life was stuff like this, partners leaving because they had jobs, school, volunteering, extra-curricular activities, anything. It was the sad reality that they both would have to accept, especially if Y/N was going to reenroll in her dance lessons, which she had been thinking about. She hadn’t been deciding anything, she was scared.

Was it the distance that scared her? Probably. Was it the fact that she could fall from grace? Yes. She didn’t want to fall, she wanted to climb and climb harder and progress. She was a high-achiever. She had already fell, too. She fell hard.

She remembered waking up in a hospital in grade 10, after a night of partying, on the verge of death from alcohol poisoning. She was sent to rehab but relapsed hard. She had already fell, she had fallen so hard but tried to rebuild herself so hard as well. No one, but her parents, knew about the hospital visit, she had hidden it.

He was working away, typing on his laptop when she noticed that he was wincing.

“Baby?” she asked.

“Yes?” he said, through pain.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a little bit of pain, don’t worry.”

She got up and draped her arms behind him on the chair, “Doesn’t seem like a little bit, Jay.”

He grabbed her arm and rested his hand there while the other worked still, “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Do you have pain medication?” she whispered in his ear, trying to prove that she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I do, in the cabinet in the bathroom, why? Are you in pain?”

“If I asked you to take some so I don’t have to see you wince, will you?” she said while she walked towards the bathroom and dug through his cabinet.

“Baby, c’mon, please,”

“Shhhh,” she said as she found the pain meds and walked back, “Take some?”

“C’mon now,” he said.

“No, don’t humor me, say yes or no,” she said.

He grabbed the pill bottle and read the dosage instructions as she crawled behind him in the chair and rested her head on his back. He laughed slightly when she did and she could feel him laugh. The way his muscles contorted as he laughed. It was something she loved. He took the recommended dosage when she glanced at his stitches. They looked to be healing, but she wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t know if they were.

She placed her hand on top of his stitches, hoping she could just trace the outline of the scar, but she was watching his face, hoping that he wouldn’t wince if she tried. He smiled though, something about her even trying to comfort him brought him joy.

He didn’t feel worthy of her worry, her love, her kindness, but he enjoyed every minute of it because he still didn’t know if the pressure of it all, his life, if it would break her. He didn’t want it all to come crashing down, ever. He wanted this to last at least long enough that he could consider saying ‘I love you’ to her.

Every other girl would have run at the moment he was stabbed though, maybe because they had sense, maybe because she didn’t think through it all. He didn’t think she was ‘Not like other girls’ just because he knew that mindset is fucking trash, thank to his sisters just rambling about it at family game night after Tim said it, on accident. Boy, that kid got his ass handed to him by the girls.

He was sure that Y/N probably thought the same about it, in spite of the pick-me songs she’d end up playing when she was bored. They were just good songs, he was sure she didn’t really think that bringing other women, even men, down was a good thing. if she did, who knows how his sisters and brothers would feel about her when they found out.

But there he sat, and Y/N hadn't run. She had embraced the tragedy with open arms and expected it to slow down. His life was face-paced, a tale of a boy running too far and into the sky, and she sat through it with him. He would tap and type on his laptop, trying to not move and disturb her as she relaxed.

Doing work was not exactly the activity a new couple would want to do when neither of them had anything else to do, but it needed to be done or Bruce would hand Jason his ass in an argument about work ethic. Jason had work ethic, and Bruce had let him rest but when Jason was showing signs of recovery, he started telling Jason to ease back into work. So, Jason wrote essays defending projects Bruce wanted to do to the board.

Bruce didn’t need Jason to defend him, but if Jason could get the words out, normally no board members would fight Bruce on the decision anymore. And Bruce paid Jason handsomely for these essays, because Bruce did not like the fighting and arguing he’d get from the board.

But the Batman-Patented Stare would follow if someone continued to hate Bruce’s plans. It was a watered-down version of it, but it was still probably the most intimidating thing that his kids and teammates have ever experienced.

Jason hope that the relationship between him and Y/N would continued even if Bruce gave her the Batman Stare. She seemed like the type of girl who would end up laughing in Bruce’s face if he did it to her.

She was probably going to receive it after that fight Jason and him had about protection, because she was also partly to blame about that.

The hours ticked by as Jason wrote to defend his dad from the board, and before he and Y/N knew it, it was dinner time at the Wayne Manor, and Y/N was invited. Great, Jason thought, I guess we’re going to find out how she’s going to deal with the stare.

“Just a fair warning, baby, my dad’s probably going to attempt to lecture you if you join us for dinner,” Jason said as he got dressed.

“He can try his best, I’ll give him that,” she laughed as she threw on the same clothes she had from the day before.

“You need to start bringing an over-night bag here, damn,” he joked.

“Remind me next time I come over and I’ll at least bring a second change of clothes in my schoolbag.”

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

They all sat down for dinner, and Bruce started his parenting attempt, “Jason, Y/N,” he said and both of them stared at him, “You both know what you did was irresponsible-”

“Everything I do is irresponsible, Bruce, no offense,” Y/N joked.

“Look, I’m not going to have you two having sex-”

“They’re having sex?!” Damien and Tim exclaimed with fake disgust, YN laughed.

“Could any of you take this seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry, playboy billionaire, I’ll pretend you’re my dad for a second,” YN joked.

“You’re going to be a pain in my ass, huh?”

“Yeah, probably. Sorry about that, genuinely, but its not my fault your son picked me.”

“I just need you two to be safe if you’re going to continue to have sex in my house,” Bruce said, exasperated.

��We’ll just have sex at my house then,” Y/N joked again.

Bruce gave her The Stare at this moment, and she got startled a little bit. Everyone paused because she literally jumped a bit at The Stare.

“Dad, I think you genuinely scared her a bit,” Dick said.

“Did I jump? Oh my god,” she laughed, “I’m sorry,” she laughed harder, “I wasn’t expecting it!”

“Dad, c’mon, she’s a guest,” Jason said.

“No, no don’t worry about me, seriously. He can discipline me all he wants, honestly. If he’s nice about it, I’ll listen, even if I throw 69 jokes his way.”

“Nice,” Tim retorted.

“Really, a sex joke? Right after I tried to parent you?” Bruce questioned, “You really are the perfect match for Jason, my god.”

“You didn’t already realize that from the flipping off the press and her head-butting incident?” Stephanie added in, mocking Bruce.

“I, in no way, feel remorse or shame about either of those events.”

“You flipped off the press?” Cass asked.

“I did, I did. They can’t stop me, no one can.”

“I can,” Jason joked.

“You can keep thinking that.”

Everyone laughed. Whether or not Bruce wanted to admit it, he liked Y/N and hoped that Jason and her were going to last a while.

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pilothusband · 3 years

Text

A lit torch to the woodpile high (part 3)

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: M (this one gets spicy folks)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (they work in a bar), pining, death/grief mention, masturbation, fantasies of p in v sex, Paz puts himself in horny jail, light smut

Word count: 3.1k

Description: This one is purely self-indulgent. You decide to up the ante and make Paz’s life (and other parts of him) hard. Harlow is a lil shit, but we love for for it.

Author’s note: I’m still not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I’ve been working on it for far too long. Lightly edited, unbeta’d. Please go here to be added to the taglist! This one goes out to my pal May. Missing you on my dash. Hope you see this update and enjoy it 🥰

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

He couldn’t get you out of his head. It was maddening.

It had been a long time since anyone had stirred these kinds of feelings up for him, and he doesn’t recall it ever hitting him like a freight train.

He used to think of life in two absolutes: Before he lost everything and After, when he had to pick up the pieces. Now he was starting to think there was more to it, that those absolutes were just parts of him.

If only he wasn’t such a miserable bastard. You were the light in a dark sky. Not just for him, for everyone. He saw the delighted smile that was plastered on Rick’s face after you walked in every day and asked him how his grandchildren were doing, if his wife’s knee was feeling any better.

Paz noticed the change in Harlow’s demeanor now that she had a friend who could build her up when she talked about her dreams. Hell, Madge snuck you food every chance she got, and she only ever did that for him.

He found himself lying awake in bed tonight, as usual, trying to calm the stream of thought that entered his head. Before you, he only could ever think about the ghosts of his past. People he had loved and lost.

But now? Now as he closed his eyes, he saw your eyes, sparkling with delight. Your lips, in a pout, then stretched over a brilliant smile.

The delicate curve of your neck and shoulder. Your ass. He groaned out loud. God, your ass was out of this world. The way it moved when you bent over to grab a dish towel from the bottom shelf. He always had to look away before his thoughts got away from him, or else his mind would wander and he would imagine snaking his arms over yours and caging you to the bar, rolling his hips into yours. You would wiggle your ass against him and throw your head back to see his reaction.

Fuck. Now he was hard. Every time this happened, he would either watch some porn or force himself to think of a woman he didn’t know, someone who he dreamed up in his head.

But no faceless stranger or actress could quite do it for him like you would. He could feel his self control crumbling as he reached into his boxer briefs and fisted his aching cock, taking it out and letting it sit heavy against his stomach, straining with need.

He ran a finger up the underside, imagining it was you teasing him, getting acquainted with how hot and hard he was for you. He let himself picture you, naked and in between his legs, stroking him gently, watching him come apart underneath you. Ideally, he’d flip you over and dive face first into your cunt, lapping wide stripes at your slick folds with his tongue, then sucking your clit into his mouth. He would wait until you’re mewling under him, then he’d plunge a finger into you, stretching you around his finger and adding another. He’d wait until you came in his mouth at least twice before he fucked you. He’d have you begging for his cock, so slick with need it dripped down your thighs.

In this part of the fantasy, you’re so feral for him, your eyes bright and wide looking up at him with hunger, that he acquiesces, and you climb onto his lap and bounce up and down on his cock.

He was stroking himself faster now, feeling so close to the edge. He grit his teeth, growling your name as he came all over his fist, spurts reaching up his stomach, almost all the way to his chest.

As soon as he came to his senses, he sighed, feeling disgusted with himself.

There was a moment in the bed of his truck that night, where you had stared at him, your gaze flickering down to his mouth as you licked your bottom lip. It was just a small flash of your tongue– but it gave him hope for a moment. He had hope that someone as beautiful and kind as you could see through the darkness within him, see the guy he used to be before he lost everything.

But that part of Paz died, along with the family he cared so deeply for. The remaining ones scattered to the wind, unable to carry on pretending like everything hadn’t changed.

He sighed deeply, getting up to wash the shame off himself. At least he’d sleep soundly tonight and dream of a reality where he could hold you in his arms.

Paz seemed to be in higher spirits lately, following your chat in his office. It wasn’t like he skipped into the room and had birds fluttering around his head, like a Disney princess, but he didn’t snap at anyone who made eye contact with him, so it was a noticeable difference.

That was the hot topic conversation of the day, especially for Harlow. She couldn’t get over the 360 change that seemingly happened overnight.

“So, did you doink the grumpy out of him or what?” Harlow asked. She was leaning over the bar, looking at you expectantly with her hands under her chin.

“Of course not!” You said, a little too loudly. “There has not, and will not be any doinking, ever.”

“This sounds like work appropriate conversation,” a deep voice drawled.

You both spun around, not expecting to see him standing in the doorway, his eyebrow arched. He was clearly unimpressed.

“I’m going to go clean the bathrooms,” Harlow said, dashing out back. Fucking traitor.

You prayed to the almighty maker that the floor would open up and swallow you whole, but there was no such luck in store for you today.

“Hey Paz,” you said, trying to sound casual, as if Harlow hadn’t been talking about your non-existent sex life.

“Hey you,” he said, mimicking your tone. “I actually came out here to ask you if you could swap a shift with Harlow next Friday. I fucked up and scheduled her on a day she requested off. You’d get Sunday off in return.”

“Sure,” you agreed, nodding. “I don’t have any plans.”

“You don’t have any plans to ‘doink’ anyone that night?” He teased.

You could feel your face heating up in embarrassment.

“Not unless you know any willing volunteers.”

Paz barked out a laugh.

“I might know a guy,” he said, a smirk etched on his handsome face.

You both cursed and thanked the powers above that a customer decided to walk in right at that moment. Of course it was Bob. He usually was the first to come in and one of the last to leave.

Not wanting to lose whatever contest was going on (real or perceived), you gave Paz a coy smile and leaned over the bar to take Bob’s order, making sure you poked your ass out further than necessary.

You couldn’t see Paz’s reaction, but when he exited without so much of a goodbye, you gave yourself an internal fist pump.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to (potentially) break a dress code at work, but in your defense it was hotter than the surface of the sun, and internal temperature of the bar only seemed to get higher as the night went on.

Also, maybe it would be an added bonus if you got to torture a giant, brooding bartender in the process.

You felt pretty proud of your decision to wear your thinnest bralette, squeeze into your smallest pair of shorts, paired with a t-shirt that was just a little too small.

Of course your car decided to stall 3 times on the way to work, and your AC was busted so you walked in 15 minutes late, already feeling like a frizzy, sweaty mess. Your entrance wasn’t as grand as you were hoping, feeling like your half-assed attempt at makeup had already melted off your face, and the black v-neck you wore was clinging to you in all the wrong places, mainly your sweaty back and right under your bra.

In your rush to clock in before the 20-minute mark, you crashed right into Paz, almost falling and landing on your ass. Paz, of course, barely moved a centimeter. His hand shot out, grabbing you by the shoulder to hold you steady.

“Woah there, small fry, be careful,” he murmured. His hand was large and warm. You had to take a deep breath to get a hold of yourself.

“Paz, I’m so sorry I’m late. My fucking car stalled out on the way and–” you started babbling, pushing your sweaty mane back, praying he couldn’t see the sweat stains on your shirt.

“It’s okay, shit happens. You need someone to look at your car? I know a guy.” He was leaning forwards to get a better look at you, looking concerned. You had trouble controlling how fast your heart was beating and your lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. It was plain bizarre, the affect this man had on you with a simple gesture.

I know a guy. Your cheeks felt warm remembering the last time he uttered that sentence.

You had expected him to get angry with you for being late. Hell, you remember the gruff tone he gave you on your first day when he said to show up on time.

“I- I um,” you were having a hard time coming up with words, too distracted by the sensation of Paz’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder, brushing against your collar bone. Despite the heat, you felt goosebumps rise on your flesh and your nipples instantly pebbled. You stole a quick glance down to make sure it wasn’t obvious. Shit, it totally was.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he replied. Had his voice dropped a few octaves or were you just imagining it? He removed his hand from your shoulder, much to your chagrin, and backed up a little, giving you a once-over.

“Go ahead and clock in and give yourself a couple minutes to get settled. It should be slow today,” he gave you a soft smile.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, giving him a shy smile in return.

It was about 3 hours into your 8 hour shift and it was dead. There wasn’t a single customer in sight. It wasn’t that surprising, given it was a Tuesday, but God were you bored. It was just you and Paz tonight, with Paz sending Madge home (with pay) and no one else being scheduled.

You didn’t really mind, though, figuring it was a good time to get to know Paz better. He was wiping the already clean bar down for the fifth time that night, really driving the bartender stereotype home.

“You’re going to start wearing the varnish down at this rate,” you laughed, gesturing at the rag in his hand.

He looked down, shaking his head in a playfully exasperated way and let out an embarrassed huff of laughter.

“Alright, how do you suggest we pass the time?”

“How about 20 questions?”

Paz immediately groaned in protest.

“Oh shut up, you big baby, I’ll answer first. Go ahead,” you cocked your chin at him. “Got any questions you’re dying to ask me?”

“Why did you apply for a job here?”

Your first instinct was to deflect, but you did suggest this game, and figured you just had to bite the bullet and answer honestly.

“To be honest, I still haven’t figured out what I want to do,” you explained. “I know, kind of pathetic for someone my age. I took a bartending class at the local adult learning center, got a certificate and just kind of walked in here and asked for an application on a whim.”

Paz could sense your discomfort, how you were ashamed that you hadn’t found your way yet. It was something he could identify with, in a way.

“That’s not pathetic at all,” he said, crossing his arms. “Plenty of people don’t know what they want to do at your age.”

You shrugged, not wanting to continue the subject.

“Boxers or briefs?”

Paz arched an eyebrow, his ever-present sign of judgement coming through.

“That’s what you’re dying to ask me?”

“No, but I figured I’d warm you up first,” you said, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Boxer briefs. Favorite color?”

“Blue. Where did you grow up?”

Paz’s casual expression faltered at the question.

“Far away. I’d rather not get into it today, if you don’t mind.” The easy smile vanished from your face, replacing it with a nod of understanding.

“That’s totally fine, Paz. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you sat down at a table, and gestured at the chair across from you, signaling him to sit down. You wanted him to feel at ease around you.

“You and your apologies,” Paz said, a look of fond disbelief on his face. “You have nothing to apologize for, mesh’la.”

A beat of silence passed, waiting for Paz to think of a question. You wanted to ask him what that word he had called you meant, but you had a feeling he would dodge the question.

“Who were you and Harlow talking about yesterday?” Paz rested his chin in his hand, giving you a shit-eating grin. He must have known the answer already, given the smug look on his face.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” You countered. In the back of your mind, you thought you probably shouldn’t have talked back to your boss, but his smile didn’t waver. In fact, it only got wider.

“That doesn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” he drawled, stretching his legs and crossing one over the other.

“Harlow,” you thought of a way to word this without incriminating yourself or your friend. But screw it, she had opened her big mouth in the first place. “Harlow thinks there’s something going on between you and me.”

You briefly wondered if his facial muscles were used to this kind of workout, with the grin that refused to let up.

“And your answer was basically, ‘ew no’, ouch,” he chuckled.

“It’s not like– ugh. Fuck you.” You hid your face in your hands. He laughed harder. You had to do something to flip this around, gain back a little power over the situation.

Oh. An evil thought entered your brain. You removed your hands from your face and smirked. Paz was still grinning, but you saw a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Pray tell, what would you have preferred I said?”

Paz leaned back in his chair and regarded you for a moment. It seemed you had thrown him through a loop. You couldn’t help but feel pleased with yourself.

But then he leaned forward, placing both of his large hands on the table, a hungry look in his eyes.

“You can say whatever you want to Harlow,” he said, his voice even but significantly huskier than usual. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t lie to yourself.”

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest any second now. You weren’t sure if he was being serious and it was making your head spin.

A sound came from the kitchen, snapping you both out of the moment. You sprung apart, despite having a table between your bodies.

“Okay lovebirds, I’m heading home.” It was Madge, standing by the kitchen doors, snickering at your antics.

“Night, Madge,” Paz called.

You waved feebly and offered a weak “goodnight” at her retreating figure.

It had been too quiet since she had left. Paz seemed unwilling to continue the conversation, opting to brood silently. You muttered something about getting a head start on inventory and retreated into the dusty storage closet to pretend you were counting inventory. Though, you didn’t bring a pen and paper with you, so really you just went out back to stare at a bunch of kegs and liquor bottles, hoping they would miraculously answer all of the questions that were whirring through your brain.

You must have been staring at a bottle of Hennessy for at least a full 5 minutes when the door opened. Paz looked absolutely wrecked. His hair was mussed up, as if he had been running his fingers through it. His chest was heaving as if he had just sprinted a mile.

“Paz.” His name came out of your mouth like a prayer. You weren’t sure what you were asking of him, but you knew you needed him to act.

He stepped closer, slowly, as if he was afraid the floor would open up from under his feet.

“Tell me to stop.” Paz was just inches away now, caging you into the shelves behind you with his arms.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” You asked, tipping your chin up to look at him.

He growled and tangled his fingers in your hair, kissing you with fervor.

Despite the ferocity of his kiss, his lips were so soft, so pliant. You moaned and licked into his mouth needing to taste him. Paz moaned, pushing you into the shelves further.

“You drive me crazy,” he panted, pressing his forehead to yours. You responded by capturing his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him back to your mouth. You were rewarded with a low groan and a push of his hips.

He was hard. That knowledge sent you into a haze. You needed him closer. Your arms went around his shoulders, kneading and pulling him in. He broke the kiss and peppered smaller kisses on your jaw, then down your neck.

“You wear these tiny little shorts and tight shirt to torture me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He nibbled at your collar bone, hitting a spot that had you throwing your head back against the shelves.

“Yes,” you chuckled breathlessly.

“Mmm, knew it,” he answered, running his hands down your back, down to your ass, giving it a generous squeeze that had you mewling.

“I’ve been hard all fucking day, seeing you waltz around in those shorts, with your nipples hard, begging to be sucked.”

He rubbed his thumb over one of your nipples, causing it to pebble. Paz swallowed your gasp with his mouth, giving you another searing kiss.

Reality came rearing its ugly head in the form of the front door opening. Paz huffed and pressed his forehead to yours, hands coming around your hips to help you off the shelf.

“Duty calls,” he sighed, reaching his hand down into his jeans to adjust himself. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Paz exited the closet, strolling out and greeting the customer as if nothing had just happened, while you stole a few moments to yourself to get your bearings.

It was going to be a long night.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @recklessworry @cannedsoupsucks @pocket-pudding @simping-for-clones @gallowsjoker @idiotonastar @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @devanthus @legally-a-bastard @my-awakened-ghost @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @sheresh0y @starlite41

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla au #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

76. it’s my birthday and you just fucking ruined my party and I don’t even know you

Danbrey, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

“Wow, dude, this is so fancy.” Jake takes in the dining room of Yosemite Lodge, “look, napkins!”

“Jake, we have cloth napkins back home.” Dani smiles fondly; while she’s more interested in the location and the decor, she agrees with her brothers overall enthusiasm.

The rest of Amnesty Lodge, where Dani lives and works, pooled their resources to surprise her with a weekend trip to Yosemite for her twenty-fifth birthday. She would have been happy camping, but they even went to the trouble of booking rooms in the main lodge and scheduling her a birthday dinner in the restaurant that looks out onto the valley.

Mama whistles at the menu from her seat at the head of the table, “damn, this is a good lookin dinner.”

Dani picks up the single sheet of paper, the silver writing informing her the meal with consist of a summer salad, shrimp scampie, and a strawberry rhubarb tart for dessert. When she glances across the table, Barclay is smiling down into his water glass.

“Oh my god, did you request a specific menu just for me?”

Her friend nods, blushing a little, “Head chef is an old friend from my line cook days.”

“Aw, you guys.” She sips the fancy cider Barclay ordered for the table, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

“You ain’t had a real party in years; seemed time to fix that.” Mama’s about to say something else when the fire alarm blares through the room and a server asks that everyone please exit through the side doors into the courtyard.

“Probably just a false alarm.” Barclay leans against a decorative rock.

“Uh, dudes? I smell smoke.”

Dani cranes her neck, tracks the path of the curling smoke through the lights from the windows to the main meeting room on the bottom floor of the hotel. A woman about her age, dressed entirely in red and black with, “The Lady Flame” emblazoned on her sparkly jacket, is talking and gesturing rapidly with disgruntled staff.

Two minutes later, the same woman steps onto the lawn with a sheepish smile.

“Hi everyone! It’s safe to go back in now. I, um, there was a tiny accident with some flashpaper. I think. Anyway, point is, I’m super sorry and there’s no more fire so please come enjoy my show. Oh, but, um, we have to move to the dining room due to some, um, ash.”

Just as she says this, one of the servers whispers in Barclays ear.

“Fuck. Sorry gang, sounds like we gotta postpone until tomorrow; whatever party booked ms fireball over there is gonna take up the whole restaurant.”

Dani sighs, resigning herself to a night of vending machine dinner as they head back inside. Then a hand settles on her arm and she’s locking eyes with the person who just ruined her evening.

“Hey, I always ask the cutest girl in the audience to be my assistant for the next bit. Do you want to-”

She pulls her arm away, “Yeah, hard pass, I’m not in whatever group decided to book you. I’m the person who’s birthday is getting turfed for your party.”

The magician cringes, “EEsh, I’m so sorry, I’ll, um, I’ll just.” She steps back, eyes glued to her black boots. As Dani continues into the lodge, she swears she hears the same voice go, “aw beans.”

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

The spring sunshine feels perfect, the breeze is gentle, and there are literal bluebirds calling around her. Dani feels like a dang disney princess as she naps on a rock near one of the meadows.

Something--a chipmunk, she assumes--munches the grass below her.

“Dr Harris Bonkers, no! This is a national park and I’m not letting my only son go to jail for vandalism.”

Dani rolls onto her side in time to see the magician from last night scooping a massive, orange rabbit from the ground. When she straightens enough to notice she’s not alone, the woman freezes.

“Um. Hi. Again.”

“Hi.” Not feeling like rehashing last night, she studies the rabbit, “should he really be running around out here?”

“Not even remotely. He was supposed to stay in my room, but he gnawed his way out of his carrier, hopped onto the windowsill, and decided to bounce when he saw all the plants out here.” She cautiously sits on the edge of the rock, rabbit in her lap, “I really am sorry about last night. I never used to have problems during my shows, but lately it’s like my flashpaper has a freaking mind of its own. I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t screw with anybody’s plans but mine.”

“It’s fine.” Dani shrugs, “we’re just going to do a dinner re-do tonight.”

The woman bites a matte black lip, “Could I, um, make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Well, it’s your birthday, right? You’re supposed to spend your birthday doing things you like, so I could, like, keep you company while you do them?”

It would be nice to have a hiking buddy. Mama is taking a well-deserved nap, Barclay is off for a swim, and Jake found some rock climbers to hang with. And while the Lady Flame looked good last night, today she’s downright gorgeous. The dyed-red streaks in her curly, black hair, the freckles, black shorts that make her butt look incredible, all of it adds up to someone Dani wouldn’t mind spending the day with.

“Do you have shoes you can hike in?”

She kicks up one leg, showing off her Doc Martens, “I once walked five miles in these with no problems.”

“Great. Let’s get the doctor” she rubs the rabbit’s ears, “somewhere safe and get on the trail.”

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

The hike’s only three and a half miles, but it’s taking them a long time to complete it. Not because they’re slow, but because Aubrey (as the Lady Flame calls herself) keeps stopping to look at or point out any interesting thing that catches her eye. It’s adorable.

Dani likes when she points out plants, because then she can show off a little.

“Dang, you really know your plants.” Aubrey stoops to take a picture of some Scarlet Monkeyflower.

“I run the teaching garden out back of the Lodge. Uh, Amnesty Lodge, where I live, not this one.”

“Coooool. I keep thinking about making Dr. Harris Boners a little garden when I finally find a place to stay put for awhile, but everything is always about how to keep bunnies out of your garden.”

“I mean, they can really trash it if you’re not careful.”

“I believe it, Dr. Harris Bonkers can take out a whole patch of rug in, like, ten minutes.”

“Herbs would probably be okay, clover too. I guess it depends on how much space you have.”

“Probably not much” Aubrey holds out a hand to help her across a creek, “traveling magicians don’t make much.”

Their talk turns to Aubrey’s life on the road, and her various misadventures trying to transport a fifteen pound rabbit on public transit. When they reach the waterfall that marks the trails end, they slip off their shoes and socks to dip their feet in the nearby pond, shoulders touching as they compare notes on growing up in sometimes stressful family situations.

It’s well after lunchtime when they get back, so they sit in the meadow and split a bag of chips, shooing away several overly ambitious squirrels. Mama joins them for a bit, and Dani smiles when she notices how quickly the older woman takes to Aubrey. Mama can never turn down a stray.

Dani’s already scheming for how to spend the last day of her vacation with Aubrey when the magician turns down her invitation to dinner. She’s a little disappointed, but Aubrey promises she’ll see her later.

Her birthday dinner redux is halfway into its second course when the lights at the front of the room brighten and the ones above her dim.

“And now, as an added, surprise treat for this evening's meal, the magnificent Lady Flame is here to dazzle you all with her astounding feats of magic!” The server at the edge of the room gives a thumbs up and Aubrey bounds into view, smile glittering brighter than her outfit.

To Dani’s delight, Aubrey is an amazing magician; her tricks are interesting, her patter is the same funny, energetic pace that their conversations were this afternoon, and her assistant is adorable. When she declares she needs a volunteer for her next trick, she’s holding her hand out to Dani before anyone else can raise theirs.

The trick turns out to be picking cards and showing them to the audience, though Dani notices Aubrey devotes as much sleight of hand to brushing their fingers together as she does to her act.

“And now, esteemed audience, I will produce a flower from my lovely assistant's hair!”

Dani smiles, then claps along with everyone else as Aubrey produces a spring of Larkspur from thin air. Literally, Dani cannot for the life of her tell where she was hiding it. Or how she was able to get what Dani said was her favorite flower on such short notice.

Aubrey finishes up her act (and doesn’t set anything on fire) to thunderous applause, and Dani spots Mama leaning over to whisper something to Barclay, who nods thoughtfully. It’s only after the magician has taken her last bow that Dani has a horrible realization; Aubrey went to all that trouble to make her birthday dinner memorable, and she didn’t get to eat any of it.

Her white sandals sink into the carpet as she carries a plate down to Aubrey’s room. When her new friend opens the door, she’s between worlds; sparkly jacket on top, red pajama pants on the bottom.

“I brought you some cake. Or, uh, I guess it’s a tart.” She holds out the plate and Aubrey takes it, cheeks going pink, “since you didn’t get the rest of the dinner.”

“Thanks” Aubrey steps back so Dani can join her in the room, “it’s chill that I didn’t get to join you all; I wanted to make up for ruining your dinner last night.”

“You already did way more than that. Aubrey, this was the nicest day I’ve had in months, and most of that is because I got to spend it with you.”

“I dunno, feel weird getting cake from a thing I crashed.” Aubrey is fidgeting with her bracelets, blushing harder every time she looks up and finds Dani still smiling at her.

“Can I give you something else instead?” Dani takes a half-step forward.

“Sure! What-” Aubrey’s words fade into a little sigh as Dani wraps her arms over her shoulders. Then her back bumps into the nightstand as Aubrey throws herself into a kiss.

“Hey” Dani teases, nibbling her ear as Aubrey holds her tighter, “you messed up my big reveal.”

“Aw dang, guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” Aubrey slips her hands down to the small of her back, “how does even more making out sound?”

Dani pulls her towards the bed, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of her smile and the touch of her hands, “like the best birthday gift ever.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty #meet ugly

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walkerwords · 3 years

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 21 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/SKYBOUND

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The months after the blizzard were full of bliss, but now the reader needs to get back to work. What happens when Judith finds a mask belonging to one of Alpha’s people? What does this mean to the survivors? How is the relationship going with Negan?

Word Count: 5512

Warning: Swearing, Fighting

Song I Wrote To: “Battlecry” by Jordan Mackampa

Note: So yes, there is the time jump in this! However, throughout the next chapters, I will reference some flashbacks from both Negan and the MC’s POVs. Remember from now until the end, we are changing a bit from season 10, but there will be some of the bigger moments present. With the new episodes coming up, I just want to make it clear that this story will finish with “Certain Doom” I have no plans to continue the plot into Season 10C or Season 11. ALL ASL IN ITALICS

————

Winter wasn't easy.

Food stores were low and with the Kingdom out of commission and the forests barren, it was a harsh few months. The snow came in waves, blanketing the ground with fresh white powder only to be turned to slush and ice with the rain the next day.

At least there was one good thing to come out of it.

Negan was out of his cell when it got to be too much on certain nights.

Whenever a particularly cold front came through, he was granted permission to stay at your place for the night as long as you returned him to his jail in the morning. Provided that extra blankets and warm food were supplied, you agreed to the terms.

Those cold nights became the very thing that held you together. Negan has been right, body heat was incredibly beneficial. Every waking moment of the day, Negan was on your mind. His hands, his body, that damn smile of his too. However, while you enjoyed the sex and the feeling of him asleep beside you, you were in love with the conversation just as much.

You also began to learn more about his life before the Apocalypse. His life as a gym teacher, his love of vintage t-shirts, and even some things about Lucille as well. Never did you bring her up on your own, but you also never shot him down when he did either. Just as he never told you to not talk about Sasha.

Sasha became a regular topic when you began talking about the past. You missed her so much and all you wanted was to keep her memory alive. Talking about her to Negan helped with that. He would then tell you about his time with the Saviors and how he actually liked a lot of the people who he worked with.

Simon was an asshole, but Negan admitted that he was one of the smartest men he had ever met. Dwight was a nightmare at times, but still, Negan oddly admired his heart.

You weren’t surprised to learn some of this, but you were shocked to learn just how protective and jealous he could be when he wanted to.

Daryl had finally moved back into Alexandria with Lydia, Daryl moving into the Grimes’ basement, and Lydia into your guestroom. You would spend as much time with Daryl as possible whether it was for personal reasons or because you were still on edge about the Whisperers.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Negan who was starting to get suspicious. He even asked you if you and Daryl had once been involved.

“You’re joking, right?” you asked when he had brought up the subject one day as he was helping with repairs to one of the walls.

“Is that such an odd question to ask?”

“Kind of,” you said. “Negan, Daryl is like a brother to me. We’ve never...absolutely not.”

“I just find it hard to believe that you never found yourself being with anyone since this whole shit show started.”

“Didn’t have much of a chance,” you had said. “As I have said before, I’m better off alone.”

“Yeah, well don’t expect me to leave you alone any time soon, alright?” Negan had said as he finished his job. You had nodded, but something was telling you that he couldn’t keep that promise, nobody could keep promises anymore.

Your injury had fully healed just as Negan said it would, but it left an angry scar that still stung on the colder days. It wasn’t pretty, but none of your scars were, they were just part of the new world and you had to get used to them.

You were trying to stay positive as the months went by. Rosita eventually had her daughter, Judith became a stronger fighter, and you were starting to get nervous.

Everything was too calm.

It seemed that the Whisperers had gone underground for the harsher months of winter. However, like all predatory species. They would soon be returning to their hunting grounds, you were sure of it.

Domestic life was starting to be too much. Your nightmares were getting worse and on the nights that Negan lay beside you, he would wake you with a hard shake in order to be able to snap you out of sleep. You would never tell him what plagued your dreams and he never asked, but you knew he wanted to.

You also knew that he wanted to move forward with you and start thinking about a future together. However, you also knew that if that were to happen, you would need to leave Alexandria. Nobody, no matter what he did, would accept Negan as part of the family and you didn’t blame them.

Still, you wanted to be able to hold his hand as you walked through the streets and kiss him in the rain, but he was still Negan and while you got to play normal on certain nights, the cell was still his home.

It was months after the blizzard that you began planning. You began to stash bags in your house. They were filled with canteens, extra clothes, extra gauze, and when you were able to get it, non-perishables. After so many years of feeling as if you had put down roots, you were slipping back into survival mode because if you had to, you were ready to leave with him.

You loved your family, but you couldn’t live without Negan. Not anymore and not after Alpha had taken so much away from everyone. You thought back to what you had told Daryl that night when he came to visit you in the infirmary after the blizzard. You had told him that you would fight for your family even if it meant betraying Negan.

Now, you knew that wasn’t true. Negan was your life now and nothing was going to make you stop fighting for him.

And while you wanted to spend every moment with Negan, everyone knew war was imminent. Even though Alpha, Beta, and their people had gone quiet, you and everyone else knew they were still out there and so, you began to prepare.

Coco, Rosita’s daughter was just a few months old when Daryl interrupted your babysitting duties to tell you that he had spoken to Cyndie and Rachel. It was time to get ready to fight their enemies.

When Daryl announced that he would be taking people to Oceanside to prepare and learn to fight in formations with new weapons and with new strategies, there were immediate volunteers. Siddiq, Eugene, and Ro were going to be staying behind with Gabriel, but Judith and RJ would be going with their mother just as Aaron would be going as well.

You didn’t get much of a choice. You had to go as you were second in command when it came to security. You were also going because Michonne wanted time to continue the training you had been doing with her, honing your skills with your sword.

Negan wasn’t thrilled when he found out you would be leaving, but you promised him that it wouldn’t be for long and that it was necessary. You spent the night before leaving in the cell with him, curled into his side as he lulled you to sleep. You told him you would be coming back soon and asked if he could look out for Lydia when he could.

You immediately pulled Lydia under your wing. You trained her, using the new staff Alden had made for her. It was much like the one Henry once used. You taught her how to hunt and track while she helped you move around the Dead as if you were invisible. Being able to learn from one another solidified your bond quickly.

Lydia was a naturally curious young woman who wanted to hear stories about everything. You told her everything from the farm to meeting Jadis’ people for the first time. When she asked how you met Negan, you had told her one night in the quiet of your living room. Lydia had been patient the entire time as she listened.

When you were finished, she had exhaled deeply and then reached over and took your hand in hers. ��I guess we both care about people capable of horrific things,” she had said and that line had stuck with you. It replayed in your head even now as you stood behind a barricade on a white sand beach, prepared to fight.

—————

Every inch of your body was coiled to a spring as your sword weighed heavily in your hand.

Aaron led the charge, he and Alden using the metal shields to stay in formation as they moved towards the old boat. Judith struck a waterlogged Walker that tried to drag itself up onto the shore. Returning to her position between you and Michonne, her wakizashi poised for battle.

Ezekiel and Jerry pulled open the door of the ship and the Dead spilled from the rusted wreckage. Walkers weren’t as sophisticated as Whisperers, but they did act as great decoys and practice for fighting the enemy.

Daryl walked along the edges of the main battle, observing and making adjustments when needed. The archers were behind, ready to fire when ordered and then, there was your group. You, Michonne, Judith, Ezekiel, Magna, and others kept your weapons raised, ready to strike.

For months, you and Michonne practiced whenever you could. She taught you different ways to hold your blade, how to use it to block, and most importantly, how to kill. Walkers were easy, but you had yet to fight an actual armed enemy.

While you wouldn’t give him a weapon, you were practicing your fight skills with Negan whenever he was in your home at night. This was more for his benefit than yours, but the two of you would take turns in practicing hand-to-hand.

Lydia would watch on with curiosity as you and Negan exchanged punches and holds. Negan would then give her tips on how to move with her weapon, how to keep balanced, and even where to strike on both Living and Dead threats.

That training came in handy now as you and Michonne moved forward, swinging your swords. The sun glinted off the metal as you fought back to back, taking the Walkers down by removing their heads from their shoulders.

Daryl joined the fight as soon as the Walkers began to overwhelm the fighters. His dual knives cut through the Walkers easily. You were so used to seeing Daryl fight long-distance with his bow just as you once excelled at with your rifle, but this was a whole new Daryl.

There was zero hesitation in his strikes and you had to keep focused on your task so you didn’t get too distracted. Moving to cover Michonne, you slashed out at a pair of Walkers who were moving in on Kelly. With a single strike, their rotting heads rolled from their bodies.

A sharp sound came from behind you as Daryl shoved a knife into a Walker’s head that tried to grab you. You didn’t have time to thank him before Alden’s spear soared over your head and you ducked. The weapon found its target and you kept moving.

Taking out the remainder of the Walkers took some time, but between every fighter on that beach, you dispatched them cleanly and without incident. The final Walker that stumbled on the beach approached you and with a hard swing, you cut its head into two, your blade sliding right down the center of its skull.

With a hard pull, you removed the sword with a huff. As the body fell to the ground, you rested your blood-soaked blade on your shoulder, trying to relieve the fatigue that plagued your biceps.

Daryl, who was standing just a few feet away, watched as your weapon lay against your shoulder and it was oddly familiar. He watched as you dropped it back down to your side, but he saw it. It was hard not to. It was as if you were holding Lucille and not Jesus’ sword.

There were still a few left inside so you jogged up to help Ezekiel clear them out as Aaron began calling out orders. Once you finished working through the remaining Dead, Ezekiel let out a tired breath.

“Nicely done,” he said and then offered his hand for a high five. You obliged and tapped your palm to his.

“You too,” you said as you scraped the blood off your sword. You then noticed that he was looking at you with a tilted head. “What? Do I have Walker blood on my face?” you asked, worried.

“No, I just noticed something,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You seem happy,” Ezekiel said.

“I am,” you said. “I didn’t think I would be able to feel this way after what happened at the fair, but all I feel is this underlying aura of happiness.”

“Are you worried that that is a bad thing?”

“I feel almost guilty to feel happiness after everything that happened. It almost feels inappropriate to feel any sense of joy, you know?”

“I do know,” he said sadly and then you immediately felt horrible.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” you trailed off when he raised his hand.

“One, you don’t need to address me with that title,” he said. “And two, it’s okay. I miss him every day, but I can also understand that he would want me to smile on occasion.”

“Henry was a good boy,” you said, reaching out to grip his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing back. “I also know that many people aren’t happy with whom you’ve chosen to love.”

“Ezekiel…” you began, but he was already speaking.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I do not care who he is. I have just missed your smile. If Negan is who it takes for you to get that light back in your eyes, so be it. I think we have all missed that even if you haven’t realized it. I know what he’s done, but I know that you also know as well.”

“I do, but I can’t help but love him.”

“And that’s okay. It’s...unorthodox, but it’s okay. The heart wants what the heart wants, (Y/N).” You didn’t hesitate to reach out and hug the man before you. If that was the way that he thought then perhaps there would be more hope for those who disagreed with your new connection with the former enemy. However, there was also the realization that many would begin to shun you just because of your relationship with Negan.

In that rust-filled ship hold, you smiled at the king who had just lost his kingdom and realized that perhaps he understood at least that part of Negan’s past. As Negan once said, he knew what it felt like to lose a kingdom.

————

On your way back to the main area of Oceanside, you ran into Luke.

“Call on line two,” he joked as he handed you the radio. You immediately knew what he meant and with a roll of your eyes, you took the walkie from him and began walking away from the masses.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” you asked.

“I have to admit,” Negan said on the other line, “I feel like a teenager sneaking into the basement to call his secret love.”

“Some things never change then,” you said with a laugh as you found a boulder to sit on as you watched the waves crash against the shore.

“No, they do not,” he said and you could tell he was smiling. That thought sent a jolt into your chest.

“What did you do to get this privilege?”

“I may have paid off this kid, Brandon,” Negan said.

“With what? Tomatoes?” you asked, amused.

“Nope, just a little life advice and maybe some instructions on how to make moonshine,” he said smugly.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned.

“You love it,” he teased.

“Mmhmm,” you said.

“Tell me about your day,” Negan said.

“We’ve been working on battle formations,” you said. “Daryl thinks that we need a stronger defense.”

“What do you think?” Negan asked.

“I think that someone needs to find me a gun so I can take Alpha out,” you admitted.

“Easy, Darlin’,” Negan said.

“Why? Why can’t I want the bitch dead?”

“Oh, you definitely can. I just think that perhaps you may wanna think it through before going all Terminator.”

“In order to do that, I’d need a gun and we are out of bullets,” you said and then your hand found its way around your neck where the old shell casing Daryl had given you hung on a chain.

“I wish I could help,” he said and then you sighed, leaning back on the boulder.

“You are helping,” you said. “You’re keeping me sane.”

“That’s a first. Especially cause I specifically remember you telling me that I drive you crazy. I think you were on top that time.”

“Wow, you are such a romantic,” you said, but you were smiling nonetheless.

“I am the best at romance, trust me.”

“Always do,” you said without hesitation.

“God, I fucking miss you,” he said.

“I miss you, too,” you said as you watched Aaron take down another water-logged Walker.

“What else is going on?” Negan asked.

“Carol is comin’ back today,” you said, turning your gaze to the horizon.

“I’m sure Daryl is thrilled about that,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ah, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed those two? I clocked it the first time I saw them together.”

“There’s nothing going on between Daryl and Carol,” you said with a dismissive scoff.

“Right, and I’m the damn Pope,” Negan said.

“No, you’re not. The hat wouldn’t look good on you,” you argued.

“Uh, I look good in everything, (Y/N). Don’t lie to yourself.”

“This is true,” you agreed, trying not to smile.

“Speaking of,” Negan said. “What are you wearing?”

“And we are changing the subject now,” you said.

“Buzzkill,” he countered.

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Oh, shut up, you know you love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Knew it,” he said. You smiled, but then turned the conversation onto something else.

“How’s Lydia?” you asked, worried about the teen.

“She seems okay,” Negan said. “I talked to her this morning. She misses you,” he said.

“Yeah, I miss her, too,” you said. “I’ll be home soon, though. Is anyone messin’ with her?” you asked, concerned she was going to be met with the negativity that should only be reserved for her mother and her former family.

“Just the odd dirty look behind her back so far,” Negan assured you. “Nothin’ she can’t handle.”

“You don’t know that,” you said. “She hasn’t had to be around people beside Whisperers. Let alone people her own age.”

“Well, she’s got you now, so I know she’s gonna be okay,” Negan said gently and you let out a breath, letting his words soothe you.

“Just please keep an eye on her when you can please,” you asked him.

“Don’t worry, I got her,” he promised. You were relishing in the sound of his voice when you realized that you needed to get going. You were then wishing for a time machine to go back to when unlimited minutes were available on cell phones. “What are you thinkin’?” he asked.

“That I should get goin’,” you said with a sigh. “I know Luke wanted me to help him set up dinner with Jules.”

“Who’s Luke again?” he asked.

“Uh, the violin guy. New group,” you explained.

“Right…” Negan trailed off.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just… Is he keepin’ his hands to himself?” Negan asked and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. So, instead of calming his nerves, you decided to have some fun.

“Nope, he is definitely not,” you said nonchalantly. “In fact, we’ve already had a steamy make-out session and Cyndie has agreed to marry us at sunset. Daryl is giving me away and Jude is gonna be the flower girl. I think it will be a wonderful ceremony. I’ll send you a piece of cake.”

Negan was quiet for a moment and you figured he was either rolling his eyes or staring off in the distance as he sighed deeply. Eventually, he pressed the talk button and said, “You really need to work on your sense of humor.”

“And you need to get back to work before Brandon realizes that you don't actually know how to make moonshine,” you said.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“See you soon.”

“I love you,” he said softer and you leaned your head against the radio.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, and then, static returned to the channel.

You let the radio rest in your hand for a moment as you thought of him. Being together for all those months without any break was almost like living a different life and now it felt alien to be away from him.

Hopping off the boulder, you began to head back to find Luke. “Who was that?” Jumping at the voice, you turned to see Connie and Kelly behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” you swore, signing as you did. Connie snorted.

“Nope, just me,” Connie signed and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, who was that?” Kelly asked.

“Nobody,” you said with a shrug, but after knowing the sisters for a while now, you knew they saw right through your bullshit.

“Right,” signed Connie. With a sigh you relented.

“It was my boyfriend,” you explained. Connie and Kelly both raised their brows at that.

“Why do I feel like that wasn’t a positive reaction?” Kelly signed to her sister.

“Because,” Connie began, “they are with Negan.”

“Who’s Negan?” Kelly asked you and then you told your story. Connie had to remind you of a few signs such as “baseball bat” and “murderous widow”. You managed to finish without straying from the main train of thought and when you did, Kelly whistled low. “Shit,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” you said.

--------

After helping Luke and Jules set up the fire pit, you went in search of Aaron, but you found Daryl and Carol first.

“Look who’s back,” you said as you approached Carol. She reached out to hug you tightly.

“Good to see you,” Carol said.

“You too,” you said with a smile and then tapped your fist against Daryl’s. It was then that Negan’s comment came back to you. You couldn’t help but try to see what he was seeing when he looked at the duo. Perhaps he was right after all.

“What?” Daryl asked

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but he was still looking at you with narrowed eyes through his messy hair.

“Right,” he said. “We were just talkin’ about Maggie.”

“Anyone heard from her lately?” you asked as you began to walk beside them.

“Not yet,” Daryl said. “She has been checking in less and less lately.”

“Are you worried?” you asked and then turned to Carol, “Is he worried?”

“He’s Daryl,” Carol said, causing the man on her left to roll his eyes.

“I hate when the two of you are together,” he muttered and Carol hooked her arm in his, playful leaning her head on his shoulder.

He let her of course and you could just hear Negan saying, “I told you so, Teach,” in your mind. You hated when he was right.

“You worried about her findin’ out about Negan?” Carol asked and you shot Daryl a look.

“Yeah, I told her,” Daryl said. “You ain’t really making it a secret.”

“Guess not,” you sighed. “I don’t know, Carol. I don’t really want to imagine what her reaction would be. The woman scares me enough.”

“Ya weren’t that close,” Daryl said.

“Close enough,” you said.

You and Maggie had an odd relationship. While you were close with both Glenn and Beth, you and Maggie were never particularly close enough to be considered good friends. You had each other’s backs and you cared for her, but you never really knew what she was thinking.

“I think she’d hit you,” Carol said casually.

“Thank you, Carol. Your support is incredible,” you quipped and she just gave you a wink.

“Come on, we have bigger things to worry about, right?” Carol asked.

“You got that right,” Michonne said as she jogged up to you three. She carried something in her hand and when she raised it, Carol froze at Daryl’s side. It was one of the Whisperer’s masks. “We need to talk.”

--------

“It washed downstream,” Rachel said as she looked at the mask on the table. You and the leaders were standing around one of the tables in the main meeting room trying to figure out what to do next. “It could have been from months ago.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Michonne.

“Thoughts?” Carol asked, looking at her friend.

“It could be something, but it could be nothing.”

“We’ve agreed to her damn borders,” Daryl said from his spot next to Cyndie.

“Which we shouldn’t have done,” you added.

“I agree,” said Carol.

“And then what? She kills more of us?” Michonne said. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” Carol was quiet then, stewing in her own thoughts about the woman who murdered her son.

“We need to tell Hilltop and Alexandria,” Enid pointed out. She and Alden had taken on roles of leadership along with Ezekiel at Hilltop.

“I’ll go call Gabriel,” Daryl said as he grabbed the radio and left the room to contact Alexandria. You were staring at the mask before you and you remembered a moment from a few months ago...

It was the middle of the night and you were out walking the streets of Alexandria, trying to shake off your nightmares. The weather was better so Negan was back in his cell. You had begun to walk to him, only to be sidetracked by the sound of the windmill. You stood there in the dark, staring up at the moving blades and a feeling crept up your spine.

It was almost as if someone was watching you. Scanning the darkness, you only saw shapes that were slightly illuminated by the moonlight. Still, that feeling followed you as you continued to pace around the community. Eventually, you found yourself at the stables, stroking the horses to calm yourself. You had been able to not think about the Whisperers for moments at a time, but in the dark of night, you could only think about the way they moved and the way they whispered to one another.

Looking down at that mask with its hollow eyes now made you feel sick. It was as if it was a message from Beta, telling you that he always knew where you were, where Lydia was. While Alpha scared you, Beta was who your nightmares were about. Alpha was smart, cunning, and ruthless, but Beta was her sword and Beta was going to be the one that struck first, you were sure of it.

“(Y/N)?” Enid said, snapping you out of your memory. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking at her. “Excuse me,” you said before following Daryl out of the room and back into the fresh air of Oceanside.

You didn’t look back as you kept moving towards the water, taking in deep breaths of the salty air. You tried to focus on the waves and how they crashed into one another on the shore, but it was hard to think of anything that didn’t send your heart into a panic.

Your hand gripped your sword at your side and you felt as if your fingers were about to break, but you tried to steady yourself.

It was just a mask.

Except, it wasn’t.

You felt a nudge at your back and turned to see Dog standing behind you. Connie was walking up behind him, giving you a friendly smile. You smiled back, scratching Dog behind his ears.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” you said.

“I did not mean to call your boyfriend out like that earlier,” she said with a frown. You waved her off.

“It’s okay, Connie,” you said. “He’s not a secret, at least I’m trying not to make him that.”

“He is lucky to have someone who cares for him that deep,” she signed.

“Thanks,” you said, turning your eyes to the setting sun. Connie got your attention again as she began signing.

“Are you going home?” she asked.

“I might have too,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t like Lydia being there alone.”

“She is a good kid,” Connie said. “I can see that you care about her.” You nodded, agreeing with Connie’s statement. You also knew that Connie had a soft spot for the teenager as well. She had been with Daryl when they rescued Lydia and Henry from the Whisperer camp and brought them back to Alexandria and then the fair. You also knew that Connie felt guilty for what happened to Henry, you all did.

“I’m not sure how that happened,” you said. “We just connected.”

“You know,” she continued, “you would be a great parent.”

“Easy there, Connie,” you said with raised brows.

“Just saying,” she said with a shrug. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it before, becoming a parent. You knew that your friends had done it. Maggie, Rosita, Aaron, and of course Carol, but you never saw yourself in that light. At least not until you found Alexandria and began to take care of Judith when Rick was still around. He trusted you with both of his kids and then Aaron did as well with Gracie.

As a teacher, you loved teaching and taking care of kids, but after Elliot’s death, you shied away from the possibility of ever taking care of one of your own. However, now, with Negan in the picture, perhaps taking care of one wouldn't be that bad. Especially if it was Lydia.

“Does he love you?” Connie asked after a moment.

“He does,” you answered easily. “But it’s complicated.” Connie shook her head then.

“There is a reason that the past stays behind us, (Y/N),” Connie said.

“Not after what he did,” you said with a meaningful look.

“Nobody is a saint. That was taken from all of us as soon as the first Dead began to walk.” Connie then reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly in her own.

“You’re wise,” you said and Connie scoffed and then let go so she could use her hands again.

“No, I just know how to see people in a different light,” she explained.

“How?”

“I try to see them as people who make mistakes, and not mistakes masked as people,” she said and you smiled at that.

“Thanks, Connie,” you said and you really meant it.

“Anytime.”

-------

You were heading back towards the cabin that you were sharing with Daryl and his dog when you ran into Judith.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, concerned.

“Tomorrow,” you said, already having decided that you would ride for Alexandria the following morning. Judith frowned then, her attention on her boots. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m worried about Negan,” she admitted.

“Why?” you asked, kneeling down so you could see her better.

“People are angry,” she said with a sigh. Her hat was low as she tried to avoid your eyes. You reached out and pushed it off her head, taking her shoulders in your hands. She looked at you with those eyes that reminded you so much of Shane. Regardless of what that man did, he helped make an incredible kid and you saw him in her eyes every time.

“They’re mad at Alpha, not Negan,” you assured her, trying to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t think that matters,” she said, kicking at a loose seashell.

“I know,” you said, brushing a piece of hair off her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I know you care about him.” Judith nodded and then moved forward to wrap her arms around your neck, resting her head against the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” you asked, squeezing her back as she held you

“I like that you see him as a human being,” she said and you nearly cried at her words. You just held the little Grimes back.

“I always will,” you promised.

“No matter what?” she asked.

“Yeah, kid. No Matter what.”

Tags:

@cameronsails @lucillethings @stark-dreams

@amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

#walkerwords #savior sessions #twd imagine #the walking dead #negan imagine #negan x reader #negan x you #Negan x gn reader #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO “The Verdict.”

Put a lot of work into this, and now its approaching a close. I hope you all enjoy.

Again thank discord member Eddi for writing the experimental logs and coming up with the scientists names. I hope you especially enjoy what I have done with your work. I really appreciate it, and was super excited to collaborate on a work.

WARNING: Not really any violence in this one, but it does mention drugs, and suicide, so viewer discretion is advised.

“Are you alright?”

Adam barely heard the question eyes wide and watching as the lights glowed down from overhead inside the sterile, white marbled courtroom.

“Adam?’

He blinked and looked up, turning his head to stare at Admiral Kelly who sat at his side, a hand resting on his shoulder, “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry,, I’m fine.’

She went quiet, eyes narrowed in concern clearly not entirely believing him when he said he was alright, but having no proof otherwise. He had to take a moment to think about it himself, and determined that….. He did feel fine. In fact, he felt better than he had earlier. His palms were no longer sweating and his breathing was coming in a normal, even rhythm.

He was alright, he was going to be ok.

“The prosecution calls Dr. Wilkenson to the stand.”

Adam lifted his head in surprise, eyes narrowing as the slim man took to his feet, nervously adjusting his tie and his glasses in turn before making his way to the witness stand. This was one of the men who had helped to design the steel eye project.

“Dr Wilkenson, do you mind reading for us, the words that you wrote regarding the Steel Eye project.”

The man was handed a piece of paper, and he nodded it, taking it into his hands before clearing his throat.

Experimental log #1

I am shocked at the extent to which my ‘colleagues’ are willing to go for greater heights of recognition and achieving their goals. I am attempting to either reduce the pain subjects feel or in some way reduce the reliance on addictive painkillers. I fear however this will all avail naught. The pain induced by the interface itself means that one would have to redesign the entire system. To keep my superiors happy I will also be conducting movement tests.

-Recording break-

The tests went as well as expected, The soldiers who have volunteered are unresponsive and lethargic when they are wearing the full suit, this is likely to the immense amount of suppressive painkillers they are on. A mixture of fentanyl and Carfentanil, A mixture I would expect to find in painkillers for a horse or even small elephant. I am advising the introduction of a stimulant. However I am also voicing concerns over such a thing as the level of stimulants needed would be far higher than is safe.

“You seem to have had some doubts about the Steel eye project, Doctor.”

The man nodded, fidgeting with his glasses again, “I did…. Due to ethical concerns. I felt that the testnng was moving to quickly, and I also felt that the introduction of such potent medications would also be an ethical violation. As I worded in my original log, I felt that the dosages required to keep someone functional while wearing the Steel eye suit were well beyond reasonable.”

The lawyer shifted slightly on their feet, “Tell me doctor, why -- after you quite-- did you not bring these ethical violations forward to the proper authorities?”

The doctor shifted nervously, “I would have liked to, counselor, but -- before entering the project-- i signed a top secret nondisclosure agreement that stated: were I to introduct this information to any outside source, that I would be jailed for the rest of my life….” he looked down at his feet, “Obviously, now I regret deeply not having the courage to come forward and say something sooner.

Audio visual log transcript.

The researcher, confirmed to be Dr.Wilkinson approaches the test subject, attempting to wake them in various gentle manners before finally slapping them with an open palm. Once awoken and adjustments to the drug intake are made by Dr. Wilkinson which resulted in protests from the subject. The subject is encouraged to run laps on a large track which is timed by Dr. Wilkinson. After Which the doctor assists the subject out of the suit and hands him over to a medical worker who seems to have been held on standby.

The lawyer cleared her throat, reading.

Observers note:

It is to be mentioned to the Commission that Dr Wilkinson was sworn to secrecy and required to sign the statute of secrets until such a time the information was brought to light in any manner other than his own actions. Additionally Dr Wilkinson took part in the development of the Iron Eye project and was a vocal proponent of non-human test subjects and ensuring the users were as safe and stable as possible.

“We are not on trial here today for the actions of Dr. Wilkenson who has agreed to testify for the prosecution in exchange for immunity against legal action. We are, however, here to discuss the actions of those scientists who continued on with the steel eye project long after it became clear that there were ethical concerns, and that those ethical concerns were being routinely and blatantly violated.”

The prosecution shifted again, hands gripping the lectern, “The prosecution would like to present experimental log 3 for evidence.”

Experimental log #3

After reviewing James’s experimental logs and the currently used painkillers and suppressants the current stimulants suggested caffeine and amphetamine. It has been decided that the stimulants lack a level of strength to provide combat effective units. Thus the upcoming experiment will be focused on achieving the right cocktail of drugs to provide optimum combat functionality. The tested stimulants will be mixtures I have personally developed and calculated. As well as commercially available and recommended mixtures that James developed.

-Recording break-

As expected the mixtures that James developed did not aid in any manner and testing with those ceased after the first failure. The recommended mixtures are only marginally better. I have discovered however, to no shock, that my own mixtures are highly functional. Proceeding forwards, We will be making use of mixture 22c.

Audiovisual log transcript:

Several volunteers stood in a line in prototype Steel-eye suits, each seeming to be asleep. The researcher stops by each of them to place a second vial of chemicals in the drug port. The first subject seems not to react beyond several flickerings of the eyes and a pained moan. In response to this the researcher dumps several un-tested vials in to a large plastic bucket with ‘Failed’ on it in sharpie. The next few subjects react somewhat more, becoming semi verbal and looking round, however they are still lethargic an slow. Only responding in half words or gestures. The researcher dumps several more untested vials in to the ‘Failed’ bucket. The final few volunteers however become far more alert and aggressive, moving round, pushing each other and joking. The researcher struggles to persuade them out of the suits and is eventually forced to deactivate the suits by removing the power supply cables.

Observers note:

Mixture 22c appears to be a mixture of methamphetamines and cocaine. There also appears to be an addition of Dimethyl sulfoxide which increases the absorption rate of the drugs but also removes the requirement for precision with the needle insertion allowing for a larger needle to be used to increase drug delivery dosage.

The court room was silent, silent as the lawyer turned to look at the assembled audience and then back at the judges, “Methamphetamine…. And cocaine, two drugs known to be ‘highly’ addictive and grossly unethical. Drug experimentation on humans is strictly controlled by the EDA and that is ONLY involving the clinical use of newly discovered drugs. At this point it should be more than clear that the use of illicit drugs on unknowing test subjects in a developmental environment goes beyond gross negligence and into malicious tampering. Dr. Ayishat Abara has demonstrated great contempt for Dr. Wilkinsons moderate methods and gone on to produce a cocktail of drugs that is rarely found outside of crackhouses and meth labs.

With a solemn expression, the lawyer turned to look at the rest of the crowd, “This is not even considering the long term effects and the psychological damage caused to the victims of Steel eye…. Which led many men and women to take their own lives. Experimental log 18 being the prosecution's next piece of evidence.”

Experiment log #18

After extensive physical testing and further refining of the stimulant delivery system and mixtures of the stimulant and painkillers I have decided that it is suitable to move on to combat testing. The upcoming test will be a simple firearms test, I have requisitioned a modified 30mm rapid fire weapon that I feel will be suitable for use with the Steel Eye suit. This will be a live fire test. I have no intent on taking baby steps when such a project is due to draw such renown.

-Recording break-

The subject was more than capable of using the weapon. Though seemed to lack the force of will to maintain its use for long. To combat this I will be including small amounts of ritalin as well as increasing the stimulant dosage. This should counteract the negative reactions exhibited by the test subject.

Audiovisual log transcript:

The subject is active and moving around the test area. Different to all the prior times, however the subject also seems to be on edge or hyper aware of something. The researcher wheels in a large caliber short barreled automatic cannon Attaching it to the Steel eye suits arm and instructing the soldier on how to use it. After a few moments of instruction the subject seems comfortable and begins firing down rage at several targets, Displaying uncanny reaction speed and almost superhuman reflexes. This continued for several minutes, The subject however seems to grow more and more despondent and unresponsive as the tests go on. The researcher leaves the area for a short while seemingly to get more stimulants or ammunition. During the break the soldier places the short barreled against their own temple and discharges the weapon. This subject is registered as the test subject for the past 11 experiments.

The entire room flinched and gasped. Adam felt his stomach churn again, but less to do with fear this time and more to do with pure disgust and horror. He looked away again as the recording shut off and the lawyer stood before the room for a long moment allowing the footage to sink into the minds of those in the courtroom, “This test subject, this man, Dakota McCallister was on his 11th time as a test subject when this footage was taken. After reviewing all of the testing logs with Dr. Gladstone, we have found no evidence that the subjects were monitored for mental health concerns. Additionally none of them were even screened before testing began. None of the men and women involved in the Steel eye project were ever referred for mental health testing before, during or after the experimentation was complete.”

Experimental log #23

I have discovered the most efficient way to motivate the subjects is to offer further testing time within the suit and increased dosages of the drugs used to suppress the side effects of wearing the suit. This has prevented further unwarranted self removal from the project as occurred in experiment eighteen. The upcoming test is the first live combat test. I have taken one of the subjects and isolated them for a few days, preventing use of the suit. They will be permitted to use the suit and instructed that if they wish to continue using it they will attack a target of my choosing.

-Recording Break-

The experiment went far better than expected. The subject did not question the instructions given nor did they seem to show any lack of remorse for their actions. Short of a few further tests to ensure subjects can work together. Further testing is unwarranted.

Audiovisual log transcript:

Within the test arena there is a single individual they appear to be a military volunteer. Missing a limb. Quite possibly a earlier subject from the Steel Eye testing. The subject is nervous and clearly unstable. The researcher enters, alongside the Steel eye testing unit. The subject of the steel eye seems to be hyper alert and jittery. The individual spots the Steel eye suit and panics, attempting to move away from it. The researcher indicates the individual to the subject and the subject charges the individual, striking them with the backhand of the suit. The individual is thrown across the testing area to impact against the far wall. The landing angle indicates not only a broken neck but several other lethal injuries, including a crushed skull. The researcher, seemingly satisfied provides the subject with a vial of some kind, And leaves the testing area.

“Researchers and test subjects alike died during the experimentation, and yet the scientists did not stop.” She looks down at her notes, “The experiment went far better than expected? What is that even supposed to mean, you expected more people to die? YOu expected the test subject to be more unstable. Furthermore, the use of the suit and the drugs as a reward for the already unstable test subjects is a simple demonstration of how poorly this experiment was run and overseen. These ethical violations should never have begun much less allowed to continue.”

Discussion synopsis regarding further system problems.

The researchers confirm that all systems are working to their optimum capabilities given the research time and that they have done everything in their power to keep the subjects safe and healthy throughout the testing process and that no undue risk were taken. Dr Abara indicates disdain for Dr Wilkinson’s methods and suggests he be court marshalled for his attempted ‘sabotage’ of the project. This is dismissed by Admiral Ableman. Problems are mentioned regarding power sources and suggestions are raised including back pack mounted power units. This is eventually solved with Dr Nkosi suggests making use of injured soldiers and using the space where their limb would be to mount power packs. The next issue raised is the fact that the Steel Eye suit puts too much stress on soldiers in active combat scenarios as mentioned by Dr Abara stating that ‘subjects fell apart too fast.’ Again Dr Nkosi provides a solution by suggesting the use of augmetics. Dr Stein at this point provides a interface solution using the prosthetics. With all problems solved All relevant papers are handed over to the Admiral and Colonel for the production and shipping out of the combat capable Steel Eye suits.

The lawyer stood quietly before them, hands clasped at her front, “Experimental testing lasted less than a decade. The pain of the interface was never fixed, and yet they sold it off to desperate UNSC officials in order to win the Drev war. Fifty men and women were subjected to implantation. Thirty of those are dead ten of those are permanently psychologically damaged. Five are still in treatment while five more are the only ones who manage to be functional and hold jobs. However,” She motioned towards Adam, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “We also see that -- even then, they are not exempt from psychological dysfunction, though they were never compensated.” She shuffled her papers, “The prosecution has no further comments at this time.” She turned and went back to her seat, pausing to sit and speak quietly with her partner for a moment as the judges deliberated.

Amidral Kelly learned over, “If that was no reasonable doubt, then I don’t know what is.”

Adam nodded, he was feeling pretty good about this all things told.”

Off on the other side of the room, the defence took to their feet. It seemed mostly as if their strategy was not getting their clients out of trouble but simply mitigating the punishments related to the crimes they HAD committed. He heard a lot of tripe and waffling about supposed loopholes in the system and about how they had WON the Drev war after all. There was even a couple arguments about how everyone there had signed an agreement to participate so it actually wasn’t all that bad.

The entire thing seemed as if it was going to be tied up in a neat little bag for them .

That was until.

“The defence would like to call Admiral Vir to the witness stand.”

He froze in palace eyes wide and looked around in confusion. Of course this was perfectly legal and in their rights for them to do this, but he had no idea what they are going to ask. He stood slowly and made his way towards the witness stand staring at the defence as he took an uncomfortable seat on the wooden witness chair.

“ Admiral Vir, How old are you/”

He had to admit that he didn’t expect that question and paused for an unbelievable amount of time before answering, “Twenty six.”

“So young for an admiral.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

The prosecution stood, “Objection your honor, this information is irrelevant.”

“We will allow it.” The prosecution sat.

“And you are not currently taking any medications for your PTSD.”

“No, but I do have a service dog.”

“And do you receive metal evaluations often, as an admiral.”

He shifted in his seat not sure where this was going, and not liking it one bit, “Yes.”

“So you might say that it is safe to assume that the UNSC considers you mentally sound enough to command an entire armada of ships at the age of 26.”

“I…. yes.”

“Admiral, do you have any phobias.”

He swallowed hard unable to tell at all where this was going on, “No, councilor, I don’t.”

“Do you know anyone who does?”

“Yes, I have a friend who has claustrophobia.”

“And how does that person react in enclosed spaces.”

“They panic.”

“Do they actively seek out enclosed spaces, or do they avoid them?”

Adam shrugged, “They avoid them of course. They don’t even like elevators”

“Right, so it would be safe to say that if someone has trauma or panic related to a certain event or object, they would be likely to avoid that object or thing or association with that object at all costs.”

His hands had begun sweating again. A line of it trickled down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades, “I would assume so.”

“Admiral Vir, would you please show the court your prosthetic leg.”

His hearing completely cut out and all there was was a loud ringing. He saw one of the defence object but then watched as the judges deny that defence.

He was ordered to stand out in front of the court.

His hearing came back slowly as, shaking hands pulled up his right pant leg.

“Admiral Vir, would you mind removing the prosthetic for us.”

He felt heat rising to the back of his neck and up onto his face. The defence argued for him, but it was no use. The Bailiff brought him a chair, and he nervously, and self consciously unstrapped the prosthetic with a soft snick, quickly moving to cover the injury. He felt about ten times smaller as he handed the prosthetic over to the Bailiff, paraded in front of the courtroom like some kind of freak show.

He tried not to think about it, keeping his chin high eyes staring straight forward.

“Please show the judges the serial number on the thigh.”

The Bailiff did as requested.

“Can you ready that out for us your honor, please.”

“SE490000.”

“Dr. Gladstone can you please examine this prosthetic and tell me what you see.”

Adam was held on standby as the doctor moved forward uncomfortably to examine the leg which the bailiff was holding, “It…. is a modified bioprosthetic with Drev Chitin, I don’t…”

“And who would you say was the manufacturer?”

The man paused before his eyes widened slowly, “This…. This is-” he looked up, “This is a steel eye prosthetic.”

There was silence in the courtroom.

“Thank you Dr. Gladstone.” The defence motioned the Bailiff to return the leg to Adam, who strapped it on with still-shaking hands.

“ Admiral Vir, the defence requests that you remove your uniform jacket. If you would be more comfortable that can be done in privacy of course.”

Adam stared at them in confusion. The prosecution stood to argue again, but again were denied.

“Would you like to step into the back room admiral?”

Running on autopilot he shook his head probably having preferred some privacy but being far too confused to actually request it.

He stood and slowly unbuttoned the front of his uniform jacket, staring with the high neck collar and then down either side.

He handed the jacket the the Bailiff, who held it form him.

He stood now in only a white undershirt.

“Admiral please turn around and hold your arms out to the side.”

He did as told.

The room muttered softly.

“Dr. Wilkenson, do you recognize those.”

From behind him, adam heard the weak response, “Those are iron eye interface ports.”

“Thank you admiral, you may put your jacket back on.”

He did as ordered feeling his neck and face turn hot red as he took his seat back on the stand.”

“Admiral, if steel eye had such a negative effect on you, then why would you be wearing a steel eye prosthetic and iron eye interface ports. Wouldn’t those exacerbate your condition.”

He opened and closed his mouth.

The prosecution stood, “Objection your honor, Admiral Vir is not the one on trial here, and this is humiliation.”

“Sit down, council.” The defence was looking rather smug, “presenting to the court footage from the Burg war on the Gromm homeworld.”

Adam’s head was filled with the sound of screaming and gunshots. The camera he was watching through was shaky and jostled this wa and that as the figure ran. Up ahead a massive bubble of force dominates the skyline and hundreds of borg ships swarmed around its top like an eruption of bees.

Drev and other marines ran up and beside, and just ahead of that.

He saw a familiar figure.

He saw himself.

Running at the front of the group. Even over the sound of the screaming and the gunfire he could hear the repetitive hydraulic hiss and whirring of the servo motors as the steel eye suit spurred him to impossible speeds. The Steel eye prosthetic hissed the loudest as he was propelled over the ground.

His heart began to beat faster and faster inside his chest, lines of sweat poured down his back and the halo of lights overhead was growing as if to encompass his vision. He felt sick and dizzy all at once, feeling as if he was tiling sideways and going to fall over. He watched as the image of him ran headfirst into a burg, grabbed it by its slimy centipede limbs…. And ripped it apart. His vision blurred and his ears were ringing.

Muffled gasps filled the court.

He gripped the sides of his chair willing himself to stay in reality, to not pass out or be sucked into some horrific sort of flashback.

He wanted to throw up.

The ringing in his ears only stopped a few minutes later with the Bailiff gently shaking his shoulder.

“Admiral.”

He sat up straighter, his hearing still muffled, but at least he could see.

“Admiral, why did you put on the suit again if it had such damaging effects on you the first time.” “I…. It… i... “ He continued to stammer for a moment before stopping and taking a deep breath, “I thought it was the only way. I put on the suit because I thought if I didn’t than I was forfeiting earth to the Burg, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.” “And how would you describe wearing the suit.”

His heart was thundering in his ears. He felt like he was going to fall over, to be sick. Phantom shots of pain ran up and down his spine. He was shaking so badly he wondered if the entire courtroom could see it, “Indescribable pain….”

“But you didn’t tear it off.”

Soft, “No.”

“So, despite the alleged trauma that the Steel eye project caused you, you wear a steel eye prosthetic, iron eye interfaces, and you have even put on the steeleye suit a second time…. Based on those actions, it hardly seems like the behavior of someone who has received laying trauma from the Steel eye project. Could it be, that your PTSD stems from the war itself and not from the Steel eye project.”

His mouth opened and then closed. His ears were still ringing, and it was hard to think around.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to put two thoughts together. Even his internal monologue had gone silent.

“Admiral, please answer the question.”

That was when another side of him reared its head. Where the soft squishy 26 year old manchild could not answer the question, there was someone else there t pick up his pieces.”

The admiral, and the Veterin, and the Drev Sentinel,and the warrior stepped into his palace.

His hearing cleared very suddenly and he sat up turning his gaze on the defence.

The targeting system in his prosthetic eye snapped into focus placing the radicals just over the lawyers face.’

“Council, I can see that you are attempting to undermine my claim of PTSD related to the steel eye project to mitigate the lasting effects of the trauma on my person. Based on your argument, I would never have put on the prosthetic or the suit had it caused as much harm to me as I claim. I will have you know, however, that the leg was a gift from a Drev soldier following the war as a gesture of peace taken, discarded from the battlefield and modified. That leg later went on to save my life as it adopted me into the Drev clan. It is an everyday reminder of the war, and the things I lost. It took me months to be able to wear it for what it was -- as a gift-- rather than a reminder of the war. As for the Burg war, I have made mistakes in my time and that was one of them. THe Steel eye suit is a drug, and no matter how much one hates it you always want to come back. That feeling of power, being ten times stronger than you should be, it's like being a god, It is everything you hate and love all in one, and yes I was in ‘debilitating pain’ but i kept going because I thought at that time it was the only way to save the universe.’ He leaned forward in his seat, “So the next time I am lying in the dark prone in the fetal position because one of the pipes on my ship accidentally made a hissing noise, I will take a moment to think about whether it was te steeleye project or the war.”

His voice did not quiver or break, and instead of feeling small, he could imagine the defence shrinking slightly at his words, whose volume had never raised.

“You may take your seat admiral.”

He did as told again straight backed and unmoved by the eyes that stared at him.

Admiral Kelly was staring at him as he took his seat, but he didn’t acknowledge her.

Thedefence brought forward a few more points crosse examining Dr. Wilkenson before the prosecution stepped forward again.

“The prosecution would now like to call expert witness Dr. Lemar Dedtric to the stand.”

There was some shuffling for a few moments as another man stood from he crowd and walked forward taking his seat and sworn to truth before the eyes of the court.

“Dr. Dedric, tell us a little of your credentials here today.”

The man nodded, “For the past twenty years, I have headed the leading psychiatric foundation at the University of Northern Mericanda. I have practiced psychiatry for those same twenty years, published over 100 papers and founded more than twenty psychological foundations for veterans. At the university level I focus primarily on Post Traumatic Stress as related to combat with a secondary focus on the psychological effects of biotechnology implantation.” “And you also reviewed this case like Dr. Gladstone?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And do you believe that there were any psychological effects related to the use of the Steel eye suits on these men and women?”

He nodded, “Most certainly. I think the admiral explained it most clearly when he described the steel eye suit as a drug. As we know, Upgrade addiction was recently added to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental illness last march. Studies that led to the institution of this particular illness found that subjects who were exposed to extreme bio interfacing where more likely to continue adding interfaces as time went on. When asked the subjects reported that their desire to augment came from the feeling of power the interface gave them. The steel eye subjects, based on the notes presented in court indicate a proclivity to going back to the project or something similar despite degrading mental health.”

“The prosecution would like to present video testimony from a few of the remaining steel eye operatives.”

With these testimonies, the case lasted well into the day, and far into the night before court was adjourned and reschedule fo the following day. He slept as if in a haze nad returned early to listen to the rest of the cross examination He was called up multiple times for both sides, but never cracked once during that time. It was as if he was watching himself from the outside.

The defence never called up their own people to the stand, and were likely not going to call them up at all.

That was fine by him.

And then finally, mercifully the judges stepped off into the deliberation chambers staying there for a good half of the day before everyone was called back.

“After much deliberation the Geneva court has come to a verdict….. A verdict. A verdict of guilt on all charges which includes the maximum sentence of life in the Turma maximum security prison facility on multiple counts of Torture, mltiple counts of manslaughter, and multiple counts of gross ethical violation, Court Dismissed.”

Adam sighed sinking back in his seat to stare up at the ceiling.

What a long day this had been.

But at least now it was over

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tomuraxashes · 3 years

Text

Found you - part 1

- Tenko! - a young, white haired boy run towards him from the swings.

- Touya-chan! How could you come? - he asked with confused tone in his voice.

He remembered his friend told him yesterday he wouldn't make it to come even today to the playground.

- Ah, it was easy. I convinced my mum to go and visit her parents together and after we came back I just asked her to take me out here. So I am here! - the young Todoroki smiled.

- Oh, I'm happy then. - the black haired boy said somehow delightfully, but his little cute face immediately turned back to the gloominess it was before - but wat if your dad finds out?

- Dont worry Tenko, after he learned that you are a Shimura, he doesn't really mind when I hang out with you. Sure, I still have to train but he allows me to have a friend, moreover a friend from a hero dynasty. Common bullshit of his, ya'know.

- Yes, I see, but I'm still worried about you! Your scars on your arms .. I .. let me see.. let me try to heal it!

- No need - Touya opposed - I don't have big scars today, I didn't receive any serious injuries. I don't want you to harm yourself just because of these small scratches.

- I don't care.. - the little boy said with a serious gaze in his ruby eyes - besides my mum or Hana-chan, you are the only one for I would use it.. You are the person I like the most, and why should I have this quirk, if not for helping my loved ones?

Now give me your hand...

They boys were at the Todoroki's house, playing inside of Touya's room. But they still could hear the shouting of Endeavour and Rei from the another room.

"Enji, he is just seven! How can you do this to him?

"He is already seven! He is my eldest son, and I want him to become the no 1, no matter what. He will surpass All Might! I won't let my dream down!"

From the room where the boys were in, a quiet sobbing was heard after the argument.

- Tenko chan.. I .. I don't even know if I want to be a hero anymore! - the white haired boy cried silently

- It's okay.. I will always be here for you and support you, no matter what.

- Mum, why Tenko's mum is not answering to your calls?

"Breaking news! The no 1 hero Nana Shimura is dead!"

- Mum! It's... Tenko's grandma on the TV! What happened?

"The heroine kept her private life in secret, but unfortunately the tragedy happened there as well. His son's entire family was eliminated, the circumstances are still under an investigation, the suspect is unknown."

- Mum? Dad? - the white haired boy almost cried - Whats the report about? Why we can't reach Tenko? Is he safe?

His mum couldn't answer. All he got is his father's uncertain hug, with a sad gaze and his trying to calm him down.

- I'm sorry, son...

He was so young back then, but then he was able to feel some happiness. He had one fucking friend in this cursed life, yet he had to die.

He didn't remember to much from his childhood - he didn't want to - but the small black haired boy with those ruby eyes was his sweetest memory ever.

He is not the one he used to be. The white haired hero-to-be is now gone, the world thinks he is dead now. And maybe they know right .. Touya Todoroki is truly dead.

Dabi is the one who lives. Dabi, the villain, the bad guy, who kills people just for fun, and kills heroes to calm his broken soul a little bit.

What would Tenko think if he could see me now?"

But there is no Tenko anymore.

There is no one who would heal his injuries, who would make him smile, who would care for him.. there is no one in this world for him. He is alone.

The only thing what makes him happy is to kill those fucking heroes.

Those scumbags who never helped anyone for real, they weren't there for him when his father almost killed him, neither for Tenko when he... passed away. Somehow.

It has been so many years yet no one knows how this case happened. The investigators claimed it had something to do with All for One and Nana's war, and via that, they didnt really look into it.

Dabi wanted two things in his life.

Firstly , he wanted to kill the person who made him and his whole family suffer - his scumbag of a father.

Secondly, he wanted to find out the truth about Tenko's death.

And that's why he is exactly there where he is right now.

He joined the League of Villains.

He heard from some underground fellas that there is a guy named Giran who can find literally anything. Well, the information is the most expensive trading stuff of his, so Dabi knew he has to make some money first.

And what's a better option than making money from killing heroes? And besides that, if he ""sells" himself to Giran first, and the League would be pleased with him as a villain, than the man would owe him.. perfect plan.

Well, it somehow worked. He was in, the LoV took him and even they gave him the opportunity to make them proud.

Even the boss seemed to acknowledge his powers and determination.

Well, the boss.. he was really something. Dabi - nor the others - couldn't see his face,he had always covered it with a human hand. It was kinda creepy but the whole guy was, as well.

He learned that his quirk, the decay is extremely dangerous and that he didn't think a lot about killing. If someone pisses him off, he is willing to turn them to dust within a sec. He has to be cautious, Dabi noted himself.

Shigaraki didn't seem to care too much about his subordinates but in fact, he did. He couldn't even explain it for himself, he just didn't want them to die - maybe.

He didn't exactly know how to "care". He didn't interact with people too much before establishing the LoV. He had Sensei and Kurogiri, and sometimes he was in touch with Giran if he needed something from the black market.

But then Sensei wanted him to get some people, who are his "own". So that way, it was not necessary to ask Giran for some ragtag mobs if he wanted to make a bigger action.

Now, he had some really hardcore fellas, with real power and willingness. He was satisfied.

He was the leader. They listened to him, they obeyed him. That was the most important thing.

But ... since they lived together, he saw the connections between the members. How they get on with each other in their free time. How they talked, played, had fun, etc.

And for Tomura, it was all strange indeed. He has never done it - at least, not after Sensei found him.

Before -

"Hm, that's not relevant anymore, what happened before..."

Dabi was in a good mood recently. No one from the League knew the reason, but the scarred man teased them less than usual. He was even nice with them sometimes.

They were all in the bar, even Shigaraki sat there and drank some spirit when Toga just asked Dabi randomly about his sudden emotional changes.

- Well, if you really wanna know - the burnt man started to speak theatrically - I will finally receive the thing I always wanted to!

- And what's that thing? - Magne asked excitedly- you ordered some goth stuff from Wish?

- Lol nope, that's ..wait, why do you assume I have my stuff from Wish? I definitely don't! But that's not the matter! After the last mission I finally had the cash to buy something from Giran. And he promised me the stuff for todaay!

- What the hell did you buy from that crock? Do you need some guns or what? - finally Shigaraki spoke up too.

He wasn't fond of the fact that he has now some company but he was aware he needed to socialise.

He quite liked the League and that's why he didn't want them to think that he is some creepy loner - well, he is.

- What for? I have my own firepower, it's not the thing. I bought some information...

That was all he shared with the League. At least, for now. He have to see Girans files at first and maybe after he will reveal the truth about himself - and Tenko in front of the League.

When he almost died, and that way he became Dabi, he promised himself he won't share his past with anyone, but since he lived with the League, he wasn't that determined anymore. He felt like there is a bond between them, and if they could help him find Tenko.. it would be worthy.

Even if he - somewhere deep down - realised it is nearly impossible to find his soulmate being alive, the hope never left him.

Neither when Giran gave him the files - with a sorrowful storyline, about AFO's and Nana's fights, about how Nana tried to hide Kotaro's existence, and then after a time skip, there was Kotaro's own family. Birth dates, basics infos, some pictures and the date of their deaths.

So that was it. No trace of life, no chance of survival. The destruction may caused by Afo.

Who is currently in the jail, so Dabi can't even speak to him.

He knew he has to give up on his hopes. There is the fucking evidence his soulmate really died back then.

Dabi just put the files on his drawer, not really paying any attention to hide it. He will do it later - now, he just doesn't want to think about it.

That's why he volunteered for the Leagues next mission.

It was a dangerous one, he needed to a sneak in the Hero commission's building and steal their newest "top-secret" plans.

It was actually spying, and they needed to do it with the minimum amount of men.

Kurogiri would teleport him in and out when it's time, but it is still risky.

Mostly - for a spying- there was Toga or Twice because of their quirks were suitable enough, but now it was required a real fight as well. So the final version was him and Twice. Twice would copy the looks of a random official, and Dabi will hide and somehow steal the secret files.

Shigaraki was really good at making plans. He always calculated a lot of possibilities in, and nearly all the stuff what could happen.

He was aware the mission is not a child's play but a serious one.

He looked over it many times already before presenting it to the others, but the overthinking and insecurity were his habits and can't let him stay calm.

At the evening, he decided to talk with Dabi about it. He wanted to be sure that the flame villain is okay with the whole thing, he knows the details and stuff.

He headed to his subordinate's room. The door was halfway open so the young boss don't really mind to knock on it.

There was a semidarkness in the room, but Dabi was nowhere to seen. Shigaraki came from the bar, the burnt villain was not there either.

Tomura thought he may use the bathroom or whatever, so he decided to wait him in his room.

He was about to sit on his bed, when he accidentally noticed a file on his drawer.

On the top of the file, there was a picture. That particular picture, of his dad and Nana Shimura.

Tomura stood there for minutes like an ice statue. He couldn't imagine how the picture could remain - and mostly how it got into Dabi's room.

At the meantime Dabi finished his stuff in the bathroom or wherever he was, so he came back to his room, only to see his boss holding a picture from his file and staring on that somehow inscrutably.

If it wasn't for Tomura, Dabi would be pissed off, cuz he doesn't like at all when others just come in his room and start to rummage his stuff, but since the blue haired man was his boss, he tried to keep it cool.

- Hi boss, how can I help you?

Tomura turned up when he heard Dabi's voice. He still held the picture, and judging by the mess on the drawer he also took a look into the files.

He was so confused right now he had no clue what to say. His thoughts were so loud and they didn't subside. He wanted to ask Dabi why the hell he has this goddamn file with the picture, how did he get it, and mostly.. could is be possible that he knows his secret?

"No way" - Tomura thought - "he would hide this somewhere and he wouldn't act so normally with him" But he was certain he needs to figure it out.

However his thoughts were still so messy he couldn't ask the proper questions he wanted to - without being suspicious.

He somewhat calmed down when he read those files - and they all stated he.. not he, Tenko - is dead, all the family is dead. No sign of survival.

So Dabi - or the one who gave him this - cannot know about him.

- How did you get those? - he finally managed to ask. His eyes were more deadly than he wanted tho.

Dabi suddenly felt himself quite uncomfortable. What should he say? If his boss would be curious, how should he explain why he wanted these datas? And why is his boss'es suddenly so resentful?

- This is the stuff I bought from Giran - he started to explain - I needed it for.. personal stuff.

Tomuras eyes widened - what kind of personal stuff of his can he related to his family? He noticed how Dabi's mood changed before he met with Giran - he was almost happy and really excited. But after the meeting he got gloomier than usual. Even now - when he spoke up, his voice was somehow sad.

Tomura decided to not deal with this right now, they all need to focus for the next day's mission.

- Anyways - the bluenette said - I just wanted to say not to fuck it up tomorrow. That's all for now. And I will keep this picture. Good night!

And with that, Shigaraki quickly left his subordinates room.

Now Dabi was the more confused one. He just couldn't understand what exactly his boss wanted to do, and why he got so distracted by that fucking picture. And mostly, why did he keep it?

Not if Dabi would need it, there wasn't Tenko on the picture just his dad as a kid with Nana Shimura.

"Maybe Shigaraki recognised the heroine and that's why he was asking? Probably" - Dabi thought. He knew about All for One and the Shimuras were enemies, so maybe that's why Shigaraki acted so strange.

(Part two right here on my page, just couldn’t write here the whole stuff cuz it’s long)

#bnha #tomura shigaraki #bnha fanfiction #Dabi #dabi is touya #shigaraki x dabi #shigadabi #tenko shimura #touya todoroki #league of villains #my hero academia #nana shimura #shigadabi fluff

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imjustthemechanic · 3 years

Photo

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon Part 25/? - Fugitives Part 26/? - A Reluctant Accomplice Part 27/? - Deja Vu Part 28/? - Interview with a Madwoman Part 29/? - Violence

Holy shit, another chapter! This is the one where Dottie kills a buncha mobsters.

They did not fly to Nevada. Kay had already been recognized on a plane once, and with all three of them together and all three of them fugitives, there was a greater chance that at least one of them would be spotted. They got Dottie some clothes that were not a prison uniform, stole another car, and started driving.

“You know, I just realized,” said Peggy, who was at the wheel for the first part of the journey. “We never did find the bomb on Howard’s plane. Was there one?”

“Of course not,” said Kay. “Why would I bother building a bomb when the threat of one would do the trick?”

“Because you’re a coward,” said Dottie.

“I’m efficient,” Kay told her.

“What if she’d called your bluff?” Dottie asked.

“She didn’t. And even if she had, I wasn’t actually going to blow up the plane. I needed it. And the people on board it. I would have thought of something. You don’t have to kill every single person who inconveniences you,” she added, sounding exasperated. It made Peggy wonder if that were something many of the Russian girls tended to do.

“Spoilsport,” said Dottie.

The journey had to be done in stages. Peggy and Kay could take turns driving, but neither trusted Dottie to take the wheel, and they had to take turns sitting up and watching her during the night so she couldn’t run off. Dottie seemed to enjoy the attention. As far as Peggy could tell, she slept quite peacefully during the nights, and during the daytime she let her scarf flutter in the breeze with a smile on her face, and delightedly pointed out roadside attractions that Peggy and Kay refused to stop for.

While they drove, they listened to the radio. The news talked about things like Burma joining the United Nations, and how the latter organization had established a special body dedicated to public health. But of course, what Peggy was really listening for was Steve. His tour of New England continued with cheering crowds all the way. The announcers described him visiting soldiers whose lives he’d saved, and the widows of those he couldn’t.

There was even, at one point, an interview with him. Peggy perked up at the announcement and Kay immediately turned the radio up.

Captain Rogers, the interviewer said. Now that you’re back, what are your plans for the future?

I’m not sure, Steve’s voice replied, and Peggy’s insides twisted. He’d had plans… he’d been going to get married and buy a farm. She was the one who’d told him he couldn’t do that. I’m still in the army for the time being. My discharge was issued on the assumption I was dead, and since I’m not, my service isn’t finished.

“Damn Masters,” Peggy murmured.

Kay thought for a moment. “What if he got his tie caught in a piece of machinery and it strangled him?”

“Hush,” Peggy told her.

Have you heard the rumors that other countries have begun research on human enhancement? asked the interviewer.

I have, said Steve. It was my understanding that everyone signed a treaty that they wouldn’t do human experimentation like that.

They did, the interviewer said, but there have been suggestions that America’s enemies think they need to find a way to counter you.

I’m not a weapon, and we’re not at war, said Steve. When you’re not at war, you don’t need super-soldiers.

So you would be opposed to any such work in the United States? Or only abroad?

I think, said Steve, that anybody who wants to volunteer for such a program needs to think very hard about what they want to get out of it. Even the people who worked on the serum didn’t know what its long-term effects on my body would be. I think they’d have been shocked to learn I survived three years frozen in ice.

Peggy certainly had been, and Howard… but now she found her own thought. He’d crashed the Valkyrie fully intending to die. He’d said he’d realized at the last moment that he didn’t want that after all, but that was before he’d found his plans in tatters. Had he changed his mind again since? Was he contemplating suicide, only to realize he didn’t know if there were anything that would kill him?

No, that couldn’t be. Steve wouldn’t, not when his previous attempt was so fresh in his mind. Not when he knew that the friend he’d intended to die for was alive and in need of help.

Even so, the idea stuck in Peggy’s mind, and made her feel a little ill. She couldn’t stop picturing him contemplating it. She imagined him playing with a knife, examining a bottle of rat poison, spinning the chamber in a revolver, and wondering if any of them could do him irreparable damage. A treacherous lump rose in her throat at the thought.

She wondered, too, if Steve were thinking about her while all this went on. What with all the autographs and photo opportunities and such things, he probably had very little time to. If he did, though, what was he thinking about? He’d told Russel to trust her, so he clearly didn’t believe in the charges against her. What did he think she was up to? What had Masters told him?

For that matter, what was Daniel thinking about while he sat in jail? He doubtless thought Peggy was working on clearing both their names. Technically she was. Freeing Dottie would doubles have delayed the trial at the very least. But she was also thinking about Steve’s desire to free his friend. He’d been so broken the day after Sergeant Barnes fell into the ravine… at the time, all Peggy had been able to offer was advice. Now that she could give him an opportunity to fix that awful thing, she couldn’t just let it lie.

Neither Steve nor Daniel had heard from her since her arrest. Did one or both think she’d simply run off with the other?

Well, to close this on a less serious note, the reporter said. Captain, I’m sure what the women of America are dying to know is: are you looking for love?

There was a brief pause. I’m not sure, said Steve. I had a girl during the war, but three years is a long time.

You heard it here first, ladies, the reporter said. Captain America may soon be back on the market! Thank you so much for your time, Cap. Pleasure having you on the show.

You’re welcome, was all Steve said.

Kay changed the station, and then quickly turned the volume back down again as the Floyd Hunt Quartet’s Fool that I Am came out just a little too loud.

“Aw, don’t love make fools of us all,” Dottie teased.

Peggy didn’t answer. She had no intention of encouraging her.

Upon arriving in Carson City, they had some lunch and freshened up, and then parked across the street from Governor Strieber’s mansion. It was a very modest place compared to some of the buildings Howard Stark lived, but still represented hundreds of possible hiding places for a large amount of money. Especially for a man who knew that no less a mobster than John ‘Moxie’ Blumberg would come down on him if it were found.

“How are we going to find it?” Peggy asked.

“Joseph will show me where it is,” Dottie replied calmly. “He knows I’m coming back for it eventually.”

“Will he be surprised it’s so soon?” A smart man would have set it aside to make sure it was there for her, but Peggy’s experience was that most politicians were not very smart where money was concerned. If he thought it might be a while before Dottie came back, he may well have spent it… especially when Dottie and her ilk were so easy to underestimate.

“Joseph is easy to surprise,” said Dottie. “It’s one of his more charming traits.”

It was very late, almost one in the morning, when Strieber’s shiny silver Packard pulled into the driveway, and Strieber got out. He was a very tall man but also quite overweight, with a drinker’s belly that hung over the top of his trousers. He was dressed up as if he’d been out for a night on the town, no doubt gambling in the new casino he pretended to disapprove of. A woman climbed out after him and took his arm. She was a brunette, dressed in a pink and black evening gown with an enormous fur stole around her shoulders. The two of them headed inside.

“Forgot me already, Joseph?” Dottie clucked her tongue. “You’ll break my heart.”

Once the door was closed, Dottie climbed out of the car and headed towards the house. Peggy and Kay climbed out and went after her.

Dottie took them around the back and knocked on the kitchen door. A woman in a maid’s uniform answered it, and looked startled.

“Miss Abagnale?” she asked.

Dottie punched her in the face.

They tied up the maid with an electrical cord, and found the short flight of stairs that led up into the living area. Light was coming around the door at the top. Peggy opened it a crack and looked out into a sitting area… lamps were lit, but she couldn’t see anybody.

The door suddenly jerked open, and Peggy found the barrel of a revolver in her face.

It took a moment for her eyes to re-focus from the dark ring of potential death to the man wielding it. He was a skinny guy with dark hair, wearing a gray suit and hat and a green tie.

“Come on out, sweetheart,” he told Peggy. His two front teeth were missing.

Peggy thought fast… no idea who this man was, but she couldn’t let him reveal that they were here. She dropped to her knees to grab him around the legs and knock him over. At the same time, both Dottie and Kay leaped on him from behind her. He squawked in surprise, but it was too late for him to fight back. Moments later they had him flat on the floor. Dottie’s foot was in the middle of his chest, and the gun was in her hand, pointed at his head.

“Carbone?” somebody asked. “What’s going on?”

Peggy swore under her breath – she should have known Dottie would lead them into trouble! “Let’s go, quick,” she said.

It was too late for that, though. Another man appeared in the doorway to the siting room. Dottie shot him, and the second one who turned out to be behind him. She kicked Carbone in the chin, and strode down the hall like a queen.

Peggy and Kay had no choice but to follow her.

In the sitting room, Strieber and his girlfriend were on a sofa, clinging to each other in terror. Four more mobsters were standing around them, and Moxie Blumberg himself was halfway through lighting a cigar out of a box he’d taken from the cabinet. All of them were clearly shocked by what had just occurred, and more so to see Dottie walk in with Carbone’s gun in her hand.

The one nearest Dottie raised his own weapon. She kicked it out of his hand and shot him. There was absolutely nothing for it now. One of the others pulled out a knife and went for Peggy – she grabbed a crystal decanter of alcohol off a table and smashed it over his head. Kay kicked another one’s legs out from under him and slammed his face into the floor, then snatched the revolver off his belt and shot a third mobster in the knee. He dropped, and Dottie shot him in the head to finish him off. The last one lost his nerve and turned to run – Dottie shot him, too, and then she was out of bullets. She threw the gun aside and snatched up the knife the other man had dropped. By this time, Blumberg was pulling out his own gun, but Dottie threw the knife and it embedded itself in his gut. He fell.

That left the three women, and Strieber and his mistress.

“Mary-Ann?” asked Strieber in a tremulous voice.

Dottie smiled. “Where’s my money, Joseph?”

Strieber ran to the bookshelf, stepped over Blumberg’s fallen body, and pulled out a few volumes. Behind them was a wall safe. He dialed the combination in with shaking hands, needing several tries to get it right. With each failure, Dottie came closer and closer behind him, and Peggy could see the sweat beading on the back of his neck. Finally he got it open, and stepped aside.

“T-t-there it is!” he said. “Take it!”

Dottie pulled out several packets of bills and tossed them to Peggy and Kay. Then she shut the safe and turned to smile at Strieber.

“Thank you, Joseph,” she said. “I knew I could count on you.”

In a swift motion, she’d gotten a toe under Blumberg’s fallen pistol. She kicked it into the air, caught it, and shot Strieber in the neck. His girlfriend screamed. Dottie turned around, and killed her, too.

“Don’t!” Kay shouted, but it was already too late.

#fanfic #agent carter #captain america #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

Like Real People Do Ch 5: An Assassin, A Terrorist, A thief, and A Bird Walk Into Madripoor

Taglist:

@p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922

Ch 5:

Author’s note:

“I’m going to go in alone.” Bucky turns to Winnie and Sam.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Bucky does have a better chance of getting answers.” Winnie adds.

“Also you’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky says.

“It’s not like you two are known for frolicking in the sun together.”

“Zemo would be a good informant though, Sam.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.” Bucky walks off to speak with Zemo.

Sam turns to Winnie “ Why aren’t you volunteering to go in with him?”

“I can’t, I doubt Zemo likes me much.” Winnie scoffs.

“Right, SHIELD.”

“Yeah.” Winnie nods hoping Sam drops it.

“So.” Sam changes the subject, “ You were kind of out of it when I mentioned Sharon.”

“I said then that I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“How about now?”

“Look, right before Shield fell I found some documents connecting the dots.I saved them to a flash drive and drove my ass home to the apartment Sharon and I shared. I tried to tell her, she got defensive, we got in a fight. She claimed I was a part of Hydra. I called her a bitch and left.” Winnie explains.

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah, I don’t see us working it out. “

“There’s always couple’s therapy.” Sam suggests with a laugh.

“Oh right, how’d that session go?”

“Got to stare into his baby blues.”

“Did that help?”

“No.”

“I could do better than that.”

“Oh I bet he’d like that.” Sam smirks.

“Not what I meant.” Winnie rolls her eyes.

“What are you talking about breaking Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam asks.

“That’s a fantastic idea, Buck.” Winnie says sarcastically.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.”

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.”

“That Bucky wants to let out of those bars.” Winnie sidesteps by Sam to avoid tripping.

“We also have eight super soldiers on the loose.”

“Shit, he’s gotta point, Sam.”

“Zemo is gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours.”

“He also probably doesn’t like me either.” Winnie adds rubbing the back of her neck.

“Offense, super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy but he still has a code.”

“How crazy?” Winnie asks.

“Bag of cats.” Sam answers.

“He blew up the UN, killed King T’chaka and framed you for it.” Sam continues.

“We don’t know how they’re getting the serum.”

Bucky says.

“We don’t even know how much serum is out there.” Winnie replies then adds “ Or who put it out there in the first place.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky says calmly.

Winnie takes a deep breath and puts her hands on her guns. If Bucky did what she thinks he did, then it’s only a matter of time before shit gets real.

“The weakest point in any system is not the software, the hardware, it's the meatware.The human element…” Bucky continues.

Three seconds to draw, two seconds to fire, three seconds to draw two seconds to fire, Winnie thinks over and over.

“I don’t like how natural, you’re being about this, and where are we, man?”

More lights fill the area and a door opens.

“Woah Woah Woah, What are you doing here!”

“I didn’t want to tell you cause I knew you’d never let this happen.”

Winnie follows the two with a gun in hand.

“What did you do?”

“We need him, Sam.”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may..” Zemo starts.

“No!” Both shout.

Winnie stands besides them with her gun pointed at Zemo.

“Apologies.”Zemo says softly then looks at Winnie.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you back him.” Bucky continues.

“I really think I’m invaluable.”

“Shut up.” Sam turns to Zemo.

“If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Sam says to Zemo.

“Fair.”

Zemo turns to Winnie and says “You’ve been very quiet. Penny for your thoughts.”

“Don’t let him mess with you.” Sam says as Winnie puts her gun back in the holster. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start.”

“So our first move is grand theft auto?”

“These are mine, collected by family over the generations.” Zemo starts collecting his things out of the cars.

“Nice wheels.” Winnie gestures to a vintage cadillac.

“So she speaks.”

“Leave her alone.” Bucky says.

“I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention of leaving my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.”

“First stop is a woman named Selby.” Zemo says carrying his bags away. “Mid level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.”

Walking up to the private jet, “ So all this time you’ve been rich.” Sam asks.

“I’m a Baron, Sam.” Zemo says as the four climb on the jet, “ My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.”

Zemo drinks the champagne his butler serves him.

“It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name, and if I had known such a treasure would be with those two idiots, I’d escape sooner.” He says to Winnie.

“She’s Winnie, she’s a hacker. That’s your introduction.” Bucky says gruffly.

“ A hacker...interesting.” Zemo sips at his champagne.

“Not really.”

“Oh no, it is. You’re not with an agency, I guess.”

“No.”

“No health insurance or dental, no pay check.”

“None of that.”

“Do you live in a house?”

“Yes.”

“With no income?”

“Yes.”

“Must have a wealthy family?

“No, I’m an orphan.”

“Then pray tell how you get paid.”

“Easy, like Buck said, I’m a hacker, To make money I hack into bank accounts of the rich and take very little in the grand scheme of things. One percent of the richest men in the world’s wealth.”

“Winnie.” Sam nudges her.

“It’s the truth.” Winnie adds. “Besides not like he needed it in prison.”

The conversation lulls to a deafening silence.

“Why don’t you tell us where we’re going?” Sam asks.

“Sorry I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Bucky jerks across and grabs Zemo by the throat.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.”

Zemo nods understanding and Bucky sits back down.

“You okay, Buck.” Winnie asks.

Bucky nods.

“I’m sorry. I understand the list of names.People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam adds. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?”

“I like ‘40s music, so...” Bucky answers.

“You didn’t like it.”

“I liked it.”

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience”

“He’s out of line, but he’s right.”

“Extremely right.” Winnie adds.

“Everyone likes Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

“You must have really looked up to Steve.But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s super soldiers is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.”

Winnie watches Bucky, and nudges his leg with her foot. He nudges her foot back with a small smile.

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought.”

“There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others.” Winnie quotes Machiavelli.

“Clever.” Zemo says then adds “ Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we go to Madripoor.”

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s.”

“It’s kept it’s lawless ways.”

“Well let’s get the show on the road.” Winnie picks up her bag.

“We can’t exactly walk in as ourselves. James you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

“We have to fix this.” I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming, African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“Who am I?” Winnie asks. She dressed in a glittering short golden dress with black thigh high boots.

“A sugar baby.”

“Why am I the sugar baby?”

“It’s a role I thought you would be the most comfortable with.”

“Is this payback for stealing money from you.”

“No.”

“Oh well then Sam and I will be constantly vigilant. I have extra guns strapped to my thighs just in case.”

“The Smiling Tiger doesn’t have a sugar baby.”

“Then who am I..” Winnie’s face falls as she realizes who she’s paired up with on this mission.

“That.” Zemo points to her face,” is payback enough.”

“I don’t like you at all, but good play.” Winnie admits holding out her hand.

Zemo takes her hand and kisses it.

“Oh you don’t have to do that.” Winnie adds.

“No matter what happens we have to stay in character.”

The four of them climb into the car headed for Low Town.

Winnie stays close to Zemo looking around.

Zemo wraps an arm around her and whispers “Relax and fake like you’re meant to be here.”

“Right.” Winnie straightens her postures and twirls her hair between her fingers.

“We’re here.” Zemo then speaks to Bucky in russian: Ready to comply, Winter Soldier.

Once at the bar the bartender welcomes them “ Hello Gentleman, and lady, Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed, we have to do business with Selby.”

“The usual?” The bartender suggests.

“Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” Zemo says.

Winnie puts a hand on Zemo’s shoulder and lightly squeezes it.

“I love these.” Sam takes the glass

“Cheers, Conrad.”

Sam takes the drink and swallows the snake organ.

A man comes up to Zemo and Winnie lets go of his arm. Zemo wraps his arm around her.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…”

“New haircut.” The man nods towards Bucky.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

“Power broker, really.”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?”

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.” Zemo begins walking to the middle of the room speaking Russian to Bucky.

‘ Oh no, Winnie thinks, it’s showtime.’

Bucky attacks the man standing beside Zemo. People begin recording. Multiple men are attacked until a gun is cocked.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

“You’re undoing so much therapy.” Winnie adds softly.

“Keep in character or the whole bar turns against us.” Zemo adds softly before ending Bucky’s commands.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender says.

“You good?” Sam asks.

Bucky doesn’t answer, just walks off.

The four go up the stairs.

“You should know, Baron.” Selby says “ People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer.”

“A lot has changed since you were here last.By the way I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we. I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.”She purs, “ What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum. And I give you him.” Zemo touches Bucky’s face. “Along with the code words to control him, of course.He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember.”

“I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. It’d be a bad date for the pretty thing on your arm. You were right to come to me. Arrogant but right. The super soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh the bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute. Don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”

Sam’s cell phone buzzes.

“Answer it.”

Winnie stands with her hands by her side ready to grab her guns.

“On speaker.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, um we need to talk about this situation. It’s been driving me, nuts.”

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?”

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.”

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

“The bank, yeah.” Sam scoffs. “Laundered so much… Yeah they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big time.”

“Yeah you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.”

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios! I don’t have time for this! Sam I’m sorry let me call you back.”

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them.”

The window breaks and Selby falls shot in the chest.

Bucky and Sam fight the two guards with Bucky grabbing the gun. Winnie follows Zemo to the door.

“They’re going to pin this on us.”

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.”

As they walk out, phone’s all over the island begin buzzing with a bounty on the four of them.

“This is not good.”

“Obviously not good.” Winnie says

A man with a large gun begins shooting at the four, Sam and Bucky go in one direction, Zemo and Winnie in the other.

Winnie begins to notice the pattern of the sniper killing all those who want us dead. It reminds her of the cover she had on missions with Sharon. Winnie and Zemo keep going until they meet up with Sam and Bucky.

“We seem to have a guardian angel.”

“Well this is too perfect.” A woman says walking out of the shadows. “ Drop it Zemo.” She has him at gunpoint.

“Sharon.” Bucky says

“You cost me everything.” Sharon takes a step towards Zemo.

“Sharon wait, someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam explains.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass to save his ass, from his ass. I didn’t have the avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

Winnie clears her throat,” Sharon.”

“Winnie.”

“Don’t blow smoke, I was on the run too.”

“Was, is, big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t.”

“Listen Sharon we need your help.” Bucky asks.

“No we don’t.” Winnie argues.

Sharon laughs.

“Please.” Bucky tries again.

“Bucky.” Winnie interjects.

“Winnie, we need her help. You two can get over it.” Bucky turns to Winnie.

“I have a place in High Town, You’ll be safe there.”

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.”

“I thought if I had to hustle, I might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet.”

“You never liked art before.” Winnie mentions crossing her arms.

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real. This gallery specializes in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.”

Winnie stops by one painting, and Sharon stands beside her.

“The Beach in Pourville, it was your favorite, right.” Sharon points out.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were listening, when I spoke about it while experimenting.”

“You said that if you could jump into any painting like Mary Poppins, you’d choose this one. So you could lay on the beach after jumping in the waves and watch the sun set.”

“I know what I said.”

“Have you?”

“Do I look like I’ve been to any beaches?”

“There’s a beach on High Town. You could stay.”

“I can’t leave Buck and Sam.”

“You call him Buck.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice,” Sharon turns to the group away from Winnie “ You guys need to change I’m hosting clients in an hour.”

Winnie changes into the gown that Sharon picked for her. Albeit not as sparkly as the one Zemo picked out. It was nice and understated. A short lilac halter dress with a black belt paired with her same thigh high black boots, Zemo had picked out.

Sharon opens the door.

“Sure, Sharon, you can come right in.” Winnie puts on the pearl earrings Sharon picked out.

“You look great.”

“Thanks.”

“You were right.”

“About.”

“Everything, shield, the government, being pessimistic. I didn’t believe you, and then I stole the shield and after being on the run I realized I was wrong the whole time. I shouldn’t have called you a hydra agent, especially after everything you did for Shield and the inventions.”

“The rocket boots work.”

“Course, they did, you made them.”

“You think apologizing after more than seven years is going to fix everything.”

“No, because I know you, and you hold grudges like no one else I know. But it’s a start to not hating me.”

Winnie sighs, “I don’t hate you, that’s too strong of a word but another start would be helping us a little more.”

“I thought you didn’t need my help.”

“Buck was right. Any other information you have is going to help us.”

“ Speaking of Bucky, what is your deal?”

“Deal?”

“Yeah are you two friends or more, because I…” Sharon starts but gets interrupted.

“Don’t.” Winnie says sharply.

“Oh.” Sharon smiles.

“Not like that. It’s just, you remember when we’d go out together, and I’d flirt with a guy and then they’d ask me for your number.”

“You don’t want that to happen to Bucky.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Noted. Just uh he might have heart palpitations when he sees you in this dress.”

“Sharon, go check on the guys.”

Sharon walks in the room as Sam’s changing shirts.

“Much better.”

“What’s going on Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?”

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States.”

“Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.”

“Look I’m sorry I didn’t call. But after the blip and the chaos. I just..”

“Look you know the hero thing is a joke, right. The way you gave up that shield.deep down, you must know it's all hypocrisy.”

“He knows. And not so deep down.”

“By the way how is the new Cap?” Sharon asks.

“Don’t get me started.” Bucky answers.

“I punched him in the face.” Winnie enters the room in her new dress.

“You look nice.” Bucky looks away from Winnie.

“Thanks.” Winnie sits on the other couch by Zemo.

“Please you buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr.America! Cap’s best friend.” Sharon sits down by Bucky.

“Wow, she’s kind of awful now.”

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” Sam starts.

Winnie looks down at her phone tracking the shield and John just to see that they are still in Germany.

“You guys really should steer clear of all this for your own safety. Winnie, seriously, you can and should stay here with me. You know all about art and I can get you drawing again, or inventing. Plenty of people would pay big money for rocket boots, or taser whips, boomerang daggers.”

“I can’t.”

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the person that cracked the code.”

“We got a name, Wilfred Nagel.”

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.”

“We need your help Sharon, I can get your name cleared.”

“You haggling with my life?”

“Not like that.”

“I don’t buy that.”

“You pretending like you can clear my name.”

“Okay maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

Sharon looks at Bucky, he’s glaring at Zemo, who’s talking to Winnie about art.

“You draw and paint?” Zemo asks.

“I did, when I had the stuff or the time.” Winnie shrugs and pulls out her tattered sketchbook with pages falling out. She opens it flipping through a few landscapes and portraits of people she saw at coffee shops.

“You stole money from a billionaire and you didn’t steal enough for art supplies.” Zemo questions.

“I only stole money from you for rent, groceries and to sponsor a few Sokovian families.” Winnie explains. “ I make a tight budget and stick to it.”

“You.. what?” Zemo looks surprised.

“I sponsored a few Sokovian families to emigrate to the United States. It was anonymous so I don’t know where they ended up.”

“I heard that.” Bucky adds to Sharon.

“I don’t trust charity.”

“All right, a deal then.”

“You help us out, and I get your name cleared.”

Sharon shakes his hand.

“Well I sell to some well connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Trouble.”

Loud electronic music plays. People are everywhere, dancing with everyone. Winnie feels a little out of place.

“A part to play,again.” Zemo says from behind her. “Relax, your friend said to have fun.”

“Ex-friend, and secondly parties like this aren’t fun for me. I’d rather be..” She’s interrupted by Zemo.

“You’d rather be in some greasy spoon hole in the wall diner with James, sharing a milkshake.”

“Malts, and second why do you think this?”

“On the plane when after James choked me, you asked if he was okay.”

“Friends do that.”

“Again on the plane when I made James uncomfortable, you kicked his leg.”

“Yeah, checking up on him without asking if he’s okay. “

“ He stares at you when you aren’t looking.”

“He stares at everyone.”

“When he stares at you though, his features soften.”

“And.”

“Also when we were talking about art, he was glaring at me.”

“He doesn’t like you much anyway. He has reason to glare at you that doesn’t have to do with me.”

“I’m just saying if you two both feel the same way, why wait? No one is guaranteed time on this earth.”

“You’re ridiculous. Also you might want to change your pin code. Your dead wife’s birthday isn’t a secure code.” Winnie walks off from Zemo.

Winnie finds Bucky by himself on the outskirts of the dance floor.

“Need a breather.”

“Yeah.”

“Winnie, stay away from Zemo. He plays mind games”

“I can handle myself. We were talking about you.”

“That’s another reason why you should stay away from him.”

“He said you like me cause you stare at me, but..”

“I gotta find Sam.” Bucky walks off to find Sam.

The moment Bucky is out of sight Zemo walks back to her.

“Did you get the answer?” He asks.

“Yeah, I did. Not the one I wanted” Winnie nods then says “ Let’s dance, Zem.”

Bucky looks around and finds Sam.

“Winnie knows.” Bucky says nervously to Sam.

“She’s a genius and a hacker. What specifically does she know?”

“She knows that I..” Bucky trails off when Sharon arrives.

“Don’t let me interrupt this.” She says. “ Winnie knows that you..”

“I’m fond of her being around.” Bucky finishes.

“That was a secret?” Sam asks.

“Yes, did you know?”

“Of course I knew. The real question is does she like you?” Sam looks towards Sharon.

“I’m not violating Winnie’s trust. She just stopped hating me. I also found him.”

“Okay Bucky, let’s put in a pin in your love life problem for now, and let’s get this guy. Here we go.”

Sharon signals Winnie and Zemo and they follow the three out of the party.

“Madripoor can give New York a run for its money.”

“They know how to party.”

“You’re not a bad dancer, Zem.”

“Neither are you Win.”

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving. All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel.”

“Need help out here.” Winnie offers.

“No I got it.” Sharon insists.

Winnie follows the three guys inside putting in her ear piece.

“Completely empty.”

“I’m positive it has to be.”

Walking around on the inside with a flashlight Zemo pushes in the false wall. Music is playing softly.

“Mel Torme, good taste.” Winnie whispers.

“Agreed.” Zemo motions for Bucky and Sam to go forward with the guns.

Winnie pulls out her guns, ready for anything and follows walking through the makeshift lab.She listens out for any signs of struggle from Sharon outside.

Zemo stops the record.

“Dr.Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab.”

“Hey. You know who he is right.This is Baron Zemo.I know you've heard of him too. You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.”

Winnie looks around at the chemicals and the serum making process. It would take years to make sense of this.

“Guys we have company.” Sharon says from the ear pieces. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here we gotta go.”

Bucky grabs the doctor and puts him in a chair with a gun in his face. He fires the gun near him.

“Okay.I was brought into Hydra��s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When Hydra fell I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject, with semi-stable traces of serum in his system.After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary components in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized. Perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?”

“Because before I was able to complete my work. I turned to dust.Then when I returned, it was five years later,the program had been abandoned, so I came here. THe Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.”

“How many vials did you make?”

“Twenty.”

“Karli Morgenthau stole those, so I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.”

“Where’s Karli now?”

“I don’t know where she is. But a couple of days ago she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.”

“Well, what happened to her?”

“Not my pig, not my farm.”

“Is there any serum in this lab?”

“No.”

“Now what?”

“Guys we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo shots the doctor.

“No!”

A large explosion throws the five on the other side of the lab.

Bucky, Sam, Winnie, and Sharon on one side with Zemo on the other.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asks.

“Let’s go.” Bucky pulls Winnie and Sharon up.

“Alright wait for my signal.”

Gunfire breaks out.

Sam goes early.

“Damnit.” Bucky says running after providing cover for Sam.

“You know the drill, right Winnie.” Sharon says.

“Yeah yeah, go.”

Sharon and Winnie run and fall into their old routine, as though it’s been no time since they were partners. The four find cover and keep shooting.

“And you like living here?”

“It’s not terrible.”

“It’s pretty terrible, Sharon.”

“I thought you were going left.”

“You went the wrong way.”

“I was clearing the way.”

“Do they always fight like this?” Sharon asks.

“Pretty much.” Winnie answers.

“I came out first. You had to follow me.”

“And where are we now!”

“Guys, Not the time!”

“I’m out.”

“This is a barricade.”

“It’s in every action movie.”

“Might have some more in my backpack.” Winnie tells Sharon.

“You carry ammunition in a Jansport.”

“I didn’t judge you in your home with the off season prada purse you were carrying.”

The four look up and see Zemo with a purple mask sniping the way clear.

“Go.” Bucky taps Winnie and Sharon

They grab each other and run.

Bucky and Sam follow into a shipping container.

A car screeches to halt with Zemo in it,

“Supercharged.”

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?”

“He’s right, we need him.”

“There’s three of us and at least twenty of them.”

“Fine but if you try that shit again…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well that was one hell of a reunion.”

The four get in the car.

“Come back to the states with us.”

“I can’t. Just get me the pardon you promised me. And here.” Sharon gives Winnie back the flash drive with all the hydra information on it.

“Thanks.”

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you.”

“No.”

On board the private jet Sam calls Joaquin about Donya Madani.

“Oh ask him about the secret Winnie project.”

“Sure.”

“Do you have information on some secret Winnie project?”

“Yeah yeah it’s a bad name, she’ll work on it. Nothing, yet, okay more importantly is Donya Madani.”

Winnie looks down at her phone tracking John with earbuds in listening to his conversations.

“You okay?” Bucky asks seeing Sam flop down into a chair.

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through, and Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.”

“Yeah I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“You did.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. I should have destroyed it. “

“Look that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap. and it aint gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.”

Joaquin calls Sam back and Zemo comes back with plates of food.

He gestures towards Winnie and says to Bucky“ Can she hear us?”

“No, she’s in survelliance mode. Put a tracker on the new Cap.”

“Smart.”

“Surprised she hasn’t put one on you.”

“Winnie is quite special, isn’t she?”

“Whatever you're thinking about saying or doing, don’t.”

“Oh I have no interest in her. Besides a financial one.”

“You want her to hack on your behalf, not gonna happen.”

“No, she’s an artist.”

“You want to pay her to draw and paint.”

“Yes, she’s very talented. She showed me her sketchbook, you’ve seen it haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“Stop.”

“They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go.” Zemo says. “I for one am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik we’re changing course.”

“Walker knows you two broke out Zemo.” Winnie says taking out her earbuds. “ He’s also not too concerned with his rules of engagement.”

Walking down the streets of Riga, Latvia, Zemo begins talking. Winnie looks at the small buildings lining the street, it looks like painting by the sea.

“I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial, at least the thief donated.” Zemo gestures to Winnie.

Zemo stops at a large building, “We are here.”

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky says.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.” Winnie adds.

“Always am.” Bucky nods.

Once Zemo and Sam are inside Winnie follows them.

Sam turns towards Winnie with a smile.

“What?”

“Be careful.” Sam mimics her.

“Not you too.”

“No it’s cute. It’s adorable actually. That you have no clue.” Sam says.

#bucky x oc #bucky barnes imagines #plus size oc #falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky x winnie

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